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The truth was that both Brad and Kate had been turned on by the tying up games. After all, one of the main attractions of the whole transformation thing had been the shift in power between them. Kate liked the independence and feeling of being in control and Brad loved the thrill of being helplessly subservient to his beautiful girlfriend.

Brad and Kate had discussed a few options, but as usual it was Kate who had made the final decision. With a solution now clear in her mind, they had gone shopping for the perfect pair of shorts, a pair that was sexy, tight and most importantly, lockable.

One of the many advantages of having turned your boyfriend into lingerie was the ability to take him in the changing room. Unfortunately though, Brad’s view when trying on shorts, dresses or skirts was limited.

Once locked inside the changing room, Kate squeezed into a pair of blue denim shorts. The cut perfectly fitted her narrow waist so that once buttoned up there was no way they could be removed over her hips. The rear seam curved tightly down between her legs and pulled Brad slightly between her cheeks. The denim tightly encircled the top of her tanned thighs conveniently cutting out all light and air to the occupant inside.

“I think these may be perfect,” Kate whispered, “but let me just try the padlock.”

She played with the small lock until she had positioned it over the popper that secured the shorts.

“Yeah, it fits and there’s certainly no way to open the popper now.”

Brad pulled and stretched as he explored his new home. It was tight, but then so was most of Kate’s wardrobe. It was also very dark which Kate would say was a good thing as he could worship her butt without distraction from the outside world.

“Do I get a say on this?” he asked.

Kate ignored the silly question.

“Opps, I didn’t actually bring the key for this lock.”

“What? Guess you’ll be buying them then.”

Kate pulled at the tight denim material which seemed to have already moulded itself to the shape of her body, “It’s kinda sexy being locked in these.”

“Until you need to use the toilet.”

Kate ignored him again and pulled her red top down to hide the padlock. She then ripped the label from the back of the shorts and took it out to the counter to pay.

*

When they returned home, Kate fetched the key and was finally able to unlock her shorts. With Brad hanging pitifully around her ankles and much to her relief, she sat down on the toilet. Brad spent his brief moment of freedom looking up as she re-tied her long brown ponytail and then pulled him straight back into place.

“Right the shorts are safely locked up again,” Kate proudly announced, “and I thought we could celebrate with a little bike ride.”

“These shorts on a saddle, you sure?” Brad asked warily.

“It’ll be fun!”

“You sure?”

“Well don’t come if you don’t want to,” Kate giggled.

Kate had already wheeled her bike out on to the road and was straddling the cross bar. She eased back down on to the saddle, letting her butt mould in to place around the black leather seat.

“OK?” she checked.

“Yeah it’s actually nice, the saddle massages me in just the right place.”

“Good panties,” Kate smiled, “I knew you’d like it down there.”

Kate started to peddle, her legs tensing, her glutes pushing in turn against the soft saddle.

“Still nice I hope?”

Brad touched her clit in reply as he lay beneath her, moving and stretching as her butt massaged him.

“Hey, touch me there and we’ll both end up in a ditch!” Kate cried before realising that she may have been overheard by a passing cyclist.

It was now early afternoon and Kate was still riding and Brad was still stretching and straining to contain her body. A cyclist rang her bell as she passed by.

“Hey she’s pretty,” Kate relayed to Brad, “you’d like her.”

“Where?”

Brad had replied without thinking, still totally aroused from the movement escort izmit of Kate’s butt on the saddle. He looked to see if anything was visible through the seams of the warm denim that was starting to winkle around her hips. He couldn’t.

Kate was giggling.

Her skin was now tacky with perspiration which Brad was doing a great job at soaking up. She could feel that he was now wet, particularly where he passed between her legs. She could have stood up on the pedals to give him some relief, but she didn’t.

“It’s getting hot in here, any chance of a rest and maybe some air?” Brad panted, exhausted from the unrelenting sexual stimulation.

“No rest and air is impossible as I didn’t bring the key.”

“What?”

“And you tried to look at that girl…bad move,” Kate laughed as she cycled harder.

Now desperate for her to stop arousing him, Brad rubbed back and forth across her clit.

“Bad panties!” Kate cried out in fits of laughter.

“Bad butt! Do you know what it’s doing to me in here?” Brad moaned back, as he came again.

“Okay, Okay!”

Kate squeezed the brakes and pulled up on a secluded stretch of the river. She jumped off her bike and propped her hands against the trunk of the nearest tree.

“Now you can!”

Brad didn’t disappoint and brought Kate to orgasm. She finally had to slide her fingers down inside the front of her shorts to stop him.

“Good boy,” she panted, “I might even have given you some fresh air and a glimpse of the view if these were locked.”

“Are you sure there’s no way to get these shorts off?” Brad asked.

“Have you seen how tight they are?”

“Believe me, I know! Break the padlock?”

“What without the key?”

Kate accidentally broke wind and then giggled.

“Oh Katie!”

“Sorry…”

Brad was feeling very confined and movement was almost impossible as he stuck to Kate’s damp body. “I think the exercise has strengthened your butt and its trying and bust out of these shorts.”

“It’s a battle the shorts are going to win,” Kate replied.

“I know and I’m caught in the middle!”

Kate threw her leg over, sat back down on the saddle and waited for inevitable moan of pleasure from her underwear. There it was, Brad was already aroused and she had over five miles of cycling ahead.

*

By the time Kate pulled up at her house, her legs were aching and her panties were moaning in helpless ecstasy. Her over sexed boyfriend had been unable to focus on any sort of sensible conversation for most of the way back.

“Brad, you slut, we’re back.”

“Already?”

“That’s the trouble with cycling, the movement of my bottom excites you too much. Maybe I should keep these shorts locked for the rest of the night to teach you a lesson.”

“Yes please!”

Kate rolled her eyes as she collapsed on to her bed. “Well my butt aches from all that cycling and you’re going to give me a full and very through massage.”

She laid on her front on her bed, her ankle length boots still on her feet, and felt Brad gently squeeze her butt. She looked behind and could see slight telltale movement in the tight denim. It was just as well no one was looking. It felt nice and she freed her long hair, flicked it back and laid her head on the pillow as her butt vibrated from his touch.

Brad worked for an hour before he realised that Kate had fallen asleep with her shorts still on and the padlock still locked. He pulled himself down to a slight chink of light showing through a tiny gap between the hem of the shorts and the back of Kate’s right thigh. He felt like a prisoner looking out of his dungeon through a small barred window. In his excitement at being able to look out across her bedroom, he inadvertently touched her clit and Kate reacted by stretching in her sleep and bang the gap was gone.

*

It was the weekend and Kate and Brad had decided to head to the mountains. They’d enjoyed walking together before yürüyüş yolu escort and enjoyed it just as much under their new reality. Kate threw their camping equipment into her car and dropped down into the driver’s seat.

“Do we have everything?” Kate asked, as she pulled up her short blue dress to look down at Brad between her legs.

They liked to look at each other while driving which meant Kate wearing a dress or a skirt. If she drove in jeans, her butt, the snug cut of the denim and the shape of the seat made for a very tightly sealed boyfriend. She opened her legs a little to give Brad some more space and then turned the key.

Brad liked to watch her drive. Her cute face was always full of expression and he could almost read what was happening on the road by the look in her beautiful eyes. At one point her dress fell down a little, taking away his sight and plunging him into semi darkness.

“Katie, your dress.”

“Opps,” she smiled.

“Can you lift it up?”

“What’s it worth?

“You horny bitch.”

“Touch my clit or stay in the dark…”

Brad obeyed and a minute later when Kate pulled up her dress she had a new look in her eyes.

*

They pulled up at the car park and Kate walked over to the toilets to change from blue dress and heels to t-shirt, denim shorts and walking boots.

“I’m afraid there’s no more dress for you this weekend,” Kate announced as she pulled up her shorts and buttoned everything in.

“So I see.”

“But if you behave, I’ll open your window.”

At Brad’s insistence, Kate had cut a one inch square opening in the back of her denim shorts. This small flap of denim could be buttoned down, which it was now, or unbuttoned and lifted up to reveal a small piece of pink underwear hugging the lower part of her butt. Although small, it let Brad look out at the fantastic scenery. Without it, Brad’s only view of the mountains would be the occasion slit of light and fleeting glimpse of the ground between her thighs and her shorts.

“Well open it then!” Brad cried excitedly.

“Mmm, when we’re alone in the mountains.”

Brad wanted to argue, but knew that wouldn’t end well and so settled for the occasional glimpse of his girlfriend’s feet as she picked her way along the small rocky path up the valley. Kate was walking slowly, but it was a hot day and she was still starting to perspire. She could feel him with every step as he seemed to be getting caught in the fold between her butt and her thighs.

“OK, it’s time to open the window,” Kate teased as she unbuttoned the small flap of denim and then immediately sat down on a large rock for a rest.

“Oh thanks Katie!”

“You’re welcome,” she giggled as she pulled her hair from a loose ponytail and tied it back more tightly behind her, “Nice rock?”

They started walking again and at last Brad could see out and enjoy the valley and the mountains above. After spending almost three months as a Kate’s underwear and having seen very little apart from the brunette’s butt, he just stared at the view which got better and better as Kate climbed.

“Back inside, someone’s coming,” Kate said as she buttoned him back in.

Kate felt him tighten around her waist, something he often did when he was cross. “You do realise that I like that, don’t you?” she replied.

*

It was late afternoon by the time Kate had pitched the small tent in a sunny, sheltered spot at the top of the valley. The other hikers had left the mountain for night giving them complete privacy. Kate unbuttoned her removed her shorts and lay in the sun in only t-shirt, underwear and boots.

“My legs are sore,” she said as she rubbed the heel of her hands against her strong tanned legs, “Maybe you can help?”

She slipped Brad midway down her thighs and then closed her legs with him pinned in between. Brad’s gentle movements had an amazing effect on Kate’s pussy, but had little effect darıca escort on Kate’s strong, tired thigh muscles.

“Is that all you have?” she complained, squeezing him harder as if that would help the cause.

“I can’t move at all in this fucking vice!” he cried, even though she couldn’t hear him.

“Mmm, you really do have only one use,” she said as she pulled him back up between her legs, “off you go.”

“Hey, I need a rest too?”

“What? You haven’t been walking.”

“Do you know how many times your butt cheeks have pummelled and battered me?”

Kate looked down in mock surprise as she tensed her glutes and listened to Brad cry out in aroused frustration. In retaliation, Brad started to tickle Kate between her legs which made Kate cry out and roll over on to her front. With Kate no longer sitting on him, he pulled himself in between her butt cheeks and tickled her there as well. Within seconds they were both rolling around on the camping mat laughing.

“Ha, got you and you’ve got no safe to threaten to lock me in,” Brad beamed.

Kate looked around, “Yes, but there’s a tiny zip pocket in my denim shorts that would act as a very secure jail for you.”

“I wouldn’t fit.”

“Really?”

“OK, sorry Katie,” Brad kicked himself for baiting her, when would be learn that she was far too powerful and sadistic for that.

Kate pulled him off her hips, down her legs and carefully eased him over her boots. “Keep still,” she commanded as she folded her twitching underwear in half again and again.

Brad felt like a contortionist as she folded him in half yet again until he was an almost cube shaped pile of silk. Kate held her helpless soul mate between her thumb and forefinger.

“You really need to learn not to challenge me, I’ll always win,” Kate smiled, pleased that she’d found yet another way to completely restrain him, “I could tuck you in my bra or tuck you in my boot like this and you’d be completely stuck.”

Brad couldn’t match the strength in Kate’s fingers and so could only look on and wait for the inevitable and as she unzipped the pocket on the back of her favourite denim shorts and squeezed him inside.

“Any last words?” Kate teased, “Oh yes I forgot, you’re mute without my pussy.”

She very carefully zipped him inside reducing him still further to nothing more than a slight bulge in the pocket of her shorts.

“OK, see if you can get out of that!”

Kate was now sitting on top of her folded denim shorts, naked other than for boots and t-shirt. She felt exhilarated as the slightly cooler evening breeze blew gently between her legs.

*

The sun was now setting behind the mountains on the far side of the valley and the temperature was dropping fast. Kate unzipped the pocket and eased Brad out.

“I’m going to put my jeans on and I assume you want to come inside?”

Brad was cold and cramped and desperate to be part of Kate’s evening attire. With the wind continuing to blow, she unfolded him and slid him back up her legs. He watched impatiently as she pulled up her jeans and buttoned them around her waist.

“Oh that’s so nice and warm,” he said, snuggling in to her as far as he could.

“You really are pleased to be back on,” Kate replied as she felt his frenzied movements against her.

She lay down on her mat and lit the small fire that she’d laid as Brad worked his magic and treated her to a tight thong.

“You can’t still be cold?” she asked, “Not that I’m complaining, you feel nice.”

“Right now I’d be happy to be worn inside your leather trousers.”

“I wish I’d bought them with me,” Kate purred.

Kate stood up and walked over to her backpack, but stepped awkwardly on a rock and rolled her ankle. She cried out in pain and hopped back over to the tent.

“You you Okay Katie?” Brad asked.

“Just my ankle.”

She pulled off her boot and massaged her ankle, but was still unable to put any weight on it. If it wasn’t any better by the morning then she had a big problem. She had no phone reception and being Sunday night, it was unlikely that there would be any hikers up in that part of the mountains until the following weekend. Still dressed, Kate climbed painfully into her sleeping bag wondering whether this would force her to share her little secret.

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

Jennifer looked nervously at the clock. It was exactly 30 seconds past the time it was last time she looked. The ticking of the clock was out of time with the mechanical rhythm of the double electric breast pump which only added to her growing agitation. Her engorged breasts were filled to bursting but in spite of her obvious abundance of milk, the pump was only producing a trickle. She turned the pump up to ‘full’ and whimpered softly as the increased pressure sucked mercilessly on her aching nipples. The trickle increased slightly, but not enough.

She looked at the clock again. Scott would be here any minute and she’d only managed to pump 2 of the 8 oz she still needed to leave so that he could feed the baby while she was at work. In desperation she began to massage her breasts, trying to speed up the process. Just then, she heard the knock at the door. With 6 more oz to go, she knew that she couldn’t stop now so she yelled for him to come in. Jennifer’s face flushed with embarrassment when she saw the look on 18 year old Scott’s face. She imagined how it must look and immediately regretting allowing him to see her this way. He was just out of high school and would be off to college after the summer. “I’m sorry, I know this looks awful, but I’m having a hell of a time getting enough milk to leave for you” she said apologetically. Scott recovered quickly. “No,” he stammered, “it’s just that I wasn’t expecting it. I always figured that the milk in the fridge was the kind that came out of a can.” He had not taken his eyes off of her for a second and Jennifer noticed the look on his face change from shock to fascination.

“How does it work?” Scott asked. “Well, its kind of hard to explain,” Jennifer said hesitantly, “but if you really want to know, come over here and I’ll show you.” Scott’s eyes widened and he practically sprinted across the room. Jennifer questioned the appropriateness of what she was about to do but decided to go ahead with it in the name of education since he seemed so interested. The machine was still whirring and sucking as Scott watched with growing interest. Jennifer explained how it worked all the while juggling the pump with one hand and massaging her breasts with the other.

“So what does the rubbing do? I mean, how you’re rubbing them with your hand?” Scott asked.

Jennifer flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry Scott… this must be really awkward for you. The baby’s sleeping. Why don’t you just go watch TV? I’ll let you know when I’m done here” she said softly.

“No.. It’s ok, really!” Scott protested. “Look, I don’t know a lot about breastfeeding but I can see that you’re not getting anywhere Mrs. Carpenter. Why don’t you let me help?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t… I wouldn’t feel comfortable with that and I certainly couldn’t ask you izmit escort to do that” Jennifer spluttered, now more embarrassed than ever. She cursed herself for letting herself get into this position.

“I’m not some little kid Mrs. Carpenter.” Scot replied. Sure, it’s new to me but I can see that you’re having trouble and I’d like to help if I can. I can also see that you’re already late for work. So just tell me what to do and we’ll get this bottle filled up and you out the door, ok?”

Her breasts were on fire with engorgement now and her nipple couldn’t take much more of this sucking. She knew he was right so with a sigh, Jennifer said “You’re right. And god knows I could use the help.”

Scott stood behind her, reached over and started to massage her swollen breasts. At first Jennifer felt ashamed but she tried to relax, knowing that unless she did, her milk would continue to come out in drops. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. His hands did feel good.

Scott continued to massage her breasts and before long, the milk began to flow. A trickle at first and then more, and more. He was leaning over her now, his arms aching but he was enjoying this too much to stop! Jennifer inhaled his fresh masculine scent as his strong hands kneaded her breasts in a hypnotic rhythm and was shocked to feel a tingle between her legs. This startled her enough that she opened her eyes. The bottle was full!

She switched off the machine and the room was silent. “Well,” she said with a bit of a giggle, “this is awkward!” Her cheeks flushed as she disconnected the machine and got up to put the bottle in the fridge.

“Not at all Mrs. Carpenter, I was glad I could help. I know how important it is to you to breastfeed the baby” Scott said graciously. “Anything I can do to help… just ask!”

Jennifer appreciated how cool Scott was being about this more than she could say. She didn’t have time to linger though. She was very late for work now! She thanked Scott profusely and gave him some last minute instructions as she flew out the door.

By the time she got to the stop sign at the end of the street it became obvious to Jennifer that she had another problem. Her panties were soaking wet. Flustered, embarrassed & late, she struggled out of them as she pulled onto the freeway. It was going to be a long day.

And a long day it was. Jennifer found it hard to concentrate on her spreadsheets. Thoughts of that morning permeated her thoughts. She knew it was wrong but she just couldn’t stop thinking about it and by lunch time there was nothing left to do but head for the ladies room, lock herself in a stall, and get off. Hoping that it was just some strange hormonal reaction, Jennifer attacked her work ferociously that afternoon. izmit sınırsız escort By 5:00 she was pretty pleased that she had managed to chase almost all of those thoughts from her mind.

Her breasts were aching again as she got in the car for the drive home. She hoped that the baby would be awake when she got home so she could feed him and get some relief. Her wet panties lay on the passenger seat as evidence of this morning’s escapade. She felt her face flush and that tingle between her legs jolted her again. She punched the buttons on the radio looking for some talk radio to take her mind off of the heat which was building inside her but it was no use. She felt a familiar tingle in her breasts and sure enough, she began to leak.

By the time she got home she was a mess. She tried to duck in quietly to change her shirt before Scott noticed she was home but it was no use. He was sitting right there in the living room watching TV when she walked in the door.

“Looks like you had a rough day!” he said warmly. “Well, you’ll be happy to know that the baby is asleep so you can just put your feet up and relax for a while. Took me forever to get him down for a nap but he finally went down about 10 minutes ago.”

Jennifer nearly burst into tears. She couldn’t very well wake him up after only 10 minutes. She fished in her wallet for money to pay Scott.

“Anything I can do before I go?” Scott asked.

“Well, you can haul that wretched pump in here for me… that would be great” Jennifer said as she found the cash and placed it on the table.

“You’re not going to use that horrible thing again today are you?” Scott asked.

“Well it’s either that or wake the baby up. I’ve got a bit of a problem her as you can see” she said motioning to the wet stains on the front of her shirt.

Scott disappeared into the kitchen and Jennifer slumped down on the couch and closed her eyes. She heard him come back in a moment later. “The money’s on the table. Thanks a lot for everything today Scott. I’ll see you tomorrow.” But Scott didn’t leave.

She felt him sit down next to her and she opened her eyes. He turned so that his body was facing hers and looked at her intently. Jennifer opened her mouth to say something but he silenced her with a finger over her lips. Then slowly, he began to unbutton her blouse, and then unclasped the clasp in the front of her bra, freeing her filled to bursting breasts. Again Jennifer started to object but Scott just said “shhhhhhhhhh…….” and ran his fingers over her hot breasts. Milk collected on her nipples, dripping into her lap. Scott caught a drip with his finger and licked it off. Jennifer didn’t know what to say.

“It seems to me that there is a very obvious yahya kaptan escort solution to this problem” Scott almost whispered. “Do you want me to help you?”

Jennifer moaned and tried to say no but the pressure in her breasts was overpowering. Scott asked again and she gave in to her more primal urges and whispered “yes.”

Scott leaned forward and took her nipple into his mouth. Gently and tentatively at first, he began to suck. Jennifer closed her eyes again and let go of all her tension and misgivings. He began sucking harder, hungrily and she could hear him swallowing great mouthfuls of her sweet milk. When her breast was no longer aching with fullness, he switched to her other breast. Jennifer grabbed a cushion and placed it on her lap so he could rest his head while he sucked. His strong mouth tugged on her nipple, milking it with long slow sucks. She tried not to notice that with one hand he was stroking himself through his trousers but she found that she could not tear her eyes away.

“Let me help you with that” she whispered into his ear as she ran her hand down to undo his jeans. Jennifer slipped her hand into the teenager’s boxers and grasped his hot throbbing cock firmly. Scott continued to drink as she stroked him. She felt him growing harder in her hand and was unable to deny the growing hunger inside her. Now that the pain in her breasts had abated she was feeling nothing but bliss as Scott sucked and nibbled on her ripe nipples. He was moaning softly as she pumped his cock with her hand. His mouth was sending waves of pleasure surging through her whole body. Scott’s hand rested on her thigh and she thought she would die if he didn’t slip it under her skirt and touch her. She started rocking her hips to the rhythm of his sucking and as if on cue, Scott’s hand slowly started moving up her thigh. When it finally reached the soft wet skin of her pussy Jennifer moaned a long, aching moan and she bore down against his fingers which slipped easily inside her. His thumb found her hard clit which he rubbed as he slid his fingers in and out of her. She felt his cock jump in her hand and she increased her strokes in response.

Reeling in ecstasy, Jennifer lost herself in the sensory symphony being played through her body. She heard her own voice crying out but it seemed far away. The physical sensations mingled with her passion and desire culminating in an explosive climax. She wasn’t fully aware that Scott too was also erupting in orgasm. His hot, teenage cum was dripping down her hand as her nipple slipped out his mouth.

When Jennifer woke up, it was getting dark. Scott was gone and she could hear the baby stirring on the monitor on the coffee table. There was no evidence of what had happened other than her wet skirt so for a moment she wondered if she had dreamed it. But the scent of him was all over her. She lifted he pillow where he had lay his head to her face and breathed in his scent. Shame and embarrassment made way for contentment and satisfaction. The warm afterglow stayed with her the rest of the night and as she drifted off to sleep she found her way into his arms.

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

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

Mark stepped onto the pavement outside his office and looked up at the blue sky. He could not help but smile. He did not like arrogance, in himself or others, but he could not help feeling confident about how well the interview had gone. He had been polite, organised and humble, character traits he was proud to have. Mark knew that there was one more interview to be held that afternoon. He thought about the candidate, his co-worker Shane. He had a certain swagger around the office, definitely a mans man and Mark had no doubt that he would be loud and confident in the interview. But he had also heard that Shane had taken the morning off, no doubt that would reflect badly on him. He cleared his head of his doubts and set off down the street to his favourite sandwich shop. It truly was a beautiful day. He took out his phone and called Alyssa, his fiancée. She would be eager to know how his interview had gone, and he wanted to hear her sweet voice.

The phone rang for so long he almost hung up, but eventually Alyssa answered with a grunt. She sounded out of breath, like she was at the gym.

Hello? Said Mark, putting a finger in his ear as he walked down the street.

Hmm? Alyssa mumbled as she was pushed and pulled across the bedspread.

Can you hear me? Mark asked.

Hi baby.

I was just calling to say I had the interview. He said, annoyed at the passing traffic.

Oh that’s good. She said as she was pushed forwards by a long thrust.

Really good, she added as she looked back at the muscular man behind her.

If only Mark knew, when he saw Shane rushing out of the office after his interview, that he was on his way to a hotel across the city, mid range mostly used by travelling types, and waiting for him in that room was Mark’s twenty one year old fiancée. He thrust into her as she spoke, steady and deep.

Dinner, she said, I hadn’t thought. I guess that…. He pushed his full length into her and she gasped and dropped the phone, burying her head in the sheets to muffle her groans. Hello, hello, came Marks weak voice from the other end of the line. She had a picture of Mark as his caller i.d and Shane looked down at it, over the tight naked body of the girl he loved. He pushed her head further down as she started to struggle and he kept thrusting into her, finally releasing her. She could not withhold her pleasured cry. She grabbed the phone and sighed.

Is everything okay? Mark asked.

Everything’s fine baby, just rushing about at work. I dropped my phone.

Behind her Shane picked up the pace and she was panting as she tried to keep track of the conversation.

Mark was talking about a story he told in his interview and she managed to moan ‘yes’ at the right intervals. Shane’s thick hands gripped her hips and pulled her onto his cock, sliding it in and out as she threw her head back to stifle another moan. Finally he took out his entire length and slapped his huge cock against her ass cheek. She looked back and giggled, as the loud slapping seemed to fill the room.

What’s that noise? Mark asked.

I don’t know, Alyssa said, wriggling her ass towards Shane’s cock. He lifted it away and she pushed her ass up at him. He slapped his cock down between her cheeks and she squealed.

I think someone is clapping, she said. It’s Jolene’s birthday, we’re having cake later.

So will you be back late.

I don’t know, maybe. Depends how long we go on for. She said, looking back at Shane and wriggling her ass again. She pouted at him as he jerked his cock. He drove it back between her legs and started to thrust, his swollen balls slapping against her.

Unmph, ooooo, there’s that clapping again. Said Alyssa. Shane’s thrusts became rhythmic, he was starting to get out of breath.

I’ll be done soon, she said as Shane sped up and started to grip her hips.

Alyssa grabbed a handful of sheets.

Yeah….sure….umm…The words starting to catch in her throat as Shane’s cock ploughed into her. Finally he stopped and pushed her onto the bed and got on after her, the springs groaning under his bulk. He knelt up and pulled her face toward his cock. With one hand Alyssa started to jerk the full length of his shaft. She could barely fit her hand around it, as she jerked him faster. She kissed the head, which was the size and angry colour of a plum.

What about that guy, the other interviewee?

She asked with a malicious grin. Shane gave her a hard stare.

Really? He left straight away after the interview? She kissed Shane’s izmit escort bayan cock with more passion and love than she had ever kissed Mark, slurping and sucking at it. He forced his cock down her throat and she held the phone away and started bobbing her head up and down on his huge shaft. Pre cum oozed out and dribbled mixed with her spit down her chin until her mouth was nearly covered.

He doesn’t sound very professional, she said winking at Shane.

He responded by slapping his cock against her mouth and cheek. She opened her mouth in response.

God, she said at eye level with Shane’s throbbing cock.

I wonder where he went? Must have been important. Shane stroked her cheek and she sucked on the head and slid it into her mouth again, bobbing up and down.

Huh, that noise? I’m having a quick lunch, you know? On the go. It’s that kind of day. I have to go baby. Slurp…. Oh, what am I eating? Actually I am being really naughty. Yes… A hot dog, a really big one… She winked at Shane. See you later. She whispered and Mark smiled on the other end of the phone as she signed off the call by seemingly blowing him a kiss. On Alyssa’s end the phone slipped out of her hand. She had already forgotten about Mark and with her eyes closed was planting deep kisses on the end of Shane’s cock as he jerked off. He grunted like an animal as his cock erupted and Alyssa shrieked in delight as he plastered her face with his cum. She sucked the head clean, enjoying the popping sound it made as it went in and out of her mouth.

Mark smiled and took in a deep breath of fresh air. He felt lucky, a good job with great opportunities and a truly beautiful and kind fiancée. He smiled at a passer-by and bent down to give a beggar a pound coin.

Alyssa went over to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Her mascara was running down her face and her hair was wild. Thick white cum hung from her chin and the end of her nose and had sprayed across her cheek and into her hair., but she had caught most of it on her tongue which she stuck out in the mirror. What a load, she thought as she snapped a selfie on her phone. Shane walked up behind her and put his big hands on her hips.

Mark certainly is a lucky boy. He said as he pulled her against him. She swallowed his cum and grinned.

A boy. She whispered and touched the cum on her cheek and Shane felt is cock stirring back to life. He grabbed her hair and wrapped it around his fist and bent her over the sink as her delicate little feet struggled to stay on the floor. She squealed in delight as she felt his cock head pressing against her pussy. She was raw down there from the last time and now it hurt and ached and she wriggled to get comfortable. As he thrust into her she finally lost her footing and tried to steady herself. Shane grunted and pushed her head into the sink, and with his spare hand roughly grabbed at her nipples. She looked at herself in the mirror above the sink. The tap pressed into her forehead, her hands blindly searching for purchase, her hair pulled tight in Shane’s thick fist. She grinned at her reflection and a thick drop of cum fell from her chin. She could already feel it starting to dry and crack against her skin. She looked at Shane’s reflection, his broad chest rising and falling as he worked at her, his biceps flexing as he held her in place. Alyssa fumbled for her phone, knocking tiny shampoos off the bathroom shelf. She took some more selfies in the mirror, then threw her phone down into a pile of towels and shut her eyes as his thrusting quickened and his grip became like a vice. He pulled out of her and she staggered forward, his animal groan echoing off the tiles as he came over her pert bottom. She bit her lip and felt it run down to her leg and listened to his breathing. She turned and looked at her bottom in the mirror. She was impressed, considering the load he had unleashed over her face less than half an hour ago, her backside was well and truly plastered with his cum. He threw a towel into the sink. She wet it and cleaned her bottom.

You don’t have to do that. She said.

Do what? He asked.

Pull out. My friend told me that men don’t like it.

You’re friend sounds like she knows her stuff. What is she like?

I don’t know, Alyssa said and felt defensive. She probably just read it in a magazine.

Shane smiled at her in the mirror and ran his hands over her belly.

Shit, he said and laughed, did I do that?

And pointed to the red welt the tap had izmit merkez escort pressed into her forehead. He took a little of his cum from her chin and put it on her lips. Alyssa licked her lips and sucked his finger clean. He pressed the finger into the welt on her forehead and she flinched.

Does it hurt? He asked.

Yes. She said.

Sorry.

It’s a good hurt. She said. I didn’t mean what I said, don’t think I am crazy will you? I know what this is.

Alyssa raised the towel to her face. Shane held her arm..

No. He said firmly. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her head up.

Do something for me.

Yes. She said straight away and he laughed and kissed her clean cheek.

Do you want to know what it is before you agree?

She grinned at him in the mirror and shrugged.

Don’t wash your face, not completely. Then give that boyfriend of yours a nice big kiss.

Alyssa giggled. That’s so cruel Shane.

I imagine he will need it, he is due some bad news about the interview. Sounds like the little fellow has his hopes up.

He picked up her phone, threw it on the bed and gently pushed her out of the door. Her legs were still shaking from their fuck and she tottered slightly.

I need a shower before I go home. See yourself out. He said and gave her an almighty slap on her right buttock. She yelped and almost fell onto the bed with the force of it and he promptly shut the bathroom door and locked it. Alyssa picked up her dress and fumbled around for her underwear. She found her bra amongst the bed sheets and put it on, then got down on all fours and reached under the bed and came up with the delicate and expensive thong she had bought that morning, especially for the afternoon meeting. When she had chosen it, somehow she had imagined Shane admiring the material, and how it made her look like a sophisticated lover. She imagined him eagerly running his fingers over the transparent lace and satin bows the adorned the hem. Instead he had pulled her dress over her hips and shoved his hand down the front of the underwear and roughly into her until he had lost patience with the material constricting his movement and unceremoniously torn the straps with one downward pull, leaving the remains of the hand stitched garment hanging from her butt cheeks.

She used a tissue to wipe her face clean, but mostly it had dried now against her skin. She scratched at the little flakes and felt it should be more noticeable than it actually was, felt that she would stand out on the street and there was no way people would not know. She pulled on her heels. In the next room the shower started and she thought about Shane washing his body. She knew he was washing her off before returning home to his wife. Her phone beeped, a text message.

Hi babe, stopped at the supermarket and picked up some bits to make a stir fry, got spring rolls to! See you soon xx

She picked up her tattered thong and walked out of the door, down the corridor to the lift. The lift was walled with mirrors and stainless steel and she leaned on the railing and looked herself over. Her hair was almost glued to her cheek and she pulled it free and picked out as many of the rubbery white flakes as she could. And elderly couple entered the lift and smiled at her. The old man looked down and frowned and Alyssa realised she still had her thong in her hand. She sheepishly opened her bag and dropped them inside, although she noticed that she was not as embarrassed as she should of been. The old man stared ahead with a strange look on his face for the short journey until the chime when they reached the ground floor. Alyssa shrugged, maybe he disapproved and maybe he wished he was young again. She really didn’t care, she called it a cock coma, a phrase she had coined the first time Shane had taken her to a hotel.

She walked through the lobby, ignoring the receptionists glare, and out onto the street. It was still warm and clear and the rush hour traffic was building all around. She walked over to an idling taxi, the driver eyed her bare legs as she approached.

She gave him Mark’s address and sat back, feeling the drivers eyes in the mirror.

Just visiting love? He asked with a smile on his face.

Hmm, what, Alyssa asked, looking up from her phone.

Are you visiting.

Where?

The town?

No. Why would I be?

You just came out of the hotel.

I live in the town. She said and shook her head, she was exhausted izmit otele gelen escort and annoyed at the small talk. Usually she would smile politely and be friendly, but she honestly did not care.

Oh, said the driver. Bit of a rendezvous then?

Do you think you could just drive? I don’t mean to be rude.

Not a problem, love. He said and they crawled through the city centre traffic and out toward the suburbs where Mark lived.

Mark answered the door in an apron, the smell of cooking drifting through the hall way. She didn’t let him take her coat, which he always offered to do.

Did you get the bus? He asked.

Actually I got a taxi, I went out with some work friends for a while.

You shouldn’t have to pay for a taxi, how much was it?

It’s okay. I paid on my phone.

She followed him into the kitchen, everything was neat and clean apart from a chopping board full of vegetables and a sizzling wok. He poured her a glass of white wine. She noticed that his phone was set square against the worktop and knew he was expecting news from the interview.

So how did it go? She asked.

Oh, I don’t know. He said with familiar modesty. I was honest, which is the best you can be I think. He tapped on the wooden worktop and smiled.

Alyssa smiled back and thought about Shane’s blunt worldview. Does he even have one? She thought, or does he just barrel through and take what he pleases. Compared to Marks considered manner and how it restrained him from achievement. His phone was not going to ring, and tomorrow or the next day the news of Shane’s promotion would be casually broken to him. And no matter how many times he asked she would not marry him, and would leave him at the drop of a hat, or one curt text from Shane, or any of the other lovers she planned to take. She smiled and wondered what it would take to break this gentle mans spirit, or indeed release it. She raised the glass to her mouth but stopped, remembering what Shane had asked of her. Cruel, but simple enough, she could not let him down. She put the glass down.

How much longer until it is ready? She asked.

Fifteen minutes? He said, like it was a question.

Well then I think I will have a shower.

She said and stepped up to him. He looked surprised as she pulled him down toward her and kissed him. She explored every inch of his mouth with her tongue, and as he almost stumbled back she gripped his arms and pushed her mouth tighter against his, pushing her tongue further into his mouth. She felt him go hard against her leg, a small point of pressure near the top of her thigh. Taste him, she thought as she pushed her tongue against his. When he pulled back he licked his lips with a thoughtful expression.

Is something the matter? Alyssa asked with a smile.

I’m just very glad you came. He whispered, almost panting. He kissed her on her cheek, she let her hand hang near his crotch and he brushed his hardness against her as he kissed her again and again on the cheek. She moved her hand away and he humped at nothing as she stepped back. His face was very red and he was almost out of breath. He looked at the vegetables and then down at his arousal, slightly visible beneath the apron.

She kissed him again. You taste funny, he said.

Charming. She said and laughed.

It’s nice, but salty, like something you ate.

Oh, I had ice cream with the girls. Salted caramel. I suppose more ended up on my face than I managed to swallow. She smiled when Mark licked his lips again and smiled. Delicious he said and she couldn’t help but laugh at him, nibbling at the taste of her lover.

I should clean up before we eat, she said. And left him to prepare her meal. She took a long hot shower that almost sent her to sleep, then went into Mark’s bedroom to change. Most of the clothes she kept there were comfortable, pyjamas and sportswear for lounging around, with only a couple of nice dresses in case they went out. But she unashamedly used this place to eat and watch TV, feeling safe enough around Mark to relax.

When she went downstairs the food was ready and laid out on the coffee table in front of the tv.

Can I chose what we watch. Alyssa asked and Mark eagerly agreed as he made her a plate of food. She put her feet up on the sofa and selected an action film.

Is it violent? Mark asked.

Life is violent, she said without looking at him, almost dreamlike as she relaxed into the sofa. She started to eat.

Do you want a spring roll? Mark asked.

She shook her head, not looking away from the t.v.

Don’t you like them? He asked, and at this Alyssa turned her head and looked him in the eye.

They are just….small, and unsatisfying. So what is the point? She asked and held Mark’s gaze until he shrugged and smiled at her.

You’re sweet, she said. I’m a very lucky girl.

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This is a femdom story with the themes of foot worship, financial domination, hypnosis and mind control.

If that’s not your fetish, please don’t vote this story down, please hit the back button instead!

It’s a black comedy for feeble foot-fetishists, pathetic paypigs, mindless addicts, abject losers, weak-willed wankers, hopeless chastity slaves, hypno junkies and worthless worms — i.e. people like me. I reckon, based on my other stories’ view counts, that there’s about five of us on this site. It’s a grim tale of one man’s descent, in seven steps, from wealth to financial ruin, from foolish pride to utter humiliation, from happiness to abject despair, from sanity to madness at the hands of a merciless financial dominatrix. I hope you enjoy sharing his downward journey, imagining yourself in the miserable fucker’s shoes. And talking of shoes…

Step One: Stolly and Stilettos

Sam Moser had a thing for heels.

And so did Goddess Helena: She had over fifty pairs of shoes and boots, all prominently on display in neat rows, filling twenty yards of purpose-built shelves lining one wall of her bedroom, which doubled as a webcam studio. All the shoes were classy, and seriously expensive: Glitzy white diamante-studded Rossi high-heels; understated black Manolo Blahnik courts; outrageous Bolcheva knee-boots. And every pair of shoes in her collection had been a tribute from her humble foot-slaves, grateful gifts to their Goddess Helena. Yet none were as valuable as the high-arched, impeccably pedicured feet they adorned. Her slaves paid their Goddess, over and over again, for the privilege of worshipping her perfect feet, kneeling and wanking helplessly before cum-stained laptop screens while she wiggled her dainty toes arrogantly in their eager faces.

Helena cultivated her slaves well; she made each of them feel special, unique. She had profile notes which popped up on her screen whenever they entered her chatroom on camdates.com, the preferred site for financial dommes. The notes reminded her what kind of bespoke experience each slave was into: ‘CrushMe88’ liked his balls trodden on by the stainless steel Stiletto spikes of her wicked Sophia Webster Evangeline pumps, and to imagine the smell of his charred flesh as she mimed touching the tip of her cigarette to his exposed scrotum; ‘BigJimmy’ simply wished to masturbate silently and furiously, his gaze intent on the creases in the flesh of her bare soles as she flexed her arches; ‘Koda’ was a young kid, a sweaty-trainers sniffer, the smellier the better. He liked his Goddesses sporty and athletic, so she obliged, donning her blonde wig and shiny leotards to show off her well-toned body. Removing a Nike Airmax trainer from her bare foot she thrust it in his face and made him sniff the stink of her insoles.

As for Sam, her notes on him consisted of three words: ‘intox, dangle, edge’.

Sam’s cam sessions with her began in the same way each time: She would be perched demurely on the end of her bed, her cam on the floor angled upwards to remind him of her superiority. After an initial five or ten minutes during which she and Sam chatted politely, asking each other how their day went, Helena commanded Sam to fetch the vodka bottle he kept in his freezer and pour himself a generous tumblerful.

“Drink,” At her one-word command he would drain the glass. Then she would call him a “Good Boy”. All she needed to do was say those two words and his dick would jump to attention and his heart race.

“Keep staring, staring at my shiny shoe, slave Sam, and become weak.”

And then Sam, his brain awash with a mind-melting cocktail of ethanol, oxytocin, adrenaline and the various endorphins that flooded his synapses whenever he heard Helena’s soothing voice, lay on his mattress and stared, dazzled by the sheen of her sheer Wolford tights, transfixed by the red undersole of her Louboutin as it dangled and swayed like a metronome suspended from her big toe. In less than a minute his jaw would be slack, his eyelids heavy; after another minute, on her command, he’d start to stroke his dick lightly with his fingers. As soon as he was fully comatose, she could pretty much ignore him; she would light a cigarette, browse the web and check for messages on her phone. And then, thirty minutes later she made him jerk off on her ten-second countdown. At his moment of orgasm she’d finally let the shoe drop from her toes and land on the tiled floor with a gentle clunk.

During the session, she would seemingly relish the effect she had on him. It was impossible for Sam, who was very cynical by nature, to tell if she was faking her pleasure or not: Her occasional bursts of scornful, incredulous laughter as she witnessed his descent into stupor seemed genuine. At intervals throughout the session she would croon words of soothing encouragement, accelerating his helpless plummet into complete submission: “Each day of your life you will crave this more and more… You know this is your place, at my feet… There’s no escape…”

“No izmit escort bayan escape,” Sam would mouth silently and obediently. Yet all the while some part of him was aware that it was all mere play-acting on both their parts: He knew that as soon as he’d shot his load he’d snap out of his hypnotic state, and become suddenly conscious of the time (and money) he’d just been spending.

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, at precisely nine PM, Sam replayed this session with Helena, enacting pretty much the same scenario each time. It was costing him $450 per week, a manageable chunk of change for him. On her birthday he might buy her a gift from her Amazon wish-list — a $40 pair of tights, or some body lotion.

He was pretty sure that Helena was content with this routine, draining his balls and wallet thrice weekly; she wouldn’t get greedy and pressure him into increasing his spending. Helena gave no hints to the contrary. She didn’t need to, because she knew that Sam’s attempt to keep up this nice, convenient three-day routine was doomed: Sam would inevitably become desensitised, and, like all addicts who need ever bigger fixes, begin to crave a more intense experience, and wish to fall deeper under her control. Her skill was in knowing when to apply the brakes or the accelerator to manage the speed of his descent: Too fast, and he’d bolt in fear; too slow, and he would be able to build up resistance to her conditioning.

Step Two: What Do You Say We Go Somewhere a Little More Private

One Thursday evening Sam entered her session at nine PM as usual, and she greeted him as always with a smile and blew him a kiss. But Sam detected a slight agitation in her demeanour today: When he asked her his habitual “how are you”, she shrugged before answering that she was okay. Sam’s delicate questioning revealed what was troubling her: There was some issue with the site, and she was pissed off about it. She couldn’t say more, she explained, it would get her banned.

And then Helena scribbled something on a pad and held it up to her cam: “heels_goddess_owns_u”. She mouthed the word “Skype”.

“Now?” typed Sam, his heart inexplicably racing. She nodded and lit a cigarette. She picked up her mobile phone, waiting for his contact request.

It felt strange for Sam to chat with her on Skype. He normally used it to chat to his friends and family in the US. It made him feel as though the mistress/slave relationship had dissolved, and that Elena and he were now equals — just two people chatting. Somehow it felt awkward to call her “Goddess” now; so he called her Helena. “It’s ‘Elena’,” she corrected him. So that was her real name.

“And you’re really ‘Sam’?” She asked him.

“Yes. Yes, really!’ He laughed, seeing she wasn’t convinced. “Sam Moser,” he added, providing his last name too as evidence of his sincerity.

On Skype Elena could talk freely: CamDates was now going to be taking a fifty percent share of the models’ earnings. She called the site owners ‘assholes’ and ‘gangsters’.

Sam laughed. “Wow, you really are pissed off.”

“Sorry. I just get so mad with those fuckers. I needed to vent.” Then Elena laughed too. “And I can’t show it to my slaves because I have to smile and be a Goddess all the fucking time.”

Sam felt honoured that she’d compared him favourably to her mere “slaves” — like he was closer in her confidence then they were. It didn’t occur to him that by transferring their communication to Skype their relationship was now more “real-life”, more intimate. And it was no longer limited to the times that Sam chose to visit her chatroom. But she was too smart to start pestering him “out of hours” yet. That would come later.

They chatted for almost an hour. Elena took him further into her confidence. She revealed, seemingly inadvertently, some details of her real life; which part of Bucharest she lived in, the fact that she still lived with her parents, what food she liked, and how she was desperate to move into her own place; she was doing cam modelling to earn enough money to buy a house, because it paid better than the advertising model gigs she used to get.

Sam at first revealed very little of himself beyond his name; he talked a little about his work but remained cautious, not being too specific about his earnings and financial situation, or about locations and names. But Elena knew that sooner or later he’d reciprocate the trust she’d shown in him.

Elena noticed that Sam made a slightly unhappy face.

“What is it, Sam? Ah, I know: We’re talking too much about real life, and you feel I’m not Your Goddess anymore. Does my Sammy miss this?” She pointed her phone’s cam at her smooth thighs, then panned it down to her shiny heels, taking Sam along for the ride. She placed the phone on the floor and hovered her heel over it, playfully threatening to crush him. Sam’s cock stirred, and he grinned. “Oh my God. Damn. It’s just that — I guess I’m not gölcük escort used to chatting with you on Skype. It feels different. Like we’re friends.”

She picked up the phone and held it before her face. “Well?” She said. “We are friends. Don’t you think it’s possible to become friends with your Goddess?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because I am still your Goddess.”

“I — Yes.”

“I will always be your Goddess.” Elena took a drag of her cigarette.

Sam remained silent, quickly falling under her spell, and getting very turned on.

“Understand, my foot-slave?”

“Yes.”

“Drink.”

Sam poured a triple-shot of vodka into his tumbler and swallowed.

“Good boy.”

Thirty minutes later Elena allowed Sam to cum on her countdown. She gave him five seconds, rather than the usual ten, judging that he wouldn’t be able to last the full ten today.

He returned to consciousness; a perfect climax to an incredible session.

And it hadn’t cost him a dime, he thought happily.

Step Three: We’re Just Good Friends

It had now been two weeks and six sessions after that first Skype chat, and Elena had not even hinted at any “tributes”. Sam still hadn’t figured out why Elena hadn’t yet demanded any money from him: Surely, he thought, her inviting him on Skype had been about bypassing CamDate’s fifty percent commission — he’d expected that Elena and he would “split the middle-man”, so he’d end up paying her around $3.75 per minute instead of $5, tributing straight into to her bank account. He asked her about this directly one evening. Which is what Elena had been patiently been waiting for him to do.

“You don’t need to pay me, my Sammy. You gave me enough already.” said Elena.

Sam made a shocked face. Before he could protest, Elena continued, “I have enough slaves. Maybe you don’t realise something about me: I enjoy our sessions. I like you, my Sammy, you’re different, you are smart, and treat me like a lady, not like a fantasy Goddess.”

Sam nodded, and exhaled. This stunningly beautiful young woman actually liked him!

“Sam. Understand: This is lifestyle for me, it’s not always about money. You know, I get turned on too, watching you get weak. I sometimes get really wet watching you, seeing how I affect you. It doesn’t happen to me with most of the wankers that come to me. They’re mostly stupid and rude. You’re polite and respectful to me. So maybe you can just buy me a gift at Christmas, if you feel so guilty about not paying me.” She laughed.

Sam’s cheeks were red with pleasure. “Wow. Thank you. I’m very flattered. Really.”

“Show me your dick, Sammy.”

Sam angled his cam down to show Elena his throbbing hard-on. She laughed and clapped her hands. “I knew it!”

She smiled at him. “You see, it’s a turn-on for you, to be friends with your Mistress, eh, my Sammy?”

Sam nodded.

“Drop deep for me, slave.”

Sam’s dick felt ready to burst. His eyelids grew heavy.

“Good boy. Fetch it for me. Fetch the Stolichnaya, my good boy.”

She placed her cam on the floor and perched her shoe on the end of her foot. With tiny jerks of her big toe, she started to swing the shoe up and down, up and down…

Thirty minutes later, after the shoe had dropped to the floor and Sam was now busying himself wiping cum from his belly, and still feeling the warm afterglow of his orgasm, Elena said, “Good boy. From now we use WhatsApp. It’s better, more secure. I sent you my number. Say ‘hi’ to me.”

Sam sent her WhatsApp message. Elena replied with ‘heart’ and ‘red-high-heeled shoe’ emojis.

Step Four: Three Little Words

One morning Sam woke in the night and recalled that he’d just been dreaming of Elena. He jotted the dream down on a notepad he kept by his bed; this was something he’d always done. This is what he wrote:

E lying on a towel on a sunny beach and I’m rubbing warm oil on her back + onto butt-cheeks. E ignores me, has my iPhone, flips through the pictures on it. “You don’t need these pictures,” she says, and suddenly runs to sea and throws my iPhone into sea. “Now there’s only me in your life,” she tells me. OMFG I’M FUCKED

He glanced at his phone to see the time: Four thirty AM. He guessed Elena was in bed too. A crazy urge came to him to message her, but he resisted. He lay back and stroked his dick, picturing her sleeping, lying on her side, naked on her bed, one perfect leg crooked. “Suck my foot, slave,” he imagined her murmuring sleepily. He pictured her from the viewpoint of the foot of her bed, her smooth cool toes wiggling in his mouth, distending his lips wide, pushing deeper, deeper, gagging him…

He found it difficult to concentrate at work. He kept glancing hopefully at his phone, working out the time difference between London and Bucharest, and imagining what Elena was doing. Then his phone buzzed. She’d sent him a WhatsApp message.

“I need your opinion, izmit escort Sammy,” it said. It was shortly followed by two photos of leather coats. She was out shopping.

“Second one is sexier,” he replied, his dick uncurling with pleasure.

She replied, “Yep, and also three times the $$$. You have good taste,” followed by a devil emoji.

Five minutes later there was another message from her: “I bought it,” followed by a ‘bundle-of-dollar-bills-with-wings’ emoji.

And then nothing until nine PM, when she instigated a video chat.

“How was your day, my slave?”

“Terrible,” Sam laughed. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Just getting that message from you this morning made me so horny.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And I’m dreaming about you the whole time. I think I’m in love.”

“Of course you are. Did you think it was possible not to fall in love with your Goddess?”

“I assumed it was just lust. But it’s more.”

“Yes. More than lust. And more dangerous for you. Now you really can’t escape me. I’m always in your head.”

“Elena, I want to pay for your coat. How much was it?”

“Oh Sammy, it was too much. I’m a shopping addict.”

“How much? Five hundred Euros?”

Elena pointing to the ceiling.

“A thousand?”

Elena pointed higher.

“Fuck. Two thousand?”

“No. That would be even too much for me. It was twelve hundred Euros. On sale.”

“Okay. I want to buy it for you.”

“Sammy, it’s okay.”

“Really, I do. Please. It’s nearly Christmas. Call it a Christmas present.”

“Okay. Okay, but I want to send you a present too.”

“Deal. So how should I send the money?”

“Well,” said Elena, “Use Western Union. I’ll send you what you need to write on the transfer. You have to get it exactly right or it won’t transfer.” She sent him the details. It included her full name and address.

“Now give me your address where I can send you your Christmas present.”

Sam gave her his home address, and promised to send the money tomorrow morning., and let her know when he’d done so.”

“Good Sammy. You love your Goddess. Say it.”

“I love you.”

“Mmm. Again.”

“I love you.”

“Say it each night. Repeat it all the time. Say it again, now.”

Sam gasped, “I love you…”

“Yes. Tomorrow you will really show me, my love slave.”

Sam assumed she meant that he’d show his love by sending her the money for the coat, but she had something else in mind.

He sent the money at ten-thirty the next morning and messaged her immediately after.

Step Five: Sleep Deprivation

Elena decided to show her gratitude for his gift by allowing Sam to play a game with her she called ‘Twenty-Four’. He was to send her, every hour on the hour, for twenty-four hours, a picture of his dick, no matter where he was or what he was doing. If he missed any hourly deadline or sent the photo later than two minutes past the hour, he would incur a hundred Euro penalty. If he managed to send her every single cock-pic on time, she would reward him, but she wouldn’t say what the reward would be, only that it would be worth it. Sam was by now too deeply in her thrall to refuse her; in fact he was already hard before the game had even begun, at the mere prospect of playing it.

“You know I gave you the easy version,” Elena told him. “The hard version is that your dick must always be hard for me in each picture. And no cheating with Viagra. I’m enough Viagra for you. So maybe that’s not so hard for you, the hard version?” She laughed.

Sam, goaded, decided to go for the hard version of the game. The first picture was to be sent at noon, continuing every hour, on the hour, up to and including noon the next day. So the game really should have been called “Twenty-Five”.

Sam checked the time. Eleven AM. He called his assistant at his office and told him he would be incommunicado until tomorrow night, and to field any messages. He prepared himself for a sleepless night by buying fresh coffee, a big packet of the strongest espresso-ground blend that his Italian Deli stocked.

He was nervous and jittery just before noon. He’d only just arrived back home after buying the coffee and had barely had time to make himself a triple-shot. He threw off his clothes and jumped on his bed, still unmade since the morning, when he’d been in a rush to get to the Western Union office before work. He lay on his bed, glancing at his phone every few seconds to check the time. At eleven fifty-eight he shut his eyes and ran his fingers lightly up and down his dick. Nothing was happening. He grabbed his dick firmly and jacked it quickly. Still nothing. Damnit, he was getting an attack of anxiety!

But then, as soon as his phone showed exactly noon, he was amazed that his dick quickly and inexplicably grew hard — weird. But there was no time to analyse it: He hurriedly took a photo of his erection before it disappeared, and sent it to Elena.

A few seconds later he received a ‘hands-clapping’ emoji. One down, twenty-four to go.

Sam made himself an omelette and a cheese and tomato sandwich, watched the news on TV, and took a dump and a shower. He looked at his phone. Ten minutes to go. His balls churned, and his dick stirred. “Too soon, idiot” he said to it.

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My room was bright and spacious and in addition to my bed and a cupboard also contained a writing desk that I could use for my studies. I lived in great comfort compared to most of my fellow students. My mature landlady was very supportive and encouraged me to take my studies seriously. It was a bit strange to share a flat with mature woman who in many ways was the embodiment of former my teenage fantasies: ripe and mature with a full figure, outspoken and easy-going and also very imaginative and resourceful when it came to sex.

However, in spite of her easy-going manner, she also had a very private and secretive side. I was not allowed into her bed. We had sex all over the flat, kitchen and bathroom not excepted, but her bedroom remained a secret to me.

I was allowed to see her naked and in many kinds of sexy outfits, I was allowed to caress and worship her, she let me fondle her amble breasts and suck her nipples and she loved to have me lick her pussy and worship her ass. She liked it when I fingered her asshole during oral sex. But I was never allowed to penetrate her. Regular sex was out of the question. Not that she said so outright, but she indicated it clearly.

She milked my on a daily basis and seemed to take great pleasure in teasing me and controlling my mind and body. She liked to play coy and have me kneel before her and beg, and I was not allowed to come before I had pleasured her orally for a long time. In fact, I liked to drag the process out myself; to caress her and brush the soft wool of her sexy sweaters against my face; to fondle her breasts and search for her nipples through several layers of mohair; to kiss my way up her nylon-covered legs starting at her feet.

I was a true submissive at heart. This chastity on her part, if one could call it that, added to the suspense in our relationship, which in one way was very fulfilling, but on the other hand was never really fulfilled.

—

There were of course many pretty female students at uni. But the daily milking and the free access to the ripe body of a mature, experienced and attractive and her loving caresses kept me from straying. Not that we had a regular love affair with promises of everlasting love, but she evidently loved to have a young man half her age to worship her and submit to her every command, and for me to eat out her ass was bliss and to be rewarded with a drawn out hand job that emptied my sack completely was pure heaven.

She liked to keep the temperature in the flat on the low side and usually wore a wide variety of cuddly sweaters, sweater-dresses or woollen bodysuits and fluffy leg warmers, playing with me and my obvious wool fetish.

She liked me to be totally naked when I sought her attention, and subservient and obedient. Often she used her long nails to scratch me in my face, down my neck, across my chest and all over my torso to sensitize my skin further for the soft sensation of fluffy, tickling wool against my naked body.

At times she also used a small riding crop to control and direct me – not really in order to outright punish me, for I always complied with her wishes, but to demonstrate clearly who as in control. She grew more dominant as time went by, and I subjected myself willingly to her whims. In fact, I loved every part of it.

I loved to crawl before her; to sprawl at her feet on the lush carpet; to lick my way up her thighs, because I knew that was a sure way to get my eager lips on her vulva and my tongue inside her pussy. And that pussy ruled me. I could not get enough of it, and it intrigued me that I was allowed to or rather ordered to lick it, kiss it and have it rubbed in my face for extended periods of time, to explore it with my fingers and tongue, but never allowed to use my cock; never allowed to fuck her outright.

—

Sometimes she liked me to cuddle up to her and share her body-warmth through the soft wool. She let me bury my face in the soft folds of mohair covering her chest or caress her round buttocks outlined in the softest angora. At other times, for example if my grades at uni were slipping, she was less motherly and more forceful. Then she could order me to lie over her knees with my butt in the air so that she could slap me or paddle me. I loved being punished like that, even if (or perhaps just because) it resulted in a sore ass that made me relive the experience every time I tried to sit down hours afterwards.

However, the great difficulty was not to come prematurely. Just the thought of the humiliating procedure always gave me a hard-on, and I had to stick my stiff member between her thighs to lie properly across her knees.

If she wore a wide mohair skirt or long, fuzzy legwarmers that went way past her knees, my cock dipped into a valley of the softest wool, and each slap across my buttocks would make me jerk. She always took it slow, dragging the process out, and followed each slap with gentle caresses, but even so I was always on the brink of spilling my semen escort izmit down her legs, and she made it clear that that was not acceptable.

—

Weeks and months passed like that. Life was great, and I had nothing to complain about. She explored every fetish of mine, and I tried to fulfil every wish of hers. But I was also a nosy and curious young man. Her bedroom was off limits to me, and that was of course a challenge for an enquiring young mind.

Curiosity killed the cat, they say. Well, one day, when she had left me alone in the flat and told me not to expect her back anytime soon, I ventured into her room, or rather rooms. Her bedroom was large and bright with large windows facing the roof terrace and covered by soft, white curtains preventing a view inside.

Her bedroom was much more personal and feminine than the rest of the flat. There were several doors at the far wall, one leading into a large bathroom, one solidly locked and one giving access to a substantial walk-in closet. This was a gold-mine for a fetishist like me. Here were drawers and shelves full of the most magnificent knit-wear, fancy shoes and boots and drawers full of sexy lingerie.

I had promised myself not to disturb anything, but I could not help myself when I saw a particularly chunky sweater knitted from a thick, coarse yarn and with a giant, ribbed turtleneck that could also be used as a hood. I liked the feel of such sweaters and envied the women who wore them. I would love to wear such a sweater myself during sex with the large turtleneck covering my face entirely, being cossetted and cuddled inside the soft and cosy or coarse and scratchy wool.

I rid myself of my clothes and pulled the chunky sweater over my head. It was very soft and warm, but at the same time particularly scratchy and itchy. Even when I folded the turtleneck several times over, it still covered my ears and continued to scratch my neck and chin. It gave me a lovely ticklish feeling all over. I excitedly stroked myself as I kept on exploring shelves and drawers.

There were, of course, ordinary clothes like jeans and blouses too, but she had an amazingly large collection of very sexy clothing and apparel. On display were also a wide array of shoes and boots with extra high heels and platform soles clearly of the “fuck me” variety that I had not seen before. I wondered when she used to wear those. All the knit-wear was of special interest to me, and there was really much to look at, but nosy me had to open all the cupboards and look in every drawer.

One large drawer contained a very varied selection of sex toys, some I had seen in porn magazines, and some not. A number of rubber items puzzled me as to their function, and others surprised me by their sheer size. Really kinky stuff, I thought.

—

I had far from completed my search when I found a drawer full of erotic magazines; high-class magazines with superior print and picture quality. They were without publishing data, probably only meant for circulation among a select number of readers.

The theme was female domination, light BDSM, classic lingerie, dominatrixes chastizing submissive males, mature and full-figured women seducing and even facesitting young men and more in that vein. The pictures were fantastic, speaking directly to me. Some were obviously staged, primarily to show the sexiness and beauty of the mistresses. Others were apparently from real sex scenes judging by the red bottoms or lined backs of male slaves being subject to various types of punishment and torment in the hands of strict dominatrixes.

I started to leaf through one, then another, sensing my heart race as I did so. This was very exciting stuff. I read some of the ads towards back with particular interest, for these ads were surely real. Curvy and strikingly beautiful women with heavy makeup, shiny ponytails, corsets, gloves and whips offered exceptional, personal services. I envied the customers that could afford to pay for what these women had to offer.

One of the ads spouting the headline “At her beck and call” showed a picture of a striking blonde woman in high-heeled, thigh-high leather boots with tight lacing all the way up. She sat cross-legged in a high-backed chair that apparently could also function as a queening throne. The wall behind her displayed a number of BDSM implement such as leashes, whips, paddles, canes, handcuffs, hood and gags. According to the ad, her dungeon boasted of having a jail cell, St. Andrews cross, bondage table, queening throne, spanking bench, interrogation chair, leather cuffs and restraints, collars and plenty of pleasant torture toys to make every slave suffer admirably. My dick twitched. The striking mistress in the photo could be a younger version of my landlady, I thought briefly.

In the next magazine I hit pay dirt. It contained an article or rather a review, if you like, of a visit to a high-class dominatrix offering to chastise and discipline misbehaving kocaeli escort gentlemen. The pictures were full-page size, sharp and crisp showing every enticing detail; her long legs clad in black, thigh-high boots; her long, curved, brightly coloured fingernails; her shaved pussy lips below a trimmed blonde bush and her long blonde hair pulled tightly back in a ponytail.

The woman in the photos was the woman from the ad I had seen, and it was also without doubt my present landlady! The adjoining text explained that she offered break down naughty boys of any age, and the reviewer could attest that she did it very well, making the process a pleasantly drawn-out one, utterly humiliating and blissfully painful, almost unbearable and certainly very memorable.

Neither the ad nor the review spoke of regular intercourse, but the reviewer hinted that a sufficiently compliant, subservient and generous gentleman might gracefully be allowed to worship the lady’s pussy towards the end.

Bits and pieces fell into place. It was intriguing to learn that she had been employed in such a business; it did not demean her in my mind, but made knowing her intimately even more thrilling. I looked at the photos. She was perhaps 10-15 years younger in the pictures, but it was hard to say, as she was heavily made up. She was slimmer and her skin more smooth. She was very elegant and quite intimidating.

Comparing the woman in the photos with the somewhat fuller, more curvy and more mature woman I knew, I found her to be just as sexy and just as attractive today, perhaps even more so; the ripeness adding yet another layer of sexuality. I wondered whether I would one day be able to discuss her past occupation with her…

—

I had not noticed that I had been observed for some time, but as she came approached me, a shadow fell over the magazine I was reading. I flinched, terrified. She looked angry and sad at the same time, and I felt really bad that I had thus betrayed her trust. Her angry silence was worse than anything.

She snatched the magazines from me, thrust them into the drawer and slammed it shut. Then she grabbed my arm angrily like a mother would a disobedient child and dragged me towards the locked door at the far end of her bedroom, unlocked it and thrust me inside.

The room was windowless and almost pitch-dark with only a little light spilling through the half-open door. I heard some metallic clanging as I sprawled on the hard floor. She guided me towards the sound with slaps and kicks. I crawled forward, and a metal gate fell in place behind me.

She lit a single lamp on the wall, and I could make out a dark room with red satiny walls and several black wooden objects. It was the room from the ad in the magazine – a true mistress’ dungeon! – and I was locked inside a metal cage too small for me to stand up in. She left me there to think things over.

—

As my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, I could make out more details of the room and all the implements of mild torture and sexual punishment, some frightening and some thrilling. I feared the chastisement that lay ahead of me, but somehow also looked forward to it with some excitement.

When she entered hours later, she had put on a black figure-hugging dress knitted from the softest angora and the high lace-up boots I remembered from her ad. The dress barely covered her bottom, and from my low vantage-point I could see that she was naked underneath. Her blonde hair was pulled tightly back in a long pony-tail, and she had applied a very elaborate, colourful makeup that made her look quite stern and sinister.

With a riding crop in her hand, she offered to open the cage if I agreed to receive the just punishment for my transgressions. I did. I looked up at her through the iron bars and admired how her ponytail fell softly over her shoulder. The fuzzy outline of her angora dress gave her body further softness and a glowing silhouette. I would endure anything to regain her trust so that we could continue our marvellous relationship.

She ordered me to stand in the middle of the room. My cock was gradually growing and twitching, reacting to the scratching feeling of the large, chunky sweater I had on and the fascinating look of my mistress.

She put leather handcuffs on my wrist and tied my hands behind my back. She also put a leather cuffs on my ankles and mounted a spreader bar between my feet. I felt quite helpless and vulnerable.

I could feel her breath on my neck as she stood behind me and caressed me, stroking my sweater in a way that increased its itchiness. She put her hands under the sweater and scratched my thighs and my hips with her sharp, lacquered fingernails, slowly centring upon my crotch and my cock. She made me squirm when she dragged the sharp tips of her nails along my stiffening shaft and tickled my balls.

Slowly she brought her hands up along my midriff, her angora-clad körfez escort arms felt ever so soft against my naked skin. Then in a change of mood her fingers found my nipples and began tearing into them – hard – with their sharp talons twisting, pulling and scraping. Ouch, that hurt.

Judging that my nipples were sufficiently sore and tender, she brought a cold metallic chain under the sweater and up to my chest. Without mercy she fastened one end to my right nipple by means of a sharp clip that bit into my sore flesh, followed by the other end with another clip to the left nipple. She tugged several times at the chain as if to make sure that it was properly attached or, more likely, to increase the pain.

Satisfied with her handiwork, she sat herself down in the queening chair. Slowly she spread her legs and displayed her naked cunt to me. Thinking that she wanted me to worship her pussy, I gingerly went down on my knees and staggered forward.

“Stop!” she ordered. “Pussy worship would not be a punishment for you. No, you will have to stay there and watch and see that I can manage very well without you.”

A small table next to the queening held a display of vibrators and dildos of various colours, shapes and sizes, and from this she took a red, but otherwise realistic-looking, jelly dildo and began licking it and sucking on it. She looked at me as she did so, and I have to admit that I wanted it to be my prick that sucked on, not an inanimate jelly copy. After having made it wet, she used it to tease and caress her pussy lips. She spread her lips with her fingers and began to push the dildo inside, slowly at first and then with longer strokes and more vigour.

I was quite close and studied how her cunt lips seemed to kiss the tip upon entry and clung to the flexible jelly dildo as it slipped inside. The squishing noises were music to my ears. I hobbled a few steps inches closer until she stopped me with a pointed heel digging into my shoulder. She was panting, her face was flushed and the dildo was wet and sticky when she brought it out. She offered it to me to sniff at and lick on.

Then she found another dildo, black rubber this time, a bit thicker and several inches longer, maybe 12 inches in all. It looked large and menacing, and it fascinated me to see up close how her pussy adapted itself to it size and girth. She used both hands to push it inside, but once inside it slid in and out easily. She took it slowly at first, seeming just to enjoy the sensation of the increased size penetrating her, then increased her pace and pushed it gradually further inside. Her hips bucked with each stroke.

She had swung one leg over the armrest to make it easier to grip the big black thing with both hands, and that also made it easier for me to see what was going on. I was fascinated to observe that the large dildo also made her asshole stretch and twitch with each stroke.

It did not take her so long to reach orgasm, and it made me very excited to be able to see the whole thing from only a few feet away. I wanted so to lunge forward and take part, but she prevented it be pushing me steadily away with sharp heel of her fancy boot.

At last, she took the biggest dildo on the table – a large skin-coloured one that must have been 18 inches long with a diameter to match and a large bulbous head. She looked me directly in the eye when she kissed, caressed and licked on it. It was huge and animalistic. I wondered what she would try to do with it – she could not possibly get that inside her.

She slid further down in her seat, swung both legs over the armrests and started to press it against her pussy, but she could not manage to get it in. She then picked up a jar of lubricant and lovingly applied it to the tip of the monster dildo. With the assistance of the lubricant and some grunting on her part, she managed to push the head inside. It was mesmerizing to observe how her pussy lips gradually adapted themselves to the dildo and slid over the thickest part. Her cunt now gripped the dildo around the somewhat smaller circumference behind the head.

She had had to lift her legs in the air to push the big monster further inside, and this time she did not stop me when I leant forward and kissed her ass cheeks admiringly. I applied my tongue to her puckered asshole and stuck it as far up her ass as I could when she began to ram the giant rubber dick inside her flexible cunt. The movements inside her pussy transplanted themselves to her asshole and could be felt by my tongue.

She was very noisy when she came this time – panting, puffing and crying out loud. Juices ran down from her pussy, and I slurped them up with my eager mouth. When she finally pulled the monster dildo out, it came out with a plop, and I could stare into the dark cavity it left behind. Gradually her pussy relaxed and closed up, and I licked and kissed it gingerly, performing true pussy worship. I was in awe of her.

We stayed in that position for quite some time – she relaxing and I resting my head in her lap. I had not obtained satisfaction, but there was a small puddle of pre-cum on the floor under my dick. It had been cruel to watch the wild dildo-fucks from close quarters without being able to take any direct part myself. That was a kind of torment in itself.

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“Hello, and welcome to this meeting of Dealing With Impotence. We have a new member today. Mark, would you introduce yourself?”

“Hi, everybody. I’m Mark, and I can’t get it up.”

“Tell us your story.”

“Okay. Well, it’s been a recurring problem for me. I’m not in a relationship now, but I want to come to grips with this before I start another one, no pun intended.” There was laughter from the bunch. “A connection with a girl is made, we start dating, everything is fine, and right when it starts to get serious, I’m droopy.”

“Do you believe it’s psychological, then?”

“It must be.”

“It’s a fear of commitment?”

“I guess so. The sex at first is fine, and then something changes. Isn’t it always a fear? If it were physiological then counseling wouldn’t help.”

“Actually, Mark, we have friends here tonight who are physically unable to become aroused, and they need our support.” Two of the men waved at me.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s alright. Learning is a part of the process. There are, in fact, many causes of male impotence. For some people, pharmaceuticals in the water supply are to blame, while others believe it’s stress created by our ever-quickening, technological society. No one factor can explain every problem.” A man in a chair across from me coughed, and I glanced at him, noticing his newspaper on the wooden floor at his feet. The headline read GOLDEN FLOWER APPEARS TO HUNDREDS, and below it was a picture of the backs of several people as they stared at a meteorological disturbance.

“Women steal our life energy, that’s what does it!”

“Okay, Stephen, we’ll all have a chance to speak at the end,” the leader said.

“I’d like to pose a question, now,” another man interjected gruffly.

“Ralph, can it wait?”

“No, this concerns all of us, not my opinion.”

“Go ahead.”

“Lately, some of our brothers haven’t been seen at these groups. Joe and Dave haven’t been here for three weeks, now why aren’t we talking about that? And Pat and Troy stopped coming before them. Does anybody know why? I thought we were supposed to be a tight-knit crew. We’re meant to look out for each other.”

“There have been unsavory characters hanging around outside the building!” the skinny one named Stephen yelled. “Female types!”

“Now, Ralph, you see? You’re getting Stephen riled. Everybody just relax.” The men were shuffling nervously in their seats, and grumbling. “If our members haven’t been showing up, we’ll just have to assume they’re not interested in coming, and wish them well.”

“I thought that was the whole point,” I said. The room was silent.

When the session finally ended, we filed out the front entrance of the gymnasium, and the clicking of cigarette lighters in the night air drowned out the chorus of grasshoppers. As the men divided into smaller numbers with different trajectories, I observed a huddle of women across the street similarly breaking up to pursue them, each keeping a careful distance from her assigned quarry, and moving at a leisurely pace.

“Hey, Ralph, who are they?” I asked the older man as he donned his hat.

“Mm? Oh, they’re here sometimes. I think they’re part of a new fringe culture that finds impotent men irresistible. They probably meet on the internet,” he said, and izmit escort departed.

“Thanks.” I decided to wait and see the last of them off, but as I stood there one of the girls remained on the sidewalk, mirroring my stare and smiling. Momentarily she approached me, and I took in her appearance. She wore Mary Jane shoes and navy blue tights under a light, semi-transparent skirt that fell past her knees, and her gray t-shirt hung loosely beneath a black denim jacket with rolled-up sleeves. Her long, blond hair was parted in the middle and fell straight in front and behind her. It framed a strong-jawed face with a nose that was slightly too large and beady eyes that seemed locked on me. The outfit suggested her curves were feminine, but also revealed her build was extremely solid. Altogether, her features proved powerfully attractive.

“Hi, I’m Amy,” she said when she’d reached me.

“Mark.”

“You live near here? I’m new to the area, and need someone to guide me around. Would you help me?”

“What do you need to find?” I asked.

“I’ll know when I see it,” she said. In a few moments we were walking hand in hand, and a quick look down the street informed me that other men who’d attended the gathering were enjoying exactly the same good fortune. She managed to distract me from the oddity of the situation by continuing to look straight through me. “That’s my car,” she said, pointing. I shrugged and got in.

While we rode, she activated the dashboard telephone. A young woman’s voice answered.

“Beehive.”

“This is Amy 43. I have one passenger. What’s a nice place to stay for the evening?”

“Are you equipped?”

“Yes.”

“Standby.” During the long pause that followed she ignored me with the same vehemence she’d displayed in studying me, her focus remaining on the road. “Nothing available,” the dispatcher responded.

“There must be. Look again.”

“Try a motel.” Amy fumed.

“Karen doesn’t like motels, anymore. There was a memo, recently. Please advise.”

“Why don’t we go to my place?” I asked, and she silenced me with a warning glower.

“You’re cleared at the tower,” the voice came back after six seconds.

“Copy,” she said, and the connection was terminated. “You’re in for quite a treat.” She made a U-turn at the next traffic stop.

“Navigational computers are really sophisticated these days.” Her eyes fell on me briefly.

Downtown, we pulled into the subterranean garage of a fifty story office building. A petite, uniformed, female security guard scanned the ID badge Amy pulled from her skirt pocket, and allowed us access to the elevator. The doors closed and it rose without either of us pressing any buttons. When it dinged, we stepped into a luxury suite with a panoramic view of the city, on the forty-seventh floor.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, and headed immediately for the bedroom with her big purse. I took off my shoes and plunked down on the huge red couch. When I noticed a remote control beside me, I picked it up and clicked-on the big screen television.

The first thing to appear was a white male symbol on a blue background. A sideways white female symbol slid into the frame horizontally so that the cross entered the circle of the first icon. When that happened, izmit escort kızları the color of the screen changed to pink and a three-tone chime sounded. Then the cursive word Femtel faded-in, under the hybrid symbol.

“Tonight at eight, the modern classic, ‘Olga the Impaler’,” a woman’s voice said. “Then, at ten-thirty…” I changed the channel. On the next network a twenty-something woman standing in combat boots was holding a naked man by the hips, fucking him vigorously with a strap-on dildo in a featureless room, and grunting loudly with every thrust. That prompted me to surf. The porn was replaced with a similar scene shot so the heads of both people faced the camera, the lady sighing with pleasure as she rocked and the young man receiving her with a dazed and tear-streaked expression. Yet again, I lowered my thumb. Another couple stood in a castle hall, the male in only a red harness about his neck and chest and the female in nothing but a green one that hugged her hips and crotch. Switching once more, I saw a soft-lit soap opera featuring an attractive woman in a dark business suit, consoling a man dressed as a doctor on the sofa of a mansion’s sitting room. She produced a pair of handcuffs from the end table drawer, and he nodded reluctantly.

“Cable sucks,” I said, turning it off.

“Miss me?” Amy asked, over my shoulder. I turned to see her wearing her navy tights, a black bra, and a strap-on harness like the ones that had been on TV. She had obviously been expecting my shocked reaction, and savored it fully.

“What are you planning to do with that?” She spryly and happily sat on the cushion adjacent to mine.

“Well, you’re impotent, and I need to get laid, so I guess I’m going to have to fuck you with it.” She took my hands and waited for consent.

“I’m not impotent, though, really,” I stammered.

“Of course you are,” she said with a laugh. “That’s why you were at the meeting. Don’t shine me on.” I sighed.

“I think that would hurt,” I said, hoping to reason with her.

“Tremendously,” she agreed, “and just wait ’till I get going.” I threw my hands up.

“Oh, as long as we’re clear,” I said in resignation. The lube glistened on her impressive teal shaft like a winking eye. She reached behind her head, and folded her long hair into a crude knot.

Ten minutes later I had stripped and gotten on all fours upon the plush rug, and Amy had her left hand on my butt to steady me, while with her right she fed the phallus into my waiting asshole. The belt-like fastener creaked when she tightened it, and then I felt both her palms on my cheeks as her hips acquired a gentle swaying motion. Instinctively, I lowered my head to the floor. For about four minutes she had me like that with girlish delight, her pumping almost imperceptibly growing more adamant as she plowed. There was no mistaking the clawing of her nails on my backside however, which was urgent and angry the entire time. Eventually her exhalation loudened and the slamming took on a vaguely robotic efficiency. I was bumped roughly by her endeavors.

Her hands moved to my hips, and clamped there. Then as suddenly, she stopped thumping and reached down for my ankles, which she pulled up like the brakes on a sled, causing my ass to drop with gebze escort her dick still inserted into it. My legs straightened out at either side of her calves on the carpet. Forced that way into the prone position, I sensed her fists landing beside my midsection, and her head hovering two feet or so above my back. She harshly drove her hips down, completely burying her rod in me with each mighty slap of her beautiful thighs against my own. Her casual attitude implied she was watching the piston with curious fascination. Nevertheless, she sent shock waves through me.

Something set her off, and she had to amp it up. She slid her left arm under mine, bringing her hot mouth to the nape of my neck, and I felt her fingers curl over my deltoid. Poised to really hammer me, she snapped her pretty hips at my rump to sharply inject the cock repeatedly. My body shook helplessly as her mouth-breathing got even more ragged, and then forward lunging joined her technique, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Her abdominal crunches delivered brutal shocks.

“Damn, I love fucking impotent men,” she snarled, half out of her mind with excitement.

“Actually, I’m not…” Her left hand returned to the floor and the right landed on my spine to support her lovely torso, as her head was raised above me. The volley that followed was deft and rapid. A strand of drool zigzagged along my ribs. “Oh, Amy!” I cried in spite of myself, “you’re incredible!”

“Yeah!” she cheered, and pulled on my left hip as she returned to a kneeling position, so we were again in doggy. Her hands bit into my waist and she fucked as quickly and viciously as her hard body would let her, and I began to scream. “Take it, you bastard!” My feet covered her ankles as she continued accelerating, and the rate finally changed to a slow, steady thudding that culminated in one prolonged press of her crotch to my posterior. Digging her toes involuntarily into the shag, she let out a long sigh, and shivered.

“Marry me,” I begged.

All of a sudden, the lights in the large room became dim. The TV flickered and the image of a golden lotus whistled from it. Music and news were warped in screeches from the stereo. An explosion removed the bar blender from existence.

“What the hell’s happening?” We separated and I grabbed my clothes, preparing to evacuate. Amy retreated to the bedroom.

“It must be an electrical surge!” she cried, and I heard the locking of a panic room door.

“Great,” I said, finding myself alone as the sprinklers came on. On my left I noticed the wall-mounted bookshelves swinging free of their mooring, exposing to view a secret passageway. I raised my eyebrows and made for it.

In the narrow hallway beyond the facade, things were marginally quieter, but I didn’t feel safe. I followed the path to its end, at a round white room with a high-tech casket in its center that resembled an iron lung. All around had been placed roses, long since withered. Inside was a female figure, draped in a black shroud.

“Margaret,” I said, reading the plate on the head of the box. A klaxon sounded, and I caught sight of the emergency stairwell entrance at the far side of the chamber. I took that route out of the building.

Looking up at the skyscraper, I saw a swirl of black clouds crowning the upper floors as lightning battered the windows. Glass rained like confetti on the hysterical crowds that streamed around arriving emergency vehicles. Each flash in the sky sent down the vision of an auric blossom as it illuminated the raging vortex of fog.

“My God,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I just had a girl’s dick up my ass.”

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

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

I sat at the computer trying my hardest not to eaves drop. Although, they merely seemed to be engrossed in a rather dull conversation, my anticipation for what might happen nagged at me. I could only make out a word or two and could not come even remotely close to the topic of discussion. My solitaire game was beginning to show its boredom as I continually clicked the cards without paying attention to the game.

Every once in a while I would turn back to look at my wife and her lover laying in our bed, each time hoping they wouldn’t notice. For the most part they weren’t. Then the conversation seemed to diminish, the words not only harder to make out, but maybe all together gone. Dare I look back again? What if they were stopping to watch the television that hung overhead? I slowly turned my head back, trying to gaze only out of the corner of my eye. Oh, she was on top of him now. That’s why the voices silenced. They were engaged in a heavy kissing feat. His hands squeezed and groped on her rear. He must have been biting her lips; because her toes would do this sort of point that I usually only see her do during orgasm.

I quickly turned back, not wanting to stare too long. Even though I was now pretty sure they’d all but forgotten I was even in the room anymore. I didn’t want to quit the game, just in case but I’d lost all interest in it. Now, I just waited until enough time had passed before I returned my gaze to my wife and her lover in our bed behind me. The anticipation of what I might see the next time I turned around only made my erection grow. I played with it through my pants, debating on undoing them. Perhaps, if she managed escort izmit to actually have intercourse I would revisit that idea. But, for now… now… I would turn again.

The turn did seem beneficial as now his pants seemed undone and slightly pulled down while she remained clothed. But, now began a grinding motion on his, what I can only assume was bare genitals. Every once in a while his squeezes of her ass would part her shorts enough for me to see pubic hair. I liked that. She suddenly stopped kissing him and propped herself up on her arms, leaning over him. I quickly turned. My thoughts were racing, why did she stop? I could barely make out words again. She gave out a little giggle. Too soon to turn around again, just wait until I can hear more commotion.

Several seconds pasted. I still only heard faint whispers. What were they talking about? Were they done? Was this just an average make out session that I could watch whenever? Then, a noise I was familiar with began to flood my ears. It was unmistakable, the sound of the bed bouncing. I slowly began to turn. Again, trying not to seem like an eager pervert, even if that’s what indeed I was. They were having sex! She was still on top of him, but this time riding his cock. He still managed to squeeze and need her ass, but now when he parted her shorts I could see him going in and out of my wife.

My erection was now uncontrollable. I slowly undid the buttons at the top of my jeans and quietly moved my penis past my boxer shorts. I could barely stroke the shaft in this position, but the sex had just begun and I didn’t want to interrupt darıca escort with an awkward zipper sound. I rotated the chair around and spread my legs out. She was riding him harder now. Their thrusting had doubled in speed and her toes seemed to point more. I couldn’t hear any groans or noise at all coming from them, but still the show was very nice. They were lip locked in what I imagined to be a very wet, seductive kiss. She sat upright. I stopped. I didn’t cover myself or turn, because she didn’t stop riding him. I continued to stoke myself, pulling my dick out a little more.

He was now groping her breasts and had her shirt pulled up over them. He head was pointed downward as she watched him beneath her ride. She then went back down, spread outward over top of him, her hips slowing. There was a problem. He was uncomfortable, I could tell. Maybe having a hard time holding his erection because he knew all too well I was watching them now. Should I turn back around? She then peaked behind her, right at me. She motioned her head to one side, instructing me to move over to the side of the bed. I immediately went and crept down on the floor, barely peeking my head over the bed.

I watched as she slid off his stiff cock and to the side, while deeply kissing him. She started stroking him as they kissed. I too, was stroking my own dick as I watched my wife give this other man a hand job. She then rearranged her whole body, moving to her knees over top of him. I watched eagerly as she put his entire shaft into her mouth. Oh god! I started to stroke my dick harder as he reached down and escort bayan grabbed her hair in his hand. She continued to pump up and down on his cock. But, there still seemed to be a problem with him. I could tell she was trying her best to make him feel comfortable, after all she was giving him a blowjob, but it must have been hard to get sucked off in another man’s bed by his wife… while that other man creepily watched from beside the bed.

He gently pulled her up to him by her hair and began to kiss her again. From my angle, I could see him slide his fingers into her pussy as she went level with him. I began to move to the foot of the bed, now that the focus was taken more to the center of the bed. She continued to stroke his cock while he fingered her and their kissing was began to get increasingly heavy again. It only took a few more seconds before he removed his fingers from inside her and began to shove her head back down to his cock. She eagerly went, and began to suck him off again. He jerked himself while her mouth was over the head. I had the perfect view for what I knew was coming next. I too jerked myself increasing harder and faster. Then, I saw him stop and her take over as the cum exploded from his dick. She managed to catch most of it in her mouth, although some may have drizzled down her chin. When she was sure he was done squirting, she began to suck him again. At that moment I exploded and began to cum. I must have let out a slight noise, because my wife looked at me with a sort of wink in her eye as she continued to suck him off. She slowly began to stop what she was doing and return her focus to him. I was done, and slowly headed back to the chair. There was still an awkward vibe in the air, and she began to cuddle him as I sat down. I turned back to the computer and began to hear them giggle. Perhaps this was an interesting time that could be repeated? And, we may have just found ourselves a new friend to join us.

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

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

I’m not sure where my interest came from. I think it has something to do with finding my dad’s porn collection when I was younger. I remember one day I was watching this girl suck this beautiful cock on tape. All of a sudden I became so curious as to what a cock in my mouth would feel like. I didn’t find it dirty (well, not in a negative way) or disgusting. From then on, whenever I watched porn, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the cocks. It just became my infatuation. All I could think about was having one sliding in and out of my mouth.

Since I wasn’t gay and knew this to be very true, no question at all, meeting guys face to face was really difficult. After many uncomfortable encounters, I found what changed my life. Glory holes.

One day I just happened to stumble into a dirty video store, got some tokens, sat down and noticed the hole in the wall. The smell of sex was everywhere and was totally intoxicating. I quit paying attention to the hole and found a channel that was nothing but cum shots, izmit escort my favorite. I pulled my pants down and started stroking my cock. My head was spinning.

Then the door to the booth next to mine opened. I quickly pulled my pants back up. The guy came in and stood in front of the TV screen, dropped in some tokens and pulled his cock out and started stroking. I was mesmerized by this. I, as usual, couldn’t take my eyes off his cock. He was stroking with his left hand, that’s why I noticed the wedding band. I tried but couldn’t see his face. I guess he saw me peering through the hole. He started to turn around. Scared that I had been caught staring, I quickly sat back in my chair. I didn’t want to get into a fight because I was a “damn queer”. I mean, this was Texas.

I sat there for what felt like hours. Then all of a sudden, he pushed his cock through the hole. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t know people did this kind of thing. Here I was, izmit escort bayan sitting in a dark booth with a cock through the wall. I reached out and grabbed it and started stroking. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. With the smell of cum everywhere, my head was spinning. Next thing I know, something took over. I got down on my knees. I was eye level with one of the biggest cocks I’d ever seen. I started rubbing it against my lips as I jacked it. I started to get worried about disease. But then I thought back to the wedding band. Slowly, I started opening my mouth, licking the head with my tongue.

Next thing I know, I have this cock in my mouth. I was sucking it for all I was worth. All the feelings of discomfort that I experienced in a few awkward meetings were gone. I could finally live my fantasy, totally anonymous.

Since I had never let anyone cum in my mouth, I couldn’t tell he was getting close. Next thing I know, my mouth kocaeli escort was flooded with his cum. I hadn’t even tasted cum before. I didn’t know what to do so I held his cock in my mouth. He finally pulled his cock out, zipped up, and walked out. I was left sitting in a booth, mouthful of cum. As soon as I touched my own hard cock, I exploded. All I did was touch it. I then swallowed what was in my mouth, licked my own cum off my hand, I didn’t have a towel, and bolted for the door.

I was so embarrassed by what I had done. I let this guy that I didn’t even know, not even what he looked like, cum in my mouth while sitting in a dirty video store. All I could think about was how dirty I was and how turned on that made me feel.

I’ve grown a bit since then. I still know that I am straight. I’m comfortable with my fetish. I can now get together face to face with a guy and not feel too uncomfortable. The only requirement is that we both know that he has to be aggressive and we are there for only sex, cruising works well for this. I don’t like talk unless it’s dirty, the dirtier the better.

Well, I hope you enjoyed. This, as noted previously, is my first story. I’d love to hear from anyone. With that said men are easy, I would really like to hear from women that find this exciting. More stories to cum!

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

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

Sitting at the bar and people watching…you can tell the “just friends” and the couples sitting around. Worker groups standing in groups chatting away.

The bartender asks if I want another, so I nod my head and give her my glass.

She walks in the door. I saw her as she walked up the sidewalk. She was looking in trying to see who was here. So she sits, across the bar from where I am, still looking around. The bartender goes over and inquires about her drink choice. I see her lean forward and I know she asked where the restroom was. So she gets up and instead of walking the short way she walks all the way around the bar. She came past me, and as she slowly walked by, she slipped something in my hand…

I smiled. It was the remote. Not to a television but to her vibrator… She just kept walking and headed downstairs to the restroom. I slipped the remote into my shirt pocket, awaiting her return. Setting it for a slow pulse. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her returning. This time she walked the shorter way to the other side, but before she turned the corner I reached up and pushed the button.

She stopped suddenly and gasped. The man she was walking behind just looked at her. izmit escort bayan She smiled, her face the slight rosy color of a blush just starting…

I could see her eyes looking to the side towards me, a slight smile upon her lips as she moved her chair to sit, I pushed it again…Another gasp, this time she looked directly at me.

The Bartender had already set her drink down so after sitting she picked it up to take a sip. Looking at me with alarm in her eyes…I smiled, but no, I did not push the button. Her eyes locked on mine the entire time. After her sip she sat the glass down and answered a question the lady next to her asked. They were carrying on a conversation about whatever and she was just getting ready to grab her drink when I tapped it again. She jumped…I could see the look on the face of the Lady next to her. Concern, and a little questioning…She smiled and sort of shrugged her shoulders and waved it off.

I hit it again, this time holding it for a second. She shuddered, and gasped again. This time the lady reached over and touched her arm, I pressed it again. Her eyes got big and she leaned towards the Lady…I could read her yahya kaptan escort bayan lips.

“I am ok, just a slight tingling in my leg.” The Lady patted her arm, I pushed it and held it. She shuddered again, and another gasp escaped. The Lady had a real concerned look on her face this time. Carrie just leaned closer to her and as she whispered in her ear, I bumped up the setting and hit it again! She leaned against her and her head rested on the Lady’s shoulder. Carrie has always had a fantasy of being with another woman. The Lady put her arm around her and said something to her…They got up and headed to the bathroom. But before they started down the stairs I hit it again…The Lady wrapped her arm around her waist, so I hit it again…

She must have been able to feel the vibration. I could see her eyes get wide and look at Carrie. You could see the embarrassment in Carrie’s face as she shuddered and tried to explain herself to her new friend. So I let them go down the stairs…I did not want to cause her to fall.

They were gone for a while. I heard them coming back up the stairs. Laughing and talking like old friends. izmit anal yapan escort Carrie walked around the bar slowly…I think waiting for it to happen again. I started to push the button again, but decided to wait. Suddenly warm air hit my ear at the same time as the words…

“You are a very bad man.” She whispered. I turned and was looking right at her friend. She had an evil smile on her lips.

“She told me all about it.” “I am a nurse and I was threatening to call 911.”

“We have discussed this for quite awhile.” I told her. “She wants this.”

“I know.” She said. And with that she turned and walked over and sat next to Carrie. I could see Carrie mouthing, “I am sorry.” She sat next to her and ordered another drink for both of them. I told the bartender to put it on my tab. She took the drinks over and just before she put them on the bar, I hit the button again…Carrie spilled the remainder of her drink on the bar, all the while apologizing to the bartender. Her friend was just looking at me, smiling.

I lowered the level of the vibrator and pressed and held the button. Carrie’s eyes got big. I could see her shudder, her face was getting redder and redder. Her shudders became a little more obvious. Her friend just glared at me. I let go of the button. Carrie relaxed.

Her friend just looked at me and patted her hand. I paid my tab and got up to leave. Smiling to both ladies. I waved to Carrie and her new friend. And walked out. Pushing the control to full and holding the button as I walked by the windows.

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

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

My name is Alex. I am 21 years old and I have an older sister that I resemble so closely that most people who don’t know us think we are twins. Cindy is 2 years older than me and because we lived in a rural area growing up, we were each others best friend until our early teens. By anyone’s standards, she is very pretty. She has shoulder high blonde/brown hair, dark brown eyes and a natural blemish free complexion.

We shared the same dark brown eyes and were about the same size. This meant that her clothes fit me and vice versa. One of our favorite game was dress up. I ended up in dresses, skirts and heels while she wore my jeans and boots. She also liked to use me as live mannequin l. I would put on her clothes and model them for her. This grew into more accessories and as time went on, included hair-dos, painted nails, jewelry, etc. She constantly commented on how pretty I looked and said I should have been a girl. At the time, it went in one ear and out the other.

Our mom worked until 6 most days, so when Cindy was away I had the house to myself quite a bit. I used this time to continue our dress up game. I would go into my sisters room and pick through her clothes and change into what fancied me that day. I was mostly fond of wearing skirts with bright tops. I liked the way it felt, having my bare shaven legs exposed with nothing between the outside air and my privates except a thin layer of cotton or silk. I would parade around house in my girly attire, unless it was nice out, and then I would sit on our patio and read a book or something.

One day Cindy came home from school early and caught me in one of her skirts. After a lot of quizzing, I opened up and told her that I liked dressing as a girl better than a boy. Since we were so close, she said that she would help me “figure this out”. She told me to dress up in my favorite outfit the next day and that she would find something for us to do.

I was nervous all day at school and rushed home to change. I picked out a denim mini skirt with a bright yellow bodrum escort bayan top and wore black heels. I put on a few finger rings, an ankle bracelet and several loose fitting bracelets on my arms. When my sister came home all she said was, “Wow, you look great”. She told me to jump in her car and away we went. She took me to a mall kind of far from our house so we didn’t run into anyone we knew. I was scared to death walking around in girls clothes where other people could see me, but at the same time it was amazing. It was a good thing I tucked myself tightly into a pair of panties because I was hard the whole time.

I quickly noticed that all the boys and men stared at my sister and me as we walk by them. I never noticed this before. Cindy picked up on this and asked how I liked being stared at by all the guys. I wasn’t sure how to answer, I hadnt given it much thought actually. “I guess I like it”, is about what I told her. Then she asked the tough question – “do you like boys?” There was no easy way to tell her the truth and I wasn’t sure either. So, I told her I liked girls and boys, and as far as I knew at the time – that was the truth.

All through high school, until Cindy went away to college we would go out to the mall or movies with me dressed as a girl. I shopped for my own clothes, jewelry and makeup. Cindy taught me how to use make up, paint my nails and do my hair so I looked as much like a girl as possible. Even at 18, keeping my legs and body shaved, I looked completely feminine. I had girl friends on and off through school, but I never entertained getting together with boys. The town was too small and the trips with my sister satisfied my girly urges. This all changed when I went away to college.

I attended a small private school about 200 miles from my home. I was able to get a small apartment near school where I could walk to class most days if it wasn’t raining or too cold. On the nastier days I took the bus. There was a very nice mall a short bus yalıkavak escort ride away, so between that and internet shopping I was able to keep myself in clothes, though at this point I bought uni-sex clothing when possible. All of my jeans, tops and shoes were from the Junior girls section and as time went on, I spent more and more time in girls clothes. The anonymity of college made it easy to blend in any way you wished. I maintained a feminine appearance all of the time by keeping my hair in a girlish style and my nails clear polished. I used a light skin tone lipstick that accented my lips, but didn’t call attention to them. I got looks from both boys and girls and probably could have had my pick of either.

One day in my English class a guy came up to me and asked my name. He was a little like me, not especially masculine, but he clearly carried a guy’s persona. He was about 6′ tall and thin, and he had a very soothing smile; I found it hard to look away from his face. There was an instant attraction that I had never felt before. I stumbled telling him my name, and before I knew it, “Aly” came out of my mouth. I had never used the name Aly before, except maybe with myself. I just wanted him to think of me as a girl. We chatted for a few minutes and after class was over, he asked me to have lunch with him.

We sat together in the cafeteria for over an hour, chatting away about all kinds of things. I was playing the girls part and it felt perfectly natural. We both had to get going, but before parting he asked me out on a date. I immediately said yes and told him where I lived. We arranged to meet later that evening to go to diner.

When I got home after classes I started getting ready. I had never had a date with a guy before and had no idea how to prepare. I decided to wear a flattering pair of jeans, a pretty pink top and a black pair of low heels. I put on red lipstick and accented myself with light jewelry. I was not gender neutral. He arrived gümüşlük escort right on time and we left for dinner.

I found it easy to speak with him and we talked for several hours before going home. We decided to walk back to my place, which was about a 20 minute hike. I could feel his hand dangling near mine and I knew what he was about to do. He took my hand in his and we walked the whole way back holding hands. It was hard to keep my mind on our conversation and when we arrived at the door I didn’t know what to do. He was quite a bit taller than me so when I started bending down, I knew I was about to be kissed by a boy. Our mouths met gently and I reached out and put my arms around his neck. When he started to pull back up, I softly pulled him back in and slid my tongue into his mouth. We kissed for several minutes and afterwards I composed myself and invited him in.

I had never felt this way before and I knew I didn’t want the evening to end just yet. I walked him into my apartment, sat him on the couch and got us both a glass of wine. After a sip or two we started kissing again. His hands started wandering and I knew I wasn’t ready for him to find out what I really was. I gently took his hands in mine and slipped my way onto the floor and between his legs. I looked up into his eyes as my fingers undid his belt and zipper. I tugged on his pants as he helped me wiggle them to the floor. He was neatly trimmed with a little hair just above his cock. It was the first one I had ever seen this close except for my own. It was long and thin with a beautiful full head. I stared at it for a few seconds before I lowered my lips to take it in my mouth. This was another first as I kissed and licked my way around his growing dick. It was probably a little new to both of us because I had him ready to cum in just a few minutes. I could taste and feel his pre-cum and just kept on sucking. Within a few seconds he was pumping cum down my throat. I didn’t hesitate to swallow all of it down and kept sucking several minutes after he was done.

I looked up to find a smiling face. I gently kissed the head of his now soft cock, rose up and kissed him on the lips. All I said was, “that was fun, but it is time for me to get to bed.” I helped him with his pants, kissed him at the door. I told he we’d do it again soon. I went to bed and smiled as I reminisced about my first blow job.

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