Cecilia. Her hair is a red tiled roof on an alabaster balustrade. Eyes? Her eyes change from ice blue to royal to a deep violet to a bottle green.

If she weighed twenty fewer pounds, she would be described as petite. Short, outrageously curvaceous and a bit thick, Cecilia possesses a rare sexual magnetism. And man, that’s a voice.

Me? I am a 52 year-old bucket of nothing and nobody. Oh yeah, I play some keys, sing, work the shakers or the claves, but the show stopper is Cecilia.

I have taken a very personal interest in Cecilia’s song. She’s my ticket, right? I’ve guided her career since we met two years ago when she was only eighteen. But it’s more than her career that concerns me. See, we hooked up.

Okay, so like you think it’s a Daddy thing? An Uncle thing? Maybe you think I’m paying her to fuck my out-of-shape old body? Maybe you think she’s tryin’ to sleep her way into some kind of record deal. Well, I’ll let you figure it out.

Billboard magazine debuted our single at #88 with a bullet. It got heavy club play, we hit #58 on the pop charts, #42 on the R&B charts. not bad. We toured some, until an overzealous fan nearly broke Cecilia’s back when he tackled her to the stage in Edinburgh.

Now we were back in the studio, cutting our second CD and ready to blow up. That is to say, we were on the verge of pop stardom. A major video producer with a long, illustrious track record was in negotiation with the record company, our management and legal teams from all sides.

The rehearsal had gone well. The bassist rearranged a bridge and punched it up some, and Cecilia let her voice go just a little. She’s warming up slowly, the engineer ready to grab a take.

She looks at me and licks her lips, the microphone a steel phallus waiting for her sonic kiss. The click ticks in my headphones and the first layer of sensuous pad is laid under the sinuous bass line. Still looking at me, Cecilia opens her mouth. I momentarily lift my hand from the bass half of the keyboard, removing my RayBan’s, eyes connecting. She shudders.

The conga pump, sweet shakers, click clave sticktickbongo agogo. She shivers, a low moan, the major seventh in the ninth chord rising without warning from her full lips. .

My eyes. She falls into them, feeling the fingertip beginning to caress her clit, two soft mouths on nipples, a gentle hand rubbing her back, a strong hand squeezing her buttock, a tongue licking around her tight penny. “Damn you,” she thinks, and begins to sing.

The highs are always higher after I convince her with my eyes. The rhythm always strokes and grinds when she falls into my stare. She puts in the performance of her life, cums, cries and sings.

The producer grins again from behind the glass. “Holy fuck! Another hit single… shit, I need to change my shorts.” Laughter in the studio.

Her eyes search mine for another dose, another taste.

“You know how to ask for it, Cecilia.” I smile, not unkindly.

She beckons the boys to stand in a circle, the engineer, the producer, the gopher, Billy the guitarist, Ronnie the bassist, Cujo the conguero. Seven cocks, seven blowjobs.

I smile from behind the keyboard. Yeah, I may be old, fat and unappealing, but I got the Eyes. You ask why I’m not doing the blowjob thang? Well, I have an exclusive contract with all the other members of her body band…The Hole Sisters, the Nipple Twins, the Buns Nuns…you know.

After they all blow their loads down Cecilia’s talented throat, the producer calls for an hour long lunch break and the band wanders out of the studio.

My chanteuse storms over to the piano. “Why did you make me do that?” she demands with a gurgle. “Why do you debase me?”

“Because it makes you sing like an angel and fuck like the Devil.”

She fumes a moment, then blanches as I remove the shades.

“Oh no, please man, don’t do that to me. I need to rest a minute, I beg you.” A moan of arousal escapes her mouth as she locks onto my eyes.

“Oh fuck Daddy! Ah-ha-hie-eee!”

I can smell her sweet sex intensely through her clothing. She doubles over in a howling orgasm, my mind invading her pussy, her ass and her throbbing red clit.

“Oh thank you Master,” she moans.

My eyes allow me to control her, to play her body, voice, mind and soul. She’s addicted to the gaze. She fears it. She needs it.

The engineer and band rejoin us in the studio, taking their places.

:Ready to sing, love?”

She nods, then softly asks, “Bondage for this next track, okay?”

The engineer laughs, “Tape is rolling, ciCi.” He grins from ear to ear.

I rise and move around the stack of keyboard instruments in front of me, pulling a pair of rubber handcuffs from my pocket and quickly pull both hands behind her back. I then pull up the front of her tight tank top, revealing breasts too firm, young and natural to require a bra. She moans softly.

I remove the RayBans, staring into her eyes.

I whisper, “When we come back after the piano riff at the end of the bass solo, you’re going to have an intense orgasm. I want to feel that when you come into the bridge and all the way through the last chorus.”

She gazes into my eyes, feeding on the energy. “please man, no. Don’t make me do that.

I kindly smile at her, my voice low and soothing. “Your pussy is tingling. I think your clit is swelling a bit. You feel so horny.”

Her lip trembles.

“Please.” Her cry of distress turns into a gasp, then a low moan.

“cue the click, barney.” I finger the first chord.

author:Uncle Squinty

(m/f,BDSM, cons, romantic)
IV.

They walked hand in hand into the small guest bedroom. Victoria giggled when she saw the array of toys and lotions on the dresser. “Looks like you’re prepared,” she smiled.

“Silence!” he commanded. “You will not speak unless spoken to, and you will address me as Master, do you understand.”

Victoria smiled again, “Yes, um, Master. So what’s next?”

He turned on the radio to a local jazz station, and soft, pulsing music threaded its way through the room. “First, ” he replied, “I want you to undress for me. Have you ever been to a strip club?” She had, she admitted. “Well then, I want you to slowly take off your clothes and strike some poses for me…”

Victoria kicked off her sandals and turned her

back to him, teasing him as she slowly lifted the tee shirt. He had noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and watched with increasing lust as the garment slipped over her head. She dropped it to the floor, still keeping her back to him.

“Good. Now turn around…slowly.” She did as she was told. He felt the blood rushing to his cock when she turned to face him, her crossed arms covering her petite, little- girl breasts. She stood there before him, awaiting instructions. “Let’s see those pretty little tits, slave!” Slowly she uncrossed her arms, and swaying to the sensual music, opened her chest for him to see. He remained seated, savoring the feeling of his throbbing cock gently chafing against the silk boxers. She turned around again, and slowly peeled off the denim shorts and slowly turned again to face him. She had donned a g-string for the occasion, a purple silk affair that barely covered her freshly- shaven mound. “You can leave the g-string on for the moment, slave. Now kneel on that ottoman with your ass toward me, and let me see you from behind….”

Without hesitation she crawled sensuously onto the white upholstered footstool, aiming her ass at him. Not bad, he thought. The g-string revealed more now, and he liked the view. He then reached for the camera, aimed it, and pressed the shutter release.

The flash startled her. “Yellow!” she cried. “You didn’t tell me there was going to be a camera involved! I’m very camera- shy!”

“Silence, slave!” he commanded. “You are a beautiful specimen, and I want to capture you on film as we play. Besides, you needn’t worry. I’m using slide film; the guys at the photo lab will never see you, since the slides are processed and mounted by machine. Now lift your ass into the air!”

She felt a flush of excitement. Nobody had ever photographed her like this. Ford and Mike, her two ex- husbands had both wanted to, but she had refused. Now Master Paul was making her pose and strut like a porn queen. She felt something melting within her pussy, something beginning to move deep within her.

Paul watched her through the camera lens as she raised her ass higher. “Put your fingers between your legs and pull the g-string aside. I want to see your juicy cunt!” The vulgarity of the words grabbed her, and without thinking she pulled the g-string aside and began to masturbate. A none- too- gentle slap on the ass startled her. “Did I give you permission to start jerking yourself off, you horny little bitch?” He spanked her again with the palm of his hand, this time much more tenderly. “You WILL masturbate for me, maybe…but not until you’re told. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Master, ” she breathed. She still wasn’t sure if she enjoyed this game, but there was no denying the moisture between her legs.

Paul readied the camera again and took another shot, a close-up worthy of Hustler magazine. The purple silk of the g-string looked good against the pink of her sex. Through the lens he could see she was getting wet. Good.

He put the camera aside and sat again on the bed. She was still facing the wall, her ass and sex swaying gently to the music. She hadn’t stopped moving, he noticed. Good. Very good. She was getting into the game. “So you enjoy masturbating, do you slave? Turn around and slip that g- string off. I want you naked.” She slowly turned to face him and peeled the g-string off her hips. She started to drop it on the floor when he commanded. “No, give it to me. I want to smell your juice.” She did as she was told, and watched in fascination as he pressed the now- moist lingerie to his face and inhaled her scent. “G- string was a nice touch,” he sighed. “You’re a good sex- slave. I must reward you for your thoughtfulness. Open your legs, and let me see your twat.” She did as she was commanded. “Now you may play with yourself, slave. Let your master watch you turn yourself on.”

Her fingers went to her right nipple and to her pussy automatically. She realized at that moment that she always turned herself on by the same method. She had masturbated for her men before, this part of the game was nothing new. But then Paul again took out the camera.

“Good slut! Jerk that clit for your Master!” He fired off two more shots in rapid succession.

She felt ashamed and exhilarated at the same time to be made into a porno- slut for Paul’s pleasure. She began to feel a small tingling, the beginnings of orgasm building within her. Faster and faster she stroked her swollen clitoris, her breath now coming in ragged gasps.

“Stop!” he commanded, just before she was about to climax. She ignored him, and continued stroking her heated sex.

Paul stood up and grabbed her wrists in one hand. “I said, STOP slave! It’s not time for you to cum yet. Not even close!”

Victoria was stranded at the very brink of orgasm. She began to pull her hands free, begging “Please Paul…please master! I’m so close!” Frustrated, she struggled against his grip. He held on to her wrists firmly.

“If you want to cum right now by your own hand, then fine. Say ‘red’ and we’ll end the game right this second, and you can go on and finish…if that’s what you really want.” She relaxed and stopped struggling.

“Women can cum more than once, you know!” she stated.

“Talking back to your Master already, slave? Well then, perhaps it’s time that you be taught a lesson…” He pulled her to her feet and flung her toward the bed. She sprawled across the queen- size mattress on her back. “Hey!” she complained.

He ignored her and took a length of the cotton clothesline from the dresser. “Clasp your hands in front of you as if you were praying, slut!” Victoria did so, her face showing both fear and arousal. “If you can’t keep your hands away from your pussy, I’ll have to help you!” He deftly tied her wrists together, snugly but allowing circulation. She tested the unfamiliar bonds, and discovered to her dismay that he had her hands trapped. “If you promise to keep quiet, I won’t gag you,” he continued, gently pushing her onto her back and pulling her legs apart. He took two lengths of rope and secured her spread legs to the footboard of the bed. She knew at that moment that she was committed to the game; despite her nervousness, she would play it out a little longer. But she knew she did not want him to stuff a gag into her mouth. If he did so, she would lose the power of the safe word…

“Yes Master, I’ll be quiet. Please don’t gag me.”

It was just the reaction he had expected, and he smiled gently.

“Since you’re so fond of getting your pussy touched, I think I’ll help you out. You’re being pretty cooperative for a beginner, so I’ll show you a little mercy.” He took the camera in hand again and got a picture of her, tied and naked on the leopard skin print sheets.

Paul reached for the bottle of the fruit- flavored “emotion lotion.” He poured a small puddle of the liquid into his palm, and was surprised at the intense heat from the capsicum in the potion. He gently spread the lotion under Victoria’s arms, under each earlobe, on her nipples and on her throbbing sex. Finally he took a few droplets of the liquid and smeared it around her pouting asshole. Then he began to slowly blow on the moistened areas, pausing occasionally to lick and nibble at the tasty flesh.

Victoria squirmed against the bonds, her breathing deepening and little moans escaping her lips. The heat from the lotion made all of her sensitive places tingle and throb like mad! Paul’s exploring tongue and lips were pushing her towards orgasm, and she began to rock her hips back and forth.

Paul bent down between her legs and sucked her swollen clitoris between his lips. He gently sucked it until it was hard, and then he applied a little more of the heat lotion to her pouting labia. Gently he blew on her pussy and licked all around the clit, avoiding it, teasing her. He allowed himself to pull her sex lips between his teeth and gently bit and sucked on them. He could feel Victoria’s orgasm approaching, and pulled away just before she was ready to cum.

“OHMYGOD!” Victoria cried aloud. “Please Master, please don’t stop!”

He laughed wickedly. “But of course I will stop, slut-slave. I still haven’t decided whether or not I’ll let you cum.”

Victoria’s head began to swim. What if he wasn’t going to let her cum? Perhaps he was punishing her for abandoning him all those years ago; she knew that she probably deserved it. The emotion lotion was still tingling her nipples and pussy, and she felt the flush of heat rush through her entire body. “Green, master, GREEN! Please… this feels so good! I love being tied up! Please make me your toy! Use me! But please let me CUM!”

“Toy?” he chuckled. “Good idea!” He reached for the camera, capturing her wanton expression on film. Then he took the dildo from the dresser and laid it between her heaving breasts. She looked down at it.

“Wow!” she gasped. Again he took the camera in one hand and guided the dildo into her mouth with the other. “Suck this, bitch!” She allowed the thick plastic shaft into her mouth. He again photographed her. His abusive language strangely thrilled her, and she moaned into the head of the plastic cock. He pulled the vibrator from her mouth and placed it again between her tits, snapping another picture. He was enjoying this, she knew. And he was, because she was enjoying it. He slid a finger into her hot sex, savoring her gasp and the expression on her face. She was sopping wet! He took the vibrator and gently guided it into her. He then turned it on to a slow, gentle hum and stood back.

“Oh Master Paul, that’s good….that’s very good…” she sighed, her hips again beginning to rock. The vibrator slipped out of her sodden sex, and he slowly eased it back in. “Yes-s-s-s,” she hissed, throwing her head back in an expression of pleasure.

He didn’t want her to cum yet, but he had set the vibrator to its lowest speed, and enjoyed her slow build toward climax.

The vibrator continued to slip out of her, so he took a long piece of rope and tied it around her slender waist. He then ran a second rope between her legs and tied both ends to the rope around her midsection. The rope was snug, and he pulled it over the end of the vibrator. If Victoria moved, he knew that the ropes would gently push the vibe into her. Again he took photographs as she gently struggled and squirmed, the vibrator humming inside her.

“What do you want to do now, slave? Besides cum, I mean…” He grinned at her from the foot of the bed. “I want to suck your cock, Master!” she moaned. He paused a moment, savoring her squirming, then reached down and removed the vibrator from her pussy. The expression of disappointment on her face was unmistakable, but he continued to untie her, freeing everything but herhands.

Victoria was relieved to feel the bonds loosen, and struggled onto all fours, her head facing him from the side of the bed. He set the camera on the dresser, and set the automatic exposure timer to fifteen seconds. He then shrugged off the robe. His hard phallus sprang forth from the silk boxer shorts, a droplet of pre-cum forming at the tip. He smiled at her and pressed the shutter switch, then walked over to the side of the bed. Gently he guided his tool into her waiting mouth. The camera fired, capturing the moment. “You’re a little porn- slut, you know that Victoria?” She murmured her agreement around his throbbing cock. “You love sucking cock and getting your picture taken, don’t you? You’re such a hot little bitch! Suck that dick!” He allowed her to work on him for a few minutes, then pulled away and went over to the camera again. He pressed the shutter release, and the camera beeped out its fifteen second countdown. Enough time for Paul to guide his cock into his slave’s mouth again. He grasped her hair and tried to turn her face toward the camera. He wanted to save the moment, her face filled with his rock- hard manhood. “Mff-no!” she protested, but it was too late. Gazing into the camera lens from behind her Master’s rod, she saw the flash as the obscenity was captured for history.

She was turned on beyond belief. He was using her, making her into his own sexual play-toy, a slave without will and without control. He slid his rod in and out of her mouth again and again, as her tongue and lips eagerly devoured him.

Paul would not allow himself to cum, but he felt that the time was right for Victoria. She was panting before him, trembling and sweating. He guided her again onto her back.

He untied her wrists and then quickly and efficiently bound each wrist to each ankle. Her legs were now held open by her own arms, her tender feet within easy reach of his mouth and hands. He bent between her thighs and began to vigorously lick and suck at her. She cried aloud, begging him to complete her, to take her over the edge. He carefully monitored her responses, waiting for the precise moment. Her pussy began to spasm, and he pulled away. “No-o-o-o!” she cried. “P-please! Let me…..” He gently guided the plastic cock into her slippery tunnel and turned it on “high.” Time to go, he grinned to himself.

Victoria’s eyes were clenched closed in ecstasy, the dildo moving in and out of her sex. Paul grasped her ankle and said, “Don’t you DARE cum until I give you permission! Do you understand? If you start to cum before I have told you to, I will stop… and I may not start again. You’re my slave- slut, and your orgasm is MY decision, not yours.” She nodded, breathing heavily and beginning to weep.

“Do you want me to stop? Do you want to call a red light and end this?”

“Oh my god, no!” she nearly screamed. “Please Master…can I cum? PLEASE!?” He began to suck on her toes, licking between them and running his tongue up and down the sensitive arch and sole of her foot. He pumped the dildo into her with increasing speed and ferocity.

“Don’t you cum until I tell you, slave! You’re mine!” He switched to the other foot, sucking each toe as if it was her clitoris, plunging the vibrator into her. She began to tremble, tears forming in her eyes. Her speech became an incoherent babble of sighs, moans, little cries and pleadings. Paul savagely worked the dildo, making small circular motions with it inside her, sucking and licking at her feet.

He reached toward her chest, releasing her foot from his mouth. “CUM NOW, VICTORIA!” he cried, viciously pinching her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he pulled the dildo from her with agonizing slowness.

Her orgasm came in waves that wouldn’t cease. She thrashed on the bed, the vibrator now poised at the opening to her vulva, the tip tingling at her clit. The deep guttural roar which issued from her mouth surprised both her and the man who had brought her to this peak. She twitched and shivered, screaming obscenities between the groans and cries.

Finally, it was over. He kissed her long and full on her mouth, tasting her tears. He untied her quickly and turned the vibrator off.

She lay in his arms for an hour. “I’ve never cum like that…ever!” she repeated over and over, sighing as she burrowed her face into his chest. He had dominated her, and had taken all control away. Freed from her own mind, she was free to release the orgasm that had waited within her for nearly thirty years.

She fell into an exhausted sleep. Paul rose quietly from the bed and put on his robe. As she gently snored on the strange sheets, he cleaned up the vibrator, put the ropes and toys into the dresser drawer knowing that they might someday be used again.

As he lit a cigarette, he reflected that he himself had not had an orgasm. No worries, he smiled. “She’ll be awake in a few hours…and then perhaps she’ll want to dominate me….”

END
author:Uncle Squinty

“Damn it, Mia! I’m not asking for anything like a ‘mercy fuck,.’ All I’m asking is a little empathy and trust.”

She stared into his blind eyes for a long minute before speaking. “I know that your sex life is shit, I understand that you really miss porn since losing your eyesight, I know all that. But what you’re asking is…well, impossible. First of all, I couldn’t take money from you. Secondly I’d feel cheap, letting you fondle me so you could jerk off later. It’s creepy.”

His shoulders slumped in frustration and defeat. It seemed so simple to him; stripper tips for his female friends, who would bare themselves to his “gaze,” the touch of his soft, manicured fingertips. It wasn’t like prostitution; after all, he wasn’t demanding sex of any kind.

All the man wanted was a 3-D centerfold or two, stimulation for a libido that was quickly shutting down for lack of use. He had used pornography as partial consolation for a lukewarm marriage bed and had managed to keep himself stimulated and involved with sex. Now totally blind, he was denied even this simple pleasure.

He made it clear that his fingers would go only where a camera lens could peek. No penetration unless requested by the model. Et cetera, et cetera.

His busty friend of ten years shook her head. She felt his pain, his embarrassment at having to make such a plea in the first place. It seemed so pathetic to her, yet she understood. Blind, his social opportunities were limited. He didn’t have enough money to hire a three-hundred dollar per hour escort in the big city an hour from his home. She was also somewhat excited at the idea of such intimate exhibitionism. She loved her lush body and often admired herself naked in her full-length mirror, caressing her softball size breasts with their pert pink nipples, or looking over her shoulder into the mirror as she bent over and spread her pink puckered ass and hairless cunny. Why shouldn’t she use that to help out a friend?

She suddenly rose and said, “I need to think about this. May I discuss this with some of the girls?”

He was mortified at the thought of Mia sharing his pathetic plea with her girlfriends, but he nodded his assent. “Yeah, sure. What the fuck? I’ve already made myself look pathetic as it is.”

She leaned over to embrace him. “No touchy, baby. Be patient.”

***

He sat alone in his living room, reading erotic stories from the internet and feeling sorry for himself. Lindsay, a pudgy 20 year-old had blown off the date they had set the previous week. He had planned to have the same discussion as he had with Mia with the younger woman. She hadn’t returned his cheerful phone call, inquiring about the lunch date.

Was he being an obsessive pig? He paced the fourteen by twelve foot living room, wondering what he had become. Was he so addicted to sex that he was now putting his friendships at risk by asking to fondle the naked bodies of his girl pals? And he felt resentful. Why couldn’t his so-called friends understand? It was such a little thing…receive his caress, perhaps accept a tip, maybe play with a sex toy or simply allow him to smell and taste her skin. He churned inside, thinking of how sad and pathetic he must have appeared to Mia.

Mia called the following Wednesday. “I think I have a solution to your problem.”

He held his breath, his pulse pounding in his ears, afraid to even acknowledge her hopeful declaration.

“Answer a question. Answer based on how you’re feeling at this moment, okay?”

He nodded assent, then agreed. “Okay.”

“Are you at this moment feeling more dominant or submissive?”

“Submissive…but…”

“But what?”

“I’ve got all this pent-up frustration that’s turning kind of bitter and angry. I’d have to say I really feel submissive aggressive.”

She laughed.

“Slave?”

Without thinking, the man quickly answered “Yes, Mistress Mia.”

“Get cleaned up. Shower, shampoo, conditioner, careful shave. That means your balls too, honey.”

“Yes, Mistress Mia.”

She had directed him to dress in “casual Friday” attire and properly perfume himself. She picked him up promptly at the time she had told him.

Mia was stunning, her black hair framing a strong Anglo face and ice-blue eyes. He remembered those eyes from before, although her hair had been blonde then. She had known of his desire for her since their first meeting, and although she hadn’t tried to tease him, he had become obsessed with her. When the black curtains closed on his vision, the 43 year-old man had tried in vain to replace the visual component of his sexual arousal with stories and audio. While they helped keep him aroused and interested in sex, something still was missing.

“Where are we going?”

She gave a nervous little laugh. “Fantasy Land, my friend.”

They jumped him, stripping his clothing from him, Mia murmuring threateningly in his ear not to resist. Soon he was strapped upright into a straight-backed chair, his ankles bound securely to the chair’s legs, his arms stretched wide to his sides. He was able to speak, but Mia threatened him with a gag if he didn’t keep silent.

“We’re all here, sweetie. Every girl from this town you’ve ever hit on. Betsy is here, as is Sarah.” He heard the German blonde’s throaty laughter as she greeted him, Betsy’s soft modulated voice echoing Sarah’s greeting.

“Lindsay is here, as is your old friend Liz. Suzy opted out, but Sabrina is here.”

The bound blind man’s lips were suddenly softly brushed by a nipple on a tiny breast, and Sabrina giggled above him. “Hi baby.”

Sarah spoke. “We all thought it would be kind of weird to have you groping and trying to lick us and stuff, so we cooked up this little torment for ya.” She paused as he heard another woman enter the room. “Hi, Allison.”

He had met Allison in his local bar shortly after she had her breast augmentation surgery. She had allowed him a quick feel of her investment, much to his delight. Now she stood in front of him, laughing. “Jeez, Mia! His little dickie is pathetic!”

Mia chuckled, “Well, you had to know that. Dude comes on like a pervert all the time, old and fat, you know. What do you figure it is.”

Lindsay spoke. “Five.”

Mia kissed his cheek and ran a fingertip over a tender nipple, savoring the blind man’s squirming. “We’re not going to let you cum, but we’re going to tease you and let you know us more intimately than most of our own lovers do. Your hands are restrained so you can’t reach for any of us or touch yourself. You may use any part of your body that we put into contact with our bodies. Enjoy this, and remember it, ‘cuz it ain’t never happening again.” Mia turned to the other five women. “tease him.”

Fingers on his nipples, pinching, tickling. A throaty chuckle, a tongue against his lips. Mia? No the scent, Sarah? A silicone breast rubbing the tip of his hardening cock. Allison, obviously. Soft nipples against his outstretched fingertips, he explores. Sighs of pleasure in stereo.

Two mouths on his cock, Lizzie’s throaty chuckle blending with Lindsay’s soft sigh, tongues on his cock and balls, his pleading coming unbidden from his lips, Mia now backing her ass to his probing tongue; he can feel her masturbating her clit as he probes her musky backdoor.

Then she’s gone, a lighter body straddling his upturned face.

Legs over his shoulders, small shaven, musky pussy against his lips. He suckles and tenderly explores. She cums shuddering, her sigh confirming his identification. Sabrina. Mia’s firm titsrubbing against his belly and cock, a giggle as a lubricated finger is slipped up his ass, even as a heavier body mounts his face, the pussy downy with soft fur…Betsy? She cums silently, flooding his face with sweet juices. Two tongues, soft giggles, his face cleaned, two mouths on his tender nipples, two hands now caressing his balls, two mouths suckling his fingertips. Allison slapping his face with her fake tits, then Mia permitting him to suckle her motherly breasts.

Bodies shift. A cock ring is slid down his shaft, a condom. It’s her asshole, the wide hips and full hips telling him it is mia. She leans backward and begins to kiss him passionately. He is aware that one of the other girls, two

? are between his legs, lapping at Mia’s pussy as she impales herself on his cok.

Then she stops, dismounts. He shudders, screaming to cum. Pleading. The women laugh. “Kiss me, slave-boy.” The voice is Lindsay’s, her tongue finding purpose against his.

“He has really sensitive nipples,” grinned Liz. Come here Sabrina. Let’s tickle him.”

He felt the condom being removed and then a soft mouth engulfed his cock. Lindsay continued her dancing tongue play against and inside his lips as the two slender girls suckled and licked his tits. The mouth? He couldn’t be sure.

Chairs scraping. Women climbing. A pussy is rubbed against each outstretched hand. The mouth continues on his cock, Liz and Sabrina relentlessly torturing his tits, Lindsay’s incessant kiss. “You wanna cum, baby?” The voice is Mia’s, rising from his cock. “Please!” he cries, and Sabrina bites down hard on his nipple, Lindsay’s tongue shoving deep into his mouth.

“Okay, baby, but you’ll cum like our bitch. Untie him.”

He found himself bent over the chair. She rubbed the rubber cockhead against his lips. “Suck my cock, blind man.” It was of course Mia. “You’ll lick my lady friends anyway they want, and make each of them cum while I fuck your ass. If you’re a good boy, we might let you cum.”

And she djrilled him. He lapped at Allison’s pussy until she screamed. Betsy wanted deep tongue penetration of her sex. Sabrina and Lindsay enjoyed having their clits sucked. Sarah demanded he tongue her piss hole, then let a hot stream of piss flood his mouth. All the while mia pounding, pounding, fingers from below clawing his nipples, slapping at his agonized ringed cock and sensitive balls. Liz made him tongue her ass, Mia’s battering ram cock pounding into him all the while.

He screamed, “I am your slave. I submit to all of you! I am yours!” Laughter filled the room as Mia brought down a fat leather strap across his plundered ass.

And she began to cum, even as he begged to be released.

A soft mouth, taking him from below. Liz. Mia continuing to climax, driving her hips hard, the dildo painful and thrilling in his ass.

“Mistresses, may I cum?” “Several voices, “Yes!” Mia screaming.

He explodes.

***
author:Uncle Squinty

(m/f,BDSM, cons, romantic)

CHAPTER III.

She was dressed in a black tee, denim shorts and a pair of sandals. She had recently washed and combed her long hair, and the sunlight danced through the openings in the white shutters and off the wisps of hair that fluttered in the breeze from the ceiling fan. She was wearing no makeup, and her face showed the lines and cracks of twenty- five years of bad relationships and careless men. She looked lovely nonetheless, the simplicity of her outfit only making him want her more.

“So what’s this game you’ve got in mind for me?” She trembled slightly in anticipation. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and temples. Paul had always been an attentive and caring lover; he had also been the most inventive. She wondered about his life, how it had been in the years since they had last made love. She wondered about his wife three thousand miles away. He had been so hurt and at the same time so damned understanding when she had dumped him to marry Ford, her second husband. He had cried, then stepped out of the way, allowing Ford to court, marry, abuse, beat and finally divorce her. Paul had always been the trusted long- distance friend, the one in whom she had confided occasionally during the darkest hours of her life in those intervening years. She loved and trusted Paul, but many men had laid their hands on her, and many had ended up being unkind and uncaring.

Victoria was nervous. She hoped it didn’t show, but the idea of letting go of all control nearly panicked her. “Is that a joint I see on the table? Let’s smoke, and you can tell me about this game you have in mind…”

Paul lit the blunt and passed it to her. He liked to watch her attempts to smoke the harsh weed; she inadvertently choked on the smoke whenever she tried to inhale it. She gamely held a small puff of the cloying smoke, then coughed it out. “I’ve never been able to smoke this shit, ” she apologized. He grinned at her and snuffed out the cigarette in a pottery ashtray.

“The game is this, Vic. Today, I am your master and you are my slave. You will do exactly as I tell you to do, without question and without complaint. I own you today. Completely. If you become aroused, it will be because I allow you to.”

She frowned. She figured his plan had something to do with dominance and submission, and she wasn’t sure that she liked the idea.

“Are you going to tie me up and whip me, or what?” She hadn’t yet seen the ropes and toys in the bedroom.

“I am going to bind you, yes. It will be more symbolic than actual, but you will not be able to use your hands….”

She became anxious then. “But I can’t! I mean, I’ve never allowed….” Her voice trailed off.

“Remember that I told you that you’d have one tool of control?” he asked. “That tool of control is your safe word. If you’re enjoying what I’m doing to you, you may say ‘Green.’ I’ll know that you’re enjoying it and push you a little farther. If you say ‘Yellow,’ I’ll know that you’re unsure and that I need to slow down. If you say ‘Red,’ that means ‘you’ve had enough, game over.”

She looked thoughtfully at him. “Have you ever done this before?” He smiled benevolently at her, his eyes shining with fond memory and his growing lust. He began to tell her his fondest bondage experiences, from spanking sweet Nicole’s 18- year old bottom until she came, to the story of Liz and the handcuffs. He embellished a story or two, and told her one that was an outright lie. He watched in fascination as she squirmed on the loveseat. “Let me get this straight… You’re going to tie me up and… do things to me… and I can use the safety words to encourage you, to warn you that I’m uncomfortable, or to make you stop, right?”

“Yes!” he nodded emphatically. “But I also encourage you to trust me and to allow me to help you push your limits. This is about you giving up control so that you can really cum, remember that. Listen, Victoria… have I ever done anything to hurt you in any way?”

“No,” she answered without hesitation. “And I do trust you, but…. I’m scared.”

He thought, “So am I, sweetheart, so am I….”

author:Uncle Squinty

(m/f,BDSM, cons, romantic)

Chapter II.

His host left for work, and Paul immediately began preparing for Victoria’s visit. He loaded his Canon with a fresh roll of film and checked the batteries in the expensive Japanese flash mounted on the camera. He then made sure that the ropes were ready. Soft cotton clothesline, the ropes would be a gentle introduction for her. He unwrapped the vibrator…a long soft plastic wand only vaguely resembling a penis. It was very long and quite thick, he noted as he found the tube of lubricant he had bought at the sex shop. He placed the vibrator and lubricant on the dresser, and reached into the paper bag. The raspberry- flavored “emotion lotion” was there. He took it out of the sack and set it on the dresser. Victoria would see the ropes, potions and toys when she entered the bedroom, but the camera would be a surprise.

He looked in his shaving kit and found the condoms. No need, he thought. He would not enter her, and he preferred to feel her mouth and hands without the inhibition of plastic… and besides, condoms would not protect his mouth. He intended to taste her again; his curiosity would let him do no less. Caution to the wind, he thought. He then fitted his razor with a fresh blade and went into the bathroom.

He took a long, steaming shower, letting the water pound his skin until he felt loose and relaxed. He then smeared his scrotum and pubic hair with shaving cream. Carefully, he denuded his tender nut-sack, gently stroking the razor against his soft skin. He carefully shaved the persistent hairs which grew from his cock, and trimmed his pubic hair into a perfect triangle. He wanted to feel every caress to its fullest, and shaving the hair from his cock would make his erection appear larger. He knew that Victoria liked the size of his cock, but he wanted to feel bigger and more masterful. Having shaven his privates baby- smooth, he rinsed the razor and shaved his face.

He dressed in a black silk bathrobe and sat on the edge of the bed. Taking a bottle of aloe vera lotion in hand, he gently massaged the freshly shaven areas until they were soft and moist. He then put on a pair of silk boxers and pulled the robe more snugly around his frame. He wanted to be sexy for her. He needed to. He was nervous, and the more nervous he became he knew, the more likely it became that he would be impotent. His head had gotten in the way of his cock recently, and he didn’t want it to happen with Victoria. He had no intentions of inserting himself into her, but he didn’t want to fail her either.

Perhaps a smoke? He wandered into the living room and found the joint his host had thoughtfully left for him on the glass-topped coffee table. He lit the reefer, took a long puff, and then extinguished it. “It’s a balancing act,” he grinned to himself. “Just enough to loosen up, not enough to turn myself (and my cock) into a zombie.” He couldn’t believe how nervous he was, and nervousness would not suit his objective at all. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.

Her knock at the door startled him. He fairly flew to the door, seeing her lithe outline in the frosted glass of the antique hacienda door. He took a deep breath and welcomed her, opening the door and gently kissing her soft mouth in one motion. She moaned gently against his tongue, and slipped through the doorway.

author:Uncle Squinty

(m/f,BDSM, cons, romantic)

Chapter I.

“I can’t come,” she sighed, running a red fingernail around the rim of her glass. “Well, I can, but it takes…you know…forever. And even then, I don’t get the fireworks that I’ve been hoping for.” She stared dispassionately into the half finished margarita. Victoria Josephine Reed was still beautiful at forty- two, her long copper hair cascading in ringlets to mid- back. He marveled at her youthful appearance, her body still strong and supple despite a casual workout regimen and a none-too-strict diet.

“What do you think the problem might be?” He was three years her junior, nearsighted and overweight. Not a terrific specimen, he knew. He still had her scent on his fingers and her taste on his tongue, even though they hadn’t been lovers for nearly twenty years. And he still found her beautiful, although her features were sharp and severe, her nose having been broken and her chin scarred by an auto accident some years before. Still, her body was wonderful, he thought. Her small breasts were still firm, he could tell from their outline against her tee shirt. Her smile was still enchanting. And her voice grabbed him somewhere between his masculinity and his heart.

“I think it’s because I’m a controlling person,” she mused, sipping at the now- warm cocktail. “I get close, but then my mind….just, er…stops me somehow. I can’t give in to the feelings, I don’t know why.” He could see tears of frustration beginning to form in her pale green eyes. “I want to come, I really do. And I’m jealous of the women who can come so intensely and so easily.”

“Do you have a lover?” he asked, immediately knowing the answer. Of course she had a lover, perhaps a few. A woman as sexual and as lovely as Victoria had no difficulty finding lovers.

She set the drink upon the scarred table. The bar was nearly empty, the early afternoon crowd gone and the after work crowd not yet evident. “Uh-huh. And don’t get me wrong; Carl is wonderful. He’s a very strong lover… he’s a body builder you know, really has a lot of stamina. Thank God. Even though I never make it. I get sort of close, you know, but…” She stared past him into the dim recesses of the bar. The jukebox was playing an old Pat Benetar tune, “Hit me with your best shot…c’mon and hit me with your best shot…”

The man across the table from her felt his heart sink. Stamina. A pack a day, seventy extra pounds, a lazy wife and a sedentary lifestyle had taken away any real stamina he had ever had. And this Carl was a body builder… Jesus. He didn’t stand a chance. “Lemme guess,” he grinned wryly. “The guy drives a Ferrari and makes two hundred grand a year too?”

Her laugh was musical, almost in perfect harmony with the jukebox. “No, he drives a pickup and he only makes fifty a year. Surely you’re not jealous!”

“Not jealous, really.” But he was. He couldn’t explain why, but he wanted her again. “But back to your problem….”

She smiled softly at him. “I need to somehow lose control” she continued, pausing to sip again at her drink. “Drugs and booze don’t do it, although I’m sure that a second margarita wouldn’t hurt…”

He gestured to the waitress, a pale-looking young brunette in faded jeans. She took the order and walked lazily toward the bar. “I think I may have the answer to your problem,” he mused. “You’ll have to trust me, and do exactly as I tell you. I promise you that you’ll be safe, but I can also promise you that you won’t be in control…”

The drinks arrived. Victoria picked up her glass and regarded him with a worried expression. “What are you talking about, Paul?”

He smiled mysteriously. “You’ll find out tomorrow. Take a cab to the hacienda. I’ll be waiting. Wear something sexy for me. I’ll have everything else we need.” He sipped at his wine and continued to smile at her. This would work, he thought. She’d be his plaything, and in return he would give her the release she craved. He continued, “You’ll have one tool of control. But we’ll talk about that tomorrow. Dinner?”

She stared at him. “But… but I thought we’d… you know, tonight… I mean, I’ve missed you and I was hoping…” Her voice trailed off.

His smile never left his face. “Oh, sweet lady, we will. Tonight I think you should have a long, warm bath and a good night’s sleep. You’ll need it.”

author:Uncle Squinty

I’m walking around campus looking for you. But the whole place is completely abandoned. Which is probably a good thing considering I am walking around in one of my nighties I was telling you about. The one that is see through…anyways, I finally figure that you are over at the outside hockey rink so I head over there. And as I walk up I see you skating around wearing nothing but your skates and those nylon pants that make you butt look fantastic. You aren’t wearing a shirt because it’s so warm out, even though it’s the middle of the night. And you are all hot and sweaty from skating. You see me walking up and give me that smile of yours…you know the one…the one you get when your telling me how much of a bad influence I am on you, but you can’t get enough of it. I walk straight up to you on the rink push my fingers through your hair around the back of your neck and kiss you with everything I am feeling at that exact moment. To show you just how much I want you. Our lips part and I slide my tongue down the side of your neck to your collar bone where I stop to nibble on your salty flesh. I can already feel you growing hard against my thigh, but I want you to want me as much as I want you so my tongue slides lower to your left nipple. I circle around the outside of the aureole and spirally lick inward towards your nipple. When I finally get there I give it a few flicks with my tongue and then set my teeth lightly to it. And at this point you moan trying to hold it in but can’t and your hands are tangled in my hair wanting so much to be able to stop the exquisite torture but can’t bring yourself to do it. I reward you by leaving your left nipple trailing my wet lips across you chest leaving a trail of opened mouthed kisses across to your other nipple to continue my torture. After a few breathless moments spent there I decide to spice things up. I stand up to whisper in your ear, my warm breath caressing the sensitive flesh…”I’m going to suck you so hard that you won’t be able to stand it” as a parting gesture I lick the outside of your ear and lightly bite the tender skin before I start my decent downwards towards your now rock hard erection. Again I trail open mouthed kisses down your chest leaving wet spots exposed to the nights air, causing you to shiver and get goose bumps in delight. I drop to my knees in front of you and you brace your hands on the wall surrounding the rink to anchor yourself. I run my nails over the fabric of your crouch and I can feel you throbbing. I release your engorged sex and lightly wrap my hands around it, teasing you, prolonging the moment just a little bit more. Then I take you into my mouth. It’s hot and wet and everything you’ve imagined and I begin to give you head like no one has ever done before. My hands are everywhere..cradling your balls, grasping the base of you staff, holding on to your ass. I start to feel you getting close to climax and I release you from my mouth. I want more of you then just that tonight. Your made from steel now and I can see you throbbing with desire, but I want you buried deep inside of me when you come. I look straight into your eyes as I strip off my almost non existent g-string and whisper, “I’m all yours, do with me as you will.” The second the words are out of my mouth your hands are on me. Searching all over, for that sense of fulfillment. You kiss my with such abandon that it takes my breath away and I am now the one being tortured. You slip off the strings on my shoulders holding up the sheer nightie I am wearing and pull it over my breasts until it falls to the floor around my ankles. Then your mouth is on me. Hot, wet demanding. You suck on the tender flesh of my nipples until my breasts swell with want and my nipples become as hard as marbles. I let out a moan that tells you that I am ready, but you aren’t finished with me yet. You turn me around so that I’m bracing myself bent over the wall with you behind me. A brief moment of uncertainty flickers through my mind and then I feel your fingers part my swollen flesh at my most sensitive spot. They lightly trace around the outsides before two fingers slide into the wetness inside. I gasp at the intrusion, but my hips buck backwards in encouragement. Your fingers thrust in and out of me slowly at first and then building..faster and faster…as you nibble and bite the back of my neck. When my moaning and panting start to tell you that I am getting close your fingers leave me. You spin me around to face you so that we both can finally have what we desperately need by now. You step in between my legs and I wrap my leg around your calf as you step in close. I reach in between our naked bodies to guide you into me. As soon as the head of your erection reaches my opening I let go and you completely fill me with one powerful thrust that has us both moaning together. Then we begin that slow steady dance of you thrusting in and out of me…harder and harder…faster and faster until we again look into each others eyes and you say, “cum for me…I want you to cum with me now.” I can only nod my reply because I have no breath for words left. And the we hit that cresting peak together. Straining and gasping for it to last as long as possible. My mind shatters and I can hear your moans and the tell tale sign of your thrusts putting you deeper than you were before, burying yourself in me completely as you to cum inside of me. Gasping for breath I look up at you and smile with all of the energy I have left.

author: Raquel @ ladyfaithtnt@sbcglobal.net

It was typical of Jennifer. I hadn’t given her anything; well, at least not for years. It was my birthday, or actually for my birthday which was still a month away. She’d taken me out: she always takes me out sometime close my birthday. On the actual day, I’m out with John unless we decide to switch to another night. After ten years of marriage, we aren’t always particular about the exact night if we have other things on.

But here she was, taking me back to her apartment after hinting about a gift. The evening had been nice: the Duck L’Orange had been wonderful, the Chocolate Mousse was perfect: I was very glad she hadn’t make a fuss with cake and singing or anything like that; and, well, I admit I don’t really know wine, but the Chianti was wonderful too.

And now she said I had to stop at her apartment. She unlocked the door and we went up the stairs. Her apartment wasn’t large: the living room was pretty small, but she had it nicely decorated. She made me sit and stepped out. “I’ll be right back,” she said, smiling.

I sat there, not wondering about it too much. She usually gives me a little present for Christmas: an ornament or something. She came out with a nicely wrapped package: the thought store wrapped jumped into my mind, but I suppressed it. I wondered if it were candy, but when she handed it to me it was obvious that it wasn’t.

She grinned at me as I unwrapped it.

It was a nightgown. And not a large one.

“What do you think?” she asked. It was black. And thin: transparent, really. And short. There would be nothing left to the imagination.

“I love it,” I said. I’m afraid I didn’t sound too convincing because I was so surprised. I’d certainly never worn anything like it.

“Think John’ll like it?” she asked. “I’ll bet you’ll have some fun.”

John. I made myself a smile. I think I did pretty well even though I was feeling a little funny about all this on the inside.

Yes it made sense: wear something like this for John. It’s just that I’d never done anything like that before: what would he think of me turning up in this thing one night? It’s just that after being used to each other for so long, you get comfortable, or you get uncomfortable at off-the-wall things like this.

I wasn’t sure I could explain all that to Jennifer, who obviously felt she’d figured out how to do me a real favor. She looked so thrilled as I held it up. “You’ll love it: I know,” she said.

I felt like she was reading my thoughts: she could see that I wasn’t sure about this. “I do,” I said, conjuring up some enthusiasm.

She was still smiling, but I detected some concern behind her facade. It struck me that Jennifer and I, who could talk for hours about anything, were getting nervous with each other. “Try it on,” she said.

Try it on?

“Try it on,” she repeated, “You’ll see.”

“Uh, I like it. Really.”

“Oh, do it just for me: please? I know you’re going to love this. Please? For me?”

I sat there with my mouth open. How was I going to get out of this? After my mind raced for about two seconds I realized the best course was to humor her. “OK,” I said, suddenly a little hoarse, and stood up. She didn’t offer any advice as to where to change, so I took it into her bedroom.

I looked around the room. She does have a nice touch: she likes everything just so. I looked again at the little thing I’d just agreed to model. I wouldn’t have any secrets from Jennifer!

It crossed my mind that maybe she was interested in seeing me in it. Jennifer? Had she somehow detected my secret bisexual proclivities? Not that I’d ever been interested in Jennifer; sure she’s attractive, but she’s been my best friend for too many years. She couldn’t possibly entertain thoughts like that about me: she was just too traditional and man-oriented.

I looked at my body in the mirror before I slipped the thing on. I should hit the gym more: not that I don’t go, but, well, I’m not getting any younger. I put it on.

It did look pretty good: covering up a few problem areas. I’d never seen myself looking like this. I found myself thinking that I might actually go through with it: wear this thing for John. Maybe Jennifer was on to something after all.

I walked out. The living room was dark except for a bunch on candles on each side of the room.

“Jennifer?” I asked, suddenly thrown off my guard.

She walked in from the area of the front door–only it wasn’t her! I stared at the woman, my mouth hanging open.

“Hello,” she said. I placed her: it was Gina! I almost died.

“Gina! What… ?” I was at a loss for words. How could Gina be here? Gina was an aerobics instructor at the gym. And she was something else.

I hate to say this, but she was, well, the woman of my fantasies: she’d done all kinds of things to me in my mind while I’d been in bed with John. I couldn’t understand how she could be there. She smiled. She was dressed in street-clothes which was part of the reason I had trouble placing her. “You’re looking very fit tonight,” she said. Her smile had a little edge to it: I wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t fathom it. No one knew about my fantasies.

“Your friend: she insisted I come. She said you definitely act a little strange whenever you two talk about me,” she said. She’d approached me and somehow I’d failed to back away.

“Where is she?”

She laughed. “Oh, she’s willing to give us some time.” Her fingers were on the nightgown, and she slipped them under the shoulders.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you.” She continued to smile. I felt her lifting up the nightgown. Here was Gina, undressing me. It hit me like a ton of bricks: this wasn’t merely an embarrassing moment–it was also a thousand fantasies coming true.

I soon stood there naked. She put the nightgown around behind my neck, then slipped it gently back and forth so it caressed the back of my neck. “Unbutton my blouse,” she said.

I stood there, probably in too much shock to react. “Do it,” she said. I found my fingers on the buttons. “You want me: we know you do,” she said. The blouse was parting, revealing her bra. It was black. “Take off the blouse,” she said when it was completely unbuttoned. After I did, she pulled the nightgown from around my neck and turned her back to me.

I looked at the hooks of her bra. She didn’t say anything or look back at me. She obviously just expected me to undo it. She wasn’t disappointed.

She slipped it off and I found her facing me again, the bra around the back of my neck where the nightgown had been. I glanced down and saw that her jeans were unbuttoned and a little bit unzipped, though they were still on. Her breasts were beautiful. She pulled me close until my face was inches from hers. “Kneel,” she said and smiled. She let go of the bra on one side and pulled it away and flung it off. I stood there, once again mesmerized.

“Kneel,” she repeated. “You’re going to finish undressing me.”

I was so nervous I don’t know how I did it: my fingers trying to get her zipper down. Soon I found myself looking up at her nude form as she looked down at me. She took my hand and drew me up, then pulled me back into Jennifer’s bedroom.

She turned off the lights, but left the door open, the candlelight shining through the door. I found myself in bed with her. Her hands roamed up and down my stomach, close to my breasts, then close to my sex. I lay there, still feeling stunned.

“Aren’t you going to touch me?” she said.

But I’d had another thought: John. Here I was, in bed with someone else! It had happened so quickly. Too much wine? Too much surprise? How had I let this happen? Then her lips were on mine. And I was lost.

Our bodies pressed together: I felt her breasts against the skin of my chest. Her fingers: the things she did, her fingers between my legs. My arms wrapped tightly around her, my hands on her back. It was as sweet as I’d always imagined it would be. I came twice. I was going to come again: all from her fingers. She kissed me again, then kissed my face, my ear. I felt I should be doing something for her, but all I could do is cling to her. “You like this,” she whispered in my ear.

I was too far gone to be able to verbalize an answer. “You love this,” she whispered. Her fingers didn’t stop. “This drives you crazy, doesn’t it?” she said. Repeating, she said: “doesn’t it?” and I could tell she was demanding an answer.

“Yes,” I managed to say, through my breathing.

“Women drive you crazy, right?”

“Yes!” I think she knew how to torture people by keeping them close.

“You love it with women!”

“Yes!”

“But you also like your husband’s cock.”

I had a fleeting thought that I was surprised to hear her say that, but I couldn’t hold it together. “Yes!” I said.

“You want me and his cock, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Yes!” I think I was saying yes to anything she came out with. If she’d said something ridiculous, I’d have just gone along with it. Her fingers wouldn’t let me come, but wouldn’t let me back out. I felt like I was screaming my answers.

I felt something. Pressing in me: I realized someone was pressing inside me. Someone was behind me! A cock was inside me! Gina’s lips were suddenly on mine and her fingers never stopped.

Then she’d drawn her head away just a little and she pushed my cheek with one hand, making me turn my head. The man in me was John.

author: Cyan Stories

“Anything of interest happen this morning?” Of course we knew each other so well we could practically read the other’s mind, but I suppose anyone would have picked up the way she paused over the word interest.

“Not really,” I said. Caroline’s look of unbelief was clear as a bell. “I mean it,” I added.

“Not even Sherry?”

“Well, sure, when she brought my coffee in.” That goes without saying.

“You poor dear,” said Caroline, grinning. “Just one blow-job your whole morning.” I’m sure I raised my eyebrows: she usually wouldn’t put it quite in those words. Lunch with Caroline has always been interesting.

“I didn’t say that,” I answered. “Leslie was over, bringing us the monthly reports.”

“Ah, lovely little Leslie,” said Caroline, suddenly looking off in the distance and I saw the wheels turning in her head. God I love Caroline. “Any chance you can bring her home tonight?”

“I won’t see her this afternoon but I could give her a call,” I said.

“Well, any of ‘em ‘ll do: how about Donna and Cindy?”

“Two?” I asked.

“Then we won’t have to share.” She grinned again. The perfect wife!

But another thought came to me: “I’m not so sure about this afternoon: I’ve got that Deborah Melton coming over.”

“Another recruit?” Now it was more than a grin she wore: it was a smirk.

“Maybe,” I said, “but I don’t think so. She’s from Keith, remember?”

“Ah yes, the Snoop From Corporate. Gotta lay low and play it cool.”

“Something like that. She’s a Business Process Consultant.”

“Gag,” said Carol.

“Well, in any case, we’ve got to be careful.” She grinned at me and I couldn’t help but smile back. You live the life and you have to hide it once in a while. The girls wouldn’t say a word: I knew that.

“How long is she going to be around?”

* * *

A week! I tried to keep my face calm: it was no good sending any wrong signals to these consultants. “I’ll get you set up with a phone and desk for the duration,” I said, my brain on full alert to try to make my answer sound perfectly normal.

“Phone’s no problem,” she said, patting her purse. Cell phone. “And anywhere I can conduct interviews should be fine.” Oh god! A week!

“Sure thing.” The Business Process Consultant: poking around for a week. I actually wondered if the girls could last that long: Sherry definitely has to have her daily fun. It was the conference room Ms. Melton finally set up in. She had a luggable file but swore she didn’t need anything more than a table and chairs. She didn’t even want a connection for her laptop.

I have to admit I did find myself giving some thought to this visit: I finally figured she’d either bumble around a bit harmlessly and leave, turning in a vague report, or she’d ruin everything. And I mean everything: we had business going nicely besides our fun on the side. She interviewed me first, which was fine by me: I’m sure I would have been growing a bit nervous if she were one of those who talks to everyone else before the boss. It wasn’t too bad: she was all business and that’s what I wanted to see. Soon after that, I watched the girls visiting the conference room, one by one.

Caroline wanted to hear about it: bless her heart, she felt sympathy for us. And she was obviously annoyed I wasn’t bringing any of the girls home. “She’s certainly not watching our house!” she said.

“It’s better to cool it,” was all I could say. But she did wear me down eventually and on Deborah Melton’s fourth day I finally signaled to Sherry I wanted a word with her.

I’d expected her to follow me into my office but she didn’t. “I need to talk to you,” I said after coming back out.

She looked slightly uncomfortable. “Not in there,” she said, indicating my office with a nod.

“Look,” I said, glancing around to see that Deborah wasn’t nearby. “It’s no big deal to spend a second in your boss’s office.”

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m not supposed to.”

What? I lowered my voice: “Come over tonight.”

“I can’t.” I just stared at her: Sherry never turns us down. I noticed she looked tense. “I’m busy,” she added, as if an afterthought.

“That’s OK,” I said, and left scratching my head. Sherry turning down and evening with Caroline and me? What would be next?

* * *

“I can’t,” said Cindy.

“Why not?” I’m afraid I was getting bolder and didn’t bother to lower my voice.

“I’m not supposed to.”

“What do you mean you’re not supposed to?” This was getting weird: Sherry and now Cindy had come up with the same words.

“I… shouldn’t do that stuff with you.”

“Who says?”

“Deborah.”

I stared at her and I’m sure I was openmouthed. Deborah was telling the girls not to talk to me? And why were they listening to her? Was I being set up for firing? “What does Deborah say?”

“No more of that… stuff.”

Good grief! “What stuff do you mean.”

“You know…”

“You told her about that stuff?”

“She knew. I thought you’d told her.”

“She knew!” My voice was raised now despite myself and I quickly realized I had to get myself back under control. I think I started pacing then and there and soon noticed Cindy trying to steal away. She knew! One of the girls had told her?

I caught myself and headed back to my office. I had to think. I called Caroline.

“One of the girls told her?” she exclaimed.

“Apparently.”

“And she’s still interviewing them?” I saw Caroline’s point: it was a little surprising that Deborah was stretching things out considering. “It seems like she’s had enough time to talk to them all in any case.” That was also to the point: why were interviews still going on?

“What am I going to do?” I asked.

Caroline didn’t answer right away. “Ask her.”

“Huh?”

“Obviously she knows. You might as well just walk in and ask her what her game is. Bust in on her.”

But I couldn’t do that. I’m afraid all I did was fret. I thought about getting her attention when I saw her and asked her how things are going. Just get her talking so I could sense what she was thinking. I was still thinking when Caroline walked in.

“Hi Hon, where is she?” was all she said, though she was coming closer for a greeting kiss.

When we had that out of the way I wondered what she was doing there. “You skipped out of work to talk to Deborah?” I asked, amazed.

“It was obvious you weren’t going to do it,” she said. I hadn’t said that, but I wasn’t too surprised Caroline jumped to that conclusion.

“I’ll talk to her my way,” I said.

“Ha!” she said, and she left. I hadn’t even told her where Deborah was stationed and I assumed she’d follow one of the girls.

What would Deborah think of Caroline barging in? She didn’t even know Caroline existed as far as I knew! I was nervous at the thought and was soon feeling I should have tried to stop Caroline. I got up and went to the reception area. The conference room door was shut and Sherry was at her desk. “Is Caroline in there?” I asked.

“I’m not supposed to say.”

What? “Listen, Sherry, you still work for me, you know!” I couldn’t believe I was having to talk to Sherry like this. I noticed she looked nervous and it occurred to me that she was caught in the middle of something.

“Let me check,” she said. She knocked on the conference room door and waited. The door opened a crack and I slipped over to where I could see through it. But by the time I was in position, it was closed again. “She’s busy,” said Sherry. In a second, I was knocking myself. Then I found myself pounding. I looked around: Sherry was gone.

Then I was back in my office, pacing. I thought about calling Keith and giving him a piece of my mind, but I didn’t like the things Deborah apparently knew about our office. She could tell Keith things that I’d rather he didn’t know. I collapsed in my chair and decided to call Deborah. I realized I didn’t know her number. Finally I just sat there, staring into space.

The office was quiet and I realized that was a little strange. I saw no indication of Sherry back at her post and I was in a position to hear if the conference room opened. I ended up sitting there until after five, feeling like I was in a deserted office.

Finally I heard the door open. Caroline appeared in my door. I looked at her and I’m sure my eyebrows raised.

“She’s nice,” Caroline said. Something about her voice struck me strangely. I guess it was the sincerity: Caroline usually has some angle going when she makes such a statement.

“And?” I asked.

“Come here,” she said. And I found myself being led into the conference room. Deborah sat at the table, but when she saw us she swiveled her chair away from it. Caroline led me to right in front of her. Deborah smiled up at us. “Kneel here,” said Caroline. She was pointing at the floor in front of Deborah.

* * *

I’m being led into what used to be my own office. “Kneel,” says the voice next to me. I can’t see because I’m blindfolded, but that’s as usual as are the handcuffs that hold my wrists behind me. And my state of dress, or rather undress. As always, I kneel as commanded. The hands guide my head forward. “Lick,” says the voice behind me.

I know it’s Deborah I’m licking. I know it even though I’ve never been allowed to see. It’s been this way, every day, ever since the reorganization. And my new position as Deborah’s assistant. I hear her giggle, or at least I assume it is her: it is always Sherry behind me giving the orders. I suppose it could be any of them in front of me–no, I’m not allowed to see them, but I can tell they’re in there, watching me. You can just hear the sounds and feel that there are more people in there. I assume it’s Deborah I lick because otherwise they’d probably have me lick more than one person, unless they are going out of their way to trick me. I think about what the rest of them are doing: Leslie, Grace, Anne, Donna, all of them. I imagine there must be things going on: they’re all in there a lot every day. They gather before Sherry comes to get me and they’re usually there around noon when Caroline comes over.

Caroline doesn’t look at me. Sherry leads her into Deborah’s office the way she leads me in except that she’s allowed to keep her clothes on. She comes in and waits for Sherry to come out without once looking at me. I said her name a couple of times at first, after she’d just moved out on me, but she won’t look at me; she’ll only wait for Sherry.

Except once: once she came over and stood next to me, not ignoring me the way she usually did. “Caroline, why?” I asked, softly, sensing it was my opportunity to open communications again.

“I can’t talk to you,” she whispered. Somehow that didn’t surprise me: I’d kept my own voice down and something in me didn’t want them to hear us in Deborah’s office–what used to be my office.

“Come home,” I heard myself say. “Where are you staying?”

She didn’t answer, but did put her hand on my shoulder as she stood next to me. I could tell she felt something for me, but I also knew that she wasn’t going to answer me. I was certain she stayed at Deborah’s now.

She almost jumped away from me when Deborah’s door finally started to open. Sherry’d brought the handcuffs and blindfolds as always and Caroline obediently stood and let herself be prepared. As I watched them go back in, Sherry glanced my way.

I could see that Sherry knew Caroline and I had been saying something. I wondered what Deborah would do about that.

author: Cyan Stories

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Mind? Well I guess it was unusual, and possibly rude, Judy getting in the back seat as if I were running a chauffeur service. But I could humor her: after all, she was my best friend and I was more than happy to drive her to the airport to pick up Tom from the red-eye and take them both to work. It wasn’t any big deal to indulge them for a few moments.

They’d been apart for a week. I involuntarily glanced at the rear-view mirror: sure enough, they were locked in embrace while I was doing the driving. “Hey, don’t make me watch this,” I said, in mock disgust. Judy merely laughed and they were at it again. I just sighed and drove.

“You did miss me,” I finally heard her say, quietly. A glance at the rear- view mirror revealed that they’d ducked below window level and I began to have second thoughts about this arrangement. “Oh, god, yes, right now, you bastard!” she burst out, suddenly! That was followed by the sound of her breathing.

“Yes! Now!” she said, and something flew over the passenger seat! I glanced down to see her blouse!

“Hey!” I said, but got no response at all. Then her bra came over, then her shoes and pants and underpants! By this time I was doubting my senses, driving on like a zombie.

“No, not like that! You know how you like it!” came Judy’s voice. Then I heard the hissing of her breathing through her teeth, then “Yes! Do it to me nasty! Give it to me!”

I couldn’t help myself: I stretched enough to look, just a glance. I didn’t see more than her stretched-out, writhing, naked body, faced down. Her breathing was faster and faster, still hissing between her teeth. I heard Tom grunt and Judy follow suit. I caught myself holding my breath and told myself to breath normally.

Then they were quiet. “You fucking bastard,” came Judy’s voice. Then she laughed, obviously enjoying herself.

“You like that and you know it,” said Tom.

“No! Don’t take it out yet,” she said, suddenly. Once again I felt like speaking up. But I didn’t: I guess I felt they couldn’t instantly get back in shape what with Judy naked and her clothes next to me on the seat: all I’d accomplish is to create a lengthy embarrassing moment. Then she said: “You do like that best.”

“You’re the one who wanted it and you know it,” said Tom.

“Bastard,” she replied and once again laughed.

By that time, we’d reached Tom’s work and I was pulling into the parking lot. “You two sure you can extricate yourselves and go to work?” I asked.

Judy just laughed some more and said, obviously to Tom: “Better zip up: I don’t want those hussies after you.”

Thinking about Judy’s state, I pulled into the far end of the lot so Tom’s opening the door wouldn’t be giving any of his coworkers an unexpected show. I got out and got the trunk open so he could take his suitcase. “Thanks a lot, Claire,” he said, giving me the eye briefly, as he strolled toward the factory. I just stared after him.

While I was standing there, Judy had managed to get the window open a crack and said: “Hey, I could use some clothes.”

I turned back toward the car. She could have used a nicer tone of voice: that’s what I was thinking at that moment. You’d think it was enough that I put up with their back-seat shenanigans. I think the devil got into me that moment.

I opened the back door of the car again and found myself just standing there, staring at her. Naked. “Isn’t this fascinating?” I finally said.

“Come on: my clothes?”

“All in good time,” I answered.

She just crouched there, naked on the floor, looking up at me. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said.

“Undoubtedly,” I said. I might have grinned at her a little.

Then I saw something different in her face. In another moment, she slipped onto the seat, slouching backward away from me against the far door. “Enjoying the show?” she said, and smiled. “I guess I’m in your hands: what are you going to do with me?”

I found myself stuck. What was I doing? Her smile grew broader and she said: “Cat got your tongue? You liked hearing what we were doing? Want me? Go ahead: fuck me; I know you’re soaked.”

I backed out. Shut the door. Stared at the car for a minute before getting back in the drivers seat. I tossed her clothes back and drove.

After I dropped her off, I didn’t go straight to work myself. I went home and masturbated.

* * *

She showed up at my office that afternoon, at five ’til five. Yes, I’d arrived at work plenty late, but I’d explained that my friend’s plane had been late. She was looking serious.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. They were the first words we’d exchanged since I’d shut that car door: the silence while I’d driven her to work had been unbearable. I found that even seven hours later, I still couldn’t look at her.

Quite obviously, she was disturbed by the current state of our feelings and she started talking fast. “You know, I go kinda crazy after Tom and me do it like that. Listen, we gotta talk this out, OK? Please?” I didn’t say anything and she finally went on: “We gotta go out and talk. Just let me stop at Tom’s for ten minutes–five minutes. No, that might get me crazy again: later tonight: I’ll call you. We’ll go out for drinks… or coffee or something…and talk…”

* * *

I met her at Franklin’s at nine. “Let’s not talk about it yet,” she suggested and in a few seconds, a grin on her face, started making silly comments about a guy at the end of the bar. Soon we were amusing ourselves at the expense of the rest of the bar’s patrons, which we’re often guilty of. It was a pastime we both knew would at least get us talking in a civil manner.

But I knew we were going to have to talk about the morning. I glanced at Judy. It came back to me, the moment I’d stood there looking at her. The things she’d said to me. And the way she and Tom had been before that.

She was grinning about something or someone and I found myself observing her as she made another comment. I knew we were avoiding the one issue that we’d inevitably have to talk about. Fuck Me, she’d said.

I continued to watched her as she watched a couple at the bar. She threw me a smiling glance, wanting me to look at them. Then I felt my calf slide over hers.

She froze. She hadn’t turned away but I could tell she wasn’t seeing the couple any more. My heart was about to burst and I tried to casually withdraw my leg. She turned toward me very slowly and looked me in the eye. “OK,” she said, quietly.

I stared at her.

“OK,” she repeated, “But I won’t cheat on Tom. You have to come over and let him take you too. The way he likes it… ” She grinned. “You’re soaked, aren’t you?”

My face was red. She was so right. I knew I’d never blushed so much in my life. How could I have touched her leg like that? Is this what I’d been wanting? What was now going to happen? I wondered what it would be like with Tom: doing the thing he likes. I was certain he was going to want me naked.

author: Cyan Stories