All posts by sexhikayeleri

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Angelika was walking home after a night out with the girls, the warm breeze blowing her long black hair out behind her. In her all-black outfit, that made her skin seem pale, someone might think of her as a Goth chick or a vampire wannabe, but she didn’t care. She just liked black. Being only four foot ten, she might also have looked like a child pretending to be a full-grown woman, but once you got a good look at her, you could tell she was all woman. Her curves put childhood completely out of the question. Now, Angelika could certainly take care of herself, despite her size. She was always careful and was constantly looking over her shoulder. But, like most people, she almost never looked up.

—

In the shadows between houses, he watched Angelika with a growing lust, both sexual and blood fueled. He gently touched her mind and found out where she lived. With a smile, he licked his lips and starting moving toward her house. The fun was about to begin.

—

Angelika stopped short of her front door, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Her front door was hanging open just a little and she knew no one else was home. She grabbed her cell phone and flipped it open, ready to call 911. Pushing open the front door, she reached for the light switch just inside the doorway. A few clicks and nothing happened. She stepped into the living room and bumped into the over-stuffed chair. As she got her bearings, she heard a noise from the door, a very soft sound, like that of fine grain sandpaper being barely brushed against already sanded wood. She turned toward it and then had to blink as all of the lights came on.

“Just a power outage,” she said out loud to no one in particular. Turning back around to face the living room, she let out a scream.

On the two walls of her living room were handprints that looked like they had dripped their hands in red paint and dragged them across the wall, leaving prints two to three feet in length. The real problem was that is wasn’t red paint. It was blood. Angelika ran from the house in a panic, dialing 911 as she ran for her friend’s house.

He was following her as she babbled to the 911 operator while walking quickly the eight blocks to her friend Lindsay’s house. She gave the police her phone number and told them where she would be staying, giving them somewhere to contact her if needed. She turned a corner and hurried, passing by several small shops that were on the edge of the neighborhood. She yelped when a strong hand grabbed her right arm and pulled her into the incredibly small alley between stores and roughly shoved her face first against the red brick, her arms being pinned above her hand with his powerful grip. He pressed himself against her and she felt his warm breath against her hair.

“You belong to me now, pet. Stop running and accept it.”

Angelika felt the tears stream down her face as he pushed his knee between her legs, spreading them, his other hand popping open the button on her pants, pulling them down just far enough to expose her pantiless ass. She heard his pants come down and tried to prepare herself and he pushed his throbbing cock between her ass cheeks and started rubbing himself up and down between them, his weight pushing them around his shaft. She started to cry out when she felt two pin pricks at her neck, making her gasp as her whole body shivered, the pain mixing with so much pleasure that her whole body went numb.

As quickly as he arrived, he left, leaving Angelika to sag against the wall, not sure what to make of what just happened. She felt the two small holes at her neck and she shivered again. She redid her pants in a daze and continued her journey to Lindsay’s house. She got to Lindsay’s house and pounded on the door, again on the verge of tears. The door swung open and Lindsay looked out, the gold security chain holding the door about six inches from the doorframe.

“Angelika? Oh my God! What happened?” The door shut and then Angelika heard the clinking of the chain and then door reopening a second later, Lindsay almost pulling Angelika inside.

Angelika told Lindsay what had she had seen at her house while sitting in Lindsay’s kitchen over a cup of tea, as Lindsay tended to the two small wounds on her neck. Her hands were shaking enough to still a little tea on the white marble countertop, which Lindsay cleaned up with a paper towel.

After the tea, Angelika found herself yawning uncontrollably, all of the adrenaline having left her body. With a smile, Lindsay led her to the couch, complete with a pillow and a thin blanket, tucking her in with a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a reassurance that everything would be okay in the morning.

“Linds,” Angelika asked in a small voice.

“Angel,” Lindsay replied in the same voice, just one of the things they did.

“Do you think you could curl up with me until I fall asleep? I don’t feel too safe at the moment.”

“Sure, Angel. Let me go change for bed and I’ll be right back. I’ll bring something for you, too.”

Angelika etiler escort sat quietly as she waited for Lindsay, who returned wearing a dark green pajama set that looked really good on her, since she had pale skin and dark brown hair, which she tucked a lock of behind her ear. She held out an oversized t-shirt to Angelika, who smiled shyly and went to the bathroom to change.

She returned and Lindsay started to laugh as the shirt, one that hung to Lindsay’s knees, came down to Angelika’s ankles. She looked like a little girl wearing mommy’s shirt. Angelika put her hands on her hips, making Lindsay laugh even harder, Angelika joining in and the two of them falling onto the couch, leaning against each other, Angelika’s laughter mixing with sobs as the stress from what had happened earlier caught up to her.

Lindsay put her arm around Angelika’s shoulders and snuggled against her, Angelika wiping away her tears. Without speaking, they both laid down, Lindsay lying behind Angelika, her right arm draped around Angelika’s slim waist. She wrapped her around Lindsay’s and took a deep breath, her eyes falling closed as Lindsay nuzzled behind Angelika’s ear.

As she drifted off to sleep, Angelika felt warmth spread over her, one that started in her groin. She opened her eyes and saw Lindsay between her thighs, her tongue working quickly over Angelika’s clit, on hand moving up to squeeze her breast through the t-shirt, while using one finger to circle Angelika’s pussy lips. Angelika couldn’t speak, but only moan, her high pitched voice bouncing off of the high white walls, the frequency and pitch of her moans increasing. As her orgasm peaked, her breath catching and her voice squeaking, Angelika’s eyes flew open and she found herself alone on the couch, her blanket tight between her thighs, rubbing against her engorged clit, the smell of her sex filling the room. She blinked in the darkness, spying Lindsay’s form in a chair across the room.

“Linds,” she said quietly, getting no answer. “Lindsay,” she said again in a forced whisper, but still nothing. She reached out and turned on the table lamp and looked over at Lindsay, letting out another throat ripping scream.

Lindsay’s head say at an awkward angle on her shoulders and her throat has been ripped out. Angelika’s heart hammered in her chest and she tried to climb backwards on the couch. She let out another little scream as her cell phone started ringing. Watching the LCD screen light up as it rang, Angelika tentatively reached out a hand, almost expecting Lindsay to start moving again, her eyes darting back and forth between the phone and the body. Gingerly, she picked up her phone and flipped it open, answering it without looking at it.

“H-hello?”

“Hello, Angelika.” The voice was gruff, the same voice from the alley. It sent a chill down her spine, as it was tinged with menace, Angelika feeling more tears start to run down her cheeks.

“Who is this?”

“You don’t know me, but if you look at poor Lindsay,” he said, her eyes involuntarily going to the corpse, the soft blue eyes open and starting at nothing. “You’ll see my handiwork. I’ve been watching you, Angelika. You are a delectable little morsel that I will enjoy having when the time comes.”

“What do you want from me?” She heard a soft chuckle on the other end of the line.

“I don’t want anything ‘from’ you, Angelika, I just want you and you shall be mine.”

She hung up to his laughter and dialed 911 again, telling the operator about Lindsay’s body and the phone call. The operator stayed on the line with her until the police arrived and took her into protective custody. Angelika hesitated when the doorbell rang, afraid that it was the killer, the voice on the phone. She willed herself to the door and opened it, two uniformed officers standing there. She flung the door open and let them in, one of them taking her into another room while the other looked over Lindsay’s body. After a few questions, the officer suggested that he take her back to the station for a formal statement. Angelika agreed and they went to the other room, the room with Lindsay’s body, to get her clothes. They officer’s partner was kneeling next to Lindsay’s chair.

“Hey, Jenks,” the cop said. “Let’s take this one back and let the CSU guys get a look at her.” His partner didn’t respond. “Jenks. You okay?”

He moved in and touched his partner’s shoulder and they watched as the body of the officer fell over, the officer’s hand going to his gun, both of them almost vomiting as Jenks’s head rolled from his shoulders and tumbled into the doorway that led to the dining room, their eyes following it’s path and stopping as it came to rest next to the feet of a shadowy figure in the doorway. The officer, whose name was DiSilva, drew his gun and started backing toward the front door, keeping himself between Angelika and the inky darkness.

“Miss, move toward the door,” DiSilva said softly, “And run for the squad car.” Angelika nodded and grasped the doorknob, wrenching it hard, escorts jerking the door open, and sprinting for the police car, her bare feet slapping the pavement, their sound lost as DiSilva caught up to and passed her, running to the other side of the car, jumping in and starting the engine, flooring the accelerator a soon as Angelika was inside. He drove and drove fast, taking seemingly random turns, trying to get away and get to the police station.

“What was that,” Angelika yelled as she tried not to bounce around in the back seat.

“I don’t know,” DiSilva answered, wrenching the wheel hard to the left, sending her sliding into the right hand door. But whatever it was, it scared me.” HE straightened out the steering wheel and breathed out a loud sigh. Angelika pushed up against the Plexiglas between them.

“Look out,” she screamed.

DiSilva saw the shape materialize out of nowhere and yanked the wheel hard to the right, trying to swerve around it. As he tried to correct his path, his sweaty hands slipped off of the wheel and they ran into a fire hydrant, DiSilva held in by his seatbelt, but Angelika, unsecured in the back seat, felt her forehead hit the Plexiglas, but felt as solid as concrete. Her vision swam, but she was able to see DiSilva draw his fun. Before he was able to use it, the thing smashed the window and a sledgehammer fist beat him mercilessly. She wasn’t sure if he was dead or not, but when the back door opened, she knew it didn’t matter.

A thick hand grabbed her ankle and she was pulled out of the car and into the spray from the ruptured fire hydrant. As she began to fade out, she saw a face creased by ivory smile, one that filled her with terror.

“At last,” she heard. “You are mine.”

—

When Angelika awoke, she felt a slight strain on her shoulders, but she couldn’t figure out why. The sell of freshly dug earth reached her nose and there were almost no sounds, except for the thumping of her heart in her ears. Her head throbbed, probably from hitting the Plexiglas. When she opened her eyes, her head spun and she felt like she might vomit, so she closed them again, the nausea fading and the world returning to normal.

She tried again after a few minutes and though she felt her stomach rebel a little, the room didn’t spin. Letting her eyes adjust to the dim light coming through the dingy window some ten feet above her, she found herself face down, her knees and shoulders digging into the bumpy concrete that made up the floor. She tried to sit up, but found she couldn’t really move. Trying to move her hands turned out to be impossible. Turning to her sense of touch, she could feel thick ropes binding her wrists to her ankles as well as her ankles being bound to each other. Her knees were also joined by rope. All of these together told her why she couldn’t move. They did not tell her, however, why she was completely naked.

A door opened behind her she suddenly felt very exposed and vulnerable. Her legs held her firm ass and shaved pussy up in the air and try as she might, she couldn’t cover herself. The door closed, but she couldn’t see anyway from her position. Just as she was wondering if they had just left her food, she felt a rough, heavy hand touch her bare behind and start caressing it. Something in the touch was almost like petting a family pet, suggesting ownership. She shivered under the warmth of the hand on her skin, bringing a soft chuckle from behind her.

“What do you want,” Angelika asked, her voice wavering. “Who are you?”

She recognized the voice as the one she heard both in the alley and on the phone. “I want nothing because I already have what I want, Angelika. I have you.” As if emphasizing that point, he gave her ass a little smack. “As far as who I am, my real name isn’t important. They only name that matters is the one you will call me from this point forward.”

“What name is that?”

“Master.”

After he had proclaimed himself her Master, Angelika heard the door open again and then close, followed by a plastic dog bowl of water about a foot away from her, a little spilling down the side of the blue plastic. He scooted it closer to her with his foot, leaving it only a few inches away. She tried to move toward it, now realizing how dry her throat was. She attempted to raise her head to get at the fresh smelling water, but was unable to shift her weight enough to do so.

“How am I supposed to get a drink if I can’t get my head that high?” Her voice seemed stronger now, anger mixing with her fear. She yelped when he grabbed a large handful of her long black hair and pulled on it.

Using her hair, he pulled her face off of the cold concrete and, tugging sideways, he pivoted her over the bowl and released her hair, splashing her face into the water and then pulling her back up, Angelika spluttering and couching at her sudden immersion.

“For starters,” he said, “You could ask more politely.””

“May I have a drink of water please?” He dunked her face again, pulling her right back bagcilar escort up.

“And who am I that you are asking?”

“You are…” She bit back the first reply that was on the tip of her tongue, as she fully realized that her captor was in complete control. “You are my Master.”

He lowered her slowly this time, allowing her to suck some of the clean, cold water into her dry mouth. After a few small swallows, he pulled her mouth away.

“You are learning, my new pet,” he said, moving her away from the water bowl and resting her face on the hard concrete again.

“Thank you, Master,” Angelika replied, closing her eyes.

With almost no sound, he knelt behind her and ran an almost serpentine tongue, pointed and darting, up and down her bare, exposed slit, making her squirm to get lose, as well as in pleasure. His hands worked their way between her arms and her torso, finding her breasts and roughly pinching at her nipples, feeling them harden between his fingers.

Angelika found her pussy slowly getting wet as he found her clit with his tongue, as he teased it, prodded it, to make it peek out from under it’s hood. Almost against her will, she moaned softly at his tongue work, attempting to push back against him. His tongue crept between her lips by only a fraction, making her gasp and try harder to push backwards. He ran the very tip of his tongue up to her anus, lightly swirling it around the sensitive skin, before moving back down to quickly flick it against her hard nub, making Angelika squeal and buck against him, straining her body to the liming to please herself with his tongue. It wasn’t long before she was fighting for breath, her voice loud, echoing in her cell. As her orgasm ran through her, she tried to breathe and moan at the same time, her voice squeaking with each ”ah!’ His tongue disappeared and his hands withdrew, leaving her as collapsed as possible, breathing hard as her climax faded.

“And now, my pet, we shall see if you give pleasure as well as you take it.”

With that, he rolled her over onto her back and moved up by her head. He slid a powerful hand under her and placed it between her shoulder blades, lifting her shoulders off of the ground, her head falling backwards, putting his erect cock right in front of her face. Using his free hand, he tilted his hardness toward her.

“Open your mouth.”

She did so and he placed the bulbous head between her lips, Angelika starting to suck on it until he ripped it out of her mouth and slapped her cheek with the now wet cockhead, turning her already flushed cheek a darker shade of pink.

“I didn’t tell you to suck, did I, pet?”

“No, Master. I just…”

Another wet smack sounded as he cockslapped her again, stunning Angelika into silence.

“Let’s try this again. Open your mouth, pet.”

Angelika hesitantly opened her mouth and he placed the angry purple head into her wet, warm mouth, holding it still, Angelika fighting the reflex to suck his length into her mouth.

“Very good, pet. Now, tighten your lips, but do not suck. Do you understand?”

She nodded as best she could and snuggled her pink lips around his cockhead, moaning softly a he slowly fed her every inch of his thick, veiny shaft, Angelika breathing out as he touched and then went into her throat. Finally, his testicles, full and smooth, rested against her nose, filling her nostrils with the musky, manly smell of his balls. He pulled back out, her lips bulging around the crown, before starting to pump about half of his full length, which was around seven inches, she guessed, in and out of her lips.

Angelika braved her Master’s displeasure by starting to work her rough tongue over his cockhead as he fucked her mouth, but no displeasure was evident as his pace increased slightly, Angelika flexing her pussy muscles and rubbing her thighs together as much as she could, again filling the room with the scent of her sex as she pleased herself, moaning again and again as she worked herself toward orgasm just as he did as he used her mouth. He pulled out of her hungry mouth and slowly stroked his raging member.

“Cum for me, pet. Cum for your Master.”

Angelika closed her eyes and focused on her growing pleasure, her voice ringing against the thick stone walls again as she pushed herself closer and closer to another orgasm, her breath catching as she fought to breathe, her voice turning into high-pitched squeaks as she shuddered on the floor and in his hand, her eyes clenched tight, her voice finally breaking as she climaxed again, her juices leaking out onto her thighs and onto the floor. She relaxed as much as her bonds would allow and opened her eyes, gazing once against at her Master’s beautiful cock.

“Very good, pet,” he said, his voice betraying his smile. “I have seen you cum and now you shall watch me do the same.”

He laid her on the floor and the gripped her shoulders, lifting her again and propping her against the cold stone wall, the heat from her body making it seem even colder. Reaching between her ankles, he snapped the rope holding them and spread her legs, kneeling between them, taking his thick shaft in his hand and stroking himself slowly. It wasn’t until now that Angelika got her first good look at her new Master.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The blindfold was taken off. There seemed to be a lot of people around, but I could not make them out. I squinted into the glare even as I felt my cock grow harder…What was that…traffic. It was the sun streaming through my window boring down into my eyes. I stretched amazed at how hard I still got thinking of the time that Kate told me that she wanted to use a strap-on on me, to fuck me with her cock.

I pretended to be taken aback at the time and said nothing. I shrugged it off, but could not shake the thought of her taking complete charge, using me that way. She could be a little bitchy so maybe I should have seen it coming, but after she said it out loud the mental picture of a hard plastic cock strapped around her little waist, sticking straight out from under her sizable chest would repeat itself over and over.

By the time that I got up the courage to drop subtle hints of interest, to offer to let her fuck me if she would do something else for me, she had changed her mind. She told me that she was not really sure about it after all and that she would not be able to be with guy who would let her fuck him with a strap-on, because she would not respect them enough. Oddly, that did not keep the idea from coming back into my head. I started imagining what kind of dildo she would pick out. How she would look with it strapped onto her petite frame, nestled tight against the short, perfectly groomed dark hair between her legs. She knew what control she had over me, that I loved to taste her and lick her. Often she would have me satisfy her and then idly rub my crazy hard cock as she dozed off leaving me almost desperate. Somehow that just drove to want to taste her more. That she could play the demanding mistress who thrived on building desire and teasing while pretending not to notice could never be in doubt. Somehow this coupled with her interest but condescending attitude towards taking a guy actually heightened my fantasies. Ultimately, it did not work out and I chickened out, in part because of all the people we knew in common and, in part, because I did not believe she had the maturity to possess me that way without abusing that power. In all honesty, however, that potential for abuse and humiliation that would result from my total subjugation to her whim and caprice still aroused me.

I recently revealed this desire to someone with results even I could not have dreamed or foreseen. I had started talking on the net with a woman who was very self-possessed, but seemed very down to earth and drew me in immediately. I could not believe what I was willing to reveal to her, but it seemed very natural. I did leave out that I had masturbated to the thought of Kate putting on a strap on and stroking it while making him tell her that I would do anything to get her off, even let her fuck me with her cock and then feeling her get off while fucking him with her strap-on.

Jennifer was so easy to talk to, whether joking or exploring various fantasies, role-playing or anything else. I did not hide the fact that I loved to please and even suggested that I would not mind relinquishing control if that would arousing her. She seemed to like that idea and often would push to see where my limits were each time we spoke pushing me a little further beyond my original comfort zone.

It started out simply. Jennifer agreed that she would like to have me please her gungoren escort and beg to taste her, caress her slowly, move my lips over every part of her body and then pull away flaunting his desire and her control (which was far more intoxicating for her knowing that she was also about to give into the my desire to feel my tongue glide across her breasts, my warm breath over her stomach as my weight shifted lower, feeling her legs move apart almost on their own allowing my lips to caress hers. My tongue slowly moving between her legs almost desperate in its intensity yet gentle. I knew that she would be able to feel the excitement, the tension in my tongue, as it glided across her lips knowing that I was incredibly aroused simply by the taste and smell of her and knowing that I would continue to tease her until the feeling spread up her lower back through her entire body, arching her back, pushing her head hard against the pillows at the head of the bed, wrapping her hands into my hair even as she felt my hands all over her body amazed by the sensation feeling as if it were my hands everywhere at once covering her. Their warmth matching the tension that was building in her body – and then all at once pulling away – seeing my look of desire and her own wonder of her restraint knowing that when she let herself go it would be that much more intense – she almost touched herself and then allowed herself even as she pushed me onto my back and moved to straddle my chest….

She bent over and asked me what I wanted even as I felt her fingers between her legs, feeling her index finger glide along my chest and then between her lips, into her, pushing into the soft warm skin, sliding so easily with the wetness already there. I would whisper back that I wanted nothing, but needed to taste her, to feel her explode against my face. She leaned back sliding a second finger into herself, gasping quickly as a look of quiet contentment spread over her face. “What would you do get what you claim you need?” she teased.

I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything she pulled her hand from herself and rested her fingers on my lips allowed her scent and taste to silence me. Even as I felt my mouth move to close over her glazed fingers, her tone changed, “I don’t want to hear that you would do anything I wanted. Be more creative than that. I want you to think – to impress me – tell me what I want, and I will give you what you need.” I was ready to play this game as we had before, but imagining the scene actually unfold, I still hesitated to say the words; feeling myself grow red and grow even harder as I punched in the words, “I would get you a strap-on and suck your cock if you wanted!”

“What? Say that again,” she murmured. He could her feigned shock, playing innocent to exacerbate his embarrassment.

“I would suck your cock, mistress.” “LOL.” The sole reply leaving to think of her standing over him stroking her hard cock, watching him watch her hand.

“You want me to have a cock, do you?” she said sweetly.

“Yes”, was the inevitable reply, “I do.”

“And what would YOU have me do with my cock,” she queried.

“I,” my chest tightened as I felt myself giving into Jennifer and the game, “I would love to see you stroke it; that would turn me on.” She never let me off so easily.

“What else would You like,” she persisted.

“I istanbul escorts would let you fuck me with it.”

“With what?”

“Your cock.”

“My cock? I like that. Where my pet?” I know what she wants, and I know it will happen now.

“In my ass. I would let me fuck you in my ass with your hard cock!”

“LOL” and silence. I feel the discomfort of a blank screen after such an admission. “Better – but not good enough. What else do you want. I know what turns me on. I want you to do what I asked and tell me what you want.”

I cannot respond.

“Do you expect me to believe that you would do all this just for me.”

“Yes. mistress, I would.”

“Really,” the sarcasm in her tone is apparent even then, “and the thought does not turn you on?”

I feel myself stammering “Yes” as my fingers type the word.

“Yes what? You better tell the truth this time. I want to hear what you have been thinking about you little slut.” I bow my head and only see how hard I have gotten her persistence.

“I…I would like…It would turn me on to suck your cock. I have thought about you fucking me with your hard cock. It gets me very hard thinking about you using me like that.”

“LOL”, the inescapable tingle down my back and legs makes me shiver as I actually hear her giggle and little peal of laughter, enjoyment mixed with the power of condescension. “Really? You want to be my little cocksucker, my little bitch.”

Another shudder, an involuntary gasp as I felt the blood rush down making me harder that I thought possible. On the other end, Jennifer lets her fingers move. The thought of Steven giving himself to her, kneeling in front of her, admitting to wanting to suck and be fucked by her cock. She moved her fingers faster and harder against herself bringing on little waves and finally pushing her over the edge as she realized that this could be real that perhaps he really did want to be used for her.

We continued to write to each and continued to get more risque and obscene. Jennifer told me how the thought of me sucking another guy, a real cock, for her really excited her. I told her that I think about it, knowing that she was pushing into an area only my deepest thoughts had entered. No sooner than I was willing to admit that, she went further.

She wanted me fucked. Then dressed up first alone and then in front of her friends. I played along, not fully realizing that as the stories became more extreme the initially bizarre, crazy scenarios were becoming realistic in my acceptance level. She pushed me to be more creative with the fantasies until I had been shaved and dressed before her friends only to be presented with a real cock and forced to beg to suck it as his friends were brought into the room; been made to beg for that cock on threat of being stripped of my wig in front of my ex-girlfriend; and then after begging being informed that instead of sucking the cock I was to let that guy fuck me in front of the group; and then being taken out with just Jennifer and my ex – and being forced to admit that the idea of sucking cock turned me on so much that I would suck more than one off if they let me suck one. Having me start to suck but have it pulled away as my lips barely grazed the hard head only to make me take one from behind and suck another off as Jennifer and my ex watched until bayrampasa escort the two men had cum on my face when Jennifer pulled the wig off anyway simply because she could, even if only to make my humiliation complete.

The fantasies became more intricate. I was a professor that had been compromised by a woman who then claimed to be transfer student from another college only after having numerous conversations in which I admitted to submissive fantasies. She then forced me to pleasure her in her dorm where I could be caught or be exposed. Having me blindfolded begging to lick her while she videotaped me in her dorm allowed her to take absolute control of my life. Including dressing up and bringing me to a fraternity for a hazing ritual in which I become the centerpiece for a circle jerk.

Despite the extremity of some of our scenarios, I always felt that there was a connection and the desire to please had moved beyond the mere fantasy. I really wanted to talk to her for real, to hear her real voice and interests. I started dropping hints – even clues to my phone number. I tried to actually buy into the role play and even bought a dildo, my first ever, and agreed to masturbate and cum on my face; all to please her to give her, if nothing else, some amusement.

I did not really believe that this would turn her on, but did hope to at least amuse her and continue the exploration.

Jennifer was pushing her envelope too. I did not know it at the time, but she was actually getting turned on by thinking of me, not just licking her, but also the situation we discussed and contemplations of the bitchier more extreme aspects were starting to grow on her. I never thought, and still do not, that she wanted to hurt me and often wondered if she actually might prefer if the tables were turned and I was the one in control. I think that she would enjoy, or could enjoy, that equally. Jennifer was not even sure at the time that she really wanted to have such control, but even so, every once in a while a wilder thought crept into her mind as to what would happen if she really had such control to let all of her strictures done even while stripping mine away.

She originally was not sure that the roles they played were really her, but over time she began to except this position of power and the thought of exercising it in actuality, not just over the net, began to distract her, to excite her.

One day Jennifer did it. She took my clues and dialed the number I had given her over a period of a few discussions. It was early evening, and I was in my bedroom reading when the telephone rang. I answered and said, “Hello,” but all I heard was a click.

Normally, I just shrug such a thing off as a wrong number and ignore it. I felt some sort of a tingle that time though, so I dialed *69. A metallic voice listed off a number with a zip code I did not know. Even as I wrote it down, I wondered if it might really be Jennifer. My heart began pounding. Flight or fight. Or maybe something else, but assuredly the adrenal came on. I tried being rational and called the operator at least trying to find out what State the call had come in from, Washington.

I cradled the phone and paced back and forth across the room. I started to dial at least three times before I stopped unsure what would make sense. Ultimately, I decided this was an opportunity that I had thought about for months and there was at least friendship to be had. Nevertheless, I felt incredibly awkward as I dialed the number. My life had been pretty bland, and I did not think that the risk would be that great. Still it was a huge exposure, maybe, I called back – inevitably.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I wouldn’t have fucked the hell out of our babysitter if she didn’t belong to my gym.

See, our babysitter, Stacia, has always been what I would consider “cute.” She wears baggy clothes, even in summer, and so I never really got to see her body. Our kids loved her to death. She would come over, my wife dealt with her most of the time, and I just paid her at the end of the night. She lived two blocks away so no one ever had to bring her home.

She was a quiet girl, with an impressive smile and eyes that sparkled. She was naturally a brunette, but colored her hair blonde.

During her senior year, she started talking some more; I guess because my schedule had changed and I was typically the one she’d be relieving. I’d have a rehearsal to attend, and by this time my wife was fucking her boss many nights under the guise of “program planning” for the school district. At least that’s what she told the kids. I knew better, as I had shared her one night with her new lover, and video taped them on occasion.

But back to Stacia.

Stacia, it turned out, was really into theatre. She told me that she had come to see my shows and that she was amazed that I could sing as well as I do. She would never want to be on stage, she was far too shy, but she did enjoy watching.

It also turned out that she had a fantastic sense of humor. We began joking around with each other and flirting. At this point, it was harmless flirting from my side. Again, I didn’t know what I was dealing with, and she watched my kids. Of course I’d fucked 18 year olds before, Carly was (and still is) the fuck of my life. But I didn’t think about Stacia that way.

Spring came, and with it her graduation. She watched our kids one of the first weekends of summer. When I got home from rehearsal, she was on the couch plunking around on my wife’s computer.

“Hey,” I said as I sat down on the couch next to her. Something smelled different. I know the smell of an aroused woman, and it was palpable in my living room.

“Hey,” she replied, with some tension in her voice.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah. I just saw something that I shouldn’t have.” She replied coolly.

“What’s that?”

“Well, I guess it’s not my business. It’s just that…” then she thought better of it, “never mind. I should get going.”

“Alright. Here you go,” I said, handing her a 50. “But if you need to talk, let me know.”

She got up without looking at me, put her shoes on, and made for the door. She stopped at the door and saw my keys. On my keychain was a key fob for the local gym. Her demeanor changed somewhat. “You belong to that gym? I’ve been going to the other one down the street. Do you like it?”

“It doesn’t get quite as busy. I prefer to workout alone, late at night when the wife gets home from her program planning.” I said.

Her face turned sour again. She said, “I may switch. I like working out late as well, and there are a bunch of creepers at mine.”

“Well, the only creeper at my gym at 10pm is me,” I said with a chuckle. That got a laugh.

“You’re not a creeper. You’re a real gentleman, and one who deserves so much more than he has.”

There was an awkward pause, and she looked down at her feet. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. Good night.”

With that, she left.

I was really surprised. I opened up my wife’s laptop, and looked up “recent programs.” Video was the last one. I opened it up. Sure enough, it was a video of my wife getting plowed by her boss. She was moaning like a wonton whore. My babysitter had masturbated to a video of my wife banging someone else, and was mad that my wife was cheating. I found it to be pretty funny. Still, I had no interest in this girl.

Two nights later, I went to the gym. My wife had come home, well and truly fucked. She told me about it. Her boss had invited a friend. She had two cocks in her over and over.

When I walked in, the lights were on. I came around the corner to get on my treadmill, and who should be there, but the sweet, innocent girl that took care of my kids?

I was not prepared for this.

Stacia was wearing basically a sports bra and shorts that are illegal in some states. You could play quarters on her toned, rock hard stomach. Her breasts were huge. Now, I had had my suspicions, but with the baggy clothes, everything kind of looked like a blob. Just not the case. Her legs were shapely, the legs of an athlete. Her blonde Pendik Escort hair was pulled up into a sloppy ponytail. My jaw dropped. I couldn’t stop staring. Normally, I was the one that was in control, but this time, I was flabbergasted.

I stammered…”Hey, there…”

She flashed a smile and said “Hey!”

She then just worked out and didn’t say another word to me.

I went about my business and worked out, my typical cardio and biceps/back day. I kept looking at her. She noticed. She smiled.

When she was done, she came over to the bench I was on and sat on a machine opposite from me. We talked about her normal routine, and then when I was done, she said that she liked this gym, but she didn’t know what the other rooms were.

I offered to give her a tour.

The gym is set up in sort of an H shape. One of the long sides is comprised of classrooms and equipment closets, the middle is the main workout area, and the other side is locker rooms, steam rooms, and a sauna. There are security cameras, but I’ve seen how little they pick up when the lights are off. The lights were generally off for the sauna/locker room wing.

I gave her the tour, and afterwards she thanked me. I said that I was honored. She said goodnight, gave me an up-down, smiled, and left. I went into the sauna and thought about how those natural, perky tits would look bouncing up and down. I took a shower and came home, masturbating to the thought of my babysitter.

She babysat the next night, and she wore sexy, form-fitting clothes. When I got home, she asked if I’d be at the gym later. I said yes. She said “See you there,” and left. I checked my wife’s computer, and—sure enough—she had watched some more videos.

When my wife got home, I quickly changed and went to the gym.

Stacia was there waiting again. She smiled and I returned the gesture.

Tonight she made sure that while she was working out, she could see her body in amazing positions. She worked her abs with her ass in the air, holding on to a weight. She worked her thigh muscles, opening her legs over and over right in front of me. I was getting hard watching her. She kept stealing glances at my crotch. She grabbed her duffle bag and told me she was heading to the sauna. I said I’d see her there when I finished my set. She told me not to take too long.

I didn’t.

I finished up and headed to the sauna. She was waiting with a towel that barely covered her bare pussy lips. She was leaning back in the sauna, and I sat on the opposite wall. I could see everything but her nipples.

When I first sat down, she said, “We really do have this whole place to ourselves.”

Then we didn’t talk for a bit. We just stared at each other. She could see that I was at full attention. Then, surprising me yet again, she blurted out “You know your wife is fucking some other guy, right?”

I chuckled, “Yeah. It’s been that way for a while.”

“Why? You’re fucking perfect.”

“I’m far from perfect. In fact, I’ve cheated on her with several women.”

She nodded, and said, “Yeah, I figured. But that doesn’t mean you’re not perfect. You’re smart, you have a great body, great eyes, and from the looks of it, a pretty nice dick.”

“You’re too kind,” I said, “But I’m average.”

“Bullshit.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Nope. I’m just seeing things a little differently lately.”

I paused to look at her incredible body, sweat glistening, the aroma of her arousal gnawing at me, inviting me.

“Me, too,” I said. I looked into her eyes, and we locked on each other. She opened her towel and let it fall. Her tits were spectacular. I followed suit and opened my towel. Her eyes fell to my cock as it sprang out of its prison.

I started to stroke it slowly. She watched as I grabbed the base and brought the fist down to the head.

“Average my ass,” she said, transfixed.

She then looked at me, and grabbed both of her tits and squeezed them together. I watched as she played with her nipples. She brought her nipples to her mouth and licked them, while staring right at me. She pinched them hard and let out a soft moan. Then she brought her hands down to her pussy, where I saw one finger dip inside as she dj’d with the other hand.

I was pumping pretty furiously at this point. I thought we would only get off by watching each other, but then she got up and sat next to me. She looked into my Anadolu Yakası Escort eyes. I grabbed the fingers that had been inside of her, and brought them to my mouth. I smelled them. I then put them each into my mouth and sucked on them. She began to quiver. Her other hand slowly made its way to my shaft, and she grabbed at the base. She slowly began to stroke my length.

I kissed her hard, the sexual tension that had built up came flowing through our tongues, and they danced a forceful dance. I grabbed her breasts and squeezed. She broke the kiss to groan.

She whispered into my ear, “I’ve only done this a few times, so I’m sorry if I’m not good enough.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said. You’re incredible and I can already tell that you’re a natural.

She smiled and resumed groaning as I licked and nibbled her nipples. I sucked on them hard and then bit them just enough to mingle pain with ecstasy. I gently pushed her down on the bench, and kissed down her taut stomach. I licked her vagina, something she later told me nobody had ever done. I fingered her with one finger at first, and then when she was close to climax, I inserted a second finger and used the thumb on my other hand to apply pressure to her asshole. This was more than she could take. She screamed, pulled my hair and pulled hard into her cunt. She squeezed her muscular thighs on my head so tightly that my ears popped.

She was nice and wet now. I quickly got up and put my cock in her all the way and just held it there. She began convulsing. Her breathing was intense. It was only the beginning.

I pulled out of her and she whimpered, giving me a puppydog look. I told her that we were far from finished. I pulled her up and kissed her softly, deeply. Her hand found my cock and began stroking it. She began to get down on her knees and I stopped her.

She looked disappointed, but I grabbed our towels, opened the door and led her to the men’s dressing room and shower area. A smile came to her face as I got behind her and began kissing her neck by the mirrors. She watched me in the mirrors and pushed her ass back into my prick, and reached around to grab my ass, bringing my body to hers as tightly as possible. I pulled her hair lightly, but hard enough to expose more of her neck. I kissed up and down her neck and shoulders as my other hand reached around to play with her breasts.

I brought her to a bench near a wall, and I sat down, leaning back. She knew she could have her turn now.

She lowered herself onto her knees and began stroking my cock. I looked at her tits and she noticed. She spit on my cock and began rubbing it. She then leaned in with her tits and squeezed them around my cock. She began gyrating ever so slightly, and the tip of my cock would come up through her tits towards her face. She stuck her tongue out a few times to lick the tip and taste the precum.

After a few minutes, her desire got the better of her and she let go of her breasts, sinking her head as far down on my dick as she could. She got a gag reflex and had to stop. I looked at her, kissed her gently and told her to relax her throat.

She kissed me back and apologized. I told her that she was incredible and that I was only trying to help her. I told her that I wanted her to enjoy it, not gag.

She assured me she was enjoying it, and began slurping my cock again. She slowly but surely found a great rhythm and I told her that I was going to come. I told her she didn’t have to swallow it, but there was no stopping her. Not one drop escaped her lips. I called out her name loudly, and she giggled in satisfaction.

When I was done enjoying what had just happened, I brought her to a bench in the center of the room and lay down on my back. I told her sit on my face. She was a little apprehensive at first, but did as she was asked. This time I worked more than a thumb into her asshole. I licked her to a frenzy and she sucked me to full mast as I inserted one finger into her ass and two into her pussy. She began moaning loudly on my cock with every mudwhistle invasion. I could tell that she was going to love anal, and she may even prefer it.

I tapped her ass when I knew she was close, and she read my mind. She got up and scooted down to just above my dick. I placed it at her opening and she skewered herself onto my dick, reverse cowgirl style. She screamed out my name and I grabbed her hips. She began bouncing hard and I İstanbul Escort could see her tits in the mirrors. She was staring at the mirror directly in front of her, watching my member disappear into her folds. She had a steady moan going now, and I began smacking her ass. She threw her head up and started screaming, “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” at the top her lungs. We fucked like that for about five minutes, and then, like we had been fucking for centuries, she read my mind and dismounted. She got on the floor on her back, and I scooped her legs up, pushing them up towards her head, nearly bending her in half. I pinned them there and entered her fast and hard. She came.

I pulled out all the way, then pushed the tip in. I pulled out again. She begged me to fuck her. She begged me to give her my married dick. She told me that she was on the pill and that she wanted me to fill her with my cum. I fucked her as hard as I could until I came again.

I kissed her sloppily as we both squeezed out the last bit of our orgasms.

I rolled off of her and she rolled on top of me, continuing the kiss. I explored her body with my hands, gently touching her in places that would cause little spasms and barely audible “mmm’s.”

I honestly didn’t know if I could go again, but I figured I might as well try.

We got up and went into the showers.

“You can go pretty long for an old man,” she teased.

“I’m as surprised as you are,” I said. We kissed as the hot water cascaded over us. We rubbed each other and cleansed each other with the body wash in the dispensers on the wall.

I asked her if she trusted me.

She said, “Obviously.”

I turned her and bent her over.

“If you want to stop, at any point, please just say ‘stop,'” I said.

“Well, I’m assuming you’re going to put that monster in my asshole, as you’ve been getting friskier and friskier back there all night. And I want to try it. With you.”

That nearly brought me to full staff.

I fingered her pussy for a bit, getting her natural lubrication to help. I eased one finger into her asshole, and her head dropped as a moan forced its way out. She tightened up, naturally. I didn’t move until she did, about a minute later. I pulled back a little but not out completely, and pushed back in just as slowly. She began to relax and push back towards my hand. We kept going like this for about 5 minutes. Then I inserted a second finger. She may have had an orgasm then and there. She rocked on my fingers and slapped her hand against the shower wall with a force that worried me. Then she began fucking my hand in earnest. After a few minutes I pulled my fingers out and shoved my dick inside her pussy. I thrust back and forth a couple times and then pulled out, placing my cock at the entrance of her ass. She braced herself and I pushed until I was balls deep. I held her there, and she was whimpering again.

I asked if she wanted to stop.

She said to wait just a bit. I kissed her neck and held her tight.

A few moments later she squeezed my ass, and I understood that I could try to fuck her.

Slowly but surely, I built up a good rhythm and my suspicions were correct. She had been an animal for vaginal sex, but she was a sex demon for anal. Her voice dropped into tones I hadn’t heard her use before, and she began screaming the most vulgar obscenities I had ever heard.

Her tightness and attitude were too much. I came hard into her ass as she climaxed, and I pulled my drained rod from her, kissing her back.

Her body was shaking. She didn’t move for quite some time. When she finally did, she turned to me and I simply held her. I gently massaged her head and ran my fingers through her hair as the water danced on her back.

She looked up at me, with tears in her eyes. I was worried I had hurt her.

She just said “thank you,” and kissed me.

We spent a good ten minutes just kissing, our bodies turning to prunes.

We said our goodnights a little later, and she said she couldn’t wait until tomorrow night.

I told her that I couldn’t either, and we gave each other a long, sensual kiss before parting.

I went home and slept like a rock. The next morning, I awoke to a voicemail on my phone. It was from the owner of the gym, a 45-year-old widower with the body of a 25 year old. She said that she needed to talk to me about policies after hours.

I dropped in and she invited me into her office.

She played a recording that showed Stacia and I naked walking towards the locker rooms.

She smirked and said, “What are we going to do about this,” as she unzipped her track jacket.

I smiled back at her.

But this, friends, is another story…

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Edinburgh’s Princes Street Gardens on a Friday in August. It is the hugely popular Edinburgh International Festival and the alternative Fringe Festival where the city tries to accommodate vast numbers of tourists for a month-long festival of music, drama and art.

It was a sunny day, something quite rare in Scotland and I was sitting on a park bench, close to the Scott Monument. I was people watching, trying to guess what kind of lives these people walking by had. I was eating my lunch, a delicious Marks and Spencer sandwich and drinking a bottle of carbonated blood-orange water. I was at peace with the world.

I was listening to the bagpipes being played in the distance. Some Chinese music was also being played by three musicians on the grass at the bottom of the hill. Entertainers were drawing a crowd at the end of the path, near the Mound. I watched a woman draw a henna tattoo on a man’s arm. I could see the crowds gathering to listen to a comedienne. The gardens were buzzing with atmosphere and music. It was colourful and exciting and a great place to spend a warm afternoon. I shut my eyes, dreaming and taking in all the sounds.

I was startled from my pleasant thoughts by the shouting on my right. In an instant, I could see a man shouting at another man who was running straight towards me, pushing people out of his way. He had what looked like a bag in his hand. A thief. Without thinking, I leaped off the bench and slammed right into him, knocking him to the ground. He dropped the bag which I immediately picked up. He wriggled about on the ground but I was bigger and used my weight to hold him down. The owner of the bag caught up and held out his hand to thank me. In that instant, the thief pulled out a knife and lunged at me, knocking me off balance. His knife ripped right through my jacket, just missing my chest. I got angry. I twisted his arm, he yelled in pain and dropped the knife. I could see a crowd had formed around us, hoping for a closer look. The crowd separated to allow two police officers through. I released the thief and the police put him in handcuffs.

The crowd had quickly moved on after the entertainment had finished and the police had removed the prisoner, leaving me and the man who had his bag stolen giving our details to the police. The man, who introduced himself as Alec, couldn’t stop thanking me. ‘What a brave selfless action, you sir, are a hero,’ he gushed as he shook my hand again and again.

Now that the action had died down, I just realised that my trousers were wet, my bottle of water must have spilled over my front as I leaped off the bench. Wet trousers and a cut jacket, it could have been a lot worse. I felt myself shaking a little, delayed shock probably.

I looked at Alec. He was maybe a couple of years older than me, mid-forties, handsome, similar height and build to me. He had more hair than me though, he hadn’t started to lose any hair yet, unlike me who needs to shave my hair to hide the bald patches. He was smartly dressed in brown trousers, yellow shirt with a cravat and a light brown jacket. He spoke with an American accent.

Once we had finished with the police, he insisted I come back to his hotel to sort myself out. He said he would send out for new clothes and get them delivered to his room. I wasn’t looking for any fuss at all. I just acted instinctively. My trousers would be dry soon enough with the sunshine. I politely declined, telling him it didn’t matter. He shook my hand again, insisting that it was the least he could do. I warmed to the guy, he seemed genuinely grateful. He was also quite nice looking for someone in their forties, I had noticed that, and his cute smile.

He insisted and I thought, why not? This is one of these incidents that life randomly throws at you, whether you are prepared for it or not. What’s the odds of sitting on that bench, at that particular moment in time? Fate had cast her runes and I either went with the flow or against the flow. Much easier going with the flow. I accepted his invitation. ‘Come this way,’ he said as he walked off.

I would never have guessed he was staying in the Balmoral Hotel. THE Balmoral Hotel. It’s THE poshest hotel in Edinburgh, very expensive and very nice indeed. I stood outside the main entrance, wondering if Alec was joking. Was he really staying here? He took my arm and led me up the steps. A man in a kilt nodded as he opened the door for us. I had never been in the Balmoral Hotel before. I had passed it many times on the bus but never had the opportunity to go in. We walked through the fantastic reception area and he picked up his keycard. I looked around, I was awestruck. ‘Bit of a walk,’ he said as we made for the elaborate staircase. I followed him as he led the way up the stairs to his room. He unlocked it and invited me in.

This wasn’t a room; it was a suite. A suite that looked west along Princes Street. My God, it’s beautiful. He went to the drinks cabinet and poured me an Islay Malt. Lagavulin, sixteen years old, a fine malt whisky. I needed something to Maltepe Escort calm my nerves, I was still shaking. I gratefully took the whisky and took a generous sip. I enjoyed the heat from the whisky as I swallowed it.

Alec picked up the telephone and I could hear him giving instructions for new clothes for me. Gosh, he’s got the money to stay here and order clothes from his room, as if it’s a perfectly normal thing to do. George Street was just up the road a little, there was nothing to stop us walking into a shop and buying clothes properly. He replenished my glass and sat down. ‘An hour, they assured me, and your clothes will be delivered here.’

Alec started telling me more about himself. He was from Boston and had a chain of fast food restaurants in many states over the pond. He was in Edinburgh for the Festival and to look up old friends in the city. He was on his own. I looked at him, wondering why he would be here, in this beautiful hotel, on his own. He didn’t elaborate further.

I told him more about myself, I’m a Cost Accountant, divorced, consider myself gay and on my own. He replenished my glass again. Alec smiled when I told him I was gay. He leaned forward, ‘So am I,’ he told me, smiling again at me. ‘God, where is this going?’ I asked myself.

All of a sudden, he remembered why we were here. He insisted that I should take my wet trousers off. He also insisted that I have a bath and went off to run it. ‘A hot bath and a good malt and you’ll be fine,’ he informed me. I stood there, wondering what to do. Here was I, in one of the top suites in the best hotel in Edinburgh being asked to remove my trousers, by someone who looks and sounds like a millionaire. This was not an ordinary day.

He returned to the lounge and said the bath was ready. Maybe he’s right, my hands are still shaking. He led me through to the bathroom, which was simply huge. There was a massive antique bath in the middle of the room. God, the decoration of the bathroom was something to behold. Should I strip off and get in the bath? I could just thank him and take my leave, go home. Home to an empty house and nobody waiting for me.

He walked out as I started to undress. I had my whisky and took another drink as I slipped into the bath. Alec had added a lovely scented oil to the bath. Gosh, this was nice. I lay there, just gazing about the room. Alec walked back in with the bottle of whisky, topping up my glass for the third or fourth time. I had lost count of how many whisky’s I had drunk. Yes, I was feeling good.

Alec pulled up a chair and sat beside me. He wanted to know more about me which I was perfectly happy to tell him. I told him how I had a bitter divorce which put me off women completely. It was later I slowly realized I was gay. I told him I’d had five relationships with men and was presently single. He smiled at me, a real cute smile. He told me he had also realised he was gay after his divorce, a very expensive divorce, he added. That was only a year ago and he’d had two relationships with men and, like me, was single at the moment. I had to ask him, ‘why is a handsome man like you, single?’

He replied in a quiet voice and looked very serious. Because I haven’t met a man who is interested in me rather than my money.’

‘Ah, the curse of the wealthy. I see.’

He had a question. ‘Why did I help and not any of the many other people who were there? Why did I help him when nobody else did?’

I didn’t have an answer. It’s just one of these things. Life often throws challenges in front of us. There is no explanation, it just happens, often when you least expect it. One minute I’m sitting with my eyes shut, relaxing and the next moment someone is trying to use a knife on me. It just sometimes happens.

He was lucky he got his bag back. He told me his phone, passport, travel tickets, ipad, camera, keys, all his cards, personal photographs, drivers license and cash and numerous other important things were in the bag. ‘It’s an irritating inconvenience to get new cards and passport in a different country if you lose them. And my ipad; my business is on that ipad. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you got my bag back, it is so valuable to me,’ he told me as he shook my hand again.

I used my hands to wet myself with the hot water. I was relaxing just fine. Alec had developed a shake in his hands. He was the victim, of course he’s suffering delayed shock too. He continued to talk to me, watching me as I enjoyed the bath. I had a suggestion I really wanted to make but if it’s the wrong suggestion, things could turn out very embarrassing.

I played it safe. ‘Looks like you are shaking too, Alec. Maybe you need a hot bath as well,’ I calmly suggested. He took another drink, looked at me and hesitated, unsure. The American’s are not slow in coming forward. He took a deep breath and suggested, ‘as the bath was so large, there might be room for two perhaps?’

I felt a thrill running through me when he said that. God, that is an invitation. I didn’t hesitate. Kurtköy Escort He’s a good-looking interesting man. I smiled and agreed that was an excellent idea. There was plenty hot water and room for two. He went off to make a phone call and then returned to the bathroom. He lit four large candles and placed them around the bathroom.

I stared at the candlelight flickering through the peaty colour of the malt in my hand. I looked up at Alec who was smiling and taking his clothes off. He was in good shape, he was a very handsome man, he really was. I watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a hairy toned chest and firm stomach. I shivered. He undid his belt and took his trousers off. He looked at me as he slipped down his underpants, God, he was lovely. His cock was semi hard and he was cut. I couldn’t take my eyes off his cock, it was gorgeous. I’ve only seen a cut cock once before and I thought it was really sexy. He took his socks off and walked, naked, to the bath. I sat up, watching as he stepped into the bath and sat down opposite me. We had to be careful the water didn’t overflow the bath so we lay down slowly and carefully. His legs were either side of mine. This was so intimate.

We lay there, talking casually, enjoying each others company. He thought I had a sexy Scottish accent and a strange sense of humour. I laughed at that. He told me, again, he was grateful for getting his bag back. I told him not to mention it, it was nothing really. The thief just bounced off me and dropped the bag.

The bathroom window was open and we could hear the music being played outside in Princes Street. I could hear the people and the traffic outside. I shut my eyes, listening to all the sounds around me. I could hear Alec breathing. I could hear the seagulls outside. It was the sound of Edinburgh at Festival time. This beats my tiny bathroom back home any day.

Alec and I just lay there, in a deep bath, enjoying each others company and chatting. The candlelight made the room look so romantic. The whisky had certainly relaxed me. I was naked, in a bath with a guy I’m getting on with like a house on fire and having the time of my life. All within an hour of me sitting on that bench dreaming with my eyes shut. Life brings opportunities as well as challenges.

I heard someone knocking on the door. Alec seemed to be expecting someone, I wondered if it was my clothes. He jumped out of the bath and put his robe on. A few moments later, he came back through and informed me that he had arranged for an all-over massage and the therapists were here. Gosh, what a lovely thought. We quickly got dried using the biggest, softest, fluffiest white towels I had ever seen.

We wrapped our towels around us and I followed Alec through to the bedroom where the two women were waiting. They were wearing white uniforms and they were getting their oils prepared for us. They had brought two portable massage tables with them and had them set up at the foot of the bed, close to the window where there was plenty room for them both to work. Alec slapped me on the back, chuckling and lay down on the table. I did the same.

Well these two women were experts. I have never had a massage like it. She pummeled my muscles, squeezed and pulled my limbs and worked on the knots in my back. It was heaven. I just couldn’t stop moaning. They worked all over our bodies, the full experience. And the oil, it had a wonderful scent. I felt fantastic.

The door knocked again and Alec asked one of the therapists to open it. It was the delivery of my clothes. She put the packages in the lounge and came back through to finish her massage. A full hour of the therapy, it must have been exhausting for the women. We thanked them kindly, Alec passed over a tip and they left with their belongings, thanking us.

Once they left, we lay on our backs on the bed beside each other. I felt so good, I was buzzing with energy. That was a great experience. I’d never had anything like it before. I felt Alec’s hand touch mine, he squeezed it. I turned to face him on the bed. I thanked him for the lovely surprise. He looked at me, I thought he was going to shake my hand again but he didn’t, he gave me a kiss. A slow, tender kiss. Wow, not often I meet a man who can kiss like that.

I knew then, that we were going to have sex. Thrills ran through my body at the thought of it. Alec pulled his towel off, facing me naked. I did the same. I put my arm around him, pulling him closer as I kissed him. I could feel his cock nudging against mine. He held me, exploring my lips with his tongue. I was getting hard. I reached down and gripped both our cocks. He moaned as he felt my hand wrap around his cock. I slowly wanked both of our cocks together. God, it’s been ages since I’ve been with a man. I held him tight, feeling his toned body against me.

I stroked his nipples and teased his balls. I moaned as he moved down the bed, taking my cock into his mouth. Oh….it felt so good. He wanked me as he sucked me. Long, slow and firm. I was Kartal Escort so turned on that I knew it wouldn’t take me long. I tried to stop him but he knew I was going to come, he wanked me quicker, my cock pushing between his lips into his mouth. God, it was one of the best blow jobs I’ve ever had. He wants me to cum. I relaxed, feeling my orgasm building up. He used his lips to bring me off, God, I just erupted. I heard him swallowing as I filled his mouth. Time and again, I spurted and he took the lot.

I lay there, breathing heavily. God, that was really nice. He lay with his head on my chest, running his fingers through my hair, his fingers brushing lightly against my nipples. Once I had recovered, I turned my attention to Alec. He lay on his back as my fingers and tongue got to work. Like me, he had sensitive nipples and moaned as my tongue ran over them. They were erect and I took each nipple in my mouth, teasing them with my tongue and lips. I reached his cock, God, it looked beautiful. I licked his purple tip, feeling his cock pulse in my hand. I rubbed him, very slowly, building up momentum. My head bobbed up and down on his cock. I tightened my lips as he thrust into my mouth, taking him to the back of my throat. I felt his cock stiffen, my hand cupped his balls. Suddenly, I felt his balls move in my hand, his cock stiffened and he spurted in my mouth. I moaned, pumping his cock, as he spurted again and again into my willing mouth. I swallowed it, savouring the taste.

He lay there, with his eyes closed. I put my head on his chest and he put his arm around me. I could feel his heart beating with my fingers. He kissed me, tasting the spunk on my lips, his spunk. I love being held like this, particularly after I had come. It’s like a drug. My orgasm takes me to another time and place. I feel so warm and dreamy after I have come. And it felt good to be in Alec’s arms. We listened to the noise coming in the window from the street outside. I didn’t want to move. I was happy like this. I laughed. I would never imagine, while I ate my Marks and Spencer sandwich, that a couple of hours later I would be lying in the arms of a very attractive man, having had a wonderful massage and toe curling sex in Edinburgh’s finest hotel. Alec laughed with me, it was an interesting turn of events.

We must have fallen asleep. I still had my head on his chest and his arm around me. I squeezed his hand, waking him up. He thanked me for making love to him. I was touched, how polite and charming. He got up, leaving his towel on the bed and walked through to the lounge. I followed him, naked.

He passed the packages over to me, they held the new clothes he had bought me. I took them out of the bag. There was a complete ensemble. Everything including shoes, socks and underpants. He had got them from one of the top gentleman’s outfitter in George Street. I looked at them and told him I couldn’t possibly accept this. There were several hundred pounds worth of clothes in my hands. He insisted I accept them. I didn’t know what to say, so I thanked him warmly, wrapping my arms around him.

We both got dressed. I looked very smart, he was very good at estimating sizes. Even the shoes fitted perfectly. I looked at myself in the mirror. I did look smart and he was a good-looking guy, interesting, tender and single. In addition to his many qualities, he also had a lovely cock.

He said, reluctantly, he was meeting friends for dinner. He apologised and made me promise that I would meet him tomorrow, Saturday for afternoon tea, at three o’clock in the Palm Court restaurant at the Balmoral. ‘Yes, I would definitely be there,’ I accepted with a smile. I picked up my old clothes and put them in the empty bags. We hugged as we said goodbye, until tomorrow.

I was in a dream as I walked along Princes Street. I was smiling at strangers, I felt happy and I haven’t felt this happy for a long time. I waited for my bus to take me home. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow. I went home, looking round my small one bedroom flat. It was a million miles away from the luxury of the Balmoral Hotel. I couldn’t possibly bring him back here, it’s a dump in comparison to what he would be used to back home.

Next morning, I spent a lot of time making myself presentable. I had a wet shave, ironed my clothes and polished my shoes. I looked smart enough as I looked at myself in the mirror. I told myself that I was still handsome, even though I was forty-two. The years had not been unkind to me. Alec is obviously attracted to me. My first lover in months.

I left in plenty time, I didn’t want to be late for our afternoon tea date. My bus arrived in good time and dropped me off in the city centre. I walked very slowly along the street, heading for the Balmoral. I was killing time as I was early. I was so excited.

At exactly three o’clock, I thanked the man opening the door for me and asked for directions to the Palm Court. Alec was sitting at a table by the window, waiting for me. I smiled and walked across to him. He stood up and shook my hand, he looked really pleased to see me. Likewise, it was good to see him. I smiled and sat down. The Palm Court was sheer luxury. A large glass dome and chandelier dominated the ornate ceilings. All around the room were palm trees, real ones and beautifully painted ones.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Last time on Basement Sluts, Shawn and Mona had just finish up their hot and wild sex act while Josh was given a little early treat from his childhood friend Paris. Now Josh is about to get filmed for the first time in Basement Sluts as the story continues…

Shawn and Mona lay in each other’s arms for a few minutes. The feel of her huge soft breasts on his arms and chest were raising Shawn’s huge dick again.

“All right Shawn. I need for you to film Paris and me now?” Josh said.

“Is it ok for me to film you while I’m naked? I don’t really feel like getting dress right now?” Asked Shawn, sliding a weak Mona off his body and sitting up with his massive cock sticking up.

“Sure. Whatever you want Shawn,” Josh agreed.

Shawn stood up with his rock hard dick, bobbing between his legs like a pogo stick. Josh was very disgusted by it though he should be used to seeing Shawn’s big black cock by now.

“If you get confuse. Just remember our pervious tapes and how I was doing,” Shawn advises Josh.

“I know how to have sex Shawn. I just never filmed myself doing it,” Josh replied.

He walks up to Paris just as Shawn started to record. Josh’s hands immediately reach out and squeeze Paris’s big tits through her shirt. He used his hands to press her tits back against her chest and then released them from his hold, watching them spring back out at him.

“Mmmm,” Paris moaned lightly. Josh gentle lifts up her big tits and massages them through her shirt. He moves his hands all over her covered tits. Massaging them from underneath and the sides. Her massive tits practically stretch her shirt out as Josh squeezed and mauled them.

“Get behind her Josh so I can film you fondling her gorgeous orbs,” requested Shawn.

Josh got behind Paris and cups her huge tits at the bottoms. Squeezing them and bouncing them off the palm of his hands while they were still inside her tight shirt. He squeezed them on the sides, letting them stretch and balloon out from inside her shirt. He then moves his hands up and down the tops of her chest, making her big tits move up and down in rhythm. Finally his thumbs seek out the nipples and rubbing all over them. They were instantly hardened from the moment Josh started to feel her up.

“Shake your tits for me girl,” Shawn requested to Paris as his cock was throbbing from her big tits being fondled. She jiggles and shakes her huge tits at Shawn as he zooms in getting excellent close up shots of their gravity defying moments. Josh could hear them shaking wildly inside her shirt. “Now unleash those things Josh.”

Josh slowly grips the bottom of her shirt and lifts it up over her 38DDD breasts. They hung down from her chest and sloped out from her ribcages in huge melon like forms. The areolas were large and her nipples were small but very hard. Josh rested the shirt at the very top of her chest. His hands return to her big tits and squeeze them in his bare hands. Both hands overflowed with mass of tit fat as he massaging them. Shawn zooms in on Josh’s hands, moving around her every inch of her ample melons.

“Suck my tits Josh. I have always wanted you to,” Paris pleased.

Josh didn’t hesitate and turns Paris around so she was facing him. He cups her big tits from underneath while taking one nipple into his mouth and then the other. He let his tongue probe along the sides of each huge tit. Lifting them by her nipples and licking underneath. He squishes both her Pendik Escort huge beautiful melons together and took both nipples into his mouth. He squeezed her tits hard, trying to cram some tit meat between his lips as well. His mouth was full of Paris’s tan skinned tits and dark nipples. Paris held Josh’s head between her big tits. Josh let his hands wrap around a tit and smooth his cheeks with the soft texture of their skin and the spongy feel that they have.

While Josh devour her big breasts, Paris’s hands were busy unzipping his jeans. His big white cock springs out directly in her hands. She strokes it firmly, moving up and down from the cockhead to the base.

“Suck your tits with me?” Josh asked Paris. She just stood there and moaned for a bit before latching her lips to the free saliva-coated nipple Josh wasn’t sucking. She could taste Josh’s saliva all over the surface of her huge tit. Josh held it up for her as she took both the nipple and areola between her lips. Josh squeezes the tit between Paris’s lips, making sure she got a good mouthful of her own flesh. Josh’s mouth was still nursing on Paris’s other tit.

Shawn was very impress by having Paris suck her own tit. They have never done a show with a girl sucking her own tits before. Mona was even turn on by Paris and Josh feasting on her breasts together.

Paris’s hands had never left Josh’s now extremely pulsing cock. She gives it some long strokes and some speedy ones. She let her huge wet tit drop out of her mouth and bounce around on her chest. Josh let her other tit go and watch it bounce on her chest as well. Paris moves down and pulls Josh’s pants down with her to his ankles. Paris’s mother licks her lips at the sight of Josh’s rock hard cock, pointing straight out in Paris’s face.

Paris took his cockhead between her lips and held it there for a minute. She let her tongue probe the hard head. She licks wildly around his cockhead and then plunged his entire dick between her lips. Josh was moaning loudly. His moans started to make Mona feel on herself. She squeezed both her gigantic tits and pinch at her hard nipples. Then she moved one hand down between her legs to finger her wet cunt.

Paris bobbed her head up and down Josh’s full-length dick. Saliva pours out between her lips as she sloppy sucked him. Josh watched as the saliva pour down onto her big tits that were swaying with her bobbing. He reaches down and takes a tit in each hand. He squeezes them and stretches the nipples away from the areolas.

Paris pauses, holding this thick cock deep down her throat. To savor the salt taste of it. She would resume her bobbing and buried her face deep into Josh’s dark patch of pubic hairs. His big hairy balls bounce back and forth against her chin. Josh felt the urge to unload now from the wonderful sensation Paris is making him feel, but he refused and wanted to enjoy the rest of her blowjob.

Paris lodged the cock from her wet mouth and started to lick up and down the sides. Slithering her wet tongue along the shaft. She grips the base of Josh’s cock and smoothly strokes his shaft up and down while licking it. The wetness from her mouth made it easy for her to just stroke non-stop.

Shawn’s huge black dick was throbbing from Paris’s blowjob. He wishes that Paris were sucking his cock instead. He continued to zoom in on Paris as she swiftly deep-throated Josh’s wet dick again. Her face was buried in his mounds of hair. They Anadolu Yakası Escort tickle her nose but that didn’t stop her from sucking him long and hard.

“OH! I’m about to cum,” warned Josh, rolling his head back and breathing heavy.

Paris took his cock out from her mouth and started stroking it with one hand. The other hand cupped his large jiggling balls. She traced lightly her fingertips around both of them. Paris leaned forward, under his cock and sucked both balls into her mouth. She suckled his cum-fill sack, lashing her tongue out at them while her mouth slurped on them.

She continued to stroke his cock heavily while sucking his balls deep into her mouth. Josh could fill the cum boiling in his balls. They tighten up real quick inside Paris’s mouth. She released his balls and knew he was about to cum. She engulfed his cock deep into her mouth once again, sucking on half of it while stroking the other half to make Josh cum faster and he did.

“I’M CUMMING!!” Yelled Josh as his dick erupted a large amount of hot cum down Paris’s throat. He shot another large gush into her mouth. Her mouth was flowing with his cum and she swallow as much as she could. She pulls his cum-covered cock out of her mouth and let the rest of his cum spurt on her chest and neck. Shawn felt his cock ready to burst as well as it hung like a huge club between his legs. Mona had gone into an orgasmic state, releasing multiple orgasms and her cum finally after watching her daughter suck a dick properly. She was proud to be her mother.

“We got to get you hard again Josh. I wasn’t done with your dick just yet,” said Paris in a lusty voice. She grabs Josh’s flopping dick and started to give it long and hard strokes. Josh’s hands immediately planted themselves on Paris’s ample tits. Squeezing and tugging at her nipples. He squeezed her tits up and down her chest. Holding them from the sides and pushing them together, he starts to rub them like rubbing two sticks to make a fire. Josh’s cock instantly sprung back to life in Paris’s soft hands.

Josh released her big tits and moved his hands to her Capri jeans. He unzips her fly and pulls her jeans down to her ankles. She finishes taking off her jeans with one hand while the other held onto Josh’s throbbing cock.

Shawn come some close ups on Paris’s well-rounded ass. Her buttocks were bulging out from the bottoms of her panties. Josh’s hands cup her soft, firm buttocks and give them a gentle squeeze. Followed by a rough massage.

Paris pressed her giant tits against Josh’s hairy chest and ribcages. She proceeded to kiss him passionately, letting him taste his own hot cum that still remain a favor in Paris’s mouth. Her tongue probed Josh’s mouth and slither along his tongue. The two of them slowly starts to get on the ground.

Josh had his hands inside Paris’s panties, squeezing and mauling her bare butt cheeks. He position himself on his back and Paris straddle herself on his stomach, resting her legs on his sides. Her huge tits dangle down at Josh’s face. He reached up and took a tit in each hand, softly rubbing them in circular motions. He then buried his head between them and lick furiously at her cleavage.

Shawn got some good shots of Paris’s teasing Josh with her big tits by brushing them over his face and tracing her nipples around his lips. Josh’s cock was hard then ever. Being uncovered, his big dick pointed straight up to the ceiling. Mona İstanbul Escort just wanted to jump on his throbbing cock but then took a look at Shawn’s, incredible giant between his legs, still rock hard and started to crawl over between his legs.

Shawn felt a wet mouth engulf his huge dick and a pair of hands kneading his huge testicles. As much of a great sensation he was feeling throughout his body by Mona‘s warm mouth, he still preceded to film Paris and Josh.

Josh peeled off Paris’s panties and gripped his thick rod. He slowly eases it between her moist pussy walls. His fingers were digging and rubbing at her enlarge clit while easing his cock inside. Paris’ hands rested on Josh’s shoulders and her huge tits swung back and forth in front of Josh. Just watching them got his cock more extremely pulsing.

Once Paris’s cunt was stuff with his entire dick, Josh started to thrust up and down hard. He took hold of her buttocks and squeezed the flesh hard in his hands. He lifted her ass up and slams it down hard against his thighs to help thrust his cock in her pussy.

“OH YESSSS! THAT’S IT JOSH! MMMMM!” Moaned Paris as she trashes her head in all directions. Her big tits were equally flopping up and down, swinging to her sides and beating down on both of their chests. They even slap together violently during the intense pounding to her drenched pussy. Harder and harder Josh thrust with ruthless abandon, feeling her pussy muscles tightening around his meat. Her juices began to leak down his cock and balls.

The pounding continued endless as Paris rested her sweaty body against Josh. Her big sweaty tits were sliding up and down his chest. Her face was reddening as she came during Josh’s non-stop ramming. Her ass jiggle to every thrust and she felt Josh’s hands cup her ass cheeks and hold onto them for dear life. He could feel his balls ready to unload his hot cum.

Shawn had blew his load all over Mona’s face and chest. Both her Double H’s were drench in Shawn’s thick coating. He finishes up jerking the rest of his cum onto Mona’s face so he could zoom in on Josh’s dick directly; going in and out of Paris’s creamy wound. Josh’s balls had tighten up and slammed hard against Paris’s cunt.

“I’m going to cum!” Warned Josh as his thrusting slow down and he squeezed Paris’s ass hard.

“Come for me baby,” Paris urged as she lifted her upper torso, allowing her huge soft breasts to rest on Josh’s shoulders and his head is in between the slippery mounds.

Josh thrust five more times, really long and hard inside Paris’s pussy before he finally exploded. He blasted the biggest load within Paris’s soak pussy. Paris released an orgasm and came right along with Josh. Mixing their cum together inside her snatch. She then got off his cock and dangles her big tits above his spurting dick. The rest of his loads got on her tits, chest, and neck. Paris bended downs and suckles the remaining small amounts of cum from his cock. Tasting her own juices on Josh’s glistering cock.

“After all that action, it looks like we well be able to raise enough money for your mom and you to buy a new house,” said Shawn.

“Thank you so much Josh. You don’t know how much this means to me,” Paris said, gazing into Josh’s eyes while toying with his now limp dick.

“Same here,” Josh replied.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I truly don’t want it to come to any end,” hinted Mona.

“Who says it has too?” Paris questions.

Josh looked up at her and smiled saying “it’s going to be one hell of a long night.”

Shawn turns the camcorder off so that the four of them could have one big orgy alone and make it last for the rest of the night. That includes another editor of Basement Sluts.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The next morning would not provide any consolation to the total defeat and humiliation I experienced just the night before.

It was 9:20 a.m. when I was awakened by the subtle sounds of “clattering” dishes coming from the kitchen area. I sat up from my sleeping position on the sofa and held my head, which was suddenly throbbing in pain. I looked towards the faint noises and noticed Julie in the kitchen from afar.

From the short distance across our condo unit I could only see Julie from behind. She was reaching up into the cupboards and putting away some dishes, which she was removing from the dishwasher. She was wearing nothing but a pair of peach-toned nylon panties and a matching bra.

From behind, I could see that her bright blonde, now african-braided hair was styled and coifed in the manner it was intended. Her long hair was no longer the mangled mess it was when she got back from Tra’mon’s apartment the night before.

Just 7 hours before, the young black man had debased me again. Finally, I was able to stand up and begin to shake the cob-webs from my head and these memories began to resurface inside me. I continued to look towards the kitchen area where Julie remained with her back towards me, stretching her fit torso to complete her task. I was deadly curious as to why she was suddenly doing all this.

I glanced to me left and towards the open bathroom door where I noticed the light was on. Small traces of steam were still coming from the shower, and it was apparent that my blonde wife had just finished washing up. Now, she was suspiciously milling around in the kitchen. Unintentionally, I was still in my morning quiet stage as I took a few steps closer towards the kitchen area.

From a distance of more than 20 feet I could see the blatant and bold large blackened spade symbol tattoo centered on her lower back. The black outlined and “blank” ribbon-like markings on either side of the spade symbol remained a mystery to me at this time. They were almost like an open slate to place half in letters inside, and they made the tattoo look incomplete. Still, I was not comprehending their intended purpose at this particular time.

Julie’s blonde, braided hair flowed back and forth as she continued putting away dishes. The obnoxious black panther head tattoos on both of her shoulders and upper arms stood out from her pale, perfect skin. Her altered, now larger breasts barely “peeked” out when she bent over to retrieve another plate from the dishwasher. The soft scent of her perfumed soap and skin filled the air of the entire condo apartment. It was a scent that I had been missing for so long.

My view of Julie’s beauty from behind only served as a reminder that she had “been with” the young black stud. He had literally “marked” her once flawless body like some sort of demented artist, yet it seemed that she had been unconcerned and fully accepting of them. Truly, I couldn’t understand why. To me, they were like another insulting slap in the face to me and to all men of the white race.

“Julie?” I whispered, just loud enough as to not startle her like I had in the past.

She barely turned her head towards my weakened voice.

“Oh, you’re up.” she returned, non chalantly.

“You know, if you’re going to put dishes in the dishwasher you should actually turn the machine on so they would wash.” she said, matter of factly.

“They were beginning to smell.” she added in a casual, yet avoiding tone.

Her back was still completely turned away from me.

“Um, Uh, Okay.” I replied as I took a few steps closer.

“Wh-What are you doing?” I asked, humbly.

“Nothing really. I don’t have much time. Trey wants me to run some errands with him.” she whispered.

“Oh.” I meekly answered, in defeat.

I stepped into the kitchen and towards the frige, then opened it. There was a large fruit bowl inside covered with celophane in front. Julie had apparently prepared it just this morning. I realized that I must have been so passed out that I didn’t even hear my wife leaving the apartment to run to the store. I didn’t hear her showering either, so it must have been one of her quickest showers ever, I reasoned. In my mind, I felt as if I had been knocked unconscious for days.

“C-Can I get you a bowl of fruit, Julie?” I asked.

“M-Maybe we can have breakfast?” I asked, groveling.

“I really don’t have much time, Richard! I don’t think that’s a good idea.” she whispered.

“P-Please, Julie? Maybe we can um just sit and have breakfast and, ya’ know, talk a little.” I begged.

“I really don’t have anything to say, Richard.” Julie returned, quietly.

“Please? J-Just 5 minutes?” I asked, desperate for even her slightest attention.

“Richard, please. I don’t think …” she began as I interupted her.

“P-Please?” I continued begging.

“Jeezuz! Alright already. 5 minutes. That’s all. I have things to do!” Julie returned, increasing the tone of her voice and becoming slightly irritated.

With her back still turned to me, Julie put away Maltepe Escort the last of the dishes and walked over to our little kitchen table. I removed the large bowl of fruit from the refrigerator and prepared two smaller bowls on the counter. One for her and one for myself.

When I finally turned around to face Julie with the two smaller bowls and spoons in my hands, the sight of her before me was absolutely mortifying!

There, sitting at the kitchenette table in her bra and panties was my beautiful blonde wife. She looked straight at me. Unbelievably, Julie’s face was still covered and coated with the young black stud’s powerful, thick seed. It was completely dried up by now and left stains. The faint darker white color at the edges of these “blotches” of the black man’s cum made it stand out even more as it framed the lighter interior. It was that obvious.

“Oh my gawd! Julie?! Y-Your f-face?” I screamed.

I nearly dropped the little bowls of fruit from my trembling hands. I was absolutely mortified by the image sitting right before me.

Here was my beautiful wife, freshly showered, cleaned and ready to get dressed but her face was completely “plastered” with several large blotches of dried up semen from Tra’mon Smith, who had “marked” her hours before.

“What the hell?” I screamed inside.

“Richard, stop! We’re not going to talk about that.” Julie replied, her eyes looking downward to the kitchen table, almost ashamed herself.

“B-But, Julie? D-Didn’t you just shower? I mean …” I gasped.

“Just stop. Give me the bowl, Richard. I told you that I’m not talking about it.” Julie warned.

I was astounded.

“Julie had quickly showered, fixed her hair, shaved her legs and cleaned every other part of her body before putting on a fresh pair of panties and a bra. But, she had not touched her face?!” I thought.

“Did she actually run out to the store to get fruit earlier that morning like this, too?!” I gasped, inside.

“H-How? Wh-Why?” I trembled to myself, in silence.

Defeatedly, I placed the small bowl of fruit and spoon before Julie. I sat down on the other side of the table and gazed back at her. She was looking down and began spooning her breakfast in a slow and casual manner.

Her altered breasts were jutting straight outward now, and they billowed over the top of her bra exposing her cleavage like some sort of bimbo would be doing. The two smaller black spade symbols tattooed on each breast with the letter “T” traced out in her own skin tone were so blatant. There wasn’t a person alive that would not notice them. But, the condition of her beautiful face coated with dried up sperm humiliated me the most. It covered the vast majority of her entire forehead, cheeks, jaw line and chin.

Just seeing her in this condition was demeaning for me. It had to be for her, too. Yet, I couldn’t understand why she was being so casual and non chalant about it. I just had to know why. I had to know why this wasn’t bothering her as much as it bothered me.

“J-Julie? Y-You are going to w-wash up again?” I asked, again trying to converse.

Julie’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, in disgust over my mild persistence.

“Damn it, Richard. Please? Can’t we just sit and have a quiet breakfast?” she asked, quietly and more annoyed.

“B-But, Julie. Your face? W-Why w-would you? I m-mean …” I began to ask sullenly.

That is when Julie abruptly dropped her spoon into the bowl. It made a loud “clinking” sound as she grabbed her cell phone from the kitchen table and began dialing a number.

“You want to know why? Well, you’re gonna have to ask Trey. Not me!” she said, further annoyed as she put the phone to her ear.

“Trey? One second, Trey.” she said, speaking into the phone.

Julie simply reached over and held out the cell phone for me to take. My face turned a timid red shade as I stared at the little cell phone in her hands. My hands trembled. My throat ran dry.

“Here. Ask him!” Julie snapped.

But, I could not take the phone from Julie’s hand. Petrified, I just shook my head in a “no, please” motion as I stared into my blonde wife’s suddenly disturbed eyes. It was obvious to her that I was absolutely terrified to speak to the younger, black stud. In just a few short seconds, I went from being persistent to being totally quiet and humbled.

Mercifully, Julie finally withdrew her extended arm and put the phone back to her ear. My face had to be a fire-engine red by now, and my heart was beating unpleasantly fast.

“Yes, Trey. I’m sorry, Trey.” she began, as she spoke to him.

“No, Trey. Yes, I’m sorry, Trey. I’ll tell you later, Trey.” I heard her speaking to him in the softest tone.

“Yes, Trey. Yes, I’m almost ready, Trey. Yes, Trey. Whatever you say, Trey.” she continued as I sat across the table in utter shame.

Julie’s voice grew even softer as she continued speaking to the apparently curious black stud. I am sure he was more curious about the reason for her sudden call Kartal Escort to him, and he must have been asking questions.

“Yes, Sir. Yes, I did Sir. Yes, Trey. Yes, I will, Trey. Okay, Trey.” Julie continued before finally shutting the cell phone closed.

My eyes literally fell to the table, humiliated beyond reason. I was afraid to look back up to Julie’s eyes after her little “threat.” I figured that I must have persisted a little too much this time. I was merely trying to make sense of something that was so foreign to me at the time. Something that was so disgusting and humiliating for me to witness. Yet, more humiliating was the fact that my blonde wife was now actually defending the actions of the young, black man. She was accepting how he was treating her as well.

Being “shut down” so abruptly made me feel even more like a “wimp” than I was. I had absolutely no response to her actions as I sat there humbled and broken down. My mind wandered for a moment as I thought about what Tra’mon might be thinking after a call like this. To be honest, I was worrying about whether or not this little cell phone scene would anger him?

“Listen, Richard.” Julie began.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk for awhile. Maybe we should just try to be around each other first and not talk about anything, not say anything. Just see how things go.” Julie proposed.

I finally looked up.

“W-What do you mean, Julie?” I asked, shaking and confused.

“Y-You don’t want to talk t-to me? Wh-What do you mean?” I repeated nervously.

“I mean what you heard, Richard. I’ll stay here and see how things go for now. That’s all. But, we don’t need to say so much to each other.” Julie said, more firmly.

“N-Not talk?” I quivered.

“It’s either that or I’m going to stay with Karen. You can explain that to Trey yourself.” she said, sternly.

Another subtle threat?

My eyes lit up in fear, once again. Julie knew without question that I didn’t want that. My beautiful, blonde wife knew all too well that this younger black stud had “outclassed” me in most every way, and that he instilled a fear in me like no other. She knew that her taller, weaker and older white “wimp” of a husband cowered in intimidation just thinking about this black stud and every time she mentioned his name.

She had seen him beat me up, make me wash the dirt and spit from his muscular black feet, and be pushed around like a helpless oversized raggedy ann doll. She had witnessed the powerful, more masculine black man “stuffing” my face into his bikini-clad asscheeks, and being made to kiss his ass as he degradingly made me apologize to his asscheeks before. She had already seen me degraded and intimidated and bullied by Tra’mon so many times. My wife knew that her white husband was, indeed, a “big pussy” compared to the tougher black thug stud of a man. Yes, she knew.

“Well, I have to go.” Julie suddenly said.

I then watched her get up and scurry off to the bedroom. My head slumped in shame as I remained quiet, looking down at the fruit in my little bowl. Within minutes, Julie emerged and began putting things into her purse.

I watched as Julie readied herself to “run errands” with the black man. She had quickly slipped into a light tanned ultra-short and tight micro mini-skirt that barely covered her pussy region. Her shoes were 4″ tall white strappy sandals. The pure white blouse was spaghetti sleeveless and cut off at the navel with a ridiculously low cleavage. Her now altered and tattooed huge breasts billowed out uncontrollably for anyone to see. And, the undersized white blouse that exposed her entire midriff, blatantly revealing the bold and ominous 2 inch black spade tattoo on her lower back. From the view behind, it was staggering just how obvious and noticeable that tattoo was against her pale flesh.

Much worse was the fact that Julie was “running out” in public with Tra’mon with her pretty face astonishingly “plastered” with the obvious remnants of his dried up seed. My once shy blonde wife was now looking like a billboard for an over the top and in your face statement of Black Authority.

“I’ll see you later. Bye.” she said, simply and coldly, as she quickly bolted out the door.

This time, I had no strength to get up from my chair right away. I reamined in the kitchen rather than watching her walk out to the parking lot. I couldn’t bare to witness yet another display of his uncontested control over her.

Meekly, I sat there contemplating my future with Julie for close to an hour. A great part of me knew that it was over, and that I should simply “stay away” from this whole situation, like I imagine the other husbands that fled were doing.

I really thought about “running away” like a big coward and sissy before he confronted me and told me to leave. A smaller and weaker part of me was hopeful that Julie would eventually return to me. Another small part of me wanted to keep the “perception” that our marriage was fine, and my family would never know. However, the greater part of Kurtköy Escort me was afraid of the dominant, young black man. I feared his anger and, although my wife seemed to be so into him, I also feared for her in some strange and unusual way.

At the time, I felt totally confused and trapped.

Eventually, I managed to get back up to my feet. I began clearing the table and cleaning up around the condo, trying to stay busy and keep my mind off the humiliation I felt. My thoughts were all over the place as I finished cleaning the bathroom, bedroom and making the bed.

An hour had passed when I stepped back into the livingroom.

That is when I noticed the ultimately demoralizing mesh bag belonging to the black stud. It was laying on the floor and filled with Tra’mon’s worn bikini underwear and bikini speedoes suits. I had tossed them to the corner in disgust the other night after he had all but told me that I would have to continue handwashing them. Now, they were staring me right in the face like one of his harsh slaps.

I paused in anguish. My entire body felt limp and tense just thinking about the anger the black stud might exhibit if I had not completed this demoralizing task. I reasoned that I had little choice but to comply, if I knew what was good for me. It had already been more than horrifying that he had me doing this insulting chore for more than 11 weeks now, and I had thought it would be over. I was wrong. My tremendous fear of him caused me to “give in” and accept this degradation, once again.

In defeat, I picked up the mesh bag and brought it into the bathroom where I layed them on the counter. Repulsed, I stared at them for a moment and tried to find the any last shred of masculinity inside me. But, I could not. Beaten, I simply began to handwash the young black stud’s 20 plus pairs of nylon-spandex bikini underwear.

My stomach tightened in disgust as I began the degrading “chore” I had been becoming accustomed to, once again. Like a wimp, I remained standing in the bathroom washing another man’s masculine and studly power bikini’s while he was out shopping with my wife.

I realized mt humiliation would continue.

By the time I finished my humiliating chore and cleaning our entire condo unit, I looked at my watch to realize that it was barely past 12 noon. Julie had been gone for about 3 hours and I was curious as to when she might return. I walked to the back window overlooking the pool area to see a deserted area. This was not unusual but the entire condo community had an erie, empty and desolate feeling about it now.

The parking lot area had only a few cars in it and I wondered if everyone had gone to work, or someplace else. At the time, I barely knew what day of the week it was. I had already requested sporadic time off from work, lying about a family illness that required my attention. It was called F.M.L.A., and the H.R. Director told me I had a combined 12 weeks of this sporadic time off, which I accepted. It was either this or lose my job. I had been coming in late and missing more days than what was typical.

With nothing else to do at this time I sat on the sofa and turned on the television. I looked down at my cell phone and questioned whether I should try to text Julie, to see when she would be returning. I couldn’t remember if she had made me aware of how long she’d be gone, or not? But, I was nervous to do so. I knew texting her while she was out with the young, black stud wasn’t always the greatest idea.

For the next two hours I looked at my phone every 10 minutes contemplating this. In some way, I suppose that I was hoping for her to text me too.
By 2:30 in the afternoon, I finally broke down and texted my beautiful wife.

“Julie, will you be home soon?” I texted.

“Will you be home for dinner?” I texted ten minutes later.

“Are you there?” I texted 20 minutes after that.

“I can make dinner.” I texted around 3 o’clock.

“Julie?” I texted a few minutes after that.

“Can I make you dinner, Julie?” I texted again, a half hour passing.

There was no response.

“I can make you a nice dinner if you want.” I texted just past four.

Finally, Julie returned one of my text messages.

“Alright already, Richard. That’s fine.” her message read.

“Oh, okay. Great. What time will you be home?” I messaged my wife, in return.

“A couple hours still. Stop texting me already Richard.” Julie’s message read.

“Oh, okay Julie. I won’t. I’ll make dinner for 6:30 then, okay?” I texted.

It took five minutes for her to return this last text.

“Fine.” her message simply read.

“No more texts!” she added.

It was humbling to visually see my blonde wife’s rather “abrupt” and “annoyed” text messages to me. It was obvious, but now I had work to do. I had a meal to prepare as I realized that she was actually agreeing to have dinner with me?!

My sullen and defeated mood changed ever so slightly at this thought. There was a “spark” of hope that we would be able to sit down and have dinner together and, perhaps talk some more. I wanted to text her back and ask Julie what she wanted for dinner, but I didn’t want to press my luck. Eagerly, I decided that I would run to the store and just get her favorite things. Desperately, I did just that.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

4:15 p.m.

During part one, Cinnamon enjoyed phone sex with George. In part two, her boss Bill ate her pussy. In part three, Cinnamon takes a late lunch break and visits her lover Mark at a motel. Part 4 concluded with Mark fucking Cin’s ass.

Cinnamon returned to work, about 15 minutes late from her lunch. But it was such a nice lunch, having spent it with Mark’s ten inch cock inside her pussy and ass.

The store was not too crowded, and no one seemed to notice that she was a little late. Cin did not notice Sally looking at her from her office. Cin went back to the cash register, and started to check a customer out.

Customers came and went, and the afternoon quickly disappeared.

6:15 p.m.

Cin looked at her watch, and saw it was 6:15 p.m. She thought, time for a break and a chance to get off of her feet. Another saleswoman took over the cash register. Cinnamon walked over to the break room, grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, sat down, and closed her eyes as she seeped the cold water.

She felt hands rubbing both of her shoulders. Oh, it felt good. At first, she thought it was Bill massaging her, but realized that the hands were smaller and the motions were different. But she enjoyed the sensations. Finally, her curiosity got the better of her; she opened her eyes, and turned her head. “Sally! Oh, that feels good.”

Sally was standing behind her, rubbing her neck and shoulders. She did not stop, in fact, after Cin saw her, she continued with renewed vigor. Finally, she said, “Cin, saw you come back from lunch a little late. I was wondering what caused you to be late.”

“I’m sorry, just lost track of time, and the traffic seemed heavier than normal,” Cin offered.

“I noticed that your face was quite flush. I wonder what kind of lunch Pendik Escort you were having today.”

Cinnamon thought for a moment, and then said, “Sally, I was meeting my lover for a bit of an afternoon delight. We met at the motel down the street, and it was wonderful.”

“Your lover? I thought so. Was it Bill?”

“Bill? No way Sally! Would you want that old man between your legs?”

Bill was Cinnamon’s boss, and Sally was trying to find out who Bill was fooling around with. Little did she know that Bill had spent an hour between Cin’s legs eating her pussy this morning?

“Yea, I guess you are right. Must be one of the other saleswomen who are getting plugged by him.”

Sally was continuing to massage Cin, and the motions were becoming slight erotic.

“Sally, you might be able to help me with a little situation I have with my lover. I know you are always flirting with me, and I wonder if you might be interested in a threesome with my lover and me.”

Sally considered the offer. She always wanted to make love to Cinnamon, and here was her chance. And she would also get a cock to boot, not a bad bargain.

“OK, when would we do this?”

“Tonight, after work, if I can get off a little early, we would meet him at 8 p.m.”

“OK, I can arrange you to leave a little early tonight. But let’s stop at our bar and have a drink first. Let’s leave at 7:30 then.”

Cin nodded. Mark would be so surprised. He had been asking for a threesome for years.

Sally moved her head down and gave Cinnamon a little kiss on her neck, and left the room. Cin got up, and started to return to the cash register. She realized how aroused she had gotten while Sally had massaged her.

About 7 p.m., she called Mark on her cell phone. She told him that she Anadolu Yakası Escort would be there at 8 and quickly hung up the phone.

7:30 p.m.

Sally and Cinnamon left work driving over to their favorite tavern. It was just across the street from the motel, where Mark was waiting. They walked in, nodded at a few of the regulars, and sat down at the bar and ordered their drinks.

This would be the first time Cinnamon had ever been with a woman. She suspected that Sally was not inexperienced. They sat there sipping their drinks, chatting about the guys in the bar.

In a few minutes, they had finished, and got up to walk over to the motel. They walked up the stairs, and Cin could feel Sally’s eyes on her butt. Cin knocked on the door to room 213. Mark quickly opened the door.

8 p.m.

Mark looked outside, and saw Sally with Cinnamon. His cock started to rise underneath the bathrobe. He kissed Cin, and turned to the other woman, “Hi, I’m Mark.”

“I’m Sally.” She walked into the room, and closed the door.

Cin sat down on the chair, and watched Mark and Sally. Sally began to unbutton her blouse, while Mark stood there, kissing her neck, touching her shoulders. Sally turned around and faced Cinnamon, and pushed her butt into Mark’s crotch. She finished unbuttoning her blouse, and Mark’s hands were now rubbing her bra, pinching on her nipples that Cin could see jutting out. Sally tilted and turned her head, and started to kiss Mark on the lips. This was turning Mark on, and it was turning Cin on.

“Are you just going to watch us? Or would you like to join us?” Mark said.

“Let me sit here a while, and watch you two.”

Mark ran one hand down the side of Sally, while the other hand continued to massage her breast. He started to İstanbul Escort rub up and down her crotch, rubbing her pussy through the material of her pants and panties. Sally was continuing to French kiss Mark. She reached down and unbuttoned her pants. She stepped away, and quickly took off her blouse and pants, tossing them at Cinnamon.

Cin caught them, and got up and hung them in the closet. Old habits are hard to die, she thought. She then decided to take her clothes off too, leaving on her bra and panties to match where Sally was at. Turning back to the couple and sitting back in the chair, she saw that they had lay down on the bed, still looking in her direction.

Cinnamon had seen couples making love in movies, and had heard Bill and Ann making love when they shared a cabin about ten years ago. She had never seen anyone make love in front of her. She was aroused, and one hand pinched on her nipples through her bra while the other gently rubbed up and down her pussy.

Sally had rolled over on top of Mark, and he had unclasped her bra. Sally lifted off him, and pulled it off. Her breasts sprang out, with her nipples fully erect. She reached down and pulled her panties down her legs. Cin could see her reddish pussy hair between her legs and butt. Mark’s cock jutted from the bathrobe, and Sally quickly straddled him, pushing him deep inside her cunt.

Cin continued to watch the couple, as Sally fucked Mark. She laid on his chest at first, but then she raised her back straight up, allowing Mark to play with her tits. Cin began to rub her clitty hard. Sally was moaning, and it would not be long before she was going to come. Sally did not say much, just a lot of moans and cries of satisfaction.

Sally then started to scream, “Oh Mark, oh Mark, you feel so good, so large, I’m going to, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhh, oh, oh, oh, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Cin began to scream in unison, “Oh, oh my God, oh yes, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, oh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

8:30 p.m.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

“You look amazing, Cory,” Sam said to me.

“Shut up,” I snapped back. “I look stupid!”

“No way. You’re hot!” he told me.

Sam was my best friend and he wouldn’t lie, but he did have ulterior motives. As I looked in the mirror, though, I was starting to agree with him. My petite frame fit my mother’s clothes well. I wore a short leather skirt and knee high boots, which I just managed to squeeze into. I chose a modest top and my mom’s blond wig that she used for a costume party was the perfect fit.

Not bad for an eighteen year old boy, I thought to myself.

“Is it weird that I’m attracted to you?” Sam asked, and I wasn’t sure if he was joking.

“Yes. You know I’m still a guy,” I told him.

“I know, but if I didn’t know that…” he trailed off.

“What?”

“I’d probably jerk off to you,” he admitted, laughing.

“Jesus. You’re a pervert you know that? And I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“It’s just an hour. You meet the heads of the fraternity, say you’re my girlfriend and then we can get the hell out of there. It will be dark and no one will know difference.”

It was a dumb plan. Sam was pledging for a fraternity and when they asked if he had a girlfriend he said yes, when he knows damn well he’s never had a girlfriend in his entire life. He wasn’t attractive at all, and he was bad at talking to girls. The only reason I think they wanted him in the fraternity was because he had a high GPA. But we were best friends, so I agreed. And I had never had a girlfriend either. His getting in could be beneficial for both of us.

The only part of the plan that made sense was my role. Even though I was eighteen, I had never really matured. Lack of testerone, I guess. My cock got big and hard of course, but I had no facial or chest hair, and the few hairs on my legs were blond and hard to see. I wasn’t tall, I was super skinny, and my facial features could be considered feminine. I had already been mistaken on numerous occasions for my twin sister, so a wig and a little makeup and boom – I wasn’t Cory anymore.

I was Corina!

No. That’s terrible. Cora. That’s better. I was now Cora.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said.

– – –

As we entered the party, I was already doubting myself. Most of the girls there were barely dressed. One even ran by with her breasts out. I couldn’t do any of that. Sam assured me we wouldn’t be here very long and I started to feel better. He spotted the people I needed to meet across the room and we made our way.

“Hi, Sam,” the large one said.

“Hi, Donovan. I want you to meet Cora, my Pendik Escort girlfriend,” Sam said, introducing me. Here it is, I thought. The moment of truth. This would either work or Sam would be the laughing stock of the school.

“Nice to meet you, Cora,” Donovan said, shaking my hand.

I smiled back.

“She’s very pretty, Sam. How’d you get so lucky?”

“What can I say,” he responded. “She loves me.”

It had worked! He bought it. Now we could leave, I thought. But at that exact moment, an air horn went off. Everyone stopped talking.

“You know what that means!” Donovan yelled and raised his drink. Everyone in the room took a sip of their drink and then kissed the closest girl.

I was frozen in fear. Did this mean Sam had to kiss me? Please no, but Donovan was staring at us. Before I could react, Sam took a swig of his drink and grabbed me and kissed me right on the mouth. He even forced his tongue into mine.

“Sorry,” he whispered in my ear. Gross, I thought.

“Excuse me,” I said imitating a girl’s voice. “I have to use the bathroom.” Got to wash this taste off my mouth, I didn’t say.

“Use mine,” Donovan told me. “Upstairs, third door on the right. It will be cleaner than the others.”

“Thank you,” I said and went upstairs.

– – –

In Donovan’s bathroom I swirled around some mouthwash, trying to get Sam’s taste out of my mouth.

“Christ. I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said to myself in the mirror. “Whatever. We can go home now.”

Then the door opened and it was Donovan. I turned away, terrified. What was he doing here? He didn’t say anything. He grabbed me by the shoulders.

“We’re alone,” he said. Oh no. What is this? “I saw the way you were looking at me,” he continued. Was he crazy? I wasn’t looking at him!

“Uh… I think you are mistaking me for someone else,” I told him.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You like Sam, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“You want him to get into this fraternity?”

“Yes,” I repeated, shutting my eyes. I had an idea of where this was going.

“Then you need to help him,” he said and I heard a fly unzip. Oh no. Before I could react his hands were back on my shoulders and he was pushing down. Not knowing what to do, I submitted and went to my knees. He moved around in front of me and my face was eye level with his crotch.

“I don’t know about this,” I said, unconvincingly. My mind was racing. My heart was pounding. I was terrified, disgusted, and… excited? My dick was hard. Why was my dick hard?

I watched as he pushed his hand into his Anadolu Yakası Escort pants and pulled out his hard cock. It was big. Bigger than mine. And it was staring me right in the face.

“You know what to do, Cora,” he said. I did. I didn’t want to but I knew I had to. I wanted to help Sam, and who knows what would happen to me if I said no? To Sam?

“I know,” I said and I grabbed his cock and put it in my mouth. I thought I would be repulsed, but for some reason it felt good to taste his cock. It was so warm and smooth. It wasn’t bad at all.

“That’s it,” he said. “Suck it good.”

I did what I thought I always wanted a girl to do to me, what I had seen online in porn movies. I stroked his cock with my hand and licked under the head with my tongue. Whatever I was doing must have been working, because his groans were getting louder.

“That’s fucking great,” he said, assuring me.

Underneath my skirt my own dick was rock hard and I wished I could stroke it, but I thought I better leave it alone for now.

“I’m going to cum soon. Want me to cum on your face?” he asked. No. He couldn’t do that. My makeup would smear. That could give me away. I didn’t know what to do. Then it hit me…

“Cum in my mouth,” I told him. “I’ll swallow it.” Did I really just say that?

“Oh fuck yeah!” he said. It was all I could think of. And just then, I felt the eruption in my mouth. A huge splatter of cum hit me in the back of my throat, and the rest emptied onto my tongue.

It tasted… good? Oh no! Was I gay? I was enjoying this. I even liked the taste of the cum, which I immediately swallowed. I even kept sucking on his dick making sure he was properly drained. Was that crazy?

“You’re amazing,” he said and pulled out his cock. “Sam’s in for sure.”

And then he left, with me still on my knees in the bathroom. What an asshole, I thought.

– – –

On the way home, Sam thanked me profusely. He didn’t even know what I did, though. I was feeling weird. My hands were running over my thighs. I looked and felt like a girl. I was enjoying it. Something had happened to me.

“I hope I get in,” he said. “That would be awesome.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I told him.

“Why? What do you mean?” he asked, and I decided to tell him.

“Donovan came to see me in the bathroom.”

“What? He did? What did he want?”

“He said if I gave him a blowjob you’d make it into the fraternity.”

“What?” he almost swerved off the road when he heard that. “That’s crazy!”

“I know.”

“What did you do?”

“I İstanbul Escort was a good little girl,” I said, feeling horny and sexy as hell.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you did that!”

“I can’t believe it either,” I said.

– – –

“That’s crazy, Cory,” Sam said, nervously pacing around my parent’s living room.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, staring into the mirror. I was looking at myself. I was starting to love the way I looked. Was I really a girl this whole time? I felt great in this outfit. I felt like this was my natural appearance. I felt sexy and horny. I wanted to fuck. No. I wanted to be fucked! There was a difference now. What was happening to me?

“It’s funny,” Sam said. “I’ve never had a girlfriend. So I get a fake one, and she ends up giving a real blowjob to someone else. Crazy.”

“Did you want a blowjob?” I asked, not even thinking. My mouth was watering.

“What?” he said. Stopping in his tracks.

“Do you want me to suck your dick? I can if you want me to.”

“What? You’re a guy,” Sam reminded me. “I’m not gay.”

“Neither is Donovan,” I said.

“But he didn’t know.”

“You said I looked like a girl earlier. You said I was hot. And you weren’t kidding when you said you were going to jerk off to me. I saw you eyeing me. You were taking mental inventory.”

“Okay, but fantasies are much different than reality. I mean, you do look hot, but…”

“But what?”

“Do you want to suck my dick?” he asked.

“Only if you want me to,” I said, walking toward him. I looked down and could see the bulge in his pants. He was hard. he wanted it. “I will if you want me to.”

“But you’re my friend. You’re Cory,” he said.

“No I’m not. I’m Cora,” I told him and dropped to my knees. Without asking, I unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. It was smaller than Donovan’s. About average size, but I didn’t care. I wanted it in my mouth. I wanted to taste his cum and swallow it just like before.

“Oh my god,” he said.

“Just relax,” I told him and I wrapped my lips around the shaft of his cock, pushing my tongue underneath the head. He shuddered when I did it.

“I’m going to cum,” he yelled. Already, I thought? Wow. He must be really excited.

I wrapped my lips tight around the head of his cock and I stroked out the cum. Blast after blast exploded in my wanting mouth. There was so much. I swallowed three times and still my mouth felt full of his salty cum. I swallowed the last of it and could feel it all ooze down my throat.

“Oh my god, Cory, I mean Cora,” he said. “That was amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

Sam left. I’d never seen him so happy. I sat on the couch and contemplated the events in my head. I was still dressed like a girl and I had swallowed two different loads of cum. All firsts.

I decided then and there that it wouldn’t be my last.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

“James, please pick your jacket up off the floor and put it in your bedroom, that’s a good boy.”

The quiet words, spoken as much to not provoke an argument as to convey a request, came from my foster father, Randy Simmons, as he took a few careful steps over my prone body lying in front of the television watching cartoons. I had arrived home from school two hours before with a half-completed term paper on John Keats, the English poet, due the following day for my senior literature class. My assignments also included all the odd-numbered algebra equations from page 250 in my textbook and an art project on the use of shading. But I needed to take the edge off my increasingly stressed out life and had neglected both homework and chores in favor of a few mindless hours of Scooby Doo and Spongebob Squarepants. I don’t even like Spongebob.

My name isn’t James. It’s Devlin. Devlin James Royce. But the foster home I lived in, probably my last since I was close to turning eighteen and would be exiting the system once I graduated from high school, was headed up by a Christian, God-fearing couple with four kids of their own. They saw the devil in me, or rather my given name, and decided they just couldn’t in good conscience call me by it. However, one of Jesus’ brothers, an author of a New Testament book in the Bible, was named James, as well as two of his disciples, so they figured they were good with my middle name.

Ugh, Devlin… James… whatever! Hell, most days I didn’t care as long as I had a roof over my head and a warm bed, three square meals a day and clothing that fit and didn’t look as if it had been passed through four other boys before I got to wear it. If no one was beating on me, I was in great shape. Oh, and don’t foist your religious beliefs on me either. It definitely made for some interesting conversations when my fosters discussed me with my teachers at school or my social worker, Ms Hopkins.

“Mrs. Simmons, his name is Devlin, not James. It’s important that you don’t erode his already fragile sense of self-worth by refusing to acknowledge him correctly. You know the rules.”

They most certainly did, although as far as I was concerned, my self-worth was anything but fragile. There was definitely some gray mixed in with the black and white of Department of Children’s Services regulations that should have been straightened out beforehand in regards to my personal freedoms but I was doing okay. If you were going to force comparisons of religion in my life…

Hmm, this is going to be too confusing if you don’t understand where I’m coming from. Literally, I mean, so maybe I should attempt to explain it from the start. I know how it looks but, despite everything, my life up until the time I was thirteen wasn’t too bad. Honest!

My parents met when they were twelve and fell in love. Mom was Jenny, and Dad’s name was Charles. They were in their mid-teens when they had me, but life quickly turned sour. The realities of two high school drop-outs trying to raise a baby on minimum-wage killed their love for each other, and they split up before I turned one. I guess Mom didn’t learn from having me either because she went on to birth two more kids by the time she was twenty. Two half-sisters I haven’t seen for half my lifetime are out there somewhere. I don’t even remember what they look like. For all I know, I’ve run across them in my travels and wasn’t even aware of it.

Okay, so after Jenny ditched Dad she went from bad to worse and turned into a prostitute who spent her days whoring herself out in exchange for crack and heroin. She’d disappear and leave us kids with a long parade of neighbor ladies who lived next door to our ratty tenement apartment. So many different ones, I’ve forgotten most of their names, but the majority of them felt sorry for us and treated me well.

Dad was a good man who caught a break in his late teens and learned how to build high-rise business structures. He worked hard at a construction job during the day and tended bar in the evenings. I learned all this from him later, not her. Jenny didn’t have anything nice to say about Dad, so it was a conversation I avoided with her because once his name came up she tended to start throwing things. Mostly I recall him being a presence more and more in my life the older I got, but it wasn’t much by anything she did, unless you want to call neglect her contribution. So I suppose I was just lucky.

Whenever four days had gone by without Jenny returning from her dens of iniquity, I would get to spend time with Dad. The neighbors would telephone him and demand that he come get me. Who took in my half-sisters would forever be a mystery because they weren’t Dad’s responsibility, but there was talk of a paternal grandmother out there. But Charles would collect me until she turned up, and he was a decent father and tried to do the right thing by me. As a youngster I felt relief when he was around because it meant food in my belly and working heat and electricity and a warm coat to wear in Maltepe Escort the winter.

Shit, I don’t know why he never sought permanent custody. No, that’s a lie. I know why because I heard Dad talking about it with his sister one time when they thought I was asleep. It was some fucked up regulation that had Dad being afraid the law would come after him for child support payments he was supposed to make. But he refused, you know? He caught on quick that Mom wasn’t looking out for our welfare and any money he paid towards my support would end up in her veins.

“And I’ll be damned if I support that whore’s drug habit,” he’d said in the only ugly snarl I ever heard him use. Ever! He was usually so calm and quiet, rarely talked much above a normal tone of voice and wasn’t given to wasting words. He had this way of looking at people in the eye that made them know his promise was golden, and he expected the same from others. I’d never call him a trusting fool, though. He inspired honesty and made me want to earn his goodwill. His one angry retort about my mom just proved that he loved me and showed how much he resented her for not taking better care of me.

When I was nine, Jenny ran off with some drug dealer, but like I said, she wasn’t much of a mother so her departure was more of a reprieve than a problem. My sisters disappeared out of my life at the same time, and I went to live with Charles. It was rough at first since he had never been forced to parent full-time. He was so young when I was born, he was barely twenty-five when I moved in. Money was tight, but we got along with the help of his sister, my Aunt Kayla.

I thrived living with my dad. Despite my mother, I was a good kid, and we were happy. He taught me that education was the key to moving out of the cheap apartments we lived in and doing better for myself. If I wanted to get anywhere in life, I would have to study hard and sacrifice; that, and keep my dick in my pants. He was kind of bitter about my mother but he never passed that on to me. Dad just explained her as having a tough upbringing and a myriad of challenges she couldn’t work through. Then he would tell me about how sweet and warm she was when they met and fell in love. Before the drugs and life cursed her.

I listened to all my dad said and applied myself in school. I wasn’t a straight-A student, but I paid attention, and a love for reading helped a lot. I wasn’t into sports, and Dad never pushed me to play, even though he was on the football team in ninth grade. I loved to draw, and my teachers said I had a fair amount of talent. Dad encouraged me and never looked down on my pictures as wasted time or made me feel I couldn’t be a great artist one day. We didn’t have a lot of money for non-essentials, but he bought me sketch pads and pencils.

For a poor man, Dad had a lot of dreams that he passed on to me and used to joke that I was going to be the one to become cultured, educated and rich, and then I’d buy him a house. We laughed over it, and he’d take me to a museum or we’d borrow textbooks that were a higher grade level then I was in and study them together. Dad would have done well in college, he was so clever. He taught me never to let anyone dictate what I could and couldn’t do to improve my life. The only person limiting the scope of my success was myself and how I viewed circumstances.

He was upbeat and would get angry if I acted like I was a burden. Even with working two jobs he always made time for me. Weekends were all ours, and he let his bosses know that he couldn’t leave me alone and needed that time free. Dad let me hang with him when he did small repairs around the apartment or on his truck. We developed into a comforting routine, and he set reasonable boundaries. I kept my eyes open and stayed out of trouble. I guess you could say I behaved better than the average child, but I didn’t want to disappoint my father. Even at the ripe age of thirteen, when many of my peers were acting out and pushing against authority, Dad was my hero.

He died that winter just before my fourteenth birthday.

There was a construction accident on a jobsite, and somehow Dad fell twenty stories to his death. It had been a relatively good day and I was doing homework waiting for him to return from work so we could go birthday shopping. The police showed up at the door with a tearful Aunt Kayla in tow to tell me what happened. I must have blacked out when I finally understood that Dad was never coming back because I came to on the floor next to the couch with my aunt sitting there just staring at me. I was wild with grief for weeks, and nobody could comfort me through the funeral. Dad was my only anchor, and then he was just gone.

I guess negotiations of some sort went on between the families of my two parents over custody of me, but so much animosity remained even after nearly fifteen years. Jenny’s mother shut her door in Aunt Kayla’s face and said I wasn’t her responsibility and she couldn’t care less. So Dad’s family Kartal Escort decided to move me in with Kayla. I loved her because she was a relative, but she was kind of cold to me, and I thought it was her way of mourning. My grief counselor said that people go through the process in different ways and, at the time, I was too obsessed with my own loss to make it an issue. I was numb by day, wracked with nightmares of falling at night and, for awhile, I seriously considered killing myself.

I suppose the insurance company from my dad’s employer settled on him with some kind of accidental death policy that paid out close to two hundred fifty thousand dollars. I didn’t care. There was no amount of money in the world that could make up for my father going away and leaving me alone. It didn’t put my latest drawing up on the refrigerator or take me to an art exhibit to see a showing by a new artist. It didn’t tuck me in at night and ruffle my hair in affection when I brought home a report card with almost all A’s on it. I wanted Dad’s smell back and the sound of his voice telling me he loved me. I would’ve given it all away just to hold onto him for one more day.

But even if I didn’t want the money, I never saw a dime of it.

Five months after Dad died, Aunt Kayla called me into her bedroom one morning and told me to pack up my clothes and whatever I wished to take with me. She enlightened me on the situation of my birth by telling me how Charles wasn’t really my biological father. My mother was a scheming tramp who had gotten pregnant by some other man, because even back then she was whoring around, and Dad had graciously married her to give her baby a name and a home. Wasn’t it obvious we weren’t related when I didn’t look a thing like him?

If I were going to describe myself, I’d say I’m on the tall end of average if that makes any sense- around five-foot-eight and skinny. My foster mom, Amber, complains they don’t make jeans in my size because I’m a beanpole. You know, too big to wear kids’ clothes, too small for an adult size? I worked out in the gym at my high school and developed some muscle mass across my chest and shoulders and down my torso, but don’t look at me as being ripped. The best I could boast of was a modest four-pack. I have wavy mud brown hair that falls to my shoulders and is constantly in my face and hazel eyes, which are supposed to be my best feature. My skin is so pale you can see the veins under it, and I have freckles across my nose. Charles’s grandmother was full Japanese which might account for my stature and delicate features; it was fairly obvious in Dad’s high cheekbones and the shape of his eyes, but nowhere on me.

I didn’t know that I believed her, but even if it was an excuse to get rid of me, it wasn’t my call. Dad was just Dad to me, and biological or not, we loved each other dearly. He’d never treated me like I wasn’t his, but Kayla was nothing like him. Maybe it was financial or she was tired of taking care of me since she had no kids of her own and I cramped her style. In any case, she wasn’t interested in my welfare, so why would I want to live with someone like her? No other relatives came forward to volunteer either. She signed over custody to Children’s Services, and I was going into foster care, end of story. I walked out of her apartment that June day into a brand new life and never looked back.

And, here again, I didn’t do too horribly. Yeah, I was sent to the children’s center for a few months because, face it; not many foster families like dealing with teenagers. Many of us end up in group homes which are just warehouses for throwaways before they’re dumped on the street. However, I was one of the good ones. I was polite and sociable, not like those fucked up other boys who had been discarded by their mothers for gang membership or delinquency or drug addiction. I knew I wasn’t better than them, but if being well-mannered got me into a home faster, I wouldn’t cry crocodile tears over the sad situations they’d created for themselves.

Even though it was supposed to be summer vacation, I still had to attend school every day. I think it was due to the fact that many of the residents cut class on the outside and were behind in their studies. I wasn’t, I had been flourishing up until my life was upended. I started tutoring some of the younger kids just to have something to do because the courses at the center were far too easy for me. Boredom is the devil’s playground or some such phrase. I spent my spare time drawing caricatures of the adults around me, and it didn’t escape the notice of the directors that I was talented and educated and a better quality of foster kid than most. I got lucky. I was soon ‘staffed’, as they put it, meaning I was shipped off to live in a foster home.

Six, in fact. Family number one, the Tates, agreed to take me in September and kept me for three weeks. They’d asked for a pre-adolescent boy, and the department thought they could slip me in under their noses because of my size. Kurtköy Escort Not that I was any trouble, they assured me when they said I’d have to move on, but they didn’t feel they could successfully parent a teenager. Like I was going to cause them so many more problems than one of those eleven year olds I’d run into at the center who would’ve just as soon shiv you than look at you?

Numbers two, three and four, were each exactly a year of my life. In each home, I was one of three or four boys, the only one not in trouble before I was staffed, and most of them bullies. I was usually the smallest and learned how to think on my feet to keep from being terrorized. I looked the other way when another teen was targeted because, as cowardly as this sounds, having anyone’s back besides my own was dangerous for my health. I was offered drugs, invited to join gangs and served as lookout when a foster brother shoplifted. I had all my stuff stolen on numerous occasions. The only thing I managed to keep from my old life was a picture of Dad I slipped into a tattered copy of Silas Marner that was on me at all times. Living there under those circumstances toughened me up quickly.

The shitty stories about sexual molestation in foster care are basically true. Starting when I was fifteen I could be hauled out of bed at any time of night to take care of daddies, so-called uncles and older, and bigger brothers alike. When you’re small like me, you have fewer options. The difference between a jaded life and a fucked-up one is learning to pick your battles and keeping your mouth shut. Food, shelter and clothing are much better options than living on the streets addicted to drugs and being pimped out.

Okay, there’s something else you need to know about me. I’m gay, and this had nothing to do with my abuse in care. Before Dad died, I had begun noticing males at school in a sexual way that I knew made me different from how the straight guys bonded. Straight guys weren’t supposed to want the boy sitting next to them in science class to kiss the daylights out of them. I even went to Dad with a hundred tortured questions, and we discussed it. He explained that he was bisexual, so he wasn’t completely surprised by my revelation. I recalled from my earliest memories of him that every once in awhile a strange man would show up at the apartment to spend a few nights in his bed, but he never had a long-term boyfriend. Or another girlfriend besides Mom either. I got the feeling he pitied me, but only because he knew being gay would make my life more difficult in the long run. But he accepted me for who I am, and it wasn’t ever an issue.

It became an issue in Foster Home . I was nearing the end of my seventeenth year when I moved in with the Comptons. They lived in the roughest neighborhood I’d ever been in, and I had to change schools again just after beginning my senior year of high school. Even though I was smarter than to announce that I was gay to my fellow classmates, too late I discovered that my foster brother, Barry, had a habit of snooping us kids’ bedrooms. It didn’t take long to find the very lifelike nude drawings of teenage boys hidden under my clothes in my dresser. Two days later I was jumped on the way home from school by a group of thugs calling me faggot and queer who beat me so badly they put me in the hospital for two weeks with internal bleeding, a head injury and broken bones.

Exit the Comptons where it was deemed I was no longer safe.

Enter the Simmons family, with their religious zealotry.

Ms Hopkins, my caseworker, was upfront and informed them that I was gay. What they told her was that Jesus loves everyone, regardless of gender preference, and they would never press their faith on me. And they didn’t, not overtly. They never expected me to attend church with them, and they soon found me trustworthy enough to leave me at home on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights by myself. I was exempt from morning prayers and Bible readings before bed. What they did do, however, was tell me frequently that they were praying for my immortal soul and leave religious tracts about homosexuality on my dresser. I pushed them into the trash, touching them as little as possible, like I was afraid they’d infect me if I got too close.

My new family consisted of Randy and Amber who were in their mid-forties and Randy’s mother, Maureen. Now, my foster parents might be Christian fundamentalists, but Maureen made them look like nonbelievers. I was fortunate because she spent hours at church each day so I didn’t have to socialize with her much. The only time I saw her was at dinner and she liked to pinch me under the table if she thought I wasn’t grateful enough for the blessings that were about to be bestowed on me.

The only other family member at home was Caleb, their eighteen year old son. Perfect Caleb with his soaring six-foot-three, one-hundred-eighty pound frame and blue-eyed-blonde good looks. Football tight end, track star and captain of the basketball team where he played guard. He held a 4.4 grade point average, was president of several on-campus clubs, including the Young Christians Society, and also a leader in the church youth group. A paragon of perfection for me to gag over despite how beautiful his tight end was.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Everyone in the story is over 18 years old. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This story is fiction, and at no time and in no way does this story intend to portray real life, actual circumstances, actual persons or situations, places, or actions. This story is the product of the author’s imagination. This story includes scenes of graphic sex needed to further the plot, and should NOT be read by minors or anyone that might be offended by such filth.

This story is copyrighted by 49greg under United States Copyright law and the Bern Convention and may not be copied or posted anywhere other than Literotica.com without written permission from 49greg.

XXXXXX

“Hello, are you there, I’m a little late.”

Mary felt a rush of relief to see the text pop up on her screen, and quickly typed an answer.

“Yes, I’m here, I was worried that you were going to stand me up, everything OK?”

She hit send, then worried that she sounded too eager. Not for the first time she felt a little embarrassed at the screen ID she had chosen It was the name of a girl she knew in High School and Mary had secretly admired the way that her friend had so easily flirted, and more, with boys. At least it was better than the ‘Titts1000’ she had originally planned to use.

“Sorry about that, running a little late.” came the reply from the man she only knew as ‘CaptFlint’.

That name sounded piratical and easy going at the same time. He was a terrible flirt and had gotten Mary to reveal too many secret feelings in the two weeks they had been flirting at first in the open chat room before quickly moving to Private Messages, then to their private chat room.

“We’re here now, that’s what matters, how was your day?” She typed.

At once feeling foolish, formal, and fumbling. She wanted to be more forward and flirty. She knew that Captain Flint was younger than she was, and didn’t want to sound like a boring old lady.

“It was boring and time seemed to have slowed down. And nothing perk me up, no messages, no pictures, nothing … sigh.”

Mary gave a shiver, she felt sexy, there was nothing but words on the screen, but she felt her nipples erect, she wanted nothing more than to touch herself. But she was wearing bluejeans, thick, stiff, new, bluejeans. And plain cotton underwear. She didn’t understand why she had put them on instead of a silky robe with nothing under. That’s what the Captain had asked her to wear.

“I’m sorry, I chickened out, and was really too busy to send it, from the time I got up, late, until I got home.” she whined.

And it did seem whiney, she thought.

“But then you did take one, or more?” Captain Flint answered.

She could tell he was a fast typist. She liked that he sent full messages. Some of the men she had chatted with were awful spellers or used abbreviations she didn’t understand. Perhaps a student, his language and spelling also told her he was educated. Perhaps a grad student?

He had mentioned living in Northern Iowa, and went to a University, and that’s just where Woodston was, and since they had added a Masters program to Woodston College, it now called itself a University. Of course there was a State University of Norther Iowa as well as several other private schools, and a two year Community College.

Mary hesitated.

“You did take them, didn’t you?” asked Captain Flint.

She trembled, unbuckled her belt, unbuttoned the waistband.

“Yes, I was terrified and excited.” she typed and sent.

“Are they sexy? Describe them? What are you wearing now?” was the demanding answer.

Mary stood, pulled the jeans down and off, pulled off her panties, ripped off the blouse as she turned and headed for her closet. Her bra came next, and the silky robe floated around her naked body, untied as she returned to the seat. She snatched a fluffy towel she had gotten earlier from the bathroom and dropped it on her chair before sitting down.

She briefly wondered what he son would think of her if he knew what she was doing, what she planned on doing.

“Just a satin robe, a red one, that’s all.” she typed.

“Did you wear it in any pics?”

“Yes, untied and open.” she slashed out, trembling as she sent it before she could stop herself.

“How about your costume, did you wear that too, in the pics?”

“Yes, but just one pic of that. I only took a few altogether, I’m worried about that costume, wearing it in public would scare me.” she typed back.

There was a long wait. One hand started to cup and squeeze her breast, edging for her nipple, the other slid down past her tummy. She hoped it would be another of the ‘fun’ nights that she had come to enjoy so much.

XXXXX

John Walker paused, he was laying in bed with his laptop, chatting with a woman. He didn’t want to push her to fast or too far. And it was fun, flirting, playing, talking sexy to a strange woman. He was sure it was a woman now, older than him, maybe as old as his mom.

He Maltepe Escort knew how hot his mom was, all the guys in high school certainly said she was. And his older Sister, Susan was just as hot. But she was down in Iowa City working on her Masters. He brushed the erection that probed upwards from under his boxers, pressing up against his sweats.

John had broken up with his girlfriend recently, well not too recently. Too tell the truth she had dumped him. He felt like she would be available next semester, but he was having too much fun on line with this woman to miss her. His only fear was that his Mom would find out. Dad wouldn’t care, and a part of him wondered what it would be like living with his Dad.

It would be odd. Dad lived down in Ames, and he could live there and go to the University there, but he liked Woodston, and mom had agreed not to ‘bug’ him about when he would be home or when he went to bed. As far as she was concerned he was studying now. And if he was going to a big University, he wanted it to be in Iowa City.

His mind wandered a bit, thinking about his ex girl friend Peggy, Peggy Blackett. They had known each other since the third grade, she was a great girl, nice, pretty, studious. Not like her sister Ruth. She was one of the “Bad Girls”, getting drunk, dating boys and leaving them.

He remembered a conversation with Ruth on the school bus when they were in fourth grade, She said she was thinking of going by her middle name, because she wanted to be a pirate, and pirates were ‘Ruthless”. It didn’t make sense to him at the time, but he had always remembered it.

While Peggy was a ‘good’ girl, Ruth was wild, and he didn’t understand what Peggy said when she broke up with him. She said that Ruth was more his style. He wondered what she meant by that. Had he gone too fast for Peg? Well no sense worrying about it now, all over and done.

He knew his mom wanted him to be a model student, model citizen, model everything, and dating a wild girl like Ruth would not fit in, as far as his mom was concerned. His mom was so uptight, so, ‘upstanding in the community’ as she put it.

She would be shocked at the things he was doing with another mature woman on the internet. She had no idea what could go on through a computer. The only thing she knew about was word processors to read her students assignments with, spreadsheets to record grades on, and emails to send grades in to the office. Oh yeah, and to send him email reminders to ‘dress for success’ and ‘eat a real lunch.’

XXXX

Mary was slowly working herself up, Captain Flint was taking a little time again. Obviously he was a little upset she hadn’t sent any pics to him. She told herself that it would be OK to let him see them. She wasn’t identifiable.

She had tacked a white bedsheet over the wall, pinning it to the cheap but dark crown molding in the basement room they used as a guest bedroom. Her daughter and then her son used to have sleepovers with their friends in that room.

It could have been anywhere, it was a blank background. She had dressed in what she had always thought was a scandalous outfit. But when it was on, she felt good, sexy, empowered. The panties were barely there. She had to shave a shocking amount of skin so as not show any stray hairs. She felt good about herself. She looked good.

Trembling she opened her file manager. Clicked on ‘view’ and clicked on ‘hidden items’ so she could find the folder, and files she had hidden. Her cursor slid over the third one she took. She took a breath, let it out, and went back to the chat room, clicked on the paperclip symbol then browsed through and found her pics that way. She took a deep breath.

XXXXX

John was lost in thought, not paying attention to the pc screen. He was thinking about his mom, working downstairs in the room they called the ‘office’. When he was little she made him do his homework and studying there.

She was down there now, probably making some undergrad miserable. When he was in one of her classes she certainly didn’t let him get away with anything but the best work. Luckily there were two other profs in her department at Woodston and he got away with only taking one class from her.

He wondered about her. She dated some, after Dad divorced her, once or twice she didn’t get back till late, and he had been surprised to see her hair a little frazzled and her dress rumpled once. He thought back and decided that was when he started thinking of her as a good looking woman. But still his Mom.

Suddenly he saw Vicky100’s message.

“What do you think?”

He clicked on the icon and downloaded the pic. It came up fast. She didn’t have a super high definition, but the pic showed everything.

She had turned her face away with a hand up covering it just in case. Her body was partly sideways, the brilliant red hair was obviously a wig, the robe was practically transparent, the other hand was holding it behind her back. One leg, the Kartal Escort one farthest away, was raised, he couldn’t see what it was resting on, the pic didn’t go all the way.

The background was pure white, the black panties where skimpy in front and as he looked closer and zoomed in, he could see a definite camel toe and the shadow of her trimmed pubic hair. Her tummy wasn’t gaunt and her hip bones didn’t jut, and her boobs where wonderful, the bra held them out for anyone to see, or touch or suck, the robe being pulled away from her shoulder. He could see part of one butt, a nipple, and guessed the panties were a thong. He was fully hard.

“Wow, that is hot!” he typed.

“You think so? I’m not a young girl you know, actually I’m a housewife, just not a wife, if you can understand that,” she typed back.

“So you’re divorced?” he typed.

“Yup, that’s the word,” she answered.

“That’s great,” he typed. Not completely sure why. He wanted more pics, but didn’t want to get pushy.

“Do you really want to see my costume?” she typed back.

“You know it, and if we are to meet at that party in Riverton, It would help to know what to look for,” he answered.

There was a long wait. John though she might have left, except that her name still showed in the private chat room. He clicked on her profile again. It didn’t have much more than she was ‘over 18’, she was ‘curious’, ‘looking for friends’, and that she ‘enjoyed reading sexy stories, wanted to explore meeting people on line for fun chatting, maybe more.”

It was the ‘maybe more’ that John had been pushing her toward for the last few weeks. The charity Halloween party in Riverton was in a hotel, he urged her to get a room so she could enjoy drinking and not worry about driving home. He himself was one year short of the drinking age of twenty one, and anyway, he wanted to keep his wits about him. He was hoping that a happy and tipsy Vicky1000 would be willing to spend the night. With him.

XXXXXX

Mary had to stop touching herself, and finally sent the pic of her in costume. She wore the orange wig again, and a mask. She felt her heart pounding and tried to talk herself out of being worried.

First of all, it didn’t show her face, there was a mask and wig, second, she had showed more of her body in the previous pic. Still she was nervous, sending the pic gave, in a way, her promise to go to the party. Well she had her ticket to the annual charity Halloween ball. He had assured her he was over eighteen, she had insisted on that when she heard he was a student, only being relieved when he confirmed he was a college student.

She wondered what the mother of CaptFlint would think if she knew her son was flirting with a mother in her early forties. A divorced mother. Living with her son. She thought about her own son. She loved her own son, well not “that” way, but worried. She had to give him “the talk” when he hit puberty, and years later made sure he knew what a condom was and how important it was to use it. She even supplied him with a box of them.

It wasn’t hard to decide to do that. She knew how early people were having sex now, and how the abstinence programs the schools had were utter failures. To her it was the next step in growing up. She thought of it at the time the same way she thought when she bought and gave to him a dozen hand towels. She knew what he was doing, not only with the towels in the bathroom, but his socks, and there had even been the occasional spot of cum on her sexier panties.

So she gave him the towels not long after “the talk”, told him they were his alone and he could keep them in his room, and to just put them in the laundry hamper when he was done. She was careful not to mention what she expected him to do with them. She had to smile at how red his face got.

She assumed her son was sexually active now, and commiserated with him when he broke up with his latest flame, or more accurately, when Peggy broke up with him. Since then he spent more and more time on the internet. She knew he could find porn, and meet people, but hoped that he knew the dangers. Well, he was in his junior year, and all of twenty years old. She smiled, and nearly laughed, what if he was on line right now, maybe with a young girl, talking her to send pics. She suddenly grimaced. What if he was talking to some other lonely old woman, buttering her up. She put that thought out of her head.

XXXXXX

John watched the pic unfold. It was sexy. The dress was red, thin, and short. It had a ragged hem and while some of the ragged hem was knee length, lots of leg was on display. She was once again not facing him head on, but slightly turned. One hand on her hip, the other at her side. It was a sexy female devil mask, and she had short horns and a tail peeked over her shoulder. He got up and carried his laptop to his bed.

The side facing him more closely, her right side, had a tear or rip that went up to her hip, he could see the top of her Kurtköy Escort red stocking, and an inch of white skin, and the clasp of a garter. He shivered. He pushed his sweats down and off, pulling his boxers to his ankles as he did. Then pulled the bedclothes up to his waist.

He reached for the hand towel he had placed on the bed, pulling it under the covers. He was rock hard. Her next message popped up on the screen.

“Are you excited?”

“Yes, are you?”

XXXXX

Mary was very excited, so excited she felt able to come at any time. She decided to move to the bed, last time she chatted with CaptFlint he had admitted to laying in bed with his laptop. She again thought of her son laying on, or in his bed, playing with himself as he chatted with the college girls he knew, or looked at porn. She wondered how many hand towels she would find in the laundry this week.

“Yes, I am very excited, turned on, hold on a few minutes, I want to get in bed,” she typed and sent.

She got up, dropped the robe she had just gotten on, then put the laptop on her night stand, pushing the trashy romance novel off to the floor. She pulled the sheets and comforter back and placed her towel on the bed, before laying down with the laptop. She pulled the covers up and adjusted the pillows, trying to keep the laptop from falling off.

She ended up sitting up, pillows behind her against the headboard. Her laptop over the covers resting on her drawn up knees and the covers barely covering her lap. She felt conspicuous with her bare breasts, she wished she had turned up the thermostat earlier. It was getting cold in the evenings now.

“Are you naked, in bed yet,” came from CaptFlint as she finally looked at the laptop.

“Yes, yes, and sitting up, my naked breasts are out in the room, my nipples are so hard, my pussy so wet,” she typed, embarrassed at her words, so forward, so explicit, but she knew the man she was chatting with would love it.

CaptFlint loved it, this older woman, naked, her breasts exposed, obviously with a finger in her wet pussy, all because of him. He was nearly ready to blow just thinking about it, he stopped stroking long enough to type.

“I am too, well almost, I’m in bed, but I’m wearing a T-shirt. It’s chilly, too chilly here. I’d like to turn the thermostat warmer, but the people I share the house with like it cooler,” he typed and sent, not wanting to pin down just how many or few people lived in his house.

“I like sleeping in cold weather, and it’s late, when we finish up tonight I’ll just turn off the lights and go to bed,” she typed back.

“I’d like to cuddle up to you, after we finished up,” he typed.

“Are you typing one handed,” she typed.

“No, I take my hand off to type, if I didn’t I’d explode,” he said.

She was shocked and excited that he admitted that. They had never explicitly mentioned what they were doing, she decided to raise the tempo. She felt guilty, and yet wanted more.

“My heart is pounding so hard that my nipples, my hard nipples, would probably jerk in time, if I left them alone enough to watch. When I’m not typing I’m sliding fingers in my wet pussy, and pinching my nipples, my laptop keeps threatening to slide off, I’m ready, and I don’t even have my ‘friend’ from my nightstand drawer inside me buzzing away.” she typed, then went back to playing with herself.

She stopped again, then selected another photo, the most blatant one, and sent it. Then went back to touching herself, while looking at the pic on her screen.

XXXXX

John had to stop. He had his hand towel ready, draped from his knees ready to grab. Then the pic unfolded.

It showed her, her face turned to the side one hand covering it, leaning against the white wall, that was now obviously a bed sheet hung on the wall. Her legs were spread and bent slightly. She was wearing the garter belt and stockings and bra, her exposed nipples were erect, and she had no panties on.

Her other hand was between her legs, showing the upper part of a strip of pubic hair, she clearly had two fingers inside herself, he could see a glint of wetness on her fingers.

He shot, just getting the hand towel over himself in time. His back arched and he savored the orgasm as it hit, trying to make it last as long as possible. He finally relaxed and looked at the screen again. She had sent another message.

“I have three fingers in me right now, and my thumb alongside my clit, my fat, big clit, and I came, came hard, with aftershocks still hitting.” she had typed.

Mary lay back, pushed the laptop to her side, pushed her fingers in again and pushed her clit again, and more shocks hit. Her nipples were too sensitive to touch, and she knew her clit would be as well in a second.

XXXXX

John looked at her pic, and felt drained, but he had one more thing to do. He found the pic he had taken. It showed nothing of his face, other than his mouth with the fake mustache, He started to send it and something stopped him. Instead he just typed.

“Darling Viki, I just came, a lot, I’m wiped out. I hope you don’t mind, but I have to force myself up and get to studying. I had a great time. The party starts at six thirty this Saturday and I’ll be there at sevenish.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32