Commodities

Root Hollow: Part 1

Thu, 19 Sep 2024 16:07:42 +0000

College girl has to move home and makes a risky decision.

Based on a post by Baztrachian, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Kelsey had been doing pretty good after graduating from junior college. She’d landed a decent job with a promising California company two years prior and she’d been dating a coworker and that was looking good too. The tall and slim redhead fit in well with the Silicon Valley fashion scene and she rather enjoyed being able to pull off some of the more interesting styles. Back at home she was just called ‘skinny’.

Then the state government made some arbitrary environmental rules about some random thing and the next thing she knew her potential boyfriend was gone and she was out of a job. The possibilities of another job were remote as every firm in her field of expertise was either in retreat or facing bankruptcy.

The paltry savings she had didn’t last long, and all too soon she had to give her car back to the bank, vacate her apartment, and then catch a bus to her mother’s new place in Newton County, Arkansas. As the long ride home took days, Kelsey had too much time to lament her current state. The seat which seemed tolerable for the first few hours, proved intolerable for the first long night. She had to transfer busses in LA. Five hours later, her next bus departed for along journey thru Arizona, then New Mexico and the Rio Grande region. She finally quit trying to sleep. It took four hours waiting in the Dallas station, from 3am to 7am, before she could board her 3rd bus; to travel thru Oklahoma. By the time she transferred to her 4th bus, in Tulsa, she was a complete zombie and every joint in her body was in pain. 54 arduous hours after leaving Silicon Valley, she was dumped off in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Her mother’s warm hug greeted her. As the two women loaded Kelsey’s bags into the truck bed, an onlooker might not recognize which of the two women was younger looking.

Shauna was in her forties, but healthy living and environment kept her complexion and body quite youthful. The mother’s peaceful countenance was therapeutic to a young Kelsey, whose anxieties were raging.

Newton County is in the Ozarks and actual towns are not really a thing there. “Root Hollow” was the unofficial name of the place where her mom, Shauna, landed after her divorce from Kelsey’s father. It wasn’t far from what was called the Ozark Grand Canyon so it was definitely beautiful even though few people lived there.

When Kelsey finally made it to Shauna’s place, she walked up the steps and was greeted by a big man who was sitting on the porch.

“Howdy, you must be Kelsey! I’m Jim!” he said as he stood up and went towards her.

Kelsey figured this was her mom’s boyfriend she’d heard about.

“Hi!” she smiled and held out her hand.

The big man smiled and gathered her up in a bear hug. “Your momma told me you’d be along. She didn’t tell me how pretty you were, though.”

He said this in all sincerity and Kelsey didn’t mind. Kelsey felt anything but ‘pretty’.

Jim helped her get her two bags into a spare bedroom and then he got Kelsey a tall glass of iced tea. Sweet tea, really.

They sat and chatted for a couple hours and Kelsey got to hear all about how Jim and Shauna met at the Kroger grocery store where Jim supervised the warehouse. He was gregarious and friendly and Kelsey saw what her mother liked about him. He was the polar opposite of Kelsey’s stern, disciplinarian father.

Shauna got up after she finished her version of the relationship. Kelsey was still quiet, but the ibuprofen was helping her joints recover from the 54 hour bus ride.

Jim added the facts that he would have added to Shauna’s narrative, then he explained the male rationale for the actions Shauna found humorous in the early days of their romance.

Then Shauna announced that dinner was made. The evening conversation was incredibly pleasant and Kelsey saw even more of what her mother liked about Jim.

After the evening was over, the couple retreated to their bedroom and Kelsey retreated to hers. The cool early fall air wafted in through the bedroom window guaranteeing Kelsey a comfortable sleep.

During the night she heard a rhythmic sound and it woke her up. She also heard her mother’s whispered voice. Between the thin walls and the dead quiet of the night Kelsey realized that her mother was getting fucked by Jim.

Even though she understood that her mother had moved on from an unhappy marriage it was still significant to her that Shauna was fucking someone other than Kelsey’s father. And from the sound of it, Shauna was enjoying herself. After some time Kelsey could hear the two lovers reach their peak and then it was quiet again.

Jim was up and out the door for work well before sunrise.

In the morning, Kelsey and Shauna were making small talk over breakfast when Kelsey decided to 'go there’.

“I heard you and Jim last night.” she said to her mom.

“I suppose you did.”

“Are you happy with him?” asked Kelsey.

“I am. He’s a good man and he’s good for me. He’s also a hell of a lot better in bed than your father ever was.”

“Momma!” said a shocked Kelsey.

Shauna laughed, “I didn’t become a nun after your father and me broke up. But I will say your father was pretty cold and there were times he made me wish I’d been a nun.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

Shauna sipped her coffee. “I don’t know. It’s not a big priority really. I mean I been married, right? Now, maybe I want to not be married.”

Shauna put the coffee down. “We might even try for a baby.”

“Wow.” was all the response Kelsey could muster.

Kelsey considered that she’d been born to her mother at an early age so her mother’s baby years weren’t past her yet. And Jim was a couple or a few years younger than Shauna. It was a possibility.

She decided she liked the idea of having a sibling. Even one twenty-two years younger than herself.

That night when everyone had gone to bed Kelsey found herself thinking about Shauna and Jim in the next room. She was just starting to feel herself slipping off into a slumber when she heard activity from the next bedroom.

When the rhythmic sound started up she imagined Jim fucking her mother and mating with her. He was trying to get Shauna pregnant. Somehow that was arousing to Kelsey and she absently fingered her pussy as the tempo from the next room increased.

“Guh!” she heard Jim growl and she knew he was cumming in Shauna.

The next day saw Shauna going to the Kroger to apply for a job. She’d hitched a ride with a neighbor and figured on riding back with Jim.

Things were getting hard even for Kroger’s and Kelsey was told they’d keep her application on file in case something opened up.

On the way home Jim tried to cheer her up and Kelsey caught herself looking in the direction of the man’s crotch as he talked and drove. She wondered at the fact that his cock had been inside of her mother. She imagined it stroking in and out, and then spurting seed into Shauna’s womb.

“Hey, you awake?” asked Jim, stirring her from her reverie.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry, just lost in thought.”

He patted her back, “I understand. But don’t worry, you’ll find something to do soon enough, I’m sure.”

Except she didn’t. The economy was in a slide and tourism was off and that was the main money maker in Newton County. In short, no one was hiring.

Over the next couple months Kelsey kept looking for work and along the way she did the occasional odd job like cleaning for someone or helping at a local egg farm. It wasn’t big money but it was enough to keep her wallet from going empty.

Also over the next couple months Kelsey found herself listening to Jim and Shauna almost every night. She’d masturbate along with the sounds from the next room and then try to keep quiet when she’d orgasm. One night in November she failed to do that and the sudden silence in the room next door told her she’d been caught.

The next morning Jim was gone and she and her mom sat to chat.

“We heard you last night.” said her mom.

“Aw, shit, ” replied Kelsey.

“No, it’s okay. Nothing to be ashamed of. We both understand. You’re young, you need a man, and Root Hollow ain’t exactly the best place to meet anyone.”

There was a brief silence to digest the sizable facts that were now out in the open.

“You’re embarrassed.” said her mom.

“No, I’m, I’m, sorry.” Kelsey just couldn’t find any other words.

“Well, me and Jim we talked and if you ever want to give him a go then we’d both be okay with it.”

“Momma! But he’s your boyfriend!”

Her mom smiled, “Yeah, but he ain’t my husband and that kind of makes it okay. Or maybe not so bad. One of those for sure.”

Shauna stood up, “Well, I got things to do. You think about what I said and if it ever comes up then that’s fine. If it doesn’t then that’s fine too. Either way we’ll leave this here at the table, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am.” replied Kelsey.

Of course, this changed nothing at night when Kelsey would have to hear her mother getting fucked in the next room. Kelsey masturbated sometimes but the satisfaction started to feel empty.

Not long before Christmas Shauna announced that Kelsey was going to have a baby brother or baby sister.

Kelsey saw Jim looking at her while he hugged Shauna. His smile was understated and she could sense his thoughts.

Christmas Eve was when Kelsey’s family had always opened presents and so after dinner that night the trio gathered around their modest tree. Kelsey gave presents to Jim and to Shauna. Jim gave presents to Shauna and Kelsey.

Shauna however said that her present to both of them would come later.

When it was time for bed the trio went their different directions.

Shauna’s Gift-giving.

But about fifteen minutes after Kelsey got to bed she woke up with her mom gently shaking her shoulder.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I want to sleep in here tonight.” said Shauna.

Kelsey sat up a bit, “In here? With me? This isn’t that big a bed, momma.”

Shauna shook her head, “No, Just me.”

Kelsey was still half asleep and not grasping the idea. “Then where do I sleep?”

Shauna smiled, “With Jim. He’s waiting for you. I’m giving him to you and I gave you to him.”

“Holy shit, I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Shauna stood up and took off her robe. She was naked under the robe, which was how she would sleep with Jim most nights.

“You can use my robe if you want.”

“What?” asked Kelsey.

“Get naked, put the robe on, and go in there. You know you need it. And Jim is a good man and he’ll treat you right. Beats the hell out of lying in here all the time and rubbing it out like you do.”

“Momma!”

“Don’t 'momma’ me, go on. Git.”

Shauna pulled back the blankets and had Kelsey stand up. Kelsey had serious misgivings but at the same time she also wanted to get laid. She’d been thinking about sex with Jim so much that she found herself somewhat smitten with the older man. It was wrong in so many ways, but at the same time Jim was the only man around. There weren’t a lot of other options for Kelsey, if she wanted to enjoy some masculine attention.

Still, it took some cajoling for Shauna to get Kelsey out of her pajamas and into the robe. Then she ushered Kelsey to the bedroom door.

“Go.” she said, pushing Kelsey out the door and shutting it.

Kelsey was alone in the hallway. The two bedroom doors were closed. She thought about what her mother was offering to her and a cavalcade of worries and desires ran rampant in her brain.

Going out to the kitchen she pulled down the bottle of bourbon and poured herself a shot. Not a lot, just a shot to settle her nerves. That was her rational reasoning, But truly, she knew the liquor would loosen up her inhibitions and allow her to accept her mother’s selfless gift.

Sitting down on the couch she sipped at the bourbon while scenarios of pleasure and consequence ran through her head. She wasn’t worried about her relationship with Shauna, because this was just like Shauna, to have a wildly pragmatic solution to a touchy problem.

Kelsey wondered what the immediate future would be like if she went through with this. The shot of bourbon tipped up and emptied into her mouth on that thought. She swirled it around and let it burn her mouth before she swallowed. It felt good.

She got up and put the shot glass on the kitchen counter. Standing there for a while she considered sleeping on the couch.

“Fuck it.” she finally whispered.

Walking to the hallway she opened the other bedroom door and let herself into the dark room. The moonlight cast a soft glow upon the bed, where her mother had drawn the covers back. She could hear the sound of someone snoozing. She eased out of the robe, neatly folded it, and put it on the dresser. Her naked body tingled from the coolness of the winter night. Her nipples stiffened and extended.

And then she got into the bed opposite of Jim, with her body facing the nightstand.

A moment later, his breathing softened and she felt the bed move as he rolled to face her. His big arm wrapped around her and pulled her close.

“I figured you’d come back to bed.” he whispered. His hand moved to Kelsey’s tight belly and she felt him pause.

“Kelsey?”

“Yeah.” she replied.

“Well now.” he said. “When Shauna came up with this idea I didn’t expect you’d go along with it.”

“I wasn’t sure.” she said.

“Can’t say I’m disappointed. Been wanting for you in this bed for a while now. Kinda hard seeing you in this house all the time, looking so nice and tempting.”

Kelsey had never heard Jim speak like this before. She felt his cock firming up against her back as he held her close.

“This ain’t your first time, is it?”

“No.” she admitted.

“Good.” he said as he pulled her onto her back. “Then you know how things work.” She was on her back and he was on his side to her. Her thigh was tucked between his legs and she felt his warm cock twitching.

She found herself looking up at his face as he looked down at hers. He kissed her forehead before kissing her on each cheek. His hand wandered over her belly and she caught her breath as he explored her modest tits.

And then he kissed her.

Maybe it was the bourbon, but she kissed him back. She felt him start to move with her and the hand that had been on her tits moved down between her legs. He nudged her legs apart and sought her crevice.

His middle finger found her folds and then quickly slipped inside to get her warmed up. She’d done this to herself so many times that she immediately responded to him.

She heard herself make a pleasured sound. It seemed so far away.

One of his legs got further between hers. He kissed her again and then moved down to kiss her long, graceful neck.

It was all moving so fast!

“Slow down.” she whispered.

“Sure.” he said, and then fumbled with her legs and at the same time he moved between them. He kissed her neck as he laid his chest down gently on just her tits.

She felt his cock touch her pussy.

“Touch it.” he whispered to her.

“No, ” she shook her head, “I’m not, ”

“Touch it.” he said more insistently, lifting himself up as he said this.

She reached her delicate hand down between them and lightly touched it. It was warm and it bounced a little. She tried to fight off the urge and then fully grasped it. It was long but not too thick. It was longer than her boyfriend’s cock was, that was for sure.

'I’m with a man’ she thought to herself.

Jim moved to press his cock towards Kelsey’s pussy.

“Please, I’m not sure.” she whispered.

She felt him relax and she pulled her hand away from his shaft. He adjusted her arms so they were above his elbows. Her hands naturally moved to his shoulders and she felt his strength. He was solid. She could feel some scars. She knew Jim wasn’t any city boy who spent an hour in the gym every day. No, Jim got this way from a lifetime of hard work. She realized that he was a totally different breed of male from what she was accustomed to.

His groin moved against hers.

“Please.” she asked again.

“Second thoughts?” he asked.

“Yes.” she said this with an air of relief.

“Gimme a kiss and we’ll take care of those second thoughts for you.”

She obliged and kissed him. His tongue tangled with her own and she was lost in the sensation as she felt his lower body move against her own.

“Hmm!” was her stifled protest as the head of his cock parted her pussy lips and plowed her furrow.

Her legs tensed and in an ages-old feminine mistake she tried to use the soles of her feet to push him away. Instead the flower of her pussy opened up and welcomed him in.

She felt her arousal coming up as he steadily thrust into her body. She’d been holding back but now the feeling of his cock starting to penetrate her pussy, was triggering her animal instincts.

He broke their kiss.

“Jim, oh,” she said as he thrust more of his cock into her,

“Oh my, ” he thrust a little deeper,

“should stop,”

He moved his knees up a bit, and the new position let him slip all the way into her.

“Oh, my God this feels so good!” she said out loud, as he started to fuck her.

Kelsey was still well aware of her second thoughts and misgivings but for the first time in a long time she had a cock in her body and she was getting what she needed.

Jim fucked her, nice and deep, and in a steady rhythm, just like he did with her mother. She felt his cock rub the top of her wet canal, and awaken her carnal desires. Jim was a real man. Not a West Coast metrosexual. His body celebrated masculinity rather than apologize for its toxicity.

Kelsey imagined all those nights her mother had been in this same position with that same cock buried in her pussy, pumping away and pleasuring her.

She was unaware that her legs were now spread wide and her raised up like a goalpost. She felt Jim’s heavy balls bouncing against her upturned ass as he fucked her. She imagined herself with the big man between her legs, fucking her. It seemed sexier to think of him fucking her instead of making love. Her body was celebrating, even if her mind was still confused.

Kelsey imagined Shauna feeling his cock plowing in and out of her, trying to

Oktoberfest In South Germany

Snowden Speaks — Thu, 19 Sep 2024 01:11:00 +0000

Beautiful German Girl at the Munich October-fest.

By Stonemarten, Listen to the podcast at Steamy Stories.

One of my favorite things in the World is beautiful women dressed in their dirndls, which is the traditional, female dress of Bavaria and Austria. The women look amazing in their dirndls with pushed-up breasts showing ample cleavage, whereas guys in lederhosen look a bit silly really, sorry lads.

Anyway, on with the story. Even though I was on my own at the festival, people are generally very friendly and merry at Oktoberfest, so it’s not too hard to join in with folk from all nationalities. I was with a group of lads from Australia, the States and some fellow Brits all trying to chat-up the incredibly beautiful German women, all looking fabulous in their dresses. They really seemed to enjoy the attention of the guys, smiling and laughing at our terrible jokes, but I guess a few liters of festival strength beer might have fueled that positive interaction.

At one stage in the evening, I spotted a lovely, slender, blue-eyed girl with long, straight brown hair standing alone in a corner. She was wearing a fine quality dirndl of a burgundy satin skirt and a sage-green, laced bodice pushing-up pert little tanned breasts. She looked so pretty, but sadly she seemed to be crying. Like many guys, I have a soft spot and protective feeling for girls who are crying, so I approached her gently, excusing myself and asking in a sensitive tone if she needed any help. She had ceased crying and gave me a weak smile, so I invited her to join our group, which I was sure would cheer her up, as we were on very good form.

The young woman’s name was Lilly and it was great luck finding her for she turned-out to be delightful company. Lilly was a student at the University of Heidelberg and had come to Oktoberfest with a friend, who had sadly abandoned her for a boy, leaving her alone and naturally unhappy. I was determined to look after her and keep her entertained so she would forget her troubles.

The drink was flowing freely and so was the fun, as folk started to stand on tables in the beer hall sinking steins of beer straight down-in-one to the cheers of the crowd. At the encouragement of my companions and after having boasted of drinking a “yard” of beer at home, I too climbed onto our table and to the bellow of the crowd proceeded to down a liter of beer, turning the stein upside down over my head as proof it was empty. Feeling very manly and proud of myself, I gave an enthusiastic Lilly a hug and a kiss on the lips.
Lilly may have been slight, but she was made of strong stuff, as she too climbed onto the table with her stein and to our surprise and to a huge roar from the crowd, proceeded to sink her beer in such a smooth and efficient manner that this would have impressed even a fat builder down the pub. I kind of fell in love with Lilly at that moment, as any girl that can do that will always have a special place in my heart.
Soon Lilly and I were kissing and cuddling, somewhat rudely for public consumption since we were both very drunk. I put my strong arms around her and she held onto me tightly as we walked back to the little flat that I had rented. I bought a couple of flowers from a stall to put in her hair, which made her look so cute and as pretty as a picture.
When we had entered the cozy, warm flat, we proceeded to the sofa, snogging passionately. We were both kissing and stroking each other’s adoring faces, my hands then fondling the lovely round globes that had been teasing me all evening from above her tight-laced dress. Soon my other hand had worked up under her skirt and was rubbing her moistening slit through silky panties. Lilly began to moan and reached to stroke my swelling cock trapped uncomfortably in my trousers.
I moved my head down to Lilly’s pert boobs, releasing them gently from her dirndl and sucking on them with my mouth wide open, my tongue flicking her stiff little nipples. Pulling panties aside allowed my fingers to stroke her pussy lips, rubbing rapidly to and fro over her engorged clit, causing Lilly to arch her back and groan as she approached her first orgasm. Within a minute or so, this gorgeous girl was writhing and spasming as she came on my probing fingers.
We both undressed, admiring each other’s firm bodies as we did so. Lilly slid her hands down my muscular frame and dropped onto her knees to envelop the head of my stiff cock into her mouth, whilst stroking up and down the thick shaft. My knees almost buckled at the pleasure of it and I stroked her face lovingly, as she looked up at me with wide, lustful eyes.
I could not hold back for long and so with balls rising and pressure building to bursting point, I spurted my seed into Lilly’s mouth, onto her pretty face and then my last drops of pearly spunk sprinkling onto small, tanned boobs. This longed for release had me groaning manfully and gently cupping Lilly’s approving face.
Lilly went to the bathroom and I lay down to recover my strength. When the lovely, slender girl returned, she laid back on the soft couch and opened her legs to allow easy access for my tongue to her very wet pussy. Lapping at her lips and darting my tongue over her love-bud soon had her mewling like a cat and clutching my head between her thighs. Probing in and out her with my tongue like a little wet cock, whilst flicking her sensitive clit lightly from side to side with my thumb, soon had her twisting and turning in a second huge orgasm.
Laying back with my big cock pointing obscenely into the air was all the invitation Lilly needed to hop on board. Facing me, she eased down slowly, impaling her tight pussy onto my prick, moaning as she did so. Her mouth gaped in ecstasy as she bobbed up and down, my hands holding her soft bottom and I could hardly take my eyes from her lovely boobs jiggling away.
Picking Lilly up and standing, I continued to pump, much to her delight, as I turned around to place her on her back, thighs wide apart, so I could continue to thrust deeply in the missionary position. I loved seeing the pleasure on her face and hearing her high-pitched yelps as I ploughed into this beautiful little creature.
The pace of our lovemaking became faster and faster and more desperate at the coming explosion. Bodies slammed against one another, balls smacking against swollen lips making wet slapping sounds as we screwed like beasts. There was no holding back and with a great cry, suddenly it came, spunk splashing out in hot white streams coating the insides of a grasping and welcoming pussy which itself was contracting rhythmically in orgasm.
Lying next to each other, we kissed and cuddled, then slowly drifted off to sleep. Later in the morning, we ate bread rolls for breakfast and then went back to bed for we both had terrible hangovers from a day and night of partying.
It was a sad feeling when Lilly finally left that day to re-join her disloyal friend for the journey back to Heidelberg, as our fun and erotic acquaintance might have been short, but that beautiful girl had surely become one of the great lovers in my life.

The mountains of Bavaria are one of my favorite places, great for walking and watching nature, which are my main hobbies. A few years ago I drove across Europe in my Jeep to stay at an Alpine chalet with the aim of finding some Edelweiss flowers and watching Chamois, which are rare mountain goats. Both of these species live high on the tops which meant strenuous climbing up into the snow zone. It’s such good exercise that German Alpine troops are encouraged to scale the mountains to find Edelweiss as proof of their fitness and courage. They used to pick them for their lapels, but today these are actually quite rare flowers and now a protected species. As I was in Bavaria in September time, I also booked accommodation in Munich in order to attend the famous Oktoberfest; yes, I know, it actually takes place in September, rather than October for some odd reason. If you have never been to the Oktoberfest, I would strongly recommend it at least once in a lifetime, as it’s an amazing party. If you don’t like crowds then it might not be for you, but if you enjoy quaffing large steins of beer, scoffing bratwurst and watching the colorful spectacle of folk dressed-up traditional costumes, you would love it.

by Stonemarten, for Literotica

Scholarly Dames

Wed, 18 Sep 2024 16:07:45 +0000

Two stories of scholarly lasses with healthy libidos.

Based on the posts by Select Redux. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Stimulating Reading

Sexual adventures amid the bookshelves.

Unlocking the big oak doors, Emily glances up at the Spring sun filtering through the stained-glass windows of the ‘Institute’. Originally endowed by a Victorian benefactor, now part of a modern university, this old building goes unnoticed by most people passing by on this bright 1993 morning.

The research library within opens just three days a week with Emily, its part-time librarian, fitting the job around her PhD studies. Some colleagues consider it a fusty backwater; Emily rather enjoys the church-like surroundings, lofty ceilings and marble floors, and calm, quiet ambience.

Starting the day as usual at 8.45am, Emily turns on the lights, picks up the post and then sits at the front desk waiting for students to arrive. The job isn’t the most exacting; mainly helping undergraduates locate obscure books, its perk being plenty of time to write her thesis and, blush-making to admit, peruse the rather splendid erotica section. Something that’s become a bit of a habit, leaving her distracted and almost perpetually aroused.

This 'special collection’ is kept locked; its key is supposedly secure in a safe; in fact on a chain around Emily’s neck. Currently 'in between boyfriends’ (no, not like that!) in truth modern men, mostly boys inhabiting adult bodies in her opinion, don’t do it for Emily. Call her traditional, she wants someone old-fashioned.

Emily’s romantic, bookish outlook on life sometimes feels unsuited to modern times and is exemplified by today’s attire: cardigan, blouse, and a string of pearls, the epitome of respectability; a typical librarian. A knee-length skirt, sensible shoes, minimal makeup and glasses habitually perched upon her head complete the academic look. However, underneath one (who? she reflects glumly) might be surprised to find some almost sinfully brief lingerie adorning her trim figure. Perhaps not so conservative;

Later that afternoon, Emily looks at her watch, half an hour until closing, not likely to see anyone else today she thinks. Wrongly, because striding confidently through the rotating door and purposefully approaching her desk is a new customer. In contrast to the usual scruffy students (although arguably the lecturers are worse) he’s smartly dressed. Wearing a tie in fact; Emily likes a chap in a suit and his fits very well. This tall man with silvery grey hair favors her with a confident smile and Emily melts inside, lust at first sight.

Michael, they are quickly on first name terms, is a postgrad mature student working on the final dissertation of an English literature MA. He’s taken a couple of weeks’ leave from an unspecified (Emily suspects high-powered and well-remunerated) job to complete it. Meaning, she sends a silent prayer of thanks to whichever celestial deity might be responsible, he’ll be making frequent trips to the library. Visits she soon begins to eagerly anticipate, feeling disproportionately disappointed on days when this charming, personable and undoubtedly assertive man doesn’t appear. Get a grip girl, chides her inner voice, whatever your fantasies this is a purely professional relationship.

“What did you do before studying,” she enquires one morning.

“Came from money, followed the family tradition into the City and made some more,” he shrugs. “Clichéd thing for a privileged person to say but it didn’t make me happy.”

“What does?”

“Good writing, which explains why I’m here in literary mode, how about you?”

“A very bright kid from a feckless, under-achieving family; got a scholarship, got out of my dead-end town and got a higher education. Not having money means I have to take a series of dull jobs to pay my way.” There’s no need to make her point any more strongly, Michael gets the implication.

“I detect a steely determination,” he responds without rancor.

“Academically, yes,” she agrees, “in order to remain with my beloved books, but unfashionable though it is I’d happily be rescued by a knight in shining armor. Will you be my knight?” Christ, she thinks, where did that come from? Silly mare you’ve blown it now.

“If you’ll be my damsel in distress I’d be delighted,” Michael answers lightly, but a die has been cast.

“What are you working on today?” he enquires conversationally when next visiting.

“These books were recently acquired for the special collections section. I’m trying to catalogue them,” she explains, outwardly serene, but heart beating fast.

“Ah the erotica,” Michael raises a knowing eyebrow, “better leave you to it then.” He turns to a nearby table with a couple of hefty tomes and commences making notes while covertly observing Emily, absently twirling a lock of hair with one hand, the other no longer on the table but underneath. Much later, abruptly jolted from a pleasurable reverie by his shadow, Emily becomes abruptly aware of Michael’s looming presence.

“You’re spending a lot of time on books from that particular genre,” he says, it isn’t a question.

“Well; ” she stammers.

“Perhaps that’s why you’ve twice left the University’s precious erotica shelves unlocked lately?”

Her eyes widen in shock. “How did you know?” It’s true, no point in denying the fact.

“I notice things. An accident I’m sure, but rather careless, some might even say naughty. Are you naughty Emily?” Silence, the cat has got her tongue. “Do you deserve to be punished? Might that be a better solution than the matter being brought to the attention of the Vice-Chancellor?” Michael presses home his advantage. “Those rare editions are extremely valuable. Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson, bought to book one might say.” Emily gets the joke, but it’s no laughing matter.

“Punished; lesson?” she stammers, “what do you mean?”

“I think you know to what I’m referring, you’ve read enough about spanking, no doubt wondered what it might be like. I don’t believe you’re as innocent as you pretend Emily, I saw you slide a hand under your skirt just then. Most unprofessional, you deserve to have your bottom smacked.”

“Oh; ” Overwhelmed by his quiet certainty that she’ll obey, Ellie discovers in herself a complimentary willingness to defer; feels her pussy throbbing with desire at every word Michael utters. This is ridiculous, thinks her rational brain, I’m an independent woman, he’s no right to demand my obedience. But you know you want to, responds her libidinous subconscious, you’ve so often dreamt of such a scenario, and how you’d willingly submit;

She nods anxiously towards the door. With an unreadable expression, Michael walks purposefully towards the entrance, locks it and returns.

“Bad girls require discipline,” he whispers in her ear.

“They do, sir,” she meekly agrees.

“Come here.” Emily stands next to him, hands behind her back.

“Turn around and lean forward against the desk.”

Deferentially, eyes downcast, Emily complies; wrapping his left arm around her slender waist Michael slowly, and deliberately raises her skirt. Emily wishes her boobs were just a little bigger; wishes her arse was just a little smaller but knows her lovely legs are just right. Now so does he.

A grunt of male disapproval, “I don’t like tights,” he tugs her pantyhose down revealing flawless bottom cheeks, “next time I expect you to wear stockings.” Next time, who said anything about next time? Despite her mounting panic, Emily has an epiphany of understanding; Michael’s coercion is more implied than actual, less of a threat by him as a need within her. He runs his hands appreciatively over her pristine, unmarked bottom then tugs those unexpectedly racy, almost transparent black panties up hard into Emily’s damp divide, the silken scrap disappearing between puffy pussy lips, chafing her swollen clit.

“Turns you on doesn’t it” he growls, holding her tightly.

“Yes, but I’m scared,” she whispers and it’s true, the physical proximity and her helplessness in the hands of an alpha male are more exciting than anything Emily has ever before encountered.

Emily tenses, holding her breath, awaiting the inevitable; yet the initial smack still catches her by surprise. At first, it’s mainly about the ringing percussive sound, a numbing shock. Prudently Michael allows a pause, he can tell it’s her first time. Gradually her skin pinkens and a sharp stinging sensation suffuses Emily’s posterior.

“Oh,” she looks at him wide-eyed, “oh yes,” amazed by her compliance with the punitive intentions of a man she scarcely knows. A second spank, slightly harder this time.

“Feeling it now aren’t you,” Michael mutters, “rather different from in the stories you’re so keen on?” True, the reality of what before was only fevered fiction is raw and immediate.“ I’ll stop if you ask me to,” he adds.

“Surely not when I’ve been so wicked,” Emily replies huskily. The scene is set, and his hard palm strikes her bottom repeatedly as Michael methodically and unhurriedly continues, Emily’s body responding animatedly to the burning sensation gradually suffusing her derriere.

“Keep still,” he commands as she squirms in a futile attempt to dissipate the smart.

Eventually, Emily has no idea how long, five minutes, or an eternity, Michael ceases her chastisement. Both are breathing heavily now, albeit for different reasons. He slides a hand up her inner thigh and under her knickers.

“Good girl,” Michael whispers, pushing an exploratory digit into Emily’s sopping sex. She shuts her eyes and moves against his fingers, Emily is needy, alas, her evident excitement is unrequited. Taking her by the shoulders, Michael turns the shaken young woman to face the wall.

“Make yourself respectable,” he instructs in a tone countenancing no dissent, “don’t move until I’ve left, no rubbing your bottom, or anywhere else. I’ll let myself out,” he kisses the top of her head, “and be back soon to do one final bit piece of research, don’t miss me too much.”

And then he’s gone; taken Emily to the edge and abandoned her unsatisfied. Which, thinks Emily, bottom glowing fiercely, is truly sadistic. Simmering with sexual awakening, she’s no intention of being denied. Walking stiffly towards her chair Emily sits, wincing as her tender buttocks contact with the seat. Legs spread and eyes closed she pushes a hand down the front of her panties and addresses her pent-up frustration with flying fingers, and soon has a shattering orgasm.

On Monday morning, after a weekend mentally replaying this momentous encounter, and multiple flouting of Michael’s embargo on masturbation, Emily walks into work full of hope for what the new week may bring. Inwardly more confident, her outward appearance has also altered. She’s taken more care with makeup, mascara and her favorite cherry red lipstick. Does her best not to tug down her hem at every step. Emily hasn’t previously worn such a short skirt and worries people may notice she’s wearing stockings. Once at work, it’s business as usual, albeit with some appreciative glances from borrowers, being desired is an unfamiliar but welcome ego boost. Emboldened, Emily experiments with undoing the second button of her blouse.

She can’t conceal her unhappiness when Michael fails to arrive and becomes increasingly despondent when he doesn’t turn up on Tuesday and Wednesday either. By Thursday she’s almost lost hope. Turning to the erotica collection for comfort a photograph falls from between the pages of a book on 'Le Vice Anglaise’. Emily looks aghast, Michael! But it can’t be, the date scribbled on the back is 1936, does her dom have a doppelganger? All too much of a conundrum to deal with in her overwrought state, Emily locks up early and heads disconsolately home.

On Friday she settles onto her stool and re-opens the same book. Was Michael ever really here, she wonders? Could this have been some sort of hallucination, an epic instance of self-delusion? Of course not, get real, examine the facts, she inwardly chides. Consider the evidence of two days of sitting gingerly, the finger marks on your sore buttocks visible in the mirror. She was spanked alright, the pertinent question being whether she will see Michael again, let alone reach the sexual conclusion so ardently desired. Not being clairvoyant, Emily doesn’t have a clue about either outcome, for now, she tells herself sternly, you’d better get on with some work. Mentally listing the day’s mundane tasks Emily doesn’t notice a familiar figure quietly enter the building until he’s immediately adjacent. Caught unawares her incipient shout of shock is stifled by his hand.

“I’ll remove it from your mouth,” his voice whispers, “if you promise not to scream, understood?” Emily remains frozen, struggling to get to grips with her predicament, then nods assent.

“Where did you appear from?” she enquires in a small voice.

“Not important right now,” he shushes.

“Your picture; ” She points at the faded sepia print on the table.

“My father,” he laughs, “chip off the old block, aren’t I? Long gone, of course, he put up the money to establish the erotica collection you’ve so much enjoyed.” Helping the shaken young woman to her feet he moves Emily to face a bookcase.

“Just relax,” he says calmly, trailing a hand teasingly up and down the back of her thighs.

“Relax,” she tenses at the suggestion, “when I don’t know what you intend to do.”

“I think you can hazard a pretty accurate prediction,” he teases.

“I’m quite sure you’re planning to punish me again,” says Emily shivering with anticipation at the thought, “what might occur afterwards is what’s preoccupying me.”

“What do you hope happens?” he enquires, lips brushing the nape of her neck.

“I think you can make a very good guess,” Emily replies cheekily.

Right now, she can’t think of anything she wouldn’t let him do, Emily has read many salacious books and has a vivid imagination.

“I’m enjoying your new look,” says Michael appreciatively, “let’s explore beneath; ” He unbuttons her blouse to the waist, frees her boobs and rolls each erect nipple in turn between finger and thumb. In response, Emily kisses him hard on the mouth, her acquiescence clearly in no doubt. His other hand slips between her thighs and encounters wetness between them. Emily moans at this touch, yearning to be penetrated by the hard cock she can feel bulging through his trousers and pressing against her thigh.

“You’ll endure a harsher correction this time,” he murmurs, bending Emily across the desk while removing his belt.

“The door”, she gestures urgently.

He shrugs off her concern. “We’ll just have to take the chance; I find a little jeopardy adds a frisson of excitement.” Wrestling up the short, tight skirt exposes the soft curves of Emily’s hips and beautiful bottom; Michael monetarily enjoys the sight, and then pulls her knickers down and off.

“Someone wants to be fucked pretty badly,” he observes, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glimpses her damp, pouting slit. With no warning he straps Emily, hard and fast, leaving blazing bands of hurt across both cheeks and down to her stocking tops. She yelps, groans and stamps her feet, nevertheless thrusting out her buttocks to meet each of the worn leather’s cruel kisses. A further dozen overlapping strokes sear across her fiery red behind until Emily thinks she can’t possibly endure further chastisement.

“Hurts,” she whimpers, tears in her eyes, although the perfect pain only serves to stoke a fire of arousal down below. Aware of her limits Michael runs his hands along the insides of Emily’s legs and pulls her knees apart, leaving her open and exposed. His tongue repeatedly explores the length of her labia, right up to the nub of her clit, building each caress into a rhythmic repetition. Emily feels an orgasm inexorably approaching, her breathing becomes fast and uneven.

“Fuck you’re tight,” he observes crudely, sliding a finger into Emily’s inviting pink cunny and then positioning his erection at her slick entrance.

“Stop teasing and do it hard!” she screams, last vestiges of dignity and reserve surrendered. Lewdly Emily pushes back her hips, anxious to have him inside her. Equally caught up in the intensity of the moment, Michael fills the lusty librarian with the cock she craves. All inhibitions abandoned, Emily feels the rhythm of his thrusts increasing, her pussy spasms and takes them both to an inevitable sexual crescendo. They lay silent for a moment before Michael chivalrously passes Emily a large linen handkerchief to mop the come leaking onto her nylon-clad thighs.

“I think my poor bottom has suffered quite enough for one day,” she whispers sensually, “how about you take me home to your place and fuck me again, slowly and gently?”

“How about we take one of the books from the special collection to provide us with inspiration?” he replies.

“Oh, I think I’ve already done quite enough research,” Emily responds with a giggle.

“Then let’s grab a bottle of wine and see if we can’t put theory into practice,” agrees Michael.

Cut to a year later, doctorate earned; Emily has been promoted to take charge of the main university library. There’s a new young woman librarian at the Institute, still on probation and requiring guidance. Emily considers herself a firm but fair manager and has kindly offered an after-hours tutorial on the special collection. A recently successful MA student, now a research fellow, somewhat older and vastly experienced, may join them;

By Select Redux for Literotica

Cleverness is Sexy

Winning a quiz transformed Alice from swot to hot.

By Select Redux

An exceptionally brainy young woman, Alice has pursued her academic interests to the exclusion of almost everything else in life. There will, she reasons, on the verge of her 23rd birthday, the M A she’s strived so hard to attain nearly complete, be plenty of time to pursue other interests later. Travelling perhaps, a life outside the university library, even something so mundane as clothes shopping.

Used to being an outsider, teacher’s pet, bookw

Rainstorm in Fargo: Part 2

Tue, 17 Sep 2024 16:08:42 +0000

Pete and Tracey Both Head West.

Based on a post by ron de, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

The campground where we were camped was next to a state park, and after that lunch, I really needed to either walk around or take a nap. I figured Tracey wouldn’t like me taking a nap so I asked her if she’d like to walk one of the trails in the state park. She laughed.

“My Joe would have taken a nap while I walked by myself, so this will be new to me. Let’s go.”

It was during our walk I learned who Joe was and why Tracey was tent camping. That was after I explained why I was driving around in a big RV by myself. Tracey listened to my story and then smiled.

“That’s why Joe and I bought a tent and the Jeep. He’d worked for almost fifty years before he retired at sixty-eight and was going crazy with nothing to do. He liked history, and after six months of doing nothing, decided we’d tour the country looking at historic places. He thought we’d understand the older places better if we lived in a tent like they did in the early days, so he went out and bought one. I wasn’t too sure about a tent. I mean, a tent doesn’t really have walls or anything to protect you, and if it’s cold out side it’s cold inside too. At least he bought cots so we didn’t have to sleep on the ground.

"Our daughter and her husband moved from their apartment into our house so there’d be somebody there to take care of it when we were gone. We started from Milwaukee in April of last year and drove South. We got as far as Shiloh in Tennessee. We’d walked around the battlefield most of the day. When we were walking back to our Jeep, Joe said his chest hurt. Half an hour later, he was having trouble breathing, so I drove him to the hospital in Savannah. He passed away while they were trying to get him stablized. The doctors told me he’d had a pretty bad heart attack at Shiloh and had another one while they were working on him.

"After I got Joe back to Milwaukee and had the funeral I had to decide what I was going to do. I couldn’t very well move back into the house because I remembered the years when my mother lived with us and I wouldn’t wish that on anybody else. What I decided is to do what Joe wanted to do. I’d travel around with my tent and visit the places he wanted to see. It sounds weird, I know, but I thought maybe he’d see those places through me.

"Anyway, I did spend a couple of months with my daughter until the weather got cold, and then headed back South where it was warmer. I spent the winter camping in Georgia and Florida, and then started following the warmer weather north. I was doing fine by myself until yesterday. If I’d known it was going to rain so hard, I’d have gotten a motel room.”

I said I didn’t think any woman would like living in a tent. Tracey just chuckled.

“You mean because I don’t have all the comforts of a house like a kitchen and a bathroom? Well, I like to cook, but I can cook just fine on my little stove, and all the campsites I stop at have a central bathroom with showers. I like sleeping outdoors in the fresh air and listening to the crickets instead of in my house in Milwaukee in the stale air and listening to the traffic go by. I would trade that for my tent any day, now that I’m used to it.”

We talked about a lot of things as we walked along that trail, and I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Tracey. She seemed to like listening, but she wasn’t backward about giving me her opinions about what I said. She thought retiring early like I did was a good thing. She was five years younger than Joe and had been after him to retire for years because he’d been diagnosed as a prime candidate for a heart attack. She wanted him to relax and enjoy life and hopefully avoid the heart attack that killed him. He thought he should keep working to build up his 401K so they wouldn’t have to worry about money.

She thought it was perfectly normal for a woman to be camping by herself, but she wasn’t a big fan of the women’s liberation movement. When I asked her why, she shrugged.

“I suppose it’s fine if a woman wants a career before anything else, but they’re missing out on a lot by not having a husband and a family. I was never sorry I was a stay at home mom. I liked being there when the kids came home from school, and I liked fixing dinner for us every night. Now, mind you, I didn’t object when Joe wanted to go out for dinner on my birthday and our anniversary, but I was happy doing all the cooking the rest of the time.”

The more we talked, the more I liked Tracey. She was a very intelligent woman with her own ideas about life, but she was about as down-to-earth as a woman could get. By the time we got back to my RV, I was getting really comfortable with her.

I got a lot more comfortable when she started making dinner. I hadn’t actually smelled food cooking in a long time because I just used my microwave for everything. The aroma of spaghetti sauce filled the RV and it smelled like it was going to be fantastic.

By the time Tracey said everything was ready, I was starving. When she sat a plate of spaghetti smothered in sauce in front of me, I’d have gorged myself even if I hadn’t been hungry. Tracey’s spaghetti was better than any I’d had in a restaurant.

We talked a little after dinner, but Tracey said she wanted to get an early start the next morning, so we turned in about nine. Well, Tracey turned in. I spent the time trying to first read a book and then trying to watch a movie. I wasn’t successful at either because I kept thinking about how nice it was having Tracey there and how that would change when she left.

I thought about asking her where she was going next, and then decided she’d just think I was trying to follow her to convince her to do something she didn’t want to do. Truth be told, I would have been following her, though just for the company and not anything else. That’s what I told my self, but I knew she’d never believe me. I was still thinking about some way to end up camped in the same campground the next night when I finally fell asleep.

Tracey’s Breakfast Arts.

I woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon frying and hot coffee. Tracey smiled when I walked out of my bedroom.

“Just thought I’d send you off with a good breakfast again. You really should eat better breakfasts so you’ll have energy until lunch.”

While we ate, I wanted so bad to ask where she was headed, but I didn’t. After we ate, Tracey washed everything and then took her skillet and what was left of her bacon and eggs and bread to her Jeep. I helped her take down her tent, roll it up, and stick it in the back of the Jeep. When we were done, Tracey smiled.

“This has been a change for me. Maybe we’ll meet up again some time. Where are you headed next?”

What I’d planned was to visit Theodore Roosevelt National Park in Medora. When I told Tracey that, she shook her head.

“I’m going there too, but first I’m going to The Knife River Indian Village. They have a collection of Hidatsu and Mandan Indian relics that Joe wanted to see and it sounds interesting. You ought to go there too. It’s not quite as far from here as Medora, and there’s a campground for RV’s and tent campers in Stanton, and you can walk from the campground to the village.”

It was a surprise that Tracey asked me the same question I’d debated with myself about asking her. As a result, it took me a while to answer, and Tracey grinned.

“You’re not saying if you will or won’t. Does that mean you don’t like my company?”

I shook my head.

“No, I like your company. I just didn’t figure you’d want me going where you went. It does sound interesting though, so I’ll detour to Stanton and stop there too. I’m in no hurry to get to Medora. What’s the name of the campground?”

Tracey said she was going to the Downstream Campground in Hazen instead of the one in Stanton.

“It’s a Corps of Engineers campground, so it’s a little better than the one in Stanton and there are some other things to see there too. You should probably make a reservation though. This time of year, it might fill up pretty fast.”

Tracey drove off while I made a reservation with my cell phone Having her there for two days had used up a lot of my fresh water, so I stopped by the dump station, emptied my black water tanks, and then filled the fresh water tank. That done, I programmed the campground address into my GPS and started driving.

I stopped to fill up at about lunch time, and while I was eating the fast food burger, I realized how much better Tracey’s chicken salad had tasted. I also missed her sitting there and talking while we ate. It was strange in a way. For so many years I’d live by myself and didn’t think I really missed not having people around. Now, I did, or at least I missed having Tracey around.

When I got to the campground I stopped at the office, paid my site fee, and got a map to my campsite. All the sites were back-in sites, but with the rear facing cam on the Thor, that wasn’t a problem. Within fifteen minutes of shutting off the engine, I had the Thor leveled, the extensions out, and the electricity plugged in. My plan was to find out where Tracey was camped and ask her if she’d like to go into town for dinner.

I’d just locked up the Thor when Tracey came walking across the road.

“I see you found the campground.”

“Yes, but how did you find me so fast? I just got here.”

Tracy grinned.

“I cheated. I made my reservation after you did and I told them we were traveling together and asked for a space close to you. I guess I drive faster than you do because I stopped at a grocery store on the way and I’ve had my tent set up and have been watching for you for half an hour.”

I chuckled.

“I can drive as fast as you drive, but it takes me a while to get up to speed. Why did you ask for a spot close to me?”

Tracey looked at the ground.

“Well, I kinda liked when we took that walk and I thought maybe you’d want to take another one after dinner. I got the stuff for dinner when I stopped at the grocery store, that is, if you’ll let me cook for you again.”

There was no way I could refuse her, nor did I want to. It was, I hoped, an indication that Tracey liked me. I wouldn’t let myself think any further than that though. I couldn’t. Thinking there might be more and then finding out there wasn’t would have crushed me.

Dinner was pork chops, broccoli, and a pasta salad with a chocolate cake for desert. Tracey hummed to herself the whole time she was cooking. I sat on the couch and watched her.

She seemed to be having the time of her life. I know I was. She looked like she belonged in my tiny little kitchen in her shorts, tank top, and running shoes. That was a feeling I’d never had about a woman before. Oh, I’d had the same fantasties most men have about this woman and how she’d be in bed or that one and how I wished I could see her naked, but not once before Tracey did I ever imagine how any woman would look in my kitchen.

Dinner was great. Eating with Tracey was even better. She seemed to be really happy and that made me happy too. After dinner we walked along the shore of the lake and talked until the mosquitoes came out in force. Then, we went back to my RV for a movie on Netflix. That seemed really natural too, both of us sitting there on the couch and watching a movie together.

After the movie ended, Tracey yawned.

“I think it’s time I go tuck myself into bed in my tent. Are you coming with me to see the "Knife River Indian Village” tomorrow?“ If you are, I’ll come over tomorrow morning and fix breakfast.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say what I wanted to say; that she was welcome to spend the night again. She’d have thought I was asking something I wasn’t asking, and I didn’t want to risk losing her as a friend.

“Sure. I’ll be up and have the door unlocked at about seven if that’s not too early. I’ll have the coffee made too.”

As I fell asleep that night, I was wondering if there could be more with Tracey. She seemed to like me. I knew I liked her. She was just plain fun to be with, but I thought maybe she more than liked me. I hadn’t been around a woman socially in so long it was hard to tell, but she seemed to walk closer to me than on our first walk, and when she talked, she kept touching me on the arm.

The Breakfast tradition continues.

Breakfast was sausage patties and pancakes, and they were great. So was sitting there and eating with Tracey. I’d thought we’d just go to the Indian Village and then pack up and go our separate ways, but Tracey was full of things we could do. After she rattled off her list, I figured it was going to take us a couple of days.

Tracey wanted to see Fort Mandan, the site where the Lewis and Clark Expedition spent a winter. She said there was a replica of the orginal fort there. She also wanted to see the McLean County Museum, the Sioux Ferry, and the Garisson Dam Fish Hatchery. When I said she was cramming a lot into one day, Tracey frowned.

“It sounds like you want to be rid of me.”

I shook my head.

“No, I don’t want that at all. I like seeing things with you. I just didn’t think you wanted to stay more than a day.”

Tracey smiled then.

“I made my reservation for three nights. Maybe you should do the same or you might end up sharing my tent with me.”

On our way out of the campsite in Tracey’s Jeep, I did just that. When I came out of the office, Tracey grinned.

“Did you get the same spot?”

“Yes I did. I reserved three more nights, just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

“I don’t know. Just in case it takes us longer to see everything than two more days I guess.”

Tracey put the Jeep in drive and grinned.

“So maybe you do like me a little.”

Becoming travelling Buddies.

The Indian village was interesting and so was Fort Mandan, though I thought there was more to see at Fort Mandan. As we toured the different buildings, Tracey kept pointing out things to me. Sometimes, she didn’t know what those things were and asked me if I did. It was that way at the carpenter’s shop and at the blacksmith’s shop. It was fun telling her what this tool was used for or how the carpenter or blacksmith would have used them. She was surprised that all the logs were vertical instead of horizontal and asked me why. I didn’t know, but one of the rangers explained it to us both. It was because they could build long walls that way without needing really long logs and the fort needed to be pretty big to hold all the men in the expedition.

While we were close, we also went to the Lewis and Clark Interpretive center. That was interesting too. It was almost one by the time we got through all of that, so we drove back to the campground.

Tracey fixed lunch for us both in my RV and then suggested we take another walk. We were down on the river bank when Tracey looked out over the water and then sighed.

“You know, I had a lot of reservations about camping when Joe said he wanted to start. I mean, I’d be giving up everything I’d lived with for all those years and starting out living in a way I didn’t know anything about.

"Now, when I come to a place like this and just watch the river go by or see the birds singing in the trees, I don’t know if I could ever go back to that old life again. I see something different every day and I keep learning about things I never knew before. It gets lonely sometimes, but it’s still worth it.”

I said I didn’t think she could possibly be lonely, and Tracey frowned.

“Why would you say that? Aren’t you lonely sometimes too?”

“Well, yes, but that’s different. You had your husband before while I haven’t lived with anybody in years. Besides, I would think you have a lot of men trying to meet you.”

Tracey grinned.

“You think men are just dying to make it with a woman as old as I am? Let me let you in on a little secret. If a woman hasn’t found a man by the time she turns forty, she’s probably not going to, at least not a man worth having around. Most of those are already married, and a few of the ones who aren’t usually aren’t all that interested in women, if you know what I mean. The rest are going through their mid-life crisis. I call it the ‘I’m still the man I was at twenty thing’, and they’re looking for girls, not women. They may talk to women as old as I am, but the first blonde with little boobs and a tight little butt who walks by; well, you can see them looking for a way to end the conversation.”

I didn’t think like that, and that’s what I told Tracey. She just laughed.

“You mean to tell me that those young girls we saw today didn’t do anything for you? I saw you looking at them.”

“Well, yes, I looked, but no, I didn’t want any of them. They were pretty, but they weren’t women, not yet.”

Tracey frowned.

“You mean you’d only want an older women; a woman like me.”

I nodded.

“Well, yes.”

Tracey grinned then.

“I’ve heard this line before. What you’re really saying is you’d like to spend a night with me and then you’d be gone.”

That upset me.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. You’re putting words in my mouth, and it makes me a little mad that you think that. All I’m saying is you’re a nice looking woman and I thought men would want to meet you. I guess you don’t. I think we need to go back to the campground now.”

Silent travels.

Tracey didn’t say anything on the way back and I didn’t either because I felt bad about what I’d said to Tracey. She probably did have men telling her that. I’d jumped to conclusions and accused her of thinking that about me when I didn’t really have any reason to. What I should have done was left out the part about her putting words in my mouth, because she really wasn’t. I was acting pretty immature and I was mad at myself for being that way. I liked Tracey and didn’t want to lose her as a friend.

It wasn’t until we got to my RV that Tracey finally said something.

“Pete, I’d planned on making dinner for us. Are you mad enough that I should just go back to my tent or could you stand having me around long enough to cook some burgers? I got some potato salad and other stuff to go with the burgers and I’ll never eat it all myself.”

The look on her face told me she really wanted to do this, so there was no way I could say no.

“Tracey, I need to apologize for what I said back there. What you said just struck me wrong and

The Mistress Auction of London

Snowden Speaks — Tue, 17 Sep 2024 13:32:00 +0000

A countess offers her body to the highest bidder.

By LouisaAdler. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chapter 1.

The Marquess of Ravenswood hated dramatics.

He also loathed crowds, prying eyes, and London. Yet, there he sat, in the very back row of what was surely the most infamous, crowded event in the city’s history. Only one thing could pry him to this cesspool.

The Hellfire Club was having an auction.

Even Ravenswood couldn’t resist that temptation. He shifted in the rickety wooden chair, his large frame unused to such cramped spaces. A growl of impatience left him. “For a gathering that’s supposed to be secret, there are crush of fools here.”

Next to him, Lord Seth Cardew rolled his eyes. “Only you would call two hundred attendees a crush, Will. It’s been almost a year since the last auction, you know. Our membership craves this sort of diversion, even those whose pockets won’t let them bid.”

Will grumbled. Truth be told, he wouldn’t be attending this blasted event, if it weren’t for the letter. Even in the wilds of Yorkshire, he kept up with London’s underbelly. Gossip had reached him, quietly and with the archest of tones, that suggested he might find tonight’s auction particularly interesting. He didn’t dare hope that what he looked for would be on display, however. In the five years since Violet had left him, no woman had tempted him for long. To think one of the women here, willingly selling herself to the highest bidder, would fill that void was ludicrous. He would be a damned, romantic fool to assume such a thing.

Just in case, though…

Just in case, here he was. Dressed like a Christmas goose, in his top hat and tails, and antsy. He’d taken the train down just that morning. “Get on with it,” he growled.

As if bidden by his thoughts, the electric lights dimmed. The audience members, or buyers he supposed, were left in shadows, while the slightly raised stage remained illuminated by a host of white, glowing tapers. A woman stepped out of the gloom and onto the stage. Hers was a serious beauty, made more so by the candlelight. Inky black hair swept back in a chignon, with features as sharp as a hawk, she reminded Will of a governess.

If governesses wore men’s clothing, of course. The mistress of ceremonies was kitted out better than Will. On her tall, slim frame she’d donned black trousers, a perfectly tailored jacket, and gleaming, emerald silk waistcoat. The only nod to her femininity was the bright red stain on her lips.

Will roused a little, intrigued against his will. She wasn’t for him—too sharp, when he’d been spoiled by curves—but he appreciated beauty in all forms.

“Welcome, friends, to The Hellfire Club’s Mistress Auction,” she said in a deep, throaty voice. The room quieted even further. “I am Madame Valerie, purveyor of fine mistresses and the ringleader of this particular circus. We’ll start, as always, with the gold contracts.”

“Bring on the whores!”

She narrowed her eyes at the audience, skewering the interrupter. “These are not whores, sir. The women who take part in this auction are of the highest breeding and class, women who have willingly signed their contracts and are bestowing their talents onto select, respected persons. We vet not only our mistresses, but their protectors.” Her tone suggested the man in question could kiss his luck tonight goodbye. Madame Valerie straightened and continued her introduction. “As I was saying, we’ll start with the gold contracts. For those who are new to our ranks, I will explain.”

“The Hellfire Club color codes our contract levels, each corresponding to a prescribed set of limitations. Gold contracts, the rarest, are entered into very carefully. There are no limits on what you can do, after purchasing a gold contract, aside from inflicting permanent bodily harm. For whatever amount of time she signs on for, the mistress will be under the buyer’s complete control, both sexually and personally.”

“She is, for all intents and purposes, an indentured sexual servant. Though, one who is paid quite handsomely for her time. We start the gold contract bidding first, so that your pockets are filled to her liking. Shall we begin?”

Enthusiastic applause met her questions. With a flick of her wrist, Madame Valerie cued someone offstage and three women filed up the stairs, then into the light. Each was shrouded, from head to toe, in a velvet cloak. Red, green, and white, they looked like Christmas decorations, The Hellfire Club’s sadistic nod to holiday merriment. They stopped behind Madame and bowed their covered heads in unison.

Madame Valerie nodded her head. She smiled, cold and fast. “Very good, girls. Now, Twenty-Two do come forward. We begin with your contract.”

The green-cloaked woman moved forward. Even covered by velvet, her generous body was evident, hips moving in sensuous rhythm with each step. Will stirred, aching for a closer look. That walk. It struck a chord in him, unfurled some long-tamped desire to possess.

His lips twisted in the gloom. What foolishness. Underneath that cloak, she would be like every other woman he’d had. Beautiful, surely, but uninspiring.

As if reading his mind, Madame Valerie reached out one slim hand and untied the other woman’s robe. It fell to the floor in a puddle of emerald.

The audience gasped. Several people around Will flipped through their programs, searching for her information page.

Will started. She was completely nude, save an extravagant green half mask. Tumbling waves of long, dark red hair rioted around her, framing her body with flame. God, what a body. Twenty-Two was all curves. Generous breasts, more than a handful each, sat high above lush hips and an impossibly narrow waist. Will grew hard with just one glance, his cock insisting that he open his wallet, give her whatever she wanted. Anything to take her.

Was her skin really so fair, or was she scattered with light freckles up close, like gold leaf over a canvas? Suddenly, it seemed the most important thing that he find out.

He’d so loved Violet’s freckles.

The hand on his shoulder shocked Will out of his daze. He was half out of his chair, Seth restraining him with a smile. “Patience, Will,” his friend whispered, with a laugh.

Right. The Hellfire Club would have its pomp and circumstance. No matter that Will was the richest man here by a mile, heir to both a dukedom and an American shipping fortune. This girl was already his, no question. Whatever amount of time she was contracted for, Will wanted her. Perhaps she, so like his first love in both coloring and form, would be the one to finally flush that need from his system.

He would pay millions for such peace.

2 Months Ago..

The Countess of Mulvane shivered.

Despite the fires raging in the ballroom, Georgiana was chilled through. Standing naked in a room full of your peers trembled even the most stalwart body. Given her life lately, she wasn’t feeling particularly hardy. What foolishness, to think this would be the easy part.

After agonizing over this decision, the Countess was ready to get on with it. There would be no more worry, simply pure sensation. Meet the man, fuck him madly for six months, then spend the rest of her life free. What a lovely word that was. Free.

Funny, really, that giving in to a stranger’s every sexual whim was her ticket to true freedom. Not only would her sisters be safe from scandal, but little Camille would be set up for life. All for something she enjoyed immensely. Stephen, damn his treacherous soul, had been a terrible husband, but an adventurous lover.

And yet…

Back to Today’s Nude Mistress Auction.

And yet nothing had quite prepared her for this feeling. Lascivious eyes raked over her body. Hundreds of masked and shadowed figures loomed in the darkness ahead of her, making appreciative murmurs of her form. If her mask should slip, all would be lost. The utmost secrecy of the contract was part of what lured her to the Hellfire Club. No one but her lover need know that the Countess of Mulvane had sunk so low. All of Stephen’s failures were overturned, in exchange for half a year of Georgiana’s service.

It wasn’t even a choice. She willed the mask to stay put.

“Please turn around, Twenty-Two,” Madame Valerie ordered.

Georgiana slowly pivoted to the back, conscious of every inch of her body. The audience’s gazed tickled over the flare of her hips, down the swell of her bottom. Only two men had seen her so bare. To think that number was now multiplied a hundredfold, in less than a minute.

Her eyes burned into the masked faces of the two women standing robed, at the back of the stage. The snowy fall of white silk and the bright crimson velvet shimmered in the light. What circumstances had brought them here? Were they desperate to right a wrong, like Georgiana, or merely in search of a few hedonistic thrills? Would that she could see their faces, find solace in their shared experiences. Madame Valerie had kept them in separate rooms, until right before the auction began. Time for one last reflection, the intimidating woman had suggested.

“Our dear Twenty-Two has a generous figure, to be sure.” A cold, slim hand traced the line of Georgiana’s spine. Goosebumps raised along her skin. When she came to her bottom, Madame Valerie squeezed the right cheek in apparent appreciation. “What a magnificent rump you have, lovely one. A man like’s something to hold on to.”

The audience whooped. A room full of aristocrats turned to rowdy schoolboys, with a little nudity and sexual titillation. Madame Valerie pushed at Georgiana’s side, indicating she should turn once more. The woman’s throaty voice continued its examination. “Twenty-Two’s true assets, though, are these breasts.” At that, the mistress of ceremonies came around to the back of Georgiana, arms threading through hers like a lover. The woman’s breath, hot and minty, caressed her neck. Madame Valerie cupped both of the countess’s generous breasts in her hands. “Rare to have breasts so large still be so perky. What do you think, lads? Would we call them melons or grapefruits?”

“Cantaloupes!”

“Honeydews!”

Madame Valerie laughed. “She will certainly do, honey.”

A flush spread across Georgiana. Would the blasted auction never start? She raised her head a fraction, responding to the ribald investigation with hauteur. Her governesses had probably never intended those comportment lessons to land a peer’s daughter here. Georgiana knew the ropes, though. The more they lusted after her, the higher the price. Whatever wicked little tricks Madame Valerie planned, they would drive the final payment higher. Her family was worth a moment's—a lifetime's—humiliation. Just as she finished that thought, Madame took both of her nipples in hand and pinched. Hard.

Georgiana shrieked, taken by surprise more than pain. Sensation flooded her. Heat pooled, low and banked, in her pelvis.

“They’re sensitive, as well. Think what fun might be had with these darlings. I bet our prim little lady would love a set of clamps for Christmas.”

The audience cheered in support. Georgiana shivered, desire ramping up past her defenses. How did Madame Valerie know? Stephen had a pair of clamps made especially for her, gold chain with emeralds winking at each tip. They’d been sold to a discrete buyer, along with everything else of value in Mulvane House. Just like Georgiana herself would soon be sold.

Resolve wrapped around her heart. No.

This was a temporary arrangement. She was selling her body willingly, happily even, but it was hardly the whole of her. Whomever paid for Georgiana’s contract would receive a fool’s bargain. He could have her body any way he wanted, but her soul wasn’t up for grabs. She’d given that away only once and lived to regret it bitterly.

Madame Valerie raked her hands down Georgiana’s body, narrating for the audience, as she went. No mole, no patch of skin was left unviewed. The countess half expected the little majordomo to open her mouth and count each tooth aloud. For the inspection’s finale, Georgiana was turned around once again, back facing the audience, and ordered to bend over. She clasped her ankles and closed her eyes. Cool air wafted over her nether regions.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, Georgiana. Don’t be so missish.

Nether regions, indeed. Her vagina—her cunny, Stephen had called it—was on full display for hundreds of people. Surely she could dismiss the euphemisms now.

Madame Valerie spoke again. “Note the naturally red hair, gentleman. This one is a true ginger beauty.” An elegant finger traced the opening of Georgiana’s slit, which was embarrassingly damp. “See how she glistens? Twenty-Two loves to submit to my whims. A natural pleasure object, as we proved during her training. You should see how she responds to the strap.”

Shame, that useless emotion, flooded through Georgiana. How strange, to have her sexual deviancy discussed in such a cold, logical manner. She would be banished from Mayfair, if it got out that Countess Mulvane enjoyed being defiled in such a way. Yet, it was true. The last few weeks of training for the Hellfire Club had opened her mind to a world of sexual possibilities. Stephen had been dominant, yes, but he was the Pope compared to Mistress Valerie. Worse yet, Georgiana had enjoyed every moment. The darker the act, the more intense her pleasure.

As if reading her mind, Madame Valerie began a rhythmic exploration of Georgiana’s folds. The majordomo stroked up her pussy lips, around her clitoris. Up and down. Back and forth and—

“Oh, God.” Georgiana couldn’t control the invocation. Her body was alive with sensation. Nipples pebbled, muscles twitched, with the glorious motions.

“Such a vocal little thing. Enjoying yourself, Twenty-Two?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

Slap. Madame hit her bottom, open-handed. “Yes, what?”

The weeks of training jogged Georgiana’s memory. Her voice was thready with desire. “Yes, Madame Valerie.”

“That’s better.” The mistress plunged a finger into Georgiana’s opening, drawing circles with her thumb over the nearby clitoris. A second finger soon followed.

Georgiana groaned in response. Heavens, that was good. So terribly, horribly good.

“Do you want to come, little one?”

“Y-yes, Madame Valerie.”

“Say it. Tell these people what your naughty little body wants. Tell them exactly how bad you can be, despite those angelic curves.”

“I want to come, Madame Valerie. Please keep doing that with your hands.”

Slap. “Doing what exactly?”

“Playing with my c-cunt, Madame.” The words burned through Georgiana. Humiliation warred with desire. Desire won, desperate and hot. Just a little more. “I like it when you fill my cunt with your fingers and stroke my clitoris. Would you go a little faster, please, Madame?”

Slap. Slap. Thwack. A flurry of strokes rained down on Georgiana’s upturned bottom. Pain twined with pleasure, white hot and sharp. Madame obliged the pleas, though, her hands working furiously at Georgiana’s clit. Spanks alternated with strokes. Sensation overcame the countess, her cries dancing in the air.

Oh, it hurt. God, it felt so, so—

Georgiana climaxed, with a shout. The release washed over her in a storm of pleasure, twitching her muscles and firing each nerve, like a cannon. When she finally regained her senses, Georgiana quietly said the final words of her training. “Thank you, Madame Valerie.”

Another slap to her bottom. “You’re quite welcome, Twenty-Two. Stand up and turn around.”

Doing as bidden, Georgiana faced the audience once again. A drop of sweat whisked down her spine. The front row of spectators watched her with obvious desire on every face, mouths agape. Her humiliation was worth it in the end, as Madame promised.

The Countess of Mulvane had orgasmed in front of a room full of people. Next, she would secure her future. On cue, Madame Valerie gave the last signal. Georgiana fell to her knees, head bowed. And so the auction began.

“That was quite a show, wasn’t it? Imagine what a woman like this could become with a bit more training. We’ll start the bidding at one thousand pounds, my lords.”

A voice, deep and hideously familiar, rent the silence. “Five hundred thousand pounds.”

“Sold to—” Madame Valerie paused, as if shocked into silence. “My, my. The Marquess of Ravenswood.”

The words fell on Georgiana like an anvil. Oh no.

No, no, no.

Georgiana’s head snapped up, willing her ears to be malfunctioning. There at the bottom of the stage, stood a man. He was a little broader than she remembered—the country exile did wonderful things for his already muscled physique—but the sandy blond hair and penetrating brown eyes were achingly familiar. The Marquess of Ravenswood had just purchased her contract. She was to be Will Thorne’s sexual plaything.

All was lost.

By LouisaAdler for Literotica

8 Minutes In A Carwash

Snowden Speaks — Mon, 16 Sep 2024 23:12:00 +0000

Hot sex to go with that hot wax.

by ClochardCeleste, listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

We pulled in to the gas station and he put the truck in park. “You want to tell me we’re at a gas station at one in the morning instead of in bed at my apartment?”

I pointed to the long, squat building adjacent to the gas station, its drive-in conveyorized tunnel car wash. I’d done a little recon on it, knew how it ran, knew all the levels of service it provided, and knew exactly how long the Ultimate Supreme Wash Plus service lasted. I’d run my own car through it last week. I knew that in exactly eight minutes your car got the Simoniz double bond, the wheel brite brake dust cleaner, the tire shine, UV protectant triple foam polish, and a hot wax and shine treatment.

“We never get each other alone like this, and you want to spend our time getting the truck washed?”

“Come on,” I said. “No one’s in line.”

He shook his head, but put the truck in drive again and steered it into the entrance bay. As I looked over at him scanning the instructions on the payment console, my body was already tensing up in anticipation. “Ultimate Supreme Wash Plus,” I said.

He grinned at me. “Are you telling me my truck is filthy?” No, I wanted to say, I’m telling you that I am.

A minute later, the door to the wash slowly opened and he drove his truck onto the conveyor. The candy-colored lights on the entrance arch blinked, encouraging us to drive forward. Forceful sprays of pre-wash and water hit the undercarriage. As he concentrated on getting the truck in just the right spot on the conveyor, I quietly unbuckled my seat belt. As soon as the door closed behind us, I’d only have eight minutes. A loud buzzer sounded and the lights on the arch glowed red. As the door squealed shut behind us, he put the truck in park and looked over at me. “You’re acting very weird.”

“Put your seat back,” I said. “All the way back.”

The way he looked at me, I knew he was starting to understand. He did as I said. “Now push the steering wheel all the way up.” He did this, too. Then I crawled across the center console and straddled him. I pulled my shirt over my head and leaned into him. Putting my lips on his ear, I whispered, “I’m going to make you feel so good.” I could feel his heart thundering in his chest; between my legs, his cock was already hard.

Slipping off him, and onto my knees, I was grateful for the roominess of his F150, and also grateful, for once, for my petite stature. I could feel the reverberations of the undercarriage wash as I knelt there, running my hands up the inside of his thighs. I let my fingers dance ever so lightly over the crotch of his track pants, his hard cock making the fabric taut. He laid his head back on the headrest and I heard him take several deep breaths. I reached up into his waistband and pulled his cock out. I ran my tongue around the tip, licking up the glistening pre-cum. I took him in my mouth, sucking just a little at first, and flicking the tip of my tongue against the underside of the head. I felt his hand in my hair, gently pushing it away from my face so he could watch me as I sucked him.

I leaned forward and took more of him in my warm mouth, working my way down his shaft until I had taken his entire length and I could feel him at the back of my throat. I pulled back a little and let my tongue run along the throbbing vein that ran the length of his cock. His groan turned me on so much that I could feel my pussy start to pulse. “Look at me as you work that cock,” he whispered. I lifted my eyes to his face with his cock in my mouth. The way he looked down at me made me so hot that I reached down under my skirt and ran my fingers over my pussy. They came away wet.

I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and moved my mouth up and down his length, increasing my suction and letting my tongue swirl against the underside of his shaft. At the same time, with my other hand, I put my finger deep into my pussy and used my thumb to rub my clit. The sounds he made as I pleasured him were such a turn-on. I was so wet I couldn’t even finger-fuck myself properly.

Suddenly, the windows went opaque with cream-colored cleanser and I saw we were headed for the rolling brushes. Six minutes left. I climbed back onto him, but was surprised when he reached down and pressed the button to recline the seat flat. As it went horizontal, he edged himself away from under me and pointed to the seat. “Lie down and scoot up. It’s my turn. I want to eat that little pussy right now.”

This wasn’t part of the plan. This was going to be me pleasuring him for the length of time it took to get a car washed. And besides, I didn’t think we had time for this detour, considering the different ways I wanted to fuck him before the car wash was over. But the way he looked at me, I didn’t waste a moment scrambling up the seat so that I could rest my elbows on the back seat. He pushed my skirt above my hips and lifted me so that my knees were on his shoulders. Then he edged my thighs open with his head. The moment his lips touched my pussy, I had to stop myself from grinding myself into his face. As the rollers rocked the car back and forth, he ran his tongue first down one side of my clit, then down the other. Then he let it run gently over the top and I felt like I was going to come right then.

Being inside a private, enclosed space, with the roar of car wash implements in the background, stripped away my inhibitions, and instead of biting back my sounds of pleasure, I let them come. “I love the way you sound when you’re getting fucked,” he said.

“Put your fingers in me,” I said breathlessly. “Fuck me with your fingers as you eat me out.” He immediately put a finger in me, but it wasn’t enough–I needed more. He pulled out and worked two in. That was better. He leaned back into me and bathed my clit with his tongue as he thrust his fingers in and out. I opened my legs wider and wider until I had one foot on the driver’s side window and the other on the dashboard. He looked so good between my thighs. I moved against his fingers, my pussy gripping them tight. “That is so fucking good,” I panted.

The car lurched forward and was doused in an enormous splash of water, sending the creamy foam streaming down the windows. I realized we were now in the UV foam wash. We had four minutes left. He drew back and wiped his mouth with a handful of fabric from my skirt, and laughed. “You are dripping.”

I pulled his head to mine. “I want you in my pussy right now.” He grinned at me and ran his tongue over the edge of his front teeth in that way that drove me insane and I felt myself on the edge of losing control. “Then I want that bra off,” he said. I’ve never taken a bra off so fast. His hot tongue was on my nipple in a second, and I could feel the stimulation as keenly as if he’d been licking my clit. I groaned and opened my legs wide again, raising my hips to meet his hard cock. “Please fuck me now.”

He guided himself into my tight cunt slowly at first and he felt so good that I tried to pull him in the rest of the way, but he pinned my arm against the seat and tortured me by making me take him inch by inch. With my free arm, I reached down for my clit. “I am going to come so hard on your cock, daddy.”

He gave me that sexy grin again. “Oh, are you going to come on my cock?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He pushed himself deeper into me, and a look of pure pleasure crossed his face. “Oh my god,” he groaned. The soap rained down the sides of the window as the car was jostled by the foam brushes. He pulled back a little so he could watch his thick cock moving in and out of my pussy. I kept playing with myself as he fucked me. “That’s right, rub that clit while I fuck your tight little pussy.” He released my arm and pushed my right leg up so that it was on his shoulder. “Can I fuck you harder?”

“Daddy, you can do anything you want to this pussy.”

He started pounding me so hard I couldn’t tell if the truck was rocking from the foam brushes or from us. Water flowed down the windows again as the conveyor moved the truck forward, and I saw, for the first time, a security camera trained on the belt. I don’t know why I hadn’t even considered this possibility–I seized up a little, and he noticed. “What’s wrong?”

I pointed to the camera, and he wrenched around to look at it. “What if someone’s watching us right now?“He ran his hand over my breasts and tweaked my nipple. “You mean, what if the night clerk is in the back room, watching us on the security feed right now?” I nodded. He started fucking me again, this time with slow, deep, long strokes. “If he’s watching you get your pussy pounded like this,” he whispered in my ear, “then he’s stroking his cock.”

The idea of another man jerking himself off as he watched me get fucked was such a turn-on–I pictured him standing in front of the closed-circuit TV, spitting in his hand, and then jerking off his stiff cock as he watched another man get his cock off in my pussy. “That’s so hot,” I whispered.

“You like that, baby?” he growled, speeding up his thrusts. “Yeah, I know you want him to get himself off watching you get fucked so good.” This idea was so intensely hot that my orgasm crept up on me without warning. It bore down on me like a freight train; there was no way to stop it. I imagined the night clerk groaning as he stroked, watching me get fucked, then imagined his roar of pleasure as the cum exploded from his cock and streamed over his hand. My orgasm sent my body into a convulsion. “Fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming so fucking hard, oh my god, don’t stop!” I clamped down on his hips with my thighs and my pussy throbbed. I threw my head back and cried out so loud that I was sure I could be heard over at the gas station. “God, I’m about to fill you up,” he said, as the truck lurched forward again, into the last segment of the wash, the hot wax. Though I was still swimming in the waves of pleasure from my orgasm, I put both hands on his chest and pushed him off me. We only had two minutes left. He looked down at me, confused. “What are you doing?”

I pulled my legs up and flipped over so that I was lying on the inclined seat face-down. “I want you to finish in my ass.” I heard his sharp intake of breath behind me. He gently ran his hands across my buttocks. “Are you sure?”

I looked over my shoulder at him, biting my lower lip. “What are you waiting for?” He fingered my pussy and used my post-orgasm wetness to lubricate my asshole, then pushed his cock back up my cunt to get it wet.

As I watched the hot wax droplets sprinkle onto the rear windshield, he used his hand to push on the small of my back so my ass was raised up. I reached behind me and pulled my cheeks open so he could push the head of his cock inside me. He went slowly, pushing against the resistance, and for a moment, I couldn’t imagine there was any way he could get his big cock inside that tiny hole. He reached underneath me and hooked his finger in my pussy while, with his other hand, he continued to thread his cock into my ass. I gasped as I began opening up to accommodate him–a strange sensation, edged with pain. I knew beyond it was an entirely different kind of pleasure, the kind that was impossible to put into words, but he had to push himself entirely inside my ass to get me there. He continued lubricating his shaft with my juices, easing his way into me.

“Holy shit,” he groaned. I rocked my hips against him to take him those last couple inches, and finally I felt his body against my ass. He was balls-deep and slowly started working his cock in and out of my tight hole. He pushed my head down and tangled his fingers in my hair. “Beg for it,” he whispered. “Tell me how bad you need to get your ass fucked.” I clenched against his cock, barely able to speak. He pulled my hair harder. “Beg for it.”

“Oh, daddy, I fucking need that cock in my ass.”

He reached around beneath me and found my clit. He flicked it rhythmically in just the right place, faster and faster as he fucked me. The sensation was so good it was almost unbearable. I ground my hips against him. “Fuck yes,” he growled, “milk that cock.”

I felt the truck come to stop on the belt. The air dryers roared on. I knew the door would be opening any moment. There couldn’t be more than thirty seconds left before we were exposed to the world again. He took hold of the edge of the seat for leverage, using it to push himself as deep in my ass as he could go. “Right there,” he whispered. “Right…fucking…there. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come.”

Hearing his voice, hoarse with pleasure that I was giving him, sent me careening toward the edge, and before I even understood what was happening, I was coming again, just as he exploded in me. He roared as he filled me up with his cum.

I could see the tunnel growing lighter as the door slowly opened, but I could barely move; my legs were quivering. As the hum of the giant dryers ceased, he helped me sit up. The blinking lights of the exit arch lit up his face as he smiled down at me. He started to say something, then just shook his head, and tucked himself back into his track pants. As I pulled my shirt back on and smoothed my skirt, I could feel his cum dripping out of me, but I didn’t care. I fell against the window like a rag doll. I was completely used up. He readjusted the driver’s side seat and reset the rear-view mirror, which I’d kicked askew.

The door was all the way open now, revealing the bays of fuel pumps and illuminated lottery signs. As he steered his truck out of the car wash and past the gas station, I saw a single figure in front of the window, watching us as we drove away.

by ClochardCeleste for Literotica

Rainstorm in Fargo: Part 1

Mon, 16 Sep 2024 16:07:51 +0000

Pete was retired and seeing the US. Then Tracey came along.

Based on a post by ron de, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

The ‘workaholic’ retires.

It’s amazing how much time you have once you retire. You have nowhere to be at any certain time and no people you just have to be there to meet. You have no deadlines and no tasks that absolutely have to be done before the corporate visit on Tuesday. It’s like a curtain between you and your life has been lifted and you can see yourself doing what you always wanted to do.

That’s what I thought I was going to see when I cleaned out my desk and went to the retirement party at my office. It was exciting to know that no longer would my life be dictated by some corporate edict or some problem that had to be solved right now if the entire business wasn’t going to immediately collapse.

It was just that way for about a month. I could stay up late or go to bed early depending upon how I felt. I could watch movies on cable any time I wanted instead of falling asleep in the middle when watching at night. I could do anything I wanted to do; except after a month I didn’t know what that was because I’d already done everything I could think of doing. There was a reason for that, and the reason started bothering me because of George Mills.

I was one of those guys who worked twelve hours a day at my office and then worked another couple hours at home. George was one of those guys too. George lasted six months after he retired before keeling over in his neighbor’s back yard and croaking. It was at his funeral I realized George had never said anything about any hobbies or anything except work. He even had a complete set of work files in his home office that he kept updated to the current information so he could work at home. His wife said George had a heart attack, but I figured George had just given up because without his job, he had no reason to keep living.

I didn’t want to go down that same road, but it looked like that was where I was headed. After a month, it was hard to get out of bed, shower and shave, and then get dressed. Other than a weekly trip to the grocery store for some frozen dinners and some beer, I just sat in my house. It was still winter, and when spring finally made the grass grow, I’d have to mow about once a week, but that was all I had to look forward to.

When I got home from George’s funeral, I sat down and took stock of where I was in life. My list was both encouraging and a little dissappointing.

Youthful Infatuation Goes Bad.

The worst mistake I’d made was marrying Marsha when I was twenty and still in college. It was a time we were both studying hard during the week and playing hard on the weekends. When we graduated, me with a degree in engineering and Marsha with a degree in finance, it was still good for the first couple of years. After that, the marriage went downhill pretty fast.

It wasn’t a money problem because we were both making good salaries. The problem was me. I know that. I couldn’t stop working, even on the weekends, but Marsha wanted to go out and have fun on those weekends. She finally started going out by herself and in the process, met a guy who didn’t work all day, every day, and then come home and work at night too. After the second year, we had a serious talk and decided to split and go our separate ways. Marsha didn’t want anything from me, so other than spending about two months salary on a lawyer in case she changed her mind, it didn’t cost me anything except my time and a lot of soul searching.

That soul searching led me to realize I probably wasn’t going to change relative to my work habits, so another woman probably was going to work out the same way. I dated a little at first, but it never worked out because there was always some important project I had to finish. After I canceled a date or two, she’d tell me she had already made other plans. I finally stopped trying.

The Bachelor Life.

All that work did get me a rapid rise in my company, then a higher paying job at another, and then another until by the age of sixty, I wasn’t a millionaire, but I had enough in the bank I didn’t have to work to live comfortably. I’d bought and paid for a pretty nice house, drove a new car every couple of years, and in general was pretty happy with my life.

I retired that year thinking I was young enough I’d still have time to catch up with everything I’d missed. What I ended up being was lost with nowhere to go and nothing to do. I needed some way to occupy my time or I was going to end up like George.

One afternoon, I was sitting on my couch and watching a travel show about national parks when I thought maybe I had an answer to my problem.

After a lot of thought, I’d figured out that work had given me three things I needed to be happy - something to plan for, something to do to follow that plan, and a way to keep learning. I’d looked at a bunch of hobbies other people enjoy, but none of them really interested me. They either required a lot of equipment and space or took a long time to learn. Watching about national parks was a different story. All I needed to go to a national park was me and I didn’t need to learn anything first. I’d learn just by going there.

How to travel was the next question. Though my job had required flying a lot, I never liked it. I always felt like I was trapped in an aluminum tube and couldn’t do anything to help myself is something happened. Driving wasn’t that way. If I wanted to stop to look at something, I could stop. If I was hungry, I could get something to eat. If I was tired, no matter what time of day, I could just pull into a hotel and get a room.

Hitting the Road.

After a little figuring of costs, it looked like traveling around to parks might be fun, but it would be pretty expensive what with the cost of hotel rooms and eating out all the time. There was also the problem of my house. I couldn’t just leave it empty for a month at a time, and a month is about what it would take to get to and back from some of the parks I found that interested me. I was driving back from grocery shopping one afternoon when the answer pulled up beside me.

The motorhome looked huge, but the driver wasn’t having any trouble negotiating the traffic. It just took longer to change lanes and a lot longer to accelerate. All I knew about motorhomes was that you could live in them, so I started doing some investigating on the internet. What I found convinced me this was the answer to most of my problems.

I looked at several types, and decided the type they call “Class A” was what I wanted. I didn’t need to be able to sleep six people, but they were big enough they wouldn’t feel like living in a closet and they were really nice inside. They all had heaters for winter and air conditioning for summer, and even though most campsites had receptacles for electricity, the big motorhomes had on-board generators for power. I could park it anywhere and still have all the comforts of home.

There were a lot of them for sale within a hundred miles of me, so I took several trips to look at different makes and models. I knew I wanted one less than forty feet long, because my research found out that some states and some campsites have a length limit of forty feet.

After looking at a lot and driving a few, I decided a Thor Challenger was what I wanted. It had everything I could ever want plus some. The driver’s seat and passenger’s seat were more like living room chairs than car seats. It had a little kitchen with a microwave, a two burner propane stove, and a sink. I only needed one bathroom, but it came with two and they weren’t really much smaller than the bathroom in most apartments. One had a shower, and one had a tub with shower.

It was roomy on the inside too, thanks to three sections that extended a few feet once it was parked and leveled. Those extensions made it possible to have a king-size bed in the main bedroom and a double bed in the living area that folded up into a couch for the wide-screen television set on the opposite wall. It had a surprising amount of closet space too, and the kitchen had room to store pots and pans and a small pantry.

One thing I really liked was the full size refrigerator. A lot of the smaller RV’s had tiny little refrigerators. I didn’t want to be grocery shopping every day. The damned thing also had three television sets all cable ready - one in the master bedroom, one across from the couch, and one on the outside under the electrically extended patio awning.

It had power everything, including a system that self-leveled it when parked. I didn’t realize I needed that until the salesman explained that most campsites aren’t level, so without it, I’d be jacking it up level by hand.

The price he quoted me was just shy of two-hundred thousand, but I’d expected that and I had a plan. If I was driving all over the US, I wouldn’t need my house, and my house would more than pay for the Thor and still leave quite a bit to add to my travel cash. A month later, I sold my house and everything the Thor already had that I didn’t need two of. After I picked up the Thor and temporarily parked it at a local campsite, I was ready to start except for my car.

I’d seen a lot of cars towed behind motorhomes, but I really didn’t see the need. Most grocery stores have huge parking lots, so I could just drive the Thor to a Walmart and get my groceries before I parked for the night. It took another week to sell my car.

The day after the check for my car cleared, I emptied the black water tanks, filled the clean water tank, and then drove to a gas station. Seeing the dollars add up when I filled the eighty gallon fuel tank was a bit of a shock, but I’d figured the fuel cost into my travel budget. The Thor was supposed to average about seven miles to the gallon, so fuel would still be cheaper than driving my car, eating every meal in a restaurant, and paying for hotel rooms.

It was June by then and the days were warming up in the northern states, so my plan was to head North from Nashville and drive across Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and Washington and then turn South. Depending upon how long that took, I’d go South for the winter through California, then turn East and drive to Florida. That plan was pretty flexible. I wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere.

I’d already seen as much of Chicago as I wanted, so I bypassed it and headed into Wisconsin.

I didn’t push my schedule. Driving time was from about nine in the morning until three in the afternoon. Then I’d start looking for an RV campsite on the GPS unit. The point was to enjoy the drive and I did. Sitting up so high, I could see for miles ahead of me, and I could also look down into the cars that passed me.

Sightseeing in the other lane.

Just watching the country change was worth the drive. It was relaxing just driving along and watching the fields and forests go by and watching the other people in their cars. Sometimes, those people weren’t really relaxing. The first day, I realized what I’d read about what truckers saw was true.

The rear facing camera on the Thor had picked up the black SUV when it passed the semi behind me except it didn’t just pass. It pulled up to go around the semi, but slowed to the truck’s speed for about thirty seconds before driving on toward me.

When it got closer, in my side mirror I could see a man driving and a woman in the passenger seat. When it passed me, it did the same thing as when it passed the truck. When the SUV was even with my side window, it started pacing me When I looked down into the passenger window, there was a woman sitting there, only she wasn’t just sitting. She was slumped down and her top was unbuttoned and pulled away from her naked breasts, and those breasts were pretty impressive.

She looked up a me, grinned, and then lifted her breasts and sort of wobbled them up and down. Then she licked her lips, took a nipple in the fingers of each hand and pulled her big breasts into long cones. As the SUV accelerated, she smiled and waved.

Well, that was pretty weird, I thought, but it was just the start. I never realized there were so many women who apparently like showing themselves to complete strangers. There weren’t hundreds, but over the next few weeks if I was driving past a large city on a weekend, I’d see at least one. I saw more bare breasts than I’d ever seen outside of movies on cable.

There were also a couple who were covered on top but naked from the waist down and obviously masturbating. One was even completely naked. As that sedan drove along beside me for almost a minute and the woman worked her fingers in and out, she looked up at me and pursed her lips in a kiss. Right before the sedan drove on, the driver reached over and pinched her left nipple, the woman’s mouth opened in a little “O” shape and she arched up as far as the seat belt would let her and her thighs started to quiver.

Well, I might have been sixty, but I wasn’t immune to what a naked woman can do to a man. Some of those women were young, but most seemed to be more mature, mature enough I’d have loved meeting them and wouldn’t have felt like I was screwing some college girl. Most were with a man so I figured he was into showing off his wife or girlfriend and might not mind sharing her. There were a couple where the driver was a woman too, and I wondered if they were both into the exhibitionist thing and if they both might like a little sack time with an agreeable guy.

Nights in the RV.

I would have been more than agreeable to both those little fantasies. It had been a long time since I’d slept with a woman, but I hadn’t lost the urge. It was my damned job that stopped me from trying. I never met any women except the women at work and they were all married or too young. Oh, there were the checkout girls at the grocery store. Most of them weren’t married, but they were even younger than the women at my job. Most looked young enough they were probably still in high school.

The first night I pulled into a camping spot was also interesting and made me think I’d chosen the right way to spend my time. I’d leveled the Thor and was hooking up my electric, black water and clean water connections when a guy walked up with two beers, handed me one, and said “Hi. Haven’t seen you before. Where you from?”

That night, I found out a lot of the people at RV campgrounds know each other. I thought my idea of living in an RV all the time was probably unique, but a lot of people were doing the same thing. They’d hook up at an RV camp from time to time and share stories of what they’d seen and done. It was almost like there was an extended family of RV campers out there. By the time we all went back to our RV’s for bed, it was almost midnight and I’d made a bunch of new friends. Well, truth be told, they were the first actual friends I’d had in a long time. I’d worked with a lot of people but was too busy to make friends with any of them.

Most were about my age and were making the best of their retirement by seeing the US. While some still had permanent homes somewhere, for many their motor home was the only home they had. They’d plan their trip to be at a daughter or son’s home for the holidays, but other than that, they lived, as one woman told me, “Free as when we were twenty and just married with no kids.”

As I motored through Wisconsin and then into North Dakota, I kept seeing a few of the same people, and I met a lot more when I parked for the night. It was always the same. I’d pull into my spot and hook up. While I was doing that, somebody would walk over to say hello and invite me to spend some time with them.

Most of the RV parks also had tent camping sites, but those were usually used by younger couples, often with kids along once the schools let out. I like kids, but I also like quiet, so I usually asked for a site some distance away from the tent spots.

Weather Hits Without Warning.

One afternoon when I was rolling through Fargo, North Dakota it was raining like hell, and I mean raining so hard my windshield wipers were barely keeping up. I’d seen the weather forecast and knew that was probably going to happen, so I’d called ahead for a reservation and booked it with my credit card. It was a good thing I had, because when I pulled into the campground, there was only one spot left and that spot was next to the tent sites.

After pulling onto the pad, I leveled the Thor and ran out the extensions but didn’t go out to hook anything up. My holding tanks were far from full and I had most of the 150 gallons of fresh water left in the water tank. The generator came to life when I started it so I had electricity for everything.

The rain let up about half an hour later while I was deciding what I was going to have for dinner. It was then, a Jeep Wrangler drove into the tent site beside me. A woman got out, opened the back, and pulled out a bag. In the bag was a tent, and she started setting it up. It wasn’t a big tent like the families I’d seen using, but it was big enough it was taking her a while.

She had the back poles in place and was working on the poles at the entrance when it started raining again. In less than a minute, I figured she was soaked through to the skin and she still didn’t have the tent so it would stand up by itself. She wasn’t going to get it to stand up either. The wind that blew in the rain wasn’t especially strong, but the tent was acting like the sail on a sailboat and it was obvious she wasn’t strong enough to control it.

I opened the side door on the Thor and yelled, “Hey, there. You’re not getting anywhere. Come inside until this rain blows over”.

She looked up, gave me a funny look, but then ran over to the door and stepped inside. She said, “Thanks. I thought I could get my tent up before it started raining again, but I was getting drenched out there”, then chuckled.

“I think I better just stand here until it quits or I’ll drip all over your floor.”

I didn’t quite know what to say because she was the first woman I’d met in anything resembling a social environment in years. All I could do for a few seconds was look at her.

She wasn’t the young girl I’d expected to see. She looked about my age or maybe a little younger but I could see a few strands of sliver in her wet brunette hair. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that were both soaked through, and that wet T-shirt was sort of stuck to the bra holding her big breasts. When she smiled at me, I snapped out of my trance.

“No, the floor is vinyl and it’ll mop up just fine. Come on inside and dry off”.

She frowned at me.

“No, thank you, unless your wife has a robe or something I can wear.”

I figured when I said I wasn’t married, she’d think the worst and leave. I didn’t want her to do that.

“Ma'am, I’m not married, but I might be able to find something you could wear. I think you have a bigger problem than that though. You didn’t get your tent set up so it’ll be as wet on the inside as on the outside. You

Her After-school Stud

Snowden Speaks — Sun, 15 Sep 2024 16:13:00 +0000

A good teacher makes a bad decision to help a student pass.

by kotochaos. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chapter One: First Time

Morgan Klein stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, when Chris dropped his pants. To say she was impressed would be an understatement. A smile crawled slowly onto her face as she took in his limp manhood-boyhood, really-and found him larger than her husband at her husband’s proudest moment. More impressive was the fact that Chris wasn’t even hard yet, though he swelled rapidly under her gaze, growing to an even more impressive size when finished. She could hardly believe it when she took him in hand and found that her fingers could not meet around him.

This was Morgan’s third year teaching. She was a secondary English teacher and had, the year before, tutored Chris after school. Chris was a tall, brooding sort. He came from a broken home with a single mom in their struggling rural community. His mother did what she could, but she was uneducated herself and, between three jobs, hardly had time to help Chris at all. When he had moved on from eleventh grade, his mother had personally told Morgan’s principal that Morgan was her savior. Since then, Morgan has taken a vested interest in Chris’ development.

Moving into twelfth grade when he should have been ready for graduation, Chris began struggling again. Morgan had been patient at first, but she saw her success quickly withering into failure. Desperate to make a turnaround, she had agreed to a deal which she never thought she would have agreed to before. In her desperation, she had agreed to give Chris an orgasm for a good grade, and Chris eagerly accepted. That was how he ended up fully erect in her face, his massive dick throbbing and leaking in her hand.

Chris’ penis was nothing like any she had ever seen before. It was something out of a practical joke or a legend. Not only was he thick, but he was monstrously long, too, and his crown was shiny red and dribbling precum as he pulsed and throbbed in her palm. Clearly aroused, she was surprised that he hadn’t exploded all over her already. Despite her better judgement, she was flattered at his arousal.

Chris stammered as Morgan stared down his shaft. She looked him in the eyes, and he looked away, blushing. “Y-you, Mrs. Klein, you don’t have to.”

Morgan smiled. Staring down this length, she wondered how he could be brave enough to suggest it but frightened when it happened. His bravado drained the moment he gave her the paper, but she was glad to see that he hadn’t deflated at all once after his pants were opened. A lesser man might grow limp with anxiety, but Chris’ nerves only seemed to make him harder.

“No, Chris, a promise is a promise,” she said, stroking him slowly. She met his gaze again, and her smile broadened as she saw his cheeks growing red. “You got the grade, so you’ll get your reward for it. I just wasn’t expecting, um, it to be such a LARGE task.” She moved her hand to his root and held him at the base so that she could appreciate his full length.

Morgan was a small woman, with small hands, and Chris looked only more impressive by comparison. Despite his length and girth, his pubic hair was sparse and thin, possibly due to his age, she didn’t know. She felt silly to be in this situation at all, let alone contemplating the logistics of hair growth in teens. In her second year of teaching, she had been instructed to pick a student and make them her cause. Now, holding Chris hard in her hands, she feels even better about her choice.

She held him in both hands and stroked him idly, gathering his precum and smearing it along his shaft. Not a virgin, Morgan has always been pretty and enjoyed male attention. She had never been with someone like Chris, though. Despite his youth, Chris was tall and fit. He still held the A in his hand, clutched tightly and slightly crumpled as she stroked him. He was embarrassed, but he was also throbbing and, measuring at least twelve inches in length and twice her husband’ girth, he was more man than anyone she had ever met.

Thumbing his crown, Morgan chuckled. Chris moaned in her grasp and, smiling at him, she said, “Someone’s excited.” She didn’t know who she was talking about, though. Her nipples were erect and chaffing her bra, while her pussy was wetting her panties in her arousal. Chris met her gaze and watched breathlessly as she stroked him with her tiny hands.

“Sorry,” he choked, and Morgan laughed again.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, and she licked her lips staring down his length. “This is all actually very flattering.” Leaning forward in her chair, she breathed along his cockhead and laughed as he throbbed again. He was steel hard, and she was sure he wouldn’t last much longer. A hand job would likely be enough but, stroking him, she knew he wanted more. “Now then, I seem to remember that you had asked for a blowjob in exchange for an A.”

Chris nodded, his eyes widening as her wet lips approached his manhood. Morgan licked her lips again and stroked him, gathering precum to his cockhead. Glancing down at him, she chewed her bottom lip. She had never been with a man as large as Chris before, and she was curious to see how well he would fit in her mouth. Though a tiny woman, she was excited to try, and thinking about the size difference between Chris and her husband only made her more excited.

“Well, lucky you got an A, then.” Parting her lips, Morgan sucked Chris inside. Her jaw ached to accommodate him as she struggled around his girth. Lips tight, though, she took him to the edge of her throat and gagged briefly before meeting his gaze. Chris watched her in awed silence, his dick painfully hard and his balls tight. He had suggested a blowjob as a joke, and he had felt both guilty and afraid as soon as he said it. When she agreed, he had assumed that was a joke, too, all the way up until she had him in her mouth.

Morgan, too, is awed in her own way. Despite being a boy by her estimation, Chris was hung like a man. Fully erect and swelling fatter, he was not only larger than her husband, but he had a more pronounced flavor as well. His precum was thicker than her husband’s semen, and the taste of it was robust as it spread across her mouth. Closing her eyes, she focused on the way Chris filled her mouth, and as she bobbed her head on him, she grew drunk on his taste.

She mewled, sucking him deep and stroking him with both her hands and her lips. With his flavor in her throat and on her tongue, she became tuned into Chris. His presence surrounded her and filled her. She could smell him suddenly, her nostrils burning with his boyish musk. His youth did nothing to counteract her arousal. In fact, that knowledge that he was still so young only served to arouse her further. She whimpered around him and, hearing this, Chris stiffened in response.

Finally, his youth betrayed him. Body tight, muscles flexing, Chris quickened and came hard. Morgan had only just started when his thick semen filled her mouth. Her cheeks ballooned. She swallowed on instinct to keep from choking, but his sperm stuck to her throat. Sitting back to cough, she took the rest across her face. Chris stood still, his dick throbbing as he unloaded the thickest load of his life onto his favorite teacher.

Chris’ dick was easily twice the size of her husband’s. His orgasm, by her estimation, was many times more than that and also many times thicker. He covered her in hot, sticky jelly that burned itself into her flesh. He marked her as his woman, as his slut, as his scalding seed cascaded across her face and torso.

Morgan rode it out, her hair catching the semen and clinging to her cheeks. She breathed through it, shivering through her own climax as she smacked her lips. Chris’ semen remained thick in her mouth and in her throat, and she could feel it warming her belly. Looking up, she met his gaze and held it as Chris pants and whined like the child he is. In all her life, she has never had a man taste so good. Her husband, in particular, could compete. Chris may have been a boy in many ways, but Morgan had come to recognize that he was a man where it counted most.

Coming down from his orgasm, Chris panted. “Oh my God, Mrs. Klein.” Morgan, smiling, sucked him back into her mouth and bobbed her head on him. Chris’ hands twitched. He thought to stop her, but he was too drunk on her to fight it. “That felt so good,” he whined. “My hands never felt that good.”

Grinning, Morgan flourished her tongue, licking around his glans before holding him with her hands and kissing her way down his hard shaft. Even after the thickest, richest orgasm of either of their lives, he remained erect. She attributed it to his youth, though she found herself flattered by both his resilience and his continued interest. Stroking him idly, she licked his crown. “And that’s just the beginning, Chris. Get another A, and we’ll see what else I can give you.” She punctuated the statement with a wink.

Throbbing in her grip, Chris groaned. “Oh, God!”

Morgan laughed in response.

That night at home, Morgan tried to have sex with her husband but could not find the willpower to follow through. Comparing him to Chris, she felt both disappointed and defeated. Not only did he fail to measure up to Chris, but his body was softer and his hair thinning. Still young, still fit, and having the interest of one both younger and more impressive than her husband, she found satisfaction in her fingers instead.

She masturbated in the shower, teasing and tickling herself to a small climax equal to but less satisfying than the one Chris brought her with a facial. Rinsing herself afterward, she teased her small, pink nipples and later smiled at herself in the mirror. What she was doing was wrong, but it helped Chris and would last until he graduated. That is what she told herself, at least, but deep down she knew that this was only the beginning.

Good intentions push a teacher to make another mistake.

Chapter Two: Double Take

Morgan woke up horny the next day. She woke up imagining Chris’ fat cock throbbing and pulsing, and she remembered the hot musk of it as he shot across her face and her nose. She came home sticky with his semen and fingered herself in the shower, her husband was hardly a thought in her head as she did it. She fingered herself again in the morning, reaching a quiet but empty orgasm beside her sleeping husband before her alarm went off. He woke up oblivious, and she woke up angry.

She remained horny as she dressed, and she eyed her pert body as well, imagining Chris there with her, equally naked. They would complement each other, Chris’ big body looking even bigger beside Morgan’s own petite frame. Every part of him was built to break her, but she looked young and could likely pass as his girlfriend in the right context. It flattered her that a man like Chris would show interest in her, and then she reminded herself that Chris was not a man but a boy with a man-sized cock, which did nothing to reduce her pride.

The morning passed slowly and empty. She spied Chris passing in the halls but could hardly get him to look her in the eyes. That afternoon for tutoring he was quiet, unwilling or unable to speak to her at length. Morgan, meanwhile, kept hoping he had hidden another A from her and thought to just ask him to let her suck his dick again. She needed to come, and she knew her husband couldn’t do it.

A week passed and nothing. Thoughts and memories of Chris’ dick floated in and out of her head. She tried again to fuck her husband but couldn’t. He smelled wrong, and she ended up jerking him off to a meager and disappointing climax. By the next Tuesday, she resented her husband and increasingly looked to Chris for relief.

Chris, meanwhile, remained the perfect gentleman. Sometimes, she noticed that he was hard, and though it brought a smile to her face, she wasn’t brave enough to act on it. His grades weren’t improving, and she didn’t want to reward bad behavior. So, she just stared and waited for him to ask for help, and he didn’t ask for help because of his embarrassment and his arousal. She had always thought he might have a crush on her, but she had never realized how intense his crush was.

Tuesday, however, was too much. They passed in the hall and Morgan noted, with some amusement, that Chris developed a sudden limp. Recognizing her own arousal, she realized the truth–she would have to be the one to end this cold war. So, when tutoring started, she approached his desk and stopped beside him. Seated, he was almost as tall as she was standing. She found his pants tented, and she smiled.

He looked at her, his eyes lingering on her small bosom before meeting her gaze. She smiled, and he stammered. “Uh–Um–Mrs. Klein?”

Morgan shushed him with one dainty finger to his lips. “Shh,” she said, smiling. “You seem to be having a hard time focusing,” she said, leaning over onto his desk and giving him a glimpse of her breasts down her blouse. “Let me help you.” She ended the statement by cupping his swollen manhood through his pants.

Chris gasped. “B-But I haven’t gotten another A yet.”

Hardly listening, Morgan undid his pants with one hand and pulled his hard dick out. He jumped into view, his dick erupting from the open fly of his boxers. Already long and rigid, he seemed massive compared to her husband, and she cooed as she took him in her hand. After days of fantasy, it felt good to hold the real thing again. “Oh! Do you see that, Chris? You’re so big and hard right now, there’s no way you can focus on what you’re reading. At this rate, you’d be lucky to even get an F.” Taking him in both hands, she stroked him slowly. “Oh, you poor thing. It must hurt to be so big and hard all the time.” Pouting, she looked him in the eyes and found him staring at her breasts. “Is this what I do to you, Chris? Do I make it hard for you to learn?”

Gasping and whining, Chris shook his head. His long hair danced as he did. “No, Mrs. Klein. No! You help me!”

Morgan smiled. Reaching into his underwear, she cupped his balls and marveled at their weight and size. “That is sweet, Chris, but you don’t have to lie.” She purred and held him by his root, staring in awe at his full length. Despite his size, he remained a quiet, mewling teen in the hands of a woman far more experienced. The age difference only helped to arouse her more, and her tiny hands around his dick made him appear bigger by comparison. Groaning, she stroked his full length with both hands. “No, the best thing I can do for you now is help you come. Then and only then can we get any real work done.”

She made eye contact with Chris and was happy to find him speechless. Her entire life, she has been a good girl who made the right decision whenever faced with a challenge. Holding Chris now and measuring him against her forearm, she felt like this is the first bad decision of her life, and she was glad that she waited for the right one. Purring, she stroked him from base to crown, holding him as if she was tugging him toward her. “Mm, Chris, I made you this hard. So, I have to be the one who takes on the heavy, heavy burden of helping you find relief.”

After that, Morgan lost herself in him. She stared at his shaft and reversed her grip, holding him with both hands and stroking him vigorously. Her husband was a tall man and very slender, and though he was not the only man she had ever been with, he was the one she had chosen to marry. To that point, she had been satisfied with him. Though she had been with bigger men, they had never been large enough to adequately outclass him.

Chris, however, outclassed all of them. She had attempted to find pleasure and comfort in her fingers and in her husband for days and found each unworthy. Chris, however, has her wet at a glance. Holding him, stroking him, she could not help but imagine the way that he could and would fill her if given the chance. A facial had given her one of the best orgasms of her life. She knew on instinct that opening her legs to him would give her so much more.

Staring at his huge dick as her hands glided across him, watching his swollen red crown leak precum, Morgan whined in her arousal. “Darn it, Chris, I can’t believe how stinking big you are!”

Gasping in her grasp, Chris whined, “I’m sorry!”

Morgan stopped stroking him long enough to look him in the eyes and was hurt to find him anxious. His dick was steel hard, throbbing in her tiny hands, and his interest was obvious, but it was animal interest and little more. Chris was still a child, Morgan remembered, too young to understand her praise or to separate it from insult. She was treating him like a well-endowed stud, experienced and virile, and he could be that someday. Today, however, he was only a eighteen-year-old boy with a mammoth hard-on and a horny teacher.

Stroking him more slowly, Morgan swallowed her arousal and put on a smile for him. Chris’ big dick was confusing for her. It filled her with lust, but that lust was her burden and not his. He was still a boy, and she was his instructor. It was her job to keep him safe and to teach him the truth. Smiling gently, she whispered to him, “No, Chris. You don’t need to apologize. You should never have to apologize for having a big dick.” She giggled, watching him thrust and whine as she stroked him slowly from crown to root. “When I tell you that your dick is big, I am complimenting you. Few men are this size, and I think yours is long, and thick, and gorgeous. So, whenever you’re horny, whenever you’re distract, bring your big, beautiful dick to me, and I promise to take care of it.

Chris gasped, thrusting into her hands, leaking precum all over her fingers. "A-anytime?”

Smiling at him again, seeing the hope and the shock in his eyes, Morgan squeezed his dick in open affection. Holding him, stroking him, it is easy to imagine him as a man, but looking him in the eyes reveals that he is only a boy with a man-sized cock that required man-sized attention. The girls at school wouldn’t have his best interests at heart, and so Morgan resigned herself to taking care of him instead. “Anytime,” she purred.

“Even without an A?”

She giggled. “Even without an A.” Licking her lips a second time, she turned her attention back to the swollen, throbbing dick in her hands. She could tell he was getting close and could tell from the way he moved and the way he swelled in her hands. Chris could feel it, too, and seemed to be breathing through his arousal, desperate to keep himself together. Morgan found his efforts cute, but she also wanted to see him explode. Kissing his crown, she whispered, “So, what can I do to help you finish, Chris? What do you need from me? What do you want?”

Panting like a dog, Chris barked, “Tits! I want to see your tits!”

Smiling, Morgan stroked him with one hand while using her other hand to cup one of her breasts. Her hard nipple dug into her palm as she touched herself. “These little things?”

Chris whined and nodded. His dick throbbed, producing even more thick, rich precum to spread across her palm. “Yes,” he panted. “Yes. I want to see them. I want to come on them.”

“You want to come on them,” Morgan echoed, laughing. “My, my, you are bold, aren’t you?” Releasing her breasts, she put a finger to his mouth as he opened it to apologize. He stared down at her, cross-eyed, around her finger. “Don’t,” she said, holding his dick firmly in hand as precum wetted her skin. “Don’t apologize, Chris. Women like it when a man knows what he wants, and with a big dick like yours, you have a lot of bargaining power. As for my tits.”

Reaching down with her free hand, Morgan lifted her bra and blouse up smoothly over her slender stomach and small, plump breasts. Her nipples, more red than pink in color, stood fully erect and sensitive in the open air. Plucking one, Morgan looked down to regard her breasts before looking him in the eyes and finding him staring. “I can accommodate that request, but you’ll have to help me out from here.” Guiding him, she turned him to face her instead of the desk and then moved his h

Stacy’s Mom: Part 2

Sun, 15 Sep 2024 16:06:03 +0000

Kathy makes her desires known.

Based on a post by ron de, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

It was one Tuesday in July before I understood why Stacy was always friendly but never wanted to take things any further.

I was working on the design for a small spec building when my phone rang. The number was Stacy’s home number, but I knew it wasn’t her. She’d said she was going to Florida and took the whole week off. When I answered, the person on the other end was Kathy.

“Troy, I apologize for calling you, but I didn’t want to call a repairman until I knew for sure I needed to call one.”

I said it was good to hear from her and asked her what the problem was.

“It’s my lawn mower. It starts and runs, but it won’t cut the grass. It doesn’t make that loud sound, and it just sort of pushes the grass over. Could you come look at it, please? If I don’t get my grass cut, my neighbors are going to complain.”

I said I’d come out after work, and a little after five-thirty, drove in their drive.

When I knocked on the front door, Kathy answered.

“Come on in, Troy. The mower’s out in the back yard.”

I knew it was going to be hot that day when I left for work. I didn’t notice because the office is air conditioned, but I did when I walked outside. It was pretty obvious that Kathy noticed too.

The two times I’d seen her that winter, she was wearing jeans and a sweater because it was cold. The time in April, she’d changed the sweater for a T-shirt, but that still covered most of her. That day, she was just wearing what looked like a sports bra, shorts, and flip-flops. The shorts were cut low in the front and really short in the legs, and like any sports bra, Kathy’s didn’t reach down much more than the bottoms of her tits. It also wasn’t doing a very good job of holding her tits tight to her body, but that was because Kathy had a lot to hold in.

The problem with Kathy’s mower was the deck belt had slipped off the motor pulley. The belt looked pretty worn, but it did run the mower when I put it back on the pulley. Like before, I made a round of her back yard and then shut off the mower. Kathy walked over smiling.

“I didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“Well, you do need to get a new belt. That one isn’t going to last much longer. The part number is under the seat. If you get one, I’ll come put it on for you.”

Kathy smiled then.

“Stacy tells me she thinks you like her. Do you?”

“Well, sure I do. I work with her every day.”

Kathy shook her head.

“What I mean is she thinks you really like her, and that’s why you keep asking her out.”

Kathy was frowning and I didn’t know why.

“Well, yes, I would like her to go out with me.”

Kathy shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, Troy. You know Stacy went to Florida this week, don’t you?”

“Yeah, she told me.”

“Did she tell you she went with her girlfriend?”

“No, but it wouldn’t surprise me. A lot of women don’t like to travel alone.”

Kathy smiled.

“You’re just as naïve as Stacy said. Troy, she’s not just traveling with Veronica. They’re together. She didn’t know how to tell you, but I didn’t think it was right for her to let you keep chasing after her when you don’t really have a chance. This is the first time we’ve been alone so I could tell you.”

Well, that hit me pretty hard.

“I had no idea.”

Kathy smiled.

“Neither did I until I came home from shopping one Sunday afternoon and found them in her bed together. It’s funny. I was always worried I’d find out she’d been sleeping with a boy. I thought I raised her to like boys, but I guess she had other ideas. At least she won’t get pregnant like I did with her.”

This was getting into things I didn’t think I wanted to know about.

“Well, I should probably be going so you can finish up your yard.”

Kathy’s face was smiling but she looked sort of hopeful too.

“Would you like to get a pizza tonight, like we always did before? Stacy won’t be here, but now that you know, that probably doesn’t make any difference, does it?”

I shook my head.

“No, I guess not, but you don’t owe me anything. I like helping you and Stacy.”

“Yes I do. If I’d have called somebody to come out, it would have cost me at least a hundred dollars. The least I can do is feed you. Now, I’ll get you a soda and you sit right here. It’ll only take me half an hour.”

I did sit there while she rode the mower around her yard. I sat there and wondered about what she’d said about getting pregnant with Stacy. I’d often wondered why Kathy didn’t have a husband. She was a good-looking woman, and she seemed to be a really nice woman. Maybe it was like happened to some girls back then – she’d gotten pregnant and had to marry the guy only to find out they didn’t get along. That might have soured her on trying to find another husband.

I also watched Kathy as she mowed. There were some rough spots in the hard and every time the mower went over one, it would sort of bounce. Kathy’s big tits bounced right along with it.

Now, I might have been naïve, but I knew any man seeing her like that would have been interested. Sex isn’t everything. I’d known that for a long time, but it is what attracts most men at the start. If Kathy couldn’t attract several men, she just wasn’t trying.

She finished mowing, put her mower in the garage and then said, “You know, I’m too tired to get dressed up and go out. I think I’ll just call and have a pizza delivered. Let’s go inside and get cooled off. It’s hot out here.”

We’d about finished the pizza and were sitting on her couch when Kathy took a drink of her soda and then looked at me.

“Stacy says you think I’m sexy.”

I guess I should have known Stacy would tell Kathy, but she still caught me off guard. Kathy was smiling at the time and that was a little disconcerting too. Some women would have wanted to hear they were sexy but some might be offended that I’d told their daughter they were.

“Well, I did say that; after she asked if I did or not.”

Kathy grinned.

“Yeah, she would ask you something like that. She worries about me all the time. She thinks I should be finding a man. I keep telling her I don’t need a man to be happy, but she won’t believe I don’t need anybody. Would you believe she even tried to fix me up with another woman? She said if I didn’t want a man maybe I was like her and would like a woman instead.

"Well, I set her straight about that. I can understand why she loves Veronica, or at least I can understand how it feels when you love someone. I just can’t imagine me ever wanting to touch another woman that way, much less love another woman.

"She’s tried to set me up with a lot of men, but I didn’t like any of them. It’s hard to explain why, so she never understands when I say that, but I don’t like men in general. Do you think that’s weird?”

I didn’t want to answer, but I didn’t know how to just leave without offending Kathy.

“I’m not a woman, so I don’t know if it’s weird or not. I know some women don’t like me for some reason.”

Kathy smiled.

“There’s one woman I know likes you because she’s me. You’re my knight in shining armor when you fix things for me.”

I said I appreciated that. Kathy signed.

“I wish Roger had. I liked him too. I liked him well enough I had sex with him twice. I was only eighteen then, and the second time he got me pregnant with Stacy. Back then, schools wouldn’t let a pregnant girl stay in school, so I had to quit just two months before I’d have graduated.

Evidently Roger didn’t like me for anything except sex, because as soon as I told him, he disappeared and didn’t tell anybody where he was going. Maybe that’s why Stacy likes girls. I kept telling her if she slept with a guy the same thing would happen to her.”

That was interesting because Kathy had answered the question I’d wondered about before.

“So, you raised Stacy by yourself?”

“Yes I did. After Stacy was born, I got my GED and then went to junior college to be a legal secretary. That’s what I still do to make ends meet, and I like it. My mother took care of Stacy when I was working, and even after she was old enough to stay home by herself, I still had her go to Mom’s house after school. I didn’t want her messing around with boys and getting pregnant like I did. I thought I did a good job until I caught her with Veronica the summer she graduated. She was home by herself, I thought, until I walked in the door and heard them in her bedroom.”

I shrugged.

“I think you did a good job. Stacy’s a nice girl. I’ve never heard her say anything bad to anybody or about anybody. As for her liking girls, I don’t know if you could have changed that any more than you could start liking women.”

Kathy smiled.

“Well thank you for the ego boost. Sometimes I need one. I’m thirty-nine, and I’m starting to feel old because Stacy is all grown up. I’ve told her she can live with me for as long as she wants and she can have Veronica move in too if that’s what she wants, but I think she feels like I cramp her style. One of these days, she’s going to get a place of her own and I’ll be left here by myself. I think I’m going to feel really old then.”

Kathy was frowning then, so I tried to cheer her up.

“Kathy, thirty-nine isn’t old. Thirty-nine is about when women start to get interesting.”

Kathy sat up a little straighter.

“Oh, how so?”

“Well, girls my age are still a little ditzy sometimes. I don’t think they know who they are yet. When a woman gets older, she’s already figured that out, and she’s more interesting to be with.”

Kathy smiled again, but it wasn’t her normal smile.

“And what led you to that conclusion?”

I couldn’t very well tell her about Liz, so I tried to make up something she’d believe.

“Nothing in particular. It’s just what I’ve seen with most women I’ve known.”

Kathy smiled that same smile again.

“You’re right about a woman learning who she really is, but women learn something else as they get older. We learn how to tell when someone isn’t telling us the truth. There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

My dad always said the problem with telling a lie is you have to keep lying to cover for the one before. He was right, but it didn’t stop me from trying.

“No, I don’t think there is.”

Kathy put her soda on the end table.

“You know, Troy, women think the same thing about men. When men are young they’re all trying to show us how strong and manly they are. Women want a man to be strong, but we also want a man to have a soft side where we’re concerned.

From what I’ve seen, men don’t learn that on their own. They have to be taught by a woman, and she has to be something special to them or they won’t pay attention. I think a special woman taught you how to make her feel good about herself when she didn’t. That’s what you’re trying to do with me right now because you’re not really answering me.”

I couldn’t lie to Kathy again. I suppose it was the way she looked at me. She wasn’t really smiling. Her face looked like she already knew the right answer and was just waiting for me to tell her.

“Well, there was one woman I liked a lot.”

Kathy smiled that funny smile again.

“How old was she?”

“I’m not sure because she never said. I think about forty or so.”

“Did you; were you lovers?”

“I suppose you could call it that.”

Kathy laughed.

“Troy, if you don’t know for sure, she didn’t teach you very well.”

“Well, you know what I mean. We weren’t in love or anything like that. We just liked being together; that way.”

“You mean you liked having sex with her, don’t you? I’m sure she must have wanted to have sex with you, or she wouldn’t have gotten that close to you. Women are pretty choosy about their partners, especially when they get older.”

I shrugged.

“I think she did. I didn’t start it. She did. She took me to her house for coffee one night.”

Kathy smiled.

“Kind of like we’re here in my house tonight?”

“Well, yes, but I thought it was just for coffee.”

“What did she do to convince you?”

“She kissed me and then told me what to do?”

Kathy smiled again.

“Your first time, right?”

“Yeah, it was the first time for me.”

“Did you make her happy?”

This was getting embarrassing. I’d never told anyone about even liking Liz, let along anything about having sex with her. There was something about Kathy that kept making me answer though.

“I think I did, well, the second time. The first time; I couldn’t hold back.”

Kathy grinned.

“You look like you’re embarrassed. You shouldn’t be. That sounds like the first time Roger and I were together. He couldn’t stop either. It was my first time too, so I was glad he couldn’t because it hurt. The second time was better except I got pregnant. I’ll bet you were better the second time too, or she wouldn’t have kept doing it with you.”

I had to smile because I remembered what Liz had told me that last night. She was lying beside me and stroking my chest after we’d both cum.

“Troy, just do what you do with me, and you’ll make any woman feel as great as you make me feel.”

Kathy interrupted that thought.

“Troy, you’re smiling. She told that, didn’t she, that you made her feel great?”

“Yes, she said that.”

Kathy smiled.

“She was a lucky woman then. Most men don’t know how special sex is for a woman. It sounds like she must have taught you that.”

I shrugged.

“I don’t know. She never said anything like that.”

“No, she wouldn’t, but she wouldn’t have picked you unless you made her feel like you were a man who could learn to understand. I understand why she would pick you. If I was looking for a man, I’d want him to be like you; ”

I hadn’t been able to look Kathy in the face up until then. When I looked at her, she had a strange grin on her face, kind of like the way Liz had grinned at me that first night.

“; if I was looking for a man, that is.”

I started feeling the same feeling I’d had that first night with Liz. Liz was one thing, but I worked with Kathy’s daughter. I didn’t think Stacy would think much of me having sex with her mother.

“Kathy, I thought you weren’t looking. Are you?”

“Maybe; Stacy says I should be.”

“Well, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding one. You have a lot to offer.”

Kathy smiled.

“That’s what Stacy says, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t think I’m really in a position to say.”

Kathy scooted over the couch until her hip was touching mine. She put her hand on my thigh then.

“Is this position better?”

Her hand was stroking my leg a little and my cock was noticing.

“Kathy, I don’t think Stacy would like us being this close.”

“Why? She wants me to find a man.”

Kathy frowned then.

“Don’t you like me?”

I couldn’t tell Kathy I didn’t like her because I did.

“No, I like you, I like you a lot.”

Kathy stroked her hand up a little higher on my leg.

“Then what’s the problem? You’re just a guy I like a lot too, and I’m just a woman who wants to feel liked.”

“You’re Stacy’s mother. That’s the problem.”

“Because I’m older than you? Is that it?”

“Yes, no; well sort of. You’re not that much older than I am, but Stacy will probably think you’re too old for me.”

Kathy giggled.

“I should tell you more about Stacy and Veronica so you’ll understand that she won’t have a problem. When Stacy was nineteen, she had trouble finding bras that fit because she’d gotten bigger on one side than the other. I have the same problem, so I told her she should go to a lingerie shop because they have women who specialize in fitting bras. Veronica was at the shop for the same reason, and they decided they liked each other.

Stacy came home with two new bras and told me she’d met a woman there who was thirty-three and had the same problem. It was two weeks after that I caught them in bed together. So see, Stacy won’t have a problem with our ages? The only problem will be if you do. Do you?”

I thought about that for while Kathy kept stroking my leg. It was hard to think because she kept moving her fingers a little higher with each stroke, and my cock was getting hard. I wasn’t letting that influence what I was thinking. It just made it hard to concentrate.

She was fifteen years older then I, but she didn’t act or look like she was. In talking with her, I’d discovered she was an intelligent woman. In looking at her like I’d been doing, I’d also discovered she was a very desirable woman. I’d been mostly ignoring those things because I didn’t think she’d be interested in anything more than me helping her do something she couldn’t do herself. Now, Kathy was basically asking me to do something else she couldn’t do for herself either.

I smiled.

“I don’t if you don’t.”

I woke up the next morning not really sure where I was for a few seconds. I was in a bed, but it wasn’t my bed and the room wasn’t my bedroom. It all came back to me when I felt Kathy’s hip against my leg. She was still asleep, so I just smiled and remembered.

I’d leaned over and kissed her when she grinned and said, “Prove that it doesn’t make any difference.” After that kiss, I think she was convinced, because she started ligh

Stacy’s Mom: Part 1

Sat, 14 Sep 2024 16:09:08 +0000

I wanted to date Stacy, but she kept inviting her mom too.

Based on a post by ron de, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

When you grow up in a small town in the South, it’s not like growing up anywhere else. The South tends to be conservative anyway, and small towns take conservatism to the extreme. Most of the people in small, southern towns go to church on Sunday morning if not Sunday night and Wednesday night too. Most of the people in small, southern towns have a strict moral code and are quick to judge anyone who doesn’t uphold that moral code.

That always seemed to be hypocritical to me. When I was a kid, we went to Church three times a week, and what I heard the preacher say was you shouldn’t judge other people. That seemed like a good way to live, to me anyway, but even after church, I’d hear the preacher’s wife talking to the other women about something some other woman did that they thought was scandalous.

Usually, that something wasn’t really all that bad. It would be something like Mary Hastings wearing a dress that was what they considered too short for a woman of fifty. Sometimes it was worse, like when Julie Adams let herself get pregnant by Billy Joe Thompson and they had to get married instead of going to junior college that fall, but usually, it was just how some woman dressed or how she acted that set their tongues to wagging.

Unlike most of the guys in my class, I didn’t get a job as soon as I graduated and settle down to a life with a wife and kids. Mom and Dad wanted me to make something of myself besides working construction or working in a factory for the next fifty years so I’d planned on going to college, but when I saw how much it was going to cost, I was pretty shocked.

The only way I could see to make it through college was to find a job where I could work full time but still have time for classes and to study. Mom and Dad said they’d help, but I was pretty sure they couldn’t really afford to. Mom didn’t work and while Dad’s wages let us live comfortably, we weren’t rolling in cash. They’d have borrowed the money and would still be paying the bank back after I graduated.

The job I found was working as a janitor for a contractor that cleaned office buildings after hours. It didn’t pay much more than minimum, but the hours were six to eleven, five days a week, and eight to seven on Sunday. That schedule worked as long as I could schedule my classes for late morning to early afternoon. There was no way I could do that and carry a full time class load, so I ended up taking six years to graduate instead of four.

College was interesting, but still frustrating. I liked the engineering classes, so I did well. The other classes caused me to study hard, but I did well in them too. I didn’t do so well with the girls. I didn’t understand the whole women’s liberation thing, and while I’d heard about lesbians, I’d never met one until I asked Patty if she’d like to have coffee sometime.

Patty gave me a patronizing smile, and said I really didn’t have the right equipment. Well, I didn’t understand that either, so I asked her what she meant. Patty frowned at me then and shook her head.

“Troy, haven’t you ever heard that some girls like other girls?”

I said I had, but I always thought they tried to look like men. Patty just laughed.

“You must really be from back in the sticks then.”

Well, that kind of made me leery of asking another girl out and I really couldn’t afford to date anyway, so I concentrated on studying instead of girls and it looked like I was going to graduate still a virgin.

I did make a good friend on my job my last semester. The janitorial service changed management, and the new supervisor of my crew was Liz Bowman, a woman about forty. She’d get us started and then walk around inspecting what we’d done. If we’d missed something, she’d make us do it over.

Janitorial work wasn’t hard but it was boring as hell. We swept and dusted the same rooms in the same offices every night, and after a week of that, I knew every crack in the walls and every spot that wouldn’t come clean.

Liz understood that, so sometimes she’d talk to us, and she seemed to like talking to me the most. It was a rare night that she didn’t spend at least half an hour with me. At first, I just thought since she was new, she was making sure I did everything like I was supposed to. The night she started talking about how she’d been divorced for two years and really missed having a man around started me thinking maybe it was more. It did turn out to be more, more than I’d ever even dreamed.

We finished up one night about ten til ten, and Liz sent everybody home except me. She said she wanted to make one last check of the last room I’d done. When I followed her into that room, Liz looked around for all of two seconds and then asked if I’d like to have a cup of coffee before I went back to my apartment.

I thought we’d go to the coffee shop on campus where everybody else went. Liz drove right past it and headed away from campus. Since I was in her car, there wasn’t much I could do other than ask her what restaurant we were going to.

Liz looked over at me and smiled.

“I make better coffee than any restaurant or coffee shop, so we’re going to my house.”

I didn’t think much about that until Liz closed the door to her house behind us. She scared me to death when she smiled and put her arms around my neck though.

“Troy, I brought you home with me because I want this to be more than coffee. If you don’t want to, I understand. I’m not twenty anymore. We’ll just have a cup and then I’ll take you back to your apartment, but I was hoping since it’s Friday, you’d spend the night with me.”

Well, like I said, I was scared, not scared of Liz or because I didn’t want to do it, but scared of the fact that I didn’t have a clue about how to do it other than what my dad had told me. All he said was stroke her tits, stick a finger in her entrance, and then stick in your cock and pump away. He didn’t use those exact words and he hemmed and hawed a lot, but that’s basically what he was saying.

I liked Liz, and I didn’t want to make her feel bad about herself.

“Liz, it isn’t that I don’t want to, but as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve never; well, you’d be the first and I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Liz just grinned then.

“You can follow directions, can’t you?”

That first night, Liz gave me a lot of directions. The directions got shorter and pretty breathy as we went along, and at the end, she was just saying a couple words at a time. For my part, I was discovering all the things women liked that Dad had never told me.

Liz liked her tits stroked, but after I did that a little she guided my fingers to her nipple.

“Here, Troy. Stroke my nipple and then suck it just a little at first. I’ll tell you when you can suck harder.”

When Liz took off my clothes, my cock was standing tall and starting to throb a little. Once I got her nipple in my mouth and sucked, it felt like my cock swelled a lot more. It felt really stiff and tight when Liz guided my hand down between her thighs and whispered, “Just a fingertip between my lips at first. When you feel me getting wet, slip that finger inside me and move it in and out”.

Liz hadn’t touched me up until that point, but as soon as I slipped that finger inside her, she found my cock and began jacking it really slow and really gently. That was a good thing. If she held it tighter or jacked it faster, I’d have cum all over her. As it was, she kept me close but not quite there.

I was feeling great that I was arousing Liz the way it looked like I was. She had her eyes closed most of the time, and her after a while, she was breathing through her mouth. That’s when she pulled gently on my cock and whispered, “Put it in me now, Troy.”

I suppose it was because I’d never heard a woman say anything like that, that she was ready for me, that I almost lost it. Thankfully, Liz stopped stroking my cock and just spread her legs apart so I could get between them. When I had trouble finding her entrance, Liz reached between us and guided my cock down, then rocked her hips up a little, and whispered, “go slow at first, Troy. It’s been two years for me.”

I’d like to say I made love to Liz like she wanted, slow and deep, but having my cock buried inside her pretty much took away all my self-control. I made about six strokes before I knew there was no stopping it. I said, “Liz, I’m sorry”, and then groaned as I pumped my cum in her with four shots that left me gasping.

When I was done, Liz looked up at me and smiled.

“You don’t need to apologize, Troy. Just keep it inside me and I’ll make it get hard again.”

If you’d asked me that morning if such a thing was possible, I’d have said you were crazy. After I lay there on top of Liz while she clenched and unclenched her entrance around my cock and scratched my ass with her nails, I started feeling my cock get stiff again. Liz put her hand on the back of my head then, pulled my face down, and whispered, “Kiss me”.

I had managed to kiss one girl in high school, but it wasn’t anything like what Liz did. Liz didn’t keep her lips together. She opened them over mine, and then I felt her tongue pressing my lips apart. The way she ran her soft, wet tongue over my lower lip sort of made me catch my breath, and that’s when she slipped her tongue into my mouth and touched mine.

Dad had never told me about that either. Either he and Mom never did that, or he didn’t want me to decide to try it out on some girl. What I decided was if he and Mom didn’t, they were both missing out on a lot.

Feeling Liz’ tongue on mine had my cock rigid and ready in only a minute. Liz pulled gently away then, and whispered, “Just go slow and if you need to stop for a while, go ahead and stop. I’ll catch up to you when you start again.”

I did have to stop a couple of times, but that didn’t seem to affect Liz. It didn’t take long before she had her eyes closed and was breathing through her mouth again. The first time I had to stop, she just pulled me down a little and whispered, “Suck my nipples again, a little harder this time”. The second time I had to stop, Liz was starting to pant and even though I’d stopped stroking my cock in and out, she was doing almost the same thing by rocking her body up and down. When I bent my head and sucked her right nipple, Liz moaned and whispered, “Harder”.

I didn’t have to stop a third time. I was close to that point when Liz started to arch up off the bed. She held herself that way for a second or so, then fell back down and gasped, “Oh Troy, don’t stop.”

I kept stroking and after Liz arched up off the bed again, I couldn’t have stopped if the bed had caught fire. All I could do was keep stroking my cock in and out of her and feel her start to writhe under me. Liz fell back down, then grabbed a handful of the sheet with each hand, cried out “Oh God”, and then started jerking her body over my cock so fast I lost it. I rammed my cock as deep as it would go and groaned as the first spurt shot up my cock. I managed to pull out a little, then rammed my cock back inside Liz just as another spurt splattered inside her. The third was just as fantastic, though I was pretty sure it was more of a dribble than a spurt.

I stood there with my weight on my arms and gasping for breath while Liz kept moaning and rocking her body over my cock. When she sighed and eased back down on the bed I kept my cock inside her and went down with her. I started making slow strokes then just because it felt good.

Liz just lay there with her eyes closed and smiling for a while, then grinned and said “Wow.”

I was feeling pretty cocky then. I mean, I’d just had sex with a woman for the first two times in my life, and she’d cum hard.

“I take it you liked that?”

Liz wrapped her arms around my back.

“I’m going to like the next time even more.”

The next time was about an hour later, and the result was even better. I knew what Liz was going to do so it didn’t sneak up on me. I was able to hold out until Liz arched up off the bed again, shrieked “Oh God; Troy, don’t stop”, and then started to grind her lips into the base of my cock. When her legs started to quiver, I let go and pumped another three shots into her while she shook and kept saying “Oh God” over and over.

The next morning was another lesson Dad hadn’t taught. Liz woke me up by playing with my cock until it was stiff again, and then straddled me, looked down, grinned, and slowly impaled herself on my cock. She bent down and pushed her right tit into my face, mumbled, “Suck”, and then started riding me. It took longer this time, but it was well worth it. When Liz raised up, I could see my cock inside her and that just blew my mind. I mean, I’d felt it three times the night before and it was the most fantastic feeling I’d ever had, but seeing her big lips spread out around my cock was increasing those feelings by a bunch.

I think Liz came a little harder that time, because after she did, she eased down and pressed her tits into my chest, and lay there while her passage made little contractions around my cock. When her heart stopped pounding against my chest, she kissed me and then whispered, “you made me feel like I’m young again. I don’t want you to stop making me feel that way.

That last fifteen weeks of college went by in a blur of classes during the day, working six to ten and all day on Sunday, studying from about eleven to one during the week and studying all day on Saturday. Friday nights were with Liz, and by the end of that fifteen weeks, I was almost sorry I was graduating. I didn’t love Liz or anything like that. It was just two friends helping each other out, but I knew I was going to miss her. I think she was sorry to see me go as well. She cried a little bit when I said goodbye that last Saturday morning.

I got a job with a construction company in Nashville and was happy to at last be on my own. I was ready to find a woman, and I thought that woman might be Stacy Addison, the girl who ran our blueprint department. I was doing a lot of design work on the stoplight controls for the rebuild of an intersection in the city, and that meant I had to get a lot of prints made.

Over a month or so, we became sort of friends, and after another month, I liked Stacy a lot. She always wore tight jeans and snug tops that showed off her round ass and perky tits, but that wasn’t the only reason I liked her. Stacy thought like I did about a lot of things, so it was easy to talk to her. She never even hinted that she’d like things to go further, but I figured that was just because she was shy.

It was one of those days in January in Tennessee when the temperature isn’t cold enough to freeze anything, but it’s cold enough the high humidity makes the cold just cut through about anything you’re wearing. Stacy wasn’t in the blueprint room when I went in to get a couple of prints made so I hung around for five minutes or so to see if she was coming back. When she did, she had on her coat and she was shivering.

"My car wouldn’t start this morning. It wouldn’t even turn over, so I guess the battery’s dead. Mom brought me to work, and she’s going to get me a new battery today. I hate to ask, but could you take me home tonight and change it for me? I’d do it if it was warmer, but this morning by the time I figured out it wasn’t going to start, I was about to freeze.”

Well, I could understand that. Stacy had on a coat, but I’d have called it more of a jacket than a coat, and it had buttons instead of a zipper. The cold air would have gone through the thin material like a hot knife through butter. I thought that this might be my opening to ask her out. After all, if I helped her, she probably wouldn’t say no, if only to pay me back.

That night, I drove Stacy home and she was shivering by the time we got to her door.

“Let me run in and see if Mom got me a battery. If she did, I’ll bring out our tool set so you’ll have wrenches.”

I stood there on the doorstep for a couple of minutes, and in that couple of minutes, I started to feel the cold too. There was enough of a breeze that the air just sucked the heat out of my face and hands. I was thinking I’d have to go buy some gloves as soon as I left when the door opened again.

The woman wasn’t Stacy, though she looked a lot like Stacy in the face. She smiled at me when she stepped outside.

“HI. I’m Kathy, Stacy’s mom, and the battery is in my car over there. The guy at Wal-Mart put it in the trunk, but I couldn’t lift it out. Stacy was about frozen, so I told her I’d help you so she could get warm again and you could get started. No sense in you standing out here in the cold longer than you have to.”

It wasn’t quite dark yet when I followed Stacy’s mom to her car. I couldn’t see her all that well, but it was pretty easy to tell Stacy’s mom wasn’t like my mom. Mom was a little thick in the middle. She said it was having kids that did it to her. Stacy’s mom wasn’t wearing anything over her clothes except a heavy sweater, and it fit pretty snug. Her waist wasn’t thick but her hips were round and her tits looked big and heavy.

She pushed the button on her remote when we got to her car, and the trunk lid popped open. She turned on the flashlight then.

“There it is. I couldn’t believe how heavy the thing is. I’ll hold the light while you change it.”

It didn’t take long to pull out the old battery and put in the new one, but my hands were about frozen by the time I tightened the last battery clamp. Stacy’s mom laughed.

“Your hands are shaking, so you must be as cold as I am. I have Stacy’s keys. Let’s make sure it’ll start, and then go inside and get warm again.”

The new battery worked fine, but I told Kathy I was going let the engine run about ten minutes to make sure it was charged up. New batteries are charged at the factory, but they can go down a little depending on how long they’ve been on the shelf. I didn’t want Stacy to go out the next morning and find out her car wouldn’t start again.

I figured Stacy’s mom would go back in the house then, but she didn’t. She walked around and got in the passenger seat and closed the door.

“I’ll just stay out here in case you need something”, she said. “If I go back inside and get warm and then have to come back out again, it’ll be worse than if I just stayed.”

After a couple of minutes there was a little heat coming from the vents, and by the time I shut off the engine, the car was warm. I handed the keys b

Personal Ads

Snowden Speaks — Sat, 14 Sep 2024 07:26:00 +0000

Two Personal Ads waiting for response.

By Tres Risque and Madam-Cecilia. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Story 1: Woman Seeking Arrangement

Woman looking for long BJ fantasy, seeking shy or nerdy guy, to get their cock sucked for hours.

This posting is for entertainment purposes only, not a real ad to solicit; yet. However, It is truly one of my most private fantasies, but I want to share it with you.

F sub 4 M dom

25 year old female, 42 36 45, natural triple D cup, 5 feet 4, 165 pounds, fully tanned with full ass.

I Need a male to help fulfill a very specific fantasy of mine. Would prefer a nerdy and/or inexperienced guy. Call me for the details.

Hello, and thanks for responding. Basically, my fantasy is to suck your cock while you play video games and watch TV. I'm a pretty big nerd myself, and I have always been turned on by the idea of pleasuring a man while he tries his best to ignore me and play video games. I've only been with one man, and I was always too scared to ask him to try this. I think shy guys who get nervous around women are just so cute and I want to be submissive to them. I want to give complete attention to someone who I know doesn't get much of that from females. And because I'm a good little sub, I would be so turned on if that type of guy let me pleasure him and just used me to cum. He would finally be getting what he deserves and I would get my weird fetish satisfied! If this sounds like you, please contact me. I don't discriminate on body type, height, or race, but please be in my same age range. Additionally, there are a few stipulations you must agree to:

1) During this meetup, I want to suck your cock until you cum 3 times, or until 4 hours have passed, whatever takes longer. So if the 4 hours are up but you haven't cum 3 times, I will keep sucking until you do. Likewise, if you cum 3 times in less than 4 hours, I will keep sucking until the time is up. Obviously, if the timer goes off at the 4 hour mark but you're still hard, I'll keep going until you're finished. I would Never dare to interrupt your need to cum.

2) Your cock must Not leave my mouth for the entire time. If you want to pull out, PLEASE leave at least just the tip on my tongue and don't completely pull it out! I want to be tasting your cock constantly for the 4+ hours. I know it's weird, but it's crucial to my fantasy. In between your orgasms, please leave your soft cock in it's rightful place in my mouth. It makes me so horny to not have a break. If you're worried about being too sensitive after cumming, tell me and I will be as gentle and still as possible. (Also, if you'd like to tie my head to your hips or something to make sure your cock stays put in it's home, I'm down for that!)

3) Please try your best to ignore me (unless it's our predetermined safe word/signal). I'm going to try so hard to make you cum, and I don't want you to have to lift a finger. Pretend I'm not there, I want to lick and suck you until I earn your attention and you're ready to cum. If your throbbing is making me gag or you get to into the game you're playing and jerk my face around a lot, don't worry about it! Act natural, like you would if you were alone. Your cock is going to be in it's deservingly warm, wet holder and you're just going to enjoy whatever dorky thing you want and feel intense pleasure. If you do decide to give me attention, please make sure it's only to pleasure yourself or to tell me how good it feels for you. Otherwise, stay focused on your game, movie or show and just relax. Make me earn every creamy load unless you just can't take it and have to face-fuck me.

4) Your pleasure matters most. Feel free to hold my head down or move it around, squeeze your thighs together, cross your legs, whatever makes You the most comfortable and stimulated. I will try any position you want, lick you any way you ask, etc. You can of course tell me to do things that help postpone your cumming, so that you can make me suck you as long as possible. I understand if you want to try to make it past the 4 hour mark! Trying to hold your cum back will only make me want to work harder, though! You can do anything you want while I'm attached to your cock. Eat, nap, watch porn, etc. If there is any way I can make you cum harder or longer, please tell me and I will make sure to do it!

5) Bonus points if you're cock is average or a little small. Because if I can still breathe while taking your hard cock to the base, then we can start talking about some even more fun ideas I have! Unfortunately, large cocks won't allow this. If you're 5" or less, I could just hold your cock in a deepthroat for hours, neither of us would even have to move! Why pull out when I don't need to catch my breath? Maybe I could even spend the night and sleep with your cock in my mouth, waiting to swallow your wet dreams. We could most definitely have longer sessions, too. Honestly, I would love someone 5 inches or smaller! Please hit me up!

6) You must cum in my mouth. I will be so sad if all my hard work is wasted and I don't get to taste my reward. I will also always thank you at the end of our sessions, of course. My favorite ways for you to cum would be to:

A. firmly press and grind my face into your crotch, ignoring any of my struggling (if any), and shoot your wad straight down my throat. Be sure to squeeze my head tightly to you so my lips form a seal around the base. I don't want to lose a single drop of cum, and this method ensures that I swallow like I should. If I'm struggling and trying to pull away, hold tighter and make sure your cock is truly shoved in my mouth as far as it can go. Or;

B. Pull my head back and pull your cock out until just the tip is resting on my tongue. Then aim and firmly press the tip down on my tongue and shoot your hot load. Try your best to coat all my taste buds. I like this as a second method because this way I'm forced to taste every thick, salty drop. I HATE the taste of cum, but the thought of being forced to endure it all for your pleasure makes me wet as fuck. Making me taste and swallow it over and over will make me even more submissive to you, and will increase my pleasure.

7) I'm down to cosplay as anything you want. I don't mind to be silently submissive, or to "fight back" if that's what you're into. Both fantasies turn me on. I just want to be forced to hold a cock in my mouth for a few hours. I want a guy who has maybe never had sexual attention from a female and I want to make him and his cock feel like a king.

Did reading this turn you on? Do you have other ideas on how I could orally please you? Do you want to hit me up, but feel like you're just gonna pussy out? You are the type of guy I want. I Want you to cum in my mouth and play video games for hours and hours. You can put a blanket over me and ignore me, make me suck you continuously while you take a nap, or get right in to it and face-fuck me to your hearts content. Please, I know this is a weird one but I just need a partner who likes the idea of have a girl's mouth on their cock while they do everyday things. Afterwards, let's talk nerdy stuff, and you may come to like me. Would love to really get to know a guy and have regular sessions. Don't worry, though. No strings attached ;)

By Tres_Risque for Literotica

Story 2: My Personal Research

Writer gets personal with local librarian.

By Madam-Cecilia.

How a Young Prince Frederick celebrated his wedding to Princess Charlotte, and started a great Bavarian tradition.

Based on the work of Mumfreds. Listen to the podcast at steamy stories.

In 1808 people of Württemberg lived in the convergence of three cultures. The masculine lead industry and agriculture of the Germans, the Swiss provided enlightenment of the sciences, and the French liberality and arts added a healthy dose of libertine free thinking and even a tolerance for kinkiness.

But Württemberg was moving forward with the final demise of the Holy Roman Empire just a few years earlier.

Napoleon had just defeated the Austrian military and established a new Confederation of the Rhine.

The ethnic German people were split apart and some were under the Austrian protectorate, while the Rhine was under French protectorate on both sides of the Rhine river, including the German homeland.Prince Frederick had watched as his older sister was given to Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte as a wife for Napoleon’s brother, in exchange for his family's continued role of the Württemberg Kingdom, under the occupation of Napoleon's empire.

Now Prince Frederick was being pressured by his parents and the court advisors, to strategically marry a well-bred heiress from the kingdom of Bavaria, princess Charlotte.

Princess Charlotte was just 18 in the spring of 1810.

A debutante, already being aggressively sought by Napoleon, she was terrified.

When faced with the two unwanted options, she and her mother agreed that Frederick William was the better option and more respecting of their shared German heritage.

Charlotte wept for weeks. She was still a girl of just 18 years. Her parents apologized repeatedly. It was especially difficult because Charlotte had always been a free-spirit and defiant of the stupid rules of etiquette that she violated almost daily.

As an enthusiast of all things equestrian, Charlotte refused to ride ‘side-saddle’. She also found the practice to be a convenient excuse when the Royal Physician of Württemberg Court conducted a prenuptial gynecological exam a requirement in the nuptial contract between the kingdoms.

As for Prince Frederick William, the marriage was even less anticipated. Charlotte was not the ideal sex object of his fantasies.

Where he liked slender, tall older women, Charlotte was busty with a big round ass.

Frederick liked the arts and sciences. He enjoyed the opera and studied astronomy.

Charlotte loved animals and preferred German folk songs. Charlotte found little appeal in Frederick's lanky physique. She preferred the bulky, athletic, and masculine virility of farm-hands and tradesmen.

A fall wedding Festival

Back in 1810 Crown Prince Frederick William, sought the hand of the lovely princess Charlotte of Munich. She was the most desired woman in all of the ethnic German kingdoms.

He courted her for many months, seeking to prevail over the efforts of Emperor Napoleon of France.

Frederick's family negotiated aggressively with her father King Maximilian; whereby Frederick eventually asked Charlotte to marry him.

Both kingdoms shared a strong disgust for all things French culture.

It was the one topic where the two actually enjoyed conversation and felt compatibility. they were political allies and even business partners; but not at all romantically drawn to desire. She felt the same way he did, and accepted his offer. They were scheduled to marry on October 12th.

As the date came close, she was starting to feel some trepidation. He was concerned and asked what was the problem.

She shyly told him that she was expected to be with him; only with him, for the rest of her life.

He said of course she would be only with him, and he would be only with her, as was customary.

She thought carefully, and said; “Forever is a long time.”

He did not want her to be so sad and thought for a while. He proposed an idea as a secret plan that they should not tell anyone about.

At the wedding there would be a huge and joyous festival; a very German cultural Festival. At the festival she could go among the crowd and choose three men with which to make love.

Upon hearing the idea, she was overjoyed at the thought and thanked him for his generosity and gladly accepted.

The wedding was indeed a huge and joyous festival where everyone in Munich turned out.

The first night of the festival was the night of their wedding. The celebration was scheduled to go on for 5 days.

On the second day of the festival the prince approached the princess and told her today would be the day she made her three selections. She would go out and pick three men with which to ‘sow her oats.’

She went to her dressing chamber to pick out her sexiest outfit. She chose the shortest dirndl she had. It stopped just below her ass. The front of the dirndl plunged to show her beautiful Buxom cleavage. On her smooth legs she wore white by high stockings that ended below her dirndl.

On her feet she wore elevated wedges. She was a vision. Her body was very visible and very sexy.

The prince and princess began to make the rounds, where villagers were celebrating and congregating. As they walked, the men noticed princess Charlotte and paid her a great deal of attention. Offerings were made of pretzels, beer, and all sorts of treats, as she walked through the fair.

She was pleasant of all and smiled as she always did. These were her people and she hoped they would come to accept her foreign Prince.

Helmut the blacksmith

As they walked through the grounds they came upon a blacksmith, who had a stall set up to shoe horses. Charlotte stopped, and seemed to take a special interest. As one would expect, the blacksmith was quite strong, and also handsome. When she got close, a smile fell across his face and he gave greetings.

“ I am Helmut, my princess;” he said in the most cultured enunciation he could contrive. She secretly knew Helmut from her frequent trips to the Stables. But that is their secret. The prince asked the princess if this might be one of the men. She smiled and said; “Indeed this would be one of the men if he so desired.”

As the princess continued strolling, the prince stayed back briefly and invited Helmut to a special dinner with the princess that evening at 7:00.

He graciously accepted. While he didn't understand what was fully ahead for him, he was happy to be able to spend an evening with the busty and charming princess.

Robert the actor

They continued to walk through the fairgrounds with the prince often letting the princess drift ahead so he could see the reactions of the commoners as they look at her beauty. He watch her interact with the men of the Kingdom.

As they continued, they came across a play that was just finishing up on the stage. The lead actor was quite athletically fit and very handsome. He flashed a smile at princess Charlotte and catching her off guard, she shyly looked away. The production poster listed the lead actor as ‘Robert.’

What Prince Frederick didn't suspect was that Robert was also a part of the local Polo team. The two had secretly met in the Stables. The secret remains to this day. She composed herself and began to smile. He congratulated her and the prince on their wedding. She whispered to the prince that it might be fun to invite him to dinner. Shortly thereafter the prince did just that.

Steffan the folk dancer

After not much longer, the princess stopped in front of the stage where there was folk dancing.One of the dancers was agile, strong, and very skilled. As he lifted his twirling partner into the air, then safely caught her in his arms. She caught the vicarious thrill of experiencing being airborne and caught in his gentle arms.

Steffan stepped back for his female dance partner to perform her feature solo. As he caught his breath, he looked out to the applauding crowds. He spotted the royal couple and was pleased. He had caught the princess's eye. She stood and watched him perform. in his lederhosen, not taking her eyes off of him.

This was not missed by the dancer, and when the dance was over he came over and introduced himself to the princess. “I am Steffan”, he humbly bowed.This was but a rouse, as the dancer was part of a Mayday festival at the Munich Palace. Charlotte had graciously helped him find the dressing rooms when he'd gotten lost in the palace back halls.

Charlotte felt a wetness as she recalled his tryst in her private Chambers just months ago; As Steffan talked with the prince, his eyes glanced up and down Charlotte’s body. Memories led to arousal, and after several minutes, Steffan quickly dismissed himself to ‘prepare for the next number.

His tight shorts left little to the imagination and it was clear that he was very well built down there. It also became obvious when he was talking to the princess, that she pleased him greatly and that is why he had to make a quick exit.

Princess Charlotte smiled at The Prince and he understood that the dancer would be the third. The prince then extended an invite to him.

The special guests come to dinner

The dinner was scheduled for that evening at 7:00. A fire was made in the large fireplace and the finest Linens, China, and glassware were laid out.

The cooks were busy making Gourmet Foods and the prince picked the wines himself. The princess was bathing and getting dressed for the evening. She had taken her time to clean and shave meticulously. She had chosen a metallic gold dress that plunged in the front bodice, and a skirt that stopped right at her bottom, in the back.

She also wore matching metallic gold strappy shoes with towering heels. She also wore her gold earrings, necklace, and bracelets. On her right ankle was a gold anklet that the prince had bought her that day for the dinner. She looked irresistible.

As the princess dressed upstairs, the men arrived early for the dinner. They too, had bathed and put on their finest clothes.

The prince greeted them personally, and the young studs introduced themselves to each other. The prince poured them each a drink and they toasted to each other and their good fortune. Prince Frederick explained to their astonishment and delight; the agreement the prince and princess had made ,and that they were the lucky men chosen.

When the princess arrived downstairs, the prince met her before she walked into the dining room. To her surprise, the prince said that he would not be joining them. He wanted the men to have her to themselves and for her to have the men to herself. After thinking about it a bit, she realized that this might be more fun.

The prince told her however, that he couldn't possibly resist watching her sexual conquests and would be watching from special consealments that were created near the dining room.

They then walked into the dining room as the men stood up and were formally introduced by name to the princess.As she walked in looking lovely as can be. There were Smiles all around.

The prince said his good-byes,and said he would stop in the evening, The princess and her suitors were seated for dinner and were poured wine from the servants. As the conversation began, the men paid great attention to the princess. The men stared deep into the eyes of the princess while she spoke and attended to her every need.

Dancing In The Parlor

After dessert was served Steffan asked the princess if she’d like to dance.

She loved to dance and quickly accepted the offer from the handsome man. Charlotte led the man into the Parlor and went over to a cabinet on casters she opened the lid of the music box and cranked up the Armature.

The Parlor was filled with the rich sounds of an Austrian Waltz. They began a formal Waltz, with the dancer expertly taking the lead and the princess easily keeping up. They glided around the room while Helmut and Robert looked on, seated on nicely-upholstered wing-back chairs.

Not wanting to be left out, Robert cut in and continued the dance; His intense blue eyes staring into the princesses. Helmut, not wanting to miss his turn, cut in. This allowed the princess to put her hands on his muscular arms as he easily spun her around the Dance Floor.

During dinner, Prince Frederick had been sitting in a hall outside the dining room. He took great pleasure in watching the princess charm and be Charmed by the men. He found himself increasingly excited as the dancing started. His new wife was a youthful and sexy dancer, and watching her interact with the men turned him on immensely.

When the quartet moved to the parlor, Prince Frederick went upstairs to a balcony overlooking the Parlor. A member of his Württemberg Entourage, Claudine was making her regular checks on his welfare. She was his tutor since he was 10 years old and she was 21.

The woman taught Frederick on many subjects, and over time had become an adviser on many matters. She was tall, slender, and elegant. Her lessons often continued in his bed Chambers whenever they could safely conceal the ongoing sex education lessons. Now, 17 years later, Claudine now carries herself as a charming and confident 39 year old vixen.

From the balcony, the prince and his ‘tutor’ (and secret lover) sat on the floor, behind the velvet drapes, and silently peered between the balusters, Charlotte’s deportment with the young men.

The quartet move to a slower song and the blacksmith pulled the princess close for a slow dance. The princess’s head had been spinning from her wonderful evening and her third Goblet of wine, and now she was very close to and touching this muscular man. He too could feel her busty body with his strong hands around her firm waist he pulled her in closer to him she didn't pull away as she felt him stiffen.

She began to feel a tingle inside herself. Before she knew it Robert the actor had stepped up and taken Helmut’s place. As Robert stared into her eyes he leaned forward and gently put his lips to hers and she readily received them as she first did in that pile of straw in the horse stables.

He pulled her close to him and continued to kiss her. She then felt a second set of hands on her hips from behind it was Steffan. Her dress was so short that his hands were right above the bottom of the dress. She briefly stopped kissing Robert as Steffen pulled her hips into him and began kissing her neck. Pressing into her rear end was that very large and now very hard cock that had attracted her earlier that day. He raised Goosebumps on her as he kissed her neck.

From the balcony, Prince Frederick and Claudine had seen everything. He didn't miss a second of the meal or the dance. Much like the viral men in the parlor, he too was very hard. To watch the woman he married be so pleased. To be able to watch her talk and flirt and touch and be touched was truly a pleasure. To see the way the young suiters desire her.

Claudine began rubbing his crotch while sliding her other hand up under her own skirt.

As Steffan continued to kiss the princess on her neck and ears, he slowly ground his cock against her white ass. With his hands around her waist the skimpy dress began fully raising from the grinding as it lifted.

The actor in front of her looked down and realized she wasn't wearing any panties. He could see her perfect beautiful shaved cunt. He went wild, grabbing her head and kissing her deeply with his tongue.

Steffan also noticing the dress had climbed up her body, began using his large hands to rub her large crack.

The princess felt so good she was barely standing at this point, mostly being held up in the sandwich of the men. The blacksmith was standing on the sidelines with his cock out, stroking while looking at the scene he had in front of him.

The actor was now kissing down the body of The Princess and Steffan turned the princess's head and began kissing her deeply as he reached in front and grabbed her heating tits and fondling her tall erect nipples.

Robert had made his way down to her belly and was closing in on her cunt. The princess shook as Robert's lips came in contact with her cunt lips. He licked her cunt as she held his head against her.

After the princess Broke Free from Steffan's kiss, she gave a look towards the waiting blacksmith. The look let Helmut know it was time for him to join the fun.

Helmut, unable to contain himself, walked towards the melee. He ignored Steffan and the actor and picked up the princess and carried her to a large couch on the side of the room. He laid her down on the couch and began for lack of a better word, to ravage her body.

He grabbed and sucked her nipples and then quickly moved down to her cunt, licking her clit.

The other two men were quickly at the couch. The actor began sucking her nipples making the princess squirm. She wrapped her legs around Helmut's head. As Robert & Steffan worked their magic, she began to quiver.

This stirred both of the men and their tongues sped up lapping her nipples and clit. Her back arched as the orgasm flowed through her body. As she recovered from her orgasm, the men stood her up and removed her mini dress so that only her gold platform heals and jewelry remained. At this point; Helmut was so turned on, he couldn't wait. He laid the princess back down, and guided his rigid cock inside her. As much as she enjoyed his mouth it felt really good to have his hard warm cock in her.

The princess looked next to see that Robert had removed his clothes and had his hard shaft in front of her. The princess reached out and grabbed his cock.

Robert's heart was pounding. The hand of this beautiful woman felt so good on him.

Steffan stripped off his clothes and joined the group.

The princess had her eyes closed as Helmut picked up his pace. She put her right hand on his muscular chest and rubbed down his chiseled abdomen, wrapping her hand around his thick cock as it slid in and out of her. She returned her hand to his chest and continued to jerk off the wood of Robert on her left.

One of the thrust of Helmut's threw the princess's head back and as she look to the right she saw the naked body of Stefan.

His cock was large and beautiful. It was exactly what she hoped for when she picked him for the evening. She slowed her hand down on the actor as she eagerly grabbed the thick rod of the handsome dancer. She slowly explored the entire length of his cock with her soft hand. He leaned over and touched and kissed her slowly, exploring her mouth; reaching over to gently caress her nipple. She firmly but gently grabbed the base of his cock, and pulled him close to her. It was perfect, and she began licking and sucking it. She continued to suck as much of the cock as she could fit in her mouth, to the rhythm of Helmut sliding in and out of her wet cunt.

Helmut would not last much longer, and began to pick up speed. The princess began to tremble and slow down the actor and Dancer.

As Helmut's hands wrapped around her tiny waist, she put her hands on his waist, to push him in further,

He began grunted and began powerfully jack-hammering her. Her entire body was moving as Helmut slammed into her. He began to cum. She felt his first shot squirt into her body, which pushed her into a full orgasm as her body clinched around him. He kept pounding, shooting a

The Tiffany Exhibition: Part 2

Fri, 13 Sep 2024 16:07:23 +0000

Taking Tiffany ‘On Tour’.

Based on a post by ron de, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

We had another pizza at her house that night. Tiffany seemed very happy, and I patted my ego on the back thinking it was because I’d said she didn’t belong in a rubber room. After two slices of pizza, Tiffany rubbed her tummy and said she couldn’t eat anymore. Then she said she had to go do something, but she’d be right back.

“Right back” meant five minutes to me, but in my experience, a woman’s clock works differently than a man’s. I forgot all about clocks and experience when she did come back.

Tiffany had changed from her jeans and blouse to a filmy, black nightgown that was held closed by one simple black sash. That in itself would have been erotic enough. It was nearly transparent, and her black lacy bra and black lacy panties were in such contrast to her skin, it didn’t take any imagination to see them.

Tiffany grinned.

“Your mouth is hanging open again.”

I shut my mouth, and then opened it again.

“Tiffany, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to flash you.”

“I think you already are.”

Tiffany put her hands on her hips, pulled back her shoulders and grinned again.

“I am not. I have clothes on and you can’t see me, see.”

She turned all the way around slowly, slow enough I could see her bra was just thin straps attached to two lace cups, and her panties; well, in front they looked like panties, but in the back; there really wasn’t a back, just one thin strap that disappeared between her soft cheeks at the bottom, and emerged at the top of her hips to make a little “Y” at the waist band.

“Tiffany, if you get any more naked, ; I don’t know if you want that.”

Tiffany untied the string of her negligee and slipped it from her shoulders.

“Remember when I said showing myself was fun?”

“Yes, I remember.”

Tiffany unhooked the strap on her bra and then slipped the shoulder straps off her arms while holding the cups over her breasts.

“It was more than fun for me. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, but I was always too afraid. Having you tell me what to do was so nice. I was still afraid to do it, but it wasn’t me telling me anymore. It was you.”

Tiffany slowly let the bra cups fall away from her breasts.

“I need to have you keep telling me what I should wear so I can keep doing it. It makes me so; well, just look at me.”

I was looking. Tiffany’s nipples were long, stiff and thick with ridged sides and a little dimple in each beautiful tip.

Tiffany hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down over one hip.

“It does more than that to me, too, things that never happened before. I get these feelings and they won’t go away unless I; ”

Tiffany pulled the panties down over the other hip.

“unless I think about how the men looked at me and what they were thinking they’d like to do to me and then I have to; well; you know.”

Tiffany pulled the skimpy piece of black lace down to her knees. They fell to the floor and she stepped out of them.

“I was hoping that showing myself to you might make you want to take care of that for me. You liked it this afternoon.”

I was at a loss for words for a few seconds. Tiffany standing there, naked and beautiful and so very desirable, was wreaking havoc with my thoughts. Half of me wanted to pick her up, carry her to the bedroom, and show her exactly what I was thinking about. The other half said I needed to be sure that’s what she really wanted.

“Tiffany, there’s only so much of this I can take.”

She walked over and put her arms around my neck and pressed her bare breasts into my chest. She was trembling when she spoke.

“Promise you won’t think I’m crazy?”

“I already told you you’re not.”

“Then tell me what you were thinking this afternoon when I showed myself to you; and then I want you to make lo; to; to; to do me.”

“I’m quite a bit older than you. Are you really sure?”

Tiffany grinned as she closed the distance between us. She stroked a finger down my chest.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you about that, but I didn’t know how without you thinking I was crazy for being that way too. I like being with you. You make me feel safe even when I’m scared and you understand how I think. I’m sure. I’m as sure as I can get. Now, what were you thinking about when I flashed you?”

“Well, I was thinking about how sexy you are.”

Tiffany’s fingers moved to the top button on my shirt.

“And what else were you thinking about? Maybe that you’d like to have me in bed with you?”

“Well, yes. I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t think about that.”

The top button on my shirt slipped out of the buttonhole and Tiffany’s slender fingers moved down to the second button.

“Tell me what you’d do to me.”

“It might be better if I just showed you.”

My shirt gapped open as the second button came undone, and Tiffany slipped her hand inside it.

“Then tell me while you’re doing it.”

“Well, let’s see; First I’d have to feel those big boobs of yours. I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.”

I stood up, lifted Tiffany’s right breast, and squeezed gently. Tiffany caught her breath.

“Do you like the way I feel?”

“Oh yeah.”

“I like it too. What else would you do?”

“Something like this.”

I pushed Tiffany’s stiff right nipple down and then let my fingertip slip off it. It popped back up, stiffer than before, and she caught her breath again.

By this time, my shirt buttons were all undone, and Tiffany was stroking my bare chest. As she lightly raked her nails through my chest hair, her voice was low and soft.

“Do the other one.”

I was pretty sure her big breasts grew just a little firmer when I cupped them both and let my fingertips brush her nipples. Tiffany made a little gasp and pulled my shirt open and out of my jeans. I was still cupping her breasts when she put her arms around my neck and pushed them into my chest, then moved them back and forth. I had to chuckle.

“I did all that with just my fingers?”

“Yeah. Do more, a lot more, and tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m going to squeeze your hot little ass cheeks next. Think you’ll like that?”

“I don’t know. Do it and I’ll tell you.”

I grabbed a very smooth, very female ass cheek in each hand, squeezed them and then lifted them apart. Tiffany shivered and I had to chuckle again.

“I think you did like it.”

Tiffany kissed my ear and then nuzzled it. Her whispered response raised my cock enough to be uncomfortable.

“Yes, I did. What comes next?”

She pressed both breasts into me hard enough I could feel her rigid nipples trying to bore holes in my chest.

“Well, what comes next is I get out of these clothes before my cock rips open my jeans. Then, I’m going to lay you down on this couch.”

“Will you look at me; at my; my; between my legs?”

“Oh, you can count on that.”

It was hard to unbuckle my belt with Tiffany mashing her little rounded tummy into me, but I managed. Getting the jeans off was more of a problem. I had to take off my boots first and I couldn’t bend over. I pushed her away gently, and after shucking the boots, jeans and my shorts pulled her back into my arms.

“Now, where were we.”

Tiffany nibbled my ear lobe.

“You were going to lay me down on the couch.”

“Ah, right. Here we go.”

As soon as I laid her down, Tiffany crossed her legs and put one hand over the dark bush on her mound. I grinned.

“Still bashful, I see.”

She grinned sheepishly.

“You have to tell me what to do.”

“Well, to start, take your hand away from that bush. I want to see it.”

I took Tiffany to the Lake, so she could have men look at her.

Tiffany blushed bright pink, but she pulled her hand up to her tummy.

“Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. Now, open up, so I can see you.”

Tiffany got even pinker, and I thought her nipples got a little longer too.

“I can’t. I’m not pretty down there.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now open up those legs.”

Slowly, Tiffany spread her thighs. The hair was a little matted, but I could still see full, pouting lips, and just the hint of some very delicious looking inner lips peeking out from between them.

I sat down between Tiffany’s spread thighs, lifted one to the back of the couch, and eased the other to let her put her foot on the floor.

“You’re wrong, Tiffany. You’re gorgeous.”

“My ex thought I was too big there.”

“Then your ex was an idiot. I’ll show you what I think.”

Tiffany moaned when I touched her mound.

“Don’t forget to tell me what you’re going to do.”

“I’m going to spread these gorgeous lips and have a look at what’s inside, that’s what I’m going to do.”

As my fingers gently separated the dark brown strands, Tiffany’s hips rocked slightly. When I separated her outer lips with my thumbs, she moaned again.

Her inner lips were full and rippled, and glistened with wetness. I’d been right about the act of exposing herself making Tiffany aroused. I’d just been a little off about how much. I ran a finger between her inner lips and she gasped.

“Are you going to do me now?”

“No, I want to do something else first. I think you’ll like it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to see if you taste as good as you look.”

Tiffany raised her head and looked at me.

“You’re not going to; to put your mouth there, are you?”

“Oh yeah. I’m going to do that a lot.”

Tiffany’s eyes opened wider.

“Tell me how you’re going to do that.”

“I’m going to lick every little ripple and fold, and then I’m going to lick that little button I see at the top of your slit.”

I didn’t wait for her to say anything. I just buried my face between her satin thighs and licked her from bottom to top. I thought she was going to buck me off on the floor when she heaved herself up off the couch.

“Oh God. Do that again.”

Without saying anything, I ran my tongue over both Tiffany’s inner lips, and then slipped it between them. She gasped and I felt her hands touch the back of my head.

There wasn’t much talking after that for a while. I couldn’t talk with my mouth full of Tiffany’s inner lips or with my tongue stuck inside her as far as it would reach. She didn’t seem to be in a talking mood either, but she was anything but quiet. Her little murmurs about how she felt turned into low moans that kept getting louder. When I pushed in my tongue and licked all around her entrance, she gasped and her hips rocked up again. When I finally licked beside her stiff little clit, Tiffany groaned and her fingers clenched in my hair.

“Oh God, put it in. Do me now.”

I raised up enough to look at her face, and I had to smile. What I’d often wished was becoming reality. Tiffany’s face was flushed, her mouth was open and her breath was coming in quiet pants. Her nipples were rock hard and her nipple beds were pebbled and wrinkled so much they seemed to push her nipples even higher.

“Nope. I get to do this first.”

I slipped my hands around her ass and up to her breasts. After finding both nipples with my hands, I rolled them and then pulled them up. At the same time, my lips sealed around her stiff clit and I sucked.

That was all it took. Tiffany cried out and arched her body off the couch. I went with her, sucking her clit and tugging on her nipples. Three more times she cried out as the waves of the orgasm swept her away. I could feel her clit moving in and out as I kept it trapped between my lips. With a final gasp, she fell back on the couch, and gently pushed my face away.

“No more. I can’t.”

I pulled my hands from her breasts and gently stroked her mound.

“You wanted me to, what was it you said? Oh yeah, you wanted me to do you, remember? I haven’t done you yet.”

“Yes, but I already; ”

“Just relax and let me drive. If you really can’t, I’ll stop.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to do what you wanted me to do.”

“Can I watch?”

I helped Tiffany scoot back until her back was against the arm of the couch and she could look down her body without having to hold up her head. Her mouth fell open when I slipped my cock between her soft lips and probed for the entrance, As I entered her, she grimaced a little, so I pulled back out and then pushed in again. This time, I pushed in about half my length and pulled out again. Tiffany moaned as my third stroke bottomed out inside her.

I figured she’d be too sensitive for a while, so I just stroked in and out slowly until I felt her hips begin rocking into each stroke. She was still watching, and with each stroke, her lips would purse and she’d suck in a breath. As I pulled back out, she’d exhale, though sometimes, the breath came out as a little moan. After her third moan, I decided to push her a little. I thought she might like it, and I knew it would make this better for both of us.

“Tiffany, I want to see you play with your nipples.”

She didn’t say no or that she’d be too embarrassed. She just took her right nipple between two fingers and rolled it. Her little gasp told me I’d been right, and I told her as much.

“That’s right. Do what makes you hot..”

It was obvious Tiffany knew what that was. What started as gentle rolling of each nipple soon became tight pinches and then pulling on them enough she lifted her breasts into cones. It was working on her. I could tell because she was getting wetter, that warm, sticky wetness that meant she was getting lost in the sensations her body was feeling.

When Tiffany began to thrust her hips into my strokes, I sped up a little. I could tell she was getting close because she was no longer watching my cock sliding in and out. Her face was rolled to the side, and she was beginning to pant again.

“Tiffany, play with your clit for me.”

Slowly, her hand slipped between us and I felt her finger moving in circles at the top of her slit. She gasped and moved the finger faster, and I followed by stroking faster.

After a minute or so of that, Tiffany shrieked and arched high again. That drove my cock inside her a little more and I couldn’t hold back. I groaned as seed raced through my stroking cock and splashed inside her rippling passage. She shrieked again as the second spurt made me gasp, and began to shake as the third drained me. I kept stroking until she sighed and eased back down on the couch.

It took Tiffany a couple minutes to stop panting, and a couple more before the little contractions around my cock stopped. She looked up at me and smiled.

“Will you do me again tonight?”

I chuckled.

“I take it you liked what I did?”

Tiffany stretched, making her big breasts do some really erotic things, then pulled her legs to my sides and held me there.

“Everything; I liked everything.”

“Well, we’ll see about doing it again. I need a little recovery time.”

“Just as long as it doesn’t take a week, like with my ex.”

I chuckled.

“We could spend the week going places where you could show yourself some more.”

“What would you tell me to show?”

“Well, maybe you could wear some really short shorts; and not wear any panties.”

Tiffany gasped.

“I could never do that. Men would see my; my; ”

“Yes, they’d see it if you bent over just right.”

“Would that make them want to do things to me?”

“Tiffany, the only way it wouldn’t is if they were too stupid to be alive.”

She giggled.

“I wouldn’t want anybody like that doing me, but you can do me again.”

“Oh, I will, but one of these times we’re going to try something different.”

Tiffany’s voice was low and soft again.

“Tell me how we’re going to do it.”

“Well; You’re going to be naked so your neighbors could see if they looked.”

“They’d see my boobies, wouldn’t they?”

“Yep.”

“Would that make the men get hard?”

“Yep. Just like they’re making me hard again right now.”

“So, we’re going to do that now?”

“No. The couch is OK, but I think we’ll do it on your bed this time.”

Tiffany grinned.

“I have a window beside my bed. Somebody might see us.”

I smiled and bent down to inhale Tiffany’s left nipple, then raised back up.

“Probably so. They might even see your hot little ass and see my cock going in and out of your tight little cunt.”

Tiffany grinned.

“Nobody ever told me it was tight before. Is it really?”

“I was snug as a bug in a rug. It was fantastic.”

“I think you better do me again before it gets too late. My neighbors go to bed really early sometimes.”

I’m not sure where we’re going with this. Tiffany seems to be very happy with the way things are now, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it too. We’ll see what we see, I guess. Until then, I’ll keep telling Tiffany what to wear, and she’ll keep getting excited. I’ll keep doing her, as she says, when we get back to her place.

Since it’s gotten warm again, she wants to have a picnic this Saturday. I think she’s going to wear a tank top with no bra and short shorts. Half way through the afternoon, I’ll talk her into taking off her panties. That ought to be good for a fantastic evening, and probably a really fantastic morning too.

“Looks like he can. Looks like he’s enjoying the view too.”

“He’s coming this way. What does he want?”

“Well, he’s probably just going to make a few casts at our dock. Fish like to hang out under a dock. Either that, or he wants a closer look at your big tits and bush. Nope; they both just put their rods down. Want me to invite them to swim with us?”

“Don’t you d

Childhood Friends: Part 4

Snowden Speaks — Fri, 13 Sep 2024 01:50:00 +0000

Family Reactions: Heartbreak and rejection draws Tim & Beth closer to each other.

By neruval442. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

We drove the few minutes to Beth's house, and Beth used her key in the door. "Hi, Mom, we're back."

Her mother appeared from the kitchen. "Oh, hi, Tim."

Beth glanced at me, then held out her hand to her mother. "Look, Mom, Tim and I got engaged."

I watched, my anticipation suddenly turning sour in my stomach as her mother's face changed, her expression twisting. "Really? At your age?"

She turned to me. "Don't think I don't know what you two have been doing up there, and I'm sure on this holiday of yours. I can tell when you wash the sheets, you know."

Beth flinched as her mother continued. "Engaged, I don't think so. You've got her pregnant, haven't you, don't even know enough to be careful, and you think bringing her back here with some cheap trinket on her finger will make it right. Well, you can forget it."

She turned back to Beth. "You can do what you like when you're out of this house, how are you going to get on at university with a brat, but while you're still here I don't want to see him."

Beth's face was as white as it had been in the car, but she took a deep breath. "No. Nothing is like you've said. Tim's not like that, and, “ her face screwed up, tears forcing past her eyelids, "it hurts so much that that's what you think of me."

She looked her mother straight in the eyes. "Either Tim's welcome here, or I'm not."

Her mother's tone was uncompromising. "Go with him, then, I don't care."

Beth was shaking as she turned to me. "Tim?"

"I'll work something out," I promised. "Do you need to fetch anything?"

She shook her head. "I already have everything important."

Beth turned back to her mother. "Call me if you change your mind. But you won't, will you, I know that from Grandad."

Her mother's face showed unmasked rage. "You, he, “

I took Beth's arm, and she turned her back on her mother, walking out of the front door. I pulled it closed, careful not to slam it, and guided Beth to the car, helping her with her seatbelt. I started the engine, driving just far enough to be out of sight of the house, and stopped the car.

Beth came into my outstretched arms, sobbing uncontrollably, her tears soaking through my shirt. "I, oh god, Tim,”

She broke down again, and I stroked her hair. Finally she looked up, face tear-streaked, eyes red. "Thanks for looking after me."

"Let's get going," I encouraged her. A few minutes later I pulled up outside my parents' house, and Beth held my hand tightly as we walked up the path. Mom opened the door, looking at Beth with a concerned expression. "Are you two Okay?"

"I'll explain later, Mom," I offered. "But would you mind making up the spare room for Beth?"

"That's no problem."

We went through to the kitchen, and Mom busied herself finding a pan, milk. "Whenever Tim had something bothering him, hot chocolate would always cheer him up a bit."

She set steaming mugs in front of us and Beth sipped gratefully. "Where's Dad?" I queried.

"In the garden as usual, I'll get him."

She returned with my father, and he sat down at the table without comment. Beth gave me an anxious look, then forced a smile. "Look, Tim and I got engaged while we were away."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Mom exclaimed. "Let me look."

She enthused over the ring, "I love the style, such a classic, “ while my father gave me an uncharacteristically warm hug. "Well done, no point in hanging about when you're sure."

Beth seemed to relax. "I'm sorry to impose on you, it'll only be for a little while before Tim and I go away."

My mother shook her head. "Whatever's happened, it'll be lovely to have you both until then."

She turned to my father. "I'll make the bed up, can you make a start on dinner? I think these two would enjoy sausage toad, plenty of gravy."

ron de, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I smiled to myself as I waited for Tiffany to come out of the ladies room at the restaurant. The short skirt I’d picked out for her was sexy all by itself. It wasn’t sexy because it didn’t cover her up. It was long enough to do that. The hem stopped at about the middle of her shapely, sexy thighs. The real threat was that the skirt was a tight fit, and when Tiffany sat down, she had to be careful. If she wasn’t, the skirt would ride up, and anyone looking could catch a glimpse of her black boy short panties. It wasn’t just the lacy edge around her thighs they’d see, either. If Tiffany didn’t keep her thighs together, what people would see was the rounded contour of her mound and the little bulge between her thighs.

Tiffany knew this would happen. I’d shown her in her bedroom mirror before we left. She blushed bright pink, but she still put the skirt on. The tight cotton blouse I’d picked out completed the picture. It didn’t show anything except the seams of her bra, but then, Tiffany has big breasts and her bra had a lot of seams to show.

The door to the ladies room opened just as I was remembering what Tiffany had inside that bra, and she quickly walked to our table. Her face was flushed, and as she walked she kept smoothing the skirt over her hips and looking around is if waiting for something to happen.

She grinned when she slid into the chair beside me, then blushed and pulled down her skirt. I chuckled.

“You did it?”

Tiffany nodded.

“Well, give them to me then.”

Tiffany reached in her purse, pulled out the black boy shorts and pressed them into my hand. I wadded the filmy nylon and lace into a ball and put my hands to my face as if to cover a yawn. Tiffany’s scent wafted to my nose as I inhaled. I smiled as I stuffed the panties into the back pocket of my jeans and then put my hand between Tiffany’s tightly closed knees.

“The guy at that table across from us was watching you when you came back. Wanna give him a little show?”

I nudged Tiffany’s knees apart just a little and slipped my hand up to the hem of her skirt. Tiffany was desperately trying to keep those knees together.

“Open up, just a little. I want to see his face when he looks again.”

“I; I can’t. He’ll see and think I’m some sort of slut.”

“Then cross your legs.”

Tiffany caught her breath.

“If I do that, he’ll see all the way up to my; my; ”

I chuckled.

“Probably all he’ll see is a little hair; probably; unless you leave your thighs open a little. Then, he’ll see something that’ll make him choke on his spaghetti.”

Tiffany’s hand was shaking when she pulled mine from her thigh and crossed her legs.

The guy was looking then, and while he didn’t choke, he did grin.

Tiffany tried to act as if she was just eating her dinner, but I knew different. She kept looking up from her steak to see if the guy was still looking. If he was, she’d quickly look away, but she’d be grinning as she did. Tiffany was getting a thrill out of knowing a strange man was looking up her skirt and seeing one of her most private places. Tonight would be a great night.

I suppose some people might think Tiffany’s a little different, and she is, but it’s something I really love about her. I didn’t know, of course, that day we met. It took a while for me to figure it out.

We met, sort of, at Walmart of all places. I say we sort of met because it lasted only a few seconds. I rounded the end of the aisle with coffee, tea, and creamer and started down the aisle with soft drinks. Tiffany was standing on her tip-toes and trying to get a two-liter of soda down off the top rack. She’s not very tall, and she was having trouble. I thought it would be nice to help her so I walked up and asked which one she wanted.

She smiled the most beautiful smile I’d seen in a long time.

“The cola. I don’t know why they have to put stuff up so high. I’m just not tall enough to reach.”

I pulled the bottle out of the rack and handed it to her.

“You just need one?”

She smiled again.

“Yes, for now. Thanks.”

The woman put the bottle in her shopping buggy and walked away, but not before I determined several things about her. One, she had really great legs for a small woman, and her hips were fantastic. Her shorts were short enough and fit snugly enough for me to tell that. Two, though her loose top didn’t show much of anything, it was pretty obvious the woman was well endowed. Three, she didn’t wear any rings on her left hand, but did wear an engagement ring and wedding ring on her right ring finger. Patty, one of the women at work, wore her rings like that, and told me it was to signify she’d been divorced. I suppose it was to tell any man if he couldn’t live with that to stay away. Patty sometimes wore a T-shirt that said “I am not a bitch, I am THE BITCH, and to you I am Ms. Bitch.” I mostly stayed away from Patty. That shirt was very appropriate.

Then there was that smile. It was devastatingly beautiful, and made the woman’s face the same way. I honestly thought about trying to catch up to her and introduce myself, but I’m no kid anymore, and she looked pretty young. I figured she’d be polite, but that was about all that would happen.

Saturday afternoon wasn’t my usual time for grocery shopping, but I went back to Walmart at the same time the next Saturday. I suppose it was wishful thinking. A lot of people shop at Walmart at that time of day. It wasn’t likely I’d see her again. I did though, in the canned goods aisle. I’d been thinking about the age difference through the week, and I knew some women like older men. I decided to find out if she was one of them. After taking a deep breath, I pushed my buggy up beside hers and started looking at the canned carrots.

The woman looked up and smiled again.

“You’re the man who helped me last week.”

“Huh; Oh, yeah; that would be me. Need any more help?”

The woman smiled again, said, “Nope. I can reach these.”, and bent over to pick up two cans of peas. When she straightened back up, she gave me an odd look. I suppose it was because I was standing there with my mouth hanging open. It was that way because when the woman bent over, her shorts rode up a little and I could see out the delicate curve where her hips met her thighs. She smiled again then, but the smile looked a little impish, and her face was a little flushed.

“Mister, are you all right?”

I shook my head, and grinned. She had to know that would happen, and knowing she knew made her all that much more interesting.

“I’m fine. I was just having a daydream.”

I stuck out my hand.

“I’m Bill.”

The woman took my hand and shook it gently.

“I’m Tiffany.”

Well, after that day, I started buying my groceries on Saturday instead of Wednesday night. I usually saw Tiffany somewhere in the store. Sometimes she’d just wave when she saw me. Sometimes we’d talk for a couple minutes about nothing in particular. It took another two weeks before I asked if she ever dated men. Tiffany chuckled.

“I don’t date other women if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, nothing like that. I just thought maybe you’d like to have dinner some night.”

“So you’re asking me out?”

“I haven’t yet, but I was going to. Do you like pizza?”

Over pizza the next Saturday night, I learned a lot about Tiffany. She was ten years younger than I, and had been divorced for a while. She didn’t say much about her marriage, just that she was glad to be out of it. Even though I didn’t know any details, I found myself not liking her husband very much. Tiffany was a pretty woman with a great figure, but she was much more than that. She was a very intelligent and interesting woman. Her outside appearance was just the icing on a very rich cake. I couldn’t understand how any man could treat her so poorly that she’d leave him unless he was a complete ass. I don’t have much patience for complete asses, and I told her that. She defended him a little.

“He wasn’t like that. He just didn’t understand what I needed. I guess he never learned from his dad, and he didn’t want to listen to me.”

“Well, some guys are lucky to have someone to tell them. I guess he didn’t. I didn’t either. I had to learn it on my own.”

“How did you do that?”

“Trial and error in my old sixty Chevy mostly.”

She chuckled.

“Front or back seat?”

“Uh; front. Never made it all the way to the back seat. Girls would let a guy play a little, but except for a couple, they wouldn’t let a guy get too far.”

Tiffany grinned.

“I was one of those girls - not the ones who got in the back seat -the other kind. It was a thrill knowing I had something guys wanted, and it was a real thrill teasing them, but Mom would have locked me in my room until I was twenty if she thought I was doing more than that.”

“I guess I never thought girls got off by teasing guys. They seemed pretty reluctant to let you even touch them.”

“My mom told me the touching would feel good, but nobody buys a used car if they can get a new one for the same price. She said it’s better to leave something to the imagination. I got all excited thinking about what boys were imagining about me.”

I could sympathize with the guys Tiffany was talking about. If she looked anything then like she looked now, they’d have been fantasizing about all sorts of things; just like I was at that very moment. I thought just maybe Tiffany was a little excited by our conversation. I could just make out the rounded bumps of her nipples against her top. They hadn’t been there before. I was liking those bumps way too much for a first date.

I laughed.

“You got excited? What you girls did to us guys was a lot more than make us excited.”

“And what would that be?”

“Well, a guy can’t really hide being excited very well, if you understand what I’m saying. I mean, it’s bad enough that at that age it seems to happen all by itself a lot, but when a girl dresses up in little shorts or a tight T-shirt, well; ”

Tiffany gave me a sheepish grin.

“So, are you saying I’m doing that now?”

“Let’s just say I need another cup of coffee before I take you back to your house.”

Tiffany giggled.

“OK, I’ll try to be good. No; what I meant was, I’ll try to make sure that problem go away. Oh; not that either. I’ll just sit here until it does and not do anything else.”

My problem did go away about half way through the second cup of coffee, but only because Tiffany asked me about my job. Somehow, talking about being an engineer and erotic thoughts don’t go very well together. The problem came back when I drove away from her house though. As she said goodnight, Tiffany touched my arm and thanked me for dinner. That was enough.

We dated for the next three months about every weekend, and I noticed a gradual change in Tiffany. She started to ask if I liked what she was wearing. I knew better than to say anything except she looked great. She wouldn’t let it go at that. She kept asking me if she looked sexy or not. I didn’t have to make up that answer. Tiffany would have looked sexy in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

One night after we’d finished dinner, she asked what she should wear on our next date. I wasn’t really sure what she was asking, so I decided to tease her a little and fulfill one of my fantasies at the same time, if only a little.

“Well, you know, every time I take you somewhere, guys are staring at you. Maybe you should be like you said and tease them a little.”

Tiffany blushed.

“You mean, show something.”

“Well, not everything, but a little peek wouldn’t hurt.”

I waggled my eyebrows a couple of times and then grinned.

“I know I’d like it.”

“OK, so what should I wear.”

I thought about that for a minute. She’d probably never go for it, but;

“OK, do you have a top that’s sort of loose, and is made of some sort of knit?”

“I think so.”

“Well wear that next Saturday and we’ll go to the zoo.”

Tiffany smiled.

“I don’t see how that’s going to show anybody anything.”

“It will if you don’t wear your bra.”

Tiffany turned the cutest shade of pink.

“Why; why anybody could see how big I am and they could see my ; my; well you know. I’d be embarrassed to death.”

I laughed.

“Well, you asked, and I told you.”

There was that sheepish grin again.

“I suppose you’d make me wish I had dressed that way if I didn’t, too.”

I hadn’t really expected that, but since she’d asked;

“I could probably think up some way to punish you, no hitting or anything like that, just something that might embarrass you more.”

I wasn’t sure how she’d be dressed when I picked her up the next Saturday. She wore the top I’d asked her to wear, but she was also obviously wearing a bra. She didn’t say anything when she got in my pickup, but she did smile at me, and she shrugged her shoulders.

Later that afternoon, after I bought us some sodas, Tiffany chuckled.

“I guess you see I chickened out?”

“Yes, I’m not too surprised though. I figured you might.”

“So, when do I get punished?”

I shrugged.

“Let’s go to Opry Mills on Saturday and look around. You can wear the same outfit then, but that won’t be your punishment. That’ll come later.”

“What are you going to do to me?” she giggled.

“You’ll see.”

I pulled my pickup into Tiffany’s drive a little after lunch the next Saturday. When I knocked on her door, it took her a while to open it. When she did, she stood behind the door and just peered around it as she let me in.

“Tiffany, what’s the matter?”

“I; I don’t know if I can do this or not. That’s what’s the matter.”

“Do what?”

Tiffany closed the door and then let her arms fall to her sides.

“I didn’t put on a bra, and look.”

I was looking. Actually, I was staring. Tiffany had on the same loose top as the Saturday before, but what she was doing to it without a bra was fantastic. The thin material seemed to cling to her skin in places, and her big breasts stood out a lot. So did her nipples. They made big sexy bumps in the top.

I chuckled.

“I don’t see anything wrong. All I see is a woman, a really sexy woman, granted, but still a woman.”

“But my boobies stick out and they wobble when I walk and my nipples get stiff and they show and; ”

I cut her off.

“You can go put your bra on if you want, but you’ll have to pay for it.”

“More than for last Saturday?”

“Oh, definitely more. I can hardly wait.”

Tiffany frowned.

“OK; I’ll go this way, but don’t you dare leave me alone, not even for a second.”

I had no intentions of leaving Tiffany alone. I wouldn’t have strayed from her side for any reason. She was just too damned great to look at. The men sitting on the benches waiting for their wives to get done shopping thought so too. When Tiffany and I walked by, what had been frowns turned into grins, and they followed her every move. I could understand that, because Tiffany’s every move caused her big breasts to do a seductive little dance under her top.

If their wives happened to be sitting there beside their husbands when we walked by, those men grinned too. Their wives, not so much. I saw a couple women give their husband a whack on the arm, and some quiet, but animated conversation seemed to always follow

I was watching more than the way Tiffany’s heavy breasts moved around under her top. It was obvious that while her face looked a little fearful, she was enjoying herself. Her eyes were always a beautiful part of her face, but as we walked past people going in and out of the shops, they were wide open and almost glittering. I didn’t know if Tiffany was becoming aroused, but her eyes said she might be.

Her nipples said the same to me. One man, an older gentleman, winked at her as she walked by. What had been two soft bumps in the front of her blouse quickly grew a lot bigger and longer. Where before from a distance, the bumps could have been only a shadow or fold in the material, now there was no question about their origin.

We walked from one end of Opry Mills to the other and then back, and I think Tiffany probably turned on every man who saw her except for one guy who was obviously very in touch with his feminine identity. I know by the time we started back, the only thing keeping me from developing a tent in my jeans was watching the guys watching Tiffany as much as I was watching her. As it was, I only had the stiffness of anticipation, anticipation I knew I shouldn’t press.

Tiffany’s eyes were still shining bright when we got in my truck to go home. As I pulled out onto the Briley, she looked at me and grinned.

“That was fun. I was terrified, but it was fun. Did you see how the men looked at me?”

I laughed.

“Well, Tiffany, you made a whole bunch of guys really horny today. I thought you were enjoying it.”

“I tried not to show it. How did you know?”

“Well, your eyes got really big and bright, and your uh; nipples; they got stiff and pushed out the front of your blouse.”

Tiffany looked down and stroked the soft bump on each breast.

“I didn’t realize they were doing that. I’d have been embarrassed to tears if I had.”

“Well, they were. They did every time a guy looked at you, well, almost every time anyway.”

“So, I did good?”

I laughed again.

“If that wasn’t good, I don’t know what is.”

“Does this mean I don’t get punished?”

“No, just that you did good today. You still have to pay for last Saturday.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing. You’re going to do it yourself. See that semi up there?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to pull up beside his cab.”

The pickup responded to my foot on the accelerator, and we were soon cruising along beside the semi.

“OK, Tiffany, flash the nice trucker.”

“W

Childhood Friends: Part 3

Snowden Speaks — Thu, 12 Sep 2024 01:49:00 +0000

Francesca’s Garden of Pleasures

By neruval442. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I woke to a feeling of bliss, still flanked by two beautiful women, one of them my beloved Beth. She smiled as she always did when we woke together. "Hi."

"Hi yourself."

I felt Francesca stirring. "Buongiorno" she wished us as she stretched luxuriantly.

She sat up, and as always I couldn't help my eyes being drawn to her breasts. "Such a lovely day," she observed as the sunlight slanted in through the gap in the curtains.

Beth nodded. "Perhaps we could all go out somewhere?"

Francesca thought for a moment. "I know a place."

She got out of bed, starting to dress, and Beth reached to touch her arm. "You don't need to go."

Francesca smiled. "I think you two lovers need a little time to yourselves, maybe? I will go back to my room, take shower, I see you at breakfast."

She deftly tied the fastening of her dress in place, and she was gone, closing the door behind her.

Beth turned over, and I wrapped my arms around her. "She's very considerate."

Beth nodded, a grin slowly spreading across her face. "Wow, last night really worked, didn't it."

My expression was thoughtful, even a little puzzled. "We didn't quite stick to the plan, did we?"

Beth smirked. "You men and your plans. What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't think there was any time when she and I were both giving attention to your breasts."

Beth acknowledged my point. "Something still to look forward to, then."

I hesitated. "And the way I was in her, you and I haven't done exactly that, have we. I'm sorry."

Beth looked surprised, putting her hand on mine. "You were worried about that? Don't be silly. Anyway, I prefer to see your face, usually. Not that we shouldn't try it sometime."

She smiled. "Anything else?"

It was my turn to show surprise. "Well, um, you and she didn't, you know, there,”

Beth's response was a shiver of anticipation. "Now that, I definitely hope we put right today."

She took a deep breath. "Right, time for a shower so we can get going straight after breakfast. I wonder where Francesca has in mind, ?"

When we walked into the dining room, Francesca was already at the table we'd shared the previous morning. "The girl will bring your usual breakfast," she grinned.

She'd changed into a summer dress, still elegant but more suitable for a casual day out, and her dark hair was caught into a neat ponytail. "Any clues on where we're going?" I hinted.

"It is very close, but also private," came her enigmatic response.

When we'd finished eating, Francesca bent down to pick up a blanket she'd kept under her chair, incidentally giving me a clear view down her cleavage, confirming that as yesterday she hadn't felt a bra was necessary to her outfit. "Follow me."

She led us into the hotel's back garden, the grass neatly trimmed but the shrubs and bushes less and less well-tended as we moved further in. Finally we reached a high brick wall almost entirely concealed by overgrowth, and Francesca carefully stepped forward, pulling the ivy aside to reveal a wooden door, its iron latch showing signs of rust but still solid.

She pushed the door open with some effort, and turned to us. "Please, enter."

Beth stepped through first, and I followed. "Wow,”

We were in a walled garden, trees and shrubs wildly overgrown, but with an inviting mossy lawn in the center. Francesca eased the door closed, brushing dust off her fingers, and smiled. "A wonderful place, no?"

She walked to the cente

Raiders of the Nazi Gold: Part 2

Wed, 11 Sep 2024 16:07:36 +0000

Ariella; lethal and lovely.

Based on a post by ronde, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Packed and Stacked.

She was maybe twenty-five, and even in the battle dress she was wearing, she looked slender. I couldn’t tell much else about her except she looked a little the Arabic women I’d seen in Afghanistan. I was sure about two things though; the rifle was an Israeli M 89 SR sniper rifle, and she sounded very serious when she spoke.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Since I was armed to the teeth and had just shot a guy, my story about being a tourist and out taking some pictures wasn’t going to work very well. The truth would work better unless she was one of the traffickers. I didn’t think she was though. If she had been, she’d have just shot me while she had the chance.

“I’m an American. This guy hired me to track down some gold he thought was hidden in an old led mine. This is where the led mine is supposed to be located. I hadn’t counted on there being anybody else here.”

She smiled then.

“You’ll be Dale Stevenson, right?”

“Yeah. How do you know that?”

She was still smiling.

“We can talk about that later. Right now, we need to take care of the guys who are going to come down that road in a couple of minutes.”

Showdown looming.

When the truck finally came into view, the men looked a little hesitant and the woman told me why.

“They’re taking it slow because they don’t know who’s out here. If it was the Argentine Army, the traffickers would have known they were coming and they wouldn’t be here. That’s because they pay certain people in the Army to protect them. They would just relocate and the Army could appear to be doing their job because they discovered the camp. Once they figure out where we are, they won’t stop until we’re dead or they are so I hope you’re a good shot. During my briefing they said you are.”

It was about then the truck came creeping down the road. The woman sighted through the rifle scope and with two quick shots; she shot the driver and smashed in the receiver of the M60.

The men bailed out of the pickup and clustered up behind it, then talked for a while before another man pulled the dead driver out of the truck, got back in, started the engine, and started it back down the road. The other men followed behind it with their rifles ready. When they got close enough to see their faces, most of them looked scared.

The woman was looking through the scope on her rifle when she whispered.

“They’re still looking for where the shots came from, Oh, one of them just pointed in the direction of the man you shot. They think the shots came from those rocks over there. They’ll keep the truck between them and the rocks until they’re pretty close, and then jump out from behind it and start firing at those rocks and any other cover they see. We’ll have to take them before they spread out too much. I’ll take out the driver and the ones in the lead. You start at the rear and work your way toward the truck.”

The truck continued to creep down the road, and when they were about ten meters from the main road, the men began to move up the side of the truck. She took out the driver and that was my signal. I sighted in on the man furthest from the truck and fired.

The whole thing took less than a minute. I saw one man running back toward the camp, but he didn’t make it. The woman’s shot dropped him face first in the dirt of the road.

Well, like I said, my original intention was to retreat if possible. Now, we’d shot a bunch of people based on what the woman had said, and I didn’t have the slightest idea who the hell she was or who they were. The only thing I was sure of was I was in deep shit and it was probably going to get deeper.

I turned to look at the woman. She was in the process of changing magazines on her rifle. She slammed the full magazine into the magazine well, checked the chamber for a live round, and then looked up and smiled.

“I guess you’re as good as they said. You only missed twice.”

She was beginning to piss me off by telling me what to do and then criticizing me for how I did it.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since I’ve been in a firefight. Since you seem to know everything about me and what just happened, what do we do now?”

She stood up, shouldered the rifle, and frowned.

“I’ve been watching that camp for a week waiting for you to get here, and I counted twelve men. That means there are five left. They’ll wait a while for these men to come back, but when they don’t they’ll send at least two to find out what happened. We need to get to that camp before they do that.”

“And what do we do when we get there? I don’t really like shooting people when I don’t know which side they’re on.”

She smiled again.

“They’re on the side that would kill both of us without even thinking about it. Does that help?”

Moving to a safer place.

We kept to the rocks until we got to the trees, and then made our way to the camp by walking a few meters from the road. Two men were just walking to the second truck when we got there. The woman tapped me on the shoulder and when I looked she pointed at the shack and held up three fingers, the pointed to me.

Without waiting for an answer, she sighted down the scope of her rifle. A second later, the guy starting to climb in the driver’s seat grabbed his chest and then fell down. It was maybe two seconds later and after the other guy started running back to the shack that he went down with a bullet in his back.

That was about when the other three came running out of the shack with their rifles. I took them out with three shots. Then, we waited to see if any of them were going to get up or if there were any more in the shack. After five minutes, all was quiet, so the woman stood up.

“That should be all of them. Let’s go see what they have in the shacks.”

I noticed she didn’t shoulder the rifle this time, and she didn’t just walk out into the clearing. She ran to take cover behind the truck first. I followed her and kept watching our flanks and rear.

Once we were at the truck, she peeked around it at the shack, then ran the three meters to the corner. Once she was there, she motioned for me. I knew what she wanted me to do because it was a standard method of entering a building used by US Army Rangers. I ran to the other corner. Once I was there, we started working our way to the door.

Her count had been right. There was nobody in the smaller shack. It was evidently sort of a barracks and mess hall, because there were four cots on one side. On the other side was a table and a small wood-burning stove.

We left the shack and repeated the same thing on the larger shack. When we pushed open the door there, I saw the reason the traffickers were there.

Inside that shack and in a clump were six young girls holding on to each other because they were terrified. Two looked like the women I’d seen in Buenos Aires, but the other four were definitely Asian.

The woman rattled off something in Spanish, and then something in what I guessed was French. It looked to me like the girls relaxed a little then. The two Hispanic girls smiled, and two of the Asian girls said something back to her and then started jabbering away at the other two.

The woman turned to me and smiled.

“I just told them we were here to rescue them. The girls who talked to me are Vietnamese girls and they understood French. They said they’ve been here for two weeks. The other two Asian girls are from Taiwan and they speak Chinese. The two Vietnamese girls are telling them what I said. Now we have to get them somewhere safe. I can take care of that.”

The woman pulled what looked like a cell phone from her vest and tapped the screen, then held it to her ear. A few seconds later, she said, “Secure. Six kittens”. She got an answer, said, “Ready in fifteen”, then tapped the screen again. As she put the cell phone back in her vest, she smiled.

“You’re wondering how I got a cell phone to work out here aren’t you? It is a cell phone so if I were to be captured, it won’t raise any suspicions. It works just like any other cell phone except it will only communicate with our own cell towers. My group has a mobile tower about six kilometers from here. They’ll meet us at the road in about fifteen minutes.”

Like she said, about fifteen minutes later, a bus drove up and stopped where the road to the camp met the main road. Once the six girls were on board, the bus drove off and left the woman and me standing there in the road. I asked her why she didn’t get on the bus too. She smiled.

“I’ll tell you on the way back to their camp. We have a few things left to do.”

Her story explained a lot about her and how she knew so much about me.

“My name, my real name, is Ariella. You don’t need to know my last name.

"Ariella is Hebrew for "Lioness of God”. My father named me that because he said I was so much like my grandfather. My grandfather was killed during the rebellion in the Warsaw ghetto. My other grandparents were sent to Treblinka where they were killed.

“My father was ten years old then, and during the fighting, some people in the Polish resistance smuggled him out of the ghetto and into the forest. From there, he was taken to a Catholic monastery where he was baptized as a Catholic so the Germans wouldn’t arrest and take him to a concentration camp. He had to learn how to act like a Catholic boy in a very short time, but he was a smart boy and survived the war that way.

"When the war ended, my father was taken to France and placed with Catholic foster parents. He grew up on a vineyard near Langon and learned to speak French, but he never forgot he was Jewish. As soon as he reached the age of nineteen, he left France for Israel and began searching for any relatives who survived the camps. He found no one with the same last name who remembered his father or mother. Instead, he found Miriam, the woman he would marry and the woman who would become my mother.

"Her past was much like my father’s, though she was French. Her parents placed her with Catholic friends when the Nazi’s began arresting French Jews. She was later taken to Spain and raised by a family there. She was only eighteen when she went to Israel in hopes of finding her family. She found a job to support herself working in the government, and that is how she met my father.

"From my mother, I learned to speak and write Spanish. From both my father and mother, I learned to speak and write French and Hebrew.

"When I was eighteen, I was conscripted into the Israeli Defense Force. Because my testing showed I had an aptitude for languages, when I finished basic and combat training, I was sent to a school to learn to speak and write Arabic. After that school, I was transferred to the Combat Intelligence Collection Corps. I was made part of Sayeret Matkal, the Israeli Special Forces branch that does recon and intelligence gathering behind enemy lines. I can’t tell you what I did there.

"When I finished my service, a man came to see me and asked if I’d like to help Israel in a different way. What he told me sounded exciting, so I accepted and became part of the Duvdevan Unit. I spent two years dressed in civilian clothes in several Arab countries gathering intelligence on terrorist organizations. A year ago, I was identified by one of the radical Islamic organizations as an Israeli agent and had to leave the Middle East or I’d have been killed. I was assigned to Argentina to gather intelligence on the Neo-Nazi groups that are located here and to some extent, in Brazil and other South American countries.

"The men we just killed are part of a Neo-Nazi group who call their organization Ahner. They took their name from the Nazi Germany think-tank known as Ahnenerbe. Their ideology is the same as the German Nazi party. They advocate the elimination or enslavement or all races they consider inferior, and they finance their operations by trafficking in sex slaves of those same races. That’s what they’re doing out here; financing their operations. I was assigned to stop them.

"The camp you saw is a lay-over point between the ports in Chile where they land the girls and wherever they’re going next. It might be the brothels in Buenos Aires, Mexico, almost any country including the US. They will kill anyone who tries to stop them. Do you feel better about what we did now?”

I’d heard of the Duvdeven Unit of the Israeli Special Forces, but the name was about all I’d heard. Nobody, not even the CIA guys I worked with, knew much about what the Duvdeven Unit did, or if they knew, they weren’t telling anybody. All that was known was they were Israelis who were fluent in Arabic and dressed in the clothing of the local population. Supposedly they infiltrated the ranks of the terrorists and sent that information back to Israel. There were rumors about assassinations of high-ranking terrorist officials, but that’s all they were, just rumors.

That knowledge explained a lot of things about Ariella. I knew the Israeli Special Forces are among the most highly trained fighting forces in the world and were as good as our own US Army Rangers and Navy SEALs. To work undercover in the situations in Afghanistan and Iran would require more than training though. It would require an immense amount of self-confidence and as one of my Ranger instructors had once said, “balls big enough to need a wheelbarrow”.

It also explained how much she knew about me. The CIA in the Middle East and the Israeli Special Forces have a very close working relationship. All it would take is for someone in the ISF to request information about me and they’d have it. What I didn’t understand is why they were interested in what I was doing in Argentina.

“OK, I understand why you’re here, but you said you were waiting on me for a week. It’s not that I don’t appreciate you bailing my ass out of trouble, but why are you so interested in why I’m here?”

Ariella stopped walking then and turned to face me.

“Because Marcus Richter hired you.”

I was confused again.

“Richter isn’t a Neo-Nazi. He’s a dealer in international currencies.”

Ariella smiled.

“That’s what he told you, and he is, but his story is more detailed than that.

At the end of World War Two, the Allies were looking for a German banker named Heinrich Richter because he was responsible for sending much of the gold pillaged by the German Army to Swiss banks. They wanted his records and his testimony so they could return the gold to the appropriate countries.

Israel was very interested as well, because a significant amount of that gold came from Jews in the countries Germany overran. The Allies were closing in on him when he disappeared. The rumor was he was able to escape to Argentina. Through our intelligence efforts in Argentina, we learned he did indeed relocate to Argentina where he married a local woman with high status in the government. Unfortunately, we learned that information after he died.

"For several years, we monitored the activities of his wife and son, the same Marcus Richter who spoke with you. His mother appears to have retired to an estate in the country with a private nurse, and no one other than Richter visits or telephones her. In our observations of Richter though, it was soon evident he has close connections with several Neo-Nazi groups in Argentina. We suspected he was using his business to launder money for them, but we were never able to positively tie his financial dealings to them. Richter is smart and he uses Swiss banks for all the transfers. Getting information from a Swiss bank is something even Israel can not easily do. The reason is the amount of Nazi gold still held in those banks.

"We needed a way to stop him, so we laid a trap for him. We forged the hallmark on a single gold bar and arranged for another currency trader who supports our cause to contact him. We also planted the story about the submarines through another of our contacts in Argentina, a former member of the ISF who emigrated from Germany to Argentina a few years ago. The man who told Richter about the smelter was another of our contacts who casually related the story to Richter’s assistants. The story about the mine and its location has been rumored in Argentina for years so once we had located the smelter for him, Richter assumed the gold must be in the mine, just as we intended.

The rest of the story you already know, except that the money you are being paid came from the treasury of Ahner. We know that information through the efforts of a man who is the son of a Jewish man and his Argentine wife. He grew up in Buenos Aires and is fluent in Spanish. He has infiltrated Ahner and relays information on their activities to my unit.”

I was beginning to understand now and I didn’t feel good about the whole deal.

“So, there is no gold?”

Ariella smiled.

“We believe there is a cache of Nazi gold somewhere in Argentina, but it is not likely to be found. All the people who knew of it are dead by now and as far as we’ve been able to determine, they didn’t pass the information on to anyone. As for any gold here in a led mine, well, there is a led mine a few kilometers from here, but it doesn’t have any gold.”

“So I came down here for nothing?”

“Oh no, you are going to be very useful. When you go back and tell Richter there is no gold here, he’ll have to relay that to Ahner. In the past, his contracts with Ahner have been that he is paid an advance which would be returned should his work not be successful. Since he will have failed in this attempt, Anher will demand that Richter return the advance.

He won’t be able to do that because as we speak, the US is quietly in the process of freezing all his US bank accounts and arranging for a transfer from his Swiss bank would take too long

"It would be my guess that when Ahner can’t get their money back, Marcus Richter will suddenly disappear and never be found. That is what happened to the last person who promised something to Ahner and then didn’t deliver. As I said, they will kill anyone without even a second thought.”

“It sounds like I need to start sleeping with a pistol from now on. Thanks a lot.”

Ariella shook her head.

“No. You’re in no danger. We know Richter never disclosed your identity to Ahner, and the ammunition for both our rifles and your pistol are common to weapons issued to the Argentine Army and of the same manufacturer. When we leave, I’ll leave some evidence that it was the Argentine Army that attacked the camp. That does happen from time to time, usually when some company commander decides he isn’t being paid well enough to keep protecting them.”

When we got back to the camp, Ariella took off her backpack.

Childhood Friends: Part 2

Snowden Speaks — Wed, 11 Sep 2024 01:47:00 +0000

Keeping sexual secrets

By neruval442. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I woke the next morning to the smell of bacon, and Beth appeared in the doorway with a tray. "Thought I'd treat you," she grinned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I bit into a bacon sandwich. "Um."

Beth picked up her mug, sipping, and I detected a hint of anxiety in her expression. "Are you Okay?" I queried.

"I'm fine, really. But Mom will be back later, and I'm not sure how she'd feel if you stayed over again."

I nodded. "Do you want to tell her about, well, about us?"

Beth puzzled for a few moments. "Of course I want her to know."

She smiled softly, putting her hand on mine. "I want everyone to know. But, well, it's still really new to me, and maybe I need some more time before she asks me loads of questions."

"Like 'are you being careful?'" I sympathized.

"Exactly."

The look in Beth's eyes changed to one I was starting to become familiar with. "Anyway," she murmured, "I want you all to myself for a while yet."

I leaned over to kiss her. "You've definitely got me, love."

From somewhere an idea dropped into my head. "I know, why don't we go away somewhere for a few days? We can say it's a last trip before we have to put our heads down and study."

Beth's eyes lit up. "Perfect."

I could see her beginning to try out different possibilities in her mind. "Where do you fancy?" I queried.

"How about, You know that place we always used to go, Herefordshire, wasn't it?"

"Um Hmm."

"Well, I remember there was a hotel on the main street, a small one. We never stayed there, but whenever we walked past I noticed that on the sign it said they had a swimming pool, and I always wanted to try it. Especially when the weather's as warm as this."

I was momentarily distracted by a picture of Beth in a swimsuit, a one-piece cut high at the sides, or maybe just a barely-there bikini,

"Earth calling Tim," Beth teased. "I promise that all your fantasies will come true."

I chuckled. "You don't know what you're letting yourself in for. Okay, let's take a look."

I picked up Beth's iPad and tapped in a search. "Here it is."

Beth leaned closer to look at the screen. "Great, do they have space?"

I pulled up the booking calendar. "Oh, wow."

"What?" Beth queried.

"There's one room that's next to the swimming pool, and whoever's staying in it gets sole use of the pool first thing in the morning and last thing at night."

It was Beth's turn to let her imagination run away with her. "I could so swim naked."

I clicked again. "Okay, it's available from tomorrow night, shall we?"

"You bet."

I made the booking, and my phone buzzed with the email confirmation. "Sorted."

Beth leaned over to hug me. "Thanks, Tim. This is going to be amazing!"

She sighed. "But I think it would be a good idea if we spent today with our parents, I know Mom's already thinking about missing me when October comes around."

ronde, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The shiny, black, Mercedes X-Class pickup slowly worked its way down the road about a hundred meters from where I was crouched behind a rock. The fact the pickup was alone and had an M 60 machine gun on a pintle mount in the bed told me this wasn’t some unit of the Argentine Army. The Argentine Army might have been driving a Mercedes pickup, but it would have been OD green and the machine gun would have been an FN Mag.

The woman nudged me then.

“They’ll be on top of us in a few minutes. I’ll take out the truck driver and the M 60. That’ll slow them down while they’re trying to figure out where the shots came from. They might run then, but if they don’t it’ll take both of us to take out the rest. Are you ready for that?”

I was ready, because I knew if we didn’t take out all of them, we’d be running for our lives. I’d experienced that before. I was a former US Army Ranger with two tours of Afghanistan under my belt before I decided civilian life would be a whole lot healthier.

I had no reservations about what we had to do, though it was going to be tough. With it’s short barrel, iron sights, and a tendency to overheat if fired quickly, the HK G 36 C carbine I carried lost accuracy fast after about two hundred meters, so they’d have to be closer than that. I could use the old “spray and pray” technique used by some US Army soldiers before the M4 came out with a selector switch for a three round burst instead of just full-auto fire. The problem with that was I only had a hundred and twenty rounds and they wouldn’t last long if I did that. After that, all I had was a 9 millimeter Browning pistol. They’d have to be a lot closer before I had any chance of putting even one down with that.

The woman was in better shape for long range shooting. The Israeli M 89 SR rifle she was crouched behind was accurate out to about a thousand meters if she knew what she was doing, and if she did, the thirty rounds in her magazine would be more than sufficient.

She let the truck get to about seventy-five meters from our position and then put one 7.62 millimeter round through the windshield. The driver slumped down in the seat at the same time her second shot hit the M60 just behind the operating handle and effectively froze the action. The truck turned sharply into a rock and then the engine died. The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than about five seconds. The woman definitely knew her way around a rifle.

The three guys in the truck bed and the one left in the cab bailed out, got behind the truck, and started looking for the shooter. They were going to have a difficult time finding us. The suppressor on the M89SR effectively hid any muzzle flash and any dust caused by the gasses exiting the barrel. It also reduced the sound enough that it would be difficult for the guys to pinpoint it since the echo from the mountains made the sound seem to come from all directions.

The woman and I watched them for the next five minutes, and it became obvious they weren’t battle-trained troops. They were probably considered a serious threat by the local population, but to me they were just amateurs; well-equipped amateurs, but still amateurs.

They were well equipped because they had money, and money was the reason I was in Argentina in the first place. Meeting the woman was just a lucky accident. Well, that’s what I thought at the time. I later found out it was no accident.

How it all started.

The whole thing started six weeks before I found myself with the woman crouched behind a rock and waiting to see what the guys behind the truck were going to do next.

After separating myself from the US Army, I needed some way to keep myself indoors and fed. When I looked at what I knew how to do, planning for close combat and then executing that plan was all I could come up with.

Given the domestic and political climate at the time, a lot of former military men were running self defense schools. After reading about a few of the schools, I decided I could make some money that way too.

I’d been deployed for much of my Army career so most of my Army pay was sitting in my bank. I used half of what I had as a down payment on fifty acres in Eastern Tennessee with a house and barn on it, and built a pistol and rifle range.

I was doing OK, teaching a class a couple times a week in basic gun safety and giving the Tennessee concealed-carry class and test. The other days, I taught advanced courses in long-range rifle shooting and rapid-fire pistol shooting. I also sold targets and ammunition. I wasn’t getting rich, but I was able to make the mortgage payments, put food on the table, and keep my fridge stocked with beer.

One afternoon after I’d finished up my class on accurate rapid pistol fire, I was policing brass from the range when a guy in a suit and tie walked up and stuck out his hand. He introduced himself as Marcus Richter.

“Mr. Dale Stevenson; did I get your name right? Ah, good. Mr. Stevenson, I understand you have somewhat of a unique background, a background I would find useful if you agree to my proposal.”

I figured he’d gotten that information from my web site. I thought “US Army Ranger” sounded better than “former military” like some of the school web sites used.

I shrugged.

“I can teach you how to fire a weapon and how to defend yourself in an emergency if that’s what you mean.”

He shook his head.

“No, though the thought has crossed my mind. Fortunately, I have people who take care of those duties for me.

"No, I’m a successful business man in a rather unique business. I trade in world currencies. It is that business that resulted in my visit to your establishment today. I fear the explanation of that business will be quite lengthy, so would it be possible to find a place where we might sit down and out of the sun?”

I’d converted part of the barn into a classroom for my classes, so I led the man there. Once we were seated, he cleared his throat.

“As I said, I am a trader in world currencies and that includes gold and silver in its many forms, from coinage to bullion. My business is of necessity rather secretive, for were some in the precious metal market to have advanced knowledge of my activities, it would have an impact upon the world pricing of said precious metals. It is such advanced knowledge I hope to exploit to my advantage if you agree to perform a service for me, a service for which you will be very well compensated.”

I wasn’t entirely convinced this guy was on the level, but I had no reason to stop listening to him.

I smiled.

“It sounds like you have some sort of secret mission you want me to do for you.”

He smiled.

“Yes, secrecy is of the utmost importance. When you hear the details, you will understand why.

"As you probably know, in the last stages of World War Two, many high-ranking members of the Nazi party and German military realized any favorable outcome to the war was an impossibility. Germany would be defeated and given the atrocities committed, those same people would be prosecuted for war crimes, found guilty, and imprisoned or executed.

"They began making plans to escape before they were captured by the Allies. Argentina was neutral during the war and indeed declared war on the Axis powers a month before the war in Europe ended, but many in Argentina were still sympathetic toward Germany. As a result, Argentina was viewed as a possible haven by those attempting to escape what would surely be their ultimate fate.

"Argentina, in fact, encouraged those high-ranking people to come there. It is well known that many were able to successfully leave Germany and take up residence in Argentina. The efforts of some Israeli organizations that were able to locate some of them and transport them back to Israel for trial is a testimony to that fact.

"What is not well known is how those same people funded their escape and managed to live in Argentina until they were able to find employment. There are suspicions of the transfer of gold either before or after their escape, but no proof. What is known is there were large caches of gold the Nazi’s looted from the countries and people they overran in the early stages of the war.

"While much of that gold was gold bars plundered from the repositories in Austria, Czechoslovakia, and Poland, a significant amount was in the gold taken from individuals. To date, some of that gold has been recovered, but a sizeable portion has not and there are only rumors as to its location, until about a month ago.

"Ah, shall we say, a friend of a friend mentioned he had been offered a small bar of gold bullion bearing the imprint of the Heraeus Corporation of Germany. I do not know if you know of this German company, but Heraeus has been in the business of refining and producing precious metals since the late 1800’s when they discovered a method of melting platinum.

"During World War Two, one small gold smelting facility of the Heraeus corporation located on the outskirts of Hanau, Germany was taken over by the Nazi party, managed by Nazi party members, and slave labor was used for the smelting process. They began melting the gold looted from the countries occupied by the German Army into bullion. The bullion was stamped with the hallmark of the Heraeus corporation in order to make it appear to be legitimate, though the Heraeus company per se had nothing to do with the operation.

"This knowledge has been common since the war ended, but what happened to the gold bullion produced by the Nazi controlled factory has been unknown until this single bar of bullion was offered to this friend of my friend. The offer was made in somewhat secretive circumstances and the design of the hallmark dated to the period of the Second World War. These two things intrigued this friend of my friend and also intrigued me.

"My interest was passing until I spoke to a man who wished to buy gold as an investment. He related a tale told by his grandfather of watching U-boats berthed at Helgoland, Germany when he was twelve years old. His grandfather had watched the U-boats before as they were fueled, armed, and then sent back out to sea. On a few occasions, this was not the case.

"According to his story, over the course of a week, several men in prison uniforms loaded six submarines with wooden cases that appeared much too heavy to be supplies and not large enough to hold munitions. He thought it unusual that they did not load any torpedoes as they always had before, but assumed the submarines were supply submarines used to re-supply U-boats at sea.

"Once the submarines were loaded, the men in prison uniforms were taken away and a few men in the uniform of the German navy went on board, but not in the same numbers this man had seen before. Instead of a full crew, a number of men in business dress also boarded the submarines. The submarines then left port. Three months later, those same six submarines were again docked in Helgoland and were being once again loaded as before. This cycle was repeated two more times before he witnessed the same submarines being loaded with torpedoes and manned by full crews of the German Navy.

"Another very interesting event happened in Argentina at the end of the war. Juan Peron was elected president and set about nationalizing industries and services while at the same time raising the wages of workers. Most importantly, he paid off the entire amount of externally held Argentine debt.

"Because Argentina does mine native gold and silver ore, I have people there to keep me informed about the latest developments. When I heard the stories about the bar of gold bullion and the German submarines and put that story into the context of what I know about the country, I asked my people there to do some research into the matter. The report I received a few weeks ago offered some tantalizing conclusions.

"At the end of the war, Argentina had external debt amounting to about two hundred million US Dollars. When Peron was elected President, he settled the national debt with payments in gold bullion, which is understandable because gold is the currency of the world. What is not understandable is where Peron was able to find enough gold to do that without bankrupting the country. The entire gold reserves of Argentina at the time were about two hundred and fifty million US dollars. He would have had to drain most of those reserves, but apparently did not. He continued to implement his policies by using that same gold reserve.

"My people were not able to identify how that situation changed so rapidly once Peron was in office nor the source of the gold with which he paid the Argentine debt. They were able to report that prior to settling that debt, the Argentine government ceased operations of a small, older smelter in the foothills of the Andes near Mendoza to bring that facility up to the level of current technology. They learned this from an old man who had been employed at the smelter in his youth. He said he was sent home and told to not report for work for two months.

"The man was interested in what changes were going to be made so over the course of seven weeks, he watched the activities at the smelter. He related to my people that the first week, he saw many trucks drive into the smelter and each truck had armed guards who were all tall men who looked European. He could not see what they did in the smelter, but he did notice the smokestack continued to emit smoke just as it had when the smelter was operating.

"A week before his two month furlough was to end, he witnessed those same trucks with the same armed guards drive out of the smelter and take the road that led to Buenos Aires. He also said when he returned to work, there was little difference from how the smelter had operated before.”

I wasn’t sure what all this had to do with me. When I asked, his face became grim.

“What I and my people believe is that a very large amount of gold was shipped to Argentina by the Nazis on submarines and used to pay the Argentine government for allowing them to stay there. That is the only explanation for how Peron was able to find the gold to pay off the national debt. It is also an explanation for the unusual loading of the submarine and for the bar of gold bullion offered to, as I said, a friend of a friend. The smelter was shut down in order to melt the Nazi gold and then recast it into bullion that bore the Argentine hallmark.”

I was still confused.

“OK, that’s all well and good, but again, what does that have to do with me?”

He placed his hands on the table between us and smiled.

“I want to pay you to find the rest of the Nazi gold.”

Now, I was confused again.

“The rest? I thought you said they melted it all down and recast it.”

He shook his head and chuckled.

“I said they melted and recast enough to pay off the Argentine debt, not that they melted and recast all the gold. The total amount of gold plundered by the Nazis is not accurately known, but it has been estimated at nearly two billion US dollars in the currency of the day. About a fourth of that can be reasonably accounted for as it was transferred to various banks in neutral countries, though some of those transfers are disputed. The rest has never been found.

"It is my estimate that the Nazis shipped at least four hundred tons of gold to Argentina on those submarines. In the currency of the day, that would be about half a billion US dollars. In 1945, the Argentine debt was about two hundred million US dollars. That leaves us with a difference of about three hundred million which would be a little over one and a half billion US dollars at today’s market price.”

I said I didn’t think that was feasible because of the weight of gold. It wouldn’t fit on a submarine. He smiled.

“Yes, gold is heavy but also very dense and does not require much space. The normal armament for a U-boat of the type loaded at Helgoland was fourteen torpedoes that weighed a little over a ton and a half each. Each submarine could have carried over twenty tons of gold if the torpedoes were not on board. The six submarines making four trips could have carried that much gold and many passengers. With a range of about nine thousand nautical miles, they could easily have made the trip from Germany to Argentina and back in about three months at sea.

It sounded like another Nazi conspiracy theory to me, but it was interesting so I decided to play along for a while.

"So, you want me to find this gold and then what? Hire a bunch of trucks to bring it back to the US?”

He smiled and shook his head.

“No. I only want you to confirm its location from the information my people have developed after almost a year of research. Near Mendoza in Mendoza province, my people located the ruins of what they described as a replica of The Berghof, Hitler’s residence in Bavaria. The surrounding area is mostly unpopulated now, but was once the site of a now closed led mine. We believe the building was built to house German Army and SS officers who fled Germany and surmise the gold must have been secreted in the led mine. Once you have confirmed the gold is indeed at that location, others will orchestrate its removal and transport.

That little bell in your head that tells you something’s not right started to ring.

"Mr. Richter, if your people know where it is, why don’t those others you talked about confirm the gold is there and then remove it?”

He pursed his lips.

“My people in Argentina are carefully watched by the Argentine government to detect any financial dealings they might attempt. It is highly likely some in the Argentine government are also aware of their findings. Were my people to investigate that mine, well, the current government of Argentina would consider the gold to be the property of Argentina. It is not, but Argentina would be very upset were they to find it has been discovered and removed from the country.”

The little bell in my head was now clanging.

“So what you’re asking me to do is illegal? I don’t much like the idea of spending time in an Argentine prison.”

He shook his head.

“Your involvement will only be to locate and enter an abandoned and unguarded mine, confirm with photographs that the gold is there, and then bring those photographs and an accurate location back to me. It will be as if you were a tourist seeing the countryside and just happened upon the mine during your travels. There is nothing illegal about that.

"You will be well compensated for your efforts. I am prepared to offer you transportation to and from Argentina, a vehicle and other equipment for your use while there, and the sum of one hundred thousand dollars. I have arranged for twenty thousand dollars to be transferred to your bank account immediately upon your arrival in Argentina and commencement of your search. You will, of course, be provided with a small sum for travel expenses. The balance will be transferred upon your return, assuming you are successful. If not, the transfer will be for an additional twenty thous

Childhood Friends: Part 1

Snowden Speaks — Tue, 10 Sep 2024 01:42:00 +0000

Childhood Friends: Part 1

Best friends unexpectedly find they want to share more.

By neruval442. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Beth and I have known each other literally forever. We met at preschool, and I can truthfully say I have no earlier memory than her smiling face asking my name as we stood on the school playground waiting to go into our first lesson. We were inseparable through that school and into the primary school, somehow always ending up in the same class, sitting on the same table for reading and drawing when we could. The fact that she was a girl and I was a boy generated mild comment, but the consensus was that these days it was all to the good that kids, especially so young, didn't seem to discriminate when choosing friends.

When we went up to secondary school, it wasn't even a question whether we'd do homework together every night, and our parents just shrugged their shoulders and agreed who'd cook on what day, Beth's eyes lighting up when my mum produced her favorite spaghetti sauce.

We talked about everything, TV, our other friends, music we liked, school work. Sometimes our families went on holiday together, the usual places, Spain, Italy, but when our trips were separate, the first thing we did when we got back was breathlessly bring each other up to date with what we'd done, seen.

Of course we'd gone through the "I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours" phase, playing doctors and nurses, but somehow it had never translated into any more experimentation, and Beth and I never really touched, except for the frequent hugs of celebration, comfort, commiseration, depending on what life brought us. Beth confided in me when her periods started, school sex education lessons had made sure we knew how things basically worked, and I could tell that her body was changing, breasts and hips more noticeable, but she was always my best friend above all else, and somehow it never occurred to me to think of her in any other way.

Of course we had to think about what would happen after college exams, but the problem solved itself, a town with two universities, one that had a good reputation for Beth's chosen subject, the other that offered a top-notch course for mine. We'd celebrated our eighteenth birthday parties, I'd cried unashamedly, brushing away the tears running down my cheeks, at the heartfelt speech Beth made at mine. I tried to reciprocate at her party, then sobbed my heart out again when she chose Westlife's 'Safe' for us to dance to at the end of the night.

What people thought of us by then didn't really trouble us, from overheard comments, those who didn't really know us assumed we were boyfriend and girlfriend, 'obviously' sleeping together, but by then our friendship was so well-known that it wasn't even a matter of jealousy. Perhaps envy; but we tried, Beth especially, to be gracious, generous to everyone, so only the most petty minds could find anything to complain at.

Of course we'd talked about sex, after those embarrassing classes at school, I'd admitted to Beth that I masturbated, and with pink cheeks she'd confessed the same. We even went as far as to look at a porn site on my laptop, and Beth raised her eyebrows, pretending to fan her face at the scene playing out on the monitor. "But it's all staged, right?" she shrugged. "It's bound to be more clumsy and messy for real." The conversation moved on to something else, and the topic didn't come up again for a while.

The months rolled round to August, lazy days after exams, too soon to make serious plans for university, and Beth and I were sitting at the square table in her bedroom as usual it was the same table where we always did homework and projects, and the blog we started more than 10 years ago. Beth was sketching something on her art pad, and I was picking photos from our last trip to put on our blog. But something was niggling at me, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I glanced across at Beth, and her pencil stopped moving. "Tim?"

"Uh, yes?"

She closed the pad, put it on her desk. "Can we talk?"

I blinked. "Since when did you ever have to ask me that?" I shifted my chair closer. "Something bothering you?"

She nodded. "I'm thinking about freshers' week."

I gave her a puzzled look. "Oh, the orientation events with cheap beer for kids away from home for the first time, going a little crazy, college clubs touting for members. What's the problem?"

Beth twirled the pencil distractedly in her fingers. "Well, I'm thinking, there'll be a lot of boys there, perhaps I'll get chatting to one, maybe he gets a crush on me, I ask him out for coffee,”

"I get the picture," I nodded. Something unexpected stirred in my emotions, but I pushed it down. "You know guys will say anything to get into a girl's panties, right?"

Beth smiled wryly. "I know. But let's say I think he's genuine, I can trust him, at least for a night, anyway."

"So, then you take care," I reminded.

She nodded. "I take my pills, and Mom's already given me a box of condoms, bless her."

"But,” I prompted. "You said you wanted to talk, right?"

Beth looked up, a pink tinge suffusing her cheeks. "Tim, if I had a close girlfriend, I mean a friend who was a girl, half as close as you, I'd talk to her about this. But I really don't. I want to talk about, well, what I might like, when it comes to it."

I gave her the most reassuring smile I could manage. "I can handle that. And there's a definite upside, I can give you the male perspective on the whole thing."

She glanced at me sideways. "Okay."

"So where do you want to start?"

"Well," mused Beth, her eyes taking on the faraway look that I knew meant she was creating a scene in her imagination. "Let's assume we've done the kissing part, and somehow, how does this even work?, he's asked me if, and I've told him Yes. I think I'd like him to be the one undressing me."

Talking Bowl. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Nina Myers stared at Jack Bauer, a mixture of fear and vulnerability in her eyes. Just moments before, Ed, who had been sent along with Jack to help guard her on the truck ride to the airport, had slumped over unconscious into Jack’s lap, the victim of a ‘mickey’, which the rogue CTU agent had slipped into his bottled water. It had taken her tired mind, already rattled by Jack’s previous violent interrogations back at HQ, a few minutes to process the full implication of the look on his face.

To see the faintest trace of a smirk that played across his lips, and realize that he had been in the process of outwitting her, even as she had thought she was doing the same to him. Her previous taunts faded from her lips, and she stared at him in fear, dry-mouthed, her heart thumping in anticipation.

For what seemed like an eternity, they did not speak. The only noise came from the dull roar of the engine, the rattle of the truck as it jostled down the road, the almost imperceptible sound of their breathing, and Nina’s heartbeat, which, although only she could hear it, was almost deafening to her ears. Finally, she licked her lips, swallowed hard, and screwing up her bravado, said:

“You got me, Jack.” The words came out in a husky croak. He did not speak or move. Clearing her throat and holding her head a little higher, she tried again.

“What are you going to do to me now, Jack? Kill me?”

“I would never give you the satisfaction,” he hissed. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he started to move towards her, bracing himself against the pitch and roll of the vehicle.

“What, then?” Bolder still. “Beat the shit out of me? Leave me unconscious for the guards to find, and then say I slipped and fell?

"Or is it a mind-fuck;” (she caressed the word fuck, trying to make him savor it) “you want? Interrogate me a little more, try to make me piss myself, and hope I’ll end up blubbering everything to you? Even you can’t be that naïve,” Nina sneered. “Don’t forget, Jack, I’m as good at this as you are.”

Jack smirked. “Not quite.” He was halfway towards her now. “Don’t forget who’s in chains here.”

“And why is that, Jack? Because I got away with something you never thought I could? Because I did it right under your nose and you never had a goddamn clue?” Fire glinted in her eyes. “Because you had the chance to kill me, but you just didn’t have the balls to; ”

Nina’s words turned into a yelp as Jack’s hand shot out from his arm, grabbing her by the throat. The momentum of his grasp was so great that it lifted Nina out of her seat, until she was standing tilted back against the honeycombed metal walls of the truck. He rammed his torso against hers, pinning her in place, and put his face so close to hers that she could practically taste his hot breath with her tongue. The musky scent of his skin filled her nostrils, bringing back lewd memories despite the pain at her throat. Voiceless, she croaked out;

“Jack; let go; ”

“Beg me,” he snarled.

“What?”

“Beg me, Nina.”

“; please; ”

“Please what?”

She stared at him blankly.

“Please what!” He tightened his grip, making her choke anew. “You may not work for me anymore, Nina, but you are still under my command! And as long as you are under my command! You will do! As I fucking say!” His face was flushed red, his breast heaving with exertion. “Now Please, fucking what?”

“Please; Sir; ”

“What?” His voice suddenly dropped in volume to a husky purr, and he put his ear up to her mouth. “What was that? Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

Nina tried to speak, but could only make choking noises. Realizing he had made it impossible for her to carry out his orders, Jack loosened his grip on her throat, ever so slightly. Trying again, Nina gasped out:

“Please; sir; will you let go of my throat?”

Without a word, Jack let go of Nina’s throat, but kept his body pinned against hers. Nina gasped as the air rushed back into her lungs. Her breathing was still slightly constricted from the pressure of Jack’s weight against her ribs and diaphragm, but at least she no longer felt as if she were drowning for lack of air.

Silence again, more charged than before. Jack’s mouth by her ear, hers by his. Breathing in tandem, as much out of force of habit as out of comfort in their close quarters. Nina became aware of the fact that Jack’s pelvis was pressed up against hers. Was it intentional? You never could tell, with Jack.

“So you’re not going to kill me, Jack.”

He said nothing.

“And you’re not going to beat me up, either.”

No response. She thought she could read agreement on his face, but wasn’t sure.

“Then what are you going to do to me?” A slight note of fear in her voice, more than she would have liked, which she tried immediately to push away.

He turned his face and looked her dead in the eye. His left hand crept around the back of her head, cupping it for support. He leaned in closer and, a trace of the arrogant smirk still on his lips, hissed at her:

“Anything. I. Want.”

Nina knew it was true. He could do anything at all to her, and would most likely get away with it. Even if he were found out, who at CTU would defend her at this point? It took all her inner steel to avoid breaking down in tears at the thought.

Jack’s face drew even closer to Nina’s. His breath felt warm on her face, yet his eyes still glittered with hatred. For a second, she thought he might strike her. Bite her. Spit in her face.

Instead, to her surprise, she felt Jack’s lips burning on hers. His tongue battered its way into her mouth as he kissed her violently. This time, there was lust mixed in with his anger, and the mixture sent a shiver through Nina in spite of herself. Almost instantaneously, she was furious both at him for taking advantage of her like this, and at herself for – she had to admit it – liking it.

There was no doubt Jack was enjoying it too, in his own perverse way – the steadily fattening bulge in his jeans, burning against Nina’s thigh, was proof enough of that. Not much blood going to his head right now, thought Nina. Seeing a chance to regain her edge in the situation, she kissed him back with gusto, trying to turn him on as much as possible. Just give him a nice big hard-on, and pretty soon he’d be weak enough to ease up on her. Ask her if the shackles were hurting her. Reach for the key and undo her, and just when he thought she wouldn’t try to get away –

All of a sudden, Nina felt Jack simultaneously disengage from her mouth and crotch. The hand that had been resting at the base of her skull only moments before yanked her head back by the roots of her hair, so far that she could barely breathe. Jack stood up, by now gasping for breath. His face was red; his erection strained the seams of the well-worn denim clinging to his lower body. Yet he seemed completely in control, both of himself and of her. Nina’s mouth and pelvis burned at the withdrawal of his venomous lust, at the same time as her mind cried out in fury at being foiled by his ever-calculating mind.

“You thought you’d get off that easy, you piece of shit?” Jack shook his head in mock amazement. He leaned his face back in to hers and hissed:

“I fucking own you. Do you understand me, you little cunt?”

“Yes.“

"Yes what, ass rag?”

“Sir! Yes sir!” Nina shouted. Her humiliation fueled her arousal.

Jack let go of her hair, shoving her head forward so hard that Nina was sure her neck was broken. She saw him kneel on the floor and go through Ed’s pockets, searching for the key to the cuffs that bound her wrists and ankles together. She willed her facial muscles to remain neutral, but permitted herself an inward smile of triumph. Santa Barbara all over again. She had him by the balls.

Jack found the keys, tried several of them before finding the right one, and undid the cuff attached to her broad leather belt and the one that connected her ankles to her wrists via a narrow metal chain. He disengaged those bonds completely and tossed them on the floor. She shifted slightly, anticipating the release of her hands and feet, but to her surprise, he left those cuffs on, throwing the keys over his shoulder, where they bounced off of Ed’s inert body and skidded across the floor.

Gingerly bracing his body against the truck’s motion, Jack walked back towards Nina, the small smirk back on his lips. His left hand grabbed the chains binding her wrists and shoved them behind her neck, so that her hands were practically behind her head. Quick as a flash, she saw his right hand reach for something, heard the well-oiled flick of a blade popping out of its sheath, and before she knew it, Jack had a knife at her throat. MicroTek Halo, she registered.

“Now,” he said, all business despite his barely concealed rage. “If you try to pull any more shit on me, or disobey me in any way, I will hurt you in ways you could only imagine. You’ll fucking pray for death before I’m through with you. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said. He gently caressed her cheek with the butt of the knife, a twisted mockery of a tender lover’s gesture. “Now lean back so that your head is touching the wall. Slowly.”

Trembling, she complied. As she did so, she noticed that her lower body tilted out over the seating bank, pelvis forward, legs splayed, as though she were presenting herself to him. Jack had planned it that way, no doubt. How like him, she thought bitterly.

His left hand released her wrists, then traveled down to the front of her drab prison uniform. The hand holding the knife never left her throat. One by one, he undid the buttons, his thumb and forefinger working to pop each button gently yet firmly out of its hole. When he reached the buckle on her belt, he paused, as though contemplating his next move. Still acting one-handed, he loosened the tooth of the buckle from its leather hole so that the belt hung slack around her waist, then pulled it slowly down her thighs, almost to her knees.

“Put your knees together.”

She did so, wordlessly. He cinched the belt tightly around her legs, so that her loins touched each other. He chuckled softly to himself.

“Just think. If you’d kept your knees together before, none of this would have happened.”

“Jack; ” she began to protest, forgetting herself.

“Shut up.” He barely raised his voice, but she knew he meant it. She obeyed, but her eyes glittered with anger and frustration.

Jack continued his slow, methodical unbuttoning of her uniform top, until he had undone the very last button. Then, in one supple motion, he yanked down her uniform bottom around the belt, exposing her plain white cotton panties. He then stood back up, replaced the point of the blade where it had been before, and pushed the fabric of the top far enough off her shoulders to expose the straps of the cheap standard-issue bra they had permitted her in prison. He smirked again, reading her mind – he knew how much she liked nice underwear, and how much it humiliated her to have to wear cheap, unflattering crap. Before she could even gasp in shock, he had cut both the straps with the knife, so that the bra hung loosely around her tits. He pulled down the fabric on each cup, one at a time, so that each nipple was just barely exposed. Nina’s nipples had been fully soft in the steamy heat of the truck, but as Jack knowingly circled his thumb around her right one, they both watched it harden at his touch.

“Is this what you’re going to do to me, Jack?” Nina spat in a low voice. “Tear my clothes off and fuck me in the back of this truck?”

Jack said nothing. The hand with the knife slipped around behind her neck until his hand rested between her neck and shoulder, as though embracing her, but with the blade still pointed where it could hurt her if need be. His other thumb left her right nipple and started massaging her left one. He gazed directly at it, both pleased and fascinated by the effect he was having on her body in spite of itself. Nina’s face flushed, but she continued:

“How do you think you’re going to explain yourself when we get to the airport and the guards find me like this? Do you think they’re going to just hand you your Get Out of Jail Free card and say, ‘Okay, Jack, just don’t let it happen again?’ Even you can’t be that crazy.”

At this, Jack pinched her nipple – hard – between his thumb and forefinger. Nina yelped involuntarily, then held back another gasp as he continued to roll it around in his grasp, firmly yet – could it be? – gently. He continued to switch off, from left tit to right and back again, until he was sure both nipples were painfully hard, and then smiled again ever so slightly in satisfaction. Nina was almost wincing at the effects of her own arousal, but she somehow managed to hold herself in check.

He had another command for her:

“Hold still.”

Nina’s throat was too dry to respond. She could only gaze dumbly as she watched the arm holding the Halo slip back from around her neck, slip up under her bra with the blade facing outward, and position itself right at the junction of the bra’s two soft cups. With a sudden burst of force, Jack grabbed the bra with his other hand, braced against her for support, and cut Nina’s bra open. A small, animal sound escaped from the captive woman’s throat as the bra’s support lapsed and her breasts fell to their sides. Even before, when she and Jack had been lovers and she had shown herself naked in front of him for the first time, she had never felt this exposed. Or this turned on.

And then Jack’s head was bent, he was kneeling, his firm hot mouth burning on her nipple, the knifeless palm grabbing her other tit and kneading it for all it was worth. Nina closed her eyes and felt her heart hammer against her ribcage. Rage in her mind, fear in her heart, heat in her cunt.

“Santa Barbara was business, Jack.” She tried to sound cold and calculating, but her rising libido betrayed her. “I needed you to trust me. I needed you on my side. If you think you’re reawakening an old flame or something, you’re a bigger fool than I though. I saw my chance and I took it. End of story.”

Jack pulled his face away from her nipple and nuzzled between her breasts. He worked his way down slowly, tortuously, towards her stomach, his lips and teeth moving in stinging, sucking bites that Nina was sure would leave readily visible marks. Marks the guards would see, that would make them ask questions, that would – oh, GOD, his tongue was in her navel, he was working it around, hot DAMN that man was good with his mouth; shit, oh, shit, oh, shit, he was moving lower, lower still, but how the hell would he get her panties off with this fucking belt around her thighs, what was he, crazy?

Again, the knife made an appearance. Again, Jack was grasping some piece of clothing on her body, trying to rip it off of her. First one side, then the other, along both seams of those hideous fucking granny panties that made her look like a friggin’ hippo.

“I’ll just rid you of those,” he said, knowingly. The bastard was actually grinning. Then, as though performing a parlor trick, he whipped out her shredded panties from under her uniform, and Nina again yelped as the fabric stung her swollen clit and aching lips. He was enjoying this. Cocksucker.

“I don’t hate you, you know, Jack.” Trying to retain at least a shred of composure. “I didn’t love you, either. None of this was ever personal.”

His mouth continued its searing path down her stomach, pausing as he lowered himself further still to give the tip of his turned-up nose a chance to nuzzle her dark pubic thatch.

“Oh, sure, I liked you all right. You were a decent guy. A good agent. An above-average fuck, when you got the chance. But no fuck is worth jeopardizing – AH!”

Jack had nipped the sensitive skin just above her clitoral hood. He hadn’t bit very hard, but the area was so engorged with the blood of Nina’s hotly stoked lust that her eyes watered with pain. And then she could feel his hot breath on her, his mouth so close, but still not touching. Waiting. Teasing. Bastard. His tongue flicking, ever so lightly, over the painfully erect surface area of her sex, teasing her some more. Come on, motherfucker, get it over with.

And then he was done teasing her, his mouth, his glorious mouth was on her, encircling her, inside her, licking and sucking her lips, her hood, her clit, fucking her with his tongue, tasting her wet hot slippery salty arousal. The man gave dynamite head, and he knew it, and she remembered it now more than ever. And as he got more and more into it, he yanked the belt down around her ankles and grabbed her by the hips and slammed her ass down on the seat – Nina was moaning steadily by now, no longer able to control herself – and spread her legs as far apart as they would go and oh my GOD he just kept eating her and eating her and eating her and –

What? Why did he just -

Jack stopped. He pulled his face away from her and squatted back on his heels, his hands still braced against her inner thighs. He had a wicked glint in his eyes and Nina’s slick, clear juices all over his mouth and chin. She could feel his fingertips tickling the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs, just barely touching, but enough to let her know he was doing it deliberately. His tongue darted out lasciviously and licked some of it off his face, savoring the taste when he put his tongue back in his mouth.

“Want some?” He grinned, arose slightly, and leaned in for another kiss.

Nina reared back reflexively, again banging her head on the wall, but Jack was too quick for her, and his tongue darted between her lips before she could muster the strength to force him out. It really didn’t taste that bad, she thought. A slight marine tang, but nothing to gag over. It was more the way Jack was forcing it upon her, violating her mouth with his, that made her want to bite him, force him out, tell him to fuck himself.

Then, as suddenly as he had begun, he stopped. He reached behind her for her mangled bra, which had fallen on the seat behind her. Then he had a command:

“Stand up.”

Nina obeyed as best she could, bracing herself against the Humvee’s momentum and willing strength into her quivering knees. Jack bound the bra around her eyes, whipping her around to tie it in the back so that it could serve as a makeshift blindfold. Then he turned her back around, this time more slowly but still firmly. Another command:

“On your knees.”

Nina had a pretty good idea of what

Sommerset College Advanced Sex Ed: Part 4

Snowden Speaks — Mon, 09 Sep 2024 01:07:00 +0000

The students learn which positions are best for breeding.

Based on the work of firebird68. listen to the Podcast on Steamy Stories

“Hi, Andrea!” Sunny called, waving as the small, brunette girl entered the room, walking briskly to her seat.

“Are you feeling better?” Lindsay asked.

It was a fair question. The last time they had seen her was at the end of class yesterday. When the period had wrapped up, she was still dazed and limp, totally mind-fucked in the aftermath of her overwhelming climaxes, and being cradled in Chris’s arms.

“Of course.” Andrea snapped, her cheeks growing bright red.

“See?” Chris said from his desk across the room. “I told you she was fine. She loved it.”

“I did NOT love it!” Andrea lied. “That was humiliating! Seriously, being fucked like a dog?! What kind of girl wants to be fucked like a dog??”

“O, me!” Sunny waved her hand in the air. “Gosh, it was so hot watching him dominate you like that. I wouldn’t mind being turned into a ragdoll for a strong man like that. Yes, please!”

“God, do you ever think about anything other than dick?” Andrea scoffed.

“Of course.” Sunny nodded. “I swing both ways, ya know. I think about girls, too.”

She winked and blew a kiss at the flustered girl, who gawked at her, her cheeks red hot, before regaining her composure to glare at the busty blonde.

“You really are hopeless.” Andrea said, hiding her fierce blush.

“You gotta admit,” Samantha spoke. “You did orgasm like a bitch in heat until your brain turned off. Kinda seems as though you liked it to me. Better yet, it looked like you LOVED it.”

Andrea’s jaw dropped and she shook with anger, popping up from her chair to glower at the smug goth.

“What did you just say?” she demanded. “I’ll have you know tha-…”

“Something wrong, Miss Andrea?”

Andrea’s eyes went wide and she quickly closed her mouth as Miss Banks walked into the room.

“No, of course not, Miss Banks.” Andrea stammered. “Nothing is wrong at all.”

“Good.” Miss Banks smiled. “I heard you raise your voice and naturally figured you must be upset about something. Could it have something to do with yesterday’s lesson? If you have a problem with the curriculum, please let me know and we can…rectify…the problem.”

Swallowing as she noticed the sinister glint hiding in her teacher’s eye, Andrea shook her head profusely and sat back in her seat, hurriedly.

“Absolutely not, Miss Banks!” she squeaked. “I have no issues whatsoever with your teaching!”

“That’s great to hear.” Miss Banks said, her smile growing wider. “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s jump right into today’s lesson, shall we? Since we ran out of time yesterday and our session had to be cut in half, we will be continuing with sexual position basics and demonstrations today. But, before we do that, can anyone tell me what the purpose of intercourse is?”

“To have fun and cum lots!” Sunny exclaimed.

“That’s true,” Miss Banks nodded. “But not quite the answer I am looking for in this instance.”

“To grow a mutual bond between two partners and bridge their connection both physically and emotionally.” Daniel offered.

“Well, that was very sweet!” Miss Banks clapped. “Yes, also very true. Good response, Daniel. You’ll make a girl very happy one day if you keep that mindset. Still, though, not the answer that I’m looking for. I’m talking basic. Biological. What is the most prominent purpose behind intercourse?”

Lindsay timidly raised her hand, and Miss Banks gestured to her.

“To; to make babies?” she said.

“Exactly!” Miss Banks confirmed. “To make babies. Or, more properly, the medical term is procreation. There are, of course, a number of different ways to define it and a whole host of vernacular associated with the act. Impregnating, inseminating, mating, breeding. Some of the more, unscientific terms include 'getting knocked up’ and 'putting a bun in the oven’. I’m sure you have all heard most or all of these terms before, right?”

The students all nodded, some of them avoiding the eyes of their co-eds.

“As we discovered last class, different sexual positions are best suited for different purposes. There are those that are more personal and sensual, suited for loving couples, such as spooning. There are those that cater to the female, like Sunny demonstrated with the cowgirl position. There are also those that are more dominant. More; primal.”

Miss Banks didn’t say anything more, but everyone nonetheless turned to look at Andrea who shrunk in her chair, humiliated.

“And, as expected, there are positions that are especially ideal for conception.” Miss Banks continued. “Today, we’ll be going over some of those. Of course, you girls have all been required to regularly take birth control for this course, so there will be no…ahem…knocking up. But, this will give you all the basic principle on the specialties for the tasks each serves and it may help you in the future when you are ready to start a family of your own. Now then, Samantha.”

Samantha swallowed and straightened as she heard her name being called.

“Come up here, please. Daniel, you as well.”

Miss Banks waited for them to make their way up and come to stand before her.

“The two of you will be performing the most basic and natural of positions for impregnation. Missionary. This can be done with both partners on the same level, or with the female elevated. Samantha will be elevated today, as though she were on the edge of a bed. We don’t have a bed here, so we’ll be substituting that for my desk. You can begin when ready.”

Taking a deep breath, Samantha hopped up to sit on the edge of her teacher’s desk, facing the class, and leaned backwards to lay flat on her back. As her head came to hang just off the other side of the desk, she found herself staring up at the disappointed, glaring face of Miss Banks. Her teacher had her arms crossed and was wrapping her fingers on her bicep, her face hard.

“Aren’t we forgetting something, Miss Samantha?” she asked, a bit of an edge having crept into her voice.

Realization dawned on Samantha as she remembered that she forgot to start off the demonstration with a blowjob. She went to raise herself up so that she could climb off the desk and drop to her knees, but Miss Banks’ hand came down to press on her shoulder, holding her down.

“Stay there, if you will.” She instructed. “Since you’re already in this position, this will give us a good opportunity for you to work on your deepthroating skills again.”

Samantha’s face paled as she had a Vietnam flashback of herself on day one of class, in this same position, getting her throat reamed out by Tanner’s donkey dick. A nervous squeak escaped her, but she didn’t dare go against her teacher and remained where she was. Miss Banks saw that Daniel was kicking his way out of his dress pants and waved him over to stand behind the desk with her.

“Class, come gather around, as well.” Miss Banks called out. “I want you all to have a good view of our demonstrations.”

Samantha could vaguely hear the footsteps of her peers clambering around her, but her attention was much more focused on the raging erection bobbing above her. Daniel swallowed and grasped his engorged length, guiding it down to Samantha’s upside-down face, and the black-haired girl reluctantly opened her lips and let him in. Letting out a low moan as his tip was bathed in the warmth of Samantha’s mouth, Daniel dropped his hands to the desk on either side of her and began to rock his hips back and forth, pushing his head past her lips.

“Here, Daniel, try this.” Miss Banks offered.

She moved in and took his wrists, lifting them off of the desk and placing them back down on Samantha’s large boobs. His fingers subconsciously squeezed down, squishing the soft globes as his palms came in contact with the teen’s clothed breasts.

“That’s much better, right?” Miss Banks laughed. “Remember to loosen up and act accordingly. Forget the fact that you are peers and act as though she is your doting girlfriend. Use her body as a lover would. That includes her breasts. And, Samantha.”

She dropped down to her knees to look the nervous girl in the eyes.

“You, as well. Play the part of the doting girlfriend. Don’t be scared of his cock. Embrace it. Get involved. You should want to pleasure him. Every moan he makes should make you tingle and burn with pride.”

Steeling herself, Samantha tried to take her teacher’s advice to heart. She began to move her tongue about, swirling it around Daniel’s pumping tip as best as she could. She was rewarded with another, slightly louder moan, that did, in fact, make her swell slightly with pride. The other response from Daniel was an increase in speed and depth in his thrusts. He began to move a bit deeper into her mouth, poking at the back of her throat, tripping her gag reflex. Panicking slightly, she tried to move away, fearful of a repeat of her last ordeal, but Miss Banks held her in place.

“Shhh.” She whispered, stroking the scared teen’s cheek softly. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine. Just relax. Relax your throat and accept him. That’s it. Relax…”

Samantha hummed, nervously, but she did find comfort in her teacher’s gentle stroking. Easing up her tensed muscles, she took a long breath through her nose, forcing herself to relax. To her surprise, on the very next stroke, Daniel’s tip slid right past the tight barrier to her throat and half of his length disappeared between her lips. Miss Banks smiled at the newfound progress and continued to brush her fingers across the girl’s cheek, murmuring words of encouragement and occasional advice.

Closing her eyes, Samantha allowed herself to do everything that Miss Banks told her to. Her muscles and tendons went lax. She focused solely on breathing through her nose, to the exclusion of all else. Of course, she was still gagging and choking quite frequently, but it wasn’t nearly as violent as before and she was now able to regroup much faster and take the reflex in stride. Becoming more and more used to the motions and more receptive, she re-engaged her tongue to rub against the top of Daniel’s cock as it moved on the track of her neck.

Feeling something smack into her face, Samantha opened her eyes, confused. She was just in time to watch as Daniel’s heavy balls came swinging back into her face, tapping her lightly before rebounding. That could only mean…she was taking his entire length! She couldn’t believe it. Just a few minutes ago, even entering her throat seemed like an impossibility. But now, here she was, his full seven and a half inches of thick meat sliding down her gullet with relative ease. She had done it! And, Miss Banks was right. She did feel a burning pride at having accomplished the feat. The pleasured groans and sighs floating down from Daniel were just another cherry on top.

“That will do, Daniel.” Miss Banks said. “We don’t want you finishing just yet, and not in that hole. This is, of course, a demonstration on fertility positions.”

Samantha felt the raging shaft retreat fully from her throat, leaving her mouth completely empty. Raising her head, she was once again greeted by her teacher’s face. This time, however, Miss Banks was beaming down at her pupil, eyes shining and smiling wide.

“That was wonderful, Samantha!” she praised. “Excellent work! See what a little dedication and focus can do? Do you feel that pride burning in you?”

Samantha nodded, coughing slightly to clear her throat.

“Good! And what else do you feel?”

“I feel…” Samantha paused.

The burning had moved its way out from her chest and was now spread throughout her whole body, particularly between her legs.

“I feel horny.” She admitted.

“Yes!” Miss Banks crowed. “Perfect. Take it from there, Daniel.”

Samantha felt Daniel lift her legs and assisted him, pointing her limbs skyward, her skirt falling down around her waist. Today, she had forgone her typical pantyhose in lieu of some thigh-high stockings. Daniel’s fingers fumbled around her waistline, grasping the hem of her tiny, lace panties and sliding them out from under her. The small piece of fabric went up her legs, over the stockings, over her shoes, and then somewhere off to the side, discarded. Spreading her thighs, he moved between them, and Miss Banks leaned across the desk, reaching between them to guide his penis to Samantha’s pussy, prodding against her already-wet slit.

Samantha gasped as she felt the hard tip of Daniel’s erection rub against her opening. She bit her lower lip and tried to keep her head up, but her neck was getting tired. Seeing the girl’s head start to slump down, Miss Banks sat down in her chair and wheeled it up behind her. She gently lifted the teen’s head and rolled in beneath her, letting her head back down to rest on her large breasts. Grateful for the soft pillow of her teacher’s bust, Samantha relaxed her neck, her head now at the perfect angle to see over her own impressive chest and watch the action.

Taking a deep breath, Daniel rubbed his tip down her entrance one last time and then pushed in, driving his cock slowly and steadily in to the base. The teens both gasped and moaned as their union was completed and they became connected at the hips. They stared into each other’s eyes, their mouths open and breathing heavily. Samantha whimpered and closed her eyes, feeling Daniel shift slightly inside of her. He wasn’t the biggest in the class, but that was hardly a good bar to judge his size by. He was still well above average, particularly with his girth, and he was much bigger than anything she had played with up to that point.

Miss Banks listened closely to the girl’s sounds and gently massaged her shoulders, urging her to relax like she had earlier. She kept rubbing her until she felt the knotted muscles finally ease up and her breathing evened out a bit. Samantha opened her eyes again as her tight cunt adjusted to the thick rod stretching her out. Daniel was still gazing back at her, concern permeating his expression. Chewing on her lip, Samantha met his questioning look and nodded her approval, signaling for him that it was okay to start moving.

Acting on her consent, Daniel withdrew his hips, making them both gasp again as his throbbing shaft rubbed against her snug walls. When only the tip remained, he reversed course and drove back in, just as slowly. Upon bottoming out and receiving a cry of pleasure from Samantha, he retracted again and started to get a slow, but steady rhythm going. She felt absolutely incredible. Her pussy was so, so tight and wet. It was so much better than any fleshlight he had ever used before to satiate his teenage male hormones. After a minute or two of nothing but satisfied moans from both of them, he kicked the pace up a notch, moving a bit faster.

With a jolt, Samantha realized that this was her first-time having sex. With a real person, that is. Her fingers and toys didn’t count. No, this was officially her very first time being fucked. And it felt so…right! God, she couldn’t believe what she was missing out on all this time. Maybe now she understood Sunny a little bit better.

Actually, no. It wouldn’t just work with any old boy. Daniel was rather exceptional at fucking her at just the right way for her specific needs. He was moving well, but not too fast to make it uncomfortable. And on top of that, his cock! It was as though it was made specifically with her pussy in mind. It was nice and big, but not so big that it hurt. More important than the length, though, was the girth. It stretched her wide and made her feel so deliciously full. And the shape was just perfect for rubbing against her G-spot in addition to every little sensitive place inside of her.

That was without mentioning all the other little things his hands were doing. In the fray, he had tugged her turtleneck shirt and untucked it from her loose skirt so that his hands could slide under it and grip her waist. The skin-on-skin contact was far more satisfying than when there was a cloth barrier separating them, and Daniel was taking full advantage of that, even if it was miniscule in detail. His fingers rubbed and stroked her sides and grabbed at her firmly. To Samantha, the feeling of his fingers against her bare skin was like a hot iron of lust sizzling on her hips.

Samantha was losing herself in the heat of the situation. She could feel her reason and sanity slipping away in the face of her looming orgasm and the utter bliss that she was experiencing. So, this is what it had been like for Andrea? Fuck, she could really get used to this. She was panting like a bitch in heat and sweating profusely. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more intense and erotic, Miss Banks arms came up and wrapped around her to squeeze her shirt covered breasts. It would surely have been better had she been fully nude, but just the firm pressure against her sensitive globes was sufficient to send her rocketing over the cliff.

As soon as the first spasm rolled through Samantha’s pussy, Daniel lost his own battle and came with her, shooting a large shot of cum into her depths. A millisecond later, Samantha’s legs whipped up and wrapped around him, yanking him fully into her until her pussy lips were kissing his twitching balls. Daniel felt the soft nylon material of Samantha’s stocking-clad legs that were locking him in place, and groaned, sending off a second, equally copious jet of jizz in her. Gripping her hips just as tightly as her legs were holding him, they both stayed perfectly still, save for their uncontrollable trembling.

Even after their mutual climaxes had come and gone, they still stayed frozen in place, Daniel’s rigid dick still lodged inside of her. Samantha could feel the enormous load that he had stuffed inside of her. It felt so incredibly warm and utterly filling. She knew that she was packed to the gills with virile, potent sperm. If she wasn’t on birth control, she would undoubtedly be sporting a baby bump in a few months’ time.

Her mind still swimming and foggy, she reached up and grabbed Daniel’s sweaty face, pulling him down to her where their lips met in a passionate embrace. They eagerly swapped spit, their tongues swirling and intertwining for a couple minutes until Daniel’s cock was soft enough that it slipped out of her hot, grasping hole on its own, making Samantha gasp into his mouth. Tightening his hold on her hips, he lifted her rear up slightly to allow gravity to keep his semen stuck inside her until her pussy closed back up, sealing it in on its own.

When they finally broke their lip-lock, they both looked up and were met with the speechless faces of their peers. The students all gawked at them, utterly shocked and unbelievably turned on by the over-the-top-hot display they had been witness to. The boys all adjusted their pants and the girls all subconsciously rubbed their thighs together, even Andrea, although she was more sly and embarrassed about it. Miss Banks grinned down at them, overjoyed, Samantha’s head bouncing slightly on her boobs as her teacher laughed with delight.

“That was immaculate!” she praised. “I couldn’t ask for a better demonstration. You two have some chemistry, I think. Students, did you all see how her legs wrapped around him, holding hi

Knocked Up Teens: Part 2

Sun, 08 Sep 2024 16:05:41 +0000

A culture of copulation without condoms.

Based on a post by shimm2, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Amy and Alonso were now regularly playing their game of condom “roulette”. So far, she had always been able to tell when he had a condom on, even when he tried to psych her out. Which meant half the time, their trysts could be consequence-free.

As for the other half of the time, Amy knew that any contact between his bare cock and her vagina was a risk. At first, she was good about putting a stop to it right away. Then they’d do other things. She even tried anal once, to at least check it off the list.

But over time, she found herself not speaking up immediately, when he pressed himself into her without protection. She knew it was a risk, but it was a moderate risk, a calculated one, instead of the all-consuming fire of complete submission.

Once, it went on long enough that she felt his hands tighten on her hips in a way she recognized. It was almost time, but there was still a chance to stop him short, and she knew it was cruel at that point, cruel to both of them really, but she felt like she had to. He pulled out as soon as she asked him to, and disaster was averted. Probably anyway.

The next time, she really wanted to feel him in her, but not risk getting that close to the edge.

“Can you just; leave it in for a little while?” she suggested.

“Sure,” he replied.

It was comforting and peaceful just feeling him inside her. And still exciting, in a different way. She could feel every contour of his penis inside her, and every movement. Every twitch that meant more precum seeping into her milieu.

“What shall we do in the meantime?” he asked, answering his own question by tracing a line across her stomach with his finger.

Her abdominal muscles undulated under his touch, making her vagina tense around him. She knew he felt it by his quiet grunt, and how he firmed up more inside her. So she carefully tested out her vaginal muscles, trying to flex each one individually, seeing what made him react.

His grunts were coming faster now, as their sexes conversed delicately. Every jolt between them sparked little aftershocks through her, like many peaks in miniature. She’d have been content to keep this up for hours.

Suddenly she felt him swell up, more abruptly than she was expecting. She knew the options before her in that moment, and her mind nearly got carried away contemplating the path in which she said nothing, did nothing, and got to feel his seed filling her deep inside.

Instead, she pulled herself off of him, knowing that there was no time to even ask him to retreat. She knew she had judged it right, when she felt hot liquid across her thigh. She tore off the blindfold, to see his semen dripping off her onto the sheets.

“Did any get inside me?” she asked.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Did it?” she asked. “I need to know.”

From what Carmen had described, it seemed like something she’d feel, but she couldn’t be sure without experiencing it, as far as she knew, anyway, and right now she needed to be sure.

“No, your timing was impeccable, dear,” he said. Then he started singing, “I need to know, I need to know, tell me baby girl; Oh right. You’re too young to remember that song.”

She still wasn’t sure how much comfort to take in that, but if neither of them thought he ejaculated inside her, she supposed that was she best they could do. Even so, she couldn’t stop fixating on it. If one of his swimmers reached her egg, would she feel that at all?

She wondered what she would do if it happened. She’d be just like the girls she was interviewing. Not that she was all that different from them in general. Although they certainly came from all different backgrounds.

Her next interview was with Lucy. She was a blond girl from Utah.

“So I’m doing a story on teen sex and pregnancy,” Amy told her.

“Well, I can tell you about pregnancy, obviously, but I didn’t get pregnant by having sex.”

Amy was a bit confused for a moment, and tried to make that add up. “If you don’t mind; how does that work exactly?”

“Jacob and I, he’s my best friend, we’re saving ourselves for marriage,” Lucy said. “So we weren’t having sex.”

“Then what were you having?”

Lucy sighed. She’d probably explained this a thousand times before. “We were soaking. You know, you put it in to soak? That’s all it was. That’s all it ever was. And yet now; ” She gestured at herself, visibly pregnant. Her formerly athletic figure had quickly filled out, to look more like Amy.

“Are you saying Jacob never; ?”

“Never what?” Lucy asked, really not getting it.

“Never; well; ejaculated?”

“No, no, no. Absolutely not. We never even got close to that point. That’s not what soaking is,” Lucy said. “Soaking isn’t sex. It’s just a pleasant way to pass the time until you can have sex someday. With your spouse.”

And yet, that was pretty much what Amy had recently tried with Alonso, and they had both been almost to the point of orgasm by the end.

Seeing Lucy in the family way was a chilling wake-up call for Amy. She’d gotten way too lax about this, and she wasn’t feeling comfortable with the risks she’d already taken. She risks that might already be taking root inside her.

The next time she went to Alonso’s house, she managed to bring a twenty again, finally.

He took it, but looked confused. “I thought we were enjoying ourselves.”

“No!” she said. “I mean, we were, but we shouldn’t have. There’s too much at stake.”

“What has you so worried about this now?” he asked, sitting with her, putting a comforting hand on her back.

“I talked to this girl at school who, from what I can tell, got knocked up by a guy’s precum. They were doing what we did the other day.”

“That will not happen with me,” he said. “Believe me, I’ve been married five times. You know why I moved to the States? Because back in Spain, I was in poverty from trying to keep up with all the child support payments. Every woman I’ve been with has gotten pregnant at some point. But never from that.”

This was a lot of information Amy hadn’t had before, and she found herself getting a bit hung up on the fact that every single woman he’d been with had gotten pregnant. She really was playing with fire.

“This other guy, probably he rubbed one out before he went to see the girl. That’s when it’s dangerous. He probably still had sperm cells hanging out in there from before. I never do that.” He said it with such conviction.

“Okay, hand me the blindfold and flip the coin,” she said. “But you better pull out in time.”

Knowing Alonso’s track record made her simultaneously more afraid of where this was headed in the long term, and more comfortable with taking the kind of risk today that they’d already taken in the past.

“I’ll pull out as soon as you tell me to,” he said.

She wondered what would happen if she simply didn’t tell him to. That would be a mistake, but she couldn’t be sure of herself anymore either.

Then he was in the bed lying beside her, rolling her towards him.

“Or if you’re on top, it’s up to you,” he said, guiding her up over him.

He reached down between them to guide him in for her. She could feel that he was naked inside her this time. It was a thrill, but she really did have to be careful. She started gently rolling her hips back and forth, feeling his flesh slide against her walls. He started moving in concert with her at first, his cock pressing eagerly up into her center.

She was quickly getting worked up, but she couldn’t just ride him with abandon. She had to keep paying close attention to how his body reacted to every movement of hers. But that also made it more passionate, more intense. Every move she made was calculated for its effect on herself and on him.

His tension was building, she could feel his fingers digging into her hips. She felt him swell up inside of her. She knew that to keep herself safe, this was the right moment to dismount. But pulling herself up off his cock was the hard option. It would be so easy to just not do that. Every woman he slept with wound up pregnant; she may as well enjoy it.

But then; nothing. He stopped thrusting up into her, and managed to pull himself back from the edge. Disaster averted, at least for now.

“I could’ve had you there,” he said.

“Then why didn’t you?” she asked.

He had already won, and the spoils of victory were his for the taking whenever he liked. He had pushed her to the point beyond reason where she’d willingly accept it. If not this time, then maybe the next time. It made her feel corrupted, but also it drove her wild.

“Because I’m enjoying this more,” he said. “And because when I knock you up, I want you to choose it more affirmatively than that. Otherwise, you might not keep it.”

When, not if. At his words, the orgasm that Amy was studiously keeping at bay could no longer be contained. It hit her fast and hard. She was shaking and bucking and moaning, desperately hoping that he could weather the tempest inside her. She felt her body squeezing and caressing him, betraying her.

I’m not a breeder, she reminded herself. So why does my body react this way? She remembered what he had said. She was built for it. It was sure to happen sooner or later. She was starting to wonder if maybe he was right.

When she came down from her high, she felt him approaching his again. She realized that she now had a certain power over him too. She had found a line he wouldn’t willingly cross. But she didn’t want to torture the poor man.

She realized she’d already pushed her luck much further than she should have. So when she felt him swelling up again, she pulled herself off him with great reluctance, and brought her mouth down on him. She could taste herself and his sticky, salty precum. It was a relief, because she knew what his semen tasted like, and this wasn’t it. A moment later, he put a hand on her head and exploded in her mouth.

Monday morning, her friend Jill was standing by her locker. Her flannel shirt was straining at the buttons now. “I heard about this little project of yours, through the support network.”

“Support network?” Amy asked, before she realized. Of course the teenage mothers had a club. And now that was a social circle that Jill was a member of. “Oh.”

“I’ll do an interview, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, but I don’t want my name published. I don’t want anybody knowing it was me.”

“That works for me,” Amy said. “Jill, I meant to apologize for how I reacted.”

“I can tell. You’re changing, and that’s what matters.”

Amy knew what she meant. Her interview series was an attempt to show Jill she could do better at understanding the other side of the issue. But Amy also felt like it was changing her on a more fundamental level. For god’s sake, she’d be pregnant with Alonso’s child already, if he hadn’t held back. And sooner or later, if Alonso’s predictions were true, Amy would be changing even more, as motherhood would mold her body around it.

“Tell me what happened,” Amy said, when they found a spot to talk privately in low voices.

“I thought I was doing everything right,” Jill said. “I was on the pill and Craig was good about always using condoms. But then there was one time the condom slipped off inside of me. So I had to get a morning after pill. There was another time that it tore during the act, and we didn’t find out until afterwards. Those emergency pills make me feel awful, by the way. When I missed my period, I realized that the pill wasn’t the right dose anymore. I had grown and gained weight since I got it prescribed. That time I got an abortion pill and stopped it short.”

“Wow. I had no idea,” Amy said. What she meant was, you didn’t tell me any of this at the time.

“I was ashamed, and I thought I could handle it myself,” Jill said. “It’s not something anyone has a right to know.”

Amy nodded. “So what happened differently this time?”

“Well, you know that Craig is off at college already, so we’re long distance. I was only with him the once on Thanksgiving weekend. And he wore a condom like usual. We didn’t notice anything wrong with it at the time, but it must have sprang a leak or something. I didn’t notice for like a month and a half, because I didn’t know anything had gone wrong. Maybe if I’d caught it earlier, I would have aborted again, but at this point? I’ve got a foster family lined up. I’ll give birth sometime this summer and be back on my feet for college in the fall.”

“That’s; badass, actually,” Amy said.

By now she’d heard a bunch of pregnant girls talk through their plans for how to handle it. They had each found some way to make it work. But Amy was impressed with Jill. Amy thought, when I get pregnant, that’s how I want to handle it. And then she realized where her thoughts had strayed, and she felt disgusted and ashamed with herself.

“Thanks,” Jill said. “Are you cool with this?”

“Yeah,” Amy said. “As long as you’re not recruiting me for the club.”

Amy was having a hard enough time staying out of that club as it was. She worried that with a little pressure, she might tip.

Jill laughed. “Of course not. I know you’re more of a never-ever kind of person. But I want you to know that if you ever find yourself in the family way, you can count on me. I’m here for you.”

Amy gave her a tight-lipped smile. She didn’t feel like such a never-ever kind of person anymore. She could still hear Alonso saying it was going to happen sooner or later. She had even been ready to let it happen. In the moment, she almost wanted it. That scared her, but also excited her more than she wanted to even admit to herself. Nowadays all her most explosive fantasies involved feeling her lover spread his seed deep inside her. Or waking up already pregnant with his child. She was having a lot of trouble reconciling all of this with who she thought she was, the kind of girl who would never get into that situation.

In the days after talking to Jill, Amy thought a lot about contingency plans. Whether she’d abort or carry it to term. Whether she’d keep the baby or give it away. She knew a pregnancy could take a while to detect; she might already be pregnant from the risks she’d taken with Alonso. Neither of them thought he had ejaculated inside her (if he was a reliable source), and she wasn’t 100% sure about his claim that his precum was sterile. Sure, she’d tried to put herself in the shoes of her interview subjects before, but these plans weren’t just thought exercises anymore.

But also she felt bad for Jill. Jill hadn’t even realized in the moment that she was taking a risk. To Amy that seemed like being cheated out of the opportunity to choose it in the moment. When she got pregnant, she wanted to know it was happening.

And as she said, Jill had done everything right, and life still found a way. It had been an uphill battle for Jill to stay childless, and eventually she had to surrender. Amy wondered how long she could fight that battle herself. Or if she should even try.

Amy counted ahead. If she got pregnant before the end of senior year, she might have to skip a year of college. But that’d be fine. Lots of kids took a gap year.

The next time she went over to Alonso’s house, she told him, “We don’t have to flip the coin anymore, unless you want to.”

“Really? What changed?” he asked.

“I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. Not yet, anyway. Though they were both obsessed with it apparently. “You’ve proven that I can trust you when it matters most.”

She knew she might be overselling the extent of his virtue and judgement and self-control, but she wanted it to be true. And she didn’t want it to all be on her all the time.

“So the training wheels are off?”

She nodded and smiled. “Oh, the training wheels are all the way off.”

He climbed onto the bed with her and kissed her. He kissed her all the time, but this felt different. She wasn’t his pupil anymore. She was an equal now in his eyes.

He kissed his way down her body, making her shiver and writhe. This wasn’t a big change. They’d be doing basically the same thing as before, but with her eyes open for once. But they both knew there probably wasn’t going to be any coming back from this. Amy wasn’t sure he’d wear a condom with her ever again, and she was having trouble regretting that like she would have before.

He tongued her clit until she squeezed his head between her thighs and her hips bucked uncontrollably. When he finally let up, his face was smeared with her juices, and she could feel much more where that came from.

“You know you’re ovulating, right?” he asked.

“What?”

“Your juices are stickier this time of the month. You also get hornier, and more willing to take risks,” he said. “You didn’t know?”

She blinked. It was news to her, and yet it explained so much. “No, I, ”

It was something she hadn’t noticed about herself, but it was also valuable information about how this could play out. She’d be at her most fertile today. It meant the risks they took would be riskier, but it also meant that if she decided to get pregnant, there’d be a higher risk of it happening when she intended it to. She thought about Jill getting knocked up without even knowing it at the time. That wasn’t how Amy wanted it to go for her.

“I didn’t mean to kill the mood,” Alonso said, moving up on top of her.

Before he could press his weight down on her, she rolled the two of them over. Sitting atop his crotch, she guided his bare cock into herself. Knowingly, willingly, without a doubt. She knew there was a time when she would’ve never done such a thing, but something in her was broken now, or maybe it had just been reshaped into something new. It added a wicked delight to every sensation as she rolled her hips.

“No, just the opposite, actually,” she said.

She let herself seek her own pleasure for a while in pressing her clit against his pubic bone, but she wasn’t the only one.

“Dios mio, Amy,” Alonso swore, struggling to hold himself back.

“I thought it was cheating for you to warn me,” she said.

“We’re not

Sommerset College Advanced Sex Ed: Part 3

Snowden Speaks — Sun, 08 Sep 2024 01:06:00 +0000

The students begin the next chapter; sex positions 101.

Based on the work of firebird68. listen to the Podcast on Steamy Stories

“Okay, everyone open your textbooks to chapter three, please.” Miss Banks instructed, waiting as the students all pulled out their books and flipped to the page. “As you all can see, this chapter will be covering sexual positions. A few examples include missionary, cowgirl, or doggy style. Today, we’ll be going through a few various positions, and I’ll be having you demonstrate them in pairs. Does anyone want to go first?”

Sunny’s hand shot into the air and she waved it around, eagerly.

“I’ll go first, Miss Banks!” she offered.

“Okay, Sunny.” Miss Banks waved her up. “David, why don’t you join her. Both of you come to the front.”

Sunny and David made their way to the front of the room and Miss Banks pulled out a blanket, spreading out on the ground.

“I’ll have you two demonstrate the cowgirl position. Not to be confused with reverse cowgirl, standard cowgirl features the female facing her partner. The two of you may begin.”

Sunny smiled at David and pulled him over to the blanket.

“Take off your pants, David.” She urged. “And then lay down.”

Undoing his pants, David dropped them and stepped out of the legs, yanking his shoes through. Sunny was already kneeling on the blanket and she excitedly patted the spot where she wanted him to lay down. Crouching down, David rolled onto his back and stretched out, his erection already standing straight up in the air. As soon as he was ready, Sunny bent down and engulfed his cock in her mouth. She eagerly slurped down his whole length, taking all of him into her throat. Extending her tongue to lap at his balls, she swirled her soft, pink appendage around on his sack, making him moan.

“Class, come gather around so that you can all get a better view.” Miss Banks said.

The students all rose from their seats and moved to the front, forming a loose semi-circle around the two students on the ground before them. Not pausing her blowjob, Sunny pulled back to the tip, sucking on his head firmly and inhaling through her nose. Glancing up at David’s pleasured face, she gently took one of his hands and brought it to her head. Taking the hint, David placed both of his hands on the back of her long, blonde hair and began to guide her up and down on his dick.

Sunny let him take over, pushing and pulling her head to his heart’s content, directing the pace and depth of her blowjob. Of course, she didn’t need any help to give him a stellar blowjob, but it gave her a thrill to let herself give over control and simply have her mouth used for his pleasure. David gradually became more and more eager. His grip on her tightened and he began to thrust up into her mouth, bumping his crotch into her nose. Having a lot of experience with oral, Sunny took it all in stride. She gagged very sparsely and let her muscles go limp, allowing him to use her like a fleshlight.

Not wanting him to finish too quickly, Sunny tapped on his side, signaling for him to let go, and pulled off of him, smiling with saliva covering her chin. Rolling over, she shimmied her stockings and panties down over her long legs and kicked them off. With her wet pussy uncovered, she quickly jumped over to straddle David, who moaned as her hot slit pressed into his shaft. Biting on one of her fingers, Sunny began to grind her lips over his hardon, her juices and spit combining to form a slick mess between them. Raising herself up, she reached down and lifted his cock and guided the tip to her pussy, teasing it against her entrance.

His testosterone pumping, David’s hands came up to Sunny’s wide hips and tightened, surprising her. A second later, she shrieked as he pulled her down, hard, forcing her to bottom out on his cock. David’s seven inches were certainly not the largest Sunny had ever taken, but being a cockslut like she was, she loved dicks of all shapes and sizes. That coupled with the sudden shock of being penetrated, and her eyes were rolling back, and she was biting her lower lip as his rock-hard length spread her hole open.

Moaning and letting herself adjust to the instantaneous insertion, Sunny threw her long, blonde hair back and began to bounce on David’s cock. Her hands found their way up to her chest and she groped her breasts through her shirt, her large bust overflowing her fingers. Tossing back her head to cry out freely, her speed increased, and she moved up and down with more urgency. David’s hands gathered up her skirt and pushed it up to her waist, bunching it out of the way so that he could get a clear view of their connection and his cock disappearing into the beautiful blonde.

Shifting her hips to adjust the angle of his penis inside of her, Sunny whimpered as his cock slid across her G-spot. Each time that she would come down on him, his tip would poke against her sensitive internal spot, sending electricity through her body. It wasn’t long before she was shaking and quivering, right on the cusp of her climax. Another few seconds of slamming her rear down on him, and she went over the edge.

Sunny’s orgasm was visible and vocal. Her whole body quaked and shook, and she shrieked. Her hands dug into her boobs, squeezing and kneading them tightly. David groaned, feeling her pussy clamp down around him, her muscles spasming and fluttering. Although her timing was off due to the intense sensations, Sunny kept riding him, yipping each time he contacted her G-spot, driving her peak higher and higher.

Coming down, panting and her legs now tired, Sunny stopped bouncing and switched to a twerking technique. Her juicy ass shook and jiggled as she worked her hips back and forth, grinding on David’s crotch. With this technique and angle, the effect on her G-spot was even more pronounced, and Sunny groaned and gasped with each movement. Even though she had just cum, she could already sense herself climbing the hill towards a second climax.

As Sunny’s muscles became increasingly worn out from the constant exercise, her speed slowed down, incrementally. Feeling the slower pace and full of energy himself, David decided to take things into his own hands. Reaching up, he wrapped his arms around Sunny’s torso, pinning her arms to her sides and pulling her down until her chest was flat against his. Letting out a soft 'oof’ as her large breasts squished between them, she relaxed and let him take charge.

Holding Sunny tight to his body, David began to thrust up into her. His pelvis powered up off the ground, driving his hard cock into her depths over and over. Sunny gasped into his shoulder, her body limp and helpless as he pinned her against him. He cunt was dripping, and she was incredibly close to another climax. Every stroke felt so good, but there was just something more that she wanted. Something a little extra that would throw her right over the edge. Shifting her head, she looked up at her teacher.

“M-Miss Banks…” she panted. “C…Can you spank me? Please…slap my butt. Just once. Please!”

Concealing her smile and maintaining a mask of tranquility, Miss Banks walked over, her heels clacking until she reached the blanket. Bending over, her posture accentuating her curvaceous body, she drew back her hand and delivered a firm smack to Sunny’s jiggling ass. Sunny cried out and moaned.

“Again!” she gasped. “Please!”

The second smack sent her over the edge. She screamed and closed her eyes, shaking with her climax. Her mind went blank momentarily and she forgot where she was, until she caught a breath and her eyes rolled back down from in her skull. Sunny’s walls clenching down on him was the final straw that broke the camel’s back for David. Grunting and tightening his grip on the blonde, he slammed himself to the base and opened the floodgates.

Feeling the first hot stream splash inside her, Sunny pressed herself firmly against David’s crotch, not even a millimeter separating their pelvises. She bit her lip and shivered, the sensation of being stuffed with steamy boy cum one of her favorites in the entire world. She kept herself pressed into him throughout the duration of their collective orgasm, her internal muscles milking him further into her tight, hot depths.

Both of them heaving and basking in the afterglow of their finale, David finally released her from his embrace. Catching her breath for a bit, Sunny raised her hips, whimpering as his softening length slid out of her hole. A stream of semen followed and dripped past her lips onto his waning erection. Licking her lips, Sunny scooted down David’s body and breathed in the potent, masculine scent of his arousal. Extending her tongue, she went to work cleaning him up. She licked all along his cock, swallowing down every drop of his cum that had escaped her. Wrapping her lips around him, she slurped down his soft penis, sucking every last bit of their combined juices until he was bare of any remnants of their tryst.

Uncrossing her arms, Miss Banks gave a clap, encouraging the other students to join her. They all gave the two of them a round of applause for their performance, making Sunny smile and David blush now that he was in his post-nut clarity. Handing a clean towel from her stock to Sunny, Miss Banks raised an eyebrow.

“Very well done!” she praised. “Both of you did excellent. Great start from you Sunny. Your pelvic motions are superb when you’re on top and you even cleaned up afterwards. And, David, the way you took control when she got worn out was just beautiful. I’m very impressed by your work. You should both be proud. There is always room to improve, but I think I speak for the whole class when I say that that was a hot performance. The two of you can get cleaned up off to the side while we get our next pair up here. Hum…let’s see. Andrea, let’s have you and…Chris. You two will be demonstrating the doggy style position.”

Andrea’s mood soured as she heard that last sentence. Doggy style was the last position she had hoped for. She would have much more preferred some simple missionary or maybe some spooning. Something sensual and evocative of a connection. Hell, even cowgirl would have been better. But doggy style? She hated doggy style. It was so…degrading! Even just the name was demeaning. Doggy style?! What girl wants to be bent over like some animal and rutted as though she were just a bitch. She was way above doing something as debasing as that!

Still, not willing to draw the ire of her teacher, Andrea reluctantly stalked out into the center of the blanket and dropped to her hands and knees. After waiting for a minute, she looked back over her shoulder and realized that Miss Banks was standing next to a pants-less Chris, expectantly. Her teacher stared her down with crossed arms and a tapping toe.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Miss Andrea?” she demanded.

Andrea looked back, confused and unsure what she was talking about. Sighing, Miss Banks lifted a finger and traced the outline of her immaculate, red lips before pointing to Chris’s erect penis. Realization dawned on Andrea and her mood darkened even further as she remembered that she was expected to prepare Chris to fuck her.

She spun around on her knees and Chris stepped up to her, his cock bobbing and striking her face, making her flinch. Tentatively taking his dick in her tiny hand, Andrea pulled it down to where her mouth could reach it and she wrapped her lips around it. Still pathetic at performing oral, Andrea was a far stretch from what Sunny had accomplished. Fuming at being made to kneel before Chris like some servant, Andrea bobbed her head, rigidly and in an uninspired manner. Her hand lightly rubbed up and down his remaining shaft as she had been chastised neglecting for in her first test, but it was without vigor or skill to speak of.

Chris didn’t care, though. He could tell that the stuck-up Andrea was hating this, and it made it all the sweeter to feel her mouth around him. He knew that no matter how pitiful her blowjob was, her pussy would be all his momentarily. Miss Banks, however, was not amused. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. She was about to open up and berate Andrea’s performance, but Chris acted first. Placing his palm on Andrea’s forehead, he pushed her away and spun her around all in one move, pushing her down until she fell to her elbows.

“That’s enough of that.” Chris sighed, dropping to a knee behind her.

Reaching beneath her skirt, he felt around her waist in a vague attempt to locate the hem of her undergarments. Andrea scowled as she felt him groping and feeling up her butt, but she bit back her anger. A thought coming to him, Chris faked frustration at not being able to locate the top of her stockings. Instead, his fingers grasped the fabric covering her crotch and, with a quick flick of his wrists, he tore the thin material, creating a large hole. Andrea gasped, indignantly, as her stocking were ruined by the brute behind her. She whirled her head around to glare at him over her shoulder, but a look from Miss Banks kept her quiet.

Chuckling to himself, Chris pulled her tiny panties to the side and slid his finger over her slit. To his further amusement, she was already moist down there. Despite her hatred of this treatment, she couldn’t hide what her body was saying, and it was saying that she liked it. Probing into her with his finger, Chris smirked when he heard her gasp, confirming his suspicions.

That was all the invitation he needed. Lining up his cock, he gave a few teasing prods at her lips. On the fourth poke, he kept going and sank his thick cock into her depths. Andrea yipped as he entered her, her tight walls spreading out around him. Inch after inch pushed into her, splitting her wide and making her groan. She had only ever experimented with her fingers and some assorted household items in the past. Chris was far, far bigger than any of those, and she felt it. She couldn’t see him, being in the humiliating position that she was in, but he felt positively enormous in her tight, little cunt. Every time she thought he had given her everything he had to give, he would push another inch past her lips, making her yelp.

Finally, Andrea felt his tip connect against her cervix and his groin press against her butt, signaling that he was fully inside of her. Andrea felt absolutely stuffed. She was a tiny girl at just five feet tall, and Chris had a truly big dick. She whimpered as he shifted around in her and pulled back, his thick length dragging along her slippery walls until just his bulbous head, which still felt large, was left in her. A cry left her lips as he drove back in, a bit speedier this time, until he smacked into the back of her pussy somewhere deep inside of her.

Andrea could feel herself getting wetter and wetter, despite her best efforts not to. Her cheeks flushed with shame at being put in this disgraceful, misogynistic position. Who in their right mind like being fucked like a dog? It’s so degrading! Well, Andrea found out that apparently her body like it, because she was drenched from the sensation of Chris’s cock sliding in and out of her. Within minutes, she was moaning like a kitten in heat.

She yelped as Chris’s hand wrapped itself in her hair, yanking her head backwards. How dare he! She wasn’t some piece of meat to treat however he wanted! Who did he think he was, pulling her hair like some toy for him to do as he pleased?! That was what the rational part of her mind was thinking. The lustful part, however, was currently overriding any rational thought, and she moaned and shrieked as he used the leverage gained from grabbing her hair to slam into her harder. Shuddering, she slipped over the edge and came.

This orgasm was far more intense than any she had achieved through solo masturbation. Her eyes rolled back, and she screamed loudly. Her arms went limp and she would have fallen forward, if not for the handful of hair that Chris had, holding her up by her brown locks. Andrea’s entire body shook and trembled, her cunt clenching and convulsing as Chris kept pounding into her, not giving her any respite during her mind-shattering climax. By the end of it, the proud and haughty Andrea was reduced to a drenched, drooling mess.

Even as her climax was winding down, Chris began to speed up. Her tight hole felt magnificent around him, especially when she was clenching down during orgasm. Eager to feel her tighten around him all over again, he grasped her hair more firmly, using it to pull her tiny body into his thrusts. Her lower lips gripped him all the way down to the base, physically encouraging him to drive his penis all the more quickly, which her obliged, groaning in satisfaction when he heard Andrea shriek.

Spurred on by Chris’s increased movements, Andrea’s second orgasm arrived less than a minute after the first one. She gasped and moaned, her eyes crossing and her tongue hanging out of her open mouth, dripping saliva down onto the blanket below. Her internal muscles fluttered and spasmed, tightening up her walls around him. She still couldn’t believe that she was cumming from being treated like nothing but a cock sleeve, but by now, her brain was way past processing that kind of moral dilemma. Instead, she was busy being overwhelmed by the wave of pleasure that was assaulting her consciousness and steadily driving her crazy.

Pushing Andrea’s skirt up onto her back, Chris gazed down at her toned rear. She didn’t have nearly as much volume to her butt as someone like Sunny or Samantha, but her ass jiggled deliciously with each collision of their hips. Raising his hand, Chris brought his palm down onto her stocking-clad ass, making a loud slap ring out through the classroom which was joined moments later by Andrea’s yelp. Her cheek stinging, Andrea shrieked again as she was spanked for the second time. Unable to vocalize her objections in her current state of mind, she just hung there in Chris’s grip as he rained down smack after smack onto her rear, drawing more squeaks and yips from her. It was humiliating! It was degrading! It was…incredible?

Andrea had been skeptical at best when Sunny had reached orgasm from being spanked by Miss Banks, but now she understood exactly what had taken place. The combination of Chris’s engorged cock pummeling into her along with a series of stinging slaps to her butt was a disgraceful yet somehow intoxicating mix. Each successive smack pushed her closer and closer to that third peak, something she had never expected to be possible with a man. After the sixteenth slap, Chris groaned as he felt Andrea tighten up around him again.

When orgasm number three struck Andrea, her mind dissolved into jello. She hung there, limply, nothing but putty in Chris’s hands, unable to talk or moan or even breathe as her climax tore through her. This was only heightened when she felt a hot rush of liquid splatter her insides, indicating the arrival of Chris’s own orgasm. He gripped her hair and waist tightly, holding her against him as he flooded her insides and painted her pussy white with his goo. Every spasm and clamp down of Andrea’s walls only served to milk an additional shot of jizz into her snug cunt, as it was biologically engineered to do. If not for their required birth control pills, she would definitely be knocked up several times over from the sheer amount cum that he spewed i

Knocked Up Teens: Part 1

Sat, 07 Sep 2024 16:06:39 +0000

Amy interviews her pregnant classmates for the school paper.

Based on a post by shimm2, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

It was a Friday night with nothing else going on, and Amy was hanging out at her friend Jill’s house.

“Now that we’re in the home stretch here, we should let loose a little,” Amy said. They were both admitted to college, and sure to graduate high school.

“You mean like have affairs with older Casanova’s?” Jill teased.

Amy laughed. Jill knew that Alonso, who had been her Spanish tutor, had become something more. Amy told Jill one version of it, anyway.

“I meant maybe we should raid your dad’s liquor cabinet,” Amy said.

“I can’t,” Jill said quickly.

When she didn’t elaborate, Amy asked, “Not in the mood for a drink?”

A longer pause. Then Jill explained quietly, “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Amy’s world came to a screeching halt.

Sure, this kind of thing happened to other girls sometimes, but that was other girls. Not girls like Amy. She’d had it drilled into her all her life that there was a narrow path to success in this world, and not a lot of room for error. And a teenage pregnancy would definitely count as an error. And an unforced error at that. It wasn’t that Amy was ashamed of sex or didn’t enjoy it herself, but;

“All you had to do is take precautions,” Amy said. “It’s so simple. How could you?”

Jill was supposed to be one of the good ones, like her. Sure, she’d been hooking up with Dave, but how could she be so stupid? Amy felt dizzy and nauseous herself.

“What the fuck?” Amy said, finding herself shouting.

“‘What the fuck’ is right,” Jill said, blinking away tears. “I know it’s a surprise, but this isn’t something happening to you.”

“Not happening to me? I’m losing my best friend!” Amy said, getting up off the floor. She couldn’t sit still, not while this was happening.

“Maybe you are,” Jill said. “I; I think you should go.”

Amy rushed out, not because she needed permission or needed to be told, but because she didn’t know how to handle this.

It was a mile walk home, which helped her unwind, but didn’t really clear her head. If Jill was going to get an abortion, then maybe it wasn’t that big a deal. But if she wasn’t willing to drink, that meant she had other plans. Plans she must have been hiding from her. Amy wondered how long this situation had already been going on. How long Jill had kept it a secret from her already. She didn’t think Jill looked pregnant yet, but now she wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t sure of anything. It had rattled her whole worldview.

When she went to school the next day, and it seemed like pregnancy was everywhere she looked. There were a couple girls with rounded bellies that stood out in the hallway. For girls that had already given birth, there was even a lactation room for them to use, repurposed from a supply closet. She saw a couple girls queuing outside it, waiting for their turn.

She had kind of taken it for granted that this kind of thing happened. But now it was hitting close to home, and it seemed almost like an epidemic that was catching. Amy had heard of “baby fever” where spending time around pregnant women made you more fertile. She started to fear that at some point the school as a whole would reach a tipping point, where there’d be no stopping the trend.

“What’s your next story going to be?” Barb, the head of the school paper asked her, in school the next day. “Amy?”

“Oh. Right,” Amy said, trying to refocus. “Have any of you noticed how many girls in our school get pregnant?”

“Sure,” her classmate Bill said. “It happens, and we’re a large school with a slightly higher than average rate of teen pregnancy, so there’s definitely a few around.”

“I; I just don’t understand it,” Amy said with frustration. She felt guilty about how she reacted to Jill’s news, but Jill was avoiding her today, and Amy wasn’t ready to make up yet. She realized she needed to work on herself first. “Like, how could you let that happen to you?”

“Not everyone 'lets it happen’,” Maria said across the table.

“I know that rape is a problem, but most of the pregnancies around here aren’t from that, or we’d see more boys getting charged.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” Maria said. “It often goes unreported.”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as you think,” Bill said.

“Well I think it is,” Amy said, trying not to get too wound up. “So I want to understand why it happens. I’m thinking, an interview series with girls who are pregnant or have been in the past.”

Bard said, “Okay. It’s a touchy subject, so tread carefully. I look forward to reading your piece when it’s done.”

After school, Amy went over to Alonso’s house. He had been tutoring her in Spanish, up until she aced the AP exam and then finally gave herself permission to kiss him. That ended their tutoring relationship, and started the relationship they had now.

He answered the door in a bathrobe, and brought her in quickly. She’d been eighteen when they first kissed, but he was still self-conscious about being seen with her. And it wasn’t like Amy was going to introduce him to her mother or anything. What they had was raw and physical. Except for the “raw” part.

In his bedroom, she took off her shirt, and he embraced her from behind, kissing her on the back of her neck as his hands reached around for her breasts. It made her breath catch every time.

He undid her pants as she leaned back, melting into him. She could feel his cock pressing against her from behind. She climbed onto the bed and paused on all fours, and asked, “Is this how you want me?”

“No foreplay?” he asked.

“I’m in a wild mood today,” she said.

“Training wheels on or off?” he asked.

She reached down and fished a twenty dollar bill out of her pocket, and put it on the nightstand. This was part of their arrangement from the start.

He knew she was a virgin while he was; the exact opposite. He considered sex with a condom to be just practice for the real thing. And while he had enjoyed tutoring her, he wasn’t going to tutor her for free. So when she wanted him to use a condom, she had to pay. She could hardly complain about the education he was giving her, but it was becoming harder to find the money.

Now when she felt him pressing into her from behind, she asked to double check, “Is it on?”

Alonso chuckled softly to himself. “Let’s consider this a teachable moment. I want you to focus on how it feels, and see if you can tell for yourself.”

After all thinking about Jill and seeing all the other pregnant girls at school that day, and thinking about her assignment, Amy wanted to be certain. She resented being denied that, but for the moment she played along.

She focused on where they were in contact, his flared cock head pressing into the opening of her vagina. Even just that little bit of him was an intense pressure inside of her; sometimes she couldn’t take the full length of him. It felt so, so good, and made her hunger to feel him push deeper into her. Of course that would be a mistake if he wasn’t wearing protection. She wanted to push her hips back against him; it took all her resolve not to. Not yet. But even when she tried to analyze everything she was feeling down there, she couldn’t tell. It felt like it always did, although concentrating on it made it more intense.

Would he really penetrate her bareback? She didn’t think so, not when she was paying him, but she couldn’t be entirely sure. Guys pulled this kind of trick all the time, and she couldn’t count on Alonso being better than them. Which meant that even this contact of his tip to her hole was dangerous. Her heart was starting to race.

“I don’t know, okay?” she said, feeling defeated and inadequate.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “You don’t have any basis of comparison. Someday you will. We can try that whenever you’re ready.”

She didn’t like the fact that she couldn’t tell. It worried her, even now, that he could slip it off and she might not even know.

“Okay,” she said. “Show me.”

She felt feverish and tense. She almost jumped when she felt him nudge against her again. Just the tip, barely inside of her, and he stopped there, letting her feel it.

He felt bigger, if she wasn’t fooling herself. And the friction between them was; different. She could feel more of the flare of his cock’s head.

“More,” she said.

He slid more of his shaft into her. She was incredibly wet, fitting him in more easily than usual, even though he definitely felt bigger without a condom on. And then he stopped there, letting her savor the sensations. This was different, and she was relieved that she could tell the difference so clearly. Even so, it made her aware of what she’d been missing out on all this time. She knew she was lucky he wasn’t actively fucking her, because she wasn’t sure she’d want to stop.

His cock pulsed inside her, and Amy recognized that. Whenever she was sucking or jacking him off, his cock would do that sometimes, and a drip of precum would glide down from the top. Feeling that happen inside her was a reminder that this wasn’t safe. She had already gotten carried away, but she had to stop it there. She pulled away, and even the feeling of his shaft on its way out of her was delicious.

“You want the condom back on?” he asked. “Or another blind test?”

“Back on, please,” she said, desperate now for relief.

When he slid into her again, she could tell he had the condom on again. It paled in comparison, but for better or worse, it got her mind off the risks involved. Though as they fucked, she kept thinking with disbelief that she’d actually let him put it in her bare. What if that was all it took?

She was worked up already, and fast approaching her climax. But Alonso reached his first, maybe worked up by their little transgression. Amy could feel it when he filled up the reservoir tip inside her; she wondered how that part would feel without the condom, but that would definitely be going too far. A surefire recipe for baby batter.

Knowing she was close, he kept thrusting into her, and she didn’t want to stop, but she kept thinking about what would happen if the condom slipped off now. If that happened, it would be too late by the time either of them realized what happened.

“I can’t. I can’t,” she said, pulling herself off his cock. To her relief, the condom was still on and still holding all of his load, as far as she could tell anyway.

“Not a problem,” he said. “You lie down, I’ll take care of the rest.”

He spread her legs and brought his mouth to her crotch. Soon she writhed and whimpered, but it was bittersweet. It wasn’t the kind of climax she wanted most.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked afterwards. “Why you’re so paranoid about this today?”

She explained about Jill, and her story for the paper, and all the other pregnant girls, and how she worried it might be catching, but also saw no excuse for not taking simple precautions.

“So what?” Alonso said. “Women get pregnant all the time. It’s not right or wrong. It’s a natural process. It just happens sometimes.”

“Well, not to me, if I can help it,” she said. Alonso laughed at that. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just,” he gestured to her form, up and down. “Look at you. Thick thighs. Wide hips. Plump breasts. You’re built for it. It’s going to happen, sooner or later.”

The way he was looking at her made her feel sexy, but what he was saying scared her. And she worried he might get carried away if they continued down this train of thought. They both might get carried away.

“I’ve got to go,” she said, getting dressed.

“Don’t be ashamed. It’s what I’m attracted to,” he said.

At lunch the next day, Amy sat down next to Helen, who was gorging herself on peanut butter. Helen’s dowdy clothes did little to hide the almost spherical bulge underneath.

“It’s Helen, right?” Amy said. “I’m doing a story on the teen moms in our school. I wondered if you might share how you ended up; uh; pregnant.” It sounded more awkward out loud.

“Glad to talk about it!” Helen said. “I’m just so proud to be bringing this little one into the world. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Her attitude was utterly foreign to Amy. “So you got pregnant on purpose?”

“Well of course! I would only ever have sex for the sake of procreation,” Helen said. “The only sin involved here is that Zeke and I consummated our marriage a little early.”

“Oh, congratulations! When did you get engaged?” Amy asked.

She was getting the sense that this conversation wasn’t going to do anything to help her understand what goes into an accidental pregnancy, and thought Helen wouldn’t want to get into the juicy details anyway.

Helen blushed. “Funny story, we did get engaged before we conceived, but; well; it was a matter of seconds.”

Her words painted a clear picture in Amy’s mind. Helen and Zeke, conjoined and about to knowingly make a baby, and committing to marriage in that moment. She couldn’t picture herself doing that, but it did have a certain allure. Maybe someday, with the right guy.

That Friday, Amy turned her room upside down looking for cash. She had to have a twenty here somewhere. She couldn’t be dead broke, could she? She couldn’t keep asking her mom for cash without explaining where it was going. Otherwise maybe it was time to get a job. But not in time to meet up with Alonso that afternoon.

As she went to Alonso’s place, she reasoned that there were plenty of other things they could do, rather than risk it. But even after he ate her out, she found herself wanting more.

“Come on, can’t we just skip the twenty dollars?” she asked. “Or you could spot me. I’ll have it soon.”

He ran a finger close to her nipple, keeping her aroused. “If you go into debt with me, the conditions might be more than you’re expecting.”

He was right. The glint in his eye made it clear that he would use her how he wanted if she gave him that opportunity. And then all her money spent on condoms would be effectively down the drain. It scared her, but she also felt her hips shift of their own accord, eager for that punishment.

“How about this. We could play a round of roulette for free. Fifty-fifty odds. What do you think?”

Oh god, he had her on edge, and he was asking her to leave her fate entirely to chance. Better than nothing, she supposed. She felt her pussy becoming absolutely soaked.

“You know that letting you ejaculate inside me is something I can’t afford. That would cost me a lot more than twenty dollars.”

“What do you mean, 'let me’? When I ejaculate inside you, it’ll be your choice as much as mine.”

There was a lot to unpack there. 'When’? Like it was inevitably going to happen? And Amy wasn’t so sure it’d be intentional. It could be accidental for them both.

He got up and handed her a blindfold. Funny, how he had that handy. “We can stop whenever you want.”

So she could take the fifty-fifty odds, and if she could tell that he wasn’t wearing a condom, she could call it off.

“Fine, I’ll play your game,” she said, tying on the blindfold. “Will you warn me when you’re about to cum?”

“That would be cheating, would it not?” he replied. “Trust your instincts. You know what my tells are by now.”

Lying on her back on the bed, she heard a coin flip, and if he was tearing open a condom wrapper, she didn’t hear him do it. Soon she felt the bed shift as he joined her on it, and she reached out, finding him by touch. It was a new thrill, discovering the shape of his body all over again like this.

He kissed her shoulder, her collarbone. It was like he was everywhere at once, she couldn’t predict where he’d kiss her next. The heat was radiating from him as he loomed over her, close enough that she could feel the thin line of hair down past his belly button. And then there was the pressure, aimed perfectly true, pressing her open for him.

As he crossed that threshold again, she remembered what it felt like before, both of the ways it felt, and she was pretty sure this time he was wearing a condom. He pressed into her depths, to where she had to stretch to accommodate him. The air left her lungs and she felt like she was never going to get it back.

“Mm, I can’t believe we waited this long to do it this way,” he muttered in her ear. She could hear the smile.

“You mean blindfolded?” she asked.

“I mean raw. Unprotected. I always knew it was going to happen eventually,” he said.

Her rational mind was repulsed at the thought, and all that came along with it. But it also gave her an unexpected thrill. But; he had to be psyching her out, right? She was pretty sure he was wearing protection; unless that was just wishful thinking.

“Hang on,” she said, and he stopped thrusting into her, but he was still there, tantalizing her. “You are wearing a condom, right?”

Inside her, his cock spasmed as if in response. It would be weeping precum, which could be carrying a few of his sperm.

“Amy, I can’t tell you that,” he said.

She was almost sure she could feel the ring of latex at the bottom of the condom. Almost.

“I know you are. I guessed correctly, so now there’s no harm in confirming it,” she said.

“Oh? That’s your guess?” he asked. “We can stop anytime you like. Heck, you can take off the blindfold anytime you like. Either way, it’s game over.”

“Come on, that’s not fair,” she said.

“Fair? I’ve played by your rules for months. This is a compromise,” he said.

If he wasn’t playing by her rules, did that mean he was breaking them? He started moving in her again, and it was a struggle to hang on to conscious thought.

“But you’re trying to get me to believe you’re not wearing a condom right now. If I that’s true, we have to stop. Are you trying to convince me to stop?”

“No, I want you to be honest with you

Sommerset College Advance Sex Ed: Part 2

Snowden Speaks — Sat, 07 Sep 2024 01:05:00 +0000

Day two of class; the boys get tested.

Based on the work of firebird68. listen to the Podcast on Steamy Stories

“Hi, Samantha!” Sunny greeted as the black-haired girl entered the room. “How were your morning classes?”

“Fine.” Samantha rasped, swiftly walking to her seat, and dropping her bag.

“Oh, wow.” Sunny came to stand next to her desk. “You sound terrible! What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I don’t know!” Samantha snapped, turning to face Tanner. “Maybe it’s because SOMEONE fucked the ever-living shit out of my throat yesterday.”

Tanner just shrugged and lounged in his seat.

“Guilty.” He said in a bored tone.

“And someone else, held me down while he did it!” she directed this to Andrea.

“Oh, stuff it, Morticia!” Andrea retorted. “I just did what I was told to do.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your turn today, missy.” Samantha grinned fiendishly. “I hope you get the same treatment. I’ll even volunteer to hold you down.”

She shrunk in her seat and put on a mockingly sweet tone.

“Oh, please, Miss Banks! Let me pin Andrea down while she gets her throat reamed out! I would absolutely love to keep her still for you. Will I get extra credit for this?”

Andrea just rolled her eyes, but a cold pit was forming in her stomach as she was further reminded that she was, in fact, going to be giving her blowjob first thing today. She maintained her poise and confident exterior, but on the inside, her nerves were tangling themselves in knots, hoping and praying that she didn’t get the 'Samantha fuckdown’.

Chris and Daniel were the last to enter the classroom. Daniel reached into his bag and pulled out a book, walking it over to Samantha.

“You left this in comp class.” He said, placing it on her desk.

“Thanks.” She muttered.

“Jesus, are you sick or something?” Chris asked. “Why is you voice so sore?”

Samantha threw up her hands, exasperated, and curled her fist in front of her face, miming a vigorous blowjob in answer.

“Lemon tea and honey!” Sunny snapped her fingers. “I was trying to remember what it was. When I was first starting out with deepthroating, my voice would get all hoarse, too. I found that lemon tea with a tablespoon of honey will fix it right up.”

“How am I not surprised that you have a remedy for something like that?” Andrea sniffed.

“Well, duh, because I didn’t want to be sounding like I’m on my third pack of cigarettes every day.” Sunny replied.

Andrea just shook her head in awe of Sunny’s airheaded attitude and wondered how someone like her ever managed to get good grades back in high school. Before she could make the rude suggestion that Sunny must be sucking off all her teachers, the door opened, and Miss Banks walked in.

“Good morning, class.” She said, setting her briefcase down on the desk. “How’s everyone today?”

The students all echoed greetings as Miss Banks did a quick headcount to make sure everyone was present.

“And Miss Samantha?” she turned to the girl. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fantastic.” Samantha replied, her voice gravelly.

“Great.” Miss Banks smiled. “Well, yesterday I gave the girls an initial examination to test their abilities. Today, I will be testing the boys. But first, of course, before we begin, Andrea, we ran out of time for you to go yesterday so you will be up first today. I’m just waiting for…Oh! Here he is. Perfect, right on time.”

A knock came at the door and Miss Banks hurried over to open it. A man entered the room, dressed in a suit and tie. He was tall and handsome, clearly muscular beneath his attire. Some neatly trimmed scruff covered his chin, giving him a rugged businessman appearance.

“Great timing!” Miss Banks said. “Glad you were able to make it. Class, this is Rick Boulder. Does anyone happen to know who that is?”

She looked around the room, raising an eyebrow when David slowly lifted his hand.

“David?” She called on him.

“He’s a pornstar.” David offered, looking somewhat sheepish.

“Very good!” Miss Banks praised. “Yes, I’m sure most of you have seen his performances online. Rick isn’t his real name, but that’s the pseudonym he uses when in a professional capacity, such as today. As someone in the sexual education industry, I have numerous contacts with on-screen talent and behind the scenes workers in the porn world. Rick has generously volunteered his time today to help us out.”

She turned and fixed her gaze on Andrea, who shrunk a bit in her seat.

“Miss Andrea.” She addressed her. “Please join us at the front of the room.”

Swallowing nervously, Andrea rose from her seat and went to the front to stand there, her hands clasped in front of her.

“You’ll be performing your examination on Rick.” Miss Banks explained. “I need the male students to be ready for their test afterwards. Go ahead, Rick.”

Rock removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, laying them both on the desk. Unbuttoning his cuffs, he rolled up his sleeves and stepped up to Andrea. Andrea looked up at the imposing man towering her and hesitated, making Miss Banks frown.

“Go on, Andrea.” She chastised. “Don’t make our guest wait all day. We have much to get done today. Get on your knees.”

She strode up behind the girl and put her hands on Andrea’s shoulders, gently pushing her down to her knees and joining her by dropping to her knees behind her.

“There.” She said. “Now unzip his pants and get started.”

Andrea forced her hands to move and fumbled around the crotch of his pants, grasping the zipper and pulling it down. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she reached her small hand through the opening of his pants and boxers and fished around until her fingers closed on his penis. Bringing it out into the light, her heart sank as she beheld the size of it. It wasn’t even hard, yet she could tell it was massive. It gradually grew to life in her fingers until it was at the intimidating size of about ten inches in length, and nearly as thick as her wrist.

“Good.” Miss Banks encouraged. “Does he feel fully engorged?”

Andrea nodded. She could feel her teacher’s large breasts pushing into her back.

“All right.” Miss Banks continued. “Then put it in your mouth.”

Leaning forward, Andrea tentatively stuck out her tongue, touching it to the tip of Rick’s cock. A bead of pre-cum emerged and dripped down onto her tongue. Andrea recoiled, but was surprised to find that the taste wasn’t all that terrible at all. Swallowing it down, she leaned back in and wrapped her lips around his head. She could feel Miss Banks soft breath against her ear, watching intently just over her shoulder.

“Keep going. A little deeper and add some suction.” She instructed.

Andrea moved in, taking more between her lips. She did as she was told and applied some suction to the movement. She didn’t really have a reference for this, having never given a blowjob, so she just pretended as though she were trying to drink a thick milkshake through a straw. Of course, in this instance, the milkshake in question was considerably warmer and much more protein rich. She bobbed her head over the tip of Rock’s penis, doing her best to perform as she had seen other girls do.

“Don’t forget to use your hands.” Miss Banks reminded her. “If you can’t deepthroat your partner, utilize your hands to manually stimulate the rest of him. Understood?”

Andrea nodded with his cock still in her mouth and timidly reached up to wrap her fingers around him. Her slim digits barely managed to encircle his thick girth, making her confidence waver. His size greatly intimidated her. She had only taken the head, but her tiny mouth was almost completely stuffed by that alone. Steeling herself, she pushed forward and slid her lips further down him.

She managed to get two inches in before her mouth was full, and the tip was threatening to trip her gag reflex. Her eyes flicked up to Rick’s face, which had remained expressionless throughout, before returning her focus and resuming her beginner head-bobbing motion. She knew that she wasn’t going to be anywhere near as good as someone like Sunny, that slut, but maybe she could at least keep this from taking all day if she put her back into it.

“You’re not stroking. Don’t simply hold onto him, you need to put some motion into your hand, as well.” Miss Banks said. “Like this.”

She reached her arm around Andrea and took hold of her wrist, guiding the teen girl in stroking her hand along the remainder of his length, which was the vast majority of it. After a few strokes, Miss Banks let go of Andrea’s wrist, nodding in satisfaction when the girl kept up the action in her absence. Andrea began multitasking, working her hand in tandem with her mouth. Determined, she pushed a bit deeper and taking another half inch past her lips, but immediately flinched and gagged when the tip tickled her uvula.

Withdrawing to cough, she sniffled and blinked the forming tears back, before moving in to recapture the head. She worked as best as she could, but refrained from pushing any deeper than two inches, fearful of choking again. As the minutes ticked by, Andrea’s jaw and arm started getting increasingly tired. After ten minutes, Miss Banks could tell that this was getting nowhere and tapped Andrea on the shoulder, signaling her to stop.

“Okay, we have a clear baseline.” She noted. “You’re definitely as beginner as they come. We will have a lot of work to do in the coming semester. In the meantime, we can’t waste the whole class on this, so I’ll finish Rick off for a little demonstration. Move over and watch carefully, okay?”

Andrea nodded, relieved that she was done, and shuffled to the side, clearing room for her teacher to move forward. In one smooth motion, she dipped her head down and captured the tip between her lips and swallowed it to the base. Andrea gaped in shock as the massive cock disappeared into her mouth and without so much as a peep from Miss Banks’ gag reflex.

Moaning and focusing on cumming as quickly as possible so that she could get on with her class, Rick dropped his hand to rest on her head. He thrust in gently to meet her movements, her nose connecting with his naval each time. Whenever she withdrew until the head was all that remained in her mouth, Andrea could see her nostrils flare slightly, denoting her expert breath control. It reminded the teen of an Olympic swimmer that perfectly timed their breaths while in the pool.

Gripping his muscular gluts, Miss Banks pulled him into her on every stroke, drawing him closer and closer to completion. It didn’t take long before Andrea saw his shaft flex and his balls twitch, signaling his orgasm. Feeling the first shot of cum splash against her tongue, Miss Banks quickly swallowed it and then buried the whole shaft down her throat. She expertly worked her throat muscles to draw out every last drop of jizz that he had to give to her, sending it straight into her stomach. When his orgasm finally petered out, she slowly pulled back, her lips sealed tightly to clean him along the way, and finished by sucking on his head, nursing the last drips from him, and swallowing them as well.

When she released him from her lips, she looked perfect and proper. Andrea couldn’t see any signs of the impressive deepthroating she had just performed. Her chin was completely dry of saliva and her makeup was free of tear streaks. Even her bright red lipstick was barely smudged. Rick pulled out a small mirror from his pocket and handed it to Miss Banks, who checked her appearance to be sure she was professional. Fixing one stray strand of brown hair that had escaped her tight bun, she handed the mirror back to him and rose, gesturing for Andrea to do the same.

“I hope you were watching closely.” She told the girl. “I’ll be working with you on your oral skills throughout the term. You need a lot of help in this department. You may return to your seat. Don’t forget to thank our guest.”

Andrea thanked Rick, who smiled kindly at her, and hurried back to her seat. Sunny leaned toward her when she sat down.

“Wow, that was a huge cock!” she whispered.

“I know. Shut up.” Andrea hissed back.

“What did it taste like?” Sunny ignored her request. “Did you count how many ropes he pumped into Miss Banks? God, she is so good at that. I hope I’m that good one day.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Andrea retorted. “You’re a slut. Now shut up, please.”

“Ladies.” They both straightened and closed their mouths as Miss Banks returned from showing Rick to the door. “Is there an issue?”

“No, Miss Banks.” They spoke in tandem.

“Good. In that case, it’s time to move on to the boys. I want to get an idea of your stamina, so I will be giving all of you handjobs until completion. I don’t expect you to last long. My skill is considerably higher than any girlfriend you’ll ever have. However, this will give me a reference point for later in the semester. Tanner, since you went last yesterday, how about we start with you. Please join me.”

Miss Banks walked behind her desk and retrieved her chair, wheeling it out into the open, patting it and indicating for him to sit. Tanner sat in the chair and waited as his teacher went back to her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a plastic tube of lubricant. Returning to him, she swiveled the chair to give the class a side profile of the demonstration and knelt in front of him.

“Girls, just because this is for the males, doesn’t mean you can zone out.” She said. “I want you all paying close attention to what I do. Take notes if you need to. First off, I would recommend you all get something like this.”

She held up the bottle of lube to show the class.

“This is a flavored lubricant.” She explained. “Unless your partner requests to finish somewhere on your body, you should always be taking his load internally. In the case of a handjob, that means you are expected to swallow. A flavored lubricant is always preferable to unflavored. This one is strawberry, but you can purchase any flavor or brand of your choice.”

Unzipping Tanner’s pants and undoing his belt, she slid them down his legs until they were bunched around his calves, letting his growing cock spring into view. A low hum emanated from Sunny as she caught sight of it again, enamored by his nine-and-a-half-inch length. Miss Banks grasped his dick and hefted it straight up, pointing it towards the ceiling. Popping open the bottle of lube, she poured a generous portion onto his tip, watching as it cascaded down the sides of his erection.

When she had enough, she began working her hand and spreading around the slippery, viscous fluid until it covered his whole shaft. Tanner grunted in pleasure when she began to stroke in earnest. True to her word, she was an extraordinary sexual talent. Her strong fingers squeezed him, riding the line between gentle and firm at just the right amount. Her hand slid up and down his length at a steady pace, caressing and rubbing him from tip to base. Each time she crested his head, her thumb swirled around it expertly before massaging his glans on the way back down.

Reaching between his legs with her other hand, Miss Banks closed her fingers around his heavy balls and started to massage them as well. Her deft digits flitted around his orbs, fondling and squeezing them gently, making him groan. Her hands worked perfectly in tandem, never interfering with the work of the other. While one jacked and rubbed his stiff cock, the other manipulated his balls. She stopped squeezing both and alternated to one at a time, focusing on one first and then moving to the other shortly after.

Changing up her method, she dropped his balls altogether and brought that hand to join the other on his penis. She closed both hands around his shaft and used them to simultaneously jack his length. All ten of her fingers skillfully rubbed along his skin, edging him closer to his climax. She twisted and rotated her hands in opposing directions as they rose and fell throughout the course of the handjob. She could feel his legs shaking and trembling as he tried to hold out as long as possible, but she knew it was only a matter of time. He had no chance to withstand her ministrations for much longer.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, she spotted his balls twitch and hurriedly swooped down to capture the head of his cock in her mouth milliseconds before he erupted like a geyser into her. She stopped her twisting motion, opting for a simple jerking method as he came into her mouth. Continuously swallowing his load as he filled her mouth, her hands worked in unison to heighten his orgasm and draw as much cum as possible from his balls. His payload was copious and plentiful, impressing Miss Banks with its quantity as she quickly gulped it all down.

When his climax began to falter and his shots became smaller and smaller until it was just a trickle, she slowed her hands down to no more than a crawl, careful not to overstimulate him, and ultimately stopping moving altogether. Her lips suctioned tightly around him, pulling every last drop of his orgasm out and sending it to join the rest in her stomach. With one final stroke from his base to his tip that squeezed the final bead of cum out and onto her tongue, she released him from her oral grip with a pop and let go of his wilting hard-on to glance at the clock.

“Ten minutes.” She noted. “Almost eleven. Very impressive, Tanner. Not many men can last that long from my handjobs. Well done. Sunny.”

The blonde broke her stare off of Tanner’s dick and snapped her attention to her teacher.

“Yes, Miss Banks.” She answered.

“Go into the top left drawer of my desk.” She instructed. “There’s a stack of hand towels in there. Take four and go back to Tanner’s desk with him and clean him off before he zips his pants back up. Do the same with each of the boys when I finish with them. Understood?”

“Yes, Miss Banks!” Sunny nodded.

She hurried to the desk and retrieved the folded towels from where she had been directed, before following Tanner back to his desk. She knelt before him, eagerly, and reverently wiped all the lubricant from his softening penis. A tiny drop of remaining cum appeared at the tip and she quickly extended her tongue to lap it up, savoring the flavor, before finishing her work and returning to her chair.

“Daniel, you’re up next.” Miss Banks continued on with the class. “Please come take a seat for me.”

Daniel rose and headed up to the front. At his teacher’s direction, he undid his belt and zipper, dropping his pants and sitting down. She immediately knelt between his legs and grasped his cock, gently tugging and coaxing it to full mast. When it was completely hard to her satisfaction, she applied a long string of lube along him and her hands went to work, smearing the liquid all around him.

With his shaft good and slick, she began the exact same process as she had performed on Tanner. Consistency was important for this, and she knew that if she changed up her techniques drastically from student to student, the results would be skewed, and she would not be able to replicate the process later in the semester. She had meticulously written down her process for this exam beforehand and filed it in her exam notes, so that she could test the boys in the exact same fashion an

Spells and Retributions: Part 2

Fri, 06 Sep 2024 16:07:06 +0000

Four body-swapped teens have more sexual firsts.

Based on a post by shimm2, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chris and his clit.

To his surprise, Chris woke up in Mary’s bedroom again. He had gone to sleep on that bed, after fingering Mary’s clit to one last orgasm, thinking it was his last chance ever to experience a female orgasm. Though he honestly wasn’t very good at it yet, and nearly didn’t get there on his own. If only Mary had a dildo or a vibrator handy, but no, she was a good Christian girl, or at least she had been when this whole mix-up started.

At first, when Chris woke up and saw the pillowy outlines of Mary’s breasts, he was distraught. They had recited the same spell again. Surely it should have put Chris back into his own body, or at least one of the others’. But no, somehow he’d ended up in Mary’s body twice in a row. He wondered if the spell had worked at all the second time, or if it just hadn’t worked for him. At the very least, it meant Mary wasn’t back to being herself yet either.

But feeling those pillowy breasts with his hands, the nipples firming up against the night shirt, Chris started to warm to the prospect of one more day as a woman. Maybe yesterday he had woken up as a girl, but he was a woman now, having been fucked twice in the school bathroom. Chris knew he was going to be enjoying those memories for a long time to come, even though through the bathroom door he had been able to hear the other kids laughing about what was going on. Laughing that Mary was actually having sex (even though it was actually Chris). Laughing that Chris was fucking her (even though that had actually been Theresa).

One more day, Chris thought. He could be okay with one more day in a female body. Just one more, and then hopefully everything goes back to normal. The longer he spent in Mary’s body, the more normal it felt, and that worried him. He was starting to see things the way she did, feel things the way she did. Was he becoming more female? He wasn’t sure where his mind ended and her body began.

What if he were stuck as Mary for the rest of his life? He’d already been careless with her body the day before, letting two men cum inside Mary’s snatch. Letting wasn’t the right word. He had encouraged it. He had enjoyed it. But if this went on, if this body was going to be Chris’s long term, he had to be more responsible with it, or it’d be him pushing out a baby at age 19. As it was, he might end up being the one telling Mary to push.

When he had woken up yesterday he had been a virgin. He had been a good Christian boy, though at 18, “boy” didn’t seem quite right. It was all changing so fast. In a way, if Mary was pregnant with his baby, Chris felt a little cheated. Yes he’d taken part in making that baby. Yes he’d felt the seed when it entered into him. But he’d still feel cheated for not being the one spilling that seed, even though the seed was his.

But he’d also taken Paul’s cock inside Mary’s womb, because it had been Mary behind Paul’s eyes. He looked back on that now with a mix of arousal and disbelief and disgust at the idea of feeling his brother’s erection move inside him, even if it had felt extraordinary.

“Mary! Breakfast now or never!” Mary’s mother shouted from the kitchen. Chris startled, realizing he’d been getting himself worked up, when he should have been getting dressed. Mary’s mother hadn’t noticed a thing the previous day, but Chris had kept his mouth shut around her. Speaking of mouths, his mind went back to that kiss with Mary; no, he had to focus on getting dressed.

Again he downed a glass of OJ and a buttered toast and ran for the bus, slowed down by the bounce in Mary’s cleavage. He spent his first class of the day in a daze. He hadn’t run into any of his friends yet, since they all had different classes for first period. Mary was in a higher-level physics class than Chris was, and it was all over his head anyway, he had no hope of keeping up.

Between classes, he ducked into the bathroom to relieve himself, since he had forgotten to, when he had hurried out the door. This time he remembered to go into the ladies’ room.

Afterwards, he couldn’t help it, as soon as he started touching himself down there, he got carried away, heedless of the little yelps escaping his clenched teeth. He was trying to quickly reach an orgasm to get some relief, but he was still figuring out how it all worked by trial and error, and when he was impatient, his fingers tended to go too hard, too fast.

Then he was interrupted by a knock on the stall door. Chris quickly pulled up his sweatpants and opened the stall door. In front of him was Theresa.

“Hey, it’s me, Mary,” she said, with Theresa’s voice. With Theresa’s slightly more slender build, and hair that gracefully curved at the shoulder. Chris prided himself on still being attracted to women.

“I’m you again,” Chris said, and then had to explain. “I’m Chris.”

“Oh,” Mary said, taking a second to think things through. “Look, that problem you were dealing with. Maybe I could help?” Mary said with a sly smile.

“You would do that?” Chris asked. He wasn’t sure where this was headed, but he was dying to find out.

“If it’ll keep you out of trouble, sure,” Mary said. “But not here. Let’s go to the wrestling room. It’s not being used during this period.”

They snuck through the halls together. As seniors on the verge of graduating from this high school, no one would think twice about the two of them cutting a class. When they got to the wrestling room, Mary flipped on the lights, revealing the padded floor, the wall to wall mirror. Fortunately the door had a lock on the inside.

Mary stepped close to Chris, and leaned in. Theresa was slightly taller, her neck a little longer, so Chris had to angle his head up to meet her lips. It was Chris’s first time kissing a girl actually, and even though he had cherished when Mary had kissed him the day before, it had been tainted because she had kissed him with Paul’s lips.

Chris started to take the initiative, slipping his hands up under Mary’s sweater, unclasping her bra. He was getting more practice with that. Mary gasped as Chris’s hands slid across her chest, and stomach, reaching around her back and pulling her close. Hearing her gasp like that was a thrill, a sign he was doing something right. But soon Mary started undressing him. He tried to even the score, and got her to take off that sweater at least, but soon Mary had him down to just panties. And she slid those down off his hips without hesitation, because they were in fact her hips, her panties, and nothing that lay underneath was unfamiliar to her.

Chris lay back on the wrestling mat, as Mary climbed over and around him, kissing his neck, kissing those pillowy breasts, kissing a ticklish line down his stomach, kissing those thick thighs. Chris paid attention as closely as he could, knowing that Mary was showing him exactly what she liked, knowing that in her body, Chris would like it too.

At last Mary reached Chris’s slit. Or it was really Mary’s slit, though at this point Chris had experienced things with it that Mary never had. Chris felt her hot breath before he felt the teasing lick along his swollen lips, and then between them, where the moisture was building up, where the pressure was mounting. Mary’s hand gripped the muscle of his leg as she carefully slid her tongue across his clit. Again, her caressing tongue felt electric against his sensitive nub, and the next time she teased his hole as well.

Unlike Chris, Mary knew what she was doing, and despite how gently, patiently she was building him up to it, Chris was soon approaching an orgasm like none he had experienced yet.

“Oh god! I’m about to cum!” he gasped. He reached down and could just barely grasp the top of Mary’s head, trying to press it into his crotch that much more, not that Mary needed the encouragement. He lifted his hips to meet her mouth, and then lost all control. His hips bucked, his knees shook, and he couldn’t seem to get a good breath, as the orgasm lit him up from head to toe.

Mary hung tightly to him through the storm of his ecstasy. Only when he stopped writhing and trying to fuck her face did she let go. When she stopped eating him out, he collapsed on the wrestling mat, his sweaty back sticking to the vinyl. Mary leaned up, grinning with pride. Chris felt about ready to pass out, though he knew it wouldn’t be wise to do so naked in the wrestling room. They’d lucked out so far, and hadn’t been disturbed, but that wouldn’t last.

Chris still hoped this would be his last day of being a woman. But he was glad he’d been granted this second day in Mary’s body, because otherwise he would have missed out on what had just happened.

Mary Masturbates.

Mary licked her lips. She’d tasted her juices before; who hadn’t? But this was different. Knowing exactly what would work on her body, she had brought Chris to a humongous orgasm. Mary felt good about that for multiple reasons. If Chris was sexually satisfied, hopefully he wouldn’t fuck anyone else. And she was hoping that she and Chris would pair off in the end, and giving him an intense orgasm probably helped ensure that. And lastly, since she had shown Chris what her body liked, maybe he would reciprocate sometime, when this was all over.

It hadn’t done much for herself though, leaving her feverish with arousal and dripping wet. But that was okay. Mary had other plans for Theresa’s body today. She was still mad at Theresa for everything she’d done yesterday. First Theresa had lied to her, and claimed to be Chris. Then Theresa (in Chris’s body) had fucked Mary’s body unprotected, taking Mary’s virginity in the process and possibly knocking her up. That had been a double betrayal, because she had tricked Chris into it, and she’d gotten to have sex with Chris first. And Mary resented that Theresa had possibly gotten her pregnant without Mary getting to feel what that was like. Now in Theresa’s body, Mary had the perfect chance to turn the tables.

She gathered up the clothes that Chris had taken off of her, and started getting dressed again.

“Oh right,” Chris said. “Should I take a morning-after pill, because of yesterday? I thought I could just leave it for you to figure out today, but; ”

Mary froze for a second. On one hand, the contraceptive would be just one sin to add to her tally, and she wasn’t planning to settle up with God until all of this was over. On the other hand, she wasn’t certain whether she wanted it or not. Maybe having a baby from what happened yesterday would be appropriate punishment for it. Or maybe; it would take a paternity test to sort out which brother’s sperm had done it, and Chris would probably do the right thing by her regardless. Maybe having a baby would be a blessing.

“Don’t worry about it, I can sort it out tomorrow,” she said. Though she knew that things might be back to normal tomorrow, or they might not, if today was any indication. If she didn’t take the pill tomorrow, things could be too far along already by the time she could. But she had another day to sort out her feelings on the matter.

Chris was getting dressed as well, but Mary knelt down behind him to help get the bra back on. With that done, she gave him a kiss on the mouth, juices still on her chin, and left.

At lunch time, Mary found Paul outside at a picnic table.

“Paul?” she asked cautiously.

“Yeah, it’s really me,” he replied. “I can’t believe I ended up back in my own body, given what happened to everybody else.”

“Same here,” Mary lied, letting him think that she was Theresa through and through.

“Oh you ended up back where you started too?”

“Yeah,” Mary said. “I feel bad for Chris and Mary. But they’re sure to be sorted out tonight. Third try’s the charm.”

“Theresa, I’m sorry that I gave your virginity away, and I’m sorry that it was with Mary,” Paul said.

“I get it, I wasn’t in my right mind either,” Mary joked. “And um; the only thing I regret about that is that I wasn’t there to experience it. So do you think; would you want to try it again, but from the other point of view?”

He got up from the picnic table eagerly and chucked the remains of his lunch into the trash bin. Mary took him by the hand, entwining her fingers with his. To pull this off, she had to be convincing, without reservation. She pulled him over to a storage shed. Putting her shoulder into it, she pushed the door open. It was musty and dark inside, but it was private, and had enough space for them to do their thing.

Mary turned to Paul, putting her arms around his neck and hissed him hungrily. That hunger was real, she’d been feeling it since she woke up, and had intensified it when she ate Chris out; eating out her own snatch. In no time, they stripped off all their clothes, and Mary had Paul lay down on the hard floor. She knelt between his legs and gave his erection a lick.

But that wasn’t all she wanted out of him. She moved up, straddling his waist, making out with him again, pressing her crotch down on his until she felt the nudge of his member against her.

“Hey, do you have those condoms I bought for you?” Paul asked breathlessly.

“No, I threw them all out. I don’t believe in contraception, remember?”

“You didn’t believe in sex before marriage either, until yesterday.”

“Like you said, until yesterday,” Mary said, trying to shut him up with a kiss. She reached down and lined the head of his cock up with her slit, pressing just the tip to her hole. She could tell how eager he was, his hips rising to penetrate her just a bit.

“You could get pregnant from this,” Paul said, though his body had fewer reservations about it.

“I know,” Mary said, as she sank down on him, taking more of him within her. “I’m counting on it.”

“Oh my god,” Paul moaned, and Mary moaned right along with him. She’d never felt this before, never felt a cock sliding in and out of her, let alone one bearing life-sparking seed. Riding on top of him, she could control just how slow or fast they went, just how deep he slid into her, and just how much of him she let slide out again.

“Oh Theresa! Are you sure about this?” Paul asked. “This is for real. This is oh so real.”

“Yesterday was real too,” Mary said, as if she was one to talk. Paul had played it relatively safe the day before. “I; I’m cumming!” She said, as it almost took her by surprise.

“Ung,” he grunted, as he felt her vaginal walls contract around him. But Mary knew he hadn’t cum yet, because she’d know for sure when he did. She stopped for a moment, sitting heavily on his lap and letting her orgasm run its course before she began riding him again.

He had held out through her orgasm, which was more than she had expected, but it wasn’t long after that, when his breaths turned to gasps, and she started to feel his rod swelling inside her.

“Theresa, are you sure you want my sperm inside you?” he managed to ask, but Mary could tell he didn’t have long to decide.

“Oh Paul, yes! I want it!” Mary urged him on, close to another climax. “Make me pregnant! Make me yours forever!”

She felt him swell up even more, his arms around her tightening, the head of his cock pushing as deep into her as he could get.

“Oh Theresa!” he cried, as his semen first shot out and deep into her, coating Theresa’s cunt.

Mary finally got to feel a man cumming inside her, and it was everything and more. Every time she felt him swell inside her, his flesh expanding outward against hers, her whole body, Theresa’s body, squeezed back against him, contracting, constricting, convulsing as she felt him pour more of himself into her, until she’d taken all he had to give.

Then Mary collapsed on him, spent and full at the same time. Her knees felt wobbly and limp against the gritty concrete floor of the shed. She didn’t care about the moldy air, she needed to catch her breath after that.

“I love you, Mary,” Paul said.

It took Mary a second to realize what he’d said, and another second to realize that he hadn’t been fooled by her attempt to trick him into thinking she was really Theresa. She wasn’t ready to lift her snatch off his cock, but she did tense up a bit with worry.

“How did you know?” she asked. “Was it something about the way I had sex?”

“No, I knew because I share a bedroom with Chris, and I could tell Chris wasn’t really Chris. Theresa woke me up by sucking on my cock.”

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” Mary said.

Paul laughed. “You didn’t convince me, so no harm done.”

“Are you really in love with me?” she asked.

“I don’t know, with all the endorphins, it felt like the thing to say,” Paul said.

Mary relaxed again on top of him, and squeezed him in as much of a hug as she could. She had gotten what she wanted, revenge on Theresa, and she’d gotten so much more out of it than she’d even expected. She felt full of warmth and contentment.

Hopefully that night, she’d be back in her own body, and then sin be damned, she’d go on birth control right away if it meant experiencing something like this again.

Christopher’s climax.

Chris had seen from afar when Mary went up to Paul at the picnic table, and he had watched the pair walk off, hand in hand. Even at a distance, Chris could see the affection between them, and when they snuck into the shed, he feared the worst. So he had watched the scene unfold, through a corner of the shed’s dusty window.

Something sank in the pit of his stomach as he watched them undress. Chris thought he and Mary had something special. “If it’ll keep you out of trouble” she’d said, but then she’d gone looking for that trouble himself, without him. And it wasn’t an isolated incident either. Mary had fucked Paul first the day before too. Her first time with a woman had been with Paul, and her first time with a man had been with Paul, and Chris was starting to feel jealous.

Now every time Paul tightened his grip on Mary’s hips, every time Mary’s should blades rose and fell, every time her cry of pleasure could be heard through the window, Chris could tell that Paul was erupting inside her, even though that was happening deep within the join of their flesh. Because Chris knew that feeling firsthand, his mind flashing back to yesterday when he’d had that same cock inside him, fertilizing him with the same sperm.

“Don’t they look beautiful together?” Theresa said, looking over his shoulder. She was i

Sommerset College Advance Sex Ed: Part 1

Snowden Speaks — Fri, 06 Sep 2024 01:03:00 +0000

Unsuspecting college freshmen sign off for an “Advanced Sex Ed’ class.

Based on the work of firebird68. Listen to the Podcast on Steamy Stories

“Hey, everybody!”

Samantha groaned as she recognized the bubbly, happy voice immediately. She looked up and confirmed her guess as Sunny skipped into the classroom. Samantha didn’t exactly get along with Sunny. The blonde’s happy-go-lucky persona and perpetual cheerfulness made her nauseous. Still, the girl didn’t seem to get the hint and refused to leave her alone. She sighed as Sunny noticed her sitting at one of the desks and waved, bouncing over to her.

“Samantha!” she said. “You’re in this class, too?”

“Why would I be in here if I wasn’t in the class?” Samantha responded.

“Oh, good point. Hey, Andrea, you’re taking this course, too? I would have thought you would be taking something else.”

“The other electives were too stupid.” Andrea answered, not looking up from her phone.

That, Samantha could agree with. At Sommerset College, all freshmen students were required to take a sex education course in the fall semester. All students were required to take a basic sex ed, in past years; but this year there was a new elective being offered for those who already took AP human anatomy in high school. This option was called Advanced Sex Ed . It sounded like an easy A+ to all these AP students so many had applied. How hard could sex ed be, after all? Unfortunately, there were only eight spots. Four available for female students; and four available for male students.

The classroom had 8 traditional school desks, aligned in 2 rows of 4. But the back wall & 2 side walls each had a sofa. They were separated by end tables with lamps lit, to provide soft lighting, except near the teacher’s desk, up front. A large soft area rug was off to the side of the teacher’s desk. A whiteboard was the only item mounted to the walls, and it was centered on the front wall, between the rug & teacher’s desk.

Sommerset College draws students mostly from the surrounding counties on the western side of rural Alberta. It wasn’t surprising that some of the students in this class came from the same high school.

“Oh, look, Lindsay’s here, too.” Sunny smiled at the redhead as she entered the room.

“Hi, Sunny.” Lindsay said. “Hey, Andrea. Hey, Samantha.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun!” Sunny giggled.

“Whatever.” Samantha just rolled her eyes. “I’m just glad to be out of high school. No more bells ringing, no more crappy cafeteria food, and no more uniforms.”

“Aw, I liked the uniforms.” Sunny complained. “They’re cute.”

She pictured her old high school outfit. It was the same as every other girl’s, A short, pleated, navy skirt with a short sleeved, white button up shirt. She often twirled around, her skirt floating up around her with her movements.

“Of course, you liked it.” Samantha grumbled. “Every time the wind blows, everyone saw your panties.”

“What does that mean?” Samantha asked.

“It means that some of us like keeping our boobs inside our shirt.” Samantha gestured at Sunny’s blouse that was straining to contain her large chest, the buttons hanging on for dear life. “But what can you expect from a girl with a pornstar name.”

“Hey, don’t be like that, Sam.” Lindsay chided, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I like your name, Sunny.”

Sunny beamed at her, grateful. Lindsay was a kind & well-behaved young lady from a conservative family. She respected everyone, and everyone at the old high school liked her.

“Can you all shut up and sit down?” Andrea snapped, annoyed. So, all four of these ladies already knew each other, But who else will be in the class?

Sunny and Lindsay shirked, and quickly took their seats as a few of the unknown male students filed in. Chris and Daniel were the first guys to arrive, laughing about some joke as they came in the door. They were from the county to the north. Finding the front row taken by the girls, they took two seats in the second row and slid their backpacks under their seats.

“Only eight students, huh?” Daniel asked. “I hope this class isn’t too hard. I need a good grade.”

“Relax, Danny.” Chris locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back. “It’s just sex ed. Essentially basic anatomy and common sense. You know, wrap it up and don’t knock anyone up. That sort of stuff.”

“Do you mind?” Andrea asked, angrily.

“Sorry.” Chris grinned at her, apologetically. “I’ll put a lid on it now.”

He mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away a key. Andrea just rolled her eyes and went back to her phone, only to be interrupted a couple seconds later by a loud voice.

“Everyone ready to learn about sex?” David popped into the room. He was from Edmonton and very extroverted.

“Oh, Great!” Andrea said, exasperated. “One more idiot in this class.”

“Aw, don’t be so mean, bitch.” He winked at her. “You could use a little humor. Might make you more approachable.”

“Over my dead body.” She shot back.

Tanner was the last to show up. He took his seat without a word and dumped his backpack on the floor. He played on the hockey team and grew up on a dairy farm. His dorm was just down the hall from Chris’s.

“Tanner, you’re taking this?” Chris asked, surprised. “I would have thought you would take some kind of animal husbandry or something.”

“I wanted to, but my mom made me take this.” He answered. “She’s terrified that I’ll get a girl pregnant at college and lose my hockey scholarship.”

“Well, why don’t you just keep your dick in your pants then?” Andrea offered.

“Is your voice always that irritating?” Tanner countered.

Andrea glared and opened her mouth to respond when their instructor walked in, her heels clicking on the linoleum tiles. She set her briefcase down on the desk and turned to the white board. In big letters, she wrote ‘Miss Banks’ and ‘Advanced Sex Ed’ in red marker and spun to face the class. She looked to be about thirty years old and very beautiful. She was dressed professionally, in a tight, black pencil skirt and a matching blazer over her white dress shirt. The top button was undone on her shirt, showing off her generous cleavage that was threatening to rip her top open.

“Good afternoon, class.” She greeted, her icy, yet sexy voice commanding all of their attention. “I am your instructor, Miss Banks. I see everyone is here. That’s good. We’ll begin.”

The Girls:

Sunny: Height-5'9”, Hair-Blonde, Breasts-DD, Personality- Cheerful, slutty, dumb, stereotypical blonde.
Andrea: Height-5'0", Hair-Dark brown, Breasts-C, Personality- Demanding, smart, valedictorian type, no-nonsense.
Samantha: Height-5'2", Hair-Black, Breasts-D, Personality- Jaded, dark, goth type, snarky.
Lindsay: Height-5'4", Hair-Ginger, Breasts-B, Personality- Kind, smart, talkative, well behaved.

The Guys:

Chris: Height-6'0", Size-8", Personality- Outgoing, smart, well mannered, well-spoken, athletic.
David: Height-5'8", Size-7", Personality- Joker, loud, class clown.
Tanner: Height-6'3", Size-9.5", Personality- Quiet, strong, athletic, calm with a short fuse.
Daniel: Height-5'11", Size-7.5", Personality- Introverted, friends with Chris.

The Teacher:

Miss Banks: Height-5'10", Hair-Light brown, Breasts-DD, Personality-Strict, provocative, Dom, playfully evil.

She opened her briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers. Tapping them on the desktop to line them up neatly, she walked down the rows of desks and handed one to each student. When each of them had received a packet, she returned to the front of the room.

“This is the course syllabus.” She explained. “It details all the material we will be covering throughout the semester, the schedule, and, most importantly, my expectations. Before we begin, I trust you ladies all fulfilled the pre-requisites for this course?”

The girls looked at each other and nodded, remembering the notice they had gotten before the semester began that had instructed them to visit their pharmacist and begin taking birth control pills. Andrea raised her hand.

“Yes. Andrea, right?” Miss Banks confirmed, looking at her roster sheet. “What is it?”
It says these first six class dates are labs. So why are we meeting in this room? It looks like a hybrid classroom & lounge?”

“You’re curious, Andrea. I like that. You’ll understand the accommodations by the time we end our first 2-hour lab session, today.” The Milf teacher said with a smile.

“But why do we need to be taking birth control pills?” Andrea added. “That seems like a weird requirement.”

“This is a sexual education course.” Miss Banks answered. “Of course, we want to promote safe sex. I would have thought that to be obvious to a student as intelligent as you.”

Andrea shrunk in her seat, her face red and embarrassed at having been called out for not knowing something. Miss Banks just smiled and looked over the other students.

“Any other questions?” she asked.

She paused for a few seconds, looking for any hands. When none were forthcoming, she continued.

“Okay. I’ll give you two minutes to take a look through the syllabus. Read everything carefully and then, we’ll stop for questions again.”

She took her seat and began organizing her materials as the students read in silence. A minute later, Lindsay raised her hand. Glancing up, Miss Banks noticed and called on her, referring to her roster again.

“Yes, do you have a question…Lindsay?”

“Yeah, this curriculum is very…detailed.” She noted.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand your question.”

“Well, some of the material is; unexpected.” Lindsay continued, reading off some of the listed subjects. “Oral? Anal? Threesomes?”

“Ah.” Miss Banks nodded. “Well, as I’m sure you are aware, this is Advanced Sex Ed .”

She uncapped her marker and underlined the word 'Advanced’ on the white board.

“This is not your basic freshman college course.” She explained. “You already know the basics of sexual intercourse. This class will give you more extensive knowledge and techniques.”

Still unsure with what that all meant, Lindsay dropped her hand and just went back to reading. Having just turned 18 this past summer, Lindsay never told her parents that she signed up for this alternative class. She was already feeling sorta slutty for taking the required birth control pills. She loved what the pills did for her cleavage, but she was starting to question her decision.

Samantha asked why the females were told to wear skirts in the labs; “I thought I was done with skirts when I finished prep school?” Miss Banks said; “Most all labs have some required garments. And they are often for safety in the lab. But in some ways these labs will feel more like a phys ed effort. Skirts just make things more comfortable for the ladies, but more importantly, it allow us to quickly set up for, and complete some of the lab assignments. Our time is limited and you’re all expected to respect each other by not wasting our time, unnecessarily.”

A minute later, Miss Banks stood up and addressed the class.

“Okay, now that you have all gotten an opportunity to read through the course overview and we have gotten any questions out of the way, let us get started.”

She turned to the white board again and wrote 'Oral’ in big, neat lettering and underlined it twice. Capping her marker, she turned back to the class.

“We have a lot of work to cover this semester, so we’ll jump right into it today, beginning with oral. This is a basic principle of sexual intercourse so it’s nothing too advanced for you all yet. This will also give me a good starting point to judge where all of your levels are at. Lindsay, since you had some questions concerning the curriculum, perhaps you can begin. Please join me up front.”

She stepped around from behind her desk and waited. Lindsay looked around, puzzled, but she stood and walked to the front of the room to stand next to the instructor, her hands clasped in front of her. Miss Banks looked around the room at the other students.

“Hum, let’s see…” she looked down at her roster. “Chris, how about you join us as well.”

Chris was just as confused as Lindsay, but he rose from his seat and joined the two of them at the front.

“Okay, Lindsay.” Miss Banks said. “Let’s see how much experience you have. Perform oral on Chris.”

Lindsay’s jaw dropped, flabbergasted. This guy was a total stranger to her!

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“Please listen close so I do not have to repeat myself in the future.” Miss Banks chastised. “Now, perform oral sex on Chris to the best of your abilities. Be quick about it.”

Lindsay, still frozen in shock, just stood there as Miss Banks pushed her down to her knees before this guy she didn’t know at all. She looked up at the equally surprised young man looking down at her and then back to their instructor. Never one to defy authority, Lindsay was in utter shock. Miss Banks just sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Chris, perhaps you can help her get started.” Miss Banks suggested. “Unzip your pants and present your penis.”

Chris snapped out of his shock, then unsnapped & unzipped his pants. Reaching into the opening of his boxer briefs, he pulled his dick through and into view. He jumped as Miss Banks grabbed hold of him and started stroking him to erection. Her talented hands had him to full mast within seconds. When she released him, his long cock was now no more than an inch from Lindsay’s cute face. Miss Banks put her palm on the back of the little teen’s head and nudged her forward, bumping her lips into Chris’s tip.

“Open up.” Miss Banks ordered.

Galvanized into action by Miss Banks’ steely voice, Lindsay opened her stunned mouth and took the first inch of Chris’s thick penis into her mouth.

“That’s better.” Miss Banks said. “Now hurry up and suck him off. We don’t have all day, you know.”

Lindsay complied to the best of her ability, sucking on his head and running her tongue around him. Unfortunately, she had limited experience in the blowjob department. Her previous oral encounters had been few and far between and nowhere close to the size of Chris. Faced with the prospect of blowing the biggest cock she had ever seen, she didn’t even know where to begin. Fortunately, Miss Banks was there to coach her and give her tips.

“Move your head.” She said. “You need to put some motion into it, like so.”

The teacher’s hand on her head guided her back and forth in a standard BJ motion. She helped her get started and then let her go on her own devices. Lindsay continued to bob her head once Miss Banks’ hand fell away. She sealed her lips tightly around him and applied suction, her cheeks hollowing out. Chris was groaning in pleasure, but he didn’t seem to be any closer to finishing any time soon.

“Go deeper, honey.” Miss Banks urged.

Pushing her slipping glasses back up her nose, Lindsay did what she was told and went a bit deeper. She pushed forward three inches until the tip of Chris’s cock bumped into the back of her mouth, causing her to gag and pull back immediately.

“Try again.” Her teacher said. “A bit deeper this time.”

Lindsay blinked back some tears and breathed in, going forward again. When his dick poked at her throat again, she tried to go further, but her instincts repelled her in a fit of coughing. Miss Banks looked down at her, somewhat disappointed.

“It seems you’re very inexperienced at this.” She noted. “At this rate, we’ll be here all class waiting for you to finish. Keep sucking, girl, and I’ll give you a hand.”

Miss Banks literally gave her a hand, wrapping her fingers around the remaining length of Chris that was not in Lindsay’s mouth. Bending down to drop a long string of saliva onto the top of his cock, she twisted her hand around, spreading the lubricating liquid. With his shaft now slick, she started stroking him vigorously.

This was no rookie blowjob now. With the combination of Lindsay’s soft mouth sucking his head and Miss Bank’s skilled hand stroking the rest of him, Chris was grunting and thrusting his hips within minutes, drawing ever closer to climax. Miss Banks watched his face and movements closely, monitoring how far along he was. When she saw he was about to cum, she leaned towards Lindsay’s bobbing head.

“Make sure you swallow it all.” She ordered.

Before Lindsay could register what her teacher had said, she felt a hot burst of semen fill her mouth. She squealed and started to pull away from the salty, sweet stream. Her practiced eye recognizing that the redhead teen was about to retreat, Miss Banks released Chris’s cock and took a firm grip of the girl’s hair, holding her in place. She quickly brought her other hand in to continue jerking him as well.

“I said to swallow!” she commanded.

Lindsay’s cheeks were now puffed out like a chipmunk, full of warm jizz. Closing her eyes, she reluctantly gulped down the copious fluid as Chris’s balls continued to flood her mouth, spurred on by Miss Bank’s manual actions. She pulled back as the instructor finally released her and the final spurt of semen landed on her glasses, dripping down the clear lens.

“You have a long way to go, Lindsay.” Miss Banks told the coughing girl. “But this was a decent start. You may return to your seat. You too, Chris. Thank you.”

Chris tucked his softening dick back into his pants and strode back to his seat, shrugging to his bewildered friend, Daniel. Lindsay wiped her glasses on her skirt and stood, returning to her desk.

“And Lindsay.” The redhead turned as she heard her name. “I better not have to tell you to swallow twice again. Understood?”

A chill went through her as she met the icy eyes of her instructor and she nodded hurriedly, sitting down. Lindsay was devastated, but somewhat proud that she was learning and experiencing things she was previously banned from even knowing about, in her home.

“Good.” Miss Banks said. “Now, who wants to go next?”

“Oh, me!” Sunny’s hand flew up into the air. “I want to go next, Miss Banks!” Lindsay marveled at Sunny’s boldness, confidence, and passion for the assignment.

“Certainly, Sunny.” Miss Banks replied, happy to find a willing student. “Come to the front. How about we have; David as well. Both of you come up.” Sunny dropped to her knees immediately, pulling David toward her and smiling excitedly as she unbuckled, unsnapped, & yanked down his zipper and fished his hardening cock and balls out of his loose boxers. Sunny had never met David, but that didn’t matter to her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she bent forward and engulfed his half hard penis in her mouth, bathing him in her warm saliva. Using her hands to match her head’s movements, Sunny stroked his base and sucked on him with gusto, showing considerably more skill than Lindsay.

The normally loud, jokey David was rendered speechless by the eager blowjob that the beautiful, busty blonde was giving him. She delved deep, pushing his tip down her throat repeatedly. Her other hand joined the first and reached in the opening of his pants to massage and fondle his testicles. David moaned as her deft fingers gently squeezed his balls, making his cock jump in her mouth.

Sunny stopped stroking and placed her hands on his thighs. Winking up at him, she swallowed his cock whole, deepthroating him in one fluid movem

Spells and Retributions: Part 1

Thu, 05 Sep 2024 16:06:18 +0000

4 virgins coeds end up in each others’ bodies.

Based on a post by shimm2, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Challenging Mary

“But is every birth control pill a sin on its own?” Chris asked them.

It made Mary’s head swim, to hear Christopher talk about sex like this. She was almost sure he was the one she wanted to give her virginity to. It would be a sin, sure. But she could settle up with God after. What she was more worried about was whether he was interested in her, or how he would act afterward, or what people would say, or the logistics of getting the two of them alone.

The four were sitting on the back patio of the boys’ home. Their parents were out for the evening. It was a warm Sunday night, early in May.

This wasn’t a double date, at least not according to what Mary told her parents. And not according to what the four 18 year olds told each other. It was a group outing. The parish priests encouraged teens to organize these, rather than fall into sinful temptations by being paired off with someone.

Chris’s brother Paul answered. “I asked Father George about that, and he said it was.”

“Did he justify it with scripture though? You ask him if something’s a sin, odds are he’ll say yes,” Chris argued. “Sometimes I wonder if priests would call anything a sin, if it violates their own celibacy vows.”

Theresa looked annoyed. “It’s clear, okay? Every time you take a pill, you’re doing that with the intent of having sex without having children. I don’t know how we get onto this kind of topic. It’s not like it applies to any of us, right? Sex before marriage might be something other people do, but we’re Christians after all.”

“Amen,” Paul said, tenderly, with no irony.

“There are other medical conditions that are treated with the hormone pills.” Like the woman with the issue of blood;” Chris pointed out. “It can help a correct menstrual cycle problems, too.”

“True,” Mary conceded. “Jesus healed that woman, but it’s not inherently sinful to take medicine, either. We can’t assume others are sinning, if we don’t know their circumstances.”

Mary secretly hoped Paul & Theresa would pair off and leave her with Chris, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. While Mary might be willing to cross the line, no way would Theresa. She was really pious. Generally Mary liked that about her; it helped her stay strong.

Paul and Christopher were fraternal twins. Born the same day, but Paul was taller than Chris, and had sandy blonde hair, unlike Chris’s more muscular build and brown hair. Their parents often hosted church youth gatherings, so Mary’s parents assumed this evening was more structured than it actually was.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Chris said. “Should we play a game?”

Paul took initiative and offered; “If you all are interested, I uh; found this spooky book in the downtown library,” Paul said, placing it on the table. It looked really old, but it was in good condition for its age. He opened it up to a certain page. “Check it out. It has some kind of spell, I think?”

“What for?” Mary asked. “Do we get to make wishes, or talk to the dead?”

Paul shrugged. “I don’t know. That part is written in code or something. Whatever it is, it’s not English or Latin.”

Chris slid the book over by him, interested. “Well, you know I couldn’t make any heads or tails of this at all.”

“So you’re suggesting we hold some pagan ritual? That doesn’t sound right,” Theresa said.

“Just for the fun of it. It’s not like any of us actually believe in the Greek gods or demons or whatever this is supposed to summon,” Chris said. “What do you think, Mary?”

Mary gave him a small smile. “Yeah, I love this weird occult stuff. I mean it’s all fake, but it’s interesting anyway. What do we do?”

Paul got up and opened a cabinet. “Okay. We have to light a candle; and probably turn out the lights.” He got the scene ready on the table in front of us.

Theresa was begrudgingly going along with it. She hadn’t objected again. Paul turned out the light so it was just the candle illuminating the group sitting around the table. With the book in the middle, they started chanting the words together, though it took a couple tries.

When they reached the end of the poem or whatever it was, the candle went out. Mary gasped in surprise. This was a little too real. In the darkness she heard Chris burst out laughing.

“Hey, that wasn’t funny, guys,” Theresa complained. A moment later she turned the light back on. She was so confident they were all virtuous Christians, but she didn’t want them to be in the dark together too long. “Which one of you blew out the candle?”

They got into a little argument about who it had been. No one wanted to take credit, but Mary suspected one of the boys had done it, and wanted to just leave it unexplained.

Theresa and Mary left not long after. Theresa dropped Mary off at home. “See you tomorrow,” she called. Mary waved to her as she went inside. In just a few minutes Mary was ready for bed. She was kind of a modest girl, and a little curvier than her peers. She didn’t bother with a lot make-up or jewelry or contacts. She settled into bed and thought about Chris again as she drifted off to sleep.

A parallel world.

Mary opened her eyes, and found herself in an unfamiliar room. Or rather, she didn’t exactly find herself in the unfamiliar room. She didn’t find herself in herself at all. The first thing she was conscious of was that she had morning wood. She’d never had that of course. As she shifted in the covers, it kept pressing against and rubbing against the fabric which was stimulating, but not an entirely nice kind of stimulating. Then she noticed she didn’t have the d cup breasts that had always gotten her attention she didn’t want. Gone too were her thick thighs, hips, and ass. Sitting up in bed, she looked down and saw the outlines of a rib cage under her pale skin. And that morning wood was now sticking straight out from her crotch, so firm and engorged, and so sensitive, begging to be touched. She had never seen one of these in real life before, so she felt a thrill as she put a hand on it. She felt the warmth of the shaft in her hand, and she felt the warmth of her hand through her shaft. It was a revelation.

Briefly she wondered if jacking off this cock would be a sin, if it wasn’t even truly hers. But that worry was quickly lost.

She was so absorbed in the task at hand, that a rustling on the other side of the room startled her. It turned out the other bed was occupied! On the other bed, Chris sat up, and Mary abruptly realized that he could see her stroking her cock from there.

And if she was in a boy’s body, and that boy was sharing a room with Chris; that meant Mary was in Paul’s body.

“Having trouble with that?” Chris asked, gesturing to her lap.

“Are you joking?” Mary asked, finding it awkward to talk in Paul’s voice.

“Does it look like I’m joking?” Chris asked, pulling the covers aside. He too had an erection sticking out of his lap. Chris came over and knelt by the bedside, and quickly started licking the head of Paul’s cock. Mary quickly surrendered herself, letting him go to town on her. This wasn’t anything like she expected her first time with Chris to be, but she could hardly complain about how he was making her feel.

“Oh Chris,” she moaned. In a teenage boy’s body, it didn’t take long for her to feel the sperm rising. “I’m about to uh…ejaculate,” she said, struggling to find the right word.

Chris kept bobbing his head as Mary felt the enormous release of Paul’s load down his brother’s throat.

“Let me reciprocate,” Mary said, coming down from her climax. The very nature of this male climax felt so foreign to her mind, it was an entirely new feeling. She might be in Paul’s body, but she still had feelings for Chris and wanted to lick his cock as tenderly as he had licked hers.

“Too late,” Chris said, and Mary saw him wipe a puddle off the floor with a dirty sock.

“Next time,” Mary said.

In the silence that followed, Mary felt condemned on two fronts. She was ogling Chris’s naked cock with lust in her heart. And she had just been a passive participant in a sodomite sex act. This was too weird and she fought to clear her mind with a distraction.

"Hey Chris, are you; yourself today?“ Mary asked, in Paul’s voice and body.

"Yeah, why?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Um, this is going to sound weird, but; I’m Mary. I woke up in Paul’s body this morning,” she said, nervous about how he would react.

The two compared narratives on what transpired the previous evening, and concluded that the book of spells had affected the supernatural phenomena they were now experiencing.

“That explains it. I don’t normally do this, jacking off; in Paul’s presence. Paul and I don’t. But I just had a feeling that you were someone different today, and I could tell you didn’t know how to use the; equipment,” Chris said with a smile. “So you and Paul switched bodies? That’s wild. I guess you’d better find him and figure out how to sort all that out.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Mary said, giving him a shy smile that probably looked weird on Paul’s features.

They each showered and got dressed, then went through their morning springtime routines. Mary followed Chris’s lead. Chris drove them both to school. It felt good to sit next to him in the car. She wished she could do more, hold his hand, lean her head on his shoulder; but it wouldn’t look right, with her in Paul’s body. And Chris’s earlier display of exhibitionism seemed to have cooled.

“Do you know where you need to go? I mean, do you know where Paul goes for homeroom?” Chris asked.

Mary dismissed the fleeting inclination to ask for his help. She also wanted to impress him. “Yeah, of course.”

“Good. I’m going to drop you off in front here, and then go find a parking spot,” he said.

“Thanks, Gawd, this is weird.” Mary declared, as she climbed out of the car. Paul’s backpack felt really heavy. She wove through the thick crowd of students out front and into the halls of the school. This wouldn’t be their school for long, she thought.

She had an eye out for Paul; or rather for Paul in her own body. She was craning her neck trying to see down the hallway, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Theresa. Mary thought it was weird to be seeing Theresa from above; Theresa was usually the taller one.

“Hey? Paul? Didn’t you hear me calling your name?” Theresa asked.

“No,” Mary said. “Listen, you’re not going to believe what happened to me.”

“I know,” Theresa said, matter-of-factly. “Come with me.”

Theresa took Mary’s hand, or Paul’s hand really, and tugged her around the corner, past the bathrooms and the vending machines, and into a supply closet. Theresa shut the door behind them.

“Okay, this is going to sound weird, but I’m not really Paul,” Mary said.

“Mary, I said I know,” Theresa grumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“Because I’m Paul,” Theresa explained. She started taking off her shirt while Mary thought for a moment. If she was in Paul’s body, and Paul was in Theresa’s body, then maybe the three of them had been switched around. After all, Chris said he wasn’t any different, other than feeling a sudden desire to enjoy mutual masturbation.

Theresa; Paul, actually; was quickly down to his panties. Well, the panties belonged to Theresa. Mary couldn’t keep it all straight.

“Why are you getting undressed?” Mary asked.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Paul asked. “I’ve been out-of-my-mind horny since this all started, and I know it’s a sin, but I tried masturbating down there, but still! And this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Not only to feel what it’s like from the other perspective, but to feel what it feels like for someone who’s with me in particular; ”

“What are you suggesting?” Mary asked.

“Would you please have intercourse with me?” Paul pleaded.

Mary was caught off guard. She was supposed to wait until marriage, but she had thought about giving it a go early with Chris, and then there had been the blowjob that morning, and Mary still wasn’t sure what that counted for.

And now Paul was propositioning her. But it was also easy to ignore that it was Paul in Theresa’s body, because it ultimately was Theresa’s breasts before her, her nipples erect, her bush exposed, her eyes looking up at her full of hope and desire. Mary never would have thought she was attracted to Theresa, but her mind and Paul’s teenage boy hormones were mixing.

“I don’t know,” Mary said. She realized her uncertainty alone would reveal a lot.

Paul handed her a condom. “Here. We won’t leave a trace. It’ll be like it never even happened, and Theresa doesn’t even need to know.”

“I’m not sure I would go that far,” Mary said. Theresa would deserve to know if her virginity had been taken. But would it be Mary who had taken it, or Paul? And would Theresa have really lost her virginity at all, if she didn’t participate in it? Somehow despite the intensity of her orgasm earlier that morning, this was all quickly getting her worked up again. Paul reached out and unzipped the fly on her jeans; his jeans, letting the erection inside free. Paul reached into the boxers and caressed it. He knew exactly what to do, since it had been his own, up until today. Mary’s objections were shrinking from view.

“But I guess you’re right, that it wouldn’t do her any harm,” Mary belatedly finished the thought. “And then we’ve got to get this all sorted out today.” She stepped closer and kissed her friend on the lips hungrily.

Christopher’s Parallel Paradox.

He immediately felt different when he woke up. It wasn’t just the texture of the big t-shirt he was in, or the fact that he was wearing a t-shirt at all. It was the round bulges of flesh underneath that shirt, it was a body with weight distributed very differently from his own.

The alarm was beeping, and it took him a minute to figure out how to silence it. And then he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Holy shit! He was Mary. He sat down on the edge of the bed, dumb-founded. He’d never been to Mary’s room, but that had to be where he was.

He realized he had to roll with the situation. Hopefully Paul would know how to undo whatever they’d done the night before.

Chris pulled the t-shirt up over his head and reached for a clean one from the open dresser drawer. He caught another glimpse of himself in the mirror, of his bare breasts, of the panties covering his crotch, and that’s when it really hit him. Chris had never seen breasts before, not in real life, not up close like this. Should he fondle them? Mary would never know. It was too good to pass up. Like the teenage boy he was, he started to get turned on at the sight of Mary almost naked, but it didn’t have to stay “almost”. And quickly he learned what her breasts felt like, and what it felt like to be felt up.

Cautiously, he slipped the panties down. He’d probably need a fresh pair of those too, especially since he could feel the heat and moisture building between his legs. It almost felt like an erection, the way he was swollen down here, and begging to be touched. Chris had certainly never touched a snatch before, and he explored the outer folds of skin, slowly, carefully. But if it hurt, he’d know. He knew right away when his index finger nudged his clitoris. It felt like an electric jolt of pleasure. And while it didn’t feel like it would take much clitoral stimulation to get him off, there was more he wanted to discover. He found that he was indeed getting hot down there, and sopping wet, and his middle finger slid into the tight muscle within. Chis could only imagine what it would feel like to be penetrating Mary’s snatch with his cock, when he had it back. And he could only imagine what it would feel like to have something more than a finger pressing into him, probing him deeper.

He was on the edge of orgasm when Mary’s mother called out, “Hurry up, honey! You’re going to be late for school!”

With a sigh, Chris wiped his fingers on last night’s shirt and got dressed. Even though he knew he had to dress like Mary would, and play the part, it felt a little odd to be putting on her clothes. It took him a few tries to get the bra fastened, and even then, the hooks were lined up wrong.

At school, Chris felt the urge to pee, and unthinkingly he went into the men’s room like usual. It wasn’t until he had wiped himself off that he realized his mistake, but by then it was too late. With his pants down, he thought about finishing what he’d started back in Mary’s bedroom, but he decided he shouldn’t linger in the wrong bathroom too long.

When he came out of the stall, he found himself face to face with himself.

“Hey, bro,” Chris heard himself say.

In Mary’s body, Chris asked, “Paul? Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Chris’s body replied. “Lucky you, eh? Getting a morning alone with Mary’s body?”

Chris laughed. He considered denying it, but his brother wouldn’t believe that for a second. “It’s been; educational.”

“There are other things you could learn, other lessons we could teach her,” Paul said. “This is a golden opportunity. Can I take a look?”

Chris dropped his pants again (Mary’s pants) and got up on the counter and spread his legs (Mary’s thick thighs). Paul leaned over to get a look, so close Chris could feel his got breath on his glistening vulva. And then Chris nearly jumped when he felt Paul part those lips, and slip a finger into him. That aching desire that had been with Chris all morning suddenly flared up. He gasped aloud.

“Relax,” Paul said. “This is Mary’s cunt, not yours, remember?”

Chris nodded for his brother to continue. He knew what it looked like when he had an erection, and it wasn’t hard to tell that his cock was straining against his pants fabric now.

“What do you think? Should we fuck this slut?” Paul said with a wicked grin.

“I think she’s a virgin,” Chris said.

“Then you could be the one to do the honors, brother,” Paul said. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like? I know I would, if I were you.”

The truth was, at this point Chris hardly needed to be conv

Leaving Town: Part 2

Snowden Speaks — Thu, 05 Sep 2024 00:48:00 +0000

Getting Policed & Propositioned.

A 2-part story By Requiax. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

So I was feeling euphoric as I continued on my way back to my family's vacated house. This whole experience had been a fantasy of mine for a long time; that it was going so well in reality was giving me even more confidence.

Car 9

So, I didn't hear the car pull in behind me. Not until the flash of blue lights and the peal of the siren, anyway!

I jumped, and turned. I was on a quiet road, no other people or traffic; but a police cruiser had just pulled up to the curb right where I was walking!

Had someone who had seen me walking around naked called the police? That was my first thought. It was, after all, something I had expected. My only plan for dealing with such as that had been to keep moving, and hope that by the time the cops were called and (if they decided to) responded, I would be somewhere else. But was that enough, or had my own hubris gotten the better of me and I'd underestimated the police ability to locate one naked dude somewhere in town? Or was this just a random patrol who had seen me out walking and done what any cop would do and investigate.

I froze in panic, all my excitement undone in an instant. I knew I was breaking the law. Public nudity is illegal in my state. Yet here I was, stark naked on a public street, with no clothes nearby. I was potentially in real trouble.

In a flash I considered my options. I'm a fit guy, and I briefly wondered about running. I wasn't a million miles from the house now. But it wasn't like I had access to the house any more, the keys were with the realtor. The only reason I was going back to the house was for me to put my clothes back on, get in my car and go. And could I really outrun a police cruiser? Or was it more likely that I'd just make more trouble for myself (or even; worst case scenario; end up in a car chase if the police assumed I was intoxicated and then saw me get behind the wheel)?

I could pretend I was drunk, or high; or even that I was freaking out. But those weren't sensible suggestions. Being drunk or high and naked in public would probably go down worse than being straight sober and nude; and if they thought I was crazy I might find myself getting a tazer to the balls; or even a gun pointed in my face. Even at best I'd probably end up in a hospital getting checked out when I needed to be on my way back to college.

I decided that really, the only option I had was to co-operate with the cops and tell them the truth (well, a version of the truth; if at all possible I intended to leave out the part where I had masturbated publicly in front of people!).

I turned and faced the cruiser. I had my hands by my sides, palms out; I didn't want the cops to think I meant trouble.

It was a lone officer driving, and he got out of the car. He was an older cop, about my dad's age. I recognised him; I didn't know his name but when you've been a teenager in a small town you get to know all the local cops, and they get to know you.

"Are you alright there, son?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Uh-huh, I'm fine officer."

He took a long look at me. "Where are your clothes, son?"

"Um, I don't have them with me."

"I can see that. Where are they?"

I paused. "Back at my house."

"You been drinking?" He asked. "Smoked anything? Taken anything?"

I shook my head. "No sir." He looked sceptical, but appeared to take me at my word.

"Then, son, do you mind telling me what you're doing out here at this time of day in a public place without a stitch of clothing on you?"

I chose my words carefully.

"Well, officer," I began, "it's my last day in town. I'm moving away and I'm leaving tonight. And, well, I just got this idea in me that before I went I would do a little streak, just my way of seeing the town off. It seems real dumb now to say it to you but it just made me laugh at the time to think it, so I sorta dared myself to take my clothes off and run about a bit. You know, the way sometimes people do at football games and the like?"

Well, it wasn't a lie. I wasn't sure if the sort of prolonged public nudity I had engaged in counted as 'streaking' exactly; but it came I think from the same motivation; that compulsion to exhibit oneself, to show my naked body to the world.

The cop said nothing for a minute. I could tell he was turning my explanation over in his mind, looking to see if it held up. I had no idea if he was responding to a complaint; if he was, my story might unravel, especially if it showed I had been naked for about 90 minutes now and travelled quite far.

"You know, son, that running around in public view in the altogether is against the law?"

"I know, officer," I replied, trying to sound suitably contrite. "I'm sorry for this. I meant no harm, I was just having a little fun before I leave town. But I should have thought about it more. I guess I'm in real trouble now, huh?"

The cop looked thoughtful. "Well now," he said after a while, "I wouldn't say that." He opened the door to his cruiser and made to lean inside, but stopped and turned back to me. "Cover yourself up a moment would you, son," he advised. I cupped both hands over my cock and balls. I'd been very conscious of my nakedness during this whole conversation; the presence of the cop in his starchy uniform seemed to emphasise more my own nudity and vulnerability. Fortunately, my cock had stayed flaccid; I was too nervous to get aroused.

Satisfied for the moment, the cop leaned back into his cruiser and picked up his radio. "Dispatch, this is car 9," he hailed.

After a moment the radio crackled back; "Dispatch. Go ahead car 9."

The cop paused, then spoke clearly. "Dispatch, has anyone called in a code 3 1 4 tonight?"

The woman on the other end of the radio seemed thrown by this question. "Code 3 1 4, car 9?" she repeated.

"Affirmative, dispatch. Has anyone called in a code 3 1 4 tonight?"

"No, car 9," the woman replied after a moment. "No call outs for code 3 1 4. Why?"

"Just a conversation with a citizen, dispatch," the cop replied. "Nothing to worry about. Car 9 out."

(I learned later that a 3 1 4 was the penal code for indecent exposure or public nudity, and if someone had called the cops about me, that would have been what would have gone out to the officer on call; although at the time it meant nothing to me).

Cupped or Cuffed

The cop turned back to me.

"Well son," he said, "it seems like we've had no complaints about you. So it looks like the only law enforcement that knows you're out here with your dingus in the wind is me.

"Now," he continued, "I really should write you up with a citation, at least give you a ticket and give you a ride back home. But, you seem like a good kid. I know your folks, know of them anyway, and when you say you're leaving town tonight I know that's true. I think you're a smart kid who decided to do something dumb on a goof and, well, it isn't in me to punish you for that. How old are you, son? 18, 19?"

"20," I replied. He nodded.

"I got a son around your age and he's a smart kid too but he says and does the dumbest stuff sometimes. Not 'run around the street in your birthday suit' dumb but still pretty dumb. I wouldn't want to see him get into trouble for that and I doubt your daddy would want the same for you.

"Well," he continued, "the way I see it is, if you can tell me you're gonna turn around and head straight back home and put your goddamn pants back on, and you do just that, I'm willing to forget I ever saw you. Can you do that?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "Of course officer. I was actually just heading-"

He cut me off. "Just go, son. The longer you're stood there with your balls out, the more likely it is someone will call it in and then I can't ignore it." Evidently, I learned later; there are some statutes which require a community complaint, in order to be prosecuted. Just as a cop’s peace cannot be disturbed, A cop’s morals cannot be outraged. The community has to initiate the complaint.

I thanked him and set off in a sprint for home. I kept my hands cupped over my genitals until I was out of his sight, then I just jogged briskly, my cock swinging as I moved. I felt a great sense of relief; I'd got caught by a cop, the thing I had specifically not wanted to happen to me, and yet I'd got away with it. Had it been any other day or night I had tried this, I might well have ended up in a whole load of trouble, with the law and with my parents. But because it was my final night in town, it seemed like fate had cut me some slack and given me a cop who was willing to look the other way as long as nobody had come to any harm.

Sunset Driveway

I was feeling excited again, thrilled once more by my own exposure. But I also felt a sense of sadness. I was almost back at the family home; I'd no intention of breaking my word to the cop and doing any further nude adventuring tonight. But once I got back to our old home, the fun would be over, and I'd be clothed again and on my way.

I rounded the corner and headed along my old street. It was night now, and a lot of the houses were dark. There were a few lights on but I didn't feel like I was at risk of getting into trouble here. I was nearly home anyway, and my clothes should be where I left them, on the floor by my car.

Sure enough, as I walked up my driveway I could see them; crumpled jeans, boxers and a t-shirt. It had been over 2 hours since I'd last had any clothes on, and in that time I'd been seen by who knows how many people; all of them staring at my naked body and exposed cock. I'd masturbated, and ejaculated, in front of two complete strangers, shopped in a convenience store nude, and even brushed with the law and got away with it. Whatever exhibitionism I got up to in future, it would be hard to top this.

As I got to the car I decided to postpone the disappointment. As it was now dark, I could probably get away with driving in the nude. As long as I kept my clothes close by, I would be able to go maybe even until my first stop for gas without dressing!

Mrs. Robinson

I was walking around to where my clothes lay when I heard my name being called.

"Chris?" came the shout. "Chris Gill?"

I turned. Walking up the driveway towards me was a woman. I recognised her straight away. Her name was Laura. She was one of our neighbours; and the wife of a friend of my dad's.

I was busted. Ryan, Laura's husband, was one of the people who would be keeping in touch with my parents, if only through Facebook. If she told her husband she'd caught me naked outside the house, word would get back to my mom and dad, and I'd have some awkward explaining to do. I could probably come up with an excuse to them that would cover it (as it was only in the driveway), but still, I'd have preferred not to have had to discuss it with them.

"Um, hi Laura," I said. My clothes were on the bottom step; I went to reach for them, then stopped.

Laura was close now, lit by the outside light of the house, which was still on, its sensor triggered by her presence. Laura was younger than her husband by quite a few years; she was only in her late thirties, or at most forty. She was dressed, as she often was this time of night, in running gear; yoga pants and sneakers, a loose muscle vest with a sports bra top underneath it. The tight clothes hugged her athletic curves. Laura was always working out, running or exercising, and it paid off. She was flat stomached, with a rounded swing to her hips and small, but not over-small, breasts. Her face was tanned and youthful, only a few lines in the corner of her eyes. She took care of herself and never left the house without looking her best, and in my teens I had harboured more than a small crush on her. And she was currently smiling happily at me.

"Chris Gill, you're naked," she exclaimed. "What are you doing out here naked?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, standing up. "I was just; uh; "

"I saw you earlier," she went on. "You went out, down the street, no clothes on you at all, just like now. Have you been naked this whole time?"

I decided, once again, that honesty was the best policy. It's hard to lie when you've got no clothes on!

"Yeah," I said, trying to appear casual about it.

"What?" she said. "You've been running round the neighbourhood naked?"

"Yeah," I said. "Actually I went into town."

Her eyes widened. "Like that?" She looked me up and down. I became very aware of my gaze, and my cock, which had been flaccid, began to stir.

I nodded.

"And you didn't get arrested?"

"Nah. A cop saw me. He was cool though."

She shook her head. "I can't believe it," she said. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"Well," I shrugged. "It was my last night here. I wanted to make it memorable. And besides," my cock was slowly rising now, "I just really like being naked in front of people."

She laughed warmly. "Why am I just learning this now?" she asked in mock exasperation. "Why when this is your last night here? I'd have had you mowing our lawn naked every time Ryan was out of town!"

A dozen frustrated teenage Milf fantasies fizzed in my mind. From her tone and body language I could tell that, far from being shocked or embarrassed by my naked body, Laura was enjoying the experience of seeing me exposed. My cock sprang to full attention as we talked.

"Front lawn?" I joked. Laura laughed again.

"It would give the neighbours something to talk about," she said. "And something tells me you'd have been quite happy to do it."

She was doing the worst job of pretending she hadn't noticed my erection; something which only served to increase my arousal as I noticed every downward glance she was making. I confirmed to her that, yes, I'd have been more than happy to go naked in public at her direction, and I began to describe some of my prior experiences with exhibitionism, which she reacted to with humour and enthusiasm.

I was rock hard now. Almost without realising it, as we talked I reached down and took my cock in my hand. I gave myself a few lazy, slow strokes, a tingle of pleasure running through me.

Laura looked down again, making no attempt to hide it this time. "Naughty boy," she said with a smile.

I made no reply, instead I slowly stroked my cock again.

Laura pulled off her muscle vest, exposing her tanned, flat stomach. "Is that what you want to do?" she asked.

I nodded. Laura hiked herself up, sitting on the hood of my car. She parted her legs, and I stepped into that V of space between them, under the spotlight of the security lamp, ready to perform.

I stroked myself, long movements up and down my shaft. I stood legs apart, crotch thrust forward, stomach muscles tight. I took my time; I had come once already, not an hour before, so I knew I would last a lot longer this time. Laura would appreciate a decent show, I thought.

She watched in silence, eyes wide. She was leaning back on the front hood of my car, biting her lip, a smile teasing on her face.

I stroked myself for a few minutes, finding a rhythm. I made sure she could see everything.

After a while, Laura shifted. As I watched and pleasured myself, she pushed her elasticated sports bra upwards, freeing her breasts beneath, exposing them. Her skin was the same tanned shade; clearly she didn't wear a bikini to sunbathe; her small brown nipples puckered and hard. She rolled one between thumb and forefinger, letting out a little moan of pleasure. Her other hand slid into the waistband of her yoga pants and she began to touch herself.

That was it for me, and I could hold back no longer. I crested the wave of my orgasm, my shaft pulsing. Cum squirted from the end; not the geyser I had shot forth earlier but still clearly visible in the light, dripping from my cock to spot on the asphalt between myself and the car on which Laura sat. I grunted and moaned as I came, as if to force every drop of cum from my balls, and Laura laughed delightedly.

My orgasm finished, I slowed then ended my stroke. I stood for a moment, still hard, a bead of cum formed on my cock head. Laura withdrew her hand from her waistband almost embarrassedly. I bent to retrieve my boxers, making as if to wipe myself with them, but Laura stopped me. Leaning forward, she slipped the head of my cock into her warm, wet mouth, licking me clean. My cock was still sensitive from my orgasm, and I gasped and shivered. Laura made an appreciative noise as she let my cock plop loose from her mouth.

"I wanted to blow you," she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "But you're such a kinky guy, I knew you'd be happier giving me a show."

"You didn't like the show?" I asked.

"Oh, I loved it," she smiled. "But it means I'll never get a chance to show you what I can do, too. Now now you're going away."

"Well," I said, "I can always come and visit; the next time Ryan's out of town?"

She laughed. "I just might take you up on that."

We said our goodbyes then. She grabbed me in a bare-chested hug before pulling her top down, pressing her bare breasts to my naked torso. She reached behind me and grabbed my ass with both hands, squeezing, and squealing delightedly. "Seriously, call me," she said, replacing her clothing, and she headed quickly back down the driveway and away, presumably before her husband wondered where she had gone to.

After that, there was little left for me to do. I gathered up my discarded clothes, tossed them into the passenger seat, and then hopped into my car and drove away from the house.

On The Road To Campus

I spent most of the overnight drive back to college nude, donning my t-shirt and jeans only to get gas or visit rest stops. I was nude again as I arrived on campus; it was early morning by then, and not a soul was around when I parked up by the dorm. Cautiously I opened the car door and stepped out. It wasn't my first time being nude on campus at this sort of hour, and I knew the low light and early morning mist meant I was pretty safe to do so. But I was so tired I had no energy for fun, and picking up my loose clothes and one of my bags from the car I headed straight into the dorm.

My roommate didn't stir as I went into our room; fortunate, as I would have had to explain to him why I had walked in completely naked; and I quickly kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed.

I lay back, and as sleep came quickly to me I smiled. I would miss my old home town a great deal, and I had so many fond memories of growing up there. But, I told myself, none would be quite as memorable as my last evening there.

By Requiax, for Literotica

Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving: Part 2

Wed, 04 Sep 2024 16:06:35 +0000

Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving: Part 2

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.

By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

“In her, shoot fast,” Principal Chief Massasoit directed, using what words he knew so that he would not surprise or confuse his strange hosts, “I want in her, my first use to take.”

“First use?!” Miss Americana managed to whimper, in horror, in between the moans and yelps Squanto’s big thrusting cock was forcing out of her. But she didn’t have long to contemplate that.

“That is no problem at all, my lord!” Squanto replied. Relaxing himself he thrust his enormous hardened cock deep into Miss Americana and, with a groan of ecstasy, unleashed his potent Pawtuxet seed upon her defenseless womb.

“Oh, Great Justice!” Americana groaned, her eyes rolling up in her head, as she felt the pulsing of his great cock inside her, and knew it meant that his sperm was flooding into her.

He pulled out and then stepped aside, his long cock dripping.

“I have lubricated her for you, my Sachem,” he said, gesturing towards Americana’s cunt, which, gaping slightly wider than before, was also already releasing a long tendril of his semen to dangle down between her thighs.

“Very good!” Massasoit said. He stepped forward and took up his own position behind her. Reaching out he stroked her toned bubble-ass, and shook his head. “This,” he said, squeezing Americana’s bulging silky cheeks, “is a very rich gift, indeed!”

With that he pushed himself up against her leaking cunt, and also entered her.

“Oh, my God,” Miss Americana whimpered, as she too discovered Squanto was not to be a unique case. Her entire body shivered, as the great chief’s enormous copper-colored cock sank deep up inside her helplessly quivering cunt.

“That’s a sin!” one of the Pilgrims sitting near her chided, and continued eagerly to watch.

At the sight that their chief had accepted the gift and that peace had been restored, the waiting column of Wampanoag warriors let out a great whoop of glee. Then, hoisting their burdens, they marched into the Plymouth settlement. The Pilgrims greeted them warmly, food was handed out, the Pilgrims contributing their meager stocks of beer and bread to the natives’ largesse. Soon the great feast was in progress, with Wampanoag and Pilgrim dining and chatting together, sampling the first dishes as the Pilgrim women and their daughters and servants worked to prepare the main courses.

And through it all, bent over at one end of the great table at which the First Thanksgiving was being laid, Miss Americana continued to get nailed. Massasoit’s great cock, in his eagerness, lasted only slightly longer than Squanto had. But there was plenty more where that had come from. He was followed by Samoset, the Sagamore of the Abanaki tribe, who kept closer tabs on the strange new colonists while the Sachem was busy with other matters. After Samoset, the Sachem’s honor guard took their turns; and after they had finished, every warrior in the entire column came up one by one and also partook in Miss Americana’s flesh.

The Pilgrims, with their Godly morals, piously abstained, but this did not stop the Pilgrim men’s faces from showing deep jealousy, that their native guests got to enjoy two great helpings of Thanks-giving bounty instead of just one.

In between their own turns upon Miss Americana’s body, Massasoit, Squanto, and Samoset took their own seats at the table of the Elders, and with it, a privileged view of the action up between Americana’s muscular shivering thighs, as the pale-skinned beauty got nailed by one long uncut native cock after another after another. Between her spread thighs they could also see her enormous breasts hanging down low and swaying wildly over the table as she squealed and squirmed under her furious and unchecked invasions, as if her enormous milk-filled udders were blessing the heavily-laden table with their own generous bounty.

“Does this disturb you, Pilgrim?” one native who had also picked up some English asked. Sitting down after his own turn inside her he found an open seat before Americana’s enormous swaying udders, smoking a post-coital pipe. “I thought your God does not approve of this sort of thing.”

The Pilgrim shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “God makes everyone for a purpose. I think it’s pretty clear what he made this one for.”

Then, leaning forward, the Pilgrim seized one of Americana’s giant breasts and held his glass up under it. He squeezed, discharging a rich squirt of milk from the heroine’s hanging fruits into his cup. He took the cup back, threw it back, and then licked some of the delicious white super-milk off his lips.

“Well, that and this!” he said, as he held the glass up.

Seeing yet another way in which the mysterious woman could be used in a celebration of plenty, other Pilgrims soon came forward to also eagerly sample the fuck-quivering cow’s produce. Americana, too busy squealing as she got nailed by one big native cock after another, could do nothing to resist as her big breasts were squeezed and squeezed until finally even those bottomless udders were drained dry.

Eventually, the entire feast had been consumed and everyone was full and sated. Even Americana’s belt-boosted strength eventually failed her, and after eighty or so consecutive fucks up against the table her knees finally buckled and she sank down, a quivering wreck. She had taken so much cum inside her that rivers seemed to flow down her thighs, and a huge puddle had formed, which her knees landed in with twin pearly splashes like comets entering an ocean of gooey white fluid.

But though she was spent, she had not even begun to exhaust the collective vigor of the Wampanoag delegation. Flipping her over, the warriors positioned her on her back at the edge of the First Thanksgiving table, which, the feast having been largely consumed, was now otherwise covered in a great mass of empty used bowls, plates, and tableware. Then, having positioned her, they continued nailing her almost-limp body face-to-face upon the table, as, around them, the dessert course finally began to be served.

The tight order of the early stages of the feast had by now broken down, and Elder and commoner, Indian and Pilgrim were now all mixing freely. Copious quantities of beer had also flowed along with the food, and everyone was now quite contentedly drunk, as while the Puritans were against many things, booze was not actually one of them.

“I say Reverend,” the short Pilgrim commented to William Brewster, as they stood side by side near the entrance of a house and watched Americana’s continuing show. “Everyone has eaten their full, except for the harem girl. It seems rather unsuited to a great Thanksgiving like this to leave one, even a harlot and serial adulteress such as she, unsated.”

“True,” the Reverend said. “But the food has already been cleared. What is there for her to eat?”

“There is, one set of sausages that have not been touched,” the tall Pilgrim said, finally dropping what they were angling for. “I know that putting them where the Indians are putting theirs is a sin, but what about her mouth. Does that, you know, count?”

“Hmm,” the Reverend Brewster said. “Normally I would say yes. However, this is a special festive day, and she was clearly sent by Providence itself to perform exactly this, function, so perhaps, just once.” As he saw the brightening expressions on the two Pilgrims’ faces, he shook his head, and raised a chiding finger. “However, for the sake of the harmony of our settlement,” he added, “it is not just God who must be consulted.”

As it happened, the Reverend’s own wife was at that moment emerging from the house behind them, carrying two freshly-baked pies. The Reverend’s sons, Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster, trailed behind her, carrying another pie each.

“What say you, Mary?” the Reverend asked her, knowing full well her sharp ears would have overheard everything.

“Hmm,” Mary Brewster said. She glanced at the other Pilgrim wives scattered about the festival, of which there were not many. Between the composition of the original complement of settlers and the terrible toll of deaths that had occurred over the previous winter, there were now a great deal more men than women in the colony. The few other wives looked at her, significantly, saying nothing but their expressions communicating much. Nodding with understanding, Mary turned back to her husband.

“I know that men build up a great deal of, pressure, if they are not given release,” she said. “So, I would say it is fine if the unmarried or widowed men sate themselves while sating the whore. It might reduce, future problems. But the married men will be sated by their wives, or else!” She lifted up a finger and glared.

“Of course,” Reverend Brewster said. He could not quite keep the disappointment out of his voice that he would not be among those allowed to partake.

But before he could give general approval for the new plan, Mary caught one of the other wives widening her eyes to get her attention. The silent wife nodded a couple times, significantly, towards Americana’s moaning lips, and then looked at Mary meaningfully. Mary nodded.

“There is one other condition,” she added, hastily. “We good women of the colony have had to endure our husbands watching the whore get nailed, in silence. We have done so, for the future of our settlement. However, we must get compensated.” She looked at her husband, her eyes boring into him. “So after the unmarried men have fed her their main course, we will feed her dessert, of the pies we have long had prepared between our legs, but rarely if ever had eaten. Is this clear?”

The two junior Pilgrims’ eyes widened, as if they had never imagined such a thing.

“Good heavens!” the tall one said, fingers going to his own lips.

“Is, is that permitted under Heaven’s law, Reverend?” the short one asked.

“Uh,” Reverend Brewster said. He wracked his memory of the Good Book, trying to think of a clear passage one way or the other. “To be honest,” he said, “I’m not sure if the Good Lord considers that sex, or not,”

“Then there should be no problem, should there?” Mary asked testily.

“I guess not,” he said, deciding to err on the side of marital harmony over strict doctrine for once. God’s forgiveness, after all, was infinite. His wife’s, on the other hand,

Of course, before the natives ‘peace offering’ could be used in this manner, clearance first had to be gotten from Massasoit. But the Great Sachem, in a very relaxed state having thoroughly drained his own scrotum over the course of five separate sessions within Miss Americana, was in a magnanimous mood, and with a simple nod of his bronzed head and wave of his hand signaled his approval.

So it was that as the pies got laid out, cut, and consumption began eagerly, one by one Pilgrim men began to ascend the table. As with the Indians, they went in strict order of rank, and, his own wife Rose being one of the casualties of the previous winter, this meant that Myles Standish was first in line.

“Open wide, and say your grace,” he advised her, as having preemptively removed his pants, he came in for a landing on her moaning tongue.

Miss Americana whimpered loudly as his cock entered her mouth. Pure instinct took over almost immediately. Wrapping her lips tight around his respectable but, compared to some of the monsters that had been in her cunt that day, modestly-sized cock, she began to suck it enthusiastically.

“Oh, yes!” Myles said. He lifted his eyes heavenward, as she slurped and slurped upon him. “T-truly, this wench was sent by the Lord!” he said, before erupting down her throat and giving her, her first load of cum to swallow.

It would, of course, not be the last. As the lesser Pilgrims had pointed out, while everyone else had had their fill, at this First Thanksgiving Americana had had none. Now, they made up for that. One after another, unmarried Pilgrim men climbed up and, sometimes still eating pieces of pie as they did so, inserted their fresh sausages down between her lips. Americana moaned, and blushed, and sucked each one as vigorously and worshipfully as she could, as if they were truly her gifts from God. One warm protein shake after another poured down her throat, finally filling up her until-now-empty belly, and each and every one she gulped down with a vigor equal to the holiday. Then after each one finished she opened wide and, extending out her tongue, began putting preparatory licks upon the next incoming cock that inevitably replaced the last one in the never-ending cornucopia of cock she was being served.

In the meantime, watching all this, and knowing that based on Mary Brewster’s pronouncement they would not get their own full Thanksgiving repast any other way, one by one the married Pilgrim men snuck away from the party with their now equally enthused and eager wives, into the bushes or the backs of the more remote houses, to do what married couples do. Although, given the inspirations provided by Americana’s marathon performance, they generally put a little more effort and creativity into it than they typically had. One by one, flush-faced and hand-in-hand they returned to the center of the festival, in a few cases with the seeds of another few thousand modern descendants quietly germinating under the Pilgrim women’s’ hastily re-lowered skirts.

So it was that, when the Pilgrim men and the natives alike had finally sated themselves, well after the dessert course and into the after-meal drinking and general turkey-clobbered lethargy, Americana got her final surprise. With the coast finally clear, the Pilgrim wives climbed up one by one and got the 'compensation’ that Mary Brewster had negotiated for them. As they lifted their skirts and lowered their unkempt bushes down towards the invading harlot’s open gasping lips, Americana moaned to discover, one after another, that there was a pie of fresh cream waiting for her under each and every skirt, to accompany the gutted pumpkin and other pies lying spent all around her.

But she didn’t have much choice. Digging her tongue up between the wives’ outer lips, she did her best to show them how it was done.

“Oh!” one Pilgrim woman after another sighed, heads rolling and shivering, as they discovered at the tip of the 'harem girl’s’ practiced tongue a pleasure their husbands had rarely, if ever, managed to provide them. Americana was not by nature a cunt-eater, but she had been put into that position often enough by triumphant villainesses to know her way around. She stroked the inner lips, teased the hood, and then finally went after the excited clit with vigor. And as she did so, streamers and tendrils of married Pilgrim cum poured out into her own mouth, which, like all the others before her, she periodically paused to gulp down hungrily before resuming her probing services.

Finally, the last dish of all, the one between the legs of Mary Brewster herself, was served to her. As she stroked and stroked between Mary’s labia, and felt the Reverend’s hallowed semen wash down her tongue, Americana heard her ear-ring microphone crackle.

“Just so you know, Miss Americana,” she heard Flag Girl’s voice say, excitedly, “the semen you are currently eating will give rise to at least one Nobel Prize recipient, several Oscar-winning actresses and actors, one Supreme Court Justice, several Governors and Senators, a bunch of highly decorated Admirals in the U.S. Navy, and one President.” The events she was getting to witness through the professor’s Time Viewer were inspiring an interest in history the airheaded sidekick had never felt before, and she was eagerly scrolling through the lists of descendants of the various people her mentor was getting fucked by. “Isn’t that cool?!” Americana heard her squeal.

Americana whimpered. “Wonderful,” she managed to moan into Mary Brewster’s cunt, and with a lap of her tongue, sent more thrillingly historically-significant semen running down her throat.

At last even the Pilgrim women had had their fill of serving up themselves, and receiving the novel pleasures of the harem girl’s tongue in return. With Pilgrim and native alike now full and tired, they all started to decamp. The Pilgrims wandered back into their homes. The native leaders had had a few dwellings set aside for them, and the rest would make camp just outside the settlement.

As the throng began to disperse, Governor Bradford, Squanto, and Massasoit stood side-by-side, surveying what was left of the Pilgrims’ 'peace offering’.

Americana lay sprawled upon the Thanksgiving table, as utterly and thoroughly consumed as any of the empty dishes all around her. She was not unconscious, but her blue eyes stared glassily up at the sky and didn’t seem to see anything. She still had her belt, no one knowing to try to take it off of her, but despite that no muscle of her mighty curvy body seemed capable of movement, save for the slow rise and fall of her huge breasts as she breathed. Rivers of cum seemed to pour out of her cunt, spilling down in waterfalls between the planks of the table to form a vast growing lake underneath it.

“Shall we clean this mess up?” Governor Bradford asked, nodding towards Miss Americana.

Without waiting for his interpreter, Massasoit shook his head. “No need,” he said.

“It can wait until morning,” Squanto assured him, smirking at the sight of the sprawled fucked-out white harlot. “Everyone is very tired and content.”

“Especially her!” Massasoit said, and tilting his head back let out a booming laugh.

“Should we post a guard on her then?” Governor Bradford asked.

Massasoit again shook his head.

“The Sachem’s warriors watch well all the approaches through the woods,” Squanto advised. “No enemy tribe will enter here to take her. As for her, look at her. Do you think she can even walk at this point, let alone outrun the finest hunters of the Wampanoag people?”

“Good point,” Governor Bradford admitted. “So, in that case, I have a small stash of brandy left. Shall we share some?”

At this Massasoit tilted his head back and laughed vigorously. “Now this, is a good idea!” he said.

With that the two natives and the Pilgrim turned and proceeded to the Governor’s house, to continue their conversation.

Americana was left alone, lying spent on the First Thanksgiving table. Soon all around her was quiet, save for the distant sound of a couple married Pilgrims getting in a second round. Panting, she stared at the stars, still in shock. Occasionally her gloved fingers twitched, down beside her wide and absurdly well-filled hips. Other than that, huge buns sq

The Exhibitionist: Part 1

Snowden Speaks — Wed, 04 Sep 2024 00:47:00 +0000

Exhibitionist guy bares all to say goodbye to his hometown.

A 2-part story By Requiax. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

It was moving day.

My parents and my kid sister had already driven off, following the truck from the moving company, filled with all our things.

I grew up in this house and came of age here, but we were finally moving. My dad's work had taken him to a new state, and a new home, and the family was going with him.

I'd be joining them later. It was the start of the fall semester and I was going to be travelling back to college first. My car, parked in the driveway, was loaded up with everything I will be taking back to my dorm. First chance I got in the coming weeks, I was going to drive over to the new house and help get things sorted, but mom and dad were insistent I go back to college first.

I stood in the driveway, looking at our empty house. I was alone now. The neighbours and our friends had all been and said their goodbyes. The keys were with the realtor. My things were all packed. It was coming to the end of what had been a long day.

It was nearly time to go, to set off in my car and never come back to the town that had been my home for most of my 20 years of life. But I had one final thing I wanted to do first.

I stood beside the car and looked around the street. There was nobody in the immediate vicinity, which was good. Don't get me wrong, I was expecting an audience; I wanted one. But not before I'd started, not when they could still put a stop to my fun and cause me a heap of trouble.

But, luckily, the neighbours were all indoors, nobody walking by or out in their front yards.

I took a deep breath. I was nervous, but also excited, buzzing with the anticipation of fulfilling an ambition I'd had for many years now.

Grasping the hem of my t-shirt, I pulled it quickly over my head. I let it drop to the floor and stood a moment. There was nothing wrong with standing in my driveway shirtless, after all; I'd done it plenty of times, on hot afternoons, shooting in the basketball hoop up over the garage door. There was a breeze today but it was warm on my bare chest.

I kicked off my shoes; slip on Vans, easy to take on and off; I'd be putting them back on before I went. The asphalt of the driveway was hot and rough against the soles of my feet.

A further breath to steady my nerves, and then I unbuckled my brown leather belt. I unfastened my jeans and let them fall to the floor. I was wearing just my boxer briefs now; tight shorts, already bulging where my excitement was having its effect.

Another look round. Nobody I could see, nobody who could see this yet.

Thumb in my waistband, I yanked down my boxers and stepped out of them. I was nude.

I paused a moment, examining my own reflection in the car windshield. Blonde hair, a little too long; I'd not had a cut all summer. Smooth face; handsome, I'm told, in a surfer sort of way, although I never seem to have much luck with girls. My bare body; lightly tanned, except for the whiter area where I would normally be wearing shorts. Athletic, some muscle definition, a summer of basketball and gym workouts and healthy eating paying off. My pubic hair; like most guys my age, I went in for cropping it short with clippers, rather than shaving outright; taking a razor to my balls and my shaft for a smooth finish there. My cock; unusually in this time and place, uncircumcised; stirring with excitement.

I grinned, and slipped my feet back into my sneakers. Then I set off to walk the streets of my hometown naked.

Nude Fantasies

I'd fantasised about being nude in public for years. Since I first discovered jerking off, all the way back in my early teens, I've had an exhibitionist side. The thought of being seen naked or being watched while I masturbate was a huge turn-on for me. I experimented in various ways with this, some more successful than others, but I always chickened out of fulfilling my greatest fantasy, which was to fully expose myself somewhere very public.

It wasn't so much that I lacked courage to do this, but that I was very aware even at a young age of what the repercussions might be if I, a young man, were to publicly expose myself. In all my fantasies, I had a willing audience; but I knew that in reality, being seen naked (and likely aroused) in public would get me into a lot of trouble. I had to live in this town, attend school in this town, and have family and friends share this town with me. If I went naked in public, people who knew me would get to hear about it and I'd have to live with the reputation of being a pervert, a freak who got off on showing people his cock.

I mean, I was a pervert, and I did get off on showing people my cock; but I didn't want my friends and family to know that! My personal reputation mattered more to me than my sexual fantasies; so no matter what I would plan out in my head, I would never go through with it. Even when I went away to college, I always knew I would need to come back here, to this small town, and I knew my family needed to be able to live here, to be able to hold their heads up proud as upstanding members of their community. I couldn't condemn my parents to be known as the people whose kid waved his cock around in the street.

When, this year, my parents told us we would be moving, and that we would be moving so far away that all our ties with this town and the people in it would be cut, it was a liberating moment for me. Suddenly, my carefully cultivated reputation and standing in the community had an expiration date; after moving day, what people thought of me wouldn't matter. So what if I was suddenly revealed as a crazy naked pervert? I would never see any of these people again, and nor would any of my family. They could gossip in high school and the coffee shops and the bars all they liked about how Chris Gill had run around naked in public with a boner on; I would never hear any of it.

I spent much of the summer planning my naked adventure. I made sure I was taking care of my body; I figured that a good-looking young guy in good shape might get a pass on running around naked in comparison to a guy who, well, was not looking his best. So I kept up my gym routine, played a lot of sports and watched what I ate. I considered sunbathing nude, to get rid of any tan marks I might acquire, but it was hard to do with family and friends always around so I never actually managed that. But I did make sure that I looked as good nude as possible; I wanted to feel confident when I had everything on show, after all.

I needed to plan and time the right opportunity, too. I couldn't do it any day before moving day; if my family were still in town when I did it, it might still reach them. I wasn't moving away from them, so they were the people I couldn't let find out about my naked plan; or the shame and stigma would just travel with me. But if I moved with them, I would have to concoct an excuse to come back afterwards to carry out my exhibitionism.

When, by coincidence, moving day and the day I was due to return to college fell on the same day, this solved all my problems. I would help my family with the moving and, when all was completed, I would load up my own car. They would drive with the moving truck to the new house, I would drive myself back to college, and we'd meet up in a few weeks. And, of course, once they had gone and my own packing was done, I would do as I had done now; take off all of my clothes in the driveway, and go for one last walk around town.

It helped with the time, too. It was around 6:30pm by the time my family went on their way, so my streak was going to end up taking place in the early evening. This was my preferred time; light enough that there would still be people around (and there would still be enough visibility for them to see my nakedness clearly) but late enough in the day that there would not be huge numbers of people about. While being seen naked in the middle of the day by dozens and dozens of people would be an incredible thrill, it also greatly raised the odds that someone would call the cops; and I had no intention of getting a police record for this. That, again, would be something I might not be able to escape quite as easily as I could escape the gossip of ordinary townsfolk, and might well work its way back to my parents, something I definitely didn't want to happen.

That was another reason why I didn't want to get seen by my neighbours before I got going; I might set off, only to find the cops waiting for me on my return.

But, as it was, all was quiet as I turned out of the driveway and into the street.

I set off, briskly walking and occasionally jogging when the mood took me. I liked the way my cock and balls moved when I ran, and the feel of the warm breeze on my bare skin; but I was in no hurry, and didn't want to dash around unseen by anyone.

Walking the dog

As it was, I covered maybe a block and a half before the first person saw me. It was a woman; I didn't know her but I guessed she was in her 40s. She was out walking a little dog, one of those purse dogs, on a thin leash. She was paying attention to the dog at first and didn't see me; but when she looked up as I walked into her view, her mouth dropped a little and she stared.

I smiled as I approached. I felt her eyes travel down my body, her gaze falling to my crotch and my exposed cock and balls. She didn't say anything though, not even when I gave a cheerful "evening, ma'am," as I passed by her. She was attractive, though (I've always had a liking for older women; that is, older than me; not necessarily that old but when you're 20, a 40-year old woman has 20 years' experience on you and still looks damn good), and as I carried on down the street I glanced back over my shoulder she had stopped and was watching my bare ass, an appreciative expression on my face. That was the perfect reaction to me, and out of her view, my cock stirred and stiffened in acknowledgement. Fully erect, I gave my cock a couple of encouraging tugs with my hand, relishing the sensation and the pleasure it gave. I wasn't going to masturbate just yet, although I felt that if I did I would have blown my wad straight away; but a few strokes just to bring me that little bit closer was very welcome.

The Parade picks up

I remained erect for the next few minutes, but saw no other pedestrians. Cars, though, passed me; some honking horns in acknowledgement of my nakedness; some, drivers or passengers, staring as they went by; the rest giving no outward sign they had even seen me. I relished each encounter, knowing it meant someone; man or woman, adult or kid, had seen my naked body out in public and was left wondering, what was the story here? Way was this guy walking naked and with a hard-on in full view? They would just have to wonder.

The evening breeze did a little to quell my building arousal though, and without further attention from my hands my erection began to subside. I was soon only semi-hard (my favourite state to be in as it made me seem more well-endowed; my cock when flaccid was not small by any means but like this I felt I looked even better nude) as I made my way from residential streets into more communal areas of town.

Here were more people, both in cars and on foot. Folks were leaving off a late working shift or at the end of the day for their businesses, men and women heading out early to one or two nearby bars. Some high school kids were skateboarding on an array of steps. All saw me walking quickly down the street, naked as the day I came into this world. People stared, some shouted stuff or whistled. Some, disappointingly, looked on then turned away, anger or disgust on their faces; I couldn't help their prudishness, but I was prepared for it. Being seen naked was something that was, for me, a turn-on; but I also held they view that nudity, mine or anyone else's, was harmless and not something to be treated as shameful or obscene. I hated the "think of the children" attitude that people harboured; seeing a guy or a girl naked outside the bedroom or locker room was not something I felt had any capacity to damage another person in any way. We're all human, and human anatomy shouldn't be cause for offence as far as I am concerned. Shock, surprise, humour, pleasure; these were fine with me, perfectly natural reactions to seeing an athletic 20-year-old guy walking around town in the nude. But don't be offended because you can see my penis, there's nothing offensive about it.

I suppose I've never been shy about my body. Changing in the locker room, skinny dipping with friends, showering with the door open; none of these things have been a source of embarrassment for me. I have a roommate at college and he's seen me naked so many times I lose count. Occasionally when it's hot and we have to study I will just come in from the shower, drop my towel and study in the nude. He's never raised an objection (although I'm careful not to let on how arousing I sometimes find it). My point is, I'm kind of akin to a nudist in terms of my attitude to nakedness. It's natural, it's pleasurable (for me at least) and if you have a problem with it, well, you need to work on that.

Fortunately, disapproving looks were all the negativity I received; nobody came to remonstrate with me for my nakedness, and most people seemed merely surprised, or even amused or appreciative of my exposed state. I didn't dally, though; I felt a need to keep moving, in case anyone who saw me was about to phone the cops and severely ruin my day.

Familiarity

I saw the first person I knew on that route into town, too. One of my old high school teachers, was loading up his car as I walked down the street. He looked at me but I can't say for certain he recognised me; I definitely recognised him though. Further down the street, a shopkeeper whose store I regularly visited was just closing up as I approached, and called out my name in disbelief when he saw me. I gave a casual, "hey" and kept on walking.

Soon enough, I'd passed the storefronts and made it to the town square. During the day this would have been one of the busiest parts of town but by now it was pretty quiet, and I was only seen by a few motorists and a couple of girls off in the distance as I crossed the square.

My destination was a small plaza just off the square. It was kind of a park, I supposed, albeit a small one, just some grass, trees and a couple of benches. These benches were my destination; when I planned out my route, I had intended to get here and go no further. I planned to sit a short while and chill before making my way back to the old family home. I wasn't certain but I felt I would probably masturbate en route, so as to be less likely to be far from home when, post-orgasm, my euphoria and arousal would likely give way to a feeling of vulnerability.

A Show At The Park

I entered the plaza and sat on the bench nearest the way I had come in. The wood was still warm from the day's sun, and felt pleasant against my naked body. I leaned back, arms across the back of the seat, legs parted. My cock began to stiffen and I closed my eyes, replaying the stages of my journey in my head.

I heard the sound of people approach me, and a voice say "hey." A female voice.

"Hey," I said in a friendly way, opening my eyes.

There were two people standing over me; a guy and a girl. It looked like they were a couple. She was petite and dark haired; maybe some Asian heritage?; wearing jean shorts, a raglan top, sneakers. He was skinny, wearing basketball shorts and a punk band t-shirt. They looked younger than me by a couple of years.

I worried, for a moment. The girl, on her own, wouldn't have bothered me. Nor, for that matter, would the guy; I'm as turned on by guys seeing me as I am by girls. But the two together approaching me gave me concern. Maybe he would be mad I was exposing myself to his girlfriend and get aggressive. Maybe she was upset at seeing me and wanted him to teach me a lesson. I reckoned I could take the guy in a fight, he didn't look like much; but I'm not that type of guy and I'd rather avoid those sort of situations if I can.

But they didn't seem mad at me; both seemed quite friendly in their manner and speech. And in the end, an audience is an audience, and I certainly wasn't going to complain at having one. The girl, for her part, seemed unafraid, and sat down on the opposite side of the bench to me. Her boyfriend stayed standing; but in a non-threatening way.

"Why are you naked?" the girl asked. "Where are your clothes?"

"Back at my house," I said, answering the second question first.

"You walked here naked?" the guy said, disbelieving.

"Yup," I answered proudly.

"Why would you do that?" asked his girlfriend. "Why aren't you wearing clothes?"

I thought for a moment. Why not be honest? They seemed quite keen to know, and I was happy to tell them.

"Well," I said, "I'm leaving town today. I lived here, like, most of my life, and I always wanted to do something like this."

The guy grinned. "Well, it is pretty boring round here!"

I laughed. "True! But this is a bit more than just livening things up."

"What do you mean?" the girl asked.

"Well," I carried on, "to be honest, being naked, out in public like this, it really feels good to me. In fact, it makes me feel pretty turned on."

She laughed. "Yeah, I can see that!" I looked down and my cock was semi-hard, verging on hard again; I'd not even noticed, I'd been absorbed in our brief conversation.

"Aw, sorry," I grinned.

"Don't be," she said.

"Well, sorry to your boyfriend, at least."

"Aw, he's not bothered," she laughed. I looked at him.

"You're not?" I asked

"Nah dude," he said off-handedly. "Rock out with your cock out. It's all cool. If I had your bod, I wouldn't be shy either."

I laughed. "Are you guys for real?"

The girl nodded. "Uh-huh. We saw you across the square and just had to come talk to you. Josh wouldn't stop staring at your weiner."

I looked at the boyfriend; evidently Josh; who flushed a little. But there was no denying she was probably right; the sort of gym shorts he was wearing are lousy at hiding if you have an erection, and Josh was definitely starting to pitch a tent there.

There was a moment of silence between the three of us then. In my stomach, butterflies stirred. I think I had some fans here, maybe someone with the start of a crush even. Maybe two crushes. Well, I wasn't going to disappoint them.

I adjusted my position slightly to give a better view, then took my now rock-hard cock in my hand. I began to stroke it, slowly, as we talked to each other. The girl turned, resting her elbows on her knees, looking straight at me, taking it all in. Josh just looked down and grinned.

"Dude, for real?" he said. "You gonna jerk off here?"

I paused. "I can stop, if you like."

"No," the girl said. "I wanna see."

I looked again at Josh, seeking permission. "Okay by me," he grinned.

I resumed my slow, relaxed stroking, fingers and thumb wrapped good around my shaft. I was already building up to climax, I knew this wouldn't be a long wank, but I wanted to make the most of it.

"How old are you guys?" I asked.

"Eighteen," the girl replied.

"That's a relief," I laughed. "At le

Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving: Part 1

Tue, 03 Sep 2024 16:08:12 +0000

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.

By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.

In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit’s favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.

Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb.

Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving

“Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter,” Miss Americana said. “She’s flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I’ll help her write there’s no way she can fail.”

Professor Whirter shook his head. “Miss Americana!” he gasped. “The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!”

The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A’s on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.

Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana’s sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor’s newly-built time machine waited.

Miss Americana’s expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. “Professor,” she growled, “my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade’s money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?”

The Professor’s blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. “Alright, alright,” he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine.

“Ready?” Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum.

“Ready!” Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.

The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.

Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it.

“Perfect,” she cooed.

There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket.

“Told you I heard a noise,” the tall Pilgrim said to the short one.

“Heaven defend us!” the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.

The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them.

“Hello,” Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.

But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. “Stay back, witch!” he said.

His companion seemed less sure. “Are you sure she’s a witch?” he asked.

“She’s a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?” the short one asked.

“Hmm,” the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. “Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,”

He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. “Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!” he said. “No speaking hexes, either!”

Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims’ long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. “You boys are making a big mistake,” she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. “Fortunately I can correct it,”

But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker.

“Miss Americana!” Professor Whirter’s voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. “You cannot harm anyone in this period!” he said. “Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!”

“Oh,” Miss Americana gulped. “Right,”

She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less.

“On second thought,” she said, “I surrender.”

She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.

The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana’s hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain.

“There,” he said, backing up. “The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.”

“If you say so,” Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim’s head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. “Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out.”

Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. “Let’s take her to the Elders,” he said. “Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her.”

Miss Americana rolled her eyes. “That’s what I said, you oafs!” she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.

Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.

A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day’s large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.

As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. ‘Who would wear a bikini during this time period?’ she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea.

“We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest,” the tall pilgrim said.

“We think she’s a witch,” the short one said. “Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?”

Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly.

“I am not a witch!” she boldly declared. “I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan’s palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!”

'That ought to fool these simpletons,’ she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.

Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony’s current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her.

“Hmm,” Captain Standish said. “If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so,” he said.

“Prove it? And how should I do that?” Miss Americana asked, indignantly.

“If you were a harem girl,” Captain Standish said, “then you know how to dance like one. So, show us.” He turned his head to the man next to him. “Do you permit this Reverend?” he asked.

Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana’s flesh. But then he nodded. “If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it,” he said.

Americana gasped. “H-how can you ask me that?” she said.

Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. “The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission,” he told her. “So if your story is true then prove it.” He nodded up to the large table. “You can do it on there, if you would be so kind.”

Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily.

“Very well,” she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. “But I cannot dance in these!” she said.

At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana’s manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.

Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. “Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!” she said.

And with that, she began to dance.

“H-holy shit,” one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe.

“That’s blasphemy,” a second beside him murmured. “Also, god fucking damn,” he added, staring up as well.

None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.

Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl.

“Verily, my friends,” he said, “I was so distracted by the witch’s performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize’ stuff into the fire and, look what happened!”

His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.

A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster’s ear.

“Did the Lord really condone this, William?” he asked, chuckling softly.

Reverend Brewster shook his head. “After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale,” he said. “Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up.” Taking some of Captain Standish’s popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.

Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder.

“Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!” he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. “The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!”

At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana’s wiggling and grinding bubble-ass.

“What?!” Governor Bradford gasped. “But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we’ll starve! Why have they turned back?!”

The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana.

“When the Sachem’s party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one,” he said. “The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,”

At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock.

“My ass is not fat!” she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. “Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn’t lead to fat!” she hissed.

Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. “What’s a stair-masterer?” he asked. “Some sort of Turkish siege engine?”

Myles shrugged, puzzled.

“Never mind that!” Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community’s attention off Miss Americana. “This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!”

“Hmm,” said Captain Standish. “What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.”

“But the whole point is we have no food!” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “What sort of peace offering could we give?”

“We could give them our guns, or the cannon,” Governor Bradford said.

“And surrender our only military leverage?” Captain Standish scoffed. “I would sooner dump them in the sea!”

“The Indians are yet heathens,” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering’ might they be interested in?”

For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.

Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, No!” Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. “How, how can you even consider that?!” she hissed. “Aren’t you Puritans?! A Godly people?!”

Reverend Brewster shook his head.

“We are,” he affirmed. “But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!”

Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana’s body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them.

“I know well the meaning of the scarlet A’s,” Reverend Brewster said. “The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?”

Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones

Prude Wife Becomes Celebrated Nude Model

Snowden Speaks — Mon, 02 Sep 2024 16:16:00 +0000

Her suppressed seductive countenance finally melds with her stunning body.

By PickFiction- Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Dana Berry blushes whenever her stunning body & looks are commented upon. The daughter of an accomplished fashion model, her genes may get a lot of the credit for such attractiveness. But there never was less of an exhibitionist in the western world (save for the cloistered nuns).

But here she stands in Wendy Proctor’s front entry, with a dilemma. Her proud husband, Luke; an able young executive, Had bought two very expensive and daring dresses for her, and informed her of two upcoming social events they were to attend.

Wendy greeted Dana and saw the concern on Dana’s face.

“Luke bought two new dresses for me, and, not surprisingly, they could use some small alterations.”

“Did you bring them with you?” Wendy asked, knowing what the answer would be.

“Of course,” Dana answered, hurrying to her car and quickly back with a shopping bag that held the dresses.

“Luke picked it out, and when I said no, he bought it. I tried to tell him, but he wasn’t listening,” Dana sounded a little depressed and defeated.

“This dress has a neckline that meets the waistline,” Wendy observed.

"I know, and I’m not sure why he wants people to see more of my … ugh, skin.”

“I believe that skin is called tits,” Wendy said as Dana rolled her eyes. “Maybe he’s just proud of you.”

“I suppose,” She took the dress from Wendy and pulled it on over her head. "Well?”

“You should really have your bra off to model that one,” Wendy giggled.

“I’m not going out with half of my breasts exposed. You know how I hate to show, well, my body, I guess. Can you sew something in there then to kind of hide most of my boobs?”

“I could, but what’s Luke going to say?”

“I’ll deal with that. I can give him … Well, you can guess,” The red was now on Dana’s cheeks and moving down her neck.

Dana carefully unfolded the other dress, obviously much longer and more formal than the red one with the plunging neckline. It was a beautiful gold color. Dana pulled off the red dress and slipped into the gold one.

"Good lord,” Declared Wendy. “Dana, when do they award the Miss America crown?”

“It is pretty stunning, isn’t it?”

"It is, particularly with your bra strap crossing the bare-to-below-the-waist back.”

“That’s part of the problem,” Dana said.

“And speaking of leg,” Wendy whistled

"Never had a dress with a split clear to my waist,” Dana had a futile look on her face.

"So, with this one, you wouldn’t be wearing a bra.”

Dana rolled her eyes.

“And probably little thong panties as well.”

“Don’t even think that,” Dana gasped.

“Well, take your bra off, and let’s see how it looks.”

“Wendy, I can’t do that. People will know I’m not wearing a bra,” Dana looked almost horrified at that thought.

Wendy sighed. "Walk over and look at yourself in the mirror. Just look; no thoughts of what you’re showing and how much skin is visible. Just look.”

“It’s for the Christmas party,” Dana said resignedly.

“It would be a travesty to alter that dress even a little bit.”

“Wendy, I don’t know if I can do it,” Dana said, in agony.

"Well, Christmas is a long way off, and I suspect you’ll have talked yourself into it by then. What’s the red one for?”

“There’s a fancy dinner for Luke’s company in about two months. Ugh.”

“We’ll work on it, and I’ve got an idea that may help,” Wendy assured Dana. "Okay, here’s what I’ve come up with. Hear me out before you decide anything. I have a little surprise for you,” Wendy paused and smiled. "Besides being a seamstress, I’m also an artist of sorts. I did it when I was in high school and first year of college. Then I got too busy and just stopped. I’ve kind of picked it up again, and Max has encouraged me, and, well, that’s where I’m beginning with you.”

Dana looked puzzled,

“Come with me. We’ve turned the garage into my studio,” She led Dana through the house and into the garage. It was filled with canvases, both full and empty.

"Wow, you’ve been working,” Dana said, looking around at the many paintings both hanging and leaning.

“Here’s the one I finally finished,” she said, leading Dana around the big easel.

Dana stopped suddenly, eyes wide and hand to mouth as she stared at the painting.

“That’s your Max,” she said quietly.

“Sure is, and I’m really proud of it.”

“Should you be showing me this?” Dana asked, afraid to look at her.

“You mean because he’s naked? He doesn’t mind. He’s proud of my artwork.”

Dana stared. He was certainly naked. She marveled at the painting. It looked almost like a photograph, but if she looked carefully, she could see brushstrokes. She couldn’t believe Wendy was showing her this. Dana finally found the courage to look at her best friend, who was smiling. “Max just posed, and you painted him?”

“That’s all there was to it.”

“So why are you showing it to me?”

Wendy took a deep breath. “I want to paint you.”

The entire meaning of what Wendy was saying suddenly struck Dana, and a shocked expression filled her face.

“You want to paint me … like that? Have you lost your mind?”

“Not at all. I can’t think of anyone who’d look more beautiful in a painting like that.”

Dana could barely catch her breath. Naked. Wendy wanted her to model for her … naked? This was so, so far beyond anything that had ever happened between them, she couldn’t imagine where Wendy had gotten this idea. It was … it was …

“You’d just pose here in the studio – no one would see you except me. We’re big girls now and can see each other naked,” Wendy went to the wall and pulled out a canvas from behind several others. "Here. I posed for myself in a mirror,” she said, placing the painting on the easel. Wendy chuckled. “Plus, you owe me for all the sewing I do for you.”

“I’m supposed to trade naked modeling for your modifying my dresses and things?” Dana stammered,

“That, plus my good advice on how good you look in the dresses I didn’t modify.”

That was why she was here in the first place; she was trying to gain enough courage to wear those dresses. And all Wendy could come up with was having her pose naked? Her brain hit the brakes. She looked at Wendy.

“So, you think if I can model for you, that would make it easier for me to wear those dresses?”

“I sure do, and you might even enjoy the modeling, freeing yourself, going against what you’ve always been, that kind of stuff. Plus, you’ll have a painting to hang in your bedroom. Or your family room,” she added, laughing.

Dana sputtered. The thought of a picture like that hanging anywhere in their house had her blushing. She knew that Luke would love it, though. Still, it couldn’t hang where people could see it. Maybe in their ensuite. It was large enough for that. She paused her thinking once again. If she was deciding where to hang the painting, that meant she had agreed to do it. She looked at Wendy as she nibbled her lower lip.

“When can we start?” Wendy asked, smiling at her.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, and I still may back out.”

“Don’t say anything to Luke. You can surprise him on his birthday or at Christmas. Plus, you’ll surprise him when you wear those dresses.”

Dana wasn’t at all sure that posing naked, in private and for Wendy, would make it easier for her to expose so much of herself to others, like Luke’s co-workers. Maybe, but she’d have to see. She remembered wearing the dresses, naked beneath them. And she remembered how she’d looked in the mirror. Yep, she’d have to see.

“Let’s start tomorrow before you change your mind,” Wendy suggested, chuckling.

Dana met her eyes. Still time to change her mind. The single word “naked” hammered at her brain. She was naked when she showered and with Luke, of course. Even that had been difficult the first time. Now, though, it was … Could posing for Wendy be like that, too? It was so different, a foreign territory that Dana thought she was ready to explore. She’d find out tomorrow.

Tomorrow came, Luke went to work, and Dana was left with her decision of yesterday. She dressed normally, refusing to let this possibly temporary thing change her life. She walked the three blocks to Wendy’s with purposeful strides, looking confident even if she didn’t feel that way.

As she usually did, she went in the back door and called for Wendy, who appeared immediately, a big smile on her face. “If it would make you feel better, I can be naked too while I paint,” Wendy offered.

"Oh, lord, no. That would be weird. What am I saying? This whole thing is weird.”

“Well, listen, I’ve seen you in your bra and panties when we were looking at the dresses, so it should be easy to get that way again.”

Dana decided that made a lot of sense. She slowly and carefully took off her shirt, then her shorts. She decided that, since she was in undressing mode, she might as well continue. Eyes closed, she reached behind her and unclasped her bra, holding it in place momentarily, then pulling it off, eyes still closed.

No comment from Wendy.

Feeling a little more confident after taking off her bra, Dana quickly slid the panties down her legs and kicked them aside. She opened her eyes.

“I’ve told you this before, but I sure as hell wish I had a body like yours,” Wendy said, a serious look on her face.

"Wendy, it’s not..”

“ It is, and you know it,” Wendy interrupted. “Now, let’s talk about the posing and the kind of portrait you’d like.”

She led Dana to the full-length mirror and stood away from it slightly, then motioned for Dana to move a little to her right.

“I picture you standing by a wooden chair, your back to the mirror, your hand on the chair, maybe one knee bent a little. Sound good?”

Dana wasn’t sure how it sounded; she’d never posed before and had no idea.

“Let me get the chair and show you,” Wendy said, rescuing Dana from her uncertainty. She went into the house and was back in seconds with a low-back chair from the dining room. She placed it carefully, went to the easel, and checked, then motioned for Dana to pose as she’d described.

Wendy was standing in front of her now, staring at her breasts.

Flexing and moving slightly, Dana made it to one hour before she needed a break. Wendy brought two glasses of wine, very full glasses, and they chatted for fifteen minutes, finished the wine, and went back to work. She noticed she felt a little more relaxed after scarfing down the wine, something she’d remember.

“I’d like to be a little further along before you see it,” Wendy said when they were finished for the day. Tomorrow at one? We’ll have a couple of hours,” She picked up Dana’s clothes. “Want to leave these here and walk home naked?”

Dana rolled her eyes and grabbed the clothes, quickly putting them on.

They worked tomorrow, and the next day, then paused for the weekend. On Monday, they were back at work, Wendy promising to reveal what she had done. They had been at work about thirty minutes when Max walked into the studio.

There was a loud scream.

“Sorry,” Max said. “Oh, it’s just Dana.”

“Just Dana” was frantically scrambling to cover herself, having nothing available except her hands and arms. One arm across her breasts, and one hand covering her crotch, she was visibly shaking.

“I got to work and didn’t have my wallet. You know where I left it?”

“On the little desk in the family room, I think.”

“Thanks, and sorry, Dana,” The look on his face said he wasn’t really sorry. He went back into the main house.

"You made his day, you know. He thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous and the ultimate babe of babes.”

“Wendy, no way.”

“Way,” Wendy replied, laughing.

“I’m sure that picture of you he just saw is foremost in his mind right this minute. And he’ll tell me about it this evening.”

She’d heard that from Luke but never from anyone else. Somehow, this was different. Luke was her husband, and of course, he’d say it. Max was just a friend and had nothing to gain from saying it. Wendy teased her about it constantly, but she’d always disregarded it. Now, with Max, did that make it true? When he called her “the babe of babes,” he was talking about what was under the clothes, and now he had seen that. Would he change his mind?

“You ready to pose again?”

“I think so.”

“Well, you’re going to have to move your arm and your hand.”

It was complete and ready for Luke’s birthday after a few awkward “posing” sessions where Dana sat beside Wendy, holding out her hands, having her face studied carefully, and, of course, topless with Wendy carefully studying her breasts and nipples. But, when it was complete, it looked almost like a photograph; it was so finely detailed and realistic.

In their conversations, while Wendy was painting, she noted she had other projects in mind. She wanted to take famous old paintings by the masters and create modern versions, beginning with The Nude Maja by Goya, with Dana posing, of course.

“By the way,” Wendy said after their last session, “now there are portraits of you, Max, and myself. Only one’s missing.

Was she hinting that she wanted to paint a portrait of Luke … naked?

"Why not?” Wendy asked, seeing the look on Dana’s face. “You stared at Max while you were posing. I need to get my jollies too"Wendy, what have I gotten myself into?”

“Nothing, except you’re way more relaxed showing a little of your body now, and I suspect you may be ready to wear that red dress to Luke’s dinner party.”

Dana was satisfied that she could do it without exposing anything and had decided she’d wear no underwear for the dinner. She smiled when she thought of what Luke’s reaction would be. Plus, she wondered what her own reaction would be, particularly after she’d had a couple of drinks. The way her thoughts about herself had changed, it could be dangerous.

“After you wear that dress to the dinner, talk to Luke about having his portrait done.”

Dana decided that Wendy was developing an obsession with painting a portrait of a naked Luke, and, despite her reservations, she knew Luke would love the idea. She’d bring it up when she gave him his birthday present. And, she wondered if Wendy would volunteer to paint while she was naked, as she’d done with Dana.

“Another project I have in mind is a modern interpretation of Monet’s painting' Luncheon on the Grass. It has two men and two women on a picnic with one of the ladies naked. My version will have a more realistic four people naked.”

“And should I assume that one of them will be me?” Dana asked.

“And the others will be me, Max, and Luke.”

“Wendy,” Dana squealed. “I’m supposed to sit there and pose with two naked men there also?”

“It’ll be fun. I might have to take photos to use. We’ll all pose for the photos, and I can use them to do the painting when it rains and stuff.”

“It’s still naked posing with men.”

She’d nearly had heart failure the first time she’d pulled off her clothing in front of Wendy. But she’d done it. Could she do more?

Luke’s birthday was on Friday, and the dinner party was on Saturday. She was sure Luke would be nearly overwhelmed by the surprises she had in store for him. And there were several.

She prepared his favorite dinner on Friday, steaks, baked potato, tossed salad, and a little cheesecake for dessert. After dinner, when he was comfortable in the lounger, she went to the spare bedroom and was back quickly with a large but thin present, wrapped neatly in bright red paper.

“Guess what this is?” she teased.

Luke made several futile attempts at guessing before she handed it to him. He carefully tore the paper off, then just stared for long seconds. Slowly his head turned toward her.

“Dana?” was all he could say.

“Do you like it?”

He looked at it again. “This is the best gift you could have gotten me. And, I thought it was a photograph, but it’s a painting. Did you have … where did you get the idea … who painted it?

Dana knew his mind was wondering if some strange man had been seeing her naked while he painted the picture.

"Wendy did it.”

“Wendy? I didn’t know she painted.”

“Neither did I, but she showed me two that she had done before, of herself and of her husband”

“Max?”

Dana could hear the obvious question in the single word.

“Yes, and they’re both naked. And yes, now I’ve seen a painting of Max naked,” She wasn’t going to mention just yet that Max had seen her posing naked. "And now, Wendy wants to do one of you.”

“She does?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she said, giggling.

“I’d rather see the one she did of herself.”

“I’m sure she’ll let you. Maybe as a birthday present.”

“Dana, I can’t believe that you, of all people, were able to pose nude for a portrait, even if the artist was your best friend.”

“She said I owed her for all the sewing she’s done for me.”

While Luke continued to look at the painting, Dana called Wendy, asking if they could come over, and Luke wanted to see her picture. Wendy laughed and said that would be fine.

“So, you want to see my picture, huh,” Wendy said when she answered the door.

“Well, if you’re willing to show, I’m willing to look.”

“On one condition. That you allow me to complete the quartet of paintings.”

“Sure. I’m willing to show if you’re willing to paint.”

They viewed the nude Wendy, Luke trying to be cool about it but failing. They worked out posing times for Luke, talked about the other projects that Wendy had suggested, and Dana and Luke headed home. Luke propped the painting on the bedroom dresser opposite the bed, and the sex that followed was slightly different and much more satisfying than usual. The Saturday morning follow-up was the same.

When Saturday evening came, and it was time to dress for the dinner, Dana showered and went to the spare bedroom. Still naked from the shower, she pulled on the red dress, arranged her hair, applied the little makeup she usually wore for special events, added a couple of dashes of her favorite cologne, and went to their bedroom where Luke was dressing.

He turned to her, smiled … and then his eyes went wide.

“You’re wearing that dress?” he said, a huge smile now engulfing his face.

She walked toward Luke, bending from the waist and pulling her arms together in front of her.

“Dana, no bra?” He looked totally astounded.

“Unless you insist I wear one.”

He just shook his head and, seeing her smile, had another thought.

“Lift your skirt,” She did and received a look and a smile she’d treasure.

"That painting has changed you.”

“A work in process.”

“Can’t wait for the conclusion.”

“Me either,” Dana replied, wondering herself where she was headed. Time would tell.

At the dinner party, she carefully watched the men since most of them seemed to be watching her. Luke was having no trouble finding company, as he seemed to be very popular, particularly with the men. Dana, not used to drinking, had just finished her second martini when a third magically appeared in her hand. The buzz she was feeling was very pleasant, and kept a smile on her face as she talked with the men gathered around

Prepper Partners: Part 3

Mon, 02 Sep 2024 16:10:00 +0000

It couldn’t happen but it did. Now, we have to survive.

By ronde, in 3 parts. Listen to the ► podcast at Connected.

I’d learned how to field dress an animal from Dad, but not how to cut it into steaks and roasts. As far back as I could remember, Dad had always taken his deer and the steer he killed every fall to a locker plant in town to be cut up and packaged. Mom said when they were starting out, they did that all themselves to save money and Christy said she’d watched her grandpa butcher several steers and thought she remembered what to do. Between them cutting and me carrying, it took us a whole day to get the steer cut up into manageable pieces and down in my freezer room.

I figured that steer had stretched our food supply by at least six months, and it broke the ice, so to speak. I planned on killing a steer or an older cow every winter after that. If things got turned around, I’d just pay the rancher for the beef. If they didn’t, well, we needed the meat to survive and the rancher apparently didn’t. About half the herd were cows, so there would be calves born the next spring. According to Christy, we’d have to watch which bull we let breed each cow, but if we kept half dozen bull calves, the herd would be self-sustaining. Over the summer, our meat would be beef stretched with rabbits, pheasants, and fish.

Reproduction.

We settled into a sort of routine for the rest of the winter. If it was sunny, I’d take my solar panels outside to charge the battery pack while Mom and Christy made breakfast. While I was outside, I’d see if there was anything on the radio. Usually there wasn’t. Even the ham radio operators seemed to have gone quiet.

After breakfast, Mom and Christy would clean up the bunker or heat some water and wash our clothes. I’d take an axe and go split firewood or drive my truck into the trees to find some dead wood to carry back to the bunker. Once a week, we’d heat enough water that the three of us could take a shower.

I was happy that Mom and Christy got along so well for two reasons. Mom really needed another woman for company and so did Christy. They spent most days helping each other and talking about everything under the sun.

The other reason was now that I wasn’t working my ass off at Ellison, I had some time to think about the future, not whether the world would ever be the same again, but about my personal future. Was this all there was to my future, to spend the rest of my life in an underground bunker and then die without leaving anything behind? That’s what it was looking like more and more every day.

It was good that I had Mom there to talk to about it. She understood.

“I know what you mean. I used to worry about that when your dad and I were starting out. All we had was a few cattle and each other. If we’d died, nobody would have cared. It was after you were born I understood what my legacy would be. It would be you. That’s every mother’s legacy - her children.”

I said there wasn’t much of a chance of that happening, at least in the near future, but Mom just grinned.

“What if I told you that Christy thinks you’re a pretty great guy? She does, you know. She’s just too modest to tell you. If what you’ve been telling me is true, she might be your only chance. I can tell you that you could do a lot worse. Don’t you like Christy?”

I did like Christy. She wasn’t movie star beautiful, but she was still pretty, and I liked her personality. Because she was wearing Mom’s clothes and they didn’t fit, it was hard to tell much about the rest of her, but she looked pretty normal to me. She was also pretty practical about things just like I was, and she seemed to be adapting to what we now called life.

What Mom said about Christy liking me started to bring some things into focus too. Often, even though it was really cold when I went outside to do something, Christy would put on her coat and come out with me. Sometimes she’d just sit with me and other times, if the horses were close, she’d call to them and get them to come up to her. I thought she only did this to get some fresh air, but maybe she was trying to tell me something.

I told Mom I did like Christy, but even if we decided we fit together, it wouldn’t do any good because there was no way we could get married. Mom just smiled.

“In case you’ve forgotten what your dad told you, you don’t have to be married to have children. I promised your dad I’d never tell you this, but I think he’d understand. Teddy, you were born six and a half months after your dad and I were married. We went to Vegas and he paid the minister fifty dollars to backdate the marriage license so our parents wouldn’t know. With things like they are right now, I don’t see why you and Christy should have to be married. She’s living with you right now. If things get back to normal, you can get married then. In the meantime, you can give Christy her legacy. Your legacy too.”

Well, I never thought I’d hear anything like that from my mother, but the more I thought about it, she was right. I'd read somewhere that if the electricity was out for a year, most of the people in the metropolitan areas would die either from lack of food or because of disease or riots. Anybody who was left would be the ones to repopulate the U S, and they’d most likely be in the rural areas of the country. The problem was I didn’t know how to ask Christy how she felt. She might think I was telling her she had to have sex with me in order to stay with us.

Mom solved that problem by asking Christy for me, though I didn’t know it until Christy came out of the bunker one day while I was listening for anything on the radio. She sat down beside me and didn’t say anything for a while. Then, she reached over and touched me on the arm.

“Ted, your mother asked me a funny question this morning. She asked me if I’d ever thought about having kids. I told her I wanted at least two, but that probably wasn’t going to happen now. She said it could happen if I wanted it to happen. I think she was talking about you and me.”

I nodded.

“She was. She had about the same conversation with me a couple days ago. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make you think you had to do that to stay here. You don’t need to worry about that, by the way. I’d never turn you out.”

“That’s what your mother told me too. Sometimes I wonder about what will happen in the future though. Do you think they’ll get things fixed and life will get back to normal? What will we do if it doesn’t?

I stopped tuning the radio and turned to Christy.

"I don’t want to scare you, but we’ve been here for almost four months and it doesn’t look to me like anything’s changed. I haven’t seen a light anywhere since that day, and I haven’t seen anyone since that day you jumped in my truck. If there was a quick fix, the power companies would have already done it and they’d be back on line by now.

"I think the equipment damage must have been pretty extensive, and the problem is a lot of the equipment that keeps the grid running isn’t sitting somewhere on the shelf. It’ll have to be made from scratch somewhere where the electricity is still on because most of the manufacturing process is computer controlled. Even if the equipment does exist somewhere, that would only let a tiny little part of the grid start back up. It took almost a hundred years to get the grid to the state it was before. Getting the entire grid working again could take almost that long.

"I don’t know when or if things will ever be what we used to call normal. What I do know is that if nothing changes, we’ll find a way to survive here, all three of us. I don’t know what that way is yet, but we’ll find it.”

Christy surprised me with her next statement.

“If we’re going to live together for a long time, wouldn’t it be natural for us to really live together? I mean, I like you and I think you like me. We seem to work together pretty well. I got married the first time based on less.”

I put down the radio.

“Are you saying we should start living like man and wife?”

Christy grinned.

“Unless you don’t want me.”

Christy’s Initiative.

That night, Mom went to bed but Christy stayed up until I’d banked the fire in the stove and started turning off the lights. When I asked her why she was still awake, she just smiled.

“I thought maybe tonight would be our first night together. If you don’t want that, I’ll go sleep with your mother, but if you do?”

Christy pulled the sweater over her head and tossed it on the table. Evidently Mom’s bras were too big for Christy because she wasn’t wearing one. Her breasts weren’t as small as I’d thought, probably because she hadn’t been holding them up with anything.

I hadn’t said anything yet, so Christy looked up at me and smiled.

“You better tell me now so I can get under the blankets and not freeze.”

I was pretty stunned by what she’d done, so I couldn’t talk. Christy grinned again.

“I guess you don’t know yet, so maybe this will convince you.”

With that, she pulled down the pants she was wearing and I saw that apparently Mom’s panties didn’t fit Christy either. I also saw that Christy hadn’t shaved since I brought her to the bunker. The pale blonde hair on her arm pits, mound and legs was hard to see, but it was there.

Christy kicked off her shoes and then walked over to the fold out couch, pulled back the blankets, and climbed in. She looked up then and held out her arms.

“Don’t make me wait too long or I’ll fall asleep.”

That first time with Christy was an experience I will never forget. When I took off my clothes and slipped under the blankets, she snuggled up to me and hooked one leg over mine.

“Umm”, she murmured. “This is a lot nicer than sleeping with your mother. I couldn’t snuggle with her.”

I had to admit that it wasn’t just nice, it was great. I was feeling Christy’s soft breasts against my side and her smooth inner thigh was lightly touching my cock. She felt it start to rise and ran her hand down my belly until she was holding it.

Then she giggled. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this, about what it would be like. I think I’m going to like it a lot.”

That night was probably typical of any newlywed couple’s first night. It was more exploration and learning than anything else. Christy surprised me by being more active than the other two partners I’d had.

She didn’t take charge or anything like that. She let me set the pace, but she wasn’t backward either. When I stroked her breasts, she sighed and wiggled close enough I felt the hair on her mound against my leg. When I lightly stroked her nipples, they stiffened and she reached for my cock again.

When Christy started rubbing her mound against my leg, I slipped one hand down between us until I felt hair, then gently moved it down until I felt the separation of her lips. Christy opened her thighs then, and moaned when I slipped a fingertip between her soft lips. After the moan, she whispered, “Kiss me, Ted”.

When I did, for a second I felt her lips against mine, but then I felt her tongue trying to slip between my teeth. She moaned again when our tongues met, and I felt her push herself into the finger stroking between her thighs. When that caused my finger to slip down to her entrance, Christy caught her breath and gave my cock a few more strokes.

She was wetter than I had expected when I slowly slipped that finger inside her. When I pulled it back out, I stroked up to the little button at the top of her lips. When I gently rubbed the tip, Christy broke our kiss and whispered, “I think I’m ready”.

She didn’t roll over and spread her legs. Instead, she gently guided my cock down as she wiggled up a little further, pushed it up and down between her lips a little, and then positioned my cock head at her entrance. She pushed her body toward my cock at the same time I pushed toward her. When my cock slipped inside her a little, Christy moaned and pushed harder.

She wasn’t wet enough that my cock went home on that first try, so I eased back out almost all the way and then pushed in again. My cock slipped through the tight spot just inside her and Christy caught her breath. I pulled out, then pushed back in again, and this time, kept pushing until I felt hair around the base of my cock. Christy put her hand on my ass and held me there for a few seconds, then eased away.

That’s how it went for a while. Christy met my strokes and rocked herself into me at the end of every stroke. If I kissed the nipple I could reach, she’d gasp and push a little harder. When I managed to suck that nipple into my mouth, Christy murmured, “Oh God, I forgot what that does to me.”

I’d forgotten what it feels like to have my cock buried inside a very willing woman as well. It was either that or I’d never been with a woman as willing as Christy. I knew I’d never been with a woman who was as actively engaged or who was getting to her peak so fast. I was getting there really fast too. It had been so long that all that desire had built up until it was about to explode.

Christy got there first. I was slowly stroking away when she gasped, then held her breath, and started rocking herself over my cock. That put me in a position where I couldn’t hold back anymore. I groaned when Christy cried out and started to shake as the first spasm raced through her. Seed flew out the tip of my cock and deep inside her. I pulled back out a little, but Christy held my hip and gasped as another wave shook her.

That happened twice more before I was laying there and panting and felt my cock being squeezed inside Christy’s writhing body as little contractions kept making her jerk. Even when she calmed down, she didn’t pull away. She held me tight inside her, kissed me sensuously, and then whispered, “I think this is going to work out just fine.”

I can’t honestly say when I fell asleep or if Christy moved off me after I did. When I woke up the next morning, she was in the same position, one leg over me, and with her breasts against my side. When I opened my eyes, I saw she was awake.

Christy fluttered her eyelashes at me and grinned.

“Your mom will be up pretty soon, so we probably shouldn’t start anything, but I wish we could.”

She kissed me then, just a soft kiss, and then got up and dressed. By the time Mom came out, Christy had the stove warmed up and the coffeepot was percolating. Mom looked at me, winked, and then smiled. She knew what we’d done, and she was happy about it.

Mated.

Our lives changed after that day. Christy and I got closer every day. It wasn’t the sex, though that was fantastic. It was because I let myself see her as a woman I was starting to love instead of just a woman I’d accidentally rescued from some serious trouble. I guess it was what I overheard my grandma once say - that in her day, people got married to share the work and have children and that love came later.

We didn’t make love every night. It depended upon what we did during the day. If Christy and Mom were doing the laundry or if I was splitting more firewood, we were usually pretty tired and just went to sleep. Whether we made love or not, I was starting to realize I could never let Christy go.

By May, I started thinking about our food supply again. We were still doing all right, thanks to the beef I’d killed, but what we really needed was some fresh vegetables. Christy had insisted we take a vitamin C and vitamin D tablet every day, but she said fresh vegetables and fruit would be better. I remembered that Mom had always had a garden and that’s what we needed now. When I told her about my seeds, Mom agreed.

“If you can dig up a garden, we can raise enough vegetables to see us through the next winter. I used to can a lot of what I raised in my garden. I can’t bottle anything here, but I used to dry tomatoes outside in the sun. We could try drying things like green beans and peppers. Things like beets and carrots and squash will keep all winter if you keep them cool.

May was too early to start a garden, but the weather was getting warm enough for another idea that had been filling my mind. I wanted to go back to Rapid City to see what was going on. I didn’t intend to take any risks. I was just curious about how many people were still alive and what they were doing. If I had a chance, I’d check some grocery stores to see if anything was left.

Christy also liked the idea.

"I’d like to see if I can get into my apartment and get some of my clothes and other things. If you think it’s too dangerous, I won’t push the idea, but it would be nice to have clothes that fit.”

I had no idea what we might find in Rapid City, so I was against taking Christy with me. She argued that she could take care of herself as well as I could. When I asked her how she’d manage to do that since she hadn’t that day at Fairlawn, she shrugged.

“I didn’t have any way to fight back that day except to run. My grandpa taught me to shoot a rifle and a pistol, so give me one of yours. Besides, if you should get hurt, how will you take care of yourself? I’m a nurse, remember? I can do that.”

I did make Christy prove to me that she knew how to handle a firearm, and she did just fine with my Sig and with my pump shotgun. I spent some time on my battery-charging rig charging up my truck battery, and when I got done, my truck started. A day later, we put my bug-out bag in my pickup and after making sure Mom locked up everything, Christy and I drove to Rapid City.

Itinerary.

We decided to go to Christy’s apartment first since we could get her clothes and anything else she wanted pretty fast. After that, we’d go to a couple grocery stores that were on the outskirts of town. I didn’t want to go anywhere near Ellsworth or the city proper. Everything I'd read said if there was a problem the major population centers were where that problem would be.

I wasn’t really surprised that we didn’t see any vehicles on the road or even people walking. What I'd read was that by now, five months after the power went out, most people would either be dead or had moved to someplace where there was food and shelter. My guess was the U S government had set up Ellsworth as a refugee center and that’s where most of the people would be.

They apparently weren’t all there, though. When we started walking up to Christy’s apartment, I heard a gunshot and the dirt off to my left splattered onto my pants and jacket. The voice that came from somewhere in the building sounded both scared and angry.

“Just turn around and go back to wherever the hell you came from. If you don’t, I’ll shoot you both dead before you take another step.

Conception Rock: Part 2

Snowden Speaks — Mon, 02 Sep 2024 00:52:00 +0000

Sunday Sharing: New Ideas For Intimacy

By AlexanderT – listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Becky & Eddie were weekend guests at the lakehouse of Jane & Pete, who are retired former neighbors. An alcohol-induced discussion of the previous night led to showing a video album of glamour photos Pete had taken of Jane. Becky summoned the courage to accept Pete’s offer to do her own photo album. Having finished the swimsuit portion, Becky was now getting ready for the boudoir portion.

Boudoir Beauty

The ladies led the way and at the house &headed for the master bedroom, Jane telling Pete and Eddie to go away until called. Pete and Eddie went to kitchen and had a beer.

The ladies seemed to have been gone a long time and Pete thought maybe Becky was having second thoughts and Jane was trying to help her decide.

Then there was a call, from down the hallway; "Bring the camera."

Jane was by the door as the guys entered, and Becky was lying on the center of the bed on her side, her head supported by her arm, her tits sagging, her upper leg thrown over, her knee touching the black satin sheet, her sex covered.

Pete smiled, "Oh, yeah." and began taking shots. click, click, click. He moved to each side, taking more pics. Becky’s soft smile and intense gaze was ever-present in each frame.

She turned over on to her back, spread her legs and Eddie gasped. Becky’s cunt was shaved clean. Becky looked to Eddie for a moment to assess his approval. It was obvious he loved it, both by his beaming smile, and the hand he moved down to his shorts. Eddie also knew why it had taken so long to get ready. His dreamy lust for her bare cunt was redirected by the movements of Pete & the click, click, click.

"Now up on your knees, arms out like you're reaching for Eddie." Pete continued in his adrenalin-rich state. click, click, click. Pete knew he needed to keep things moving just to keep himself from getting too enamored by the raw sexuality on display. Capturing this event is more important than enjoying the view on display before him.

"Alright. Now, Eddie, it's your turn,” Pete announced.

Eddie shook his head, "I don't know anything about cameras."

"No, no. Take off your pants. Becky’s waiting for you to join here,” Pete directed him.

Eddie looked from Becky to Jane and back to Becky. It was as if you were watching a tennis match, but finally loosened his belt and pushed down his jeans and his shorts. He had a decent erection and had no reason to be embarrassed. Pete’s voice and tone took on the hypnotic effect of mind control over his subjects. His confidence took over the decision-making when the young couple needed to be led.

Eddie climbed buck naked, over to between Becky’s legs. She sat up, smiling with a glow on her face as her Eddie approached.

Pete’s direction resumed; "Okay, Becky; slowly wrap your hands around it lovingly." click, click, click. "Now massage the balls." click, click, click "And kiss it." click, click, click.

"Enough?" or do you want to continue, Jane asked Becky.

Becky shook her head, "Everything."

Pete looked at Jane and she shrugged.

"Okay, keep going. Becky, show him what your oral skills can do. When you're ready, Eddie, pull out and shoot on her face and tits."

Pete sat on the sofa by the window and kept taking an occasional pic. Jane came over and kissed Pete’s neck as she sat by him, enjoying the two lovers on their bed. They watched Becky give Eddie a blow job. Eddie was upright, kneeling, and Becky rested her weight on one extended arm while her other hand guided Eddie’s cock and balls to her mouth. Eddie idly fondling her breasts as his body advanced to the impending eruption. Then Eddie groaned, pulled out and shot all over Becky as she reclined down to the bed with her mouth still open to catch some of his load, click click click. Eddie lay down beside her. She smiled while her adoring eyes looked deeply into his. and they kissed and held each other.

Pete came over to the bed after a quiet minute, "Move away for a minute, Eddie." He did and Becky returned her intense gaze back to the camera. Pete took closeup shots of the spots all over Becky's face, shoulders and tits. click, click, click. And her contented, lascivious smile, happy with herself.

Pete didn't have to prompt her for the next series.. Becky rolled over on to her stomach, her head down, her knees tucked, and her ass in the air. Pete took shots from several angles of her legs spread, click, click, click. Becky reached back and spread her cheeks and Pete was surprised to see an anal plug in place, click, click, click. And so was Eddie.

Eddie got in position and massaged her ass cheeks and placed his penis into her cunt while he pulled out the plug and tossed it aside. Jane came over and poured a dollop of lubricating jelly in the crease. Eddie used his thumb to rub the little star with the jelly and Pete took the shots. click, click, click. The thumb slowly entered her anus and she gasped. After a minute her anus relaxed and Eddie pulled his cock away from her cunt. When Becky was relaxed, Eddie gently stroked her anus a bit as he worked his thumb outward. As his thumb exited he pushed his coated cock in and Becky squealed.

One last series of clicks was taken and Pete moved a switch & carefully set his camera on the corner of the bureau.

And with that, Pete and Jane left the bedroom. Pete was excited and as soon as they had closed the door her hugged Jane and kissed her.

She giggled, "Oh god! I didn’t want to leave that show, but I need to fuck you now! But they're in our bed."

"Which leaves their bed empty. And we can watch the video later." He pulled her across the hall into the different bedroom. Jane was hornier than a teenage girl at a boy band concert. Within an hour Pete was out. The adrenalin-driven photo session was gone, and Jane took all the remaining energy.

Later Pete woke to find the bed empty. He found Jane and Becky in the kitchen, talking & preparing dinner.

"About time.” Jane giggled. “There's the steaks. Put them on the grill."

Pete grabbed a beer and the steaks and went outside. Eddie was out on the dock, watching the sunset. He saw Pete and came back, grinning. "That's the first time we've ever done that."

"What? Had your pictures taken? Or had someone watch?"

"No, Well, yeah, that too. No, that's the first time I've ever done her in back."

Pete shrugged, "I think she liked it, don’t you?"

"Oh, yeah. We did it again after you left."

After dinner, they talked about taking the photos and how they might use them.

Jane smiled, "I like to view them after we make love. Pete recovers a lot faster. It’s sort of an intermission for me while Pete’s cock takes a break"

Becky laughed, "We've never had that problem, have we?"

Pete smiled, envying their youth.

Surprise Guest

Becky was again the first to announce she was ready to go to bed and led Eddie off to their room. Pete and Jane soon followed.

As Jane lay between Pete’s legs, stroking and kissing his cock, she asked, "Did you enjoy taking pictures of Becky?"

"Of course I did. She has a great body."

Jane’s face took on a mischievous grin. She got up & straddled him, guiding him into her wet cunt. She leaned forward, pushing a nipple into his mouth. " You like titties! Did you want to suck her titties?"

He didn't have to answer, his mouth was full.

She whispered in his ear; "And she tasted good when I shaved her. You're going to love it."

She rode him for a few minutes while she watched him ponder the meaning of her last comment. Then she yelled excitedly, "YES," though he didn't think she'd had an orgasm.

And the door opened into the moonlit bedroom.

Becky was naked as she came over by the bed and the ladies kissed. Pete had no idea what was happening as Jane lifted off him, stood and led Becky onto the bed

. "Is he still awake?" Becky whispered, with a giggle.

"Yes, and he's waiting for you. Enjoy!”

Jane turned, bent down and kissed Pete, "I love you," and he watched her tight rear as she left the room.

Becky climbed on top of him, her tits bouncing as she felt his rigid cock in her hand. It looked big in the photos, but now it felt even larger in her hand. She inserted him between her legs. She eased down slowly. "Oh, wow. You're really big. I hope Eddie gets bigger as he gets older, too."

Pete wasn't going to burst her bubble. He just enjoyed her riding him, her tits swaying above him. Pete was grinning like Christmas morning as he fondled the full tits that adorned Becky’s buxom body. He squished and pinched them. He swung and plopped them. He lifted and moved them to various positions and amounts of cleavage. He pulled her down so that he could take a nipple in his mouth. He moved one hand on her ass, his fingers in her crack, massaging her hole then moved the fingers of his other hand, rubbed her clit.

Becky beamed, "I'm so glad Jane let me have you for tonight. I think I'm going to....Oh, yes... I'm....Yes. That's the spot. Right there. Yes." She began shaking and he held on to her as she lay on top him. Her breathing slowed, returning to normal. And then she was asleep, snoring. He rolled her on to her side and snuggled against her.

In the light of the bedside lamp, he awoke to her sucking his cock. “I’ve got this new love for doggy style. Do you know of any hard cock I can make use of?” When he was hard, she got on her knees. Pete got behind her and easily entered her. She was making sounds of pleasure and then whispered, "Do me in the ass, please?"

There was nothing Pete wanted more. He got the lube from the bedside table and prepared her. He was pleased to see she’d recovered from Eddie taking her ass, twice (at least). Even so, she was still tight and knowing he was larger than Eddie, he went slow, stopping at intervals.

But she wanted more, kept pushing, demanding, until he was slamming into her harder and deeper, with his finger reached around to rub her clit, until blast-off, he shot again and again, deep inside her. It was enough for her and she began shaking. He held on to her as he softened and slipped out. He lay down and she lay half on top of him, her leg across his thigh, her shaved mound pressing his hip. They slept, until he awoke her while licking her bald cunt. She erupted in a loud ecstasy. They made love twice more before morning.

When he woke, the bed was empty. He dressed and went down for coffee.

After breakfast, Pete brought in his lap top and plugged in the camera's chip and a memory stick. After about 5 minutes he said; "Okay, Eddie, Watch me." At the camera chip, he opened the files and transferred them to the memory stick. He checked to make sure they were on the memory stick and returned to the chip, and erased it. He ejected the memory stick and handed it to Eddie. "Now you have the only copy of the album. You may use it as you wish."

"Thanks. I appreciate it." Eddie said, blushing a bit.

"It's great to watch after making love. “ Pete counseled. “It'll help you recover & get back in the game"

Becky laughed, "Oh, I'm looking forward to that."

Visiting The Rock

After they finished packing the bags in the car, Becky said, "Before we leave, I want to hike up the hill and take in the lake view one more time."

Jane shook her head, "Go ahead. After last night, I'm sore." She winked to Eddie.

Pete offered, "I'll go with you."

"Yeah, you go, Becky I'll stay here and make sure we packed everything," offered Eddie.

As they started up the hill, Becky took Pete's hand. "This has been a great weekend. I've never enjoyed sex so much."

"Enjoyed?"

She laughed, "Never had so many orgasms. Probably as many as I've had in the last year."

They reached the rock where they could look down at the house, the pier and the lake. The rock was a little high and he had to lift her up. Becky sat down on the rock and Pete stood next to it "Do you bring Jane up here?"

"Sure."

"Have you made love to her here?"

He smiled, "Many times."

"Is that why you have a tent in your shorts, remembering?" She reached over and rubbed his shorts.

"No, I was remembering making love to you all night, and imagining what it would be like here." He pulled her to the edge next to him and they kissed. He lifted her sweatshirt and tossed it on the rock behind them. She removed her bra and got up off the rock. She reached down and unfastened her shorts and pushed them down. She turned, spread the sweatshirt on the rock and bent forward, face down with her legs dangling over the side of the rock.

Pete admired her creamy cheeks as he lowered his shorts. He spread her cheeks and ran his erection up and down her crease, rubbing her from clit to her ass hole.

"Do it, damn it."

The rock was just the right height. She was wet, and from the night before, she was loose. He grabbed her hips and easily pushed into her. He began slowly stroking in and out.

She was crying and whispering encouragement until. "Oh. Oh. Faster. Faster." He quickened his strokes and she began slamming back against him She froze, "Yes. Yes. Yes." But Pete didn't stop. He kept pumping, rubbing his thumb across her other hole as she came down.

"Yes, do it."

He pushed his thumb in and was surprised it was still greasy from last night. After only a few strokes, she was shaking again. As she recovered from that, "Now do it, for real."

"What?"

"Fuck me back there."

"You want me in your ass?"

"Yes, damn it. Fuck my ass."

He withdrew from her warmth and placed the tip at her hole.

"Yes. Yes."

He pushed in.

"Oh, damn you're big. Go slow."

In, out a little, in a little more until he was buried deep inside her. Her hands were holding her cheeks apart so he could go deeper. She clinched hard as her orgasm hit. He plowed into her again and again but accidently slipped out. Her ass was too tight from the orgasm and he was so close to his own climax. He could contain himself no longer. He slipped deep into her cunt and began shooting deep inside her and it was enough to set her off again.

He kept pumping, finally slipping out. He stepped back, pulled up his pants and then pulled her off the rock and into his arms. They kissed as his hand toyed with her nipples. He whispered, "I'm glad you came."

She kissed him and smiled. "Many times." She put on her shorts and put on her bra and sweatshirt. They embraced and kissed. Becky pulled away, "Oh, look. Eddie and Jane are on the patio."

They watched as Eddie and Jane kissed, then Jane dropped to her knees and took out Eddie's penis and began sucking.

Betty gasped, "Do you think they know we can see them?"

Pete nodded his head. "Oh, they know. They're doing it for our benefit. They want us to know that we should make the most of this last moment."

They watched Jane stand, push down her shorts and bend over a patio chair as Eddie entered her from behind.

Pete stood behind Becky, her body pressed tight as the two below made love. Pete ran his hand under Becky's sweatshirt and caressed her breasts. Becky had never seen her man with another woman. The reality of this swap meet was now visually confirmed. She asked; "Doesn't it bother you to see my Eddie doing your Jane?"

Pete took a breath, "Yes, but I accept it if it's the price for getting to make love to you." She turned and they kissed.

"Do you think he's doing her ass?"

"From here, we can't tell, but it doesn't make any difference,”Eddie asked. “ They're both enjoying it." Are you okay with our new situations?

“ I trust you and Jane. Otherwise, no, I’d never be doing any of this” Becky said. “And Eddie & I would not have benefitted from all you and Jane have openly shared with us, making my relationship with Eddie so much deeper. Does that make sense?

“Eddie is your man, Becky. He’s a good man. Jane is a good woman. You can trust us,” Pete pledged.

Eddie appeared to be going faster, then went rigid. After a minute, he fell back and sat in another lounge chair. Jane came over and sat in his lap and they kissed.

The show seemed to be over so Becky and Pete made their way down the hill. On the way, Pete handed Becky a memory stick.

Her brow wrinkled, "What's this?"

"A copy of your album."

"I thought you gave it to Eddie?"

"Eddie has a copy that the two of you can share. He doesn't know about this one. This is your copy. You can watch it when Eddie's away. Or show to a girl friend. Or even a boy friend."

She gave him a quick kiss and they walked on. "Are there any other copies?"

"Yes, Jane wanted one, but I assure you, it's safe with her. She won't share."

Eddie and Jane were at the car to meet them. Becky noticed a trial running down her inner thigh, & ran in to use the bathroom before they left. There were hugs and kisses all round and then they were gone.

Pete took Jane in his arms and asked her. "How much of this weekend did you plan?"

She shook her head, "None. I was expecting a quiet week end of sun, fun, good food and wine. It was you that brought up the photos. That's what started it."

"I kept trying to stop from showing all of them. It was you that kept egging me on."

She kissed him again, smiled, "It worked, didn't it?" I always knew you took great delight in admiring Becky’s buxom figure. I just figured we could trust them and open up a bit. And surprise, they were just as open as we were!”

He kissed her again, "It's always worked for us."

"Let's go take a nap." But her smile indicated she had other things in mind than sleeping.

Announcement

Over the next few months, Pete and Jane visited Becky and Eddie in the city. When they went out, they appeared to be double dating, but Pete gave more attention to Becky, and Eddie focused on Jane.

At Becky and Eddie's, Becky and Pete got the big bed. When they came to the lake, Eddie and Jane got the big bed. They even had another occasion to watch each other, though Pete did not enjoy watching Jane suck Eddie's cock, or Eddie screw Jane. But he enjoyed screwing Becky.

Pete and Eddie even had a chance to watch Becky and Jane, wich ended with the two women orally servicing the men. As he watched either of the women with Eddie, they seemed to be more reserved than they were with him. He wondered if it was that neither Jane nor Becky wanted Eddie or him to know how much they enjoyed the other's husband. He wondered how the two women made love when Eddie and he weren't watching. He certainly didn't hold back when he screwed either woman, whether they were being watched or not.

It had been just over three months when Becky and Eddie sat down across the table at the lake. They were both excited. Finally Becky blurted out, "We're going to have a baby."

There were congratulations all around. Pete broke out some champagne and toasted their good fortune.

Jane asked, "So when are you due?"

Becky looked questioningly at Eddie, then back at Jane, "Six months."

"Wow,

Prepper Partners: Part 2

Sun, 01 Sep 2024 16:07:46 +0000

Loading Up for Mayhem.

By ronde, in 3 parts. Listen to the ► podcast at Connected.

One thing that nagged at me was what I’d do in a medical emergency, like if I cut myself chopping firewood or fell down and broke my arm or leg. The first aid kit in my bug-out bag wouldn’t do anything for either of those situations. I did a lot of reading and finally bought what would probably be in any combat medic’s kit. I couldn’t do surgery, but I had enough to splint a broken limb, stop severe bleeding, and sew up a bad cut.

Every week, I stopped by the local liquor store and bought a bottle each of reasonably good scotch, bourbon, vodka, and rum. My logic for that much alcohol was it’s a good mild anesthetic and all the experts said it would be good trading material if money became worthless. I figured the extra hundred dollars a week that cost me was just good preparation, and I could always drink it or give it away if things got back to normal.

Another piece of advice I learned from one book was the saying, “Two is one and one is none.” What that means is if you have only one of something, like say, an axe, if it breaks you have none. If you have two or more, you’ll at least have one that’s usable while you’re fixing the other. When I was buying tools, I made sure I had duplicates of anything that I thought would be vital to my survival.

The last thing to go into my storage space was more of an impulse buy than anything else. I was browsing through the gardening department of a local big box store that September and looking for what they’d put on sale when I passed a display of garden seeds. They were marked down by half. I’d been reading that having a garden is a must for long-term survival. Like Jeff had said about the guy in Montana, I had no idea what might happen, but being prepared was better than not being prepared. I searched through the seed packets looking for “heirloom” varieties because they’ll reproduce true from seed year after year. I bought enough to plant a huge garden and hoped I’d never need to.

It was surprising how little money I really spent and how much food and other stuff that money bought. Once I had a year’s supply, I looked at it and it didn’t seem very big so I just kept buying food and supplies like I had before. By the summer after my bunker was built and furnished, I figured I had enough food and other supplies to last me about five years if I didn’t hunt and fish and I’d spent a total of about fifteen grand.

That was less than two months of my salary, and if I hadn’t spent it, it would have just sat in my bank. I figured having the stuff more than made up for the loss of interest my bank would have paid me. A lot of articles I read said in a lot of SHTF situations, money wouldn’t be worth anything anyway.

Prepper Drills.

Once I started stocking my bunker, I started making the drive out there on Friday night after work and staying until Sunday about noon. That gave me a chance to practice using the stove, food, and lighting to see if I needed to change anything. I did miss having a TV at first, but a good selection of books were almost as good and I didn’t have to watch any dumb commercials. If I got tired of reading, I could go outside and listen to music, news, and even some people on short wave on my hand-cranked radio.

What I found is that living in my bunker wasn’t all that bad. I learned how to cook on my little wood stove and how to make my beans and rice taste good. I even figured out how to make cornbread in the little oven. That all worked out really well up until the twenty-eighth of December of the next year.

White-out.

When I woke up, it was snowing up a storm, but I had to go to the base. There was a software upgrade to one of our simulators that absolutely couldn’t wait until after New Year’s Day. It took me an hour to drive the twenty miles.

I was making pretty good progress on the upgrade when about ten in the morning all the lights in the building went out. The emergency lights came on when the emergency generators started, so I figured for some reason one of the main circuit breakers in the building had tripped. Sometimes one would trip for no apparent reason, and resetting it fixed the problem.

When I went to the power house in the building to see, they were all fine. The meters on the main switchgear were all dark though, and that told me there was no power coming into the building. That meant it was probably a circuit breaker at the base substation, but when I went outside, there were people coming out of all the other buildings as well. It looked as if the whole base had lost power.

That couldn’t happen, or at least it wasn’t supposed to happen. The base was connected directly to the grid and the base substation and lines that serve it were supposed to be hardened against about any natural disaster. There was no natural disaster taking place, so at least a major part of the electrical grid must have gone down.

I was rapidly getting a funny feeling in my gut, because there were only three reasons I could think of that would cause a major part of the electrical grid to go down.

One was a nuclear device detonated high in the atmosphere. That would cause a massive EMP that could take the control systems at almost all the generating plants and distribution stations off-line. It would also disable most communication systems, including communications satellites and their ground-based relay stations. At least some of the military communications equipment on the ground, in the air, and at sea would survive, but without the satellites, they would be useless.

Protecting against EMP was expensive and troublesome to work with because it entailed enclosing all equipment in a wire cage that was grounded to the earth. That’s why most protection was done by the military. They could afford it.

Power companies and factories couldn’t afford to protect the huge substations they had without government money, and the cost to do so was astronomical. So far, Congress hadn’t seen fit to provide that money because doing so would have meant cutting back on the social programs most politicians used to keep getting themselves elected.

Another was a solar flare big enough to do the same thing, but NASA would have figured out that it was going to happen and sent out a warning days before it was to hit the earth. They hadn’t.

The other was a terrorist attack, either physical or cyber that did the same thing. All it takes to effectively kill the U S electrical grid is to shut down ten major distribution substations. We know that because of studies that were done by Homeland Security after 9 11. Terrorists may be a lot of things, but they keep proving they’re not stupid. It wasn’t crazy to think at least one group knew what ten substations would kill the grid and had a plan to take them out when they were ready.

Even if something or someone didn’t manage to take out all ten, once part of the grid was down, operators would try to shift the load to another part. This would quickly overload the grid in that area and operators would shut it down in an attempt to keep from damaging their equipment. It would be a chain-reaction of shut-downs until the whole grid lost power.

It really didn’t matter why the grid went down. Whatever the cause, it might take a long time to get it back up again. Any damaged hardware would have to be replaced and a lot of that equipment is not on the shelf someplace. It’s made to order and delivery times are months to over a year. If there was no power, there would be no way to make replacements. Even if there were replacements available, they’d have to be installed and then the grid brought back on-line in a very controlled manner to prevent phase mismatch and overloads.

Doing that was sort of a “Catch 22” scenario. Some of the electricity generated by a power station is used to run the control systems for that station. Without some source of power, even if everything was repaired, they’d have to get electricity from somewhere in order to fire up the generating plant. The plan for most of the generating plants on the grid was either one special generating plant or diesel-powered generators mounted on trucks. An EMP pulse big enough to take out the grid would also take out the control systems for those special generating plants and truck mounted generators. A terrorist attack would surely have included those special generating plants and at least some of the standby generators.

Taking Action.

I left everything where it was and got in my truck. The fact that my truck started pretty much eliminated an EMP event as the cause of the black-out. Any electronic device would be affected by EMP, and the computer controls in cars and trucks would be among the first to go unless they weren’t older than a couple years. My truck was five years old.

My first stop was my apartment. I put all my clothes in plastic garbage bags, filled a plastic storage box with all my pots and pans and kitchen stuff that didn’t need electricity, and filled another plastic storage box with my books and magazines about survival and engineering. After I hauled all that out the door and dumped it in the bed of my truck, I took a last look around for anything I’d missed that I might need. All I picked up was a picture of me, Mom, and Dad in front of the old farmhouse on the farm taken when I graduated from high school. I didn’t need it, but I wanted it.

My second stop was the assisted living home where my mother was staying. I wasn’t about to leave her there with no guarantee that she’d be safe. I tried the local radio stations, both AM and FM on the way. They were broadcasting with generator power and confirmed the blackout was across at least the entire state, but had no explanation for what happened.

As I drove into the drive of Fairlawn Retirement Community, the newsperson said they had unverified information that the entire U S electrical grid was down. Cell phone towers would continue to work until their battery backups failed, so law enforcement was still monitoring the 911 system and responding as quickly as they could.

It might take weeks to find out what really happened if we ever could. With no electricity, it would be impossible to check any servers for any unauthorized entry of any computer control system for manipulation of the control parameters. Since nobody seemed to know the cause, I was putting my money on a cyber attack on the U S electrical grid, and probably the attack had been aimed at damaging as much equipment as possible.

With no electricity, Fairlawn’s intercom system didn’t work so I had to pound on the door for a while before one of the nurses came to the door. Thankfully, she recognized me and let me in. When I found Mom’s room, I didn’t give her a chance to tell me no. I just grabbed all the clothes in her closet and told her we were leaving. All she said was she needed some underwear and shoes too, so I waited until she stuffed them in a suitcase. I wouldn’t have let the nurses stop me from taking Mom out if they’d tried, but they were too busy trying to make sure everybody was in their rooms.

From there, I drove to my bunker and parked my pickup beside the hatch, then helped Mom down the stairs and inside. After a couple trips back to my truck to get her clothes and my other stuff, I parked the truck behind some trees, went to the bunker, and locked the door behind me.

Mom was pretty shaken up.

“Teddy, what happened and why did you drag me out of Fairlawn? The electricity has gone out before. It always comes back on in a day or two at most. At least at Fairlawn I’d have been warm. It’s like a refrigerator in here.”

As I built a fire in the stove, I tried to explain what I thought had happened and why I wanted her here with me.

“Mom, you heard the radio. It’s not just this area or even just South Dakota. It’s the whole U S. My best guess is somebody hacked into the U S electrical grid and shut it down. The grid and other businesses have been hacked before, just not on this large a scale. There was even a nuclear power plant in Kansas that was hacked in 2017. It’s also happened in South Korea, India, and Germany. In the Kansas plant, the FBI said it looked like the hackers were mapping the computer systems in preparation for another attack. I think this was that attack.

"If the whole grid is down like they’re saying, the U S will basically come to a screeching halt, because nothing will work. Factories won’t be able to make anything, including food. Trucking companies won’t be able to dispatch trucks or re-fuel them. Warehouses won’t know what inventory they have or where it is. You won’t even be able to pay for something a store has and you need because the cash registers won’t work.

"What that means is people who need food will be breaking into anyplace that has food. Other people will be waiting to take that food from them. People who are cold will be trying to find someplace with heat that still works and they’ll break in if they have to.”

I put my hand on her shoulder so she’d know I was serious.

“Mom, I really, really hope I’m overreacting, but what I’m talking about is riots in the streets and nobody there will be safe. Here, I have enough food to keep us going for at least a couple years, I can keep you warm, and nobody can break in here. That’s why I dragged you out of Fairlawn. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Mom looked up and smiled.

“I’m not mad at you Ted. Your dad would have done the same thing in this situation. He’d be proud that you did.

"So, what do you do down here for entertainment? I guess I won’t be playing Hearts with the girls for at least a while.”

Settling In.

I gave Mom the bedroom and I slept on the fold-out couch. After I cooked a couple of meals, Mom laughed and said she hadn’t done a very good job in teaching me. I had to admit her meals were a lot better than mine. At night, we’d read or just talk. We hadn’t just talked for a long time.

I guess that’s what happens when your parents are close enough you see them a lot. You tend to talk about the small stuff instead of what’s really important. I found out more about Mom and Dad and their relationship than I’d ever even suspected.

I’d always thought Mom was a prim and proper housewife who lived for her husband and me. Well, she was that, but apparently not before I was born. She was waiting tables in a bar when Dad and a couple of his friends walked in and sat down at one of her tables. Dad took one look at her and said, “Honey, what time do you get off?”

Mom laughed then and said he only looked at her because she was only half dressed at the time.

“I knew guys liked to see boobs and long legs and I had both so I dressed to show them off. They got me a lot of tips. They also got me your Dad, though I didn’t know it at the time. He said he had a little ranch and he’d teach me to ride a horse if I’d come out. Well, I did, and he did teach me. I moved in with him two months later, just to try things out. After another three months, we decided we fit together pretty good, so we got married.”

Apparently, their first years had been a struggle. Cattle prices were down so Dad went to work at a sawmill so they’d have enough money to eat. Mom told me some of the ways she stretched the food budget, ways I hadn’t thought of but proved to be useful as time went on.

Every day for the first week, I’d crank up my radio and go outside to see if anything had changed. The only thing that had changed was the radio stations had evidently used up their generator fuel supply because none of them were broadcasting. I did tune in a couple of ham radio operators every day. They didn’t know anything more than I did, but they confirmed the entire U S was affected as well as at least some of the European Union. They were able to transmit only because they had solar panel arrays and battery packs.

I also watched the sky in the direction of the base. In addition to housing the 28th Bomb Wing, Ellsworth AFB was a training center for B 1 B bomber crews. All training flights had been cancelled for the holidays, but now that it was January, there should have been at least one or two flights a day. I didn’t see anything in the sky except two turkey vultures and one bald eagle. If the training flights weren’t taking place, the base wasn’t up and running, and that probably meant nothing else was either.

At night, I noticed another thing. My bunker was about twenty miles from Rapid City, but on the nights I’d stayed there, I could see the lights of the city reflected by any clouds in the sky. I hadn’t seen that since the power went out, so Rapid City and Ellsworth were still in the dark. I decided I needed to find out for sure.

It was a Tuesday morning, if I remember right, when I told Mom what I was going to do.

“I’m going to drive over to the base and see what’s going on. Don’t worry. I’m not going to take any chances. I’m just going to drive close enough to the main gate to see if anybody’s going in or out. If things look OK, I’ll take you back to Fairlawn. If not, well, at least we’ll know.

"Now, I showed you how to lock the deadbolts on the door. Lock them all when I leave. When I come back, I’ll tap on the door three times, wait for two seconds, and then tap two more times. If you don’t hear that, don’t open the door.”

I strapped the 3 57 Mag on my belt and left. When I was outside, I waited until I heard each bolt slide. Ten minutes later I was on the county road and headed toward Ellsworth.

National Emergency.

I got within a block of the main gate at Ellsworth and it was worse than I thought it might be. Before, the main gate was always open and guarded by two guards with M-4 rifles from the 28th Security Squadron. If you had a sticker on your windshield, they’d salute you as you drove through. If you didn’t they’d stop you and ask why you wanted on base. If your name was on the access list for the day, they let you through. If it wasn’t they’d ask for the name of the person you were going to contact. They’d phone that person and ask if you had a legitimate appointment. If you did, they’d apologize for the inconvenience and let you through. If not, they’d respectfully tell you they couldn’t let you on base and show you where you could turn around.

That day, I counted ten guards with M-4’s, three standing in front of the closed gate and the rest behind sandbags on each side of the entrance drive. When I looked closer, there was a machine gun with crew on each side as well.

I didn’t try to drive in. I’d seen enough to know that Ellsworth was in a maximum security scenario. Instead, I turned down the street before the gate and then drove to Fairlawn because I knew Mom would want to know if everything was all right there. Along the way I passed several gas stations and stores that were all closed. A couple of the grocery stores had plywood screwed over the windows.

Because of that, I decided not to tell Mom about

Conception Rock: Part 1

Snowden Speaks — Sun, 01 Sep 2024 00:50:00 +0000

Two Couples Enjoy Labor Day.

By AlexanderT – listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Becky sighed, "Jane, that was great. Just the thing after a long trip."

Eddie agreed, "Oh, yeah. A cold beer and a good sandwich is what we needed."

"Can I get you another?" asked Pete.

Eddie chugged the last of his first beer, "Yes, sir. Don't mind if I do."

They talked for a few minutes but it was obvious Becky and Eddie were nodding off. When Eddie finished his beer, Jane showed them to their room.

As Jane and Pete climbed into bed, she snuggled against him. "You think they're making love?"

"I doubt it. They were awfully tired."

"Maybe Becky was faking so she could get him into bed."

"Could be. I remember being in a strange bed always turned you on. Like you were making love to a stranger."

She pulled his hand to her breast, "Still does."

Becky and Eddie had moved into the house next door a couple of years before Jane and Pete retired. It was great having newlyweds next door, watching their loving commitment to each other. Becky was far from home, having moved to be with Eddie in his new job and appreciated having Jane as a friend.

Pete enjoyed watching the two of them together, Jane with the longer, trimmer body and Becky with her buxom figure & padding. Becky's blond hair was usually in a ponytail, the look of youth. Jane preferred her dark hair short, almost manly.

Eddie, as a new homeowner, called on Pete often for advice. Eddie was in good shape, usually beat Pete in racquetball at the Y. And Eddie had a youthful head of straw like blond hair that Pete, with his gray sideburns envied.

When Pete and Jane retired early because of a corporate merger and special pension offer, they moved to the lake. Pete couldn't tell who was more upset by the separation, Jane or Becky. This labor day was their first weekend together since the move.

Saturday Adventures

In the morning, Jane and Becky went into the little town to do some shopping. Pete took Eddie out on the dock and they fished. And drank beer. Fortunately, no fish interrupted them.

When the ladies returned, Pete fired up the grill and when the coals were just right, he put on some foil wrapped vegetables. A few minutes later, he added two steaks, and a few minutes after that, two more. Jane came out with plates and Becky followed with a bowl of salad. Pete cleared the grill and a late lunch was served.

"Now that was wonderful," trilled Becky. "I've never had a steak that tasted so good."

Pete pounded his chest, "Me man. Me make fire. Cook meat good."

Eddie laughed, "No, it was more than that. Good cuts, well seasoned and cooked just enough." Pete had cooked his and Eddie's medium rare, but had left the other two fillets on a bit longer for the ladies.

They sat for a while, basking in full bellies, the guys with a beer buzz, the ladies sipping wine.

Becky stood, stretching like a cat, her hands above her head, pushing out her ample breasts. They were all watching and Pete felt a stirring in his groin and wondered if it affected Eddie. Looking at the smile on Jane's face, he wondered if it affected her.

Becky was not fat, but she was well padded; nice breasts and fanny. Her blond hair fell to just below her shoulders and Pete couldn't help but wonder what it would look like spread on a pillow. She was shorter than Jane, a little over five foot, but when she smiled, she was six foot tall.

Jane caught him looking and grinned. Jane was no slouch. She had nice tits, a tight ass and a wicked smile that went all the way to her brown eyes.

Jane asked, "Nap time?"

Becky shook her head, "No, I'm going for a walk. See if I can work off some of that delicious meal."

Pete stood, "Good idea. I'll go with you. Jane? Eddie?"

Jane shook her head, "No, not me. Go ahead, I'll clean up here."

"And I'll help," said Eddie.

Pete hesitated. Did 'nap time' mean she wanted Pete to take her to bed and make love to her or was it just Pete's dirty mind? He was leaving Jane, his beautiful wife with Eddie and Eddie was good looking. All of six foot with wavy brown hair and a solid body. Pete wasn't surprised that he snagged Betty. Pete often wondered how he was able to get Jane's attention. His hair was short from the ROTC days and he was a skinny running back. Maybe she was pleased with the way he made love to her, worshiping her body. He hoped it was enough.

Out of the house, Becky said, "You lead the way. It's your forest."

"Not all of it. But, yeah, a lot of it." He led her to a path that went up above the house.

"I love your place. Did you pick it?"

"No, it was a compromise. I wanted to live on top of a mountain when we retired: Jane wanted to live at the beach. We found this place on the lake "

"Hey, it's in the mountains."

He shook his head, "But not on top."

"Does Jane like it?"

"Sorta. She sits out on the dock all times of the day. And I have even found her out there in the dark and the early morning."

He led her up a little slope and directed her to large rock. He lifted her up on to the rock and they sat and Becky looked down. "Wow, this is beautiful. There's the house, the dock, the lake."

"We're still on my property. I wanted to build up here, but Jane wanted to be close to the water. Maybe I'll build me a shelter up here so I can get away, like Jane does."

Becky peered harder. "I don't see them."

"From here you can see the grand room and your room upstairs."

"Oh? You weren't up here this morning were you?"

"No. Was there something to see?"

She grinned, "There might have been."

Pete thought about the effect of strange beds.

She frowned, "What do you think they're doing?"

Pete exhaled, "Worries me, too. Jane said she wanted to take a nap. When that happens in the afternoon, it usually means she's horny."

"But you trust her, don't you?"

He hesitated, "I trust that she loves me."

"You don't think she's faithful?"

"No, but I have no proof. And I don't have any reason to complain. When I was on the road, I wasn't always faithful and I was never sure she didn't have lovers from time to time. We've been to parties where she's disappeared for a short while, but she always leaves with me. I've never caught her, but I've had my suspicions."

Now Becky seemed worried, "You don't think she'll seduce Eddie, do you?"

"I don't know. Maybe she'll just show him her album."

"What album?"

"I was an avid photographer in school. I had taken 35mm pictures of Jane but nothing risqué. I didn't want to have some developer ogling her. When I got my first digital, I took more pictures. It started with her posing, but progressed to bikini's, then topless, then bare. We took some of her kissing my penis, even some of me between her legs."

"So, there are naked pictures of you, too?"

"Not really. All you ever see of me is my penis." He laughed, "But then, that may be my best part. Anyway, it could be anybody with a penis."

Becky shook her head, "Let's head back."

Headed back down the hill, she said, "Maybe we'll catch them."

"I doubt it. If they are screwing when we get there, they'll probably be in our bedroom. They'll hear us and Eddie will go back to your room and pretend to be napping. Jane will be in the shower."

As they neared the house, Pete suggested, "When we go in, grab Eddie and give him a blow job. You'll be able to taste Jane in they were screwing.

The house was quiet and they went up the stairs. Becky slipped into their room and Pete went to Jane's. She was lying in bed, reading. Fresh from the shower.

He sat on the side of the bed and kissed her. "I thought you were sleepy?"

"Oh, you know how that goes. I came up here, got a shower, lay down and couldn't go to sleep." She rolled over and snuggled close to him. "And now I don't have to."

That evening they had burgers and beer on the dock, listening to quiet sounds of nature and watched the world go dark.

When they adjourned to the house, Becky came over to Pete and whispered. "He tasted different."

"Oh, did he taste good?"

She smiled, "Yes."

"You should taste the real thing. Jane is delicious."

She pushed him away.

Show & Tell

Though it was only chilly, very mild, Pete started the fireplace and they sat around drinking beer and wine, talking, saying nothing.

Until Becky asked, "Could you show us your album?"

Jane's brow furrowed, "You told her?"

"Yeah. I thought maybe she could get Eddie to take some photos of her."

Eddie, not knowing what they were talking about, asked, "What photos?"

"I told Becky about some photos I took of Jane."

Becky smiled, "Nudes."

Eddie laughed, "That I'd like to see."

"Well, after you've taken some of Becky, maybe we can swap."

Becky looked from Jane to Eddie, "Do you have your camera here?"

"I've got a couple."

"Why don't you show us your photos and then we can take some of me?"

Pete looked over, "Jane, they're your pictures. It's up to you."

She was non committal, "Yeah, whatever you want to do."

Pete retrieved a memory stick from his office and plugged it in to the TV. As it came up, Pete looked at Jane. "You've seen all these. Anytime you want to stop, just tell me."

They were all stills. Pete had tried video, but a hand held camera didn't work very well when you're having sex. He had some videos, but didn't want to show them.

The first shot was of Jane in a silver lame evening dress, her hair up and away from her neck. She was half turned to the camera so that her breasts were in profile. It was long sleeved and covered her shoulders. But the front plunged almost to her waist, an excellent view of her cleavage. The skirt went to the floor but was slit up to her waist.

It was Becky that voiced the observation of both the guys. "Damn that looks good. But you couldn't wear any undies. I bet the guys were all over you."

Pete said, "Oh yeah. Everyone wanted to dance with her. Even some of the women."

Jane smiled, "It was fun."

"But Harry was especially attentive. Even his wife noticed. Said a VP shouldn't act like that. She and I went looking for you and couldn't find you."

Jane shrugged, "Probably in one of the dining rooms."

Or one of the unused meeting rooms, thought Pete.

There were two more of the dance and Harry was in both of them.

The next series was of Jane on the dock in tee shirt and shorts, her hair wind blown. She was side on to the camera and her hand was on her stomach, pulling the tee shirt snug, her nipples popping out.

Becky whistled, "You do make a tee shirt look good. And where did you find such short shorts? I can see your cheeks."

In the next shots, they were on the dock and she was in a barely there bikini. Becky didn't say a word. There was nothing to say. Jane's cheeks were completely on display as were almost all of her breasts.

Pete sighed, "And that's enough."

Jane shook her head. "No, go ahead and show them the rest of them."

The next, they were still on the dock, but now she was topless. Her tits were medium sized with dark brown circles and nipples. In the photos, her hands caressed them, lifted them, tweaked them. The next group, her hair was loose and her bottom was gone. When the photo was taken, she had a Brazilian trim that called attention to her cleft. She turned left and right, posing.

Pete looked at Eddie, wondering if he was imagining what she might taste like, feel like. Or perhaps, remembering.

Pete drew a breath, "Enough."

Jane quickly demanded. "No, show the rest."

The next was of Jane naked in a king sized bed. Her skin appeared even more pale against the gray sheets. She was on her side, propped on one arm, smiling at the camera, her top leg folded so that her knee touched the sheet, covering her sex, and making her hips appear even wider. A woman waiting to be made love to. Next, she was on her back, her legs spread, her hands cupping her breasts. Then one hand between her legs.

Then Jane was kneeling, looking up at the camera, her arms out stretched in invitation.

"I can stop there," said Pete.

Jane was emphatic. "No."

Jane had both hands wrapped around a large penis, smiling up at the owner, which everyone assumed was Pete. Then it was in her mouth, one hand on his balls. The series finished with globs of white on her face, her tits, her lips.

And then she was on her back, her legs spread again, but his time the penis was between her legs, between her lips, the tip teasing. And then it disappeared inside her. Pete heard Becky gasp.

The next series began with Jane on her knees, her head on a pillow, the penis approaching her. Then entering. And Jane parted her cheeks, showing her anus before a thumb began rubbing. Then pushed in.

Becky gave a little squeak. Then the penis was at the opening vacated by the thumb. And pushed in. Becky cried,"No."

The final shots were of Jane's face, a woman who had been well fucked.

Pete turned off the TV. "I'm going to have another beer. How about it, Eddie?"

But Becky interrupted, "No, we don't need any more. I've got to get to bed. I need my beauty sleep if you're going to take my pictures tomorrow. Come on, Eddie."

Eddie shrugged and smiled as he followed her from the room.

Pete grinned as they left. He looked over at Jane, "She must have been really sleepy?"

"You know better. She liked the photos. She couldn't wait to get him in bed."

"I have to agree. Come here." He pulled her into his lap and they kissed. "I don't blame her. You have one sexy, beautiful body."

She grinned, "You still love this old lady?"

"Old? You're younger than I am."

"Huh. I saw you staring at her titties, bigger than mine."

"Have yours ever been not big enough for me to make love to them?"

She stood and pulled him to his feet. She grinned, "She's right, we need to go to bed."

Naked, they slipped into bed together. Jane snuggled close to Pete and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Me, sure. Are you okay. The pictures were of you."

"Yeah, but no one has seen me naked since we got married but you and the doctor, and she doesn't count." She was quiet for a minute, "Have you shown the photos to anyone else?"

"No, they're your photos. I would never do that without asking your permission. Have you shown them to anybody?"

"No, of course not." Then she giggled, "Eddie liked them."

"So did Becky." Pete observed

"Really?" Jane was shocked, then curious.

"Why do you think she was so ready to go to bed.” Pete teased. “I think if you had asked her to go to bed with you, she would have gone."

"Maybe. But I think what turned her on most, were the pictures of you."

"I wasn't in the pictures." Pete insisted.

She reached down and caressed him. "Part of you was. And it was the really good part."

He was already semi hard from the conversation, but her stroking soon had him solid. He rolled over on top her, spread her legs and easily entered her.

She looked up and smiled, "And tomorrow you get to take pictures of Becky. Maybe she'll get naked for you."

"You want to see her naked, too, don't you, Jane?”

"Hmm." Was all she could say, as her body peaked in orgasm.

Sunday Photography

In the morning, Pete and Jane, in tee shirts and shorts, were having coffee when Becky and Eddie came in, Eddie in a tee shirt and jeans, Becky in one of Jane's short satin robes. The two younger lovers appeared a bit worn. Jane poured coffee and began making pancakes.

They talked about the photoshoot. Becky wanted to do the tee shirt and shorts, and the bikini, but wasn't sure about topless.

They finished breakfast and Jane led Becky to the other room while Pete and Eddie cleaned up. When they finished, Pete and Eddie sat and had another cup of coffee.

"Have you ever put any of Jane’s photos online?" Eddie asked Pete

"No, and I don't think she has. Don't get me wrong, I think she's beautiful and sexy, but I don't want other guys using her image to get themselves off. Since we were first married I always wanted to take her picture, but I didn't want some photo clerk somewhere ogling her when he developed the prints. But with digital cameras, nobody sees them but me."

"Well, I...." Eddie started to say, before the ladies interrupted.

"Pete, Eddie, come here and bring the camera."

Pete had taken out two cameras that morning and they were on the sofa table. They entered the great room and found Becky in the silver lame evening dress. The one in Jane’s photos, with the deep vee in front and slit up the side.

"Oh, wow, that's great." Pete declared. He wasn't going to say it looked better on Becky but it barely contained her tits. "Let's get you over in the light."

"No, it has to be here." She lifted the hem and they could see she was standing on three thick books to make up for the height difference between her and Jane. Pete took some shots, click, click, click then said, "Turn around."

She giggled, "Can't."

"Okay, I'll go around."

Jane laughed, "No, that's not the problem. Becky, turn around."

Becky turned and they could see that the zipper stopped just above her waist. Her tits were too big for the dress.

Pete sighed, then, "I know, reach up as if you're unzipping it. Yes, like that. Now look back here, over your shoulder as if you're enticing your lover to follow you." click, click, click.

"That's good. Now let's go out on the dock."

Jane suggested, "You two go on ahead. She has to change and we'll be there in a minute or two."

Pete and Eddie were waiting when they came out, both ladies in shorts and tee shirts. Pete had Becky stand in the sun, turn and pulled the top down snug. "What is that?"

"I've got my bikini top on under this."

Pete pondered for a moment. "Okay, take off the tee and the shorts. We'll get the bikini shots.”

She did and struck some poses click, click, click.

“Now slowly pull the string and take off the top.” Pete instructed as he stood to reposition his frame. She didn't hesitate and Eddie didn't flinch. As the second tie was pulled and the bikini top fell to the ground, her full breasts were now exposed. They were large with a little sag, the nipples dark rose and hard. Pete stepped in, taking in her tits and her beaming smile. click, click, click. Becky was thrilled, feeling rather naughty and loving the admiration from both Pete & Jane.

“Now the bottoms.” Pete directed her.

She kicked off the lower portion of the bikini and Pete was treated to a neatly trimmed blond bush. More photos click, click, click.

"Now put on the shorts and tee, but without the bikini.” Pete said. A minute later she stood clothed.

"Now turn and snug down the shirt. Oh, yeah. That's what we want, just look at those perky nipples." click, click, click. Pete was elated at what he was capturing in the camera.

Jane & Eddie were also loving the show of sensuality in Becky’s eyes. Everyon

Prepper Partners: Part 1

Sat, 31 Aug 2024 16:07:46 +0000

It couldn’t happen but it did. Now, we have to survive.

By ronde, in 3 parts. Listen to the ► podcast at Connected.

I thought I was ready when the time to be ready arrived. I wasn’t. I was more ready than most people, but still not ready for what happened.

To this day, I don’t know why it happened and apparently there’s nobody left to explain it. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. What was is probably gone for a long, long time, and people like us have to pick up the pieces and get on with trying to live. I’m writing all this down in hopes that if and when things do get back to normal a lot of people will read it and do what all people should have done before.

I started getting ready as more of a hobby than actually preparing for when the “shit hits the fan", or “SHTF” as the survivalists called it. There were many scenarios that would cause SHTF, none of which I thought would ever happen. The leading scenarios were about the world, or at least the U S, going from normal to crisis to lawlessness in a matter of weeks or even days in some cases. You had your:

1. "the world economy is going to collapse" people, your

2. "there will be another civil war" people, and your

3. "another country will bomb and then invade the U S" people.

I tended to discount these for what, to me at least, were logical reasons.

While the economy had gone belly up at least a couple times, the world didn’t descend into chaos. Even though in at least some cases it took years to do so, governments managed to work through the depression and come out healthy.

Another American civil war would just be stupid. Civil wars have never worked out well. The group with the most resources always wins, and they usually aren’t very nice to the losers. After most modern civil wars, the leaders on the losing side end up being executed for treason or some other offense. Why would any sane person even think about starting a civil war unless they were absolutely confident they could win?

While I supposed it was possible that some other country could launch nukes at the U S, the result would be their own destruction as well. It was also possible some country could load up a million or so soldiers and ship them across the Pacific or the Atlantic with the intention of attacking the big cities on the East or West coast, but it’s very probable they wouldn’t make it. That many ships or planes would be spotted long before they posed any real danger and the U S Air Force and Navy would end the threat before it got started.

Right behind these were “artificial intelligence will take over and eliminate the human race” and a global pandemic that kills most of the human population of the world.

While these made some decent novels and movies, they weren’t all that realistic. I mean, artificial intelligence isn’t really all that smart. AI can rapidly review data from a multitude of sources, develop conclusions from that data based upon its programmed algorithms, and then take or recommend actions based upon those conclusions and again, its programmed algorithms. It can further examine those actions and determine if they were correct and modify its logical process as needed.

At the time it happened, I was a civilian electro-mechanical engineer working on B 1 B flight simulators at Ellsworth AFB and my job required a thorough and current knowledge of that sort of thing because I was writing it into my machine control programs. Everything I'd read told me even the best artificial intelligence is really good at adapting its programming to different conditions and reporting any conclusions in appropriate language, but in reality is maybe actually as smart as a five-year old. Though the data set used can be enormous, any autonomous decisions are made just as a five-year old would make them – by trial and error.

A self-driving car can learn where it is and where it needs to go, but it you want to transfer its “brain” to an aircraft or a robot, that requires a software change and a human has to do that. Artificial Intelligence can read most current languages spoken in the world and can be taught the phonetics to speak them correctly. It can also be taught to generate art, prose and poetry when given appropriate parameters. It can’t just one day decide to become a best selling author or poet and start writing, or begin painting scenes that it visualizes on its own. It needs a human to ask it to do something or to tell it what to do. Yes, there can be some unforeseen consequences, but when all else fails, a human can always “pull the plug” and stop the computer.

A global pandemic was possible, but even in the worst pandemics like the plague and Spanish Flu, enough people survived to keep society going. Yes, the disease slowed civilization down, but civilization didn’t die.

There were several other causes like natural disasters such as tornadoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, blizzards and forest fires that could likely happen and cause significant stress on society. The more I thought about those causes, the more sense it made to do some preparation. It wouldn’t hurt and if something did happen, I’d be prepared.

It was also a way to get back to quasi-reality from my job. Back then, I spent all my work days immersed in tuning the interactions between computer code and hydraulic servo valves and the response time of hydraulic systems, and I needed something a lot less complex to decompress on the weekends.

Location?

I started reading about what I would need and decided my best bet was to have a month’s supply of food in my apartment and a shotgun for self-defense. The extra food was easily affordable since I wasn’t married, lived in a two-room apartment, and worked too many hours to actually spend much of my income on anything else. I still had the single-shot shotgun I got as a kid so I could hunt rabbits, squirrels and pheasants on my dad’s farm. I still did that when I had the time.

I stored a month’s supply of canned and dried food in my bedroom and bought three boxes of buckshot to go with the box of bird shot I already had. I was all set; until I read some more and watched some videos.

One article I read asked the question, “What will you do if you’re away from home when the shit hits the fan?” The answer was something called a “get-home bag” and was a small backpack filled with enough to get me from my office to home if there was trouble in the city or on the road.

I bought a small backpack and stuffed it with protein bars, six bottles of water, and a first-aid kit. Also in that backpack was a coffee can with a candle and a disposable lighter, but I’d always had those in my car. If you’re stuck alongside the road in a heavy snow like we sometimes get during the South Dakota winters, it’s nice to have a heat source so you don’t freeze to death before the wrecker gets there. I was all set, until I read some more and watched more videos.

The opinion of all the experts on the internet was you should prepare to weather a crisis at home. That’s where your food supply would be and you’d be familiar with the area, but the next question was, “What if you can’t get to your home or if your home isn’t there or if it isn’t safe to go to your home?” The answer, actually three answers, were a “bug-out bag”, a place to “bug-out” to, and to never let my gas tank get lower than three-quarters of a tank so I’d have the gas to “bug-out”. I think that was when my hobby became sort of an obsession. Looking back now, I wish it had become an obsession a lot sooner.

Keeping my gas tank filled was something I already did during the winter. It’s not unusual in my area of South Dakota to have a heavy snow that will cause traffic to back up for hours. Having a candle in a coffee can will keep you from freezing to death, but a full tank of gas and a car heater will keep you comfortable.

The bug-out bag was easy. It was just a scaled up version of my get-home bag. It was a bigger backpack filled with food for three days and water for a week. Since I might need to make a fire to cook and keep warm, I included a hunting knife, a hatchet, two disposable lighters, and a ferrocerium rod and striker in a metal box full of charred cotton cloth in case the lighters died. If I got wet or just needed some more layers, I had an extra set of clothing, and in case something happened to the clothing, a sewing kit.

According to everything I red, it might be that I’d have to fight my way out of something, and to do that, I bought a bigger first-aid kit in case I got hurt and had to fix myself up. Stuck in a pocket in the flap was an unloaded Sig P365 nine-millimeter semi-automatic pistol with a hundred rounds of ammo to keep me from getting hurt. Carrying the pistol required me to get a state carry permit, but that was easy. After three visits to a gun range to practice, I spent one Saturday taking a class and then took my application and check for the fee to the local sheriff’s office. A month later, I had my South Dakota carry permit in my wallet.

The place to bug-out to was harder. The articles I read said the place should be pretty isolated because looters would be roaming the countryside looking to take what they didn’t have from people like me who did. Since I lived in an apartment, I’d probably at least have my neighbors begging from me. Montana seemed to be the favored location, but Montana was a five-hour drive from Box Elder, South Dakota where I had my apartment. Besides, I didn’t have enough money to buy even a small place in Montana.

Dad’s farm was closer. The six hundred acres where he’d run some cattle and raised hay wasn’t exactly out in the middle of nowhere, but it was a little over twenty miles from the nearest city, that being Rapid City. I figured I’d just build a hideaway cabin to use for hunting and fishing the small river that ran through it. I did both there every year anyway, and with a small cabin, I could stay over a weekend instead of driving back and forth. If I needed it to bug-out, it would be there.

I still call the place Dad’s farm, but it’s essentially mine. He willed it to my mother when he passed and her will states that it will go to me when she passes. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it when that happened because the inheritance taxes would be huge, but I liked hunting and fishing there, so I was playing “wait and see”. The land would never drop in value.

I was paying the taxes on the place because Mom couldn’t afford to. I didn’t want to continue to pay property taxes on the old house and outbuildings, so I had them torn down. Then I rented the place to a local cattle breeder. His cattle and the small herd of horses he ran there kept the old pastures and fields cropped down and the rent paid the remaining property taxes every year with a little left over to go toward the taxes I’d eventually pay.

Provisions.

Once I’d decided to build a bug-out place, I started reading and watching videos about what I needed to build. I found people who recommended just a small log cabin, people who built what would have been called a “fall-out shelter” in the 1950’s, people who built basically a full sized and equipped house, and everything in between.

I wasn’t all that thrilled about a log cabin after I read more about the ones you can buy. They would be hard to heat in our frigid South Dakota winters and were pretty expensive since they were intended to be full-time residences. I thought about cutting some of the pine trees on the place and building a cabin myself, but that seemed like a ton of work that would take me a year of weekends to finish. I decided a log cabin was a bad idea.

I saw some ads about pre-manufactured shelters that could be installed in a week or so by the manufacturer. I thought that would work out pretty well. I could buy just the steel box and then fit it out however I wanted. They were all underground, so I’d have the benefit of some natural insulation when it was time to heat it. There was only one hitch. I could have bought a three bedroom house in Box Elder for what one would have cost me to buy and install. I decided that was a bad idea too.

As I kept reading and watching videos, I discovered there were some ideas about building a bug-out place that seemed to conflict. The main one had to do with the need to keep your bug-out place a secret. If you didn’t and some emergency happened, everybody who hadn’t prepped would come knocking on your door for food, shelter and safety.

For this reason, I figured running electricity to whatever I built, like a lot of people did, was stupid. I could live without electricity, and overhead power lines running out through the middle of a farm field would be like a road sign saying, “This way for free food.” The other problem with electricity is electricity has a tendency to stop if there are high winds or sleet. It wouldn’t do any good to have the wiring if there was nothing in the wires.

Another thing I thought was pretty short-sighted were the people who said they were prepared to live off the land. I’d hunted and fished for most of my life, and my experience had taught me two things. If you depend upon hunting, fishing, and foraging for food, you’ll probably starve to death. I’d spent a lot of long days in the woods without ever seeing so much as a rabbit let alone a deer. It’s the same with fishing. Some days, you catch several fish. Other days, all you get is a sunburn and some mosquito bites.

Foraging for plants is interesting and fun and I’d done it as a Boy Scout, but if that’s your only food source, it won’t take long to pick all the edible plants in your immediate area. Then you’ll have to move to find more and that means giving up the security you spent all that money to build.

I figured I needed a place big enough to store a lot of non-perishable food and enough other stuff so I could fend for myself for at least a year. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t hunt and fish. It just meant I wouldn’t go hungry when the deer, rabbits, or fish didn’t cooperate.

I liked the idea of an underground bunker for several reasons. If it was underground, I’d get the benefit of the natural insulation of the soil, and at least from a distance, nobody could tell there was a bunker there. Concrete seemed a better alternative than steel. All the ammo bunkers on the base were poured concrete and they’d been there since World War 2.

I thought I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know how to get it built. I figured the cost wouldn’t be a problem because it would be just a concrete box with a concrete lid. The problem was who could I trust to build it and not tell anybody else where it was?

That Christmas, I went to the assisted living home in Rapid City where my mother was living to take her a Christmas gift. I told her I was going to build some sort of cabin on the farm so I’d have a place to stay when I went hunting or fishing. Bless her heart, she gave me the answer I’d been looking for.

“Remember Jeff Hayes from high school? His mother lives here and we talk all the time. He owns a construction company now, and she said he did the same thing except he built his under the ground. I don’t think I’d like living underground, but she saw it and said it’s really nice, considering. You ought to go talk to him and find out how he did it.”

I did remember Jeff. He and I had hunted and fished together a lot when we were in high school. We sort of drifted apart when I went to college and he enlisted in the Army. When he got out of the Army, he went to a trade school. We were just different that way. He was very practical and I tended more toward the theoretical.

Army Buddy.

Jeff grinned when I walked into the building where his office was located.

“Well I’ll be damned. Ted Jackson. Figured you’d forgotten all about Lakeview High and everybody you went to school with.”

I smiled.

“No, I’ve just been really busy. I was visiting my mother and she said I should come talk to you about a project I have in mind.”

I told Jeff what I’d been thinking about and asked what he would recommend and why that would be better than what I’d already read and seen in videos. He smiled.

“When I was in Iraq, I talked to a guy from Montana whose dad had been getting ready for the big one for years. He didn’t know what the big one was gonna be, so he tried to cover all the bases. I learned a lot from listening to what his dad built.

"When I came back, I took a look at how politics and the economy were going and decided maybe he was right. Like you, I read a lot of books and watched a lot of videos, but I had my military training and combat experience too. A lot of those books and videos didn’t make any sense.

"I thought about it for a year before I built what I built. I ain’t saying it’s perfect, but it’s good enough. I’m not sure I want to be around if something happens that it isn’t good enough for anyway.”

My question was what did Jeff build and how did he build it without a bunch of people knowing. He just smiled again.

“I own a construction company, so I have the equipment and skills to build about anything. I also have two guys on my crew who think like I do, and the local ready-mix plant owner and a couple of his crew do too. We got together and each of us built basically the same thing on weekends. The six of us are the only ones who know where and what we have, and we aren’t going to tell anybody else. Since we go way back, I’ll make an exception in your case. You got any idea about what you want?”

When I said other than what I’d already told him I wasn’t sure, Jeff opened a drawer in his desk and took out a set of plans. The first page said “Plans for a 1,200 square foot Ranch With Partial Basement”. Jeff flipped past the first two pages and then pushed the plans toward me.

“The rest of this is just so anybody finding our plans will think they’re just for a house I built. The basement plan will show you what I built. Since I know you pretty good, if you’ll swear to keep your mouth shut, I’ll talk to the other guys about helping you build one. It would be good to know there’s another of us in the area in case we somehow have to leave our own place.

Noah’s Ark.

We couldn’t start construction until May because the nighttime temperatures were still dropping below freezing and the ground hadn’t yet thawed out. Once we started, it surprised me how quickly things went and how little it cost. In a month and a half of weekend work, I had my bunker. It was out in the middle of a pasture about a mile from the road and was invisible unless you got close enough to see the hatch sitting in the ground. I traded my car for a four-wheel drive pickup so I could get to it in about any kind of weather.

It’s an underground bunker twelve feet wide and thirty feet long. It’s all concrete with leak stoppers between the floor and walls and between the walls and ceiling, the s

The Noisy Neighbor: Part 2

Snowden Speaks — Sat, 31 Aug 2024 00:44:00 +0000

Darren has two women to please, or risk a citation.

by JohnJohnson00. Listen to the podcast at Steamy Stories.

I was out with my girlfriends at a nightclub. We were drinking, singing and dancing, having a good time together just like any other night out. I went to the bar by myself to buy another round of cocktails for the four of us and waited for the bartender to notice me. A lot of people were there and a lot of them were taller and louder than me, so I knew it wasn't even worth trying to stand out from everyone else until some of them had left. I pulled out my phone from my handbag and opened a snapchat from my boyfriend, Will.

He was out with his friends, but in the background of the photo was undoubtedly his ex-girlfriend, Jessica. What was he doing out with her? And why didn't he let me know she was going beforehand? Trying to stay calm, I went to respond. But before I could, one of the guys at the bar came and sat on the stool next to mine and started talking to me.

He looked like a typical uni student. He was tall and kinda jacked, with a confident vibe about him. I knew why he was approaching me, and I was ready to shoot him down, but he was actually really kind and sweet to me. I thought he was gonna compliment my tits and say how much he'd like to take me back to his and all that, but instead, he just wanted to learn more about me. We talked about family, my dream of owning a café, how I wanna have kids when I'm older, wholesome things like that. My boyfriend messaged me again at some point, probably because he'd seen that I had opened his message and not replied, but I was so interested in the conversation that I chose to just ignore him for a while.

Eventually, some of the people surrounding the bar had left, and the bartender asked me what I wanted. After I ordered the drinks, I turned back to the guy I was speaking to.

"So, do you have a girlfriend?" I surprised myself at the words that came out of my mouth. Why was I interested? I mean, I knew why, he was hot and seemed nice, but I was taken. The photo of Will with his ex in the background flashed in my mind for a second.

Before I could think about it more, he said "No no, I'm single. But I am looking for someone. That's why I started talking to you."

I laughed, nervously "Heh. I, I have a boyfriend, so..." I trailed off, blushing at the thought that he found me attractive. His admitting that he was interested in me the way he did showed courage. I wanted to reward his behaviour, not shut it down and make him think he wasn't good enough.

"Oh, don't worry, love." He goes on to say. "I'm not interested in him, I'm interested in you."

I just stared at him in silence. I didn't know what to say to that. I didn't expect someone who seemed so compassionate and polite could come out with something so forward. His eyes never left mine. Something happened in those few seconds. Some switch in my brain flicked, and I already made my mind up.

The bartender placed the tray on drinks down, snapping my eyes away from the guy I was speaking to. I picked up the tray and balanced it on one hand as I placed my other hand on his knee.

"Wait here for me." I said in a low voice. As began to strut back to my table with the girls, I looked back to see him staring at me with a smirk on his face.

Not long later, I found myself bracing against the door of a stall in the men's room as the bar guy pounded me from behind. My black dress was hiked up around my waist and I was standing on uneven feet since one of my heels had fallen off at some point. This guy was full of surprises. I still didn't even know his name, and yet here he was rearranging my insides with his big dick while squeezing my boobs hanging out the top of my dress. I had been with guys before, and Will was the best boyfriend yet when it came to sex, but this guy made sex a whole different experience. He thrust with such urgency, and I felt so desired. We hadn't spoken a word to each other since I collected the drinks at the bar. Nothing but ragged breathing and the occasional moan and groan escaped our lips.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened and the sound of a group of men laughing followed soon after. I shut up, stood up straight, and pushed back against the bar guy to get him to stop. This meant that he was bottomed out inside of me for the first time that night, and since I was already approaching an orgasm, this didn't help at all. I tried to hold it back as the sound of the men moved from left to right, but all I was doing was slowing the build-up, making the inevitable orgasm even stronger. I came. I came harder than I think I ever have. As the first moans escaped my lips, Bar Guy covered my mouth with his hand, muffling the sounds that followed. But by then it was too late. The sudden silence from the group meant only one thing, they had heard me.

The door to the stall next to us opened, and after a few bangs and bumps, a head peered over through the gap between the stall wall and the ceiling. "Oh, for fucks sake, lads. It's Darren with another bird!" Cheering and laughter came from where the rest of the group was standing as the shame I felt went to battle with the pleasures I was still experiencing from my orgasm.

Figuring we've been caught now, 'Darren' began slowly pumping into me again. With his hand no longer covering my mouth and his dick moving again, my moaning resumed. "Come on, lads. Give us some privacy would ya?" He said, putting on more of a Yorkshire accent to match that of the men. Seemingly limitless waves of shame flowed through me, yet Darren's slow thrusts helped my pleasure overpower my shame, and I slowly started pushing back to meet his thrusts.

In a second, louder bout of laughter, the head disappeared behind the stall wall, and the group made their way out of the bathroom. "Sorry about that, babe. They were some friends I hang out with, sometimes" He said, his accent from before gone. "You alright?"

My legs were shaking, struggling to support my weight while also working to meet Darren's slow thrusts. I tried to speak, but no words came out of my mouth, only the strangest noises that sounded like they belonged to a wounded animal. Darren must have senses that I was losing it. He turned me around, picked me up, and fucked me standing, relieving my overworked legs of any more work and allowing me to focus only on the pleasure he was giving me. It wasn't long before he pulled out, put me down, and had me jack him off to completion. Ropes of cum were slung onto my face and breast, with some hanging off my chin. When I slumped down again the door of the stall, he gently cleaned me up with some tissue and let me lean on him while we went outside to grab a taxi.

When we made it to his apartment, I remember him carrying me as if we were on our honeymoon. He laid me in his bed, slipped my heels off of me and pulled the covers up around me.

We fucked through the day after I woke up. It was my idea, I woke him up with a blowjob and told him I wanted him to ravish me as hard as he could. We only stopped to make brunch, and then we kept going again. I was loving it, and I had forgotten all about Will and the girls. But we must have been too loud, or I guess I must have been too loud, because we got a knock on the door. Darren stopped pumping into me.

"Ah, shit. That'll be Mrs Brown again." He said, reluctantly pulling his cock out of me. "I need to apologies to her for the noise."

Darren said he would handle it and told me to hide in the bathroom. I plucked my phone from in-between my scrunched-up dress and discarded panties and hid as he told me to.

In the bathroom, I had an argument over text with Will. He was mad I didn't answer my phone and I was mad he had been out with his ex, although even then I knew that I was probably more in the wrong than him, given what I had spent all morning doing. I huffed and dropped my phone in anger. After a few seconds, I became aware of the sounds coming from outside. Sounded like moaning. I peeked out of the door and saw Darren ploughing a busty middle-aged woman with one hand behind his back and another on her ass. Was she the person who knocked on the door!? After watching the scene for a few minutes, I realised my hand had gone to my pussy and decided this was more hot than it was shocking. I masturbated for a good while, watching this woman get dominated and hearing her squeal and squeak each time he bottomed her out. When he erupted inside of her, I came silently too, my knees buckling and body convulsing. Just as I had recovered from my orgasm, Darren swung open the door and I jumped back farther into the room.

"Problem solved. I wouldn't worry about her anymore." He walked over to me and pulled me into a deep kiss. Despite everything that was going on, I melted into him.

We stayed embrace for a while before he pulled away and led me by my hand to the bedroom. The woman was laid with her legs open and Darren's cum leaking out of her. Darren pushed me onto the bed, and I looked at the woman next to me. She stared back with dead eyes, her head clearly empty and her mind not fully functioning. Darren entered me as I locked eyes with the woman, and our day of non-stop fucking continued.

by JohnJohnson00 for Literotica.

The Byzantine Empress: Part 7

Piper's Posts — Fri, 30 Aug 2024 16:23:46 +0000

Based on the work of Robyn Bee, In 7 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

An Empress' Guard Remembers.

Then, as sudden as the crash after lightning, the weight was gone.

I didn't immediately react. My mind was a storm of pounding fury, my breath ragged in my ears and my body frozen and tense.

After a few heartbeats of nothing, my soldier's instincts forced me into motion. I lowered my shield, becoming suddenly aware of my shrieking muscles.

[[MORE]]

I groaned, swayed, and would have fallen over had another body not leaned into me.

Helena. My shield mate.

Her eyes were glazed and her breath was the uneven, gasping hitch of a body pushed beyond all limits.

But she was alive.

She was here beside me, and together, we steadied each other enough to stand on our own. I blinked my vision into focus and raised my head.

We were in a charnel house.

Dozens lay dead before us, a carpet of blood and pale bodies that stretched from our feet to the splintered entrance. They'd been gutted and cut open, their insides spilled onto the surrounding stones.

And the stench.

It was shit and misery and death; a miasma of horror worse than any sort of butcher's yard. Beside me, Helena coughed, staggered to the side, and retched. I just swayed in place, breathing through my mouth.

"They ran away," a voice rasped. "They all ran away."

It was the Empress. She was just a handful of steps behind us, leaning heavily onto the haft of her spear. Her limbs shook with exhaustion.

"Augusta," I croaked. "Are you hurt?"

Blood stained the sweat-darkened purple of her dress. Thick droplets of it that were splattered along her chest and shoulders. It oozed from between her fingers, trickling down from the splintered tip of her spear.

"Ah," she said, seeming to notice herself for the first time. "No. I, I don't believe any of this is mine. And you?"

She reached a hand up to push at the strip of purple that held back her hair, leaving a streak of red behind on her forehead.

I didn't answer, refusing to look down and examine myself. I wasn't ready to see, so I forced myself to stare down the hallway, distracting myself with thoughts of survival.

And indeed, it appeared as if the Empress was correct. Nothing moved within the corridor, and I could hear nothing in the room beyond the shattered portal. The invaders had fled, and not a moment too soon, as I finally noticed that we'd been pushed most of the way back to Theodora's sitting room.

Not far away, Helena groaned. She managed to push herself upright, leaning heavily against the wall, her face wan.

"Helena," I said. "Are you,”

I coughed, feeling a wave of bile rise through me. The smell was horrific, made so much worse by the thick summer air and the windless confines of this tunnel. My stomach writhed, but I clamped down on it ruthlessly.

Not yet.

Helena was covered in blood. Her chest, legs, and sword arm were caked in death, her face and neck splattered with it. I staggered over to her, conscious of the gumminess between my own fingers.

"I'm fine," she said, trying to smile. "I'm fine. It's just, how,”

She turned and threw up once again. It was a hacking, heaving sort of retch; the kind that left you shaking. I came to stand beside her, pressing my hip to her side, all I could do without dropping my sword and shield. She leaned some of her weight into me.

"Leontius," the Empress said, moving to join us. She lay a hand on the unarmored part of Helena's hip, providing what comfort she could. "Is it safe to move?"

I blinked, stirred, and shook my head. "Not yet. We still don't know what's going on in the rest of the palace. This is still the safest place for us."

Theodora nodded, turning her head to gaze down the length of the passageway. An ocean of red dotted with pale islands of green and blue.

"It seems remarkable," she said. "That we survived against so many."

"These weren't soldiers, Augusta," I said, exhaling. "They were potters, blacksmiths, dockworkers, They were drunk, pushed onto our swords by those further back. They were badly led, unarmored and most didn't even have any weapons. They were just,”

"People," Theodora finished for me. "Dead because they believed in something strongly enough to fight for it."

I shifted, my gaze going back to Helena. She was still bent into the wall, her eyes screwed tightly shut and her frame vibrating with repressed feeling. She'd just gone through her first battle, and every single thought and feeling that she'd pushed aside while in the midst of it was tearing into her.

My own soul felt raw, overused, and stretched near to the point of snapping. I could feel my own crash coming, though experience let me push it away. For a time, at least.

"We believe as well, Augusta," I said. "In you."

The Empress smiled, though it was one that I'd yet to see wear. It was an expression of unyielding certainty, of iron-hard conviction; the whole of it framed by a profound sense of grief. It was the smile of the lonely farmer taking his axe to the rabid skull of his favorite dog.

She stepped forward to kiss my cheek. "I'll be back with a bucket of water."

The Empress slipped into her private chambers a few moments later, leaving Helena and me alone. My shield mate had managed to straighten herself, though her body still shook. I watched as she breathed deeply, the lines of her face growing looser with every exhalation.

She was eventually able to open her eyes and meet my gaze. I felt something crack within me, like the first axe blow that had split the door.

It was still her.

Though tears traced the lines of her cheeks, and something had changed within the cypress of her eyes, nothing had been lost. I still recognized her. She was still the woman I,

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Helena, I, what?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm here weeping like a child. But I'll get stronger, Leo."

I blinked.

"I promise," she said, looking away. "I won't hold you back for long. I just, I promise I'll be stronger."

Then, despite the blood coating my limbs and the charnel house stink of the hallway, I laughed. I laughed, and I laughed and I felt myself draw back from the edge.

Helena's face went scarlet. "Fuck you," she hissed, turning to march away.

"No!" I gasped, lurching to step in front of her. "I'm sorry. It's not that! It's,”

I devolved into another peel of laughter. And though Helena's face burned a shade brighter, she didn't move away.

When I finally mastered myself, I stepped a bit nearer to her. I looked into her eyes, my face relaxing into a smile. "Helena, you wonderful, amazing, beautiful, and hopelessly blind woman. You're the strongest person I've ever known."

She snorted, though I saw something shine within her eyes. "You weren't the one crying and puking."

"No," I agreed. "Not yet."

"It's coming?"

I nodded.

She made a small sound, moving nearer to me. "Then, I'll be here when it does."

The Empress returned a few minutes later with a bucket of water and several strips of clean, white cloth.

We dropped our weapons, washing the worst of the blood and sweat from our hands and faces. Helena and I discovered that we'd each suffered a myriad of cuts, and to my horror, the Empress proceeded to tend to our injuries.

"Leontius, enough!" She snapped, as I tried to squirm away. She looked ferocious in her still bloody dress, her hands clamping down on me. "You risked your lives for me, the least I can do is clean and wrap your wounds."

"Augusta," I tried.

"Stop," she said, taking up a clean rag. "I'll be quick. I have some experience if that reassures you."

I frowned, glancing over to Helena.

"At the brothel," she said. "When the men were too rough; Theodora would patch us up."

"You didn't have a guard?" I asked. "Or a bouncer?"

"Not until Helena grew a little older," the Empress said, pulling over a clean strip of cloth. "Your arm now, Leontius."

"Augusta, I can handle,” Her glare silenced me, and I meekly held my forearm out for her to inspect.

"Thank you." She took my arm, her fingers strong and sure. "Please don't keep fighting me on this. I'm having difficulty sitting still, to tell you the truth. I keep, well, no matter."

I relaxed, submitting myself to her care. The Empress fell silent, unwilling to explain further. But she didn't have to, the stiffness in her limbs and the tension at the corners of her eyes mirrored my own.

Our day wasn't yet done.

The Empress was most of the way through checking over Helena when I heard the sound of boots on stone. The two women heard it with me, and we moved as one. Helena and I had our shields strapped on in moments, the Empress having collected our swords for us in the meantime.

We jogged towards the shattered entrance, my limbs stiff and my heart beating faster.

"Mary's tits!" A voice loudly swore. "It fucking reeks here. Are you sure we're going the right way, Serg?"

"I thought you'd be used to the smell of your own sack by now, Grat?"

"Oh, they stink, do they? How about you come lick them clean for me, Niketas?"

Helena and I slowed, exchanging incredulous looks. We stopped before reaching the first body, my eyebrows high in disbelief.

"Shut your hole, Grat," I heard Sergius growl. "You too Nik. Shields up, lads, we don't know what we're going to find here."

"Why have we stopped?" The Empress said. She'd picked up her broken spear haft. "Are these our men?"

"They're Leo's friends," Helena said with a wide grin. "From his legion days. Since when have they been in the palace?"

The tension rushed from me in a wave, leaving my body light and trembling. I sucked in a deep breath.

"I'll give 'em a few licks too, Grat!" I roared. "I'm tired of breathing them in!"

I heard a series of startled curses, while behind me, the Empress laughed. There was a stampede of pounding boots and then a squad of armored soldiers appeared in the shattered doorway.

"Centenarius!" Sergius laughed. "You're alive! The Empress?"

"She's here as well!" I called back.

The men whooped, cheering and thanking God as Sergius turned back to them. "We found them, boys! Maurice, run back and tell the General. You three, watch the hall."

The two women and I moved back as Sergius led his men in towards us. What followed was coarse laughter, back-slapping, wide-eyed realization, and a whole mess of clumsy bows as the Empress stepped out to introduce herself.

Theodora smiled through the men's stammering apologies. She thanked them each in turn, her voice shifting from a high, courtly accent to the less polished version she'd have grown up with. It was the language these soldiers knew, and the Empress left blushing cheeks and sheepish smiles in her wake.

The gates, we were happy to learn, had been sealed. Though, as of yet, nobody knew who had let the rioters in. The mob still rampaged through parts of the palace, though they'd been beaten back from the outer wall. Belisarius was in command of the palace's fighting men, coordinating squads like Sergius' that were sweeping through the halls.

"And my husband?" The Empress asked.

"Safe, Augusta," Sergius answered. "Last I heard, at any rate. The General was with him when the enemy broke in."

"Thank you, soldier," she said, laying a palm on his forearm.

"A, Augusta!" Sergius stammered, and I grinned to see the grizzled old veteran flush.

"Well then, gentlemen," Theodora said. "I believe that I will leave you here. I've got to wash the stink of Gratian's balls from my skin."

A few of the men snorted, trying to choke down on their laughter. Grat, for his part, looked positively horrified. He mangled a few words, his entire face blazing a scarlet. He hadn't produced anything more than a gargle before the Empress slipped away with a wink and a small laugh.

"Grat," Sergius said in the moment of silence after her departure. "You're a fucking idiot."

"It wasn't me!" Gratian exclaimed, his eyes wide with panic. "Serg, I, Nik, and, the Empress! She,”

"Dumber than a sackful of rocks," Serg said, shaking his head. "Start piling these bodies outside, and the rest of you grinning monkeys can help."

"Oh, don't be too hard on him," Helena said. "I was worried that he'd start talking about his phallus again."

Gratian fled, followed by the laughter of his squad mates. Sergius shook his head again, but I saw a smile part the hairs of his worn face.

"Aye, well, we can thank the Lord for that." The old soldier's gaze shifted to the doors to Theodora's salon. "The Empress, she really fought with you?"

My face twisted into a grimace. "I tried talking her out of it, but I didn't have time."

"What a woman," Sergius said, amazed. "And you, Helena, not a lot of stratiotai could have held back so many."

"Leo did most of the work," she said.

Both Sergius and I snorted.

"I'm an old soldier, lass. I know what it would have taken to do this." Sergius suddenly stiffened, saluting her with a fist over his heart. "Stratiotai!"

Helena saluted back, her face flushing. I grinned, sure that she was about to squirm with suppressed pride.

"Come on," I said. "Let's go help the monkeys."

, ,

Sergius, however, categorically refused our help.

They'd barely fought, he said. And itching to do something after three long days stationed in the palace. This was the least that they could do.

Neither Helena nor I had had the energy to argue, and so we'd taken off our helmets, unstrapped our shields, and sat back against the far wall.

"I guess that now it's official," Helena said.

"Hmm?" I answered.

We were seated near enough for our legs to touch, my body throbbing with pain and heavy with exhaustion.

"After today, we're officially shield mates."

I tilted my head towards her. "We've been shield mates for longer than that."

"Sure, but now we've fought together. I held my place at your side." And despite the horror of what we'd had to do, I heard the fierce pride in Helena's voice.

"I knew you would. I've trusted you for a long time."

"Oh yeah?" She said, shifting to rest her sweat-darkened head against mine. "Since when?"

I leaned more of my weight into her, resting my shield hand on her thigh. I could feel the eyes of the others drifting towards us as they worked, and could picture their knowing grins.

But I didn't care. I was with her.

"Remember the first day we trained together? How difficult you were being?"

"Difficult? Is that what it's called when your gender makes everyone treat you differently?"

"Hmm," I said. "That, or simple laziness."

She swatted me with the back of her hand, swearing as her knuckles rapped on my breastplate. I laughed, squeezing her thigh.

"When you swallowed your pride and your anger," I said. "When you decided to set all that aside and let me train you. That's when I knew."

She snorted, shaking out her sore knuckles. "Well, all I remember from that day is how much you enjoyed hitting me."

"You don't remember when I said the words, 'you're my shield mate'?"

"No," she said. "You must have done something mean to make me forget."

I laughed. She brought her hand down atop mine, and I turned it so our fingers intertwined. Her thumb drew a swirling pattern along my skin, and I let myself get lost in the hypnotic motion.

With her here, it felt like I could accomplish anything. Like I might pull myself forward as she had. What might I do, with this woman at my side? Where might I go? What might I build, with her hands working alongside my own?

A little tavern by the sea, perhaps.

"Helena," I said.

I shifted my hand in hers, and in doing so, my thumb came to rest atop hers, stopping the circle she was making and pulling my vision back into focus.

"Leo," she answered, and I heard the soft smile in her voice.

"I,” But my words were cut short, pressed back into me by a sudden weight. Blood, there was blood beneath my nails.

I was suddenly reminded of where I was, of what I had done. The charnel stink of the hallway, and the emotions I'd tucked away flooded back into me. I started to shake; my lungs squeezed tight.

I couldn't take my eyes off the blood that still crusted my hand.

"Leo?" Helena said, shifting so that she could look at me. "Are you ok?"

I didn't answer, freeing her hand from my filthy grip. I shifted from her, pulled away by a crushing weight against my side. I clawed at the pocket beneath my armor, ripping something free.

My mother's letter.

I opened it with unsteady hands, revealing a single slip of yellowed parchment and my mother's blocky letters.

My little lion, it said. Come home.

I stared at the page, blinking stupidly. Five little words, was that all? I turned the folded parchment over, my fingers smudging its surface.

That was it.

I felt the mad urge to laugh. Come home? Was I some lost, weeping child who needed the comfort of my mother's arms?

I grit my teeth, reading those words again and again. I ached to tear into the offending letter; to rage and scream and damn my mother to hell.

I'd been expecting something like this but, What the fuck did this mean?

I was happy. For the first time in my fucking life, I was happy. I was the Empress' guard, sitting beside a woman who was nothing but good. With her, I had a vision of a future where I wouldn't have to kill anymore.

I wasn't fucking lost.

"Leo?" Helena whispered.

She was beside me, she'd red the letter too. She once again wrapped my trembling hand in one of hers, murmuring warm words. My eyes were again drawn to the shape of that hand, to the clean flesh of her fingers.

I wasn't lost.

"I'm here," Helena said, still low enough that I could pretend I didn't hear. "Your mother,”

She tightened her grip, her fingers warm against mine. They should be filthy, I thought. Her hands should be black with the stain of all she'd done. She'd been a whore. She'd given her body to so many, spreading her legs for anyone with a handful of coins.

Today, she'd killed. Her hands should be like mine, but they weren't. Helena's hands were clean.

How were they so clean?

My heart beat faster, and I parted my lips to let my breath pass. Was I lost? Why were Helena's hands so clean? I felt myself unravel; a spool of yarn tumbling down a mountain.

Come home.

Was that the answer? No, it didn't make sense. I wasn't supposed to come home. Not yet. My father never had.

"Leo," Helena said. "Talk to me, I'm here."

I shifted my gaze to hers but didn't really see. "My father,”

"Yes?" She said. "What about him? He was a soldier, right?"

"Come home, my father never came home."

"He died?" Helena asked.

I managed a nod. "A long time ago."

He'd died not long after my fifth birthday. He'd left on campaign one spring morning and had never come back.

From then on, it had just been my mother and I. And she had never stopped speaking of my father. He'd been larger than life, she'd said. He'd been loud, as much when he laughed as when he roared his anger. He'd been strong, diligent, and the person my mother had loved the most in the world.

Her lio

The Noisy Neighbor: Part 1

Snowden Speaks — Fri, 30 Aug 2024 00:40:00 +0000

Woman knocks on door of noisy neighbor to complain.

By JohnJohnson00. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Not too long ago, a young man moved into the flat next door. He seemed kind enough. He'd smile and say hello whenever he passed me in the hallway, and once he even helped me carry my groceries up to my flat when one of my shopping bags broke. That's when he introduced himself as Darren. He'd be a great neighbor if it weren't for his frequent sessions of passionate lovemaking. I never once saw his partner with him, but every other day, he'd make her shriek in pleasure for well over an hour. It was so distracting, especially since her sounds would make me so hot and bothered every time. I'm approaching my forties, and for a long time, I've been very happy without a partner.

Sex wasn't something I craved, heck, I barely thought about sex since I broke up with my last boyfriend years ago. But hearing the noises she would make would drive me crazy. I even caught myself pinching my nipples or rubbing my mound through my clothes on some occasions.

One day, I'd decided I'd had enough, and knocked on his door to talk to him about the noise. I wasn't mad, more just tired and a little sexually frustrated.

He opened the door. "Oh hey, Mrs Brown. What's up?" he said, his welcoming smile becoming a concerned look, probably because of seeing my tired expression. I wasn't married, but I let him calling me 'Mrs' slid. I had more important things to talk about.

"Darren, hi. Umm... this isn't easy to say, and I don't want to seem... erm, like I'm over-reacting, but..." I wrapped my dressing gown tighter around myself and crossed my arms under my chest. "I've been hearing you and your girlfriend making love every couple of days and... well it's just too loud, really."

Darren's eyes widened slightly at the news, and his hand went to scratch the back of his head. "Ah right, sorry about that. I guess I have to be more careful whenever I bring girls over, now that I'm living in an apartment." Girls? Not girlfriend? So, he's just a playboy who goes from girl to girl? Or maybe they were all his girlfriends? The thought made me shiver.

I readjusted my gown again, catching his eyes dart to my cleavage before returning to my eyes. "Girls, right. Just, maybe go to their house from now on if you can." We made our brief goodbyes, and I went back to my room. I suppose it made sense that they were different girls. A young man who can make girls scream the way I've heard them scream would be out getting every girl he could.

What would I do if he decided he wanted me, too?

After the little talk I had with him, an entire week went by with no noise whatsoever. I was honestly quite surprised, and the peace was much appreciated. I did feel a little bad and hoped he was still... well... enjoying himself elsewhere. But then, on a Sunday morning, I woke up to the familiar sounds of another girl being ravished by Darren. This one in particular seemed especially... passionate, chanting and talking to him. "Oh, yes... You're so good... uh... How are you this good!?... Fuck..." Her excitement was rubbing off on me, and I started rubbing my thighs together to quell the desire between my legs.

Whoever he had in there this time, she must have been insatiable. They went at it for hours, through the morning into the early afternoon. It was too much. I had masturbated twice already, and I was still far too horny to function properly. Something had to be done. I really didn't want to have to do this while they were still going at it, but I threw on my dressing gown and slippers (I hadn't gotten dressed yet since I'd spent practically the whole morning in bed playing with myself) and went to knock on his door again.

The girl couldn't even bring herself to be silent, her moaning had stopped but I still heard her mewling for a while. I heard some scampering around, and then not too long later, Darren opened the door... wearing only his boxers.

"Mrs Brown, hey. Sorry, we're being too loud, aren't we?" My eyes hadn't moved to look away from his crotch since he started talking. The tip of his penis was hanging out the bottom of his boxers. He was huge! I mean, maybe I should have guessed that by now, and I knew he must have been bigger than average, but how could I have expected this size!? "Look, just let me erm... finish up back here and... err..." I tore my eyes up from his crotch to look at his face after he had trailed off. He was looking down to where I had been looking and he returned his gaze to my face. "Ah. Sorry, that happens a lot."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing from my prior experiences socialising with people told me how to react to a scenario like this. My breathing deepened as we stared at each other in silence before Darren spoke up. "So, uh... Mrs Brown?"

"Miss." I corrected on impulse, my hand moving to my thumping heart and then down to my breast.

"...Miss Brown," he said with a smirk, "do you... would you... like to come in?"

About half an hour later, my feet were bobbing in the air as I lied on my back being ploughed by Darren's big dick. I clutched the headboard as my third orgasm swept through me. After he'd already made me cum by fingering me and eating me out, it didn't take long for his dick to do the same. My gown had been flung onto a chair at a desk and my slippers were cluttered by the side of the bed. My panties were stuffed in my mouth and in all the chaos I didn't even notice when my bra was removed. I was no different to any of his other girls, squealing and screaming and announcing my orgasms like I wanted the whole apartment complex to hear. Maybe I did want that. Maybe I wanted to drive someone else into a sexual frenzy the same way I had been in the morning.

As I was approaching my fourth orgasm, I urged Darren on. "Yes... Oh god yes... Ugh...Pound me... Make me one of your girlfriends... Ah..."

This made Darren slow his pace a little, transitioning to slower, longer strokes. "One of my what?" he laughed, "You mean... hah... you want to be one of the girls I bring round? They aren't my girlfriends, some of them have boyfriends, but...ugh... yeah, you can be one of them." This man was incredible. Some of them were in relationships? I powered through my next orgasm, enhanced by the thought of girls making excuses to their boyfriends so they could be fucked out of their minds by Darren.

Before I knew it, I was lying on my stomach, spread-eagled, while cum leaked from my worn-out vagina. He had cum inside of me twice and I came too many times to count. I was in a haze, but I remember barely noticing Darren roll off the bed and enter the bathroom before returning to the bed with a girl. She must have been the girl from earlier. I guess she hid in the bathroom when she heard me knocking. She fell on the bed and looked at me. As I slowly turn my head to face her, I saw her expression go from uncertainty to bliss in seconds as the neighbour continued what I had interrupted. I turned onto my side and rubbed my pussy, hoping he'd still have some energy for me afterwards.

By JohnJohnson00for Literotica.

The Byzantine Empress: Part 6

Piper's Posts — Thu, 29 Aug 2024 16:24:33 +0000

Dissension in the capitol

Based on the work of Robyn Bee, In 7 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

"My guards were out in the city last night," the Empress said. "They can confirm some of the captain's reports. There is real wealth, real organization behind some of these dissenters."

"Traitors," Belisarius growled. The dark-haired general's cheeks were red with anger. "Augustus, let me bring my legions into the city. I can have the worst of the factions hanged by sunset."

[[MORE]]

The Emperor, Justinian, massaged the bridge of his nose. "I'm not going to let stratiotai loose in my own capital, Bel. The people aren't our enemy."

"They're burning the city down around us!"

"Captain," Theodora said before her husband could speak. She addressed the nervous-looking commander of the city guard. "We've had riots before. Why haven't you been able to keep the peace these past few days?"

The guardsman bowed low. "Your pardon, Augusta. I have few men under my command, and the Blues and Greens are well entrenched in most parts of the city. In the past, they've done a lot of the work in keeping their own neighborhoods orderly. Now, however,” He trailed off into a grimace.

"Now, they're the bastards doing all the damage," Antonina said from where she sat beside her husband.

Belisarius' wife had swept her blonde hair back from her face, sifting through a stack of reports on the table in front of her. Antonina accompanied the general nearly every time he went out on campaign. She was well used to helping him untangle the mess of paperwork that taking any sort of decision inevitably produced.

"You cannot control the city, then?" The Empress said.

"Forgive me, Augusta, but I cannot. Not on my own. I've lost dozens already in the attempt."

"Then let me bring in the legions," Belisarius said, his fist slamming against the table. "We're letting the mob run us over!"

"Enough!" The Emperor snapped. "I am not slaughtering hundreds because a few nobles are stirring up discontent! We are an Empire of laws, and I will not taint our efforts with the senseless spilling of blood."

The two men glared at each other. They were men of power, both used to getting their own way. But of course, only one was Emperor.

Belisarius looked away. "Of course, Augustus."

The Empress let out a breath. She dismissed the captain with a few words of thanks, before going to her husband. She leaned into him from behind his chair, wrapping her arms around his chest.

Justinian slumped back. "The Blues and the Greens; why did my damned predecessors have to cede so much to them?"

Theodora kissed him on the cheek. "We always knew that curtailing them would be difficult, love. Don't lose sight of what we are trying to accomplish."

The Emperor breathed deeply of his wife's scent, leaning into her touch. He let out a long sigh and straightened.

"Okay. They want me to pardon the escaped prisoners, right? Will satisfy them?"

"Seems like the minimum," Antonina said, fanning her summer-reddened face. "They've already escaped, so what's the harm?"

"The harm," Belisarius said. "Is that they were condemned to die."

"Bel is right, my love," the Empress said. "You spoke of upholding our laws; what message does it send to those watching us for weakness if we capitulate on this now?"

I shifted in my place against one of the walls. Helena and I were the only other ones in the room now, our post only a protective lunge from the Empress' seat.

They had been at this for an hour and more, a series of officials, titled aristocrats and soldiers streaming in and out of the Emperor's office. They'd been summoned to give their official opinions, testimonies, and reports; the mass of information intended to aid the Emperor in handling the developing crisis.

Or not handling it, as seemed to be the case.

I turned away, looking towards the open window. Outside, the sun was high in the sky. I could see the sloping roofs of the Hagia Sofia and the Patriarch's residence. The city stretched beyond, baking in the afternoon heat.

The scorching summer temperature, not at all helped by the pall of smoke that hung over the capital's streets.

The planned chariot races were due to begin soon, when there was a loud knock at the door. One of the Excubitors on duty poked his head in.

"Senator Hypatius is here, Augustus," the man said.

"What?" The Emperor responded. "This is a closed meeting. Send him away."

The guard hesitated. "Of course, sire. He says that he's come from the city, however. And that he holds a list of the people's demands.

Justinian and his wife exchanged a glance. "Very well. Send him in."

"You Imperial Majesties," the senator said, sweeping his robes out in a deep bow. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Out with it, Hypatius," Belisarius growled. "We don't have time for your pretty words."

"Of course, general," the senator said. He approached after a nod from the Emperor, pulling a roll of parchment from somewhere on his person. "I'll speak plainly. Representatives from the Blues and Greens approached me earlier today. We sat down together to speak of their grievances. This is the result of that meeting."

He set the parchment down. The Emperor, Belisarius, and Antonina set upon it like wolves; ripping it open and devouring its content. The Empress, however, watched the senator.

"You're uninterested in the people's demands, Augusta?" Hypatius asked.

"I have a good idea as to what they are already, senator," she said. "I'm more interested in what role you play in all this."

The man smoothed his robes. "That of simple messenger, Augusta."

"But why you?" She said. "And who were these 'representatives' you met with."

Hypatius shrugged. "I'm not sure. But I've worked hard to cultivate a reputation as a fair man who is much agreeable to reason. So, perhaps it is for that."

"Indeed," the Empress said. "It must be your, reputation."

The senator bristled, but the Emperor chose that moment to speak. "This is absurd! The dismissal of my prefect, John, and of my quaestor? The full pardon of the prisoners and the repeal of my new laws?"

"Not every single one of your new laws, Augustus," Hypatius said, smoothly. "I believe those changes most desired are spelled out."

"No," the Emperor said. "Not all. Mainly those towards women and the change in the aristocracy's share of tax."

"The people are aggrieved, your Majesty," Hypatius said. "You've stripped the Blues and Greens of power and have changed many of the basic tenants of our laws. Add to this, the ruinous cost of our campaigns in the east; surely you must understand some of the people's plight?"

"I'm not agreeing to any of this," the Emperor growled.

"Augustus, please. There is wisdom in giving a little to gain a lot."

Theodora snorted. "Explain to me the wisdom of completely folding over?"

They continued in this vein for the rest of the time they had, arguing back and forth until we left for the Hippodrome. Hypatius accompanied us through the halls of the Imperial Palace, one of several that had been invited to watch that afternoon's races in the presence of the Emperor.

The stadium was full when we arrived, the crowd a roiling mass of anger. They roared when Justinian stepped into view, drunk on wine and the victories they'd already had against the city.

The Emperor called for quiet, biding them to let him answer their resentments. It was several long minutes before the mob was still enough for his voice to be heard. He began his speech, and on the sands, the first of the charioteers emerged.

Theodora had not yet taken her seat, remaining back by Helena and me while her husband spoke. There were a dozen or so Excubitors in the box as well, there to make sure no harm came to the Imperial family and their guests.

Hypatius approached while Justinian was halfway through his prepared words.

"The Emperor is wise to give into these demands."

The Empress didn't let any of her anger show. She'd argued hard against any sort of concession. "There are some things that he will not bend on. No matter how much of your wisdom that you share."

The senator's eyes moved about, making sure that none but we were within earshot. Disdain flooded his tone.

"You mean the repeal of your laws?" He smirked. "I fear that it is only a matter of time, Empress."

"Victory is an ugly color on you, Hypatius. But it is a bit premature, is it not?"

"Premature?" The senator swept his arm out. "Look at this. The people cry for change! Will you really try to keep forcing your unwanted beliefs onto so many who want nothing of them?"

"Unwanted?" The Empress said. "The elevation of women is good for the Empire as a whole, senator. Are we too, not God's creatures."

"Of course, though none other possess such delusions of grandeur."

The Empress snorted. "Only those born to privilege see equality as a loss."

"A privilege," Hypatius said, "that was granted to us by God. And how wise a decision it was. Did a woman's choice not already cost us the paradise of Eden?"

"Ah, of course," Theodora said. "That old tale. What a stupid girl she was, to listen to the serpent and hide her naked perfection. As if clothing herself against a man's crawling eyes could ever bring some sort of comfort."

"A wholly false interpretation." The senator sneered. "But I suppose that we should trust a whore's mind to see lust as the root of all things."

I tensed, my anger flaring. I made to step forward, but the Empress flicked her open palm towards me.

"I was a whore, senator," she said. "And so, you may trust me when I say that it wasn't women that came to me with minds full of lust."

"As you well know," Hypatius said, face reddening. "Eve's sin was disobedience; her refusal to submit herself to man and God. A sin which you seek to drive us back into."

"Was it not God who made me Empress?" Theodora said. "It is by His divine authority I rule."

"Your authority," he spat, "comes from trapping a powerful enough man between your legs. You would determine the course of our Empire through the ungodly use of your sex!"

"Does my husband's love and respect for me somehow cloud his mind?"

"Love," he said. "Or is it your flesh that you use to steer him towards your ends?"

"My husband is no slave to his desires, Hypatius. Great men do not possess the flaws of the majority."

Hypatius' eyes flashed, but the Empress wasn't finished.

"And surely, senator, a man like you can come up with something other than the same fearful lamentations? God has granted gifts to all his creations. Is it not the most pathetic sort of weakness; that the man who lords over his family with the strength of his arm, suddenly cries sin when his own base lust is used against him?"

"Our laws are clear," Hypatius said through gritted teeth. "Do not expect us to sit quietly by as you trample over nature and tradition."

"Ah, so it is 'us' now?" Theodora said. "How easy you speak of disobedience when it is the sin of another. Your Emperor, the one who you have sworn to obey as your master, has commanded that you cease this insurrection."

The Empress' expression was hard, looking down towards the senator from an eagle's height. "Do you too, as Eve once did, refuse to submit yourself?"

Hypatius didn't respond, glaring at the Empress with barely-held fury. But she wasn't finished speaking, leaning forward.

"You cannot see past your own failings. You're weak, and your insecurities disgust me. Men like you make us out to be frail, simple creatures that are good for nothing more than venting your lust and bearing your children. Your fragile egos cannot bear the thought that a woman might, in truth, be a stronger, more intelligent, more capable being than you will ever be."

The Empress moved towards him; the deadly grace of the raptor's dive. Her words, filled with the eagle's unshakable pride, pinned him like talons.

"But I will liberate us. I will show all of you what a woman can really be."

She reached out to run a finger along Hypatius' jaw. He flinched back at the sudden contact, looking away from the Empress' languid smile.

"And be sure," she purred, her silken chest so near to his. "That I will use every weapon in my arsenal."

"Vile woman," he hissed. His face blazed. "You don't know what's coming, you stupid whore. I'll,”

The mob's rising roar swallowed his next words. I turned in time to see the crowd flooding onto the sands of the Hippodrome.

"Nika! Nika! "

They crashed against the palace walls; swords and axes and pitchforks flashing in the summer sun. The Emperor shouted, but the mob didn't hear. They pounded against the walls, flames rising from where men held torches to the stadium's wooden stands.

The Hippodrome was burning, smoke rising with the thunder of the crowd's battle cry.

"Nika! Nika! Nika! Nika! "

We were under siege. And when I looked back towards the Empress, Hypatius was gone.

Act 3

An Empress besieged.

"Have you ever been under siege, my Leontius?"

I turned at the sound of the Empress' voice, stiffening into a salute. "Augusta! "

She rolled her eyes. "And a good morning to you too. Has three days of confinement truly done nothing to ease your sense of property?"

"That's like asking whether the sight of the sun makes the fish want to fly," Helena called from where she stood by the door.

"Oh?" Theodora said. "And what does this fish have in common with our Leontius?"

Helena grinned. "Neither of them can actually comprehend the question."

The Empress laughed, and I leveled my best glare toward my shield mate. This, of course, had the unfortunate result of drawing laughter from her as well.

"We're under siege," I reminded both women.

The Empress came to stand beside me at the window. She lay a warm palm against my forearm and gazed out.

Beneath us, Constantinople burned.

The sky was choked with a haze of smoke and ash. The mid-morning sun appeared dark, hanging there like a disk of smudged bronze. The fog was noxious, cloying; it blocked the sun's light though it did nothing to shield us from the summer heat. Rather, it seemed to trap it like some great oven; magnifying it so that the already thick air turned positively suffocating.

"So much destruction," she said. Her palm flexed on my forearm. "The labor of decades and centuries gone, just like that."

"Augusta." Then, after a moment's hesitation, I added. "I caught a few glimpses through the smoke. It looks like there's a lot less damage further out."

She squeezed my arm, smiling without feeling. "I suppose that makes sense. It's not their own homes they wish to burn, after all."

I followed the Empress' gaze as she took in the shattered villas, pavilions, and monuments that now surrounded the Imperial Palace. Many of the ruins still smoldered, adding the stench of their own unique blend of char to the air.

The Praetorium, the military headquarters of the Empire, had been gutted. A centuries-old courthouse had been torn down; its statues shattered. And in the distance, where great Hagia Sofia had once stood, there was nothing more than an empty patch of sky.

Theodora stared at that empty place for several long moments, eventually pulling the heavy golden cross out from between her breasts to press it against her lips.

Last was the Hippodrome. We could see the edge of it from the Empress' window. And though its venerable stones were scarred by fire and rage, it still rose high above the city. It was at once a reassuring reminder of the Empire's might and the cradle from which its destruction might have been birthed.

"You never answered my question," the Empress said.

"Augusta?"

Theodora smiled. "Have you ever been besieged?"

"Your pardon, Augusta," I said, flushing. "No, I was never garrisoned along the border. I've only ever been on the attacking side."

"Hmm," she said. "And what do you think our chances are here?"

"They're good, Augusta. In a lot of ways, it's harder to sit around outside the walls than within. It takes a lot of will, discipline, and organization to properly besiege a fortress."

"Things that you don't believe our citizens have?"

I shrugged. "They're focused now, Augusta. But that becomes more difficult as days become weeks."

"Hmm," she said. "Perhaps."

We could see them from up here; the mob. They swirled through the streets below, stained with soot and fueled by wine and victory. They were not so much an organized force as a writhing mass of blue and green with iron in their hands and cries of war on their lips.

Nika! Nika! Nika!

I could hear them now, the crowd pulsing with their chant of conquest and fury. They were swirling about the Hippodrome's entrance, keeping clear, as of yet, of the palace's walls. They seemed to be going into the arena, funneling into the still-smoking interior.

"It's hard to believe," the Empress said. "That so few of my husband's guards can keep out so many."

"Three hundred Excubitors is not so small a number, Augusta, when put behind strong walls."

"Neither are those extra few hundred that Belisarius called in, I suppose." She squeezed my arm one more time before letting go. "I shall defer to your judgment then, my Leontius. Now, trapped nobles and dignitaries will soon begin to pester my husband. Before I go to help him, however, I wish to see what the crowd is doing."

I saluted. "Your will, Augusta. "

Theodora became the Empress once again, striding back through her quarters and disappearing through an entrance. I could hear her calling for her maidservants, summoning them to her wardrobe.

"Where are we going?" Helena asked.

I finally moved to join my shield mate by the single door.

"The Hippodrome," I answered, stiffening into place. "The crowds going into it."

Helena chewed her lip for a few moments, fingers drumming along the haft of her spear. She stared out towards the smoke-stained sky for a few moments before taking a step towards me and kissing me on the cheek.

I raised an eyebrow. "What was that for?"

"In case I can't do it later."

I didn't like the direction her thoughts were heading, so I plastered a look of affront onto my face. "I refuse to let that be the last time you kiss me. That was terrible."

She'd been in the process of stepping away, but my comment brought her up short. The cypress of her eyes shifted a shade brighter when she caught sight of my expression.

"Terrible? I didn't have to kiss you, you know."

I sniffed. "You may as well not have."

Both of her eyebrows popped up, her lips parting in surprise. I laughed and then I reached over to loop my empty hand over her waist, pulling her to me. Her lips curled into a smile, a faint bloom of red rising to her cheeks.

"While on duty?" She teased. "You really have changed."

"It's your fault," I said.

Then, I leaned down and kissed her. Our breastplates ground loudly against each other, but I ignored it. My entire focus was on Helena; on the softness of her lips,

The Pilot & the Spy

Snowden Speaks — Thu, 29 Aug 2024 00:38:00 +0000

A WW2 fantasy: a spy and a pilot take refuge in each other.

by PeriodPorn. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Max turned around, still half asleep, pulling my body into the half-moon of his own. We lay on a straw mattress in the loft of a barn that had been taken by the resistance here in rural France, and for modesty’s sake we had retreated to either sides of it; a difficult task, now made more challenging by the pilot’s movements.

He took a deep inhale, his face nestled into the back of my neck, and exhaled warm breath onto my tingling skin. Now, with me in his arms, his nightmares were retreating into the dark recess of his subconscious.

We had slept beside each other for four nights now. That was how long it had been since we had found each other on a backroad from the border, him separated from his grounded plane and me… well, I had kept myself separate from everything in order to remain undetected. Every night he had been wracked with awful nightmares; this was the first he had touched me in his sleep.

I knew that this respite from undoubtedly horrid images should be protected, but an itch inside of me yearned for his hands, now securely fastened at my waist, to animate themselves and explore my body. He had removed his cotton undershirt to sleep better in the heat, and in the dappled moonlight of the barn I could make out the sinews beneath his bare skin.

“You hardly know him”, my brain hissed to itself, cannibalistic in it’s determination to stifle the urges. “And he’s not even awake so he doesn’t know what he’s doing”-

Yet, I tilted my pelvis back ever so slightly. I sighed, trying to mimic the unintentional sounds of someone asleep. The movement made my body arch back into his groin. His body seemed to instinctively tighten around me, welcoming the way the space between us vanished. I felt small, childlike inside his broad, muscular frame.

I tilted my pelvis back yet again, hoping the rhythmic movement might stir some kind of consciousness into his lower half. I moaned, as if I was the one having nightmares now. His arms, once slack against my lithe torso, now stiffened.

That might have done it.

I continued to keep my eyes shut, gripping my arms tighter against his, as if I were protecting myself. The more I created this fiction, the more real it felt. Hadn’t I been trying to make myself invisible, protecting myself from enemies this whole time?

“Natalie?” He whispered, his Scottish vowels thick and low in his hoarse semi-consciousness.

I waited a moment, then pretended to rouse myself. I murmured a little.

“Natalie,” he said, more gently this time, “I think you’re havin’ a nightmare.”

You’re a sneaky bitch, my brain thought- but his arms were so strong, his chest so firm against my back. I hadn’t felt this safe since the start of the war. I was alone then… I had been alone for years. I had used men sexually, of course… but not for my own comfort. Not for my own pleasure. Hadn’t I known from the moment he smiled from beneath his RAF cap that this could be a different kind of ally?

“You’re having a bad dream,” he repeated softly, with a tenderness I almost couldn’t bear. As if I’d known him for more than two days. As if the thought of me, my safety, and my unreachable subconscious was of the utmost importance to him.

I turned in so I was facing him, curling inwards and tucking my face just below his chin. I would never admit to being frightened by daylight, but in the darkness, I permitted myself this luxury; comfort. I had been frightened for so long, one almost comes to accept it; it was a fear people who did not know wartime would never understand.

One of the pilots arms wrapped around my back and scooped me up, the other wrapping underneath my neck to cradle the nape of my hairline. His fingers were coarse unlike mine which were still soft from handling weapons of a slightly different kind: transistor radios.

“Shhh,” he whispered sleepily. “It’s alright.” His hand was so big that whilst still cupping the back of my head, his thumb could rest against my cheek. It stroked my face calmly, sending chills from the root of my torso up my spine.

My breath caught a little, suspended between us. His other arm was still draped around me, no doubt feeling the change in my body. His body stilled too; he was suddenly holding his breath as well. His thumb, however, maintained its steady rhythm.

I held my breath still, willing it to edge closer towards my parted lips.

And then, it did. I could feel it… His thumb was edging closer and closer towards my lips, and then dared to caress them, catching slowly against my full lower lip as it did.

The moment his thumb caught my lower lip, I exhaled, a light breeze brushing against his skin. His thumb lingered there, against the warm and wet skin inside. He was waiting for me to protest, to push him away.

The silence between us felt electric. I moved one of my legs to negotiate the space between his, hooking myself around him so that our bodies could press together. With my chest now against his, I could feel the air between us thudding with quickening heartbeats.

He did not remove his thumb from the entrance of my mouth. He was waiting for me to give him a signal to proceed.

I gently brought his thumb between my teeth. It felt both coquettish and primal; the feeling of something fragile, soft, ready to be destroyed.

Yet, his thumb retreated. I might have lost hope there, embarrassed and rejected, were it not for the feeling of his thrust pulsating against my lap. An unmistakable reaction of longing.

I should not have worried; his retreating thumb dragged down my chin and neck slowly, leaving a slightly damp residue behind it that cooled quickly in the night air. Simultaneously his other arm brought me even closer to him, his breathing quickening.

“Natalie,” he whispered, betraying a deep sense of longing. I knew he wanted me, then. He wanted me quite desperately.

But I did not want it to be quick. I wanted it to be slow.

I brought my free arm up behind his head so I could drag my fingers from the back of his head to the back of his neck, bringing my face up to meet his. Would he take it from me greedily, as if I were some street woman in a foreign city, an anonymous body that he could hide inside until his grief had retreated?

He seemed to sense this. Instead of greedily launching at my mouth, he held me there.

“I wish I could see your eyes,” he whispered urgently. “Your eyes…”

“You can,” I promised him. “What do you see?”

I was terrified of his answer, because I knew that so many men had answers readily prepared for questions like this; it didn’t matter who was looking at them or who was asking. Intimacy was a game, a war they could win on foreign shores before returning to their squadrons to regale their mates with their conquests. I felt too deeply for that. Losing this moment to a parlour story meant for male amusement would be too painful.

He was silent. Then, in a voice of resignation and sadness:

“I saw a lot of pain.”

There was no pretence, no air of manipulation. There was familiarity, however; a sense that he recognised it in me because he felt it himself.

I held his neck here, hit with a wave of grief for us both. I would have pulled him so close that his body merged with mine, if I could. But this hand released him as soon as it held him there, tracing down the skin of his spine until I could pull it inwards towards our stomachs and continue this unbroken line, ever so slowly, around his side and drag it upwards between us against his almost hairless chest.

I felt his heart beating there. His mast continued to throb against me, but it did not cheapen the moment. It intensified it. I knew he wanted me, and that it took everything in him to restrain himself… because he needed me more than he wanted me. He needed me to be here, in whatever way, and he wouldn’t do anything to risk it being taken away.

“I need you too.” I breathed. He could have me in whatever way he wanted… if that’s what he really wanted.

I could feel his face tilting towards mine, slowly, until his breath whispered against my mouth. Our lips were so close, his breath sweet and warm, smelling of the mead we’d drank with the resistance soldiers downstairs.

His lips were soft against mine. I realised then that I had imagined this moment every time I looked at them, plump and full. His wrested with mine, not trying to part them but just enjoying the way they melted into each other.

I was hungrier, it seemed; I gently parted his, daring my tongue to trace within just has his thumb had done only a few moments before. He drank me in. His warm tongue wrapped against mine, sending tingles through every nerve ending available, making me hungrier and hungrier.

He finally broke his stillness. He gave in to his urges and grasped my body firmly. He positioned me on top of him as if I weighed nothing. My groin could not be separated from his, seeking heat and pressure, pressing against his shaft and his lower abdomen as I righted myself on top of him.

Electricity surged inside of me, moving me to sit up away from his intensifying kiss so that I could straighten my arms and brace them on either side of his shoulders to slowly rock the seat of my body against him. I was abreast a wild horse, willing it to pursue.

He groaned quietly, rock-hard beneath me. I continued to work him, wanting to feed the desire I knew was raging inside of him. It became too much to bear; he reached up with one hand and secured it behind my neck, bringing us together so that he could kiss me again, more urgently and messily this time.

I slipped one of my arms down against his chest again, wanting to coax the creature that was aching for mine. He almost snarled inside my mouth as he grabbed that same hand and used his body to deftly spin me to my back, pinning both arms up on either side of my head. I exhaled through a smile, exhilarated by his careful control of my body.

Now he had me pinned, and with a masterful restraint pulled his crotch away from mine so he could move quickly down towards my base. It was yearning for touch.

I found myself nervous; he may not do this for women, I thought. A lot of men don’t. Yet his fingers must have found the hem of my silk nightgown resting at my thighs because I could feel the roughness of his touch grazing upwards against my sensitive, soft skin towards my mound.

I was not wearing undergarments. The pair I used were precious and currently drying somewhere… does he think me a whore, I worried-

He seemed to sense my mind fretting because one of his hands felt down the side of my body slowly, taking in my shape. He was soothing me, willing me to relax. His caress was deliberate, careful, finishing at the side of my body where he gripped my hip, his fingers sinking into my soft arse cheeks.

He audibly groaned here, starved for the softness of a woman’s body.

“Fuck,” he breathed, using his free hand to gently part my knees even further and position himself at the entrance. His head remained above water, however, and I could feel his eyes searching for mine through the dark.

“Please…” he begged gruffly.

“Please,” I exhaled urgently, bucking my hips upwards in an attempt to bring him closer to me. I felt his dark hair, dark brown and curly in the daylight, tickle the sensitive inner side of my thighs, signalling his descent into heaven.

“Slowly,” I begged, my body already wired with so much desire that I felt I might break if he touched me too quickly, or too hard.

He slowly kissed along the parting of my lips. This was almost too much; my inhales were short and sharp. He finally slid his warm, wet tongue between the folds ever so slightly, barely reaching the pink beneath that was slickening in preparedness.

I groaned now, all other thoughts fleeing my body in anticipation for the moment his tongue would properly enter. When it did, I felt a rush of warmth cascade from my feet upwards. I could hear the sound of his wet tongue against my own moisture, lapping upwards towards the golden crown at the top. He was slow and deliberate, without feeling mechanical or procedural; He was listening to my breath, instructed by the movement and response of my body.

I made a guttural sound as he reached the sacred place, his tongue flicking against it gently before massaging around its edges-

“Yes,” I gasped, “like that-”

But he didn’t need my help, because my body was riding against his face, helping him reach the momentum it needed. His tongue quickened its pace, sensing that I was riding towards something that was fast approaching-

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming” I chanted breathlessly, the ebbing of warmth in every part of my body concentrating into an intense beam that was crescendo-ing into its peak. It had been so long since I felt this.

His tongue, darting deftly, was only seconds away from that final stroke. When it finally came, the crest of the wave brought a spilling sensation that had my legs quivering around the sides of his head. Then, my body felt as though it had melted away entirely.

He hungrily kissed upwards from my abdomen, resurfacing to kiss my mouth with stubble wet from my release.

“Max,” I whispered. I was panting slightly, my eyes still rolling backwards towards the darkness above. I was immobilised. “I’m sorry, I…”

“No,” he stopped me. He didn’t care if I returned the favour; he was too busy kissing my body lightly, devouring every inch he could. I must have tasted salty with sweat. I smiled, willing myself to return to reality.

I reached for his hand, guiding it up towards my breast. His body came with it, softly pressing against mine. I could feel his member was already stiff – it seemed to have only strengthened in the time since I’d last felt it in my hand – but with the mention of my soft breasts, it quivered against my abdomen.

His fingers started to gently coax the nipple, sending goosebumps down my torso. He was not like other boys, who grabbed and pinched. He took it into his mouth, sucking ever so gently. My other hand felt for him, moving from the base towards the tip ever so gently.

“I could do this to you all night,” he promised me quietly-

“No.” It was my turn to stop him. My strength had returned.

I slunk downwards towards his cotton pants, bulging against what was within. I pulled them downwards, feeling his legs start to kick them away. We had showered hours before for the first time in months; his body smelled faintly sweet, a musk of summer sweat just starting to descend upon both of us.

I kissed the inner sides of his thighs and up around his navel, wanting to draw out this moment for him. I moved unpredictably towards his erection, trusting that in the darkness he was relying on the sensation of touch alone. When I finally and slowly licked the length of his shaft, I heard him gasp in the darkness above me.

“Natalie,” he exhaled with something that sounded almost like awe.

I continued to slick his shaft with my tongue, working my way up towards the tip carefully, only tempering it ever so delicately. I needed to take it all into my mouth, though; I did, working up and down slowly, creating pressure with my lips as I went.

“Ugh,” he groaned, “Oh, Jesus…”

I worked him at the same slow pace, feeling his member throb with the base of my tongue. He was writhing beneath me on the bed, his hands grasping for my hair, my arm. The slowness was excruciating-

So I replaced the pressure of my mouth with the pressure of my hand, gently increasing the pace. He was in ecstasy, laughing amidst the groans of delight.

“You’re amazing”, he exhaled in disbelief. I could hear his smile. I would have continued for as long as he would have me, but before long he was begging.

“I need to be inside you.”

I was quick to oblige, my opening aching with the promise of him. I straddled him once more, one hand bracing gently against his firm abdomen while the other hand guided him inside.

There was little resistance; I was already so wet, enveloping him as if we had been designed to take each other and each other alone. He was the one who wanted to go slowly now, starting to buck his own hips up underneath me to feel me tighten around him… but I wanted to stay in control now, in the same way he had taken charge of me.

I rocked forwards and back on him, riding him so that my pussy moved up and then back down to the base of his shaft with every stride. It felt as if he were entering me for the first time, over and over. I pinned his arms down, letting him relax into the feeling of being taken.

He sat up abruptly, laughing in delight, pulling my torso towards his so that he could position me to be leaning back a little. He held me there easily with one arm, using his strength now to push upwards inside of me, pulsing harder and faster.

I groaned, feeling him start to hit the wall of my cervix and hint at that inner spot, a different kind of dulled pleasure starting to awaken. I gripped my legs around the back of his torso to intensify it. He responded by taking both arms around me and standing up, lifting me easily and turning me over onto my back, gently laying me down while still maintaining his anchor inside me.

He pumped inside of me here, harder than he had before. I wanted him to. He was starting to give in to his own needs now, rather than only thinking of mine. It was not reckless, or angry; it was deliberate, controlled. He was starving, but I knew too that he would hold out as long as he could.

I felt my inner centre start to glow with the promise of a different kind of climax. I was surprised. I let out a low, sustained moan and positioned my legs so that they would tuck over his shoulders. I needed him to go even deeper now.

He obliged, pumping. His breath was short; I could hear he was getting closer because he was exerting more and more force in his breaths, trying desperately to hold out. But I wanted him to surrender. With my face beside his head, my soft mews of encouragement were right beside his ears. Nothing was lost on him, and every sound I made egged him on.

“I want you,” I said in a low whisper. “I want you.”

This was too much for him; he spluttered, his body spasming suddenly. I could feel his rod giving it’s final quiver, releasing his load inside of me. This filled me with such intense satisfaction that I rode my own kind of second wave of pleasure.

He sighed, falling against my breast bone and burying his head into the side of my neck. He inhaled here, holding my head in his hand, cradling it. The pressure of his body against mine felt like home. I felt safe.

“Natalie…” he murmured. I don’t know what followed in his mind, what he was thinking but not saying, but it didn’t matter. He rolled over onto his side, stroking my face in the darkness. Accustomed to the darkness now, I could see his eyes, searching for mine.

I allowed myself to blink once or twice and look up at him. I didn’t want to be separated from him… but I tore myself away to clean up.

The air was fresh around my body, naked of it’s covering, somehow removed in the throes of ecstasy. I hoped this would bring him relief, that he could sleep now, that I would return to the bed to

The Byzantine Empress: Part 5

Piper's Posts — Wed, 28 Aug 2024 16:24:27 +0000

Based on the work of Robyn Bee, In 7 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

The streets had been quiet as we'd passed, oddly subdued. The few people we saw had quickly ducked out of our way, though we were in our tunicae and sandals.

Kostas' place, I was happy to see, was lively. Drunken soldiers weren't spilling out of the place, but there was enough of a crowd that we had to push our way past a few people. I led Helena to the back, where crusty old Kostas scowled from behind his bar.

[[MORE]]

"Kostas," I said, leaning against the bar. "I promised this Rhodian lady some pitaroudia. Are you going to disappoint her?"

"Rhodian?" He said, suddenly a lot less grouchy looking.

"From Lindos," Helena said.

We chatted for a bit, swapping the latest bit of island news that we had while Kostas poured us a couple of flagons of dark wine. The food would be ready in a few minutes, he told us.

"She's paying," I said, when I spotted Kostas' young son.

The kid was coming back with an empty drink tray. I hooked him by the arm, leading him away. I put a silver coin in his hand, promising him another if he'd fetch something for me.

Helena looked at me curiously, but I kept my mouth shut against her silent question.

"Centenarius!" I heard a voice call. "Leontius!"

I turned, already feeling a grin stretching my features. At a nearby table, five men were waving towards me. They wore happy smiles, their cheeks rosy with wine.

"Sergius! You old bastard! What the hell are you doing here?"

Sergius, a crusty old stratiotai with more scars on him than most had years, made a show of cupping one ear.

"Can't hear you so good, sir! Come here and whisper it to me."

The men at his table laughed. I did too, shaking my head.

"Friends of yours?" Helena asked.

"Men from my old cohort," I said. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

Helena's body tightened. I saw that same expression flash across her features. Resignation? Consternation? I wasn't sure. Even here, away from the dark street, I wasn't sure exactly what I'd seen. It was gone too fast.

"Sure," she said, stepping forward and forcing me to move after her.

The men rose to meet me, and I greeted each with a rough embrace and a few rougher words. Sergius, Gratian, Suda, Maurice and Niketas; as good a squad of stratiotai that had ever served in Justinian's legions.

"Boys, this is Helena," I said as we sat in the chairs pulled over for us. "My shield mate. She guards the Empress with me."

Sergius blinked. Maurice choked on his wine while Suda and Niketas glanced at each other in disbelief. Helena, however, seemed to loosen. Her gaze flicked to me, and I saw the faint crinkle of something disappear from the corners of her eyes.

Gratian, horse's ass that he was, guffawed.

"Come on, Centenarius," he said. He was seated on Helena's other side, and took the opportunity to drape one arm around her shoulders. "You can't expect us to believe that sweet little thing fights beside you?"

Whatever else I could say about Gratian, and there was a lot, I couldn't fault his eye.

Helena was in her tunica, cut in the same simple, utilitarian shape as my own. It was loose, ending just above her knees and doing nothing to accentuate the feminine curves of her body. However, unlike the wrinkled, slightly stained pale gray of my tunica, hers had been dyed a deep green.

It was near to the cypress of her eyes. It made them appear brighter, and more vivid than I'd ever seen them. The green brought out the copper of her hair, deepening it and adding layers to those tumbling waves.

She was beautiful; the field of grass after rain.

"You think I'm sweet?" Helena said, lips curling into a small smile.

"Sweet enough to eat," he said. His eyes roved up and down her body. "How much?"

Helena stayed relaxed. That small smile never left her lips.

"I'm good, too." Gratian insisted. "You'll see. My phallus's so good that you should be the one paying me!"

He snickered through his leering grin. I shook my head when Sergius opened his mouth to interfere. Although I needn't have. Because, an instant later, Helena's fist crunched into Gratian's throat.

He gagged, falling backwards, his chair crashing to the ground. The tavern fell silent, all eyes on Helena as she slowly stood. Helena's eyes swept the room. There was a heartbeat of silence, and then two. Her lip suddenly quirked.

"Nobody touches before they pay."

The room exploded with laughter, covering the sound of Gratian's moaning. Helena sat back down, while I moved to help the man pick himself off the floor.

"I'll kill her," he choked. "I'll fucking kill that bitch."

"Shut up," I said, loud enough for the others to hear. "She'd gut you like a fish. And I'd cut off whatever bits my shield mate left of you."

I pulled him up, and made a show of checking him over. I hissed into his ear. "You stupid bastard. Helena's the Empress' personal guard. Do you want your head to the decorate palace walls?"

Gratian's face blanched. He started to stammer something but I pushed him away. "I told you to shut the fuck up. Go get us some more wine."

"Whatever Kostas hasn't pissed in for me," Helena called.

Sergius grin was wide. "Good punch, that. It’s the only way to get him to shut his hole."

"Aye," Niketas said, draining his cup. He burped. "Finally, some fucking peace."

"Centenarius," Maurice said, leaning forward. "No offense to your lady, but a shield mate? Are you sure about this?"

"This lady," Helena said. "Can speak for herself. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you mean."

Maurice complied. "You're a woman. You're real pretty, I'll give you that, but you don't know what this means."

"I don't need a phallus to piss standing up. Why would I need one to hold up a shield?"

Maurice smirked. "Cute. But it’s more than that, it’s,”

"Wait, you can piss standing up?" Gratian interrupted, returning with two clay pitchers of wine. "Seriously?"

The others groaned.

"That wasn't the point, Grat," Suda said. "Although, now I am a bit curious,”

"It’s easy," Helena said, throwing him a wink. "And I guarantee that I can piss better than Grat fucks."

Laughter rolled around the table. Even Gratian snickered, though heat crawled up his face. He started pouring the wine, filling Helena's cup and then mine.

"So, what the hell are you talking about, then?"

"If she can really be Leo's shield mate," Maurice said. "If she can fight."

"She knows what it means, Maur," I said. "She's good, too. Fast. And she's got some sense, unlike you thick-headed bastards."

"Good enough for me," Sergius said. "What do you say boys, we gonna keep her around?"

"Let’s drink!" Niketas said, grabbing his cup.

Sergius banged the table, hoisting his own cup into the air. "To Helena!"

"Helena!" We roared, slamming our empty cups down a few moments later.

Helena joined in, her smile wide and her cheeks flushed a happy red. Our pitaroudia arrived, and we fell to bickering over the platter of fried balls. They were delicious; tomato, onion and bits of a leafy herb mixed into a patty of ground chickpea.

These were rough men that lived rough lives. They were soldiers; killers that earned their coin in the grinding crush of the shield wall. They respected a foul mouth, a hard fist and loyalty to one's brothers.

They were stratiotai.

And when Helena clacked her cup with a still sheepish looking Gratian; I saw them start to think of her as one too.

"Leo never told me that he was a Centenarius," Helena eventually said.

I snorted. "That's because I'm not. These idiots just call me that."

"The crest on the helmet don't make the Centenarius," Suda drawled. "Ain't that right, Serg?"

"You're damned right about that, lad," the older man replied. "Some wise words there."

I rolled my eyes, the rest of the boys snickering into their cups. Sergius liked to share whatever kernels of wisdom popped into his head. We'd all heard this particular one a hundred times already.

"We call him that because of Callinicum," Sergius continued, answering Helena's question.

"Ah," she said. "You were all there?"

Sergius nodded, "and my bones would be decorating some Persian's trophy shelf if it wasn't for the Centenarius here. All of ours would."

The mood sobered, each of us remembering. I looked down to my hands; seeing the flecks of old, old blood beneath my fingernails. The ones I could never seem to clean.

"Was it bad?" Helena asked.

"Aye," Sergius answered. "The old Centenarius was a right stupid prick. He got himself killed in the first charge of the Sassanid horsemen. Leontius here took over after that. Things were real shaky for a bit, but he kept us from scattering and being cut to pieces. And when the general decided he'd had enough of watching us die, Leo got us retreating."

Nobody spoke for a while, memories holding us. Some of us put wine to our lips. I just stared out at nothing with unfocused eyes. The mood remained dark until Gratian, bless his fool soul, blurted out;

"Fuck, but Centenarius Demetrius was a prick."

That brought out a few chuckles. Niketas let out another burp, and Maurice swatted the back of his head. Most of us felt lighter after that. It didn't do any good to dwell on the past. The things we'd done, the friends we'd lost, It wasn't good to remember. Stratiotai had to live for the moment.

Maybe that was why I'd always been such a terrible soldier.

Midnight guard duty.

It was approaching midnight when Sergius hauled himself to his feet. He blinked bleary eyes, motioning to the others.

"Right boys, we've got patrol in the morning. Let's get moving."

The men swallowed their last mouthfuls of wine, said their goodbyes and stumbled away with various levels of coordination.

Sergius watched them go with a shake of his head. He riffled through a pouch at his side for a moment before turning back to me.

"I've got something for you here, Centenarius. It got to the barracks a week or so ago."

He held a folded envelope out towards me. It had my name on it, written out in my mother's blocky hand. I snatched it from him, quickly stuffing it away and out of sight. I didn't want to think about it, didn't want to ruin this night.

"It was good to see you, Leo," Sergius said. He pulled me to my feet, and pounded my back in a rough embrace. "Don't forget about us rankers while you're dining with nobles."

"Take care of yourself, Serg," I said, returning his embrace. "And, thank you."

"We're on garrison duty," the old soldier grinned. "What's going to happen in the capital?"

Sergius surprised Helena by pulling her into a hug next. "Keep your shield tight to his. Our Centenarius always seems to be around when shit is the deepest."

"I'll keep him the sword from his back," Helena said. "Though, it might loosen him up a bit."

The older man laughed. "It was good to meet you, lass. And remember, you've got a brother in old Sergius." With a last little wave, he ambled out and into the deepening night.

"You were right," Helena said, settling back. She popped the last of the pitaroudia in her mouth. "This is a great place."

"Even with Grat here?" I asked with a smile.

"Even still," she said, her lips curling upward. She put her elbow on the table, leaning her heads against her palm. "I'm happy that you introduced me to your friends. I didn't think it would be this, nice."

"It was," I said. I shifted in my seat, wanting to move my chair closer to her. But the movement jostled the letter in my pocket. Suddenly, my mother's words weighed more than a boulder. I shifted again, an awkward jerk of my body that accomplished nothing.

Helena's smile softened. She took pity on me, scooting over until her leg pressed against mine. I let out a breath, leaning back in my chair. We sat in silence for a while. I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth, and the quiet murmur of the few remaining patrons.

"This was always my favorite part," I said, after a while. I opened my eyes to find Helena watching me, waiting for me to continue.

"A place like this," I said. "With the others; once the campaigns done. It's,”

I trailed off, trying to order my thoughts. How could I explain this to someone who'd never been to war? How did I tell her of the constant tension; of the anxious expectation that came with knowing that somewhere, beyond the light of your campfire, someone wanted you dead.

Kill or be killed; there was none of that here. I could drink with my friends, without wondering which of them I would lose. Or what I would have to do.

It was just; "different," I finished.

Helena didn't laugh. She didn't smile or tease. She just watched me with eyes that took in so much of me. I caught a glimpse of it; the edge that wondrous vastness behind her cypress gaze. She leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder and letting out a long breath.

"Different," she said. "I like that."

My eyes suddenly prickled. I blinked furiously, trying to clear the wetness seeping into them. I turned, leaning my chin against her hair; breathing in the scent of her. I shifted my arm to pull her closer, my mother's letter forgotten.

"Leo," she said. "What would you do if you weren't a soldier?"

"I, I don't know," I said. "I've always been a soldier."

"But could you do it for ten more years?"

"What else would I do? My father was stratiotai, and his father and his father. I don't know anything else."

Helena shifted against my shoulder, her hair tickling my neck.

"What was your plan once you retired?"

I bobbed my shoulders in a small shrug, careful not to disturb her. "Go back to Rhodos. My mother is a seamstress. I'd help her run the shop."

"And marry a 'good' woman?" She said, her tone edged with mocking.

I didn't answer, though I tightened my grip on Helena. For a heartbeat, her body was stiff. Then, she let out another long breath, relaxing against me.

"What about something like this?" She asked, gesturing around us. "A tavern."

"Running a Winehouse?"

She pushed off of me, suddenly more animated. "Why not? You could open a soldier's tavern on Rhodos; make a place for old stratiotai."

"A peaceful place," I murmured.

"Exactly!" She grinned. "It’s a good idea, right?"

"I'd have to learn how to make pitaroudia," I said, feeling a smile tug at my lips.

"I'm sure Kostas will give you his recipe."

I laughed. "I'm a solider, Helena, not a cook. I think I even burned water once."

"You are a soldier," she said. Her eyes held mine. "But you can be something else."

I looked away, swallowing.

"You'll think about it?"

"Sure," I forced some lightness into my tone. "But only if you promise that you'd go out and catch fish for me every day."

Helena stiffened, her face suddenly bright red. Not the reaction I'd been expecting. Her eyes flicked over my face, searching. "You don't think I'd be better as the cook? Or serving drinks?"

"No," I said, not having to force my smile. "You belong on the sea, right?"

Her eyes were so wide. I felt my heart start to beat faster. That vastness, it was there, rising to the edge of her; on the verge of breaking through.

"Leo," she murmured. "I,”

She was interrupted by the thump of a pouch onto our table. I looked over to find Kostas' son standing by our table. The kid looked exhausted, but triumphant.

"You found what I asked for, then?" I said.

He nodded, holding out a grubby hand.

"Good man," I grinned, flipping him a silver coin. He disappeared without another word. I quickly disengaged myself from Helena to put the lumpy, medium sized pouch away.

"It’s a surprise," I told her. "For later."

She arched an eyebrow, but didn't press me. She downed her last mouthful of wine, letting out a happy sigh. "We have to come back here."

I nodded, bringing my own wine to my lips.

"It’s nice to see that you can relax without my cunny in your mouth."

I choked, spraying out a mouthful of wine. Helena laughed, that deep, joy-filled sound. She pounded my back as I coughed myself hoarse. My face blazed, and I felt the eyes of everyone turn towards me.

"Leo," she said. "You're defenseless."

I coughed, glaring at her through watery eyes.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get back to the palace."

We walked out into the night, breathing in the city's quiet. Although, it did not last long. We were but a handful of blocks from the Winehouse, when, out of the dark, we saw the fire.

And heard the baying of the mob.

A past shared with the Empress.

The baying of the mob. The glow of fire.

After a few moments of debate, Helena and I decided to move towards it. There were no screams of pain, no real sounds of violence coming from the streets ahead. We would see what there was, we decided, before returning to the Empress.

We came into a square; one with a small, torch-lit church planted solidly at the northern end. A few squads of armored stratiotai, perhaps forty men, stood before the single door. They were imperial legionaries, though I did not recognize any of the grim-faced men. They all looked outward, swords drawn.

Surrounding them, was the mob.

The seething body of humanity was all around them. They totally filled the square; men, women, children. The old and the young and the in-between. Their roar was the pounding of the tides; the blue and green flags they held, the rolling of the waves.

Helena and I pushed our way to the rear of the crowd. They were hurling rocks and taunts and empty flagons of wine towards the imperial soldiers. The mob ebbed and flowed, forwards and backwards, as the guards stuttered forward and edged back. We were wedged between stone and pressed bodies, close to where a wild-eyed man screamed from a top a heavy crate.

I gripped Helena's arm, leaning close to shout.

"Is that where the escaped prisoners are?"

She nodded. "Saint Akakios church. Should we help the guards?"

I shook my head vehemently. There was no way that I was getting involved in this. If the Centenarius here had any sense, he'd be pulling his men back.

And, sure enough, the soldiers started to fall back. The crowd roared; a fresh wave of stones and broken pottery raining down on the retreating men.

"See!" The man beside us shrieked. "They're weak, the Emperor is weak! No more taxes! No more oppression! Power to the Greens! Nika! Nika! "

The man pumped a sword into the air, something that he shouldn't be allowed, or afford to have.

His rallying cries were lost in the crowd's jubilance. Their voice was the tide surging through rock. It was a disjointed, chaotic maelstrom of sound that crashed into and swirled around itself. I heard calls to free the prisoners, to end the costly wars and remember the charioteers that died. Men screamed the perversion of change, while cries of Nika rose like plumes of spray from the boiling sea.

The church doors opened. Two men emerged, welcomed by the crowd's roar of joyful defiance. These were the two escape prisoners; a Blue and a Green. Though, right now, that didn't matter. I saw more unexplainable swords thrust into the air.

Jacob’s Bed: Part 1

Tue, 19 Mar 2024 12:30:48 +0000

Jake’s sister-in-law moves in.

In 2 parts, based on the work of Bobbi R. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

My wife is a wonderful woman. We married when I was thirty-six and she was thirty-five. We’d both been through first marriages that had gone sour and I knew almost from the moment I met her that this one was going to be for the rest my life. My first marriage had been a disaster: I wanted kids but she didn’t; I was a romantic, she was more hard-headed; yet she was the one who went into fits of jealousy every time I so much as talked to another woman. The sex wasn’t that great either. It couldn’t last and we divorced after only five years.

Leah, on the other hand, was everything any man could want. But I won’t go into details. There’s nothing more boring than listening to a man listing his wife’s virtues. Let’s just say we laughed a lot. Oh, and the sex was amazing. Even after we’d been married a couple of years, we were still at it like rabbits, fucking at every opportunity. Even at the cinema, we’d be unable to keep our hands to ourselves. Halfway through the previews, I’d feel Leah’s hand drifting to my crotch and I’d slip my hand beneath her coat and try to get under her skirt without being seen. If our row was empty we’d sometimes manage to bring each other off. Even then, we’d rush home and dive into our bed to fuck for a couple of hours. She could keep me hard even after I’d come and she seemed to be permanently on heat. For those first couple of years we were pretty inventive too. Leah wanted to try out all the positions in the book; and a few that weren’t. Sometimes we’d end up giggling like a couple of schoolkids, but then lust would take over and soon we’d be fucking like crazy again.

Eventually, though, that phase passed and we settled into just doing what we liked instead of trying to rewrite the Kama Sutra every day. Leah particularly liked me to take her from behind, which always guaranteed an orgasm for her. That position was pretty good for me too, especially when she wanted me to fuck her in the ass, which she did on occasion. I never pushed her, but she knew I liked it. We never settled into a routine, but we certainly slowed down a bit. We both wanted to have kids, but we agreed we’d enjoy two or three years on our own first.

It didn’t quite work out that way, though, because after only a couple of years, her sister Rachel moved in. Rachel was 22 and had just finished college. She was a lot younger than Leah, almost a mistake by their parents, who hadn’t really planned on extending their family in their 40s. But when she arrived they were delighted, with the result she was spoilt rotten. It was amazing she turned out as level-headed as she did. Perhaps it was because she had such a good role model in her older sister, who she regarded almost as a third parent. Especially for the past 10 years, Leah was someone Rachel shared all her secrets with. Especially for the dating and romance advice. Rachel asked Leah all kinds of questions, and soon the two knew everything about each other.

Rachel’s college years ended with a crushing breakup. She’d given herself completely to a 3rd guy, who ended up dumping her right after commencement, then flew off to take an internship in Dubai.

Leah and I helped her move into our spare room and pretty soon we got used to having her around. She got a job at a local coffee shop and contributed what she could to the housekeeping. Leah and I had good jobs, so we didn’t push her. She had her own circle of friends; no permanent boyfriend though; and divided her time between them and us, even though we were both nearly forty by then. She didn’t seem to mind going out with us; she liked the same sort of films we did and enjoyed going out for meals, so long as we paid. What I’m trying to say is that we liked having her around. It was fun having a young person in the house. For one thing, it didn’t make us feel so old.

I know what you’re thinking, though. Didn’t it cramp our sex life? The short answer is no. We carried on pretty much as before. Okay, we were a bit more careful when and where we fucked. We made sure we knew Rachel was going to be out for at least an hour before we fucked on the kitchen table, but we certainly didn’t wait for her to be out of the house every time we wanted sex. If she was in her room and we fancied getting it on in front of the TV, we just closed the door. Rachel knew what we were doing, but she was polite enough not to burst in on us. We didn’t kid ourselves she didn’t know when we were fucking. Leah made enough noise; Rachel would have had to be deaf not to hear her.

It wasn’t like it was discussed either; well, not at first. We didn’t ask her permission, like, “Rachel, we’re just going for a fuck. Is that okay with you?” She was mature enough to know that two people in love have sex. She was no virgin, which we knew because she’d told Leah. Between the two girls her sex life wasn’t a secret. Sometimes I’d come into a room and they’d be giggling over something together. Often the object of their mirth would be some poor guy Rachel had been to bed with.

“I swear he thought foreplay was something to do with golf,” Rachel said once.

Leah said, “Poor you,” and they both laughed.

“You two must have amazing sex,” said Rachel, glancing at me.

“Why do you say that?” asked Leah.

“Come on,” laughed her sister. “I can hear you all over the house.”

“Sorry,” I said. “We’ll try and turn down the volume.”

Rachel wouldn’t have that. “Don’t on my account. It’s great knowing you’re still fucking. I feel quite jealous.”

That night when we were in our huge high-framed canopy bed, Leah wanted to fuck face-to-face. “I want to watch your face when you’re inside me,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. I love watching Leah’s ass twerk as she rides my cock. Our solid wood-frame canopy has inlaid mirrors, which sort of let us watch a porno of each other, while we fuck each other.

After she played with my cock for a while, and her cunt was slipping down onto my turgid shaft, we lay face to face and she looked me in the eye.

“Well?” I smiled. “What do you see?’

“A guy who’s got his cock just where he wants it to be,” she laughed.

“Right,” I agreed.

“Does it feel good?” she asked.

“You bet.” I grinned.

What do you see?” Leah asked as she saw my gaze diverted to the mirrored canopy.

“An awesome sexy ass twerking on my cock!”

“So what are you thinking about?” she smiled.

“Isn’t it obvious?’ I said.

“Tell me anyway.” She insisted

“You, of course,” I said, “and the feeling of your cunt round my cock.”

“Liar. You’re thinking of Rachel.”

It was such a preposterous idea, I actually laughed. “That is so untrue, it doesn’t even deserve an answer.”

She smiled a superior kind of smile. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“What, you can see little pictures of her in my eyeballs?’

“Almost.” She laughed. “Don’t be scared of admitting it. I’d be surprised if you weren’t thinking of her. She’s beautiful.”

She gave my cock a squeeze with her vaginal muscles and a jolt of pleasure ran through me.

“I can’t think of anything when you do that.” I chuckled.

“Don’t change the subject,” she said. “I just want you to tell me the truth. Go on, admit you find her attractive.”

“Okay, she’s attractive,” I agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m thinking of her when I’m fucking you.”

“No, but you are,” she insisted. “You’re thinking of her firm young tits and imagining what her cunt feels like.”

Even though she was smiling, I still thought it better to keep denying it. Jealousy had been one of the reasons my first marriage had broken up and I wasn’t about to let the same thing happen with us.

“I am not,” I said, as simply and straightforwardly as I could. The trouble is, she was almost right. True, I hadn’t been thinking of Rachel when we’d first started fucking, but after Leah had brought her into the conversation, I couldn’t get the sight of her out of my head.

“She’s got a fantastic figure, hasn’t she?” She was teasing, I knew, and finding my discomfort highly amusing.

I said nothing. But the thought ran through my head that she must have guessed something about what I was thinking from the fact my cock was still as hard as a rock. “You sure seem to want me to start fantasizing about Rachel, don’t you?”

“Don’t look so worried, darling,” she said, taking my face in her hands and giving me a long passionate kiss. “I’m not saying you’d rather be fucking her instead of me. I know you love me and love fucking me. But I’ve seen how you look at her and I know you fancy her.”

I started to protest but she stopped me with another kiss.

“No, don’t deny it. You know I hate people lying. I mean it when I say I don’t mind. I really don’t. I know you find me beautiful too.”

“I do,” I said quickly. “You know I do.” For good measure I accompanied my words with a couple of slow thrusts of my cock.

“Oh, that feels lovely, darling,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment. “But don’t make me come yet. I want us to fuck for a long time.”

“Okay by me,” I said.

“So it really is alright that you fancy Rachel.” she repeated. “I’m not jealous of her. She’s my sister and I love her. I feel; I don’t know; somehow proud of the fact I’ve got a sister who is beautiful and who my husband fancies. Does that make sense?’

“If you say so,” I said.

“So just admit you’re thinking of her,” she smiled.

I looked hard at her and she looked back at me, half serious, half amused. I could only see honesty reflected back at me. “And then we can fuck?” I asked.

“Then we can fuck,” she said.

“And you really don’t mind if I fancy her?’

“I really don’t mind.”

“In fact, you’d quite like it if I did?’ I implored some more

“Yes,” she said. “I’d like it.”

“Okay,” I said. “I fancy her.”

“And you’re thinking of her,” she insisted.

“Well, it’s a bit difficult not to be thinking of her,” I laughed, “after you insisted that we talked so much about her. But I don’t wish I was fucking her instead of you.”

“I know,” she said. “Now you can fuck me. And you can think of her as much as you like, so long as you keep that cock good and hard and give me a good orgasm.”

So I fucked her for a long time. And after a while I turned her over and she went on her hands and knees and I fucked her from behind and I thought of my cock buried in her cunt and I thought of my cock buried in her sister’s cunt and somehow it made my thrusts more urgent or powerful or something and then Leah was moaning and crying out and coming and then I was coming into her warm delicious cunt and it was a really lovely loving fuck and we ended up hugging and saying how much we loved each other and kissing a lot until we fell asleep.

The next morning I went down to the kitchen and found Rachel eating a piece of toast. She grinned at me. “Hello, stud.”

Then she flung her arms round me and gave me a big kiss on the cheek.

“What was that for?” I asked, a bit stunned.

“I love you, brother-in-law,” she said.

“Er, yeah?’

“For making my sister so happy,” she added by way of explanation. “I’ve never seen her like this. She looks like the cat that got the cream; every minute of every day. You’re obviously a really special guy. I have close to 10 years of multiple failed relationships, and my sister won the love lottery.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, not really knowing how to reply. “I try.”

“I love being around you two. You make the world seem a better place.”

“That’s a lot to live up to,” I said. “Could it be just that we love each other?’

“It’s not just that. It’s that you’re so; into each other. The way you look at each other, it’s like you’re always wanting to fuck each other’s brains out.”

“That obvious, huh?” I said. I could feel myself blushing a bit.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I like it. It’s hot. Listening to Leah come last night I brought myself off twice.”

“Oh dear,” I said, blushing a bit deeper. “I hope you didn’t hear what we were talking about.”

“I didn’t have a glass pressed to the wall,” she laughed, “if that’s what you’re worried about.” She looked at her watch and headed for the door. “But don’t worry,” she added with a mischievous grin, “Leah tells me everything.” Then she was gone.

“So did you tell her?” I asked Leah a couple of nights later.

“Did I tell who what?” she asked, looking up from where she was licking my cock.

“Did you tell Rachel what we were talking about the other night? You know, about her and you and me?’

“Of course,” she said, “I tell her everything.”

“Oh great,” I said. “So now she thinks I fancy her.”

“Not more than you fancy me, I hope,” she said, pretending to be cross.

“Of course not,” I said quickly. “But that’s bad enough.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, giving my cock a long kiss. “She was flattered. She said it was exciting to be fancied.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to look at her again.”

“Why not? It does wonders for her self-confidence knowing an older man thinks she’s hot.”

“I never said she’s hot.”

“Look, Jacob, she may act all mature and worldly-wise, but like all young girls, she worries about her looks, her personality, how she appears to other people, men especially. She’s still finding herself. And I think; and she agrees; that being around us; you especially; is giving her confidence, helping her to grow up and be herself.”

“Like parents?” I suggested, though I didn’t like the sound of that.

“No, not authority figures,” she said. “More like close friends. The closest friends you can imagine. People you trust absolutely. People you’d die for. People who are always there for you. That’s how she sees us. And that’s how I see her. And how I hope you do too.”

“I try,” I said. “But you’ve been there her whole life. I’m pretty late on the scene.”

“Don’t do yourself down,” she said, playfully hitting me. “She already worships you.”

“How do you know?

“Because she’s told me.”

That night it was my turn to make some noise, as I cried out when I came in her mouth. I offered to eat her, but she said she wanted to make herself come for a change, so I just held her and kissed her while she masturbated. She looked lovely when she came. I tried not to think of how Rachel might look when she masturbated.

Over the next few days and weeks I gradually got used to the idea of Rachel knowing that I fancied her. I got used to the knowing grins and winks from her; and from Leah; and the unexpected hugs and kisses. And if I expected any complaints from Leah that her sister was getting a bit too friendly, they never came. On the contrary she seemed to love how well we were all getting on. Often we’d all three end up in a kind of group hug, laughing like drains and swearing how much we loved each other.

By this time Rachel had a sort-of boyfriend, though they didn’t seem to behave much like a couple. They always went out in a crowd and he never came round to the house. Then one day I came home from work to find Leah and Rachel sitting on the sofa, Rachel in tears and in her sister’s arms.

“The boyfriend broke up with her,” said Leah.

“Idiot,” I said. “Obviously he has no taste in women.”

“Thank you,” sniffed Rachel.

“Make us a pot of tea, please, Jacob,” said Leah.

So we sat and drank tea and gradually Rachel stopped crying. Then I suggested we all go down the local pub and have a couple of beers.

“And we can criticize all the useless men we’ve known,” said Leah.

“And I’ll praise the two wonderful women,” I said. Which was a bit cheesy, but it made them laugh, so that was alright.

We got a bit drunk and Rachel had one or two wobbly moments, but mostly we just laughed a lot. At home Rachel hugged and kissed us both and announced she was going to bed. “Try not to make too much noise, you two,” she added with a sad smile. “You’ll only make me jealous.”

For the next two or three weeks Rachel was a bit subdued around the house. She didn’t go out much and when we asked her why, she said, “That lot bore me. They’re so immature. I’d rather be with you two.”

Though that was fine by me; what man wouldn’t like having two sexy women to come home to? it seemed to worry Leah a little.

“I think Rachel is missing something,” she said one night when I was kissing her cunt.

I looked up. “Like what?’

“Well, this for a start,” she said.

“Well,” I began, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You know she masturbates practically every night to make her go to sleep. “

“Does she?” The image of Rachel playing furiously with her cunt immediately put another inch on my cock.

“It’s not healthy. She needs a good fucking.”

“Well, she’s beautiful and sexy,” I said. “Men must be queuing up.”

“They probably are,” she agreed. “The problem is, since that idiot ditched her, she’s not interested.”

“Can’t you persuade her not all men are like him?’

“I’ve tried,” she said with a smile. “The trouble is the only example I can think of is you.”

“That is a problem,” I agreed, “given I’m in love with you.” I bent to her cunt and gently put my lips to her clit.

“Oh yes,” she sighed.

After a while she started moaning in the way she always did to tell me I was in the right spot. Her lips were swollen and slippery. She tasted delicious. Then she said, “Maybe you should fuck her.”

At first I didn’t think I could have heard her right. After all, I had my head between her thighs. “What?’

“You know exactly what to do to make a woman feel good about herself,” she said. Her face had the dreamy expression it wore when she knew she was going to come; maybe in a few minutes, maybe in half an hour, but definitely.

“Maybe you should fuck her.” Leah smiled.

“No,” I said firmly. “Don’t even joke about it.”

“Don’t talk,” she said. “Go back to what you were doing.”

Dutifully I returned to her cunt. After a minute she was softly moaning again. I tried to put her suggestion out of my mind. She was joking. She was just aroused from my sucking her clit. She was letting her cunt do the talking. She didn’t really mean it. Somehow the thought of me fucking her sister turned her on.

“Imagine how she’d feel if you were doing this to her,” she murmured. “She’d love you forever.”

Maybe she would, I thought, and maybe she wouldn’t. What’s certain is that I was married to Leah and I loved her and I wasn’t about to jeopardize that by fucking her sister. Even if it was at her suggestion.

Of course, once the idea was in my head I couldn’t get it out. Even as I was sucking Leah to a thundering orgasm, I imagined it was Rachel’s young cunt I was

Jenna & the Coronation: Part 2

Mon, 18 Mar 2024 12:30:47 +0000

Saint Michael’s hosts a town celebration.

By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Young Men of the Choir

Choir practice at St. Michael’s church was always a lively affair. Yet, for the past year or so, it lacked a full spectrum of harmony, because of the ailing older men who provided base and baritone fullness to many of the arrangements.

Recently, it had become a lot harder on Gordon’s ears due to a couple of new members. James and Jordan were two eager eighteen-years old, and the twin sons of Debbie the Sunday school teacher. They both hit puberty rather late, having had vocal changes occur at about their 16th birthday. Last month Gordon overheard the two brothers shout cheers for their favorite Premier League team, while getting in their car, after Sunday morning service.

The husky, revelry, inspired Gordon to take on the challenge of refining the twins into a huge asset for the church choir. That enthusiasm diminished after their first choir practice.

“I’ve got my work cut out, getting that lot into shape ready to sing at the community coronation celebration, next month!” Gordon told Jenna at their weekly ‘organ practice.’ “They’re bloody awful. I know they’re Debbie’s boys and she’s chuffed they’re finally getting involved in church life, but I fear they’re tone deaf!”

“Oh dear, that’s no good,” Jenna said as she finished playing Crown Him with Many Crowns and then readied herself to play a much more interesting organ.

Jenna could feel Gordon rubbing his hardening cock against her arse. It was then that she had an idea.

"I think I should give those two boys some extra inspiration,” she smiled. “Maybe they’re not completely tone deaf. With a bit more instruction, their voices might be passable.”

“Hmm, maybe.” Gordon replied, his voice shaking with arousal. “They’re coming in tomorrow afternoon for extra instruction and vocal training. I’ve taught some pretty poor choirboys and choirgirls over the years. Some did vastly improve and go on to have terrific careers in music.”

Jenna switched off the organ and slid round on the stool. “Do you want me, Gordy?” She asked, darting her tongue between his lips. “Tell me how much, if you do,”

"Desperately!” He growled. “My God, you’re so fucking hot! Pardon my language, I forgot we’re in the church.”

“You say the loveliest things.”

Gordon was hornier than usual tonight. He’d recovered from a bad cold and was eager to make up for lost time. Adjusting the open-fronted black robe he always wore in church, he tried furiously to unbuckle his belt and unzip his trousers with one hand while feeling his way to unfasten Jenna’s blouse and bra with the other.

“Oh, organ daddy is eager tonight!” She cooed. “Swell to Great!” she added, referring to one of the organ stops, which in recent months had become a double entendre.

“I’ve already swelled,” Gordon sighed, as he feasted on her beautiful tits. “Oh Jenna, Daddy needs you so much.”

“Let me give you a hand, then.” She pulled out his thick cock and began stroking it.

His shaking hands were soon pulling her soaking wet panties to one side and he wasted no time in sinking his entire cock straight into her hot, wet cunt. When he was completely inside her, he started to slowly pump it in and out, making the strokes longer and faster, banging her back and arse against the organ’s manuals, until she was literally screaming with pleasure. Her cries echoed through the empty church.

“Oh my darling Jenna! Yes!” Gordon groaned. “You’re such a good girl! I love fucking your nice, ripe, young cunt! You’re going to make me cum hard! I’m going to fill your young body with so much cum! Ah!”

Gordon’s thick, hot load spurted fast, deep and hard into her.

“Ahh, that was lovely,” she whispered in his ear. “You always pull out all the stops!” Jenna gasped as they recovered from their intense orgasms. Once again, the organist had left her thoroughly entertained. She rested her head on his shoulder and he gently slipped his arms around her.

“Do you remember the first time we, did it?” Gordon replied, planting soft kisses on her forehead. “Such a long time ago, when you seduced me right here on this organ stool and I hopelessly surrendered to your charms?”

“Hee hee. How could I forget that? You were powerless to resist. And so shy at first,”

"Me? Shy?” Gordon spluttered. “I think not, I was just stunned.”

“You blushed when you came back from the gents and saw me sat here on the stool!”

“Organists don’t blush! We just, swell.” Gordon replied, though his cheeks were already turning several shades of red.

“Of course,” Jenna replied, running her fingers through his thick, silver hair.
“And let me fill in for you, tomorrow. I want those fellas to get a vision for how they can add to the choir.”

The next day, Jenna was in church alone, practicing a few pieces of music on the organ. Sensing the presence of someone, she stopped and peered over the top of the partition.

“Oh good. They’re here.”

“Good afternoon you two!” She announced, as James and Jordan headed down the aisle. The two blonde-haired lads looked surprised to see the vicar’s wife.

“Oh, Mrs. Morris,” Jordan exclaimed. “Is Gordon here? He asked us to meet him here for some extra choir practice.”

“Afraid Gordon’s needing me to fill in. Hope you’re not too disappointed.”

They both looked at each other. “As if! Gordon’s a bit,”

"Strict?” Jenna replied. “Yes he is, but he’s been organist and choirmaster for a long time and he takes his job very seriously. This coronation concert is really important for the church. The Mayor will be attending. So it’s important that we get those voices of yours up to scratch. I think a little bit of extra inspiration is needed.”

“Some parishioners heard the two of you chanting support for your favorite Premier League football team, a few weeks ago. Is that true?”

“Manchester, all the way!” James beamed.

“Ah, great team!” Jenna affirmed. “So, do me a favor, please. Can you two repeat that chant you shouted in the car park?”

The guys repeated their team Busby Boys chant;

Hello, hello
We are the Busby Boys
Hello, hello
We are the Busby Boys
And if you are a City fan surrender or you’ll die
We all follow United

Jenna looked puzzled. “Fellas, I’m having a hard time believing that’s what they parishioners were treated to in the car park? Gordon said he heard a very masculine machismo boistering. He heard passion, bravery, smack-talking cockiness. Let’s try again, but I’m going to join you, okay? And if either of you hear my voice overpowering your powerful masculine cheers, it is to your shame.”

Jordan began the Busby Boys chant again, and the twin baritones filled the high ceilings of the great sanctuary with the richest a-capella Jenna had ever heard since joining the church a year ago.

James and Jordan were breathing heavily, and feeling great affirmation of what they have the vocal power to do, in that place of worship.

“Bravo!” Jenna cheered, clapping her hands. This is the raw masculinity that our church needs in worship. Gordon can teach you technique and tone, but Manchester United is where you found your masculine identity. Can you bring that with you to practices and performances?”

“Uh, sure;” Jordan said. James nodded.

Jenna slid herself off the organ stool in such a way as to ensure a flash of her panties. She had put on one of her favorite short black dresses, which was hardly suitable attire for church. She’d borrowed Gordon’s black robe. It was unzipped in front, but too big for her and kept slipping off her shoulders.

“This thing’s not my size at all,” she muttered. “Best left for Gordon.” She removed it, and sensed the two lads eyeing her up as she draped it over a pew. She was wearing a sleeveless black dress that clung in all the right places.

Jordan gave a cough. “Um, Mrs. Morris,”

"Jenna, please. No need to be so formal. You’re not at school now, are you? In fact I shouldn’t be calling you choirboys at all, seeing as you’ve just turned eighteen. I think choirmen would be more suitable, yes?”

“Yeah!” They both gave nervous grins.

“Well I’m a woman,” Jenna explained. “I can tell you, the good women of the church really want the men to be men. Good men, virtuous, but men. Please promise me you’ll continue to be the men God created you to be? And you’re a perfectly matched pair of baritones. You have no idea how incredible your resonance can be, if you refine your craft.”

“Okay, we’ll just have an hour going over the pieces that Gordon mentioned. Nothing too intense. How does that sound?”

“Great, yeah.” James said with new enthusiasm.

“James, is it true that you want to be an organist some day?”

“That’s right. I start uni in September.”

“Let’s get the sheet music Gordon assigned for this week,” Jenna turned away and fiddled with some music books on the shelf at the side of the organ, bending at the waist and swaying a bit more than she needed to.

“She is well fit!” Jordan whispered to his brother.

“Wish she’d take over from Gordon permanently! Yeah. I’d do her.” James boasted.

Jenna smirked to herself, then stood back up and faced James; “My my, aren’t you eager?”

James froze. Shit, she overheard! “To sing? Oh sure, we wanna get this right.” He awkwardly scratched the side of his head.

She walked a couple steps over to him, and carelessly dropped one of the music books on the floor. She squatted down in front of him. Gazing up, she could see the outline of a massive cock hardening behind the skinny jeans he was wearing.

“Oh, not just to sing!” Jenna said, and slowly slid her hands up his thigh. James just stood there, stunned, not knowing what to do or say. Her fingers were soon tracing the outline of his big, thick, long cock through his jeans.

“Oh my, James!” Jenna said, “You are a big fella.”

Jordan gawped as the vicar’s wife continued caressing his brother’s thigh.

“So; who wants to go first?” Jenna looked to James, then over to Jordan.

“Umm,” they both mumbled.

“James,” Jenna said, massaging his cock through his jeans, “I think someone wants to come out and say hi, don’t you?”

“Uh, yes!” He gasped, blushing.

Jenna unfastened his jeans, and pulled them and his boxers down to his knees. She was pleasantly surprised. Definitely a cock worthy of an organist, or future organist! “You truly are an organist!”

She aimed his aching erection straight for her open mouth, and didn’t stop until she had thrust his whole shaft straight down her warm, wet throat.

“Whoa, holy shit!” James groaned as Jenna worked her amazing talented, tongue, swirling round and round his youthful cock. A few seconds of her incredible cock-skills was all he could take and he was soon pumping a whole load of hot cum straight down her lovely throat.

“Fuckin’ 'ell!”

Jenna greedily swallowed every drop, her unblinking eyes gazing up at him the whole time. She even kept on gently sucking long after she’d already sucked him completely dry.

“Delicious! What a good man you are, James. I’d say you hit all the right notes there and are perfectly tuned-up! Now how about your brother, pipe?”

Jordan didn’t hesitate, and soon had his jeans unzipped. Jenna wrapped her fingers around his aching cock. Like his brother, he was generously endowed, and quick to rise to the occasion, however his lack of experience would mean a swift conclusion. Nothing wrong with that, of course. They were young and eager. In time, they could be molded into excellent lovers.

Jenna thought about the time she seduced the nervous, virgin curate in the church hall’s storeroom. Thanks to her, Josh was now full of confidence and an expert in the bedroom, and he had recently got engaged.

Her hand was pumping Jordan’s nice, young cock good and hard.

“Oh God, fuck yes!”

She leaned in and licked the head of his cock a few times, before running her tongue up and down the length of it. Her lips kissed and sucked the tip of his cock as her tongue teased it a few times. It twitched uncontrollably. Jenna slid it into her mouth while looking intently into his eyes.

Jordan pressed his hips forward and was surprised to see her eagerly take the entire length of his member into her mouth. She grabbed his ass cheeks and pulled him tight. She sucked his shaft hard, making him yell with pleasure. She savored the taste of pre-cum.

“Oh Jenna! I’m gonna cum!”

The vicar’s wife began to suck him harder, her tongue sliding over and around his cock as her head as was pushed and pulled back and forth. She sucked Jordan’s cock for all it was worth, caressing his balls at the same time.

Oh dear God, then it came, what she was waiting for. Jordan’s cock erupted in a white creamy fountain; he couldn’t stop. He was groaning in ecstasy. Jenna swallowed every drop, gulping it down.

“Umm, tastes so good! Another yummy load. You really needed to unload, didn’t you?

Jordan’s eyes were now closed and he was breathing heavily.

Well, that gets you fully tuned-up, too. I guess we’re about done here,” Jenna said, standing up and planting a kiss on both their cheeks. “But, we’d better do a bit of singing as well. "I’ll give you a few minutes to, compose yourselves, then meet me at the piano. Then we’ll sing Onward Christian Soldiers! If you boys can sing as expertly as you shoot your cum, the coronation service will be a massive success!”

Polishing the Mayor’s Ceremonial Mace

It was Thursday morning and the coronation of King Charles III was by now, tantalizingly close. Over at St Michael’s vicarage however, all was not well.

“What do you mean we can’t have a street party outside the church this Sunday?” Reverend Morris exclaimed. “There was no problem last year when we had the Jubilee celebrations.”

The council official at the end of the line muttered something about it being the Mayor’s rule, and hung up.

“Bloody councils,” the vicar moaned. “Full of useless overpaid pen-pushers. The Mayor’s coming to visit our church later today too. I’ve a good mind to raise the issue with him face to face.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow. “I thought being a mayor was just a ceremonial role. How come he’s not letting the church hold a street party?”

“Some red tape about obstructing the King’s Highway or something.”

“But we’re holding a party to honor the new King! Surely rules can be waived just this once?”

“We could always pretend to be eco protesters,” Reverend Morris remarked.

Jenna uncrossed her legs and began thinking. “That Mayor needs some persuading. "I can’t have Simon’s plans ruined by pesky red tape,”

Mayor Harrison Buckingham rolled his eyes as he turned into the small car park of St Michael’s church hall.

"Right, time for another tedious hour shaking hands with old ladies and giving fake smiles,” the corpulent man muttered as he parked the Jaguar.

“Keys,” his wife replied.

“What, you’re not coming in with me?”

“Not a chance. You can do this all by yourself, darling. I’m off to the Trafford Centre for a spot of retail therapy.”

“But, but, Pauline, you’re the Mayoress! And how am I going to get home?”

“And you’re the Mayor dear. A small church like this only needs one of us. Our house is five minutes from this church. You could either phone a taxi or do something really daring, such as walk home. Keys.”

He grumbled to himself but did as she asked.

“Ah, he’s here,” Reverend Morris said. Jenna observed the approaching man carefully. Aged about sixty, overweight, and with greying hair that was dominated by a large and very obvious toupee. His gold mayoral chains glinted in the late spring sunshine.

“Oh, he’s a chonky lad.” Jenna chuckled.

“From what I’ve heard, he’s dishonest and drinks a lot.” Reverend Morris whispered. “His smile is as fake as that hairpiece he’s wearing. Norman Winstanley knows him from the Men’s Fellowship meetings, and said he’s made a fool of himself several times.”

“Perfect qualities for someone working on the council then,” Jenna smirked.

“By the way, I heard Norman has moved in with Gladys Wilcox and become her lodger.”

“There’s something kinky going on between those two, I’m certain of it.” Jenna said.

“What? As if. She’s in her eighties!” The vicar gasped.

“Just because there’s snow on the roof, doesn’t mean the fire’s gone out!” Jenna replied. “Although Gladys once confessed to me that she had a bit of a fancy for Gordon. I guess Norman’s her second choice as he was willing to do whatever she asked of him.”

Reverend Morris’ eyes widened. “I’m sure he only helps her with D I Y projects and her shopping.”

“Well I still think there’s more to it. Mark my words. I don’t think Gladys is the prim old widow you think she is!”

Reverend Morris fiddled with his surplice. “Ah, good afternoon Mayor!”

“Hello there, Vicar!” He shook hands. “Oh and who is this lovely lady? Your daughter I presume?”

“No, my wife, Jenna.”

“Ah, my bad. Dearie me, either you’re his second wife or you’ve got a bloody good plastic surgeon! Ha ha ha!”

Reverend Morris cringed. “Jenna is my second wife. Lucy and I divorced a year ago.

"Oh I see. Well don’t blame you there, Reverend. Wish I could do the same but She Who Must Be Obeyed won’t let me. Ha ha ha!”

“Where is the Mayoress?” Jenna interrupted.

“Afraid she’s, tested positive for Covid,” the Mayor lied, hoping that they hadn’t noticed his wife driving away.

“Oh what a shame,” Jenna replied. “So you’re all alone? Never mind, I will be glad to show you round our beautiful church.”

“Can’t stand the bloke,” Reverend Morris whispered to his wife as they entered the church. “There’s tactless and then

Jenna & the Coronation: Part 1

Sun, 17 Mar 2024 12:30:47 +0000

Jenna elevates the ceremonies by supporting the men in need.

By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The ‘Jenna’ series started last November with ‘Jenna Goes to Church’ episodes; followed by ‘Jenna, the Vicar’s Wife’. Earlier this month we resumed with a couple 2-part stories from Jenna’s series. This is the final 2-part story.

A Royal carry-on at the Cathedral.

The King’s coronation was only a few weeks away. Lots of different events were planned, and the church of St. Michael’s was no exception.

At St. Michael’s vicarage, Reverend Morris was preparing to attend a very important concert at Liverpool cathedral, which was going to be filmed by the team from the popular religious TV programmer, Songs of Praise.

Reverend Morris sniggered as he read an online newspaper headline.

“17th century diary reveals local vicar had an 11 inch penis.”

“I bet he was popular!” He said to his wife.

Jenna laughed. “11 inches? Wow, that is impressive. Of course, it’s not the size, it’s what you do with it that counts.”

“Oh yes. I agree completely!” He put down his phone. “Right that’s enough of that. We must get ready to leave. Gosh, I’m really looking forward to this concert! It’s a real honor for us to have been invited to attend. His Majesty has been visiting several cathedrals this week.

"I’m excited too. Will we actually get a chance to speak to the King?”

“Perhaps, Jen. Not sure if he’ll come round and speak to all of us, maybe a lucky few on the front row, eh?”

“Oh good. Must say, I’m relieved that pregnancy scare turned out to be a false alarm, Simon. I’d just got struck down with a stomach bug. I mean, I want to be a mum one day, but not yet. I’m not ready for such a big responsibility just yet, bringing a new life into the world.”

“You’re only twenty-one, Jen. You’ve got plenty of time. Enjoy the best years of your life! And I just know you’ll be a wonderful mum one day. I want us to enjoy our child when the time comes. You’re so good with Christopher when he stays over.”

She nodded and thought to herself. After all, I feel I still have a lot of God’s work to do, helping the men of the church.

She wasn’t the only one who was relieved. Gordon the organist was overjoyed too. Though after a private meeting with the vicar’s wife in church last week, he confessed that he would’ve “pulled out all the stops” to support her, if it turned out he was the father. Thankfully, the status quo had been restored, and much to his delight, he and Jenna had resumed their weekly “organ practice” on Thursday nights.

Gordon had been tempted to confess a whole load of other things to her, but had held back, when he got the impression she’d already figured out the strength of his feelings, and that put his mind at ease.

Edward Hardwick was nervous. He was standing in for the regular organist at Liverpool, who’d been struck down with a bad case of flu. Edward knew he had big shoes to fill, as the man he was standing in for was a highly respected musician, with countless accolades and credits to his name.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just a regular Sunday service, but why did it have to be a concert where the King will be in attendance? All eyes will be on me. Songs of Praise will be filming. I’m not sure I can cope with this,”

Edward was a brilliant young organist, but was prone to periods of self-doubt and nervousness. At twenty-eight, he was still a bit of a greenhorn, compared to the other organists he’d encountered, and had only just landed his first full-time organist job. The small parish church outside Liverpool where he was now the official organist, was a world away from this massive cathedral.

Edward was sure a more experienced organist and choirmaster could’ve been found to perform here, but the clergy seemed convinced that he was ideal to take on the job. He took comfort from that. He must be doing something good if they’d put this much faith in him. And playing at the cathedral for a coronation concert would look very good on his resume.

Later,

"What a beautiful building this is, Jenna marveled as she and Reverend Morris took their seats in the cathedral ready for the concert. Jenna wore a black skirt suit with a white cotton blouse. Simon was in clerical black, wearing a blazer for travel to Liverpool."I’ve been to Liverpool loads of times but never visited the cathedral. I wonder if Father Aiden has been here? He used to be based at Liverpool before he came to our town.”

“Yes I think he’s attended a few services here. That reminds me, I must email him sometime and see how he’s getting on at the Living Earth Free Church. Last I heard, he’d got engaged to Róisín.”

“Ah, I’m really chuffed for him,” Jenna replied with a smile, remembering her first encounter with the once-miserable priest at the vicarage social last year. She read through the order of service booklet. It was adorned with little golden crowns. The usual collection of familiar patriotic music, Handel’s Messiah, Jerusalem, Rule Britannia, Crown Imperial and of course, the National Anthem.

On the first page was some information about the cathedral organ.

“Liverpool Cathedral boasts the largest pipe organ in the UK, an instrument of tremendous power and majesty, but also of serenity and calm. Its sole purpose is to aid worship by creating a reverent atmosphere.”

“Gordon would be over the moon if he could get his fingers on this impressive instrument! Listen to this, Simon. An ‘Anniversary’ recital is given by the Cathedral Organist each year on the nearest Saturday to 18th, in commemoration of its dedication.

The organ is situated in two chambers on opposite sides of the Choir. It currently comprises 10,268 pipes and 200 stops contained in nine divisions. There are two five-manual consoles; the original one up in a dedicated gallery under the North Choir case and a mobile recital console at floor level. The 'Trompette Militaire’ and the 'Tuba Magna’ stops are the loudest voices on the organ.”

“Makes the organ in our church look like a penny whistle by comparison,” the vicar replied. “I think even Gordon would be a bit overwhelmed if he had to play this whopper.”

“He could play it with ease,” she replied. “Gordon’s the best organist in the world.”

The hall was filling up and the warm humid spring day made the cathedral quite warm. Jenna removed her blazer and laid it over the back of the pew.

Jenna leaned her head on Simon’s shoulder & closed her eyes. Soon she thought back to last night. Organ practice with Gordon had been wild, and those two old tin pipes he’d given her during Lent had been put to good use again.

“Lie back on the stool for me,” Gordon whispered. Slowly, he traced the cold organ pipe down her naked body, before pausing and using the tip of it to tease her erect nipples. She giggled.

“So cold!”

“Delightfully tuned,” he grunted. He moved a finger down and began teasing her clit. Then he pressed a key on one of the manuals.

“Can you sing that note for me?”

“Lah.”

“Excellent! How about these notes?” He played a few chords whilst fingering her.

“Ahh, doe, ray, me; oh my God,”

Jenna breathed harder and faster until she shuddered and cried out in ecstasy, and writhed beneath him. The orgasm rocked through her body like a tidal wave; it was indescribable.

"Always so perfectly in key, Jenna. Very good, very, ah.” Jenna’s bare foot started rubbing his groin, and he struggled to remain composed.

“Open your organ loft, Gordon. I need to perform an inspection.”

As usual, he immediately succumbed to her charms. “At once,” he smiled, unzipping his trousers and freeing his member from his underpants. “I am sure everything is in fine working order, but I might need a little bit of a re-tune.”

“I can help you there,” Jenna said, reaching in she gave a quick kiss to the tip of his fat cock, and began to suck the length, then taking it deeper.

Gordon cried out in delight, and dropped the organ pipe. It clattered onto the church’s stone floor.

“Oh, so good,” Gordon sighed. His words spurred her on, so she varied her technique, flicking her tongue down his shaft’s sensitive underside, then up. She extended her tongue and licked the head of his cock like a lollipop.

“Umm, is my sexy organ daddy ready to give me some of his delicious cum?”

“Ahh, he’s got plenty for his Jen, oh God here it comes!”

Jenna jerked off the organist until he exploded all over her face. She opened her mouth as a huge, pearly wad of his issue landed on the bridge of her nose. A second spurt hit its target, and she quickly swallowed every drop.

“Jenna! Have you nodded off? King Charles has arrived!” Reverend Morris whispered, nudging his wife.

“Umm, oh no, sorry I was just thinking, oh yes, there he is!”

Everyone stood up, as the soon-to-be crowned monarch took his seat and was welcomed by the Bishop of Liverpool. Thus began the usual formal introductions and as everyone sat down, the sound of the mighty organ radiated through the cathedral.

“Our concert begins with a rendition of that wonderful rousing piece by Handel, his Messiah, which was composed in 1741. It was first performed in Dublin on the 13th of April, in 1742 and received its London premiere nearly a year later. After an initially modest public reception, the oratorio gained in popularity, eventually becoming one of the best-known and most frequently performed choral works in Western music.”

“I love the Messiah,” Reverend Morris whispered. “Remember when it was played at our wedding?”

“Sure do.” Jenna’s eyes gleamed.

The music began, but after a few moments, it was obvious that the organist at the console wasn’t quite up to playing the mighty beast that this great pipe organ was..

Reverend Morris cringed as a few wrong notes were played. “Hmm, I don’t think this chap has practiced this enough. Either that or he’s drunk.”

“Well the bishop did say that he’s not the regular organist. I think he’s nervous. Poor guy. I’d be nervous if I had to play in front of the King, and I was being filmed for a TV programmer!”

“Oh dear,” Reverend Morris said, as the unfortunate rendition continued. “This is sounding more like Handel’s Messed-Up Messiah.”

King Charles appeared to be really enjoying the music. “Oh I say. Reminds one of Les Dawson,” he whispered to Camilla. “Splendid entertainer, he was. Dearest Mummy used to love it when he appeared at the Royal Variety Performance in the Eighties. It takes one a great deal of skill to play wrong notes like that!”

Camilla simply nodded, but she wasn’t fooled. This wasn’t meant to be a Les Dawson tribute, but it was certainly interesting.

“Did I ever mention that I often play organ music to my plants?” the King continued.

More error-filled hymns and pieces followed, until the first half of the concert came to an end, and the interval was welcomed by just about everyone, but mostly by the organist.

“Fuck, I screwed everything up,” Edward groaned, shuffling off, his face burning with shame.

Some of the overflow crowd lined the hallway, off the sanctuary. Edward faced the gauntlet of critics as he passed through. “Hey mate, is this some kind of joke?” A man shouted. “Have you even taken an organ lesson? Because that was bloody awful!”

“My three-year old could play better than that!” A woman added.

“My Labrador could play better than that!”

“Shame on you! You must be a republican. Playing like that in front of His Majesty!”

“Look I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!” Edward mumbled, rushing away from the crowded hallway. He had to hide somewhere and try and compose himself, or he’d never get through the second half of the concert.

Meanwhile, Jenna had been navigating her way back from the toilets, which was proving to be a bit of a nightmare, due to the crowds and the security measures in place due to the monarch’s visit.

“I definitely shouldn’t be down here,” she said, hurrying down a small corridor. “Uh-oh, this is the vestry. How did I end up here? I’ve got to get back to my seat!”

Hurrying through a curtained area, she walked right into a man clad in red cassock and white surplice, whom she assumed was a vicar.

“Oh, so sorry; Reverend!” She mumbled.

“No I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” the man replied. “Um, I’m not a vicar. I’m Edward, the organist.”

“Oh right,” Jenna said. “Well nice to meet you. Um, I think I’m lost. Please could you,” She looked at him and noticed his eyes were red from crying. "Hey; are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Edward sniffed. “Uh, yes, just through there and turn right. Keep right, because the left side is out of bounds because the King’s sat over there.”

“You’ve been crying,” Jenna said.

‘What a cute guy!’

She thought to herself. He looks just like Robert Pattinson. Though she preferred older men, she figured this younger chap was in need of some comfort and a confidence boost. And she never could resist a man wearing church vestments.

“I’ve messed up,” Edward sighed. “Surely you heard how bad I played during the first half.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jenna replied. “I would’ve been wetting myself if I’d been asked to play in front of the King. I think you did great.”

My God, this guy is an adorable cinnamon roll!

“Oh thanks. I was still shit though. Um, are you an organist?”

“Not officially. I’m a pianist and I work at my church’s Sunday school. The organist at my church who I like, er, who I’m friends with, he has been giving me lessons. It’s taken a while, but I can just about stand in for him and do the morning Eucharist. But I still play the odd wrong note or pull out the wrong stops. It’s such a complicated instrument! So don’t feel bad.”

Edward relaxed. “I wish all the members of the public were as understanding as you are. I’ll probably get a grilling off the Bishop later, as well.”

“Ignore the haters. And the Bishop is a man of God, so he should be merciful.”

“Heh, maybe. What’s your name?”

“Jenna. Pleased to meet you Edward! I expect you’ve heard this before, but you look a bit like Robert Pattinson.”

“Yeah. I have. Cedric Diggory playing the organ. You’d think he’d use magic so he could play perfectly and without feeling nervous!”

“Can’t use magic in the Muggle world!” Jenna smiled.

“Heh, are you a Potter fan?”

“Nah, never really got into it. But I have seen some of the movies.”

“Same here.”

“Are you still feeling nervous?”

“Terrified. I have to play the national anthem at the end of the second half. If I play a wrong note during that, well I’m dreading it.”

“I’ll stop you from feeling nervous,” Jenna winked.

“Oh, how do you plan to do that? Do you have some booze?” He jumped as he realized her arms had slipped round him.

“No. I’ll give you something better than booze.” She nibbled at the outside corners of his mouth, teasing him to open for her.

“Open for me,” she whispered, as she continued to place soft kisses.

Edward, who was too shocked to process what was happening, only registered the pretty redhead’s body pressing him against the wall. Unable to move, he simply stood in her embrace, neither accepting nor returning her kisses.

He suddenly blushed even more at the sudden realization that he was becoming erect. This is insane, he thought to himself. The second half is about to start and I’m,

“You’re really sexy,” Jenna murmured, sending shivers down his spine. Edward was powerless to resist her. “Do you feel me?” She asked in a husky whisper, pressing herself against him, “Do you feel how much I want you?” His shyness was an incredible turn-on, and making her terribly horny. She could feel herself getting wetter by the second.

Edward looked into her lovely eyes and bent down to kiss her.

At their sweet contact, Jenna heard Edward sigh contentedly. He reached down and grasped her arse. Suddenly, she felt his tongue enter her mouth, and his erection pressing against her.

“What would you like, Edward?”

“Confidence,” he mumbled back.

Jenna pushed him into a small cloakroom. “To give an organist confidence, I need to inspect his organ pipe,” she purred, swiftly reaching under his surplice and fumbling with the buttons on his cassock. “All these buttons, but no worries, I’ll find a way in, ah, there we go!” She unzipped his trousers and reached inside.

Edward gasped as her warm hand grabbed his cock. It stiffened further in her grasp.

“Oh, what a big pipe you have. It seems like a fine one to play a tune on!” Jenna grinned. These corny organ puns worked so well on Gordon, and it seemed that they worked on Edward too. All male organists liked it if they were complimented on the size of their instrument, surely?

Edward couldn’t believe this was happening. The concert was set to resume in ten minutes but here he was, he just closed his eyes as Jenna worked her magic.

Another delicious-looking cock. Edward was her third organist, after Gordon and Raymond Wilson from Oakwood Road Methodist church. Third time lucky!

Jenna knelt in front him and kissed the top of his enlarged cock. Then she gently kissed all around its head. With long, gentle strokes she licked up and down the length of the shaft as Edward began to moan with pleasure. She took his balls in one hand and began to massage them. His moans increased.

Reverend Morris checked his watch, wondering where Jenna had got to. The second half was about to begin.

“Did she get lost on her way to the Ladies?” He wondered. Most of the guests had returned to their seats and the Bishop was approaching the podium.

“Come on Jen, hurry up, or you’ll miss the start. What on earth is she doing?”

Edward immediately entered her and drew a strangled gasp as he plunged his rigid cock to the hilt. He pulled his hips back so that his cock withdrew partially from her sweet grip. He pushed forward again and buried himself back inside her. He’d been single for a while, and it showed. Jenna moaned at the sensation of this eager young organist thrusting in her. She reached her peak only a few seconds before he spurted his cum deep within her, and when they finally parted, Edward felt like he could conquer the world. Never before had he experienced sex as good as this.

Jenna gave him a kiss and zipped up his trousers. “I think it’s time I returned to my seat.”

“Uh, can I get your email or something? I’m on Twitter, but I don’t tweet much. Are you on there? Hey, I’m the organist at St Paul’s church in Crosby. It has a website. My contact details are on there. What happens now?”

She winked at him and gave him a final kiss. “Now, you go and play the organ like a pro. For King and Country.”

“Oh. Right. Yes. I will!”

Jenna hurried down the corridor, a big smile on her face. The archway to the main hall was blocked by a man in a suit

Given In Marriage

Sat, 16 Mar 2024 12:30:41 +0000

Cecily is a young woman who will get married.

by Lady_Mary. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chapter 1

I grew up in a very conservative family. My father was the boss in the family business, which was created by his father, which was my grandfather. My mother took care of the house and the children, whatever else she wanted to do the approval had to be given by my father. A wife was to be her husband’s adornment and calling card; I, my sisters and brothers were brought up with this motto.

Cecily? Father is calling you. I was pulled out of the activity by the voice of one of the brothers, Arthur.

I am on my way. I nod as I put my knitting aside. I run it over the fabric of my blue dress a few times to smooth it out and present myself impeccably in front of my father.

My father was a traditionalist. Together with our mother they took care of our impeccable dress. Especially the girls. Our dresses, because that was all we could wear, usually reached our ankles or mid-calf. Anything shorter was inappropriate. Tights were also compulsory. My family believed that ladies from good homes should always have them.

I nod in respect as I enter my father’s study. He sits in his swivel leather-covered chair, looking as perfect as ever in his suit trousers and white shirt, ironed by my mother.

He said in a cordial tone, indicating a chair for me to sit down, then said; “Mother praises you immensely, you have become a great help to her. I am extremely pleased about that.”

“ Thank you, Father. Praise always makes me happy.” I said with a smile.

“Therefore,” Father puts the stack of papers aside. “I thought you were mature enough to think about your household”.

“My household?” I repeated in surprise. I felt my face turn white.

“This is what awaits every woman. I thought my mother and I had instilled this in you all.” The man walks around the desk and sits on its edge almost beside me so that he can brush his fingertips against my cheeks. “You are our great pride. You will be the same for your husband. Lucky him.”

“So… who will it be?” I ask timidly.

“You will find out in time. You will like it. Of that I am certain.” Father blinks one eyelid at me. “First the engagement and a few… procedures involved.”

“Procedures?” I asked.

“Your mother will prepare you. You have nothing to fear. Well… That is all. You may return to your duties, my child.”

“Thank you, father.” I bow my head before I leave my father’s office.

My preparations for the nuptials began almost immediately… although I did not know to whom I would be married. I also still didn’t know anything about the procedures I was to go through and my father had mentioned them.

“The doctor will be with you shortly, lie still, my lady.” The maid instructed me.

In fact, there was nothing wrong with me, but it was necessary for the engagement to be announced. That is what mother and one of my brothers said.

So I was fulfilling a commitment. I lay in my huge bed, dressed in something like a nightdress, but much shorter than a standard one, for here the linen material ended above my knee.

I didn’t wait too long as the door to my room soon opened. I saw a man with blonde hair and at first sight he was two heads taller than me.

He placed his brown leather bag on the table that was next to the bed.

“Lady Cecily? I’m doctor Mason. I am here to confirm your readiness for the sacrament of marriage. I understand that this is your first examination of this kind, but I assure you that you have nothing to fear.” The young doctor sent me a weak smile. “ At first, I ask you to move down toward the base of the bed and spread your legs.”

“What? “ I could not believe what I had just heard. Red was on my cheeks almost immediately.

“Lady Cecily. It would be far better for yourself to do it voluntarily. Neither of us wants it to be unpleasant, do we?” he warned.

I obediently move down and spread my thighs. I seek solace in looking at the ceiling of my bedroom. It was decorated with hierubines that were supposed to watch over the cleanliness and good conduct of the girls.

“Wider. Lady Cecily, I will have to say a word to your father and husband-to-be. None of them will be pleased.”

“Excuse me… I never… “ I’m at a loss for words, but I spread my legs as he asks me. This contributes to the material of the garment falling up over my stomach and the man can now see my femininity.

“It’s very nice…” I feel the touch of a stranger’s single fingers on me. In a place so carefully hidden. The blonde man takes a seat on the stool between my legs. “I can see the hymen. It is not too thin That’s good. Your spouse will be pleased with this gift. Are you sinning?”

“Am I sinning?” I ask almost in a whisper.

“Have you ever touched yourself in a sinful way? In places… that you shouldn’t have? Don’t lie. I’m a representative of the church. God listens and can punish.”

“No, no, never! I swear.” I plead terrified, but almost immediately I let out a shrill scream. I feel something inside me.

“Relax, it’s a good sign… Your husband will have something to work on.” I watch as the doctor slides one of his fingers out of the copper. “With God’s Grace, you will not be a less fruitful woman than your mother. Undress.”

I untied the 3 bows on the front of the shirt without protest. I didn’t want my future spouse to think I was a troublemaker. I am far from it. I rose to a sitting position when asked to do so.

“Considerable for such a young person, but very nice. 85d to my eye.” He affirms, squeezing both my breasts in his hand, which makes me squeal. “Sensitive… Your husband will be really happy. Have you eaten anything since yesterday?”

“No, my mother told me not to eat anything after breakfast yesterday. The test could give bad results.”

I look up as the man walks away towards his leather bag. He looks for something for a moment.

“You have a wise mother. Kneel down politely on the floor.”

I do so, but first I throw on and tie my petticoat. I see the doctor smile but say nothing for a long moment. He takes slow steps towards me with something shiny in his hand, but I can’t see what it is.

“Open your mouth wide.” he ordered.

I do so immediately and unexpectedly the doctor stuffs something into my mouth, sort of like a bite block that a dentist might use, and ties it at the back of my head. My mouth opens even wider, which causes a slight pain.

“Take it easy. Put your hands behind your back and let them stay there.” The man sighs somewhat amused. “Now listen to me carefully. We must see how much you can take… it’s very important.”

Take? I understood absolutely nothing. I wanted to talk to the man, but my mouth was opened by some metal. I could not form anything into words. I kneel impatiently as the man walks towards his bag again and firmly presses something to the wall mirror. I am unable to see it for a long moment. Then at last I see it! I have heard about this… but a long time ago I put it out of my mind. Wives had to please their husbands in many ways when they were pregnant, often doing it with their mouths, wrapping their lips tightly around the penis to please the man. The doctor came to me and helped me to stand up, leading me to a kind of test where I knelt down again, facing the mirror.

“I know that the lesson programme for female marriage preparation talks about this. However, I understand that you may have forgotten. What you see is a dildo. Silicone. Here on the side.” He points his finger to the right side of the tool. Numbers appear every few centimetres.

“This will tell us what level you are starting from. Hence the spider gag in your mouth so you can get the best possible result.”

I look at the man, at the reproduction of the male penis. It is so big and thick… I can’t take it. Indeed, it’s a good thing I haven’t eaten anything… although my stomach is starting to hurt just thinking about it.

“Go ahead. I won’t finish this visit until you take.”

I squeeze my hands together behind my back and slowly slide the dildo into my mouth. I start to choke when I feel it at the starting point of my throat and almost immediately pull my head back, causing me to cough and my eyes fill with tears.

“Try again,” he orders.

“I ca ca.” I want to say I can’t make it, but I can’t form any words and all doctor can hear is sobbing.

“Take it easy. Many young women fail to do this properly.” The doctor kneels beside me. “I’ll push your head and hold it for a while Okay? This might hurt a little.”

I nod in acknowledgement that I agree, although the truth is that he didn’t need my consent. I felt his large but gentle hands sink into my brown curly hair and after a moment he pushed my head without indicating. I’m running out of air, so my hands are almost immediately on the wall to push back. My saliva flows out of my mouth onto the floor and mixes with my tears. Soon the push subsides and I gasp loudly for air.

“10 centimetres. Perfect for a start, young lady.” I feel him unbuckle the strap from the spider gag on the back of my head and pull out the dildo.

“In the face of everything, I can confirm that you can marry. You can stand up, Lady Cecily.”

Although I was still a little stunned, a smile appeared on my face. My parents will be proud, especially my father.

“Thank you doctor and… I apologize for my behaviour.”

“Nothing has happened. Fortunately, you turned out to be as obedient as you are said to be.” The man hides the instruments in his bag and pulls out a notebook. “You bleed regularly, according to your mother… The only thing I can recommend is vitamins. This will help in creating a family and in bringing new life into this world.” He speaks confidently and writes down on a piece of paper, which he seals at the end. “God bless you, young bride.”

I say goodbye to the doctor, and immediately after him mother enters the chambers, before whom I bow as I did before my father to pay my respects.

“The doctor has praised you. Father is delighted. So is your fiancé.”

“Who is it? My fiancé?”

“Daughter… These things only happen at the altar.” She says amused by my question, which I could ask several times a day. “Now you must be clothed and this must go back to its place.” She points to my belt, my virginity belt.

I have worn this attribute of maturity since I started menstruating. This has happened to every young woman in our faith. Without it, we might have sinned and tarnished the honour of the family, thus derailing any chance of a favourable marriage. It was locked with a key, and this was put in father’s possession. On the wedding day it will be given to my husband.

“Do married women… have to wear it too, mother?” I ask as she helps me put it on and then locks it.

“Depends on their husbands. When they are in a blessed state, they usually don’t, at least in the later stages of pregnancy.”

I look at my mother. She was only 36 years old and pregnant, another fruit of my parents’ marriage. My mother has never been without a child for more than 2 years. My parents believed that procreation was the purpose for which God created man and woman. They fulfilled it scrupulously. The Church also had this as the highest value of human life, especially of a woman.

“Your underwear needs to be replaced. This one is too childish for a married woman.” mother says. “The same with your dresses… but here your spouse will have a word.”

“I will put on your corset. A young married woman has no right to hunch over.” Mother pulls out my white Victorian-style corset from the wardrobe, to which I obediently allow myself to adorn and tie it, even though it was an uncomfortable piece of clothing.

“Can it be a little looser, please?”

“Wait a minute. You will soon get used to it. Look here, my dear.” I turn to the mirror & see my image. No one dreams of such a waist.

I smile because I would be lying if I didn’t like seeing how small I can be at this point on my body.

“Will my sister Elizabeth be coming to my nuptials?”

“It is hard to say. She is expecting a baby. It is a delicate time for a woman. You will see for yourself soon enough.”

A woman puts a white dress with embroidered sunflowers on me. My shoulders were prominent, so I was a bit surprised by this choice by my parent. However, I immediately understood that this little boldness was meant to imply that I was expecting the wedding. Exactly. Wedding!

“So when? When will it happen?” I ask.

“In a few days… Our faith wants a girl to become a woman on her fertile days, preferably on those… the most important ones. Yours is coming.”

For days afterwards, preparations were underway for the big event. The family and the servants were preparing for my wedding.

My belongings were packed, although most of my clothes remained. I was assured that a wardrobe tailor-made for a married woman awaited me in my new home. Mostly my cosmetics, bedding and a small collection of jewelry were completed.

I was obliged to go to bed early. Like a younger sibling, I was supposed to be in bed by 8.30 p.m. already. All this so that I would not be a tired bride. I was also taught the art of make-up and made sure my body was smooth. Husbands did not tolerate unnecessary hair.

“Lady Cecily, a box for you.” a servant said from the hall.

“A box? At this hour?” I ask surprised when the maid puts the box on my bed. It was of considerable size and wrapped in cobalt ribbon. I have never received a package before bedtime. “Thank you. You may go.” I had just come out of the bath wearing my robe and my belt was off for the bath.

I waited until I was alone and with great excitement began to open… a gift? I guess you could call it that. I took a deep breath and lifted the lid.

My God… what… white lace underwear appeared before my eyes. I took one part, which was supposed to be panties, but… it didn’t cover anything.

Only after a while did I see a small card. I take it in my hands with a trembling heart.

“Hello My Spouse-to-be. I’m sure you’re surprised by the contents of the package. Consider it a gift for the night that will make us soon married.”

“I will be extremely pleased to see you in it. I believe that you care about pleasing your husband.”

“Nevertheless, I know that you are a woman undefiled in deed or word. But I want to let you have a taste of the married life. I’ve discussed this with your parents, so you don’t have to worry about me tarnishing your good name.”

“At the bottom of the packet is something like an egg and a gel. I would like you to moisten your womanhood and gently insert the egg as deep as you can, my doll… ”

I lifted the full material of my underwear and pulled out a pink ball from under it. It did indeed look like a small egg. I took a deep breath and placed a few drops of gel on my fingers. I opened my legs and this opened up my womanhood. I rubbed some of the gel in, but thought it might be worth doing with the toy itself. I breathed deeply to relax and do the job properly. I moaned several times, feeling my hole being expanded and trying to swallow I took a piece of paper in my hands to read the rest of the letter.

“ Once you’ve done that, put on your belt. We don’t want a sinful moment to come over you. Give the key back to your maid who is waiting outside the door.”

“Then take your phone and call the number below…”

“Your future husband”

I was extremely uncomfortable in something inside. I was taking big steps, and it was apparently going to stay in me for an unknown amount of time. After putting on my virgin belt, I handed over the key to the maid who was indeed waiting outside the door

I sat on the bed, but this position was uncomfortable and I did much better when I lay down. I picked up the phone and with my thoughts swirling I called the number indicated. I did not wait long, because the call was answered.

“Um… hello? Lady Cecily?” I heard a warm male tone. Nice one.
I’ve been waiting for your call. So I believe you did what I asked for?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Okay.. so we can start.”

“Start wha, ah, ah!” I screamed as I felt some vibrations in my womb, but almost immediately closed my mouth with one hand and the vibrations stopped.

“ What’s wrong, doll?” I heard the man’s amusement. “Forgive me. Apparently that’s too much to start with. I want you to lie down politely. Relaxed and closed eyes.”

I felt the vibrations again, but were much softer. But I couldn’t help but sigh.

They grew stronger every moment, and that made my breathing heavy. I felt the muscles in my lower abdomen tighten and the tension grew.

“Oh My…” I sigh loudly, but then the vibration stops. “What? why…”

“You need to rest, little doll. I cannot let you reach the pinnacle of pleasure. It awaits you only in our life together.”

“It was wonderful. Thank you… what’s your name?”

“You’ll find out soon. Now go to sleep as a good girl.” He said, then hung up. I experienced something like this for the first time… and it’s not the end, apparently. So, the life of a married woman… was also pleasurable?

by Lady_Mary for Literotica

A Romantic Anniversary

Fri, 15 Mar 2024 12:30:37 +0000

Romantic Anniversary between husband and wife.

by LazyDiogenes. listen to the podcast at Steamy Stories.

22 years. Angie had the day off to give her a nice 3 day weekend; and for me a normal Friday at the office. Even though we have 21 anniversaries behind us, the day still gives me a smile.

The drive home from work is my time to shake off the day and reflect on anything from the day’s wins and lessons to weekend plans; or on milestone days like this, the last 22 years. I naturally reflected on our most memorable - our first, where we ate the ceremonial cake, the second honeymoon in Athens on our 5th; and the infamous - our brief time apart in our 13th year. That separation proved to be a blessing in disguise; being apart on our anniversary helped make us both realize we belonged together, resulting in an unbreakable lifelong bond.

However… As much as I adore my wife now every bit as much as I did in our earliest years, complacency sets in. The fact I’m old enough to need medicine now doesn’t help. I know it’s just age and biology but still a blow to the ego. Angie really doesn’t care for flowers and we stopped giving gifts years ago. This anniversary is sure to be like so many over the past several years. We’ll sit on the couch and go through our usual drill:

‘We should probably at least have dinner somewhere’

‘Yeah, probably should; where do you want to go?’

'I don’t care; what are you hungry for?’

'Doesn’t matter; I can go with anything.’

'Okay; I guess we can just go to Texas Roadhouse.’

I still have a healthy sex drive but Angie has become less and less responsive, the result of a waning libido I guess. We’re in a deep rut but we still love each other and have a good life: biggest house we’ve ever lived in; first pool we’ve ever had; financially secure. It’s a good life. Norman Lear once said how much he loved his life. Even at 98 years old, 'I get to get up in the morning and I’m still married to the most beautiful woman in the world.’ Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Roadhouse is fine; we’ll go and have a decent time, then come home and sit back down on the couch as if we’d never left. We’re far from perfect, dysfunctional even, but I’ve learned to be content.

The door opened to an empty garage. I left work early for the occasion however modest it might be, and honestly didn’t think anything of her not being there; maybe she’s at Karen’s house. I set my stuff down and saw the handwritten note on the counter on nice writing stationery:

Happy anniversary, my love! Come to the Gaylord room #610.

See you soon! Love, Angie

(You’ll want to take your medicine; says your dosage is 3-5. You should take 5 (with a smiley face).

It took a minute to sink in; then my heart jumped and mind raced. What time did she write this? How long had she been there? I need to get out there right away! No, wait, maybe she just left; I don’t want to be right behind her at the check-in desk. What am I saying? I need to get out there right away! Do I shower first? No…yeah, make it quick. I was in and out in 5 minutes and raced to my dresser to grab a handful of clothes for an overnight bag and saw a second note: Already packed for you (with another smiley face).

I had one leg in my jeans before I thought wait, I can’t just show up in jeans and a t-shirt, can I. I quickly put on my best suit and ripped the tag off a necktie I hadn’t even worn yet. If Angie put this much thought into this night I needed to come strong. I was out of house in less than 15 minutes. I had a fleeting thought to text her and ask if she needed anything before realizing how stupid that would sound; it’s not like I’m going to the Piggly Wiggly. God we were in a rut. My heart was pounding and my mouth dry from the flurry of activity. I’m sure I didn’t catch every red light on the way there but it sure felt like it.

I finally arrived at the Gaylord and walked in like a gentleman as best as I could, conspicuously carrying the flowers I bought along the way; didn’t even notice or care how much they cost, I couldn’t come empty-handed.

I stood at the door of room 610, the bar flipped over to discreetly block it open, the faint sound of romantic late 80s music coming from within. I softly announced myself as I walked in. The aroma of perfume filled my senses as I rounded the corner seeing Venus in the flesh making herself a drink at the bar.

Angie’s beautiful red hair was long and straight. She turned and smiled, her deep red lips revealing perfect white teeth and her radiantly beautiful face in full makeup. She was wearing one of my starched white button down dress shirts extending halfway down her pantyhosed thighs, top two buttons undone. “Well you look nice,” she complimented me as she walked over, drink in hand. Angie pulled me toward her by my tie and kissed me. Her kiss tasted of vodka, sticky aromatic lipstick with equal hints of mouthwash and fresh menthol smoke. She was perfectly eye level with me in high patent black heels.

I looked into her green eyes, framed by dark bronzish shadow and long false eyelashes. “You look so beautiful,” I whispered and wished her a happy anniversary before kissing her again with my arms around her waist and hers atop my shoulders, swaying to the music.

She broke character as we sat on the couch. “Thought I might surprise you; did it work?” She asked with a proud smile. I assured her this was the last thing I saw coming, expressing my surprise and how impressed I was at the thought she’d put into it; though quietly I wasn’t surprised at all. My wife doesn’t do anything last minute or without significant planning and forethought. I was just pleased to be the beneficiary.

I returned to the couch with my own drink as she sat casually with her legs crossed; my dress shirt riding high up, exposing the lacy top of her thigh highs. Those legs extended across my own as soon as I sat down, as if to show off her new shoes - as if I hadn’t already noticed. I ran my fingers across the shiny patent leather and down the spiked heel and slid them into her arch, slipping the heel off, causing it to dangle from the tips of her toes before letting it fall to the floor. I took my time repeating the process with her other shoe. After 22 years together, Angie was well aware of my affinities, dormant as they’ve lately been, and was most definitely playing to them as never before.

I needed to be careful not to overdo it. I had to strike the right balance between soaking in the moment without bouncing off the walls. I took a deep breath, sipping my fine bourbon with one hand as my other gently massaged each of her red toes underneath the sheer seamless nylon. I lifted her toes to my lips, inhaling the aroma of nylon and leather. I was in heaven; here with my beautiful wife celebrating our years together.

Angie set her empty glass on the coffee table, stood in front of me and pulled me up by my tie, leading me into the bedroom as she would a dog on a leash, pushing me down on the bed. I could already tell there was no bra but when I glided my hands up the backs of her thighs I felt nothing but her soft flesh above the lace all the way over her hips.

Angie helped me shimmy out of my coat and tossed it to the floor as I ran my hands up over her full hips. The lean figure of a fitness queen from 20 years ago was long gone but my hands cupping the flesh of her beautifully full ass turned me on and made me love her even more. Angie is neither thin nor overweight; just a perfectly curvaceous 46 year old beauty. A woman can never enter a man’s mind to understand how much more desirable we find our wives at this age than the earlier years. They focus on perceived imperfections and pine for the figure they no longer have. All we see is the pure beauty of life experience and how much more we love them now than ever.

Angie leaned in to allow my face between the buttons to her kiss her chest, deeply inhaling the mix of fresh cleaner’s starch, perfume and that enduring residual menthol smoke; all of which created an erotic cocktail which filled all of my senses. We savored the moment, kissing and fondling as she took her time undressing me and laying me back against the headboard. She removed my tie, loosening it enough to lift it over my head and place it over hers with a giggle. Last to come off were my boxer briefs; she giggled again, saying she was glad I 'found’ my medicine.

Her eyes locked on mine as her red lips descended my shaft. I could only take it so long before I leaned forward pulling at her hips to the side, pivoting her leg across my body and lowering her ass onto my face. Angie responded by grinding her fullness to my chin and up onto my nose, wiggling her exposed clit across my lips. Fuck, I love this woman.

My hands slid underneath her shirt up to her full, fake c-cups, a gift we gave each other when we reunited after our separation. I tweaked her nipples, causing her to gasp on my rod as I pulled more of her flesh between my teeth and thrusting my tongue as far as it could go into her canal. I could feel her body tense up with a quiver, feeling her hand on my cock up against the side of her face; I knew she was close. Her quiver became a tremor and then a mini-convulsion as her clit stiffened between my lips and teeth, her body falling limp on top of me.

We recovered with afterplay, kissing and fondling as we geared up for round two. Angie smiled and leaned back, “I wonder if I can still do it.” I knew was what coming; she converted her strength and cardio regimen to almost exclusively yoga, maintaining the flexibility of a teenager. Angie held her feet and slowly extended her legs, locking her knees as she pulled them apart. I took that welcome invitation to replace her hands with mine, lowering myself onto her. As I did, she locked her ankles around my neck, gliding her nylon feet across my face and lips. We took each other in a slow passion that only exists between committed lovers.

We both have our bedroom kinks, but those are for another time. We’d teased each other just so we’d know they were there: me letting her take charge; and her letting me take her luscious nylon toes in my mouth and allowing me the pleasure of tasting her smoky kiss. Angie isn’t a smoker but occasionally indulges that fetish for my benefit. Those kinks didn’t have to be center stage tonight. Tonight was for lovers.

Neither of us wanted the night to end. Of course the sex was fantastic but what I enjoyed most was pleasing Angie in our quiet, distraction-free intimacy. My senses were filled; the feel and vision of the most beautiful woman in the world; her soft voice; the taste of her kiss and body, but most of all the cocktail of scents filled my sinuses bringing it all together. Yeah, not just the best anniversary but maybe the best night of our 22 years.

by LazyDiogenes for Literotica