Posts Tagged ‘reluctant’

“Ugh. I hate group jobs. I swore after the last one, never again.” Molly groaned, pulling a pillow over her face. She and Shayla were lying in a queen-sized bed, taking full advantage of the five hours left on Molly’s last trick’s luxury suite.

“These guys are different.” Shayla sighed dreamily, twirling her long, blonde extensions. She had been acting strange since she got back from last week’s group gig. “They’re not frat boys–to them, its like, spiritual or something.”

Molly raised a suspicious eyebrow. She loved Shayla, but they were in the business for different reasons altogether–Molly started working as an “escort” to pay for school, Shayla because she was had dropped out of high school and found herself with no other skills. She got fucked often enough, she reasoned, why not get paid for it? Molly, alternately, didn’t date at all through school–too busy with research and writing. She didn’t mind sex with clients, it wasn’t much worse than waitressing, and paid much better, at least. She thought she’d fall right into a good, straight job as soon as she graduated–two years ago. The economy was, she joked bitterly and often, literally fucking her.

“You do remember my last, and only, private party?” Molly asked Shayla. It had been a sad little frat affair–five or ten fat, loud, drunk guys who attempted to gang-bang her, but only two or three managed to keep a hard dick. She’d had to suck limp cocks that dripped with early ejaculate, while sticky, soft hands searched her body, groping her breasts and sloppily slapped her pussy. Molly had slept with old men, with very old men, with men whose disabilities caused her to manually erect their penises with pumps or fingers in their asses, and she’d taken it all in stride. Men like that usually treated her with respect. They were happy just to have a pretty girl treating their cocks nicely in their bed–happy to have her lithe, firm body next to them, to watch her dark, curly hair bob in their laps. She didn’t even mind the occasional face fuck from these guys, or the odd “bitch” and “whore” thrown out at the height of passion (so long as the apologized before their load had gone cold inside her). But those entitled assholes groping her, without the decency to even stay hard in front of her beautiful, pert tits? No thank you.

“I swear these guys are different.” Shayla giggled, rolling over. “God, just thinking about it makes me wet. Wanna feel?”

“Nice try, lady.” Molly pushed her away.

“Oh, come on.” Shayla said, licking her lips enticingly, her hand creeping to Molly’s breast.

“What’s so different about them?” Molly asked, sighing, acquiescing to Shayla’s hand under her robe, feeling the warmth radiating from her tweaked nipple.

“I’m not allowed to say.” Shayla answered, beginning to suck Molly’s nipple. She moved an expert hand to Moll’s cunt and started to massage. This, Molly had decided long ago, was a perk of the job. She liked sex–when her partners were good at it–and Shayla as good at it. Gender didn’t matter as much, these days. “Part of their deal. But its a thousand a guy.”

“Fuck!” Molly exclaimed, as Shayla’s finger slipped inside of her, in response to both the sensation and the price.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Molly said. “After I do you!.” The girls laughed and pulled off one another’s robes, as Molly buried her face in Shayla’s shaven cunt.

The address was not what Molly had been expecting. Usually, group jobs were in back of a bar, or at some sad little frat house or ranch style in a cheap suburb. This place was nice– an older, somewhat Victorian house. She hadn’t even been instructed to go in a back door. She had quite a list of instructions. Not to bathe, to show up dressed modestly, with complex undergarments. The man, who called himself Brother Heavener, had specified complex, he didn’t seem to care about sexy.

She rang the doorbell, and was happy when it was answered by a handsome man in his mid thirties, with clear blue eyes, a broad chest and shaggy hair that fell to his broad jaw line. He smiled, and in a strange way, Molly trusted him immediately.

“Brother Heavener?” She reached her hand out to meet his.

“Yes, beautiful girl. And your name is not Starla.” He kissed her on the cheek. Starla was the name Molly used for tricks, and only seldom was it questioned.

She smiled, and allowed herself to be led inside. The house was lavishly decorated, and she wondered what kind of person would fill their house with gorgeous antiques and gang-bangs.

“No, you’re right about that.” she said.

“For this to work, we’ll need to know your real name.” Brother Heavener said.

“Like Heavener is your real name.” She teased.

“It is now.” He looked into her eyes intensely, and to her great surprise, Molly found herself getting wet.

“For what to work?” Molly changed the subject.

“We’re a group that specifies in…well, transcendent experiences for women. May I kiss you?”

Molly was flustered. She had never been asked this before. “Sure.” Heavener kissed her deeply on the mouth, sucking her lower lip, looping her arms around her and pulling her in close. She expected to feel a raging hard on, but there was nothing. As if sensing her misgiving, Heavener said :

“We all have excellent self control. Until you’re ready, I’m not ready. Thank you for the kiss. You’re a very sensual woman. Are you ready to meet the group?”

Brother Heavener placed a strong hand in the small of Molly’s back and led her to the next room, where five other men waited. Molly blanched a little, realizing with a group this small, each would expect a turn, probably in all of her holes. At least with awful frat jobs there were a lot of spectators–nothing wore her out quite like too many customers in one day. Sensing her distress, Heavener leaned and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry. We can give you time.”

Time for what? Molly wondered.

Heavener led her to an old fashioned chaise–upholstered in leather, lying on it arced her back, and, she knew, would offer easy access when the men began straddling her.

The other men stayed quiet, and instead of rubbing themselves as she was so used to men doing when they saw her laid out, could not take their eyes off her.

“Goddess Shayla was right about you.” One finally spoke. He was smaller, with dark hair and eyes, and broad hands. Goddess? Molly thought.

“She said you were gorgeous.”

The other men nodded in assent.

“Did she say anything else about me?” Molly asked, teasingly. It helped her to take on a persona of playful sexuality in these situations, despite her usual reluctance.

“She said you’d try to joke your way around this.” Another man answered. He was dark-skinned, with wide shoulders and a sly smile.

“You need to be yourself, Goddess. Be honest.” One of the remaining men, identical to the one sitting next to him twins?! thought Molly said, and the brothers nodded their close-cut blonde heads together.

“Enough talk.” Heavener said. “Let’s get started. ” James, ready our Goddess.”

The dark-skinned man nodded, and removed Molly’s outer coat. He brushed his lips across her neck and she shivered.

“Not ready yet?” Heavener asked. “That’s fine. Let me tell you what we do here.”

Molly felt James’s big, strong hands slide down her sides, feeling the taught shape made by her corset. His fingers started on the laces, loosening them, but he did not yet expose her breasts.

“We show women how far they can go. Tim, get the oil.” Heavener gestured to the small man, who produced a bottle of a sweet-smelling oil he began to rub between his hands.

“We make them come.” Heavener continued, as James’ hands eased Molly’s stockings off, as she lifted each leg obediently. He was nuzzling his nose against her neck again, and now she acquiesced. Somehow, she felt more comfortable already. ” It’s almost a…spiritual experience for us.” Heavener said, as the man he’d called Tim began to massage the oil into Molly’s legs. She let out a little moan, and allowed herself to be lifted by James’ strong arms and laid her down on the chaise. Tim massaged in wider and wider strokes, nearer and nearer Molly’s shaven pussy. Involuntarily, she arced her back toward the sensation.

“Does that feel good?” Heavener asked.

Molly nodded. It was rare that a trick actually made her feel good–but she could feel herself getting wet. She wanted a hand on her cunt.

“Ask.” Heavener demanded.

“Rub my cunt.” She gasped, feeling Tim’s hand immediately move to her mound, holding her whole pussy. He kneaded it firmly, and she felt herself slipping.

“Goddess Molly, do you give us permission to make you feel good?”

Molly nodded desperately, grinding her hips against Tim’s eager hand.

“You won’t be able to respond later. You need to be sure.”

James slipped her corset off, flicking her nipples. Molly moaned and instinctively started pushing her tits up toward him.

“Yes, yes. Make me feel good, make me cum!” She leaned her head back and James kissed her upside down, long and sensually, sucking her sweet bottom lip. The twins moved to her tits, each taking a nipple in their mouths and sucking deep. Molly gasped and looked to Tim desperately. As if reading her mind, he moved his head between her legs and began to lick. He was merciless, and talented. She had never been eaten so well. The twins continued sucking, as James offered deep kisses–and Molly was shocked to feel she was close to coming. She gasped.

Heavener laughed. “First one of the night. Do her, boys.” Molly’s body flushed, and she writhed beneath the men–only to feel them pull away.

“What? Please, please! Finish me!” She pleaded. Heavener himself smiled, and gestured to the men. She looked around and saw all their erect cocks, and knew what they were asking.

“You!” She said to Tim “In my pussy! And you!” She looked up at James “Get that cock in my mouth.” Secretly, Molly loved giving head, loved the feel of wrapping her lips really thick, really hard, pulsing dick. As if they had practiced a thousand times before, she felt both holes filled up at once–Tim slid in and James pulled her head back, shoving his giant cock inside. Molly had never felt so filled up–the men moved in perfect rhythm, as the twins moved their hands all over her body.

“Faster! Harder!” She shouted frantically, before pulling James’ cock back inside her mouth. Tim pounded harder, faster, as one of the twins rubbed her clit with his thumb.

“I can’t hold it anymore!” Tim shouted, grunting. With one final thrust, he let lose a huge, hot load of cum into Molly’s pussy. Feeling the stick sperm inside her pushed Molly over the edge, and she came again, her contracting cunt pushing some of the load out.

She lay panting. She couldn’t move any more–she paralyzed with pleasure.

James grabbed her head, and roughly shoved his cock in over and over. Molly didn’t care, it felt so good to be wanted so badly.

“Shoot it.” She muttered, unsure if he could understand. “I want to eat your cum.” She sucked as hard as she could muster, and feeling James’ balls jerk, swallowed the hot spurt of cum from his thick black dick.

“Goddess has a sweet mouth.” He said, and kissed her, even as his own cum dripped from her lips. Molly felt so satisfied, sucking on his lips with savor. She was limp with pleasure, exhausted with the force of her pleasure, as she felt herself lifted from the chaise.

“We always share.” One of the twins whispered, his breath warm on her neck. She leaned in to kiss him on the mouth, and used what little strength she had left to reach back and stroke his brother’s hair. She’d heard Shayla talk about this kind of experience before, being passed back and forth between two cocks–Shayla, of course, loved it. It wasn’t until she felt a hard cock pushed against her asshole that she realized what the men intended to do to her.

“No…” she gasped “No DP.”

The twin to her back began to massage her ass, stroking her hole.

“We only want to make you feel good.”

The men had proved themselves at this, Molly thought. She felt him push again at her anus with his thick cock tip. She was so wet from her cunt, dripping with both her juices and Tim’s cum she felt it slide in easily, and out again just as easily.

“Do it. Pound my ass and pussy together.” She moaned, as the twins worked together, bouncing her on their identical dicks. She’d expected a sawing motion, being pushed back and forth between the men, but they worked in perfect rhythm, thrusting as one. They grunted, she could tell they were feeling their cocks rub together as they stretched her holes–she’d never been part of something so dirty. She began to thrust on her own, finding her second wind, winning another orgasm that gushed her own fluids and the cum inside her. The brothers, for their part, reached around Molly, pressing her close between them as they simultaneously unloaded into her raw cunt and her virgin asshole, kissing either side of her neck, their tongues occasionally finding one another. They kissed her gently on her cheek and forehead as they withdrew they cocks and lay her back on the chaise, where she sprawled, her holes oozing with cum, red, swollen. On her breasts and ass were small, thumbprint bruises of passion that matched a few she’d laid on the men too.

Brother Heavener approached her.


Molly shook her head.

“I can’t, I can’t come anymore, I can barely move!”

He shushed her.

“You don’t have to. Nothing I love like a spent Goddess.” He stroked his penis, as Molly watched it get thicker even than it had been as he watched her. She was too exhausted to demur, to say it was bad form for an escort to just lie back and take it.

Brother Heavener slid into Molly’s newly-widened pussy, sluicing through his associate’s cum. Molly lay panting as Heavener picked up speed. Strangely, she felt her clit stirring again–there was no way she could come one more time.

“Ah, you like that, right?” Heavener asked, and she nodded weakly. He put a thumb to her clit and rubbed with his rhythmic motions. “You’ve been beautiful, you know that?” He asked her, leaning down to lick her nipples of the sweat and cum that soaked them. “One of the best.” He said, a final thrust, and she felt his cock pulse, twitch, hot, thick jets inside her –

But more than that, she felt a tingling that started in her toes, a warmth that spread up her legs, through her chest, getting hotter at her cunt, and she felt herself squirting–something Molly never believed possible–as her body shook with the force of the strongest orgasm she’d ever felt.

Molly fainted.

“Wake up, sleepy-slut.” Molly heard Shayla call in a sing song voice.

“What happened?” Molly asked “Where are the boys?”

Shayla shrugged.

“They’ve gone. That’s how they do their thing–but they called me to pick you up.” Molly thought to be embarrassed, as covered in cum and sweat as she was, but found herself quite clean. Someone had obviously bathed her carefully, gently even–the soreness she felt after a group job had been assuaged by a salve one of the kind men had massaged into her over-worked pussy.

Molly tried to stand, but Shayla stopped her.

“Don’t try, lady. Or should I say Goddess.” she laughed.

“They called you that too?”

Shayla nodded.

“They aren’t a cult, I don’t think. just, hangers on. Worshippers of the Goddess.”

“Temple Goddesses are hard to come by, these days, I guess.” Molly laughed, letting Shayla lead her toward the door.

“Oh, no. I think they make us come pretty easy.” Shayla smiled, as the two women hobbled back to their car, both aglow with sex and vitality.

It has been a couple of years since my last submission so i was a little rusty withmy English so big thanks to Gene for helping with the grammar. And a special thank you to Jonnie who did a marvelous job editing. the story wouldn’t have been so good without you. All characters are above 18 and would love to hear some feedback as this is my first groupsex story.


Isabel looked at the flyer again to check if the address was correct, but according to Google maps, she was at the right place. She thought to herself that it was a bit strange that it was so quiet for a college party but, being new to the area, she thought that maybe they were just slow starters around here.

Isabel was a 20 year old engineering student who had just moved to the other side of the States to finish her education and get her degree. Earlier in the afternoon the 5″7 redhead had a little chat with some of the popular girls in school who had insisted that if she wanted to make friends fast, she had to come to their party, the party of the year. Now, wearing her black cocktail dress, that was constantly on the verge of spilling her perfect 34 C cups out, and showed enough of the lace of her stockings to make a WW2 veteran hard and her bubbly ass that made so many head’s turn, she knocked on the door.

The door was opened by what Isabel could only describe as your average chess player/mathlete. Worrying that she had really messed up with the flyer and directions, she quickly asked if this was where the party was at, before thinking of even setting one foot in the house. But, as the geek told her she had it right, she stepped in and fallowed him to the garden where she could see four more nerds clustered around a table. Apart from that, she could see that it was indeed decorated for a party, with balloons, chips and food but she couldn’t help feel a bit dumb as she thought those girls had purposely tricked her.

“Hi!” The nerd said somewhat nervously, his eyes automatically running up and down Isabel’s body, “I think you’re at the wrong party miss,” blushing a little and laughing, as he got up to give her his hand.

Seeing the confusion on her face, he smiled.

“The sorority party is on campus, I think you took the wrong flyer off the board, since this is the alternative party for people not wanting to be at their crazy Greek party of the year.”

Isabel was about to leave, wanting to go to the right party, but the look on the four other nerds faces touched her at that moment. For a second, they actually thought that they party with a gorgeous redhead, and then, the next moment, reality sunk in.

“You know what,” she said, suddenly changing her mind, “I was told to come to a party to make friends and that’s what I’m going to do.” she said smiling widely at the five nerds. “Nice to meet you, my name is Isabel but my friends call me Bella.”

She smiled as the five men couldn’t hide their amazement that this hottie was going to actually party with them. The first five minutes were a bit hectic as she took off her jacket and set aside her purse, as she was swarmed with questions and introductions. She quickly learned that Mark, Steve, Leno, Thomas and Abel where all in the same classes as she was, and immediately she knew she had made the right choice to stay at their party.

“So boys… any party games other then D&D on the menu?” she asked them jokingly, eyeing the board game on the table and the videogame controllers on the couch.

As the boys franticly cleared the table for her, she smiled, thinking that she might actually have some fun toying with these geeks tonight.

“We can play some card games if you want. You know drown the jock?” one of the nerds asked. “It’s just drown the clown but with another name.”

Bella nodded, it was a card game she was familiar with. Everyone would get a card and flip it. If two people had a matching pair, they had to point at each other and yell jock. The slow one would have to drink as many shots as displayed on the card. Face cards were dares decided by the group. The first few rounds where slow, so when Bella matched 3′s with Leno, she let him beat her to get some liquid fun into her.

Next, she matched Queens with Thomas and beat him to the line. Deciding it was time to tease them a little, she dared him to lay on the table and let her take a body shot off him. The poor guy turned beet red in embarrassment. But, she had to admit, he was brave as he didn’t need any prompting from his friends to get on the table. Bella pushed his shirt up revealing his white tummy. Pouring a small shot, she slowly and sensually licked it off him. Grinning, she saw the obvious tent in his pants and the looks of lust and jealousy in his friends eyes.

The game continued, and after a few more of rounds, Bella started to get unlucky and had to drink a couple of shots more then what she was comfortable with. When she flipped a joker and saw that Steve had one too, she quickly pointed and yelled.


The men laughed at the Freudian slip as Steve called her jock, and for a couple of seconds the whole table was laughing hard. Then, catching her breath, Bella smiled sweetly at Steve.

“Any dare but no more alcohol for me please.”

Steve agreed and started to think of a good dare.

” Well… since you don’t want to drink I guess we’ll have to do it for you,” he said mischievously, “so I dare you to let us have a body shot off your body!.”

Bella laughed as she agreed and the boys let out whoops of pleasure. Just the thought of taking a body shot off Bella’s sexy tummy was enough to get their pants a little tighter. It was only when she sat down on the table that she started to blush. She had forgotten that she was wearing a dress, and that in order to do a body shot she would have to reveal her lacy panties and garter belt to the boys.

After taking a deep breath, she lifted up the hem of her skirt and laid back on the table, pulling her dress up as she tucked her trimmed tummy as much as she could to form a little bowl for the men. She could hear them letting out wolf-whistles and cat-calls as they admired her sleek sexy tummy, taking turns licking the cold vodka off her.

When the last one had taken his shot, she quickly got off the table, as the geeks had taken their time to take their shots on purpose, loving the feel of their lips on Bella’s sexy stomach. But, shortly after, fate struck again, as for a second time she yelled cock instead of jock, on a match of 5′s with Mark.

“Oh no!” Bella said, “There’s no way I can do 5 more shots…” She said, looking sweetly at Mark, hoping he would let her off the hook. As Mark looked at his friends, she wondered for a second if he would force her to drink, but he just smiled at her and she felt relieved for a second.

“Okay you can skip this one but…” he said, grinning at her, “you have to sit on my lap for 5 rounds.”

Smiling at their naivety, she moved towards mark to sit on his lap, only to feel him pull up the bottom of her dress, so that it wouldn’t lay between them. She didn’t know if she should be upset or impressed by his boldness, impressed that a nerd like him would make a move on a girl like her, so she didn’t say anything and sat on his lap, even as she felt a hard bulge pushing against her ass.

Unfortunately though, she matched another pair with Abel after 3 rounds, and, as she paused, making sure not to yell out cock again, she was beaten by him.

“Well Bella, I guess you don’t want to do 9 shots, and you’re still stuck on Marks lap for two more rounds,” he said grinning at her… “so I guess you’ll have to trade me your panties for the shots.”

Bella looked at Abel, shocked that he would be so bold as to suggest this as all the other nerds cheered his suggestion. She was considering just drinking the shots but maybe it was the alcohol… or maybe just her hormones making her hot, or just peer pressure, but much to the boy’s surprise and shock, even her own, she hooked her fingers in her waistband and slithered out of her panties, throwing them to Abel, blowing him a kiss as she did.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen them before anyway,” she said boldly, teasingly grinning at the boys as she felt Mark’s bulge, even harder now, pressed up against her tight naked ass.

The game continued, and Bella forgot that she could get off Mark’s lap, enjoying the feel of him pressing against her ass. Leno won a round against Mark, the two of them matching a pair of Queens, and Bella moved over to his lap, relieved that she wouldn’t have to take any more shots. But, just like before, as she sat down on his lap, Leno pulled up her skirt so his already hard cock in his pants was pressed right up against her bare ass. When she lost again to Steve on a pair of kings she wondered what he have her do.

“Let’s do another round of body shots!” Steve said, giving Bella a big smile, “I want to taste your sexy tummy again.”

The guys cheered, all of them wanting to take shots off her sexy stomach again, but Bella wasn’t sure if she wanted to let them do that again. Now that she wasn’t wearing any panties, she was nervous about letting them take another round of body shots off her. Biting her lip, she decided to do it, just not like the boys had in mind.

Bending over the table, propping herself up on her elbows to arch her back, and sticking her sexy ass up in the air, she lifted her dress and told them to pour the shot in the bowl of her arched back. As each geek grabbed her by the hips to take his shot, she could feel herself slowly losing control over her own body. This time, when Abel pulled her on his lap, she was the one to pull up her dress, making sure there was nothing between the poor geek’s lap and her bare ass as they played.

The game kept going and the alcohol didn’t stop and Bella once again said ‘cock” instead of ‘jock.’ All the geeks were laughing as they were pretty drunk themselves.

“Dear, dear Bella,” Mark said, “one would think that you really want something else out of this game,” he said as he poured six shots out for her. Looking at the glasses, Bella knew there was no way she could drink all those shots without being sick. Holding her breath, she waited to see what Abel would offer her, since he had one the last hand. The other boys were equally quiet, the gaming taking on a much more sexually charged atmosphere.

“Well if she doesn’t want to drink, I guess I can settle with taking her bra,” he said, grinning at Bella, and then at his friends.

For a second Bella blushed and thought about saying no. The game had become pretty crazy and who knew where things might go, but when she didn’t say anything, Abel slipped one hand under her dress as his other hand unclipped her bra and pulled her strapless bra off her. Pulling it out from under her dress and throwing it on the table, the other boys let out cheers of encouragement, eyeing her bra. Bella could feel a slight sag in her dress, deepening her cleavage even more. She noticed that Abel had placed both his hands on her hips again, but this time under her dress, touching her bare skin.

The next couple of rounds flashed by quickly as Abel’s hand started to caress and stroke her stomach and thighs. Slowly but surely, the hot redhead started to feel a fire building between her legs that was close to raging out of control, she was getting wet with arousal and could feel her juices dripping down her thighs.

Sensing her eagerness and feeling her wetness, Abel called for another round of body shots and helped her up. Glad for a brief moment to try and compose herself, Bella lifted her skirt up and was getting ready to bend over onto the table so the geeks could take their shots. Instead, she was surprised when she was turned around by one of the boys and gently pushed onto the table.

Before she could say anything, her legs were pushed open on the table, spreading her thighs and revealing her to the geeks. Her dress was being pulled over her head and for a second, she tried to hold onto it, and not let the boys pull it off her, but then she felt the cold vodka hit her clit and she moaned as Abel pushed his lips against her pussy and sucked the alcohol into his mouth. Bella cried out loud, moaning in pleasure as each of the young men took his turn taking a shot from her pussy. The last to take his shot was Mark, and after he was done, he just kept eating her, licking and sucking her pussy into his mouth.

The booze, the wonderful sensations and feelings of the boys’ hands and lips on her, and now, Mark’s mouth and tongue on her pussy sent Bella to Nirvana. She could feel a powerful orgasm building in her loins as Leno straddled her chest. He had stripped naked and started to fuck her tits with enthusiastic thrust of his small cock. Smiling at him, Bella cupped her ripe full breasts to help him, but as she did, he started to buck his hips and shoot a thick rope of cum on her breast. She was about to laugh at his lack of stamina, but before she could, her orgasm from Mark’s mouth on her pussy crashed over her. The wave that racked her body was so powerful that she thrashed around from side to side on the table, moaning and screaming at the top of her lungs for the boys not to stop.

As her orgasm finally crested and subsided, she felt herself being flipped over, and a tongue probed her from behind. Mark, his face covered in her juices, climbed on the table with his own small cock. Pushing herself up on her hands, arching her back in the process, she opened her mouth for the geek cock in front of her.

“Well little lady,” Mark said as he playfully pushed his cock towards her mouth, “you wanted cock, here it is. All you have to do is ask nicely,” he said, grinning at her, pushing his cock head only a few inches from her waiting mouth.

Grinning at him, Bella felt a new mouth on her pussy, making her moan in pleasure as she licked her lips at Mark, moving them closer to his cock but not touching his cockhead, before answering him.

“The question Mark,” she said, almost touching her lips to the tip of his cock, teasing him mercilessly, “isn’t if I’m going to ask nicely, but what you’ll do if I don’t,” Bella said, grinning up at him wickedly.

Mark just smiled and smacked his cock against her face a couple of times. But, as the redhead kept on grinning at him, he lost his patience and just her grabbed her head, burying his fingers in her hair and thrust his cock into her open mouth.

Letting out a moan as the nerd surprised her by pushing his cock into her mouth without permission, Bella started to suck on it as hard as she could. She felt a tongue twist and swirl around her asshole as two fingers where pushed inside her.

“Oh shit, this hot little slut really wanted a cock in her,” Mark moaned as he started to fuck the young girl’s face, smiling at Thomas who was standing behind her.

Bella felt a pair of hands grab her by her hips. She sighed, thinking that it was about time that someone jammed a cock deep inside her dripping pussy. Letting go of Mark’s cock, she wanted to tell whoever was behind her to just pound his little cock into her and plough her over and over again. But, Mark grabbed her tighter by her hair, tangling his fingers deep in her red hair, and pushed his cock hard back into her hungry mouth. She felt fingers digging into the skin of her hips and the tip of a cock push against her wet pussy lips, shivering in anticipation, she lifted her hips up a little higher, waiting for the small nerd cock to fill her.

“Oh my fucking Godeuhmffff!!”

She tried to scream, until her mouth got filled again by a cum spewing cock. The feeling of warm cum in her mouth and the huge cock almost ripping her in half was enough to send her over the edge for a second time. She didn’t get a chance to rest as Thomas kept on jack-hammering her from behind, literally nailing her tight cunt to the table.

“Oh fuckkk,” Thomas moaned in pleasure, “that feels so good baby. Your pussy is so tight around my dick. I should let you do more of the heavy lifting baby,” he said as he lifted her up off the table and went to lay on his back on the floor, turning Bella around until she was straddling him, her pussy still on his cock.

For a second she remained still, panting for air and trying to catch her breath, but she was spurred on by a couple of hard slaps against her ass. She started to push herself up and down on Thomas’s monster cock, moaning as it filled her so deep. Seeing her tits bounce so sexily, Abel made his way in front of her and pushed his cock against her lips, wanting her to suck him as she rode Thomas for all she was worth. Moaning in pleasure, hungry for more cock, Bella opened her mouth and took Abel’s small cock deep in her mouth, sucking him hard. The other nerds laughed at her enthusiasm, calling her all kinds of dirty names. Steve and Leno moved to stand on either side of her, her putting her hands on their cocks so that she could pleasure all four of them at the same time. Mark, who was still recovering from the amazing blowjob she had given him, was walking around the action, snapping pictures and making little clips on his cellphone for later use.

As he got hard again and saw that her hands, mouth, and pussy were all being used, he saw there wasn’t really any space for him to join his friends in front of her, so he kneeled behind her and gave her ass a couple of playful spanks.

Grabbing her waist, he stopped her bobbing head for a second and pushed the tip of his cock against her tight little back door. Moaning at how tight her ass was, Mark pushed past her ass-ring. He expected her to cry out and tell him to stop, but all he heard was a soft moan. Pushing himself in deeper, he let her move her hips again, her pussy and ass both completely filled.

This time, it wasn’t the men who blew early, but the feeling of being completely filled and used sent Bella over the edge, the two cocks thrusting hard and deep into her pussy and ass drove her to a body wracking orgasm. Her pussy and ass convulsing and clamping down tightly around the geek cocks, trying to milk them dry. As she collapsed, her body not able to keep her up anymore, the nerds formed a circle around her, snapping more pics and clips.

Thomas spoke up:

“Bella… beg us for our cum, if you ever want more of this…”

Bella looked straight into the lens of his cell and licked her lips, smiling and panting.

“Please… I need your cum… I want you to spew that sweet cum all over me. Pretty please.” she said.

That was it for the boys, they couldn’t take any more and started to coat her with their cum. Thomas was the last to explode, grabbing her by the hair, and shot his load onto her face, glazing her as the amount of his cum was directly proportional to his cock. When he was done, he pushed his cock back into her mouth, telling her to clean him.

Afterwards, she was helped to the bathroom so she could clean up, and Leno drove her back home. Bella eventually started to go to the better parties on campus, but would still have her weekly workouts with the boys, even without having to be blackmailed into it. After all if one cock is good, then five is better.

Lloyd’s Angel: Doing Susan

January 1962

Dinner broke up with a round of “good-nights” and soon Susan and I were walking back across the campus. The two of us strolled quietly for a block, watching our breath steam in the chill night air, while a new round of snowflakes fluttered down past the streetlights.

“Whose idea was the ketchup?” Susan asked after we turned onto a less populated street. Her tone had hints of both resignation and humor, but apparently no anger.

“Alexandra’s. She thought something you weren’t expecting would be more useful.” I was honest enough to assign credit for a clever idea, and not chivalrous enough to take the fall for it if she was really upset. “Tell me about it while it’s fresh in your mind,” I suggested, genuinely curious.

“She’s going to come to a bad end,” Susan muttered, then shook her head. “I knew something was up as soon as I’d put it on my burger. I looked at the fries with that bottle in my hand, and I could feel my mouth water. But I knew I hated ketchup on fries!”

We passed another house before she resumed talking, giving me a chance to reflect on what she’d said. It seemed we had another piece of hard evidence that my ability was real, and that it was trickier to use than I’d thought.

“Finally, I just had to try one,” Susan admitted. “It was really weird.”

“Yeah, I saw your face. You didn’t like it after all?”

“Honestly, it’s confusing. It tasted exactly like I expected, but…” Susan shrugged. “It was like half my brain was saying, ‘you hate this,’ and the other half was saying, ‘this tastes great!’ I’m not sure what to think.”

“Wow,” I said, and blew out a large cloud of steam. “Would you eat them again?”

She thought on it awhile. “I think so,” Susan finally replied. “I think maybe I’d just need to get out of the habit of not liking it, if that makes any sense.”

“About as much as any of the rest of it,” I mused, pondering the ramifications. “Alexandra will be fascinated, I’m sure.”

I sensed more than saw Susan roll her eyes. “She has a low sense of humor, even if food was one of the things we agreed to test. Would you like to come up?”

Startled, I realized we’d reached the student apartment where she lived. “Won’t that be a problem? I thought you had a roommate.”

Susan laughed. “Yelena? Not on a Friday evening — I should introduce her to Danny, but I’m not ready to completely ruin her reputation! We’re not supposed to have boys in after hours, but the other girls sneak them in all the time.”

“Okay, if we won’t get in trouble.”

“No more trouble than you deserve! Just wait over there by the side door and I’ll be back in a minute.” She surprised me with a quick kiss and hurried in the front. I meandered over to the side of the building, following the path worn in the snow; I barely had time to look around before Susan had opened the door and dragged me inside. She led me up the back stairs to the second floor and down the hall, passing another girl who only smiled.

Susan let us into her room and I looked around for a moment while she rummaged in a dresser before producing a bobby sock. “Do not disturb,” she explained, pulling it over the doorknob before closing and locking the door. Some of the thoughts that had been running idly though my head over the past few minutes came into sharper focus.

We took off our coats, but instead of hanging them in the closet, Susan dropped hers on the floor and started unfastening her sweater. I presumed my coat ended up on the floor too, but I wasn’t paying attention to it. It turned out my earlier guess had been correct; there was nothing under the sweater except nubile female flesh.

“I do have nice boobs, don’t I?” Susan asked, presenting herself confidently for inspection.

“Oh yeah,” I agreed, urgently hard. Thoughts of Alexandra didn’t so much disappear as move aside as I admired the attractive and half-naked young woman before me. I needed physical relief, and I wanted to fuck her in the worst way.

“They’re bigger than Yelena’s,” Susan boasted, but I cut her off with an aggressive kiss. She opened her mouth almost immediately and our tongues probed against each other. I’m sure she felt my cock as clearly as I did her tits. We broke apart and almost in unison began shedding our clothes. Susan had a head start, but I didn’t have hose to deal with, so we finished in a dead heat.

I thought I read lust in her expression, but Susan turned away from me and started rummaging in one of the dressers, mumbling something under her breath. A little disappointed, I followed her delectable ass and wrapped my arms around her from behind, grinding my rigid tool against the small of her back. “Lloyd!” she squeaked, squirming in my embrace; she had a condom package in one hand.

I felt like a heel for not thinking of the risks, but my remorse quickly was buried beneath my rising anticipation and physical desire. My grip tightened and I lofted Susan onto the nearby bed, smiling at her surprised shriek. “Sssh!” I told her, and knelt on the bed to straddle her as she lay on her back.

Susan looked at my cock, jutting towards her face, and I wondered if she might squeeze it between her tits or even take it in her mouth. Instead, she tore open the packet and started rolling the condom down my penis; apparently she was as eager to reach home base as I was. I trailed my fingers up her flanks to her nipples, watching them stiffen beneath my touch.

As soon as the condom was in place, I crab walked backwards until I was between her legs. I wasn’t the world’s most experienced lover, but even I realized we hadn’t done much in the way of foreplay. I probed her bush gently with a finger, thinking I shouldn’t be too selfish, but Susan was already wet and pulling at my arms.

“Oh, just get inside me, hurry!” she moaned.

No man alive, and certainly not me, was going to pass up a request like that from a beautiful girl. I lined up and started easing myself into her molten pussy; about half-way in, Susan got her legs around mine and pulled me the rest of the way into her in a rush. At that point, my remaining self-control vanished and I started rutting into her like a jackhammer. It had been awhile since I’d been with a girl and Susan felt way better than my hand, even with the condom in the way.

She made the most erotic little moans and gasps, as if she were trying to remain quiet but just couldn’t hold them in. Her eyes were open, but must have been focused about 100 feet above the roof of the building.

I came embarrassingly quickly, like I was still eighteen or something, and collapsed momentarily atop Susan. Regretfully, I wriggled free before I deflated and lost the bulging condom inside her. My libido was still stuck in overdrive, even if my penis needed a break, and I didn’t think Susan had orgasmed yet. Settling myself beside her, I started fingering her dripping crevice. At the same time I was physically stimulating her, I tried to will her to orgasm.

It took a few minutes, but I could see something was working because her nipples were hard like rocks and her knuckles were white where they gripped the bedspread. Suddenly Susan gasped and arched her body completely off the bed while a scream tore itself from her throat. I’d never seen a girl so abandoned, and I didn’t think it was an act. My cock was hardening again at the sight of her.

Susan’s eyes focused on my face and she brushed a sweaty lock of hair off her forehead. “My gosh, Lloyd, I’ve never felt so wanton,” she whispered hoarsely. A slow smile spread across her face when a questing hand found my firm tool. “Come here, you.”

I thought she might want to fuck again, but she pulled on me, leading me by my cock until I was straddling her once more. Susan stripped off the condom and cast it aside, then pressed her breasts together around my now-rigid organ. “Do they feel as good as they look?” she asked me.

“Better,” I assured her. My slick flesh easily slid back and forth against hers. It wasn’t the same as fucking her, but without the condom in the way, the sensation was intense, and the view was even better. I’d heard about tit-fucking, but never done it before now. It was exciting to be doing it, and even more exciting to think I might have influenced Susan to do it.

It was ungracious, but I had a sudden flash of Alexandra squeezing her tits around my cock. The thought was enough to make me shudder and jet warm spunk onto Susan’s neck and chin. She jerked but couldn’t avoid either the initial blast or the follow-on emissions that dripped stickily onto her chest.

“Eeww, Lloyd,” she complained, evidently as unpracticed in these matters as I. “Come on, get off me!”

I backed off, but slowly, letting a few last drops spatter her belly. I felt like a dog marking his territory, and thought hard about Susan massaging my cum into her flushed skin.

Susan appeared to be oblivious to my thoughts. “Can you get me something?” she asked, sitting up. Some of my spend had already dripped onto the pillow, and now the rest was trailing slowly down her body — a truly erotic sight.

I looked about for a moment before catching sight of her panties lying on the floor with the rest of our clothing. “Here,” I said, stooping to retrieve them, “I think it’s your turn to ruin a pair.”

She gave me a dirty look before laughing and accepting them. “We don’t seem to do a very good job of planning, do we?” she asked, mopping up the worst of the mess. Susan looked doubtfully at the spots on the pillow.

“Lick it up!” I thought while managing to get out a simple verbal, “no.” My hopes rose as Susan used a finger to remove most of the excess, but she merely cleaned it on the panties and flipped the pillow so the spots were on the bottom.

She shrugged. “Oh, well. I’m pretty sure Yelena’s done worse to me.”

“What?” I asked, not getting it.

“This is Yelena’s bed,” Susan explained. “You don’t think I’m the kind of girl who keeps condoms in her dresser, do you?”

I took in her naked body, topped with tousled hair and gleaming here and there with the residue of my orgasm, and thought she looked exactly like that kind of girl. I felt an urge to do her again, but my penis didn’t look like it was up to the challenge. Yet.

Susan read the answer in my expression and flushed slightly before giggling. “Well, okay, but I’m not!” We both laughed, and started picking up our abandoned clothing.

It seemed a bit gauche to just leave, but we’d already had dinner. “Do you want to see a movie, or maybe get a cup of coffee?” I asked.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the wrong order? Besides, I think I need a little more cleaning up than you do.” Her skirt went into the closet in exchange for a robe, which Susan pulled on and belted. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, mind you.”

I finished tucking in my shirt and stuffed the tie in my pocket. “Well, another night, then.” I hesitated, and then walked over and kissed her again. It was pretty steamy, but without the raw edge of our earlier lust, and Susan pressed her hand over mine when I slid it inside her robe to cup a breast.

“I’d better fix that,” Susan told me when we parted, and ran a finger across my mouth; it came away lipstick red. “Better,” she pronounced, and walked me to the door.

Susan cracked the door and I slid out, trying for a little discretion, to find myself facing another girl. She was thin, although still feminine, and gave me a piercing look as I emerged from the room.

“So, Susan is not so aloof as she appears,” the girl drawled after finishing her examination. “I am pleased to meet you, I think.” Her amused smirk was hard to resist.

“I’m Lloyd,” I introduced myself, offering my hand.

“Yelena,” she responded, placing her hand lightly in mine instead of shaking it as I’d expected.

I yielded to impulse and raised her hand to my lips; it just seemed like a natural thing to do. “Charmed.”

“I can see,” she commented archly, looking at the red smudge I’d left by her knuckles. “I would wish you a good evening, but I see you’ve already had one.” Yelena stripped the sock from the doorknob and wiped away the lipstick. “Please feel free to visit again.”

“Yelena!” Susan moaned from behind me.

“I want to hear all about it,” Susan’s roommate said as she entered the room. I waved a silent, and unheeded, goodbye and retreated the way I’d entered without encountering anybody else.

The snow was falling again Saturday, and I wasn’t exactly a winter person. One of the benefits of boarding instead of living in a dorm or apartment was that I could get away with holing up on these kinds of days; Mrs. Wagner would even bring me coffee without prompting. I claimed my usual chair by the fireplace in the family room and worked through a stack of grading while Mr. Wagner studied the minutia of the sports section and Mrs. Wagner knitted — very homey.

After I’d finished grading, I turned to the more interesting question of assessing what I’d learned the previous day and what I might try next. There was a delicate balance to maintain between what I wanted and what would be safe, and what I could tell Alexandra and what I shouldn’t; I ended up just closing my eyes and waiting to see where my mind would drift.

I hadn’t quite fallen asleep, or so I thought, when I woke suddenly and found Mrs. Wagner standing beside my chair with a throw in her hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lloyd! I didn’t mean to startle you; I just thought you looked a little cold.” She proceeded to settle the throw over my lap and legs.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Wagner, I wasn’t really sleeping. Thanks!”

The whole interaction was almost routine, because Mrs. Wagner was eerily silent in her slippers and really had surprised me any number of times in the past. I’d grown accustomed to it, but it was disconcerting. Somehow it hadn’t worked that way today.

I lay back and closed my eyes again, but this time my mind was working much more quickly. What had alerted me this time? I worked on the problem fruitlessly for some time before calming again in the warmth of the fire and the crackle of the burning wood. I’d started watching the transient flashes of imagined stars inside my eyelids when I gradually became aware of a faint lightness somewhere ahead of me. It reminded me somewhat of coals buried beneath ashes after a fire had almost burned out, but without any sense of color.

Opening my eyes momentarily revealed the glow, if it really existed, seemed to coincide with Mr. Wagner. I closed my eyes again and cast about for Mrs. Wagner; I convinced myself that I found a matching glow where she was sitting, but it was too faint to discern with my eyes open. A little experimentation suggested the glows tracked with them, but I couldn’t make out anything more. The chief result of sitting there with my eyes closed was that I fell asleep again.

The ringing phone awakened me. For whatever reason, Mr. Wagner was in charge of answering it, and he was most of the way to the kitchen before I was aware enough to close my eyes and try to follow him. I didn’t have any luck, either due to the extra distance or my unsettled mental state.

“Lloyd, it’s for you,” he said after a minute.

I sat up in surprise. Sure, I was listed in the campus directory, but I couldn’t remember anybody calling me before this, and it wasn’t the right time for my parents to be calling.

“A Susan,” he added with a wink. It was ridiculous how excited both of them looked; Mrs. Wagner had let it be known that she thought I didn’t socialize enough, and now I’d never hear the end of it.

I got to the phone and tried to ignore my hosts, who were hovering far enough away to give me some space but doubtless close enough to hear every word I said. “Hi, Susan.”

“Oh, Lloyd, I hope you don’t mind me calling,” she apologized. “Did I interrupt anything?”

“Only a thought experiment,” I quipped. “I’m happy you called.”

“I was just wondering if we could get together and plan some more research.” She lowered her voice and continued, “I just couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday. You don’t think I’m being too forward, do you?”

“I’d like that,” I smiled. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mrs. Wagner practically jumping up and down and whispering, “Ask her out!”

“This is research!” I hissed, holding a hand over the phone, before putting it back to my ear. “Would you mind coming over here? I board but I don’t think the owners will mind. The university doesn’t leave the thermostats turned up over the weekend, and it would be more comfortable than your place or the library.” It was unlikely to be a problem with the Wagners, and sure enough a quick glance showed Mr. Wagner giving me a thumbs-up.

“That would be fine; can you give me directions?”

“What if I pick you up, instead? It’s still miserable outside, and I’d be happy to take you home again afterwards.”

“Would you? That’d be swell!”

“About 6:30, then?”

“I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I assured her, and hung up.

Mr. Wagner chuckled. “She must be some girl to get you out in the snow.”

“Oh, shush,” said Mrs. Wagner, elbowing him. “Weren’t you telling me you wanted to see ‘Lawrence of Arabia’?”

They traded knowing looks. “Well, Lloyd, it looks like some girl is going to drag me out in the snow, too.” Mr. Wagner didn’t look too upset about it.

“I promise not to throw any wild parties,” I grinned, starting to think about what else I might do instead.

We ate lunch, and I called Susan back, just to let her know she didn’t have to worry about impressing the Wagners. I then proceeded to do un-Saturday-like activities such as making my bed, showering, and shaving. I also checked to be sure I had a few condoms discreetly tucked where I could reach them at need.

After picking at a dinner that could have been sawdust for all I remembered of it, all of us bundled up, brushed off the cars, and departed in different directions. The movie was long, and the Wagners told me they didn’t expect to be home until late. The roads weren’t as bad as I’d feared and I made it to Susan’s apartment early, but she emerged from the front door as soon as I got out of the car.

I handed her into the passenger’s seat, slammed the balky door hard to make sure it latched on the first try, and scampered around to climb back inside myself.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Susan told me, huddling in her heavy coat. “I wasn’t really looking forward to going anywhere in this.”

“Neither was I,” I laughed, “but this seemed like a good cause.” I concentrated on keeping the Ford in the middle of the street and we made only inconsequential conversation on the thankfully short drive back home. After pulling back into my space in the empty driveway, we dashed up to the house and inside to the warmth of the mud room, where we stamped the snow off our boots.

I offered to hang up her coat, and got the surprise of my life — beneath it, Susan was naked save for a scarf and her boots. “Jesus, Susan!” I blurted, fumbling with the garment.

She giggled, evidently pleased by the pole-axed expression that must have been visible on my face. “I have a present from Yelena, too,” she announced, and withdrew a handful of condoms from one of the pockets. “We only have to promise not to use them on her bed!”

“It’s a deal!” I got our coats mostly onto hangers and then, hands free, pulled her tight for a passionate kiss. “This way,” I urged her a minute later, tugging in the direction of my room. I had my shirt unbuttoned by the time we got there; I started on my trousers, but Susan pushed me onto my bed and finished the job herself.

“I want you,” she growled huskily, shredding one of the condom wrappers. “Do I make you hot?”

“Unbelievably,” I gasped, as if my rigid erection wasn’t answer enough. There were things I wanted to try, but I suspected I was too worked up at the moment, and the sight of Susan wearing only a scarf was a real turn-on. I made myself lie still while she rolled on the condom, then pulled her onto the bed beside me and we were in each other’s arms.

“I’m looking forward to this,” I admitted, but she just moaned as I pushed myself into her wet pussy. There was no resistance and in no time at all we were fucking like minks.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck me, Lloyd!” was about the most coherent thing Susan said, but she was vocal enough to make me glad we had the house to ourselves.

I forced myself to slow down so I wouldn’t pop right away. “Get on top, baby — I want to hold your tits,” I gasped.

Susan gave me a sly look, and we rolled so she was straddling me. She wriggled a bit and began bouncing up and down on my organ while I cupped her breasts in my hands. The bad news, if you could call it that, was that she was working herself more energetically than I had been. The good news was that I could lie passively and enjoy the ride.

With my eyes closed, I tried to ignore the extremely pleasurable sensations emanating from my groin and focused on the space above me. Almost immediately I found a glow, either brighter or closer, about where Susan’s head was; it bobbed slightly in rhythm with her body. I fixated on that spot and concentrated on my arousal, and how good my cock felt inside her, and the orgasm that wasn’t too far away.

Everything happened at once, so I never was sure what might be cause or just reaction. The glow rippled slightly, Susan’s pussy squeezed me like a vise, and both of us climaxed almost simultaneously. I gasped, releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and Susan wailed as if she were dying. A moment later she collapsed atop me and we held each other, breathing heavily.

“God, you are hot,” I complimented Susan, meaning every word, and kissed her. I wasn’t sure if she’d orgasmed because of what I’d tried or not, but the effect was equally delightful either way.

“Flatterer,” she replied. “I’ve never felt the way you make me feel, Lloyd.” A subtle movement of her body reminded us both I was still inside her.

It wasn’t every day a guy had a beautiful girl tell him he was the best lay she’d ever had. I was still pretty hard, and motivated to go again, so I pulled Susan close and rolled us back until I was on top of her again. Both of us were smiling in anticipation as I pulled back a bit and thrust into her.

Susan screamed and we both jumped.

“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned.

She chewed daintily on a lip and considered. “Oh, yes. I just — wasn’t expecting that.” She spread her legs a little wider. “Please don’t stop!”

I started pumping again. This time, I didn’t stop when Susan started wriggling and panting beneath me; as if we’d played the previous few minutes over again at high speed, she climaxed after only a minute, but continued begging me to fuck her harder. With that stimulus, I rapidly approached my own orgasm. Judging by the jerking and incoherent cries she made, Susan got off one or two more times before I emptied my load into the abused condom.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” she sighed weakly when I pulled out before the condom could leak any of my semen into her.

Feeling a bit drained myself, I skimmed off the condom and discarded it before collapsing back on the bed beside her. “You are a firecracker.”

“I know. I mean, my gosh, I’ve never cum like that before.”

I’d been wondering that too, and she’d saved me the awkward question. “I’d like to cum like that again, but I’ll need a little rest, first,” I chuckled. There was a decent chance my meddling might have had something to do with it, but I couldn’t be sure and I didn’t have infinite stamina. I had a slight headache, but it was already fading.

Susan giggled. “I guess it’s a good thing I have extra condoms!” One hand possessively cradled my shriveled penis.

“I have to admit I have a few laid in, too,” I grinned in return. “Do you want to see how many of them we can go through?”

“Yes,” Susan answered, with a matching grin. “But maybe we can talk while you recover.” Her expression turned more serious.

I braced myself for the sort of touchy-feely dialog many girls seemed to feel went hand-in-hand with sex. “Sure. What did you have in mind? Something about the research project?” It was sort of a joke.

“In a way,” was the unexpected answer. Susan rolled on her side so she could look at me. “Help me, Lloyd. Help me be better.”

The strange request triggered so many random thoughts that they jumbled together and all that came out of my mouth was, “huh?” It wasn’t my finest moment. “What do you mean?” I clarified. “You seem plenty good to me!”

Susan brushed the side of my face with a hand. “Thanks, Lloyd. But I do have a problem, a big one, that I think you could help with — and not many people could.” She took a deep breath and released it, then added, “I’m too shy.”

It was a struggle not to laugh in her face, but Susan clearly was serious about it, and it would be rather ungentlemanly of me. “I hadn’t noticed,” I finally responded, making a point of running my gaze down her nude body.

“I’m serious!” she protested, punching me lightly. “It’s different with you — I’m uninhibited, more confident, more open. I don’t know why,” Susan reflected. “I just trust you, I guess.” I started to reply, but she shushed me and continued. “I’m not this way with anybody else. It took me months to open up with Alexandra, and we share the same office! Remember how long it took me to say anything to you besides ‘hello’ and ‘good-night’? Do you know Dr. Reynolds still calls me ‘Susie’ and I haven’t worked up the courage to tell him I hate that name?”

Susan rolled back to stare at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t even be in the graduate program. My parents were so proud I got my bachelor’s degree that I couldn’t tell them ‘no’ when they started talking about graduate school. I passed on a grant application for this year because I was embarrassed to ask for help on it, and then I was afraid to admit I missed the filing deadline. I can’t go on like this.”

“Lots of people have problems, Susan. I’m not exactly a ladies’ man myself, in spite of what you might think. I’m not sure I could help, even if there was something to do.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” She pinned me with a direct look. “I don’t want to feel like I’m asphyxiating every time I’m in a room with strangers; I want to be my own woman. Whether it’s because we just happen to click, or because you’ve been meddling with me, I don’t care — just help me learn to do it with other people!”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit rash? I have no idea what — if anything — I’m doing, and I could make things worse without even realizing it.” I wondered if that wasn’t already the case. “Maybe we should wait until Alexandra’s experiments have gotten a little further along.”

Susan blew a tendril of hair away from her face. “That could take forever; I don’t want to wait.” She stroked a finger gently down my chest to my groin. “Please?”

It would have taken a more principled man than I to resist her plea; I sighed. “I’ll try. Just lie here quietly, okay?”

She wriggled a bit. “Can we get under the covers first? I’m getting a little chilly.”

“I have a better idea,” I said, standing up and offering her a hand. “C’mon.” I grabbed the throw that had gotten kicked off the foot of the bed at some point and started for the hall.

Susan hung back. “Lloyd! Where are you going?”

“The family room; we can sit in front of the fire. The Wagners won’t be home for hours.”

Thus reassured, she joined me and we ghosted naked through the house. The fire had died down, but it only took a minute to poke up the coals and add a few more logs. I’d thought we’d use the couch, but Susan had opted to steal a pillow and camp on the rug closer to the fireplace. Soon we were lying spooned together with the throw around us, watching new flames dart up from the seasoned wood.

“Better?” I inquired.

“Much,” she answered, arching slightly so her butt was planted even more firmly against me.

“Okay, just relax. I’m not going to do anything right away.” Susan nodded, and I closed my eyes. At this range, with her hair tickling my nose, what I thought of as the glow of her mind bloomed in my vision as soon as I started looking for it. I continued concentrating and subtle hints of details began to appear; it was reminiscent of sunspot pictures I’d seen. I had no idea how to manipulate it, but ample reason to believe it was possible. “Hmmm… How to start?”

Self-confidence was a slippery concept, especially since most of my presumed successes seemed to be associated with simpler emotional cues. Reducing Susan’s fear of conflict and failure seemed to be what was needed, but I’d never tried to remove rather than impose a feeling, either. The most workable approach seemed to be establishing a positive feedback cycle, but based on what?

“Tell me if you feel anything happening.” I tried to form an amalgamation of my impressions of Susan, the notion of strong, independent women, attraction, and desire, and then somehow attempt to project that in front of me. Nothing happened for a long time, but then Susan’s glow rippled gently. There was an itch inside my head, and then something twisted in a way I couldn’t describe; the penumbra of the mind in my vision flared, and I lost sight of it as I was seized by a splitting headache.

“Damn,” I cursed softly, seeing stars.

“What happened?” Susan asked, twisting to try and look at me.

“I’m honestly not sure, but I gave myself a heck of a headache.” I tried rubbing my forehead, to no discernable effect. “I think I need some aspirin.” I disentangled myself from Susan and the throw, and then stumped off to the bathroom. On the way back, I made a detour to the liquor cabinet and took a quick shot of Mr. Wagner’s brandy before carrying a pair of snifters back to the family room.

Susan had thrown off the covering and in the glow of the fire looked like every man’s wet dream — at least, every man who didn’t have Alexandra on the brain. I felt a stirring in my groin as I sat down beside her.

“Nightcap?” I asked, handing her one of the glasses.

She sipped it appreciatively; Mr. Wagner had far more experience and financial resources supporting his liquor supply than mere graduate students. Giving me a sly Mona Lisa smile, Susan tilted the glass and spilled some of the alcohol on herself, where it trickled between her breasts and down to her navel. “Ooops!”

I obligingly tossed back the remainder of my drink and leaned over to lick her smooth skin. I sucked the fragrant liquor from her belly and slowly worked my way upwards, kissing and teasing as I went. By the time I was done, her breathing was coming more quickly than when I started, and I was at half-mast. I transferred my attentions to her delectable tits, straining to see how much I could fit in my mouth. I teased first one and then the other nipple until both had hardened between my lips and teeth, and Susan was moaning softly.

“My turn,” she husked as she pushed me away. Susan poured out a little more of her brandy, this time directly on my erect penis, and then drained her glass. She tossed her hair back and it was my turn to moan as she bent and took the tip of my organ in her mouth.

My hips rotated of their own accord, trying to drive my cock deeper into Susan’s mouth. I’d gone perhaps an inch more when she shrieked — muffled by my flesh — and sat up to look at me. I was concerned I’d offended her or gone further than she’d intended, but that didn’t seem to be the problem.

“What did you do to me?” she asked, looking me in the face with wild eyes before dropping her gaze to my crotch. I had no answer, but apparently it wasn’t needed; she hunched over and engulfed me again, this time sucking me in so deep I heard her start to gag. Susan backed off, but only so she could go down on my full length again.

The feeling was incredible. I’d had a girl take me in her mouth before, but it had been nothing like this, and with nowhere near the same enthusiasm. I started bucking back, and we settled into a fast rhythm. I could barely believe this gorgeous girl was servicing me this way; I tangled my fingers in her hair, but I could hardly drive her faster or harder than she was going on her own.

When her rhythm broke down and I realized Susan was climaxing, I couldn’t help blowing my load down her throat. She sat up, coughing, and we both tried to catch our breath.

“Oh, my,” Susan choked. She coughed once more, and then fastidiously wiped an errant drop of semen from her lip and examined me. “I never knew — is it like that for everybody?”

“I don’t think so,” I admitted sheepishly. “You seemed to enjoy it a lot.”

“It was almost as good as getting fucked,” she told me with a gleam in her eye. “The feel of you going into me, it was — well, orgasmic. I want more.”

We both looked down at my deflating penis. I’d already cum three times that evening, which was normally about my limit.

“Please fuck me again, Lloyd.”

I proceeded to make perhaps the stupidest decision of my life, before or after. Whether it was the lure of a beautiful vixen, hormones, the liquor, my own hubris, or more likely a combination of all of them, I closed my eyes and focused inward.

Forgetting that I’d admitted to myself that I had nearly no control or understanding of my ability, and glossing over any distinction between mental desire and physical aptitude, I sank into the glow of my own mind. I thought about my hard organ, the way it felt sinking into Susan, desire for her and Alexandra, and every girl that had ever prompted an erection, and tried to find that peculiar twist that could propel those thoughts.

The next thing I remember was lying flat on the floor with Susan leaning over me asking, “Lloyd! Are you all right?”

I looked down the length of her fire-lit body from her hanging jugs to the hidden juncture of her thighs, above my jutting tool. “Oh yeah,” I said, ignoring the return of my headache, and grabbed for her.

“Oh no you don’t!” she giggled, eluding me. “I left my condoms upstairs!”

We raced back to my room, laughing, and if Susan let herself be caught just short of the bed, I recovered enough to wait for her to cover my throbbing meat with a condom before throwing her backwards onto the bed and covering her. There was no finesse, but she was so wet that none was needed; I sank into her like a hot knife in butter.

We rutted like animals. Susan moaned and shrieked her way through another wracking orgasm, but like a machine my cock remained stubbornly rigid; there just wasn’t enough sensation through the condom. I wanted to be inside her, flesh to flesh. All the same, the point of the condoms hadn’t completely escaped me.

Abruptly, I pulled out of Susan and stripped off the condom.

“What are you doing?” Susan panted.

“Something different,” I told her. “I need more sensation.” I grabbed the tube of Brylcreem from my nightstand and squeezed a generous amount into my hand, then began coating my cock with it.

“I don’t want to get pregnant,” Susan protested half-heartedly. I probably could have just fucked her and she would have let me, but my mind was on a different path by that point.

“You can’t get knocked up this way,” I assured her, kneeling on the bed. “Have you ever had anything up your ass before?” I rolled her. She started kicking and screaming, but I had the advantages of surprise, size, and position. My cock was harder than a tire iron as I pressed it between her cheeks and began forcing myself into her tight anus.

It was the sensation I was looking for. I pressed harder, burying myself deeper inside her. Susan was lying quietly now, crying, but I didn’t need her active participation. I pulled nearly all the way free and then reversed my stroke.

“You bastard,” she sobbed, but her butt rose to meet me as I skewered her again. I smiled and picked up the pace. A few minutes later I’d hauled her to her hands and knees, making it easier to fondle her tits, and we were both pounding away with abandon. I finally climaxed, but not before Susan had shuddered and nearly collapsed beneath me from the force of her own orgasm.

“Don’t ever force me again,” Susan told me flatly after I pulled out and she could roll onto her side to look at me.

I ducked my head guiltily. “I’m sorry, honestly. I think I screwed us both up a little bit.” She was looking at my cock, which was still hard, and seemed to force herself to look up.

“I can’t pretend I didn’t like it, by the end. Just remember I’m not your toy.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Can you fix things?”

“I’m not sure,” I shrugged. “You want to get cleaned up first? This is sort of…” My voice trailed off.

Susan gave me a small smile. “I’d like that. I feel unclean.”

I led her to the bathroom and dug an extra set of towels out of the linen cupboard. “Do you want to go first?”

She considered. “How’s the hot water supply?”

“You won’t have a problem,” I answered. The least I could do was avoid mentioning that the second shower might be problematic if I wasn’t quick. My self-induced lust, or whatever it was, was fading and I felt increasingly bad about raping Susan — there really was no other way to describe what had happened.

“Come in with me,” she decided, “you’re already naked.” I hesitated, and she reached out and hauled me to the tub. “Don’t be an idiot. I forgive you.”

What followed was a lot of soaping and fondling, followed by a stand-up ass-fuck when Susan lowered herself gingerly onto my revived tool. We both orgasmed again, Susan more colorfully than I, and we just had time to clean ourselves before the fading water temperature chased us back to my bed.

We snuggled together under the blankets and quilt, this time face-to-face. “I just wanted us to both enjoy sex,” I explained to Susan. “I’m not sure if I can reverse it or not.”

She gently kissed me. “I trust you, Lloyd. Still. Just do your best — if nothing happens, well, I guess it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

I closed my eyes and focused on the glow of her mind. I watched it swirl and pulse, resistant to my cautious attempts, but kept trying. At some point, I fell asleep.

Alexandra swayed before me, her hair swirling gracefully in a breeze I couldn’t feel, her body barely concealed beneath a filmy negligee. I moved towards her, naked and rampantly erect, and her ruby red lips formed an “O” of awe as she admired my manhood.

Neither of us shifted position, but somehow she was lying on a bed or large couch and I hovered over her. I drifted closer, the tip of my organ pushing white fabric before it into her sex. She pulled at her nightgown, the sodden material forcing me out, but I pressed it back in again. We embraced, locking our bodies together, and she breathed, “Lloyd,” in my ear as our hips thrust against each other.

I woke as my balls clenched and I jetted into Susan. She had her face buried in a pillow, which served to muffle her shrieks of ecstasy so only I could hear them.

“Good morning,” she greeted me with a wide smile after dropping the pillow.

“Good morning,” I replied, followed a moment later by, “oh, God,” as my mind stumbled into action. I didn’t know what to be panicked about first. It was light out, the Wagners surely must be awake, the bedsprings weren’t muffled, I’d just cum inside Susan, and I hadn’t succeeded in changing us back.

“No, just Susan,” she quipped, disengaging herself from my cock. She relieved one of my anxieties by removing a condom from my erection and discarding it out the side of the bed.

“I wasn’t able to do anything last night,” I confessed.

Susan’s hand tightened about me. “I gathered as much; we’ll both live.” She flashed a grin and disappeared beneath the covers; a moment later I felt her mouth sucking on my heated flesh.

The mental picture of her servicing me this way reignited my carnal desires. My dick felt a bit raw, but jabbing it into Susan until her nose nestled near my balls felt even better. I felt for her body and started fingering her sopping pussy, not that she really needed it, and suddenly it seemed we were in a quiet race to see who could make the other climax first.

This story is part of a trilogy; you should read “Gary’s Mom” and “Voodoo Moms” first.

All characters are 18 years or older.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

Fucking idiots! I screamed.

Nobody turned to look of course because I had vented my frustrations to myself. The only apparent measure of my anger was the loud clicks of my heels on the once-polished floor of the school hallway, now populated by more than a few teenagers blatantly skipping classes, and the firm set of my jaw. I burst through the double doors which sprung back lively to crash together as I stomped down the cement steps to my car.

Fucking assholes!

Where did they get their degrees? I should call them and tell them what an embarrassment their graduates had become.

No evidence of bullying? Then why the fuck did they think my son was afraid to go to school? A good student suddenly refuses to go to school for no reason at all? Give me a break!

I dropped my keys, bent to pick them up, still fuming, fumbled them again, picked them up, couldn’t get the key in the door, felt my arms and jaw to rigid, and yelled out loud, “FUCK!”

Several students and a couple of teachers turned to look. I tried the key again. It worked, so I got in the car, threw my purse on the passenger seat and put the key in the ignition but instead of starting the engine, I grabbed the steering wheel, leaned forward until my head hit the wheel, and cried. The teachers didn’t approach the car to offer help.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

“I’m home,” I called.

Nobody answered but the house wasn’t empty. I knew Gary was upstairs in his room where he would have been all day. He didn’t even come down to eat anymore. At first, John tried to get our son to come down for dinner and wouldn’t let me take his meals upstairs but eventually we gave up.

During the day, I found evidence of Gary’s excursions seeking food when I was away. I guess his hunger could overcome his fear of the great unknown outside his room. Or maybe he wasn’t afraid of being in the rest of the house when it was empty. Maybe he just wanted to avoid contact, to be alone, unless absolutely necessary. God knows, he didn’t want company when he ate his dinner. For a while, I waited in the hallway after hearing Gary in the bathroom but he always seemed to know I was there and wouldn’t come out until he heard me go downstairs.

Eventually, I lost hope and resigned myself to supporting the live-in recluse my son had become. I started going out on the flimsiest of excuses, any reason to get out of my dismal home. Finding evidence of Gary’s scrounging for food while I was gone no longer raised my hopes. To make things worse, John became more distant, often missed dinner, and sometimes didn’t come home until after I had gone to bed. Maybe he was having an affair—Who could blame him? Our home was as exciting as a tomb—but more likely, he just wanted to avoid being home as much as possible, just like me.

I went to the gym, not so much to become fit as to get away. I took photography lessons, cooking lessons, tried golf, shopped until I was bored to tears, joined a book club, and had coffee with friends until the day I noticed their conversation change when they saw me coming. My mind wandered when I was with them anyway. I might be avoiding home but my thoughts were always with my son.

What had happened to him? How could I help him if I didn’t know that? I had tried but couldn’t find the answer and that had paralyzed me. Well, no more! I had to find a way to engage my son. Gary wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life hiding in a room.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

A week later, I was at my wits end and ready to throw myself off a cliff. It didn’t matter what I did, what I said, what I offered to entice him, Gary just wouldn’t come out of his room. What was in there? Did he play games all day, look at porn, was that it? I didn’t know for sure but sensed there wasn’t anything keeping him in his room. He was truly afraid of going leaving.

We tried another round of doctors but they didn’t do any better and after two months of that, we gave up again. School was now out but Gary hadn’t missed finishing Grade 12. The school had come to its senses and let him finish his courses and write his tests online but he refused to go to the graduation ceremony let alone any parties.

Only one thing was going right in my life: I was exercising so much to relieve the stress that I lost a lot of weight. I hadn’t been so light since my early thirties and was in much better shape but it was too good to last. I started getting headaches and pains all over my body. I stopped going to the gym but found another excuse to get out of the house: massages. They felt great and helped with the headaches but couldn’t rid me of the constant aches that prevented me from exercising. However, one massage therapist, my third I think, recommended a solution.

“Jenny, I can’t get a massage every time I want to exercise.”

“Well no, I know that but you can get a body doll.”

“A body doll?”

“Yeah,” Jenny said. “I know it sounds stupid but several of my clients have tried it and they all swear by it.”

“So, how does that work?”

“Well, you do exercises at home but before and after you do them, you massage the doll.” She laughed as she ended, I guess realizing how silly it sounded.

“So how is massaging a doll supposed to make me feel better?”

“I know, sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Well, the doll is supposed to be an image of you, so when you’re massaging it, you’re actually massaging yourself. It’s based on the notion that you know best where you hurt and will subconsciously massage yourself in the right places and in the right way.”

I was skeptical but went along for the ride. “So, where am I supposed to get a doll that’s an image of me?”

Jenny laughed in a way that showed she was embarrassed about what she was going to say next. “Well, there’s this old black woman that sells voodoo stuff. She makes personalized dolls.”

“A voodoo doll? Am I supposed to stick pins in it?” I teased.

“Not unless you’re a masochist,” Jenny laughed. “Seriously, several of my clients have tried it and they say it really works.”

“How much are these dolls?”

“I think they’re about fifty bucks.”

“And are there’s a special exercises plan to go along with the doll?” I asked, smelling a sales pitch.

“No special exercises. Just do your regular routine. I’ll show you some good ones to do at home and instead of stretching before and after, you massage the doll.” Jenny tittered. “Then, if you feel better, you can start going back to the gym.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot,” I sighed. “I’m starting to gain weight again.”

So, on top of everything else, I started exercising at home and massaging a doll that looked like me. My life was a pit.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

I felt silly the first few times I massaged the doll but, strangely, I did feel better. Not only did the pain stop but the stress disappeared as well. I began feeling good about myself. I had lots of energy and I looked good, not only in the mirror but in the faces of men glancing my way a sure-fire measure of attractiveness.

My husband, however, hardly noticed which made me even more convinced that he was having an affair. Surprisingly, I didn’t really care that much. It actually allowed me think clearly about what to do about Gary.

I didn’t have any new ideas about how to solve my son’s problem but I was no longer depressed about it. I was confident that I would come up with something. We had relied on the doctors and they had failed us, twice, so we had given up. I now knew that wasn’t acceptable and, rather than convincing John, I decided to handle it on my own, as soon as I came up with a plan.

The solution came upon me by accident and, at first, I didn’t recognize it for what it was. I was about to begin my exercise routine when Gary surprised me. I was sitting at the kitchen table, finishing my fruit bowl with one hand and absent mindedly massaging the doll with the other when Gary shuffled into the kitchen.

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were home.”

Obviously, because he hadn’t called for me to bring his lunch. It was well after one so he must have been starving.

I surprised myself by not jumping up to get him something to eat, which would have been my normal response. Instead, I said, “I’m about to start my exercises so you’ll have to get yourself something.”

Gary shuffled over to the counter and put some bread in the toaster, then got some peanut butter from the cupboard. He was wearing a pair of flannel pajamas that looked like he’d been wearing them for at least a week. I bit my lip.

I only had one slice of orange and two slices of peach left in the bowl when I realized that Gary was watching me. Of course… it was the doll. He had seen me exercising before but hadn’t seen me massaging a doll, especially one that looked like me. It must have looked weird. I was about to explain, then thought better of it. Maybe a puzzle was just what his crippled mind needed.

I toyed with my food, cutting each slice in three. I studiously avoided looking at Gary so he could observe me without feeling self-conscious about it. He opened the fridge to get some jam, closed it, and walked slowly back to the toaster. I knew he was looking at me rather than where he was going. He was so fascinated by what I was doing, he bumped into the counter. Unconsciously, I rubbed the doll more slowly, just as I had slowed the pace of eating, as if they were part of the same process.

The toast popped up. Gary pushed it back down.


“What dear?” I responded without looking up from what I was doing.

“Nothing,” he mumbled.

I rubbed my thumb up the front of the doll, over its breasts, and back down. I couldn’t see him directly but I knew his eyes were glued on what I was doing to the doll.

“Your toast is burning,” I said a minute later.

“Oh shit.”

Gary popped the toast up but rather than spreading his peanut butter and jam while he was at the counter, he put the toast on a plate and carried everything to the table. For months he had minimized contact with us and now here he was joining me at the table. Excitement surged through me.

Gary sat down and busied himself with his toast. I avoided eye contact, concentrating on massaging the doll, and I knew Gary was just as focused on it. I hadn’t seen him pay so much attention to anything for months. I kept massaging the doll after I finished eating, which I had stretched out ridiculously long. Finally, I felt I could hardly justify carrying on so I got up, leaving the doll on the table, and put my bowl in the sink.

I walked behind Gary and stopped by the end of the table, before leaving the kitchen. I stretched, holding my arms above my head, tipped my head back and shook my hair, then arched my back and tensed my legs and buttocks. I told myself I needed to expel the thrill coursing through me, but in reality I was parading my new, buff body shamelessly in front of my son. Clad in a tight-fitting black leotard covered by a blue, swim-style, leopard-decorated suit, I knew I looked good and, subconsciously, I wanted confirmation that it was me and not the doll that my son found so fascinating.

“I feel great,” I sighed.

What the hell was I doing? All I knew for sure was I didn’t want Gary to go back upstairs. In the living room, I started my routine with a series of stretches, pausing in poses that weren’t my regular stretch points. I kept my back to the kitchen but was aware when Gary got up to stand in the doorway to watch me. All I could think of was what to do next to keep him downstairs.

I bent over to touch my toes and managed to touch the floor many more times than I had before. I rose up with my legs still spread, tensing my thigh muscles and glutes, shook my hair and stretched sideways, sliding my hand down the outside of my leg, first the left, then the right, again and again. My ears were peaked, straining for signs that my son was still there, watching me.

When I turned around, he seemed startled but before he could escape, I said, “You can watch TV if you want. I won’t be in the way.”

Gary flushed red and ran up the stairs.

I wasn’t disappointed. I was ecstatic!

This was the ticket. Nothing we had done, or the doctors had done, had drawn Gary out of his shell but we had all overlooked the obvious. Gary was a typical teenager, probably a virgin, and likely thought of little else than the pussy he craved but hadn’t yet enjoyed. Even as a recluse, he was probably still interested in girls and I was the only one in the near vicinity. If I could activate his fantasies, despite being his mother, I could gradually use his teenage libido to lure him out into the real world where his lust could be transferred to a more appropriate target.

This was it. This was the plan that would save my son.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

The next day, I made my lunch and waited for Gary to call out, determined to ignore him until he ventured downstairs to make himself something to eat. Long after lunch would have been ready, his bedroom door opened and I heard him shuffling down the stairs. I picked up the doll in my left hand, looked at the magazine I had spread on the table beside my bowl of fruit, and stabbed a slice of peach. I knew I looked good. I had warmed myself up with a short routine to bring color to my face and checked myself in the mirror to make sure the leotard made my legs look good, that the exercise suit didn’t overly restrict my breasts, and that it molded nicely over my butt.

Gary poked his head around the corner. I rubbed my thumb up the front of the doll.

“Did I miss lunch?” he asked.

“You did,” I said.

Gary didn’t seem perturbed. Without complaint, he shuffled to the counter and put bread in the toaster, then turned and looked at me. I ignored him, delicately sliding a slice of peach between my lips and massaging the doll without a break. Gary watched in silence.

The scene was surreal. We were together yet apart. I dangled my crossed legs under the table, knowing my foot extended out the side toward Gary, drawing his attention to my carefully painted toes which had consumed almost an hour of my morning. Whiffs of perfume occasionally overpowered the fruity odor emanating from my bowl.

Gary’s toast popped up and he pushed it down again. I picked up the peeled banana that I had laid on a side plate and slowly slid the tip into my mouth and just as cautiously bit off the end. I chewed slowly, constantly rubbing the doll with my thumb. I was halfway through the banana when the toast popped up again. Only then did Gary get the margarine and jam from the fridge.

At the table, he buttered his toast as I used one finger to poke the rest of the banana deep into my mouth. My thumb slipped down over the doll’s torso and rubbed its thighs, brushing up and onto the suit it wore that matched my own, the proud result of an hour’s sewing the night before. I turned the page of the magazine, my thumb resting on the doll’s pelvis, not quite still. Gary spread jam on his toast, slowly, as if he needed to stay in time with me.

I finished my fruit at the same time that the first slice of toast had disappeared. While Gary began spreading margarine on the next slice, I got up, put my bowl and plate in the sink, then sauntered out of the kitchen. I stopped before the doorway and stretched as I had done the day before but for longer and in an even more exaggerated pose. The only sound I made was a long, satisfied sigh.

I went into the living room. My fingers had barely touched the floor when Gary’s body blocked the light from the kitchen. I looked between my legs to verify his presence in the doorway. He was leaning against the jamb with a slice of toast in one hand. He didn’t say a word.

I pulled myself up and touched the fingers of my right hand to the floor in front of my left foot, holding it in an extended stretch. Rising slowly, I arched my back before doing the same with my left hand and right foot, conscious of my right cheek thrusting toward the left under the leotard. Rising again, I touched the floor between my open legs, stretching down until my palms grazed the carpet, knowing that the swollen area between my legs was wantonly pouting, begging to escape the confines of the leotard. Joan, you hussy, I reprimanded myself. But it’s for a good cause,” I replied.

I repeated that routine many times. After a while, not hearing a sound from Gary except an occasional munch on toast, I rose up and started sliding my palm seductively down the outside of my left leg, then the right. I carried that on for another several minutes. I pretended I didn’t know Gary was there.

I straightened and paused, trying to think of what I could say when I turned around and pretended to see him. What could I say that would stop him from running upstairs? I can’t describe the thrill that flooded my chest when he walked past me and sat down on far end of the couch, then picked up the remote. He forgot for a moment to turn the TV on. I felt like running outside and screaming in delight. It’s going to work!

I was facing Gary now but turned around to face the TV so he could continue to watch me unobserved. Several times, I stretched a leg up, like I used to do in ballet class, grabbed an ankle and held my foot by my head. I felt terribly guilty holding this pose that couldn’t help but fill the male mind with awe at how wide a woman can open her legs. I hadn’t done it since my first boyfriend came to pick me up after class and watched me through the waiting area window, a trick I had learned from Hayley, who used to tease the other girls’ fathers waiting for their daughters, an act that made her quite unpopular with the girls if not the men. I knew exactly what I was doing.

My back wasn’t directly facing Gary. By looking at the TV, I was facing about thirty degrees off directly away from him, far enough that I couldn’t see him so he could safely watch, but enough to show the profile of my left breast from behind. I stretched my other leg up and hugged it to myself, then bent over to touch the floor again, bouncing my palms onto the rug, thrilled with my brilliance. On the first touch, I peeked through my legs and saw Gary gawking at my ass.

This was definitely going to work!

I was careful not to peek again. Gary had to be able to safely watch, comfortable in the knowledge that I was facing away. I concentrated on doing my regular routine so I didn’t blow it by being awkward or self-conscious. On the floor, I twisted so I could watch the TV to increase Gary’s confidence that I wouldn’t suddenly look his way. When I pulled my knees up to my chin, I held them there much longer than usual, keeping the leotard stretched tightly over my bum. I turned onto my left side to scissor my legs and when I did the right, I switched head and feet so I could keep facing the TV. I scissored my legs until I couldn’t lift them anymore.

Despite the show, I was surprised Gary didn’t bolt for his room until I remembered the pajamas he was wearing. He probably had an erection and was afraid to run past me in case I saw it. I smiled, amused and pleased by the thought of my son sitting on the couch behind me with a bit hardon. It’s for a good cause, I reminded myself.

I gave Gary lots of warning before I got up and joined him on the couch by walking into the kitchen first to retrieve the doll. His hands were resting on a pillow strategically placed on his lap when I returned. I almost burst out laughing but managed to turn it into a coughing fit.

I massaged the doll for ten minutes. Finally, it struck me that Gary couldn’t leave until I did because whatever he was hiding under the pillow was unlikely to subside while I was sitting beside him playing with the doll. I mumbled something about getting a shower and left. As I pulled the leotard down my leg, I heard Gary rushing up the stairs. Too late, I saw that I had left the door wide open. Gary hurried by, still clutching the pillow in front of himself, as I sat frozen in an artistic slice of ordinary domestic life, a woman undressing, nude except for a leotard dangling from her toe.

Gary’s door banged shut and, this time, I did burst out laughing though I leaned over and muffled the sound in the covers. A moment later, I recklessly crept down the hallway to my son’s room and listened at his door, a triumphant smile breaking out when I heard the distinctive sound of male masturbation. Unashamed, I swung my arm up, bent my elbow and closed my fist.


I wasn’t ashamed. I had found the key to my son’s salvation.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

Gary was upstairs when John came home from work and remained there through dinner which proceeded as usual, quiet except for the sound of chewing, knives and forks scraping on plates, and the occasional clink of a wine glass returning to the table. Quiet, that is, until I explained my idea to John.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Gary’s sick. There’s something wrong with him, and flirting with him isn’t going to fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with our son. He’s just been bullied. All he needs is a reason to go back outside and the confidence to do it,” I retorted.

“And you cavorting in front of him is going to do that?”

“No,” I drawled. “My ‘cavorting’, as you call it, will make him think of girls and that will make him want to rejoin the land of the living.”

“It’s a little unconventional, Joan.”

“Not really. Boys always have a thing for their mothers, don’t they?”

“Sometimes. If they’re not ugly, I guess,” John laughed.

“Your mother was attractive when she was younger. Did you have the hots for her?”

“I’m surprised you have anything nice to say about my mother,” John neatly side-stepped the question.

“I said when she was younger and quit avoiding the question. Did you think about her when you were a teenager?”

“I suppose.”

“I suppose?” I laughed.

“Yes, I guess I did, but I was much younger than Gary. I think it’s a little late for a maternal fixation.”

“Uh huh. So what first attracted you to your Mom?” I persisted.

John leaned back, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, then crossed them again.

“I don’t remember.”

He didn’t want to talk to me about it but, knowing me, knew it was unavoidable. I suspected he was trying to buy time to think of how little he could get away with telling me.

“Yes you do.”

John took a deep breath. Resigned, he said, “I guess it was… one day I was watching her hang clothes on the line, something I’d seen her do a million times before, but this time, as she was stretching up, she lost her footing and almost fell. Well, as she reached out to grab the post to keep from falling her hand knocked a button off her blouse. When she hung up the next shirt, I could see her brassiere and quite a bit of her breasts feeding into it. I watched her hang the rest of the clothes and later, when we were having lunch, she hadn’t fixed the blouse. I watched her all day.”

“Naughty Johnny. Think how we could have spiced up a few nights if you’d told me this years ago,” I teased. John ignored me.

“The thing was, Mom didn’t fix her blouse all day but just before Dad came home, she changed it. That night, I woke up and heard my parents having sex. Mom was particularly loud. I had heard my parents having sex before but it was just the sound of the bed springs and my father huffing and puffing. From then on, though, I heard Mom almost every time. I stayed awake on Saturday nights because I knew they were going to fuck. On Saturdays, if Mom forgot to do up one or two of her buttons, I couldn’t wait until bedtime because I knew she’d be enthusiastic. She always was on those days.”

“Jesus, John. No wonder your mother never liked me.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Did you ever…”

“No,” John interrupted. “That’s all Mom ever did.”

“For how long?”

“Years, I guess. After Dad died, she always had her blouse partly undone when I visited alone.”

“Even after we were married?”

“Yes,” John replied. He spoke so softly I could hardly hear him.

“John. I’m just trying to get Gary interested in girls so he’ll quit hiding in his room.”

“I know, Joan. It might work, but be careful.”

“Be careful?”

“Yeah. Don’t get to liking it like my mother did.”

“John, don’t be ridiculous. It’s not something I’ll enjoy, it’s something I’ll do for our son.”

“I know.” John’s voice was still low. His mind was somewhere else.

“You might have to be scarce for a while. Not that you haven’t been already.”


“It’ll take time for this to work and Gary needs to know that we’re alone and not in danger of being surprised.”

“I thought you were going to say we need to start fucking really loud.”

“We haven’t been fucking so I don’t know where that comes from.”


It was my turn to interrupt.

“Actually, I don’t think we should have sex for a while. I think it might help if Gary thought I wasn’t getting any.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Because we haven’t been doing it. You haven’t exactly been here.”

“Joan, I…”

“I don’t want to hear it and I don’t care anyway. I don’t know whether you’re getting it somewhere else or if you’ve just lost interest, like me.”

I reached out to grasp John’s hand.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I know I haven’t been here for you. Look, we’re both stressed out but if we can fix this thing with Gary, I think we can fix ourselves as a side benefit. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”

“Okay. I’ll stay out of the way, for our marriage.”

“And for our son.”

“Of course, but just a little flashing, okay?”

“Of course. What do you think we’ve been talking about?”

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

For the rest of the week, Gary and I settled into an after lunch routine. I waited for him to come down for lunch, finished mine while he made his, and we both repaired to the living room. I exercised while Gary ate his lunch and watched TV, and me. After every session, Gary waited, his eyes fixed on the TV and the pillow held firmly on his lap, while I massaged the doll. He always waited until I went upstairs. Within a minute, he would rush by the open door of my room and I would sneak down to his closed door to confirm what I already knew.

John kept his word and came home later and later, missing dinner three times that week. Near the end of the week, Gary appeared downstairs in the late afternoon. I happened to be making a Moroccan dish. Gary didn’t explain his appearance. He simply sat down at the kitchen table and watched me move about the kitchen . I was wearing a wrap around a body leotard, almost my uniform these days.

I talked constantly, partly because I was nervous and partly to make Gary comfortable. It was meaningless chit chat, nothing requiring a response and so relieving him of any pressure to do so. I was simply trying to make the situation seem normal while my body movements made it anything but.

When I was finished, I sauntered over to my son and got him to taste my creation, leaning over and delicately inserting several olives into his mouth, one at a time. It was an innocent act, though seductively executed. The leotard and wrap covered me completely but Gary looked at my breasts anyway. I asked him if he would help me make some new dishes the next afternoon and he agreed.

The next day, Gary didn’t rush by my room so fast. I was sitting on the other side of the bed with my back to him. I heard him pause and knew he was right outside my door. I stretched my leg out high and straight, leaned forward and pushed the leotard off my foot, then did the same for the other. Somehow, I managed to twist sideways a little so my breast swung out far enough for him to see its swollen fullness. I stood then, slowly so as not to startle him, and walked, stark naked, into the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to turn on the light, then turning and disappearing from his sight, allowing a brief glimpse of my breasts in full, thrusting side profile.

I could hear him before I even got to his door, breathing harshly, erratically, the sound of his fist furiously beating his cock. When I turned away, I was surprised to find my hand covering my own sex.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

The next day, I happened to be looking at the TV when the screen went blank and I saw Gary’s reflection. He was holding the pillow with his left hand and slowly stroking his cock with the right. I stifled a gasp and almost stopped moving but caught myself and acted like the exercise had just become particularly strenuous. I was shocked. I had initially assumed Gary was just getting hard while watching me and even entertained the notion that he might be touching himself under the pillow too but to actually see him stroking his bare cock, even in the dim reflection of the blank TV screen, was a tad unsettling.

I guess I shouldn’t have been that surprised. After all, it had been a week. I imagine when Gary first started touching himself, his cock grew big enough to poke through the hole in the front of his pajamas. Over the week, it was a natural progression to touch it, even take it out and stroke it, secure in the knowledge that I never, ever turned around to look at him. Perhaps I had done my job too well.

That same day, while Gary helped me make some gourmet snacks and actually chatted with me, I asked him if he would keep me company outside in the sun. He was hesitant at first but succumbed to my will after twenty minutes of wily, womanly cajoling. Gary did sit on the patio lounges with me but steadfastly refused to venture farther from the safety of the house. Nevertheless, it was an amazing accomplishment in our small world.

Later that afternoon, while in the mall on some errands, I ran into Sandra and then Vanessa, both mothers of boys Gary had played with when he was younger. We became good acquaintances if not friends attending games and stuff with the kids. I always like Sandra and admired her greatly and her kid was nice whereas Vanessa’s was a bit of a brat. Without thinking about it, I told Sandra about the doll and how I had accidentally stumbled upon a plan to lure Gary from his room. She seemed a little shocked but relaxed when I explained that I simply wanted to revive his teenage instincts sufficiently for him to want to rejoin the planet. Sandra laughed and remarked that she doubted she would be able to entice her own son in such a way so thankfully there was nothing wrong with him.

“Oh gosh, Joan. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… oh, I feel just terrible.”

“Don’t worry. I know you didn’t mean anything. It has been hard, Sandra, and I’m ready to try anything. I have no idea if this will work. So far, I’ve only managed to get him to come downstairs for lunch and sit in the patio. In fact, I don’t think he’s really interested in my old body, he’s probably just hungry.”

We both laughed, and a few minutes later, Sandra left. I wasn’t worried that she’d say anything. Sandra was a private person and I was confident she wouldn’t tell anyone about our conversation.

Before I left, Vanessa passed by and sat down. I knew Vanessa was having tremendous difficulty with her own son and knowing that she knew about the problems we were having with Gary, I confided my success, perhaps primed by the sympathetic reaction from Sandra.

I was tentative at first but Vanessa’s obvious interest loosened my tongue. I didn’t spill everything but let enough out that she knew I was trying to use womanly charms to encourage Gary to get out of the house. Vanessa was captivated by the approach and I see in her eyes she was already planning how she could do the same thing to curb Billy’s juvenile behavior.

“I think Billy’s getting into drugs,” she confided.

“You’re kidding?”

“No. Gary isn’t?”

“No, definitely not. At least, I don’t think so.”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure about Billy either but he’s getting out of control and something is driving it. I’ve got to do something about it. You say this teasing thing really works?”

“Well, I’m not sure yet but I’ve managed to get him out of his room.”

“And you used a doll?”

“Yes, from this Voodoo woman.”

“Voodoo woman? Oh, you mean that black woman with the strange store across from the mall?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

I wished I hadn’t said so much to Vanessa and wanted to limit the damage so I didn’t explain the connection with massage therapy. The last thing I wanted was Vanessa dropping in to interrogate Jenny and gossiping about my success with Gary. Thank God, that was enough for Vanessa and she left soon after. As I watched her confident, former-model body steer between the food court tables, I pitied her brat son. She reminded me of my mother-in-law, God rest her soul. Billy didn’t know what he was in for.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

The next day, I managed to capture several glimpses of my son in the blank TV screen and confirmed what I thought I’d seen the previous day. Gary was definitely stroking himself while he watched me. And why wouldn’t he? I never, ever turned around to look at him while exercising so he should feel safe to touch himself until I finished my routine, which by now he probably knew by heart.

Far from feeling I had gone too far, I was tremendously pleased. His obvious desire raised my confidence in the plan. The motivation was there, all I had to do was continue leading him down the path to its eventual, inevitable conclusion.

I found a way to reward Gary for his trip out to the patio. I stopped mid-routine and, inanely complaining about being hot, removed the bathing suit, and left myself clad only in the body leotard. I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. It was like I was naked, except for a second skin. I carried on with the rest of my routine and even extended it with exercises I made up on the spur of the moment, anything that allowed me to stretch and arch my body.

It was an outrageous exhibition, one which made me feel deliciously naughty. I squirmed and preened on the floor in front of my son without shame, knowing there wasn’t an inch of me he couldn’t imagine naked under the tight black leotard that covered me so revealingly. I denied the thrill I felt as anything but exaltation in the knowledge that when I asked, Gary would willingly follow me anywhere in the yard I asked him to go. Next week, I would talk him into accompanying me to the store, just the corner store, and I wouldn’t even ask him to get out of the car, but it would be a huge step and I was positive now that he would do it. My plan was working!

Finally, I stopped, exhausted. While I lay there, breathing heavily, knowing Gary was watching my gently heaving bosom, a thought entered my mind and I acted upon it before considering the consequences.


He gasped. I had never spoken to him before while exercising. There was a rustle as he frantically covered himself, probably learning too late how difficult it was to conceal a hard, springy cock.

“Yeah,” he croaked.

“Be a darling and get my doll from the kitchen for me.”

“Your doll?”

He was stalling, likely afraid to get up until the big lump in his lap subsided.

“Yes, my massage doll. I left it on the kitchen table.”


“Come on. I’m so exhausted I can’t keep my eyes open.”

I closed my eyes and opened them a slit just in time to see Gary go past. In the kitchen, he turned toward the table to retrieve the doll, exposing the reason for his hesitation. The front of his pajamas looked like a tent. I was impressed by its size. I shut my eyes as he returned.

“I put it on the couch,” he said.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“Mom… what?”

“Can you massage the doll for me?”

“Awww, Mom. I’ll feel silly and, anyway, I don’t know how to do it.”

“It’s easy, you just rub it gently, all over, and it isn’t silly. It really helps me.”



“Oh… okay.”

There was a rustle as Gary picked up the doll.

“You just rub it?”

“Mhhhmmm,” I murmured, wiggling to ready my body for its ‘massage’. “Start with the feet and work your way up,” I suggested.

I waited half a minute then sighed, “That feels good.”

After that, I was silent except the occasional murmur or pleased sigh. Periodically, I wiggled. I suspected that after a few minutes, Gary rubbed near my breasts so I arched my back slightly and purred. I opened my eyes a slit but couldn’t see what he was doing except to note that he was enthralled. I think I could have sat up and looked right at him without being noticed.

“Oh, that feels good,” I murmured.

Despite his initial objection, Gary seemed to enjoy massaging the doll. I was sure he wouldn’t mind doing it more often, maybe even both before and after my routine. I rolled over onto my tummy, twisting so my bum was pointed toward my son, and parted my legs a little.

After thirty seconds or so, I sighed and arched my ass up a bit, tensed my legs and glutes, relaxed, and settled back into the carpet. I repeated this every minute or so and squirmed my ass around. I couldn’t have been more obvious unless I got up on my hands and knees and turned around to pout at him.

I gave Gary lots of warning when I was ready to quit, giving him time to put the pillow in place. I leaned over to kiss him on the forehead in thanks, adding a longer one on his cheek, my lips just catching the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, son,” I husked.

I sauntered slowly up the stairs, exaggerating the sway of my hips and pushing my bottom out with each step. Once in my room, I quickly removed the leotard instead of just pushing it down so Gary could covertly watch me slip it off my feet before I stepped into the bathroom for my shower. I lay back on the bed, covered my eyes with a crooked arm, arched my back to push up my naked breasts, and waited for the sound of his footsteps. When they arrived, I held my pose for a couple of minutes, sure he was watching, then lazily turned away from him onto my side. There, I let my upper knee slide off the other onto the bed and pulled it up a bit, positioning my exposed ass in its most inviting pose.

I don’t know how long Gary watched me so I waited for a long time. At some point, I dozed off.

For the rest of the week, Gary massaged the doll for me while I squirmed around appreciatively on the floor in front of him. I had replaced the mat with a comforter to provide a wider range for movement on the floor. My stretches were always more languid during the ‘post’ massage than in the warm up and by the time we were done, I was very warm indeed. I may have been doing this to save my son, but it wasn’t a hardship. Being the focus of such intense appreciation was like doing a feel-good drug, mellow yet stimulating.

I toyed with the idea of getting Gary to actually touch me. I could just turn around, maybe while lying on my back, and stretch my feet up for him to massage directly rather than via the medium of the doll. I thought hard about the potential benefits of direct touch but eventually vetoed the idea as too dangerous, thinking about the effect on my son. Had I though about the effect on myself, I would have realized how dangerous it really was.

In the afternoons, Gary followed me around the yard, helping with the gardening and just generally keeping me company. I always wore a loose blouse and usually baggy or tight shorts but sometimes put on a short skirt. There was plenty of opportunity for Gary to look down my blouse or peek between my legs as he stood above me while I squatted or kneeled to work on the garden. Initially, I had worn my flimsiest bras, the ones designed to be worn with an evening dress or a low-cut blouse, but on Thursday I went braless because I was working up to getting Gary out of the house altogether, just a short trip to the store.

On Friday, Gary arrived downstairs to find me eating my lunch dressed only in a body stocking. It was much like the leotard but it was flesh-colored rather than black, and thus easier to see through. The legs were shorter, extending barely halfway down my thighs instead of to my ankles, and both the back and the front dipped low, the back rounded while the front dove into a deep V.

I had found the body stocking while searching the bottom of a drawer because, what with one thing and another, I was behind with the laundry and had run out of leotards. I held it up to the light but rejected it as too revealing. On second thought, I held it up again and whispered, “Wow.” A delightfully wicked feeling shimmered through me so strongly I ignored my nattering conscience which quickly faded as I sat down on the bed and pulled the stocking on.

When he first saw me, Gary stopped dead in his tracks, mouth open. I didn’t tease him, I just quietly handed him the doll.

“We’re late. Why don’t you warm me up… uh, massage the doll, while I make your lunch.”

Gary sat down, his eyes soaking in the body stocking, or more accurately, the parts it didn’t cover so well. I glanced at him and he started massaging the doll.

“I want you to have some fruit,” I said. “You’re going to get scurvy the way you eat.”

Gary nodded in the compliant manner he had adopted of late. I put his typical two pieces of toast in and then brought him a banana. Since he was holding the doll in two hands, I peeled it for him, slowing pulling down each strip, and nibbled a small bit off the top before handing it to him.

Before Gary could release a hand from the doll to take it, I said, “Oh, right, you’ve got the doll. Here, I’ll feed you while you work on the doll.”

I put the banana to Gary’s lips, “Go ahead.”

His thumbs rubbed up and down the front of the doll as I pushed the banana into his mouth, leaning over in an exaggerated fashion to give him an eyeful.

“They’re good, aren’t they?”

I put the banana into my own mouth, lifting Gary’s eyes from my breasts. They widened when I pushed the banana deep into my mouth and then slid it all the way out.

“Sorry, I forgot it was your banana.”

I snagged another small bite and then pushed it into Gary’s mouth. He took a large bite. The toast popped, so I finished the banana and swayed over to butter Gary’s toast, making sure my butt wiggled with each swipe of the knife. Gary devoured the toast and we moved into the living room. I lay down on the comforter and immediately began squirming around, trying to avoid eye contact with Gary’s bulging erection.

“Gary, I want you to keep me company while I go to the store.”

“To the store?”

“Yes. There were some rough-looking fellows hanging around the last couple of times and they make me nervous. You’ll come, won’t you?” I asked, closing my eyes as I arched my back sharply to thrust my breasts upward, forcing my nipples into the body stocking.

“I don’t know, Mom. It’s been a long time since…”

“Please, son. I’m a little frightened.”

I rolled onto my left shoulder, then my right, twisting toward him and stretching to emphasize my breasts.

“I’ll try,” he mumbled.

“Thanks. I knew I could rely on you.”

I treated Gary to a command performance. I had become jaded over the past few weeks and where I was formerly hesitant to adopt more lurid poses, I now had so such inhibitions. I no longer worried that my posture was ridiculously provocative, I was only concerned about whether it was sufficiently sexy to make Gary want me as a woman so I could lure him out of the house. I thrived on my success, knowing Gary jacked off quietly while he watched me on the floor and that he couldn’t wait until he reached his room to finish himself off. However, toward the end of my extended routine, Gary voiced doubt about his ability to leave the house.

“Mom, I’ll really try to go with you but I might not be able to make it,” he whined.

I stopped and sat up, my back to him, and legs tucked to one side.

“I really want you to come, Gary.”

“I know. I’ll try, Mom, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.”

It was only then that I noticed that we had forgotten to turn on the TV. The screen was blank and I could see Gary’s reflection, sitting behind and slightly to my left, pillow in one hand and his cock in the other.

“I want you to really try, son.”

I lifted my right hand up to my left shoulder as I spoke. Gary watched intently, and didn’t answer. I looked sideways and slipped my finger nails under the body stocking on top of my shoulder and urged it over the edge, then turned the other way and did the same on the other side. Gary sucked in his breath and stopped breathing.

“I really want you to come,” I repeated.

I pulled the body stocking down to my elbow on my left side, then did the same with my right.

“You will come, won’t you?”

Gary was silent except for his raspy breath.

I pulled my left arm out of the stocking’s sleeve, then turned and did the same with my right.

“Will you come?”

Gary remained mute. I pulled the body stocking down my waist until it rested on my hip, turned to look down at my right side and slowly did the same there.

“Yes,” Gary whispered his answer.

“For sure?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

I turned halfway then, but not far enough to see him.

“Thank you, son.”

My tits slung out from my chest, nipples stiff with excitement, and I leaned slightly to one side to emphasize the curve of my spine and the slender length of my neck. I completed the rest of my floor routine half-naked. Gary couldn’t contain himself sufficiently to remain completely silent. The sound of his hand moving up and down on his cock disturbed the air but was ignored by us both, despite its electrifying effect on the air between us.

I didn’t warn Gary when I stood up. I simply turned and caught him, hand in lazy mid-stroke, suddenly shocked into immobility. Ignoring his plight, I stooped to kiss him, the upper part of the body stocking hanging down from my hips. I kissed his forehead and then placed my lips on his, leisurely kissing him as if I was pecking him on his cheek, only longer. Nonetheless, the casual brush of my lips on his made his manhood lurch, and when I say manhood, I mean manhood because it was long enough to nuzzle between my dangling breasts.

“I’ll be ready in half an hour,” I whispered.

I didn’t remember to put on my sexy walk as I climbed the stairs because my body was still tingling from my brazen act and the turmoil it had caused in my mind. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. I hadn’t heeded John’s warning and now I had gone much further than I ever intended but that wasn’t what bothered me the most. I would do what it took to bring back my son and I sensed it would take more than watching me prance around in a leotard to get him back into the world. So what bothered me so much? That was easy: I hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much.

How did John know to warn me? That question added to the caldron in my mind and made me wonder how well I knew my husband. What had really happened between him and his mother?

Gary rushed by a few minutes later, trying to get to his room before he lost his load. I followed him down the hallway a couple of minutes later. Though his door wasn’t completely shut, I couldn’t see inside, but I heard him feverishly beating his meat and hoarsely muttering my name.


Whack, whack, whack.


Realizing I was naked outside his door, I became self-conscious and turned away. I had to pull my hand from between my legs.

I’m in control, I assured myself. I’m in control, I repeated.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

“Where are you going?” Gary asked nervously as I drove past the corner store.

“Just to the mall. It’s only a little further.”

“Mom, you said the store,” Gary complained.

“No, I said I was worried about some tough guys hanging around the mall.”

“Mom, you said the store.”

“Did I? Well, you know I meant the mall. Why would tough guys be hanging around the corner store?”

“Mom, it’s too far.”

I put my hand on Gary’s thigh, patted it to reassure him, then slid up a couple of inches, squeezed, and left my hand in place.

“It will be fine. You can stay in the car but watch me until I get inside in case there’s any of those guys around.”

We were already approaching the mall parking lot. I turned in and Gary pushed back into the seat, resigned and slouching, an action that pushed his hips forward, forcing his bulging jeans, warm and throbbing, onto the edge of my hand. I steered to an area of empty parking spaces far from the doors, knowing Gary would be alone and wanting to limit any possible interaction that would make him bolt. Reluctant to remove my hand from between his legs, I put the car in Park with my left and reached awkwardly through the steering wheel to turn off the ignition. I didn’t want to leave the keys in the car.

“I’ll be back in a jiffy, son,” I said, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. We were alone. I leaned over and kissed Gary on the cheek which put pressure on my hand, the one pressing on his crotch. As I brushed my lips over his skin, I wiggled my little finger.

“Wait for me,” I whispered.

I rushed off and didn’t look back, afraid I might see Gary already getting out of the car.

In the mall, I rushed toward the pharmacy. I needed to buy something to make it look like there was a reason for going. I felt the urge to hurry, worried now that I hadn’t gone far enough to offset Gary’s fears. The lingerie store caught my eye. Why not? I hurried inside and made a bee-line directly to the young girl at the counter.

“Where are your negligee’s?” I demanded abruptly.

The girl was startled but to her credit responded quickly, “Right over here,” immediately leading the way.

Obviously competent, the young woman pointed me right at my size for their more expensive line. I grabbed a black, lacy set.

“I’ll take this one.”

Even given my whirlwind entry, the girl was taken aback by the speed of my decision but she handled it well. Sensing my urgency, she took the negligee to the counter. She didn’t bother asking me if that was all I wanted.

“Will that be cash or credit card?”


She was already ringing it up and by the time the register spit out the receipt she had wrapped the negligee and put it in a stylish bag. She took my money, quickly returned the correct change, and thanked me for coming in. It was at that point that I noticed she was very pretty and quite healthy looking.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m in a real hurry.”

She smiled pleasantly. “We’re here to help any way we can.”

“You’ve been awesome. Thanks.”

On the way out of the mall, I ran into Sandra and her son. They were talking as they walked, both obviously interested in their conversation and each other, and looked almost like a couple rather than a mother and son. I felt a twinge of envy.

I want that with Gary.

I couldn’t avoid them so I walked on, hoping they were too distracted to see me but Sandra did and smiled, clearly pleased by the encounter.

“Hello Joan. It’s so nice to see you.”

“Oh, hello Sandra, and Jeff,” I nodded to her son.

“I’m so sorry to hear about Gary’s problem with Billy.”

Jeff looked uncomfortable and Sandra’s face immediately took on the expression of one who realizes she’s said something she shouldn’t have.

“Anyway, I can see you’re in a hurry. Call me if you feel like talking.”

I nodded, not sure whether I was confirming that I was in a rush or that I would call. I walked away, speeding up as I neared the door. What was that all about? I pushed the incident out of my mind, worried that Gary might have fled. Had I pushed him too far? I burst through the doors and immediately locked my eyes on the car. Thank goodness! He was still there.

Relieved, Sandra’s mention of Billy returned. Vanessa’s son? Did he have something to do with Gary’s problem? Anger flooded through me. That little bastard. I would give him a piece of my mind. More than that, I’d…


I looked up. Gary had stepped out of the car.

“Are you alright? Did something happen?”

I smiled to relieve his concern. “No, I’m fine.”

“You looked upset.”

“No, no. I’m fine. I guess I was a bit more nervous than I thought.”

I opened the car and got in. Gary did too and closed the door.

“Maybe it’s genetic,” he mused.


“Yeah. Maybe I got this thing from you?”

I frowned, not comprehending. Gary waved at the parking lot. Ahhh, I must have looked panicked the way I had raced to the car.

“Maybe,” I said. “But we can handle it, can’t we, especially if we work through it together?”

“I guess.”

“Let’s go home.”

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

John was home when we arrived. When I opened the door he was waiting, worried as hell, but when he saw Gary with me his face relaxed. He was absolutely tickled that Gary had gone out with me. After Gary went upstairs, he hugged me and gushed, “I can’t believe it, Joan. Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”

I laughed nervously, needing relief too. It had been a stressful day. “Ye of little faith.”

“Not anymore.” John hugged me again, squeezing hard.

“Hey, be careful with the goods,” I complained.

John released me. “I wouldn’t want to do that, not when they’re working so well.”

“John!” I gasped, flashing a look upstairs.

John looked properly chastised, and lowered his voice. “It’s amazing what a woman can do with a little attention and a few poses,” he laughed.

“We have our ways.” Thank God he thought that’s all it had taken.

“You’ve brought back our son, Joan, and I love you for it.”

“Is that all you love me for?”

“No, of course not.”

The thought made me think of how inattentive my husband had been for so long and, for some reason, it made me think of what Sandra had said.

“I saw Sandra today and she said something that implied Vanessa Hammond’s son might have had something to do with Gary’s problem.”

John looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“John, did you know about this?”

“No. Well, I heard something to that affect and thought I should have a talk with his father.”

“His father? He doesn’t wear the pants in that family. I’ll have a talk with Vanessa.”

“Joan, maybe you should just let it lie. You’re having amazing success with Gary. Let’s not do anything that will change that. We can deal with the Hammonds later.”

That made sense and some of my anger melted away but I wasn’t entirely convinced.

Gary joined us for dinner that night and John was completely blown away by his easy interaction with us. Afterwards, in bed, I had to press upon him the need for him to stay in the background so Gary didn’t feel pressured.

“I still need lots of space to work with him. He’s a work in progress.”

“Okay, babe. I’ll stay out of the way.”

“I’m still pissed at Vanessa.”

“It’s not her fault, Joan. It’s her bratty little kid.”

“I know, but it makes me so mad.”

“If it will make you feel better, I’ll talk to her.”

“Will you?”

“Of course.”

“I just don’t want her kid interfering now that I’ve got Gary on the right track.”

“I’ll talk to her,” John consoled me.

That night I didn’t sleep well. I dreamed about John and his mother engaging in forbidden acts, things way beyond what I’d done with Gary. Did I need to justify myself by imaging that John had committed worse with his mother? I was particularly unsettled when John’s face was replaced with Gary’s and then his mother’s with mine but the worst part of the dream was when Gary became John again and his mother ‘s face was replaced with Vanessa’s.

I looked a lot like John’s mother. Some people used to joke that he had married his mother which really pissed me off because I wasn’t like her at all but, now that I thought about it, Vanessa was, a lot. They had the same domineering personality whereas I was normally quite shy and even submissive. Perhaps that’s why Sandra and I got along so well. Anyway, when I awoke I was uncomfortable about sending John to talk to Vanessa but reminded myself of the importance of focusing on my own mission—saving my son—especially now that success was so near.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

The next day I didn’t wait for Gary to start massaging the doll. I sat on the comforter in front of him and immediately peeled the body stocking from my shoulders, then launched into a long series of stretches designed to display my body rather than relax my muscles. I was grateful for all the exercising I had done and realized, ironically, that if it hadn’t been for Gary’s problem I wouldn’t be in such good shape and ready to offer the solution which seemed poised to deliver him from a lonely fate.

Every nerve tingled as I undulated before my son, flexing my unblemished skin and supple muscles. Was this tasty feeling the one John had warned me about? Had his mother confided to him her inner feelings or had he observed it and capitalized on its intoxicating effect?

I didn’t know. All I knew was I felt wonderful knowing how much my son desired me and that, by simply displaying my wares, I could make him feel so good. I could hear him now, playing with himself and openly enjoying my body, unafraid.

I swung down onto my back and started working my legs. Curling up my behind, I took us to another level, grasping the waistband of the body stocking and tugging it over my buttocks, stopping as a tease, then continuing slowly, sliding the meshed material along my thighs to my knees. I slipped the stocking over my knees and pushed it up to my feet where I hooked it on my toes and let it dangle above my face.

My bottom, now completely exposed, was thankfully pointed away from Gary. Why thankfully? Such lewd exposure seemed gross to me, as it would any woman, but I knew men loved it, except John, at least, as far as I knew. I had never done anything like this in front of my husband but in stripper bars they always pointed their ass at the customers, spreading their legs for the disgusting beaver shot. Ugghhhh.

However, I wasn’t quite ready to see if it would appeal to my son. But why not? He was a typical teenager and that’s why my solution was working. Should I not to the distance and let him see?

Well, if you didn’t want him to see, why did you uncover yourself?

Why indeed? I lifted my legs and let the stocking drop onto my face. I couldn’t bring myself to engage in such lewd behaviour without some protection, even if only this fragile anonymity. I swiveled on the floor, turning just enough for my son to get a glimpse of what I had exposed.

He gasped. I swiveled more toward him. Whack, whack, whack. I couldn’t see it but I could hear his hand moving faster and faster. I turned my ass right at him, keeping my legs high and bending my knees until they were above my face. I’m a wanton little hussy!

Gary was breathing harshly, gasping for air. I could tell he was about to come. I threw my legs out and snapped up onto my knees, ripping the stocking from my face and tossing it aside. Gary’s face was almost purple, so much blood and oxygen had rushed to his penis. His eyes were wide. I grabbed his cock, displacing his hand. My other hand circled his nuts and squeezed hard. Gary’s eyes almost bugged out of his head but his cock softened, just a tad, but enough to halt the imminent gusher in his balls.

“I want you to go to the mall with me this afternoon,” I cried.

“Okay, Mom. Okay.”

“Inside,” I hissed.


“Yes. I want you to come inside with me.”

“Mom, I can’t.”

“You can, if you want to enough.”

“No, Mom. I can’t.”

“You can,” I repeated. “Do you want to?”

I moved my hand up and down once. Gary’s eyes widened in shock.

“Do you want to?” I repeated, stroking him a second time.

Gary nodded.

“Tell me,” I demanded.


“You’ll come?”

I stroked him twice and loosened my grip on his balls.



I tickled his balls and started a steady stroke, up and down, up and down, slowly, gripping his cock tightly, squeezing up to the head, rubbing its underside with my thumb and grazing over the helmet with the tip of my index finger.

“I promise.”

“Promise on your love for your mother.”

I bent my head, blew hot breath onto his cock and fixed him with my gaze.

“I promise on my love for you.”

“Well, alright then.”

I pulled my hand back to fit Gary’s cock between my tits, and started jacking him with a nice, regular stroke. I wiggled my tits around his engorged cock and smiled. Gary was beyond doing anything but trying to breathe which was obviously a struggle for him. He lifted his hips, trying to fuck my breasts. He was close, very close. I laughed, throatily encouraging him.

“Come,” I cooed.

“I will. I promised.”

“No,” I said. “Come.”

Ahhh, the dawning realization in his eyes as he understood my invitation was so wickedly delicious.

“Come?” he asked.

“Yes, come; on my tits.”

I bent my head so I could see his purple, bloated helmet pushing through, appearing and then disappearing within my breasts. It surfaced again and I quickly blew hot breath on it.

“Oh, my God. Mom!” Gary gasped, his legs straining, going rigid.

I choked back a laugh of exhilaration. It was such a thrill to make him feel this way, this young man, my son, with his strong, young cock. I blew again, and again, and again. His legs repeatedly tensed with superhuman effort to thrust his pole through my tits.

“Come,” I urged.

He was beyond answering. He could barely breathe.

“Come,” I pleaded, wanting to feel his spunk splatter all over my breasts, a debasement I had never experienced before and would have rejected with disgust if asked, but not now.

The first spurt surprised me. I was expecting it on my tits, but Gary’s cock released its treasure when it poked through them, lobbing a thick string of white goo onto my chin and across my lips. The second sprayed my neck and the underside of my jaw. The third came when he poked through again, onto my face.

I couldn’t believe it. I pulled away as Gary’s hips lurched, spasmodically dispensing the rest of his spunk. I stood, and stumbled back, turned, and ran up the stairs, needing to get clean, suddenly not wanting my son to see me shamed like that.

In the bathroom, I turned on the water and bent over to immerse myself in its cleansing stream but, at the last second, raised my head and looked at myself in the mirror. Gary’s thick, sticky goo was strewn across my face and neck and was dripping onto my breasts. I laughed at my reflection.

“You wanton little bitch,” I scolded myself, a crooked smile twisting my face.

Gary knocked on the bedroom door while I was washing myself.

“Mom? Mom?”

I didn’t answer, and he went away. I followed a few minutes later and heard him beating himself to climax again, crying out my name. This time, the door had been left wide open but Gary didn’t see me. His back was to me as he lay on his bed, hand dangling in front of himself out of my sight, moving rapidly in concert with his flexing buttocks. I loved their strength and didn’t leave until they went rigid, tightly clenched until he had dispensed his second load.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

I didn’t take Gary to the mall until it was almost closing time. I led him straight to the lingerie store. The young woman recognized me; I guess I had made a bit of an impression. I was amused because I could read the assumption behind the look on her face, the calculation that explained my inexplicable rush to buy a negligee on my last visit. Gary looked much more like his father than me and I could see her comprehension mixed with surprise that I would bring my young lover into the store. However, she was a quick study and moved to meet us at the negligee section before I actually turned that way.

She was more attractive than I remembered and I patted myself on the back for the choice of coming here. If this young beauty couldn’t pull Gary away from me, nobody could. I set about getting her involved as directly and quickly as I could.

“I’m so glad you’re still open,” I gushed.

“We’re about to close,” she replied, indicating the partly closed sliding glass doors across the front of the store.

“Oh no,” I cried. “I have an emergency. I simply must get a few things,” I said, making a point of ignoring Gary but somehow managing to convey how central he was to my ‘emergency’.

The girl smiled sympathetically.

“Couldn’t you stay open for just a few more minutes?” I pleaded.

She was hesitant but succumbed to my desperation.

“Well,” she said, looking at the expensive underwear I had picked up, “why don’t you take those into the back so nobody can see you in the store while I close up. “

“Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver. Come with me, Gary,” I said, taking him into tow.

I found a fitting room in the back and started removing my dress, leaving the door open. Gary watched, obviously believing we were to be left alone and rightfully thinking I wouldn’t mind. I think he was truly surprised several minutes later when I turned around and addressed the girl. He clearly didn’t realize she had been there watching him watch me for a full minute before I spoke.

“What do you think?”

“I think it would look better in blue,” she replied honestly.

I agreed with her assessment. This girl wasn’t just interested in a sale, she was out to get a satisfied customer that would return time and again. She held up the same outfit I had taken but in midnight blue.

“Thank you,” I smiled appreciatively, leaning past Gary to take the garments. “No, don’t go. I need your opinion.”

I glanced at Gary in disdain, acknowledging our mutual understanding of male limits regarding clothes. I started removing the first negligee, then paused.

“I should know your name if I’m going to undress in front of you.”

“Maria, and you’re?”


“And?” Maria looked at Gary.

Gary was tongue-tied. “Gary,” I answered for him.

Maria smiled. “I’m here to help, Gary. There’s no pressure on you.”

I removed the negligee, leaving my own panties which I had kept on. I put on the blue ones, but removed my bra. I felt self-conscious about my breasts in front of this young woman but only for a moment. Gary’s eyes showed me how attractive my older, not-as-firm-as-they-once-were breasts, still were. They might be less firm but they still retained their shape and my nipples were, if anything, more prominent than they were when set upon their younger selves, and easily showed through the material of the negligee.

It was my turn to be surprised when I caught a glimmer of interest in Maria’s eyes. Perhaps there was more than a sales interest in this young woman. I seized upon the discovery, immediately realizing its potential to help me quickly attain my goal of getting Gary interested in a younger woman, and having her return his interest.

“That looks great on you,” Maria commented.

“Do you think so?” I asked, twisting back and forth, examining myself in the mirror. “It’s hard to tell with my own on underneath.”

“You can take them off,” Maria suggested.

“Really? Can you still sell them if I do?”

“Oh no, but we can use them as demos for the floor only.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said, immediately taking her up on the suggestion before she changed her mind, slipping both sets of panties down my legs. I turned my bottom toward both of them as I bent over, taking my time to daintily step out of the panties, separating them, and pulling the new ones back on as I let the others drop. A weird feeling came over me. I had never undressed completely in front of a woman before.

“What do you think?” I asked, preening in front of Gary and Maria.

“Wonderful,” Maria replied.

“Great, M…”

I cut Gary off before he could reveal our relationship. Not yet, anyway.

“Gary doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” I explained to Maria, “unless he can make a comparison.”

Maria smiled and nodded.

“Do you think you could help?”

“Please?” Maria sought further explanation.

“Can you help him compare?”

“I don’t… “

“What are you wearing?”

“Oh, I see. Um, nothing fancy, just my regular stuff.”

“I bet it’s not just regular, working in a store like this. Would you mind? Just for a comparison?”

Maria shrugged, then reached behind herself to undo her dress. She fumbled with it, which surprised me, working with clothes like she did. She turned her back to me, seeking help, but I turned her toward Gary.

“Help her with her dress, honey.”

Gary managed to undo the zipper and Maria actually blushed, her eyes fluttering closed. She was a real cutie. This was so much fun!

The dress hung loosely on Maria for a moment, then she shrugged and it fell to the floor. Gosh, she was built. Her breasts belied her slight frame and her slightly darker skin was beautifully textured, almost outshining the black bra and panties. They were a nice set, obviously from this store. Maria looked up, opening her eyes and standing demurely in front of me. We both acted as if Gary wasn’t there.

“Come closer,” I beckoned, “so he can see.”

Maria stepped closer to me.

“Closer,” I whispered.

Maria obeyed, until we were standing breast to breast, only an inch apart.

“What do you think, Gary?” I asked, looking over Maria’s shoulder, my eyes shushing him.

After a few seconds of silence, I made a suggestion, “Perhaps if he could just concentrate on the panties? They’re his favorite part.”

Without waiting for an answer, I pulled the negligee off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I was standing naked in front of this girl, this stranger, except for my panties. I felt suddenly exposed.

Maria hesitated, then slowly reached behind herself and released her bra. She shrugged it onto her forearms and bent to let it fall off and onto the floor on top of the negligee.

“What do you think, Gary?” she asked.

“Closer,” I urged.

Maria complied. Our breasts touched, electrically, nipples grazing one another. Gary’s breathing became noticeable and I smiled, my lips only millimeters from Maria’s.

“He looking down there,” I told Maria, barely loud enough for her to hear. Maria nodded. “Come closer,” I whispered, tightening my buttocks and pushing my mound forward.

Maria didn’t comply but she stood her ground. Our nipples grazed past each and our breasts mashed together, then our panties met, rustling, mound to mound. Gary groaned. The heat from Maria’s steamy mound almost made me swoon as our private parts sought each other, pressing, seeking alignment, then finding it as our grooves fit together, perfectly. My lips nibbled hers as I initiated our first kiss.

A key rattled in the door.

“Oh, my God. It’s the manager!” Maria cried, pulling back.

I grabbed my dress from the hook and Maria stooped to pick up hers.

“Quick,” she urged. “Go out the back.”

We stumbled to the back of the store, both struggling to get out dresses on, Maria’s face frantic except for when she looked at Gary, at his groin, and the large lump there.

“Let me help you,” I gasped, pulling up her zipper.

“No, no,” Maria cried, coming to her senses. “Go, you must go!”

Gary and rushed through the door. It closed quickly, but quietly. That girl was on the ball. Gary and I were outside, behind the mall. I turned my back to him. “Zip me up,” I spoke calmly.

We walked around the mall to the car and were almost there when I caught Vanessa from the corner of my eye about to get into her car. I didn’t slow my pace but turned my head to look at her. She held my gaze, responding with the look of a woman who had a secret. It was a triumphant look.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

John was home when we got back to the house. He offered to take us all out for dinner but settled for order-in. Gary went directly to his room.

“A setback?” John asked.

“No. Well, maybe. I’ll have to see,” I said.

“Well, we shouldn’t be having any more problems from that Billy kid.”

“Oh? You talked to Vanessa?” The image of Vanessa’s superior smile flooded back into my consciousness.

“Yes,” John replied.

“Then everything is settled?”

“Not quite. It’s a work in progress, you might say.”

I wasn’t happy with his answer but it explained Vanessa’s haughty expression, a look I hadn’t experienced since John’s mother passed away. That crooked smile meant only one thing to me: Vanessa was having, or at least initiating, an affair with my husband. Was she doing it to protect her son, to stop John from going to the authorities, or was she just doing it because she could? Had it actually been consummated, or would Vanessa be satisfied in the knowledge that she could have my man anytime she wanted?

I was surprised that I cared at this point but I did. I wanted my husband but I didn’t have time to fight for him now. Not at this moment, anyway.

“Can we talk about it later? I’ve got to be with Gary. It was hard for him out there today.”

“There’s no need to talk,” John said. “I’ll order in.”

Now I definitely knew there was a problem. I turned to go upstairs and almost stopped but managed to keep walking, though more slowly, up the stairs. The comforter was folded neatly and piled on the couch. I hadn’t done that and certainly Gary wouldn’t have folded it. We must have left it spread on the floor in front of the couch. I pressed on.

Gary was surprised by my entry. He sat up in bed, where he had been lying in his underwear, his hands covering his obvious erection. Leaving the door open, I went and stood close to him to help hide his indiscretion in case John followed me upstairs. From the size of his erection, I’m sure Gary was reliving the scene in the store.

“You didn’t let me know if you liked the new negligee.”

Gary looked up at me with a dumb expression on his face.

“I guess we were in a pretty big hurry to leave,” I smiled.

Gary nodded.

“So maybe you can tell me now, before our dinner arrives.”

My hands, which had been hanging by my sides, began sliding my dress up. Gary’s eyes widened and he looked around me to his open door and the hallway beyond. His father was out there somewhere he knew, but upstairs or downstairs?

I didn’t tell him. My hands rose further, raising the hem slowly, each inch further impairing Gary’s breathing, until it was apparent that I was still wearing the blue negligee. Gary’s eyes were riveted on my legs, or more accurately, on the shiny blue negligee now being gathered with my dress as it continued its journey up my legs. I kept pulling and knew the instant the blue panties appeared by the loud gasp Gary released.

“From now on, I want you to take me anywhere I want to go, shopping, hiking, swimming, biking, anywhere.”

Gary mumbled something.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, mother.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, mother.”


I placed my right foot a half-step to the side, parting my legs. Gary stared but didn’t do anything. I swayed my hips, bringing the blue panties closer to him.

“Do they look nice?” I asked.

“Yes,” he croaked.

“Do they smell nice?’

Gary looked up but quickly looked back down. I put my hand on top of his head but didn’t direct him in any way. He leaned forward an inch, and breathed in, deep.

It was an outrageous request. Gary didn’t need any further motivation to go outside. I knew he would follow me to the mall just to see Maria again, that I could slowly disentangle myself, leaving them alone, with each other. Maybe that’s why I was doing this, because I was afraid of losing my son completely. I needed to give him a little more to make sure he never left me for good.

The phone rang. I heard John answer it but he didn’t call out. It was for him, which was strange because he hardly ever received calls at home. His voice lowered and then I could barely hear him but not enough to hear what was being said. Was it Vanessa?

Gary breathed in again, a long, very deep breath, then exhaled slowly. He had closed his eyes.

I looked over my shoulder, down the hall. I still couldn’t hear what John was saying. I looked at my hand, still resting on top of Gary’s head. I pulled, urging it forward.

“Do they taste good?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Gary’s head tipped forward until his nose pressed into my blue puffiness, then straightened a little as he thrust his chin forward. I felt his hand sliding up between my thighs. My own breathing became as ragged as his. Something warm and wet graced my mound, his tongue.

My knees buckled and I lurched forward. Gary’s free arm circled around my waist and the hand between my legs rose up to take some of my weight but his mouth, his mouth remained latched on the blue, silk panties. Gary’s tongue dug into the furrow between my lips as his mouth surrounded me, chewing. I fell further forward, losing my balance, but Gary’s hand no longer held me up, it was exploring, seeking, squiggling inside the panties. He was leaning back, across the bed, slowing my fall, his encircling arm keeping me from sliding off, holding me in place, on his mouth.

We collapsed with a silent bang, the bedsprings the only announcement of the illegal coupling of his mouth and my pussy. I hadn’t even tried to break my fall. The panties were being dragged down by Gary’s hand, its fingers hooked through the bottom. His mouth made contact with my bareness and his tongue immediately snaked into my cunt.

I was holding his ears though I couldn’t remember grabbing them. I pulled, trying to get his tongue further inside me, directing it, churning my hips over his face.

“Eat it!” I raged.

“Unnghhh,” I cried as his thick fingers shoved into me.

I humped his face, unconcerned for his comfort and no longer worried about my husband. I tried to tell Gary what to do but it came out garbled. I had lost it, lost all control. I ravaged his face, coming already, unbelievably, coming already. I turned my face into the bed and bit the covers, filling my face, muffling my orgasm, legs spastically jerking off the other side of the bed. I was done, relaxing, flooding with relief. I got up on my knees, worked my way back and then stood up, fitted the panties around my sex and smoothed the dress down over my legs.

“Dinner will be here soon,” I said, as if that’s what I’d come upstairs to say.

The doorbell rang.

“It’s here. Don’t be long.” I looked down at Gary, still sitting in his swollen underwear. “I’ll take care of that later.”

I turned and left. The self-recriminations started before I even reached the stairs. I had lost control, but worse, there hadn’t even been a struggle. I had no excuse and could no longer cover my actions with illusions of helping my son.

I wanted him. That was the cold, harsh reality. If his cock hadn’t been trapped inside his underwear, I might have forced myself upon it. The very thought of his youthful pole squeezing inside me made my legs weaken with desire, sending me sideways into the wall.

Get hold of yourself!

I had to recover, to refocus on my goal. Get Gary out of the house. Check. Get him acquainted with a girl. Check. Get him involved with said girl. In progress. What had happened wasn’t a disaster. In fact it was a stroke of good fortune for it afforded me the excuse to show Gary just how exquisite a woman’s attention can be. I owed him for what he had done in the bedroom and I would show him, then explain how I couldn’t go further because I was his mother. He would have to understand that. However, Maria could and I would offer to invite her over to get things started. I straightened up and moved forward with a new sense of purpose. I had a plan and the will to put it into effect.

The doorbell rang again.

“I’ve got to go. Yes, tomorrow. Okay. Really, I have to go.”

John had been on the phone all this time? The hair rose on the back of my neck. I had intended to deal with Gary tonight and then turn my attention to my husband tomorrow but it sounded like I had better start with John sooner rather than later. Gary would have to wait until tomorrow.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

I feigned weariness and escaped to my bedroom much earlier than usual. There, I made a few minor preparations: placing a picture of John’s mother on my bedside table, putting on a little makeup so I would look like she did at my age, and dressing in one of her full-length, thin flannel nightgowns that I retrieved from a box in the attic. I was pleased with its low cut neckline. I had never seen her wear anything like it, only the ones that came right up to her neck, yet there were piles more like this in her things. I waited. About an hour later, I heard John’s footsteps approaching and was exiting the bathroom with the light behind me just as he entered the room.

The additional attention he paid me was obvious though I doubt John was aware of it or that he would know why if he was. I managed to draw his attention to my body with an ease that was surprising given his lack of interest for the past year or more. I knew when I crawled under the covers that his meeting with Vanessa was far from his mind and I was glad that John turned out the light quickly so I could hide the triumphant smile that couldn’t be stricken from my face. John’s hands quickly sought me out, tentatively at first but when they weren’t rebuffed he nestled in behind me. He was excited, very excited.

“I’m tired, John,” I complained but rubbed my bottom against his stiffness despite my words.

He nibbled my neck, something I loved. I wondered if his mother liked it too? John’s hand rubbed over my hip, pulling me back more firmly against his hard cock. Did she like it like that, from behind? We hardly ever did it that way, just the few times we’d both been drinking heavily at parties. I pushed back and wiggled my bum.

“I’m so tired, John.” I paused, to let the disappointing feeling of rejection sink in, then continued, “Too tired to help you much.”

I lifted my bottom up and let it settle onto his throbbing hardness, then turned my face into the pillow. John’s hands immediately started dragging the long nightgown up my legs. His breathing was already harsh and became positively ragged as he pushed the hem up and over my buttocks. His cock quickly followed, stabbing aimlessly. I groaned and twisted my hips toward the bed, away from his probing organ but opened my legs. He leaned over me, nestling between my legs and pushing them farther apart as his cock probed my pussy. I was surprised how wet I was. I moaned and John shoved himself inside me, his hands encircling my waist and then slipping up inside the bodice of the nightgown to grasp my tits.

“Oh God, it’s been so long,” he whispered, starting to fuck me.

Yes, it has, I thought but then his words jarred me. What did he mean by so long? Since he’d been with me, or his mother?

John was up to full speed already, slamming his cock in and jerking it out, showing no finesse or sense of control. His hands squeezed my tits roughly as he banged about on my ass, huffing and puffing with the effort. I cocked my hips and shoved my ass up off the bed, following him on the out-stroke, moaning loudly to show him how much I loved it. And I did! I was so wet, the sound of his cock squelching in my pussy filled the bedroom, even though we were still covered. The words just popped out of my mouth.

“Fuck it, fuck it!”

“I am, I will,” John cried, increasing his effort.

I pushed my ass higher and felt him rise up to position himself above me. His feet were beside my knees and his hands slipped from my tits to grip my waist, holding me as he sunk his shaft in deep, kept me still as he pulled out and banged back inside, expelling his breath, then again and again and again. I hung my head and propped it against the pillow, bracing myself for the onslaught, meeting each thrust with a welcoming parry of my own.

It seemed like John fucked me like that for hours but the intensity was deceiving; it was over in just a few minutes. John pulled out and dragged the nightgown down to cover my ass. I reached back to tug it down to my knees and when I stretched my legs John pulled the nightgown down to my ankles. I kept my face hidden in the pillow as he arranged the covers over me. John went into the bathroom to clean himself but when he returned I remained hidden in the pillow as if we had done something illicit. We went to sleep without uttering a word to each other.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

“Gary. Gary, are you out here?”

No answer. I closed the back door and searched the house again. He was gone. I called his phone but heard it ringing in his room. Panic visited me again. I ran downstairs just as the door opened and Gary came in.

“Gary!” I cried. “Where have you been?”

“At the mall,” he answered nonchalantly. “I had a coffee with Maria.”

“You had a coffee with Maria?” I repeated, dumbfounded.


“Oh. Are you hungry?” I asked, still disconcerted. “I’ll make you something.”

“No. I had a scone.”

“Oh.” I looked around the living room, spotted the comforter still folded up on the couch, then looked down at my skirt and blouse.

“Why don’t you spread the comforter then and I’ll get changed.”

“You don’t need to get changed.”

“You don’t want me to get changed?’

I was perplexed. What was happening? Why didn’t Gary want to see me in the revealing body stocking? Jealousy flooded inexplicably through me. Of course. He had just seen Maria. So it had happened that fast? He had given me over so quickly for that little bit of fluff?

I had reached my goal but felt little exultation that it had been achieved. I knew Gary would lose interest in me but hadn’t expected it to hit me like a train or to be thrown off a cliff. I moved quickly to the couch, pulled the comforter off and spread it out on the rug. The doll tumbled out. It was naked. I stared at it. John must have found it and placed it within the folded comforter. I was still fixated on it when Gary sat down. I swung my gaze toward him.

“You don’t want me to change?” I asked again.

Gary shook his head and held his hand out, toward the doll. I picked it up and handed it to him. Gary took the doll but held onto my hand, pulling me toward him and down. I knelt before him. Gary laid the doll on his lap, face down. I looked at it, confused, my mind a muddle, then slowly came to grips with the message he was sending. Of course, last night, I had said, “I’ll take care of that later.” But there was no need. Gary was up and about on his own initiative. I didn’t need to do this. I shouldn’t do it, and I should tell him it was out of the question. I picked up the doll, and tossed it onto the couch. Gary smiled, and waited for my next move.

My hand returned to his lap, found the waistband of his shorts, and gripped it. My other hand found his zipper and pulled it down. I stopped.

“Take it out, Mother.”

I was shocked by his confidence and the commanding tone of his voice but I followed his instructions without question, pulling his underwear down with one hand and lifting his wonderfully virile cock with the other. I waited for further instructions but none came. I pulled my hand up, then pushed it down, up and then down, the growing stiffness of the meat in its grasp sending a thrill up my arm and into my brain. It had become hard so quickly, and grown so large.

When I reached a steady rhythm, Gary leaned forward and grasped my blouse above the top button. I pushed his cock toward him to give him room to unbutton my blouse but he surprised me, yanking his hands down and out, ripping my blouse open. Buttons flew everywhere and I gasped, yanking back on his cock but holding onto it to keep myself upright. Gary laughed, and reached for my tits. He squeezed them for a minute or two, roughly like John had the night before, but soon released them.

His hands found a new home, on my head. Gently but firmly, he tipped it forward until my mouth was hovering over his cock. Gary kept applying pressure until his tip dipped into my mouth on each upward jack. I could have stopped it by simply stilling my hand, but I didn’t. I kept jacking him off and he kept pushing my mouth further and further onto his hard cock. Soon it was slick with my saliva which I produced more of the further he pulled my head onto his cock.

Each time Gary pulled my mouth far down his shaft, he held me there for a few seconds before allowing me to pull off. Eventually, it was all I could do to gulp in some air before he pulled me onto his pole again, holding me down until my head shook with the need for oxygen. My head popped off with a wet, sucking inhalation and air rushed into my lungs through my mouth which drooled all over my son’s eager cock. Then came the drop, as far down as I could manage. Eventually I reached his root and Gary held me down longer, groaning, a sound I loved so much I twisted my head about, rubbing my lips in his pubic hair. He was using me, and I loved it!

There was no warning when he came. When his cock erupted, I had him fully inside my mouth, and his seed spilled like a flow of lava that couldn’t be contained. I tried to swallow it all but some dripped out, squeezing past my lips and running down his shaft. Gary loosened his hold so he could sink back into the couch but I leaned forward, following his cock, licking it, sucking the tip, licking the shaft, kissing the tip. I wasn’t ready for it to end.

Gary got up after that and made himself something to eat despite telling me he wasn’t hungry. I went upstairs to change my blouse. The rest of the day, Gary ignored me. By early afternoon, I was strutting around, trying to draw his attention to me. In desperation, I unbuttoned my blouse and literally hung my tits in front of him as he watched TV.

Gary looked at my tits, then up into my eyes. He stood and turned me around, sitting me down on the comforter with my back to the couch. Grabbing a couple of pillows, he stuffed them behind me. He undid his shorts and pulled his cock out which was already unlimbering to its full length. I felt triumphant, soaking in the thrill of confirmation, the satisfaction of making him hard. Gary grabbed my feet and pulled me down until my head was propped against the edge of the couch.

“No, Gary. You can’t. We can’t actually do it.”

But he wasn’t spreading my legs, or trying to lift my skirt. Gary straddled me and waddled past my knees until his cock was in front of my face. I understood then and, despite my need to deny him, felt disappointment. I grabbed his cock and started jacking it but he batted my hands away. I tried again with the same result. Finally, I leaned forward and took his tip into my mouth. He smiled and nodded.

Slowly, Gary began fucking my mouth, casually flexing his hips, each time shoving more and more of his meat into my face. Whenever I tried to exert some control by taking him in hand, he batted my hand away. Finally, he grabbed both hands and firmly planted them on either side of me along the front edge of the couch. Even when I let them fall to the floor, Gary replaced my hands on the couch. So I lay there, arms stretched out wide beside me, as my son fucked my face.

He took much longer to come the second time but released less spunk and was careful to get it all inside my mouth, leaving no mess to clean up on my face. He grasped my hair and gently turned my face up to look at him. His other hand reached down and quickly snaked up my skirt. Grazing his fingers over the gusset of my panties, he told me how he understood that I couldn’t bring myself to be with him that way.

“I know you can’t, Mom. I guess I’ll just have to lose my virginity with Maria when I’m ready.”

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

I had more sex in the next week than at any other time in my life. During the day I sucked Gary or had my face fucked at least twice, and sometimes more. I was flabbergasted by how much I liked having his cock in my mouth. I had never enjoyed going down on a man, even John, but the feel of Gary’s shaft sliding through my lips made me wet. Go figure. On the down side, Gary never put his mouth on me again. He did finger me after coming every time, playing with my cunt longer each time, but always leaving me hanging.

At night, I was so horny I was ready to rape John. I dug every sexy nightgown out of the attic that his mother had owned. It was a ritual after supper for me to go upstairs, put on a nightgown but no panties, apply old style makeup and wait in bed for my husband to fuck me, or rather, the memory of his mother. John always did me from behind, clambering aboard, straddling my thighs and rocking his cock in and out until we both came, literally out of breath. Each time, I hid my face as he gently rearranged my nightgown, and not a word was spoken.

Gary started fingering me at various times during the day, usually catching me by surprise. Unable to predict when he would ‘attack’, I always wore a skirt or a dress and never wore panties. The downer was that he never took me all the way. He always left me hanging but that didn’t stop me from opening my legs the second I felt his hands slithering up my skirt, and I squirmed on his fingers all the more frantically.

He liked to fuck my face while I was sitting up in bed. He had made up a couple of small ropes with wide loops at each end, one end of which he would loop over the headboard posts and the other around my hands. It didn’t make sense because they were so loose I could slip my hands out at any time but I never did. I dutifully kept my hands in place until he was finished and often stayed like that long after he was gone.

I didn’t even try to free myself when Gary started undressing me completely, not even when he spread my legs and pressed his knee against my sex while he shoved his cock in and out of my mouth. One day, he didn’t put his cock in my mouth but instead kissed and licked my tits and sucked my nipples in so hard I almost came twice. He rubbed his cock all over me and once hovered over my pussy and blew his hot breath on it.

“Let go,” he whispered. “Free yourself.”

I thought about what Gary said and wondered why he liked to tie me up in ropes that couldn’t possibly hold me. I think I knew why. He had imprisoned himself in his room. Only he kept himself there, and only he could free himself. Oh, maybe he couldn’t have done it without my help but it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t wanted it to and only he could keep himself free. He was trying to show me that I was living in my own prison and, in his own way, he was trying to show me the way out.

Gary left early every morning now but was home before lunch for the first facefuck of the day. One such morning, after he had finished, he leaned close to me and whispered, “Maria’s going to be ready for me soon.”

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

Maria’s going to be ready for him soon, or, more to the point, he was going to be ready for her. I had won! My plan had worked and all the sacrifice, no matter how taboo, no matter how forbidden, no matter how wrong, it had been worth it. And but for the suspicions of a few—Sandra, whom I could trust and Vanessa whom I could deal with—no one was the wiser.

Except maybe John. Perhaps he didn’t really know how far I had gone, despite finding the doll and the comforter spread out on the living room floor, or maybe he was wilfully blind. Once, I would have believed in his naivety but no more. Not after finding out about his visits to Vanessa who was so much like his mother, or experiencing his passion when I put on old fashioned makeup and dressed in his mother’s night clothes. No, I was sure John knew, and he had warned me.

Gary was going to lose his virginity soon, maybe as early as tomorrow. He was going to give it to the girl I had introduced him to, after all I had done for him. He was going to give it to her, and now I wanted it!

I looked at my watch. The mall was closing soon so I grabbed my purse and ran out the door. I would deal with Maria once and for all.

The route to the mall was a blur. Luckily I encountered no pedestrians or cyclists. I roared into the lot and parked in front of the doors, in a handicapped space. Slamming the car door, I rushed inside. The sliding storefront was already pulled almost closed. I walked toward them, past the few straggling shoppers remaining in the mall. A girl exited the lingerie store. It wasn’t Maria but she was wearing a name tag. I remembered seeing her before. She worked there too so maybe Maria wasn’t working today. I hurried to ask her if Maria was working tomorrow. I expected her to turn around to pull the door shut but she just walked away. I was in luck, someone was still inside. The manager, or Maria?

I slipped through the door. Maria entered from the backroom, saw me and smiled. I walked purposely toward her.

“Hello,” she greeted me cheerfully. “It’s so nice to see you. I was hoping to see you and your friend again. It’s been so long I thought you weren’t coming back.”

I was taken aback by her words. She hadn’t seen us? She meant me, she couldn’t mean Gary. He’d been coming here every morning for weeks now.

“I’ll just lock up. Why don’t you grab something and take it out back. I’ll be right with you.”

Maria walked past me toward the door. I half turned to watch her as she went by. She seemed genuinely pleased to see me, and surprised too.

“You didn’t bring your friend with you?”

“No,” I replied.

“That’s okay. Men don’t know anything about clothes, anyway.”

I walked into the back room and stood at the entrance to the fitting room. I dropped my purse on the seat and turned to wait for Maria. I hadn’t picked up anything to try on since I still thought we were about to have a confrontation. I was sure that Maria had made the suggestion to get me out of the front part of the store, but I was wrong. She appeared in the doorway holding a dainty, sexy red negligee.

“You forgot to get something so I picked one out that should look gorgeous on you.”

Maria walked toward me, the negligee dangling from her hand. I started to speak, to accuse her of seducing my son but for some reason held my tongue. Maria hung the negligee on the hook on the inside of the open fitting room door.

“Here, let me help you,” she said, starting to unbutton my blouse.

I can’t explain why I didn’t react. I stood there while this young woman whom I had only met twice removed my blouse, tugging the ends out of my skirt to do the bottom two buttons, and peeling it down my arms. She put the blouse on a hanger and hung it behind me on a separate hook on the fitting room wall. As she reached past me, I noted how pretty her perfume was and that she seemed to pause so I could take the time to smell it. Maria stepped back but remained close so she could reach around me to undo my bra. Our chests touched.

“Gary hasn’t been in… to buy me anything?” I asked.

“Gary? Oh, your friend? No, he hasn’t. I’m sure he meant to but they forget, don’t they?”

The bra was loose and Maria was pulling it around to the front, dragging it off my shoulders and down my arms. I straightened them and held them in front of myself to make it easier to take off but kept my arms together, hiding my breasts and especially my nipples which were stiffening despite my self-conscious pleas. Maria draped the bra over my purse on the seat.

“So he hasn’t been in?”

“I haven’t seen him,” Maria said. “Let’s get this skirt off, shall we?”

She loosened the skirt and knelt down as she pushed it over my hips and let it fall slowly down my legs, tracing a path down the outside of each one with her thumbs as she held the skirt. I stepped out of it and Maria stood, picked up a hanger with built-in pegs and hung the skirt neatly on the hook holding my blouse.

She turned back, looked me up and down, and asked, “Would you like to compare it to the one I’m wearing, like last time?”

Maria didn’t wait for an answer. She reached behind herself and unzipped her dress. I was falling from her shoulders by the time my brain registered what she was doing.

“I’m not… uh, I’m not…”

Maria wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts, tanned and beautiful, sprang off her chest with youthful enthusiasm. Unlike my own which, though great for my age still sagged a little, they were firm and supple. Maria swayed toward me and grasped my hands in hers. If she thought I was going escape, she was wrong. My feet were as fixed to the floor as my eyes were fixated on her breasts.

“I like yours better,” she said.

“I’m not, I’m not, uh…” I stammered.

“Neither am I,” Maria whispered, her fingers loosening around my hands and sliding up my arms.

My eyes flickered to her face. Maria was staring at my breasts as her fingers tickled up my arms, her lips quivering in concert with my vibrating nipples. Her fingertips rounded my shoulders and traced a line along the ridge into the hollow of my neck, circled several times, then trailed down to the upper swelling of my breasts. She was so confident, so in control.

“Maria,” I whispered, my mouth dry and voice hoarse. “Really, I’m not a lesbian.”

“Neither am I,” she whispered, “but you’re so beautiful.”

The tip of Maria’s index fingers collided with my nipples and pushed, bending them over, and holding them like that.

“I love your nipples. They’re so…there!”

“Yours will be too, in time.”

“Yours weren’t always so…”



“No, but my breasts weren’t so soft, either. They used to be firm like yours. As you get older, they’ll soften up and lose some of their mass which will make your nipples stand out more.”

“Are they more sensitive?”

“I think so.” I sucked in my breath as Maria pushed her fingertips past, allowing my nipples to snap erect. “I can’t remember for sure.”

“I wish mine were like yours.”

I gasped as Maria pinched my nipples between thumbs and forefingers, holding them gently.

“And I yours,” I whispered, reaching up to cup her firmer breasts.

We stood there, caressing each other’s breasts, eyes alternating between tits and face, breaths shortening and coming more quickly.

“If we’re not, you know, then why are we doing this?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Maria asked. “Who cares? No one’s watching.”

A streak of fear suddenly ran through me.

“Your manager, he’s not…”

“No.” Maria corrected me, “She’s at her other store.”

I relaxed and my pelvis contacted Maria’s. She pushed back, melding our panties.

“Mmmmm, this is nice,” Maria said. “Why can’t men be like this?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, gently twisting to the left and back, pressing my panties more firmly into Maria’s.

We rocked together like that for a couple of minutes, neither letting go of the other’s nipples, in limbo except that our pussies pressed together more firmly and actually rubbed against each other.

“Can I kiss you?” Maria asked, leaning toward me, already knowing the answer.


Her mouth was on mine. Her tongue didn’t follow. It was longer than I expected and surprisingly nice. I liked it.

Maria pulled back but only half an inch. Her lips brushed over mine teasingly, then slipped around to my cheek and up to my ear lobe, nibbled it, then dropped onto my neck where the tip of her tongue appeared, trailing slickly out to the edge of my shoulder. She returned to nibble my face around the edge of my lips.

“Does your husband know about your young man?”

“He knows who he is,” I responded truthfully.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know.”

“That’s quite a coup, bagging someone so young, but looking at you, feeling you, I can understand why he’s attracted to you.”

“Am I more interesting because I have a young man?”

I nibbled on Maria’s face as she paused to consider my question.

“I don’t know. Yes, I think it does.”

Maria resumed her caresses. We were now trading kisses and nibbles, each still working the other’s nipples.

“You’re not much older than Gary,” I whispered, rubbing my panties across hers.

“I’m not attracted to younger men,” she laughed.

“But you are to older women?”

“Not until now.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I said, immediately regretting my loose tongue.

“You avoided my question. Does your husband know about Gary?”

“I’m not sure. I think maybe he does,” I answered truthfully.

“Is that the half of it?”

Maria released my nipples and let her hands circle around my waist, down my back, and onto my ass. I followed suit.


“There’s more?”


I replied thickly. Maria had slipped her hand around and pushed it between us, cupping my pussy. I did the same and was pleased when she gasped in response. We each rubbed the front of the other’s panties, found each other’s grooves, and explored gently.

Maria sighed. “You’re so wicked. Did you let him find out on purpose?”

“No. I really don’t know if he knows for sure but I suspect he does.”

“Tell me more you wicked bitch.”

“Ungghhh,” I moaned. Maria had raised her hand up above my panties, slipped her fingers inside, and pushed them down, skidding in perfect alignment through my slick groove.

“Tell me,” she rasped, curling the tip of her finger inward, probing my entrance, and pushing inside.

It had to be her long finger because it reached deep. I was about to speak, to reveal my secret, when Maria’s tongue filled my mouth. It was an exquisite kiss, my very first with a woman. By the time it ended, my back was to the wall but Maria’s body had followed mine, and my finger was inside her. Hers had become thicker and I realized that sometime during the kiss, Maria had slipped another finger inside me.

“Show me how wicked you are,” she urged.

Her fingers pushed and twisted as Maria lowered her mouth to my breast and sucked my nipple deep into her mouth.

“Oh God,” I cried.

“Tell me,” Maria hissed. “I know there’s something more. Tell me.” Her mouth latched onto my tit again and sucked hard while her fingers pushed in so deep my pelvis lifted and my hips bucked toward her.

“He’s my son,” I cried. “Gary is my son!”

Maria lifted her head, and stared at me, mouth open.

“He’s my son,” I whimpered, shame overwhelming me despite the conviction that what I was doing was right. An obscure part of my brain noted how deep must run the courage of the righteous.

Maria’s head shook slowly from side to side, unbelieving.

“I had to,” I wailed. “He needed me.”

“You had sex with him?” Maria was incredulous.

“Not yet.”

Her mouth was on me, her fingers slipped out and her hand curled around my waist, pulling me tight. The kiss was urgent, yearning, until Maria abruptly pulled away.

“But you’re going to, right? You will let him, won’t you?”

Her eyes were feverish, demanding. I nodded hesitantly. “Maybe.”

“You must! And you’ll tell me when you do, right?”

“Yes.” I don’t know why I committed to do that. At the moment, it was important for Maria to know that I would.


Maria tugged my panties over my hips and pushed them onto my thighs. I thought she would kneel then to pull them further like she had with my skirt but instead she pushed her own panties down. Quickly, she pressed into me, our bare pussies mashing together.

“Please do let him fuck you. That would be so cool, so fucking awesome.”

Maria pulled on my waist, yanking me hard onto her pussy, as if she was fucking me.

“God, you’re so hot. If I had a son, I’d fuck him too.”

“Shut up,” I cried, encircling her waist and pulling her pussy onto mine.

Maria moved her hands around and grabbed my nipples again. Her mouth found mine and we kissed, tongues moving back and forth, slipping around each other, entwining, while our hips bucked together. Our bodies writhed, moving frantically, two women, neither a lesbian, making love, or at least fucking each other.

When it was over and we were sitting on the floor where we had collapsed, limbs entwined, hugging and nuzzling one another, Maria spoke first.

“You’re an amazing woman.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You have the courage to love your son, because he needs you. How many women could do that?”

Laughing, I said, “I don’t think many would consider it courageous.”

“But it is,” Maria insisted.

“I came here today because I was jealous, because Gary wants you.”

The moment I said it I realized that it wasn’t true. Gary had only used the prospect of sex with Maria to make me jealous. He wanted me, just as I wanted him.

“I would love to be with him, if it was alright with you.”

I didn’t answer.

“But it doesn’t matter. I’d like to be with you again. I have a small apartment.”

I put my fingers on Maria’s lips.

“We’ll see,” I said.

“I’ll give you the address just in case. You don’t have to phone. Just come, anytime, day or night.”

I laughed. “Do my wicked ways turn you on?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Maria laughed.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

I avoided Gary until the next afternoon. I went for a long walk in the morning, making sure I wasn’t there when he returned from his supposed visit with Maria but I didn’t call him on it. I wasn’t sure if I should go through with it despite my desire and Maria’s urging. To take him inside me was a huge step, one neither of us could ever forget. Could I be sure that Gary really wanted to, that he wouldn’t regret it years later?

Gary was home, waiting for me when I got back from my walk. He was sitting in the kitchen, on a stool, the bulge in his shorts showing how much he missed me. I turned up the stairs instead of going into the kitchen. The stool scraped on the kitchen floor as Gary got up to follow me. I loosened my skirt and let it drop on the stairs, then started unbuttoning my blouse. Gary caught up in time to stand in the doorway as I tossed my blouse on the floor, quickly shrugged out of my bra, and slipped my panties over my ass. I crawled onto the bed and slipped my left hand through the loop of the left rope that Gary had already hung on the posts while awaiting my arrival. Turning my back to the headboard, I reached out and sipped my right hand through its loop, then settled in against the stacked pillows and waited for Gary’s cock.

“Hurry,” I said, spreading my legs, something I had never done before.

Gary pushed his shoulder off the door jamb and nonchalantly walked toward me as if he didn’t have a care in the world. What a change I had wrought in him. I wondered if it was all good.

Gary shucked his shirt and pushed his shorts to the ground. Naked, he stood, tall and straight, his cock hanging in front of him, already hard and ready. I flexed my toes.

“Hurry, I need you.”

“You need me?” he drawled, strutting around to the side of the bed.

I smiled. “Ah, payback time for all the teasing you endured?” I asked.

“I owe you,” Gary replied.

“Didn’t you enjoy it?”

“Absolutely. That doesn’t mean I don’t owe you.”

“That’s true,” I admitted. “So make me pay.”

“I will,” he husked, his voice inadvertently revealing how much he wanted me.

I pulled my knees up and pressed my legs together, tilting them away from his so the underside of my thighs and ass would show.

“Make me,” I husked.

Gary got up on the bed and stood with his feet on either side of my thighs

“Make you what?” he demanded.

“Do things,” I replied. “Before my husband gets home.”

“I heard you last night. You were doing filthy things, weren’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

“Weren’t you,” Gary demanded, slapping my knees aside. I let them drop, slightly open so he could see how swollen and ready my bare pussy was.

Gary grabbed my head and roughly turned my face up toward him. This was unlike him. He had never been rough with me before.

“I don’t want you doing things for him.”

“I have to. He’s my husband.”

“Just go through the motions like you’re always done.”

The truth hurt. The sex life in my marriage had always been about going through the motions.

“Make me,” I taunted my son.

I wanted him to fuck me, to take me, like Maria suggested, but he had to do it; I couldn’t bring myself to offer it. He had to take me. I opened my legs wide and flexed my legs, shamelessly presenting my throbbing pussy.

“Make me,” I repeated.

I wanted him to know things were different now, that I was available, that he could have me, but I couldn’t just tell him. Gary bent his knees and rubbed his cock over my face but instead of trying to capture it as usual, I turned my head away. I didn’t want the same old, same old from him. Couldn’t he see I had changed my mind, that I wanted him to fuck me?

“Make me,” I hissed, thrashing my open legs.

Misinterpreting me, Gary grabbed my head and forced my mouth open before shoving his cock into my mouth. I suffered half a dozen gurgling thrusts before he pulled out and released my head but I stayed on course.

“Make me,” I said.

I pulled my knees up, tucked my feet between his legs and under his chest to hold them against the headboard above my head. My pussy was lewdly displayed, wet and swollen, as ready for it as it ever had been.

“Make me,” I said.

Gary knelt above my pelvis, moved closer until his cock brushed over the back of my thighs. One part of my mind screamed for me to stop him while the other readied myself for his first, forbidden penetration. But he didn’t enter me. Instead, he grazed his cock over my pussy, from one thigh to the other, then slipped up and pushed it deep between my legs until its tip touched my tits. He dragged it upward then, onto my face, across my chin and lips, over my nose, slid down to press against each closed eyelid.

“You want it, you know you do.”

I shook my head. “Make me.”

At least he had the right idea. Gary lowered himself until his cock landed on my pussy. He tapped my swollen lips and rubbed his cock sideways across them, then slid it lengthways along the full span of his long shaft.

“Take it,” he whispered.

“I can’t,” I cried, lowering my legs.

Gary grabbed my feet and pressed them back against the headboard. Straddling my thighs, he dipped his cock and rubbed it along my groove.

“You can do it.”

“Make me.”

“No. You have to take it.”

“I can’t.”

Gary dropped onto the bed, his hands sliding from my ankles to the back of my knees. He dipped his head and his mouth covered my pussy. I moaned, then wailed when his tongue slipped into my crevice and gouged through the sloppy trough. I was so wet, so fucking wet.

“Gary, I can’t, I just can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

He stood and rubbed his cock through my slushy slit, then held the head above my opening, pressing down but not enough to dip inside.

“Take it,” he croaked.

“No! Make me,” I cried, jerking my pussy away.

Gary let my legs fall, hooked his arms under my knees, and stepped back, pulling me to the center of the bed. My arms stretched out and almost fell through the loops but my fingers closed over the rope to keep me captive. Gary tugged and I gripped the rope tighter. He pulled harder but couldn’t break my grip so he leaned over me and grabbed my left hand, then deliberately pried my fingers open and tossed the rope off to the side, out of my reach. He did the same with my right hand. I was free, physically.

Still holding me with his elbows crooked behind my knees, Gary lifted me up from the bed by my legs but my head and shoulders dangled onto the mattress. His cock slid between my thighs, rubbing over my pussy.

“Free yourself, Mom. Take it.”

“I can’t,” I cried. “You have to make me.”

“No. You know what you want, Admit it to yourself and take it.”

“I can’t.”

Gary didn’t speak again but he didn’t release me. He kept rubbing his cock back and forth over my pussy. It was a contest between my ability to abstain and his endurance. I knew he couldn’t hold me up forever, that he would tire, but his desire would build. I knew I wasn’t the only one tortured by the rubbing of his cock over my pussy. He would tire, succumb, and then take me. I met his teasing strokes with slick, nibbling rubs of my own.

Despite the struggle, neither of us allowed cock and pussy to part. We rubbed and teased each other mercilessly. Eventually, I realized that neither of us was capable of pulling apart but slowly, I sensed that Gary was gaining the upper hand. I was shocked. How could a young man in his prime outlast me, an older, mature, experienced woman?

Time. That was the answer. Once he got over the initial hump, all Gary had to do was stoke the embers, patiently awaiting the slow-growing desire built into every woman. The longer this continued, the weaker I became. I tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let me, rubbing his cock incessantly over my now super-sensitive pussy lips.

“Please Gary, don’t” I cried.

He didn’t reply but renewed his rubbing with greater vigor. I pulled away but he lifted me until my shoulders no longer touched the bed. My legs locked around his hips and Gary sawed his cock over my pussy, for all intent and purposes, fucking me, except he wasn’t inside. Gary’s elbows clutched my hips and waist and his hands reached under my shoulders, urging me closer. My legs tightened around his waist.

I was losing. The tip of his cock was nudging my entrance. I clutched his waist, trying to lift myself closer, to force his tip higher, onto my mound so I wouldn’t accidentally pull it in me , but he pulled away, keeping it on my slit which was so wide now, so wet, more a gully than a groove. I moaned.

“Gary don’t.”

He sawed through my slickness, then stopped, his head notched in my slit. Oh God, it felt so good, so fucking, fucking good. I let it sink in, just a little. So fucking good, so filling, even just this innocent dip.

He pulled back! No, don’t. I tightened my legs, lifting myself, following it, following his cock. There, yes, just that little dip, so slick and warm, pressing my lips open. I could do this, just this.

Gary pulled away again. I hooked my ankles firmly together and lunged upward, capturing him, felt his tip nudge into my slit, then start to slip away… no, no, I yanked myself upward, felt it shove in, thicken, so wide, stretching, then suddenly become narrower. He had popped inside me.

No, that wasn’t true. I had pulled him inside.

“Yeah, Mom. Take it all the way.”

“Oh God, Gary. I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“Take it,” he hissed.

I constricted my calf muscles again and felt his blunt cock force my walls open a few more inches as he filled me.

“Ohhhhh Gawwwddd,” I cried, straining my hips upward, pulling his thing into me, deep, really deep. I lunged and captured him fully, mashing my soaking lips onto his pubic hair.

“Fuck me,” I cried, cashing in, admitting defeat, glorious defeat.

Gary dropped my hands and I flopped back, slipping down his cock until his hands grasped my hips. Then he was pulling me up, back onto his cock, plugging me, filling me up to my tonsils.

“Yeah, oh yeah!” he cried.

“Yeah,” I yelled back.

Gary fell to his knees and pushed my legs way back, holding me by the ankles, lifting my ass completely off the bed to fully expose me. Then my son crouched over the back of my thighs and started hammering his cock inside me, noisily slapping the back of my thighs. My God, he was so hard.

“Fuck me!” I moaned, before losing all capability of speech. After that, all I could do was grunt my joy and appreciation.

Gary went wild. It looked like he was trying to say something but the sounds coming out of his mouth were unintelligible. I knew then that he had planned this for some time. It must have been a huge struggle to wait until I was ready rather than following his youthful urge to take me but the end justified the means. Gary was right, I was free. I had taken my son because I wanted him, not for a good cause, not because I was martyring myself, but because he made me so hot and I wanted to fuck his brains out. I was now free to fuck him anytime I wanted, or anytime he wanted me, without guilt or shame.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

Gary and I fucked every afternoon after that. I discovered that I liked the security blanket that the ropes provided and Gary obliged me. He tightened them at my request so I couldn’t slip my hands out. I liked the feeling of being trapped, held against my will and forced to do things—though I really wasn’t. I don’t know why I liked it so much but didn’t waste much time wondering about it. It felt good and that was all I needed to know.

The day everything changed, I was facing the headboard, blindfolded and muzzled by the mask I had devised of stretchy material with a grip on the back so Gary could hold my face up from the bed without hurting my hair. My arms were stretched behind me and my wrists securely tied. The soft rope looping around my neck was yoked to my knees, tucking them up tightly to my chest and forcing my ass up high. Two more lengths of soft rope started at the rope around my wrists and branched off to hold my ankles up. I felt helpless yet strangely, and blissfully, in control because my feigned plight seduced Gary into forcing huge lunges upon me from behind. We had done this before, working up from gentler scenarios, and we both loved it. It was a prelude to something else I had discovered, or more accurately, Gary had shown me that I liked: anal sex.

About a week or so after we had first fucked, and Gary had started tying me up more securely, he began playing with my asshole. First, he worked me up until I was so horny I would die just to get his cock inside me for even a minute, then he put his lubed finger into my little pucker. Oh, I didn’t like it and let my feelings be known but Gary persisted. Soon, I grew used to his finger’s presence, and then his thumb, and after a lot more teasing of my quivering pussy lips, a second finger.

Gary rubbed his shaft along my pussy and nudged it in a bit several times but he wouldn’t shove it all the way in. When he finally forced it into my ass, I welcomed it. It took some getting used to, let me tell you, but by the time his cock was fully inside my ass, I was grooving on it.

The next day, Gary pounded me from behind for several minutes before suddenly pulling out. I wiggled my ass in the air until the first teasing probe both relieved my angst and stoked my fires to new heights. Fifteen minutes of teasing circles around my pucker and sudden plunges inside ensued. When I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer, Gary blessed my ass with his stiff cock. I was so hot it must have felt like a furnace.

So, getting back to that fateful day a week later, as I was saying, Gary had just pounded me from behind, me all tied up, and had barely started stroking my butt, when everything changed.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I heard Gary cry out as he was yanked roughly off me and turned my head just in time to hear the sound of a fist crack followed by a body crashing into the wall behind me so hard the bedside lamp fell off the table. Several more fist cracks followed.

“You little bastard!”

“No, John, don’t,” I yelled but the mask muffled my cry.

Bang, bang, crash.

“John… John, oh my God, Gary,” I whimpered, rubbing my face in the pillow, first trying to rub the mask up over my chin so John could hear me and, after that failed, trying to dislodge it from the top so I could at least plead for Gary with my eyes. But I couldn’t get the mask off and despite rolling off the bed and crashing into John’s feet, the beating continued.

When John finally untied me and removed the mask, Gary was lying in a fetal position beside the bed.

Our world had ended.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

Gary’s stay at the hospital was short—his injuries were slight and mostly surperficial—but his return home was equally brief. He hid in his room and wouldn’t come out, not even to eat. It was worse that when I’d started. Eventually, he returned to the institution.

Getting the charges initially laid against John was another ordeal—we obviously couldn’t explain what had happened—but eventually we got past that too. All that remained was for us to deal with the remorse and sense of failure. Depression awaited. John and I stopped having sex. He was too guilty and I couldn’t bring myself to be with him. Neither of us was capable of dealing with Gary’s situation though I did broach the topic with John one evening without success. He flat out didn’t want to talk about it so that’s what we did, lived our lives as if we didn’t have a son.

I didn’t go out much anymore but one day I was sitting in the food court of a mall—not the one I usually patronized because I couldn’t face meeting anyone I knew—when I encountered Sandra’s son, Jeff. He was such a sweet boy and the brief conversation I had with him turned my life around.

Hope is an amazing thing. Hope leads to plans, and plans lead to action, and actions can succeed as well as fail. Jeff didn’t stick around to see it but when I left that mall, I was a different woman from the one that walked in. There was a firmness to my step, borne of purpose and determination. I had done the impossible once, I could do it again.

The plan formed in my mind on the drive home. I went straight upstairs and then up into the attic. There, I opened all the boxes and trunks, made my selections, and spent the rest of the day doing laundry and taking things to the dry cleaners. Several days later, I had the wardrobe necessary to execute the first part of my new plan, convincing my reluctant husband to become a willing if not fully functional member of the team. Then, we could tackle Gary again.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

I was in the kitchen in when John came in. As usual now, he didn’t come in to see me or call out to say hello, he simply sat down and turned the TV onto the evening news. I smiled. Things were going to be different now and, though I was nervous about this first encounter, I was also confident of success. After all, Vanessa did have my mother-in-law’s personality but I looked like her, especially now that I was at the age she likely had her greatest influence on John. I had examined John’s family pictures and confirmed this to be true. I also knew a lot about my mother-in-law and the strange relationship she had with her son, one I suspected was far more complicated than I previously thought.

I stirred the pot, relishing the delicious feeling of female power that welled up inside me and readied myself for the challenge ahead of me. I wasn’t afraid, I was looking forward to it. My earlier triumph with Gary had taught me to enjoy the battle while it lasted. I now understood why men repressed their wartime experiences yet thrived on their memory, the most intense moments of their lives. I felt alive!

I turned the pots on simmer and poured John a glass of wine, refilling my own as well. Holding both glasses, I walked seductively toward the living room, loving the snug feel of the long, grey tweed skirt around my hips and legs and how tight it felt across my buttocks. Its high waist and the wide black belt accented the narrowness of my waist and tugged the fluffy white blouse down tightly over my breasts, nicely pushed up with the special bra I had also found among John’s mother’s things. She had a surprising amount of special underwear for such an austere woman.

I rounded the corner and walked directly to John’s chair.

“Here you are, dear,” I said, handing him a glass of wine. “Did you have a hard day?”

Instead of waiting for an answer, I turned to look at the TV, standing in front of John’s chair but to one side so I wouldn’t block his view if he decided to keep watching the news. However, by the way his eyes flickered toward my bottom as I turned, I was confident I would win over the TV. I held my pose for a moment, then let my left knee bend forward, forcing my right buttock up to press tightly against the skirt, accenting my bottom. The rustle of my nylons scraping thigh on thigh sent a shiver up my spine and I hoped it had the same effect on my husband.

“That’s a nice outfit, Joan. Were you shopping today?”

“No.” I didn’t turn to look at John. “I’m so bored of shopping. I can never find exactly what I want. Your mother always dressed so nicely&mash;I almost choked on those words—so I went up to the attic to look at her stuff for ideas and found this outfit. I hope you don’t mind, it fits me well, don’t you think?”

I twisted my hips to emphasize the fit over my butt which I knew had a tendency to stick out a bit.

“No, I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.”

“But, does it fit me nicely?”

“Yes, it fits you perfectly.”

“Thanks honey.”

Holding my wine glass out to the side, ostensibly so it wouldn’t spill but really to accentuate my figure,

I sauntered back to the kitchen.

Later, when we had finished dinner and just started eating the sumptuous apple pie I had bought at Andres but claimed to have made, I set the stage for the next few weeks.

“John, do you mind if I wear some of your mother’s other things? I just love this outfit.”

“Mind? Of course I don’t mind.”

That night, John waited for me in bed while I undid my fifties-style hairdo and appeared to remove my makeup but in reality simply adjusted it to fit a more intimate setting. I was wearing one of his mother’s more demure nightgowns, far less racy than some of the stuff I had found. John was perky when I finally slipped under the covers, as he should have been after the long meal I had made of removing his mother’s clothes in front of him, but I was cool. I wasn’t, however, as off-putting as I had been the past few months. I wanted to encourage him, but not much, yet.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

For the next two weeks, I wore John’s mother’s clothes. During the day, I repaired some outfits and took others that were beyond my ability to a seamstress. From her, I got ideas for clothes of a similar design and commissioned several new outfits, for a play I was involved in, I explained. I really liked the feel of these old style clothes. They covered so much yet I felt sexier in them.

I gradually moved John closer and closer to more intimate interactions but did not renew any sexual activity in bed. I could tell John was getting frustrated which was perfect, just according to my plan. When I asked John to move into the spare room because I needed time to myself, he balked, but wasn’t overly upset. After all, his most intimate interactions with me occurred outside the bedroom.

Using pictures to guide me, I had re-decorated the spare room to be as close as could be managed to John’s bedroom at home when he was young. Those pictures had shown how fond John was of his mother. There were pictures of his mother on the wall and on the table beside his bed which was strange, I thought, for a teenage boy. I put similar pictures up but they were of me, dressed in his mother’s clothes, which I had a photographer come to the house to do. I also had other pictures taken of me wearing some of her racier underwear. It excited me to wear them and it showed in the pictures, something the photographer picked up on because he propositioned me. As I said before, hope is a funny thing. I’m sure it’s why he offered me such a good price on the pictures, even though I turned him down.

It was after a long dinner at which I wore an elegant gown that I moved John into the next stage. He followed me into the living room, no doubt staring at my ass moving freely under the fabulous dress as I purposely swayed slowly ahead of him, but I stopped him short.

“John, would you be a dear and let me enjoy my wine in peace? I’d like to watch a romantic movie and that’s one of those things a woman likes to do alone.”

Before he could answer, I moved into the living room and sat in his chair, leaning back and crossing my legs, forcing the split, black gown to expose my legs far up my thigh.

“You don’t mind, do you, sweetie?”

I could see that he did but he shook his head and turned to go upstairs, hanging his head and shuffling like a spoiled little kid who, having been caught being naughty, had just been sent to his room.

‘Sweetie’, that’s what John’s mother called him. That, and ‘Johnny’. I had painted a juvenile sign on the door of his new room, ‘Johnny’s Cave’, something else I had discovered in an old picture in one of the trunks.

I turned on the TV, put any old movie on, and sipped my wine, biding my time for the next movement. After forty minutes or so, I drained my second glass and started up the stairs.

Let the show begin.

I took a deep breath, knocked on Johnny’s door, then quickly opened it before he even had a chance to answer.

“Johnny, how many times have I told you not to do that!”

John was shocked not only by my abrupt entry but also by my use of a name he probably hadn’t heard for many years. The trauma was so complete it immobilized him and he was caught sitting up in bed with the covers pushed down almost to his knees and his shorts dragged down below his balls so he could hold his cock, which was fully erect in his hand, with one hand while the other held a picture of his mother in the other—actually me in her racy underclothes. I had placed those photos in the top drawer where his socks were knowing he would find them.

I walked quickly to the bed and snatched the picture from John’s hand.

“John Edward Robinson, I know you won’t go blind but you shouldn’t be doing that.”

I stared at the picture, then tossed it onto the bed, upright and facing John so he could still see it.

“Not by yourself, anyway. It’s a bad habit to get into,” I said, my voice softening. I sat down on the bed, hitching the elegant dress high enough that it opened sufficiently to display a healthy expanse of bare thigh. “I’ve told you before.”

I grasped John’s wrist and tugged his hand off his cock. It was amazing that it remained hard, sticking up proudly though I knew John must be cringing inside. Cringing, and wondering what the hell I was up to. I had surmised that such a surprise may well have happened to John when he was young. I hoped I was right because so much depended on how he reacted and the closer this was to an actual memory the better. I replaced John’s hand with my own.

“Johnny, Johnny, what am I to do with you?” I said, squeezing my hand up and down his shaft. I looked behind me at the open door. “It’s a good thing your father went to bed so long ago. He’s probably sleeping.”

I hoped that rang true because if it did the delicious sense of danger might seduce my husband into going along with this fantasy and maybe even convince him to immerse himself within it. After a few strokes, John relaxed. He was over the initial shock and was probably beginning to feel good, even better than before I crashed through the door. His eyes, however, were still wide open.

“There, there. That’s better, isn’t it,” I cooed. “That’s it, just relax.” I scooted back and pulled John lower in the bed by his cock, pressing on his chest with my free hand. “Close your eyes and just relax.”

John closed his eyes just as my free hand slid down his chest to close around his balls. They fluttered open but closed again as I tickled his nuts and stroked his cock with long, firm strokes.

“Shhhhhh. Just relax.”

It was only a minute later that John starting humping his hips off the bed, thrusting through my tight grip. He started moaning and I could only wonder what movie was playing in his mind. Was it me jacking his cock or his mother? Did he picture himself bending her over the edge of the bed, or me? I hoped it was her.

His body jerked on the bed and he gasped for breath to fuel the exertion. He came, erupting in a steady flow that oozed from his cock for half a minute.

“You disgusting little brat,” I chastized him in my best imitation of his mother’s commanding, superior voice. “How many times have I told you to warn me? I wiped my hand on his blanket and stood up, smoothing the dress down over my thighs. “Clean yourself up and wash your own blankets. I’m not cleaning up your filth, do you understand?”

John opened his eyes and nodded. He looked petrified.

I turned and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

So far, so good.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

I didn’t knock the next night but John was waiting for me. He might not have been sure of himself as he looked because the covers were pulled up to his waist, hiding his private parts which the lump in his lap indicated he had been touching. I was wearing a robe, open to display the suggestive nightgown underneath. Though it wasn’t low cut, there was a peek hole beneath the ribbon tying it under my neck that provided a window onto my cleavage, and my breasts were loose underneath. The nightgown was long but not full length, falling to only a few inches below my knees but when I sat down the hem would rise above them. I had practised to be sure it did.

I partially closed the door and walked to the bed, ‘accidently’ brushing my robe away from my breasts as I hitched the nightgown up my legs before sitting down. I spoke in a hushed voice.

“Your father’s barely asleep but I couldn’t wait any longer.” I turned around and looked at the door to heighten the illusory suspense.

John was smiling with anticipation when I turned back to look at him, his eyes on the bodice of the demure nightgown. I held my elbows in close to my sides and arched my back slightly to buff up the target of his gaze. I chatted with him about things I knew he had done with his parents as if it had just happened rather than so many years ago. John seemed to more than accept it, he seemed very pleased and eager to hear more, leading me in directions I hadn’t thought of and supplying the necessary details to make it more real. Things were going so well I almost forgot what I was here to do.

As nonchalantly as I could, I leaned toward the bedside table and opened its narrow drawer. John watched me but didn’t stop talking. I retrieved what I had placed there earlier in the day. As John continued his remonition, I casually squirted the thick lubricant in my palm and began working it into my hands, my fingers writhing around one another. John was mesmerized but continued talking. Finally, I stopped and drew my hands apart and held my arms in front of him, palms turned upward.

“Well,” I said. “Shall we get started?”

John nodded but didn’t do anything, obviously not knowing what was expected of him.

I looked down at his lap and nodded. His gaze followed mine, then he looked up at me for a confirming nod, and pushed the covers down, revealing a bare erection unhindered by either pajamas or underwear.

“Johnny, I’ve told you, it’s disgusting to be naked in bed. You’ll have to change your sheets tomorrow and you can wash them yourself.”

“Sorry Mother.”

His response thrilled me. The fact that he didn’t just say ‘sorry’ told me he was really buying into this fantasy and it rolled so easily off his lips that my confidence in my portrayal of his mother surged.

“It’s all right. Come on, push them down all the way. Let’s get this over with.”

John pushed the covers down to mid-thigh, allowing his stimulated rod to spring up in eager expectation.

“Johnny, you haven’t been touching it yourself, have you?” I said in an admonishing tone.

“No Mother, I haven’t, honest,” he lied.

“Well, then,” I muttered, and closed my slick fingers around his shaft.

“Ohhhh Goddd,” John cried.

“Quiet, or you’ll wake your father,” I snapped.

“Sorry Mother.”

“Alright, just let me know if the light comes on in the hallway.”

John looked past me to the dark hallway beyond his door. I had been careful to turn all the lights off. For the first time, the sound of distant snoring wafted into the room. Perfect, I thought, proud of my timing. You can find anything on the web, including soundtracks of snoring.

John’s chest heaved in reaction to the exquisite sensations my lubricated fingers were imparting to his now slick cock. As my hand rose up to his tip I squeezed it over the head and slowly twisted. On the descent, I paused halfway down to allow my trailing thumb to brush sideways across the underside as my other hand massaged his balls. Despite my instructions to watch for the light, John closed his eyes. His whole body trembled under my ministrations. The only sound in the house was the faint recording of snoring emanating from my bedroom and the wet, gooey sound of my hand squeezing and stroking his cock.

John opened his eyes and raised his head.



“Mother, I’m going to… you said I should warn you.”

“Oh dear. I forgot to bring a towel. Do you have a towel?” My hand didn’t stop moving up and down his slick shaft.

John looked around, then reached across to the other side of the bed and retrieved his shirt.

“You’re not going to ruin your shirt, for goodness sakes. This will have to do.”

I leaned over John’s cock and opened my mouth.

Though I couldn’t see John’s face, I could sense his shock. I continued pulling on his slick cock, keeping it steadily aimed at my open, hovering mouth. To help him along, I breathed over his tip and jacked him faster, only going halfway down his shaft before returning to squeeze his head. John’s hips began humping up and down, bringing the tip of his cock dangerously close to my mouth.

The first squirt surprised me even though I was expecting it. John cried out and bucked his hips, thrusting his cock fully inside my wet, waiting mouth. He released a sound that was more of a wail than a grunt, dropping his ass to the bed for the briefest sojourn before ramming it back into my mouth. His body convulsed with each explosive squirt, again and again and again. Finally, he was spent and collapsed into the mattress, exhausted. I lifted my head, expecting him to have closed his eyes again but he was watching me with glazed eyes. I suspect he wanted to see if I had managed to take it all, hoping to see some of his seed marking my face. I was sorry to disappoint him. I made a note to think of that next time. Or maybe he was trying to see if his mother had returned to this earth.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

The next day I wore John’s mother’s sexiest outfits and that night John was eagerly awaiting my arrival. As soon as I entered his room, he put his book down and pushed the covers down to his knees, exposing his erect cock.

“You weren’t touching it by yourself, were you Johnny?”

“No Mother.”

“Good boy.”

The snoring recording started up, right on time. I reached over to open the drawer but saw the lubricant already lying on top of the bedside dresser. I smiled.

“I see we have an eager beaver tonight.”

John nodded. His eyes lit up when I peeled my robe back and let it fall from my shoulders, revealing a very naughty nightgown that barely contained my breasts. I let him take his fill for a moment, then reached for the lubricant but before squirting it onto my palm, I paused.

“Would you like to do this tonight?”

John looked confused. Was I asking him to masturbate?

“Change places with me,” I said, getting up. “Come on, get out of bed.”

John did as he was told and I took his place, propping another pillow behind my back.

“Come on, get on,” I said, patting my hands to the outside of my thighs.

John clambered over me. When he was in place, I said, “Well?”

John didn’t know what to do but before he could speak, I leaned upward and said, “Push my nightgown back, Johnny. There’s a good boy.”

John tentatively put his hands on my shoulders but didn’t do anything until I nodded permission. He slipped the nightgown down my arms and, when I smiled further approval, he dragged it completely off my breasts and pulled it over my hands. I picked up the lubricant and squirted a dollar-sized puddle onto each breast, just above my nipples, then handed it to him.

“Put some on yourself.”

I closed my eyes but kept them open a slit so I could see him. John was unsure for a few seconds and then squirted some lubricant onto the tip of his cock, put some more into his right palm, then rubbed it up and down his shaft. After it was spread all over his cock, he stared at my breasts, then tentatively reached out to touch the puddle above my left nipple. I nodded silent approval and visibly relaxed into the pillows to demonstrate my assent. John began spreading the lubricant over my tits.

John played with my breasts for so long I had to grab his cock and pull it between them before he got the idea but half a dozen strokes later, he leaned over me and began rubbing his cock between my tits in long, slow thrusts. I squeezed my breasts together and John began fucking them in earnest. I waited until his breathing was quite ragged before tipping my head up to blow on his cock. He loved it and leaned harder into to me, trying to thrust his cock closer to my mouth. After teasing him for a while by pulling my mouth away, I tipped my head forward to reward him, taking the head into my mouth on every stroke.

I doubt he managed another ten thrusts before he started coming. The way he gasped for air, I don’t think he would have survived if he hadn’t come. Some of his spend was deposited in my mouth but most of it missed, some of it going past my head entirely. However, enough landed on my face to make him groan with pleasure and he leaned over my nose to squeeze the last drops from his cock. I kept my eyes ‘closed’ the entire time so he wouldn’t be scared to do what he really wanted. After a moment, I spoke.

“Go to the bathroom and get a warm washcloth.”

John started climbing off me.

“Warm, mind you.”

“Yes Mother.”

He was walking to the door.

“And don’t wake your father.”

“No Mother,” he whispered.

John crept back into room. I don’t think he was trying to not wake his ‘father’, I think he wanted to look at me for a few moments before I knew he was there. I pretended to be unaware of his presence so he could survey the damage he had done. Never in my married life had I ever let John do something like this and I was positive that if he thought it was ‘me’ he wouldn’t have done it.

“Johnny?” I called, getting tired of the sticky mess on my face.

I heard him step quietly backward. “Right here, Mother,” he answered, as if just coming in the door.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

The next day, at breakfast, I launched my campaign in earnest.

“Johnny,” I began. I had been wearing John’s mother’s clothes and calling him Johnny for weeks now and almost thought of him as my son. Given the intensity of our role playing, I’m sure he thought of me as his mother and definitely acted like it as soon as he walked in the door after work. I wondered how he managed to be himself during the day and worried that I might be contributing to the development of a fractured personality but it was necessary.

“John,” I started again. “We’re going to have a guest for a while.”

“Who?” John asked.


I worried that would yank John out of his role as my son but I had decided the best approach was to deal with the issue head on. John wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t know we were only playing a game so he could realize his fantasies. I relied on the strength of his mind and the weakness of his soul to handle this new twist.

“But we’re going to call him Allen and pretend he’s not our son.”

“Okay,” John’s tone was tentative and he looked unsure.

“You’ll have to sleep with me for a while.”

John looked less worried but still somewhat unsure.

“We can continue with…, well, with what we’ve been doing, but only in my room. Is that clear?”

John nodded.

“You understand? This is very important.”


“That’s good.” I held out my arms. “Now come and give your Mother a hug.”

I turned in my seat to face my husband as he came around the table. He let his hands rest on my shoulders as mine curled around his waist to embrace him. Releasing him a moment later, I slipped my hands around to his front and unzipped his pants. He was already getting hard. I opened my mouth and he pushed it in. Johnny’s hands clasped my head and he began thrusting in and out.

I wondered if I was up to this. Could I balance the demands of my two men? Could I handle that much sex? John’s legs weakened and he sagged against me, moaning his pleasure. Yes, I thought, I can, I definitely can.

Later that day, after my fateful phone call to the institution, I wondered about my husband’s relationship with his mother. How far had they really gone? I was convinced that my mother-in-law had in fact paraded in front of John in sexy underclothes but had she actually masturbated him and sucked his cock? I couldn’t tell from John’s reaction if we were replaying old memories or simply acting out fantasies that didn’t actually happen but which he had always wanted to.

The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced John and I were replaying things that had really happened. I needed to offer him the prospect of something that hadn’t happened that he had wanted to in order to keep him motivated throughout the ordeal ahead, something I could hold out for ‘good’ behavior.

That night, when John came home, there was a bottle on the counter that he couldn’t take his eyes off all through dinner despite the competing draw of my hair, freshly dyed the color of his mother’s. The fact that I never acknowledged his distraction probably drew his attention to it all the more. While we were eating our dessert, I reminded John of the need to sleep in my bedroom, starting tonight, but kept the fantasy alive by explaining that while his father was away on his trip I was afraid to sleep alone. John’s response surprised me.

“Yes, I understand, Joan. I know what’s truly important. We both love and miss our son but you need him in a special way and you know now how well I understand that.”

“Yes John, I do.” John’s words also made me come face to face with the fact that my behavior wasn’t altogether altruistic.

“So, let’s get on with it and get our son back.”

“Okay John.”

I noticed that John had barely touched his dessert whereas I had finished mine. I stood up.

“I’m going to go to bed early.”

“I’ll join you,” John said, getting up. “I’d like to make love to the woman I love tonight, my wife.”

I motioned for John to sit down. Don’t get me wrong, I loved hearing that from my husband. What woman wouldn’t? But I had something else in mind for tonight, the first taste of that added incentive to keep my husband focused on our ultimate goal, a pull far beyond words of commitment.

“Finish your dessert first, Johnny,” I commanded in the most authoritative voice I could muster.

John plunked down, surprised by the sudden change in my voice and personality. Mimicking his mother’s voice, something I could do perfectly, I added, “There’s something special I want you to do for me tonight, Johnny. When you do come up, in a few minutes, can you bring that with you?”

I gave no indication of what I meant by that but John knew.

“Bring what?” he asked anyway.

“That,” I snapped, and turned to walk away without glancing at the bottle of Mazola. I swayed my hips in an exaggerated fashion so my ass would capture his attention.

“Yes Mother,” John croaked as I left the dining room and started up the stairs, ass swaying outrageously.

I didn’t know John could finish a large piece of apple pie so quickly. Maybe he could when he was a kid and when he was ‘Johnny’ it wasn’t a big deal to kill off a pie. Anyway, I had barely got changed into one of his mother’s long nightgowns and stretched out on the bed with it pulled up onto my back and over my head, ass bare and inviting, when Johnny arrived.

I doubt Johnny dwelled on the new furnishings in the room but I’m sure he noticed them, adding to the elation of the moment. While he was at work, I had scoured the second hand and antique stores and Craigslist for a bedroom set and a sofa and chair to put in my room. The weren’t perfect but, once re-ulphostered and reconditioned, they were a close match to the furniture in John’s childhood pictures. I bet that even to his mind, and most assuredly to his hard cock, the bare ass on the bed looked just like his mother’s, the one that had beckoned to him for years but he had been unable to attain. Until now.

I tugged the hem of the nightgown above my shoulders, covering my head but leaving enough dyed hair to show for effect. I wiggled my ass.

“Hurry,” I whispered.

The whisper of clothes gave way to a rip, and stumble, and several gasps for breath before the mattress gave way to the weight of John’s knees. I almost laughed out loud. I wasn’t so much amused as unable to contain the rush of power that surged through me, to so easily render this competent man helpless in service of my whims. Yet, I braced myself, for I couldn’t predict whether his approach would be tentative or savage.

Long seconds passed. I heard the twist of a cap being removed from a bottle. I waited for the rasp of hands rubbing together but winced instead as the cold liquid—I had kept it in the fridge until John came home—spashed in several drips on my right cheek, skipped over to my left, and then dribbled along my crack from top to bottom.

Johnny released a long sigh which in words would have said, “Awesome!”

Hands curved around my cheeks, spreading the oily mess all over my ass. They swirled and pressed, enfolded and crushed, and caressed, never harsh, always devoted. A coveted treasure was being honored and prepared for consumption, savored, because the first taste is always the best. I understood now how powerful was John’s need for his mother and, perhaps for the first time, how much Gary needed me. I was humbled.

The glow began spreading faintly through my pelvis even before the first rub of Johnny’s thumbs through my crack. It intensified with the first probe of his right hand thumb which so easily slipped inside. Mazola, the new wonder food.

I could have said I moaned to heighten Johhny’s desire but it would be a lie; I liked what he was doing; I needed it.

He had paused after the first probe to drip more Mazola on my ass. I knew Mazola was the wrong thing to use but it fit the time period and just once shouldn’t hurt; at least, so I reasoned. Now, the slippery, viscous feel of it excited me so much I couldn’t help but whimper my appreciation. John was so good at this. How could it be his first time?

Jesus. He was sliding first one, and then the other, thumb into my ass, twisting on exit. Squeezing my cheeks, probing, reaming, pushing my ass forward, forcing me to lift my hips off the bed, presenting myself, lewd, desparate and wanton. I want it!

Oh my God! Two thumbs at once, fully inserted, wiggling, spreading as they withdrew, fingers bunching my cheeks, squeezing gently, then more urgently. Johnny was gasping and moaning. I wasn’t sure it he couldn’t help it or if he was trying to wind me up even more. Whatever, it worked. I pushed my ass up higher, silently begging to take his cock. I moaned.

“Now,” I croaked.

I felt his knees drawing closer. He was coming. He was going to take me, going to take his mother.

How could it feel bigger than his two thumbs? I sucked in my breath. He was smaller than Gary but still filled me. Please, be careful. He was. Pressure, pressure. Oh God, such wonderful pressure. No, don’t stop, keep pushing. That’s it. He understood, he was just shifting his legs for a better angle. Ahhh, Gawd, yes.


He was in. It wasn’t a sound, just a feeling. The head was in. Rubbing, scraping his shaft through the ring, so long but I knew he was shorter than Gary.

“Oh Johnny, that’s so good, so nice,” I moaned.

His legs were pushing against my ass. He was all the way in. He paused, then began swirling around, gently, fully plugged in, his cock reaming my hole. The tide of pleasure spilled out of my pelvis, cascaded through my chest, filling my tits and running into my head. I drooled onto the pillow.

“Fuck it,” I gasped.

Johhny kept swirling his cock and reaming my hole, no slower and no faster. His cock didn’t withdraw. He kept his firmly plugged into my ass despite my plea.

“Fuck it,” I moaned.

Still no compliance. No withdrawal and forward thrust. This was his dream; it was going to go his way.

I don’t know how much later—I measured the passage of time in waves of pleasure emanating from my anal cavity—but finally Johnny began fucking my ass properly, withdrawing and pushing forward, puling out and shoving in, with long, steady thrusts, never hard, always teasing.

Just fuck it, fuck it hard. I can take it, I want it.

His hands were on my hips, as if I would pull away. How funny. I pushed my ass back to meet him every time.

Harder now, coming faster. Oh Lord, yes. Keep it coming. Slapping noises. Was he slapping my ass? No, it was just the sweaty sound of our bodies colliding.

I arched my back to turn my ass up for a perfect fit but upon full entry Johnny wrenched his cock in a different direction every time. I couldn’t predict it the direction of shear but no matter which way it effectively widened my hole, making his cock feel huge. Every twisting lunge carried the tip of his love stick to a different spot. Anticipation, and the inability to determine where the tingling touch would land, drove me wild. Every thrust was accompanied by a thrilling stretch as the root of his shaft plugged my forbidden entrance.

My climax exploded over me, washing through my body in waves as my clenching butt drained his cock is an erratic series of pulsing clutches. It was several minutes before Johnny was able to extract his softened penis. He got up not long after and much later, I made my own trip to the shower.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

Afterward, I dried myself and collapsed in bed beside John without bothering to put on a fresh nightgown. I awoke to the most wonderful feeling, the warm feel of lip nibbling my pussy. I can’t say how long I had enjoyed my husband’s mouth before waking but shortly thereafter his tongue slipped inside me and the ecstasy it imparted lasted for a long time. When my head cleared after a truly earth-shattering orgasm, John was lying beside me, his arm across my breasts and his eyes looking into mine.

“I love you, Joan.”

“I know you do, John,” I answered, seeing the truth of it as his eyes read mine. “Today I’m bringing our son home.”

“I can hardly wait,” John said, just before he kissed me.

I smiled as I picked a pubic hair from the corner of John’s mouth. One kiss turned into another, casually delivered and leisurely appreciated. My hand strayed down to my husband’s hard cock. I enjoyed stroking it gently, encircled within the oval of my loosely held fingers. A sudden urge prompted me to slide my thigh over his and a moment later my body followed, straddling him briefly before finding and inserting his cock.

The summer seemed endless, Beau thought. He lay back on the bed, trying to nap. His mother’s sister-in-law, with whom he was living, was at work, and Beau had just finished the day’s chores. Beau had shown a renewed commitment to his work the past few weeks, ever since a bout of irresponsibility had led to some… harsh discipline at the hands of the mysterious and powerful man — Henry — who twice now had bent Beau completely to his will.

Beau shifted so that he lay directly on his back, his arms and legs spread. The room was hot. It was at least 95 outside, and Beau had just finished mowing the lawn and cleaning out the garage in preparation for some yard sale thing his host had planned. He had been drenched in sweat by the time he finished, and had stripped off and rinsed off under the house’s only shower, located outdoors. Exhausted from a long morning’s work, he wanted to take a nap. The heat was making that impossible.

Beau reached his hand down and absent-mindedly snapped the waistband of his small white briefs, the only item of clothing he wore. He cursed himself for being too lazy to do laundry; he would have preferred a loose pair of boxers, but the tight briefs were his last clean pair of underwear. He had just been so tired lately with all the work he had been doing around the house. Once Sarah realized that he was actually going to do what she told him to, she had put the tall, buff 18-year-old to work. Beau raised his neck and looked down at his body. His skin was bronzed from his time in the sun; his muscles rippled even more than when had had arrived. His huge dick strained the fabric of the briefs and left him with a sizeable bulge. He threw his head back and ran his hands through his hair. He was thankful that his chest was naturally smooth; less to keep track of.

His shoulder was sore from hauling things out of the garage. Beau thought of how much work he had been putting into the house lately, ever since… Henry. He thought of how helpless he had felt as Henry’s strong arms and hands had completely dominated him, how he had begged for mercy only to have his virgin ass completely destroyed by the man’s enormous tool. Beau thought of how it had felt to have the man pounding him mercilessly, Henry’s hips smashing against his soft ass…

Fuck, thought Beau. He realized that the bulge in his briefs had grown. The white cotton could barely contain it. Why did thinking about that day do this to him? How come, as hard as he tried not to, he thought about it when he jerked off? Maybe if he had been able to get some real action around here it would be different; but he hadn’t even seen a girl other than his aunt in weeks. At this point he was about ready to –

Beau sat up. He thought he heard footsteps in the house. Was that a voice…? It couldn’t be…

The door to Beau’s room opened. In the doorway stood a girl who looked to be around twenty. Beau was slack-jawed. He hadn’t seen a girl so pretty in… he had no idea. She was small, much shorter than he. She had brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders. She wore shorts and a tank top and carried a large, clear plastic Starbucks cup, mostly filled with ice.

“Oh! Hi!” The girl’s eyes were wide; she clearly had not expected what she saw. “I, uh… wow. I’m really sorry for barging in on you like this.” She was torn between awkwardly trying to look to the side and meeting the gaze of the large, nearly naked man on the bed in front of her.

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” replied Beau. He was confused by the girl’s behavior for a moment, before he realized that he was still on the bed propping himself up with his strong arms, his thick thighs spread, revealing his growing bulge in his small white briefs. “Oh, shit!” Beau covered his bulge as best he could with his hands. “I’m, uh, sorry, just let me get some…”

“No, no,” the girl said, settling her gaze on the younger man’s face. “I’m the one who busted in on you. I’m really sorry. It’s just that I was supposed to, like, pick up some stuff for my mom, and… well, I didn’t realize that Sarah wouldn’t be here. I’m, uh, Shannon.” She extended her hand.

“Beau.” He scooted forward on the bed and extended his own hand. Beau had large hands, but only one wasn’t up to the task of concealing his bulge. He caught the girl trying not to stare. He smirked. He wasn’t sure if she had expected to find him here or not, but he could tell she thought he was hot. Not that he blamed her. Might as well give her something to look at, he thought to himself. “So,” Beau removed both hands from his package and again used them to prop himself up on the bed. He kept his legs spread. “What brings you to my bedroom, Shannon?” He flashed her a wide, white smile. It had been a while since he had gotten to really flirt with a girl.

“I… ah, sorry,” she laughed nervously. “My mom is friends with Sarah. She asked me to come over here and pick up some stuff before the yard sale.” She tried to keep her eyes fixed on the boy’s, but she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander downward, to his cut, tan chest and stomach, and the white briefs that looked liked they were about to burst. She could tell that he wasn’t hard, and still his cock looked enormous.

Beau could practically feel the girl’s eyes sliding over his abs and his bulge. His smile only widened. He planted his feet on the bedroom carpet and stood up. He put his arms in the air and stretched, giving his visitor a totally unobstructed view of his ripped body. “Ooooh, right.” He lowered his arms and rested his hands on his hips. “Sarah said somebody might be coming by to pick some things up before the sale.” He almost laughed at the girl’s attempts not to ogle him. “You, uh, need me to help out? I’ve been doing a lot of work today already, but for you…” He flashed her another smile. Beau imagined how he was going to throw her down on the bed, slam her against the wall, make her scream when he fucked her with his rock-hard cock.

“Wow, um, yeah, I mean, that’d be great.” She attempted a drink from her straw, forgetting that she had finished it on the way over. She smiled at the boy sheepishly.

Beau took a step forward, keeping his hands on his hips. His buff, nearly-naked form was now only a foot away from the girl. “Looks like your drink is gone.”

Shannon regained her composure. The boy had caught her off-guard, and she couldn’t deny that she was taken in by his bold attempts at flirting, his showing off. She thought she should take the opportunity to flirt back. “Yeah, I guess it is.” She popped the lid off the cup and withdrew an ice cube. “Not these, though.” She placed the cube on her tongue and swallowed it, smirking at the boy’s attention to her lips. “You want one?”

“Sure.” He kept his hands on his hips. His briefs rode even lower than before as a result of the stretching, and his bulge had increased in size since Shannon entered the room. He opened his mouth to accept the ice.

Shannon, still smirking, took a cube from the cup and held it squarely against the center of the boy’s chest. Her smile widened at the gasp she elicited from Beau when the ice hit his skin.

Beau furrowed his brow and returned the girl’s smirk, but kept his hands in place. “Not what I expected.”

“Mm. But refreshing anyway.” She slowly slid the ice cube downward, leaving a cool trail of water on the muscled chest. The boy remained motionless. In fact, his eyes didn’t leave hers. The ice disappeared by the time she got halfway down his rippling abs. Damn, she thought. She had hoped to have an excuse to slide her hand down the front of his briefs. She settled for the twitch she saw in his bulge when a drop of cold water made its way into his waistband and presumably hit the base of his dick. “Want another?”

He took a step forward. His buff form was now inches away from the smaller woman. He felt powerful, in control, knowing how much she wanted him. He debated whether he’d have her give him a blowjob before he fucked her. “How about you first. Not fair, me being the only one without clothes on.”

“You’ve got clothes on.” She gestured toward his briefs.

“These?” He snapped the waistband of the underwear against his hip. “I don’t think these count.”

“Then lose ‘em.”

“How ’bout you first.” He flashed her that devilish grin, his eyes boring into hers. He took a small step toward her.

She laughed nervously. She could feel the heat emanating from his body. She had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact; the boy had nearly a foot on her. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Eighteen. You?”

“Twenty-one. You’re just a little boy.”

“Not that little.”

“Drop these and prove it.” She hooked a fingertip into the front of his briefs.

“And what’ll you give me if I do?”

“Mm. I can think of a few things.”

Beau reached his arms around the girl and cupped her ass, pushing her into him.

Shannon hadn’t planned on being seduced by a younger man like this, but she found herself practically swooning once she was pressed against his hot, hard chest, feeling his strong arms around her. “I… ah…”

“Shh. Don’t worry; I’ll lose the shorts soon enough. But first, lets –”

“I can’t believe my goddamn eyes.”

Beau was petrified. Not here. Not now. He paused for what seemed like an eternity, then slowly shifted his eyes to the side.

There stood Henry. The man somehow seemed to get bigger every time Beau saw him. He stood in Beau’s doorway, looking as if he could snap the doorframe with a shrug. He was more dressed-up than Beau had ever seen him, wearing a short-sleeved button-down with his usual jeans and work boots. His graying hair was cropped close, and Beau could see the salt-and-pepper stubble that had rubbed his shoulder raw when Henry had fucked his then-virgin ass. Henry’s arms were crossed, and there was fire behind his eyes.

“Ow, you’re hurting me,” protested Shannon. She attempted to extricate herself from the boy’s arms, which now were inflexible as granite. “I’m sorry about this, sir.” She grunted. “Get off! Sheesh.” She brushed herself off and shot a dirty look at Beau. She faced the new arrival. “Sorry, again. We didn’t hear you come in.”

“Mm.” The man didn’t take his eyes off Beau, nor did his expression change. “And what is it I interrupted, boy?”

Beau’s eyes hadn’t left Henry’s since they met them. He had only been able to stare, his mouth hanging open.

“We were just…” Shannon started.

“I know your mother, young lady. She says you’re a good girl. But I asked this big idiot over here a question. What is it I interrupted, boy? You should know by now that I don’t like to repeat myself.”

“I… uh… sir, we were just, um…” The last time Beau saw Henry, it had been over his shoulder as the man shot his load deep inside Beau’s ass. Seeing him again, let alone in his bedroom, was surreal. Beau was currently wearing the most clothes Henry had ever seen him wear — this was the first time Henry had seen Beau not naked — yet he somehow felt more vulnerable than ever. As the realization that Henry was here hit him, he instinctively stood straight with his arms at his side.

Shannon decided it was best to keep quiet. She wasn’t sure what the relationship between these two was, but she knew she had missed something. The boy who had previously been seconds away from seducing her was now himself completely under their visitor’s control. She could sense it just from Beau’s body language.

“Yeah, yeah. I know what you were doing. In Sarah’s house, while she’s gone, no less. Shoulda known you’d need more than one lesson. God above, but I’ve never seen a boy dumb as you.” Henry crossed the room and stood inches away from Beau. He looked the boy up and down; he couldn’t repress a smirk at the boy’s straining white briefs. “Thought I told you to mind Sarah and stick to your chores. And here I find you trying to put your punk moves on a nice young girl. I thought I made myself clear. Guess not though.”

Beau’s eyes were wide. It was bad enough that Henry was here at all, bad enough that he was barely covered by his briefs when the other two in the room were fully dressed, but on top of that there was the possibility that Henry was going to humiliate him in front of Shannon, totally killing any chance he’d ever have with the girl. “Hey, uh, why don’t you just take off, Shan. Text me later.”

Henry gave Beau a quick, sharp slap to the face. Though Henry barely had to flick his wrist, Beau’s head snapped to the side. “You the one giving out orders here, boy? That’s not how you address a lady. Shoot, I have more work to do on you than I thought. You just stay where you are, young lady. This might be instructive for you, too.” Henry roughly grabbed the hair at the back of the boy’s head.

Beau quickly thought over his options. The last time he tried to fight back against Henry, he wound up with a black eye. Beau was stronger now than he was then, but he knew that the older man could kick his ass without breaking a sweat. He wasn’t sure what Henry had in store for him, but he doubted it’d be more embarrassing than getting his ass kicked by someone more than twenty years his senior. But letting himself be manhandled in front of the girl wasn’t going to help either; he had to be a man. He figured that Henry would rather back off than have a confrontation in front of the girl. Beau reached one hand around his back and grabbed Henry’s wrist where the older man had a hold of his hair; he placed the palm of his other hand on Henry’s chest. “Hey, fuck you, man. Get your hands off me, and get the fuck out of my room before I kick your ass.” Beau looked the older man straight in the eye.

Henry didn’t even bother responding. He dragged the struggling Beau by the back of his head to the bed, and with one swift motion flipped the boy so that he lay on his stomach across Henry’s lap as he sat on the bed. Henry held him down with a single arm. He could tell the boy had gotten stronger, but he was still nothing compared to Henry. As before, he chuckled to himself as the boy squirmed. Even moreso now, as Beau lay across his lap, his bubble butt in the air and straining the cotton briefs, and his beefy legs kicking helplessly.

Shannon was taken aback. She completely understood now why Beau had become obedient the minute Henry had walked in the room. The older man could toss even the tall, buff boy around like a rag doll. She was amazed that the stud she had been about to let fuck her was now lying completely helpless across the older man’s lap. She wasn’t sure whether to leave or stay and watch.

“Hey!” Beau shouted in desperation. He attempted to wriggle free, but he recognized this feeling of helplessness from the time Henry forced him to the ground. As much as he flailed his arms and legs, Henry’s vice-like grip refused to fail. “Fuck — come on, man, just let me up. I’ll fucking — just fucking let me up”

“Boy, if you’re gonna act like a spoiled fuckin’ brat, that’s how I’m gonna treat you. I’m gonna do what your mama shoulda done years ago. ” With the hand that wasn’t currently occupied pinning the wriggling youth, Henry roughly yanked down Beau’s briefs, revealing his large, but toned ass.

Beau was mortified. He looked toward Shannon, who was gazing wide-eyed at his bare ass.


Beau shouted. Henry had brought his large, strong hand down hard on Beau’s ass. A girl or two before had playfully spanked Beau, but this was different. He had never felt a blow like that on his ass. He heard himself making pathetic whimpering sounds, but he couldn’t stop.

Shannon couldn’t look away. She saw that the man’s huge hand left a large, bright red imprint where he had just struck. She put her hand to her mouth. She had never seen a guy as big and strong as Beau get completely owned and humiliated like this. She would have been lying had she said she wasn’t intrigued.


Beau again shouted as Henry’s hand laid another harsh blow on the soft skin of his ass. Beau was still thrashing, but he knew he wasn’t getting anywhere. He had a vague idea that he looked silly with his legs kicking behind him, but he’d do anything to avoid the pain of another –



“PLEASE,” Beau cried. “Please just stop!”

Henry paused, his arm in the air, ready to bring down another spank. “What’s that, boy? You’re a big strong man when it comes time to fuck around, but not when it’s time to accept the consequences?”


“FUCK. Please, please I’ll do anything. Sir! Just let me up please!”

Henry rested his palm on the reddened mound of Beau’s ass. He caressed it softly. “What do you think, girl? You think this dummy’s learned his lesson?”

Shannon was speechless. She had seen this man go from savagely slapping Beau’s ass to what almost looked like a display of tenderness. Besides, she just saw an 18-year-old boy get manhandled and spanked bare-ass right in front of her.

Henry pulled his arm upward once again, ready to continue his assault. “I said, you think he’s learned his lesson? Or does he need more punishment?”

“SHANNON PLEASE!” Beau locked eyes with the girl.

Shannon saw that the once-cocky young stud had tears forming in his eyes, and there was fear in his voice as he pleaded.

For his part, Beau was too concerned with the pain to think about how incredibly embarrassed he would be when this was over.

“He’s learned his lesson! He’ll be good. Sir.”

“Well, well.” Henry lowered his hand and gave Beau’s red ass a light pat, smirking at the wince it elicited from the boy. “Looks like you better say ‘Thank you’ to this nice girl for saving your ass, boy. Stand up and make yourself presentable.” Henry pulled the boy’s briefs back up over his ample round ass, letting the waistband snap against Beau’s skin. Finally, he lifted both his arms off the boy.

As soon as Beau felt himself free from Henry’s steel-cable hands, he shuffled off the man’s lap and awkwardly stood. He looked first to his assailant, who sat on Beau’s bed with his arms crossed, a stern look on his face. Beau then turned to look at Shannon as he absent-mindedly rubbed his tender ass. He met the girl’s eyes, both incredibly humiliated and unaware of how humiliated he’d be in a second. Shannon’s eyes were practically bugging out of her skull as she looked at — “Oh, fuck!”

Beau’s dick was hard as a rock. His tight, thin briefs weren’t remotely up to the task of keeping it covered, and so a good five inches of Beau’s cock slipped through the waistband of the briefs, pressed against his abs and throbbing. Beau quickly moved to cover his huge erection with his hands, though his attempts were awkward and insufficient, and he was continually distracted by the pain on his ass.

Henry rose and stood behind Beau. “Boy, what did I tell you about standing up straight when I am present? Same goes for this young lady. That means back straight, arms back, boy, unless you think I need to use my belt on you this time.”

Without hesitation, Beau snapped his head and shoulders back, and stood at attention, his arms at his side. His raging member was now completely visible straining out of his briefs, but Beau would have done anything to avoid more punishment, even further humiliate himself further in front of the girl he had planned on fucking not twenty minutes ago. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

Shannon gaped. She wasn’t sure which was more impressive — the level of control the older man had over the formerly cocky young stud, or the size of said stud’s cock, which was even bigger than she had hoped.

Had Shannon been able to see behind Beau, where Henry stood, she’d have seen the older man’s strong hand find its way down the back of Beau’s briefs and quickly find the boy’s asshole. Henry pushed against the boy’s hole, penetrating him. Beau gasped, and nearly spun around.

“Beau?” Shannon asked. “Are you okay?”

It had been a long time since I had the house to myself on a Saturday without the possibility of someone coming home soon. My wife had left the night before for a “girl’s weekend” out of town and she wouldn’t be back until later in the day on Sunday.

I woke up on Saturday morning and made my coffee and breakfast. I turned on the computer and fooled around on Facebook for awhile, checked out some sports scores, and read a few articles of interest, but eventually my mind turned to something the internet does so well – porn!

I went to a few of my favorite sites – one with videos, one with pictures and one with stories – and opened them all in different tabs of my browser. I totally immersed myself in porn and flipped between the sites. Most of the times that I jerked off anymore were quickies in the shower just to get it done before my wife asked what was taking so long in the bathroom. But today was going to be different. I went and got some lube and was going to jerk gently and take my time really enjoying myself.

I had been jerking off for quite some time and lust was definitely taking over me. I had watched clip after clip and picture after picture of sexy women giving guys blowjobs. My wife refused to suck my dick claiming she had a horrible gag reflex. I loved my wife, but a blowjob was one of the things I missed most.

I remembered that long ago I had signed up for one of those web sites that claim you can find sex partners living in the area. I found the site and logged on; my profile was still there! I began sifting through the profiles of women who were “online.” I knew it was wrong, but lust had consumed me and I wanted a blowjob! I sent out several messages to the women who were online and that I found attractive, but of course none of them responded. I remembered why I had stopped visiting the site in the first place – the women did not seem to be real.

I was just about to give up and sign off the site and go finish jerking off when suddenly an icon popped up. I had a message! Finally, one of these women was responding to my request and I was going to get blown!

I clicked on the icon and waited for the message to load. Once it did, I was surprised and disappointed. The message was from a man.

“Hello,” the message began. “My name is Tom. I know I’m probably not who you were hoping to hear from, but if you would like to get off by something other than your hand, I’d be willing to help. I know the women on here don’t respond often. Anyway, I promise you will enjoy yourself if you just give me a chance. We will only do what you want to do. Hope to hear from you soon.”

Normally I would have simply deleted any such request, but I was beyond horny. I desperately wanted a blowjob. Obviously, I thought to myself, I would prefer that blowjob be from a woman, but no woman has accepted my request and here is this person willing to do it. A mouth is a mouth, right? I was trying to talk myself into this.

I decided to reply simply and see if he was serious.

“I have never been with a man,” I wrote. “What do you want to do?”

A few minutes later I got a reply.

“I am up for anything. I’m new to this, too, but willing to do whatever you want. Jerk, suck, whatever.”

It’s now the moment of truth. Do I end this chat and go finish my business, or do I get some help? I am so horny that my cock answers for my brain. I reply to the email, give the man my address, tell him to pull into the garage, close the door and come into the house.

I then went upstairs and put on some loose clothes, went back to the living room and waited nervously for my guest to arrive. About 20 minutes later and still no one had come to my house. Partly relieved, I wondered if maybe he had chickened out. Then, I heard a car door close from inside my garage, the garage door close and the door to my house open and close. I heard the footsteps come up the stairs and then a man appeared in my living room.

“Hi, I’m Tom,” he introduced himself. “Do you still want to do this?”

“Um, yeah, I think so,” I replied meekly.

“Good, I brought a bi video for us to watch. I thought seeing men fool around while still being able to see a woman might help. Wanna put it in the player?”

Without saying a word I got up, took the movie and bent down to start the movie. When I stood up and turned around, he was already naked, sitting on the couch stroking himself. I took off my clothes and sat down, too.

We sat next to each other watching the movie and rubbing our own cocks. The movie was pretty good. A blonde with nice tits was sucking one guy while another guy sat in a chair in the corner and watched. As I looked at the TV in front of me, I could feel Tom watching me run my hand up and down my cock. Finally, I looked over and watched him stroke, too. His cock was pretty much the same size as my own. We’re both around 6″ cut and about 2″ thick.

Finally, Tom broke the silence. “Want me to rub that for you?”

I didn’t reply verbally, I just removed my hand from my member. He reached over and wrapped his hand around my shaft while still rubbing his own. He stroked up and down my shaft. He would use his thumb to rub my head, rubbing the pre-cum around. My eyes moved back and forth between each of our crotches. I finally stopped watching my own cock getting stroked and watched Tom jerk himself off.

“You can touch it if you want.”

I hesitated for just a second before I slowly extended my arm and grabbed his cock. For the first time ever I was touching a cock other than my own.

“You ok?” he asked. This guy sure was being understanding about my nervousness.

“Yes, I like the way it feels,” I responded. “Does it feel good for you?”

“Oh, yes it does.”

We jerked each other for a few minutes. Since I had been jerking earlier, I was quickly approaching my climax.

“Oh, god, that feels so good. I’m going to blow soon if you keep that up.”

“We have plenty of time, right?” he asked. “I mean, we can play longer than one cum, right?”

“Uh huh. I don’t have any other plans today.”

“Then cum. I want to see it shoot.”

He gripped my dick a little tighter and stroked me for all I was worth. He was pumping me fast, using my pre-cum as lube, until I hit the point of no return. I shot my load straight in the air with most of it landing back on my dick and Tom’s hand; the rest on the couch and carpet. He kept stroking me, coaxing more cum out of my cock and onto the back of his hand. Even when I finished cumming he didn’t take his hand off my cock.

“That was great,” I said. “Want me to finish you off now?” I started stroking him faster.

“I do,” he answered, “but I want to get off that way.”

He nodded toward the TV. I had gotten so caught up that I forgot there was porn on. I looked over and saw one guy kneeling in front of the other sucking him off.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” I responded.

“Oh, sure you can,” he said. “I bet you’ll love it!”

He stood up from the couch and took a step back.

“Come on now, on your knees.”

Reluctantly, I slid off the couch and knelt before him. I looked up at him and his eyes were filled with lust.

“Suck it,” he commanded. “You know you want to suck my cock.”

I licked my lips, leaned forward and took his head in my mouth. As I moved my head forward and took Tom into my mouth, I was struck by just how soft a hard on could be. I felt his shaft manipulate in my mouth as I continued to pull back and push forward, taking a little more of his cock in my mouth with each pass.

Tom reached one hand behind my head and grabbed a little bit of my short hair. He started moving his hips forward to meet my strokes.

“That’s it you cocksucker. Take my cock in your mouth. Fuck yeah, you’re pretty good for a first time cocksucker. Yeah, you’re gonna deep throat this cock nicely.”

As I moved forward to take the next stroke of his cock in my mouth, he pushed forward with his hips. His dick pushed into my throat, nearly choking me. He held me down, his dick in my throat, until I nearly couldn’t breathe. He finally let me pull off and I took my mouth off his cock, though his hand was still on the back of my head.

“I told you that you’d be able to deep throat me. That was nice! Hey, have you ever tasted your own cum?”

I said that I had not. He moved his hand that had jerked me off, the hand I came all over, in front of my face. My load was still there.

“Taste it,” he demanded. “Clean your cum off my hand.”

I leaned in a bit and licked the entire thick load off his hand and swallowed. As soon as I finished swallowing, he pushed his dick back in my mouth. He put his other hand around the back of my head and started fucking my face. Tom was pushing his cock into my throat with each thrust, gagging me.

“Oh, yeah, I’m gonna cum!” he exclaimed. “Take my load you little cocksucker. Uuuhhh. There you go. Uh. Take it. Uh. Swallow it all.”

His cock spurt load after load of cum into my mouth. It was thick, creamy, salty and I swallowed it all.

“You like that cock sucker?”

I couldn’t lie. “I loved it Tom. I want more.”

“Yeah you loved it. Look, you’re hard again.”

I was. My cock was pointing straight out.

“Can we move this upstairs?”

We went to the bedroom, leaving the porn playing downstairs. Tom told me to get on my back and pull my knees to my chest. I hesitated and gave him a puzzled look.

“Relax,” he said, “I’m not going to fuck your ass.”

He got onto the bed and slithered up me like I would do if I were going to eat out my wife. I felt his tongue flick out against my ass. He flicked my whole with the tip a few more times and then moved up to get his full tongue pressed on my ass. He was rimming me and it felt fantastic!

I hadn’t been rimmed in ages, not since my first serious girlfriend in college. I had rimmed nearly all of my girlfriends since – I loved eating their asses, in fact – but they wouldn’t return the favor.

Tom, however, was a master at it. He was so sloppy, getting my whole soaked. I opened up to him and he was able to slide the tip of his tongue into my whole. He stroked my cock while he did so. After about five minutes, he stopped.

“That felt great!” I complimented him. “Want me to return the favor?”

“Actually, there was something else I wanted to do. Could I rub my cock through your ass crack and shoot on your back? I’ve always wanted to do that and no one will let me.”

“I’m not sure if I’m ready for something like that,” I said.

“I’ll just rub in the crack. I promise I won’t penetrate you.”

“OK,” I said. “As long as that’s it.”

I got onto my hands and knees and lowered my head to the bed to expose my ass a little more. I felt Tom pour some lube into my crack and then I felt his hands on my hips and his hard cock in my crack. It felt great as his cock sawed through my crack. He would pull back until the tip of his cock was at my whole, then would push forward and up so that he wouldn’t penetrate me.

“That feels good. Thanks for letting me do this,” he said. “Can you lay on your stomach? I think your cheeks will get around my cock better that way.”

I laid down and Tom pushed my legs together. He began stroking through my crack again and he was right, my butt held his dick better and tighter in this position.

“Oh, that’s it! That’s how it feels really good!”

I think Tom was enjoying this position both because my crack swallowed his cock a little better, but also because he felt more dominant. I could feel him resting his weight on my body as he humped me. A few thrusts later and I felt him stop on his pull back with his cock head touching my hole.

Tom leaned forward and licked my ear and then whispered in it.

“Don’t ever believe a man with a cock wants to just slide it through your crack and not fuck you. How dumb are you?”

Before I could comprehend what he had said, I felt a searing pain as Tom’s cock penetrated my virgin ass. I tried to squirm, but it was no use with all of Tom’s weight holding me down.

“Oww, fuck!” I yelled. “You promised!”

“Don’t you worry, I have a feeling about you. You’re going to love this in a minute!”

Tom reached under my body and found my cock as he kept working his way into me.

“Look at that,” he said, “you’re still hard. I told you that you’d like this!”

With that, he pushed the rest of his length into me and I could feel his pubes on my cheeks.

The burning sensation in my ass was more than I could have imagined. My asshole was on fire! Tom at least seemed conscious of how this felt. He left the full length inside me and slowly rocked his hips into me, only moving a little bit of his cock in and out of me. As he did this for a few minutes, the burning thankfully subsided.

Tom again whispered in my ear. “I left it in deep to open you up more than if it was shallow. In about a minute you should be used to the size and we’ll really get going.”

About a minute later I felt his hand move off of cock and felt his dick slowly slide out of my ass. He pulled out until just the tip was left. I then heard the snap of a bottle top and felt the cool of more lube being dripped onto my ass. Thank God he was using more lube!

I heard the bottle close and then heard Tom’s voice again. “Now the fun begins!”

Tom placed his hands on the sides of my arms as if he was getting into a push up position and then he pushed half his length into me. He started moving faster than he had before; not “slamming” into me, mind you, but faster nonetheless.

“Oh you’re so tight! Your ass is making me feel so good. Does my cock feel good in your ass? I bet you’re starting to like it by now”

I hated to admit it, but he was right. Once the burning had stopped I did enjoy it. I could feel the veins on his cock sliding across my hole. I could feel the tip of his cock push against my prostate. And my cock sliding against my sheets felt good, too.

“Uh huh,” I muttered. His cock pulled out until just the head was left inside.

“What was that?” he asked. “What did you say?” He pushed the full length back into me.

“I like it. It feels good now,” I admitted.

“You like what? What feels good?” He kept sliding in and out of my ass.

“I like you fucking me! You’re cock feels good in my ass!”

“Then I think you should watch it now.”

Tom pulled out of my ass and told me to turn onto my back. This was my chance. I could fight back now. I could end this!

Instead, I rolled onto my back. I wanted to feel more.

Tom picked up my legs and I helped him turn them up to my chest. My legs spread open and my hips lifted my ass up for easier access. I have had my wife in this very position in this very bed many times before as I prepared to push my own cock into her; now I waited to feel a dick slide into my body.

I stared down my body, past my own dick and watched Tom line his shaft up, felt his spongy head press against my loosened hole and push easily into my ass.

I gasped, “Oh God!”

It felt so good. I looked up at Tom and saw him smile. I then returned my eyes to watching this man fuck my ass.

He was on his shins in front of me and grabbed my ankles for leverage. Tom began sawing in and out of my body. He was now fucking me even harder than before. He moved his shaft almost fully in and out of me with each stroke. My cock was bouncing up and down and slapping against my stomach.

Tom’s cock felt huge inside of my virgin ass and I felt so full. It felt so good!

“Look at you. You’re enjoying this, you little slut!” Tom mocked. “I knew you’d love this.”

“I do! I love this! Your cock feels so good inside of me!”

“So, are we going to do this again?” he asked.

“Fuck yes!” I screamed. “I need you to fuck me more than this!”

“Good. I can’t wait. I’m going to cum soon. I’m going to cum deep inside your ass.”

“No!” I begged. “Don’t cum inside me. You can shoot it on my face and in my mouth.”

“It wasn’t a request,” Tom informed me. “I’m going to breed your virgin ass.”

Tom moved his right hand from my ankle and reached down to jerk me off while he kept fucking me. The feel of his cock in my ass and hand on my dick was so good. I felt my orgasm building fast.

“I’m going to cum,” I told him.

And I did! He stroked me a couple more times and my cock exploded. Tom kept fucking me – hard – and kept stroking me and I kept cumming all over my stomach and chest. Some even landed on my face.

My ass clamping down on his cock much have been too much for Tom as I felt his warm cum fill my hole.

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “I’m cumming in your fucking ass! Take my load you little bitch!”

As much as I hadn’t wanted him to cum inside me, like everything else, it felt so good. Tom stayed there a few minutes as hid cock deflated before taking it out.

“I didn’t want to pull the cum out with me,” he explained. “I want to still feel it inside you when I fuck you again.”

“What? I thought you meant let’s do this again another time?”

“Fuck no!” he said. “I’m fucking you again as soon as I can get hard again.”

“But my wife could be home soon.”

“Then you had better get me hard quickly because I’m not leaving until I shoot another load in your ass.”

Tom moved up my body and put his flaccid cock in my face. I opened up and took him in my mouth trying to get him hard again…

Chapter 3, In which I walk on the wild side

It had been a crazy weekend, and frankly I wasn’t completely upset to be hitting the road again. In the space of a few weeks, I’d gone from definitely straight to definitely lesbian to, well, bi-confused. I needed time away from Stacey and Michael to work it all out in my head.

On the surface, things were pretty good. Stacey had moved into my old bedroom; it was much more spacious than her old apartment and I was only there on weekends. I was more than happy to share the bed, if you know what I mean. We also shared the shower, the sofa, the floor, and once, the kitchen table. We’d almost gone at each other in the elevator too; I’d resisted the temptation just long enough to make it into the apartment.

My relationship with Michael had never been better, either. We were still great friends, and he’d started calling me “Robin,” which was a little weird but way better than “Peter”. It was one thing to let him use my ass, but hearing him breath my brother’s name in my ear while he did it squicked me a bit.

That had all changed that Saturday. He’d been upset that I’d been paying attention to Stacey, but I’d missed her all week and my butt was still a little sore from Friday, and frankly, it was a lot more fun to lick her than fuck him. They’d shouted at each other and I’d finally sighed and gone to Michael’s bedroom to play peacemaker.

He’d told me that Stacey was screwing with my mind, which was silly, and that he just wanted things to go back to the way they’d been. I’d gotten dizzy for a moment, and then he’d thrown me on the bed and we had wild, hot sex. Maybe it just took me awhile to warm up to taking it back there, but now the feel of his Bat Pole stretching my Bat Cave brought me to screaming orgasms every time, no finger required.

Of course, then Stacey got jealous. I explained I was just being a friend, but she was all snarky and asked if Michael was planning to tell Karen about it at the next meeting. It was clear I was going to have to be the adult, so I dragged her back to bed for some extra-special licking — and snuck back to Michael’s room after she fell asleep. I’d felt a little bad about it, because I loved her so much and she was helping me with my “mental game.”

See, I’d complained about how hard my job was, and she’d jumped in right away to explain how a few tweaks to my approach would help, and that a bigger income would really help us out. Stacey had been glaring at Michael when she said it, and I told her he was not moving out no matter how much I made, but I got her point.

Anyway, I dozed on the plane, happy that Stacey and Michael would have a chance to work out their differences without me in the middle. I knew I’d need my beauty sleep for this trip.

Texas. Everything was big there. Big heat, big cars, big hats, big egos, and big tits on the receptionist. I’d seen her before, but I paid a bit more attention now that I’d been with Stacey. Mostly, a really big commission — if I could land the sale.

I’d been cultivating the Consolidated Group for awhile, but it was one big good ol’ boys club and my competition had a dick between his legs. Luckily, Hunter still took my calls… And Stacey had reminded me that not having a dick between my legs could be a competitive advantage.

“How’s our proposal stacking up, Hunter?” I greeted him after his admin showed me in. “Am I going to land you this time?”

His eyes took in my new cut and color before dipping. “You know I can’t tell you that, Linnea.” He almost dropped the unlit cigar he had chomped between his teeth, although I’d practiced at home and knew he couldn’t see any higher than the tops of my stockings when I crossed my legs. It was still a lot more than he’d seen on any of my previous sales calls. “Ah, perhaps you can meet with my review team and discuss how your proposal stacks up against our requirements?” he offered, getting back onto our usual script.

Of course, somehow their schedules would be so full up that it would be impossible to meet during the day. That was why I had an expense account. “Maybe I could take your team out and make it a working dinner?”

“How’s tonight?” he asked, without even making a pretense of checking those oh-so-full calendars.

“Perfect,” I smiled. This was where I’d throw out the name of an upscale steakhouse. These guys liked their red meat, but it hadn’t won me any significant business on my previous visits. “How about The Bad Hoss at five?”

Hunter took the cigar out of his mouth before it could fall and looked at me dubiously. “You, ah, sure about that, Linnea?”

What I’d heard was that it was a place where you went to get drunk or get laid, or maybe both. “Big Steaks — Big Drinks — Big Action” proclaimed the mug on Hunter’s desk. Apparently there was no room left to add “Small Inhibitions.” He’d probably gotten it on the visit where he’d sealed the deal to buy six months of supply from the other guy a week after I’d thought I finally had him signed.

“Yeah,” I said, trying a wriggle I’d been practicing with mixed success. “I thought some place a little more casual might help our creative juices.” I tried to project more confidence than I felt.

“Well, yeah, then! Hell, yeah! It’ll be our pleasure to join you.”

“I won’t take any more of your time, then,” I said, rising and extending my hand.

He shook it, shooting a peek down my slightly more exposed than usual cleavage, and ushered me out. I could hear him chortling behind the closed door as I walked away, smiling to myself. I had him — hook, line and sinker.

“Damnit, Stacey!” I shouted at the suitcase in the hotel room. It was bad enough I’d let her talk me into this quasi-insane plan, but apparently she’d repacked my bag when I’d snuck out of her bedroom to visit Michael. My carefully-chosen, not-too-casual, not-too-formal outfit I’d planned to wear that night was gone.

In its place, I had an oh-so-short denim skirt, a vest, and a pair of cowboy boots I’d forgotten I owned. There wasn’t even a blouse! I wasted 15 minutes trying every one I had with me and confirming they all looked terrible. Another 5 minutes convinced me there was no way I could wear my bra under the vest either.

“Damnit, Stacey!” I shouted at her as soon as she answered the phone.

“Calm down, Linnea. What’s wrong?” I thought I heard faint giggling in the background, but it probably was just the television.

“My outfit!” I wailed. “I invited them to this stupid bar like you suggested, and now I don’t have anything to wear! I can’t believe you took my clothes! This is such a disaster!”

“Just take a deep breath, listen to my voice, and relax,” Stacey suggested.

I bit back the urge to scream it wouldn’t help, and tried to do what she suggested. “This is a big problem,” I tried again, feeling slightly calmer now that I had somebody to talk with.

“Nonsense!” she chirped back. “You were going to end up looking like a boring brood mare instead of a hot little filly. Trust me! Now, do you have it on?”

“Only the vest and my bra,” I admitted.

“That’s a little racy, even for me!” Stacey laughed, and I couldn’t help smiling. “Put on the skirt and boots, look in the mirror, and tell me what you see.”

“I look like a total slut,” I complained a minute or so later. “The bra is showing everywhere.”

“Take it off, then, silly! You know you don’t really need it; the vest will give you enough support.”

The solution was obvious enough in hindsight I felt like an idiot. I felt cooler already, and without the telltale flashes of fabric under my arms and atop my cleavage, the skimpiness of the vest wasn’t so obvious. “You’re right,” I admitted, “that is better. As long as I don’t twist or pop the top button and have a wardrobe malfunction, anyway.”

“I’d like to see that,” husked Stacey in a tone that left me leaking into my panties and made my nipples press against the inside of the vest. “Now, you have the special makeup, right?”

I glanced in the mirror, quickly checking my eyeliner, mascara, shadow, and candy apple red lipstick. I was about to ask her what she was talking about when I remembered. “Oh!” It was one more dubious thing she’d pressed on me, and I’d packed it just to make her happy. “I’m sorry, Stacey, but it just seems really stupid.”

“I know, but do it for me, okay, Linnea?”

She was just irresistible when she put her mind to it. My fingers were sliding the small tube of lip gloss into a vest pocket before I could even open my mouth to argue with her. Besides, nothing said I had to use it. “Okay,” I half-heartedly agreed.

“That’s my girl,” she cheered me on. “Just do what we talked about and you’ll have Hunter wrapped around your finger in no time. Now have a good time!” The beginnings of a shriek of laughter were cut off by the “beep beep beep” of a completed call.

The Bad Hoss didn’t look as bad as its reputation. Okay, yeah, it was a strip club, and there was a dancer working a pole alongside the bar as we came in. The front room had peanut shells and sawdust strewn on the rough-cut floor, and the ring with a mechanical horse in it was clearly the focal point of the high tables arranged around it. There were a bunch of patrons there, enjoying happy hour most likely, but nothing to write home about.

I gave the horse a second look as our hostess led us to the back of the establishment, where the floor was polished and the high-backed booths and chairs were finished in leather. The horse looked like a rearing carousel pony on some sort of motion control platform, except it was life-sized and sported an anatomically correct erection.

A round table was set for the five of us, and Hunter held my chair for me before settling into the seat to my right. Little Bill, Duane, and Big Bill rounded out our party, looking like peas in a pod. At the moment, the eyes of those peas were focused on me. I pushed away my uncertainty and gave them a wide smile.

“Howdy y’all, my name’s Jenny and I’ll be your waitress tonight,” announced the girl standing beside the table. She clearly was from the restaurant side of the operation, and had that unofficial uniform look going on — black polo with Bad Hoss logo on the breast, black skirt with black apron, dark hose, and black flats. She reminded me superficially of Stacey, except she was more tan and less makeup, and Stacey wouldn’t have been caught dead in a ponytail or cowboy hat. “Can I start y’all with drinks or appetizers?”

“Set us up with a round of grande margaritas and some sidecars,” Hunter told her. “And some nachos with extra jalapenos, while we look at the menus.”

I mentally upped the length of the next morning’s exercise session to three hours, and patted myself on the back for eating two granola bars at the hotel so I wouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach. When our drinks arrived in glasses the size of my hotel room sink, I knew I had my work cut out for me.

Several hours later, the wreckage of a meal that had cost several cattle and a large salmon their lives littered the table. “I trust y’all will excuse me,” I slurred, apparently brain-damaged by prolonged exposure to Jenny and the bottles she kept retrieving from the wine cellar. Hunter helped me rise to my feet, and then I worked my way along the now-busy bar to the restrooms.

Thanks to careful nursing of my drinks, I was only buzzed rather than hammered. I had no idea how the men were still conscious. We’d talked around my proposal at length, but as usual Hunter carefully avoided making any commitment. I needed to do something more if I wanted a different outcome.

I stared at a hair pinched between two fingers, lifted from Hunter when he’d helped me up. What I was about to do seemed so ridiculous it was embarrassing, but it wouldn’t cost me anything to try. Looking furtively around and seeing nobody, I curled the hair around my fingertip and popped it in my mouth. I grimaced at the sensation and swallowed several times before I got it down.

Then I cursed myself, belated remembering the lip balm I was supposed to have used with it. The thought of trying to obtain another hair, at risk of discovery and possibly no gain, seemed unappealing. Operating on autopilot, I applied some of the clear gloss to my lips anyway.

Jenny bustled through the door and stood beside me, looking in the mirror and adjusting her hat. I thought again of Stacey and wished I were home. Jenny looked at me uncertainly when I suddenly reached over and plucked something off her back. “Stray hair,” I explained.

She gave me a look that said she thought I was drunk, and then disappeared into one of the stalls.

Hurrying before I lost my nerve, I balled up the hair, rubbed it against my lips, and swallowed it. Of course, I had no idea if anything had happened. Unless she did something totally outrageous like give me her underwear, I’d never know — and there was no way I’d risk asking and causing a scene.

Anyway, my time for agonizing was past. The toilet flushed and Jenny emerged from the stall to wash her hands. “Can you hold these for me?” she asked, pressing a ball of black cotton into my hand before turning on the faucet.

I stood there like a dolt, staring at her while she washed her hands. The material was suffused with the warmth of her body and felt like it was burning my hands. “Why did you do this?” I asked finally, beyond curious to hear the answer.

Jenny looked over at me in the mirror. “What?” I gestured with a hand, displaying her panties. Her eyes went wide as saucers and she flushed bright red. “Oh my Lord!” she shrieked, clapping her wet hands against her skirt and then turning as if to bolt.

“Oh, please wait!” I pleaded, and she hesitated. “Here, don’t worry about it, you can have them back. I just want to talk.”

She plucked them from my fingers, avoiding contact, and hurriedly pulled them up her legs. “I’m no dyke, you know,” she protested as I saw a brief flash of skin above her thigh-highs. “And not every girl that works here gets off on it.”

I smiled, thinking of Stacey and how she’d changed my mind about that. Jenny was a cute girl, and — no, I had bigger fish to fry. “The guys with me — what do you know about them? Be honest.”

“Hunter and the Bills?” Jenny raked me with a disdainful look. “They’re regulars. Usually here with a guy named Len. They’re pigs, all of them; I’ve had to take Big Bill’s hand off my ass twice tonight.” I hadn’t noticed. “I hope you’re a good tipper.”

“What makes you think I’m paying?” I asked, curious.

“These assholes never bring their own women; they hit on girls at the bar. Besides, I overheard enough of the conversation to know you’re trying to sell them something.” She snorted. “How’s that working for ya, sweetie?”

“Crappy,” I admitted.

She laughed. “They were here last week with Len. They’re only stringing you on — he bought ‘em off with a pair of blondes.” Jenny looked at me again and added, with the air of somebody trying to be fair, “You’re better-looking than they were.”

“If I wanted to change their minds, how should I do it?”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asked. “You sound like you’re smart enough to know better.”

“Yeah,” I said, starting to fume. “I’m tired of getting the runaround from these assholes.”

“If you’re sure,” Jenny said, reluctantly. “Work on Big Bill. He’s the boss, and he thinks with his cock. The others seem to follow his lead.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, already thinking hard. All this time I’d been meeting with Hunter, and he wasn’t even the decision-maker? I didn’t even notice when Jenny left the bathroom. I touched up my lips with a nice thick coat of Stacey’s lip gloss and headed for the door myself.

I just about bounced off Big Bill’s broad chest as I exited the bathroom.

“Hey there, little lady; we all were getting worried about you. You doing okay?” he drawled.

“I’m fine,” I started to say, before he grabbed me and kissed me hard. It was a big sloppy alcoholic kiss, reeking of hard liquor, and his hands were all over me. The man must have been part octopus to pin me in place, cop a feel of my breasts, and stroke my panties all at the same time.

“Let go of me!” I hissed, not yet wanting to make a scene, but wriggling in his grip. All I succeeded in doing was popping the vest button I’d been worrying about.

“C’mon, Linnea, you know you want it, dressing like that,” he rumbled.

I didn’t, not from him, and not like that, although his questing fingers had awakened a needy itching deep inside my ass. “Let’s just go back to the table and forget this happened, okay?” I suggested. His body blocked most of my view, but it looked like everybody else was yelling and cheering some rider atop the mechanical horse; no help there.

“Just one more kiss? I have a powerful feeling you’ll like it,” he insisted, and I heard him unzip his fly. His grip shifted and I found myself being pushed inexorably to my knees in front of him.

One look told me why they called him “Big Bill.” He looked monstrous, erect and dripping precum, but I had eyes only for the wiry pubes peeking out of his fly. God, I hated cocksucking, but I knew what I had to do.

I started licking and sucking the tip, which was about all I could fit in my mouth anyway, and used my hands to stroke his shaft, trying to grab a hair each time I reached his root. The lighting was bad and his organ was filling my field of vision, so it took way longer than I wanted before I could snatch one without dropping it.

He let me pull off once, to lick the length of him, and I managed to pop the hair into my mouth. It was sticking there on my tongue, resisting my attempts to swallow, and then he was hauling me back into position to blow him again.

“Oh, baby, you’re something special,” he moaned, but I felt the hair go down with a rising surge of triumph.

I wished for him to release me, but instead of doing so, he exploded into my mouth. Some of it drooled out, but with his tube steak filling my lips, I had no choice other than to swallow most of it, to Bill’s evident delight.

After I’d finished choking down his spend, he hauled me back to my feet and leaned in for another kiss. I saw my gloss and lipstick spread across his mouth and cheek, and realized what must have happened. Hoping against hope, I went at him like a wild woman, licking and sucking at his skin while praying I’d get enough to do some good.

He took it completely the wrong way, of course, and enthusiastically reciprocated. A bystander, of which there were none, would have been forgiven for thinking we were having the mother of all heavy petting sessions.

Finally, at about the point where I was ready to give up and just start screaming for help, my mental “let me go!” was rewarded with a sudden release of Bill’s embrace that left me reeling. I stared at him, while he looked back at me with fire in his eye.

“You’re one sexy little number, Linnea,” he leered, wiping his mouth with one arm. “No harm in a little fun between consenting adults, right?”

“Damn straight,” I told him, “but I think we’ve spent enough time away from the others.” It was almost a shame to watch him tuck away his cock, but Big Bill’s body language told me it wouldn’t be the last time I saw it, if he had any say in the matter.

I left my vest the way it was, knowing it would excite and distract him, and we headed back out to the restaurant. The others had moved to a circular booth closer to the bar, where there was a better view of the entertainment. We were squeezed pretty closely together, but I didn’t object.

A hand twice the size of mine was already caressing my cunt, milking moisture into my sodden panties. I squirmed as a finger pushed the fabric aside, and then — as if reading my mind — drifted slightly lower to tease my back door. Between that and the sight of some drunken bachelorettes trying the horse, I needed to fuck something bad.

(Again, this one is one i originally wrote for another site; it’s a bit darker and nastier than my usual approach – read “Winston’s Witch” for a contrast. One important tag is intentionally left off because it would be a spoiler. All of the potential squicks i see are tagged, though, and i promise you this is not a snuff or similar story…)

(I really need to get around to explaining who Nikki is, precisely, and why her sex shop/boutique seems to be bigger on the inside than the outside…)

He’d lost track of how long he’d been sitting, nursing a couple of beers, watching the Saturday night crowd swirl in and out of the bar. His eyes kept coming back to one woman in particular — a tall, slender redhead with firm tits under a tight clinging top and legs that went on forever up to the skirt that shaped her round ass and barely covered her cunt. He wasn’t exactly sure, but he thought he remembered trying to talk to her and being completely ignored by the yuppie bitch. Thinking about that, he vaguely wondered why he couldn’t remember how long he’d been here, or when he’d come here. But he wasn’t drunk, so it couldn’t have been too long… and the thought faded from his mind.

Guys kept coming on to the redhead, and the bitch just brushed them off like flies. Oh, sometimes she’d dance with one, but not more than once with the same guy, and she managed to get rid of them pretty quickly after the dances were over.

God she was hot out there on the dance floor — she only danced the ones that gave her a chance to strut her body and shake those braless tits, and sometimes her skirt would ride up enough that he thought he could see her bush…


Jesus, it was a boring night. There wasn’t a guy in the place that I liked, and I was tired of turning off the creeps who kept coming on to me. There were a couple who were okay to dance with, but then they wanted to talk, and I wasn’t interested in anything they had to say.

It was a real turn-on, though, out there on the dance floor, letting the would-be studs get a little feel, shaking my breasts in their faces.

I had decided that I was going to be naughty tonight; I stopped by Hot Rags on the way home from the office and spent way too much for the sluttiest outfit Nikki had on sale that was still just this side of making me look as if I planned to peddle it on the street corners. The tight knit top showed off the fact that my 36C tits were still high and firm and didn’t need any artificial support; the tight black buttery-soft leather skirt made it clear that the only thing under it besides me was a sheer pair of pantyhose, and the red fuck-me pumps with their straps and clunky four inch heels completed the outfit.

And then I headed out to the Kumaniwanalea Lounge, the sleasiest pick-up joint near ESU. I was going to find me some college stud, a jock, and take him home and fuck him till he couldn’t move.

At least that was the plan.

But they were all so boring.

Suddenly, I couldn’t take this crummy joint and all the phony studs out to score, strutting their muscles and money for the girls on the meat rack. The hell with it — i was going home and use my vibrator.


She was leaving. Alone. None of the guys were good enough for the stuck-up cunt, it seemed. Huh. Someone ought to teach her a lesson.

Without consciously deciding, he set down his beer, shoved a ten across the stick, and began working his way through the crowd toward the door.

By the time he was outside in the cool air, she was half a block down the street, her heels tapping a rhythm on the pavement as she briskly walked toward the parking garage. It seemed as if his feet stepped out in the same direction without his volition, not quite running, but moving fast enough that he could see that he would overtake her near the entrance to the garage.

He looked around. There was nobody else in sight; it was too early for the early crowd to be heading out, and not late enough that the after-hours bunch were arriving yet.

Good, he thought, there’ll be no-one to see or hear… And then he wondered why he cared.


I hadn’t realised just how dark it was in the streets around here in the evenings, or how deserted. Not that I was worried; the area around the University was one of the safest parts of town — aside from the occasional cheerleader gangrape by ESU football players, that is.

And it wasn’t far to my car in the garage.


Someone was behind me.

I reached in my bag and pulled out a mirror, pretended to check my makeup.

It was that weird guy from the bar. The one who sat and stared at me the whole time I was there. Even when I wasn’t looking his way, I could feel his eyes on me; and it was as if I was naked in front of him.

I hurried a little. Once I was in my car, I would be safe.


She’d seen him. She’d speeded up.

Good. The bitch was afraid of him. It gave him a sense of power to know it.

She’ll be even more afraid soon, he thought. And then wondered what he’d meant by that thought.

She hurried through the garage entrance, and managed to duck into the elevator. The door closed before he could catch it and the elevator started upward.


I cowered against the back of the elevator as I saw him lunge to try to stop it. But he was too late; I was on my way up to my car and safety.

The elevator was slow but steady; the floors clicked away on the indicator above the door — two, three, four… five. It stopped, the doors sighed open and I could see my car. I stepped out.

“Got you, bitch,” a harsh voice growled in my ear as a powerful arm wrapped around my waist and a rough hand clasped itself over my mouth. As he spun me around into the shadows behind the elevator shaft, I heard him panting for breath and saw the open stairway door.


She struggled ineffectually as he dragged her into the shadows. He snatched the scarf from around her neck, shoving it into her mouth as an improvised gag. He snapped the handcuffs (Handcuffs? Why was he carrying handcuffs?) from his back pocket onto her wrist and to a standpipe as he shoved her roughly down onto a litter of sacking and discarded carpeting in the shadows.

She tried again to kick him, then lay still in wide-eyed terror as he opened a folding hunting knife, flashing the razor-sharp blade in front of her eyes.

“That’s right, bitch — lay there and enjoy it,” he grated out, reaching forward with the tip of the knife to touch her belly just below the edge of her top.


I knew that my legs were splayed wide open as i fell, and that my skirt was riding up onto my hips. I tried to fight, tried to breathe around the mass of cloth that he jammed into my mouth. Then I felt the cold metal on my wrist, felt my arm wrenched above my head and shackled to a pipe.

He pulled out that huge knife, and I was suddenly afraid that this might be more than rape — suppose he was a psychotic killer. What was he going to do? Would my mutilated corpse be the front page in tomorrow’s papers?

I felt the cold metal of the knife against my belly, and I sobbed in terror, then lay still as he slashed upward between my breasts, completely slashing through my tube top. I lay there, tits exposed, as he stood back and looked down at me. Wind blew across my breasts, and, despite the terror I felt, I could feel my nipples rising a bit in the cold air.

Reaching down, he clutched my left breast in his hand and brutally squeezed it; not so hard as to herm me, but painfully. He pressed his palm over my nipple, rubbing it back and forth, then twisting and tweaking it with his fingers. I was astonished and angered to feel my flesh responding in spite of the situation; to feel my nipple rising and hardening even more.


He grinned humourlessly as he felt her nipple pressing against her palm; they were all alike; all sluts, bitches in heat. All it took was a real man to get them panting for it.

He let go of her tit, reached down, under her ridden-up skirt, and roughly clutched her mound through the sheer pantyhose. Despite his weight pinning her and the cuff binding her arm to the waterpipe above her head, her body bucked as her eyes widened and she made garbled sounds of protest through her nose and the gag in her mouth.

“Like that, do you?” he grinned, deliberately misinterpreting her reaction. As she frantically shook her head and twisted her hips, trying to escape his hand, he let one middle finger trail slowly along the lips of her cunt, back and forth. Leaning forward as he did so, he bit at her erect nipple, sucking it into his mouth and roughly attacking it with his tongue.

Her eyes widened again, but this time in surprise. Moist heat began to make itself felt through the crotch of her pantyhose; he felt her pussylips beginning to open under his rough touch.


I couldn’t believe it — my body was beginning to react to his attack; I could feel heat beginning to rise in my belly and every time his teeth grazed a nipple, little jolts of something confusing, a mixture of pleasure and pain, shot through my entire body. I had to stop this somehow.

I twisted my hips, trying to get away from that hand that was probing at my pussy, stimulating it in spite of me, bringing more and more heat and more and more wetness between my thighs as my body began to ready itself for what was to come, whether I wanted it or not. I tried harder and harder to force out protests past the silk gag in my mouth, tried to turn my chest away from that maddening mouth that brought my traitor nipples even more throbbingly erect and hard, tried to jerk my self away from that hand…

Then he stood up and stepped back a bit — I couldn’t believe it — was it over?

He spoke again “Having a little trouble breathing with that thing in your mouth, aren’t you?” I nodded frantically, hardly daring to hope that he was going to take it out of my mouth… He reached down, grabbed one corner of the silk, and acted as if he were going to remove it, to let me breathe fully and talk again.


With a grin, he made a gesture as if to remove the gag, then let his hand fall away, relishing the disappointment in her eyes as he did so.

“Oh, I’m going to take it out,” he said. “But we can’t have you screaming — not yet, anyway.” He reached to his own waist, unbuckling and unzipping his pants, letting them fall, exposing his throbbing cock to her suddenly comprehending eyes. He reached out, grabbing her hair, and pulled her up to a kneeling position, her cuffed hand still behind her, bound to the vertical pipe.

With one hand he took hold of the corner of the scarf; the other one remained tangled in her hair. Jerking the silk from her mouth, he pulled her face forward, forcing her to face his massive cock as it jutted toward her, a drop of precum already oozing from the tip.

“Suck it, bitch,” he hissed.

“No… please, no…” she whimpered.

“Yes!” he barked. “Suck it, damn you!” he ordered as he forced her face forward, the head of his cock pressing against and then between her lips as she gave in and opened her mouth, letting it begin to slip inside. At first he was content to simply pump it between her lips into the warm wetness of her mouth, but soon he ordered again “Suck my cock, you lousy cunt!” When she still didn’t, he slapped her face once, then again. “Suck, bitch!”


The pain of the slaps cut through my panic and confusion — they didn’t really hurt a lot, but they stung and left my cheek burning, reminding me that he had me at his mercy; that he could do anything he wanted and I couldn’t stop him.

Using the hand in my hair to move my head back and forth, fucking my mouth relatively gently, he raised his hand again for another slap. Sobbing quietly around the huge cock filling my mouth, I began to do as he said, sucking at the head of the thing as it pushed in and out, even using my tongue to pleasure him more, trying to make him happy, hoping he wouldn’t hurt me seriously if I did what he wanted.

His free hand reached downward, and he began squeezing and manipulating my nipples and breasts again, and again, though I was sure that there would be bruises on my breasts if I survived this, I began to feel a perverse stimulation from the combination of pain and pleasure his hand brought me.

I thought that this humiliation was the worst my body’s traitorous reactions could bring me, but I hadn’t reckoned with my captor’s perverse imagination.

“Reach down and play with yourself, bitch,” he ordered me. I gagged on his cock, and looked up at his face as well as I could with his hand forcing my head down. But he was serious; I could see that he wanted to degrade me before he took me. “Reach down inside your goddamn pantyhose and play with your slut cunt, bitch!” he ordered, hand again raised to strike.

Slowly, hating myself for giving in, even though I had no choice, I reached downward with my free hand, touching the waistband of my pantyhose, then slipping my hand inside them, reaching still lower, till I felt my pubic hair and then the swollen lips and the warm moisture between them. “Do it!” he hissed, shoving his cock further into my mouth till I choked.


Gloating at his power over her, he watched her fingers begin hesitantly to stroke at her cuntlips, then saw one slip tentatively between them. He could tell from the jerk that she gave that, despite her position, she felt some stimulation from it. “Deeper, dammit. Get yourself off.”


I could hardly believe it. It felt good. I was getting turned on by my helplessness and the fact that I had yielded to his demands; given him control. As I stroked my fingers deeper and deeper into my hot, traitorous pussy, I began to actually — not enjoy, exactly — but to feel more and more pressure and heat building up inside me.

Like a lot of women, I suppose, I had fantasized about rape; about being totally out of control in a sexual situation. And now here it was, and I was beginning to think that if I kept this up much longer — I gasped as my fingers found my clit for the first time, and my hips bucked as a jolt of pure pleasure shot through my cunt — I might actually get off, as sick as that sounded. I was disgusted with myself and with my body, reacting mechanically to stimuli, getting ready for sex whether I wanted it or not.

Suddenly his hand in my hair jerked my head back, his wet shining cock slipping out of my mouth as he forced me down again onto the rubbish at his feet, his other hand jerking my hand from my crotch. He raised my hand to his nose, sniffed mockingly. “Turned on, huh? I suppose it’s time,” he said.

Again he waved that big knife, bending forward over me. I was afraid he meant to stab or cut me, but instead he grabbed the soaking crotch of my pantyhose, pulled it away from my pussy and with one quick slash, ripped the crotch seam out, leaving my obscenely gaping, drooling cunt completely exposed to the cool air. I gasped at the sudden chill, then gasped again as his hand clutched at me, driving two thick fingers up into my hole, pumping them in and out.


She gasped and her hips writhed in combined pain and pleasure, her face twisting with the conflict, as he pumped her hot snatch with two, then three, fingers and kneaded and twisted at her tits with the other hand.

Then he grabbed her hips, raising her ass up to his crotch level as he knelt there; with one thrust of his hips and jerk of her hips toward him he drove all ten inches of his thick cock deep into her greasy hole. Her eyes popped wide open, and she made a sound somewhere between a grunt and muffled scream as he began savagely plowing into her only-partly-ready cunt.

At first it was almost too tight, and semi-dry; but as he thrust relentlessly into her depths he could feel her cunt relaxing to give him easier admittance, even as her internal muscles began to squeeze at him. She began to moan under him as he pounded her cunt.


I couldn’t believe it. He was the biggest man I had ever been fucked by; the stretching was almost painful at first, but then, as he continued drilling into me, I could feel my pussy adjusting to him. I felt filled as I had seldom felt before, and I could began to actually enjoy the sheer hot mechanical monkey sex. I moaned and tossed my head as his relentless attack brought me nearer and nearer to orgasm despite myself. My body had come so far in response to his attack that I felt as if I would go insane if I didn’t manage to cum… I was going to cum. I could feel my orgasm beginning to build. It was close. So close… I was just about to cum…

And suddenly he groaned, stiffened, and I could feel his hot cum jetting up inside me, filling me. NO! Not yet! I wasn’t there yet! I needed to cum, and I wasn’t going to get to! I could feel him sliding out of my hungry cunt, leaving me unfinished and needing. As soon as he was out of me, I began frantically frigging my cunt and clit, trying to bring myself off. I was close — so close! — but I couldn’t — quite — get off. My fingers squished in the cum oozing out of my stretched hole; I didn’t care. All I cared about was getting off…

And then his hands were on my hips, rolling me face down, raising my hips toward his crotch, and I gasped out “NO!” but it didn’t stop him…


He was still almost painfully erect as he pulled his cock out of her clasping hole, slimy and glistening with a combination of his own cum and her cunt juices; as excited as he was, he showed no signs of losing his erection.

Savagely, not caring if the shoulder of her pinioned arm was wrenched painfully or if her bare tits were abraded by the stuff under her, he rolled her over, pulling on her hips, raising her round ass toward him, yanking her skirt up onto her back, out of the way.

Even as she realised his intentions and protested, he found her brown hole, and with a brutal thrust that brought a scream of combined protest, pain and surprise from her, jammed his massive tool up into her ass.

Her tight back hole clutched at him even more strongly than her hot cunt had, he lost all control and humped her butt savagely and relentlessly, drilling his big cock again and again into her asshole. As he pumped her, one had reached down under her and began a new attack on her cunt, three fingers driving in and out of her gooey, dripping cunt and brutally playing with her clit.

And she reached down and her hand joined his, as his other hand grabbed handfuls of tit ad squeezed and twisted at them; together they mauled and stroked and pumped her slimy, clutching cunt until he felt his second orgasm of the night coming, as he slammed his meat even more deeply into her ass, as he came with a guttural roar of triumph and she matched it with her own cat-howl of pleasure and pain as she finally came and his cock pulled out of her convulsing asshole and his white cum sprayed all over ass and her back as she fell limply forward, almost fainting with the intensity of her sensations…

Standing over her limp body, as his cock finally began to shrink and become limp, he looked downward at her and gloated over her complete degradation and submission.


“Happy now, bitch?” he asked.

And suddenly, as he heard his own voice say those words, everything seemed to change…

Chapter 1. My Spotter

My name is Jeng. I am 34, male. I am married and I have a family. I teach at a local university. That’s all I would like to share about my life in the daylight. This story is not about any of that. This story happened when I went looking for an alternate world … a world that existed in the shadowy underground of the city, a world that I had thought would fulfill my fantasies and allow me to live a normal life during the day. It did not. Instead, it created a desire that I did not know I had. It brought into my life an object of desire, and more properly, adoration, that I cannot forget even as I step onto street side from the underground (literally). It brought Katie. Katie … I cannot even type her name with feeling shudders going through my torso.

Katie was my spotter. That’s how it began anyhow. I don’t know what she is to me now. Words cannot capture any of it. At times she feels like everything to me … that I would leave my life to stay in darkness forever with her. Other times, when the day breaks, she drifts in and out my mind like the shadow of a dream … before I can even grasp and make out her shape and form, she has drifted out of my mind’s reach.

Let me explain briefly the beginning. I have had, for years, even before I knew what sex was and knew what even masturbation was, fantasies. Even as a child, these fantasies can become very vivid, so much so that I would stay awake hours at time, living in it in the half-awake, half-sleep state. There is no one person, object, or scene that is constant. But as I got older, I do see the constant (especially after some extended time spent in a psychologist’s office). By technical terms, I belong to the category of people who wants to submit and be dominated, used, and abused (to a reasonable extent). I say “technical terms”, because when I tried to look up stories and porn videos that have these key words, few ever come close to expressing what I was desiring. I managed to have a normal, successful, and even happy life. I love my family. But in the middle of the night or the day, I would be overtaken with the shadow of my dreams. It is not a sinister kind of darkness, just an uncertain, heart-pounding invitation to go deeper and be lost.

After years of fighting with these thoughts and getting by between therapy sessions and porn (which only provides temporary relief like an Advil is to a headache), I realized that what I wanted is so deeply lodged that I cannot separate the physical from the mental. One thing I want to clarify is that I have never strayed in my decade long of marriage. Externally, I am the perfect man. I never even attempted a fling. I never went to a Strip Club. I was once forced upon a sloppy kiss by a relative stranger in a faraway land, and I was too polite to push off, but did not reciprocate. That is the extent of my outward (lack of) transgressions.

But in my mind, I felt that I have gone farther than any worldly standard would permit or condone. In the end, I gave in. I wanted to know what my fantasies actually feel like … even though my fantasies take no concrete and certain form. After about 6 months of research and discrete inquiries (if there is a will, there is a way), I signed up, was background-checked, and admitted to an underground club called the “Spotter’s Club”. It is located in a northeast suburb of the city, connected to a niche restaurant called “The Spot”. Along with admission, I was sent a brief and detailed email in a secured account, explaining the basic procedures of the club, which you will see shortly. All that is left for me to do is to request a day. After about two weeks of un-ending mental struggle, I clicked the submit button almost out of sheer desperation. The next screen came up and said, “Welcome to the Spotter’s Club. This is your first time. Please select a spotter”. A few black and white images came up. They were shadow and outlines of people, both men and women. I cannot make out any face. I was so panicked at that stage that I picked the first name I recognize. “Katie”. I liked that name, perhaps. I think I once knew someone named Katie in high school, or maybe it was at work. It sounds familiar, reassuring perhaps. She was a nice person. I don’t know. I had to pick something and shut down that screen and close up the laptop (even though I am securely in my own office on the 9th floor of the university, on a day when most students are in recess.) I forgot the name Katie almost as soon as I selected it.

I waited anxiously for a few days, checking the secure site a dozen times a day to see if my invitation is finalized. Then, on a cold winter afternoon, the notice came. “You are requested at the Spotter’s Club this evening. You have selected to be a user. Your spotter is Katie. Please make the necessary preparations.”

Again, the name Katie didn’t mean a thing to me. The word “user” ran through my mind and gave me shivers. I trembled as I made my preparation, which, according to the instructions, included washing, bathing, and self-administer enema with a warm water and vinegar solution, and even a 30-minute stretch routine. I removed every identifier from my body, watch, ring, and placed them in a box and put them under my clothes in the dresser. I put on clean underwear and threw on non-descript jeans and pull-over sweater. With my hair still damp, I ventured onto the streets and waited for a bus. (I have a car, but the thought of driving my car and parking it there is crazy.) The damp hair almost froze in the winter chill and, though I almost never have headaches, I got one now. I pulled my hood over my head, and wishes I could just disappear and re-appear at the appointed place. The instructions and procedures ran over in my mind in obsessive cycles. I feel like I have so many questions, but when I try to think of one specific question, I cannot — everything step is so clearly spelled out.

I got off the bus one stop earlier. I am not familiar with this part of the town, but I have studied google map for hours to keep staring at the same blocks. I found my way towards the Spot. By then it was about dinner time, and the restaurant was filling up. I lowered my head and walked quickly by the windows. Some of the guests in there, I had read, will make their way to the basement as bidders. I am unlikely going to know anyone, or anyone would know me. But I felt the panic in my stomach. Still, as I rushed by, I couldn’t help but peek in. There were men and women well dressed typical of your niche restaurant in the suburbs, young and middle-aged.

I walked around the block. Behind what seemed apartment units and a fire escape ladder suspended over my head, was an unmarked door. This too, was clearly described in the instruction. There is a number key on the door. I punched in the code I had memorized over and over again in my head, and twisted the knob. The door opened. I went in quickly and shut it behind me.

It was suddenly quiet. It was warm too. The door behind felt heavy and insulated when it shut. I am standing in a warmly but dimly lit hallway. There were no doors on either side. I walked forward, and at the end was a wall plate, much like the ones in hotels directing you to your rooms. My room number was to the right. So I went, opened the door, and locked it behind me. I am in a very small room. A thick dark curtain divided me from the other half of the room. There was a locker and other shelves on my side. Neatly folded on a bench was a stack of things I had read about. Sitting on top was a blindfold gear. I picked it up … it is made out of dark and thick fabric, with a nice stretch. It almost looked like a swimmer’s cap, but thicker and of course, longer, so that it would cover your eyes. I tried it on my head, and pulled it down over my eyes to the middle of the bridge of my nose. It was pitch black. I tried to look down, but it had sealed off the space on the two sides of my nose that I could not see a thing. I took it off again.

Though the small changing room is very warm, I was shivering and shaking. I tried to take a few deep breaths and calm myself down. I deliberately tried to take off my clothes slowly, and folding each piece and putting them away on the shelves. When I was naked, I sat down, holding and folding the blind fold nervously in my hand. There was not a sexual rush through my body. My penis lay almost limp in between my legs, on the bench. I suddenly felt naked and embarrassed at my own body, not that the light was even bright enough to see any details.

I had a slightly-above average body in strictly physical terms. I was lean. Not because I ate well or exercise, but more genetics. For years I was active in sports, but have given up since the kids came along. I am about 5’10″, and weighs between 150 to 155 lbs for the last few years. If I drew a breath and hold it and lift my shoulders, I had a reasonably flat stomach. No six packs, just toned muscles behind a layer of fat that comes from getting older, not working out, and having a family. My thighs were the most muscular part of my body because of the mostly running sports I used to do. But in daylight, I looked somewhat pale because of the lack of exposure to any real sunlight. But at the moment, all I saw was my flaws. As I sat, I looked woefully at my belly which seems to me to be hanging out (in reality, only barely), I looked at my penis, which, in its limp state, seem so small and weak (in reality, it is about medium). Though I cannot see, I was imagining the white pale thighs.

Because I had no watch, I had to guess the time. I knew that my part would start at 7 pm. The bus dropped me off around 6:25 PM, so it should be about 10 minutes away now. I fumbled through the rest of the stuff laid on my bench. There were some soft silky ropes, some standard buckles that you might see in the window of a sex boutique store, a ball gag. I had never used any of these on myself (except some form of ropes). They did not look particularly interesting. The blind fold cap, however, seemed to me the most interesting thing. I was going to try it on again.

Suddenly, I heard movement on the other side of the curtain and almost jumped and dropped my blindfold. Someone clearly had come in. I took a deep breath. This was part of the procedure. My spotter was supposed to come and make sure I was ready, and then take me to the bidding floor. Katie was her name, I suddenly remembered it for the first time since this afternoon.

I heard her moving around on the other side, also changing. I didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t talking either. I tried to remember everything I read about the spotter. The spotter was the person that facilitated the whole process between bidders and users. Specifics aside, they were to guide you through, make sure you were okay with what was being done, they “spot” you when you were in the middle of it to make sure you were safe, and then they came at the end to help you recover. From what I read, the way the whole thing works was that you could chose to be users or spotters. Actually, no, you had to be users and spotters. You had to alternate. Supposedly it kept the spotters sharp because they were users themselves. So they knew what’s going on. There was no “safe word” here. Because of the bondages, gags, and other things involved, the instruction said that safe word system was too difficult to manage. So you had to trust your spotter to see something wrong and stop the action when you yourself couldn’t.

As I recalled all these, I felt a panic. Obviously, the spotter had a huge role to play here, and I hadn’t even thought about this person — I didn’t even know who she was. I did read that, first timers were assigned experienced spotters. After your first time, you could request specific spotters (as well as being requested to serve as a spotter.)

Before I could fret much further, she spoke.

“Hi! Are you there?”

She spoke softly. She had a nice voice. Not cold or professional or pretend like the kind you’d hear in a porn flick. Just a normal person’s voice … like a nice waitress, a colleague, or just a friend.

“I am. … Hi.” I could barely speak. My throat felt stuck and shut. I cleared my throat.

“I am your spotter.” She said, and then with a smile in her voice, she added, “I guess you know that.”

“Um … yes, I do.” I tried to put a smile in my voice. It sounded stupid.

“Well, I know this is your first time. I’ll talk you through. But if I am giving you too much instruction, just let me know and I’ll stop.” She continued.

“Yes, sure. No, not too much instructions … I mean, I would like some instruction.” I stumbled through my words.

“I’ll make sure you are okay.” She said, with an emphasis of reassurance.

“Yes, I know.” These were the first words that came out of my mouth that sounded normal. But then again, I felt the need to lighten the atmosphere and added, “It’s not your first time.”

She said nothing. And I felt totally stupid.

After a few moments, she said, “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” I stood up.

“Blindfold please.” She said, “You know, you won’t see anyone tonight. You won’t even see me. And no one here will see you without your blindfold.”

“Yes.” I said, pulling the blindfold cap over my head. Now it is darkness.

“Can I open the curtain now?” She says.

“Yes.” I took a breath, drew my stomach flat, and stood erect. I can feel my penis rising slightly, and wished that it did not. I didn’t want to look like a pervert. This seemed as professional a relationship as any that would come across me in broad daylight.

I heard the curtain rings move above my head, and I felt the presence of a person in the cramped changing room. She put her hand around my head, checked and adjusted the blindfold.

“Looks good.” She said. Then I heard her touching the accessories. “Now, I am going to keep most of these in the room, and will help you to get them on if the bidder requests. The only thing I am going to put on you is this buckle. It’s going to be a little tight.”

I remember this part of the instruction. I was to be buckled at the root of my penis, behind my balls. Supposedly, it was to prevent nervous newcomers from ejaculation during handling and touching during the auction in the early part of the evening.

I heard her snap on robber gloves. This strangely felt like a doctor’s office. My penis was rising and hardening, and I can’t mentally make it go down.

I felt her rubber-gloved fingers around my pelvis. She strapped a buckle around the end of my balls to the root of my penis. At her touch, my penis was nearly fully erect. But she went about her work very professionally and gently, without any extra or unnecessary movement or touching. She held my balls with her fingers as she adjusted where the buckle was. The buckle was rubber and did not poke into my skin.

“Okay, it’s going to be a little tight.” She warned me, and then pulled the straps. I felt my balls and penis tied together, and blood running towards the swollen head.

“It’s going to be a little uncomfortable,” she said, “But in a few minutes you will feel a little numb there, and you won’t feel so strangled.”

“Thank you.” That was the most I could do.

“Okay. It’s only going to be a few minutes. Would you like to sit down and wait?” She said.

I had no preference. I just sat down.

She sat down right next to me. I could hear her playing with the rest of the buckles in her hand. I could feel the fabric of her clothes. They were soft but not silky. I cannot feel any part of her skin. She was clearly dressed. I could feel her warmth. It was comfortable. For a few seconds now, I had completely forgotten the strap at the base of my penis. A numbness did settle in, and the penis, while not entirely limp, was no longer standing at attention.

Then she stood up. “It’s time.”

I stood up as well.

“I am going to strap your hands behind your back,” she instructed, and then we will put a loose collar on your neck. I’ll be leading you by a leash down the hallway. Just walk straight.”

I nodded.

Almost trying to make an excuse for the slightly cheesy procedure, she added, “That’s just how they do it here.”

She buckled my hands behind my back firmly, put on my collar, and latched the leash. I heard the door open, and felt the tug of the leash, so I followed. She walked steadily in front of me, and I had no uncertainty as to direction. The leash was sure, but not tight. The blindfold again was very good. I couldn’t even see the variations of light as I walked down the same hallway through which I came. I could hear other footsteps, but no heels or stomping. Soft footsteps, and the clinking of the leash against the collar from other people who were walking in front or behind me. Then we came to a stop.

She leaned over and whispered to my ear, “You are going on the bidding stage next. I’ll take you there, and then I’ll come back to get you.” She whispered probably because I am the only first-timer here. Her voice and her breath against my ear felt comforting … and safe.

The procession (in my imagination) went through a doorway of sorts. I could hear more noises, and sensed that I was now in a much bigger room. I heard the clinking of the glass or movement of at least a small crowd. The air was still warm, but not the still, motionless air in the little changing closet or the hallway. I kept my eyes shut inside the blindfold (though opening them would hardly have made any difference.)

Katie took me to a pre-determined spot, and without saying a word, unhooked the leash, and then she was gone.

I suddenly felt naked and exposed again. I opened my eyes, and could vaguely see dim light coming through the blindfold. My ears were sensitive and picking up the noises and the hushed conversations around me. My thoughts turned to all the imperfections of my own body. My penis was numb and I felt the tightness of the strap. I tried to think about something else … and the only thing that came to mind was Katie. I ran through my mind the process so far, and imagined her coming back to take me down the hallway again. Though I had come all this way for the so called main event, but for whatever reason, the main event was not on my mind.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” a male voice through a microphone declared, “you have five minutes for the inspection, and then the silent bidding begins.”

I heard footsteps all around, and then I heard people moving closer to me. I sensed that I was perhaps standing on a stage, with others to the left and the right, bound and strapped like me. I heard both men’s and women’s voices. Some lingered in front me, some moved past easily. I felt some hands touching different parts of my body, in a polite way. No groping. Just touching and feeling. Down my back. Lifting my buttock cheeks. A finger running along the crack between my cheeks. I felt a woman’s long finger nails under my strapped balls. I felt a man’s hand over my chest, his fingers circling my nipples, which were swollen and sensitive to touch. I heard whispers and comments about me and the others being inspected. And then, as if on cue, the crowd moved farther away and judging by the noises seemed to have seated.

The silent auction began. I heard the clicking above my head, like a spotlight. And I heard some movements in the audience, perhaps people signaling their bidding. And quickly, the gavel closed the first deal. The spotlight moved down the line with more clicking and the process started again.

Not too long afterwards, I felt the warmth of the spotlight over my naked body. I knew the attention was now on me. I subtly tried to straighten myself. I hear the sound of silent bidding. And like others, the gravel fell. A few more iterations, I heard the spotlight clicking off. The audience was moving again, and I felt a familiar hand hooking the leash up to my collar, and leading me down the hallway with all the others. This time, there was no instruction.   Chapter 2. The User

We went back to the changing closet, and she closed the door behind me, latched it. She led me through the black curtains, and through what seems another door, and I had the distinctive feeling that I was in a bigger room. She unhooked my collar, I could feel her hair and her face just in front of my blindfold. She walked around me to untie my wrist.

“You can relax now.” She said, “You have at least 10 minutes.”

I “relaxed”, bringing my hands to the front and rubbing my wrists.

“I didn’t do it too tight, did I?” She said with a genuine concern.

“Oh, no. You … you were perfect.” I actually didn’t know why I was rubbing my wrist. It was something to do.

“By the way, for your first time, you did well.” She said. I hear a slight smile in her voice, in my darkness.

“I was nervous.” I said something honest at last.

“I know.” She said, “I still am, when I go to the auction.”

She paused. Then came a knock on the door. She went, and came back with papers in her hand.

“These are the bidder’s requests.” She said.

I nodded. I have read about that part. The winning bidder, or bidders, can make a list of requests, and I have the option to say yes or no to each of them, and I can choose to leave if I want to.

“I am going to read these to you. You can interrupt any time, you can refuse or say yes, and if you need further clarification, I will ask for a written communication from the bidder.” She said these fluently, as if she was going through flight safety instructions on an airplane.

“Can I sit?” I asked.

“Oh, sure.” She came over, holding my elbow and back, lowered me down. I could feel her hand, and the fabric of her sleeves stretched tightly over her arm. I was sitting on the edge of a firm bed and fresh and crisp sheets.

She sat down next to door. I could feel her weight, indirectly, by feeling how the sheets stretch.

“This is a group.” She began, “There are three men.”

She paused, and waited. I had nothing to say. My mind was racing, but I was eager to hear the rest.

“Here are what they have checked off,” she said, and proceeded to read off a checked list.

“Blow jobs for all three.”


“Ejaculation on face or body.”


“Hands tied.”

“Anal. One at a time. Changing positions.”

“Submissive style.”


I finally interrupted, “What is that?”

“Oh, I am sorry … it’s pre-lubrication. I am used to the abbreviation.” She apologized. “Sometimes bidders would prefer not to do the lubrication themselves, so I would prepare you ahead of time.”

“Okay.” I nodded.

She flipped through her paper. “I think that’s all. What do you think?”

“I am okay.” I said.

“You sure?”


“Okay.” She signed off something on the paper. “Let’s get ready then.”

She stood up, and went outside the room to get something. She came back, and I heard the rubber gloves snap on.

“Do you want to be on your back, and front?” She said.

I wasn’t sure.

“… for the pre-lube, I mean, pre-lubrication.” She clarified.

“Oh. Right.” I said … and still unsure, I laid down on the bed, and with some hesitation, spread my knees apart. I don’t know what she can see. I sensed, though cannot be sure, that the light was dim in this room.

I felt her putting one knee on the bed and felt her weight. She rubbed her gloved hands and I can hear the sound the rubber. Then, she spread an oily gel from the base of my balls, still in straps, all the way to my anal entry.

She got more gel, and this time, with one or two fingers, she stretched out my anus. I voluntarily lifted my hips to help her.

“Oh, thanks.” She said, as she inserted her fingers into my anus. She lubricated the inside by turning her fingers. Pulling out, she repeated it a few times.

“Do you think you need more?” She asked.

“No, I am okay.” I said.


She looked through the papers again. “They want your hands strapped behind your back to start. And they want you to start on your knees.”

I sat up, and then stood up. I could feel where her fingers had been … or the absence of them. She strapped my hands behind my back. Leading me by my arms, she helped me to kneel down, one leg at a time.

“All set.” Her voice lowered. “Do you need anything?”

“No. Thank you.” I said.

“I … “, she cleared her throat, “I am going to leave now. I am right next door. And I am going to see everything. I’ll make sure they don’t do anything that is not on the list. And when they are done, I’ll come back to clean you up.”

I nodded, too nervous to speak.

She lowered herself in front of me, and put a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll be here. The whole time. Okay?”

I nodded again.

She stood up, and I heard her footsteps moving away, and a door closed and opened. I am alone.

This was the “user” part of the experience. This was the main event. As you probably had gathered for now, individuals who were users were inspected by bidders, and bought. The money actually went directly to the club. The spotters and the users were unpaid entirely. This sidesteps some legal issues, I suspect. The “user” was actually a bit of a misnomer. From the description, it was more like “the used”. Once the main session began, the only thing between the user and the bidder(s) is the spotter, who could stop the action any time if she determined that something was not right. That’s all.

I was not alone for very long.

I heard the door open, and multiple people entered, and I heard the door latched behind them.

The bidders walked around the room, and I heard their coats come off. They walked around me … I felt being looked at, but not yet touched.

Now, perhaps a note of explanation would help. I was not gay. I had never been gay. I was once kissed hard by a man, who invited me to bed. I politely declined. In my fantasies, I thought of gay experiences sometimes. In reality, I had seldom been physically drawn to a man, gay or otherwise. But the thought of being used, by men, had always been intriguing to me. I knew that, as a user, I did not get to pick who the bidder was. But in my fantasies building up to this moment, I had somehow always envisioned the first experience to be with men. And so it was.

I heard belts unbuckling. I heard people sitting down.

A male voice in front of me commanded, “Come over here. On your knees.”

I walked on my knees towards the voice.


I stopped.

“Suck me.” The voice commanded.

I felt a hand on the back of my head, lowering me. Instinctively, I opened my mouth, and soon a fleshy, not yet bone hard, penis was in my mouth. I tried to wrap my lips around it. It felt big. I did not have time to think that this was my first experience of sucking on an actual penis.

I sucked on the head of the penis, and feel it swell. As I sucked, the inside of my mouth seems to expand, and able to take in a little more. I could feel the veined shaft under the swollen head, and I licked the downside of his penis with my tongue. I tried to take more in, as I feel the pressure from the hand on the back of my head. My mouth felt full, but I could still breathe. My saliva was flowing.

My head bopped to a steady rhythm. I couldn’t quit tell when his hand was driving it, or following it … and soon, even if I had wanted to change pace, I couldn’t. He held my head low enough that, even when I bob up, the entire head of his penis was still in my mouth.

I felt another hand, from a different person, on my shoulder. A third hand started to run down my back. I feel some pre-cum oozing from the slit opening of the penis, diluted and salty, I tried to swallow and mix it with my saliva.

“Swallow it. I am coming.” My bidder said.

I prepared myself.

He tensed up. His penis hardened even more than before. His hand was moving fast, and with each downward push, I felt his penis at the back of my throat (in reality, it probably was not that deep, but it felt that way). I was on the edge of gagging, but not yet.

He grunted, and he leaned forward. Pressing my head down onto his penis, he started to shift and pump in his chair. It was more like a rocking than a mouth-fucking that I had seen in videos. With more grunt, and a louder one, he ejaculated. It was warm, thick, and the first few streams went almost straight into my throat, and before I could think of to swallow, my mouth started to fill up. He held my head tight, and I held my own breath. I feel his semen filing up my mouth, and seeping out from the corner. Gradually, the coming stopped, though his penis was just as hard. I can feel him collapsing into the chair, his hand off my head. I slowly pulled my head up, and with my mouth full of cum, I swallowed. It went down, and not easily.

“You guys’ turn.” My first bidder generously passed me on.

“Get up.” I hear a voice coming from behind me. I stood up, one knee at a time. I felt the sticky cum around my face and my mouth. A firm and strong hand grabbed on my arm and led me towards where the bed is. With a push, I felt face down into the bed, my penis hanging off the edge of the bed, and my feet still on the ground.

I felt his hand on my butt, and his finger probed to find my anus. He swirled around a little, and was satisfied with the lubrication.

With a hand holding my lower back down, he used his foot to spread my legs wider. Then I felt a wandering hardened penis finding its way around my butt. He rubbed it against my strapped balls and ran the head along the crack of my butt. Then, he focused in on my anus, and aligned himself.

He pushed.

It felt very big. I felt my anus tightening instead of relaxing, and he pushed harder. He found the opening, and pushed again. I let out a whimper, but tried to keep myself as quietly as possible.

“Tight ass.” He said, chuckling to his friends.

“Stretch it for me!” Retorted another, the third person.

He realigned, and pushed again … and this time, his head parted my tight opening and went inside. It was painful. I felt my skin down there was tearing. I buried my face into the sheets, and tried not to be heard.

He pushed steadily, hard, but not brutal, until I felt stretched even farther apart and deeper. I cannot tell how far he was in, but it felt how far as my body could allow it. He stopped, taking a breath, and started to pull out. And about half-way out, he pushed in again.

The fucking began.

He fucked away. Steadily, no rush, but not slow either. I tried to turn my head to the side to breathe. My hands still strapped behind my back. My legs were barely standing, but wedged against the bed. He put both of his hands on my hips, and fucked my ass with a steady rhythm. It was full. It was painful. I couldn’t feel my penis, except for when his hips grinded my hips, pushing my penis against the bed.

I heard a grunt behind my back. I felt him lifting me up by my strapped arms. I am now standing, sort of. I was barely on my feet, and the only thing that’s supporting me was the swollen penis impaled inside me. As my weight inevitably shifted onto that, the penis penetrated even deeper into me. I started to breathe loudly with my mouth open, trying to avoid crying out.

Almost half lifting me on top of his body, he fucked me standing up. My thighs, now tighter together, put even greater pressure onto his penis, and he sped up to almost a ramming speed, with thrust accompanied by a deep grunt.

“Ahhhh …” His grip on my arms tightened like a vice, his body shuddered, and he pushed in as deep as he could. I felt his penis throbbing. I cannot feel his cum. The pain had numbed much of other sensations inside me. He thrashed and thrusted for a while, to finish the job.

“Man!” He pulled out with a final declaration, and pushed me back onto the bed. I laid face down on the bed, breathing heavily to recover myself. My anus felt stretched and raw, and hollow — from his pull-out. I could feel cum dripping down one side of my thigh, sticky, warm.

“Okay! All yours.” My second bidder passed me forward.

“Um …” I could hear the last one walking around, “What do I want? What do I want?” He asked himself.

I lay completely still, awaiting my verdict.

Then I feel him fumbling with my strapped hands. He untied me.

“On your knees.”

I pushed myself off the bed, with arms sore from being bent all this time. I knelt down at the end of the bed. I could feel him standing over me.

“Use your hands.” He said. “Suck me.”

I reached up, and finding both his thighs at the same time. They were thick, hairy, and firm. I clasped my hands toward the middle, and found the base of his balls. They were hairy and large. Moving along, I traced the shaft, and found myself holding a thick, hard penis. Inching my knees forward, the penis was at my head level. I opened my mouth to run my tongues around his head, as I have seen in videos, but have never done. Meanwhile, I put one hand under his ball sack, with my middle finger near the space between his balls and his anus, full of bushy pubic hair. My other hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, and with a soft grip, I started to stroke his skin up and down.

“Suck it!” He dictated.

I wrapped my whole mouth around the head of his penis. Raising my body upon by releasing one knee, I started to bop my mouth up and down his penis. I licked, slapping as much saliva on his penis as I could manage.

“Your finger. Work it in.”

I think I know what he meant. I reached up further, and stuck on finger into his anus.


I tried two … and pushed up. He tightened his muscles around my finger, as I started to stoke inside and out. I used my free thumb to rub against the underside of his genital as my fingers thrusted.

“Not bad.” He said … though he seems to have difficulty saying the words clearly. I can feel his muscles tighten everywhere.

This went on for a few minutes. I did begin to wonder if he was going to come. His penis was hard. Pre-cum seeps out.

“Okay. Stop.” He says.

I stopped, and pulled my mouth off his penis, and my fingers out of his anus. My other hand still clasping his shaft.

“I am going to sit down and you are going to ride me. Reverse cowgirl.”

He started to back up, and I followed him holding on to his penis. He sat down, and I turned myself around and reached for his penis again. Found it.

He put his hands on my butt, as I lowered myself onto him. With held breath, I pushed down on him as his swollen head entered me. He was at least as big as the last one, but thick all the way. As I lowered myself, he didn’t push. I went down about half way, and couldn’t push any further because of the splitting pain. I rose a few inches without taking him out, and pushed down again. With a few tries, he went in as far as it seemed to be able to go.

“Wow. Still tight.” He said to his friend.

“Nice,” was the reply.

Once he was in, he started to move my hips up and down. I held to his knees to support myself, and started to ride him. It still hurts, but not as bad as when I was face down on the bed. Somehow, having control of the pace helped a great deal.

It did not take too long, perhaps a few minutes … he started to grunt, his hands are tighter on my hips, and I started to hold his penis by the tip on the rise, and thrust down as much as I can within the limits of my pain tolerance.

That apparently worked very well for him. He exploded on one of my downward pushes, and grabbed my hips hard and slammed me down onto himself as he came. Because I could cry out in pain, he lifted my hips up and slammed me down again. It was hard fucking. I could not hold back my own whimper.

“Ahhh … Ahhh! … Ahhh!” I lost my awareness of my surrounding. All I can feel was his penis in me, deeper and deeper each time, tearing me, throbbing, and squirting with each throb.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He shouted loudly, and seemed to come much longer than the other two. Or maybe he kept going after he was done. When he finally put me down and I sat back down on his thighs, still impaled, and holding onto his knees, shaking from my arms to my legs. His penis softened. I started to stand up, and he slipped out with another grunt.

I was barely standing, and shaking.

“Clean me off.” He said, not so much as a command, but as a matter-of-fact request.

I turned around, kneeled down, and felt for his penis. It was still thick, though limp. I put it in my mouth, and, ignoring the different smells and taste that seem to come together on my tongue, I licked and cleaned him with my mouth.

“Okay.” He finally said. “You are done.”

I climbed up, stepped back. Not knowing what to do next, I stepped back awkwardly, and reached for the bed to sit down.

The men, all three of us, seemed to have forgotten me entirely. I heard them pulling up pants, and chatting amongst themselves (but not about this). And within minutes, they left the room, and I heard the door close behind them.

I climbed myself onto the bed, and curled up in a fetal position, and feeling the overwhelming throbbing and tearing pain in my ass, and feeling the stickiness on my face, between my legs, and the mixed smell of my three bidders.

That was when, for the first time since the session began, I remembered Katie and remember that fact that she had been watching in the next time, this entire time.

  Chapter 3. Recovery

The least described was the so-called “recovery” procedures following the session. The instruction I received seem to imply that it is something to be worked out between the spotter and the user, and there were very little explicit guidelines set, not even on the length of time. A user could sleep and rest in the bed till early morning, before he or she decides to re-enter the world above.

I laid there, wondering what this all meant. The door opened.

“Hi.” It was Katie.

“Hi.” I replied, not moving. I didn’t think there was any position I’d like to be seen right now, so no adjustments or moving could improve it.

I heard the sound of water splashing inside a container. I felt her climbing onto the bed, and then the feel of a warm soft wash cloth. She first wiped my face, the back of my neck, and wiping that stickiness that felt stuck on my face.

Then, rinsing the wash cloth, she wiped my thighs, my balls, and my swollen anus. The warmth made the pain more acute there, but I wouldn’t trade that warmth.

While I was alone a minute ago, I felt the rush of shame, pain, guilt, embarrassment, humiliation, regret throughout my body, and anticipated that I would feel much worse in the presence of Katie, who had witnessed the entire session. But instead, her presence seemed to have gently lifted all of that off me, as she gently wiped me down. Her presence, her motion, was neither done with a detached professional air, nor in any way sexual. She simply was. Maybe I wanted to feel that way … but there was an easy acceptance that came from her. It was not that sort of condescending acceptance like “oh, you poor miserable sinner, I forgive you”, but a camaraderie, more like, “you don’t have to say anything, you don’t have to justify anything … you are here. I am too.”

I felt the urge to see her, to touch her … not to have her, just to know her.

I laid still, and turned my body and moved my legs to give her space. She did a second wipe down. I am still aching and parts of my body were still throbbing with pain. But I felt clean.

“I’ll be right back.” She climbed off the bed, and I heard her putting away the bucket in the next room. Then she came back, sat on the bed. I felt her lean down, perhaps on her elbow. In the darkness, I could still feel her looking at me. I grew slightly self-conscious.

“How would you like to recover?” She asked. “What can I do?”

I never thought of that question. Even when I pre-read the instructions, this was a part that never occurred to me to think through. My thoughts and obsessions had been with the session itself, and “recovery” almost meant “the end”. But now I see why there was a recovery period. Of course, the body needed it. But something much deeper, much more insecure and unsure, needed it too.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This was written as a joke in response to being woken up by my lover who was, well, in midst of — uhm — the deed … all unbeknownst to me. I woke up all kind of confused and I slapped him (kinda hard). He was all indignant, then got all spooked and apologized (ahem, after we’d finished), stating he thought it would be cute to wake me up like that. Entitlement is a funny thing at 4:30am though.


It’s okay if they don’t fight back, he recited to himself feeling the limp body over his shoulder and his growing erection straining against his acid washed, Guess jean waist. He hefted her weight over his shoulder and she flopped down on the table groaning incoherently. She mumbled something about the metal lamps overhead being shiny as he stretched her left leg over the stirrup and strapped it in, only to do a half turn and repeating with the other leg in relevant silence. She was naked already except for a blanket that he had wrapped around her but it now failed to protect her exposed sex. As any good boyfriend would have done, he had wrapped her to protect her modesty but now was no time for modesty. The breeding was to begin.

Tyler — at least what he’d decided to call himself here — really did love her but knew, deep down, that their mutual love for each other was dangerous. When he began to mistake their love making for a real human relationship it was time to impregnate, imprison and move on. She had no free will under the power of his race. Sure, he was hominid but his race was long dying and their time tables had shifted to a matter of priorities verses sensibility. Offspring were important to the tribal leaders than love or emotion, just as were the female vessels they needed to conceive their young and no woman had been born to his people since the Great Tainting. It was earth’s women that held the key to their survival. They were the queens of tomorrow; willing or not.

Adele was the prime of that type, a young black haired and blue eyed beauty with great lineage, prime in her health, well-educated and perfect in all the many ways he needed her to be. Her figure was chiseled and yet accented with fine curves that in the fleshy-tan of her body, soaked only in the bright Hawaii sun, she was a marvel to behold. And, yet, her fated quality was that she was alone. Having left her comfortable nest, two thousand miles away from home, and working long hours to live in paradise, it had taken him months to even land a date with her, months to court her, and now he was going to reap his wild reward.

Her birth control he’d sabotaged with sugar pills and he’d been cooking dinner for weeks, priming her with enough hormones to stimulate the ovulation he needed. At night he’d prick her very gently for a drop of blood off from her finger while she slept under his hypnotic gaze and tonight he knew she was ovulating.

Tonight she’d get no choice, and he grieved for that fact, that she was another missing person poster amongst a mass of nobodies. But her reality would change. It was a price the best had to pay and he was no longer capable of empathy when the ends truly justified his means.

He shifted around her, opening the blanket and exposing her breasts in his ship’s operations room. Very coldly he conducted his prep business, as he made his logs and adjusted her. Then he undressed.

Cold hard muscle crawled out of his layers of clothes, linking each frame of his body in smooth transition to the next. By the time he’d stripped to his boxers his erection was shifting up out of the elastic waist band like a big purple flare, the second head, which fell just above his testes was smaller, but it was meant to stimulate the anus as well. He was not small; but she’d taken him before — although he’d never exposed his dual genitalia to her.

He stepped forwards and took a side instrument, a long and slender colon cleaner, and he used a lube bottle’s contents to prepare it liberally. He took some excess and he found her anus with his finger, very gently applying pressure and lubricating the opening. When pleased with that he took the soft but firm head of the contraption and very easily slipped it into her.

She gasped and her head lurched up, blue eyes rolling with a, “Please…” But her protest was cut short by a long stare and a bead of sweat formulated on his forehead.

Adele was as strong willed woman, but not strong enough as the head if the chrome-shimmering machine popped past her sphincter and was announced with a pleasurable groan out of Adele. Using a hand pressurizer he expanded the side bulbs in the contraption to lock it in place as she wriggled in her restraints. Then he clicked on the water.

It took a few moments before the pain hit her, as her bowels flooded with a soapy water mixture. As quick as it hit, it fell away with the pleasure of being able to pass the water while he drained her bowels.

For fifteen minutes he proceeded to repeat the procedure, until he was satisfied to her cleanliness and the state of arousal at the enema process compelled. Finally he released the pressure knot inside, withdrew the instrument, and set it back to its compartment. His own fluids, now dribbling out the head of his penis, coated his shafts and balls. He wanted to take her and the pheromones produced let him know she was ripe and ready at such a response.

First he slipped in two of his fingers into the folds of her labia, working them slowly upwards to feel the glands respond.

She shot up, “NO!” Her eyes dilating rapidly as she screamed and thrashed. He withdrew his fingers suddenly and felt her buck under him. He gritted his teeth realizing she was aware of his assault.

Guilt and shame shot through his being and his lips quivered. His hesitation was enough of a tell but his pride and his mission were of more potent strength. This could not fail.

“I am so sorry, Adele. I love you — I do. But to be together is impossible. You have to bear the burden of being chosen; I’ve tainted you. No man, no other man can give you a family. I’ve had you Adele, I’ve made your body change in great ways,” he held her thrashing frame down at the waist and his arms coiled around her then, up her ribs and cradled her neck. “I’m not here of this world, love.”

He shot a look at her that put her back down hard in the physical paralyzed state again but her eyes still shifted and watered as she focused on him.

“Listen,” he growled, guilt and frustration trembled in his intonation, but moreover he was inwardly amazed at her resilience. “I found you. You are mine for the sake of my peoples. Don’t forget that I love you but my burdens are your burdens now.”

Tyler gave no time for her to respond as she started shifting again. He first positioned his main shaft and slammed it into her causing her to gasp. He was big and knew how to use it against any woman. She clamped down over him like a vice grip and he shifted his arm under her as he withdrew slightly. This time her asshole, resolved to the previous assault, opened just enough to wedge the head in and then he bucked his hips forward causing Adele to scream. There was no patience or slowness this time. He began assaulting both holes without mercy and with great physical enjoyment.

The mental anguish he experienced was more than he really could stand though. Her eyes plead with him for a general explanation and her body, yet, betrayed the fact she was in love with him still. The passion and fire shot through her only to be soured in confusion and a frustrating inability as his mind and a bunch of straps kept her locked to the procedural table.

She cringed and her eyes flickered at him, but she truly felt the pang of sex run deep up her spine warping her mind to how deep he always went, how big he was and how fantastic sex had always felt with him. Even now he betrayed her and it still felt the same awesome pleasure. It raced across her inner thighs and her nipples rippled in hardening shock. Although the emotional violation sent her reeling and rage kept her ability to break through to him, she still loved this strange man in his confusing and mad antics.

Adele’s own hips bucked back against him spontaneously — but not trying to rhythmically merge their thrusts. No, she was trying to escape the metal table, the leg stirrups and the mind hold he had over her.

She offered herself to him – offered her love to him, her life, her feelings, her emotions. Was it a mistake?, she wondered. Each thrust confused her more just as his own mind-control over her slipped away in the throes of his love making — or was it still a breeding? — he shuddered and she shuddered against him. Their conjoined orgasm was building to a powerful crescendo. The tempo increased as she felt the sliding of his massive dual organ press home into her. When he thrust the final time she cried out while his concentration snapped away from him.

They writhed together an she grabbed for his face, her lips latching onto his for a split second and she felt her belly contract as his seed bed down into her womb with immeasurable force and a different type of physical bliss. For a few moments the orgasms kept coming — harder and faster than anything she’d ever felt in her life. It was spontaneous, wonderful and a beautiful in a bizarre way.

When she looked at his face, a spinning whirl of emotional distress, she ran her hand across his cheek to mop up the tears he bled.

She loved him. She really did. That was why forgiveness bled out of her being for even this type of action — a seemingly great big betrayal. Granted, he deserved a punishment for all of it… So she picked her hand off his wet cheek and swatted him across his face. The clap it made echoed in the big star ship walls and then a glow of red instantly charred his pale features.

He looked shocked and then his face furrowed as her grinning face glared up at him. With a sigh she simply said, “You could’ve just ASKED.”

July 2018
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