Steamy Stories

Jacob’s Bed: Part 1

Tue, 19 Mar 2024 07:30:48 -0500

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 07:30:47 -0500

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 07:30:47 -0500

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 07:30:41 -0500

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 07:30:37 -0500

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

Annie Rejects Her Shame

Thu, 14 Mar 2024 07:30:44 -0500

Annie finally rejects her abstinent life and finds how much joy a cock can bring her.

By spr1987 for Literotica. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

“Oh my God… it feels so hot in my hand… and how can it be this hard and this soft feeling at the same time?”

These are the thoughts racing through my mind, as I feel a real live cock in my hands for the first time. I know what you are thinking, “You are 19 years old Annie, and you are pretty hot looking… so how can this be the first time you have had a cock in your hands?”

First, thank you for saying I’m hot. As a petite red head with a larger than normal pair of tits, I think I’m pretty hot also, but it is always nice to hear it. Second, I was raised in a very religious home, and sex was absolutely forbidden. In fact, my mother even made a habit of checking my panties and bedsheets to make sure that I wasn’t masturbating. Yes, I realize now how twisted that sounds. But it was how I was raised, to think that self-pleasure and sex were mortal sins. Hell, even now I feel guilty every time I touch myself. Not to mention that right now, I am feeling pretty wrong emotionally, about this cock in my hands.

Although I am feeling the guilt from years of conditioning, I can’t help feeling a rush of excitement all through my body, as I squeeze and rub this thick cock. I am assuming it is thick. I have no basis for this judgement because, as I said several times already, this is my first cock. All I know is that I can’t get my small hand around it and when I stack both of my hands, there is still all of the big swollen head left sticking out. My God that head looks big. I catch myself thinking that it looks like the helmet of one of those stormtrooper guys from Star Wars. I have to swallow the laugh that is threatening to burst out of me.

I trace my fingers around that big helmet, and I am surprised at how smooth the skin is. I trace my finger along the groove in the front and the whole cock Jumps in my hands. I look up at the guy’s face, wondering if I did something wrong or hurt him or something. I see that he has his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his mouth is open in an audible moan. I make a mental note that this is a good thing. At this same time, I feel and see liquid leak out of the cock’s slit. I touch it and I like how slick it feels on my fingers. I rub it between my thumb and finger and relish the slick feeling. Then I run my slick fingers around the smooth cock head. I love how slippery it feels on the smooth skin of the head. I trace my slick fingers all around the edges of the cock’s helmet.

“It is like I am trying to memorize every detail of my fascinating new plaything.”

I run my other hand down to the bottom of his shaft and discover his balls. I cup them and feel them move around in their soft wrinkled sack. I roll them around in my fingers, enjoying how they move so fluidly. I sort of ring my fingers around behind them and pull them down, enjoying how the sack stretches tight and I can feel the balls hard in my hand. I squeeze, just to see what this will feel like. The guy almost screams out, “Oh my God, Yes,” when I do that. I make another mental note, that this is a good thing. Then I wonder, what will happen if I squeeze his balls at the same time as I rub my finger along his tender groove? “Fuck yes.” he screams out, as I try this experiment.

Well, that confirms my thesis, I smile to myself and continue to gently pulse his big full balls in one hand, while teasing his sensitive head with my other. I think to myself, I am so glad that he likes this because I really love how this feels for me when I am doing it. I start to wonder,

"How the Hell, have I never heard about how amazing cocks and balls feel?“

I have talked with quite a few other girls about their sexual experiences, and I can’t remember a single one telling me how amazing cocks felt in their hands.

"I fucking Love this,”

I think to myself as I really concentrate on the feeling of this cock and those full balls in my hands.

Then the thought enters my head, “If it feels this good in my hands, how will it feel in my mouth?” I immediately hear my mother’s voice in my head chastising me, “You should be ashamed of yourself Annabeth, for even thinking such a thing.”

Then I tell the guilt wielding mother in my head, “Shut the fuck up Mother… and it is Annie… Nobody calls me Annabeth anymore.” Then I show her that she is no longer the boss of me, as I take this big cock into my mouth. Well, to be honest, I take the head and maybe another inch or so in my mouth. “My God, this thing is big. Are they all This big?” I wonder to myself as I feel that swollen thick head push into the soft spot at the roof of my mouth.

I pull my mouth off of it enough, so that I can suck my lips around the helmet. I run my tongue around the smooth head, as I suck my cheeks around it. “Oh my God, this feels so exciting and so naughty,” I think to myself as I feel like I will pee myself from the overwhelming exhilaration. I am suddenly yanked from my moment of bliss, when I feel the guy’s hands grab my head almost violently. Again, thinking that I hurt him, I try to pull my mouth off of his cock. He latches on even harder and almost begs, “No, Please don’t stop… keep doing That…”

Relieved that I am not doing it wrong, I go back to doing what I was just doing. As I run my tongue around his smooth head and down the shaft as far as I can reach my tongue, I moan around the cock, as I recover my overwhelming feeling of exhilaration at the feel of this cock on my lips, and on my tongue, and on the fleshy insides of my cheeks. I slide all of them over and around this cock, as I rediscover the feeling of his big balls in my hand.

Overcome by the sensations of this cock in my mouth, I can’t stop my other hand from sliding under my skirt and into my thong. Um, I am so fucking wet. I push two fingers into my wet pussy. My pussy feels so wet and squishy and warm around my fingers. I wonder if this is what his cock feels when it is in my mouth. I start to imagine that my fingers and his cock are the same. I start to push my mouth on his cock more and more, as I push my fingers deeper and deeper inside myself. I move up and down on his cock at the same speed as I am pushing my fingers into me. When I begin to gag myself by forcing his cock into my mouth so fast and so deep, I realize how fast and desperately I am finger fucking myself. It is at that exact moment that I push myself over the edge and cum Streaming around his cock.

I didn’t realize how close he was, until at that same time, I feel his cock swell even larger and twitch in my mouth as I feel hot surges hitting the back of my throat. Because I am in the middle of an uncontrolled scream,

“I feel his cum continue to shoot directly down my throat.
I can actually feel it coating my throat.”

Then I start coughing uncontrollably, because, as I was riding my overpowering orgasm, I was also desperately gasping for breath. I hope I didn’t breathe his cum into my lungs. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if it is possible to drown from cum in my lungs?

As I get control of my breathing, I realize that I am not going to drown. I am twice as relieved, knowing that my mother will not have to recover my body from the university, after learning that I died by drowning in cum, as I sucked the cock of a guy I just met. Jeff… or Jake… or is it Jim? I am pretty sure it is a “J” name. I hope it is the overpowering orgasm I just had that is keeping my brain from recalling his name, and not the fact that I am a total slut who sucks the cock of a guy she doesn’t know the name of.

As I contemplate how much of a slut I really am, I start to think,

"Well, if I am going to condemn myself for being a slut, I might as well go all the way.“

In that moment, I decide that I am getting fucked for the first time. Well, that is if this guy… J.. something, can get his cock hard again. Realizing the decision is in my hands… literally… I am holding his softening cock in my hand… I start to slowly squeeze and stroke it.

Figuring that I should get J… J… J-dog involved in the decision, I say to him,

"Um, I loved how your cock felt in my mouth… I would love even more to feel what he is like in my pussy… You want to feel your big, thick cock deep inside me?”

“Fuck Yeah,” he enthusiastically agrees. Then in a more subdued way he adds, “But you got to give me a minute… You know… to get ready…”

I do in fact know what he means. I can feel his cock in my hand, clearly not ready to do the pushing that I so desperately need right now. It is not an unpleasant feeling though. I actually really enjoy the soft, flexible feeling of his cock in my hand. It is not fully soft, but just hard enough to weigh heavily in my hand. I squeeze it and I love the way it compresses. It feels like a very warm stress toy. I realize how much I would love to have a cock in this exact state, when I am stressed in class or doing an assignment in my dorm. I shake it and flop it around in my hand and love the way it moves.

“I am suddenly jealous, that guys get to have these things with them all the time. Then I wonder if they hold them and squeeze them when they need stress relief?”

He taps me on the head and rips me from the labyrinth of my twisted thoughts. It is then that I realize that his cock is Very much up for the task at hand… again, my hand…

“Don’t you think you should take off your clothes? Or do you just want me to bend you over and flip up your skirt?” he asks me.

“Oh My,” I think to myself, as I suddenly get the image in my head of him forcing me over the arm of the couch and taking me from behind like an animal. Battling with myself in my mind, I think I should lead him to think I am a lady and do this in a dignified manner. However, I realize that I fucking need this Bad and I need it Now.

Standing up, I reach under my skirt and almost tear my thong as I pull it off my hips and down my legs. Then I turn toward the arm of the couch and lean over it, as I spread my legs. As I turn to look back at him, the desperate look on my face, is all the answer he needs.

I keep looking back as he aims his cock toward my wet, waiting, and Very willing pussy. He doesn’t even use his hands as he pushes it against my swollen and Very sensitive pussy lips. He moves back and forth slightly, making his cock slide along my wet groove. Oh my God, the feeling of the big smooth head is even more amazing against the lips of my pussy, than it was against the lips of my mouth. I squeeze my pussy, trying to kiss it… to suck it into me… I feel his cock start to push my lips open. I realize that he is not moving, it is me, who is moving back, desperately trying to fuck myself onto his cock. I feel him slightly pull back with each of my thrust back. I look up to see him grinning at the desperate look on my face. I finally beg out loud,

"Please… put it in… Please… fuck me… Please… Fuck me Now…“

Without a word he pushes his cock right into me. I gasp out loud as I literally feel like all of the air is pushed out of my lungs. I am not sure how deep he went with that first thrust, but I feel like I am impaled on the damn thing. I feel so full that I am afraid I will tear in half, if he pushes any deeper. Surprisingly, it is not painful though. Luckily for both of us, I broke my hymen in a tragic accidental fall on a dildo… Okay, I was masturbating. I said my mother made me feel guilty about it. I never said that I didn’t do it. And thank God that I did. This may be the first real cock inside me, but it is Definitely not the first time I have had cock like objects inside me. And my God, the number of cock like objects I have inside me… Well, let’s just say I have been training Very hard for this moment.

Yet, for all of the training I have done, None of it compares to what this feels like for real. Fuck, the heat and hard flexibility of this cock inside me… It is almost indescribable. I feel like he is entering my soul. I feel like his cock is in control of my body and mind. I want this… I want this a Lot. Then, just when I am deciding that this feeling is better than anything I can imagine, he starts to move slowly out and then back in… and it gets better… Much better. I feel like he is turning me inside out, as he slowly pulls his cock out of me. Then he holds it with just the head inside me, keeping me spread so wide. I get desperate for more. Why the Fuck is he holding it there?

I look back pleadingly. I see him smile at me with a devilish grin and then, Slam, he pushes all the way back inside me. Three things happen at the same time.

I feel him pound deep inside me.
His big heavy balls Slap against my WAY oversensitive clit.
I actually see stars and lose control of my legs as I cum so hard that I am afraid I popped a blood vessel in my head.

I am not sure if I lose consciousness, but as I ride the most amazing orgasm of my life, I feel like I am flopping around like my whole body is made of jelly, as he continues to hammer away in and out of me. When I feel fluids gushing out of my pussy, I am mortified, thinking that I must have lost control of myself and peed all over his cock, balls and thighs.

He suddenly stops fucking, with his cock half inside me. I am afraid that he is grossed out by my loss of control. I am sure that I will be humiliated when everyone at the university hears about “Annie the incontinent slut”. Then he surprises me by saying,

“Fuck Yeah… You’re a squirter. I never fucked a squirter before. That was fucking amazing.”

“That shit splashed out of you so hard, I felt like someone turned a hose on me.”

With my face so red that I am sure it is glowing, I ask him, “So you are not grossed out by That?”

“Fuck No,” he answers and then starts pushing his cock back in and out of me. I am embarrassed by the loud squishing and squelching sounds his cock is making as he fucks in and out of me. Then I feel a weird new feeling. It is like there is a surge of water into me with each thrust in, and a much stronger suction with each pull out. As I realize that I am building to another orgasm, he warns me, “I got to tell you, after I cum once, I can keep going for a Very long time after. The thoughts of this amazing cock fucking me for a Very long time, sends waves of exhilaration through me and I Clench around his cock, telling him,

"Give me All you got…
Fuck me hard and long…
fuck me until I can’t walk.”

My spontaneous haiku has the desired effect, and he Slams into me so hard that his hips Slap on my ass and it stings like he spanked me with his hand. I feel him grab my hips with both hands. He grabs so hard that I can feel his fingers dig into the soft flesh in the hollows of my hip bones. Then just as quickly he releases them, and I feel his hands reach up to unbutton my blouse. Feeling him fumbling with them, I reach up and take over. I quickly have the buttons undone and I wildly flap my arms trying to throw the blouse off of me.

As my blouse finally flies off my wildly flailing arm, I feel his hands grab my bra clasp and almost violently pull it open. Leaning forward like I am, the bra Snaps open and falls down my arms. My 36 double D tits that were straining hard against my bra, are now free and wildly flapping their wings trying to fly away. Well, more flopping than flapping. With each of his hard thrusts into me, I feel my heavy tits bounce forward and Slap against my neck and shoulders. Then I feel them recoil and Slap back against my rib cage and under my arms. Yes, in case you missed it, they are all natural and definitely out of my ability to control them.

He is relentlessly fucking me, and I can already feel my heavy tits start to ache from their wild flopping and bouncing. I am about to reach up to catch them with my hand and arm, to try to stop the bouncing, when I feel him reach around and cup each of my tits in his hands. I feel him hold them just enough, so that that they jiggle and bounce in his hands. The rubbing of my nipples on his palms is driving me fucking insane. He Squeezes my tits and weighs them appreciatively, as he tells me, “You’ve got fucking amazing tits. I love these big fucking tits.”

Then for emphasis, he takes my nipples between his fingers and thumbs, and pulls, and rolls, and Pinches them, which pushes me over a cliff I wasn’t even sure I was standing next to. “Fuck,” I Scream out loud, as once again I feel my fluids gush out of me and my arms give out, as I fall on my face, having another overwhelming orgasm. As my pussy squeezes and spasms around his cock inside me, I keep getting electric shocks of overstimulation, which makes my orgasm continue like a series of explosions that won’t end. All I can think about is the overpowering pleasure and the feeling of that cock filling me and touching me so completely. I have never done drugs, but I imagine this feeling of euphoria must be what drug addicts feel. I know right then and there that I will need to feel this all the time, from now on.

I am suddenly pulled from my post orgasm bliss, by a new sensation. As he continues to slowly push in and out of my pussy, he starts to lightly tease my sensitive butt hole with his thumb. It feels like he is thrumming my sensitive ring with his thumb, like it is a guitar string or something. There is something very naughty and very exciting about it. It is also sending electric shocks of excitement through my entire body with each thrum of his thumb. Each thrum seems to short circuit my brain and it also seems to excite every nerve inside my already overstimulated pussy. I feel my excitement being driven higher and higher. I feel like it will become too much for my body and mind to handle, and I will fucking explode.

“Fuck,” I Scream out, as he changes from a thrumming of my butt hole to a thumping of his thumb on it. Oh my God… I have Never felt anything like this, and it is making my entire body twitch and spasm with each thump. He is doing it at a faster pace now and I can almost feel my pulse beating faster to match his thumping pace. I suddenly realize that I am loudly moaning in a rhythmic pattern, “Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh,” over and over, with each thump of his thumb on my butt hole. I also realize that I am pushing back onto his cock desperately to meet his cock pushing into me, at the same pace. I also feel myself pushing back onto that fucking thumb, that is driving me insane.

Feeling how positively my body is reacting to his teasing, on the next thump, he doesn’t stop. He pushes his thumb right past my tight ring. I loudly Gasp, “Oh,” as I feel his thumb Pop past my tight butt hole. I notice immediately how wet and slippery his thumb is, from all of the fluids I recently squirted all over him. I also notice that his thumb doesn’t feel anything like I thought it would. I had thought about anal sex before, but always dismissed the idea because I imagined that it would hurt quite badly. But this… this feels Very different than I feared it would. As I start to squeeze my butt around his thumb, sort of getting a better feel of my sudden intruder, I realize that he is slowly pushing and pulling it in and out of me, in time to his cock’s motion in my pussy. I realize that I Really like this double stimulation.

I start to grind back again, pushing his cock and thumb into me harder and faster. I suddenly feel a desperate need for more. I want him fucking me deep and hard in both of my holes. An image

Making Amends

Wed, 13 Mar 2024 07:31:02 -0500

She makes up for a lifetime of teasing.

by musicankane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I awoke to the unthinkable; Columbus High school had had a fatal shooting. I stood in shock as the news broadcast told the story about a outsider kid who got fed up with being made fun of and went nuts in the schools main courtyard with his Dad’s handgun, killing two and injuring thirteen before he killed himself.

Although this wasn’t the first time something like this happened in the country, but what made it so much of a shock for me was that Columbus High was not five miles from the high school I go to now; Longpark.

As I sat and ate breakfast I thought about how bad it must have been for the shooter. Getting made fun of was nothing new to me. I’m six feet tall and skinny, and I’m not really a vision of popularity. I know what it is like to get constantly harassed by everyone at school.

I found myself thinking about what I’d do in the same situation, and quickly shook the thoughts out of my head. As bad as being made fun of, I knew it would all pass after school was over and done with. Besides why would I want to be friends with the jerks from school? I wouldn’t mind a couple of the cheerleaders though but to hell with it.

At school the mood was definitely somber. The usual chatter of the main courtyard was down to a dull murmur. I think the scare of just how close that shooting was, really hit home with everyone at school. Even the jock table ignored me as I walked toward my class. No one even glanced my way to say some lewd remark or anything.

My first class was art and I really liked the teacher Mr. Mackey, but I liked sitting near the cheerleading team captain Stacy Child. She was a vision of complete perfection; I mean this girl could beat Britney Spears in a beauty contest on her best day.

I expected to continue our art project of drawing an imaginary neighborhood with the use of depth, but instead Mr. Mackey stood at the center of the room. He looked around at everybody before he spoke.

“I take it you have all heard about what happened at Columbus.” He said.

The room was silent and Mr. Mackey took it as a yes.

He turned toward where Stacy and a couple of jocks were sitting. “I want you to think about this for a minute. You might think that the young man who did this was some sick depraved kid or something, but the fact was, he was just another kid. He was someone who got made fun of and picked on and drove to the breaking point by other kids, just like you.” He turned to all of us and raised his arms. “It could happen here. You realize that? Think on that one guy who everybody makes fun of, think about the things you may have said to that individual and how it affects him.”

He put his hands down. “I would like you to think about what could be done to make it up to the one you all think is a loser, because you never know what that ‘loser’ may do tomorrow.”

While it was a good speech I couldn’t help thinking that everyone began to look at me. I mean sure I got made fun of a lot but did they really it think I was capable to do something like this?

Without turning around Mr. Mackey said. “Everyone get your supplies and continue with your projects.”

Once settling I resumed the work I was doing to a Victorian style house that I had place on the edge of my block. It was then that Stacy sat down next to me. I glanced up at her in surprise that she was sitting down next to me.

She caught my eye and smiled sweetly, a smile that warmed me. “Hi, James.”

I blinked and shook my head. “Uh, hi Stacy,” I looked around. “Did you want me to move?”

She put her hand on my shoulder. “No, no nothing like that. I just wanted to see what you thought of what happened.”

I looked at her and felt a bit of anger rise in me. She wanted to see if I was going to go psycho like the guy from Columbus.

“Why do you care about what I have to say all of a sudden?” I asked sharply.

She jumped in her seat slightly. “No reason I just thought I’d ask is all.”

“Yeah, you wanted to see if I was going to go all crazy like that other guy. You know what Stacy? You and your fucking jock asshole friends can go fuck themselves.” I said and took my stuff to another table.

She paused a minute and then came after me. “Hey wait a minute.” She said. “Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that you know? I just wanted to see if I could make up for being mean to you.”

“I’m well aware of the fact that you’re only doing this because of what Mr. Mackey said. I don’t want you to be sorry I want you all to go to hell and leave me alone. That alright with you?” I asked.

Stacy frowned. “I really do to want to make it up to you James. I never realized the effect teasing could have and I want to do what I can to make things better.”

I snorted to myself and said sarcastically. “I think a blowjob would make everything go away.”

Stacy was silent for a second then she put an arm around my back and leaned in real close. I froze as she pressed her lips to my ear and I could feel her warm breath flow over the side of my face.

“It’s a deal.” She whispered. Then she pushed away from me and walked back to her table.

My eyes widened and I sat still for a minute. When glanced at her, she had resumed her work like nothing had happened. Did she really say yes?

I didn’t have any other classes with her so as they day went on I figured she was joking and forgot about it. I did the various class assignments and by the end of the day the mood in school while still not normal had certainly elevated from what it had been this morning.

I went directly home after school, and first thing I noticed was a red Mazda sitting in my driveway. My Dad was in the kitchen sorting out a stack of papers and putting them in his briefcase.

He looked up when I walked in. “Hey son! Your friend just got here so I let her in, she’s waiting for you in your room. And let me tell you son, you’ve got yourself a hell of a looker there.”

“Stacy’s here?” I asked puzzled.

“Yeah, get up there and do your thing.” My dad said.

My dad is a dirty bastard sometimes.

I went upstairs to my room and opened the door, and sure enough, there Stacy was, staring at the posters on the wall. She turned to me as I came in and shut the door behind me.

“Why are you here Stacy?” I asked, eying her up and down despite myself. She had somehow changed her clothes and beat me here, which I never would have expected from the beauty queen. She wore a white tank top that cling to her body revealing the fact that she was not wearing a bra. Her large firm tits pressed at the top trying to be released and I imagined my hands squeezing the shit out of them. She wore now a pair of jean cut-off shorts that barely covered her ass. Her long legs were smooth and tan; I wondered how tight she could wrap them around me.

She leaned against the far wall of my room right next to the window. With her left hand she gave the blinds a jerk and they slide smoothly down, dimming the room.

“We made a deal.” She said softly.

“Deal?” I said. “Stacy that was a joke. Look I know you all give me nothing but shit, but you don’t have to make it up to me.”

She stepped toward me. “No one should have to go through the shit that me, the football team, and other cheerleaders put you through. I mean the incident with the honey and feathers, come on, you must have been cleaning that out of your hair for a week.”

I grimaced remembering the eight hours I spent in the tub scrubbing until the damn water was freezing cold.

She came up to me and took my hand. “James, think of this as the payment for all your suffering.”

I looked into those beautiful green eyes that I so often dreamt about and gave in. I nodded and smiled thinly. “Alright.”

She grinned and pushed me toward the end of the bed, where she left me standing. She backed up slowly, smiling at me as she reached my desk, she leaned back on it, making sure to press her chest out toward me.

She ran a hand across her stomach and said. “So what do you want to do to me?”

I swallowed, and my cock grew achingly hard in my pants. “I thought it was just a blowjob?” I said.

“I could do that.” Stacy said. “And more. Come on James, I know you’ve fantasized about me, everyone at school has. I’m giving you a chance to do whatever you’ve always wanted to me. Tell me what your biggest fantasy has been about me.”

I hesitated. “You really want to know?”

She smiled and nodded.

I sighed, “Don’t get mad because it’s a little weird.”

She scoffed. “Just fucking tell me already, would you?”

“Alright here goes.” I took a deep breath. “I always knew I’d never get you under normal circumstances, so what I would always dream of was we’d be at a party and you got a little too drunk, and end up hitting on me. Since I’d never get another shot and it’d be kind of a payback from me I’d take you upstairs and have sex with you.”

She seemed a little disappointed. “That’s it?”

I shook my head. “Even while you’re drunk you’d still be aware enough to tell me not to finish in you.”

She stopped me. “Finish?” She smiled. “Oh you mean cum!”

I nodded. “Yeah. You’d tell me not to, but I’d I was going to, anyway. I’d finally uh, cum inside you and leave you there. Then a few weeks later you’d find out that I got you pregnant, and we have to get married.”

She nodded. “Well unfortunately I can’t help you with the getting pregnant part because I’ve been on birth control since I turned eighteen, but I’ve always liked to roleplay so I think I can reenact some dirty talk for you that will drive you nuts.”

“Really? You’re going to let me have sex with you?” I asked brightly.

She nodded. “Oh yeah; and this time I’m going to make you cum inside my little pussy.”

The thought of that made my cock press into my zipper painfully, as if it understood and was trying to bust out. Stacy came toward me and pressed herself against me. I could feel her firm tits smash against my chest. She grabbed a handful of my hair and kissed me, driving her tongue into my mouth. I was unsure of how to react, but my body seemed to take care of that for me. I grabbed her waist and my tongue pushed hers into her own mouth and further. I could taste her, drink her in, and she moaned forcefully as I did so.

Finally she pulled away breathing deeply. “Oh wow.”

I smiled and pulled her top over her head. She didn’t fight it, and let me remove her top, revealing her toned stomach and large 36C breasts. I gripped one firmly and pulled it into my mouth, sucking and squeezing the soft flesh. Stacy moaned delightfully and ran her hands through my hair, pulling my head to her chest.

My cock was painfully confined and I needed it out, so I let her go and motioned to my crotch with my eyes. Stacy smiled and dropped slowly to her knees. I watched with eager eyes as the girl of my dreams reached up and undid my jeans and peeled them down. I kicked off my shoes and then kicked the jeans away. She rubbed my cock through my underwear for a second, before tugging the them down and off.

My cock sprang forth like a viper unleashed and Stacy gasped as it seemed to reach out for her.

“My god!” She said. “You’ve got an eight inch beast in here!” She exclaimed.

I really didn’t think I was that big, but if she said so, I wasn’t going to argue with her.

She wrapped her hand around my shaft and stroked slowly. “It’s so hard too. Are you made of skin or steel, James?” She laughed and brought her lips to the head of my prick. I felt her tongue snake around my tip and she opened wide to let my prick slide between her lips. Her breath was warm and I felt my cock get slick with her saliva. She bobbed her head up and down; sucking with a passion. I’d only ever had one blowjob before this, from my cousin Jessie, and she was nowhere near as good at ii, as Stacy was. Stacy worked her mouth over my cock like it was a vagina with a tongue. I felt a tightening in my balls as they became ready to shoot their burden into her mouth.

Stacy sensed I was close and she let my cock fall from her mouth, a long string of spit dripped from her chin to my prick. She looked up at me, “You wanted to cum inside me right?” she asked.

I could only nod, not sure if my mouth could form words.

She stood up and unbuttoned her shorts before slipping them off. Her pussy was bare and shaven smooth. I could see her lips and my cock twitched as if it saw them too, and wanted to bury itself into her as much as I did.

“What’s your favorite position?” she asked me, clutching one breast into her hand.

I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Doggie.” I said.

Stacy grinned. “Mine too!”

She turned toward my desk and planted her hands firmly on the top of the cold wood. She bent over as far as she could, pressing her ass out toward me, giving me a perfect view of her cunt.

She turned her head to look back at me. She reached around with one hand and spread her labia open so I could clearly see her dripping hole. “My pussy gets wet easily, but you’ve got a pretty big cock so go slow anyway, ok?” She said.

I walked up to her, completely intent on fulfilling my dream. I placed my hand on her ass and lined my cock up to her pussy, pushing lightly. The head of my cock popped in easily, and she gasped loudly. She was very tight though, and I had to work at pushing the rest of my shaft into her tight body. I grabbed her hips and began to slide in and out of her, her moans exciting me.

“Oh fuck me James!” she pleaded. “Your big fucking cock feels so good in my pussy! Oh! Fuck; I can’t wait for you to cum in me! I wanna feel your big cock shooting a big load inside my little pussy. I want to feel your little sperm trying to find my eggs.”

Her words drove me on and on. With each moan, each gasp for breath, I moved faster and harder into her. I looked down to see my cock sliding in and out of her. Her cunt gripped tightly on my cock every time I withdrew, as if trying to hold me in or pull me back. I could feel her juices on my balls and heard the slapping sound I made as I drove into her.

I reached around to grab her tits and she pushed her body up so I could reach easier. I pinched and twisted her nipples as I slammed my cock into her.

“Oh yeah, play with my tits. Squeeze my fucking tits!” She cried.

I felt the return of that tingle in my balls that slowly radiated up my shaft. My cock hardened and swelled, and I knew I was near the point of no return.

“I’m close.” I managed to grunt.

“Oh yes! God, James cum inside me. Make me cum with you, I want to feel you filling me with seed. Get me pregnant, you stud! Pump it all inside me so I can hold it in, I won’t let a single drop spill out.” Stacy screamed.

I grunted and shoved my cock all the way inside her when I exploded. She screamed as my semen erupted from my cock like someone popped a cream-filled balloon inside her. I came for what seemed like forever, my cock constantly twitched and throbbed inside her, oozing more and more seed into her.

Finally it was over and I slumped over her back. She sighed contently and kept her ass pressed to me so she could feel my cock get soft inside her. I backed away, and sat on the floor looking up at her.

Stacy stood and turned to face me. “My god, that was incredible.” She said. She grabbed her shorts and hiked them up. She grabbed her top off the floor and put that on while I just sat there naked and watching her.

“That was so good I want to do that again. What do you say?” She asked me.

I looked up at her. “Uh, sure.”

She got down on her hands and knees and took hold of my cock. She stuffed it into her mouth and licked and sucked all our juices off it, leaving only her spit left. Then she stood up again.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow at school and then maybe we can hook up afterward ok?” She said.

I nodded. “Ok.”

“Great.” She blew me a kiss and left.

We hooked up about twice a week for about a month straight, until one day Stacy came up to me with a gloom look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She just stared at me.

“Come on; what is it?”

“You’ve got your ultimate wish.” She said simply.

“What do you mean?” I asked; my heart in my throat.

“I’m pregnant.” She said.

I grinned, “Really?”

She nodded, and then a slow smile spread across her lips. “And yes, I will marry you.”

That’s how I got my wife Stacy. We got married right after we graduated and she gave birth to our little boy, in October of that year. That was twelve years ago and we are still together today.

Nobody makes fun of me anymore.

by musicankane for Literotica.

He Came In The Night

Tue, 12 Mar 2024 07:30:23 -0500

The first touch of his tongue sent a wave of pleasure right.

by Bumpinguglies - listen to Podcast

She hated staying at her parents place. Unable to think of her as anything but their baby, they always insisted on separate bedrooms for them both. They didn’t want to think of any man being inside their little girl, let alone the possibility of her enjoying it.

Still in the nightie she had worn just for show, but with the panties long gone, she lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, listening for the faintest creak of a floor board or the soft sound of a bare foot in the hallway outside her room. Her pussy tingled under the covers in anticipation of him coming to her, sneaking into her room to make love to her. What if he had fallen asleep waiting for her parents to go to bed. She didn’t even want to contemplate that. She needed release and prayed it would be him to give it to her and not her own fingers.

A slight creak outside her door brought her back from her thoughts and she watched as the door to her room slowly opened. Even in the darkness, she could make out his outline, framed in the light of the open doorway. Instantly, her nipples grew hard and her pussy wet between her legs.

She watched his dark shadow move across the room towards her and she almost stopped breathing in anticipation. The scent of his aftershave caught in her nostrils and she watched his clothes drop to the floor. She couldn’t see him clearly but imagined him naked, his cock hard and swollen and wanting her. God she was wet… Come and fuck me! She thought, her whole body aching with desire for him.

An unseen hand pulled back the covers and naked, he slipped in beside her. Almost at once, his mouth was on hers, kissing her passionately, his breathing deep and excited, he wanted her. She felt a hand slip up under her nightie and onto her breast, the touch of his fingers on her hard excited nipple sending waves of excitement down between her legs.

“Im”; she moaned as his lips slipped from hers and slid to her ear and lightly down her neck. As his mouth trailed down to kiss her erect nipples, she felt his hands pulling up her nightie. She raised her bottom and then her arms as he slid it off, a shiver of excitement coursing through her as he pressed his chest to hers, the hairs on his brushing lightly on her throbbing nipples.

Both squeezed into her single bed and knowing her parents were in the next room, oblivious to the fact that their precious little girl was about to be fucked and fucked hard, made it all the more exciting. They were just like teenagers sneaking in a quickie while the parents were downstairs.

She felt him slide down between her legs, parting them with his hands, waiting with agonizing anticipation for the first touch of his tongue on her wet dripping pussy, waiting for him to make it cum

The first touch of his tongue sent a wave of pleasure right through her and she thrust her hips up crushing her aching pussy against his mouth. Her legs wrapped around his head as he licked at her swollen clit and drenched opening. Over and over he massaged her clit with his tongue till she was bucking uncontrollably, her legs squeezing his head between them and biting her hand trying not to cry out.

He broke free of her thighs and slid up on top of her. They kissed and she could taste herself, smell her pussy on his lips, turning her on even more. Reaching down, she traced her long nails over his hard throbbing cock. His balls felt nice and swollen and ready for release. As she pulled his cock, he slapped her between the legs, making those nice wet lips puffy. They both needed to fuck so bad.

Afraid of the bed noise, she threw a pillow on the floor and quickly joined it, pulling him down onto herself.

“God I want you” she whispered in his ear,

No sooner had she uttered the words, her pussy was stretched open painfully as his hard throbbing cock forced its way inside her. She cried out, partly in pain and partly in pleasure as his swollen hard flesh filled her completely.

Digging her feet into the carpet, she pushed her hips up hard, matching his thrusts into her, fucking him hard, wanting every inch of him inside her.

“Fuck me!!” she almost yelled, forgetting where she was, driving her wet cunt up to meet his cock. “Cum in me, cum in me”.

Grabbing her under the knees, he bent her legs back and drove his cock deep inside her… again and again… fucking that drenched pussy, her excitement driving him on.

About to cum, he reefs his swollen cock from her pussy, just in time to watch it squirt thick strands of cum all over her face and tits.

‘If only they could see their little girl now’ she thinks as she scoops up some cum off her cheek and sucks it off her finger.

by Bumpinguglies for Literotica

Perfect Timing

Mon, 11 Mar 2024 07:30:59 -0500

Husband returns early from a trip.

by Lost_in_her - listen to the podcast at Steamy stories

She flopped down on her back onto her bed, and sighed in pent up frustration. She could not deny it, she was So. Fucking. Horny.

Her husband had been away for nearly two weeks and was not due to be back for another two days.

She didn’t masturbate very often - her husband was always up for making her cum whenever she needed it, and this work trip was a rare occurrence.

‘Fuck it’ she thought. ‘I can’t wait!’

She quickly stood and stripped out of her clothes in front of the mirror, pinching her left nipple as she removed her bra. This stiffened it immediately and sent an electric shock directly to her pussy, which she felt was getting wet in anticipation.

She peeled her black lacy panties down over her hips and arse, noticing how moist they were already. Her pussy felt a chill as the cool air of the bedroom hit her wet folds. she ran two fingers across her hole and clit to lube them, and shuddered with need.

Grabbing her favourite vibrator from the top drawer, on her way back to her spot on the bed, she settled back and began to tease her now dripping pussy with her fingers, running two up and down around her outer folds and around the outside of her clit. teasing herself as she loved for her husband to do to her.

Dipping a finger just inside her tight hole, it came out glistening and she finally allowed herself to rub her clit, arching her back and letting out a deep moan.

Quickly grabbing her vibe and turning it on, she concentrated this on her favourite spot just above her clit, not directly on it. Her breathing quickened and deepened, almost beginning to gasp. She was now moaning continually, wishing she was not alone.

She allowed her fingers to tease her hole, as her orgasm built within her. But she could not cum. Reaching a high, and then dying off repeatedly, she let out a whimper of frustration. She really loved to have his cock inside her to squeeze down on when she came.

With her free hand she reached back over to the drawer, trying to control her twitching body as she held the vibrator against her clit. Her free hand clasped what she was looking for, her black rabbit dildo. She liked this, though not as much as the real thing.

Discarding the vibrator to one side, she lubricated the bulbous head of the dildo and slowly slid it inside her tight pussy, not stopping until the rabbit ears pressed into her clit. She switched on the two mechanisms for the rabbit ears and rotating internal shaft.

This was more like it! She screamed out in pleasure as she felt the rotation nudge her g-spot, as the rabbit ears buzzed either side of her clit. Panting and moaning, her orgasm built again quickly, this time not stopping as it crashed over the top.

Moaning in release, she felt her first orgasm of the evening, ripple through her body in waves. It ended as quickly as it started. She switched off the dildo and slid it out of her pussy, feeling empty and only somewhat satisfied. She continued to lay there for a few seconds.

Her pussy was twitching and dripping wet as she lazily played with herself. She thought again, that she liked the dildo but it was just not the same. she needed more. Reaching for her vibrator again, she kept going.

This time she got onto her hands and knees, hanging her feet off the bed, thinking that a different position might help achieve the total release she craved.

—-

He tapped his foot with impatience, as the taxi driver slowly turned the final corner into his street. Pulling up at the end of his drive, he quickly paid and retrieved his luggage from the boot of the car.

The house was quiet. only a couple of lights on as he walked up the drive. Their cat looked up at him in recognition from the living room windowsill, then nonchalantly went back to her personal grooming.

He unlocked the door and put his bags just inside the porch, laying the bunch of flowers he had bought her on top of them. He closed the front door quietly behind him. He was two days early by a lucky twist of fate, and wanted the surprise to have maximum impact. and hoped she would reward him with their usual passionate sex. Oh how he loved to make her cum.

He took off his jacket and slowly made his way through the house. As he got closer to the bedroom, he could hear something. heavy breathing and deep, guttural moans. Unmistakable sounds of sex.

He nervously crept towards the door, hoping his worst fears were not being realized. As he got closer he was pretty sure he could only make out one voice. phew! Then just as quick he thought, ‘maybe she discovered my surprise, and is surprising me right back!’

He silently poked his head around the bedroom door and saw his beautiful, sexy wife with her back arched on the bed, her black rabbit dildo clearly pushing her through the start of an orgasm.

Holy fuck, she’s hot, he thought, and he quickly fished his rock hard cock out of his pants, giving it a couple of strokes, as he watched her orgasm flow over her, as she writhed in pleasure.

Deciding on how he would achieve his ‘maximum impact’ surprise, he stepped back quietly out into the hall, away from the door, and stripped out of his clothes. Peeking back around the door, he saw that she had changed position; she was now on her hands and knees, on the edge of the bed with her face buried in a pillow.

That settles it, he thought. 'She must know I’m back. she knows I love doggy!’

She had switched to her favorite vibrator, the one he had bought her. She was rubbing this around her clit and playing with her tits, using the pillow to muffle her screams. He tugged at his big cock once more, a drop of precum sneaking out of the tip. and coating his head. Now or never…

—-

She pressed the tip of the vibrator back against her clit, twitching violently as it was still sensitive from her recent climax. She powered through, and again felt her orgasm building inside her.

She grabbed a pillow and buried her face into it, then, used her free hand to pinch and play with her nipple, the pillow muffling her moans of pleasure. Still, her release would not come; she needed more. Her pussy twitched with desire to be filled once more.

Time slowed a beat as she felt a presence in the room, and she let out a yelp of surprise as she felt something warm and hard drag up the length of her pussy from clit to dripping hole.

She pulled forward a few inches in shock at the intrusion, and her head shot up from the pillow, looking back and into the eyes of her husband. She instantly relaxed. She had somehow managed to keep the vibrator on her clit the whole time.

“Oh!” She exclaimed in surprise at seeing him here. Then “Oh Yes” all in one word as he grabbed her hips and pulled her arse back towards him, dipping the head of his fat prick into her hot pussy.

“Please,” she whimpered as the vibrator continued to buzz around her clit, and he did nothing more than tease her with the first inch. “I need it so bad”

Not being one to disappoint, he started a slow thrust, pushing through her tight folds until his balls tickled just below her clit, then pulling back a half inch and pushing back in sharply.

She came immediately, exploding from her pussy outwards in waves throughout her whole body, her pussy clamping around his invading cock. No longer masking her noise, she screamed in pleasure.

As she began to come down from her monstrous orgasm, he began to move in earnest, pulling half of his cock out and slamming back in, over and over, the first few thrusts, extending her orgasm by a few seconds each.

She dropped the vibrator and it buzzed comically against the bedsheets. She panted as she concentrated on his wonderful cock, sawing in and out of her well satisfied pussy, using her muscles to squeeze and milk his cock.

Slowing his thrusts and pulling out almost all of the way, he had her feeling empty again for a split second, before sliding back in in slow, long strokes - the way he knew she loved to be fucked. He kept this rhythm up.

To her surprise, she felt the stirrings of a third monster orgasm begin to build. They were both breathing heavy and moaning with desire, when she felt his hands leave her hips.

He bent forward, sliding his left arm under her, and wrapping around her shoulder, then lifted her body so he could kiss her neck with his rugged, bearded face.

She arched her back in response, allowing him to penetrate her deeply. From this angle, his cock raked over her g-spot with every thrust.

She was overcome with passion, on the brink of cumming all over his cock again. Then he grabbed the vibrator with his free hand and brought it back into contact with her clit.

For the third time that night, she exploded in orgasm. She couldn’t hold herself up anymore and fell forward, dislodging half of his cock in the process. Registering slight emptiness, her brain took over and she thrust herself back into his body until he was balls deep again, all the while her orgasm continued to rip through her, and made her pussy contract around his cock.

This was enough to push him over the brink, she felt his cock expand within her slightly, and he let out a guttural roar of pleasure. Time slowed again as she felt his cock fire shot after shot of hot cum, as deep as he could within her pussy. His animal thrusts and spurting cock intensified her orgasm, and she almost passed out before collapsing fully forward on the bed and dislodging his cock.

He collapsed into a seated position against the wall, gasping for breath.

Using her hand to stop the cum flowing out, yet still a little seeped around her fingers, she looked back at her husband over her shoulder, now at eye level against the wall.

“Fuck” she gasped. “You came home early!”

“Actually” he replied, grinning like a horny teenager “I think you’ll agree, it was perfect timing”

by Lost_in_her, for Literotica

The Horny Patient

Sun, 10 Mar 2024 08:30:39 -0500

A story of my Jason Biggs moment with a sexy nurse.

by Stopokochac. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

It was the late 2000s, in my hometown in Northern California. I was 18 and although I had never been intimate with a woman before, I knew my body very well.

My sex drive was high, my hormones were raging, and I always knew my first sexual experience with a woman would play out like that classic scene from “American Pie”.

That particular year, I was having some issue with my bladder, and my doctor suggested I see a specialist who could perform an ultrasound. Never would have I imagined that such a routine medical procedure would end up being my first sexual experience.

There I was laying on the exam table of a dimly lit hospital room. The atmosphere was calm and relaxing. Suddenly, this sexy nurse, well into her mid 40s enters the room. She was tall, with light brown hair and glasses. Her uniform wasn’t doing much to hide her large mature breasts and sexy cleavage. I couldn’t believe my luck. This is usually the sort of thing that only happens in porn flicks. The moment she walked in, my heart skipped a beat, and stomach immediately filled with butterflies. Of course it was a dream come true, but I never expected that things would go as far as they did.

The exam started off pretty normal. She pulled up my shirt and began to ultrasound my stomach. The gel she put on the device had a warm, slimy texture that had a strange but pleasant sensation. She did an ultrasound on my stomach for maybe a minute or two, then suddenly out of the blue she stops and says to me, “Undo your shorts for me.”

I must admit, her remark caught me a little off guard. It wasn’t the first time a medical professional had told me to unbutton my shorts, but the wording she used and the way she said it, immediately turned me on. My heart skipped a beat, as I felt my dick suddenly get a little bigger.

I unbuttoned my shorts as she requested, but deliberately left the fly up. I must admit, the chances of her undoing my fly herself seemed extremely slim, yet there was a large part of me that was hoping. Low and behold, without uttering another word, she reaches down and with the tips of her long, unpainted, but well manicured fingers, begins to unzip my shorts, popping my fly wide open. Mind you, she wasn’t wearing any gloves during any of this. In less than a second, my dick went from calm, to the hardest it’s ever been. At this point, she still had no idea her medical exam was turning me on, and I was able to reach through my pocket and readjust my 6 inch boner.

She slid the device into the band of my boxers. The sensation of the warm gel felt even more pleasant on my hairy pubic mound, and with every movement of the device, my heart skipped a beat and my stomach filled with butterflies. I could feel myself getting harder and harder, and the tension starting to build, as her sexy bare hand slid further and further down my boxers, the device inching closer and closer to my virgin dick. I knew a millimeter further, and I wouldn’t be able to control myself.

Suddenly, I felt it. That warm tingling feeling I had experienced so many times, and I knew there was no stopping it. With the inevitable about to happened, I did the only thing I could. I reached through my short’s pocket and squeezed my foreskin as tight as I could, in a last ditch effort to stop my virgin cum from exploding all over her unprotected hand. I saw her glancing back and forth at the monitor, and the only thing going through my mind was whether she knew. She removed the device from my shorts, handed me some tissues and sent me to the bathroom. It was at that point I knew she knew.

I attempted to clean myself off as best as I could, but there’s only so much you can do with tissue paper. She gave me my prognosis and sent me on my way, giving no mention of the awkward incident that had just occurred. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough already, my mom was in the examination room with me. The plan was to take me out to breakfast, then straight back to high school. I ended up having to walk around with jizzed shorts for the rest of the day, because I wasn’t about to tell my mom I need to go home and change, because the hot nurse made me cum. But what a story I had to tell my friends that day. The story of my first sexual experience with a real woman, albeit unintentional. The kind of experience other teenagers only dream about.

To this day, I still get the occasional jealous guy, who refuses to believe that such an incident actually happened to me. I can only imagine what was going through that nurse’s head the moment she realized what she had done. I can safely assume, she probably never again performed that procedure without gloves. Whether her actions were intentional or not, she will always be the woman who took my innocence, and that’s a moment that will stay with me forever.

The End.

by Stopokochac for Literotica.

Sharing Her Stud

Sat, 09 Mar 2024 07:30:59 -0600

Best friend offers Her boyfriend to take Katie’s virginity.

By DanDraper. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

KATIE’S STORY

Katie woke up feeling like shit. She laid in bed wondering what the hell she was thinking of drinking as hard as she did last night. It took her a few minutes to realize she was fully naked under her blanket and suddenly remembered the incredibly handsome man she was hanging out with at the bar. She looked over at the other side of her bed. He was not there, nor were there any signs that he was around.

She remembered him taking her home and her having to drag him into the bedroom. She thought long and hard, trying to remember if they had sex or not.

“Oh, I remember now,” she said to herself.

It took a moment, but she suddenly remembered feeling very sick. The guy recognized that she was going to throw up and quickly took her to the bathroom, got her head in the toilet, and she vomited like she had the Spanish flu.

After that, everything was very hazy. She had no idea how she got naked and into her bedroom, or if she had had sex with the man she met. She doesn’t feel like she had sex, but then again, she wouldn’t know how it would feel afterwards. Katie was a virgin, or at least she thinks she still is, depending on what happened to her last night. She was setting out to finally have sex but was hoping to remember the experience as she hadn’t planned on drinking so heavily.

She heard a noise outside of her bedroom, she could tell there was someone in her kitchen. If it was the man she took home last night, he could shed some light on the subject. She found some clothes to quickly put on and left the bedroom. She was incredibly nervous about seeing that man. She hoped she hadn’t fully embarrassed herself in front of him.

As she reached the kitchen, her nervousness went away and was replaced with disappointment. It was not the sexy man she hoped she had sex with, but her best friend Jennifer, making coffee.

“Good morning, sunshine,” said Jennifer.

“Good morning,” Katie replied. “This is going to sound awkward, but did you see someone else around her before?”

“Oh, you mean that super sexy Marine you took home last night?” Jennifer asked. “I have to say, you’ve got good taste.”

Katie sat at the kitchen table, trying to ignore the massive hangover headache she was getting.

“I don’t remember much after I vomited last night. I’m trying to piece together what happened.”

“Let me fill in the gaps for you,” said Jennifer, as she got two cups of coffee ready for the both of them. She handed one to Katie and took the seat next to her. “He took you home because he saw how drunk you were from the way you were all over him despite how much he resisted your advances.”

“He resisted me?” Katie asked. “I thought it was mutual.”

“You were drunk, you thought what you wanted to think,” Jennifer reminded her. “So, after he took you home and you repeatedly tried to get him to fuck you, but he didn’t, he saw you were going to throw up and took you to the bathroom. After you vomited and began crying on the floor.”

“I cried, oh no,” Katie said, looking very embarrassed.

“He then looked through your phone and called me. When I came, he helped me get you washed up and undressed and took you to bed before he left, and I slept next to you all night.”

“Oh God, I feel so stupid,” said Katie as she took a sip of her coffee. “Did the marine leave his number by any chance?”

“Katie, that guy was gay,” Jennifer revealed. “I know because when I arrived, I first accused him of trying to take advantage of you. That’s when he told me he was gay and showed me proof by showing me photos on his phone of him and his boyfriend, some of which had them making out with each other.”

Katie felt like the biggest idiot in the world. She couldn’t believe she spent the whole night hitting on a gay guy.

“That means, it was all for nothing,” Katie began to say. “That means I’m still a ..”

Katie stopped herself before she revealed anything she didn’t want Jennifer to know.

“Yes, you’re still a virgin,” said Jennifer. “The gay marine told me that’s what you were crying about after you vomited.”

“Oh, shit.”

Katie felt incredibly embarrassed. It was a secret she was trying to keep from everyone.

“I can’t believe you never told me you’re still a virgin,” Jennifer snapped at her. “I’m your best friend; these are things you should be telling me.”

“It was embarrassing to be a woman my age and still a virgin. I couldn’t tell you or anybody, let alone you.”

Katie and Jennifer both grew up with religious families and went to the same strict Catholic school where they met and became best friends. Katie was always the more religious of the two, while Jennifer was the more fun one who was more obsessed with boys. Jennifer was the first of their entire group of friends to have sex in their senior year, while the others lost their virginities throughout their senior year.

Katie lied to her friends in order to impress them by saying she had sex with her then-boyfriend after their senior prom at a hotel they got. She had planned to lose her virginity to him, but right before she was going to get undressed for him, her Catholic guilt got the better of her and she began crying, telling him how she couldn’t do it. Her boyfriend did not want to put any pressure on her and told her she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want.

After that, she told him he could tell his friends they slept together because she knew he was also looking forward to it. She felt embarrassed about still being a virgin herself, so she lied to her friends about sleeping with him and how great it was.

Over the years, she made up excuses not to sleep with the men she dated, often because of her religious beliefs. To avoid embarrassment, she lied about the men she had slept with to her friends; never too much to make herself look like a slut, but not too little to make herself look like a prude either. When pressed for details, she kept it vague and said what she thought was right.

She had hoped that she would eventually find the right man, get married, and it would all be over. But she was on the verge of turning 30, and it was getting too frustrating for her. At that point in her life, she didn’t care what her religious beliefs told her about waiting for marriage; she just wanted to get laid.

In the last year, Katie had tried to have sex with the few men she dated, but she was having incredibly bad luck with them; one guy turned out to be married, another also had religious hang-ups about sex, and two others were just straight-up jerks to her. She was close to two other guys, one who had a bad case of premature ejaculation and always shot his cum right before they got to business, and another who couldn’t get it up at all and refused to get Viagra.

She tried to do an online hookup using Tinder and other similar apps, but found that some of them were straight up creepy. She didn’t know how some of her other friends were able to find online hookups without getting stalked by some of those weirdos. One guy she found online seemed like an ordinary guy until she found out he wanted them both to have sex while dressed in fluffy animal costumes; she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

After getting a little desperate because she was less than a week away from turning 30, she decided to just meet a guy at a bar for a random hookup. She went to a bar that was frequented by military types, hoping to be fucked by a handsome war vet who had just come back from overseas. She heard from her friends how good in bed most of them were and hoped it was true. She only drank to calm her nerves about being there for a hookup, only to find herself drinking too much and not realizing she was hitting on a gay guy the whole time.

Katie confessed everything to Jennifer, who still looked dumbfounded from hearing how her best friend was still a virgin.

“This is unbelievable,” said Jennifer. “Those nuns at Catholic school really did a number on you.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t become one of them,” Katie replied.

Jennifer was surprised that Katie had no luck getting a man to sleep with her. She would’ve figured she could’ve had any man she wanted. Katie was a very attractive woman, with long red hair and a decent figure. Her breasts weren’t huge, but she had seen her naked and could tell she had a good pair on her that most men would love to get their hands on.

“So, you had no sexual experience whatsoever?” Jennifer asked. “Like, other things besides intercourse?”

“What do you mean by that?” Katie asked.

Jennifer motioned with her hand to mimic giving a handjob.

“Oh, yeah, I have given plenty of handjobs,” Katie revealed. “I had to eventually do something to keep some of the men I dated happy. And in the last few years, I learned to give oral sex as well, and let guys finger me.”

“At least you’ve done something. So, I understand why you went to that bar last night, so let me help you with your problem.”

“Help me how?” Katie asked.

“I’m going to help you get laid, of course,” Jennifer replied. “You have three days before you turn 30, and I’m going to hook you up.”

“How are you supposed to do that?”

Jennifer assured her, “Just leave it to me. You were ready to find yourself a random hookup. I can find you that hookup myself.”

“So, you’re just going to get me a guy to help me get laid as if it’s that easy?”

“Do you want to be a virgin in your 30’s?” Jennifer asked.

“No, of course not.”

“Then just leave it to me.”

JENNIFER AND JOSH

Later that day, Jennifer’s boyfriend, Josh, came over to her apartment for dinner and a movie, and, of course, to spend the night with her. The dinner was alright. Jennifer had become a better cook than she was when they first met, especially since he gave her advice on how to improve her cooking skills.

After dinner, Jennifer brought out a cake for dessert. She bought it from a bakery as she had failed in her last few attempts at making one on her own.

“How’s Katie doing after last night?” he asked.

Josh was there when Jennifer got the call. They were about to go to sleep after fooling around when her phone kept going off, and she answered it, thinking it was Katie, when it was some other guy who took her home. As Jennifer explained to him what had happened to Katie, he tried his best not to laugh at her situation, especially the part where she found out the marine that she was hitting on turned out to be gay.

Afterwards, Jennifer told Josh about Katie’s big secret and was floored when he heard it. He knew she was very religious, but never thought she might be a virgin. He knew a lot of religious people growing up, and they never stayed virgins for that long. Even the few religious girls he dated before Jennifer liked to fool around.

“I can now understand why she wanted a bar hookup,” said Josh.

“So, that brings me to what I need to ask you. I want to help her get laid before she turns 30 in a few days, and I thought maybe you know someone among your group of guys who could help her out.”

“You want to set her up with one of my friends for a random hookup?” asked Josh. “How about I hook her up with someone to date? I know a few who are good boyfriend material for her.”

“No, she needs to get laid fast. Dating could take time before sex. I know some people move fast these days when dating, but not always.”

“Ok, I guess I can think of one or two people who could help,” Josh told her.

Josh thought long and hard, thinking about every one of his friends and even considering his brothers and a couple of cousins. For everyone he thought of, he could find a reason why they wouldn’t be a good idea, even for just a hookup. A lot more of his friends are either married or in some other kind of relationship these days. A few others now live too far away and probably won’t travel a few hours just for a hookup, no matter how horny they may be, especially at such short notice. There were one or two guys he knew of who were definitely into random hookups, but they were such jerks, he couldn’t do that to Katie. There were a few others, but they were more of the relationship type of guys, not the random hookup types.

“So, can you think of anybody?” She asked because Josh was taking a long time coming up with a name.

He told her, “No, I can’t think of anybody. Everyone I know has a reason why I can’t suggest them.”

Jennifer felt very disappointed. She was really hoping Josh could come through for her. But after he explained to her all the reasons, he couldn’t suggest any one of them. She had no choice but to agree with them. He apologized for not being able to help, but Jennifer said he didn’t have to because it wasn’t his fault. She told him to forget the subject and they cleaned up the table to be ready for the movie they were going to watch.

They were on an 80’s movie binge over the last month, watching some of the best films of the decade. They didn’t go in any particular order, just randomly choosing whatever film from that era they wanted to watch. Tonight’s film was “The Big Chill” from 1983, about a group of former college friends who spend the weekend together after the funeral of one of their friends. They loved the movie; it was a funny yet heavy-hearted film.

One of the things Jennifer found most interesting about the film was how the character Sarah wanted to help her friend Meg, who wanted to have a baby by getting her husband Harold to sleep with her. It was an incredibly awkward situation for someone to ask their husband to knock up one of their closest friends, but she convinced him to do it and they still remained friends afterwards.

Jennifer was surprised that the character of Sarah came to that kind of decision, but definitely understood; when your friend is in need of something, you would do anything to help them out. She found this relatable to her own situation with her best friend Katie and came to the decision that she should offer up her boyfriend just for one night to help her lose her virginity.

She wasn’t going to ask Josh about this right away after the movie ended, so she decided to wait until the morning to bring it up. When the film was finished, they discussed the film for a while, telling each other what they liked most about it. Afterwards, they went to bed to make love, and he spent the night.

In the morning, Jennifer woke up earlier than Josh to make his favorite breakfast, blueberry pancakes. She knew she wasn’t that good of a cook, but she was a queen at making pancakes. She had gotten a good stack ready for him just as he came into the kitchen.

“Oh, nice,” he said as soon as he saw the pancakes. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just because I like you so much,” she told him.

They gave each other a big kiss and sat down to eat breakfast. Jennifer wanted Josh to be extra happy to make him ready to ask him her big favor.

“What do you think about Katie?” she asked.

He replied, “She’s a great person.”

“Do you think she’s pretty?” she asked.

Josh had to think about that for a moment because it sounded like a trick question; most women don’t ask if their boyfriends think their friends are pretty.

“And before you have to think about it, this is not a trick question. I generally want to know,” she assured him, because she could see he was worried about answering the question honestly.

“Ok, yeah, she’s a pretty girl,” he responded. “It makes me more surprised she’s still a virgin; I would’ve figured a lot more guys would be all over her.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad she couldn’t find the right one to show her how wonderful sex could be.”

“If you want, I could still set her up with the guys I said would be good boyfriend material,” he told her. “She may still have to be a virgin after she turns 30, but she could wait a little longer.”

“I think I know one guy in particular who could help her with her situation,” said Jennifer. “A wonderful man who I know personally is amazing in bed.”

She said that last part as she grabbed his hand and looked deeply into his eyes.

“Where are you going with this?” he asked. He had his suspicions but wanted to hear it from her.

“I think you should be the one to take Katie’s virginity,” she finally revealed.

Josh burst out laughing, assuming Jennifer was making a crazy joke. After he finished laughing, he saw in her face how serious she was.

“Oh shit, you’re serious?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m serious. She knows you, she’s comfortable around you, and I personally know you can show her a good time in bed.”

“What made you think this would be a great idea?”

Jennifer reminded Josh about the move they saw last night and explained the reasons why it would work.

“That was just a movie,” he told her. “No woman in real life would offer up her husband like that, let alone her boyfriend.”

This was not going as smoothly as she hoped it would. She thought Sarah convinced Harold and Meg too easily to sleep with each other, and it did look like the movie never fully showed the conversations she had with them to convince them either. She still had to try nonetheless.

Jennifer continued to say, “I still think it should be you. If not, she may not have that chance for a good long time. Even if you do set her up with one of your friends, who knows what could happen in the long run? She needs this before she turns 30.”

“Is having to do this before she’s 30 really that important?”

“Would you have been OK with being a virgin after 30?” she asked in response.

Josh thought about it for a moment. He lost his virginity just after he turned 18, almost 15 years ago. He was no Casanova, but he did alright over the years with women until he met Jennifer, the best relationship he ever had. He would do anything for her, but he never expected her to ever ask him something like that.

He thought about Katie’s situation as well. Being a virgin at 30 was kind of bad, although not unheard of in these modern times. He thought it was a bad idea, but at the same time, he couldn’t help thinking how Katie nearly got into a bad situation the night before.

“I can’t help thinking how lucky she was to have run into a gay guy who helped her out the other night instead of some creepy dude who would have taken advantage of her and possibly hurt her. She is very naïve when it comes to this stuff, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is,” Jennifer replied.

“And you’re sure you would be OK with this?” he asked.

“It’s just one night, you would be helping someone out greatly, and our love is strong enough to overcome any kind of awkwardness about it.”

He thought about it some more, needing to be absolutely sure it was definitely a good idea. It may be an easy decision for some men. Some of his friends would’ve said yes right away, not caring about any consequences. But he was a different kind of man. He felt there were lines you shouldn’t cross, and he never cheated on anyone. Technically, he would not be cheating since it was done with Jennifer’s encouragement, but it was still very similar.

“So, is that a yes or not?” she asked demandingly.

“Hey, give me a break. You just sprung this on me like five minutes ago, and it’s still early in the morning.”

She backed off to let him think about it some more, but she was getting anxious for an answer. She watched

Natalie: Office Party

Fri, 08 Mar 2024 07:30:52 -0600

Natalie: Office Party.

Natalie goes to a work party, and hooks up with a hot guy.

by Traumseele. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The office kitchen was somewhat cramped. A wall of microwaves, a couple of fridges, and a counter with two sinks was meant to satisfy the luncheon needs of the two-hundred-odd people who worked at this branch of Rodow-Mills Ltd., the corporation for which Natalie worked in purchasing. She was sat a round table, eating out of a box of noodles she had gotten from a takeout place in the neighborhood.

“Are you gonna wear that tonight?”

The question came from the short-haired woman seated next to Natalie. Lynn, her best girl friend and confidant at work since a long time back. There wasn’t that much contrast between the two, they were very much alike in both looks and manners. Women of medium height, with dark brown hair and eyes, dressed in “business casual” which meant jeans, a blouse, and black leather ankle boots. The main difference between them was in their hair, Natalie’s was curly and shoulder-length, while Lynn always kept it short and straight. Lynn also lacked Natalie’s prominent breasts, being almost flat chested, something she was sure was a common conversation topic among the guys at work.

“Why not?” Natalie responded. “It’s an office party. Not like I have any new impressions to make.” It was true. Her job was fairly routine. She knew everybody in her department, and everyone worth knowing outside of it. “Unless you want me to slut up for a night on the town afterwards?”

Lynn giggled. “I’m just teasing. You look great as always, Nat.” The short-haired woman took a sip of water from her glass. “I’m just thinking about… you know. I kind of want to hook up with somebody. I haven’t done that at work before. Feels like something I should cross off my list at some point, if I had one I mean.” She took another sip. “Don’t get me wrong but you’re a lot more experienced here than I am. Got any beginner tips?”

At first, Natalie felt a bit weirded out by that last comment, but then she realized that Lynn would never judge her for being a “slut” at work, and probably just wanted in on the action. She gave her friend a coy, thoughtful smile. “I don’t really know what to say that, Lynn!” she responded with a hearty laugh.

Her friend kept sipping water. She seemed nervous, for some mysterious reason. “Come on. You know it’s true. I want to be just like you, Nat!” The last bit came out with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

“Let’s just enjoy the free booze and try to avoid the annoying people. You’re gonna be fine. Besides, if one of these polo-wearing golfer guys were to try to steal you away from me, I would probably have to beat him up,” Natalie responded half-jokingly. Lynn was a real cutie, but Natalie just wasn’t into women in that way, even though she would often masturbate to them. That was different though, women were just sexier than men. Didn’t mean she was gay, not that she had any problem with that.

The rest of the working day before the party went by as usual. Natalie sat in her cubicle, sending out purchasing emails and handing invoices over to payments. But mostly, she was just trying to pass time and look busy whenever somebody walked past. She had been to plenty of office parties, at this job and previous ones, and these things just didn’t make her nervous anymore. She felt like she could already predict all that was going to happen that night. Free drinks, some speeches from upper management, maybe a forced “team building” activity or two, but most importantly, free drinks.

Her friend’s comment about her slutty work habits had bothered her a bit. Not because Lynn thought her to be a slut, she knew that she did and that was great, but rather quite the opposite. In truth, she hadn’t really been hooking up with any co-workers lately. That was a frequent activity in her mid twenties, but in recent years, the dull routine and general feeling of alienation at the office had pretty much turned off her sexuality completely in that environment. Maybe it was time to live up to her friend’s image of her? Not only was it a matter of principle, the prospect was also kind of exciting to her despite where she was at the moment, trapped in a grey cubicle.

“Hey Nat, they got a new coffee maker downstairs. You have just got to check it out!”

The cheerful voice was Diego, a tall, skinny, good-natured man with short black hair, olive skin, and a constant worried look in his eyes. He had appeared at the entrance to Natalie’s cubicle to share some minor news about the office, as he often did. It was a welcome break to the dullness of the average day, she thought. Diego was a nice guy, always happy and helpful, and the two of them had formed a bit of a workplace bond over the last couple of years. Doing small favors for each other here and there, spending breaks together, having coffee.

“You know what? I might just do exactly that. Wanna come?” she responded, and Diego’s face lit up. She whisked her mug off of her desk, and got up from her chair onto her leather booted feet. Their 2-inch heels made barely any noise as the two of them walked across the wall-to-wall carpet that covered the floor of the cubicle farm, heading for the stairwell.

“So… How are things?” Natalie didn’t have to specify the “things” she was asking him about. It was a bit of a sensitive topic, so she didn’t want to bring it up too directly. Diego had recently gone through a divorce, and was now adjusting to life as a bachelor again. It was difficult, as he had been married for a long time, and his meek, super-nice-guy manners weren’t especially suited for living it up as a single in the city, she thought. Nevertheless, the divorce hadn’t changed him much, at least not on the surface. He continued to be nice and cheerful, always notifying Natalie of “exciting” new happenings around the office, but she could tell it was bothering him.

“Oh you know… Getting used to it. Got everything set up in my new apartment. It’s a real bachelor pad, haha. Hey, there’s the new coffee maker.” He didn’t seem to enjoy the subject matter very much, so Natalie decided not to bring it up again, for now.

As Diego had pointed out, they had arrived at the awesome new coffee maker in the downstairs break room. There was nothing special about it at all, as far as Natalie could tell. There was a holder for your mug, and the usual array of buttons for selecting the type of coffee you wanted the thing to fill it up with. It didn’t really matter. A cup of coffee with Diego in the break room was always a nice and welcome distraction. They both knew that the “new coffee machine” was just an excuse to spend some idle minutes together, getting away from the daily grind. And so they filled up their cups, and took seats at a small round table.

“Looking forward to the party?” Natalie asked, half-sarcastically. Diego was as much a fan of mandatory corporate fun as anybody else, she knew, and he especially didn’t like big booze-fuelled parties. They made him feel anxious, he had confided in her once.

“You know me,” he responded casually, taking a big sip of coffee. “I’m the party animal around here.” He put the cup down with a somewhat dejected smile, as if part of him wished for that statement to be true. “I’ll stick around for a drink, make sure management notices my attendance, and then sneak out at my first opportunity before things get too rowdy. Got plenty of things to set up in my new place, anyway.”

Diego looked wistful, and Natalie felt pity for him. It got worse when he tried to cover up his anxiety with a forced smile. Maybe she could convince him to stay, even help him find somebody to hook up with? Lynn was certainly in the mood, but Natalie had no idea whether he was her type or not. She didn’t really know anything about her dating history, though Lynn knew all about hers, somehow. Besides, convincing him to stay at a loud, booze-drenched office party would be about as easy as convincing water to stop being wet. She dismissed the idea.

A few hours later, the party kicked off. Most off the staff had gathered in the lobby for an exciting speech about the branch’s promising future by their local chief of operations, and Natalie was already tipsy from the welcome drink. Something fruity, with booze in it. She didn’t bother to find out more details.

A delivery driver had dropped off boxes of pizzas and assorted snacks, which had been opened and left on a counter. A transparent fridge had been stocked to the brim with bottles of beer and wine, and a makeshift “bar” had been set up in the corner of the lobby for mixing cocktails. There, one could find the usual assortment of rum, gin, vodka, various mixers, and more. It would be her next stop when the speech was over, Natalie decided.

When the half-hearted applause died down and the music started, she made her way over to the cocktail bar. There was no use being sober at an occasion like this one, so it was time to get herself a gin & tonic, or something equally strong. A small group of people with the same idea had gathered nearby. Thankfully, Lynn was also there, and so Natalie snuck up on her and embraced her from behind.

“Hey there sexy,” she said, jokingly imitating a deep, masculine voice, as her arms wrapped around Lynn from behind, meeting just below her chest. Lucky girl, she never had to wear a bra, Natalie thought, as her own breasts burrowed themselves into her girl friend’s back.

A startled Lynn let out an exhasperated sigh, grabbing on to Natalie’s arms as if to tear them off of her, but stopping right as her fingers grasped around them, holding them in place. “Oh hi there,” she responded, turning her head to give Natalie a playful peck on the cheek, after which she wrestled herself free. “Booze?” she asked.

“Booze,” Natalie replied matter-of-factly.

The two friends walked up to the bar, picking out a couple of sizeable plastic cups, and filled them both up with gin and tonic. Getting too sloshed too early at an office party was always a bad idea, so they kept the gin-to-tonic ratio low enough to still give them a decent buzz.

“Talked to any hot guys yet?” Lynn asked eagerly.

“Not yet… Need to get in the mood first. This office has a habit of drying me up like a desert down there.”

Lynn giggled. “I know what you mean.” She took a big sip of her drink.

“Unless you have any leads for me?” Natalie asked her friend, who got a strained look on her cute little face.

“Yeah right. That means I won’t get you all to myself,” she responded jokingly, with a flirtatious raising of her eyebrows. Her friend seemed to blush after that.

“Shit Nat, I gotta go powder my nose. I’ll find you in a bit,” Lynn said, and scurried off. Knowing the habits of some of her co-workers, “powder my nose” could be meant both literally and figuratively.

Natalie walked around the office idly for a bit, stopping for small talk here and there, getting a glass of wine from the lobby, trying to figure out some kind of game plan. The booze did a good job at staving off the worst oh her anxiety, not to mention the general weird atmosphere of “forced fun” that office parties tended to have. Still, she found it difficult to loosen up, and seemed to have lost track of Lynn’s whereabouts.

She found her friend just outside the main entrance to the building, where people would go for fresh air, and others would go to ruin their experience with cigarette smoke. Natalie was not a fan of tobacco, and thankfully, her friend was in the former group.

“Hey Nat! Come here! This is uh… Well, shit.” Her friend seemed to have forgotten the name of the handsome man standing next to her, whose presence Natalie had just noticed. He was about an inch taller than her in her boots, his head topped by slick dark brown hair, and a thin beard that accentuated his chiseled facial features. His broad shoulders were clad in a modest black dress shirt, and on his legs he was wearing a pair of jeans and black leather loafers.

The man smiled, his face lighting up as he extended his right arm, inviting Natalie to a handshake. “I’m Konstantin. You must be Natalie I presume? Lynn here won’t stop talking about you!”

“Oh, it’s all true,” she said with a laugh as she shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Konstantin.” He was so hot. Natalie normally liked her men to be a few inches taller, but there was something about the way their eyes met almost level as he gave her his bright smile, full of confidence. His handshake had been gentle, almost romantic somehow. Natalie could feel herself starting to melt a bit. Well done, Lynn.

The three of them made some small talk out in the fresh evening air, with drinks in their hands. Konstantin worked in sales, and was often out on client calls, which was probably why they hadn’t met at work before. After a little while, Lynn excused herself and went inside, leaving the two of them alone in the midst of small groups of chattering, drunk coworkers.

Natalie found herself at a loss for words. It wasn’t typical of her. This hot guy was just beaming with confidence, something she would usually try to take down a notch or two, but he was so nice and considerate at the same time. He was filling in all the silences with questions about Natalie, seeming genuinely curious about her, and she answered as well as she could with brief statements while she tried to think of what to do next.

“Do you dance?” she asked somewhat awkwardly, as the music inside got louder.

“Love to!” Konstantin responded, still smiling. “Shall we?”

The floor of the lobby had been cleared up, and the “office DJ” was running some tacky playlist on her laptop. It didn’t matter so much. Natalie had two left feet when it came to dancing, and tried to focus on not making a fool out of herself as she tried to make subtle rhythmic moves. Konstantin seemed like a fish in water on the dancefloor. He didn’t do anything extravagant, simply moving his body to the music as if it was second nature to him, constantly beaming with that hot smile of his.

As the night went on, the dancefloor got more crowded, and Natalie got tipsier. She and Konstantin had been moving closer to each other the whole time, and by now, they were just inches away from each other. Anyone who glanced their way could see what was going on, but Natalie didn’t care. People hooked up in the office all the time, and it’s not like she had some virtuous reputation to maintain. She put her arm around his neck and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Let’s get out of here. My place isn’t far.”

Over Konstantin’s shoulder, she could see Lynn standing in the corner of the Lobby, nursing her drink. Natalie felt a little bit guilty about ditching her friend, but the look of approval on Lynn’s face eased her worries.

She leaned back, raising her eyebrows and looking into Konstantin’s light brown eyes with intent. He was biting his lip. His hand found hers, and they walked outside.

The air was electric as the pair stood in Natalie’s dark apartment hallway. Natalie had just closed the door behind them, and was staring at Konstantin’s silhouette as he took off his shoes, letting the outline of his hard body become clearer as her own eyes adjutsed to the lack of lighting. She pulled off her own boots, and stood on the floor in her ankle socks, anticipating this man’s next move.

It came suddenly. With force, he lifted her arms above her head, pressing them against the wall and kissing her passionately. She let out a surprised but excited moan, and tried to grab his head before realizing that her arms were trapped. He let go of her arms and let his ands explore her body all over, clumsily finding their way under her tucked-in blouse, caressing her naked body underneath all the way up to her bra-covered breasts. He squeezed them and dug his fingers under the fabric, trying to find her no doubt rock hard nipples.

Natalie kept her arms above her head in the dark hallway, letting Konstantin explore her body at his leisure. He was pressed up against her, hard, grinding away. The bulge between his legs rubbed against her clit through layers of jeans and underwear, but it was enough to make her want more. She wanted him inside of her, badly now.

Right then, Konstantin stopped, and took a step back. Natalie felt very confused. Was he teasing her? She wouldn’t have any of that, not tonight. Flustered, she groped the wall, searching for the light switch.

Her dark eyes squinted as light flooded the previously dark apartment. Konstantin stood before her, his face glistening with sweat and saliva from their sloppy kisses. He was sucking his lower lip in, hard, while giving her a puzzled look. What was he doing?

“Natalie I… I have kind of a thing I want to do with you, if you don’t mind,” he said after hesitating for many long seconds. The thing had better be to fuck her silly until she passed out from orgasmic pleasure, she thought, giving him a sly and expectant look. A nervous look washed over his face, as he continued hesitating.

Natalie stepped forward, grabbing Konstantin by the hairs at the back of his head gently. She licked her lips and said, “tell me what you want to do to me,” hoping that the command would dispel his nervousness and hesitation.

“I… You’re so hot,” he said, pausing for another few seconds, caressing the side of Natalie’s body up and down. “I’m going to cum in literal seconds if we fuck. Never been good at lasting long. So… I want to do that. I want to cum inside of you, and then eat my cum out of your pussy. It’s… kind of my fetish.”

Natalie interrupted him with another sloppy kiss before he could get too lost in his own thoughts. She had never tried that before, and at the moment, she was hot and horny enough to try just about anything. As long as it meant getting some dick in her. She unzipped his pants and dug his throbbing member out of his boxers. It wasn’t the biggest one she’d ever held, but it was firm and already leaking precum. Her pussy was screaming to be filled up, so she unzipped her own jeans, and resumed her previous position, back against the wall with her hands above her head.

Konstantin didn’t seem to need any further approval. Within a second, he was back to ravishing her, kissing her neck, hands going all over the place. Her blouse became unbuttoned, and her bra unclasped, while her pants and wet panties slid down to her ankles. She moaned and reached down for his erect cock, jerking it faster and faster.

He put one of his legs in between hers, spreading them apart as far as the elasticity of the pants around her ankles would allow for. They shared another sloppy kiss, tongues twirling around each other, as his cock slid easily up and all the way into Natalie’s eager, dripping wet pussy. She could feel it bottom as her throbbing clit pressed against his hard pelvis, tickled by his recently trimmed pubic hairs.

With his hands firmly grabbing her hips, Konstantin started fucking her, making sure her pussy got to feel the whole length of his cock, as he slammed hard against her clit with each thrust. Natalie gasped continuously, mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts. Their foreheads were touching, and they made intense eye contact.

As he had promised, Konstantin’s orgasm came quickly, after ten or so thrusts. His face scrunched up, and he grunted loudly, as his throbbing cock spilled load after load of hot cum into Natalie’s pussy. She instinctively felt a bit disappointed, as she usually did when her partner came well before she was anywhere close herself. But then, she remembered the rest of his promise, and waited excitedly for his orgasm to subside.

When it did, he pulled his dick out out of her, carefully replacing it with a hand, making sure to not let his seed spill out of her too much. Some

Bawdy Old London: Part 2

Thu, 07 Mar 2024 07:31:01 -0600

Prudence Plundered – A Victorian Master takes charge of his prim and proper wife.

By Ian56. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

In 19th century London, Henry Chambers was a man of note and some means. Left a not inconsiderable estate by his late father, he had speculated wisely in the city and had become a respected authority on the whims and fate of the money markets. Such was his status; his advice was sought from wide and far on all matters related to the pursuit of wealth and financial contentment.

He lived in a resplendent mansion in one of the most fashionable areas of Westminster where he indulged his public passions for art and fine literature. At the age of 50, he considered himself most satisfied with his lot and was able to look upon the years of his life with justifiable pride at his endeavors. His social standing had increased measurably due to his marriage some 20 years previously to Prudence, his dear love, whom he had been introduced to by one of his clients at a New Year’s Eve gala. Prudence had been the third daughter of the famous Fitzpatrick dynasty who had made their name in the early 1840’s as mineral traders and importers. For Henry Chambers it was love at first sight but his attentions had at first been met with a dry indifference by the handsome Miss Prudence who bore her airs and graces with a lofty distain, and it was not without some serious wooing and courtship on his part did he finally win her hand and agree to become his wife.

Three daughters and two decades later, she was still a remarkably attractive filly whose abundant charms had grown even more impressive with age and no man felt as proud as Henry Chambers did with such a jewel on his arm when out socializing in polite respectable society.

To polite society they presented themselves as a loving devoted couple but for Henry, beneath this nods and smiles, he nurtured a deep dark secret that even his dear wife knew nothing about..

“Avast wench,” said Henry, heroically. “I sense the shiver of lust cursing through thy bones I do. But fear not for I am the one to satisfy the aching of thy hairy damp pit with my trusty weapon. Take it out I say,” he bellowed, standing bare-chested with his hands on his hips. “Take out my emboldened cock for it is the deliverer of your salvation and redemption!”

At his feet, Bessie, his number two scullery maid, clasped her hands together in rapt but pleading forgiveness. At his command, she reached up and began to tug and undo the laces at the front of his breeches.

“Oh, Sir!” she exclaimed, her exposed bosom quivering in the flickering candle light most impressively. “Have mercy on a mere serving girl Sir for I am naught but a slave to these wanton desires of which I have no sense. Such sinful words are a torment Sir, a torment!”

“Sinful?” snorted Henry. “I shall have you know there is no finer word for a gentleman’s member than Cock!” He thrust his hips forward to impress his point. “What else do you know such a thing by wench?”

Bessie, her curly red hair cascading over her sweet natured face, grunted with frustration as she tugged on her masters entwined laces, her eyes fixed on his obvious arousal beneath the cloth. “For shame Sir, tis innocent I be and only know such sinful names from the station I keep and from those that wallow in the gutter below.”

Her face was purple from her efforts until, with a final pull, the laces came free and the front of his breeches sprang open. She gasped despite herself as his bloated deep crimson headed penis slithered and unfurled before her flushed face. Its mass expanding outrageously to reveal a most huge and impressive weapon that had her gasping in high heat and desire. She looked up at him with wide eyes as he stood leering lewdly down. “That Sir,” she gasped in wonder. “Is a prick the like of which I have nay seen and a prick that strikes fear into the well of my cunt so it does.”

Henry grabbed his lolling cock. “I like prick. The vulgarity of such a nasty word is worthy of an occasion such as this lass. I intend to take this prick of mine and spear and plunge deeply into that juicy cunt that lays waiting between your firm thighs. Do you expect any less, wench?” His right hand was gently stroking his tumescence and the quivers of ecstasy were sweeping from his groin to his toes and back again. At each up stroke his spare skin withered and unfurled with greater abandon as the head of his organ began to leak his pre-spend.

“No Sir,” shivered the maid, her face aflame with her heaving lust. “Though my faint heart flutters at the prospect of such a tight cunty as my own being invaded by such a weeping monster I shall bear its sweet agony with resolve and duty.”

She reached up and grasped his veined cock in her slim right hand, her fingers barely able to circumvent its pulsing fatness. Her mouth was dry and her desire urged her to taste his meat. “Sir,” she said hesitantly as she rubbed the underside of his magnificence with her thumb. “I fear my need is becoming overwhelming and its constant whisper begs that I ask you the favor of feeding your prick into my mouth for me to suck on without shame.”

Henry felt his heavy under hanging balls tighten in their hairy sac at the lascivious nature of her words. The thought of his comely maid devouring his outsized cock was one to savor for, alas, T’was only under such circumstance as their clandestine meetings whilst his dear wife was away that such a pleasure be upon him.

He frowned inwardly at the merest glimmer of his wife for even though he loved her passionately she was cautiously high strung and the very idea of anything more than straight forward love-making was abhorrent to her whiles. Heaven forbid he so much as suggested she pleasure him with her sweet mouth!

The frustration he felt at her lack of adventure had lain heavy upon him for all of their marriage. His pursuit of this adventure had found him cast between the firm thighs of his scullery maid who had no such hesitation in joining him in seeking pleasures of the flesh. Indeed, she had suggested and encouraged him on such dark travels that even made him gape at their outrageous landscapes. If only his wife had the merest hint at such mischief and want.

His mind drifted as he considered his dear heart on her knees before him, begging to take his staff between her lips and to suck out his thick creamy spend. The stuff dreams are made of he mused. Egad, he wished for nothing more than to ravish Prudence with eager abandon and have her panting beneath him like a bitch on heat, urging him on to fuck the ripe bulb of her vagina with all his might.

Bessie glanced up as she fisted her Masters Iron rod. His eyes were closed and he swayed slightly in rhythm to the pleasure of her ministrations. She knew that look for he had spoken idly with her after their exertions had ceased about his frustration and regret. Her Mistress was a sore old fish she thought. Blessed with good looks and a fine figure she was to all intents and purpose primrose, stuff and duty with naught in between. Bessie could only imagine her frigid nature in bed. T’was no surprise her employer sought comfort in the arms of another.

His bloated angry cock head was nigh kissing her lips and in that moment she knew it was her duty to ease his frustration. Shifting forward slightly, she opened her mouth as wide as possible and slipped her stretched lips over his pulsing bulge and down over his shaft until she felt his mushroom butt the back of her throat. The smell and taste teased her senses as she began to draw back and suck deeply on his organ. The sucking of cock was to her a delight, a dirty devilish deed that warmed her soul for she knew she was skilled and the pleasure it would bring in its wake. She smiled at the sound of his sigh and lowered her head again as she sucked his prick to her hearts content.

In her small room, the oak creaked and groaned as Henry forced his rigid cock into the maid’s succulent cunt as he held her face down over the end of the bed. Deeper he plunged until the neck of his organ slapped wetly against the petals of her orifice which clung eagerly to his girth as if trying to capture its thrust and never let go. The pleasure washed over them in warm wafts as the heat of their fucking grew steadily to a crescendo that had them both grunting and crying out loud. The room bore witness to the depths of their lust and the insanity of their passion.

“Take my fucking cock wench,” hissed Henry as he speared her again and again. His appendage was glistening with his pre-spend and her copious seepage now that the climax was near. “Thy swollen twat shall be sore for a week once I have had my way with you Bessie.”

Bessie scrabbled at the bedclothes feeling his tumescence crest deep within her belly. Her poor cunty felt over stuffed with cock and the ecstasy was so never ending she feared she might faint at its joys. “Oh Sir,” she gabbled. “Again. Again. Punish my poor cunty with your huge prick. Tis wonderful. Oh Sir! I can feel another climax building within. Fuck me Sir!”

The plain oak bed creaked and groaned louder.

Henry stared down at his mount, leering at the sight of her full arse wobbling from between the confines of her tugged open white bloomers. His feverish hands reached under her to grasp and kneed each full and impressive tit that had over spilled from the top of her starched blouse. He pinched each swollen teat making her shriek then moan with painful pleasure. He jabbed his cock into her again thus lifting her off her feet and held her against him as he flexed the muscles in his firm backside.

For a man of his years, he was still in fine shape and built for stamina. He slithered slowly out of her cunt making her whimper and claw at his naked thighs. Before the next thrust he gave her pale arse a firm slap that made her yelp in surprise. He grinned. Unknown to her, he had come across a book that detailed how the matter of pain by deed of flagellation or spanking was one which was being much discussed in secret society as a means of further sexual exploration, and it was one he was most interested in discovering with his pretty 19 year old maid at a future date.

But that would be for another time. The matter at hand was to slake his lust before his wife got home!

Bessie stood over the small bowl and began to wipe between her thighs with the damp cloth. She winced slightly for her well poked vagina was blistered and sore from its vigorous shafting by her employers cock. She could feel his spend seeping from between her flower and she shook her head with a smile for the amount of his cum was a never ending surprise. Behind her, he stood fastening his breeches and making himself decent again. She realized his wife would be home soon and it was with sly female knowing that she had eased his need before she got back. Her Mistress would benefit from a good night’s sleep this night no doubt. Though that was but a small victory for she had learned through servant gossip that the pair rarely indulged in marital bliss these days. She felt a slight pinch of regret for him. Mayhap she should offer a word or two.

“Have I pleased you, Sir?” she asked.

He looked at her. “As always Bessie,” he smiled. “I can walk in society now without feeling as if the frustration of my cock weighs heavily like a ball and chain.”

Bessie smiled. “I be glad, Sir.” She paused and bit her lip. Should she be so bold? Her station was only to listen and obey after all. But he had loved her nearly a dozen times now and perhaps he would consider her opinion. “Sir, if I may?”

He stood at the door to her quarters. “Yes?”

Bessie looked at him. “My mamma always told me never to be untrue to one self. In life, one has to live as if each day is the last and the day should be lived as if twas the last day. Do not let frustration spoil that last day with regret Sir.”

Henry looked at his servant. A moment of understanding passed between them until he opened the door and quietly left.

Dinner was served at eight o'clock sharp.

At one end of the long table sat Henry and at the other end, his wife, Prudence, who fiddled with the food on her plate as she was wont to do. Henry looked at her as he idly swilled the wine in his half empty glass. Their conversation was one sided and she chatted away about this and that, and how her day had gone. Dressed in a lace blouse whose frills danced around the crown of her neck, a sensible cut of pleated black ankle length skirt and strapped black knee boots, she looked as ravishing as ever to his gaze. At forty three years and the bearer of his three children, she had lost none of the vitality and beauty that had clasped his heart all those decades ago. He took another sip of wine and felt a familiar stirring in his loins. Despite the events of this afternoon he still felt the pang of desire whenever he looked at his wife. E gads, why did she have to be so willful and disinterested in the physical side of their marriage?!

“and I said we would be delighted and honored to attend your ball.”

Henry blinked. “What?”

Prudence put down her fork and looked at him in that way she had that made him feel slightly guilty. She dabbed the napkin over her full perfect lips. “Really dearest, I swear you look as if your head is in the clouds again. I was saying, Lady Fabisham has invited us to her winter bash on the 16th of December. I told her we would be delighted to attend such a society event. Everyone of worth shall be there. With good fortune, you may be able to charm some new business contacts and opportunities. By the by, I shall need a new frock for such an occasion for one must keep up appearances in such company. A small increase in my allowance is agreeable I’m sure. Heavens, I can’t wait!”

Henry pursed his lips, deep in thought for her words drifted in one ear and out the other. There were so many balls, galas, invites to this and that these days that to his mind they all merged into one unedifying mass of time wasted. He had more important things on his mind this night. He took another sip from his glass and waited for the moment when they would retire to their bedchambers later that evening.

Prudence stood before the long mirror in their bedroom unpinning her long and lustrous auburn hair. She could see her husband’s reflection as he leaned against the door watching her with the glass of wine still in his hand. For a brief moment she shivered for she knew his moods and the sound of his silence. Oh good grief, was that pesky male urge upon him again? She gave her head a shake and her hair bloomed around her porcelain face. No matter. She was tired from her shopping trip and needed her rest. A word of desist would suffice as it always did. Once every month was more than enough for such base encounters she reasoned. The last thing she wanted was to bear another child unto the world. No, Henry would just have to be satisfied with his lot in life.

Henry continued to stare at his undressing spouse who had let the black skirt fall to gather at her feet. His jaw steeled as he watched her bend over to pick the garment up thus revealing to his gaze her spectacularly broad bloomered bottom.

“The last day with regret.” said the voice in his head.

His maid was right. What noble deed was he following? He was head of the household and had rights because of that fact. His mouth felt dry despite the wine. Those rights included the say over his spouse and family. His wife should be beholden only unto him and at the behest of his requirements both emotionally and physically.

All his adult life he had been sworn by this sense of husbandly duty and had always submitted to her every whim both in public and private. That she was overt in public was of no import but her dismissal of his urges in private was a nagging boil that he now needed to lance

He downed the last of the wine and placed the empty glass on the table. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the side of the large double bed where his wife was slipping the nightgown over her head.

At the sound of his approach, Prudence turned around, unable to see her husband for she was still enshrouded under her night garment. “Henry, can you turn out the light dearest and help me with this infuriating thing.”

Henry ignored her, grasped her upper arms and lifted her off her feet. Hidden, he could hear her gasp with surprise before beginning to struggle.

“Henry, what are you?”

Henry kept silent. He carried her to the foot of the bed and dropped her face down, keeping a hand firmly in the small of her back to keep her in place. With his other, he reached up and tugged away the nightgown.

Prudence twisted her head to look over her left shoulder. Her face was a blushing mask of surprised indignation. Just what did he think he was doing? He had better stop playing games and let her up forthwith or else! Her furious alarm rose when she felt his free hand clasp the buttons which held the backside of her bloomers together. What? Was he possessed? Had he lost his mind? She writhed harder. That what he wanted was obvious by his very manner but it was most certainly not something she wanted right now!

“Henry, dearest, please, you have to let me up,” she gasped as she felt him tugging the second button free. “Look, this is not fair. Dearest husband, you should keep thy urges for when I am agreeable for such a thing. I am tired, give me a few days and I promise you shall have your way, once!”

A third button slipped undone. The deep crack of her bottom peeked from the widening gap making him more determined to follow his instinct. After tonight, his lovely wife would know who was master in this household and if he wanted to submit to his desires she would have no choice in the matter. Between his thighs he could feel his penis strain for release from its confines. His lusty gaze fell to his wife’s increasingly exposed backside and swallowed hard. He was determined to teach her there was more to fucking than poking her cunty. The shadow of her secret crack was deep and long. No, tonight it wasn’t her cunty that was going to take the length of his abundant cock. His desire mounted as the last button slipped free and the stretched cloth of her undergarment split wide to set free her glorious arse in all its abundant magnificence.

Prudence felt the cool air caress her now bare bottom. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she gasped as she felt his hand suddenly fondling both pale cheeks. This was intolerable! What gave him the right to do with her person as he wished? Used to getting her own way, she drummed her feet on the floor with a mixture of outrage and fear that her husband could be so, so, unreasonable!

“Henry,” she muttered. “Stop or else I shall be very, very cross with you!”

Her husband ignored her threat and grabbed the abundant flesh of her bottom harder. And what a fine bottom it was indeed. So very full and inviting for any man who wished to cast aside his morals for the pleasures awaiting him. He grimaced for his cock was most insistent on its need to be set free from its confines and to seek that which it hungered for.

“Henry, are you listening?”

“Be quiet wife,&rdqu

Bawdy Old London: Part 1

Wed, 06 Mar 2024 07:30:51 -0600

The Grand Old Lady Town Has Legends.

By Ian56. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Foreword:

In a sun-kissed valley and up over a green hill did one come upon the splendid sight of Old London Town. A landscape of steeples, spires, and belching chimney pots stretching to the far horizon as the populace go about their daily business in the growing community they call; ‘the grand old lady’.

Each living their own stories that would be told over and over as the years and generations pass. But some of those tales can only be spoken about in dark shadows with a nudge and a wink. Bawdy stories. Ribald stories. Lusty stories that quicken the heart, catch the breath and fire the blood. Stories that aren’t told in polite company; Tales that can only be shared in places such as this.

Max Phallus - the elephant cock of Old London.

London. November, 1899.

“Good God almighty,” the woman exclaimed as she stood there in the doorway holding a pile of freshly ironed laundry for her new lodger. Remembering her station, she put a hand to her mouth in embarrassment. “Forgive my intrusion, Sir.”

Mrs. Hoopenlicker was not one to stand on ceremony and always spoke her mind. Twice widowed and once forsaken, the woman had the benefit of wit, wisdom, and life experience. Or so she thought as she stared unabashedly at the dangling member belonging to the young man standing naked in front of her.

Gathering her wits, she knocked on the door she had already innocently opened. “There I go again,” she tutted as she stepped into the spare bedroom. “My most sincere apologies for barging in on you, Mr. Johnson. I thought, perhaps, you had gone out for a short walk to familiarize yourself with your new situation and surroundings. The old lady can be quite the eye-opener for those who have not experienced life in the big city.”

Albert Johnson finally found his voice as he stood there still dripping water onto the polished wooden floor. “Uh, I, well,” he coughed and stammered as he tried to cover his modesty with his hands. A futile gesture for he was well aware that, endowed as he was, a fair portion of his member was still showing. “That is quite alright, Mrs. Hoopenlicker. No harm done. I was merely availing myself of the clean pitcher of water and bowl to clean up. I shall be more astute with the lock next time.”

He watched as his landlady went over to the dresser and placed the laundry on top. “Thank you kindly,” he replied as he quickly grabbed a clean towel with one hand whilst still trying to hide his largesse with the other. “Your attention to my well-being is much appreciated.”

Flushed, she glanced at him as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “Supper is at eight,” she informed him as she walked to the door. “I usually cook some oats and milk with a touch of honey. They say it is most agreeable for the stomach and aids restful sleep. Now, I shall take my leave so you can unpack your baggage and settle in.” With that, she closed the door and went on her way with more than just the daily chores on her mind.

It was three days hence and the fading light shone through the lattice window as the landlady and her lodger sat enjoying their late supper together before a simmering log fire. In those three days, they had spent the time getting to know each other. They talked about his family back home in the shires. His new situation as an apprentice teller in the financial heart of the city. His pursuits and Interests as well as life in general and how much he was looking forward to living in the grand old lady.

Albert Johnson was nineteen years. He was tall. Countryside lean. Sporting a thick shaggy brown mop of hair with matching brown eyes and an attentive sensible nature. Through connections, he had managed to arrange suitable lodgings near to his place of employment and an initial payment for his monthly rent had been agreed with the lady of the house, Mrs. Hoopenlicker. All in all, things had turned out most fortunate as he sat there enjoying his late supper listening to his landlady chatting happily away about all things under the sun.

To his surprise, he found Mrs. Hoopenlicker a most entertaining companion. She was charming, bright, and witty with an easy-going manner that put him instantly at ease. Their little adventure on his first day had, apparently, faded into nothing more than an unfortunate memory and had never been mentioned again.

Or so he thought.

The sound of her voice and warmth of his supper helped the trials of the day float gently away as he sat on the couch enjoying her company. He rested his bowl on his lap and slowly closed his eyes feeling much contented as he listened.

Such was his sleepy repose, he didn’t notice his landlady get out of her fireside chair and ease down beside him and put a hand on his right knee.

“By chance in Summertime, Mr. Johnson,” said the older woman as she glanced up at her lodger who was now very much awake and staring wide-eyed at her. “The idyllic dreams of an unattached lady such as myself are sometimes disturbed in a way that does peculiar things to her sensibilities and there is not a jot she can do about it no matter how hard she tries.”

The young man was about to say something but she put a finger to his lips. “That first morning those idyllic dreams were very much disturbed by what this lady witnessed and is now the only thing she can think about,” She paused for she understood full well that the next step was the greatest step of all. “If you’d be willing, Mr. Johnson, I should very much like to share this dream with you.” To emphasis the point, she slowly drew her finger down the front of his stays.

To young Albert Johnson, it sounded as if his heart was in his skull with his mind all at sea. Rational thought had taken flight and even if he could think straight he doubted he would be able to give voice to it. “Ah, uh, well,” he managed as he stared at his landlady as she cuddled closer to him.

All things being equal, Mrs. Hoopenlicker was a fine looking woman. Late forties, he imagined. She was of medium height. Maturely curvaceous. Immaculately presented with long blonde hair that was tied in a fashion down her back. She was wearing a starched white blouse that was buttoned to the neck and tied at the wrists as well as a sensible yellow ankle-length skirt overlaid with flower stitching here and there. A pair of laced leather black boots completed the picture.

“Fret not about my presumptions, Mr. Johnson,” she confessed. “But I must speak of the things that are to the forefront of my mind. I ask only that you consider my request in the spirit it is meant,” Mrs. Hoopenlicker saw the first flush of desire flicker in his eyes. “And if I may be so bold, perhaps a little persuasion may assist in your decision.” she offered as she got to her feet and pulled out a wooden stool from under the table.

Facing away from him, she placed it in front of the fire as she leaned forward thus presenting her lodger with a perfect view of her shapely backside. She paused for a moment before she turned and put her right foot on the stool. Then, as he sat there watching her little erotic dance, she slowly began to draw up her skirt and petticoats to reveal more of her black stockings to his rapt attention. She stopped at the first sign of her garter and bare thigh. “There now, Mr. Johnson. Do you like what you see?” she teased.

“But I hardly know you, Mrs. Hoopenlicker,” gasped Albert. “Though I am much flattered by your attention, I think it only right to point out that we have only just met.”

His landlady tugged her clothes a little higher so that the needlepoint of her white French knickers was showing. “Isn’t that the thrill of it though?” she breathed suggestively. “What path we choose shall only concern the two of us at this moment. I trust such an arrangement shall be completely confidential by its very nature. I have needs, Mr. Johnson, and conversation can only get one so far. Besides,” she smiled as she ran both hands down her exposed thigh. “If there had been a whiff of doubt, Sir, you would have said so the moment I laid my hand on your thigh.”

Her lodger stared at her. The lady of the house was right. He nodded. “Your words have me at a loss, Mrs. Hoopenlicker,” he replied. “Some things are meant to be and I cannot deny I am aroused by the opportunity you are offering me. Let us have our way with each other and hell be damned.”

And so began the strange affair between the landlady, Mrs. Hoopenlicker, and her lodger, Mr. Johnson.

“What a magnificent appendage, Mr. Johnson,” gasped Mrs. Hoopenlicker as she admired the young man’s sex as it hung down from his groin. Its length was as long as her forearm with the smooth apple-sized head hidden under the foreskin. “I swear it is the most invigorating thing I have ever seen!”

Her lodger was flushed of face as he stood there with his shirt bunched up around his waist whilst his landlady knelt at his feet fawning and cooing over his growing prick. Growing not so much in length but in thickness as the engorged head slowly emerged from its sheath.

“May I touch it?” she asked politely, glancing up at him. Heavens, her heart was pounding so vigorously in her chest she felt quite befuddled as she reached up and extended a finger to stroke his stiffening manhood.

Albert was beyond reason as he stood gently swaying. What a ridiculous question! He very much wanted Mrs. Hoopenlicker to touch his thing and do so much more with it for he was quite unable to resist the temptations she was offering him.

He nodded eagerly. “Please do, Mrs. Hoopenlicker,” he gasped. “But with caution for I have little experience in such things and the bell may ring sooner rather than later.”

Grasping the monster at its base, she lifted it up so that its great head and one eye stared back at her as it throbbed in her grip. The most noticeable thing to her was how heavy and hot it was. Pushing it further back, she saw his ball sack reaching down to mid-thigh and she could only imagine how full each nut must be with the syrup contained within. Slowly drawing her fist up the shaft, she paused just below the crown and squeezed him gently so that a large drop of dew appeared. Peeking up at Mr. Johnson, she bent her head and deftly licked the pearl away with her tongue. “Never let it be said,” she smiled as she got to her feet; “that I let a single drop go to waste.”

Mrs. Hoopenlicker hefted her skirts and delicately removed her knickers before turning away from him so she could kneel on her couch. Revealing her full bare posterior, she glanced over her shoulder to see Albert fisting his weeping phallus as he gawped at her rear all agog. “Mount me from behind, Mr. Johnson,” she urged as the young man stepped between her spread thighs. “I much prefer to be taken this way.”

Albert stared at his landlady’s round bottom that lay before him as ripe and succulent as a split peach. Her rotundity was perfect. Large, yes, but perfectly proportioned with each white cheek hiding the delights in between. She had tilted her hips so that her mound was easily accessible to his excited prodding. As he watched, Mrs. Hoopenlicker reached down between her thighs and ran a solitary finger along her hairy slot.

Quickly, he dropped his trousers and stepped out of them leaving his heavy bell end swinging lustily in tingling anticipation. Below, he could feel his testes beginning to churn in their mottled sack as he grasped his stiff penis and positioned himself for his initial penetration of her cunty.

Suddenly, Mrs. Hoopenlicker raised a hand. “Wait, Sir, Wait!” she exclaimed. “The wattle. The sponge. Such is my state, I was remiss in my protection,” She pointed to her oak sideboard. “Inside is a small bag. To the left. Please bring it to me, Mr. Johnson.”

Albert shuffled across and returned with the bag. His landlady opened it and removed a small wedge of sponge. “Even at my age,” she confessed. “It pays to take precautions.” She then removed a ball of string and glanced at his member. Calculating how much she needed, she used a pair of scissors to snip the required length and tied one end securely around the sponge. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “Before you insert your prick, Mr. Johnson,” she instructed. “Can you be so kind as to push this into my hole first so that it can soak up your spend. The head of your thing shall force it as deep as it needs to go.”

To assist, she resumed her position and reached behind to spread her bottom as she felt him gingerly press the contraception between the lips of her sex and up into her passage as far as he could manage before withdrawing his finger.

“Are you ready, Mrs. Hoopenlicker?” he asked as he hefted his large purple knob so that copious amounts of juice oozed from the tip. He was consumed with lust and quivered with sexual excitement.

The older woman shivered with anticipation as she looked over her shoulder at the length of meat about to invade her womanhood. To penetrate and touch the very heart of who she was and where her true nature lay waiting.

Her finger still rubbed between the lips of her sex to help oil her waiting vagina for his prick was a monster! Could her poor sweet fanny even take such a thing inside it? Not only was it long, but it was as fat as a butchers dog with an angry head that wept impatiently from its single eye. “As I shall ever be, Sir,” she whispered. “Have at it and rest not until my venus has taken every last inch of you!”

“Ah!” Mrs. Hoopenlicker rasped as her penetration by her lodger’s immense cock continued. Even though she had taken less than half of him, half of him was so much more than she had taken before. He squeezed another inch inside her and she groaned loudly for she could feel her innards being pushed to one side. “Heavens, Mr. Johnson,” she gasped as she gripped the back of her couch. “I swear that thing will rend me asunder. Oh, oh, Oh!”

Albert was all a sweat. The mounting of his landlady, though most pleasurable, was surely hard work! Her fanny was wrapped around his prick like a vice and he had to pause while she got used to his probing. He was beginning to think that having such a large fucker was not a blessing but a curse. “You have the most delightful fanny, Mrs. Hoopenlicker,” he grunted as her sex gripped him tightly. “Are you able to take more of my prick?”

Mrs. Hoopenlicker was knocking on heaven’s door. Her mind was away with the fairy folk and the sensations that flowed from her sex made her weep with delirium. Her cunty felt absolutely and completely stuffed full of his cock. And yet, from her glance, she saw that he had much more to give her. Could she take any more? Was she physically capable of being fucked completely by such a thing?

“Push, Mr. Johnson,” she urged. “Push as if your very life depended on it. Force your ridiculous prick as far and as deep as you can. I shall accept every inch of you if it is the last thing I do!”

His landlady braced herself and thrust her buttocks up to make his penetration easier. Albert steeled himself and thrust forward with his hips in slow surges that had the poor woman impaled on his shaft yelping and squealing with wild abandon. The more he forced into her, the more vulgar her language became.

“Mr. Johnson!” she shrieked. “Mr. Johnson, sir. Oh my, oh fiddlesticks, I swear on the almighty,” Another thrust. “Ah, oh, oh, oh, fiddley Fuck!”

Albert began to twitch. He was hopping from one foot to the other as he rammed more of his prick into his landlady who was twisting and swearing as she knelt there on the couch. His hands had pushed the cheeks of her arse apart and he had a clear view of her brown hole winking at him above her distended cunt.

“OH, you well hung bastard son,” Mrs. Hoopenlicker grimaced as her lodger crouched over her with his large balls slapping wetly against her hairy mound. She felt a sudden surge of pure ecstasy and shuddered through the delightful spell it cast over her. Finally. He was completely inside her. She had done it. She had taken all he had to give and it felt wonderful. Her cunty was full of cock and the head of it pressed somewhere deep inside that made her shiver from tip to toe.

She turned her head as he heaved and strained above her. “Take me, Sir,” she begged. “Make me whine like a whore on a Sunday. Use that immense prick to pound my little fanny raw and fill my insides with your seed!”

The mounting of Mrs. Hoopenlicker continued apace. The room echoed to the sounds of passionate coitus with the fire casting erotic shadows upon the walls as they danced. Albert was struggling to keep his ardor in check as he flexed his hips back and forth against her upturned derriere. Goblin eyed, he drooled as he watched his fleshy spike appear and disappear inside his landlady who had grasped a cushion and was gnawing on it with a face contorted with pleasure and pain.

The filthy language she was using only added to his impending release. “Oh, Mrs. Hoopenlicker!” he cried as he banged away. “I adore the way you express your feelings in such a guttural way. But I fear such debasement shall soon tip me over the edge of madness!”

Mr. Johnson was right. Her language was from the gutter. A hellish place she had known all too well before her first husband had rescued her from the life she had been living amongst the dregs of humanity who inhabited the capitals underworld.

It was then she sensed that the young man riding her saddle was about to reach his peak. “Do not hold back, Mr. Johnson,” she urged as his thrusts became more erratic. “My constitution is well able to withstand the tempest which you are about to unleash upon me!”

Her lodger exclaimed a sudden “Oh!” and hammered her gripped buttocks thrice in quick succession as he shot his thick copious semen deep within the groaning woman.

Mrs. Hoopenlicker held firm as an exhausted Mr. Johnson collapsed on her as they reached the top of the mountain together. For an age, he covered her with his face close to hers and she could hear him panting like a sated dog in her right ear.

“Sir,” she whispered eventually. “The deed is done. You may unmount me now for I need to remove the sponge.”

Albert struggled up and watched as his landlady rolled onto her back, spread her thighs, and with a tug on the string hanging from her sex, pulled out the sodden dam. She held it up to the light as a teardrop of his spend dripped from it onto the floor.

As her young lodger stood there catching his breath, Mrs. Hoopenlicker knelt down in front of him and lifted up the drooping length of his spent cock so that it hung twitching from her grip. In the light from the fire, it still glistened wetly from the mix of their combined juices as she examined it closely before she licked his waning tumescence clean.

“Does that shock you, Mr. Johnson?” she asked as she knelt

Good Morning Licks

Tue, 05 Mar 2024 07:30:59 -0600

Communication Can Be Nonverbal.

by Fugman - listen to the podcast at Steamy Stories.

To be perfectly honest, our sex life has been kind of stale lately. Between work, the kids, and other obligations, by the time we get to go to bed, we are both exhausted and not in the mood to be intimate.

One night not too long ago, I kissed Tammy goodnight and went to sleep, she was reading on her phone. We shared the ‘I love yous’ and I quickly faded out.

Several times in the past as Tammy reads her romance books, she’ll wake me up for some play time, but that hasn’t happened in a while.

This one night, I heard something and slowly opened my eyes. As I slowly adjusted to the darkness, I soon noticed that Tammy was playing with her bare nipple and moaning. I did not want to disturb her, she was literally enjoying herself, so I laid still staring at her naked body. She was pinching her nipple tightly and pulling them, stretching her breasts tall. I slowly tilted my head to see her legs wide open and her fingers playing with herself. I could not take my eyes off if her, her fingers, and I was starting to feel my hardness grow.

She took her fingers out of her wetness and I watched as she brought them to her lips and inserted them in her mouth. She moaned loudly, letting me know that she thoroughly enjoyed her own excited juices. I stayed still and silent and watched as her hand slid back down and her fingers disappeared back inside of her vagina. They slowly vanished inside of her and she moaned again, and everytime she played with her clit, her moans got louder.

I watched her as she pleasured herself, her fingers sliding in and out of her, occasionally licking them clean before returning down below. The moans were getting louder and louder and I watched as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feelings that her playful fingers provided. She turned her head towards me and I closed my eyes…a second later I opened my eyes and she was staring at me intently, mouth open as she was about to finish in front of me.

With our eyes locked, I watched as she hurdled towards her climax…I heard her fingers sloshing through her wetness, her moans increased in volume and frequency. She was a few strokes from screaming out and I watched her as she tried to keep her eyes open and connected to mine. Just as she hit her explosive finish, her eyes opened and she looked right at me. She looked incredible as her orgasm shook her body uncontrollably.

Tammy brought her fingers up and inserted them in her mouth again, this time looking directly at me as she slid her fingers in and out from between her lips. “Mmmmm,” she said as slowly withdrew them from her mouth. “Do you want to taste?” She asked, already knowing my answer would be yes.

She licked her fingers and slowly slid her hand down her body, pinched her nipple tightly and then continued tracing her fingers down her body. Once she reached between her legs, her eyes closed briefly as her fingers slid inside her already soaked opening. I watched her move her fingers in and out a few times before bringing them to my lips. I kissed them gently then wrapped my lips around her fingers and pulled them inside my mouth. My tongue swirled around her digits and tasted every drop of her juice that I could. Her eyes watched me intently as she slowly withdrew her fingers.

“Mmmm, baby, I love the taste of you,” I said, “I want more.” As I said that, I slid my body out form under the covers and moved down the bed. As soon as my head was near her privates, I could smell her aroma, the scent drew me in. As soon as my tongue touched her upper thigh, she moaned, her heart was already pounding in anticipation And I did not keep her waiting. My tongue slid down her thigh and I tasted her from the source. Her hands grabbed the back of my head and pulled me deep between her legs. My tongue slipped inside of her lips as I heard her moan again.

I had to fight her grip to raise my head slightly, “mmm, straight from the source!” As I moved back in and my tongue parted her opening and I moved it up and down. I love the feeling of her opening as it makes room for my invading tongue. I went up and down tasting as much of her as I could and then I brought my lips up and surrounded her pleasure button. As soon as my lips surrounded her and started to gently suck, she moaned loudly. She was already approaching her second orgasm, and I wanted to bring it to her. I continued sucking, licking, nibbling on her button until she begged for me to finish her. That is when my tongue slid down and back into her opening, up and down I moved it, then I started pushing it in and out of her.

Every few strokes of my tongue, then I would go back to her clit and suck, nibble, lick and suck some more. Her hands grabbed my head and held it tightly as her explosion neared. I swirled my tongue around and then bit down as I heard her intense moan indicating that she was coming again. I held her firmly as more juices flowed from her sweet opening. When she finally calmed down and released her death grip on my head, I licked her up and down again, coating my tongue and face with her juice for the second time.

She pulled me by the head until I kissed her, she swirled her tongue inside my mouth tasting her flavor once again.

Tammy felt my erection poking into her as we kissed and she reached for my underwear. Seconds later, my butt was bare and her hands were pulling me inside of her. The excessive lubrication down below had me sinking deep with very little effort. Once I was fully inside of her, she held me tight and ground her hips against mine. She was still pleasuring herself and I needed to take over and do the pleasuring. I lifted my hips, until only the very tip of me remained inside, I used my hand and slid my hardness against her seam, sliding up and down but not entering her. She moaned again, the angle I was hitting her pelvis was causing every up stroke to hit her already overly sensitive clit.

Back and forth between full penetration and sliding up and down her seam had her ready to come unglued. But I love hearing her moans, I love hearing her being fully pleasured and know that I am in control. I was coated in a lot of her wetness so it made it really easy to slide back and forth, in and out, up and down until she was rapidly approaching her third climax for the night.

I stayed inside of her and ground my hips, moving my erection around inside, hitting everywhere that I could reach until I knew she was about to go over the edge. Then I plowed hard and fast inside of her, she moaned louder and she held on to my hips feeling me thrust deep and hard. She was getting closer and closer and I knew it would not be much longer before she was cumming again.

I felt her hands move to my bare butt and I suddenly felt a sharp pain on my cheeks. She dug her fingernails into my backside and she held me in place, buried deep inside of her. She moved her hips back and forth until she moaned again. Her body shook violently as waves of pleasure ran through her body again.

Her body quivering was vibrating my hardness still buried inside of her, I felt a sharp pain on my bare butt cheeks, it was Tammy, digging her nails in deep so that I would not move until she was done with me.

The sharp pain in my backside conflicted with the pleasure that my erection was experiencing as her body was stroking me inside, almost milking me for my seed.

After she started to come down from her orgasm, she released my butt cheeks and told me, “let me taste me on you, lay down, it’s my turn to please you.” I did as I was told and rolled over, standing tall and proud. She rolled over and I watched as she locked eye contact with me and licked the head, swirling her tongue around to hit ever side, and the little hole on the top. She licked all around, didn’t let one spot get ignored, “mmmmm, you taste so good with me on you.”

My head fell back and I lost eye contact with her as she went up and down surrounding my tool with her mouth, lips, tongue, hand stroking me, she was working me, and working me well. It was like she was wanting me to finish quickly.

Her mouth moved up and down, her tongue swirled over my head, back and forth on the very tip, coating me with her saliva as it mixed with my excitement starting to ooze from me. I grabbed her by the hair and held on as she was definitely taking control, I knew what she wanted, but I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. I fought the urges to explode down her throat, but she was really ramping up the intensity. I was really fighting back but I knew I was fighting a losing battle, I knew it was only a matter of time before she drained me of every last drop.

I thought I had it handled, I was thinking of anything I could so that I wasn’t concentrating on what she was doing to me, but as soon as I felt her fingers play with my testicles, I knew it was coming quickly. She teased the underside and squeezed them, but as soon as she looked up at me and I made eye contact with her, she grinned around my tool in her mouth and nodded to me that it was time.

That was all it took, with a moan and a groan, I filled her mouth with everything in me. She played with my jewels as she drank down every last drop, “mmmmm,” she moaned around my tool. Causing vibrations around my shooting appendage, the feeling was too much to take as I held her head in place and moved my hips back and forth. I could barely think about anything but her mouth still surrounding me, drinking and using me as her straw to get to the very last bit of my special shake.

When I was finally drained of everything, she raised her head and licked me from the top to my jewels, making sure that she got it all, and she smiled up at me, “mmmm, straight from the source.” We giggled and cuddled until we fell back to sleep, saying our I love yous before drifting off again, both completely satisfied.

by Fugman, for Tumblr

Guide For Deflowering A Man

Mon, 04 Mar 2024 07:30:58 -0600

Former fundamentalist begins her ministry to virgin men. (first time)

By April601. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

In my early 20’s I dated a guy named Terry. He was a nice enough guy, very respectful and polite. He was my age and not the typical bad guy type that for some reason I seemed to attract or was it I was attracted to?

I began dating him and soon realized he was on the more serious side. Honestly, I didn’t expect that he could hold my attention for more than a couple of dates.

After somewhat of a wild start to my sexual journey I reached a point of self-respect and I had established a few ground rules for myself that I tried to follow. The first rule being that I tried not having sex on the first date! Well, I tried anyway; bless my heart. If I managed to get by that crucial rule, I had made up a few more hypothetical rules.

First dates were limited to heavy kissing only.
Second dates limited to touching, exploring. I would allow my date to touch my breasts and I would go no further than rubbing his groin thru his pants.
Third dates maybe a hand job.
Fourth dates possibly a blowjob, and
If we made it the fifth date there were no limits.

I thought these were reasonable limits for semi-nice girls, which I considered myself as being. If you haven’t heard how I was still a naive, shelter, fundamentalist virgin when an older married man deflowered me, we’ll need to have that conversation; because it explains a lot of my personal journey and progression toward sexual awareness of myself. It also added to my empathy for others with retarded sexual awareness in adulthood.

I remember telling several of my dates these rules but honestly, I don’t ever recall a time when I was able to really stick to them; except with Terry.

My first date with Terry ended with us just kissing and making out in his car. It was all pretty tame and controlled overall. He was polite and seemed to respect the limits and restrictions I was trying to follow.

Some guys are just terrified of sexual intimacy; and need encouragement and affirmation. Some guys are raised to think that all women view sex as dirty male desires, that women inwardly abhor, and only tolerate in marriage arrangements.

After our second date we again began to make out in his car. As things started to heat up with Terry, I reached into his pants to do an assessment of his manhood. I liked what I felt as it appeared to be a good size and worthy of a third date. Never being the patient type, I unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Yes, I know; I broke my second date rule.

As I began to play with my new toy, Terry stopped me and said he had something important to tell me. Really? I’m stroking your cock, and you want to stop and talk? This was a first for me.

He sheepishly told me he was a virgin! What! Really! He now had my attention. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. I thought maybe he was playing games to entice me into having sex with him. He was a good-looking guy but a bit on the shy side, so maybe I could see it. I guess I must have overreacted as he immediately went limp. I apologized and that was pretty much the end of the date.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Is this good or bad? Should I go on a third date or run?

The next day I called my friend Jenny. She always had answers. I told her everything and wanted her take on the situation. Not to be mean but we did have a good laugh over it. Jenny had never been with a virgin before either. We both pondered over it and the more we discussed it the more intrigued we both became. We jokingly came up with the term “Virgin Boy.” But his sudden limpness was a result of my failure. He needed me to help him overcome his insecurity, and I’d just magnified it, instead. I owed him a do-over, if he’d even let me have another chance.

Jenny pointed out that guys think about sex hundreds of times a day. So if I were his first, he would probably then think of me every day for the rest of his life. Wow what an emotionally powerful thought that was.

“Imagine being his very first, the first girl he has sex with. You will always be remembered as ‘The One’,“ she said. “The one he lost his virginity to. You will always be special to him. You will forever be engraved in his memory. Even when he gets married; when he is 40 and is mindlessly daydreaming on his drive to work; when he gets old and reminisces; it will always be you that he thinks of when he thinks of his very first time.”

The more we talked about it the more we realized what a great opportunity this was. I think the thought of taking his virginity was turning us both on. By the end of the evening with Jenny, it was decided I would be his first.

But we also agreed that it had to be special, not just a quick hump in the car. This was becoming a huge responsibility for me. I had to do it right. It had to be extra special. I felt an obligation to make it special.

Jenny was dying to meet Terry so when he called for a third date, I told him my friend Jenny would be joining us. We all met at a bar and Jenny loved him. She gave me her approval but also had a suggestion. “How about for his first time he has a threesome with both of us? How special and memorable would that be!” I had threesomes with Jenny before during vacations, so it wasn’t out of the question. I told her I would have to think about it. I did have concerns, though.

A threesome sounded like a great idea but I knew that Terry would end up remembering Jenny and not me. Jenny was a bombshell. She was gorgeous and outgoing. Bigger curves, cute as fuck, guys were drawn to her like a magnet, that’s one of the reasons I loved hanging around with Jenny. She could be overbearing also. Sure, Terry would love to have sex with Jenny but what about me? What about me being “the one”?

As the weeks went on, I was doing my best to refrain from sex with Terry. He was cute and nice but really, he wasn’t anything special, he was just too serious for me. But Terry was a virgin, and this made him special to me. Taking his virginity was all I could think of. If he wasn’t a virgin, I’m sure there wouldn’t have been a third date. He was in my head or was it his virginity that was in my head. I was determined to take his virginity.

Up until this point I had dated older guys, and I was having sex on a fairly regular basis. With Terry I was not doing well without sex. Terry thought I was the good girl type by not having sex. Yes, I was sweet and innocent looking. But the lack of sex and the erotic thoughts about taking a young man’s virginity were driving me crazy. Self-gratification definitely increased during this waiting period.

I finally told Jenny that I wanted Terry for myself. I wanted him to remember me, not ‘Jenny and that other girl’. Besides it was me going without sex all these weeks. I needed his full attention. Jenny seemed a bit disappointed, but she understood.

Jenny and I came up with a plan. As both Terry and I still lived at home I suggested a weekend away in Niagara Falls. The honeymoon capital of North America, how appropriate was that?

Terry agreed and I was so excited. How could I make this special event even better?

Leading up to the weekend, I daydreamed how it all would play out. Would he ejaculate before we even start? Should I tease him or maybe just jump him? What should I wear? It was all I could think of. I was horny as hell in anticipation.

I bought a new nightie for the occasion. There really wasn’t much to it. It was short, sheer, and low cut, not much left to the imagination.

The day finally came. The long drive to Niagara Falls was filled with sexual tension. We chatted and joked during the drive, but my mind was racing. I couldn’t believe how aroused I was. I don’t think I ever thought about an impending sexual act as much as I did with Terry. I tried to rationalize it, after all we all lose our virginity at one point, but psychologically this had become a big deal for me. Maybe because my virginity was taken from me by a man ten years older than me that was only concerned about his own sexual gratification.

Now the shoe was on the other foot. It was my responsibility to make sure Terry’s loss of his virginity was a memorable and wonderful experience. Dam I was so thoughtful.

We arrived at our destination and checked into a cheap motel. I will always remember the name “The Rainbow Motel.” Terry was eager to begin and began groping me as soon as we entered the room but I quickly put a stop to it. I had a plan; this was going to be a slow seduction. We unpacked, freshened up, and went to get a bite to eat. No alcohol for either of us, I wanted him to remember this special night.

Once we got back to the room, we sat on the edge of the bed and started kissing. As things began to heat up I told him to get naked and in bed. I went into the bathroom to slip into my nightie. I slowly walked out of the bathroom and around the bed to make sure he got a good look.

I dimmed the lights but kept it the room bright enough so that he could see everything that was about to happen to him.

I could see his arousal as the bed sheet was poking up like a tent. I slowly and sensually touched him as I stood over him. I told him he wasn’t allowed to touch me. The lingerie I was wearing was totally sheer, so I wasn’t hiding anything.

I slowly pulled back the sheets and crawled into bed with him. His cock was standing to full attention as he lay there. I could see he trimmed his hairs for the occasion. How sweet.

I reached down and grasped his cock in my hand. I squeezed it tight as I stared at it. I could feel the pulsating blood as it gushed through his veins. I felt a sense of power as his virgin cock throbbed in my tight grasp. After many weeks of planning and anticipation the time had finally come. His virginity was in my hand. No pun intended.

I slowly began stroking him. I was very conscious of the possibility of him pre-ejaculating to my touch. I proceeded with caution. I didn’t want to over stimulate him. As I stoked him, I could hear his breathing picking up. I slowed down and began to coach him. I wanted this to last. I was in total control, and I loved the feeling it gave me.

I had thought it best to proceed and give him his first blowjob before he exploded in my hand. I slowly and seductively began kissing and licking his beautiful cock. Exploring his balls with my tiny fingers. I slowly lowered my mouth onto the tip of his cock and began slowly bobbing up and down, taking more of him inside of my mouth with every stroke. He was doing great and by now I was getting right into it. I began stroking and sucking his cock vigorously. I then moved down and began sucking and licking his balls. Placing first one them both in my mouth as I stroked him hard and fast.

I was hot and horny as hell by now and he was getting the full treatment. I wanted him to cum in my mouth and I wanted to swallow his first blowjob load. This was all part of my plan.

Despite my best efforts he wasn’t ejaculating! This was not what I was expecting but I carried on.

It was finally time for me to take his virginity. I was so wet with anticipation. I pulled my nightie off, so I was completely naked for him, my plump tits swayed and jiggled to his visual delight, as I straddled him. I was going to make this special for him. I already had decided I wasn’t going to use any protection to diminish the feeling, bareback only. I wanted him to feel just how good sex can be. I proceeded to mount his stiff rod. Ever so slowly, I wanted him to feel every inch of me as I slowly lowered myself onto his hard throbbing cock. I was soaking wet as I easily engulfed his entire cock deep inside of me. He grabbed and squeezed my swaying breasts. My nipples were swollen and erect. I was primed and ready.

Slowly I began riding him. I was taking it slow and easy, as I didn’t want him to cum too fast. It felt so good to have his cock inside of me. The thought of finally taking his virginity was too much. He had barely entered me and immediately began having an orgasm. I shook and quivered as I began riding him faster. Oh my god! it was me that was pre-ejaculating and not him. Terry thrust deeply and pulled on my nipples as I let out a deep moan.

I was still deeply implanted on top of Terry as I regained my composer. He was still rock hard, so I continued to ride him. Soon I was riding him like crazy. I was bouncing on him like wild as he had a tight hold of my hips thrusting me down on his cock. He was giving it to me right back to me. I was riding him so hard and violently I was pretty sure something was going to break. Was it going to be the bed or his cock?

He wasn’t ejaculating. I was so aroused about taking his virginity I came once again. This time was even more powerful than the first. My whole body shook as I had violent spasms. I let out a loud deep moan as I had an orgasmic eruption. In my twenties it was very rare that I climaxed so having two orgasms on the first go was incredibly rare for me. My juices were flowing. I needed a good fuck after going without for so long and he was giving it to me.

Then it hit me…what’s going on here? If he really is a virgin why hasn’t he ejaculated yet? I was convinced he had done this before. This couldn’t possibly be his first time. Was I being doped? He just kept fucking me hard and fast. Eventually I had to stop. I was confused and yes maybe even a bit angry for being lied to. “You said you were a virgin. why aren’t you cumming?”

He apologized and explained he was used to very frequent masturbating, and this felt; well, different. It felt great, but just different. I suppose that is possible? He seemed to have no idea that frequent jacking off could diminish his responsiveness with a woman. I could tell by the look on his face he was telling the truth. I also realized that a frequently-masterbating man performs better when he can stroke a pussie fast, furious, & freely; so I should not be riding cowgirl, tonight.

After a bit of hugging and kissing, I went back to work and started with a nice long blowjob. I was determined not to stop until I swallowed his load. I encouraged him to stroke his cock while I sucked his bulbous tip and manipulated his balls. With his assistance we finally had him cumming in my mouth and he gave me a huge load to swallow. Hurrah, success at last. I was proud of myself. His confidence was restored and still rising.

I sucked and swallowed every last drop and even licked him clean. This was his first time, and I was being extra nice to him. I was making it special. I wanted to set the standard high for all future blowjobs. A standard that every other woman he slept with had to be compared to. Yeah, I gave him a great first blowjob!

Once he recovered, he mounted me missionary style and we both watched as he slowly entered me. We both began moving in rhythm as he fucked me.

I began encouraging him to fuck me harder, I could tell he was getting worked up and it wouldn’t be much longer now. He loved the nasty language I used as I assured him of his prowess. He loved hearing how much my pussie loved his cock inside me. His self-confidence was naturally very fragile, being a virgin in his twenties. I needed to unleash the beast in him, and I knew he needed my affirmations to get there.

As he was getting close, I told him to cum inside of me, that I wanted to feel his warm cum deep inside of me. He came hard and fast. I screamed out “yes! Oh, my, god; yes” as he filled me up with his warm virgin cum.

He made me work for it, but his virginity was finally mine. I will always be remembered as, “The One,” that will be remembered. I think I was thrilled more than him.

That weekend we had sex 20 more times. Yes, I kept count, 20 more times. We were like newlyweds. Terry just couldn’t get enough, and I never refused him. We tried several positions, failed at a few, and even laughed together at our lack of gymnastic acumen. There was no way he would ever forget me after that weekend.

When I got home on Sunday night, I swear I was walking bowlegged. I was exhausted and sore. I couldn’t wait to tell Jenny. I felt such a sense of accomplishment.

I was hooked on the sense of power, control, and the adrenalin rush I had felt.

The planning, anticipation, and buildup of finally taking his virginity.
The epic orgasm I had felt when I finally had his cock inside of me.
The psychological pleasure I felt, knowing I was forever special to someone.
That this memory would never be forgotten by either one of us.

I wanted to do it again; I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to experience another virgin boy.

Since then, I have experienced several virgin boys. I will share my adventures about deflowering them, in time.

PS, I continued to date Terry for a couple of months afterwards. During that time he became quite proficient at sex. I was thrilled to be the experienced woman that taught him all about sex. It was quite a rush.]

By April601 for Literotica

Jasmine & the Argonaut: Part 4

Sun, 03 Mar 2024 07:31:01 -0600

The Black Cat

In 4 parts, by RachaelJane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chapter 16: An evening with Paulo

Of course I should have realized that there is an ulterior motive to his request. But I’m a willing participant to his brilliant scheme, even if technically I’m the victim. The lively dance music is sensuous and our bodies are almost constantly in contact. I’m not sure if it the desire building inside me or the strenuous activity that is making my clothes stick to me. Our bodies are glistening with sweat and the effect is driving me wild.

As the dance progresses our bodies seem to come into contact more and more until we are moving like a single being. When the music ends I don’t want to part. But the dancing is only the first stage of Paulo’s seduction.

“We need a shower,” he says, taking my hand and escorting me from the room. I don’t make any effort to resist, even though I know he means for us to share a shower. In fact, far from resist I feel a tremor of desire at the prospect.

I’m neither mistaken nor disappointed in Paulo’s plan. I’ve never showered with another person before, let alone a virile young man whose motives are as plain as day. I follow his lead and we undress each other. That act alone arouses me even more. Then we enter the cubicle and Paulo sets the buttons to start the water. I don’t know if these showers are programmed to cater for a shower for two, but everything about it is wonderful.

When Paulo starts soaping me I practically explode with desire as his hands work their dastardly deed. He kisses me and knows he has me where he wants me. Or so he thinks. I’m still in control of some of my emotions and manage to achieve the same sort of response from him as my hands work on his body. It’s a challenge both of us do our best to win. His hands work wonders between my legs, while I soon have his cock eager for more of my attentions. Who can be first to push the other into an orgasm? I’ve the advantage of my gender and can hide an orgasm. But for Paulo, the evidence of my claimed victory is obvious, whereas I secretly know Paulo won in reality.

The shower program ends after about fifteen minutes. We are definitely clean and no trace remains of the effects from our dancing or from our water games. For the moment our lust is sated. But not for long. Neither of us bother to dress and I know full well what awaits me beyond the door opposite the one we entered.

“Ready?” asks Paulo.

“Yes, I’m ready,” I reply, taking the opportunity to kiss him.

Paulo lifts me up and carries me into the suite’s bedroom. We have nearly four hours before the sensible part of my mind is needed again. Chloe is due to return at 2am and I need to be back in my dormitory by then if I want to avoid a confrontation. Given her actions last night, I’m not going to give her another opportunity to sabotage my chances in the Argonaut. However, between now and then I intend to explore all the opportunities this night presents. I was a shy and inexperienced maiden when I arrived yesterday. I shall not be leaving in the same state.

To describe the next four hours as sensational or wonderful barely does justice to the emotions Paulo drew from me. Or to the emotions I clearly drew from him. I lost count of the number of times we fucked, each time in a different position. Had circumstances been different I’m sure we would have a longer term relationship. Perhaps one involving genuine love for each other. But we both know that isn’t likely to be.

Sensible Jasmine rejoins me with twenty minutes to spare before my imposed deadline. I’m glad Paulo doesn’t resist my move to leave. If he held me back I’m certain I would risk Chloe’s wrath for another half hour with Paulo. I’ve no idea what she has been up to with Sarah tonight, and to be honest, I don’t care. But Chloe left me in no doubt she that intends to eliminate me from the Argonaut given the slightest opportunity. An impression neither Paulo nor Cassius have done anything to dispel.

With a final kiss and a sorrowful farewell, I enter the elevator with the most wonderful memories of tonight.

Despite it being after 2 o'clock in the morning, I find Harper standing in the corridor outside our dormitory when I arrive. He’s remarkably sober for this time of night, but he practically falls over in surprise when he sees me.

“What are you doing here?” says Harper, as he recovers from his shock.

“This is my quarters,” I reply, slightly annoyed he is questioning me like this.

“That’s not what I mean. If you are out here, then who is the girl with Patrick in our dormitory?”

I’d forgotten about Sheba. She and Patrick must have hit it off alright if she is still here.

“Um; It’s probably Sheba,” I reply to Harper’s question. “I met her earlier tonight and introduced her to Patrick. They must have discovered they have a lot in common.”

“And who is Sheba?”

"She’s the daughter of some Argon bigwig. She was heading for the party on the top floor when I realized Patrick might be the sort of company she was really wanting.”

“Hmmm; I suspect there’s more to this than you are telling me,” adds Harper. “But well done on finding Patrick a potential benefactor. I don’t suppose you rustled up a benefactor for yourself in the process?”

“Ah! Yes, I do believe I have,” I reply, remembering I put Sarah’s business card in my pocket. “Her name is Sarah. She said she wanted to me to contact her if I’m a winner of the Argonaut.”

Harper looks at Sarah’s card; the one which contains nothing but a picture of a black cat. He suddenly goes very serious.

“And just how did you meet this Sarah of yours, sweetheart? You weren’t supposed to leave the building tonight. The employees of Le Chat Noir don’t do house calls.”

“I didn’t leave this building. Sarah isn’t an employee, she’s one of the owners of Le Chat Noir. She was here on business earlier this evening. We got talking and she said she wanted to talk to me afterwards. Is that going to be a problem? What is Le Chat Noir anyway? And how do you know about it?”

“Never mind how I know about Le Chat Noir, and you’re too young to understand what sort of business it conducts.”

“OK, keep your secrets. Anyway, I had a good time tonight, and now I feel ready for bed. Where are the others if Patrick and Sheba are alone in the dormitory?”

They’ve having a slumber party of their own downstairs. I suggest you go and join them if you plan on sleeping tonight.

I take a quick shower in the communal bathroom, mainly to soothe some of the many tender spots around my body. Several parts of me received more exercise and attention tonight; than they’ve ever received before. What started out as a gentle tumble in bed progressively increased in tempo until Paulo and I were being quite rough with each other in our lovemaking. I probably discovered as much about myself as I did about Paulo. My only regret is it has left me wanting to repeat the whole encounter again and again, and I know that is likely to be impossible. The warm glow I was feeling when I left Paulo returns by the time I find my room-mates in the downstairs lounge, and my head hits my makeshift pillow. Sleep quickly follows.

Chapter 17: The Argonaut

I join an equally sleepy Patrick for breakfast at eight o'clock. He’s in a much happier mood than yesterday. I try to think of the right way to apologize for practically throwing Sheba into his bed last night, but Patrick speaks before I can say anything.

“Thank you for what you did last night,” he says. “I don’t know how you managed it but Sheba was just the person I needed. And if Sheba was being truthful, I was the person she needed.”

“Um; That’s OK,” I reply. “Sorry if I practically threw her at you, but I was late for the; er; party upstairs.”

“Hmm! Sheba mentioned she was going to a party before she met you. But it didn’t sound like the sort of party I thought you would be interested in. Sheba made it sound like it was all scantily clad girls competing for Paulo’s favor. Perhaps the rumor about Paulo and some dark-haired beauty dancing naked in a roof garden are true after all?” he laughs.

“Where did you hear that rumor?” I ask. “I’m sure it’s greatly exaggerated.”

“Some of the contestants were talking while we were waiting in the studio yesterday. You must have heard them; Oh. No; Of course; You arrived a bit later. Wait a minute. Harper let slip there are rumors circulating about Paulo and a girl who fits your description. Are you the girl referred to in that rumor? Is the rumor true?”

“Of course the rumor is wrong; We weren’t dancing,” I reply keeping my tone light. “That came much later. But I admit I’m the girl in the rumor. Are there are other rumors about me? It’s very difficult to get some privacy here with all the security cameras everywhere.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. I only wish I had half your courage to defy convention and take what you need.”

Patrick and I are back to being pleasant to each other and able to talk without any awkwardness. I just hope he and I don’t have to compete against each other today. While there can be multiple winners of the Argonaut, some challenges involve head-to-head tests in which one of two contestants is eliminated from the Argonaut.

At nine-thirty, forty-six of the fifty original contestants are standing in the huge hall that will be the main testing center for today’s Argonaut challenges. Apparently four contestants have already been eliminated. Despite plenty of rumors, nobody seems to know the reason, and the Argonaut officials are saying nothing on the subject. I can’t help wondering whether sabotage had a part to play in the contestants’ elimination.

The Argonaut officials are easily recognized by their bright purple gowns. The woman in charge has lots of gold trim on her gown, as if to reinforce her status here. Even the other officials seem nervous about being near her.

“By the end of the day, at least twenty more of you will have been eliminated,” she announces to us all. “For the first challenge, you will be divided into seven groups. When your name is called, go and stand under the colored banner of your group over there.”

Another official reads out everyone’s names in group order. I’m in Green group, along with Patrick, Chloe, Mansel, and two other contestants I don’t know. Paulo is placed in Yellow group, and Vincent in Blue. Once we are all assembled in our allocated group, an official marches each group off to a different room.

“Last night you have each been approached by citizen of Argon city, and received a card from them. The card indicates that the citizen is willing to provide you with employment in the city, should the Argonaut assessment panel be willing to loan you the money that you need to buy your freedom. Now, place the card on the table in front of you.”

Fortunately I’ve kept Sarah’s card in my pocket, heeding her advice that it may prove useful. Is this what she meant when she said that? I notice Chloe has a similar card, although the black cat on her card is lying on its back, while mine looks as though it is stalking a mouse. I presume Sheba was the source of Patrick’s card. The official studies each card and checks it against something written on his notepad. A grunt is the only indication that everything seems to be in order. He tells us to retrieve our cards.

“Your next decision will be critical to your success or otherwise in the Argonaut,” says the official. “You must now decide whether to accept your sponsor’s offer of employment. If you haven’t discussed the employment terms and wish to discuss them with your sponsor before accepting, then you should decline the current offer. I will now ask you in turn whether you accept or decline the offer.”

Patrick, Chloe and I are the only three of us who accept the employment offer. In my case, it is a rash decision based on a few minutes of conversation with Sarah last night. I could be agreeing to something I will soon regret, but I’m more terrified of being eliminated from the Argonaut than accepting an unknown job. The three of us are escorted to yet another room and told to wait.

We wait. And we wait some more. Finally Ellen and Cassius turn up.

“Good. That’s all sorted,” says Ellen, handing each of us an envelope. “Read those later. You must go to your dormitories and pack your things. Meet by the front door in forty five minutes.”

“What’s going on?” asks Patrick. “Have we been eliminated from the Argonaut?”

“No. No. On the contrary. You have all been granted a loan and a work permit for the city. You will be transported to your new employer’s place of business. He or she will sort out everything else. It’s all explained in the letter I’ve just given you.”

It takes me a few moments to remember to breathe. In my wildest dreams I never imagined winning the Argonaut would be so quick and easy. I had mentally prepared myself for a day of tests and challenges, and an anxious wait tomorrow for the final result.

Packing my few belongings takes all of five minutes. I had already returned the Jewels of Desire to Ellen first thing this morning. With over half-an-hour to spare, I sit down to read my letter. Ellen has covered all the salient details in her answer to Patrick’s question. My indenture to the Buchanan overlord has been purchased by the Bureau of Ancillary Services for just under eight thousand credits, which I must repay from my earnings over the next five years. Failure to repay the loan by the deadline means my indenture will be sold to any Argon citizen willing to buy it, and I will once again be a serf. I’m to be employed as a hostess at The Black Cat Club, working five days a week. The letter doesn’t contain any further details about the job or what in entails. With the letter is a laminated work permit confirming I am authorized to work in the city center and travel to and from Buchanan settlement.

Patrick and I join Chloe by the front door as instructed. There’s no sign of Ellen or Cassius, and I realize that we might be taken from here without the opportunity to say goodbye to anyone. A small bus arrives a short while later and the driver tells us to get on board. Ellen and Cassius appear at the last moment and wave us off as we drive away.

The bus has only a short journey before we arrive outside an odd-shaped office building surrounded by a jumble of similar sized buildings. Patrick disembarks after sharing a brief farewell and good wishes. He suggests that we keep in touch. I say ‘yes’, although I’m not sure how achievable that will be.

We have a slightly longer drive into the heart of the city center before the bus stops outside a building in what is clearly part of an entertainment district. The bus departs as soon as Chloe and I step onto the wide footpath. From the street, The Black Cat Club looks very unimpressive. The ground-floor doorway consists of a wide metal frame housing twin white doors, each with a black cat motif on the upper panel. There are no door handles nor any doorbell to attract attention.

“Did you come here last night?” I ask Chloe, risking a hostile reply.

“I don’t know,” replies Chloe. “I was made to wear a hood for most of the journey. If it’s the same place then I’ll recognize it once we are inside.”

Which, of course, is the problem. How do we get inside?

Chapter 18: Arrival at The Black Cat

The area is quiet at this hour of the morning and there is no sign of activity at the club. Gaining access to the club is going to be a problem we need to solve on our own. I study the door and the surrounding frame. On door frame, either side of the doors, are two dark square pads with a motif of a cat on them. The one on the right has a stalking cat, like on the card Sarah gave me. The left hand pad has a cat lying on its back, similar to the one on the card in Chloe’s possession.

Chloe tries pushing the pad in case it is a doorbell of sorts. The pad is solid so there is no audible or visible response. We wait a few moments in case what Chloe has done has summoned someone inside. However, nobody comes to the door, so I consider trying something else. I bring out my card and place it over the pad with the matching cat symbol. Success! The door on the right makes an audible sound as though a lock is being released. I push on the door and it swings open. Inside is short but wide hallway with a row of turnstiles left and right of a central column. The turnstiles are controlled by the same sort of pad we saw on the outside door. Those to the right of the column ahead of us have a symbol that matches my card, while those on the left match Chloe’s card.

We each pass through one of the turnstiles matching our respective card. Once through to the other side, we find ourselves separated by a wall. I’m now in a different corridor to the one Chloe entered, and I’m unsure how we can meet up again without reversing our route. There’s still nobody about and I’m beginning to worry about my rash choice to accept Sarah’s offer without further details.

“Are you still there, Chloe?” I call.

“Yeah. There’s a staircase going down to a lower level. I’m fairly sure this is where I was brought last night.”

“There’s no staircase on my side,” I reply. The corridor here seems to go past a cloakroom into a large room at the end.“

"Well, let’s explore our own area and see if we can find someone,” replies Chloe.

I quickly check that the cloakroom is empty before entering the large room at the end. It’s a night club, with a huge dance floor bordered by several rows of tables and chairs on two sides; a stage on the third side; and a bar next to where I have entered on the fourth side. On the other side of the bar to the entrance door is an archway, hopefully leading to an office, or somewhere that someone will be working.

I eventually find an office where a woman about my age is working. She doesn’t seem surprised to see me and introduces herself as Honeydew.

“The Bureau sent me your details but I haven’t had time to record them in our system,” says Honeydew. “If you take a seat in the lounge over there, I’ll do that now.”

“Okay,” I reply. “I arrived with another woman; Chloe. The card she was given sent her through the left hand turnstiles when we arrived.”

“She will be looked after downstairs,” replies Honeydew. “Don’t concer

Jasmine & the Argonaut: Part 3

Sat, 02 Mar 2024 07:30:51 -0600

Paulo’s Seduction

In 4 parts, by RachaelJane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

By the time Ellen and I join them, nearly all the contestants are in the dining area and are already eating at the table. Ellen and I go over to the side table where the buffet is laid out, and we select some food. Patrick looks at me as I sit down opposite him, but he doesn’t say anything. After Vincent’s revelation earlier about Patrick’s feelings towards me, I’m not certain what to say to Patrick.

“Were there many contestants in the practice rooms this morning?” I ask Patrick, more to make him to talk to me than any real interest in the movements of the other contestants.

“Um; No. I was alone for most of the time. Paulo joined me for a while, but a woman called him away. When he returned he looked like a cat who had fallen into a bowl of cream.”

I immediately realize the importance of what Patrick is saying about Paulo, but it is Ellen who quizzes Patrick for more details. By the time he’s done, I have no doubt that Sylvie was the woman Patrick saw, and Paulo was summoned to gather information from me while I was in Effie’s room. A very slick operation, but one which may still end in my favor.

When we arrived in the Argonaut complex yesterday, Patrick and I gobbled our food down in case it disappeared before our hunger was satisfied. Both of us come from poor families where meals can be irregular. Today we eat at a more leisurely pace. We would have time for a pleasant conversation if Patrick showed any inclination to talk. He simply eats in silence, although his eyes rarely leave me. After a while his gawking starts to annoy me. I’m about to say something rude when Ellen puts her hand on my arm.

“Perhaps if you stopped rubbing your breasts, Patrick wouldn’t stare at them so, Jasmine,” whispers Ellen in my ear.

I drop my hands in a flash and suddenly feel awkward. The tenderness hasn’t quite worn off, and I must have been trying to sooth my breasts without thinking about what I was doing. From Patrick’s reaction he must have heard Ellen’s words and I don’t know which of us is the more embarrassed.

“Er; Sorry, Patrick,” I say. “Ellen and I were trying on some jewelry and one of the pieces is quite heavy. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Um; that’s OK. I didn’t mean to stare. That’s a nice ring, by the way.”

I suddenly realize I’ve left the emerald ring on my finger. In my haste to get changed I forgot to take it off and return it to Ellen. Fortunately Ellen doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yes, it’s an emerald,” I reply. “Ellen has been kind enough to let me borrow it for the television show this afternoon.”

“Well you will look a very fine lady when you walk up onto the stage,” says Patrick.

“Actually, I’m not going for the fine lady look. I think the warrior princess style is more appropriate for me. What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” replies Patrick. “Harper said that sponsors might be put off from helping us if they think that you are.”

“That will do, Patrick,” says Harper, who is sat further down the table, but listening to our conversation. “Once we have finished lunch, Jasmine and I will have our discussion about how she should handle herself during the show.”

Harper’s interruption stifles any further conversation, and we finish lunch in silence. After lunch, Patrick and Ellen leave on different missions. I’m left alone with Harper.

“So,” I begin. “Are you going to tell me what you told Patrick?”

“No,” replies Harper. “I told Patrick what he needs to know and believe. Which isn’t necessarily the same thing that you need to know and believe. You and Patrick are very different people when it comes to handling interviews. Patrick has a natural gift that makes people instantly like him. You, on the other hand, have a knack of annoying and confusing people. I know you confuse me. You scowl at people you should please, and flash your eyelids at people you should avoid. Tell me how you think you should portray yourself this afternoon.”

“I thought your role is to tell me,” I reply. “I’ve no idea. I know I hate trying to read from a script.”

“Which is why I don’t think anything we rehearse here is going to help you. You are at your best when you are being spontaneous. My only advice to you is to remember that you need to attract potential employers; and you must.”

Harper lists a dozen or so pieces of advice, most which I forget as soon as he has said them.

“Now what?” I ask when Harper has finished his speech.

“You have an hour before you need to get changed for this afternoon’s charade,” says Harper. “Why don’t you go for a walk.”

Chapter 12: Sabotage

I return from my walk a few minutes late to find Harper, Ellen, Patrick, Vincent, and two other of my room-mates in the middle of what I can only describe as a crisis meeting. At first I think the crisis is somehow my fault.

“I told you where I was going,” I say before anyone can accuse me of doing a disappearing act.

“Yes, we know,” says Harper. “Ellen wanted to fetch you, but we thought we had better come up with a solution before we told you. But you’re here now anyway.”

“So what’s the problem?” I ask, relieved that for once that I’m not the cause of the crisis.

“It appears a maintenance man called while we were having lunch to fix a problem with your wardrobe door,” says Vincent.

“But there’s nothing wrong with my wardrobe door,” I say, assuming they mean the well-worn, but still functional, cupboard I’ve been assigned to store my things.

“So what happened?” I ask.

“Sabotage!” says Ellen. “The maintenance man tampered with your dress for tonight.”

I look at Harper for an explanation.

“A chemical has been sprayed onto your dress,” says Harper. “We’re having it analyzed. It is likely an irritant or mild poison. Nothing that would be noticeable to anyone picking up your dress, but powerful enough to cause the wearer a few problems after a short while. It was lucky I was suspicious when the security staff told me about the visitor.”

“Can the chemical be removed?” asks Ellen.

“Probably, once we identify it. But that would take too long. We have less than an hour before Jasmine must go across to the studio.”

“I’ll fetch some of my dresses,” says Ellen. “Perhaps one might fit Jasmine with only minimal alterations.”

While I appreciate Ellen’s offer of help, her taste in clothes is very different from mine. I’d rather wear my own dress; the one I was wearing when I arrived here. But that would be only as a last resort. I decide to take matters into my own hands.

“Ellen, thank you for your offer of help,” I say. “This is what I would like you to bring.”

I give Ellen a short list of things I know she has in her room. If she thinks my request strange, she has the decency to refrain from voicing her opinion aloud. She doesn’t hesitate and goes off to her room to fetch what I requested. I turn to the other contestants in my dormitory.

“Thank you all for your help, but I can manage with Harper and Ellen’s assistance from here,” I say. “You had best go and get ready yourself. Most of you are in the batches of contestants before mine, so you probably need to go soon.”

The others seem relieved and nod in agreement. They have wasted precious time dealing with a problem that shouldn’t have involved them in the first place. By the time Ellen returns, my room-mates have changed their clothes and left for the studio. My dress is still on the hanger where I left it. A slight stain on the wardrobe wall around it could be residue from the chemical spray.

“That stain is what alerted me to the problem,” says Harper. “We’ve checked around for other unwelcome additions. The maintenance man was only here for a few minutes, so he won’t have had time to do much. I think it is likely he was sent specifically to sabotage your dress for tonight. Once we’ve identified the chemical I’ll have the rest of your clothes and bedding checked.”

“So I can’t even wear my own dress?” I say.

“Not until it is checked, no. I’m sorry, we’ve let you down. I should have known to have a backup set of clothes for you. I’m new to these dirty games too.”

I explain my plan to Harper, who listens carefully. He goes thoughtful for a while before going into the corridor to make a telephone call. Ellen returns laden with the items I requested just as Harper completes his call.

The next half-hour is a whirlwind of activity inside the dormitory. To my surprise neither Harper nor Ellen oppose my decision to take personal responsibility for my costume tonight. Their comments are helpful and supportive as my costume takes shape. A few additions thanks to Harper’s telephone call help to perfect my outfit. By the time my make-up is applied I really feel on fire. I complete my preparations by sliding the emerald ring onto my finger. A new wave of confidence sweeps through me. I had previously complained of being a marionette in tonight’s show, dancing to other people’s tunes. No more; now I really feel in control.

Ellen places a large cape over my shoulders which completely hides my costume. A deliberate ruse devised by Harper to foil the paymasters of the saboteur. If they believe I’m wearing the studio dress, then it’s unlikely they will attempt any other act against me. It also allows me the element of surprise when I finally reveal my costume.

“Are you wearing those shoes?” asks Ellen, pointing to the training shoes I’ve been wearing all afternoon. Apart from the cape, it is the only part of my clothing that is visible.

“Only for now,” I reply. The shoes that matched the outfit are quarantined with the dress.

Harper escorts me to the studio. Ellen left a few minutes before us. They aren’t allowed backstage, so they’ll will be watching from their seats in the audience. The show has already begun. Each batch of five contestants spends about five minutes being paraded around the stage, at which point the audience vote for one of them to be interviewed. The chosen contestant is then interviewed for about five minutes, before rejoining the others on a platform at the rear of the stage.

While I was changing, Ellen told me about the nature and scale of the underhand tricks that are tolerated by the Argonaut’s officials. The guiding rule is that unless a contestant shows unexplained signs of physical injury, or is unable to stand unaided, the officials won’t undertake any serious investigation into any skullduggery. Providing that unwritten rule is observed, any amount of doping and intimidation is tolerated, and no investigation will be conducted into claims of sabotage. Had the saboteur of my dress succeeded in his mission, then his paymaster would have been secretly congratulated for a masterful stroke. The poor victim is such cases is left to rue their misfortune.

I join the other four contestants in the eighth batch at the studio, and we are soon escorted into a large room where the ten contestants from the preceding two batches are waiting to be called onto the stage. Most are simply standing about nervously. A few are making last minute alterations to their costume. Everything is done under the watchful eye of two of the television studio crew.

On one side of the room is a large screen displaying the show being broadcast from this building. The overbearing hosts, led by Darrian, are amusing the audience with anecdotes and recollections from previous Argonauts. In between segments, a batch of five contestants are brought out and paraded around the large stage, before standing on a raised platform at the rear of the stage.

I’m busy watching the screen, so I don’t notice Patrick approaching me until he is virtually on top of me.

“I just wanted to wish you good luck tonight, Jasmine,” says Patrick.

“You too, Patrick,” I reply.

It’s the only opportunity that I get to say anything to Patrick before his group is called onto the stage. I study each contestant’s costume as they make their final preparations, focusing mainly on the women. Most of their outfits are colorful evening dresses. That means they will be hoping to impress the same employers; the ones who like to hire young women who look sweet and pretty. A couple women in their mid-twenties are a bit more daring in showing their cleavage. They may impress a different segment of the audience, although I’m sure that segment will have more than its fair share of perverts.

As for me, I’ve no idea which employers I might attract. Will the audience admire my hastily designed costume, or will I be laughed at and mocked? To be honest, I don’t care. My real goal tonight is to wrong-foot my powerful rivals. My imaginary warrior princess who is guiding me tells me I’m doing the right thing.

Chapter 13: A special treat

I have nearly twenty minutes to wait before it is my group’s turn on stage. Since none of the contestants in the room are being very talkative, I focus on watching the show on the huge screen. It also enables me to avoid talking to Chloe, who is in the last batch of contestants. I adjust my opinion of some of the contestants as they take their turn in the spotlight.

Finally my group is called onto the stage. I wait until the last minute before removing my cape, and make the final adjustments to my costume. I may not be wearing Ellen’s great-aunt Sophie’s costume exactly as she once wore it, but it is close enough for my younger and inexperienced body. Ellen said this would be the first time in thirty years that the Jewels of Desire have been worn, and I’m determined to do the costume justice. Thanks to Harper’s tasteful additions, the costume is now suitable to be worn in public. I’m not showing as much bare flesh as the original costume left displayed. While near-nudity isn’t frowned on by the upper echelons of the city, it most certainly is at home. My modified costume is decent by my home settlement’s standards, but only just.

Chloe’s exclamation as I reveal my costume confirms that I will certainly attract plenty of attention tonight. What the audience won’t get to see is the hidden secret of the Jewels of Desire. The design of the costume has one obvious purpose; sexual desire. The wearer uses her costume to titillate and excite the observer. What isn’t immediately apparent to an observer is that the costume is also designed to arouse the wearer. The strangely shaped piece that fits over my cunt, rubs against my clit in a very sensual way. Of course I could adjust the piece to prevent it from arousing me, but having decided to wear the Jewels of Desire, I fully intend to do so properly, within acceptable bounds. Besides, it will help me quell my nerves during the interview, should I be selected.

I remove my shoes and take a few practice walks about the room. The initial discomfort is soon replaced by a more pleasant feeling. Within moments I feel every bit the part that I look; an extremely desirable young woman. I don’t care if some of the audience think me worse than a whore. This costume transforms me and I like the rebel it makes me.

“; thank you Patrick and to group seven,” says Darrian as he concludes his interview with Patrick, who has rejoined the group preceding mine on the raised platforms. “And now ladies and gentlemen I’ve just received word that we are all in for a special treat. I’m informed that the next group contains a contestant wearing a most unusual costume. Let’s show our appreciation as group eight take to the stage.”

As I step out from the wings and onto the stage, the polite applause given to every contestant suddenly erupts into gasps, cheers and thunderous applause. The audience is going wild by the time I reach half way across the stage. For once the hosts are torn between savoring the sight of me and calming the audience. The effect on me is almost as powerful as the emotional trip Paulo took me on last night. If it is possible to have an orgasm while walking about on a stage, then I think I just had one.

The audience loves my demonstration, unaware my movements are stimulating me as well. By the time the audience is called on to vote, I’m in a highly charged sexual state. I stand still so as not to tip my already sensitive body into another orgasm. I don’t know how many of the audience are watching me, but I feel as though hundreds of eyes are watching my every move. The idea of being watched only excites me even more. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that my costume has earned me an on-screen interview. The other four contestants in my batch look relieved that they have avoided being picked. They will still be interviewed, but in the peace and quiet of a private room, later this evening.

“Well, what a sight for sore eyes you are, Jasmine my dear,” says Darrian once the audience has calmed enough to make conversation possible. “What an exquisite costume. You have certainly excelled yourself.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I reply to the compliments each of the show’s hosts have heaped on my costume. “The costume isn’t entirely original, and most pieces have a history. The larger two pieces once belonged to a famous dancer, and are known as the Jewels of Desire. The emerald ring is said to have once been the property of a warrior princess.”

“Fascinating,” says Darrian, as his eyes roam every part of my body.

In fairness to Darrian, he is very professional and manages to ask his questions despite the delectable eye candy within touching distance of his chair. Of course, being a good showman, he has me conclude my interview by asking me to parade my costume once more for the audience to admire. I do so with a daring I didn’t think I had in me. The rubies on my costume catch the spotlights and sparkle. At the moment I feel like I’m on fire.

Half an hour later the tenth and final on-screen interview with Chloe concludes, and after a brief wrap-up by the hosts, the show ends. A thoughtful member of the studio crew has my cape and shoes waiting for me as the contestants file off the stage. All the contestants’ helpers are waiting to bustle us away before any more foul-play can occur in the confusion. Paulo makes a point of coming over to me before he is whisked away.

“Well done, princess,” he says as he slips a note into my hand. “And I like the costume.”

“Thanks. You didn’t do so b

Jasmine & the Argonaut: Part 2

Fri, 01 Mar 2024 07:30:44 -0600

The Jewels of Desire

In 4 parts, by Rachael Jane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chapter 7: An underhand trick.

I quickly realize the seriousness of my situation. If I don’t return to the dormitory before roll-call, I will be returned to Buchanan in shame. A chill runs through me. I berate myself for being so stupid as to drop my guard and allow Paulo to chain me like this. There is no doubt in my mind that he’s the one responsible for my predicament.

Is he being a coward who is scared of meeting me in fair competition? That seems inconsistent with the Paulo I’ve been with tonight, but he would surely have woken me had he noticed anybody else entering this café while we slept. Perhaps he is a better actor than I gave him credit. For all I know, his training could have included a course in seducing maidens. After all, half the contestants are young women. Some, like me, will be gullible enough to fall for Paulo’s charms, and walk into his deadly trap. But I mustn’t dwell on Paulo’s reasons. My immediate priority is to get free.

I test the strength of the chain restraining me. It’s similar to the security chain threaded through the handles of the cabinets behind the bar. Paulo must have come across a spare length of chain while he was exploring earlier. The chain is lightweight but strong. There is no way I can break it. Which means I must somehow break the lock securing the chain to my ankle. It is a combination lock like the one securing the other end of the chain to the table. Unless I’m extremely lucky, I won’t have enough time to open the lock by randomly guessing the five-digit combination. Just as I’m about to vent my frustration with a few choice curses, a flash of inspiration hits me. Paulo must have known the combination to fasten the lock to the chain. How did he know the combination?

I check the tables and floor around me, as far as my chain allows. The combination must be written on something. I just hope it is something within reach. Could Paulo have been careless and left me the combination?

The chain is long enough for me to reach the small service area next to the bar. If the owners of the café have written down the combination, then this is the most likely place on this level. My frantic search is rewarded when I find a basket holding more lengths of chain and padlocks. Each padlock has a small detachable tag with the combination for that lock printed on it. Unlocking the padlock enables the tag to be removed. I search the bottom of the basket for any tags no longer with their padlock. Sure enough I find four tags. Hopefully one belongs to the lock securing the chain around my ankle.

I try the numbers on the lock on my ankle. I meet with success on the third number, and within seconds I’m free of my chain. But before I can go anywhere I hear two people talking. They are coming up the interior staircase from the main café below. Two voices I recognize. Paulo and Chloe! They are too close for me to try and exit over the balcony, so I can’t leave the way Paulo and I entered. My only option in the time available is to pretend I’m still asleep and chained to the table.

“See, she’s still asleep,” says Chloe. “The sound you heard was probably the fridge humming.”

“I don’t know,” replies Paulo. “I’m still not happy about leaving her chained like this. It’s an underhand trick.”

“Think yourself lucky I didn’t chain you as well,” replies Chloe. “You saw her during the preliminary session this evening. She’s a serious challenger and she’s best eliminated now.”

“But someone will find her in the morning and set her free,” replies Paulo.

“Yes. But she will have missed the eight o'clock roll-call by then, and she’ll be disqualified from the Argonaut.”

“I still don’t like it. Anyway, why did you follow us? And how did you get out of the complex?”

“I saw the pair of you as I was returning from a night out. I realized that this is a golden opportunity to improve my chances of success. Did you not read the Argonaut rules? Despite what most people believe, the contestants aren’t prisoners while we are here. As long as we attend the morning and evening roll-calls, and the various tests and interviews, we can come and go as we please. Why do you think your night time frolics weren’t stopped?”

“The rules? You mean that fifty page book they gave us when we arrived? Of course I’ve not read it!”

“Well if you spent less time trying to climb between a girl’s legs, and more time paying attention to what really matters, your chances of winning a work permit might be better. Come on, we’re leaving before sleeping beauty wakes up and starts screaming the place down.”

“How do we get out of here?” asks Paulo.

“You’re not too bright are you,” scoffs Chloe. “The door lock only stops people entering the café. We can just walk down to the front door and back to our dormitory.”

Paulo and Chloe leave. My anger competes with my embarrassment. I get up as soon as I’m sure they have gone. Paulo has taken my nightie and Chloe has taken my towel. I’ve no clothes and I’m starting to get cold. A naked woman is easy target for any loiterers out there. At this time of night any city citizens still about may well be on the prowl for sex. I search the service area for a tablecloth or something to put over me. I find an apron that at least provides me with a semblance of decency.

I make my way back to the old boarding school, making sure Paulo and Chloe are nowhere in sight. Re-entering the school presents no problem. Chloe is right in saying the contestants are allowed to come and go. Perhaps I should have read the rule book as well but my late acceptance to the Argonaut meant that I only had a few days to prepare.

A retina scan at the security desk confirms my identity and I’m allowed to return to my dormitory. My anger at Paulo’s betrayal has abated. Despite Chloe’s intrusion, I did actually enjoy my time with him tonight, particularly when I remember why I chose to leave my room wearing such provocative clothing in the first place. I was looking for the type of experience and adventure which Paulo delivered. Not that I am in any mood to forgive him; but I’m no longer embarrassed or afraid. If anything, Chloe’s actions have filled me with determination and resolve. Yesterday I was nervous of the specially trained contestants; today I realize they are actually afraid of me. I shall look forward to seeing Paulo and Chloe’s faces when I appear for roll-call in the morning.

The clock says it is 3:30 in the morning when my head hits my pillow. This time I have no difficulty falling asleep.

Chapter 8: Preparations

“Stop fidgeting, Jasmine,” says Ellen, my dormitory’s assigned helper from the collection of city-born volunteers for the Argonaut. “You need to look your best this afternoon.”

It’s a message Ellen has constantly repeat. Along with the forty-nine other hopefuls, I will be paraded in front of the television cameras this afternoon. What’s worse, ten of us must endure a five minute interview with Darrian, one of the obnoxious hosts of the televised segments of the Argonaut. None of us will know which ten of us are to be interviewed until we are on-air. I can honestly say that I am dreading it. The only benefit in being selected for an interview is the opportunity it provides to improve my chances of winning. Only a few contestants will be declared the eventual winners of the Argonaut, but that won’t be until the final session on Sunday. Of course, fluffing an interview would be disastrous for my chances.

I sigh as I add the finishing touches to my dress. When I picked it from the studio’s wardrobe I thought it to be a beautiful dress. Now I’m not so sure. I’m grateful for Ellen’s valiant efforts to make me look my best, even if I don’t see the purpose of this afternoon’s charade.

“How do you feel?” asks Ellen when she is satisfied with her work.

“It’s a beautiful dress. Thank you,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster; which isn’t much, given my lingering dislike for this cattle market in the first place. But I had few other options open to me when I accepted the belated offer from an anonymous benefactor to sponsor me for this event. And winning the Argonaut will at least mean that my family can benefit as well.

“Yes, I know how you look in it, Jasmine. But how do you feel?” persists Ellen.

“How should I feel?” I reply, slightly surprised by her question.

“Jasmine! You ungrateful girl!” snaps Ellen. “I am trying to help you.”

“I know, and despite what you think, I appreciate your efforts,” I reply. “But I feel like a marionette; all dressed up to please an audience who simply want to ogle pretty young men and women desperate enough to parade about for the entertainment of our so-called betters. Aren’t we just fifty puppets, each performing to the studio’s script?”

“Your image is important, Jasmine,” says Ellen. “Most of those in the audience will be deciding their vote on how attractive you are. Harper will advise you what to say when you have your session with him later. Impress the audience tonight, even if you aren’t interviewed, and someone watching may help you to gain a work permit. If you don’t, then they will favor one of your rivals.”

I’ve heard this speech from Ellen at least twice already this morning, and it isn’t even ten o'clock yet. I know she believes in what she is saying, but somehow I can’t buy into the rotten arrangement. It’s true that several previous winners of the Argonaut owe their career success to the timely arrival of a sponsor’s helping hand. But nothing in our world comes for free. Some contestants may be naïve enough to believe that sponsors give their generous help through the kindness of their hearts, but I’m not one of them. If a contestant is lucky, their sponsor is only interested in winning a high stakes bet. But lurking in the background are those sponsors whose help comes with unsavory conditions that enslave their victim for life. The alternative is to fail, and live out your life as a serf in your settlement, but you don’t need a sponsor’s help to do that.

“You asked me how I feel, and I gave you my answer,” I snap. “Don’t worry, I won’t disgrace you this afternoon by picking my nose in front of the cameras. I’ll read Harper’s script as you demand.”

“Will someone try talking some sense into her,” says Ellen to nobody in particular, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, Ellen,” I say when it becomes apparent that she isn’t about to launch into another lecture. “I really do like the dress. But there’s nothing of the real me in this outfit.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. I should have realized what is missing before. You need some jewelry to complete your outfit. I have a good collection. You can borrow a few items. I’ll go and pick out a few suitable things for you.”

“No, Ellen,” interrupts Vincent, a contestant from Tudor who shares this dormitory. “Jasmine must be allowed to choose her own jewelry. At the moment she is merely the wearer of that studio dress. You should let her transform it into an outfit of her own.”

Ellen and I look at Vincent in surprise. For my part, I’m amazed by Vincent’s understanding of my needs; even though I don’t fully understand them myself. When I look at Ellen I begin to worry in case she might refuse. It’s one thing to lend me a ring or a necklace of her choice; it is something else entirely to let me rummage through her private jewelry collection.

“Yes, yes, OK,” says Ellen after a few moments hesitation. “I’m not certain many of my pieces are suitable for a young woman, but I will allow Jasmine to look through what I have. Follow me, Jasmine.”

I quickly change into my ordinary clothes and hang up my dress in the wardrobe I’ve been allocated for my things. I follow Ellen to her private quarters in the south wing of the old boarding school. Ellen’s room is one of several small but comfortable rooms provided for the volunteer support staff. Unlike the contestants’ dormitories, the rooms in the south wing aren’t monitored by the intrusive security cameras. I’m just thankful Ellen hasn’t decided to stay in her own apartment, which is apparently on the other side of the city.

“Make yourself comfortable, Jasmine, while I fetch my collection,” says Ellen as she goes to the safe located inside the wardrobe.

I sit in one of the two easy chairs and look around Ellen’s room while I wait. Her few personal effects tell me very little about the real Ellen. Until now I have thought of her as one of the many city-born oddballs. Someone who means well, but circulates in a completely different world to me. When I see the small chest full of jewelry I realize there is an aspect to Ellen I never knew existed.

“I’ve not had much chance to sort them out,” says Ellen when I peer into the chest. “Everything is a bit jumbled up.”

The contents of the chest resemble a pirate’s treasure trove in miniature. Some items are inside small boxes, while others are simply let loose. Several necklaces have become tangled around each other.

“Oh, ignore those,” says Ellen. “They’re just cheap trinkets. The items we are interested in are in the boxes at the bottom.”

I delve deeper into the chest. Sure enough, below the tangled necklaces and bangles I find a dozen or so different sized boxes. I carefully lift them out and spread them out on the table. I lift the lid on each box and my mouth drops in amazement. Most boxes contain a matching set of ring, necklace and earrings. A few contain broaches and other types of jewelry. I return to the chest and remove the two larger boxes at the very bottom. I place them next to the other boxes on the table.

“Ah! I wouldn’t bother with those,” says Ellen before I can open the lids to the last two boxes. “They aren’t suitable for a respectable young woman.”

Her comment raises my interest, but I do as she asks and focus my attention on the boxes I have opened. I’ve no idea whether I’m looking at priceless jewels or glass imitations. After studying each box in turn I realize I have subconsciously made my choice.

“May I try this one on?” I ask picking out a ring with a beautiful green gemstone. Ellen nods in response.

The ring with the green gem seems to draw me to it in a way none of the other items do. I slip the ring on my finger; it’s a snug fit, but not too tight. I try on the necklace and earrings as well, and walk over to the mirror. I think they are the most beautiful pieces of jewelry I’ve ever seen. In the corner of my eye I can see Ellen watching me with a strange expression on her face.

“I like these the most,” I say to Ellen. “May I borrow them this afternoon? I promise to take good care of them.”

“Hmmm. You surprise me, Jasmine. I had expected you to go for the diamond cluster or the rubies. What made you choose the emerald ring and necklace?”

“I don’t know. I like several of the other sets, but this ring somehow calls to me. If you think it inappropriate, I’ll happily change my choice.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Choosing jewelry is a very personal act. You like what you like. But you said it called to you. What did it say?”

I could be trite and say ‘pick me, pick me’, but that isn’t what I sense. It’s more like an energy flowing into me through the ring. It’s as though a former wearer of the ring has left her imprint in the ring and she is communicating with me. I try explaining what I sense to Ellen.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m being foolish,” I say when I finish my lame explanation.

“Interesting,” says Ellen in reply. “The ring is very old. I’ve never sensed what you describe, but my great-aunt always claimed that the ring spoke to her.”

“So the ring and necklace have a history then?”

“The necklace is a more recent piece my great-aunt had made to go with the ring. The ring, however, is hundreds of years old. It is reputed to have been made for the daughter of a great ruler. Legend says that she was a warrior princess who rode into battle at the side of her father. When her father died, and her brother became ruler, the princess devoted the rest of her life, and her considerable wealth, to helping the poorer people of her lands. It is a perfect match for you Jasmine.”

I try my best to stifle a laugh. Ellen must be joking with me. Warrior, princess and wealth are three words which have never been associated with me, nor are they ever likely to be. Ellen doesn’t pay my reaction any mind, and begins placing the lids back on the other jewelry boxes. A knock at the door stops Ellen before she can finish. She leaves me alone while she answers the door.

Chapter 9: The princess and professor

Ellen goes to the door, but she doesn’t admit the caller into her room. I can hear Ellen and another woman talking, but I can’t make out what they are discussing. It soon becomes apparent that they could be a while. I resume what Ellen had started, and close the lids on the remaining jewelry boxes. Then I remove the emerald ring, necklace and earrings I’ve been wearing and return them to their box, placing it to one side. Ellen still hasn’t agreed to allow me to wear the emeralds tonight, but I remain hopeful.

On impulse I open one of the boxes Ellen had dissuaded me from opening earlier. Inside is a large piece of jewelry. At first glance it looks like a large multi-strand necklace with several gold chains, each slightly longer than the one above, meeting at a single point at the back of the wearer’s neck. The chains are decorated with small red gems that catch the light. But what makes the piece unusual are the two small shaped metal discs on the lowest chain. The two discs look like flattened cones, and each is engraved with a strange symbol. I carefully lift the piece out of its box to examine the engraving. Too late I realize I’m not alone.

“What are you doing, Jasmine?” asks Ellen.

“Oh! Oh! I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t mean any harm. I was just looking.”

“Well, well, well, Ellen,” says the woman standing next to Ellen. “I can’t believe you still have that piece.”

I look up and see that Ellen has invited two people into the room. The woman looks very like Ellen, so I presume she is Ellen’s sister or cousin. My heart sinks when I recognize Ellen’s male guest is one of the other contestants. One I&rsqu

Jasmine & the Argonaut: Part 1

Thu, 29 Feb 2024 07:30:37 -0600

Love in Dangerous Waters.

In 4 parts, by RachaelJane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Serf Jasmine seeks her freedom by entering the Argonaut.

Chapter 1: The next step

The domed city of Argon is a marvel of engineering created in the dying days of the old regimes. Uninterrupted wars; the plundering of rapidly diminishing resources; and extreme weather events, had reduced most of the planet’s population to little more than scavengers and refugees, dependent on the largesse of the privileged few who controlled most of the Earth’s remaining wealth and resources. The ideas of democracy and freedom had been swept away by the unstoppable return of the medieval concept of feudalism. The wealthy elite became the new aristocracy, while the bulk of the population was reduced to modern day serfs; indentured to their local overlord from cradle to grave.

History doesn’t record exactly when the planet’s ruling elites decided to create huge domed cities like Argon. Possibly the domed cities simply evolved as the ravages of war, and the uncontrollable elements, destroyed wide swathes of land. Floods and wild fires herded those with the wealth and ability to move into defensible towns and cities. Those who lacked the means were abandoned to their fate. Hundreds of millions died. Taxes were directed solely towards protecting the new centers of population. Many old and famous towns and cities were left to the elements, or to the marauding armies who lived off the misery of others. Within a few decades, there was little trace of the old world. Even the rogue armies finally disbanded when it became too difficult to find food and supplies to service their rapacious needs.

We’re told that Argon is typical of the domed cities scattered around what is left of the inhabited world. Argon’s large central city houses about eighty thousand people. Access to the domed part of the city is strictly controlled, and no serf is allowed into the central city without a special permit. To live inside the domed center requires wealth far beyond most people’s imagination. No city citizen ever dirties their hands doing menial tasks. Consequently, in order to service the needs of the new elite, nearly two hundred thousand people commute daily into the city from one of sixteen outer settlements. Most of the commuters are serfs who have purchased short term freedom from their settlement overlord. The commuting workforce provide all the essential services that keep the city operating from day to day. Laborers and house servants are in great demand, along with those who provide personal services ranging from hairdressing to sexual services.

Despite the strict rules that control our lives, we are generally a happy population, or so I am lead to believe. Our rulers constantly remind us that these days we have a steady supply of food, and that most settlements now boast their own medical center, albeit with unqualified medics and very few drugs or medicines. New laws limiting a serf’s work hours to only sixty hours a week mean that we have more leisure time. None of this existed until as recently as eight years ago. I can remember the days when my family went without meals, and my parents’ reliance on dubious folklore remedies for dealing with ailments.

The strictures of modern day serfdom prohibit those living in the settlements from obtaining jobs in the central city without compensation for ‘loss of future labor’ being paid to their local overlord. For young people, where 'future labor’ may represent forty or more years of service, the cost of compensation for a lifetime of freedom is well beyond the means of a young serf. Many must opt for purchasing their freedom for a limited time in the rarely-achieved hope of earning enough in the city to purchase an extension of time.

Those seeking permanent freedom usually take an indirect route towards achieving their goal. One such route is to undergo one of the quarterly assessments and authentication conducted by the Bureau of Ancillary Services. The Bureau’s authentication process ensures that the never-ending demands for young workers in the city are satisfied. Success in the Argonaut, as the assessment and authentication process is commonly called, means freedom from serfdom; although that freedom invariably comes at the price of a large debt to be repaid. The Bureau will lend the successful serf the amount of compensation due to the serf’s overlord, enabling a city work permit to be issued. However, even attending one of the quarterly assessments can be a costly affair. Firstly the serf must compensate his or her overlord for the three days absence from work, and secondly the serf is required to cover the cost of accommodation for the duration of assessment.

Argon’s settlements are named after American presidents and European royal houses, reflecting the origins of most of the city’s population. Governance of Argon, and hence its settlements, is by a military junta who appoint all the administration and military officers, including each settlement’s leader. The junta also creates and enforces the laws which control our daily life. Anybody who voices dissent against the junta’s reign is rapidly and severely punished without any right to a trial. Even those living in the city are careful about what they say. Rumors says that the worst offenders are executed, but none of our heavily censored news-feeds make reference to anyone suffering that fate. Minor offences usually result in longer work hours, or the loss of access to the few recreational facilities.

But enough about my world, it is time to tell you of my place in it. My name is Jasmine, and Buchanan settlement has been my home for all of my nineteen years. I’ve worked in one of the local recycling plants ever since I left school at eight years old. For a decade I have had a dream of buying my freedom so that I can work inside Argon’s central city. Now I have a chance. I am one of those who will be assessed at the next Argonaut, thanks to an anonymous benefactor who has sponsored my application.

For better or worse, I have chosen my next step. My arrival at the old boarding school that houses the Bureau of Ancillary Services assessment center is the gateway to my future.

Chapter 2: The lacy nightie.

It’s nearly midnight and I can’t get to sleep. The first session of the Argonaut starts in nine hours. I still can’t get over my sponsor’s generous offer that has allowed me to attend. I realize that the very late arrival of the sponsor’s offer confirms that I’m a last minute substitute. Given my father’s blemished political record, I suspect my anonymous sponsor is scraping the bottom of the barrel in choosing me. But he or she did, and that has enabled me to be here at the old boarding school which serves as the headquarters of the Bureau of Ancillary Services. The original school closed decades ago when Argon’s junta decided to close the last remaining links with the decaying towns and cities beyond the borders of Argon’s self-proclaimed territory, effectively isolating us from the world. There was no need for schools with boarding facilities after that.

Every three months, Argon’s Bureau of Ancillary Services accepts the applications of exactly fifty settlement adults between the ages of eighteen and twenty-seven. Successful applicants become contestants in the Argonaut, which consists of a series of interviews and tests supervised by an assessment panel. Some of the interviews are broadcast on the news-feeds throughout Argon and its settlements, with the intention of attracting future employers for the hopeful contestants should they secure a city work permit. The number of permits available each quarter is a closely guarded secret. Consequently, passing all the tests doesn’t automatically result in a contestant being granted a permit. And obtaining a permit doesn’t guarantee a good job. Not all city jobs are better than those in the settlements, but that doesn’t stop the competitiveness for the permits. That competitiveness often includes a range of sabotage and underhand tricks targeting the weaker contestants.

These days the Argonaut doesn’t automatically favor the handful of contestants who have served a ten-year term in the military, and who are now into their twenties. The leaders of some settlements still prefer the old tradition of favoring the applications of those who have served in the military. Former soldiers are often trained to do well in the Argonaut’s tests. A contestant’s success can give a boost to their own settlement’s ranking in the eyes of the junta; a ranking that determines the priority given to the funding of a settlement’s civic improvements.

It’s no secret which contestants were formerly in the military. Knowledge of their status is intended to intimidate the other contestants. Their names and reputations are etched in every other contestant’s mind; Paulo and Chloe from Eisenhower, Heidi from Grant, and Mansel from Bourbon. All contestants have the support of volunteer helpers who do everything from offering advice to helping solve minor problems. These helpers are an eclectic selection of oddballs and do-gooders from among the city’s bored residents. Not all of them are model Argon citizens, and three of the female contestants have already complained about being groped by one of the helpers.

I give up trying to sleep, and I decide to take a walk around the old school building housing the fifty contestants for the current Argonaut. I slip my short dressing gown over my even shorter nightie. Normally I sleep naked, but I had the sense to borrow a nightie and gown from my twelve-year-old sister. I’m not a blushing maiden, but sleeping naked in a mixed gender dormitory is asking for trouble.

The eight dormitories are designed to accommodate six people in each. Seven are single-sex dormitories. However, the late applicants, like me, must put up with eight of us crammed into the room, which now houses three male and five female contestants. Everywhere is quiet as I head towards the communal dining area. Everyone else must have had no trouble in falling asleep. In Harper’s case that probably has more to do with the quantity of alcohol he consumed during the evening meal, since he’s asleep on the dining room floor. Suddenly a movement catches my eye. I duck behind a door in case it is Patrick. He also comes from Buchanan, and he’s the closest person I have to a friend in this place. I’m not certain I want him seeing me dressed like this. I watch the figure at the other end of the dormitory for a few moments before realizing it is one of the robots that clean up after us. They try to be invisible, hovering just out of sight unless one is needed to clean up after us. The robot is using our absence to finish clearing away the empty glasses and plates from our evening meal.

The robot leaves the room through a side door. It dawns on me that there must be a service corridor somewhere in this rambling jumble of rooms to enable the robots to come and go. The main door to this wing of the old school is locked and monitored at this time of night. The sophisticated sensors provide security against intruders, and ensure the contestants don’t do anything underhand before the assessment begins. I feel the urge to explore.

I go through the door the robot used and find myself in a corridor with a relatively new door at the far end. Undoubtedly the robot is going to the kitchen and I follow it at a discreet distance. I follow the robot through the end door and I see that it opens onto a corridor crossing at right angles to the one I’ve just travelled. More doors are visible along the corridor, but I notice that each has one of the security pads used to unlock the door. My adventure is going to be short lived if all of the doors need a security code to operate them. I head in the opposite direction to the kitchens and try one of the doors at the end of the corridor. It’s unlocked. A set of rickety wooden stairs are on the other side of the door and I descend to the level where the recreation and practice rooms are located. The door at the bottom of the stairs opens and I tentatively peek out in case anyone is around. Everything seems quiet.

I’m now in the main corridor on this level, not far from where the main stairs are located. I know my way to the recreation rooms, but not what lies behind the many other doors branching off the main corridor.

The lack of security guards concerns me for a moment before I recall that everywhere is monitored by cameras. My little adventure is probably already being observed by the security guards in a control room somewhere. Any minute now I can expect to hear the sound of stomping feet and being faced with a squad of burly guards wanting to know what I’m doing. My best plan is to ignore the cameras and just walk as though I’ve every right to be here. Sneaking about will just raise suspicion that I’m up to no good. Fortunately my dressing gown is a similar color to the robots, so an inattentive guard may mistake me for a robot.

I walk along the corridor not daring to breathe in case I trigger an alarm, or my actions make the security guards decide to investigate. I haven’t thought about where I’m going other than I don’t really want to go into the games rooms. A door off the main corridor is ajar and on impulse I go through it into another short corridor with a door at the end. This part of the building is much newer than the area behind me. There’s plenty of light streaming through the window in the door. The lighting has been dimmed everywhere else, but the room on the other side of this door is fully lit.

The window in the door is misted, and the smell of chemicals makes me think that it’s a laundry. I open the door and peek inside. Not a laundry. It’s a large swimming pool. Much larger than anything Buchanan settlement can boast. The room is warm and the water looks inviting. At least to someone like me who can swim. I walk around the pool to check that nobody is about. I come across some racks with towels but there are no swimming suits. Nobody said to bring a swimming suit, so I must either forgo a swim, or swim naked.

The water looks enticing, but I’m also aware that the pool, like everywhere else, will be monitored by cameras. I can see at least three cameras around the walls. What I can’t understand is why I’ve not been accosted by security guards. Even the dopiest guard must surely have realized by now that I’m not a robot. But I push my concerns about that to one side and prepare to enter the water. I slip off my dressing gown and dive into the water wearing my short nightie. I’m not brash enough to strip myself naked in front of whoever is monitoring the cameras. That’s something I quickly regret. The way my wet nightie is clinging to me I can see that I’m leaving very little to the imagination.

I swim a couple of lengths of the pool before I realize that I have company. Someone else has entered the water. I make a sudden cry of alarm. Who is it? I’m in two minds whether to leave the water and make a hasty exit, or to stand my ground. The daunting prospect of running around the corridors wearing nothing but a wet translucent nightie settles my dilemma. I turn to face whoever is here with me.

The swimmer heads in my direction. As the distance between us shortens I realize the swimmer is male and that he has no clothes on. Suddenly running around the complex in a wet nightie doesn’t seem such a silly idea any more. My indecision causes me to waste my only chance of leaving the pool without confronting him.

The swimmer comes directly for me. He stops a few meters from me and treads water.

“I didn’t think any of the other contestants knew about this place, nor be brave enough to take a midnight swim,” he says.

Chapter 3: Swimming with a naked girl.

“We don’t need to fight,” replies Paulo. “There’s time for that soon enough. I intend to enjoy my swim and then go to bed. I suggest you do the same. Or can’t you sleep? You wouldn’t be the first contestant to be nervous and suffer sleepless nights before the Argonaut.”

“I’m not nervous,” I say defiantly, mostly for my own benefit. “I just can’t get used to sleeping on a soft bed.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he replies dismissively. “Well, in that case, you can race me to the other end of the pool and back.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because it’s fun and I don’t often get the chance to swim with a naked girl. Are you normally so argumentative?”

“I’m not naked. And I’m not arguing. I’m being; um; curious.”

“Ha! You may as well be naked for all that is hidden by that flimsy thing you are wearing. You have a nice body. You shouldn’t be afraid to let people see it.”

Paulo’s comments immediately cause me to feel awkward. He’s a rival and ex-military, so he’s a serious threat to my chances during the Argonaut. But my traitorous body would be happy to yield to his desires. I mustn’t let him see how much his comment has disturbed me, so I move into position for the race that he wants.

“Are you ready? Go!” I call as I launch myself off in the direction of the far end.

“Hey! Cheat!” he calls before taking off after me.

I’ve never tried swimming in a race, but I soon see Paulo’s point. It is fun. I’m almost reach the far end before Paulo manages to draw close to me. He’s a strong swimmer but doesn’t have the elegant style that my father drummed into me. We turn only seconds apart and I try to increase my speed on the return leg. Half way down the pool I realize that Paulo’s strength is starting to tell, and that I’m struggling to keep my lead. Moments later we are level and I draw on my last reserves to regain the lead. We reach the end of the pool neck and neck. I don’t think either of us can tell who touched the end first.

We are both breathing heavily as we climb out of the pool and collapse on the floor. It is only then that I realize that we are virtually touching. I’m lying next to naked young man. That’s something I’ve only ever done in my wildest fantasies. My limited sexual experiences to date have involved remarkably little nudity. Fortunately Paulo seems too preoccupied in regaining his breath to notice my discomfort. I should move away before he recovers, but something inside me makes me stay where I am.

“Is that the best your settlement’s wonderful training regime can teach you?” I say.

“Swimming isn’t an essential skill, even in the military. The Argonaut tests rarely require the need to swim beyond having sufficient skill to avoid drowning. Where did you learn to swim like that? I didn’t think there would be much call for swimming in the industrial settlements.”

“There isn’t, but my parents always hoped I would gain a permit to work in the city. It’s impossible to know what skills might be required if I land a job in the city. I suppose my father thought it useful for me to learn to swim well.”

Paulo turns towards me. As hard as I try not to look below his waist, my ey

The Roadside Diner Dish: part 2Titillating the customers and...

Wed, 17 Aug 2022 11:30:47 -0500

The Roadside Diner Dish: part 2

Titillating the customers and crew, with her wardrobe choices.

By Wood_ Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Well, needless to say that after that night, things got, weird, but interesting.

Emery started to test me any chance she got and, sadly, it couldn’t be really often. We were fucking swamped most of the time, and it seemed like it was an excuse for her to put me on fire and squeeze in a few of her tricks between two customers, without any slower preambles and subtleties.

Like, right after she would call out an order at me, she’d wink with a huge grin and walk away slapping her ass.

Even her little dances were becoming hot as fire. In time, I could only react by bursting out laughing in disbelief when she jiggled her ass and sang out loud in the kitchen, or when she skipped and spun gleefully around the kitchen, making her big tits bounce and quiver inside her tight clothes.

And every time she turned away, she’d shoot a quick look at my crotch, making sure her torrid dance moves, which I was the only one privileged to witness, gave me a hot throbbing boner.

And, was it me or even her wardrobe choices were getting racier? Just when I thought it wasn’t possible, she started coming into work and surprised me with some outfits that just knocked the wind out of me! Like that one day, she had a sort of black fishnet top with a bralette underneath; or this other time that she had a simple white crop top. You could see her lace black bra because it was see-through.

At that point, the hottest one I remember had to be those denim short-legged overalls, with nothing up top but a white bra on! The suspenders were holding everything in place nicely, but they were still loose enough to allow me to easily take peeks at her tits throughout the day.

Damn.

And to make everything even more difficult to focus on, as if she knew about the mental exertion she was causing me, she came in to work for a whole week under a recurrent theme of wearing t-shirts from different bands that I happened to be really digging. Monday was Meshuggah. Tuesday was Taproot. Wednesday was White Stones. Thursday was The Dillinger Escape Plan. Friday was Fear Factory’s Obsolete album; from 1998. Every day, I couldn’t help myself. I would just start blabbering about metal with her like a complete nerd. It always ended in conversations that surprisingly had quite a good, natural flow.

Yup. We had a lot in common. She was making it harder and harder for me to hide that I was seriously getting the hots for her! On top of it all, though slightly ashamed to admit it, I was definitely feeling a growing need to have a go at those boobs of hers! Um.

So despite this increasing on-shift camaraderie, Emery never let on that she’d be interested to meet outside of work. Our coffee breaks could never be lined up together, and with reason. Someone had to hold the fort. Days would just fly by, and at night, we went our separate ways.

Such was our life, working at Carlos’ Roadside Diner.

I remember coming home one night, feeling this heavy dark cloud dawning over me. It was as if the frustration of being unable to come closer to Emery was now becoming more important than my whole disdain for this job. I was bummed out and really, really tired. I would keep her in my field of vision all day as we talked about the bands that were on her rock shirts. To me, these were always great conversation starters, and I always hoped it could develop into so much more, if we had the time.

And her racy outfits was the final blow, it was too much. She dressed this way and played so cool about it, allowing me to just stare on. She was so freaking hot. Her body was insane. Her tits.

This all sounded so easy, and very appealing. I should make a move and ask her on a date. Right? I mean, we had a few things in common, and I had a feeling she was just being very nice to me.

So. why was I here, standing in my living room, short of breath, feeling lost and helpless?

Shaking it off, I opted to call it a day and go straight to bed, after I jumped into the shower to wash the grease and all that feeling of disgust off of me.

As I stripped down, my cock came out with a twang. Fuck, I was still hard from thinking about her. Nice. I had to take care of that. This should get my mind off of a few certain things.

I jacked off in hot water, edging my orgasm for a good 20 minutes, as I watched my throbbing cock, and imagined it being in Emery’s hand. I lathered it profusely with soap and thrusted my meat back and forth, picturing it being in Emery’s cleavage, fucking those ripe and generous melons. All I wanted to do was to smother my face in them and drool like an animal.

I finally let go and exploded, splattering the shower walls, as a wave of goosebumps ran down my spine. I felt all this weight come off, as if I kept that tension in for way too long.

As I dried myself and came out of my steamy bathroom, I felt weak in the knees, with a lingering heat still inside me, which couldn’t be caused by the hot water, anymore. That didn’t look good.

Later that night, it turned out that I had this weird flu creeping over me, and fast. A tingle in the throat, a little fever, the typical symptoms. As a precaution, I wasted no time and I took all kinds of medicine and vitamins just to get rid of whatever I had.

I felt that I was going to have to call in sick tomorrow, but fortunately, I expected this to only last one day. I had a pretty strong immune system. Even if it meant lying around all day at home, playing video games, getting stone on Advil, I hated being sick. I knew that not only Carlos was going to feel lost without me, but I was going to pay the price to come in the day after and fix his mess. This meant that he was going to put Darcy on the grill. She had a bit of a background in cooking, but nothing to call home about.

This also meant that Emery was probably going to have to try her best and be patient with poor Darcy. Emery and I were a great team, after all. Her service was impeccable. But I was scared she would lose her temper at the replacement.

As expected, I got up the following day, hot and shivering, with the sound of my alarm that I had forgotten to turn off. It had been a long and painful night, filled with tossing and turning, going through feverish dreams of, yes work, but mostly Emery. And, also as expected, On top of this high fever, I got up with a severe case of morning wood. Holy fuck, I was rock hard, it almost hurt!

I was in no condition to work my shift, nor risk getting the rest of the crew sick. I called Carlos right away. After a short conversation, he mumbled something about putting Darcy on the grill, while keeping Emery at the front. I just nodded, rolling my eyes, and heard him mumble something until he figured out what to do, like a manager would. Good job, Carlos!

It was surreal. I just hung up with my boss and my dick was still darting right up. I felt like it was stuck in some kind of cramp. I took 2 more Advil and went back to bed, under the cover.

And I started nurturing this impressive erection.

My mind returned to my dazed, fevered, semi-conscious twilight zone.

Emery. I’m dying to get a handful of those jugs. I wish I could fondle them like crazy from behind, as I rub my boner against the crack of your hot ass. Hum. I’m stroking my cock slowly, thinking of you. You’re so hot, I wish you were here in my bed right now. I’d stare at you all day, and you could just stay there and stare back at me as I stroke this cock. Hum and slowly, you could remove your clothes, little by little. Hum I’m so fucking hard, Emery. You would undress, slowly, and finally show me your big titties. Yes, they’re driving me crazy.

I had been going for a while, now. I was getting very intense in my bed, moaning so fucking loud as I felt this other orgasm come, when suddenly, my phone rang.

It was work. Fuck. What did he want this time? Can’t he just run his business like he fucking owns it?

“Hello?” I said, clearing my throat.

“Hey, you.” Came a lusty female voice from the other end.

“Emery, Hi. How did you get my number?”

“The schedule, dummy,” she interrupted.

“Oh. right. Sorry.” I forgot that all the staff contact info was on the schedule sheet.

“So, chucking a sickie, are you?” she said, laughing softly.

“Yes.” I confirmed.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she said, in dramatized empathy.

A slight silence ensued. All I could hear was my blood rushing in my head, and refrigerators buzzing over the line.

“What am I gonna do without you?” she said, sarcastically.

“You’re gonna be fine,” I said, rubbing my cock a little. “You’re good at this.”

“Yeah. Thanks, but, about that, I think it’s already not looking too well. Darcy doesn’t know where’s the gas is for the oven.”

I rolled my eyes, and forgot that Carlos had changed my whole station right before I was hired. That had to be why Darcy didn’t know, she never used this unit before.

“Tell her. tell her it’s close to the floor, on the right. She has to press down the button for 10 seconds to let the gas come, then she can light it.” I heard her get away from the phone, I assumed to go and see for herself.

“Got it. I’ll tell her when she gets back. She’s over in the office with Carlos going through some shit for the day.”

I was growing nervous. Why did she not hang up already? I felt a suspense building up. I wanted to go back to rubbing my dick, but the fruit of my lust this morning was right there, on the other end of the line. I didn’t dare to speak. I wanted her to do the talking, and hope she’d say something very Emery-like. I wanted her to be blunt and dirty, like when I caught her rubbing herself on the table. And, thinking wishfully, I really wanted to ask her how she dressed today, and how she thought everyone was going to stare at her mouth-watering breasts. I wanted to hear how horny this was going to make her. This, in turn would make me so fucking horny, more than I was right now.

As she breathed over the phone, I couldn’t utter a single word. It felt so good rubbing my shaft, now oozing with precum. I was breathing a little hard, too, but this could easily pass as congested airways.

“Well, it’s still early,” she said, her voice almost down to a whisper, now. “I should go make myself some coffee.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“Are you gonna get yourself a nice, hot coffee, too?”

“Yes, Emery.”

“That’s good.” She gave another dramatized maternal response.

“Yeah. I’ll get out of bed eventually. I should be back tomorrow, don’t worry. I can take good care of myself. I’m a big boy.”

“Oh, is the big boy still in bed in his Batman pj’s?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Can you say you’re a big boy, again?”

“What?”

“Say you’re a big boy,” she laughed.

Holy fuck.

“I just did.”

“I know. Say it again,” Emery said, in a sexy hoarse voice.

HOLY FUCK, I was going to jizz! I was rubbing my shaft pretty intently, now, tickling the back of my helmet, where it’s most sensitive. I didn’t want to lose control, I know I get pretty vocal when I cum. This had to end.

“I’m. I’m a big boy. Emery.”

She laughed again over the phone. This was torture.

“Big boy can take care of himself?”

“Yes, Emery, I; holy shit, what are you doing?” I finally replied, laughing back.

Did she know what she was doing to me? If I hadn’t been already hard when she called, she would have made me, and quick.

“Oh, nothing, Brian!” she said, bringing her voice back up. “You know I’m just fucking with ya!”

“You know, you always say that,” I laughed. “I’m gonna start wondering if you really enjoy this.”

That kinda slipped out.

“I do,” she replied, switching back to a more serious tone, now.

“Ah haha, okay. Whatever that means,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re hard to follow, sometimes. I gotta go, Em. Don’t work too hard, okay?”

“Oh, so I’m just “Em”, now?” she laughed harder. “Getting a little comfortable, mister? Well, okay, “Bri”, I won’t work too hard, but only if you promise me that you will!”

“Damn, you’re crazy. Alright, bye!”

I hung up and instantly made a geyser of cum all over myself and my sheets, screaming at the top of my lungs.

The next day, I was only feeling a little better, still just enough to go back in and prevent the diner from turning into a complete disaster for one more day.

I was earlier than usual, just to assess the state the diner was left in. I had to use all my willpower to keep me from screaming out when I saw the mess. But again, I probably would’ve still been mad if Darcy and Emery closed the kitchen their way and left things not the way I would’ve done.

When Emery came in later, I was busy scrubbing some pots, already sweating. I was going to try and avoid her gaze for as long as possible, afraid that she’d pounce me like a maniac and get mad at me for being sick.

“Good morning!” she said, mimicking a falsetto opera voice.

Wow. Okay, so she was in a good mood, after all.

Throughout our morning set-up, she briefed me on what happened yesterday, pointing out some little incidents and other things to assess, just so I could take them from there. And I was surprised at how well she behaved. All along, she kept a straight face and made no innuendoes about whatever happened over the phone yesterday. But it genuinely felt that she was happy to see me, back at work and feeling better.

Had it been that bad while I was gone?

Well, when I finally asked her how it went, she didn’t complain too much. Yes it rained, and it must have made things much slower than usual at the diner, fortunately. She was glad she had Darcy on board. She was a little slow, and clumsy, but she was sweet and did her best.

And most importantly, it was Darcy, and not Carlos. The diner would’ve probably burned to the ground, had it been him!

Later, as we were about to open, the kitchen was in a much better shape, already. We were back in business, as if nothing happened.

It took a few days for this flu to fully go away. I just drank more coffee than usual, along with my Advil, periodically, to think straight and stay on the ball. I told myself that I was gonna try and keep my mind off Emery, even though she was always right there, in the same proximity.

More precisely, I didn’t want to think too much about her the way I did that morning, when we talked over the phone. Let’s just say I was tired, and vulnerable. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t do anything too spontaneous and stupid if she toned down her little games. But I wasn’t sure I could count on her for that.

The weather got a little chilly and rainy for a few days, which caused Emery to dress a little more to keep warm. Days went by without her putting on any outfit too extravagant and sending me on a hormonal rampage. It was actually a little depressing, but the slower pace in general allowed me to catch up on tidying up my stations. I kept busy. Focused.

On some random Wednesday morning, though, the weather looked a lot better again. Just like a promise to a great and fruitful day, the sky was nothing but deep and vast blue, where a hot July sun was already comforting me as it beamed down my scalp on my way to work.

After my tables were all set, I looked around and noticed that Emery wasn’t even here yet. That was odd. Even though she’d always come in at least 20 minutes earlier than what she was scheduled, her shift officially started one hour before opening. I looked at my watch and we were about to open in 15 minutes.

Fuck. and in came the man in the flesh, Carlos, pulling in next to the dumpster with his van. What were the odds of him making an appearance on the same day that Emery was late for her shift for the first time.

I ran out of the bus to come and meet up with him, far enough from the order window. I didn’t want him to see that Emery didn’t punch in yet. I had warned her not to piss him off, and despite the general carelessness that she emanated, I knew the message had gone through. But, honestly, I didn’t want to know what would happen if he caught her. I was definitely going to back her up, I didn’t want her to get in trouble.

As Carlos started mumbling whatever he wanted to tell me, I tried to take him in the opposite direction, away from where Emery should be at this moment.

Then I saw her. Emery dashed in with her Civic, and parked in the dirt behind a line of cars that were already on the roadside, far enough to hope that Carlos wouldn’t see her. From the distance, I could already tell she seemed frightened.

I tried gesticulating in her direction, unknowingly from the boss, and then tried tracing a line with my hands towards the dumpster. That was her only way in without getting caught: she’d have to get through the thicket that circled the diner, then come back out by the staff table. There, she’d be fine: this whole area was hidden from the side of the road, where I was busy stalling Carlos at the moment. I hoped she’d figure it out and manage to sneak inside, incognito.

From what I could tell, she parked not too far from these few meters of beaten path at the edge of the forest, which I had used more than once. It gave her a good clue of where to go.

I headed back in after King Dumbass was finally gone. He didn’t even realize he had kept me well past the opening hour: there were already a few people in line.

Emery was standing right in the doorway, waiting for me with a look of complete panic on her face. I thought, fine, she must have waited for me to reassure her.

“Did he see me?” she asked with complete dread on her face.

“No, Em,” I sighed. “All good, I made sure he looked away, so he has no idea.”

Exhaling her lungs entirely out of relief, she threw her arms around me. And I knew instantly that this was officially the sweetest thing I had actually felt in a very long time. A firm, heart-warming hug. And holy shit, she smelled so good, too.

“Oh my God, Brian! Thank you, thank you so much. You got no idea.”

I did not, indeed. I wasn’t sure why she’d be that scared of coming in late. Was it because I told her not to make him mad? It wasn’t like he was going to hurt her, or anything, but he just had a way to not make himself reprimand you twice for a mistake.

I wanted to know. Later, during the day, I tried to slow her down, for a minute, she was making me dizzy. Customers had stopped trickling in for a while and cleaning up was going to have to wait.

“Here, Emery. Please, take this,” I said gravely, handing her a coffee. “Are you okay? Geez, you looked like you were gonna freak out this morning when you came in late.”

“Yeah. I know. I wasn’t paying attention on my way here. Took the wrong exit off the highway, and ended up in Buttfuck, Egypt.“

She sighed deeply and closed her eyes.

“Well, okay, if you have to know, there’s one thing I should tell you about me. But you can’t tell that to anyone.”

Her tone made my teeth clench, as if I braced myself for some kind of bad news.

“You see, I got this job here as part of a probation agreement with the provincial correctional services. I’m finishing a 3 year sentence, and I’m here to rehabilitate society, in a way,” she said, making finger quotes. “Not that I think I was in long enough for me to forget, but at least, I’m outta this hole for the time being.”

“What? You’re in jail?”

“Yeah. I was kind of an active member of an important circle of scammers when I worked at this old folks home, not too far from here. My boss happened to have some really sketchy connections, which I found out not too much later after I started there. He would blackmail everyone about all sorts of things if I didn’t do what he asked. We were basically stealing from these folks when, to him, it was only like taxing when they were causing a fuss with the caregivers. And sometimes, the way he made us treat and intimidate them made me sick. Ugh. I didn’t have the heart to bring myself down to their level. You could say I was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, with a very bad supervisor.”

Emery shuddered and looked away, shrugging off some bad memories. I almost wanted to ask her to stop giving all this information that seemed very confidential, but I was hanging on to her lips.

“Anyway, later,” she carried on. “The p

The Roadside Diner Dish: part 1A roadside diner in Ontario hires...

Tue, 16 Aug 2022 11:30:47 -0500

The Roadside Diner Dish: part 1

A roadside diner in Ontario hires a new, intriguing waitress.

By Wood_ Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Okay. Let’s put you into context. Let’s tell the whole world where all of this started. After all, I need to lay down a simple but important foundation for this monument that erected itself into my life.

Hi. I’m Brian. I’m a full time cook at Carlos Roadside Diner. I’m also a full time dirty long-haired metalhead that’s got his mind on everything else but work. So how I got here, dedicating all my time, my sanity, to this dead-end job, is a whole other story.

For many years, Carlos’ Diner had grown into a staple as a tourist attraction in the back roads of Lambton county, Ontario. Along the Canadian side of the St. Clair River, separating two of the Great Lakes, there’s a great roadside food truck which predates the recent food truck craze by several decades. But this food truck is inspired by the old dining cars of the 1920s. It’s a busy seasonal restaurant that all started with a man and his strange but unique dream to turn an old school bus into a kitchen.

A scenic overlook is on the other side of the old rural highway. On this side, a large asphalt parking area has the big classic bus and actual eating area. The bus has a stained wooden deck and ramp in front of the midsection of the bus, and folks order from a modified area where the midsection windows were removed and a rollup gate was installed over a stainless steel service counter. Picnic tables are scattered all over this smooth asphalt that gets very hot under the sun; cute paper lanterns and flower pots are dangling off a bright yellow canopy. Hidden in the backside of the bus, near a utility pole, a vented short shipping container housed shelves of dry goods and disposable serving supplies; a commercial refrigerator; and lastly, a walk-in freezer. Behind the back end of the bus there were also portable outhouses. The sign itself is a real eye catcher for the hungry tourist: huge and bright with a vintage look of neons and blinking lights. An authentic early 60s swing soundtrack is playing from 2 outdoor speakers mounted on 2 streetlight poles at either end of the parking lot, along the roadside; to complete the atmosphere. Really, the only thing that’d make you wonder if you traveled back in time would be if there were waitresses zooming around on roller skates, bringing food to the tables.

Oh, So, don’t tell him I said that, but the owner, Carlos; with his name in bright shiny letters on the sign, is a big grumpy dummy. There, I said it! He’s got a thick mustache, a receding hairline and gold chains in a shaggy chest, who wears a crusty white wife beater and track pants as soon as the weather allows it.

And his real name is actually Dennis, imagine that. I’m not too sure how and why he got that moniker. I’m sure it’s a pretty dumb story. When you think about it, the name Carlos is indeed catchier than Dennis for a business but his personality is far from being as catchy. The whole lively and attractive feel of the place is, surprisingly, not really reflecting what you might want to think of the owner.

Today is Monday. Our hostess just quit last week for a better gig in town. She had been here for quite a long time, longer than I have. It really caught us off guard at first, we were just opening up for the season. But, honestly, I really couldn’t blame her. Despite the relative success of the establishment, that proverbial grass must definitely be greener somewhere else.

Carlos briefly asked for my input on the resumes before calling the candidates for a brief streak of interviews. And before you knew it, we were already introduced to the new hostess.

I had seen her go by on interview day, but today, Carlos had the whole crew here for an early morning team meeting. While the team was sort of listening to Carlos, I got to stand back and get a better look at her from the distance.

And her name was Emery.

Under a Blue Jays cap that she wore backwards, she had long blonde hair that she usually maintained knitted into two long braids. She was maybe 5'8" tall, with a rather hefty looking build. Her purple makeup and eyebrow piercings really made her facial features pop out. Since Carlos didn’t really impose work attire, she didn’t hesitate in coming with her usual wardrobe, which mostly consisted of straight tank tops or plaid shirts with jeans or shorts. And whenever she wore the latter, you noticed that she had a tendency of wearing mismatched patterned knee socks. I thought this must be really off-putting for people with OCD, but that was probably her intention.

She looked stern but determined, efficient. And even though her looks and fashion choices were giving her off as some kind of anti-social punk, she looked pretty sweet when she smiled and used what I thought must be her customer service voice. I’d almost say she looked boyish, but man, she was all woman.

Now, though, here’s the real flabbergast: this girl seemed to be sporting quite a hefty and impressive bust and she sure took no shortcuts in putting it out there.

At first, I didn’t give it more thought than necessary and it was most likely because she was dressed maybe a little more conservatively on hiring day. Carlos had asked for my opinion upon hiring her, so I wasn’t sure. But when I saw her in what seemed to be her regular work clothes, that was all I could notice about her. She really had those huge, natural-looking, breasts.

I knew Carlos hired her for completely different reasons. There was no way he would have put her physical attributes in the equation, whether it be to benefit his business, or for some hidden, dirty pleasure! Ugh. And regardless, he was married to his very special lady named “Youma’. I had seen her a few times, and let me tell ya; he sure was not the boss of her!

So, no! Serious! Not even once did he ogle at Emery’s chest, and it wasn’t even like he’d become more excited than usual around her. He just wasn’t that kind of guy. Carlos only had eyes for the financial success of his diner. All he must have seen in his new employee was that she looked like your typical socially-outgoing, competent, and eager young woman who wanted to make easy tip money for, I don’t know, her studies or going to the movies with boys. That’s how much Carlos was detached from reality.

As for me, it turned out that a pair of big juicy tits is something, actually one of the only things, that I only have eyes for in life. Like, seriously, how big was she? Some double G’s? Or H, as in Holy Shit!

In either case, it seemed like Emery was a perfect fit for the business for both Carlos and me.

Win - win.

As we started working together, I had to keep an eye on her, see how she went about doing her duties. At the same time, I secretly treated myself by stealing little glances at her body from the corner of my eyes whenever I could. My thoughts started to run wild about her faster than I thought they would. For example, I told myself how her athletic build must really benefit her in carrying around all that weight from her breasts. I was floored!

It seemed like most of her clothing items were deliberately chosen one size smaller and that really didn’t help concealing her chest. Sometimes, the necklines on her tops were so low, it was enough to show bits of the lacey trims of what must be an industrial strength bra.

Yes, her tits were massive, round, large and - oh my God! - so tempting! But all of her features were so perfectly balanced. Even when she made her juicy cleavage blatantly showing out there, she’d still look naturally ravishing. When she interacted with customers, she knew how to make them lock their eyes into hers as she spoke and keep them from looking down her shirt. She was a mesmerizing force of nature.

I thought that I couldn’t give myself off just yet. I was barely here mentally while I worked. I cooked burgers, fries and reuben sandwiches on auto-pilot, goddammit! I did everything like a robot, without much after thought, and it was pretty easy to stay on top of things, if I didn’t get too distracted. That was how I went through the day to do a good job, keep Carlos happy and stay in this gig long enough to pay off my apartment, my car and gather enough money to, eventually, get the fuck out of this town.

I had to deliver. I couldn’t let this chick sidetrack me, even though she seemed to check all my boxes. Looking at her style, I was convinced she even listened to the same type of music as I did. Tool, Mastodon, Slipknot, Static-X, name it. Of all things, this would most likely get me seriously infatuated towards her.

Sigh! I guess the hardest job now was going to be keeping my mind focused.

The first week went like a breeze. She was so busy being shown around by Carlos and I, getting comfortable with her duties. All our conversations were plain, straight to the point. I noticed that quite often, when she’d look at me, she would squint, and nod slightly. She kept a straight face and only replied in short-form sentences when necessary. It was as if she was putting up some kind of shield in front of her. To be honest, I liked that about her, she looked like she had nerves of steel. And that was understandable, I mean, there was quite a lot of work to get done. Our busy season was just getting started, and flocks of tourists, on top of our regular locals, were already swarming us.

One thing I found out about her later was that she loved coffee. Or, should I say, she craved it. She had it straight up and black and she’d make sure she always had a piping hot cup ready within her reach at all time. She asked about it when she saw me getting my own usual morning coffee, so I told her it was one of the perks of working here. I explained: since the diner always needed the freshest pot possible on the burner, this meant that whoever contributed in getting another one to brew was welcome. Even from the slightest losses from our own staff drinking the coffee, Carlos still made crazy profits from it. So let the coffee pour!

As I was shaping up scenarios in my head of how I was going to take this anywhere with her, I thought that coffee was going to ease my way in. After all, coffee is a simple, convivial, comforting beverage, but also a familiar and harmless way to approach someone.

The plan was to bring her outside coffee in the morning, on my way to work. It wasn’t the worst cup of joe here at the diner, but nor the best, so I thought she could only appreciate the gesture.

On some Thursday morning, when I arrived at the diner, Emery’s old 1998 beat-up white Civic sedan was already there. I stepped into the bus, all jolly and confident, and I saw her, already prepping up her station. She was wearing a short sleeve button-up plaid shirt. Since she was turned against me, I was graced with a view of her exquisite and generous rump, basking in the morning sunlight, clad in a pair of tight low-waist denim capris with a studded leather belt. She looked amazing in her grunge outfits, which truly was like my napalm in the morning. And I had noticed her back view more than once, from across the hot tables, when she bent down to take orders through the bus window, but not as appealing as I was seeing it this morning.

“Here, Emery. Um. I stop by this café downtown every Thursday,” I lied. “So I thought I’d get you a nice French roast to start your day right.”

She turned around with a straight face, until she looked down at the cup I was handing her. Then, she made that squint with her eyes, again.

“Oh. Thanks, Brian,” she finally replied with a tiny smile.

She took it and placed it on the counter before turning back to prepare coffee for the diner.

So much for conversation, I thought. At least, I think she drank it all later.

Well, that was it. That was all I had in mind for a first shot, and it was over already. How was I supposed to come up with something else? Maybe it was just a sign that I should let go, and just carry on with my work?

I started thinking that all hope was lost and that she was nothing but a dead-end, a trap, just like this fucking job in general. But was it too soon to come to conclusions?

Well, I had to admit, after that, Emery became a little more, communicative. I knew she had it in her. Yes, she was already giving good, efficient customer service in her own slightly bold and forward kind of way, but she was not doing it exclusively for them anymore. She started spreading that same mood back in the kitchen. She gave compliments, managed to crack a few jokes here and there, actually saying more than just work related stuff. She was growing comfortable.

And, I swear, sometimes she would start dancing around between taking orders. Just shimmying her butt in rhythm with the swing soundtrack playing outside. That sure helped making her look a little more playful than she was letting it show. Whenever she’d do that, I’d fall in a brief trance, thinking how her generous ass in those tight jeans looked just as hot as those huge boobs of hers.

Indeed, those were all but short glimpses that I caught among the rest, because I was so swamped most of the time. I rarely had a chance to send back any of her little attempts at being nice with us.

She never missed an occasion to flaunt her body and allow you to take a peek. I guess she had that kind of nature, her special magic touch. She’d walk around her station and strike a fleeting pose for the simplest of gestures, like pouring water or typing on the cash register; she would arch her back and stick her ass out whenever she picked up something; she squeezed her boobs to the maximum between her arms when she bent down to take orders, shaping up this mind-blowing cleavage. She strutted around this way all day by never letting it look too intentional.

One day, I stumbled upon her at the staff picnic table. Stranded among piles of dirt and weeds behind our rusty and smelly dumpster, that table was all beat-up and sun-bleached, the kind you’d sit on and risk getting splinters on your ass. It was late afternoon and our lunch rush was pretty much over. With a coffee at her side, she was leaning on her elbows and tilted back her head to catch some sun, which was still very hot at that time of day. Her position caused the whole mass of her breasts jutting out, reaching back at the sun, on the verge of bursting out Emery’s shirt.

I made sure I made a racket by throwing my garbage in the dumpster to make myself heard and not scare her, but she never even moved in the slightest to shift and make her chest a little less obvious. No. She just stood still, letting it all out; shamelessly.

“Geez, what a day; right?” I said, clearing my throat.

She scoffed and looked away to nothing in particular through her sunglasses.

“Yup,” she simply replied, raising her eyebrows.

Shaking my head slightly at her increasingly unnerving lack of conversation, I proceeded to chuck my other garbage bag in the dumpster.

“So, does Carlos ever come here for more than 20 minutes at a time? And for more than just coming to count his money?” she suddenly said, out of the blue.

I was taken aback by her observation, but it was true. The boss had a habit of leaving for long hours at a time. You’d think he would supervise a little more those people that he put in charge; whether it was groundskeeper Janet, or old Darcy at accounting. Darcy worked her ass off in the warehouse at the back to prepare a vivid look for the owner of how profits grew daily. She was pretty much Carlos’s personal accountant, tallying expenses even for all of his endeavors, which I had no clue what they were.

Mostly, he was just gone, running errands in his Astro Van, handling some PR or doing whatever the fuck an owner does for his business.

“What do you mean?” I said, trying to see where she was going with this.

“Well, today was quite busy, as a matter of fact. But all he did was walk aimlessly around the diner with his wife. He looked like he lost his contact lenses in the flower beds, I don’t know, but he could have come to help with the line-up instead, and use his charm to tone down the growing impatience that I had to deal with.”

I laughed when she made finger quotes on the word “charm”. I was sensing that Emery might have a bit of a cynical personality. I wasn’t going to lie: I liked that a lot.

I mean, were we going to start talking behind the boss’s back now? Was I finally going to have an opportunity to speak my mind to someone about the man that’s been rotting my life for the past 2 years?

Laying on the table and looking overly confident, like she always did, I just stared at her jugs, because, hey, she was letting me look, dammit. Was this another trap, or was I just being paranoid?

“Yup, that’s good old Carlos, for you,” I said, snapping out of my daydreaming. “This is his kingdom, and we are his low and humble servants.”

I was afraid my analogy was going to make us start giving him many other not so flattering nicknames. So I added:

“But, fair warning, though: don’t ever piss him off,” I laughed. “I know that old fart can get ugly when he’s mad; Trust me.”

Not only was she new, but she basically knew me as Carlos’ right arm. Still, my calling him an old fart would surely clarify my position towards him, even while being his so-called top employee. That didn’t make me love him more. Far from it.

She looked at me, unaltered from my words, and we just left it at that as I walked away, nodding. Still, I felt that we just connected, somehow.

After that, I had more than a few opportunities to open myself a little more towards Emery. For example, there would be times where drink orders were coming in a lot more than food. She’d get swamped with specialty coffees, pop refills, juice and even ice cream orders.

That was when I started offering her my help, since there were a few basic things I knew how to do for the front of the house. Among those, my favorite was definitely the milkshakes. I had to say they were quite popular, and they were advertised in bright bold letters on the billboard: we really had to live up to it.

The thing was that Carlos had a partnership with a local craft dairy shop. They came up with this special recipe for our milkshake that made it extra thick and silky. We’d top it off with fruits, caramel chips, cookie dough or whatever, and a little parasol, making the final product super sexy, and call it our own. But the blend came in large bags, unmixed. So that was where the hostess came in to prepare the drink in what must be the loudest mixer that I’ve ever heard.

That mixer had a 10 liter capacity, convenient for many orders at once. Its reliable 100 watt motor was perfect to crush everything we put in there. Even though it bore a brand that’s no longer part of today’s household landscape, it still worked perfectly. But it was loud and very unsteady, so much that you had to hold it down by the lid with two hands every time you started it. And our milkshakes needed a good 20 second spin until desired consistency.

It was a hassle, but it made a great milkshake. Fresh.

Now, I guess you saw me coming with this? Can you picture the new girl, operating this hellish contraption? That’s right. Every time Emery would get an order for milkshake, she knew she was going to have to brace herself and hold it quite steady despite her decent strength and corpulence.

Then it began. She would press the button and the mixer started bucking and thrashing like a wild beast. As impossible as it seemed, considering the usual tightness of her clothes, Emery’s own milk jugs would start gyrating around, and threaten to pop out her top! She found a way to keep them from potentially doing so by holding them down with her arms while she held on to the lid on the mixer. Occasionally, she’d look down and, I guess, made sure her tits were still in place. She was well aware of the risks that her assets were exposed to, but every time she walked out of a battle with the mixer, she would blow a strand of hair from over her face with a proud smile, and simply readjusted her clothes as needed. She returned to the order window with a staggered breath and rosey cheeks, beaming like a champion. It was so fucking sexy.

Every time she pressed that button, I dedicated myself to stop everything I was doing only to watch, as her whole body was taken by these tremors. I almost felt privileged from being t

Open Mic Night: Chapter 1

Mon, 15 Aug 2022 11:30:44 -0500

Open Mic Night: Chapter 1,

David auditions with young slut to win a bigger prize.

By nectarines_are_peachy.Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The crowd was howling with laughter. I stood there, mic in one hand, beer bottle in the other and examined them. I had the biggest of grins on my face. I couldn’t see much with the lights in my eyes and the audience in darkness but their laughter, bending double and slamming tables told me all I needed to know. I had used up all my good material so I decided I would just duck out. Always leave them wanting more, you know?

“My name is David Andies and you guys have been a wonderful fucking audience!” I shouted into the mic as I reset it in the stand. I stepped off stage and the crowd burst in to applause and whistling.

Mandy, the MC, was standing just off stage. She looked at me, her mouth wide open.

“Honestly dude, I did not expect you to be so fucking funny!” she said. She was just staring at me, not blinking.

I hadn’t been to many open mic nights but none of them had gone like this. I could feel the adrenaline just fucking pumping through me. My heart felt like it was going to burst through my chest. I needed a piss, badly.

“Don’t you go on to introduce the next act?” I asked, trying desperately to hold in my piss and not check Mandy out at the same time. She was my age, mid 30s, and had a great figure. Huge ass, lovely big boobs and curly black shoulder length hair. She was a good bit shorter than my 6 foot 2 so I had a lovely view of her cleavage. The things I’d do to her! The beer was definitely having an affect on me.

“Nah, dude. I don’t think anyone can follow that for a while. I’ll just say there’s an intermission,” she winked at me before bouncing back out on to the stage.

As I headed for the toilet I heard Mandy praise the shit out of me and announce a 30 minute hiatus on the comedy for people to get drinks, go for a smoke or whatever. She was letting some of the energy out of the room to give the next guy a bit of a chance.

Standing at the urinal with my cock out a bunch of college aged guys came in. They looked like Frat boys with their hats turned backwards. They recognized me and started hanging around me, telling me how funny I was, what a good set it was etc. I didn’t want to seem impolite, but I did have my cock out and was trying to piss.

“Hey guys, thanks for the compliments but how about I buy you some beers when we’re all back at the bar? I am trying to take a leak here!” I suggested. They took the hint and agreed. Though not before one of the guys looked down to see my dick.

“Holy shit dude, what do you feed that thing?!” That made them all look. Now, instead of my comedy, they were fascinated by my cock. I’ve zero issues with how anyone wants to live their life or wherever they wanna stick their whatever but I’m straight. I love big tits and big asses and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Plus, my cock has gotten this reaction before, though usually from women.

“Thanks guys, I grew it myself,” I said stuffing it back in my pants and trying to laugh the attention off. “See you back at the bar, yeah?” I pushed past them to wash my hands and leave.

“Hey buddy, do you want a bump?” One of the frat boys offered as I was leaving.

“Not tonight, thanks! Maybe next time!”

Back at the bar, I was ordering another beer when Mandy tapped me on the shoulder. I looked around but she was looking past me. She nodded at the bartender and two beers appeared in front of us. I tried to pay but Mandy said they were on her. I offered my bottle for a clink.

“Cheers,” I said. She reciprocated and took a swig. She never broke eye contact. Badass.

I looked around the joint, it was small but kinda classy. Ok, less classy and more dingy, but not entirely dingy! The walls were black with red waves painted on them and the ubiquitous photos of famous stand-ups who had passed through these hallowed gallows. The beer, my desire for Mandy and my heart-rate was inhibiting my game.

“So, you been doing this long?” I asked, desperate to continue the conversation.

“Yeah, a few years now. It pays the bills and it’s the kind of hours I like to work. Plus, I dig funny guys.” she smirked. I nearly choked on my beer.

“Do you now?” I replied, trying to act cool.

“Yeah, and we’re close to the college so business is usually pretty good.” I nodded along. “So have YOU been doing this long?” She waved her hand in the general direction of the stage.

“Comedy? Oh, this is my fourth open night. First one here and none of the others went as well as this one. Maybe cos you weren’t there?” She smiled slyly. I was 100% sure she could see straight through my bullshit. But hopefully she felt the same.

Mandy ordered more drinks and while her back was turned the Frat boys from the restroom showed up. They were still slapping my back and calling me dude. They looked high and drunk. I doubt if they’d remember any of my set the next night. I felt a million years old compared to these guys. But I honored my promise and ordered them a round of drinks.

From out of nowhere, the Frat boys produced a young woman, barely 21 years old and tiny. Well, not tiny everywhere, maybe a C cup, but slim, big eyed and iron-straight blonde hair. But she was not even close to Mandy’s, which were about DDD. She looked nervous, possibly drunk.

“Hi, are you ok?” I tried to sound encouraging.

“I heard you have a big one”, she said quietly. The frat boys burst out laughing. Her face reddened but she kept looking at me. Then looked at my crotch, then back to me. I raised my eyebrows.

“A big…?” I asked, not believing she was actually talking about that.

“COCK” she practically shouted. The frat boys howled some more. She looked at them then back at me. Usually the women I hooked up with were way closer to my age.

“Ok. And say I do, what then?” I really wanted out of this conversation but didn’t know how to extricate myself. And of course that’s when Mandy joins in, she handed me a full bottle of beer.

“Who are there lovely, young people David?” she was smiling but I could tell she was happy. I tried to play it off as coolly as I could.

“They’re just saying how much they enjoyed the show” I said.

“Yeah,” one of the Frat boys shouted, “the show in the john!”

“You put on a show in the restroom?” Mandy said, raising an eyebrow.

“I was taking a leak and…” I started.

“Man, this guy is hung!” one of the drunker Frat boys shouted. “He’s got a fucking anaconda in his pants!”

“One of the biggest I’ve ever seen,” said another.

“We told Kendra about it and she wanted to see for herself. So come on, dude, whip it out!” the guy who saw it first said.

I looked at Mandy, pleading. I wanted to hook up with her and I had a pretty good feeling that if I showed this group my johnson she’d bail.

“I’m sorry guys, that’s not my thing,” I said trying to turn away. To my surprise Mandy stood still.

“Are you sure?” she said, folding her arms under her huge breasts, making them test the fabric of the top she was wearing. This really threw me for a loop.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind showing you… but not in public! And let’s be honest guys,” I said looking at the Frat boys, “You’ve already had a look.”

“If you can show me, you can show her,” Mandy said, nodding at Kendra.

“Will this affect my chances…?” before I could finish Mandy was pulling me backstage. Kendra came following after, tottering in her high heel shoes.

So there we were, the three of us in the tiny, bare dressing room I had been about thirty minutes before. Mandy seemed kinda pissed and Kendra was still looking high.

“Ok, out with it,” Mandy ordered.

“Y'know, I hoped we’d hook up tonight but didn’t think it’d go like this,” I said, joking. Mandy didn’t look impressed. “In fact, before I do whip it out… did I have a chance?”

“Quit the yakking!” Mandy said, slapping me playfully on the chest.

“Ok, ok!” I said, unbuckling my belt and opening and unzipping my jeans.

I shook them down to my knees so they could get a view of what I/it looked like in my tight white boxer shorts. Kendra squealed but I didn’t really care about her reaction. I looked up at Mandy. She was staring right at my bulging underwear.

She glanced up at me. “And the rest!”

I paused. “Hang on, if I measure up, will you book me in for another night?” Always gotta be hustling, you know!

“We’ll see when we see!” Mandy waggled her finger, telling me to pull down the boxers.

I peeled the underwear off me, down to meet my jeans at the knee. While still bent over, I jerked my flaccid cock a few times, letting it decompress after being squashed in the boxers. I stood up straight, clenched my butt cheeks and pushed my hips slightly forward. I wanted to give a good first impression.

Mandy gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh my god!” Kendra screamed! “It’s freaking huge!” She stepped forward fell on to her knees right in front of me. She was looking directly at my cock. She took a hold of it in one hand and lifted it. She couldn’t get one hand around the shaft even when it was soft. She looked up at me in shock.

“Wait till it gets hard!” I said.

“It certainly is very big, David!” Mandy looked from Kendra and my cock up to me. “Very impressive!”

Kendra put my cock against her face.

“It’s so soft and smooth and warm,” she said.

“I’m glad you like,” I said, not taking my eyes off Mandy.

“I haven’t tried it yet,” she replied smirking.

“You’re more than welcome to, whenever you want!” I shot back.

“Take off your shirt,” Mandy ordered me. I unbuttoned two buttons and whipped it off over my head.

“Would you do me the same courtesy?” I nodded at Mandy’s impressive chest.

“We’ll see!” her smirk turning to a full blown smile.

I looked down and Kendra had taken off her turquoise top, revealing her C cup boobs were more like small Bs but with padding. That made me want Mandy all the more! Kendra was now stroking my cock with both hands and licking the head. I was starting to get hard.

My cock was lengthening and thickening. Kendra put the head of it in her mouth.

I was trying to keep eye contact with Mandy but the pleasure made me close my eyes in bliss.

Before I knew it, Mandy was standing right beside me. Her huge breasts pressing against my chest. The two of us looking down at the young woman struggling to get my cock into her mouth. One hand on my shoulder, the other holding my chin Mandy kissed me deeply, fiercely. I kissed her back. I pulled her closer to me, one hand squeezing her ass. She moaned into me.

Kendra was still sucking the thick head of my cock, running her hands up and down my shaft. She was struggling with the size but it felt amazing. I was getting harder than I had been in a long time. This was the first time I had been with more than one woman. A cute little slut sucking my cock and a busty woman my own age grinding up on me. I broke the kiss with Mandy but still held her close.

“What are we going to do?” I spoke softly. Mandy reached down to my crotch and took a hold of my balls.

“Well, I think we’re going to have to take care of these! Kendra, lick his balls!” Mandy ordered the younger woman around. And Kendra followed the orders! This could be interesting! She took my cock out of her mouth, having to open wide just to disengage, lifted the shaft up and licked my huge heavy balls. It felt so good.

“Mmmmm, you like that, don’t you, you horse hung stud! Mandy said, pulling my hair.

“Yes!” I squeaked. She licked my neck, sending a jolt down my spine.

“Get undressed,” Mandy said turning her attention to Kendra. “You’re going to take his cock.” I looked at Mandy, shocked. I’m not gonna lie, I was a little disappointed that I wasn’t going to get to fuck Mandy.

Kendra let go of my cock, making it fall and pull me forward with a twang. She stood up and took off the rest of her clothes. She was slimmer than she looked in them. I looked over to Mandy with all her curves and wanted to grab her and fuck her hard.

She took out a silver case from her back pocket, opened it and tapped out a line of white powder on my cock.

“Coke?” I asked.

“Well, it ain’t Viagra!” she said as she bent over and sniffed the fat line off my fat cock. She whipped her head back, holding her nostrils closed. Her eyes bulged, she grabbed me and kissed me. I hoped all my open mic nights like this!

“You are going to put that,” she said, pointing at my cock “there!” pointing at the poor Kendra’s tiny pussy. She sniffed again. “If she can survive that thing, I’ll give it a go!”

My cock began tingling and could feel it getting harder. I was also getting a rush. Must’ve been from the coke. I had never done it before so this was all new to me.

“Kendra, you get on the couch, he’s gonna fuck you with that donkey dick of his.” Mandy was totally in control now. Kendra did as she was told and got on the couch. She scooched forward so her ass was hanging off the edge, her puffy pussy lips ready for fucking.

“Kneel in front of her,” Mandy instructed me, her eyes wide. I was in no mood to argue. If I couldn’t fuck Mandy, I was going to fuck the shit out of this little slut.

I kneeled in front of her, the size difference becoming real. I was taller and bigger than Kendra in every way and my cock was gonna find it tough to even get inside.

Mandy sat beside Kendra to get a good view. She pulled her top down and lifted one of her huge breasts out. It looked amazing, so big and soft. She pulled Kendra’s head towards it and Kendra took the hint. She started sucking the little nib of a nipple. Mandy unbuttoned her jeans with one hand and started rubbing herself. She looked at me, so sultry and sexy.

“Fuck her,” she ordered.

What choice did I have! I pushed my rock hard cock forward straight into Kendra’s slit. Of course I was way too wide. I looked at Mandy, pleading.

She took her hand out of her jeans, licked her fingers and reached down. She took the head of my cock in her hand and smeared my pre-cum with the mix of her pussy juice and saliva, making a home made lube. It also felt amazing!

“Now! Fuck! Her!” she barked, going back to rubbing herself. I looked at Kendra, lucky enough to be sucking that huge tit. I was so jealous.

I pushed my cock head into her, her cunt lips stretch around my helmet. Eventually, it popped inside her, making Kendra gasp and lose Mandy’s tit she was sucking. I smirked to myself. Kendra squealed but Mandy pulled her head back to her huge boob.

I ploughed further into Kendra’s tiny cunt, pushing my thick cock further into her, inch by inch. I looked down and saw Kendra’s pubes were shaved into a neat heart shape but all it made me think of was Mandy’s pubes. I hoped they were raven black like the hair on her head. I wanted to lick Mandy’s pussy, I wanted to dive between her legs and eat forever.

My cock was nearly halfway into Kendra’s pussy. The combination of my cock and her tit sucking was getting her nice and wet, making it feel nice and slippery for me. She was moaning and crying but Mandy’s huge tit was smothering the sounds. I reached up and grabbed her B cup out of habit but it barely filled my palm.

I let go of her Kendra’s tit and reach out for Mandy’s. She slapped my hand away.

“Keep fucking her,” she said, delirious in pleasure.

It felt like I couldn’t get any more of my cock into Kendra, my thickness stretching her pussy lips obscenely. She pulled her face away from Mandy’s breast.

“It’s too big, it’s tearing me!” she cried. I kept fucking her and I reached down and rubbed her clit. I probably should have done that from the start because as soon as I did she went fucking wild! Mandy looked at me, surprised.

Kendra pushed my hand away and rubbed her own clit. She was getting crazy wet. I pushed further and further in. Now I was nearly all the way in, only an inch or two not inside her. Mandy pulled her back to suckle on her soft breast and I gave one last thrust in.

All of my cock was in Kendra now. Her hand rubbed her clit like crazy and she came. She clamped her legs together and her body spasmed. The orgasm jolted through her. She kept one hand on her clit and she let go of Mandy’s breast, letting her face rest against it.

Mandy and I were taken by surprise so we just let her ride it out and then catch her breath.

“You ok?” Mandy asked, seemingly genuine. Kendra was still shaking, my cock still buried all the way in her.

“Mmm,” was all she could say, her eyes closed. “I have never come like that before!” I moved backwards, trying to remove my still diamond hard cock from her clamp like pussy. Kendra complained. “No, don’t take it out!! Fuck me again! Please!”

“See, not only did she survive it, she’s looking for seconds,” I said to Mandy, really hoping I could still hook up with her. She eyed me, deciding something.

“Ok, you guys tidy up here and once the bar is closed up, you and I will come back here. Deal?” she said taking her hand from her jeans, offering it for a handshake.

“Deal,” I said. Instead of shaking her hand, I took her hand in my mouth and sucked the pussy juice from her fingers.

Mandy laughed to herself, stood up and tidied herself. She put her huge boob back in the bra and straightened her clothes. She checked herself in the mirror and left.

“Have fun, you two!” she said. I watched her ass as she left. Man, I really wanted to get inside those jeans, I thought to myself. For the time being I would have to take my frustration out on poor little Kendra, though she didn’t seem to mind!

To be continued.

By nectarines_are_peachy for Literotica.

The Riviera NaturalistA walk on a naturist beach leads to a...

Sun, 14 Aug 2022 11:30:55 -0500

The Riviera Naturalist

A walk on a naturist beach leads to a surprising encounter.

By Slowandeasy47 - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The beauty of being in a beach house, right on the sand, was that Nigel just fell out of bed, pulled on his swimmies, jumped into his flip flops and went for a walk on the beach. It was the perfect way to wake up. Actually, most mornings he didn’t even bother with the swimmies as the beach was “Naturiste”, as were a lot of beaches in this area of France.

So, towel slung over his shoulder, he set off at about seven thirty most mornings to walk for half an hour in one direction or the other, then return for a slap up breakfast. The towel was for those occasions when the water looked irresistibly tempting, which was about half the time.

There wasn’t much traffic on the beach at that time of day, just the occasional dog walker or someone power walking with weights in their hands. Some of these passers-by were in shorts and t shirts, some preferred to be naked, like himself. No one paid any attention but he did feel that power walking in the nude looked a little absurd.

The water looked tempting so he put his towel down, kicked off his flip flops and headed into the waves. Sheeesh, the water was cold, well not cold exactly just chilly enough to make him catch his breath. He never knew which way this was going to affect him when it reached his crotch. Usually cold water caused a certain shrinkage in the genital department but sometimes it had the opposite effect. He put this down to one of his earliest sexual experiences which had involved cold water.

“Strange how that can affect you fifty years on.” He mused.

This particular morning it was shrinkage that won the day and after an energetic swim he returned to his towel and dried himself off, unconcerned that his penis had virtually vanished. It would return when warmer.

“Bonjour, bien nagé? (Enjoy your swim?)” Nigel looked up to see Maggie; a naked, buxom, late middle aged lady, with a grey hair and massively heavy boobs walking slowly past.

“Ah oui, mais je ne parle pas français. (Ah, yes. But I don’t speak French.)” Which was not exactly true, but usually put an end to these encounters.

“Actually,” Maggie said, “mine’s not that good either. I have noticed you swimming some mornings while out for my walk. Was the water cold, or just refreshing?” She paused, legs astride, with her hands on her generous hips.

“Certainly refreshing.” He said noticing her well-trimmed bush of light grey hair barely concealing the delights below.

“I must try it sometime, but I’m not a strong swimmer so I don’t venture in much.” Then Maggie added; “Not unless there are plenty of people around to pull me out if I get into trouble.”

Nigel’s mind wandered to the delightful possibilities of rescuing this voluptuous female, swimming on his back with one arm clenched about her bosom and her ample buttocks grazing his crotch.

“I myself, only swim if the water is reasonably calm. I’m no life guard but I’d be happy to keep an eye on you if you wanted to join me one morning.”

“Well, that’s a great offer, “ she winked. “I might just take you up on it, bye for now.” And she strode off, generous buttocks wobbling delightfully with every stride.

A couple of days of rain followed so no early morning walk. Then a bright sunny morning lured Nigel out again. After a few hundred yards he noticed a well-built woman coming from the opposite direction, towel slung over her shoulder. The form took shape as it approached, he’d recognize those pendulous breasts anywhere.

“Bonjour,” Maggie hailed him. “Is it a swimming morning, and if so, may I join you? The water looks so inviting.”

“I was contemplating a quick dip,” he lied, hoping to keep the conversation alive, “but I expect the water will be cold after all the rain so it may just be a quickie.” Oh shit, had he really just said that? A quickie! Sometimes his mouth ran ahead of his brain.

“A quickie’s fine by me for a first go.” She said, putting him out of his discomfort. Was that a cheeky smirk he noticed on her lips?

She bent down to leave her towel by her shoes and he couldn’t help but notice those magnificent breasts swinging pendulously as gravity took hold.

“Bloody boobs, they’re such a nuisance!” Maggie blurted. “I’ve carried them round for a whole lifetime, only use them for a few months to feed a couple of children. Then they continue to grow, sag, and generally get in the way.”

“They look pretty damn good to me.” Nigel mumbled, trying not to say anything too risqué.

Then the two made for the water’s edge. It was really quite chilly and Nigel’s old fears surfaced. He was only two steps away from a naked, buxom, extremely desirable, female and wading into cold water.

If he had been sitting, chatting on a nice, safe, warm beach this would never be a concern. He’d long since got over the problem of spontaneous erections on ‘clothing optional’ beaches, half of France seemed to be that way these days and mixed sex nudity never gave him the slightest problem: in the warm.

Now he was wading into cold water. Past the knees: no problem. Then it reached his balls at the same time as it lapped over her bush, wetting it enticingly, revealing her all. At that moment he noticed her goose bumps and his cock stirred. Oh please no! But his pleading didn’t work so he plunged quickly in just as his erection became too obvious to hide.

“That’s a bit brave.” She said, wading across towards him. Her trimmed crotch was now inches from his face and she must be able to see his stiff cock through the crystal clear water. What to do? He couldn’t just sit there staring at her pussy but if he stood up…

“I say! I don’t usually provoke a response like that,” she said pointing to his erection.

“It’s a long story.” He blurted.

“Quite long, but try me,” She smiled. “I like long stories, particularly about erections.”

“Well,” Nigel started. “One of my first ever sexual experiences was at the age of about six.”

“Six!! Precocious or what? Go on and for pity sake stand up it looks as if you are staring at my snatch.” She feigned disapproval.

He stood and faced out to sea.

“As I said, I was about six and on a visit to the barber for a haircut when I saw a newspaper on the table. The front page had a picture of a young lady, in a skimpy bikini, standing up to her crotch in the sea. It was obviously cold as you could see her goose bumps and I got the first erection I ever remember. I had no idea what it was, just that it felt good and cold water often has that effect on me to this day, particularly if girls in skimpy bikinis set my imagination off. Sorry about that but that’s the way it is.” Nigel confessed.

“So are you saying,” Maggie speculated. “That my 'skimpy bikini’ set your imagination off?”

“Well, you have to admit, they don’t get any more skimpy than the one you’re not wearing!” Nigel said with a wink.

“Yes, but what about your imagination?” Maggie surmised. “Am I to assume you were having erotic thoughts about me as well?”

“It would appear so.” Nigel admitted, with a vulnerable tone of honesty.

“You lusty horny boy!” She chided with a grin that revealed her pleasure, as she gently encircled his cock in one hand. “What are we to do with this then? You can’t walk out of the sea with a raging hard on, it’s sticking out like a barber’s pole, appropriately enough! Everyone will know what’s going on and this is not the hedonistic Cap d'Adge Resort.” Then she reached around and began a gentle back and forth motion sliding his foreskin slowly over the head of his cock and back again. The cold water hit the uncovered head, made it twitch, and his erection stiffened even more.

“Christ! No viagra needed here. I’ve never seen a reaction like it!” She moved her other hand round behind him, still stroking him slowly, rested her ample bosom on his back and cupped his balls with the other hand.

“I think we are going to have to relieve the tension somehow, don’t you? Just relax and let me take care of it for you.” Her strokes got a little longer, not faster but longer, “Nice eh? Like that don’t you?” She asked.

Every time the head of his cock dipped into the cold water a tingling shot up his spine.

“Relax and enjoy the memory of that bikini girl.” Maggie encouraged him. “I bet you’ve wanked yourself silly to that memory over the years. Just imagine I am she and you are getting your first ever hand job.”

His breathing accelerated along with his pulse, the sensations were fantastic then he let out a little guttural sound.

“About to cum are we? Cum for your bikini girl, with cold water lapping at her pretty little cunt?” With that she let go of his balls, raked her fingers through his chest hair, grabbed his left nipple and pinched hard. She felt the result immediately. Twitch, jerk, as he sent little short spurts of cum into the sea.

“Well, well, horny boy, that should do the trick!” She let go of his cock and it started to relax almost immediately. After a blissful interlude of orgasm, she took him by the hand and walked toward the shore.

“Well,” she said as they departed the waves, “that was something new! The only problem is that you’ve shot your load into the sea and I’m literally dripping with excitement. That was so bloody sexy.”

“I like to make you breakfast as a thank-you. I only live a few hundred meters down the beach.” He offered his hospitality. She accepted the invitation.

They walked down together talking about this, that, and nothing in particular.

“I really was just looking for a swimming partner, but I got carried away when I saw your reaction to the cold water.” Maggie confessed. “I never had a planned intention of anything sexual. Besides I’m single and enjoying it, definitely not looking for a complicated relationship.”

“I am in pretty much the same boat so, sorry about the runaway willy thing.” Nigel pleaded.

“Please don’t apologize. You have no idea how flattering it is for a girl to see someone produce a stiffy like that in her company; without any, shall we say, physical encouragement!”

They had breakfast in his cabana, and discussed their previous lives, failed relationships and so on.

“Maybe next time I’ll get a swim?” She supplicated.

“I would like there to be a next time. I really admire your confidence and I probably admired your figure for rather longer than I should have.”

“Lusty horny boy.” She admonished with a smirk.

“Well it was you that started it, grabbing my cock.”

“I wouldn’t have grabbed it if it hadn’t been swinging about so dangerously.” Maggie said in her justification.

“I don’t think it was trying to inflict any serious harm to female company!”

They both giggled, then she got up from her chair and straddling her ample naked buttocks on his lap, sat on his knee and toyed with his nipple.

“Look, I know neither of us is interested in a relationship,” Maggie said, frankly. “But you’ve got me horny, it’s all your fault with your cold water stiffy. I sorted out your problem, I think it’s only fair that you sort out mine.”

He couldn’t believe his ears, so he pulled her shoulders into him and kissed her fully on the mouth. Their tongues melded and her legs further parted, involuntarily. He allowed his hand to wander between her welcoming thighs and his index finger slipped easily into her obviously excited wet cunt.

“God, you take your time!” She exclaimed, “I’ve been climbing the walls since you told me that story about your first erection. I’ve been waiting here, dripping like a teenager. For crying out loud are we going to shag or what?” Maggie pleaded with obvious frustration.

Nigel led her to his bedroom & laid her out on her back with her knees bent over the end of the bed, her voluptuous breasts resting, one on either side of her chest. He spread her thighs, knelt down and lowered his mouth to her waiting pussy. Running his tongue from bottom to top of her moistness he elicited appreciative murmurs every time he reached her clit.

After a few minutes the outer lips, engorged with her excitement, parted to offer the little pink petals of her inner lips and the hood of her clit retracted allowing her bud to peek out provocatively. Judging by the way she was thrashing her head from side to side and making gurgling noises she was getting close. He covered the whole of her sex with his mouth and sucked hard, then licked her protruding clit with light upward movements. Her legs crossed over his back, her thighs clamped his head in place and she shuddered as her orgasm washed over her.

“Fuck, that was good. One all I say.” But he hadn’t finished yet. All the excitement had reawakened his cock and, whereas it wasn’t anything like as stiff as it had been earlier, it was certainly ready for more action. He repositioned her farther up on the bed, rolled her onto her all fours, and pulled her ample hips upwards towards him. Her generous bum filled his view and her cunt was beautifully presented, like some bitch on heat. He moved in on his knees behind her, grabbed a haunch in each hand and slid his cock slowly and deeply into her eager wetness.

His back and forth motions were met with noises of appreciation as he stoked the walls of her sex with his cock, searching for that elusive g spot. Clearly he found it as she started to get much more voluble. Normally he didn’t last very long, particularly if he was buried in a wet and eager pussy, but as it was his second time in as many hours, he was far from coming. Suddenly she lowered her chest to the bed, yelled something about a lusty horny boy; pushed herself forcefully backwards onto him. He felt her orgasmic contractions as her cunt involuntarily clamped his cock & tried to milk his balls..

She flopped forwards onto the bed and his cock sprang free glistening with her juices, but still eagerly preparing another eruption of cum..

“Lie on your back, dirty boy.” Maggie commanded and when Nigel did as he was told, she straddled facing him and lowered herself onto his waiting erection, which slid easily home into the moist interior of her pussy.

“I am now going to fuck your brains out, dirty, dirty boy.” And she started to ride him cowgirl. Her hips ground on his pelvis as she tried to take every last millimeter deep inside and his hands made their way to those magnificent breasts. He caressed them then ran her nipples between finger and thumb.

“Harder, pinch harder.” Maggie encouraged, “I love having my tits treated roughly. Harder, as hard as you like!” They rode together cowgirl, him pinching her nipples, she running her hand across his hairy, firm chest.

“Let me have your cum,” she mewed, reaching behind to massage his balls, “I’m the girl in the bikini, standing up to my pretty little cunt in cold water. Give me your cum right now.”

He felt a familiar sensation deep inside. She sensed what was happening and ground her clit hard onto his pelvis then paused to feel his warm semen blast deep inside her.

“Next time, horny boy, I want a fucking swim, OK?”

By Slowandeasy47 for Literotica

A Tantric Experience – Better Than SexA first experience of...

Sat, 13 Aug 2022 11:30:46 -0500

A Tantric Experience – Better Than Sex

A first experience of tantric eroticism.

By Slowandeasy47 - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Time had moved on since Rob’s super erotic encounter with July, he even remembered her name. The memory of hearing the two people next door having sex, just the other side of the flimsy partition, had stayed with him as well as the lingering picture of July straddling him, her naked bum sliding up and down on his thighs as she held his cock hard against her naval and rubbed her clit on his shaft. His orgasm had been explosive but he had, so far, been unable to repeat the eroticism of listening to two people actually having sex.

However, he knew what he liked and the birth of the internet had reduced all that tedious searching through the small ads. Through his many encounters with commercial ‘satisfaction’ he had come to the conclusion that a quick bang was really bad value. Prostitutes seldom seemed to care about client satisfaction, with the exception of Jocelyn, but she was something else and, sadly now, somewhere else.

So the massage parlor was still his venue of choice. Unfortunately, as he discovered, the massages nowadays usually consisted of a quick, not very expert, shoulder rub followed by either a very quick blow job or an even quicker shag. Not particularly satisfying.

His new home was in an unexplored area so he dived into the internet to check out the possibilities. After trolling through all the usual rubbish he thought he might click on the tag “Specials”, expecting it to be a bit weird or even kinky.

The sub heading Massage didn’t really excite him as all the other adds proclaimed 'massage by expert hands’ and were simply a euphemism for sex.

However, on page two one ad caught his eye. Then another.

“Full body Tantric massage, no oral or full house available,” So, if there was no actual sex on offer she must be a proper masseuse. He scrolled down and saw several more with same sort of tag, "No oral or full house offered”.

He began to get quite interested and set about choosing who he might call. 'Tantric’ was intriguing, and 'full body massage’ was a must. He started scanning down through the pictures when one caused him to stop and take particular notice.

It was from a red head, wearing only a bright red silky nighty with very fine shoulder straps. She was kneeling on a bed, facing the camera with a big smile on her face and a glorious view down the valley between her generous breasts.

He started to read her script. “Try my Full Body Tantric Massage for the ultimate in relaxation. You’ve never had a massage until you have tried Tantra. No oral or full house on offer.”

Phew! That sounds plain enough! The photograph was clearly intimating that something short of the full house was definitely on the cards, and what magnificent breasts. He imagined his hands running over their fulsome curves. And Tantra? The only thing he knew about Tantra was that it was super slow and the old joke. Tantric sex is like waiting for a plumber, you stay in all night and nobody comes! Not exactly what he was looking for, he definitely wanted to come, but very slowly.

The next day, not too early, he picked up the courage to call her number. A slightly husky voice answered.

“Hi, it’s Sam.”

“I’ve just read your advert for a tantric massage and would like to make an appointment.”

“Have you had a tantric massage before? Sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

“Er, it’s Rob and no I haven’t.”

“OK, that’s fine. You know that there’s no full house or oral on offer, don’t you?”

“Yes certainly, in fact that’s why I chose you.”

“Great, that’s a good start. So, Rob, would you like to know more.”

“Please.”

“Well a tantric massage is all about eroticism but not actually about sex. We will both be naked from the start, no towels or clothes to get in the way of the sensual experience. There will be some body to body contact, particularly on your back and every inch of your body will be massaged and I guarantee you will leave totally relaxed from all the stresses of modern life.”

“Sounds perfect but what happens if I get a bit, you know, excited?”

“That will almost certainly happen. It nearly always does, in fact I’d be a little surprised if it doesn’t and I take care of that too. So are you still interested?”

“Yes very much so. When can you fit me in?”

“That depends. Do you want a half an hour or a one hour?”

“From what you’ve just said, I’m not sure I could last an hour.”

“I will make quite sure you do. Remember I am something of an expert.”

“Okay, I’ll go for the hour, and Thursdays are best for me.”

“As it happens, I have a slot on Thursday at 3pm.”

“Great, see you Thursday at 3.”

This all sounded very promising and he was really looking forward to Thursday, which seemed to take an unusually long time coming round. It eventually arrived and as soon as he had his lunch he headed for the shower. After a thorough soaping and primping he texted Sam for her address as arranged.

The answer came back a moment or so later with directions to her house. Rob knew it was only about ten minutes away but he put it in the sat nav to be sure. 8 minutes. He sat clock watching until it was time to set off.

The entrance was discrete and parking simple. When the door opened he was instantly certain that he had made the right choice. She was wearing a revealing silky nighty, just like her picture on the internet. Medium height, long red hair, generous breasts, nipples obvious through the sheer fabric. Oh the anticipation.

“Hi Rob, and welcome to your tantric experience,” She held out her hand and smiled gently cocking her head slightly to one side. Her handshake was soft and gentle when he took it in his.

” Follow me,” He followed her into a warm, softly lit room containing masses of candles, plenty of mirrors and gentle background music.

“Why don’t you slip out f your clothes and I’ll be back in a moment,” and she turned and left. From the way the fabric clung to her body it was quite clear that it was all she wore and Rob, who had always been a bit of a bum man, couldn’t help but enjoy the view as the two gorgeous globes swayed towards the doorway.

He undressed and was just making his way to the table when she returned.

"OK Rob, just sit on the table and I’ll tell you a bit more about tantra. Firstly, as I said, the massage takes place with both of us totally naked so there is nothing to spoil the mood. I will massage every inch of your body in an effort to produce the ultimate sensual experience and at the end you will be totally spent, invigorated and relaxed. So,” With that she let the straps of her nighty fall off her shoulders and then let the whole ensemble fall to the floor.

"Like so,” She said. Now standing splendidly naked in front of him he could see she was a natural red head. Her bush was neatly trimmed, very short, in a rather attractive heart shape. Her pussy lips were clearly in view and her generous breasts were clearly all the work of mother nature, with upward pointing nipples, just the way he liked them. She moved forwards towards the table. He only took his eyes of her magnificent body to check out her bum in one of the many mirrors and that confirmed the delights that he had imagined when she had briefly left the room.

"Tantra is all about eroticism, so we are not going to be embarrassed about our bodies in fact we are going to revel in the sensations they can bring us. Now you can either lay on the table face down for the start of the massage or, if you feel confident enough, stand up for my tantric introduction.”

He felt far from confident and he could feel the start of an erection already. But she had just said not to be embarrassed so he took the decision to try her tantric introduction, not knowing what it was. He stood up and she spoke in a soft low tone.

“That’s great Rob, not many first timers do this. I admire your confidence. I want you to do exactly as I do, only I do it to you and you do it to me. OK?”

“Yes,” He managed to croak.

She raised her arms sideways and her magnificent breasts lifted slightly, Rob followed. She put her hands on his shoulders and he followed her cue. His cock was definitely misbehaving now, it was nearly erect. She then slid her hands down over his chest. Rob couldn’t believe this but the soft music and equally soft lighting emboldened him so he followed suit. Those magnificent, up turned, nipples grazing the palms of his hands sending a message straight to his cock.

The next move was even more erotic, she slid her hands round to his shoulder blades then, very lightly, stroked all the way down his back over his buttocks. He followed suit. He was starting to be embarrassed about his erection which was now rock hard, when her soft voice said.

"Just relax and go with the sensations,” He tried but over the next few repeats of this stroking, found it increasingly difficult. She hadn’t even touched him sexually but he was already sporting an erection he would have been proud of as a teenager.

"Very, very good,” Almost a whisper now, "you have done so well. Now I want you to lie, face down on the table,” The soothing soft music played gently in his ears as she took some oil and very gently, started to massage first one hand then the other. The massage continued on each arm in turn then his feet, calf muscles and thighs. Her strokes were firmer there, almost kneading the muscles, and the sensation was bliss.

He had almost forgotten he was lying on one of the firmest erections he’d had for ages when she drizzled some oil on his buttocks. The kneading continued over his bum and his back. She gently opened his legs a little and occasionally her hands crossed over each other with one or other finding its way into the cleft of his buttocks.

Normally he was very sensitive in this area but the pressure of a hand as it passed over his anus was a new sensation and highly erotic. Then the massage stopped for a few moments and he glanced in one of the many mirrors to see her smothering her body in oil. She languorously spread it over her breasts and stomach then made her way to the foot of the table.

First one knee made its way onto the table, between his legs, then her hands were placed either side of his chest. She brought her other knee up and slowly lowered herself into position a few inches above him. Her hair dangled on his already highly sensitized skin and she swept it back and forth: bliss.

Next she lowered the whole weight of her body onto his back and started to slide up and down rubbing the oil from her breasts onto his back. The slithering sensation was out of this world. Gradually he became aware of the coarser sensation of her neatly trimmed bush rubbing his bum. This was a whole new sensation and he wondered just how much of it he could take.

Her hair was stroking the back of his neck, her breasts sliding up and down his shoulder blades, her pubic hair pressing into his bum and she was breathing deeply into his left ear. It was as though…well it was almost as if she were getting pleasure from it herself. Slowly he realised his suspicion was correct. The more the rubbing continued, the heavier her breathing became.

Just as he began to wonder if she was actually going to bring herself off, she slowly got off the table and asked him to turn over. She looked down at him and glanced at his cock. The end was glistening with his precum and she smiled.

The front of his body received as much care as the back with the exception of the body slide and she handled his penis with great care, from time to time pulling the foreskin back to reveal his glistening glans. She trailed her hair gently over the full length of his body starting at his chest, passing over his highly sensitized cock, finishing at his feet. Several times he felt himself heading for the point of no return but each time she skillfully clasped his shaft firmly at the base until the feeling subsided.

At this point he could not stop his arm coming up to stroke her bum. She made no attempt to object, in fact she smiled down at him and mewed.

"It’s okay,” as his hand slid over the well-oiled, firm flesh. “Just not inside.”

She moved slightly further down the table and half turned towards him. Was this an invitation? His hand started to explore between her thighs, her slightly parted legs seeming to invite him further.

The outer lips of her vagina were moist and glistening as his fingers made their way up the outside of her well groomed pussy reveling in her slightly rough bush. Then his finger touched her clit. She let out a little gasp, smiled and started to massage the sensitive join between his cock and his foreskin with the ball of her thumb. He had never seen so much precum, the glans of his penis was positively glistening.

It was obvious she was enjoying this nearly as much as he was but then he felt himself about to go over the edge. A firm hand grasped the base of his cock. She knew; she’d sensed it. She was the expert she claimed to be.

“Not yet. Don’t rush,” He didn’t feel he’d been rushing. He’d been in a high state of sexual arousal for a very long time now but he continued to massage her clit with a circular motion. Her juices flowed, her vaginal lips parted and her breathing quickened. He started to rub faster when he heard her stat to pant.

"No, not faster. Slower and go even more gently. Take it ever so gently, a feather light touch,” He slowed his pace and lightened his touch. Meanwhile she had taken hold of the head of his cock and was sliding one hand after the other from the head to the root. It was as if his cock was penetrating an infinitely deep pussy.

This time there was no pause, no holding him back, and his cock felt as if it was sinking into that endless pussy. Then he experienced a long forgotten sensation in his toes that rose slowly up the inside of his thighs until it reached his balls: then he came. His orgasm was as electric as it was violent. Parts of his body even left the table as his pelvis convulsed, ejaculating with a power he remembered from his youth. Meanwhile he noticed her knees buckle slightly and she backed away from his hand.

"Wow!” He said, somewhat inadequately as the sensations subsided. “That was…”

“Tantra?” She volunteered. “Lie still for a while and enjoy the moment,” She reached for the tissues and started mopping up. She wiped the end of his highly sensitized cock with care and almost affection. Then she added.

"I thought you were going to miss it for a moment. When you speeded up on my clit. Why do men do that when they think you’re coming? It must be something to do with their own rush to orgasm. At that stage I just want it to be exquisitely slow and gentle. Thank goodness you follow instructions. It’s not every client that can make me come.”

By Slowandeasy47 for Literotica

Tutoring TessNeighbor’s daughter seeks out widower next door, to...

Fri, 12 Aug 2022 11:30:54 -0500

Tutoring Tess

Neighbor’s daughter seeks out widower next door, to help her with human sexuality lessons.

By SilverFoxMullet - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I was folding the last of my laundry, there wasn’t much with just myself left in the house. My son had got married and moved to British Columbia. My wife passed on 2 years ago. Just me now, enjoying a much-too-quiet life.

Then the doorbell rang. I went to the door and opened it, only to find my neighbour’s daughter Tess standing on his front porch. I’d watched her grow up next door. When my son had moved out ten years ago, my wife and I had occasionally babysat little Tess. It had been nice having kids around the house again. She’d grown up into an intelligent, pretty young girl. She’d also been devastated why Marie had died.

“Oh, Hi, Tess. What can i do for you?”

“Hi Mr Brock. I um, I need some help with some, uh, homework. I was hoping you’d be able to help me?”

“OK, I don’t know how much help I can really be, but I can try. High school was an awful long time ago for me! Come on in.”

Tess followed me into the living room and I asked her “Do you want a drink, I’ve got water, pop, juice, or milk.”

“Water’s fine” she said.

I poured two glasses and came back, handing her one as she sat there on my sofa. “So, how can I help? My knowledge of high school math is really out of date you know.”

She was fidgeting and blushing, as she sat there clutching her drink and a textbook. Finally she exhaled and said “Human sexuality” as she held up the book.

I blinked at her, nonplussed. What are they teaching kids these days? The only response I could muster was “Um, what?”

She set down her book, took a drink, then set her glass on the coffee table. “Mr. Brock…”

“Call me Kenneth, please.”

“Kenneth. I, I want to learn about um, you know, sex. I, my friends, they’re all starting to do stuff, to fool around, and I um, I want to learn too but I’m afraid.”

I sat there looking at her, unable to process what she was saying. She grew more agitated, and blushed even more. Tears welled up and slipped down her cheeks. If I have one weakness, it’s a crying woman. I got up and moved to sit beside her and wrapped my arms around her.

Tess sobbed and clutched at me, crying into my shoulder. After a few minutes she pulled back, and I let her go. “Will to teach me?” she asked. Oh fuck no, I thought.

“That depends on what you want to learn.”

“I want to learn about sex. I want to learn everything, I want you to teach me.”

“Oh. How old are you now, Tess?”

“I’m sixteen. I’m old enough to learn about this.”

Oh crap. This is bad. Really, really bad. “You may think you’re old enough, but not for me, that’s for sure. You’re not even an adult in the eyes of the law. I’m sorry Tess, I can’t help you with this.”

Tears started dripping again as she spoke. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. It’s just, like, all my friends, they’re doing stuff, and I feel left out, I want to, but I’m scared. They all say sex is painful, or uncomfortable, or just, not great. Stuff I’ve read, and stuff I’ve watched on the internet, makes it sound like sex should be really good, really fun, but my friends say it’s not. I want to learn the right way, so it’s good for me.”

Wow. What the hell are her friends doing? Ah, right, teenage boys. Worse than useless. Maybe I can’t do anything with her, but I can help.

“Ok, I am not going to teach you, at least not any hands-on lessons, but I will offer you some advice.”

She straightened up a bit, and wiped her eyes. God she was so beautiful. Very girl-next-door wholesome. The last thing she deserved was some idiot teenage boy humping at her for 30 seconds and then running off to brag about his prowess to his idiot friends.

“My first piece of advice is to masturbate.”

She looked confused now. “You want me to what?”

“Masturbate, play with yourself. Look, how will you ever be able to tell your lover what you want and how you want it unless you know yourself? Get comfortable with yourself, learn how to please yourself, learn what makes your orgasms great.”

She was staring wide eyed at me now, as my words started to sink in. “How do I do that?” she asked.

“Look up female masturbation videos. Watch and learn, and practice.”

“Okay” she said, “What else?”

“Buy a toy. Get a marital aid, a dildo, so you can practice feeling what intercourse is like. You can use other things, but it’s better and safer to use the right tools for the job. Look up a sex shop or stag shop. I’ll even go shopping for you if you want.”

“Oh, yes, would you, please?”

“Certainly. Now, once you are comfortable with your own sexuality, and you find someone you want to be with, make sure you tell them what you like. Don’t be afraid to be demanding about what they’re doing. They either do it right or you kick them out of bed.”

She giggled at this, which I thought was incredibly cute. “Don’t discount female lovers either. They like sex exactly the way you do. Once you get good at masturbation you’ll be able to please another girl quite well.”

“I don’t think I want to do that, I like boys.” she said.

“You mean ‘men’ not 'boys’. That’s exactly why your friends are having lousy sex. They’re playing with boys.”

She nodded, so I continued. “Guys like oral sex too. In fact, if you’re good at blowjobs you won’t have to put up with their inept antics in bed. That’s another use for the dildo, to practice oral sex. And if a guy starts to hump your face, if he starts grabbing you and pushing, bite him. You don’t have to take that if you don’t want it. If it’s something you enjoy, then let him play, but otherwise he is there to please you, not the other way around.”

Tess was smiling now, tears all but forgotten. She hugged me, and said “Thank you. I will follow your advice Mr, uh, Kenneth.”

I picked up her book, flipped through it quickly, and found the section on female anatomy. I showed her the diagram and said “Learn what all your parts are, what they’re for, and how they work. This is a good place to start. I’ll find you a toy tomorrow and you can stop by to pick it up on Tuesday, OK?”

She nodded, saying “Thank you”, and repeated herself after hugging me again.

Once she’d left I locked the door and went upstairs with laundry basket. I dropped the basket on the bed and went into my bathroom. I had such a wicked hard-on, I just had to get some relief. The very idea that the literal girl next door wanted me to teach her about sex had me hard as steel.

She might be jailbait but I could still follow my own advice, and masturbate. Of course I didn’t last long at all, but I wasn’t trying to last.

I went shopping for Tess on Monday, picking out a nice realistic looking dildo and a bottle of personal lubricant. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I chose one that was almost exactly my size. The girl at the cash looked kind of funny at me, so I smiled and said “Gift for a friend

Tess knocked on my door the next afternoon when she got home from school. We exchanged greetings and I handed her the plain brown paper bag. She wanted to pay me for it but I told her it was a gift. l got a hug in return and she practically scampered next door. I silently wished her luck. .” It’s great to see Tess feeling more confident about her sexuality. I’m still amazed that I’m the one she turned to for help.

The thought of this girl using her new toy to explore herself gave me fodder for my own playtime for the next week. She may only be sixteen, but she’s unbelievably sexy.

Afterwards I only saw her in passing, as usual, and we’d wave and say 'Hi’. She looked happy and cheerful, and I assumed her self-directed lessons were going well, as she hadn’t returned for any more advice. Part of me assumed she’d developed a romantic relationship and was handling things just fine.

Life went on, I kept busy at work, and did yard maintenance, laundry, and all the usual stuff around the house. I wasn’t into playing sports, so I went to the gym a few days a week to keep in shape. My woodworking hobby morphed from a strictly power tool shop to using a lot more hand tools. It was slower paced but I found it a lot more rewarding. Thoughts of Tess faded away. I had my ‘internet videos & pics’ to keep me occupied when I needed it. I had no interest in pursuing a new love this late in life, so i wasn’t dating or putting myself out there.

That was two years ago. Today I was in the basement shop, planing a cherry table top. It was good physical labour, and I was sweating a bit as I worked. I heard the doorbell, so I set the plane aside and brushed the shavings off my pants.

The bell rang again as I hurried up the stairs, yelling “Coming!” I pulled the door open to find Tess standing there smiling at me. “Oh, Hi there, Tess. I haven’t seen you around for a while. How’ve you been?”

“Hi Kenneth! I just wanted to stop by for a visit, if that’s OK?”

“Uh, sure, come on in, can I get you a drink or something?”

“Water would be fine, thanks.”

I poured two glasses and brought them to the living room. We sipped and she set her glass down.

“So what brings you by today?” I asked.

“Same as last time.” she said with a demure smile.

Last time? Shit, last time she wanted me to 'teach’ her about sex. I choked on my drink.

“Uh, Last time?” I said faintly.

“I’m here for my next lesson. I turned 18 a month ago,” She beamed. “And now I want you to finish teaching me about sex.”

Holy fucking mother of god. She was back, and she was more beautiful than ever. She’d matured more since she was 16, with such a pretty face and solid, slim figure. I could see how nice that figure was, because she wasn’t hiding it. The bright yellow halter style dress she was wearing had a deep vee displaying her lovely cleavage, no back, and came to mid-thigh on her sleek legs.

I didn’t realize that I hadn’t responded to her.

“Well? Will you? Please?” she asked. “I’ve waited two years you know. And I followed all your advice too. I’m ready for the next lesson.”

“But why me, you’re stunningly beautiful, you could have any guy you wanted.”

“I know. And I want you.” She said with resolve.

She then kicked off her sandals and stood up. Reaching behind her neck, she undid the tie holding up the top of her dress. It came undone and the dress slithered to the floor, pooling around her feet. All she had on now was a pair of lacy yellow panties

God she was perfect. Chestnut hair, falling about her shoulders. High, firm, fully tanned breasts with neat brown areolas and stiff looking nipples; her slender waist flared into nicely curved hips, which continued in a graceful curve down her thighs.

Tess stepped towards me, and held out her hand. I reached out and took it. God help me, this was so wrong, but I was literally unable to resist her. She pulled gently and I rose to my feet, stunned by her presence. A tug on my hand was all she had to provide to get me in motion, and I followed her from the living room.

She led me to the top of the stairs, hypnotizing me with the sway of her ass; then stopped and asked in a sultry voice “Which way is the bedroom?”

“This way” I said, pointing to the right. I continued to follow her, into my room, where she stopped, turned, and stood with her arm wrapped around the tall bedpost at the foot of my queen bed. “Tess…” I croaked in a strained voice.

“This is what I wanted back then, when I came to you two years ago. It’s still what I want now. You said I was too young. I’m an adult now, and I want this, I want you.”

“Oh god, Tess. I want to say no, I should say no, I have to say no, but I can’t. You’re so perfect, so beautiful, so delightful, and I can’t tell you no.”

She smiled, and oh man, she was so stunningly beautiful it made me weak at the knees. Like a fucking goddess. And like a goddess, no mere mortal like me could refuse her.

“Make love to me, Kenneth.” She said, in a low sultry voice.

I peeled off my polo shirt and tossed it aside. The rest of my clothing quickly followed, and I stood before her as aroused as I had ever been in my life. Her smile broadened and she laughed lightly, saying “Oh you’re perfect! You’re just like that wonderful dildo that you gave me to practice on!”

I remembered the dildo I bought her years ago, and recalled that that was exactly what I’d picked out for her. I just smiled back at her and gave a little shrug. She laughed again and beckoned me forward. The goddess pulls the strings and the puppet moves to her will. Where did she get such sexual confidence and assertiveness?

I took her hand and walked over to the side of the bed, where I sat and guided her onto my lap, and kissed her.

She sighed into the kiss, and melted against me. Her skin was so soft, her warm, fragrant body so supple and firm at the same time. We kissed for a while, and I moved my attentions from her lips to her jawline, then to her earlobes, and finally her neck.

Tess was cooing and sighing in my arms, her firm breasts and taught nipples pressed to me. I kissed her again, harder, and brought my tongue into it. Hers came back at me to play, and we tasted each other for a while more.

When she started to writhe in a subtle manner I knew she was truly aroused, so I moved her over to lie back on the bed. Awestruck, I gazed at her, reddish brown hair fanning out on the bed, firm breasts sitting high on her chest, defying gravity and anatomy alike. I swooped down upon her breasts, stroking, kissing, licking, and fondling her magnificence.

Those coos and sighs continued, and she started adding words to her breathless sounds. “Don’t touch my nipples yet” she whispered, as she directed me to the valley between her tits. I moved to the undersides of them, and thence to her areolas, as I progressed along my slow, wonderful tour.

Finally, with a moan and a push, she led me to the end of this part of our journey. Set in goose-bumped areolas, her swollen, highly sensitive nipples were my last target. I began with gentle licks, then small kisses, on one, then the other, and back. Then it was nibbles, fingers rolling them, sucking them, pressing them, and manipulating her nipples as many ways as I could. She began to writhe beneath me, her words tapering off into moans and gasps. No longer directing me, I played, I explored, I teased and tantalized her. A shudder, followed by a long sighing gasp was the signal she was done with this, and she gently pushed me away.

“Oh, Kenneth, that was wonderful! Thank you. Now lay back, I want to explore you.”

I did as she bid, and Tess started touching, stroking, fondling, and kissing her way from my ears to my toes. She didn’t spend too long in any one place, and she avoided my cock completely. Little questions, do I like this, or that, and little comments about what she found or liked, interspersed her explorations. She found some ticklish places, and she also found some really arousing places too. Places my wife had never found, places I never suspected I had.

By now, there was a puddle of pre-cum on my abdomen, and she shifted her position to inspect me more closely. She lifted my cock and licked the most recent droplet from it. Then she dipped her head down and lapped up that puddle. My stomach muscles flexed and clenched as she tickled me with her agile tongue. She giggled at my 'gut reaction’ as she called it.

Then the most wondrous sensation hit my rigid cock. Her mouth closed over me, and that agile tongue found a new place to play. My late wife hadn’t been much for blowjobs, so this was a rare treat indeed for me. Last time would have been probably 25 years ago. And it didn’t stop with her tongue, amazing as it was. My shaft began to disappear into her mouth bit by bit, as she bobbed up and down ever so slowly. I stared stunned and slack-jawed in amazement as Tess worked my cock into her throat.

I kept my hands to myself, clutching the duvet, and desperately willed myself not to cum. Alas, this last was in vain, because this goddess continued to pull strings on her mortal puppet. She wanted me to cum, so cum I would, whether I wanted to or not. I groaned and muttered “I’m gonna cum” through gritted teeth. She heeded my warning by humming and pulling back until just my head was in her warm wet mouth. She redoubled her efforts with her tongue, swirling around and around my throbbing manhood. With a whimper I came, shaking and pulsing over and over into her eager mouth. She swallowed my load and kept licking and sucking until I wilted in her mouth.

“How was that?” she asked.

“Oh god, Tess, that was the best I ever had.”

She giggled again. “I’m just glad you picked a toy the right size. Practice makes perfect. Although my toy doesn’t cum like you do, that was a bit of a surprise. It doesn’t taste bad at all, but the texture is weird.”

As I listened to her words, she made me wonder, and I had to ask. “Was that your first real blowjob?”

“Uh huh. First ever. It was good?”

“Like I said, best ever. I can’t believe that was your first time doing this!”

“First time for real, it was always just my toy before now.”

“Wow.”

“Now it’s your turn to please me” she said, rolling onto her back and tugging my arm. Those strings again, pulling me wither she desired, and this time it was her most private place. I used my hands and forearms, my lips and tongue, to stroke and touch her all over. It was my turn to find her interesting places, her ticklish spots, and make her squirm in anticipation.

I touched her face and neck, kissing and stroking, and proceeded to her shoulders and arms. Another chance to play with her lovely breasts was not to be denied either, and I did indeed have her squirming now. I worked my way down her body, making sure to test every place I could for sexual suitability. She directed me to a few places that she liked, and I found some spots she didn’t yet know about. She began to get more vocal, calling my name occasionally, giving hints and feedback and directions, interwoven with a progressively louder and more varied series of moans and gasps.

I stopped, and rose to preview what I was about to acquire. I softly brushed my fingers all around her panties, and her movements became more erratic, changing from a slow undulation to twitching and shuddering. Slowly, I peeled the bright yellow lace from her hips. I could scent her now, a wonderful mix of the robust and the delicate at the same time. She had a beautiful reddish-brown bush, lush and soft, that led to her sex.

I nuzzled her lovely triangle of fur, all the while drawing in her heady aroma. I discarded her panties now, and her legs fell open to my gaze. Beautiful. Exquisite, even. Her lightly furred vulva surrounded a pair of dark-edged lips, glistening with the source of that scent I was enjoying. I pushed her legs farther apart and looked up at her. She smiled back at me and said “Teach me”. Fuck.

A lick, along her slit, hammered my senses of taste and smell, filling me with her. She was sour and sweet and floral and meaty, with a little saltiness from her sweat. I moaned into her as I plowed her with my tongue again, deeper, harder. More contact, more flavour, more joy! I pulled back and looked for her clit. That little peak in her folds held a secret I wanted to discover. I drove my tongue into her again and licked all the way up to try and find her clitoris. It was there, small, but firm, still buried in those folds, I could feel it. She could too, based on how she squeaked and jumped when I hit the right spot.

Her breathing was getting faster, and her thighs were flexing, so I assumed she was very close. Did I want, or even need, to tease her? I needed to know what she wanted, so I asked. “Do you want to cum now, or make it last a while?”

“In a little while, but not too long” she said as she brought her hands down to run fingers through my hair.

Perfect. I wondered if her other lovers had asked the right questions, or had she had to guide them? No matter, I have the here and now to deal with. I pulled her labia apart gently with my fingers and played my tongue over the wet pink flesh revealed within. Her hips gyrated against me, so I continued to play at this. When my nose bumped her clit, she jumped and squeaked again.

I worked a fingertip into her opening, swirling it around to maximize the stimulation, while at the same time I began to gently lick and kiss her clitora

A Virgin Brit On A French Holiday: Part 2The Busty Truckdriver...

Thu, 11 Aug 2022 11:30:31 -0500

A Virgin Brit On A French Holiday: Part 2

The Busty Truckdriver in 1960s France.

By Slowandeasy47 - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The bigger adventure now began. School finished and college not starting until October, two and a half months to find out as much as I could about life and have some serious fun.

I had started my long break by visiting my Tante Marise in her French chateau. She had taught me a lot, and introduced me to the joys of assisted showering, a pleasure that I have enjoyed throughout my life. As a French lady, she saw my typical Brit uptightness about human sexuality, and helped me about as much as a proper relative is allowed to.

Where to go next and what to do had been the two big questions. In the 1960s travel to far off lands was not really one of my options, so I decided to head for the beaches of the northern Spanish Mediterranian coast, commonly called the Riviera. Here I could live cheaply, enjoy the weather and get a proper sun tan.

Travel by air, with a tour company, was way outside my budget, but a friend had given me his hints and tips for hitch hiking long distances and now, I was in northern France planning an 800 mile hitchhike to Barcelona, or actually anywhere nearby.

Barcelona had the attraction of being in a straight line from my starting point at Tante Marise’s and the direct route was via only two roads so, with a bit of luck maybe, just maybe, only one or two changes of lift.

My first lift was a little disappointing as it didn’t even get me to Paris but the driver was pleasant enough and chatty. I supposed that life on the road could be pretty lonely and he was enjoying the company.

My next was more fruitful. It was a familiar-looking British lorry which pulled up with a hiss of airbrakes and the driver, being on the rightside door as all U K vehicles are situated; directed me round to the passenger side. To us Brits, everyone else was, of course, on the wrong side, now that we were in France.

As the passenger door swung open a cheery female voice from the depths of the cab hailed me with,

“Hop in sweetheart.”

I grabbed the handrail, put my foot on the step, and swung myself & my duffle in.

“Where you off to then?” She enquired as I stowed my bag under my legs & settled myself into the seat.

“Barcelona, or somewhere near there.” I replied, taking stock of my new surroundings. My chauffeur was very obviously female, if the voice hadn’t give her away the sight of her jiggly bust certainly did. She wore her bleached blond hair somewhat short, her tee-shirt somewhat tight around the rocking tits, and faded denim cutoffs. I guessed she was about thirty and she had a cheeky impish grin.

“So ‘ow long you going for?”

“I don’t have to be back until October to start university classes.”

“Blimey, nice work if you can get it!” and she shot me a smile that formed alluring dimples on her cheeks.

“Speaking of work,” I ventured a question.. “You’re the first female trucker I’ve ever encountered? How’s that working out?”

“My pop owns the truckline, so when they had a driver shortage, I made my pitch and showed him how well I handle a rig.”

“How’d you learn?” I asked.

“Most of my teen years were spent working the weekend freight dock, and on the slow shifts I’d practice driving when no one was around.” She explained.

The next several hundred kilometers passed in getting to know each other. Gilly was her name. She loved life on the road, often did the same runs up and down through France, knew all the best stops and frequently picked up hitchhikers for the chat and to pass the hours.

“So off for the three-S holiday are we?”

“The three S?” I said quizzically.

“Yep, the three S. Do you know you can tell someone’s age by their three esses?”

“Sorry, I’m not with you.”

“Right I’ll tell you, you just complete the third S with the first thing that comes into your head, OK?”

“OK!”

“Sun, sea and?”

“Sand!”

This reply was met with about the dirtiest sounding laugh I have ever heard in my life!

“OK, you’re about eight years old! Sun sea and sand!” More laughter, “Let’s try again. Sun, sea and?”

“Sangria?”

“Getting better, much better, but still not there. One more try.”

I am now getting nervous. The only other S I can think of is sex and I was certainly not going to say that out loud to this lady I’d only just met. She’s good company and I don’t want to get put out in the middle of nowhere.

“Sun sea and?” Came the question again. My mind was racing for an escape route and I suddenly found it.

“How many letters?” She took one hand off the wheel and started turning her fingers down one by one as she counted.

“Eight.” Phew, so it wasn’t sex. You cannot believe how relieved I was that I hadn’t said it, but eight? I racked my brains, but even sangria was only seven.

“I Give up.” I admitted. Her reply stunned my into silence. I could hardly believe my ears.

“Shagging! Shagging of course. Sun, sea, and shagging. Isn’t that why all you students head for the Costas?” My week mumblings were incoherent and never meant to be heard anyway. Gilly, with the ashen blond hair, tight T shirt and filthy laugh had just said 'Shagging’!

“Come on now.” She said placing one hand on my knee for a few seconds and flashing me her beguiling smile, dimples and all. “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

"Look, I bet you a quid that I’d find johnnies in your ruck sack? But I’m not giving you the quid unless you let me check. There are johnnies in your pack aren’t there?”

This was getting out of hand. This busty & fit lady had just put her hand on my knee, flashed me a smile and boxed me into a corner.

“You win.” I said reluctantly.

“Knew it. Sun, sea and shagging! Well a good looking lad like you shouldn’t have much trouble feasting on the roast chicken beaches.” Again, the smile with the dimples.

“Roast chicken beaches?” I wanted to know what she meant but didn’t want to appear as naive as I was.

“Yea, you know. All those bikini-clad girls sunbathing all day and, like a roast chicken, yet all the best bits are white!” Another pat on the knee accompanied by a chortle or two of that dirty laugh.

“That is unless you go to Playa Mar Bella, where every one is the same colour all over because they don’t wear anything.”

I am now having trouble controlling the cinema in my head. Nudist beaches, I hadn’t even thought about that. I had only ever seen one naked woman in my life and the pictures floating through my mind were starting to cause problems in my trousers. On a nudist beach I would certainly get an erection and what to do then?

“I think I’d better stick to normal beaches.” I muttered weakly.

“Not sure you could cope with all those naked bums and tits, eh? I have to say it’s a bit of a surprise the first time.” The first time? Is Gilly telling me she goes to nudist beaches? Displays those magnificent tits to the world, not to mention her pussy. Shit, I must stop thinking about Gilly naked, it’s getting difficult. A few more miles rolled past.

“OK, time for a game of Truth or Dare. Obviously the dares are going to be limited but if you don’t want to answer you just pay a forfeit. You start.”

I can only remember the key questions. We started off simply enough just asking slightly more probing questions than you would in normal conversation when she asked me.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What’s the most embarrassing moment of your life?” Shit! I thought.

“Do I have to answer.”

“Of course, that’s the game, unless you want to pay a forfeit and my forfeits are quite challenging.”

“Well, a couple of years ago I barged in to my parent’s bedroom. They were both naked, on top of the bed and 'doing it’.”

The dirty laugh just got dirtier, “I bet that put them off their stride. Shit, embarrassing all round. OK, your turn, I’ll go for truth.”

“What body part are you most proud of?” Expecting an evasive answer.

“My tits of course! Aren’t they great? You’ve hardly taken your eyes off them for the last hundred miles. My turn. Where did you loose your virginity.”

“Um, er, well, er……”

“Are you trying to say it hasn’t happened yet?”

“Er yes.”

“Jeepers, cooped up in a cab for hundreds of miles with a virgin. No wonder you can’t take your eyes of my tits! Your go.”

“How old were you when you first had sex?”

“Oh that’s easy. Old enough to know better, young enough not to care!” More dirty laughter, “It was at my birthday party, the night I became 'old enough to know better’. There was a boy I’d fancied for ages, we’d snogged before, but I took him up to my room. My turn. If you were a girl for a day what would you do?”

I was getting much more comfortable with the company of this wonderful woman. She was so open and seemed so worldly wise. Before I could really think of the answer my mouth said.

“Find a nice boy and take him up to my room.”

“Great answer! He was fun, but very inexperienced. It didn’t last long. He got the Johnny on, put it in, moved up and down a couple of times and made a noise that left me in no doubt that it was all over. Not exactly the Karma Sutra but it got the job done.”

I can hardly believe my ears. This woman had just described her first sexual experience to me without batting an eye lid. The sixties were definitely a liberating decade.

Then we pulled off the road to a Routier. Parked up in a diagonal line with lots of other lorries.

“That’s it for today. Let’s eat.”

We walked over to the building and as I followed her I couldn’t help but notice how the tight denim cutoff shorts clung to her very alluring bum, which wobbled in a truly delightful way. Her trucker’s wallet flapped around, protruding from her right butt pocket.

They served delicious food, at a fixed price, with a glass of wine and I noticed with relief that they also had rooms also at very reasonable prices. After the meal I got up and walked towards reception.

“Where are you off to?”

“Get a room.”

“Well, if you want to save some money and you promise to be good, you can kip down in the cab. It’ll be cosy, but cheap. I get the bunk, but the seats all fold forwards and you can put your mat across them. Your decision.”

I must have looked like a goldfish gasping for air. This very attractive lady with stunning tits and an attractive bum, comfortable enough in her own skin to talk freely about sex to a lad she’d never met, was offering to let me share her cab. I was very naive back then!

We made use of the facilities and went back to the cab to natter and find some tunes on the radio. Eventually it was time to call it a day and I spread my camping mat over the folded down seat backs.

She got into her bunk and with all the curtains drawn it was pitch dark. I could hear her getting settled for the night so I took advantage of the darkness and slipped out of my trousers and T shirt. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had done the same and was now lying just a few feet away with those magnificent tits unencumbered by a bra. I had to stop thinking like this because I could feel my cock swelling.

She was right, it was cosy. It was also blooming uncomfortable, compared to a real bed, but then again it was cheap.

“Comfy over there?” She asked. I tried to sound convincing but obviously failed.

“We did some Truth earlier, but not much Dare.” Said the voice in the dark. So here’s my first Dare, I dare you to come over here and get a bit more comfortable.“

What! I was being invited to the bunk. I told you I was naïve.

"Seriously?”

“Yes seriously, that’s the dare; and the forfeit is to take all your clothes off and run round the truck three times.”

Not much of a choice really. I wriggled over to the bunk and under her duvet. It didn’t take me long to discover that she was totally naked. First my arm accidentally brushed her tits and in trying to move it to a less embarrassing location discovered she wasn’t wearing panties either.

“Well, big boy, now you know. I’m naked and you’ve promised to be good, so get rid of your pants, grab a johnny and show me just how good you can be.”

The penny finally dropped. Fuck, was this really happening? Was I about to loose my virginity? I hadn’t had to try out my new chat up lines or make any other effort and now I was in a pitch dark cab with a somewhat older woman, naked, telling me to get a johnny on.

After much fumbling in my bag I managed to find the condoms and roll one on to my rigid cock. She sensed I was ready and pulled me gently on top of her, one hand found my, now fully erect, virgin, cock and guided it towards her entrance.

No boy ever forgets the first time his cock slides into a real live pussy. I don’t know what I was expecting, but certainly not the slippery, wonderfully welcoming, sensation as all the nerves in my cock started screaming at the same time. Once she had me fully in, she held me close and whispered in my ear.

“Just stay still, don’t try to move.”

I felt her push up from under me as she forced herself against my cock a couple of times: I could take it no more. I shot my bolt and filled the condom. I came like I’d never never cum before. The whole experience was erotic beyond my wildest dreams, but it was over so quickly.

“Sorry, uh, sorry. I’m so sorry.” I stammered realising it hadn’t been much of a success for her.

“Shush. Shush.” She held me tightly to her magnificent tits as my cock shrank slowly back out of her. I hadn’t even handled her tits yet and here I was, spent.

“I tried to tell you earlier that it’s always a bit quick the first time. There’s plenty of time, besides you’ll remember this moment for the rest of your life and there is something special about fucking a virgin, I really felt it when you came, every single lovely pulse.”

I disposed of the condom and we chatted some more while she stroked me gently. Normally, after an orgasm, I was satisfied for the night. If I was feeling particularly horny I could have another one in about half an hour or so and so it was with the actual act of fucking. She had me stiff and ready to go again after just a few minutes of stroking.

“This time,” she said, “no johnny. I want you to feel what a real fuck feels like. I’m on the new birth control pill: Ionly got you to use one earlier to slow you down. This time we are going bare back and you have promised to be good.”

She clamped her mouth over my lips, her tongue sought out mine, my new erection found its own way into her. This time it was much slower and the slippery sensation was even greater. I had time to fondle her breasts, feel the magnificent sensation of my cock sliding gently in and out of her without the barrier of the condom. If this wasn’t heaven it was pretty close. It still didn’t take all that long and when she ran her fingernails over my bum it was the final straw: I shot my bolt for the second time.

We fell asleep and the next thing we knew was the sound of a revving engines as the earliest departures headed off. We went into the building, had a coffee and croissant for breakfast and hit the road.

“My load is all chemicals and I’m actually taking it to Barcelona. So I can take you all the way.” She said slowly with a wink and mischievous smile. I was beginning to understand this lady.

We chatted as she drove and learned a lot about each other’s lives. I still couldn’t take my eyes off her sizable jiggling tits and every time I thought about the previous evening I started to get another erection. She seemed to enjoy getting me worked up with her risqué conversation. She talked so freely about sex, as though it might have been the weather.

We arrived at the Zona Franca, the big industrial area near the port and wandered around in the sunshine while she was waiting for the unloading.

“I’ve still got a few dares up my sleeve if you fancy staying with me tonight. It’s a cheap hotel but better than the cab.”

The answer was a foregone conclusion. After another reasonable meal we made our way to the hotel. It was very close to the port and most of the truckers stayed there, as I was to discover much to my embarrassment.

“Hi Gilly, brought your other son with you, have ya?”

“Fuck off, Jacko, you’re only jealous.” As she raised a finger in salute. “Besides he can do all night what it would take you all night to do!” And placing her clenched fist over her crotch flicked her first finger straight out mimicking an explosive erection and gave a burst of that dirty laugh.

We settled into the room, clean and reasonably comfortable, without being in any way posh.

“Time to get rid of the road dirt.” And she headed for the shower. “Come on then I’m not sleeping with you stinking! Get your kit off.” She pulled her T shirt over her head and her tits swung free and she undid the belt on her denim shorts. “Chop chop.”

I was still processing the information. We were going to shower together! I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity.

My eyes feasted on her tits, her cute little bum, the forest of curly hair that tried unsuccessfully to hide her cleft. Where to look? My eyes ran riot, tits, bum, pubes and that valley, I couldn’t take my eyes off that valley. By the time I got my pants off I had another stonking erection.

We got into the shower and soaped each other all over, and I mean all over. If her tits were a feast for the eyes and a joy to touch, they were ecstasy to soap. I savoured every second. She got me to soap her bum which was an equally erotic experience and then she directed my hand down to her pubes. This was another sensational experience and I was amazed at how easily my finger slid into her. By now my cock was throbbing and I was doing my best not to touch it, knowing what would happen if I did.

She then approached me from the front, with a hand full of soap, slid one hand under my balls and pulled my foreskin back with the other. This was only going to end one way, and in the very near future. I felt myself at the point of no return as she slid her soapy hand up and down the length of my cock.

The inevitable happened. My cock jerked in her hand several times and I shot my cum all over her stomach. I was about to apologise when she spoke.

“OK, wow! The express has just left, so now we can take the slow train.” She leant forward and kissed me passionately and then washed my cum off her belly. “Time to dry off.”

Hang on a moment, so this was all part of her plan? I may have been learning fast, but I was still naïve.

After toweling each other dry we went and lay on the bed. She encouraged me to explore her body, guiding my hand to her most sensitive parts and allowing me to slide a finger in that delightfully slippery divide between her legs. There’s no forgetting the first woman who lets you roam about, investigating her naked body. My cock however only recovered slowly, that is until she slid down my body and kissed it.

I had never heard of this before and she sensed my apprehension.

“Just relax and go with it!” These were the last words I heard before she sucked my cock gently into her mouth. I know now about blow jobs, but then? No way! Never even heard of it, but my cock understood exactly what was happening. It quickly came to attention again.

“Girls like this too, you know,” She said pointedly, as she slid back up to my side. “They really like it.” By now I had woken up enough to take the hint and slid down the bed. I emerged between her knees and had my first ever close up view of a cunt. Lovely, sexy, pink lipped, blond hair surrounded, cunt.

I followed her example, licking slowly and positively, from bottom to top. It tasted divine and left me with a lifelong love of oral favors. Her hands on the back of my head controlled the pressure and pace. The noises she made let me know when I was on the right track.

“Oh fuck, there! Right there! Yes! Stay there!……Fuck that’s good!……Oh fuck, hell yes, don’t stop!”

Not knowing what to do, I allowed a finger to slip into her moistness and felt her muscles clamp on it. Her hips came off the bed, jerked for a bit, and then she flopped back.

“Shit, dam, fuck, bugger, cunt!” I don’t think I’d ever heard a girl use language like that, but then again I’d never done that to a girl before, either.

“Come back up here, you sexy beast.” So I obeye

Telepathy & Pheromones: Part 3Cucking her man to pay a...

Wed, 10 Aug 2022 11:30:45 -0500

Telepathy & Pheromones: Part 3

Cucking her man to pay a debt.

By Dash91830 - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

- Trap is Sprung

Rachel was supremely confident. She usually wins when they play poker. Sofia is good too, but Rachel somehow usually has better luck than the ginger and always ends up with the slightly better cards than her.

Sofia also knows that most of the time Rachel has better luck than her, but not today. With a smirk on her face, Sofia reveals her hand. “Four of a kind,” she tells her friend, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“You accepted the bet so pay up now,” Sofia stood and asserted. “Your cute boyfriend is now my sex slave and I want to suck his cock and fuck him in front of you. I want you to watch him and I lose our virginities to each other. He is going to let me fuck him here like I want him to, because he is my slave now and has no other choice but to obey.”

Murphy looked at Rachel with alarm on his face. Rachel is shocked, too. She was clearly not expecting to lose when she agreed to the bet.

Murphy looked at Sofia angrily, only to see Sofia smirk lecherously back at him. Murphy turned back to plead with his girlfriend. “You can renege on it. It isn’t like she can do anything about this. Tell her you won’t let her do me.” He then whirled again back around to confront Sofia. “I’m not an object. You two just agreed to this bet without considering what I said. I explicitly said ‘no’and refused to be a chip in your game, but you ignored me.”

Rachel finally snapped out of it. She glared at Sofia. The raven haired beauty couldn’t believe it. “It wasn’t a serious bet,” she tried to say in a trembling voice. “There is no way you’ll be getting to deflower my boyfriend. That is for me and me alone to do.” Then she said to Murphy “Don’t worry, sweetie. I am not letting her touch your cock.”

After that, she was back to talking to the ginger again. “You couldn’t possibly have thought I would let you have sex with him now, did you? Let’s just forget about it and play another round already. No more insane bets like this one.”

“But I was truly serious when I made the bet,” Sofia informed her in a cold voice of a mob debt collector. “So you have to let me fuck him here and now.”

Rachel stared at her, aghast at the very thought of her boyfriend losing his virginity to Sofia instead of her. It was horrifying to even think about that happening.

“If you do not allow it, then I will stop being your friend.” Sofia tightened the trap with her cold words. “Let me fuck him or we will no longer be friends anymore, Rachel. It is your choice now. Make it already.” This is a huge gamble and Sofia knows that it could go wrong, so she reads Rachel’s mind.

Rachel is giving in, Sofia realizes.

With a sigh, the black haired bombshell turns to her boyfriend. “Honey, Sofia is my best friend and I don’t want to lose her, so can you please just have sex with her and make her happy?” she asks him in a bleak voice.

Murphy stared at her in shock.

“If you love me you will do it.” Rachel equivocated. Then she bluntly gave him the ultimatum. “Do what she asks you to, or I am breaking up with you.”

This is going even better than Sofia dreamed of. She had never thought it would be so easy. Her friend is handing him over on a silver platter now.

“Fine,” Murphy said to Rachel. “But I am only doing this because I love you.” He then walked around the table to stand before Sofia, his legs shaking. She suddenly grabbed his hair and pressed her lips against his in a fiery kiss. He tried to pull away then remembered what his girlfriend just told him to do. ‘Let Sofia do what she wants.’ So he only stood there and allowed her to ravage his mouth with her tongue. Then her hands dropped to unzip his pants and take them and his boxers off, revealing his already stiffening slender tool. She wrapped her fingers around the rod and stroked it, feeling how hard it is in her hand.

He moaned and she smirked. Sofia then got down on her knees in front of him. “I’ve sucked much thicker cocks than yours, Murphy. But you are the only one I will ever allow in my pussy,” she said to him before she started licking the underside of his lengthy, but slender shaft. Murphy tensed up as he felt her wrap her skilled tongue around his cock and then she fully sucked it into her mouth, expertly sliding her full lips to the base of his erection. She has sucked many cocks before and is a consummate expert in the field. Her blowjobs have been the best that many boys at their school ever got. His manhood was especially pleasing, as she was able to slide him down her throat with ease. She held him down her throat longer than any other cock had been immersed in her esophagus, swallowing him repeatedly on each submersion.

Sofia’s dick sucking lips worked him quickly and his primal instincts took over. Soon he was subconsciously thrusting into her mouth. Within three minutes, the very experienced girl pulled him up from her throat, locked her lips tightly around his glans, flicked his frenulum rapidly, and forced Murphy to blow his load in her waiting mouth. She swallowed the first rope and then withdrew his stiff pulsing cock, making him spray the rest of his creamy ropes on her face. He drenched her cheeks, glazing Sofia’s beautiful face with his warm cum. Sofia grinned like a glazed doughnut as he caked her with his seed, the warm baby batter splattering all over her. Her gorgeous face was now entirely glazed in his cum and she looked ecstatic about it. Her pleasuring prowess is central to her esteem among her contemporaries. The new guy is now her prize.

She then pushed him down onto her bed and stood over him. Yanking off her clothes, then the rest of his, she lastly revealed her bright red hairy pussy to the boy laying below her. Rachel watched as her boyfriend’s lengthy thin cock remained fully erect, pointing up at the ginger-lined entrance. Sofia grinned dominantly over at Rachel as she descended to her knees, then onto Murphy’s pole, taking his penis up, touching her hot pussy lips. The redhead slowly descended her body, wincing as her cherry pops, and sheathing him fully, in one go. He is now inside her and they both moaned loudly in shock. It feels so good. Her cunt is like a tight furnace, burning his sensitive prick. She is searing him with the flame of her passion.

All he could do now was hang on for his life as she starts moving on top. The girl fucked him hard, at times leaning down onto his chest and hissing in his ear, as his eyes rolled into the back of his skull. His virgin cock never showed signs of flaccid interludes, but his second ejaculation would not cum so soon as his first one, just 5 minutes ago.

“Do you like this, baby? You like how I fuck you in front of your girlfriend? Like how you’re getting fucked by my hot pussy? I want you to cum in my pussy.” Her words pushed him over the edge and he ejaculated again, this time cumming deep inside her vagina. He quickly filled up her womb with his several gushes of semen, his seed coating the linings of her inside walls. Her vaginal juices were absorbing deep into the thin taut skin of his cock, where her pheromones were already waiting, since his morning ‘tea’.

“Please stop already,” Murphy begged her, but Sofia was still not satisfied. Her pleasure comes not from his rigid dick but the control she has over him. She enjoyed the power to fuck him, even when he didn’t want to be fucked. The redhead slammed down onto him again and again, pounding him to a third orgasm, making him spew one more load into her hot pussy, setting her scent into his dermal depths. Sofia has never felt so much joy in her life. The first time she sucked a cock used to be her happiest memory but that was nothing compared to this. She just got popped her own cherry and the cherry of the guy she loves; this hero who risked his life and saved her young brother.

Sofia dismounted him after his 3^rd load was delivered, and got on all fours. Lifting her round ass up into the air, she said “Fuck my ass now, slave. I want you to stick your slutty cock in my ass and cum.” She was drunk on this new power and on his cum, and wanted more.

When he hesitated, she said; “If you don’t fuck and cum in my ass now, I will stop being friends with your girlfriend and she will dump you.” Murphy turned to Rachel and she gestured for him to do what Sofia says. Defeated and humiliated, Murphy just grabbed her shapely hips and slid his lubricated dick inside her, her pussy juices providing sufficiently as lube. If her cunt was tight, this was even tighter; his slender rod making it considerably smoother than a fat cock might have been. It squeezed around him like a hot glove and he screams in shock from how pleasurable anal feels.

“Come on, fuck toy. Fuck me already. You are my sex slave and I’m ordering you to fuck me!” Sofia shouted her demands, ramming her powerful ass back at him. Murphy gulped before he started fucking her anus, slamming his cock into her. He pistoned in and out of her as quickly as he could go, feeling her sphincter grip him so tightly it’s like she was trying to rip his dick off. “

Are you watching this now, Rachel? Your slutty little boyfriend is fucking my ass. Look at this whore’s dick inside my asshole. Your boyfriend is my whore now. He is my slut now, Rachel.”

Murphy started to cry as the humiliation became too much for him to bear. He was now permanently tainted, made into a slut who was fucking another girl in front of his girlfriend right now. The guy couldn’t bear thinking about how hurt his girlfriend must be to see this scene unfolding before her eyes, even though she asked him to be her friend’s sex slave.

He can’t see Rachel who is still sitting directly behind him, but she is horny from watching him fuck Sofia. Rachel is passionately fingering herself to the sight, having her own orgasm the moment he spurted loads into Sofia’s waiting ass, filling up the inside of her large ass with his cum. He emptied his balls into her bowels before collapsing onto his back, next to her on the bed.

Sofia got up and positioned herself over his head. Then she started urinating on the unconscious boy’s face. She pissed all over his forehead and cheeks. After pissing on him and marking him with her pee, she got off the bed and said to her friend “Can you ever be with him again after what I did to him, you cuck?”

Sofia then allowed Rachel to watch her cuddle up with Murphy’s unconscious body during the next hour. Her pussy is so powerful that it knocked him out cold and he is still unable to wake up from his deep sleep. He just slumbers on into the evening as Sofia fondled his body however she pleased. Rachel could do nothing but watch, as she didn’t want to lose her best friend. It humiliated her to see Sofia fuck Murphy. The fact that she got turned on while watching the illicit fuck is also very humiliating as well, and she doesn’t know how it happened. How could she have been turned on by her boyfriend losing his virginity to her best friend?

Suddenly, the redhead got up above Murphy’s head and did what she did an hour ago. She pissed again all over the boy’s face. This time, it woke him up. His eyes went wide once he realized that Sofia is urinating one him. He winced from the salty piss and shut his eyes. He screamed from the sting and as his mouth opened in shock, the beautiful teen peed directly into it. Murphy can now feel her salty piss hit the back of his throat and it clearly suddenly reminded of all the new ‘tea’ he drank. It wasn’t tea! He was tricked into drinking piss by Rachel for the past several days now. Finally she was done taking her nighttime piss on his face and in his mouth.

Finally, he yelled at her “What the hell was that for?” The ginger only smirked at him.

“I did what you wanted. I was your sex slave, but no more of that.” Murphy spoke his resolve. “You forced me to do it with you but I won’t let you push us around anymore.”

Then he turned to Rachel, who was still sitting on a chair and watching. “Baby, I am sorry you had to watch that. I warned you not to make that bet. But it’s okay now. We already gave her what she wanted. If she’s still unreasonable, I think you would be better off without a friend like her.”

“How could you say that? Sofia is my best friend,” Rachel muttered, much to her boyfriend’s dismay. He simply cannot believe she is siding with the woman who just peed in his face. After all that’s happened today. It is crazy.

Rachel turned to look at Sofia. “We can still be friends right? I kept my end of the bargain. I let you fuck my boyfriend like you wanted. You aren’t going to fuck him again are you?” She looked at Sofia very pleadingly, not wanting to lose her closest friend in the world. Her eyes betrayed the amount of pain she had just experienced not too long ago.

This made her redhead friend scoff in a bitchy tone. “Are you serious? Do you really want to stay friends with me after I fucked your boyfriend in front of you? You really are a pathetic cuck, aren’t you? Such a loser,” Sofia taunted her and Murphy quickly cried out in protest.

Sofia turns to him. “What? You think you can stand up to me, baby, but you already belong to my pussy. I claimed you with it. Your cock smells of my pussy and tastes of it. You will never be able to clean yourself of my pussy juices. It has soaked into your skin and is now a part of your being.” My pheromones are embedded in you.

Sofia then left to get a shower as Rachel & Murphy sat in the room together alone. Murphy looked at Rachel and said “Please listen. I will clean my cock and get rid of the smell of her pussy. My cock won’t taste of her pussy by the time I’m done showering. I promise, baby.”

Rachel didn’t reply.

“I only fucked her for you. You want to remain her friend and upholding your end of the bet is the way to do that.” He waited for his black haired girlfriend to say something, anything at all, but she didn’t. Then it got worse when she finally broke her silence.

“You gave in too easily,” she finally said to him.

Murphy stared at Rachel with a noticeably confused expression on his face.

“I only had to beg you briefly. You should have put up a much bigger fight but instead you just let her take your clothes off and fuck you right there. You are a slut.”

Murphy scoffed at this in disbelief.

Rachel glared at him like he was a disgusting piece of trash and sure, maybe it hurt him so bad, but he can’t blame her for being so upset right now. She was just forced to watch her boyfriend lose his virginity to her best friend.

“Honey, I didn’t know what to do. I did not want to sleep with her but you were pretty adamant about it. I had to do it because I love you,” he told Rachel in a desperate tone.

She still looked right at Murphy frostily, and he could feel the despair welling up inside him. What was he supposed to do? Ignore her? She was the one who told him to do this! He told her not to take the bet but she did and now he is the bad guy because he did what she told him to do, so that she can keep her friend.

“And you blasted four loads inside her too! How could you cum inside her. Your semen belongs to me! I did not give you the permission to cum inside Sofia,” she continued to rant against him. So now he’s also in the wrong for not being able to stop himself from cumming?

It was starting to grate on Murphy now and his face showed it.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that.” Rachel yelled. “This is not my fault. You belong to me and I can lend your cock to Sofia as part of a bet, but what I never did was give you the permission to cum inside her, and that’s what you did.”

Rachel then left the house. Murphy sat there, still feeling dazed by all that has happened to him. He still couldn’t believe he let Sofia fuck him in front of Rachel, like that. It was just so unlike him to engage in such depraved acts. Before dating Rachel, he never even got as far as holding hands with a girl before. And then Sofia conspired with Rachel and took it even further and deflowered him. He was starting to get a headache now as all these thoughts swirled through his head.

About ten minutes, later Sofia came out of the bathroom. She smiled once she saw him still sitting there. “Want to do it with me again, baby?” she asked him. “I was a virgin before you, you know? My Rachel though, that one was a massive slut. She fucked half the guys in our grade, already. Her pussy is all loose now. It will never feel as good as mine. Constant pounding from those guys ruined it forever.” She had a very arrogant smirk on her face. “Once you’ve had it, you’re going leave her. I know you would.”

“Why are you doing this?” he demanded angrily. “She was your friend and you just fucked me in front of her. I had to let you because she begged me to, but she only begged me to do that because you forced her. You said you would stop being friends with her if you didn’t get my dick. Why, Sofia? Why?” Murphy was still oblivious and had no idea why she did what she did. He might be a smart guy but has always been clueless when it comes to these sort of charms. These dark arts of the seductress.

“Because I’ve been completely in love with you ever since the moment we met and that bitch was in the way,” Sofia said.

He looked at her in shock.

“You heard me right. I love you, Murphy. I want to go out with you. I know it makes me a shitty friend to Rachel but I can’t help it.” She placed her hands on his chest. “You are my slut now, Murphy. You have already started falling in love with my pussy. I have already marked your cock with my pussy potions. Your cock will smell of my pussy. It will taste like my pussy now, and Rachel won’t be able to stomach it. She will dump you and you will come back to fuck me again, and we will live together happily ever after, baby.”

Murphy looked at her like she had grown a second head. “Nonsense; Once I wash my cock, it will no longer smell of your pussy,” he told her and then finally got up from the bed. He yanked his boxers and pants back on, and then stood at the spot where he picked up his clothes from. “You can’t tear us apart. Me and Rachel have a good relationship. I am sorry that I made you feel you should do something messed up like this, but it is really wrong. I can’t fuck you ever again.”

He felt confident that he can make things right with Rachel. But is that what he really wants from the bottom of his heart? Or is he just trying to do the moral thing? No, he can’t let her get into his head like that. He can’t think clearly. Something is messing with his head.

“Want to make a bet?” Sofia asked him. “If she can still be with you after this, I will stop trying to break the two of you up. But if she dumps you, you have to be mine forever. If you try to reject me I will rape you. I only have to do it once since you’re already just a few steps away from being addicted to my divine pussy. Once I’ve fucked you again, you will be helpless to resist. My cunt will enslave you and turn you into my cute whore, baby. Your place is between my legs. I’ll make you fuck me every day to show you that I own you and your cock is mine to do with as I please.” Then she added “By the way, my pussy juices have a very strong smell and flavor. You will never be able to get rid of it, no matter how much you shower.” It’s like a tattoo, all over your cock & balls. It’s already absorbed in you, reacting to the matching pheromones you drank this morning.

Murphy had enough of this now and he quickly snapped “Fine! If Rachel doesn’t want me anymore, then I am all yours.” He then left the house in a fit of frustration. The manslut is ashamed to see that his cock is straining up against his pants at the thought of getting fucked by Sofia again. He can’t let himself get turned into her slut. No, he can’t be her sex slave. She tried to steal him from his girlfriend but she failed. Rachel will come around and listen to reason once he gets to talk to her about what had happened.

Because he has no telepathy powers, he doesn’t know that Rachel’s determined desire to be with him has been greatly weakened after seeing what happened between him and Sofia. She doesn’t want to get leftovers from her friend but did not feel ready enough to say it to him before leaving. Sofia managed to read her mind easily enough though, and knows that Rachel would definitely break up with Murphy soon. Murphy would then have no one left to go to but her, and she

Telepathy & Pheromones: part 2Jealousy between two vixens.By...

Tue, 09 Aug 2022 11:31:12 -0500

Telepathy & Pheromones: part 2

Jealousy between two vixens.

By Dash91830 - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Sofia left her brother with a couple of bodyguards after telling them to make sure that he doesn’t run off again. She got in her car and slowly followed Murphy back to the high school, at a distance. She already logged her independent training laps for the track team, during the lunch break so she can care for Shane when he got home from his school. She’s only going to the practice because she wants Rachel to properly introduce them, so that she can worm her way into Murphy’s life. She has it so bad for him right now and can’t think of anything else other than losing her virginity to the hero. Rachel is her best friend but Sofia is prepared to cross that red line if she can persuade Murphy to be with her. As she sees him going toward the track, she drives into the parking lot and approaches Rachel and the team from another direction

She clenched her fists in jealous rage when she saw Rachel hugging the Murphy and kissed him on the cheek.

“Hi, baby,” the black haired teen said to Murphy. “I’m really glad you could come.” She then saw Sofia and told him “My best friend is right over there. Let me just introduce you to her.” Rachel then waves her over and as Murphy turns around to see, he is surprised that it is Sofia, sister of the boy he just saved earlier, the ginger who offered to give him a blowjob as a thank you. It is a small world, Murphy thinks to himself.

Sofia pretends to be surprised too and exclaims “It is you? Wow! Rachel, you picked a great guy to go out with!” Then she threw her arms around Murphy in a massive hug and sends a wave of light jealousy into Rachel’s head, making her feel slightly insecure of Murphy. Sofia must carefully ruin their relationship with a slow increase in mistrust.

“I honestly had no idea you are dating my closest friend when we met, Murphy. This is a huge coincidence, isn’t it? How did you two get together?” She knew that this would make Rachel suspicious of what happened between her and Murphy, even though nothing really happened.

Rachel just stared. Murphy removed himself from Sofia’s arm. He smiled awkwardly at her and then back at his girlfriend as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

Rachel finally inquired; “Honey, you two have already met each other?” He sheepishly nodded his head, still somewhat shocked that Sofia had begged him to let her suck his cock.

“How though? I want to know how you two met each other.” Her voice is laced with puzzled insecurity and it made Sofia inwardly smirk, as she can detect her friend’s frantic thoughts easily. Sofia would have to be careful and not push too quickly though, or Rachel might be able to figure out about how she has telepathic powers and has been using them on her.

“He saved Shane’s life,” Sofia announced admiringly to her best friend, whose eyes go wide in surprise. She clearly wasn’t expecting that one.

“Shane ran out into the street when the guys who picked him up earlier weren’t paying attention. I was too far away to reach him in time but Murphy was at a bench in the park & he ran right into the street to grab him, before a massive truck would have hit him. He is a hero, Rachel. You are so lucky to have him as your boyfriend.” Sofia gave her friend a smile that betrayed nothing.

Rachel relaxed and looked at Murphy with new pride. She hated herself for even momentarily suspecting Sofia, unaware that her best friend is already thinking of sucking her boyfriend’s cock and thrusting her virginity on him, stealing him away from Rachel.

“Is that right, sweetie?” Rachel asked. Murphy shyly nodded and she kissed him on the tip of his nose, making Sofia possessed. “That was a really brave thing for you to do, honey. I’m so proud of you, right now.” She meant it too. She was really glad to have such a courageous boyfriend, not knowing that he had unintentionally won over Sofia’s heart. He also doesn’t know that he is now the mafia princess’ object of affections.

“I better get home now. My brother has to eat soon,” Sofia said to her best friend and the guy she wants.

Rachel could still feel an inkling of jealousy but she told herself she has nothing to worry about. Sofia is her best friend, after all. Still, she knew how horny the redhead is. If she ever wanted Murphy and managed to get her lips around his cock, he would be a goner.

“You should be careful around her,” Rachel decided to warn her naïve boyfriend. “I don’t want to badmouth Sofia since she is my friend but she is very horny and enjoys sucking dicks. She might even try to seduce you and get you to face fuck her. I mean it.” Murphy blushed and Rachel assumes that he was just embarrassed from her bluntly talking about sex. She had no idea Sofia already offered to suck his dick about 10 minutes ago when they first met each other by the park. He believed her when she said that Sofia is really horny. He completely believed her.

“Of course, honey,” Murphy assured her. “I will never cheat on you, so you don’t have anything to worry about. My ride home will be here soon, so I’m going to stay here and watch you practice first before I go. I’ll try not to distract you.”

She smiled at him as she went straight back to her practice squad and he sat and watched. It is wonderful to see how athletic she is. She is so talented and hard working, and he can tell, even if he doesn’t know a thing about sports, that she is excellent.

When he had to leave, he waved her ‘bye’ and she blew a kiss to him. When he got home he went to his home & clicked the lock then jacked off to the image of his girlfriend’s sexy ass in her tight running shorts; and jiggly tits bouncing as she flies down the running track.

It’s Wednesday, 6am and Sofia is feeling very frustrated. She is at the shooting range with some of the men her father left behind to guard her. Not that she needs any protection. The girl is an excellent shot with her pistol. Right now she is practicing before school, firing multiple rounds into the center of the target, getting many bullseyes in a row, with ease. This is a way for her to vent all of her frustration and anger. Even her bodyguards are impressed with how accurate she is, especially given the fact that she is in a very foul mood right now. Her hands remained perfectly steady and her aim as impeccable as it always is.

It had been a couple of days since she met Murphy for the first time and she really wanted him to be hers. Seeing him talk to Rachel made her upset in many ways. She didn’t like seeing him with another girl, specifically her own friend. The fact that she felt this way also made Sofia feel a little guilty. Just a bit guilty, before she went right back to thinking about how she can get into his pants. Murphy is too loyal to Rachel to cheat on her willingly, so Sofia has to either break the two of them up first or force him to fuck her.

But how can she force him to fuck her though? Gun point? Nah, he might not be able to get an erection if she points a Smith & Wesson at his head. She will have to make Rachel paranoid in order to sabotage the two of them. This begged another question of how she can make someone paranoid. Suddenly a perfect plan occurred to her. If she knows more about Murphy than Rachel would expect her to, that could easily trigger suspicion. She would let sit back and watch for a moment as the jealousy slowly consumes Rachel. After that, she could take it further, one step at a time.

The athletic ginger quickly finished up her target practice. She then got back to the mansion. Sofia headed up to her room to get a shower and change clothes. Then the redhead grabbed her car key. Her dad bought her a Lamborghini as a birthday gift for her the day she got her driving license. She drove over to the school very fast and arrived with twenty minutes left. Most of her teammates were already there and they all greeted her respectfully. Sofia nodded at them before going off to look for a certain nerd boy.

Once she found Murphy, she cornered the boy in the library with a cute smirk on her face. “Hi, Murph!”

He said ‘hi’ back, his face entirely red in embarrassment. Why does he still have to blush like this whenever a girl talks to him? He already has a girlfriend, for goodness’ sake!

Unbeknownst to him, the redhead sprinter was getting into his head to look around for clues about what she can do to make Rachel jealous and steal him away from her. He has always been an open book and hence it was extra easy for her to read his mind.

The beautiful ginger wasn’t surprised to see that he is a submissive and obeys Rachel. It is pretty obvious from how meek and timid he is. He just couldn’t be anything else but a sub, she thought to herself.

She was also surprised to see that he likes Italian Tiramisu cake, just like she does. ‘We now have something in common,’ Sofia thought to herself giddily as she slowly eased up on her telepathic activity. She could get tired if she went in too deep and the exhaustion could show up on her face and make Murphy suspicious. That’s the last thing she wants right now.

“I’d really love to hang out but we both need to get to classes now,” Murphy said to her, finally bringing her fully out of her reverie. Sofia nodded and the two of them walked to their homeroom classes. She looked at his back longingly as he headed the other way and then went into her own homeroom class, silently telling herself to keep calm and not worry too much. The redhead might be a bit of a slut with how many cocks she’s sucked but Rachel is much sluttier. She might even break up with Murphy on her own, to go back to whoring around.

Sofia’s morning classes were really boring and she couldn’t wait for lunch break to come. When it arrived, Sofia left the campus, to a bakery store. She bought a tiramisu cake and took it back to the school. There, she found Rachel and other teammates sitting at their regular lunch table, with Rachel being cajoled about her new boyfriend. Kate and Ann both enjoyed ribbing her and Sofia for being slutty, with Sofia often protesting that she isn’t really a slut since she’s a virgin, even if many boys have gotten blowjobs from her.

“Hey, captain,” Ann greeted as Sofia joined them at the table. “Will you be at after school practice today?” Sofia nodded with a light smile on her face. “Good! I mean, you don’t really need it since you are already extremely fast, but it will be cool to have you with us.” Ann then ate more of her salad while Sofia munched on her banana. These girls ate healthy food at every meal to keep themselves in excellent physical condition, not just for athletic performance, but also their sexual performance. With the sole exception of Sofia, who is the last virgin left on the team, they have all fucked many guys.

“Did you know that Rachel’s got a new boy toy now?” Kath asked Sofia, who just gave another nod and a slightly forced smile as she thought about Rachel and Murphy together. “How long do you think it would be before she fucks him?” Kath asks, then answers herself without waiting;” I’d say only about a week, given how loose she is.”

Ann snickered at this. “You are a bit of a whore too, aren’t you, Sofia?” Sofia chuckled lightly. She only sucked cocks and never rode any, but her friends still called her a whore for it. Rachel told Sofia that Murphy has never gotten even a kiss before he started dating her, much less a blowjob from a girl. It made Sofia determined to be the first girl to touch his cock.

“He isn’t just a boy toy,” Rachel informed her friends. “I seriously like Murphy a lot and am serious with him.” She could tell that her teammates don’t believe her, and they had a good reason. The raven haired beauty did fuck over 30 guys in the three months after she turned 18.

“Anyway, he wants to wait until we have been dating for some time before sleeping with me, and I can respect that. He is still a virgin. Losing virginity is a big deal for every boy. I want it to be a special experience for him because I care.” Rachel declared, not convincing anyone at the table.

“Just be gentle with him,” Sofia said to her closest friend, making both Kath and Ann giggle. “You’d be popping his cherry after all. Actually, you know what? I really think that you should wait for a bit of time, Rachel. Wait until the two of you have developed strong feelings for each other first so that it would be a more meaningful experience.”

Ann frowned at this, and so did Kath, but neither of them ever spoke against her. Sofia was the one in charge of their posse, after all. She always has been for a very long time now, and that won’t change anytime soon.

“I don’t think so.” Rachel objected. “He might agree with you because he wants to wait, but I do not want to wait. If he tries to make me wait, I will rape him,” Rachel told Sofia and the other girls, all of whom now gasped in shock. They just couldn’t believe what they heard.

“My mom did roofie my dad when they were in school together so maybe it’s just time I do the same thing with Murphy,” Rachel rationalized. “He is my boyfriend so I have the right to fuck him whenever I want to.” While Ann was a little apprehensive, Kath just nodded in agreement.

“Exactly,” Kath chirped in. “Our boyfriends’ bodies belong to us, Rachel. You don’t need to have his consent. Just slip something into his water and tie him up while he’s out. Then fuck him when he wakes up,” she said to Rachel. “I did it to my boyfriend just a week ago. His loser parents told him that sex is sinful and all that shit, and he seemed to kind of believe it, so I just raped him. He was so cute when he begged me to stop.” Rachel and Kath high fived as Sofia and Ann rolled their eyes. They knew just how entitled Kath feels with regard to her boyfriend.

“Don’t use drugs, there’s going to be evidence of it in his system,” Melissa, another girl on the team who is at the table with them spoke up. “What I did when my boyfriend wouldn’t put out is tell him I would spread rumors about him having a tiny cock. Blackmail is so much better since there is no trace of it left behind.” Kath looked surprised to see that Melissa also had to resort to rape. “He used to be willing but then I kind of cheated on him,” Melissa said in response to the questioning look she just got.

Sofia spent the rest of lunch listening to her friends debate the best way to rape a boy and get away with it. It was a very interesting conversation but she had to get to class soon, so the redhead quickly finished her meal and left before any of them. She left a special little cake in Murphy’s locker, along with a sweet thank you note on behalf of her family, then got to the next class and spent the rest of the school day mooning over Murphy. Once school was over, Sofia headed straight home and was surprised to see her dad at home so soon. He did say he would be gone for at least a week or two.

“Hey, honey,” the seasoned mob boss said to his daughter, hugging her and kissing her forehead gently. She is one of the very few people he has ever been affectionate with, along with his wife and son. “Did anything happen while I was away?” Sofia now had a distressed look on her face as she thought about how to talk to him about this. It is the first time she has ever been in love and she needs someone to help her figure out what she should do next.

“Tell me what it is.,” Dad implored. “I know from the look on your face that something’s up.”

“I’m in love with a guy but he is dating Rachel,” Sofia said. Her father exhaled. “If it was some other guy I would have just had someone kidnap him but how can I do that when Murphy is my best friend’s boyfriend?” She looked up at her father and continued “I have to work out a way to make the two of them break up. That is the only way. I can’t live without him. I only met him a few days ago but I know I need Murphy so much. He is the only boy I have ever loved.”

The Trap is designed

On Thursday night Sofia was hanging out over at Rachel’s. She usually came here to hang out in her bedroom and play poker with her and a few other friends, but this night it was just the two of them here alone, as Rachel’s parents were out of town. Sofia was pouring some vodka from the bottle that Rachel swiped from a cabinet. They usually don’t drink often since it can impact their athletic performance. Once a week is fine though, and today is a Thursday. Both of them only have a few classes on Friday, being free for half of the day. That’s why the duo felt okay with drinking today. But this night, Rachel drank too much.

“I wanna tell you something,” Rachel slurred to her. “Izza bout what I been doing to Murphy.” Sofia knew exactly what her black haired drunk friend was about to say. She has read Rachel’s mind before and was doing it right now. Rachel was about tell her about doing something which Sofia already knows she did. “I like ta piss inna water bottle and give it to him, saying that it’s tea. It turns me on so much seeing him drink my pee at school without even knowing what he is doing.” Rachel didn’t say where she got the idea, but she looked very giddy as she shared this information with the ginger.

“No way!” Sofia exclaimed, pretending to be surprised by this. “I refuse to believe you actually did that. Unless you can do it in front of me right now, I just can’t believe it.” Rachel just took her booty shorts and panties off, revealing her bald pussy. She prefers to shave, unlike Sofia, who is growing a massive bush right above her cunt. Then the raven-haired beauty grabbed an empty water bottle and started urinating into it in front of Sofia. “Wow, you really are one crazy bitch, you know that? That is some really messed up stuff, bitch.” This just made Rachel lightly smile. Rachel tucked the bottle in her backpack and said; “You watch! Tomorrow, he’ll drink this bottle dry.”

That night, while drunken Rachel was snoring in bed, Sofia sneaked out of the bedroom with the backpack. She went into the bathroom and then poured the contents into the toilet. She then washed it thoroughly in the kitchen. After that, the redhead returned to the downstairs bathroom & removed her pajamas bottoms and urinated inside the bottle, filling it up as quickly as her best friend did before they went to sleep. Then she set the water bottle in the backpack & stealthily returns to Rachel’s bedroom & sets it back where she found it, & got back under the covers.

The rest of the night, she felt constant arousal from what she just did. It turned her on so much to think that tomorrow, instead of drinking Rachel’s piss, he’d be drinking hers. Sofia couldn’t stop the stream of juices flowing out of her lusting pussy. She can only hope Rachel’s nose isn’t good enough to pick up the rival scent, since she is leaking a lot. Sofia’s hairy cunt is on fire right now, throbbing with need. But she can’t just go to the boy’s house and rape him. Not while he is still dating Rachel. It’s just not right to her. She has to break them up first.

When the girls woke up, Rachel rubbed her tired eyes. She can handle some alcohol, but not as well as Sofia. Sofia only has a tiny bit of headache, whereas Rachel is experiencing a full blown hangover. “Hey, did I tell you something weird last night?” she asks Sofia.

The athletic redhead smirked. Realization dawned on Rachel, whose pretty face rapidly paled in terror. “Oh no, oh, no,” she mumbled and running her hands through her hair. “I couldn’t have possibly told you that. No way. I didn’t get that drunk, did I?” I couldn’t have. It’s impossible.“

"Relax, Rachel. You told me everything last night,” Sofia said. Sofia deeply enjoyed the look of terror on her best friend’s face and continued, milking it “I heard you say that you pissed into a bottle and told Murphy it is tea, to trick him into drinking your piss. That was a cool move, by the way.

You made it so that everywhere he goes, he is forced to take you with him. Or at least, a part of you that he drank. It is kind of romantic, in my opinion. I think you should keep on doing it to him. Tell him what you did when the two of you are more secure.”

“You really don’t think I’m a disgusting pig for doing this?” Rachel asked with a large amount of disbelief in her voice.

Sofia has always had a reliable moral compass, despite being the daughter of a powerful mob boss. The redhead nodded and her raven haired best friend hugged her tightly. “Oh, thank you so much! I am really glad we’re still cool,

Telepathy & Pheromones: part 1A new boytoy on campus.By...

Mon, 08 Aug 2022 11:30:43 -0500

Telepathy & Pheromones: part 1

A new boytoy on campus.

By Dash91830 - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Murphy groaned as he reached over with his hand to switch the alarm clock off. He liked going to school but hated waking up so early for that. It is really necessary though. There is simply no other choice for him. The new school is a bit far from his house and he has to leave early if he wants to get there in time. He quickly got into the shower stall and showered as quickly as he could. The boy also looked for something to wear to school while he does so. Despite being able to afford it, he isn’t picky about what he wears. He’s slender, handsome, and introverted. He’s a late bloomer and still growing, despite turning 18 just two weeks ago. The fall semester at Edison High started last week.

Once done, he quickly put his clothes on. Then he checked to see if he’s packed everything properly. Satisfied that he has, he went into the dining room where his parents waited for him. His dad sat at the table while his mom is in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Like usual, Murphy’s father is reading the morning newspaper. Murphy believes he’s got his nerdy side from his dad but the truth is he would have ended up as a dork on his own, anyway. His dad also being one is merely a coincidence and not a cause or anything like that.

“Hey, honey,” his mom says to him, over the counter which divides the two rooms. She appears with a plate of waffles & sat down at the table. “How’s school lately? Did you make any new friends in this new town?” He sighed to himself. Not this conversation again!

“I know that transferring schools in your senior year can be very rough but you can still try to find someone to hang out with. No need to be alone all the time, you know? Just think about it.” It is one of the very rare occasions when Murphy thinks that his mom is boring. Extremely rare. Most of the time she is charismatic and interesting to talk to, especially when she brags about how she seduced his dad.

“Mom, thank you for worrying about me, but I’m fine. You have nothing to worry about,” Murphy told her. “I can be on my own. I don’t need lots of friends or anything like that.” He then starts to eat the waffles.

His father then says “I think your mom is right on this though,” making his eyes go wide in surprise. Murphy can’t believe his dad would say that he needs to get out more. The middle aged man is as much of an introvert as he is. “I missed a lot of chances to make friends when I was your age. Don’t make the same mistakes as I did. It would be good for you to have some friends you can still hang out with after it is all over.”

Murphy sighs. “Thanks, but it won’t be as enjoyable for me, because I like it better when I’m alone,” he informed both of them. “I don’t need a lot of other people in my life. I like to read & study; and I enjoy movies & music. That’s all. Having some friends is only going to be a waste of my time. A girlfriend is a completely different subject though. That I won’t mind having one, but it might be a long time before I can get any.” And then he went back to eating the waffles again, but quickly now, wanting to get away from this conversation & get to school ahead of time.

“Every introvert says that before they meet someone,” his mother said. “Take your dad, for example. He was a total geek just like you. I mean, he still is a geek, but you get my point.” His father flushes slightly and Murphy snickered. “I dropped several hints but he didn’t think that a cheerleader like me could want him, and failed to pick up on my subtle hints. That’s why I ended up slipping a sedative into his orange juice & deflowered him. It was the perfect first date,” she said to her son with a smile, recalling that wonderful, distant memory.

Sometimes Murphy would let himself wonder if his mom is a little insane or something to brag about raping his dad, but he never asked her that. “That does sound very romantic,” the sardonic boy said with a roll of his eyes. “But I’m not going to drug anyone like you drugged dad though. Guys get convicted of felonies for that stuff. Plus, the idea of it just doesn’t appeal to me.” He then quickly ate the rest of his waffles and waited for his mom and dad to do the same, so that he could wash the dishes before his mom drove him to school. She always dropped him off at school on her way to work.

“Just remember what I said. Try not to be alone all of the time,” she said to him as he left the car and walked up to the school building. Murphy has told her countless times that he would try his best, and always did.

Does she worry that I’ll ‘Columbine’ my new school, he wondered?

It just never worked. A few girls at the old school thought he was cute but didn’t want to have any meaningful, long term relationship with him. Two goth girls thought he was just a loser & they wanted to fuck him once and then him throw away, like a used Kleenex. That’s actually what the second one said to him. Murphy wanted to save himself for someone who saw him as more than that. Murphy is very selective about all his relationships, but those relationships have much deeper meaning to him than other teenagers can appreciate.

He got to the library and sat down at a table by himself. There, he pulled an old novel out from his backpack and then started to read. It is a very interesting one, one that he’s reread several times already. Murphy just can’t stop coming back to it. He perused through the pages and hummed to himself, feeling content with the peace and quiet of the library. He’d only been here a week but it is already his favorite place in the school and the second place doesn’t even come close in his mind. Not by a long shot. There is nowhere else he would rather spend time before morning classes start.

Suddenly, someone else sat down on the chair opposite him. “Hey, cutie,” the person said, making him look up in surprise. No girl has ever called him a cutie before. Even the very few ones who wanted to just hook up made it clear that he is below them. He is even more surprised to see how beautiful the girl who just called him cute, is. She is a very pretty black haired girl named Rachel. Rachel is on the track and field team, and the school’s second fastest female sprinter, with a personal record of 13.94 seconds for the 100m sprint. She’s tall, athletically lean, and looks more like a college girl than a high school senior.

“Uh, Hi!” he stammers out, still feeling shaken by the beautiful girl who is now coyly batting her eyelashes at him. He couldn’t believe this. Murphy has been objectified before a few times but this is the first time someone has ever looked at him this way. “Your name is Rachel, right?” She nodded. “I’m Murphy. I just moved to this town over summer break, so I haven’t gotten to talk with a lot of people yet. Would you mind showing me around?” Murphy curses his talkative, trembling voice for making him sound like an idiot in front of the raven-haired beauty.

Rachel giggled. “You don’t need to try to flirt with me. I’ll do all the flirting” she told him boldly, and he flushed. “I’ll also treat you to dinner tonight, so just call your parents and tell them that you have a date with one of the hottest girls in school.” Murphy was shocked by how bold she was, but also can’t help feeling a little turned on. He has always secretly desired a dominant girl to tell him what to do. The way she just told him he is going on a date with her instead of asking, is just so hot.

He quickly yanked his phone out of his pocket and called his mom to tell her a girl just asked him out. Murphy only had to wait a few seconds before she excitedly told him to say ‘yes!” The boy then switched his phone off and shyly told Rachel “Sure! I’ll go on the date with you.” He then glanced aside and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide his blushing face from her. His cheeks burnt up, as red as a tomato now. He really can’t hide it when he is feeling shy or embarrassed, and he knows it.

“Baby, I wasn’t asking,” Rachel said. “My best friend’s father is a mob boss. I’d have gotten her to help me force you to go out with me, if you said no.” She then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before leaving the table. Murphy just sat there, stunned at what just happened to him. This is crazy. He has never experienced anything like this at his old school. A part of him was slightly alarmed at how casually she said she could force him to be with her, but then he dismisses it, thinking she was joking.

During the homeroom class, he tried to focus on reading but couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to Rachel and her smile. Her eyes mesmerized him and seemed to captivate his soul. Murphy realized with a start that he has never been affected in this way by any girl before. It’s why he is still a virgin. That, and the fact that no other girl had ever expressed genuine interest in him. They all either saw him as a geek, the sort of guy you’re just friends with, or a guy to have a one night stand with. No one ever asked, or rather, told him to go on a date with her.

At the end of the last class, Rachel walked him to the parking lot, where her Porsche is parked. He gasped, making her smirk as she opened the passenger-side door for him. Then she got behind the steering wheel and told him to buckle up, before driving off to a little restaurant not too far away. All the way there she charmed Murphy with various anecdotes and continued to win him over with her magnetic smile. He was dazzled by her soothing, honey-like voice and found himself unable to look away. It also helps her that she is wearing a tight T-shirt that shows off her toned arms. But there was something else. Something; bewitching?

“I lift weights a lot,” she said to him and flexed her arm, showing off her firm muscles. He blushed, even more smitten now when she gave him a very roguish smirk. She knew exactly how to charm him and switched her cool charisma up to the maximum. It is the first date that Murphy has ever been on in his entire life and he found that it was far less scary than he thought it would be. All he had to do is stay calm, listen to her talk and tell her about himself. “What do you like doing in your spare time?” Rachel asks him, interested.

“I like reading, some movies. I particularly like science-fiction novels a lot,” he told her, hoping she wouldn’t think he’s a dork. He was relieved when she just smiled. “I also go for hikes too, when I have time and want some fresh air, but I’m not particularly ‘outdoorsy’. But now I think I’ll start going to your track practice and to watch you race. I’ve been told you are the best sprinter here. Really can’t wait to see how fast you can go.” At this she started chuckling and he frowned with fear he’d said something wrong. “What is it? Did I say something wrong?” Murphy asked her.

“Nothing,” she assured him. “It’s just that there is another girl who is even faster than I am. She’s the one I told you about, whose dad is a mafia boss. I’ll have to introduce you to her later.” This semester we’re just informally practicing. Real varsity competition starts after the holidays.

Rachel woke up feeling extremely happy, Monday morning. It had been a few days since she and the new boy went out together. He’s very cute and she feels that he might really be the one for her, even though they’ve only been on two dates, the first one being their dinner, last Friday, at the rustic restaurant. The second being a trip to the cinema on Saturday. Now she was thinking about where to go with him next. There were so many ideas going through her head and she tried to come up with the best one. She wants to get into his pants as quickly as possible, so somewhere very romantic where she can woo him and seduce Murphy right out of his clothes.

She was far more sexually experienced than her best friend Sofia, who is still technically a virgin. Technically, since even though she never had a cock in her pussy, Sofia has given blowjobs to all five of her ex boyfriends. Her ex boyfriends were all assholes she only dated to increase her popularity, as she told Rachel several times.

Rachel always told Sofia that she didn’t need to rely on them for status, because Sofia is already very popular on her own as captain of the track team and a very beautiful redhead. Both of the girls were much more experienced than Murphy though, because he never even got as far as holding hands before he met Rachel. The girls had studied various arts of seduction since junior high, and mastered many of them.

Eating breakfast alone on the back patio, a crazy old idea suddenly occurred to Rachel. She found an empty water bottle and then reached under her skirt and took her panties off. Then she took off the cap &set it on the lawn, with her shaved pussy just above it. Rachel then started urinating into the water bottle. She pissed inside it, and then screwed the lid back on it tightly. Her face had a devilish grin on it as she thought of what she just did and is now about to do. If the old book of charms was true, it would be perfect. Her innocent new boyfriend would never suspect a damn thing. Just thinking of it made her cackle.

Then she went to her bathroom and quickly took a shower. Her parents have already left for work so she jogged the 6 blocks to school like she and Sofia usually do. Sofia and Rachel have been best friends since the age of eight. They have always been as thick as thieves & nearly inseparable. Sofia’s dad is a ruthless mobster and the only person he cares about, other than his wife and 2 children, is Rachel, since she is his oldest child’s best friend.

When Sofia arrived at school, Murphy was already there, getting a book from his locker. Seeing his girlfriend, Murphy gave her a brilliant smile with slightly tinged cheeks. “Hey, baby,” he said to her. and puckered his lips, and Rachel leans in to peck him gently. He beamed and she was lost in his cuteness. The boy is so damn adorable and she can’t help it. She has never seen a boy this cute before. It’s not really his face but also the way he acts, his expressions and body language. Such innocence on a guy is rare.

“I got you something,” she said to him as she handed him the water bottle. “It’s a special tea. I made it myself.” The second part is true, at least. She could feel her panties getting damp as she anticipated about what she was going to see in just a few seconds, now. “Why don’t you drink it now and tell me what you think of it, honey?” Her eyes looked so innocent that no one would suspect anything, even if they were told what she is capable of. She has gotten away with a lot of pranks in the past due to her innocent looks.

“Sure, baby!” Murphy replied and then removed the cap. It smelled a bit putrid since it is literally fresh piss, but he didn’t know that. He drank it and was surprised by how salty it is, but since he is no expert on tea, he assumed that there is a blend of tea which is this salty. It did taste pretty good to him though. He smiled at her brightly. “I love it,” he says to her. Rachel smiled, inwardly giggling at how fun it is, duping her adorable boyfriend into swallowing her pheromone-rich piss. “This is really delicious. What blend is it, Rachel?”

Rachel could barely keep a straight face when she says “That’s an old secret, honey. I don’t want you getting it from anyone but me.” He raised his eyebrows at this but didn’t say anything else as the two headed off to their homeroom classes. He did feel that it tastes weird but it’s still delicious to Murphy. He took a couple more sips and Rachel had to try to contain her giggles. She couldn’t believe he is so easy to fool. Oh this is going to be a very fun day, for her at least. “I’ll make you more whenever you want, baby.”

“Thanks, Rachel,” he said sweetly, and the two of them part for separate homerooms. Rachel grinned to herself and walked towards her own homeroom, where she spent the next 20 minutes grinning like a mad cat. This is easily the best day of her life, so far. It is even better than the time she got gang-banged for the first time on the day after her 18th birthday, and that was really awesome, with getting a cum-shower at the very end. It was just perfect.

In her first period after homeroom, she saw Sofia walking in. The redhead is a little bit taller, but has a more perfect ass than Rachel and any other girl in the school. Her thighs are also very powerful. Sofia is the fastest girl on the track and field team, holding the school record of 12.61 seconds. She is also very talented at sucking cocks. All her ex boyfriends were very satisfied, but she wasn’t, not because they were lacking in the sex department but since they were all jerks, whose only use was to make her look good when out with them.

“Hey! What’s up?” Sofia asked her best friend and gives her a hug. Sofia is not only a great athlete but she possesses the rare power of telepathy as well. Since junior high, she has been able to read other people’s thoughts and, with practice, influence their feelings. But the girl doesn’t like to use these powers very much, since they make her feel like she is violating other people’s privacy. No one knows about her abilities, since she fears being thought of as a freak. The girl wanted a life as normal as possible, which is already hard enough with her dad and brother being gangsters. No need to draw more attention with her psychic abilities.

“Well,” Rachel coyly said; “I met this really cute guy a few days ago,” Rachel began. Sofia smiled and prompted her to go on. “He’s really adorable! I’m not going to introduce him to you though since I’m afraid you might want to suck his dick. You enjoy seducing guys by sucking cocks, don’t you?” Sofia just smirked at her friend shamelessly. Rachel knew about all five guys she dated. Sofia also gave blowjobs to several college boys during last summer, and Rachel knew that, too. The ginger loved nothing more than feeling an expanding cock, then ejaculate in her mouth and down her throat. It empowered her because it makes a guy want nothing more than more and more of her. She has yet to try real sex though, and her cunt is still untouched. By keeping her cunt out of their reach, She makes them want her even more.

Sofia normally doesn’t like using her telepathy powers but right now she is very curious, probing into her friend’s mind. The gangster’s daughter nearly gasped when she conjurred the shy boy with a coquettish grin on his innocent face. ‘He really is adorable,’ she thought to herself. Then Sofia went in deeper and was shocked to see Rachel pissing inside a water bottle, and giving that bottle to the same boy.

“So what’s his name?” she asked, not wanting to seem suspicious. She might have never told Rachel about the powers she was gifted with, but Rachel isn’t dumb. She might figure it out one day.

“All right, fine. I’ll tell you,” Rachel said after Sofia subtly influenced her mood. “But only because you are my closest friend. You better not start getting any ideas about sucking this guy’s cock.” She paused, waiting for Sofia to nod and give the requested promise.

“His name is Murphy. He just transferred.” Then Rachel asked; “What about your week, Sofia? Sucked any new cock this week? I know how much you enjoy drinking warm semen.” Sofia snickered, not at all offended by this. It is the truth, after all.

“Not this week, no. I just spent most of it babysitting my little brother, Shane.” Sofia is fiercely protective of the boy. He is one of the very few people she deeply cares about, along with her parents and Rachel. “He wanted to stay up and watch Star Wars all night last night, but I told him ‘no’, and he was a bit upset about it.”

“Your parents are away awfully often, lately,” Rachel observed.

Sofia sighed, and said nothing.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Rachel said. “Just tell me everything is alright.” Both of them know that they can’t discuss Sofia’s dad very much since his life is constantly shrouded in secrecy. It is just a part of being a mob boss, after all. Sofia’s dad is nice enough to both of them but they are still under strict orders not to talk too much about what he does and where he is when he goes on his trips around the country. He also doesn’t tell them much to begin with, to make sure they don’t know anything dangerous. This is for their own safety, as well as his.

“They are okay, I think,” Sofia said to her friend and the two then focus on the class as their teacher starts teaching. During the entire lesson, Rac

A Virgin Brit On A French Holiday: Part 1Tante Marie’s chateau...

Sun, 07 Aug 2022 11:30:51 -0500

A Virgin Brit On A French Holiday: Part 1

Tante Marie’s chateau of delights.

By Slowandeasy47 - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I had just left school at the age of nineteen and had a whole summer before starting uni in October. I was off to France for a month and in the 60s that was a big adventure, I couldn’t wait. Having been cloistered in a boys boarding school for the last five years I was now off to explore the world, well northern France at least.

We had relatives there and I was going to spend my first month in a chateau just outside Amiens. Chateau sounds very grand and thanks to TV, if not schoolboy French, it doesn’t mean castle. It in fact means a gentleman’s residence, substantial for sure, but no portcullis or draw bridge.

I had never met Tante Marise, nor stayed in a chateau, draw bridge or no draw bridge. France was a very formal place in the 60’s, actually it still is, so Aunt Marise was always addressed as Tante, or Tante Marise: never, ever simply as Marise, way too sloppy for the linguistically pedantic French. Although, interestingly enough, we did use the familiar tu, rather than the more formal vous form. One of those interesting vagaries of Roman languages.

Actually Tante Marise now lived in one wing of the chateau as the place was enormous and, even in the 60’s, quite unmanageable for a single family, so it had been divided into three, still substantial, homes.

The building was massively imposing. A classic Somme chateau with a hugely impressive double staircase to the centre section and two wings. Tante Marise lived in one of the wings and the rest had been sold off, but the land, an apple orchard, had remained in the family, largely for the private production of Calvados, which is the French word for brandy.

As I recall, in those days, you were allowed to make a certain amount of Calvados without a permit, as long as it was for private consumption, but definitely not for sale. My late lamented uncle Cyril had applied a certain French flexibility to the rules and there were stashes of this magic potion all over the farm.

The interest of the authorities had been distracted by his throwing of lavish boozing sessions with the local constables. Alas Uncle Maurice had passed away and I surmised that my board and lodging was something of a quid pro quo for helping with the harvest. I was only nineteen, so hard work didn’t worry me and besides they had one of those magnificent 60s French bicycles I could use in my spare time.

It was a Solex bicycle or something similar. It had a simple motor that you lowered with a lever onto the front tyre and no longer had to pedal. I could use it to go to the village or wherever I liked. It would never have crossed my mind to borrow the car any more than it would have crossed hers to offer it. That was not the way things happened then.

The great day came and the details of how I got to Tante Marise’s chateau are lost to the mists of time but arrive I did. My first introduction to her was of her grasping me by the shoulders, pulling me towards her and planting several kisses on each cheek, an uncommon greeting in England at the time, but very pleasant.

She was petite, with short dark hair and very square glasses. She was also younger than I expected. I never knew her age but I calculated it to be late thirties and I remember being surprised at how neat and trim her figure was, but most of all, how obvious her breasts were. They had actually contacted my chest during her enthusiastic greeting, which had been a delight.

Cyril & Marise had never had children and always enjoyed the visits from their nephews and nieces. Why it had taken so long for the English side of the family to visit is uncertain, but the recent visit was probably prompted by my impending university course studying French literature

I settled in and tried speaking French, probably with mixed success. Tante Marise herself was French, spoke pretty good English, but with that delightfully sexy French accent made famous many years later by the TV programme ‘Allo 'Allo.

However, part of the reason for my stay was to get my conversational French fluent, so she only allowed us to speak English after supper and, as no-one else on the farm spoke English, it was going to be a valuable experience.

It was a typically hot summer and Tante Marise liked to wear very light clothing, so my young eyes could hardly avert my gaze from her very obvious breasts. They were made all the more noticeable because of her habit of not wearing a bra.

This was a completely new trend at that time and usually only observed on the Riviera. Not so with Tante Marise, whenever she bent over in the orchards or the kitchen, her pendulous breasts undulated in the most delightful fashion and, I have to confess, featured heavily in my nocturnal fantasies.

Occasionally the farm foreman would come to supper and, after finishing off their meal with a glass of calvados, they would head to the 'Bureau’ to discuss business. Antoine was a giant of a man with huge hands, a great shock of white hair and a magnificent moustache, the kind you only ever see now in caricatures of French moustaches.

On these occasions I was left alone in the parlor to watch TV. French TV back in those days was much more risqué than its English equivalent and I was often treated to pictures of naked ladies, admittedly usually a rear view, but totally naked all the same.

How did the actor who was facing her cope with the pleasant distraction? He must have seen everything! And everything was beyond my wildest dreams. We must remember that this was the sixties, no internet and certainly no porn or even explicit magazines. I really can’t remember what we called female genitalia back then but it probably wasn’t as nice as my newly acquired French word, foufoune, or pussie; so I will use that.

One evening, when Tante Marise and Antoine were in the 'Bureau’ discussing business, I got so worked up by a really sexy French film, featuring a totally naked couple, that I made my way to my room to relieve the tension that the characters on screen had induced in my teenage penis or 'ma bitte’, which means ‘my dick’, as I had heard the actors calling it.

The route to my room took me past the 'Bureau’ and whatever they were discussing, it had little or nothing to do with the running of the farm.

Remember, I was only nineteen and had been at a boys’ boarding school for the last five years. I had no knowledge of sex whatsoever, except the purely mechanical process from biology lessons. The penis enters the vagina, semen flows, fertilisation takes place, et voilá, reproduction! The detail of what sex might actually be like was still a mystery and, I imagined, still several years in the future. The world was a much more naive place back then: much more.

I had never even seen a picture of a naked woman, let alone seen a real one, and my knowledge of breasts was limited to pictures in Health & Efficiency magazine, which was popular at the time.

Now, for the first time ever in my young life, I was hearing sounds that I only thought I understood. Tante Marise was using French words I hadn’t learned yet and so was Antoine! Their breathless exchanges along with the rhythmic squeaking sounds of the 'Bureau’s day couch were seriously erotic. Was this what fucking sounded like in real life? Was Antoine actually fucking Tante Marise? My, already eager, cock certainly thought so.

Just the other side of the door I could imagine Tante Marise, blouse open, those magnificent tits on display, lying back on the day couch with her legs spread wide, welcoming Antoine’s cock in her foufoune! Antoine for his part, I imagined, was clasping her naked buttocks in his giant hands as he thrust into her with rapidly mounting excitement. Fuck this was sexy!

I stayed as long as I dared, getting more and more excited with this unexpected introduction to the magic sounds of copulation. I could hear their breathing becoming more rapid, their words of encouragement getting louder, the squeaking rhythm accelerating and yes: I came in my pants!

I had hardly touched my cock but the sounds of two people actually fucking only a few feet away, combined with my boyish imagination, was more than I could stand.

I hurried to my room to inspect the damage. Wow, what a lot of cum! It had already soaked through from my pants and there was a large wet patch on the front of my trousers. What to do? I didn’t normally go to bed this early and I certainly could not go back to the parlor in these trousers.

I decided that getting into my pyjamas and going back down would be the best course of action, but first I put on clean under pants to keep my cock firmly locked up.

Back in the TV room Tante Marise reappeared after I heard her show Antoine out with a cheery,

“À la prochaine.” Or, until next time.

What? There was going to be a next time? Were they going to do it again? Anyway, she sat down beside me, made some comment about my getting ready for bed early and we watched the TV. I could not stop my mind from wandering.

She didn’t look any different! But she’d just been fucking! How could this be? She had just clearly enjoyed having Antoine thrusting between her thighs, an experience that I could only imagine, and here she sat as if nothing had happened. In fact, she seemed quite relaxed and serene, even.

I am not sure what I expected, but certainly not this degree of blasé normality. It was just as well that I had pants on under my PJs because, try as I might, my mind kept wandering back to the scene I had just overheard. My first real encounter with sex. OK so I only overheard them having sex, but the memory was enough to give me another erection: oh the power of recovery of the teenager! As soon as possible I made my excuses and went to my room.

I took off my PJs and pants and lay down on my back, stark naked, with my second erection of the evening. I felt the breeze from the open window playing on my naked body and, as the air wafted over my cock, and armed with a hanky, I set about re-playing the scene over and over in my mind.

Her naked breasts, what were they like to touch? Her foufoune, what did it look like? Antoine’s hands on her bum as he thrust into her, what did that feel like? For him? For her? So many questions, so many vivid thoughts and then, as I continued to bring myself to orgasm, as slowly as possible, so as to prolong the enjoyment, the sensations started again and I knew I was about to cum. A few more strokes and I came, not as much as earlier, but a thoroughly good, satisfying, cum none the less.

I cannot remember how often that memory played out in my mind over the coming days, but it was not infrequent! I could hardly wait until the following week, when I hoped there would be a repeat performance. For some reason the thought of Antoine’s massive hands clutching her pert little bottom still produces a stirring all these years later.

The harvest continued in the blazing summer sun and we always returned to the chateau hot and sweaty.

At the end of the corridor was the bathroom, which contained a magnificent, if somewhat antiquated, shower. Not one of those modern contraptions but something with more taps and valves than a First World War Submarine. It may have been antiquated but it was fantastically efficient. There were four vertical spray bars, with their independent controls and a drench overhead that produced a virtual tsunami.

It was great for cooling off after a day in the orchards, turn the whole contraption on cold and walk in. COLD, yes: Freezing? Nearly: but enormously refreshing and, much to my surprise, nearly always produced an erection which, as a teenager, I freely confess, I almost never wasted when I got back to my room.

The day’s work done, and getting ready for supper, I headed for my room, stripped off and wound a towel around my waist. What happened next changed my life, quite literally. I was half way along the corridor when the bathroom door opened. There, silhouetted in the doorway, was the totally naked form of Tante Marise.

The incident, although it lasted only a few seconds, stays with me yet. Unfortunately the bathroom window was right behind the door, so a silhouette was nearly all I saw, but there was enough detail to see that girls have hair 'down there.’ Not to mention that naked, unfettered, breasts have a motion all their own.

Taken by surprise, I turned politely to avert my gaze and Tante Marise, retreated into the bathroom, only to emerge a few seconds later, modestly wrapped in a large towel. We crossed in the corridor and she muttered.

“Désolé.”

Désolé! Why was she sorry for one of the most exciting moments of my young life. My embarrassment was only compounded buy my automatic response.

“De rien!” It’s nothing!

Nothing! I had just seen my first full frontal naked female and said that it was nothing! I had been so embarrassed, I hadn’t had time to think, so I scurried into the bathroom, turned on all elements of the shower to full cold, dived in and set to work on the erection that the combined effects of the cold water and the image of a totally naked Tante Marise had produced.

We overcame our embarrassment at supper by ignoring the incident and settled down to watch TV afterwards.

Antoine had not reappeared and over a week had passed. What a disappointment! I was not going to be treated to episode two of 'Tante Marise enjoys a noisy shag.’ Oh well, the flash of her naked body had made up for it and surely one orgasm an evening should be enough for any teenager, or maybe just one more when I get back upstairs?

This particular night produced another film in the series that had so affected me the previous week. More French erotica! But this time sitting next to Tante Marise, which made my excitement much harder to conceal.

As the plot developed it was quite clear that our heroine was about to seduce her co-star. Their clothes had been shed and the obligatory rear view of a naked woman advancing on her lucky prey, filled the screen. They were clearly just about to fuck.

This was getting difficult to deal with. I had not long ago seen Tante Marise in just such a state, but from the front. The whole thing, hair and all! But sitting next to her, watching this level of sexual activity had caused a predictable response from my young 'bitte’. It is very easy to forget how little it takes to provoke an erection in the sexually inexperienced.

Just as the sex act was about to take place, Tante Marise placed her hand on my knee, leaned forwards, turned and looked into my eyes with a beguiling smile and said.

“ Un peu racé, non?” A little racy? This was torrid beyond my wildest dreams. Then she stunned me by taking my hand and placing it on her covered breast. Not another word was spoken, she just lifted my hand and put it there. OK she had on a loose dress, but no bra. My first experience of an adult female breast. I probably made a mess of it, but it was so exciting, warm, soft and pliable with that little hard bud on the end.

What is happening? I would like to say that I played expertly with it, but that would not be true. In the actual event I summoned up all my courage and slid my hand in through the opening at the front of her dress. I touched a naked breast for the first time, and lightly ran my open palm over her nipple. It is hard to imagine now, after a lifetime of sexual activity, how exciting this was. Tante Marise, meanwhile slid her hand from my knee up towards my groin.

I do not know if I was normal or not, but stories of boys first time sexual encounters lasting for ages, or even minutes, just do not ring true to me. I am fondling my first breast and Tante Marise is sliding her hand up my fully clothed thigh. It got as far as my crotch, only just lightly brushed over my cock: the tension was unbearable. I came! She must have sensed the spasm of my orgasm as she leaned forward, kissed me on the forehead and said.

“I think it is time you to go to your room.”

The next morning at breakfast I just didn’t know where to look. I had stroked Tante Marise’s naked breasts the previous evening and had orgasmed in front of her. She was totally unabashed about the incident and even teased me by asking,

“So you had the pleasant dreams, no?”

The harvest progressed in the incessant heat. Showers were taken after the hot sweaty work, but the vision of a naked Tante Marise was never repeated. More TV programmes were watched, seldom as racy as that fateful night, but some were pretty hot.

By now we had reached a comfortable arrangement. If the film got raunchy she would take my hand and place it on her breast while allowing her hand to find its way to my crotch and I had mustered enough self control not to ejaculate on the spot. To be honest, usually by bringing myself off before going to the parlor to watch TV.

On my final evening, during a film, while I was fondling her breast and getting more and more excited, she completely threw me by asking directly.

“How is it that you like to make the masturbations?” The French language can be a little direct sometimes.

After the usual blustering and denials, she chided me by telling me that it was 'healthy to make the masturbations.’ Her openness on matters sexual left me aghast.

I eventually admitted that I did it lying on my back on my bed, with a hanky to make sure I didn’t leave a mark on the bedding.

My admission was met with one word, “Viens, which means come.”

She took my hand and stood up. I had to idea where this was leading but I had high hopes and so did my erection. We passed the Bureau, and climbed the stairs, we went past her room and along the corridor past mine, all the way to the bathroom at the end.

She opened the door and ushered me ahead of her, allowing the door to close behind us. She set the knobs and levers of the WWI Submarine which sprang into life, at which point she stood right in front of me, slid the straps of her dress over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Tante Marise dressed only in panties!

Dressed only in panties, but not for long. She looked up at me with that wonderful smile and lowered them to the floor. I couldn’t help staring at the luxuriant dark triangle between her legs. Triangle, breasts, triangle, face, triangle! My eyes went berserk.

“Viens, viens. Clothes off!”

I struggled to get my clothes off with any degree of finesse, and getting my pants off, over my raging erection, while under the direct gaze of Tante Marise felt, as the French say, bizarre. Then there I was naked, standing beside my first totally naked female, who was also the first person ever to see my penis erect and erect it certainly was, the tip was all but touching my navel.

“This is special.” She said, as she took me by the hand and lead me into the steaming torrent. Water cascaded everywhere as she directed a soaping operation. We soaped each other under her expert instructions. I soaped her back and felt the glorious sensation of my hands flowing over her buttocks. She returned the pleasure. I never realized how sexy it felt when your buttocks got a soapy wash.

I could hardly wait to get to her breasts, they felt completely different with the water and soap flowing freely. Her nipples felt larger and definitely harder. She also allowed my hand to wander into the luxuriant triangle between her legs.

I really had only the vaguest idea of what I would find there. Biology books are not that informative, but the biggest surprise was to find that my finger slipped easily into her foufoune, which was unexpectedly slippery and welcoming.

I was extremely careful not to touch my cock and desperately hoped she would not touch it either, or I would cum on the spot. I just wanted this to go on for as long as possible.

It could not last for ever though, and eventually she maneuvered behind me with a hand full of soap, rubbed it gently over my chest and stomach getting tantalizingly lower with each pass. She pressed up against me and I felt the roughness of her mysterious dark triangle against my thigh. She stood on tip toes and breathed into my ear.

“Now you relax.” Her hand, full of soap, gently surrounded my cock and pulled the foreskin back with tantalizing slowness. This was not going to last for long, the build up had been too much. Try as I might, there was no stopping that primal sensati

Summer of ’65: Part 2A more enjoyable way to study sex ed.By...

Sat, 06 Aug 2022 11:31:03 -0500

Summer of ’65: Part 2

A more enjoyable way to study sex ed.

By Slowandeasy47 - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The summer seemed to be racing by with lots of glorious days just messing about in boats, shooting at tin cans in the sea, and occasionally visiting Jess’ house, to swim in their pool which, mercifully, was a lot warmer than the lough.

On one such occasion we were the only two there, as her family had gone out for the day. It was one of those beautiful days that only seem to happen when you are young. The sun blazed through the heavens and the sheltered area round the pool was baking.

We occasionally jumped in the pool to cool off before returning to our sun loungers to work on our tans where Jess usually undid her top when lying on her stomach.

“There is a fridge full of cokes in the pool house if you fancy one?” She suggested. I knew where it was, so I got up and wandered over, opened the door, and made my way to the giant American style fridge. I picked up two cokes, poured them into plastic pool glasses, before making my way back to the loungers.

Jenna was naked!

She was face down admittedly, tanning her back, but stark naked, just like she had been on our picnic trip.

“I figured you wouldn’t mind as it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, and a bum’s just a bum,” she said with her mischievous smile and turned towards me to take the offered coke. As she did so, one pert breast, complete with little pink button nipple, escaped from its hiding place.

“Ooops!” She said, tucking the offending mammary back under her. “You didn’t see that did you.” It was more of a statement than a question.

I knew better than to lie to the ever confident Jess, so I admitted that I had, which was quite obvious anyway from the rapid expansion taking place in my speedos, rendering me incapable of further speech.

“Never mind it was only my breast.”

Only! Only a breast! There was no only abut it. I had fantasised about Jess’ breasts ever since our picnic. The image was to last a long while and, to hide the obvious swelling, I threw myself face down onto the sun lounger. It didn’t take much to provoke an erection back then.

“Get some sun on that bum. Take your trunks off!”

“I’m OK thanks.”

“Prude. Too prude to be nude! You should let Harry out for some fresh air occasionally!” And burst out laughing.

I, of course, was now shamed into it and, very carefully, slid my trunks off. I cannot deny that it was a delicious feeling being naked outdoors again, the only problem being my erection.

“Too hot for me! Swim time,” said the voice to my left. “And what’s more, I’m not putting that lot on again just to get it wet.” She rolled so that she was facing away from me, stood up, and I watched that glorious rear view of the naked female form make its way to the water. I even got a flash of that mysterious place between her legs as she dove into the pool.

Surfacing at the far end she called.

“You just have to try this.

"It’s the most invigorating experience ever!

"If you’re cowardy custard, I’ll turn my back while you dive in.

"There’s nothing to see once you’re in anyway. The water is too rough.

"Come on in then Mr prude in the nude!”

“Turn around then,” said my voice before I had time to stop it, as I rose to the bait of her dare. She turned and within seconds I, complete with fully erect Harry, were in the air, mid dive.

I surfaced somewhat closer to her than I meant to, as my intention had been to stay at the other end, but I wasn’t thinking straight. Hardly surprising seeing as it was only my second encounter with a naked woman and my first ever skinny dip. I hadn’t even considered how we were going to get out.

“Race you!”

We raced. She won. Why? Maybe she was a better swimmer. Maybe the view up her thighs as she stroked out in front was irresistible. Maybe both! Either way we got to the shallow end out of breath and stood up in the waist deep water.

“Ooops,” she said lowering her pert little breasts back into the water. “Forgot!”

I’m not certain that she did and I certainly didn’t, nor will I ever! Both beautifully formed breasts, displayed themselves to me, with their little pink nipples sticking out proudly due to the refreshingly cool water. I knew if I even touched my cock it would be game over.

It is hard, from this perspective, to remember the eroticism of such seemingly simple things. Going braless happened only in the south of France, going topless, only in St Tropez. This was the start of the 60s, no porn, no internet, just Harrison Marks and imagination.

Jenna tried her best to diffuse the situation by pretending not to notice and set off up the steps. I watched her bare back reemerge slowly from the water as she grasped the handles. I couldn’t take my eyes off the two deliciously firm orbs of her buttocks as she climbed the steps. That vision will stay with me for ever. She reached the top step, stepped onto the tiles, looked over her shoulder, with her hands on her hips, as she stood their dripping.

“Come on then!”

“I think I’ll stay in for a while.”

“Don’t be daft! Your teeth are chattering already. Come on. Don’t be such a prude!”

“I can’t. Jenna, you’re my friend, you’re a wonderful girl, but you’re naked and I’m naked and nature has taken over.”

“You’re not going to ravish me, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Well that’s a relief.” There was a hint of un-conveyed meaning in the way she said it. “I’ll not look while you get to your towel.”

She turned her back and I scrambled out, dashed for my towel and tried, in vain, to conceal Harry’s obvious state of excitement. Meanwhile Jenna had managed to cover up with a towel as well.

We decided that that was enough for one day and headed for the pool house and our clothes, swathed, modestly for the first time that afternoon, in large towels. As the door to the pool house closed behind me, Jenna turned and said.

“If you’re not going to ravish me, at least you might kiss me.”

I couldn’t believe it. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I thought that any such move might ruin, what was for me, a nearly perfect relationship. I’d just been skinny dipping, for the first time and with a beautiful, confident and very sexy girl. My dreams had just become reality and my cock was still in awe.

I moved in towards her and gave a, probably very amateur, attempt at a snog. She responded by opening her mouth, so I followed suit. Her tongue darted in and out of my mouth, so I followed again. The snog got more and more passionate as it got more and more competent. Our hands started to explore each other as her towel fell away.

I felt one hand make its way down past my belly, as my towel also fell to the floor. I was in no doubt as to where it was going. For my part, I let my hand slide off her shoulder onto the front of her chest and from there down onto her breast. My other hand slid down the back of her petite frame and onto one of the delicious twin orbs of her toned buttocks.

I’ve got one hand on my first ever female breast, the other on a naked buttock. The stimulation in my brain is going overboard. The kiss continued as her hand made its way inexorably southwards. Eventually it will reach my cock. Oh my god, the sensations, the anticipation and, then sadly, the disappointment.

This was all too much for a first encounter. All those tales of young lads bonking for hours on their first shag are simply lies. She had only barely touched my cock when the inevitable happened. I ejaculated. I ejaculated in some style, but I still ejaculated and Harry started to soften.

While trying to make some excuse for my rapid response, her hand grasped my wrist and lead it down between us, over the soft outward curve of her belly, towards the little forest of hair between her legs.

“Rub me gently.” She broke from the kiss for just long enough to say and then our mouths joined again.

My hand glided over her pubes and a finger slipped into the slick moistness of her excitement. I don’t know what I expected, but nothing so delightfully slippery and exciting.

“Slowly and softly.” Said the voice in my ear as she broke from the kiss again. I followed her lead and did as I was told. I sensed her excitement growing by the change in her breathing. Then I felt her nails dig into my shoulders as she breathed.

“Even slower.

"Even gentler.

"Yes.

"Just like that.”

Followed by a sigh and slight buckling of the knees.

Seconds later a female voice shouted, “Hello in there.”

“Oh shit. Shit. Shit. It’s Paula. She often pops round for a swim on hot days. Quick.”

We scrambled into our clothes as quickly as possible, the mood having been completely destroyed by our imminent discovery. As soon as we could we made our way outside, somewhat sheepishly.

To my horror the discarded swim suits had been neatly folded and placed on a sun-lounger. Paula pointed at them accusingly!

“Jenna, these were completely dry! Your hair is wet! You don’t have to be Einstein to work out what’s been going on. You just be bloody careful if you’re going to play with big girls toys. I’m not ready to be aunty Paula yet.” She turned and marched off.

Paula’s words hit home hard.

“I don’t want to be aunty Paula.”

I am quite sure she didn’t, but I’m even more certain that Jenna didn’t want to be a mother and I certainly didn’t want to be a father. In that era it would have been a ‘had to get married’ situation and my education was far from complete. Frankly it would have been a complete disaster for both of us, such were the attitudes of the day.

What if Jenna had let me go a bit further and had been willing to actually have sex? There is no doubt that my young cock had definitely got the message. Could I have resisted if it had been on offer? We had both been pretty wound up, and I suspect that mother nature would have had her way. Erections don’t think!

Say we had just actually done it. Just imagine! The wait for the next period. What if it didn’t come. Was she always regular, or could she sometimes just be late? These are not subjects we talked about in those days, unless of course, you had to.

What about the future? Was it possible we were going to get into that situation again? Two sexually mature people playing with fire, or even Russian roulette. Nature pretty well guaranteed that we were going to hit the jackpot sooner or later. Not that I’m assuming Jenna would even allow it, but what if?

I resolved to get hold of some condoms, or johnnies as they were known then, but how. We lived very remotely. The nearest village was within range but the pharmacist was a family friend, probably of her family as well. Even if I made sure he wasn’t serving, could I face putting 'a packet of three’ on the counter in front of his female assistant. I’d die of embarrassment.

I could just imagine the conversation later in the chemist shop.

“You know so and so’s lad?”

“Yea, him.”

“Well he came in today and bought some, ahem, Durex.”

“No! I wonder where he plans to use them.”

“Well there’s not much option down his way.”

“You mean 'her’?”

“Well, who else?”

“She wouldn’t though, would she? She’s such a well brought up girl and I doubt she’d do it before she was at least engaged.”

The cerebral cinema ran on and got more and more embarrassing with every imagined exchange. No I would have to make my purchase elsewhere.

As luck would have it, my mother wanted to go shopping in a big town, well away from where we were known. She did show some surprise when I expressed an interest and wanted to go with her. Normally shopping and teenage boys do not go hand in hand.

We arrived, parked the car, and arranged to meet again in a couple of hours. I eventually singled out a chemist shop as my target and walked in. I had only been round the shelves once to try to locate the 'johnnies’ when a very attractive young lady came up and said.

“Can I help you?”

Oh fuck! I can hardly say I want a packet of johnnies. She’ll know I’m planning to: well yes, to fuck. She was young, she was pretty. I didn’t have time to register her ring fingers but probably not married and therefore almost certainly a virgin, and I wanted to buy contraceptives. The embarrassment. So I bought a tube of toothpaste and left. While I was paying I noticed the johnnies were all on the shelf behind the till, Durex, Featherlight and several others.

OK, so maybe I’m going to have to actually ask! I don’t recall how many other chemists I checked out that day, but the answer was always the same. They were all kept behind the till, so I would definitely have to ask.

I eventually located a chemist with a middle aged lady serving. I thought, she doesn’t know me and she’ll never see me again, so what’s the problem? I approached the till.

“Yes, can I help?”

Arggggg the agony of it!

“A packet of featherlight please!”

She turned round to 'that’ shelf and said.

“Three or twelve?”

Twelve? TWELVE? I’m a virgin. I’ve never used one before. Twelve, you must be joking.

“Mmm three please.”

She reached for the packet and, mercifully, popped it into a little brown paper bag just as the next customer reached the counter. Did she see? Oh this is so embarrassing! Everyone in the world seems to know that I am planning to have a fuck. Can they tell that it’s also going to be my first?

Ironically I am not really 'planning’ to fuck. I am pretty sure that Jenna won’t allow it but, just in case, I’m prepared. Besides, how do I explain to her that I’ve got johnnies. The implication is surely that I am assuming she is 'that type of girl’ and would probably never speak to me again. Why is life so complicated?

The summer rolled on and, in spite of being nearly caught by Paula, we enjoyed each other’s company at the pool and in the fields round about. Usually we stayed fully clothed or very nearly so, until one summer’s afternoon when we took a picnic to some nearby ruins.

We spread a picnic blanket on the lush, un-mowed grass and ate our sandwiches. As the heat of the sun and the effect of the food took its toll we lolled in the grass talking about this and that and nothing very much.

“When do you head off for uni?” Was the reality check she came up with.

“September.” I replied as I glanced across at her. Our eyes locked. She smiled showing her dimples to maximum effect. I leaned towards her, she leaned towards me, our eyes were still locked together as our lips met.

It was one of those glorious kisses that went on for ages, tongues darting in and out of each other’s mouths, hands starting to wander, exploring the secrets of each other’s bodies. Palms running over the smooth curve of firm buttocks. Hoping to explore under a T shirt. Success! A soft warm breast. The pressure on the front of my trousers as her hand stroked my obvious erection.

My hand made its way up her skirt. Hers found my zip. I ran my hand up her thigh all the way to the elasticised leg of her knickers. She unzipped me. My finger slid inside, to be greeted by the warm slipperiness of a sexually excited woman. My cock sprang free from its cotton prison. Then suddenly it all stopped as she broke the silence.

“Paula’s right you know.

"We must be careful.

"I really want to do it with you. I want you to be my first.

"But we can’t unless…”

“Unless I get 'something’?” I filled in the blank space.

“Yes, until then.”

I was way too embarrassed to admit I had 'something’ already, although my throbbing cock and millions of years of evolution were aching to satisfy the urge to reproduce.

“I will.” I whispered, relieved that the problem of why I had johnnies had gone away, but with a raging erection that had only one cure.

We petted. We snogged. We explored each other. I rubbed her how she had showed me at the pool house that day. She played with my cock, pulling the foreskin back and forth really gently. It just got sexier and sexier. Then the inevitable happened. I ejaculated.

“Next time.” She said. “I want to feel that inside. To know what it feels like.”

“Next time.” I repeated.

We tidied up, trying our best to remove the semen from her skirt. We eventually hit on the idea of coke. It would leave a worse mark and so be a reason for the skirt being in the wash after only one wear.

I went home and put the pack of Featherlight back in its hiding place, keeping one tucked under my pillow for a test run later. I read and re read the instructions.

Tear open the foil packet.

Check the condom has the ridge on the outside.

Pinch the tip closed to make room for the semen.

Roll it on to the penis.

After sex, withdraw immediately holding the condom on the penis.

Discard the used condom.

When I went to bed I removed the packet from under my pillow. A few thoughts of Jenna’s soft breast and wet panties had me hard in no time. I pinched the end and rolled it on.

So far so good! A few gentle strokes later while reminiscing about Jenna’s gloriously slippery sex and bingo. A condom full of semen. I now saw why you pinched the end, it was distended with the evidence of my pleasure.

I removed it and made my way to the loo, chucked it in and flushed. Luckily I waited to check all was well because it floated! It was still there! Several more attempts produced the same result.

I cannot leave it there! In the end I fished it out, wrapped it in a few sheets of loo roll and tried again: success! This learning curve was getting very steep.

Jenna and I decided to set a date, and a scene. There was to be no fumbling about in the back seat of a car, we were planning to do it properly, in a bed, but where, how, when? I carried my remaining two johnnies with me whenever we were together, just in case.

We had several false starts, usually abandoned for fear of discovery, and once because our foreplay was just more stimulation than I could handle. It’s hard to recall just how stimulating it is having your cock rubbed by a gorgeous, near naked, girl that you are planning to have sex with, while enjoying the slippery sensation of your hand between her thighs. I didn’t know it was called premature ejaculation at that time, I just know it got so bloody exciting that I came before I even got the johnny on.

Eventually the great day came. We knew we would be undisturbed for a couple of hours, so we made our way to Jenna’s room. We cleared her bed of all the usual trappings of adolescence and fell into a deep embrace.

There was fumbling for sure. I couldn’t master her bra catch, even once I had managed to remove her T shirt. She came to the rescue and snapped it open allowing my probing hand access to her pert, warm, breasts. Her skirt was easier and the elastic didn’t put up much resistance. Now she is lying on top of the bedding clad only in her white cotton panties.

I gazed on in awe, and I have to confess to having a fetish about white cotton panties to this day, they feature in many of my fantasies.

I managed to strip down to my pants, very inelegantly, as we snogged and caressed each other. She allowed my hand to slip over her navel and into the waist band. Heaven.

My hand continued its journey southwards. Hair. More heaven.

As I continued my lust fuelled journey, my finger slid into the most divide between her legs. This is more than heaven. She meanwhile had eased my pants over my erection, very carefully, ever mindful of the previous disaster.

Gently and deliciously we removed each other’s final item of clothing. My memory of sliding off her white cotton panties, as she lifted her bottom willingly off the bed to help, and my hand sensing the taut flesh of her naked buttocks, is one of my most cherished. Eventually we were both totally naked, but this time with the express intention of having sex.

“Let’s do it.” She whispered in my ear, “I want to feel it inside.” I fumbled with the foil packet. It was much harder to put on lying next to a naked girl than it had been in my room. I managed to remember to squeeze the end to make room for the inevitable, and returned to our embrace.

Somehow my totally inexperienced cock knew exactly what to do. I rolled gently on top of her and as my cock found that sacred space between her legs I felt it slide gently in. There is nothing sexier than that moment. The sliding sens

Summer of ’65: Part 1English boarding school boy shares a lake,...

Fri, 05 Aug 2022 11:30:48 -0500

Summer of ’65: Part 1

English boarding school boy shares a lake, and more.

By Slowandeasy47 - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The closeted life of a boy’s boarding school in Yorkshire, with its Dickensian regime, and early morning runs, had ill prepared me for contact with the opposite sex. I knew the physical differences of course, Harrison Marks and Health and Efficiency were the sex educators for boys in the early nineteen sixties.

So what did we know way back then. Well, Health and Efficiency had ensured we knew about breasts, that they came in different shapes and sizes and they almost always involved the throwing of a beach ball at some nudist camp.

How he ever managed to get those pictures in our climate completely eluded us but that didn’t matter. We had pictures of breasts, or tits as we called them. The word boobs was years away in the future.

It was the lower half of the pictures that failed us, the men always had their backs to the camera and the girls just had a uniform, airbrushed area between their legs. Not a pubic hair in sight, and certainly no hint of a vagina. Did girls grow pubic hair? We didn’t know for sure, and what went on between their legs was a complete mystery.

Actually, in the mid sixties, that was pretty irrelevant as our interest was focused on breasts. We all longed to touch one, to feel its texture and marvel at it, was it soft and squishy, or was it firm and hard? The thought of actual sex was still considered as something girls would allow only once they were married, as an unwanted pregnancy was going to ruin both your lives. It certainly never occurred to us that girls might enjoy it.

By now you must be getting a picture of the public face of sex in the early sixties. Among teenage boys there was no knowledge, no porn worthy the name, not even soft core magazines, and definitely no internet. We hoped for a fumble at a party, and the absolute height of our ambition was to be allowed to feel inside her panties, but that was less likely than a moon landing then. Actually just to touch the thigh above the silken top of her stockings was the stuff of many a masturbation fantasy and masturbation was something we were quite expert at.

Term had just ended and I was looking forward to the long summer holiday in my new home. While I was at school my parents had moved to a remote corner of the countryside, six miles from the nearest village and with very few other houses around. It was not only remote, it was actually an island.

It all sounds very Robinson Crusoe but it wasn’t really like that. Several other families lived on the island which was joined to the mainland by a causeway. There was plenty to explore and do, including an old monastery, rabbits to shoot at, if not actually hit, boats to mess about in and so on. So life for a teenage boy was pretty good and it was about to get a whole lot better.

Walking over the hills one sunny afternoon I was hailed by a female voice.

“Shot anything then?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m much better at hitting bottles than rabbits.” And that is how I first met Jenna. Jenna was short and petite with a beguiling smile that produced dimples in both cheeks. Her very dark hair framed her boyish face and her eyes sparkled.

I, of course, was just about completely tongue tied. This apparition was a girl! A girl who was chatting to me as if we came from the same planet, which in those days, we most certainly did not. Anyway, somehow I got over the shock of talking to a real girl. We introduced ourselves and over the next few weeks actually became friends.

We walked over the hills together, boated together and spent a lot of time in each other’s company. We were the only two youngsters, of our age group, for miles around.

Late in July, Jenna suggested we take the boat to one of the many other islands for a picnic. Most of these islands could be walked around in an hour, had ruins of long forgotten farms and were simply fun to explore. A little more Robinson Crusoe, if you like.

It was a stunning day with clear blue skies and the promise of being a real scorcher. I naturally, took a big towel and my swimming trunks along with our fairly rudimentary picnic.

We got into our craft, which was little more than a fibreglass rowing boat with a tiny outboard engine, and put putted for about fifteen minutes to the largest of the nearby islands. I, of course, as the boy, sat at the back in control while Jenna lolled about in the bow trailing her hand in the water.

I tried not to look. I tried so hard not to look, but there was an awful lot of leg on display right up to the frayed edges of her skimpy shorts, and my mind set about wondering what went on just out of my sight. What was it that was only just hidden by those shorts?

I realised my thoughts were running away with me as I felt the stirring of an erection. Oh no! Fuck it, please no. Not now. Not here. So I looked around at the scenery, the water, actually anything that would take my mind of those silken thighs.

It worked: just, and by the time we reached our destination my penis was behaving itself. This could have been such a disaster as Jenna was my only friend and she was really good company. She was also very self assured, which I put down to her being a couple of yeas older than me.

We ‘explored’ the island, wandering through the deserted ruins, wondering who lived here, when and what they did for a living. The island was so small it can hardly have provided an income. We ate our rudimentary picnic in the sun, sheltered from the breeze coming up the lough, by the corner of a ruined barn and chatted idly about nothing in particular.

It was a hot sultry afternoon and I don’t remember who made the suggestion, but it was agreed that a swim would be a really good idea, to cool off. The lough was hardly known for its warm waters as most of it was replaced each high tide by water straight out of the ocean, but it would certainly cool us.

So we went for a swim, after modestly changing into our swimming kit with the aid of large towels and convenient walls. The water was cold: bloody cold, hardly surprising in mid July, but what had seemed like a great idea quickly turned into something of a torture session.

We swam around for a while and, as expected, the water was freezing.

“Bit refreshing!” Said Jenna, as she made a few powerful strokes away from the rocky shore, “in fact a little too refreshing for me.” And she struck out for the shallows again. I, not being conscious of any etiquette, got to the shore first.

She struggled a bit over the larges pebbles and, as she passed me, I couldn’t help noticing how much her nipples were sticking out. I’d never heard of this phenomenon before and certainly never witnessed it. I was fascinated: too fascinated.

“Hey! Stop staring at my tits will you.”

“I wasn’t.” I lied, somewhat unconvincingly.

“You were too! I saw you. Eyes out on stalks!”

“No really.” I blustered trying vainly to cover my embarrassment.

I had grown very fond of Jenna, in a brotherly way. OK I admit it: I fancied her but I wasn’t about to ruin our friendship by being stupid.

I loved spending time with her: she was so worldly, such fun to be with and now I was in danger of spoiling it all just by ogling her tits. Her rather delightful, and obviously delicious looking, tempting to touch, young tits.

“Actually, I was. I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise. I’m really sorry. I’m such a wolly.”

“Don’t worry. It’s no big deal. It’s not as if I was naked or you were peeking at me getting changed or anything.”

That, of course, sent the image of her standing there dripping wet totally naked, dancing through my brain. What were those lovely little breasts like to ogle or even to touch? What went on between her legs? What did a vagina look like in real life?

My day dream would have had a disastrous effect on my cock had the water not been so cold. I climbed out and we dried ourselves off. We spread our towels out, side by side, on the long grass in order to warm up with a bit of sunbathing.

“Anyway, it’s natural to be curious,” she continued, “it wouldn’t be normal not to look.” The relief at being let off the hook was enormous and I stammered something inane before she came out with.

“So what do you call a man looking at a naked girl?” She continued. The brazenness of the question took me by surprise and I failed to register that it was a joke.

“Don’t know.”

“Anything you like! He’s not listening.” She chortled at her own wit and I joined in. She lay face down on her towel and unhooked the top of her bikini. This was too much, I immediately rolled on to my stomach so as not to reveal my growing excitement. “No peeking at my tits now.”

“No of course not.”

“Lying bastard!”

“Jenna?”

“Yea?”

“How come you’re so confident and relaxed?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you just caught me ogling you and now you’re making it a bit of a joke.”

“Probably because you are a bit prudish.”

“Prudish! Me?”

“Yes you. You were ogling my tits and then tried to deny it. I’ve got tits, you haven’t, you’re curious. So what’s so wrong with that. Don’t think I haven’t taken a peek at the front of your swimming trunks from time to time. Anyway I know things about boys from Paula.”

“Paula?”

“Paula is my big sister. She’s six years older than me and we chat. You know girl stuff.”

“Mmmm?”

“Paula got married a year ago and we still chat about girl stuff.”

“Mmmmm?.”

“I’ll tell you more, if you tell me stuff about you.”

“What sort of stuff?”

“Well I’ll tell you about my chats with Paula if you promise to keep it a secret for the rest of your life and if you tell me, absolutely honestly, the answer to the next questions. OK?”

“Sure.” I said feeling a little vulnerable but a too curious to turn down such an offer.

“Paula told me that the doctor gave her the pill just before she got married and that when they went on honeymoon they did it all the time. First thing in the morning, last thing at night and several times in between. She said the feelings were fantastic and much better than just touching yourself.”

I am lying on my stomach, next to a pretty girl who is, at best, half naked describing her sister’s sex life. The tension was nearly unbearable.

“So my question is. When you are, you know, excited and touching yourself. I mean rubbing your thingy, what do you think about?” Shocked! And trapped! She had just asked me about my fantasies, and I had agreed to play a truth game.

“Do I have to answer?” I said, playing for time.

“Of course you do. You promised. That was the bargain.” I summoned up my courage with all my strength.

“Mostly breasts.” I said with a dry mouth.

“You naughty boy. I bet you are going to rub yourself tonight and I bet my tits will feature in your fantasy.”

“Sorry, but you did ask.” Ducking what could be a very awkward moment.

“Paula says she rubs Dave when she’s on the curse. He plays with her tits while she rubs his cock and…….er by the way what do you call it? Your cock, your dick or what?”

“Harry.” I said the first word that entered my head. She burst out laughing.

“HARRY! You call it HARRY!” More peels of laughter.

“No not really, that was just a joke. I suppose cock or prick usually.”

“Well from now on it’s Harry to me.” And she dissolved into laughter again.

“Just think of the fun I can have with that. I can say 'How is Harry today?’ Anytime, anywhere and only the two of us will know that I’m talking about your cock. That’s priceless!”

“It was supposed to be a joke. You were telling me about Paula.”

“Yea, well she rubs his 'Harry’.” More laughter, “till he,……….you know,………. Jizes then touches herself until she’s satisfied. So next question. How often do you play with Harry?”

“What?”

“You heard. How often do you play with Harry! You have had two bits of information so I get two questions. Out with it: how often?”

“Quite a lot.”

“Quite a lot is not a number. You promised me an answer. Now give.”

“Well, probably most days.”

“Oh good, I’m normal then.”

“What!”

“Me too. So it’s normal. I thought I might be over doing it, but it’s such a delicious feeling I just can’t resist.”

This was getting out of control. I was having a conversation, with a lovely girl, both half naked, and we were discussing our masturbation habits: bizarre.

“Have you ever sunbathed in the nude?” I was definitely not ready for this question.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well you really out to. It’s such a wonderful feeling having the sun on your bare skin, particularly your bum. I do it all the time by our pool.

"We could do it now, staying on our stomachs of course. I mean you have a bum and I have a bum. Bums are just bums after all, not particularly interesting.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I croaked, lying on my now full blown erection thinking that Jenna’s bum would be far from 'not very interesting.’

“Cowardy, cowardy custard. I tell you what, I’ll take my bottoms off first if you promise me, on you honour, you will do it too.” And she slipped her thumbs into her bikini bottoms and eased them over her buttocks, such taught, firm, exercised, firm buttocks, and somehow got them off without revealing anything more intimate. “Your turn!”

“Hang on. I never agreed to this.”

“Well you didn’t disagree: so you agreed. Now off with them or I’ll tell Paula what a spoil sport you are.”

This was my first introduction to the somewhat woolly area of female logic. I knew I had agreed to no such thing, but she was lying there naked, admittedly face down, but naked, and I found the idea very stimulating, and so did my errant cock, who found the whole experience extremely erotic.

I followed her example and slipped my trunks down to my knees, having struggled to get the waist band over the rather obvious protrusion. I shifted sideways, back towards her, to complete the task and dropped onto my stomach as quickly as possible: stark naked and with the firmest, most rigid erection of my young life.

“Good, isn’t it?” She said and I had to admit that the warmth of the sun on my bum was a truly delicious feeling: so wickedly naughty.

“You know what happens next, don’t you?”

By this time I was getting truly concerned as to what might happen next. A few years later and with more experience, I would have been delighted with this situation, but this was my first encounter with a naked girl and I have to admit I was petrified, but in a most enjoyable way. Without waiting for an answer she continued. “We go skinny dipping!”

My jaw must have fallen a foot because she burst out laughing. “Oh your face! What a picture! Only joking, but the look on your face was priceless. I told you you were a prude.”

Before I could muster my thoughts I fell straight into the trap. The words “I am not a prude.” Escaped my lips just as I realised what I had said.

“Prove it!”

“How?”

“Show me Harry,” she chortled.

“I will not!”

“Prude!”

“Well you’re a prude too, lying there face down.” I retorted.

“Not at all. I’ll roll over if you roll over!” And I’d just fallen into another trap but it was my turn to seize the advantage.

“You first!” I thought I’d gained the upper hand, but it was short lived.

“No both together. On the count of three we both roll right over, as quickly as we can, back onto our tums. There will hardly be time to see anything: OK?”

“Er……”

“Prude!”

“No. No. OK.”

“One, two.”

“No, stop. Stop. I’m not ready. Give me a second or two. Er……OK”

“One, two, THREE!”

The next few seconds seemed to last a lifetime and are emblazoned on my memory for ever. The swiftest of rolls presented me with a view of my first real pair of tits. Oh such beautiful, magnificent tits. Small, pert, little tits, that were to become my favourite shape and size for ever. Such is the power of that first encounter.

A much more impressive surprise however, was the mass of pubic hair, dark brown, curly hair in a perfect triangle, that concealed the secrets at the join in her thighs. How I managed to register this much information in the time available is a credit to the power of human observation, but register it did.

I was so intrigued by the whole spectacle that I temporarily forgot about my own nakedness. My teenage penis sprang free from the safety of its lair between my stomach and the ground and with all the enthusiasm that only a teenage penis can muster, pointed proudly skywards to the full scrutiny of Jenna’s curious gaze.

The exposure, mercifully, was short lived as I completed the roll over on to my stomach, trapping my errant member once again between the ground and my stomach.

Jenna was the first to react with a characteristic chortle, but my teenage brain was still trying to compute what it had seen. The flashes of breast and pubic hair caused all my reproductive urges to go into overdrive and without so much as a touch a familiar feeling mounted in my groin.

I knew what was about to happen and had no way of controlling it. The feeling intensified rapidly and I ejaculated violently into my towel. I still remember the intensity. I had had orgasms before, but only through masturbating. This was on a whole new level: the sensation was indescribable and within seconds my cock, having done the job nature intended it to do, shrank back to its flaccid state.

You may recall that Jenna and I had taken a small boat to a nearby island for a picnic. Jenna is older than I, and much more worldly wise, because I had been closeted in a boys boarding school. Jenna was the first person from 'planet girl’ I had really ever got to know.

Somehow we had wound up sunbathing naked, face down of course, when Jenna trapped me into exposing myself while she did the same. By the time I was face down on the towel again I had seen my first real pair of tits, my first glimpse of female pubic hair and the whole experience had been too much for my teenage brain. I had ejaculated into my towel, with some considerable force, and was now lying on my flaccid cock in a damp patch of semen.

“Are you OK?” She asked.

“Yea fine,” I lied.

“You just look worried all of a sudden.”

“No I’m fine, honestly.”

“I suppose we ought to be getting back.” And she wriggled into her bikini bottoms, fastened her top behind her back, stood up, picked up her towel and flicked me on the bum with it.

“Ouch!”

“Come on then, get Harry tucked away, and let’s go.”

I managed to get decent somehow, without exposing my obvious problem, and we puttered back towards home in our tiny craft.

“That was a great afternoon.” She said,“ I really enjoyed it, and it was such fun to see your face when I suggested skinny dipping!”

“Yes, well I’m glad you weren’t serious.”

“Are you really?” She said with that cheeky smile that showed off her dimples. “I bet you’d really enjoy it if you tried it. I do it all the time at home, it’s such a delicious feeling. Just like the nude sunbathing but ten times better.”

“Maybe next time.” I said with more confidence than I felt.

“Ha ha!” Was all she said as we pulled in to the slipway where the boat was kept.

We tidied up, turned the little boat upside down against the hedge to keep the rain out, and put the tiny outboard motor in the boat house. As we said our goodbyes she leaned forwards and gave me a peck on the cheek. I think I even blushed.

“I really did enjoy it,” were her parting words.

To be continued..

By Slowandeasy47 for Literotica

Home for Horny Monsters: A Gargoyle With A Fetish -

Thu, 04 Aug 2022 11:30:47 -0500

Home for Horny Monsters: A Gargoyle With A Fetish -

Abella isn’t like other gargoyles. Mike Has A Dilemma. (part 5)

By writerannabelle. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Mike gazed at the shy creature in wonder, finding himself once more in a predicament. With Tink, it had been about protecting her from the unknown, a risk he had taken for the greater good. Now, however, it was about his own salvation. Abella had a muscular, almost reptilian build to her. “You would do that for me?” He asked.

“It is my duty,” Abella said, her voice a whisper.

“It may be your duty, but I don’t believe in making others do what they don’t want to do. I would rather risk the lightning than feel like a bag of shit every time I look in the mirror.”

Abella muttered something that was lost to another blast of thunder.

“I didn’t catch that,” Mike told her.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Abella whispered. “It’s that I’m afraid that you won’t.”

“Wait, what?” Mike could tell he was missing a piece.

“I have a…” Abella sighed. “The other gargoyles thought I was weird because I have a human fetish.”

Mike almost laughed, nearly broke that stillness between them. A human fetish? Was that like a reverse furry?

“A human fetish.” Mike said, and Abella nodded.

“It’s why I came here. I enjoy being around humans and interacting with them, something that is forbidden in the outside world. Gargoyles are a terrible species, content with killing for fun. They are very territorial, and last I heard, many were either wiped out by man, or in hiding as statues. I don’t wish such a life upon me. I enjoy the smile on a child, or the way a human woman tosses her hair. I like how smooth and soft your skin feels, and…”

“Have you ever been with a human in that way?” Mike asked, kneeling next to her.

“No.” Abella stared into the distance. “I’ve been too afraid to try it. How does one go about finding a man who can see me as enough of a human woman that the rest of my body doesn’t bother him?”

“That’s easy.” Mike stroked Abella’s stony curls, tilting her face toward his. “You see, I struggle with being around my own kind, and I’m rapidly discovering that what I like is outside the norm.” He pressed his lips to hers, marveling at how hard they felt beneath his. Pulling back, his eyes met hers. “There’s a storm coming, you know.”

He let his hands run along the edges of her wings, pulling them away from her body to reveal naked flesh beneath. Her breasts were smooth, yet strangely supple. Her lack of nipples threw him for a moment, but her breath seized in her chest as he squeezed her stony breasts. Even with all his strength, he was only able to compress them slightly beneath his fingers.

“This is okay?” She asked him, stroking his stiffening cock through his pants.

“It is,” he answered, running his hands down to her hips. She didn’t have a belly button either. Sometime later, he would ask her more about gargoyles anatomy. For now, he kissed her stone skin, grateful for the little sighs she made. He had no way of knowing if she could even feel them otherwise. He explored her body with his hands, marveling at the musculature of her thighs.

Thunder boomed again in the distance. Mike looked back, watching the thunderheads building. “You know, I would ordinarily be in favor of doing this slower, but do you mind if I hurry things up a little?”

Abella was panting. “You’ll have to be on top. I might crush you, otherwise.”

Fair enough, Mike thought, spreading her legs with his hands. The folds of her vulva formed a triangle instead of a normal slit. Tracing his fingers along the edges, he found that the stone was softer here, like thick leather. Abella fumbled with the zipper on his jeans, gasping as his dick sprung free of his fly.

“I’ve never seen one so close before,” she told him, stroking it experimentally.

“Just… don’t squeeze it so hard, okay?” Abella nodded, relaxing her grip. He licked his fingers, running them around her creases in a search pattern. Her vagina was also triangle shaped, and it took some effort to slide two fingers into her- he was grateful to discover that she was very wet just inside her folds. He had no idea how he was going to fuck her without some sort of lubrication.

“Please,” Abella begged him. “I want to feel a human dick inside of me. Do it!”

Mike pulled his fingers free. Her bodily fluids were dark, like oil, and smelled like black licorice. He gave himself a few strokes and pressed his cock against her opening, marveling at how it unfolded for him as he pushed into her.

“Oh. Oh. OH!” Abella trapped Mike with her muscular legs, pulling him in tight as she rubbed herself with her hand. She tugged at her folds, revealing a ruby clitoris the size of a Robin’s egg. Mike stared at her as she did all the work, using her wings as a lever to lift her hips and lower them. He did his best to thrust into her, but she had him pinned in place.

“Loosen your grip,” he said, slapping her thighs to get her attention. Abella ignored him at first, but finally caught on when Mike let out a grunt of pain. She was crushing his hips, her stony legs bruising the skin on his sides. She slowed the pace, allowing him room to maneuver.

“This is so hot,” she whispered, touching his chest with her free hand. “I can feel how warm your skin is when you’re inside me, Mike. Human beings are so warm, and so soft, and-Nngh!” Her teeth clenched and she bucked against him, slamming the cliff with her back and scattering tiny rocks with her fluttering wings. Her excitement drove him closer to the edge, and he put his hands on her smooth breasts, pummeling her as hard as he could. He pulled all the way out, teasing her triangular slit with the head of his cock briefly before pushing back in. Every time he did it, Abella gasped for air as his balls slapped against her cold buttocks.

“Oh shit!” Mike tensed, and then came. His eyes wide, he felt it, a sudden shift in energy between them. Abella pulled him close, gasping and muttering in French as he went limp in her arms.

Tiny drops of rain pelted his face. He was laying between her breasts, a stupid smile on his face. She was running her fingers through his hair.

“Did it work?” He asked her, catching his breath.

“Only one way to find out,” she told him. He pulled free of her, watching her vagina close up, trapping all of his semen inside her. She stood, her wings cast defiantly into the stormy wind that was barreling down on them in the distance. She jumped from the ledge, wings spread wide, circling out over the valley.

Mike fumbled with his pants, zipping them shut as she returned.

“We must hurry,” she informed him, flapping her wings so that she hovered above him. “I am already weakening.”

“Let’s do this, then.” He grabbed her ankles, and she clutched his wrists gently with her feet. Pulling him out into the sky, she beat slow, lazy circles as they climbed, the cliff’s edge becoming visible once more. Once they were high enough, she soared toward the greenhouse itself, a distorted wall of glass that climbed into the sky until it disappeared from view. The Mandragora vines were moving about a different part of the cliffs now, still searching for its prey. They shot overhead the Mandragora, crashing through one of the previously broken panels. Abella and Mike crashed into the yard, tumbling head over heels until they came to a rest, both of them staring into the darkening afternoon skies of Earth.

Firing Squad

“Ow, fuck!” Mike winced as Naia inspected the large bruise forming above his hip bone where Abella had squeezed him with her stony thighs. The Mandragora plant had actually injured him less than the gargoyle had, surprisingly enough. Save for some scrapes on his hands (well, and not being eaten), he was fine.

“Yeah, that will sting for a while.” Naia placed a kiss on it. “You had me so worried! I’ve never seen the Mandragora do that before. You’re going to need to feed it pretty soon.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Meat and cheese and wine. We’re going on a picnic next Wednesday.” Mike informed her.

“Oh, really? I think that’s a great idea,” Naia said. “She’ll love that!”

“Wait, the plant…” Mike felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead, even though he was standing naked in the fountain. “It can…it can…”

“I’m just kidding, goofball. The Mandragora can’t leave the greenhouse.” Naia glanced over at Abella. She sat in the water, her wings pulled close to her body, watching the tiny water spheres circle the fountain, glowing with their own inner light. The sun was setting on the other side of the house, and the garden was cast into darkness, save for Naia’s magic spheres. “You need to be more careful, Abella. Mike isn’t made of steel.”

“I know,” Abella grumbled, flicking the water with her finger. “Felt really good though.”

“That part I get,” Naia agreed. “And I’m grateful you got to him before he was eaten. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t picked that little cubby to hole up in.”

“I was tired of washing off bird shit,” Abella said, popping a bubble with her talon. It reformed on the other side of the fountain. “If I had known Emily was going to croak, I wouldn’t have come down here. It wouldn’t have mattered if the Mandragora hadn’t broken loose.”

“And that’s the peril of living here,” Naia agreed. “The Mandragora wouldn’t have broken out if Tink had spotted the cracked windows. Tink wouldn’t have slept for so long if a new guardian had been selected in a reasonable amount of time. I’m actually kind of worried about what other surprises await us as we discover more of the house. I can’t imagine that the Mandragora is the only potential danger.”

“There’s an easy solution,” Abella said. “We need to make sure that someone is with him at all times. Currently, any time he is outside the house, he is under my care.”

“You can come inside,” Mike offered. “There’s no reason for you to be out here.”

“There is, actually. I’m a living statue-not only am I likely to damage the interior of the house, but my kind hates being indoors. I come inside only for emergencies.”

“Oh.” Mike sat on the edge of the fountain. The water was warm, heated by Naia’s magic. “If guardianship is so important, then why didn’t Emily have something set up in advance?”

Naia shrugged, her greenish-blue hair shifting along the curves of her breasts. She was wearing her simple gown currently, which Mike actually preferred. It gave her some wonderful cleavage to look at. “It seems like there was a reason, but it’s been gobbled up for me. I remember arguing about it with her, but there are definitely gaps.”

“Which means it involves another monster.” Mike frowned at the water. “It seems like inheriting this home in itself is like a trial of sorts. If I’m not qualified for the job, something could kill me.”

Naia and Abella exchanged looks. “Someone with him at all times,” they both said.

“Well, that just means Tink needs to stick with me when I’m indoors,” Mike said.

“Anytime you go exploring, anyway. Currently, you’ve restricted your explorations to out here, and unless you go back in the greenhouse, you should be fine.”

‘And I need to feed the Mandragora, apparently. Any other plants living in there I should worry about?“

Naia shrugged, but Abella nodded.

“Yes, actually. The forest inside the greenhouse is an extension of the house. The plants being grown in there are there for a reason. Think of it like a little herb garden, but with spell components. A wizard would kill for access to it- I imagine that there are things in there that might even be extinct in the wild.”

“Wait, wizards? Those are real too?” Mike looked to Naia, who just rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“They aren’t as prevalent in those pigwarts books,” Naia told him.

“Hogwarts,” Mike corrected her.

“Whatever. Last I heard, the wizards of this realm were extremely limited in number. Less than forty total since Merlin sealed away magic for humans. Maybe one person a century figures out how to do magic, and usually the others track him down and kill him.”

“Holy shit.” Mike shook his head. “That’s insane.”

“Now you know why monsters and magic items are so coveted. For some, it’s the only way to gain any true power.” Naia tilted her head at Abella. “Gargoyles are impervious to most normal means. Neither blade nor flame can scratch their hides, and they are extremely strong. There are few places in the world that could protect you from a gargoyle attack. With just Abella at your side, you could have your enemies killed with little fear of recourse.”

“Well, not that I really do that now,” Abella added. “I’m bound to the house. Unless such a task involves the long term protection of this place, I can’t fly very far from here without feeling a strong urge to return.”

“So, if I was in trouble a mile from here, you would come for me?” Mike asked.

“If I knew you were in trouble, potentially. It would need to be a situation dire enough that I knew your chances of survival were slim.” Abella shrugged, her stony breasts shifting. “I’m more like a bouncer than anything else.”

“How do you know what a bouncer is?” Mike asked.

“Please. I’m not that sheltered.” Abella popped another bubble. “I have a people fetish. I watch lots of TV.”

“Outside?” Mike asked.

“Emily would leave the window open for me sometimes,” Abella said. “It’s not like I need sleep or anything.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching the house?” Mike asked.

“Gargoyles have phenomenal hearing,” Abella told him. “If it’s quiet enough, I can hear a heartbeat from twenty feet.”

“Whoa.” Mike said.

“Speaking of which, Tink is looking for you. I can hear her calling your name.” Abella informed him.

“She’s probably worried. I’ve been gone all day.” Mike walked in the back door listening carefully. He heard noise from the kitchen, and found Tink digging through a junk drawer full of random crap.

“Hey there.” Tink jumped at the sound of his voice. Her body was covered in dirt and grime, and even cobwebs. “Where have you been?”

“Checking pipes,” Tink informed him, beaming a smile. “Easy fix.”

“What are you looking for in there?” Mike asked.

“Tink look for money.”

“Why do you need money?”

The doorbell chimed, echoing through the house. Mike stared at Tink, who stared back.

“Who is that?” Mike asked.

“Pizza.” Tink replied, scratching at a greasy smudge on her face.

“How did you order a pizza?”

“Tink use magic screen. Type in pizza.”

Mike stared at the little goblin, mouth open. “My laptop was locked. How did you get in?”

Tink tapped the goggles on her head. “Tink order extra good pizza.” The door chimed again. Mike grabbed his hair in frustration, then pointed at Tink

“Stay out of sight. We’ll have the internet talk later.” Tink shrugged, walking out of the kitchen. Shaking his head, he ran to the front of the house, opening the door. Holding pizza in one hand and a two liter of soda in the other was Dana. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and tonight she wore a tight white top under her black jacket. The jacket was unzipped, revealing a large pair of breasts that had been forced together by a dark black bra that peeked out along the edges of her neckline, the same breasts that had sent him into Naia’s tub in the first place.

Mike’s mouth went dry.

“Hey!” Dana said, handing over the pizza. “How are things?”

“Um, good?” Mike took the pizza in one hand. Dana was all smiles for him, and he felt that familiar nervousness hit him, a wave of anxiety across his whole body. “Uh, I didn’t, um, expect you so fast. Let me grab my wallet.”

“Yeah, sure.” Mike backed into the house and was dismayed when Dana followed him inside

“Whoa, this place is spooky!” Dana looked around at the furniture, which was still covered with white sheets. She pointed just off to the side of the stairs. “Does that Grandfather clock actually work?” She knelt down to examine the pendulum. The back of her pants slid down, revealing that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Dana opened the door of the clock, her jacket sliding up to reveal a tattoo along her lower back.

“I, um…” Where had that clock come from? He couldn’t concentrate, staring at Dana’s exposed ass. “I’ll be right back.” He ran into the kitchen. Tink was busy staring at his laptop computer, which she had unlocked again. “Don’t touch anything on there,” he told her, setting the pizza down on the table. Grabbing his wallet, he walked back out to the main room to find Dana giving the pendulum inside the clock a push.

The entryway filled with the soft sounds of moving gears. The old clock’s second hand started moving around the face of the clock. Dana’s face lit up in excitement. “That is so cool!” She declared.

“You like clocks or something?” Mike asked. He held out a twenty, unsure what the total was.

“Oh yeah. I’m going to school for mechanical engineering. I love stuff like this.” Dana took the money from him and dug into her pockets for change. Upstairs, Mike heard a loud splash in the bathroom. They both looked up.

“What was that?” Dana asked.

“Bad pipe. Trying to get it fixed is all. Go ahead, keep the change,” Mike told her.

“Are you sure? Thank you!” Dana’s face lit up, and she hugged Mike. Her breasts were soft, pushing against his chest, and Mike felt a shiver as his body redirected blood flow to his dick. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” She said, her face turning red as she backed away, stuffing the money in her pocket. “I don’t normally do that, it’s just that you’ve been very generous, and I needed extra money for my car payment, and you’re so cu-“Dana’s mouth slammed shut, her face glowing brighter. "I’m sorry, I just-thank you.”

“It’s okay. I remember what it’s like, working my way through school. I’m doing pretty well now, so just trying to pay it forward.” He stepped around her, opening the door. Dana stepped out onto the porch and Mike would have left her there, but Cecilia was sitting on the swing, gazing out into the yard. Mike walked onto the porch, keeping Dana from looking at the banshee. “So tell me more about your major.”

“Not a lot to tell. Class during the day, labs on weekend mornings. I have this gig to help make ends meet with student loans and such. I’m the only girl in my program, so I deal with a lot of creeps.” Mike stayed just ahead of her, walking down the path to her car, hoping she wouldn’t look back. Cecilia seemed quite content on her swing, her hair fanning out around her as if she was storing up a massive charge. “Hey, if you need an extra hand fixing stuff around here, I would love to help out. My dad worked construction when I was growing up, so I’m pretty handy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” They were at her car now, the glowing Pizza Palace marquee on her roof. She seemed reluctant to leave, but gave him a wave, the light from her GPS casting an eerie light on her face as she drove away. Mike let out a huge sigh, then ran back up the steps to the house. Cecilia wasn’t sitting anymore-instead she was staring inside the living room window.

“Something is happening,” she informed him.

“What’s happening?” Mike asked. Cecilia shrugged. You’re the Check Engine Light of the Damned, Mike thought to himself. He walked inside, staring upstairs and then toward the kitchen. Choosing the kitchen, he found Tink sitting at the table, clicking through websites on his laptop while eating her ill-gotten pizza.

“We need to have a quick chat about… what the hell are you eating?” He was standing behind her, and Tink tilted her head up and back.

“Tink order best pizza,” she informed him, holding up a slice for his inspection. Pepperoni, sausage, and pineapple adorned the top. The soda she had picked was orange, most of which was gone already. Only two slices of pizza were left in the box.

“You really are a little monster, aren’t you?” Mike flicked a piece of pineapple off.

“Tink find good stuff on magic screen,” Tink informed him. Looking over the top of her head, he saw that she was on Amazon and currently had nearly a hundred items in his cart. He leaned past her and opened it up to see what she was buying.

“Tink!” He shouted, seeing that his total was in

Home for Horny Monsters: Romancing the Stone -

Wed, 03 Aug 2022 11:31:19 -0500

Home for Horny Monsters: Romancing the Stone -

The magic screen, deserted fountain, and the mandragora. (part 4)

By writerannabelle. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

A chill went up his spine at the thought of the banshee. He needed to make nice with her, and he thought he had a good way to do it. He placed his hand on the top rail of the stairs, looking down the rest of the hall. Two doors on each side of the hall and a tall, ebony wardrobe with a silver handle.

Had that wardrobe always been there?

The sound of breaking glass startled him. He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen to see Tink frowning at a busted bowl on the floor. She blushed when she saw him.

“Tink got startled,” she explained, eying the bowl. “But Tink can fix.”

“Don’t bother.” Mike grabbed a broom and swept up the glass. “Bowls are easily replaced.” Tink nodded at this, following him into the kitchen. Mike pulled the box of Eggos out of the freezer.

“Are those good?” Tink asked. Mike nodded, shoving them in the toaster.

“Eggos? The best, as long as you know how to dress them up properly.” Pulling a tub of butter from the fridge, he set syrup and peanut butter next to it. When the toaster popped, he stacked the Eggos on his plate, slathering them first in butter, then peanut butter. He topped them with some syrup, handing them to Tink. “Try that and let me know what you think?”

Tink took the plate, sniffing at the Eggos. “Tink not so sure,” she informed him before picking up an Eggo. She bit into it, syrup and peanut butter running down her chin.

“So what do you think?” Mike asked.

“Tink think goblin husband learn to cook.” She handed the plate back to Mike. “Tink need real food.” She opened the fridge, standing on her tiptoes to see to the back. Her double nipples perked up under the cold air. “Tink like pizza.”

“Well, we’re out of pizza, but maybe this will help.” Mike pulled a bag of pizza rolls out of the freezer. “We can cook these up in a hurry.”

“Use oven. Microwave is lazy.” Tink took the bag from him, reading the instructions. “Tink can do this. Mike eat Eggo things.”

“Fair enough.” Clearly, he and Tink had different tastes in food. He made a pot of coffee, which Tink happily shared with him while they waited. Tink unceremoniously dumped the whole bag onto a pan, and Mike sighed inwardly. When he had bought food yesterday, he hadn’t accounted for another mouth to feed. Tink found a pad of paper in one of the drawers and was busy jotting notes to herself as the pizza rolls cooked. Mike dug through a collection of inbound emails, mostly job related, when he saw one from the Historical Preservation Society.

Curious, he clicked the link. The writer of the email laid out all sorts of reasons why they wanted to buy the place, but Mike didn’t bother reading it. He trashed the file after only a few sentences.

“Show Tink.” The goblin appeared between him and the laptop, her head blocking his view. “Show Tink how to use magic screen.”

“I’ll show you later. What did you put on the list?” Tink handed him the paper. Her handwriting was surprisingly elegant, a cursive lettering that made him think of wedding invitations. Scanning the list, Mike felt a hard lump form in his throat. Every line of the paper was full with something that needed fixing. “You found all of these things wrong already?”

“Tink know some from before.” The oven beeped, and Tink left his side to retrieve her breakfast. Mike couldn’t help but watch her as she inspected each roll carefully between her claws before popping them in her mouth. “Before big sleep, Tink keep journal on broken stuff, but Emily not always buy Tink supplies. Bad ladies won’t let her, she tell Tink.”

“Bad ladies?” Mike thought of the email. “Oh, the historical society. Yeah, we have to be careful doing repairs, apparently. This place is on a national registry, and we have to follow the rules or…”

Or what? That was a question for Beth, obviously. What was to keep him from doing whatever he wanted to the house? Some of the items on list were simple enough, and he didn’t see any harm in letting Tink work on them.

“Hey Tink.” Tink, her mouth full of pizza rolls, tilted her head at him. “This thing right here. I’m planning to take care of that.”

Tink nodded her head, swallowing pizza rolls. “You do good job, or Tink be mad.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t need any more people mad at him. “Do we have the supplies for this?”

“Tink show you.” The goblin led him out to the garage, where he once again navigated the maze of boxes.

“Are these books yours?” he asked.

“No. Tink read sometime, but not these. These belong to-” Tink stopped walking, her eyes going blank. “That strange. Tink forget.”

“Not that strange,” Mike muttered. Tink led him down to her dwelling beneath the garage. Mike tilted his head to fit, listening carefully as Tink described her organization system. She opened various drawers and boxes, showing Mike how everything fit together like a Tetris game from hell. Opening the third box, Mike held up a hand in surrender.

“Tink, you don’t live down here anymore. If it’s possible, could we take these things out of the boxes and use the very nice tool benches upstairs?”

“Tink make trade. Mike move books out, Tink move tools back.”

“Deal.” He kissed Tink on the forehead, the little goblin’s face turning a darker shade of green. “But that’s a job for a different day. Right now, I need some WD-40, a couple of screwdrivers, and those shears I bought.”

Tink dug through the boxes, pulling out the things Mike needed, and stuffing them into a small toolbox she slid out from under her own bench. She threw in some extra items, then handed it to Mike. “You go fix, Tink check pipes.”

“You got it.” Mike left the goblin behind, smiling at the sound of Tink humming a little song to herself. He cast a look back, briefly watching her assemble her own box of tools. He picked his way through the garage, briefly wondering if the garage door would even open if he tried. Deciding that he wasn’t feeling adventurous enough to chance it, he took the long route through the house, stepping out into the real world on the front porch.

The swing swayed back and forth, squeaking incessantly, but an actual breeze was passing through, which meant Mike had no idea if Cecilia was there. There was an easy way to find out.

“Hello? Cecilia?” He moved closer to the swing, fighting the urge to shut his eyes. It was like watching a scary movie, and knowing that the scary part was coming. “Are you out here?” The swing swayed gently, no sign of slowing down. If the banshee was gone, that would make the process that much easier. He approached the swing, grabbing the chain and unhooking it from the frame, lowering it to the ground. When nothing bad happened, he inspected the eye hook at the top of the chain.

Sure enough, it had managed to wiggle partially free, the surface rusting over. Staring at the useless screwdrivers he had chosen, he found the wrench that Tink had tucked away for him. He laughed, using the wrench to twist the eyehook. Barely moving, he used a few sprays of the WD-40 to help move things along. It took him a few minutes, but he managed to yank it free.

Using a rag in the toolbox, Mike gave the screw a good cleaning, scraping the rust off as best he could. Inspecting the screw, he looked inside the hole of the frame. It was caked with rust as well. He used one of the screwdrivers to clean it out as best he could, knocking loose quite a bit of rust and dirt. Sticking the eyebolt back in, he twisted it tightly into place. He gave it an experimental tug, and it held fast.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, picking up the chain. Lifting his arm to reattach it, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift as the temperature dropped. Spinning in place, he saw that she was only a foot from him, her body hovering inches off the ground, both hands balled at her side. Her face a twisted mask, Cecilia took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

“Wait!” Mike cried, dropping the chain and holding his hands in front of him. “Just hear me out!” He knelt down, lifting the chain and the bench, hooking it back through the eyebolt. Keeping a cautious eye on Cecilia, he sat down gently, wincing as he gave a gentle kick of his legs. The porch swing was silent, gliding back and forth with just the soft rustling of the frame above it. “I know that you like this swing, so I thought I would fix it for you.”

Cecilia’s ghostly features softened, her hands reaching out to touch the moving chain. She glided gently around Mike, sitting down beside him on the swing. The air by her skin was cool, and she closed her eyes, letting out a sigh.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft with an Irish lilt to it. Milky eyes staring into the distance, her hand felt along the bench, resting on his knee. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. My name is Mike, by the way.” Mike tried to stand, but Cecilia squeezed his leg, holding him in place.

“I’m sorry about before.” She turned her sightless eyes toward him. “Please stay with me for just a bit. I haven’t had anyone to talk to in quite some time.”

Mike could think of several things he wanted to do instead, but Cecilia’s demeanor was not only drastically different, but he couldn’t help but notice just how cute she was.

“Okay, sure. I can stay for a bit.”

“Thank you.” Cecilia rocked on the swing next to Mike, saying nothing for several minutes. Mike stared at the banshee, more than curious. Her white clothing was simple, but tailor made for her body, and her curls were as white as she was, though they terminated in eerie spikes that spread out around her as if she sat on a Van De Graaff generator.

The chill of her hand was intense through his jeans. Uncomfortable, he slid his hand beneath hers, lifting it slightly.

“I hope this is okay,” he told her, as a slight grin crossed her face.

“You’re the first man to hold my hand in many years,” she informed him. “The last one to do that was-” Her entire body flickered, like a shock had gone through her. “-someone whose name I can’t remember.”

“Yep.” Mike couldn’t help but notice how soft her skin was. The longer he held her hand, the warmer she felt. “Now that you’re not pissed at me, you don’t seem very banshee-ish.”

This elicited a frown from Cecilia. “A banshee is what I am, not how I act. It used to be something I was proud to be, a job I was proud to do.”

“A job?”

Cecilia nodded. “Every family had its own banshee. It was my job to guide them into the afterlife when they passed. Nobody loves a banshee for what they represent, but they needed us for what we did. Our wails of sorrow were to announce our coming, and we would guide the spirits into the ever after.”

“So… the afterlife is real?”

Cecilia nodded. “Very much so. When Emily passed, I was allowed to guide her soul to its resting place.”

“That’s, wow.” That was something to chew on, for certain. “What’s it like?”

Cecilia smiled. “You’ll find out someday.”

“To be honest, I try not to think of it much.” Mike winced. “I had a close call when I was younger.”

“I can tell. Your soul has a certain polish to it.” Cecilia’s face broke into a wicked smile. “Tell me, do you-” Cecilia flickered, vanishing from view at the creaking of the front steps. A woman in her forties walked slowly up the wooden stairs, accompanied by a much younger woman. Her long black hair was wound tightly in a bun, but there was plenty left over that it had been fashioned into a long braid beneath it. She wore a simple gray skirt with a modest white blouse. Her dark eyes found Mike, and she paused at the top of the stairs.

“Are you Mr. Radley?” Her tone was formal, the question almost a command.

“That’s me.” Mike stood, walking across the porch. He was going to shake her hand, but his stomach clenched suddenly, sending pain through his gut. He grabbed the railing instead.

“My name is Elizabeth. This is my daughter Sarah.” Sarah’s dark hair scattered along the fabric of her red suit jacket, contrasting nicely in the sunlight. Her skirt matched her jacket, and a low cut top was accentuated by a shimmering blue stone pendant that dangled perilously between her large breasts. “We are from the Historical Preservation Society, and I was wondering if we could have a word with you.”

Mike found his mouth inexplicable dry, his forced smile twitching. Something about Elizabeth made him more than uneasy, a gut feeling that he couldn’t ignore. “Um, sure, I guess.”

“Excellent, Mr. Radley.” Elizabeth stayed where she was, her eyes locked on Mike. Mike saw Sarah staring at the door of the house. “Maybe it would be best if we went inside?”

Mike immediately thought of Tink wandering around the house in just a shirt and goggles. “I would prefer we speak out here, actually. It’s a bit stuffy inside, and I wasn’t expecting company.”

“We can talk out here then.” Elizabeth held up a folder, and Mike immediately recognized it as identical to the one Beth had taken away with her yesterday. “I was informed yesterday evening by the estate agent that you declined our offer to buy this property without even looking at it.”

“Um, yes, I did decline the offer.” It was odd, but he couldn’t help but notice that Elizabeth stood on the top step of the porch rather than the actual porch. “I’ve decided to live here.”

“By yourself?” Sarah asked, her predatory eyes scanning the windows. If Elizabeth was giving him a mad school principal vibe, then Sarah was a cop who had pulled him over and was ready to bust a taillight.

“I’ve been by myself most of my life.” The feeling in his gut manifested now as a cold ball of ice. What the hell was going on? “I’m not sure why it would change anytime soon.”

“Well, this is a pretty big place for just one man, Mr. Radley.” Elizabeth’s smile didn’t make it to her eyes. “And I can’t help but be offended that you didn’t even consider looking at our offer.” Sarah had taken a step back from her mother to get a better view of the second floor windows.

“Why are you so interested in this place?” Mike asked, leaning against the rail.

“It was one of the first homes built in the area,” Elizabeth told him. “Constructed by a mysterious architect, and paid for by an unknown benefactor. This home is a mystery hiding in plain site, and the Historical Preservation Society is interested in not only answering these questions, but preserving the home’s original beauty.”

“Well, if that’s your primary concern, then you should know I have no intention of changing anything about this house.”

“But caring for such a place will be hard for a single person, don’t you agree Mr. Radley?” Sarah had backed down the steps all the way, squinting at the shadows under the porch.

“I’ve already got someone to help with that.” Mike crossed his arms. “Can I help your daughter with something?”

Sarah was crouched down, inspecting the bushes Mike had fallen into yesterday, gloved hands gently touching their branches. Surprised that Mike was watching her, she stood up suddenly.

“She’s been fascinated by this place since she was a little girl,” Elizabeth informed him. “I would like for you to actually look at our offer this time, Mr. Radley. Strongly consider it. I promise you that this home will only become a burden, one that the women of the Society will be more than happy to take on.” She held the folder out.

“I’ll look, but no promises.” Mike took the folder, and Elizabeth’s finger briefly touched his. He felt a tiny spark, and suddenly Elizabeth’s smile finally reached her eyes.

“We’ll be in touch,” she told him, moving off the steps and down the walkway to the street. Sarah smirked, following her mother out to a sports car parked partially on his driveway. He didn’t bother waving as they roared back out of his driveway. The cold feeling in his stomach faded, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“What a couple of fucking weirdos,” he muttered, staring at the paper in his hands. He opened the file, revealing a set of legal documents and a monetary offer that was entirely too large. Mike couldn’t help but notice that the offer they had supplied him pertained to the contents of the house as well.

“Okay, gotcha.” Mike closed the folder and walked inside the house. Naia had made it very clear that there were people who wanted the home for its inhabitants (however many of them there were), and the odd behavior of Elizabeth and Sarah now made perfect sense.

Well, almost. Obviously, Sarah was hoping to get a peek at one of the inhabitants, and her behavior had been anything but normal. Elizabeth acted pleasant enough, but he had recognized the mask she wore all too well. His own mother had donned it every time they needed a new place to sleep for the night, every time she needed to bargain just another week on the couch. This was a woman who was used to getting her way, and Mike wasn’t playing along.

He sat at his computer, pulling up the website for the Historical Preservation Society. There were several members, and a little digging revealed that Elizabeth and Sarah were indeed high ranking members. He frowned, staring at their smiling faces. Looking again at the folder, he tossed it in the trash. If those two knew there was more to the house than he was letting on, he needed to figure out how to divert their attention elsewhere.

That could wait, however. He walked back out front, hoping to strike up another conversation with Cecilia, but the banshee didn’t appear. Grabbing his toolbox, he wandered back through the house and out into the garden. The fountain was flowing freely now, and several small birds were bathing in the upper basin. Naia, floating in the water, had one hand in the air with two small finches chirping happily to her on her fingertips.

“What are they saying?” Mike asked, setting down the toolbox. He couldn’t help but notice that Naia’s fountain was clean, but the surrounding area had been covered in dirt and muck from her blowing out the lines and overflowing the fountain yesterday.

“They’re telling me about the visitors you had,” Naia said, giving her hand a flick. The birds took flight, landing in the basin to join their brethren. “You felt sick around them, yes?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“That touch of precognition I told you about. Those women were trouble, and I could sense your apprehension.” Naia sat up, the water pushing her into a seated position. “What did they want?”

“They want to buy the place. I think they know something is up, because one of them kept trying to peek in the windows.”

“She wouldn’t have seen anything if she had. Unless you invite someone in, the Gaes protects us from outside observation. Tink could stand naked in the doorway of the house, and it would appear empty to them.”

“Spooky.” Mike sat on the edge of the fountain. “Yeah, when they wanted to come inside, I felt super uncomfortable.”

“That’s from the magic. Listen to it always.”

Mike nodded. “Don’t worry, I will. Oh, I talked with Cecilia. She didn’t shriek at me this time, and we chatted a bit. That was kind of cool, not having the shit scared out of me.”

Naia nodded. “Emily always told me that Cecilia was very kind.”

“Yeah, well, it was nice to talk to her. Are all the monsters here like that? Are you all friendly?”

Naia shrugged. “I want to say yes, but I can’t say for certain. It would make sense that we all respond well to be taken care of-this was meant to be our haven, our stronghold. Gone are the days when monsters roamed the world freely. For many of us, that’s a good thing though. Several of us treated mankind as a food source, or our playthings.”

“Well, humans do the same thing to each other, actually.” Mike scowled at the water.

“Like your mother?” Naia asked.

Mike nodded. “In the worst way. I spent years thinking that she would one day love me back, accept me, show me kindness. I’m glad she’s dead, but that makes me feel bad, so it’s a cycle that can’t really be broken. I’ll never get that closure, so…” Mike shrugged. “It is what it is.”

Naia sat next to Mike, running her hands down his arms. “I can think of a way to take your mind off of it,” she suggested.

Mike laughed. “That sounds like an amazing offer, but if I’m going to take care of this place, I actually

Home for Horny Monsters: Squatter’s Rights -

Tue, 02 Aug 2022 11:31:03 -0500

Home for Horny Monsters: Squatter’s Rights -

Mike inherits an old house with fuckable monster girls! (part 3)

By writerannabelle. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

“Give up, Tink. I’ve won,” Mike panted, sweat pouring off his body. “It’s over.”

Tink fixed him with an angry stare, which quickly melted into defeat. Her large eyes pooled with tears, and she turned her face away from Mike.

“Tink lose. Tink give up goblin home.” She snuffled, the dirt on the floor billowing away from her. “Tink leave, and no come back.”

“Wait, what?” Tink had relaxed beneath Mike, so he shifted his body so that he wasn’t crushing her any longer. “No, Tink, you don’t have to leave, I just want my tools so I can fix the fountain.”

“Goblin Law. We fight over home. Loser leave, never come back.” She tried to rise, but Mike wasn’t having it. He knew that Naia would be disappointed in him if he managed to lose one of the inhabitants of the house so quickly.

And honestly, was he even as entitled to the home as they were? They had been here longer, he was just the current human legally entitled to the place. Watching the goblin weep beneath him, he couldn’t help but feel extremely bad. Tink obviously came from a culture he wasn’t going to understand overnight, but this was a problem he needed to take care of right this second.

“I don’t want Tink to leave,” Mike explained. The instant the words left his mouth, the goblin turned her head toward him. There was a glimmer of hope that he was afraid to shatter, so he waited for her next move.

“Goblin Law say fight over home, someone leave.”

Mike fought hard to avoid rolling his eyes. Clearly her head was hard literally and metaphorically. “Well, goblin law doesn’t apply here. This is my house, so we follow my laws.”

Tink shook her head. “Always follow Goblin Law.”

“Well, then is there a law that lets us fight and you get to stay?” He felt Tink relax even more beneath his arm. Her snuffling stopped, and she became silent beneath his arms.

“Fight for goblin wife,” she whispered.

“Oh.” Mike was officially between a rock and a hard place with the little green monster he had found beneath the garage. If he took her as a goblin wife, then what did that entail? Then again, where would she go if she left? Naia had warned her that the world was a bad place for monsters, and it occurred to him that, as far as he knew, nobody even remotely believed goblins still existed. What if Tink was the last of her kind? What about his relationship with Naia? “Shit.”

“No have to take goblin wife,” Tink whispered. “Tink can just go.”

“Well, hold on.” The gears in his mind were turning. “If I take you as goblin wife, what about other people? Do we have to live down here?”

“Goblin husband take many wives. Goblin wife no mind.”

“Okay. Well Tink, this was a fight for a goblin wife. Now you don’t have to leave.” Mike wanted to clap himself on the back, but he wanted to keep Tink pinned.

“Fight for goblin wife not over,” she told him. Seeing the puzzled look on his face, she gently grabbed one of his hands and dragged it down to her breast. “Different kind of fight.”

“Oh.” Mike wasn’t sure what to say, but he was immediately struck at how firm the breast beneath his hand was. It was slightly bigger than his hand, and as he dragged his thumb across the top, he felt a pair of nipples, stacked vertically. He gave it a squeeze, releasing Tink’s arms. She immediately grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head, pulling him close.

“Tink want you to fight harder,” she hissed, pulling him in. Clawed hands dragged down her back, just hard enough to remind Mike that they were there. They found the waist band of his shorts, shoving them down. Mike grabbed her breasts tightly now, and Tink’s clawed hand found Mike’s cock. “Fight even harder. Make goblin wife.”

Mike wrapped his hand in her hair, looping it across his knuckles so that he could yank it backward. He pulled her face in, suddenly entranced by the exotic curl of her lips, something he only saw now that her fangs weren’t bared at him. Tink was working his shaft with both tiny hands, dragging her just the tips of her claws expertly across his dick. He shivered, the sensation hitting him directly in the gut.

“Almost ready,” Tink muttered, licking the palms of her hand with an unusually long tongue. Mike bit down on her breast, rolling her double nipples around with his tongue. He was amazed at how large each nipple was in his mouth, and she arched her back.

“Bite harder, sweaty man.”

Mike chomped down, expecting a cry of protest, but he got a moan of pleasure. Her skin was dirty, but tasted mainly of the earth, and didn’t yield in the slightest. Letting up, he curled three fingers and caught her double nipples between his knuckles, pinching them and pulling up. Snarling, Tink grabbed the head of his hard cock, now slippery, and placed it at the edge of her pussy.

“Make me goblin wife,” she growled, and Mike obliged. He shoved his way into her, her tight pussy squeezing him the whole way in.

“Holy shit!” Mike yelled, feeling hard ridges inside of Tink rub against his glans. Tink wrapped tiny legs around Mike and forced herself up to meet him, but she was so tight, he wasn’t getting in any further than just the first couple inches.

“Fight from bottom,” Tink begged, and Mike rolled on his back. She mounted him, forcing herself down, and Mike felt like his dick was being squeezed by a set of angry hands. She struggled, only three inches of his dick penetrating her tight folds. Mike grabbed her shoulders first, trying to push her down. The tender side of him demanded that he show some sort of gentle gesture, so he ran one hand lovingly across her brow and then back through her hair.

What was this? Mike swept Tink’s hair aside to reveal a horn, nearly three inches long, hidden in the wild tangles of her hair. Surprised, he searched the other side of her head, finding another, slightly shorter horn. Suddenly inspired, he clamped his hands down tight, forcing Tink onto his cock.

Tink couldn’t reach the root of his cock, her insides simply not large enough for him. Her tiny belly bulged outward with every thrust of his dick. Tink panted, mouth open wide, as she rode Mike hard, squeezing at his pecks with clawed hands. Her wide hips made it easy for her legs to wrap around Mike’s waist, and she was lifting and dropping so quickly that Mike was tensing his stomach just to brace for impact.

“Oh! Oh fuck!” Mike felt his insides churn, his balls getting ready to blast a load. Tink, sensing this, rode even harder, guttural moans and drool leaving her mouth, gasping for air as her fingers clutched Mike’s biceps. Mike yanked down on her horns, squeezing tight, and Tink’s grunts became a protracted growl. Mike’s whole body tightened, and Tink threw herself forward, slipping free of Mike’s hold, to sink her teeth into her shoulder.

“Ow, you fucking-” Mike bit her back, trying to dig his own teeth into the flesh around her neck. His crotch was suddenly soaked in Tink’s cum, and she screamed through her teeth. His shoulder hurt like hell, but his balls never got the message. Mike bit her even harder, filling her with three giant bursts of cum, Tink grunting as each one entered her.

She released him with her teeth, leaving a thin pattern of needle-like injuries all around his shoulder. Mike let go too, leaving mostly just indentations and spit on her skin. Her pussy contracted, squeezing out another stream of goo, and Mike shuddered with pleasure. Tink laid her head down on Mike’s chest, letting out a low rumble like a cat.

“Tinker now goblin wife of sweaty man,” she told him, tracing her fingers along his arm.

“Tinker? Is that your full name?” Tink nodded, her shining eyes on his. “Well, you can call me Mike, not sweaty man.”

“Mike goblin husband. Tink belong to Mike now.” She sighed, laying her head down. Mike held her this way for a bit, letting his body relax. Even as his dick softened, her goblin cunt was still so tight that she held him in place.

“Well, Tinker-”

“Husband call me Tink.”

“Well, Tink, I’m sure there’s plenty of daylight left. I need my tools to fix the fountain.”

Tink shook her head, her ears flopping lightly beneath her hair. “Tink good at fixing. Tink help, you see.” She dismounted, Mike’s dick plopping free along with a giant puddle of cum. Tink squatted, lapping up the mess with her long, slippery tongue, until his cock was clean once more.

“Jesus all-mighty,” Mike muttered to himself, finding his shorts. Tink was holding what was left of her dress, string at it in sadness.

“Tink need new outfit,” she informed him, tossing the rags aside.

“I think I have a shirt that will fit you,” he said, not wanting to waste any more time thinking about it.

“Good idea. Husband get new dress, Tink go look at fountain.” She had already retrieved her goggles, fixing them in place on her head, and had grabbed a small toolbox next to the bench. “We go.”

Tink followed Mike out, and they navigated the labyrinth of books until they got to the back door. The sun was past the roof of the house now, meaning it was at least four in the afternoon. In the sun’s light, Tink’s skin took on a pretty hue beneath all the grime, and he could now see the giant, single areola that surrounded her double nipples. Dark green pubes hid her crotch from view.

Seeing where his eyes were looking, Tink became suddenly bashful. She held the toolbox up, covering her crotch with it.

“Get Tink’s dress,” she said, her yellow eyes looking away from him. Mike left her behind, running up the stairs to retrieve a spare t-shirt from his bag. Today had destroyed a significant chunk of his wardrobe. He needed to go shopping soon.

Mike grabbed a simple black t-shirt from his bag. He didn’t bother putting a new shirt on-his new scrapes and cuts were still clotting. Staring in the mirror, he just shook his head. It looked like he had fallen through a plate glass window. The bite marks on his shoulder, however, had already clotted up. He really hoped that goblin bites weren’t poisonous.

When he got outside, Tink was squatting, naked, inside the fountain. He was handing her his shirt when he watched a spoonful of cum dribble free from her pussy.

“This nice.” Tink inspected the material before slipping it over her head. The sleeves were a little too wide, but the length was perfect. It covered Tink down to her knees. Mike joined her in the fountain, and the two of them started by scraping the mud and grime from the bottom, scooping it over the side into the bucket that he had brought home. The center of the fountain was a simple marble monolith with a single basin that would overflow into the giant basin below.

Scraping up the muck and grime, Mike couldn’t help but sneak glances at Tink. Her tiny body was lean and sexy in a different way than Naia’s had been. However, in the light of day, it was obvious that Tink was in need of a bath, and Mike hoped that Naia would be willing to share her tub.

“How long have you been hiding in the garage, Tink?” Mike asked.

“Tink there for-” Tink put a clawed finger to her lips, deep in thought. “Hm. Tink not sure. Tink remember big sleep, wake up yesterday.” She shrugged.

“Do you remember Emily?”

Tink nodded. “Human lady. No need to fight. She let Tink live in garage.”

“Wait. You didn’t have to fight her, but you fought with me?”

“Is goblin way. Males too aggressive, always take, never give. All males fight.”

“Well, you need to remember that I’m not a goblin Tink. Do you think you can do that for me?” Tink stopped what she was doing, casting a soulful look in Mike’s direction. Several seconds passed.

“Tink remember.” A sly grin crossed her face as she traced a line down Mike’s thigh. “Mike much bigger than a goblin.”

“Oh, well, thank’s, Tink.”

“Not much of a biter, though.” Tink stuck her hand into a crevasse, twisting her hands and pulling free a long trail of rocky sludge. It was almost a foot long, and Mike could hear stone scraping on stone as it slid free. Tink tossed the sludge over the edge of the fountain, and Mike heard the sounds of water rushing up from beneath the earth.

“We did it, Tink!” Mike high fived Tink, grabbing her around the waist. He picked her up and they jumped out of the fountain, escaping the icy cold water as it filled the basin. Tiny bubbles of energy formed, fluttering around the fountain like butterflies, and Naia surfaced, wearing a simple cloth dress over her body.

“Gods, it’s so good to be outside,” Naia said, eyes closed and arms wide. She took a deep breath of fresh air, opening her eyes to survey her fountain. “Let’s work out some kinks, shall we?”

Naia snapped her fingers, and the stone monolith shook, blasting dirt and mud free. Water rolled down its sides, filling the middle basin with fresh spring water. The remaining dirt and mud was caught in tiny tide pools, which spun them into a surface froth that was unceremoniously dumped over the side onto the concrete slab beneath the fountain.

“Oh, it’s like having the feeling come back to your legs after they fall asleep. Thank you so much Mike!” Naia turned to blow Mike a kiss, but froze when she saw Tink standing behind him. “Tink? Is that you?”

“Naia!” Tink scrambled onto the rim of the fountain, standing eye to breast with Naia. Naia gave the goblin a tight hug.

“You know Tink?” Mike asked.

“Of course I do. She is in charge of keeping the house in working order. Goblins are typically quite dumb, but Tink is somehow brighter than most humans, though she may not sound like it.” Naia gave Tink an affectionate pat on the head. “I remember that she was one of the last monsters collected, still just a child when she came here. She stayed mostly in the garage, though. Her people have a weird thing about housing.”

“Yeah. I ran into that. Apparently she’s officially my goblin wife.” Mike winced inwardly, waiting for the emotional fallout.

“Tink, is this true?” Naia asked, kneeling down in the water so the two were face to face.

“We fight,” Tink declared. “Mike win goblin wife.”

“I’m so happy for you!” Naia and Tink embraced again, causing Mike to shake his head. He was having one hell of a weird day.

“This doesn’t bother you?” Mike asked.

“Of course not, silly. I have a part of your soul, remember? You don’t realize this, but in a way, this is the nicest thing you could do for her.” Naia patted Tink’s head affectionately. “Her kind doesn’t care for goblins like her. She’s very smart, which is bad enough if you’re a goblin female, but she is also very ugly for her kind.”

“Ugly?” Mike didn’t think so, though his definition of beauty was currently in a rapid tailspin.

Naia nodded. “Goblins are a weird bunch. Trust me, you would have had no reason to make a wife of any normal goblin.” Naia’s nose crinkled. “Tink, you stink.”

“Tink hungry too,” the goblin announced, holding her stomach. “Just finish big sleep.”

“What’s the big sleep?” Mike asked.

“Between owners, the house has a way of hiding its denizens. I stay conscious the whole time, but the fear was that if a long enough period of time passed, some of the monsters would lose their shit and wander out into the world, lonely and looking for company. So they sleep, but I’m guessing that they are starting to wake up now that you are here.” Naia flipped her wet hair out of the way. “Tink, can I talk to Mike for a minute?”

Tink nodded. “I put away tools.” She quickly gathered the cleaning supplies and vanished into the garage.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Naia asked. Mike gulped. This was the fallout he was expecting.

“If I didn’t, she thought she had to leave. I couldn’t do that to her.” Mike explained.

“It was more than that,” Naia grinned, stroking Mike’s chin. “You fucked her, and you liked it.” Her hand found his cock through his shorts.

“Unexpectedly, yes. I did. It was weird, but kind of hot.”

“Goblin’s have weird ways of looking at marriage. As it is, you could order her to march into a fire, and she would do it because you are her husband. I’m telling you this so that you know how you should be treating her, despite her willingness to please you. Prove to me that you can handle this by treating her well, because it would break my heart to discover that you can’t.”

“What about us?” Mike asked.

“There will always be time for us. Goblins are polygamous. I could let you fuck me while she watched, and she would just be happy to be in the room.” Naia laughed. “Not that I would ever treat her that way. I think of her very much like a little sister. You should get her some food, and then have her take a bath. I promise you that you’ll find something underneath all that dirt and grime that you will like.” Naia winked.

“What will you be doing?” Mike asked.

“I’ll be out here, no worries. Take some time just the two of you.” Naia slid her hand across the bite mark on Mike’s shoulder. “She’s marked you, you know? Now that she’s tasted your blood, she can find you anywhere.”

“Goblin bites aren’t poisonous, right?” Mike lowered his voice in case Tink came back.

“You would know by now if they were,” she whispered back, giving him a kiss on the nose. Tink emerged from the garage, her hands now empty.

“I’m going to fix us some lunch,” Mike announced, and Tink was immediately by his side. “And then I’m going to wash up. Care to join me?”

“Tink come too.” Mike held the door for her and she pinched his ass as she walked by. Mike turned to Naia, but the nymph was already floating on her back, staring up into the clouds.

Mike took Tink inside, where he heated up what was left of the pizza for both of them to eat. She sat across from him, gobbling down the pizza in huge bites while he got on Amazon to order a few things. He was lucky in that he was in a city with Prime Now, and he made a few purchases that he thought would come in handy, staring at Tink the whole time. Now that they were inside, he realized just how bad she smelled, but didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

Tink followed him upstairs, where the bath had already filled itself with hot water. Mike smiled at the silver brush that had been left on the rim of the tub by the soap and shampoo. Tink stripped off her shirt, and Mike helped her into the bath.

It started innocent enough-Mike stripped off his bandages and joined her, and the two of them took turns cleaning each other. Mike used a rag to wash the dirt and grime off of Tink, discovering that her dark green skin was actually the bright green of a healthy lawn. He scrubbed her back, marveling at the prominent ridges along her spine, making him think of her as a tiny dragon instead.

“Tink’s turn.” Tink gently washed his around his wounds, taking particular care near the bite mark on his shoulder, which was now just a series of small scabs. She scrubbed him slowly

Her hair was the worst. Mike had Tink dunk her head, dirt and grime turning the water brown. He drained the tub and refilled it twice, helping her shampoo her long, dirty strands of hair. Once her hair was clean, he discovered that her hair was a dark auburn, with alternating streaks of red and brown throughout. While he had been willing to fuck her in the dark, the emerald creature in his tub was looking more and more feminine with every layer of dirt they scrubbed off.

Tink sat in front of him, her head and shoulders above the water. Mike realized that her back was now clean, but he was having a tough time taking his hands off of her. Tink sighed, scooting back against him, her fingers lightly tracing shapes on his thighs. Mike slid his hands across the top of her shoulders, then down across her chest. His fingers squeezed her breasts as one of her hands circled his cock.

He pulled Tink up onto one leg, using it as a booster seat. With her wet hair pulled to one side, she reminded him of that green girl from Guardians of the Galaxy, albeit much smaller. She growled affectionately at him, and he slid his hand down her thigh and into the dark patch of hair between her legs.

“No biting this time,” he warned her, tracing circles around her crotch.

“No bites,” Tink promised, her pink tongue circling her thin lips. She ran her tongue up the side of his neck, tickling a

Home for Horny Monsters: A Banshee on the Porch! -

Mon, 01 Aug 2022 11:30:31 -0500

Home for Horny Monsters: A Banshee on the Porch! -

Haunted victorian house has more erotic surprises (part 2)

By writerannabelle. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

“Get in the bath with me,” Naia purred. “I can help you relax.”

“You still haven’t told me what you get from the link.”

“Your protection.” She leaned back, her breasts bobbing on the surface. “This home needs a guardian, a human who won’t expose our secret to the world, one who will care for us until his dying day. When I read your spirit, I knew that you could be the one who protect us.”

“Us?” He peeked out into the bedroom. “There are other nymphs?”

Naia shook her head. “I’m referring to the house itself. Emily was the last guardian of this place, and it holds many secrets. If this house should fall into the wrong hands…” Naia shivered, though the water was warm. “I’m afraid I can’t be of much help in discovering them, as I am unable to leave this room. That, and I can’t actually tell you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s the house.” She frowned. “Powerful magic, a Geas. When Emily died, the house’s protective magic kicked in. It’s like being unable to remember someone’s name, even though you are looking right at them. There is something important that I want to tell you, but it floats away from me when I try to focus on it. I’m afraid it will be that way until you can figure out for yourself the real purpose of this house.”

“Secrets, huh?” Mike thought back to his college days, low-key hacking into servers just to see what was there. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“I wish I could help, I really do.” Naia frowned. “I have huge gaps in my memory, but the main thing I remember is Emily.”

“You knew my Great Aunt well?”

“She was a good friend. I know you picture her in your mind as some old woman traipsing through the house, but she never looked a day over twenty seven. Not until the day she died, anyway. The magic preserves beauty, but doesn’t prolong death.”

“Interesting.” Mike stroked his chin. “So, I’m going to be young forever.”

“On the outside.” Naia smiled. “And I think I can make your stay worth it.”

“I’m going to be honest. I’m not really good with women.” Mike stared at her naked body, his cock twitching once more. His body and brain were disconnected, his body suddenly ready but his mind hesitant. His mother’s voice was distant, but it was still there.

“I saw that.” Naia trailed a finger down between her breasts. “A lot of pain in your past, something holding you back. You’ll find that our new bond will alleviate that somewhat.”

“What, are you my therapist now?”

“Even better.” Mike hadn’t realized how close he had come to the water. Naia slid her finger into the waistband of his pants, pulling him close. “My magic has created a special bond between us, one that enhances trust, allowing you to momentarily forget.” Tugging the band of his pants down, his cock sprung free, pointing directly at her mouth. “I can teach you to overcome your pain, if you will let me.” She stroked his cock lovingly, her fingers magically warm and wet. She gazed up into his eyes, adoration on her face. “Please let me do this, Mike. Please.”

“I…” Mike stared at the woman in his tub, the one who radiated warmth and safety. For the first time he could remember, he had become lost in the moment, the slight heat of her breath teasing the head of his swollen dick. Gone were any thoughts of his childhood, the house, or what had happened earlier. Her eyes were shimmering pools, glowing with an inner light of their own.

“C'mon Mike. Let’s do it right this time.” She continued stroking. “With your permission.”

Mike was breathing hard, his fingers stroking lightly at her hair. She broke eye contact, staring hungrily at his cock. She was panting now, and his cock tingled with every stroke.

“Please,” Mike begged her. “Please.” He couldn’t put the feeling into words, but he needed her.

She leaned forward, sucking him in gently, her teeth just barely sliding across his foreskin. He shivered as she took him all the way to the root, one hand stroking his balls while the other slid around his hips. She sucked on him for several seconds, and he moaned softly, unsure what to do. She broke away, a trail of spit connecting her mouth to his dick.

“Get in.” Her voice was husky, her hands pulling down his pants. He helped, pushing them to the floor as she caressed his balls, rolling them gently between her fingers. He stepped into the bath, her mouth finding his dick again. She grabbed him by the hips, moaning quietly as he thrust into her mouth. Already, his body felt light, his muscles relaxing as the magic took hold of him. He popped free from her full lips, and she reached up for him as he knelt down, their lips finding each other. He ran fingers through her blue hair, tracing the line of her jaw. She clutched his shoulders, breaking free of his kiss to suck at his collarbone.

“Everything feels like electricity,” he told her, meaning every word. His skin was practically tingling, her touch igniting tiny sparks between them in the warm of the bath.

“Part of that is my magic,” she whispered in his ear, her breath hot. “The rest of it is me.”

His hand moved down her belly, parting the thick folds of her pussy. She was impossibly tight. He worked her cunt this way for a few minutes, rubbing at her clit with his thumb. After a minute of this, he realized that something felt odd. Pushing back from her, he stared down.

“Is that a piercing?” He asked. In between her labia was a shiny sphere.

“That’s my clit,” she giggled. She stood, sitting on the edge of the tub and spreading her legs. Pulling back her folds, he saw that her clit strongly resembled a pink pearl. He ran his finger across the top of it, causing her to gasp. It was smooth, yet hard.

“Is it always like this?”

“Only when I’m this turned on.” She said, smiling. “It’s called a Nymph’s Pearl.”

“God damn.” He moved closer, taking in her scent. The aroma made his head swim. “May I?”

“You’re such a gentleman.” Grabbing the back of his head, she pulled him in. He opened his mouth, gently sucking in her Nymph’s Pearl, moving it around with his tongue as he slid two fingers in her pussy. Naia gasped, digging her fingers into the back of his head as he rolled her Pearl around in circles. Moaning, she wrapped her legs around his head, squeezing him tight.

From his position between her legs, her scream of delight sounded like distant thunder. He switched from two fingers to three, her eager pussy gobbling up the extra digit with no effort. He pulled his fingers free, lapping at her inner folds with his tongue, marveling at the salty-sweet taste of a nymph’s vagina. Hands clutched at his neck, her legs trembling uncontrollably as he drove her to the edge.

Sucking the Pearl back into his mouth, he slid his fingers back into her, curling them upward.

She screamed again, soaking his face with her cum. Three rapid bursts of fluid coated him completely. Startled, he pulled away, wiping his eyes clear. It had the same taste that she did, with just a hint of spice. Naia, reclined on the edge of the tub, was gasping for air, her body suddenly limp.

“I’ve… I’ve never seen that before,” Mike told her. His cock was absolutely throbbing.

Naia’s eyes glowed from within, the water in the bath suddenly becoming steam. Rolling over, she lifted her ass into the air, clutching the rim of the tub.

“Fuck me, Mike,” she hissed, the water’s surface becoming choppy. He wrapped his hands around her hips, staring down at the juicy curves of her ass. Oddly, her prominent pussy was missing its neighbor, the long curve of her labia stretching farther back to where her asshole should have been.

Sensing his pause, Naia looked over her shoulder. “Nymph’s don’t need assholes. Now hurry up and fuck what’s in front of- Oh God!” Mike, wasting no pretense, shoved himself inside her awaiting hole. Her body lurched forward as he pounded her from behind, giving no thought to her pleasure at all. Somehow, this didn’t seem to matter to Naia. She panted like a dog, her raspy breath echoing off the tiles of the bathroom.

“Holy shit,” Mike shouted, desperately shoving his dick inside. His newfound sensitivity was driving him wild, and he clawed at Naia’s ass cheeks, his excitement building. The water around them bubbled with energy, tiny water spheres taking flight and hovering in the air.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” When Mike came, his vision turned black around the edges, the world briefly losing focus, his back arching as he filled Naia with hot sperm. She let out her own shriek, pushing back against him as her back spasmed, ripples traveling down her spine and legs as she shook uncontrollably.

“Oh Mike,” Naia moaned, going limp beneath his hands. She sank into the water, and Mike joined her, the two of them easily floating side by side.

“Naia.” Mike was officially spent. He ran his fingers through her hair, sighing to himself as her fingers traced circles on his chest. “That was absolutely magical.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Naia kissed him on the neck. “Consider it a down payment.”

“For what?” He asked.

“For taking care of me. This place.” Naia’s face was suddenly serious. “If you choose to stay, you will find out that there’s a lot more to do than just live out our days fucking. There are some really bad people out there, people willing to do anything to get their hands on this place.”

“Because of you?” He asked.

“The man who built this house didn’t just do it for me. He was a collector of magical items. These objects have tremendous power, and he hid them well. My job is to guard the house-because of the spring, I can never leave, so I was the best choice to be its guardian. Every time the house is passed to a new caretaker, I either make the pact like I have with you, or the new owner suffers an accident. Also…” Her face went blank for a second. “Damn. It’s that thing I want to tell you again. I just can’t remember, it’s so frustrating. Anyway, I can’t leave this room, or the fountain, once it’s repaired for that matter.” Naia stroked Mike’s stomach lovingly. “Please fix my fountain. I miss being outside.”

Mike stared at the canned lights in the ceiling. Magical artifacts? This night had taken a strange, impossible turn. “It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where these magic artifacts are kept. The house is big, but it’s not that big.”

Naia smirked, kissing Mike on the lips. “You keep telling yourself that.” Yawning, Naia stretched. “I’m exhausted. You get some of that muck pulled from the fountain, and you and I can stay up all night if you like.”

“Consider it done.” He stayed with her for a while, but the water grew cold. Bidding her a good night, he watched as she vanished beneath the water’s surface, the cool liquid flowing down the bath drain. Drying himself off, he stretched out on the giant bed. Within moments, he was asleep.

The bed was probably a hundred years old. God alone knew how old the mattress was. Somehow, Mike awoke from easily the best night’s sleep in years. His body was in the same position it had been when he fell asleep. Yawning, he stepped down on the hard wood floors, his left ankle popping. Rubbing the back of his head, he strolled naked to the toilet to pee. He flushed the toilet, stepping out into the main bathroom. The tub was still there, glistening in the light of the morning sun.

“Naia?” his voice quivered, slightly. The events of last night were fresh in his mind, and he wondered how much he would crack if he discovered that it had all been a dream.

“I’m still here.” Her voice echoed from inside the tub. “I’m always here. Now go get some work done. You and I can play later.”

Mike laughed, leaving the room behind. Breakfast was last night’s pizza, quickly reheated, and some soda. Mike quickly threw together a grocery list, food he would need for the week ahead. He stepped out the back door, staring at the poorly kept yard. The house itself was built near the top of the hill, and Mike realized that the back yard’s high stone walls ensured privacy. A wrought iron gate at the back of the yard led out into the woods behind the home, but someone had strung a chain across the bars, a giant padlock holding it in place.

The fountain was in sad shape. No water could be seen in its giant basin, which was now full of silt and dead leaves. Mike sat on the side of the fountain, looking at his laptop. A quick Google search yielded several ways he could begin to restore it, but he was either going to have to look for tools or buy them.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, adding the tools to his shopping cart. He didn’t feel like spending hours looking through the house trying to find what he needed, and the local home improvement store had a service counter pickup option, which would get him home and back that much faster. Closing his laptop, he stood up to go back inside.

“Jesus fuck!” He nearly dropped his laptop. A stone figure tucked away in an alcove by the back door had startled him. Moving in for a closer look, he saw that it appeared to be a statue of a woman, but other than an ample bust, few details could actually be seen. Covered in creeper vines, he pushed a few of them aside to try and see it better. Failing, he made a mental note to pick up some garden sheers. Kneeling down by her feet, he expected to see a plaque on the pedestal she stood on, but it was blank.

“Damn near gave me a heart attack,” he muttered, walking in through the back door. He set his laptop on the kitchen table, listening to the sounds of the house around him. Nothing but silence.

His rental car, a green Kia, was still on the curb where he had left it. Leaves had tumbled down from the trees along the street, creating a blanket for it. Pulling away, they spun in circles behind him, creating little leaf tornados in his rear view mirror.

Pickup at Mel’s, the home improvement store, was super quick. Mike grabbed an extra pair of work gloves and some garden shears on the way out. Stopping at the grocery store, he picked up some basics, including coffee and a new coffee maker. He had seen one in the kitchen, but didn’t trust it to actually work.

He arrived back at the house, gathering up all of his bags in an attempt to make only one trip. Walking precariously between the stone lions, he made it to the front door, setting the bags down to get his key out of his pocket. The deadbolt clicked open, and he pocketed the key, kneeling down to grab his bags.

The porch swing creaked. Mike stared, the gears of his mind turning. He thought he had disconnected the swing last night. Yet there it was, swaying in a non-existent breeze. He walked over, unhooking the swing and lowering it to the porch.

Shaking his head, he walked inside, putting it from his mind. He stacked his groceries up on the counter and tossed the bag of supplies on the kitchen table. Stocking the fridge, he began organizing the tools from the store. A few scrub brushes, a trowel, and a drain snake were pulled from the bucket he had purchased, as well as a screwdriver.

A knock at the door was followed by the sound of the bell. Mike walked back down the long hall, a shadowy figure visible through the frosted glass of the front door. He opened the door to reveal Beth, his Great Aunt’s estate representative, standing on the other side. She was holding a stack of files, but that wasn’t what Mike noticed. Her dark hair still in a bun, she was wearing a bright red blouse, the top buttons straining to hold it shut, with a knee length white skirt.

“Mr. Radley,” she greeted him, a warm smile on her face. “I thought I would drop by and bring you some paperwork. There are several things the firm needs you to look over before we can finalize a transfer of assets. May I come in?”

“Um, yeah. Certainly.” He stepped back, and she stepped past him, the smell of soap and lavender following her in. He shuddered internally, this human woman somehow ten times more daunting than the mystical creature upstairs. “Here, this way.” He led her to the kitchen, where she set down the pile of documents.

“It looks like you’re getting ready to tackle a project,” Beth said, picking up the trowel. “Hopefully nothing the Historical Society would disapprove of.”

“Just cleaning some gunk out of the fountain,” he told her. “Hoping to see it running soon.”

“Those don’t sound like the words of a man who is still debating keeping the place.”

“You’re correct. I’ve decided to stay.”

“In that case,” Beth slid one of the folders out, checking its contents. “This was an offer from that group of women I told you about. They call the firm almost every day, they’re absolutely in love with this place.”

“I hate to disappoint them, but the place is growing on me already.” Mike smiled, thinking of Naia. “Not sure why, but I feel like this is where I was meant to be.”

“I’m very happy for you Mike.” Her smile was genuine, crinkling the skin next to her eyes. “I know what you mean. I’ve been over here several times to make sure the place is being cared for properly by our interim team, and admit I’m a little sad that I won’t get to see it much longer.”

“Nonsense.” Mike waved a hand dismissively. “You’re welcome over here anytime. Besides, you’re the only person I even know in this town. My job doesn’t offer many opportunities to meet new people, so I’m afraid you are my entire social group.”

“I may just take you up on that.” Beth sat at the table. “I’ve been a bit obsessed with this place since I was a little girl. I was convinced a fairy queen lived here, probably until I was thirteen. I used to ride my bike past every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Turns out that it must have been someone who worked for your great aunt, a young woman who I sometimes caught working in the garden. She had this brilliant radiance around her, almost like she was stuck in an old Disney movie. I half expected birds to circle around her as she broke into song or something. I won’t lie, I tried to figure out who she was once your aunt passed, but there weren’t any records.” She chuckled, stroking the files with a finger. This action pressed her breasts together, causing a tiny gap to form between the buttons of her blouse. Mike stared into that dark space, wondering what color her bra was. “It’s silly, I know, but I can’t help but love this place just a little.”

“I’ve only been here one night. Trust me, I know what you’re talking about.” Snapping his eyes away from her chest, Mike leaned forward, opening the top file. “Ugh. This looks like a bunch of legalese.”

“In triplicate. These are some additional assets, plus some agreements I need you to sign since you are taking ownership of the home. Per the will, there are a few protective clauses, primarily stating that you can never bulldoze the home and start from scratch. This was per your Great Aunt’s wishes, but I’m guessing that isn’t a problem.”

“You would be correct.” Mike slid open a drawer looking for a pen, but Beth had one ready.

“You can have an attorney read these over first. I prefer that you would, actually. There isn’t any hurry-now that we have an heir, the clock sort of resets for a bit.” She set the pen on the table. “However, I am just on delivery duty today. I need to get in to the office to begin processing some additional documents. Today is Tuesday. I would be happy to drop by on Friday to pick these up, if you have them done. Otherwise, I can just drop by to make certain you are getting settled. That is part of the provisions as well.”

“Um, yeah. Sure. Thank you.” Mike followed her outside. He walked behind her, watching the gentle sway of her ass until they arrived at her car, a cute little convertible he didn’t recognize. Beth gave him a wave and a smile before driving away. He walked back up the walk, stopping to pat one of the lion’s paws for luck. In his mind, he was planning to take the bucket straight out back and see what he could do about that pesky fountain.

He was up the stairs, his hand on the door when he heard the swing next to him squeak. Turning his head, he saw her sitting there, kicking her legs gently as she stared across the front yard, her eyes distant.

“Hey.” Mike said, moving to get a better view of her. Her skin was unnaturally pale, her hair white. She was wearing a simple white

Home for Horny Monsters: The Nymph in the Tub! -

Sun, 31 Jul 2022 11:30:54 -0500

Home for Horny Monsters: The Nymph in the Tub! -

Mike, a young bachelor; inherits an old house from a spinster great aunt. (part 1)

By writerannabelle. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Mike stared at the Victorian style home in awe, the sheer scale of it overwhelming him. Tower-like structures gave the blue dwelling a medieval touch, and the house was ringed in simple gardens with waist high shrubs that were in desperate need of a trim. Stone lions guarded the walk to the front door, and a cobblestone path disappeared around the back.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Mike, startled, dropped his sleeping bag. He bent down to pick it up, feeling warmth rise up in his cheeks. “I’m afraid you have quite a task ahead of you, Mr. Radley.”

Mike let out a nervous laugh as Beth, his great aunt’s estate representative, walked past. The woman was taller than him, very attractive, and all business. Her dark hair wrapped up in a bun, she paused to check something on her clipboard. Mike took the opportunity to admire her backside through the thin layer of her pencil skirt. Very faint panty lines ran around her buttocks, lines that Mike had trouble taking his eyes away from. She turned to face him, and he pretended to struggle with his sleeping bag.

“I doubt you’ll need that,” she pointed out, lending him a hand. She smelled like peaches and something floral, a scent he couldn’t quite place. “The house has plenty of space.”

“I’ve been a boy scout since I was six,” he replied. “Be prepared. That’s my motto.”

“Uh huh.” Beth helped him secure the bag under his arm. “Trust me when I say you won’t need it.” She led him up the stairs, the wooden deck creaking slightly under their weight. Mike stared briefly at the swinging chair on the front porch, moving slightly in the breeze. As Beth produced a key, she looked at Mike. “This must be like a fairy tale to you.”

“No such thing as fairy tales. Just a weird coincidence.” He said, careful to keep his eyes above the lacy top of her blouse. Women, as a rule, made him nervous. Particularly the pretty ones.

“You hear about these things all the time,” she said, sliding the key into the lock. “But you never get to see them play out.” The door stuck in the frame, and Beth leaned her shoulder in to give it a shove. A strand of hair came loose from her bun as she pushed her way inside. “A long-lost relative dying and leaving everything to you.”

“Yeah. Lucky me.” Mike followed her inside. The house was cool, and dark. Beth opened up some of the windows, allowing the light to come in. The furniture in the home was all covered, giving the sitting room the eerie appearance of a haunted house. Beth pulled the cover off of the couch, sending a small layer of dust into the air.

“You don’t seem very keen on the idea, Mr. Radley.” Beth uncovered the coffee table with one hand, and set her purse and clipboard down. “It is a very nice house.”

“It’s not the house. And call me Mike.” Mike threw his sleeping bag on a clean portion of the floor along with his backpack. Out of habit, he slipped off his shoes at the door.

“Well, Mike, we went through an awful lot of trouble tracking you down.” Beth uncovered a nearby love seat. “This home was only weeks away from being liquidated by the firm.”

“Which I understand is still an option?” Mike asked, staring at the pale yellow curtains.

“Correct.” Beth picked up her clipboard. “Only if you decide not to keep it.”

“Right.” Mike looked down the long hallway to the kitchen. “I’m not used to having so much space. Gives me the creeps.”

“By nature, homes of this style are actually quite cozy.” Beth led the way to the kitchen, the heels of her boots clicking on the hardwood floor. “There is quite a bit of space for you to spread out.”

“I’ve never lived in anything with more than two bedrooms.” Mike responded, following the woman. Beth checked the appliances to make sure they still worked, and showed Mike where the fuse box was. A brief tour of the kitchen turned up several jars of preserved jellies, an old box of cat biscuits, and an empty tub of ice cream in the freezer.

“So, where is the cat?” Mike asked, shaking the box of biscuits.

“As far as we know, she didn’t have one. Your great aunt conscripted our services long before my parents were even out of high school, and rarely contacted the firm. According to our sources, she was largely a shut-in. It’s likely those treats are older than you or I.”

“As long as she wasn’t eating them,” Mike muttered, throwing the biscuits back in the cupboard.

“So, you’ve only lived in apartments?” Beth led Mike to the stairs. As she climbed, Mike paused to look in the living room. Sure enough, a creepy fucking porcelain doll sat right above the fireplace, legs draped over the mantle. He shivered and looked up the stairs. Enough of Beth’s legs were showing that he could see the top of her stockings. Jesus. He pulled hard on the railing, eager to catch up.

“Yeah. My mom was always unemployed, so we were always staying with friends.” Memories of being crammed away in the back of someone else’s home made him shudder. Long nights pressed up against his own mother as they shared a bed, the smell of alcohol oozing from her pores and stinging his eyes. Years of therapy might have helped him over the worst of it, but he still had nights where he woke up panicked, convinced that he was crammed in bed again with his mother.

“Sounds rough.” Beth said. She opened up a door, revealing a study. “This is the office. Everything in here was custom built out.”

“I don’t see a router.” Mike walked in, looking around the room. The shelves in the room were packed with poetry books and different inspirational pieces. Fake flowers adorned every free inch of desk space.

“Your great aunt didn’t have Internet.”

“Well, I will.” Mike frowned, looking out the window. He could see how overgrown the back yard had become. A large stone fountain full of muck had been overgrown with weeds. “I build websites for a living. If I decide to keep the place, I will need to get it installed.”

Beth was already making notes on her clipboard. “I will see what we can do. Just to remind you, this home is on the list of historical places, so we may experience some delays.”

Mike waved a hand dismissively, kneeling beneath the desk. “I have my ways. Just get me some sort of high speed line, I’ll do the rest.” He stuck his hands behind the desk, feeling for an outlet.

“Let me show you to the guest room,” Beth said, reminding him that she was still there. Mike smacked his head on the desk as he stood. He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the top of his head as he followed her back into the hall. Beth opened up another door, showing him a plain twin sized bed with a large pink comforter. Daisies were embroidered across the top.

“I have no words.” Mike said, staring at the guest bed.

“I don’t blame you.” Beth opened up the closet. “There are some spare linens, but they aren’t any better.”

“What use does a shut in have for a guest room?” Mike inspected the closet. In the bottom, he saw another porcelain doll.

“My best guess is that it was a room your father stayed in as a child.”

“You think?” Mike held up one end of the pink comforter.

Beth laughed. “I never said it was a good idea. Your dad had some cousins, and most were little girls once.”

“I’m sure.” Mike stared at the bed, his thoughts drifting. Was it actually possible that his own father had slept beneath this roof? The man had died not long after Mike was born, lost to an aggressive form of cancer. It was the same disease that had led his own mother to drink. Thinking of his mother, he looked at the tiny bed and shivered. No fucking way. He needed a larger bed.

“Where did Great Aunt Mabel sleep?” he asked.

“In her room, down the hall.” Beth paused. “She died in there.”

“In the bed?” Mike was already wondering where he could unroll his sleeping bag.

“No, if that’s what you are worried about.” Beth took him back into the hall. Mike found himself staring again at her butt. His eyes flicked up to hers as she looked back. “It’s this one right here.”

Beth opened up the door. The room was large, the ceiling elevated. Mike realized he was in one of the round, tower rooms he had seen from the front. The bed was centered along the back wall, a large four poster with draping curtains all around. His eyes followed the curve of the walls, taking in the intricate molding along the mid wall and ceiling. Two dressers, a standing armoire, and a mirrored nightstand were all uncovered by Beth as she made her rounds. A large opening signaled the entrance to the bathroom. Towards the other side of the room, a large oriental rug covered the floor.

“The rug is in an odd place,” Mike said, pointing at it.

“It was some time before we found your aunt,” Beth replied. “We’re working on finding proper replacement material. It isn’t easy to find hundred year old hardwood flooring that matches the surrounding floor.”

“Why not replace it all?”

“Historical society, remember?”

“Ah.” Mike stared at the bed. It was easily a king size. “Her heart gave out?”

“She was 96. It happens.” Beth looked at her clipboard. “I made myself a few notes. I just need a signature to authorize some purchases.”

“Of course.” Mike ignored Beth for the moment as he walked in the bathroom. “Holy shit, have you seen this thing?”

Beth laughed behind him. “I have. Impressive, isn’t it?”

Mike stared at the largest, claw-footed bath tub he had ever seen. Looking at Beth with large eyes, he hopped inside it, laying down along the bottom. Neither his head or feet touched the edges, and he reached his arms out. They were almost fully extended before touching the sides.

“I will admit, your Great Aunt’s taste in decor is questionable in areas, but this is probably my favorite piece here.” Beth sat along the side of the bath, staring in at Mike. Mike sat up, looking over the side of the tub. The edge was to his chin.

“I feel like I’m sitting in a boat.” Mike turned his attention to the spigot. Two separate faucets made of some sort of bronze fed the tub. “Does it still work?”

“I assume so. We had the home inspected in case we were selling it.” Beth stroked one of the spigots. “I wish I could try it out.”

“Hop in. Plenty of room.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain could stop them. He looked away, pretending to fiddle with the faucets.

Beth laughed. “Afraid I’m too busy at the moment.” Extending a hand, she helped Mike stand. He had to lift his legs high to step out of the basin. “Maybe I can house sit sometime.”

“I’ll leave you some bath beads.” Mike stepped back to admire the tub. “I’ve never been a fan of baths, but this may be big enough to change my mind.”

Taking a wide berth around the carpet in the bedroom, Mike followed Beth through the remaining rooms of the house. Beth made several notes on her clipboard, noting necessary adjustments. Mike’s Great Aunt had left behind a very large sum of money, and her will stipulated that her oldest surviving relative be given full opportunity to make the house livable before selling it. Mike was well aware that one offer to buy was on the table already, a group of women who wanted to turn the place into a local museum. He had never been able to set roots down, rarely living anywhere longer than six months.

Beth stood at the front door, going over her checklist. Mike stared out the front window, watching the swinging chair rock in place. She had said his name twice before he snapped back to reality.

“Sorry, lost in thought,” he apologized. “What did you say?”

“I said I can swing by tomorrow to take you shopping. Your Great Aunt had a car, but I wouldn’t recommend going anywhere in it. You’re going to need to get some essentials if you’re going to make this place a home.” Beth let the clipboard relax. “Which I hope you do. It was her utmost wish that the home stay in the family. I know you have already voiced some concerns over maintaining the property, but I really think you should give this place a shot.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Mike gave her a small smile. “This is a unique opportunity after all.”

“Good. You have my business card, so don’t hesitate to contact me for anything.” Beth picked up her purse from the coffee table.

“Actually, there is something.” Beth waited patiently as Mike walked over to the fireplace, removing the porcelain doll. “I don’t care how, just get rid of it.”

Beth stared at the doll and laughed. “I’m on it. Have a good night, Mike.” She walked out the door and down the steps. Mike watched her as she went, the clicking of her heels on pavement echoing across the deck. He waved as she got in her car on the street and drove away.

The swinging chair creaked softly. Mike stepped onto the deck, staring at the offending piece of furniture. He unhinged the chains, lowering the seat to the deck. He let the front door shut softly behind him.

Night crept up on Mike as he whittled away his evening on his laptop. Using his neighbor’s unprotected Wi-Fi, he checked on several sites he had been maintaining, answered some of his emails, and opened up his bank statements. None of the money his Great Aunt left him had been transferred in yet, but he pictured the new amount in place of his current one and wondered.

What would he even do with all that cash? If he were to sell the home, he would be walking around with several million and nothing to spend it on. He had been poor as a child, poor enough that by the time he worked his way through college, he was simply used to the survivor’s lifestyle. All the clothes he owned would easily fit in two suitcases, and the bulk of his belongings were made up of a couple of desktop PC’s and a tablet at his apartment.

He finally noticed the time near the bottom of his screen and shut down shop for the night. It was nearing eleven, and he still hadn’t even eaten dinner. A quick search on his phone revealed a nearby pizza place, and he ordered himself a medium sausage with a 2 liter of Sprite. He wandered the lonely rooms, eventually tossing his bag in his Great Aunt’s bedroom. He drifted through the house, picking up random belongings, trying to envision the woman his Great Aunt was.

He had looked her up on line. She had inherited the house from her own aunt (a notorious spinster) at a young age, living off of several very own railroad bonds that had paid off big in the 1940’s. A job as a librarian supplemented her income through her fifties, and then she had simply shut herself away.

Not completely, though. Mike noted that some of the purchases in the home must have been made in the last couple of years. A few of the books in the library had tipped him off. She must have left on rare occasions, or at least hired somebody to shop for her. To be honest, the thought was pretty appealing to him.

The doorbell startled him out of his reverie, and he nearly dropped a clown figurine he had pulled from the shelf in front of him. He put it back and walked to the front door.

“Hi!” The pizza delivery man was, in fact, a gorgeous blonde girl, likely a college student. Her hair had been swooped back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a stylish pair of black rim glasses. The name-tag on her jacket said Dana. “Your house is gorgeous!” She handed him his soda.

“Uh, yeah.” He leaned forward to help her take the food from its special cooler, and accidentally brushed against her breast through her jacket with his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever delivered here before,” she added, staring past him into the home. “Are you new in town?”

“First day.” He handed her a pair of tens. As she dug into her pouch for change, he caught just a whiff of her perfume. His world started closing in. “No worries, keep it?”

“Seriously?” Her eyes were huge as he nodded.

“Yeah, no problem.” He let the door close as she thanked him. Placing the pizza on the coffee table, he took a few deep breaths. The sensation of her breast against the back of his hand, the sheer firmness of it, accompanied by the scent of her perfume had given him a surprisingly hard erection.

He ran through the house, flipping on all of the lights. His mother’s voice attempted to rise up in the back of his mind, but he shut it out. Years of sharing a bed with her had inevitably led to an incident, shortly before his eleventh birthday, when he had awaken suddenly to a slap in the face. In his sleep, he had managed to roll into his own mother while sprouting wood.

The physical abuse was immediate, but the verbal abuse continued. Whenever he got aroused in his sleep, his mother would slap him awake, or call others in to make fun of him. Often, this led to a sudden change in address, as most normal people recognized her behavior as appalling. Her constant teasing in front of anyone who would listen had led him to a largely celibate lifestyle. The few women he had been with had been unsympathetic to his sexual panic attacks, or his mommy issues, as one had called them. Now, in an unfamiliar setting, he found those old emotions resurfacing, attempting to claw away at the protective shell he had put around himself.

His imagination was his own worst enemy. Picturing her specter hiding in the shadows, waiting to pass judgment, had simply clenched the deal. Now, though, with all of the lights on, she couldn’t afford to surface. His panic attack subsiding, he picked up his food and made his way to the kitchen.

Mike consumed his meal while streaming a movie on his computer, leaving the last five slices for tomorrow. The fridge looked painfully bare, occupied by a sole pizza box and a soda bottle. Mike returned to the table, watching for another half an hour as the generic action star did something to confound the villain. His mind kept flipping back and forth to the feel of the pizza girl’s breast and his mother’s demonic memory.

He pulled out his phone and flipped down to Dr. Gorman in his contacts. He hadn’t sat with his therapist in over three years, but the urge to reach out had surfaced. Hands shaking, his thumb hovered over the call button.

“Fuck it.” He closed his contact list. His mother was dead, the past was the past, and he needed to get over it. Years of being told that arousal was natural, that everybody did it, that it was okay to fantasize. He closed his eyes, recalling the cute appearance of Dana the pizza girl. He unleashed the memory of her scent, the firmness of her breast, the surprised expression she had made when he had tipped her eight bucks extra. It was probably the same face she made during her first orgasm, or perhaps when her lover’s lips first touched the nipples of her firm breast…

That did it. His body was back in full swing, he was back in control. Well, almost. The urge to watch porn to help get off was strong, but Dr. Gorman had reminded him that porn could be too much of an escapist fantasy. It was better for him to visualize on his own; he was less likely to panic in bed with a real woman. However, porn wasn’t so much the issue, but rather location.

He was in a stranger’s house with a major hard on. Technically, he could jerk off in the hallway for all anybody cared, but just because the house was now his didn’t mean it was home. It definitely didn’t feel safe.

Mike closed his computer and proceeded up to the bedroom. He could take care of his own needs in there. That wasn’t much different than a hotel room, or new apartment, really. The more he told himself these things, the more he was ready to get off. Stepping into the room, he took one look at the bed and shuddered. Beds were sometimes just as bad, and today was no different.

“Why am I so fucking damaged?” He shouted to the walls. They had no answer for him. Instead, he stormed into the bathroom and turned on the sink, splashing cool water on his face. Staring in the mirror, he watched the cool drops fall down his cheeks, his eyes suddenly on the giant bathtub.

The bathroom’s contoured walls prevented anyone in the tub from seeing anything but the bathroom. Remembering how well he fit in it earlier, and seeing how isolated it was, he knew it would work.

Turning on the water, he watched as the basin filled quite quickly. Obviously, his great aunt had found a way to trick out the water pressure. Beth had told him that t

Training the Trophy

Sat, 30 Jul 2022 11:30:43 -0500

Training the Trophy

by Sustainer. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Part 1, Finding the Ultimate Trophy Wife.

No matter what they may admit to, every man desires to have an obedient, submissive, beautiful trophy wife. Conversely, every woman secretly desires to be a perfect, subservient possession who is adored and cared for, objectified and kept captive while provided firm direction and absolved of all guilt surrounding sexual latitude- since her sexual conduct is no longer her choice, but rather, her solemn and sacred marriage duty. Every man wants this. Every woman secretly longs for this.

Through luck and industry, I have become a wealthy man. This alone is infinitely attractive to women. No matter what they may claim or espouse, how much they assert their feminism or independence, a woman desires a wealthy man to provide for them and offer financial security. Other than my wealth, and my sexual appetite, I am an utterly unremarkable man. Some women, more than you may imagine, are willing to exchange their full sexual servitude in for financial security and social status. My wife is such a woman.

I found her in a gentleman’s club. An upscale topless club where young women danced on stage in lingerie and revealing costumes, performing exotic dance routines for assembled clients while revealing their breasts and stripping to a G-string. Following their performance, the young girls would circulate among the patrons, making small talk and soliciting private lap dances in a more private setting in the back rooms of the club for large tips.

This was the perfect resource to find what I was looking for. Firstly, it acted as a kind of living catalog. Without the absurd constraints and antiquated conventions of “dating”, I could quickly review a large number of potential trophy wives before beginning the indoctrination into my marriage and trophy wife training and optimization program.

I am a businessman, and as such, I admire efficiency and a well-run process. In advance of my trophy wife assessment and selection I consulted with a friend who is a marriage counselor and a behavioral psychologist. He holds a Ph.D. in training psychology. After describing my objectives to him in obtaining the ideal trophy wife, he and I worked together closely under contract for months to create an optimal, scientifically configured, trophy wife selection, indoctrination and training program. This included an ongoing maintenance and administration routine for my eventual trophy wife. Once our perfect trophy wife curriculum was developed, I simply went to various upscale gentleman’s clubs to locate the very best trophy wife to my specific tastes and purposes.

She must have brown hair and brown eyes. Round cheeks and a full face with a round nose. Preferably European in heritage.

While her figure must fall within very specific parameters for hip measurement, leg length, buttocks shape, overall height and weight, her breast size and shape are not critical at intake since modern breast augmentation surgery means that any girl can have any breasts.

Perfect breasts exactly to my liking would be an add-on at a specific phase of the acquisition and indoctrination process. In fact, consultation with the cosmetic surgeon who was already contracted to perform my prospective trophy wife’s optimization had given me specific guidelines to look for in shopping for the right candidate. It was best to start with a young girl, 18-20, who was a 32 or 34 B cup bra size. This would be the perfect platform for creating a large, firm, high-breasted girl who would be a tailor-made 32-34DD cup after upgrade. After her work was completed, she would have large, firm, high breasts with dark, upturned nipples atop big areolae that puffed out from her tits in a constant state of erection and apparent arousal.

Her hips should be full, her buttocks round, firm and elevated, her waist trim and narrow, tapering down from her curvy, reproductive hips. Her legs should be moderately long with adequately full, not too-skinny calves and healthy, firm thighs since stockings are a particular fetish of mine, among many others. The perfect selection would be free of tattoos and, in the best of worlds, have nipples that were already large and dark in color, symmetrical and outsized to her breast size so they would scale up nicely to her new, much larger breasts. Puffy nipples are the most desirable, but if all other pre-existing physical factors are excellent, my cosmetic surgeon told me about a procedure whereby nipples and areolae could be enlarged, darkened and made to protrude more to my liking. I personally inspected a young girl he had performed the puffy-nipple enhancement procedure on, and the results were remarkable.

Once my selection criteria, recruiting and indoctrination processes were finalized, I went out looking.

After several enjoyable weeks of shopping at local gentleman’s clubs there was an epiphany. A young girl, 5'3" tall, long, brown hair, enormous brown eyes, swaying hips, round buttocks and the most beautiful face and button nose I had ever seen, sat in my lap and asked if I wanted a dance. It was impossible to refuse. I suspected immediately that I had found my quarry.

She danced for me as I reclined in a lounge chair in a private room, swaying in the shadowy light to soft music, then straddling my lap, stripping off her sheer, lacy bra, grabbing my hands and placing them directly on her breasts. Then she began to gyrate on my swelling erection, clad only in a little, shiny black thong panty. She leaned forward, pressing her tits to me, and whispered in my ear, “Back here you can do almost anything you want. $100 a song Sir.”

I felt her natural tits, and they were quite nice, likely a large “B” or “C” cup. An excellent starting point. Her hips were full and girlish, her buttocks spectacular and round, the skin smooth and even in tone from what I could see in this light. Her lips were large and I felt them on my neck when I leaned forward. Somewhat unusual for an exotic dancer to kiss a client on the neck. Her arms and legs were beautiful, her overall figure full and round. And that hair, my God, that beautiful mane of cascading, natural brown hair. Luxurious.

The gentle grinding of her thin thong panty crotch on my erect cock inside my pants had me soaked in precum. After three songs, I grabbed her firmly beneath the arms and moved her slightly away from me. She had a slightly surprised expression, then smiled, “Enough?” she asked.

“I have a proposition for you, young lady. Would you be willing to meet outside this club for dinner, for, perhaps, two or three hours? It would only be dinner and conversation, I assure you, in a public place. Nothing to risk. Everything to gain.”

She made an overly quizzical expression.

“Oh. A proposition? Ah. You know we aren’t supposed to be doing that.”

“Five thousand dollars for dinner young lady. And I buy your outfit for the night. No funny business. No sex. Nothing weird. You and I, dinner in a nice restaurant and a few hours of conversation. That’s all. No risk. All reward. What do you say?”

“Um. Sounds nice. Possibly. Maybe…” She cooed. She circled her thong-covered hips one more time on my lap, pressing down on my hard cock inside my pants extra hard.

“You buy one more dance, and I’ll think about it. But I need to know your real name. I’m going to check you out online before I decide. In the meantime, are your pants still getting tighter… and wetter? I’m soaked. My panties are almost soaked through. I’m going to have to go back and change after I’m done with you.”

In Part 2, I make a unique proposal to the young lady

“I am looking for a wife who will perform any and all sex acts with proficiency and enthusiasm at my command. This includes sharing and group sex, bondage, exhibitionism, oral, vaginal and anal sex along with other activities such as performing and appearing in pornographic videos and photographs for public distribution. In return for this arrangement, my wife will live in opulence and receive a generous stipend, along with other material benefits. After a systematic and exhaustive search for the best candidate to be my obedient, entirely promiscuous wife, you are my choice young lady.”

This is what I would tell her tonight at dinner. In addition to a sumptuous dinner in a beautiful restaurant, this would be the offer on the table. It took some time, but the young girl I had found and selected agreed to my dinner invitation.

Knowing that we act how we dress, I had provided her wardrobe for the night: a simple but elegant, snug-fitting black dress with a low neckline, a Frederick’s of Hollywood Exxtreme Cleavage add-2 cup size push-up bra in black satin, a very small, sheer, black G-string panty, nude stay-up thigh-highs and delicate black, strappy, open-toe heels. There was also an elegant pearl necklace and earrings in the ensemble I provided to her. It was a simple outfit, but one that highly sexualized her in an elegant way. To complete her outfit, I included a crystal vial of Yves Saint Laurent Black Opium perfume, because no ensemble is complete without a treat for all of the senses- sight, touch, and smell. She received her wardrobe by courier two days before our dinner date.

Dinner would be at a friend of mine’s restaurant, a five-star place on the river downtown. I reserved the best table and paid the restaurant in advance to remove the two tables closest to us so we could speak candidly without being overheard.

My new little whore was a vision when she stepped out of her Uber. She had cleaned up incredibly well, and the young lady put obvious effort into her appearance for our dinner meeting tonight. That was a promising sign.

Her hair was in loose curls, cascading down her back in a bouncy mane of luxurious brunette. Her make-up was without flaw, understated and elegant. Her lipstick suggested a hint of drama, but was not too apparent. The pearls draped perfectly from her neck to her décolletage, and the little earrings added a well-coordinated finish to her beautiful presentation.

I judged her sizes well. Her firm breasts heaved at the top of the snug, plunging little black dress. The black, add 2-cup-size 34C push-up bra I sent her looked opulent under this dress. Her delicious young cleavage was swollen, soft, round and smooth, bulging up and out of her neckline. I’m sure that tiny, snug little black sheer thong panty was just barely there underneath her dress and above her nude thigh-highs. As a dancer, she was no-doubt waxed smooth down there. This, of course, would remain my ongoing requirement, one of many to come.

She looked absolutely magnificent. Better than I had hoped. She was beginning to seem even more like a fine candidate for a wife.

I held the door, she stepped through. I couldn’t help but notice her pretty little buttocks under the snug, little black dress. It was petite, high, protruding and firm. There was a noticeable sway to her alluring walk. Not a hint of panty line because of the little G-string I sent her. The satiny black fabric of the dress seemed to glide just slightly over her smooth, mostly nude skin underneath. She handled the high heels well for a young girl, no doubt a skill acquired in her profession. Good. Very promising.

The hostess directed us to my table. My little candidate had the poise to stand politely while I pulled her chair out for her to be seated. This was an excellent sign. It meant she was somehow refined. How a little 18-year old topless dancer learned this poise, I had no idea, but it boded well. We sat near the huge window overlooking the river. Best seat in the restaurant. Most private too.

“I hope you enjoy our dinner my dear, and our conversation. You are truly a vision tonight. You look magnificent. Everything fit well, I trust?”

“It did. Not sure how you figured out my sizes so well, but even the shoes, and the other things… They all fit perfectly. Thank you. Ah, do I get to…”

“Keep them?” I returned.

“Yes. Am I supposed to keep all this?”

“These items are yours young lady, for accepting my humble invitation. I appreciate it very much. It’s a delight to be here with you. Truly. You look so beautiful. No one could make this ensemble look as alluring, and my tastes are very discriminating. Actually, you are much more beautiful here, tonight, than at your workplace. That says a lot.”

She sat quietly for a moment, glanced down, then seemed to summon some resolve and looked up at me.

“Thank you.”

There was a noticeable lean forward in her posture suddenly. The waiter appeared at just that instant, introduced himself, took drink orders and left a list of appetizers to start the evening. His arrival quelled whatever it was she had leaned forward to ask.

He stepped away. She began.

“What is this about? I mean, why did you ask me out?”

She was right to the point. Admirable. Suggests that perhaps others had dealt with her less than honestly.

“I want to make a proposition to you. It is a significant one, and I wager it will take some time on your part to fully consider it, as well such a proposition should. Along with my proposition comes a plan. And a proposal. Literally.”

She remained seated upright, but now looking at me with very wide, very brown, eyes.

“I’m interested in recruiting a wife.”

Silence hung in the air. Her posture frozen. Continuing to fix her wide eyes on me. I calmly reached for my water glass and sipped some Perrier. Let the comment hang in the now-heavy air.

She reached for her glass, likely in awkward mimicry but also, I wager, because her mouth was suddenly dry.

“I’m sorry My Dear. Let me explain further. I’m a busy, and systematic man. People say that I am very focused. I say that is normal, and all else is abnormal. When I set about a project, I make a deliberate plan. And I make lofty goals. Excellence in everything I do. Simplicity in my plans. And always, strict honesty and openness. Some people find this awkward.”

I fixed my look on her, not glaring, but looking into her wide, brown eyes with sincerity.

“Young lady, you are perfection. You are beautiful. Beautiful beyond description, and this is a magnificent gift. You are poised. I don’t know how you’ve acquired this quality, but it is rare today. Especially for a young lady. In only the last fifteen minutes since our arrival tonight I’ve observed that in you. The way you stepped out of the car when you arrived. You let me open the door to the restaurant for you. Waited for me to do it. You stood politely and in a dignified manner while I pulled your chair out for you. I’m not sure where you learned these things, but they are valuable to me. Precious even. As valuable as your appearance, which, as I’ve said, is absolutely opulent.”

She appeared to ease somewhat. Soften. But a learned cynicism and caution remained. I could see that.

“So, I am looking for a wife. A beautiful, poised, submissive sexual servant wife. A devoted, capable and willing young lady to join me in life’s finer things. Travel. Entertainment. And especially, sexual activities, a priority of mine. I’m interested in nearly every sexual activity. And I’d like you to join me in them if you find the terms of my proposal, and of course, myself, acceptable and to your agreement.”

Her silence remained. She seemed frozen, taking all this in. I had expected that, so I decided to divert for a few moments and return the conversation to that of a simple dinner date.

“But, enough of this business and life talk. Let’s table my offer for now and simply enjoy the evening and try to get to know each other a little. That is, of course, the first step My Dear, and I am very thorough.”

We placed an order for appetizers and drinks. Neither of us drank alcohol, another good sign. She appeared to relax some as the first course arrived and the conversation lightened.

She began dancing at 18. Was going to turn 19 in six weeks. I noted her impending birthday. She revealed little, but ask many questions. Some were remarkably matrimonial, which was a good sign. She asked me about how I made a living. When the expanse of my ventures became apparent, she did well to not appear overly impressed, as though it was common to her.

“Have you ever been married?” She asked.

I told her I had been too busy building my businesses. I told her I never felt I was in a position to make an offer like I was proposing now, and that I knew it would be extraordinary to find a girl to agree to my terms without significant incentives. The conversation lapsed back to my offer.

“Listen young lady, I know my offer is incredibly forward, very presumptuous- at least now it is, and you have almost no reason to take it seriously. I realize this, and I respect any cynicism. It is well founded in today’s world.”

She fumbled with a piece of shrimp on her plate, licked her beautifully polished finger, swigged some Perrier, and kept her huge, brown eyes on me as I spoke.

“But, you must acknowledge the practicality of my offer. Consider the alternatives, in your future, your life. And, I intend to prove to you that my offer is authentic and trustworthy before you should even offer a response.”

Silence from her. She dabbed the corner of her mouth with the napkin from her lap. For an eighteen-year-old girl, she was accomplished at keeping her cool, holding her cards close.

“This is a lot to consider young lady. Allow me to make an interim suggestion. Think about my offer for a few days. If you would like to explore it further, completely without commitment or obligation, then join me on a holiday. Perhaps we can visit Thailand, a favorite of mine. Or, Sri Lanka. I know of a beautiful resort there with over-water bungalows. It’s up to you. Perhaps you’d enjoy a week in Nice, France. Another favorite of mine. At the Hotel Negresco along the Promenade des Anglais. I know beautiful cafés there. If you love coffee, you’ll love the breakfasts. And the bakeries.”

The waiter returned with dinner menus.

“Consider my offer during this upcoming week young lady, and let’s enjoy our dinner. We have plenty of time to discuss the specifics. For tonight, let’s just enjoy each other’s company, my friend’s wonderful dining and a beautiful evening, made all the more beautiful by you.”

by Sustainer for Literotica

Fate’s Embrace

Fri, 29 Jul 2022 11:30:46 -0500

Two pedestrians collide fatefully.

by maxicue. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Joe slid through the crowd on the street, not in a hurry, just enjoying it, like it was some kind of game, call it Body Avoidance, a challenge of finding the gaps just large enough to pass through untouched while the bodies continued moving in somewhat predictable ways, though the unpredictable could always happen, adding to the challenge and the fun, that quick burst bypassing the unexpected shift. He loved this game ever since moving to New York, at first when he worked at a copy place in Grand Central Station (nearby where he happened to be sliding through at the moment), especially busy streets around there, especially at rush hours and lunch, and further challenged when he carried heavy packages of copies destined for publishing houses, often pocketing the cab money given to him to walk even farther through more busy streets carrying those burdens.

And then when he became busboy and then waiter at the restaurant at Max’s Kansas City, a punk club with the music upstairs and the restaurant where he worked downstairs, sliding through crowds of kids his age on weekend nights. It felt like a kind of dance, especially at the club, even with his own special tempo.

This time though, for the first time ever as far as he could recall, he collided with someone who seemed to appear out of nowhere, his height of six and a half feet always helping his vision and his traversing perhaps missing her much smaller frame, at least a foot shorter, probably closer to a foot and a half, but more it seemed like she stepped into the narrow passage he’d found as if on purpose, finding the perfect moment for collision. But of course that would have been impossible, her knowing when to get in his way, when he’d happen to be sliding through at that very moment, unless fate could be considered purposeful.

“Asshole,” the young woman growled from the concrete in which his impact sent her, landing on her ass and a hand that prevented something worse like concussion and scraping it for the trouble. With him stopped standing over her, the crowd flowed around the sudden impediment like cattle somehow avoiding stampeding, though less animal and more human since the flow went both ways.

He looked down at a blonde waif, skinny and frail, her t shirt and jeans too big for her and looking well past new, the t shirt white with a band logo he was unfamiliar with showing every stain, and there were many, the jeans showing a small right kneecap where the cloth had frayed. The navy peacoat, too warm for the balmy, almost summerlike weather unusual this early in the year, splayed open.

“I’m so sorry,” Joe exclaimed, and when his stretched out hand was avoided by her, he insisted, “Let me help you up.” She finally allowed his large hand to take hold of her small slim one aiding her to standing. “I didn’t see you,” he added.

“Obviously,” she smirked, adjusting her stuffed and scuffed red backpack on her shoulders.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“I could eat,” she half smiled.

He guided her across the street and to the end of the block where one of the last of the Horn and Hardarts automats existed and put coins into the slots for her tuna sandwich and chips and for his egg salad. He bought her a Coke and he got coffee. She used the toilet there to clean her scrape amongst other things since she took a while, which worried him, thinking she might have run off, but of course she didn’t, having food waiting for her.

“I’m Joe,” he told her.

“Jenny,” she replied before filling her mouth with a bite of sandwich.

They said nothing for a while since she devoured her food, obviously needing it.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Maybe a pie? The lemon meringue looked tempting.”

“Okay if we share?” he asked.

“That’s fine.”

“Uhm, are you going to stay?” He looked at her, saw her eyes pooling and she sniffled. “Please?”

Her smile nearly broke his heart when she replied, “Nowhere better to be.”

“Good. After we eat, let’s get that scrape taken care of.”

“Okay.”

They stayed, talking over the small empty plate.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“The Twin Cities. Minneapolis.”

“No shit! Me too!”

“No shit!”

“No shit. Where?”

“Robbinsdale.”

“Golden Valley.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

The two suburbs were neighbors, Robbinsdale more middle class than Golden Valley, which tended to be more upper middle class, a lot of professionals, doctors, lawyers and professors, his dad being of the latter type.

Fate.

“You work around here?” she asked, since Joe had dressed up in a jacket and tie, the tie loose around his neck.

“I used to,” he told her. “I’m actually applying for jobs presently.”

“Presently,” she giggled.

“Sorry. I tend to talk like I have a stick up my butt.”

“No, it’s cute.”

“Glad you think so,” he chuckled.

“How’s the job search going?” she asked.

“Not great unfortunately. My uncle’s an executive at the William Morris Agency, and I hoped that might help, but I guess he’s against nepotism. It’s possible I’ll get a job in their mail room. I applied at other offices, but I’m making a career change, or hoping to, and have got little experience.”

“From what?” she asked.

“I used to be a waiter at Max’s Kansas City.”

“No shit!”

“No shit.”

“Why not stay there?”

“I needed a change,” he murmured, unconsciously stroking his arm.

Jenny sensing Joe’s discomfort regarding the subject wisely ended that line of inquiry. “What’s the William Morris Agency?” she asked instead.

“It’s one of the largest talent agencies in America,” he told her.

“Cool.”

“Yeah. It’s had its perks. Getting turned on to Bowie early because my uncle wrote the contract that signed him. Meeting cool stars at a party at his house upstate. Going to openings like the movie Hair and Apocalypse Now, the last a brand new print and sitting close.”

“Is that cool?” she asked.

“Pretty cool,” he chuckled.

When they left the automat, he told her, “Let’s get you some anti-bacteria for your scrape and Band-Aids. I know a drugstore nearby.”

“You don’t have anything at home?” she asked, surprising him.

“Um…you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she smiled, and he could see those pretty blue eyes pool again.

“I can get something on the way,” he decided.

“Great!”

Since the drugstore was close by, he went there anyway, and while getting the first aid stuff, she waited for him near the counter. “Need any of these?” she blushed, pointing to the rack of condoms.

His cock stiffened in his pants while he grabbed a sixpack of lubricated Trojans. She stayed his hand and grabbed a twelve pack instead. “Holy shit,” he thought.

Both were blushing while he made the purchase.

They walked over to Grand Central and took the subway south to Fourteenth Street close to where he lived. They entered a door between a couple non-descript store fronts and climbed the stairs three floors, Joe unlocking a door on the left at the top. Fortunately none of his roommates were around in the shared area, probably sleeping since they tended to keep vampire hours, and Joe guided Jenny down a hallway, taking a sharp right and, pushing aside a beaded curtain, gestured her through. He had by far the largest bedroom in the three bedroom apartment, a couple large windows unfortunately facing the wall of another building. Unfortunate not for the view, but for the easy access from the roof to the room, the probable path taken when someone broke in and stole his record collection and his typewriter not long before. Or they could have just walked in, because he knew the probable culprit, since he’d seen the junkie just off St. Marks selling his records, a regular at Max’s.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologized, and Joe was a definite slob.

“No problem,” she responded. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Jenny?”

“Mind if I take a shower?” she sniffled.

“Not at all. Just a second.” He knelt in front of a small cabinet and grabbed a towel for her. “The red door on the right,” he told her.

For some reason they’d painted the bathroom a deep red, including the door, the rest of the apartment with white walls.

He cleaned up his place while she showered, neatening the books and papers on the coffee table, the table on which he used to type before losing his typewriter, and tossing clothes into a gunny sack he used to tote down to go to the nearest laundromat a block or so away.

She returned carrying her clothes and her bag, wearing the towel with it tucked between her cleavage, more of it than he expected, and when she unceremoniously dropped the towel, she sported perky b cup breasts, all the more substantial looking on her petite frame. She was skinny but fortunately not completely starved, no bones jutting out, her belly youthfully firm with just a hint of convexity, and her full bush, being blonde, seemed less substantial than if it were dark. Her waist curved subtly, neither what some would call child bearing hips, but not boyish either. This was definitely a woman.

“Like what you see?” she smiled, turning, and showing him a perfect firm round ass. He also noticed muscled thighs and her arms even had some definition.

“Wow,” he said. “You’re definitely in shape.”

“Dreams of being a prima ballerina,” she sniffled.

He sat on the bed and patted his lap. “Come here.”

“You have way too many clothes on,” she sniffled and giggled.

“Come here, Jenny,” he said more forcefully.

She sat on his lap sideways. He reluctantly kept his hands off her.

“Tell me,” he said.

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

“Of course I do. Tell me.”

She sobbed. Only then did he embrace her across her middle, her face ending up against his chest. He could feel the tears wet his shirt. “Tell me,” he repeated.

“I…had to,” she choked out.

“Had to?”

“Your shirt,” she murmured, pulling her head away.

“It’s okay,” he insisted, gently pulling her head back.

“I auditioned over the years to get into ballet school here, but no takers,” she managed to say. “I wanted to be a ballerina but I guess I’m not good enough.”

“Best to know I guess,” Joe tried.

“It’s not that. Oh, okay that kind of sucked, but mostly I wanted to get away.”

“From?”

“Everything!”

“Including?”

“My mother’s cruel disappointment. She’d been a ballerina until she had me. My boyfriend turning out to be gay. Another boy practically raping me instead making sure I was ready. My father…”

“Did he…?”

“No, but he was working up to it. Probably looked at me like I was my mom when I was her age or younger I guess. He’d be affectionate, too affectionate as it turned out. He touched me where he shouldn’t, not directly but close, you know. I guess I didn’t believe it, but it turned out he was actually being shy, and eventually brought my hand to his crotch which got me off him immediately. The last straw…I woke up with him in my bed. I screamed and punched like in his diaphragm which took his wind. Maybe I should have punched lower, but I wanted to be nowhere near that, and when I raced out the room, my mother plods over and my dad says some bullshit about me seducing him, and since it was all about jealousy, him being more affectionate to me, and disappointment, she fucking believed him.

“I’m of course freaking out, everything…and then this…but I managed to take some breaths, calming down, and told my mom if she wanted rid of me I needed money. They only had a couple hundred around but my mom takes me to her bank, gets me another five hundred, drives me to the bus station, buys me a ticket to New York, my demand, with her credit card. She actually offered one to me, but I told her she’d probably close it and have me arrested or something, and the bitch shrugged. And I’m like, ‘You’re a fucking cunt.’ And she’s saying I’m a useless slut.”

“Sorry,” Joe apologized.

“I’m the sorry one,” Jenny actually chuckled.

“But…it doesn’t sound like sex…”

Jenny shifted around so that she faced him, straddling his lap. “I got hit on by fucking pimps, Joe, as soon as I got off the fucking bus at Penn station. I’m not as naïve as I look.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Like you’re a psycho? You don’t seem the type and in a way I don’t fucking care. A rapist probably wouldn’t have brought me home. The hotel I stayed at this creepy guy kept staring at me in the lobby and ended up following me to my fucking floor, so I like got out quick out of there, practically running. And I didn’t even dare shower there since the shower room was fucking shared and fucking groady. I was actually headed to Grand Central when we collided, thinking I’d try taking a train down to twenty-third, staying at the Chelsea or something, just to do something cool while I was here and still alive. So Joe, I guess you’re the best choice I’ve had so far.” She kissed him, pulling off the jacket he still wore and unbuttoning his shirt.

He broke the kiss when he tossed aside the tie, then lifted her and set her on her back on the bed. He finished the unbuttoning and tossed aside his shirt.

“Nice,” she smiled, stroking his chest. Joe didn’t work out, but being young, just twenty-one, and working hard at his job as a waiter, kept him slim and slimly muscled.

He kept his pants on when he made love to her lying beside her on his side. Kisses continued for a while, both enjoying it especially when tongues were involved, her breath tasting of toothpaste and his presumably not offensive, while his hand began exploring the rest of her. The hand took the weight of her breasts, teasingly moving on before a direct attack on her small nipples to linger on her taut belly and moving teasing across her pudendum, through her soft patch of blond hair, before feeling the smoothness of her thighs and the firmness of muscles, and then under her, lifting her slightly by her firm ass, followed by sliding along her back, across her shoulder and returning to her breasts, fingers moving in on her nipples, caressing and tugging gently at each one, making her gasp into his mouth.

Only then did he end the kiss, bringing his mouth to the exploration, finding thrills for her at her ear and neck before moving to her breasts and nipples. Once each one had been appreciated for a while, the second sending his hand down slowly, eventually fingers discovering the dampness of her labia, rimming the edges, his mouth followed the same trail as his hand, and when it reached where she wanted it, he shifted his body between her widened legs and his tongue lapped across her clit, the first touch of it, and she lifted her middle and moaned.

Both fingers and mouth remained there, working her gradually to her first climax via a man, especially intense when he stroked her g spot, his other hand tugging at her nipples, measuring the squeeze and building on it since she seemed to handle ever more pressure there.

“Joe,” she murmured once she recovered, and smiled when he got up and got naked for her. “Oh my,” she commented at his length, on the thicker side, and definitely longer than the two she’d seen by at least a couple inches.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, opening a condom and rolling it on and moving between her thighs. He brought her hand to his cock to guide him, and she brought it where she wanted it and he slowly pushed in.

“Oh fuck!” she moaned.

“Too much?” he asked reluctantly.

“Don’t you fucking stop!” she declared.

He pushed into one of the tightest sheathes he’d ever felt and realized he wouldn’t last and told her.

“Just fuck me,” she insisted, her legs wrapping his thighs as emphasis.

Going slow probably helped delay the inevitable, seeming to open her up with each deeper stroke. In the end, he nudged at her cervix, thankfully with his cock completely inside her. He’d known girls her size, even taller, where he had to be careful about the impact there, usually no more than an inch to spare, but enough to cause pain. Not this time. Touching it made her growl, but in a good way.

He decided to exploit that, grinding into her, pubic bone against pubic bone which affected her clit too, and just pulling out a couple inches before thrusting in. She seemed fine with that, even enjoying it, so he kept it up while his hands drew in to work fingers and thumbs on her nipples.

She began meeting his thrusts with lifts, and her hands grabbed his ass cheeks, and she began pulling on his flesh there, wanting longer strokes it seemed, but he waited until she grabbed hard, closing on being painful, her nails thankfully short, he’d learn later she tended to nibble on them when nervous, and he’d actually seen a little of that in the automat, and she pressed against him one more time before announcing her climax with, “Oh my fucking God!” rather loudly at a high growl. And when she loosened her grip, only then did he abandon himself to fully fucking her, long, ever faster strokes for only seconds before he pressed deep, pushing against her cervix, and cumming.

“Joe,” she murmured, her hands pushing his chest.

“Sorry,” he responded, hugging her to him and turning them over. He’d reached the last of his ejaculations, every one intense, and reached down to hold the condom to his penis while shifting her higher with his legs.

“Mmm,” she responded when it slid out. She shivered a little too as if feeling a last echo of her orgasm.

“It’ll be better next time,” he promised.

She chuckled weakly.

“What?” he asked.

She shifted forward. Since both of their bodies had fairly equal proportions of legs to torsos, she had to scoot up a bit, her legs straddling his abdomen, her damp pussy pressing into it, for her to look eye to eye with him. Her hands pressed his shoulders to put her face above his.

“That was several magnitudes better than the last and only fuck I’ve had,” she explained.

“I thought it was making love,” he argued.

“Don’t be pedantic, Joe,” she smirked, surprising him.

“Pedantic?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Of course, but…”

“I’m smarter than I look.”

“I don’t believe in the dumb blonde myth.”

“I’ve met several, and not all blondes.”

“School?”

“And fellow dancers, although most were dedicated enough to be smart too I suppose. Learning to put the time in to do the best you can both in dancing and studying.”

“Makes sense. So school…?”

“I would have graduated this spring if I hadn’t had to run away.”

“GED?” he asked.

“Probably. I don’t imagine going to school for one quarter. You?”

“School?”

“Yeah.”

“I went to Bard in upstate New York for a couple years, but quit because it was ridiculous having parents spend that much money for me to study to be a poet.”

“You’re a poet?”

“Not much recently. I thought New York would be inspiring, but mostly it’s been distracting. I’m also interested in filmmaking, like the experimental kind, so no more lucrative. I still have a Bolex sixteen millimeter camera which fortunately the thieves never found.”

“Thieves?”

“The problem with living amongst junkies. Let me show you something.”

He lifted his left arm and she caressed a line of marks near his inner elbow area.

“Are those…?”

“Tracks. Only one is fairly fresh. It’s why I quit Max’s: too much temptation. Living here too, but right now I can’t afford to move. A friend of mine OD’d and died, and another almost did and I ended up keeping him alive. It was the last straw, and I realized that’d be me, or it’d just be a spiral of inertia, all about the next fix and nothing else, so I quit. Luckily I wasn’t too strung out and basically hung with my folks for a week when my dad had his sabbatical in DC this past winter. I drank a bit there, but my parents seemed none the wiser. Anyway, when I came back to work planning to keep my tips instead of spending them all, I did okay until I didn’t one day, succumbing to temptation, and quit after that.”

“When was that?”

“A week ago. I’ve been job hunting ever since.”

“Lucky for me,” she grinned and shifted around, pulling off the used condom and handing it to him carefully and he managed to toss it atop his underpants while she enveloped his penis in her mouth. He worried about her lack of experience, mostly worried about her teeth, but she proved quite capable. He nudged her to straddle his face and had to bend his back a little, supported by his arms so fingers weren’t available, and mostly kept her pleasure at a