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Small Town Life

A series of stories featuring Elle and John

Story One: Introductions

As small towns go, this one was small. Not so small that it would just fade away into the middle Americas waves of grain. It was just small enough where everyone knew everyone else and everyone had a secret worth knowing. There was one elementary school, one high school, one mom and pop grocery store, and so on. If this story was just about a normal middle American town, this story wouldn’t be posted here, now would it? No, it wouldn’t. This story follows two teenagers just starting their Senior year at the small town high school. We’re going to call these two teens Elle, a rather pretty, but chubby girl about 18, and John,17, an all American football star that is currently hiding in the closet.

Elle walked a little behind John on their way to school, looking through her backpack for something she had lost. She finally found the silky scarf at the bottom, slightly crushed, but still in good shape. She whipped it out and slung her backpack back across her shoulders. She stopped walking and tied the scarf through her hair like a headband. She had been late and John had insisted they be early for school to find which classes they had together. John stopped, realizing Elle was no longer behind him, and turned.

“We’re gonna be LATE!” He said, a hand tightening on one strap of his backpack.

She rushed up to him and walked past him, “Then stop walking so slow.” He easily caught up with her. They were a mismatched pair, Elle was rock-a-billy, for the lack of a better term. Her clothes leaned towards vintage and comfort, she didn’t care to show off her body because she never was happy with it. When she was little, her mother had drilled into her head how ugly and fat she was. Now that her mother was dead, Elle didn’t have to listen to it from anyone, but the damage had been done. John, being the all American boy, blonde, pale, and blue eyed to Elle’s black hair and dark olive skin and dark eyes. John liked to call her eyes smoky bedroom eyes, she liked to call them muddy and flat.

They came onto the campus for the high school, already the campus teeming with life. There would be exactly 150 seniors in this years class and each one loved John and disliked Elle. John was Elle’s only friend. And Elle was John’s only friend, even though the whole school considered John their friend. John’s secret was planted firmly in Elle’s heart, to stay there until he was ready to give it up or she were to die.

The day went well, they had most of their classes together, save for Elle’s music class, she played viola in the orchestra; and John’s journalism class. He had taken the class for the teacher. A Mr. Little. John had such a crush on Mr. Little and loved to watch him under the guise of listening to music through his headphones. Because John was the star of the football team he could get away with just about anything in the school. Mr. Little’s class was lax, with a couch and no seating arrangements. As long as students turned in some kind of etiler escort bayan written word at the end of class, Mr. Little was happy. John, never without his headphones and iPod, sat a little away from a group of ‘friends’, his headphones on and his head down. He didn’t listen to music, but to the people talking around him. When he removed his headphones, people would hear music, like they did as John removed them as the class got up to leave. He saw Elle through the door in the hall as he stuffed his notebooks into his bag. He was the last to leave and Mr. Little smiled at him. John almost swooned as he left, bumping into Elle.

Later that day, as they sat in Elle’s room listening to her record collection, he gushed on about Mr. Little, “…so tall. I love a tall man, he can’t be any shorter then 6’4. I Swear. And his hair…oh… have you noticed the way it catches the light? It auburn with glints of ginger…”

Elle rolled her eyes from the floor where she did her homework, “In love again, huh.”

She got a pillow in the head for her comment. John looked at the clock and sighed, “I have practice, will you come?”

“I don’t like coming to your practices. The boys jeer at me.” She said, not looking up from her text book.

“Jeer? Since when do you use words like jeer?” He stood, brushing cat hair off his sweater and grabbing his bag.

“Since I looked at a dictionary.” She closed her text book, plainly grumpy about something.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, setting his bag down again, “You don’t get this snarky unless its your time of the month and that isn’t for another two weeks.”

She bit her lip and then pulled a note from her binder, “I found this in my locker today.”

He took it and opened it. It was a casually flowing handwriting style, not scratchy like most high school writing.

Elle

I admired you from afar last year.
You’re beauty makes make a rose blush.
Meet me in room 1305 at five o’clock today.

Your secret admirer

John smirked, “So someone likes you, what’s up?”

Elle snatched the note back, “I don’t like the feeling of it, John. The language doesn’t sound like anyone I know from school. ‘You’re beauty makes a rose blush’? No one from our high school is that romantic. The most romance that goes on in this town is a six pack and a secluded back seat of a pickup truck.”

“Ah, the backseat of a pickup, how I remember those times well…” John snorted, “I’ll go with you, ok?”

“You can’t, practice remember?” Elle stuffed the note into her binder, “I won’t go.”

“Chicken.” John grabbed his bag again and stopped at the threshold of her bedroom door, “You don’t want to admit you want someone to like you. You’re very closed off, Elle. Stop being afraid to find someone.”

She turned away, “I’m 18, I don’t want to have to think of finding someone…”

“This is practice for later in life, Elle.”

Those words are probably what brought Elle to room 1305 at five o’clock that same day. She didn’t realize pendik escort bayan until coming down the hall that the room belonged to the journalism teacher. She blinked, opening the door, peering inside. It was dark, the door had no window, so she opened the door further to admit more light to see. She noticed a light coming from the supply room and frowned. If this was some kind of cruel joke, she would find out who did it and make them pay dearly for messing with her heart. She left the door open and walked deeper into the room. She touched the supply closet door and it opened slowly to a single candle in the middle of the small room and a rose sitting on the desk with the candle. In one corner of the room stood Mr. Little. He looked at her, a smile on his mouth, his hands clasped in front of him. She blinked and turned, “Fuck this.”

“No wait, Ellinore, please.” He had reached out, crossing what little distance there was and gently touched her arm. She turned back to him, narrowing her eyes at him, “This is wrong.”

“What’s wrong is that I had to wait so long to declare myself to you.” He stepped back into the room, gently guiding her. She let him, unsure of why.

“You’re a teacher, you should know better.” She accused, not noticing the door closing on its own.

“I’m a man, and not so much older then you. I’m only 22. I took this job for experience.” He said as he held the rose out to her.

“I bet you use that line on all the legal girls of this school, I’m reporting you.” She turned to go, but he hand her arm again, his other hand running through her hair, sliding the scarf away, “No… no…let me…touch you…”

She froze, turning in his grasp as he looked at the scarf, the silk sliding through his fingers like water. Within a few moments, he had changed. The scarf did something to him as he swiftly un did the knot of the scarf and wrapped it around Elle’s neck. It tightened as he pulled on it, sending her to her knees. denim met hard linoleum and concrete. She didn’t dare move, and couldn’t.

She never told John, didn’t even write it down in her diary, but at night, when she masturbated, one hand under the cool sheet, the other wrapped around her own throat. The control of her lungs lacking the air needed to live, it satisfied a hunger that trying to kill herself couldn’t fix. Hose did he know? Or did he know? Was he like her in the need for this? If he was or not, he had her. She could feel his knees pressing into her back, the bulge of his pants just at the back of her neck. He moved her shoulder length hair away so he could see her neck and the way the scarf pressed into the olive colored flesh. The scarf was navy blue with red poka dots, what made her think of the poka dots as she started to feel light headed, she didn’t know. She was becoming warm, not just in her face as she choked, but her body rose to the arousal of her secret desire.

She felt the tightness of Mr. Little’s pants grow at the back of her neck. It was tight and hot, maybe it was just her, this taksim escort bayan hotness. She couldn’t hear anything but the roaring in her ears. She closed her eyes against the slight light of the candle, an explosion of fireworks dances behind her eyes as she sagged forward from Mr. Little, her tongue poking out between her know blue lips. There was a gasp and she fell to the floor, coughing and trying to catch her breath. A moment passed before she could breath raggedly. She turned on her back, looking up at the horrified looking Mr. Little, the scarf still in his hands. The front of his khaki slack were discolored from his release. He looked red, from embarrassment or from the stimulation, Elle couldn’t be sure.

She felt hot, she burned with arousal for him. How had this man hit on her one secret fantasy? Luck of the draw, and what luck it was. She crawled onto her hands and knees, moving to him. She clutched at the front of his pants and numbly fumbled for his zipper. He was taken by surprise and fell backward, landing awkwardly on his side. She dug her long, black fingernails into his thighs and forced him on his butt. He gasped, his fingers tightening on the scarf as she dragged his half hard cock from his boxers. She looked up and realized, John was right, Mr. Little’s hair did glint ginger in the light and she closed her mouth around the head of his cock and sucked gently.

Taking in what release wasn’t wasted on the inside of his boxers, she drank it up, letting the salt linger on her tongue and the hot juice grow cooler in her mouth. He sucked in air, from pain or surprise, she didn’t give a damn as she dipped her head down, her nails digging deeper into clothed flesh. She dug in behind his knees into the softest flesh.

Bruises already rose on her neck from the scarf, and she could barely swallow now from the swelling, but as his second load hit her fast, she made sure to take it all down. She rose, nipping the tip of him with her teeth, drawing blood. She licked it off her lips and sat back, looking at him in the light of the half burned down candle. She reached over and jerked the scarf from him.

He seemed to come out of a trance as she did and blinked several times. She crawled over his legs, pressing the crotch of her jeans to his still stiff cock. She pressed hard as she ran her tongue over his lips and then breathed into his ear, “I have you now, Little. You’re mine.” She smiled, letting her teeth rest on his earlobe. She had seen women do this in movies. She always found it sexy and hoped it came off the way it was suppose to.

She raked her nails up his back and pulled away from him, standing quickly, tying the scarf around her neck to hid the red and purple marks on her neck. She straightened her clothes and ran a hand through her hair a few times, “You’re mine.” She repeated, “And if I find that you have been with any other girl in this school or even in this town… I will make you sorry.” She gave him a smile and opened the door, slipping out into the dark classroom.

Elle checked the hallway, no one was there, good. She checked her watch in the light of the hall and saw she would just make it to meet John after practice. She walked outside into the bright and crisp fall sunshine, thinking, John’s birthday was in a couple months. Maybe by then, she would have the best birthday present for him, if things worked out.

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

It all started so simply, going door to door, selling magazine subscriptions to augment my meagre university endowment. I had been on the road all day, with little success, when I arrived at a house, set well back, on at least two acres of well-manicured lawns, even a small lake and waterfall. Dressed in a scant top and shorts, hair in disarray from a hot humid summer day, I hesitated before approaching, expecting immediate rejection. Upon pulling an old fashioned chain and hearing a bell ring within, I was surprised when the door was opened by a man in his late forties, very fit, glowing in health and exuding confidence. He took one look at me and said, “I was expecting you, please come in.”

Hesitantly, I entered the great cavernous hall, its very size intimidating; the large cold flagstones underfoot reverberating to our every step. A musty smell of soot and sulphur, ash or fire long dead, assailed my nostrils, but I shook it off as being fanciful.

He led me to the kitchen, sparkling in its stainless steel modernity, warm and more intimate, where he sat me down and then made his proposition; at the time it seemed so coldly calculating.

“My name is Fawnus, Jon de Fawnus and you are Felicity. Well named, so apt for such a fresh, faithful and truthful person, right?” Was he mocking me, I wondered silently?

Knowing a name can be a wondrous and terrible thing, sometimes magical; but uttering a true name can be frightening, since it gives power over a person to those who speak it aloud. I shuddered, wondering how he could possibly know my name!

He stood tall, legs spread wide, reducing his apparent stature; chiseled features, stark upon his face. A brief shift of light created an image of ears pointed and legs naked, wide-spread, hirsute and curving; a sudden impression of something different sprouted unbidden to my mind. This vision welled up, vivid, as my fear grew, suggesting something less than human; then quickly dissipated. I promptly suppressed it as ridiculous.

He began slowly: “I have a proposition to make. Hear me out before you decide. I want to explore with you, feelings and emotions you have locked inside, buried deep. I want to release those emotions and set you free. Deep down you are wondrous, if we can raise your true beauty to the surface, then you will shine, skin aglow, eyes alight, face radiant, your innate sexuality revealed. Even your odour will change, exuding a new fragrance, both exciting and enticing.”

This surprised me, since I think of myself as rather drab; plain of face, neither interesting nor particularly pretty, hair not blond or dark, but somewhere in between, pert breasts descending to a narrow waist, emphasing my best feature, an ass well rounded and long coltish legs.

However, he saw something else there, a potential for unmasked beauty, possibilities deeply hidden but indicative nonetheless.

Then, he made his final proposal: if I would comply with everything he proposed for the next seven days, he would buy subscriptions to everything I was offering and pay my university fees for the next year.

I was excited, not only by my potential sales, but by the suggestive nature of his offer.

I still hesitated as I pondered his proposal. Wondering at the path he had laid out before me, somewhat moved, although still fearful, I wanted to go forward.

A frisson of excitement went through me as a whole different world opened up before me.

Finally, I nodded in dumb acquiescence, my mouth dry, tongue cloven, unable to speak, a nod and a hesitant “yes” was all I managed, barely audible.

As I left, I again had that strange feeling of moist and cloying heat welling up; a faint hint of soot and ash, long dead, came to mind, with a shudder, I shook it off as absurd.

Once again I debated my return, but knew I must if I was ever to throw off the coils of inhibition and reticence which held me fast.

So began my seven days of pain and bliss.

Day 1:

I arrived early, as expected, clad in my usual attire, shorts and top. The door was open, but the flagstoned vestibule was uninviting, almost intimidating, as it once again echoed to my every step.

With a shudder I passed through to the relative warmth of the kitchen, where I was awaited.

Surprising he did not ask me to undress but rather admired me as I was, taking in hair, neck, back, buttocks and legs, as if assessing my potential. He stood there quietly, taking it all in, assessing and measuring, as if he had all the time in the world. All he said was, “I think you will do. My assistant, Anna, will help you with dress and comportment, but first a few strikes of the strap and cane, just as a sample. Three over your shorts and three on the bare. Bend over and prepare yourself. My assistant will administer the strokes.”

A blond, statuesque girl had entered from the dining room, strap and cane in hand, already prepared for my initiation. She was somewhat formidable, standing tall and proud in her etiler escort dominance.

Without hesitation, she admonished me: “Bend over and prepare to receive your first discipline.” After the initial six on my shorts, which I barely felt, she ordered me to bare myself.

“You do understand that this is not only to initiate you but also for your master’s pleasure! How you handle yourself will go well for you in the future.”

I wanted to do this right, since I was on probation and desperately wanted to please. I slowly lowered my shorts, right down to my ankles; since I was not wearing panties nothing else was necessary; wanting to satisfy, anticipating and welcoming what was to come.

In tremulous voice I asked, “Should I now totally remove my shorts and spread my legs wide, exposing myself fully?”

“That will not be necessary at this time, but will be expected in future, when you are better trained. You only do as ordered; right now the most important thing is to present yourself in such a manner as to please your master.”

As I awaited my chastisement, I was pleased that my master had stayed to witness my punishment; I wanted him to observe my ignominy.

It did not take long before the strap was laid heavily on my ass, warming to a glow, three times and then the cane, heavy with intent, but surprisingly light, teased my bare ass.

Then, his voice intruded, demandingly: “Anna, your new trainer, will lay out undergarments, dresses and various items of attire and make-up, which will be there for you. Do you understand? She will instruct you in how you should dress and comport yourself in future!”

I was then dismissed, as if of no consequence. A small measure of animosity grew, not enough to blossom forth to anger, but enough to create a small resentment. Anna, in quiet voice, said: “Prepare yourself for tomorrow. Do not anger him, for then he can truly be a fiend.”

Day 2:

Despite his admonishment regarding dress, I arrived as usual in shorts and tank top, but today I sensed a difference. The atmosphere had changed; there was tension in the air, something expectant but nothing volatile. There were no explosives planned, just an ongoing exploration of my sexuality and nature. In gruff voice he asked me to remove my top and expose my breasts. I complied, not worried since they are small but well rounded. He admired and then probed them, teasing my nipples until they were aroused. Leading me to the bedroom, he then ordered me to undress, “sensuously”, and put on one of the garments laid out on the bed. It was a very skimpy dress, diaphanous in its transparency. He admired me for a while then seemed to lose interest and dismissed me with a wave of his hand.

I was about to leave when his assistant, Anna, arrived and asked me to change my dress. I changed into a short skirt and top, very revealing and provocative.

“Now I will train you in dress and make-up, essentials for any young woman in training.” Clothes, undergarments and diverse exotic apparel were already laid out. Initially, it did not particularly interest me, but as she continued, I started to get excited. I began to understand that more was less and, sometimes, less was more, as she laid out a whole new world to me. Realising that a little make-up could emphasise a feature, while diminishing or hiding another, knickers could be very enticing, if worn properly, whilst a thong though revealing, could be sometimes passé. I learned how to be provocative and elusive, with dresses and skirts or panties clinging, emphasising a curve of ass or thigh; some more provocative, some demanding attention. Hours later we emerged, totally enthralled by make-up, how a dress sensuously worn could emphasise a well- rounded ass or thigh, tight pants versus long skirts, latest fashions, ideal length of a skirt, whether knickers, panties or thong; how to lower or raise them to best effect, to provoke a certain reaction. In other words, a plethora of inconsequential trivia or vital information to every young female.

Day 3:

When I arrived I was more appropriately dressed in a tight pencil skirt and very revealing thong, pressed deeply into my ass. Alas, my master was more serious, more demanding, as if he had had a bad night; a little querulous and dyspeptic. Now I became a little nervous of him; in his present state of mind he could do me harm, possible injury, so I entered with great trepidation. But it was not so, since he was more interested in my libido. Asking me to lift up my dress and remove my thong, he explored my lower parts, wondering about my clitoris, since it was now elongated and engorged. He pondered it for a time, stroking it to its full extent, marvelling at its length and sensitivity.

Then, in a choked voice, he said: “I think it is now time for you to suck my cock.” Lifting my head and smiling, as if this was a great offering, he grabbed my hair and lowered my face to his crotch. “You know what to do.” With pendik escort fumbling hands I unzipped his pants, reaching in to extract his penis. As it emerged, fully engorged, pendulous and weighty in my hands, I was in awe of its length and girth and wondered how I could possibly take it in my mouth, much less deep in my throat. His very next words confounded me: “Take me in, suck slow and hard until I come.” Hesitantly I took him in my hand, then lips and tongue to moisten and spittle to ease that mighty cock down my throat. Taking a deep breathe, I took him in my mouth, opening my throat to let him slide within, gagging as his hugeness throttled me. “Relax and enjoy” he said as he grasped my head and began to move in my mouth and throat, thrusting long and hard, groaning, never stopping, thrusting deep and slowly withdrawing. I looked up and saw that he was watching me closely, looking into my eyes in anticipation. He continued to fuck my mouth and throat until he began to come. His prick shuddered, spurting long strings of cum in my mouth and, as he withdrew, erupted all over my face. “Lick up and swallow every last drop,” he admonished me as he pulled out. His semen tasted of salt and must, not unwelcome but not that pleasant either.

Looking at me, almost with displeasure, he sighed, abruptly withdrew and left me greatly frustrated and angry.

Day 4:

Today was different, as he led me, not to the kitchen, but took me up a wide circular staircase, remarking over his shoulder “I have a surprise for you today.” I followed him to enter an ornate bedroom, deep plush carpets, antique furniture, its central feature a four-poster bed, but the real centrepiece was the exotic creature who lay upon the bed.

She was truly gorgeous, dark and dusky, red lips pouting, large breasts, slender waist above a totally nude cunt between widely spread legs. She was naked, of course, invitingly open.

I gasped in wonder of her beauty. I staggered forward, needing to approach, yet wanting to hold back, totally in awe. His quiet voice urged me on. “Women are so much more sensitive than men, who sometimes can be course or crude. She can explore and sensitize more areas of your body in such a short time than I ever could.”

I gazed in admiration as she smiled, a seductive smile, without moving her lips, it was all in her eyes, as they stared at me, hungrily.

Hesitantly, I approached the bed. Raising her head, she said “Disrobe and come to me.” In a trance I complied and soon was in her arms, enraptured, in such a warm and loving embrace.

She talked dirty to me at first, sweet nothings, so suggestive as to raise goosebumps on my skin; as I accepted her urgent ministrations with hands on my breasts, then my clit and ass. I was getting so excited that I hardly heard her urgent talk; had I ever taken it up the ass or in my mouth, sucked cock, swallowed cum, had more than one man at a time or had I experienced the wonders of the isle of Lesbos?

I did not care, since I was totally enthralled by this dusky, dark beauty, as she fingered and licked me all over. I was excited, since I had never been with a woman before, particularly someone who suggested things I had never thought about but, perhaps, always wanted.

I was shocked when she said “Would you like to lick and suck my cunt. I think you would really enjoy that?” I was about to rise up and depart, when I surprised myself by saying “Yes, I would very much love to do just that.” She was just so hauntingly beautiful.

And so began my slow descent to perdition. I slid down her sleek body, licking her breasts and navel; then, with tongue and lips, slowly between her thighs. Honey, almond and apple scents mingled with musk as I approached her secret passages. It was like a rose without thorns, a rosebud opening in morning dew, perfectly formed.

Mouth open, all inhibitions gone, I lapped at her offering, surprised that it should be so sweet and compliant.

Disturbingly, she said, “Now, would you like to suck on and arouse my sweet clitoris?” I was already totally lost, kissing her secret lips. Her clitoris sprang forth like a small prick, coming alive in my mouth, erect and stiff. I sucked on it long and hard; it seemed to throb and lengthen on my tongue, but that was just my imagination or was it?

“Now just slit to slit,” she whispered in my ear, as she rubbed me with long strokes, her shaved pussy rubbing my hairy cunt up and down.

I almost came, but she slowed, slid down my body, kissed my navel, chewed on my pubic hair and then sucked on my engorged lips. Her tongue sprang forth, forcing an entry, penetrating deeply. Then she raised my legs, shoulder high and began licking and then penetrating my ass with her tongue. Although strangely erotic and arousing, I was not comfortable with this and began to resist. “The lady doth protest too much” she said in a husky voice, “Relax and enjoy.”

A warmth spread throughout my body as her tongue taksim escort penetrated deep and then deeper into my ass. I never thought anal penetration could be so arousing. She moved upward and began again.

She bit gently upon my lips, then my chin, lowered to my breasts and bit hard on my nipples. I cried out in ecstasy, as pain and pleasure surged through me. I had never felt such exquisite sensations before.

“This much pubic hair is unsightly and must be removed.” Then I realised she was clean shaven, her pudendum protruding as if alive, demanding attention.

Suddenly I felt ashamed, my unwanted hair an impediment, but her calming words soothed me; “We will remove this hair and send you protruding, beautiful and naked upon the world.”

The balm of her words set me at ease and we progressed into an easy congress, culminating in ecstasy and total pleasure.

Interlude: I am laid out on my back on a bed in a different room, totally nude, legs wide apart, about to be shaved. I begin to object but cannot, because an unknown hand is over my mouth and another holds my legs apart; I am urged to silence. They are shaving my pussy! I struggle to no avail, then relax and stare down at a pussy now totally shorn and naked. It is pouting, red lipped and perfect in every way!

Day 5:

Then a strange phase began, more intense, when he finally spanked me. I was dressed in a skimpy skirt and frilly panties, wanting to please or, at least, distract my master, but today was different. I sensed it immediately when I spotted the strap on the table. There was a change in atmosphere as I knew he expected more. He wanted total compliance, wanted my total submission. Realising what he needed of me, I slowly raised my skirt and laid myself over the kitchen table, legs straight, ass in position, asking to be spanked.

He surprised me by saying: “Anna will warm you up with the strap before I begin your true chastisement. I will watch to ensure you are properly prepared.”

His words sent a thrill through me, since I was to be observed and watched.

Quietly I asked: “Should I remove everything or remain partly clothed?”

“No,” was the immediate reply. “All I need is for you to lower your panties to mid-thigh, dip your back but keep your legs straight, and raise your ass in anticipation.” I complied as best I could.

Anna then entered. A brief silence ensued and until she said “I think I will adjust your panties to better accommodate the strap.” She moved forward, blocking all view and, with butterfly fingers, she stroked and caressed my ass and cunt. “I will not be too severe, but I must prepare you as best I can, for the caning itself can be harsh.” she whispered.

Stepping back, she picked up the strap, hesitated, raised and lowered it, as if undecided.

“You realise this is not your punishment but merely a warm-up to your caning?”

I nodded slowly, understanding what she said.

She began to strap me then, gently at first, then again with increasing severity. My ass sang to her admonishment, reddening to her ministrations; I did not hurt so much at first and then melded into other emotions, approaching the edge of pleasure, but never getting there. She did not stop, continuing to more pain, approaching bliss. Notwithstanding her promise, she continued beyond the norm, striking again and again until my reddened ass was finally ready for the cane.

“Now totally remove your panties, spread your legs wide and present yourself in proper fashion for the cane.”

With trembling hands and legs shaking, I removed my scant panties and lowered myself over the table, legs spread as wide as possible, ass raised in supplication, vulnerable in its offering.

In tremulous voice I said: “I am now ready to receive my ultimate castigation. Master, please chastise me as you see fit.”

Then in dreaded voice, he said “It is now time for me to cane you. Are you ready?” My buttocks trembled, shaking in anticipation, afraid of what was to come.

Fearing the worst but wanting more, I cried: “Please master, I beg that you truly cane me severely. All I want is to please you. I know that I have been really bad and need to be punished today!”

He waited a long time as I quaked in anticipation, letting the moment grow.

When the cane finally descended, it was much worse than I feared, since the first strokes sent searing pain down my thighs, legs and entire body. I shuddered, fearing the next strokes, feeling the welts rise, as each blow raised a fresh blister on my ass. He was relentless as he caned me, first to red and then to purple and then to bruising perfection.

Tears came unbidden to my eyes; through the blur and mist of pain I glimpsed a mirror, strategically placed to reflect both myself and my nemesis, relentlessly caning me.

He stood tall, legs spread wide, cane raised, about to descend. Suddenly everything started to change. A slow mist began to rise, obscuring my vision. As it cleared, his outline shifted, at the very edge of consciousness, seeming to dissolve and run as melting wax as a shapeless image arose, dissolving into something else, an unclear aura of something between man and beast. I shook my head to clear it of such fancies, returning to the reality of my pain.

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

Victor:-

It was just pure chance, or fate — if you believe in that sort of thing. I was in the newsagents buying a paper, and just caught a glimpse of the magazine on the top shelf. The cover, a young woman in a black rubber cat suit, whip in hand.

The magazine was called “Dominant Contacts”, and promised hundreds of actual contacts, stories, features. Wrapped in cellophane I turned it over, on the back a picture of a man, strapped to a cross.

Strangely even though I’m twenty-two, and legally old enough to buy it, I felt guilty and embarrassed as I passed it over the counter and paid for it.

I didn’t actually start looking at it until about nine o’clock that evening. I’d run a nice hot soapy bath, planning to spend an hour, relaxing, reading the letters and articles, fantasising.

As promised the magazine contained countless articles and adverts, some with photos attached, some with phone numbers, some P O Box numbers. Women offering all sorts of service, mostly massage, bondage, domination, some more bizarre, rubber fetishes, water sports …. the list was endless.

I read each article slowly, carefully looking at each picture.

Pauline, bored housewife, looking for afternoon fun, London SW2, POBox …

Maureen, 23 natural blonde, looking for black male 20-30, Soho, phone….

Stella, 21, 36-24-36, massage/uniforms 5 mins Euston Station, phone …..

Then I saw Ruth’s advert.

I couldn’t believe it and read it again: –

Mature dominant ex-nurse, specialises in extreme medical fantasies, wide range of equipment / Uniforms, doctor, nurse, patient, role-play, tell me your fantasy and I’ll make it come true.

There was a London phone number, dare I ring her, could I tell her about my fantasy?

I read the advert again.

Is it too late to phone? Quickly I towel myself dry.

I ring the number, ringing, ringing, ringing, then a woman’s voice, “Hello”.

Ruth: –

It started as a bit of fun, to earn some extra money on the side. Three years as an underpaid nurse, and needing the cash, I answered an advert for a model in the local paper. Once the guy new I was a nurse, had my own uniforms, and was willing to try most things if the price was right, it just took off. I made a couple of videos, not hard core, but adult, and soon I was making more money than I could ever have made as a qualified nurse. Now four years later I’ve developed a steady business catering for submissive men with medical fantasies.

Over the years I’ve been asked to do all sorts of things, but Victor’s is probably one the most unusual requests I’ve ever had. My first instinct is to turn him down flat, but after we’ve talked for a few minutes, and he’s said he’s willing to pay whatever it costs; I say I’ll think about it and suggest he phones again in a few days.

Victor:-

Putting down the phone, I’m almost trembling with excitement.

I can’t believe what I’ve just done. To talk to a complete stranger about my fetishes, my fantasy, a secret I’ve lived with all my life.

It seemed so easy speaking to Ruth, she just accepted what I was saying as if it was quite normal, and at least she didn’t turn me down straight away.

Ruth:-

Victor phones again three days later, in the mean time I’ve spoken to one of my contacts who works in the local hospital and who can provide what I need.

I tell him I’ll do it, I usually charge £100 a session, but tell him it will be £300. He agrees immediately.

We talk for a few minutes, and I make some notes as he describes in detail what he wants. Then he makes an appointment to see me at three O’clock the following Monday.

Victor:-

Ruth lives in central London, about four miles from Waterloo station. After a ten-minute tube journey and a short walk, I’ve arrived at the location she’d given me. It’s a small park, there’s two phone boxes on the corner of the street, she’d told me to ring from there and she’d give me final directions. I look at my watch, twenty to three.

I’m nervous, excited, frightened. I sit on a bench in the park, watching the people walk by, glancing at my watch every few seconds.

Five minutes to three, I go to the phone box and call. Ruth answers almost immediately and tells me to walk down the road, away from the park, her house is number eight.

It looks like all the other houses in the road, as I approach the door, I notice there’s no bell, instead a small intercom, I push the buzzer and wait.

The door is opened, and a voice tells me to come in, and as I enter the door’s quickly shut again behind me.

The strangest sensation as I turn and see who’s let me in. Ruth’s standing next to me, she’s a heavily built woman, not fat or overweight but large, imposing. She’s about forty, five foot ten or eleven, slightly taller than me, dressed in a dark blue matrons’ uniform, a wide dark blue belt, silver buckle, silver watch pinned to her right pocket, her dark hair just visible under a white scarf tied at the back of her head.

Everything taksim escort looks so realistic, it’s as if I’ve just walked into a dream.

The nurse’s uniform is a big part of my fantasy. Why a nurse, I don’t know. I just know that from my earliest memories, whenever I see a nurse, nurse uniform, anything medical it has this strange mesmerising effect on me.

“You have something for me” she asks.

I take out an envelope containing the money and pass it to her, and she tells me to wait, while she goes into an adjacent room.

It’s bizarre, even the way she speaks, clinical, matter of fact, in control.

A few moments later she comes out and tells me to follow her as she goes upstairs. As I do, I can’t help looking at the dark stockings, part of her uniform.

Ruth leads me into a plain, sparsely furnished bedroom. There’s a bay window to the right, with net curtains, a dressing table stands in the recess. The room’s dominated by a large double bed, with brass frame, covered by a plain white sheet, two white pillows, a small bedside table to the left.

“Please make yourself comfortable.”

I undress, taking off my shoes, jeans, socks and T-shirt before climbing onto the bed. As I lay back, I can feel the starched sheet, rough, rubbing against my naked legs and back. I move to the centre of the bed, so my head’s only just touching the pillow and when I’m happy with my position I sit upright, my legs slightly spread.

Ruth’s standing at the end of the bed, I nod to show I’m ready to continue. I watch her carefully as she crosses the bedroom to the set of drawers. She looks so incredible, the uniform. She opens the top drawer and takes out a selection of long multicoloured scarves. Returning to the foot of the bed, she drapes them over the bedstead, selecting one she runs it through her fingers as she moves to the right side of the bed.

I raise my leg and Ruth wraps the scarf around my ankle tying a double knot, then loops it around the sole of my foot tying another knot, before pulling it tight and tying it to the bedpost.

It’s so bizarre, feeling her take my leg, the scarf wrapped around my ankle, then pulled tight as she ties it to the bed-frame.

She takes a second scarf and ties my left leg.

Taking another scarf, she moves to the left side of the bed. I lean across and hold out my right hand and she ties one the end of the scarf to my wrist. I take the scarf from her and pass it behind my back and Ruth ties the other end to my left wrist, not knotting them tightly behind my back but leaving each wrist tied with a length of scarf running behind my back.

Ruth:-

Victor is about twenty-two, five foot eight, average build, dark hair. I was a little uneasy at first, especially because of the nature of his fantasy, and in my business you’re never quite sure what to expect. However, now I have his legs and wrists tied I know I’m totally in control.

Victor:-

Now with my legs spread wide tied to the bedposts and my hands loosely tied behind my back Ruth goes back to the open drawer. A few moments later she turns towards me, in her right hand she has a plain white cotton handkerchief in her left a glass bottle half filled with a clear liquid, she places the bottle and handkerchief on the bedside table. Turning my head, I can clearly see the single word “Chloroform” on the bottle. Leaning over she rearranges the pillows, placing them upright against the bed frame and then climbs onto the bed behind me, sitting upright, her back resting against the pillow, her legs spread either side of me. She gently places her hands on my shoulders.

“Lay back please.”

As I lay back, my arms are now trapped to my side by the scarf running behind my back, my head comes to rest in her lap, a shiver passes through my body.

“Let me know when you’re ready.”

I start taking a series of long deep breaths, in and out, in and out, filling my lungs with air, the sixth breath I hold and nod that I’m ready.

Ruth takes the handkerchief from the table, holding it by one corner she shakes it open and forms it into a loose pad, then reaches across and picks up the bottle of chloroform. She removes the stopper and places the handkerchief over the bottle mouth, inverting it, she moves the handkerchief slightly and inverts the bottle again, before replacing the stopper and putting the bottle back on the bedside table.

She places her left hand under my chin and I swallow as she gently pulls my head back. Now she takes a tighter grip, clamping my mouth closed as she places the handkerchief lightly but firmly over my mouth and nose. I can feel the dampness of the chloroform on the handkerchief as she holds the pad to my nose.

I slowly breathe out, all the air now out of my lungs, I lay waiting to take a breath.

Looking up I see Ruth looking down at me. It so bizarre, how many times have I had a fantasy like this.

I breathe. Instinctively I stop, almost choking on the chloroform, şişli escort but I need to breathe. Frantically I try to reach up with my hands, but the scarf running behind my back has pinned my wrists to my side. I jerk my head sharply to the right, and for a moment Ruth’s grip slips, but as I try to scream the wet cloths forced down over my mouth and nose, my scream dies in my throat, and I breathe deeply through the chloroformed soaked handkerchief. As I do a strong, sharp, high chemical odour fills my senses.

Ruth:-

He watches me as I take the handkerchief and apply the chloroform. I put my hand under his chin, putting the handkerchief over his mouth, cupping my hand slightly, lifting it clear of his nose so that I don’t obstruct his breathing. I hold the pad to his nose, and for a few moments he just lays there, then he breathes. The sudden movement surprises me as he turns his head, but I quickly regain my hold, pulling his head back and clamping the pad back across his mouth and nose. He’s struggling now, his legs jerking and thrashing violently against the silk scarves, his body writhing up and down, twisting and turning. I’m surprised how strong he is, even with his legs and wrists tied I’m having to use all my strength to stop him turning his head and to keep the chloroform pad held to his nose.

Victor:-

I’m taking a second breath. Desperately I’m trying to pull at the scarves that bind my wrists, arching my back, trying to reach up and pull the chloroform pad from my face. I kick out with my legs only to feel a sharp pain as my ankles jar against the scarves. I try to turn my head right and left to shake Ruth’s hold but she’s pushing my head down into her lap, the damp cloth held over my mouth and nose.

“A few nice deep breaths and it will all be over.”

Another breath.

I”m trying to scream for her to stop, but with the combination of her hand on my throat and the pad across my mouth all I can manage is a pathetic muffled grunt. Even when I do manage to turn my head slightly Ruth keeps the chloroform pad held to my nose.

Another breath, suddenly aware of a dull throbbing, buzzing in my head. Ruth’s looking down directly into my eyes, watching me as I struggle.

To be helpless, overpowered by a woman, nurse, chloroformed, is a huge part of my fantasy, but the reality is so different. The overpowering odour of the chloroform almost burning my nose and throat as I breathe, nauseous, my head throbbing, I try to shake my head from side to side, to signal no, to make her understand I want her to stop, but she just smiles.

“There there, don’t struggle, just a few more breaths.”

Another breath.

The throbbing inside my head now like a two-tone siren, becoming more rapid, louder. My body seems to becoming heavier, I want to twist and kick out to try to free myself but I don’t have the strength to fight.

“That’s better, soon be over now.”

Another breath.

My head feels like it’s ready to explode, pounding, throbbing, my eyes, blinking, closing.

Ruth:-

He’s not struggling as much now as the anaesthetic takes effect. It’s as if I’m watching something in slow motion, each time he tries to kick out or twist his body his movements less violent, I can almost feel his strength ebb away with each breath he takes.

Another breath, his eyelids start to flicker and now close. I wait as he takes another breath, then another, no longer moving, his breath shallow but regular, through the chloroform-soaked pad. Now totally unconscious I release my grip on his head and remove the pad from his face.

Gently I lift his head, and climb off the bed. The anaesthetic will keep him unconscious for a few minutes while I prepare him for the second part of his fantasy.

I untie his legs and hands and remove his shorts, like him, his cock limp, showing no signs of consciousness. I retie his legs, and then taking some more scarves from the drawer I tie his hands to the bedstead above his head. I take another scarf and tie a thick large knot into the middle, and wrap it twice around his head, and tie it tightly into his mouth, gagging him. Now finished I sit on the side of the bed, listening to him breathing, naked, bound hand and foot, spread-eagled on the bed, gagged, unconscious, totally helpless.

I wasn’t sure how long the chloroform would last, but I don’t have long to wait, already the anaesthetics already beginning to wear off, he’s beginning to stir.

Victor:-

My heads throbbing and my mouth feels dry, a strange tingling sensation in my face, I try to roll over to get more comfortable but nothing happens. As I lay with my eyes closed, I try to focus my thoughts, then I suddenly remember what happened, Ruth, the chloroform, my fantasy.

I try to sit up, but I can’t move, blinking, opening my eyes, my head dizzy, throbbing, seeing Ruth next to me on the bed, watching me.

“Have you had a nice sleep?”

“Nn.”

“Don’t worry Nurse will look after you.”

Reaching pendik escort behind her neck she unties the scarf, shaking her head from side to side letting her hair fall onto her shoulders.

She shakes the scarf open and drags it gently up the outside of my leg and over my chest, the cold silk running softy over my body, rubbing it over my nipples, slowly over my stomach and down towards my crotch.

Unlike my Chloroform fetish I know exactly where my scarf fetish comes from, Cathy Thompson, my first girlfriend, my first love. I was fifteen, she was sixteen and we’d been going out for about three weeks. It was your average teenage lust, whenever we were alone a writhing mass of tongues and hands. That particular night her parents had gone out for a meal with some friends, Cathy and I were alone in her room. It started off with the normal snogging, then heavy petting, I was unbuttoning her blouse, she started to loosen my belt, we started pulling off our clothes, down to our underwear, I remember she was wearing matching white silk panties and bra, I had on a pair of blue Y-fronts. I was so excited thinking maybe tonight was going to be the night, my first time, wondering what would it be like. We were rolling around on her bed, groping one another, getting very hot and excited.

She was laying on top of me and pulled away slightly, sitting astride me. She had her hair in a pony tail, tied with a white scarf, reaching up she untied it, her long blonde hair falling onto her shoulders. Taking the scarf, she reached into my pants, freeing my cock, wrapping the scarf around it. I didn’t know what she was doing and started to sit up, but she pushed me back onto the bed, and told me to just lay still. Then as she started to wank me, her hand sliding up and down my shaft, pumping the scarf up and down my cock, I’d wanked myself tons of times, but it had never ever, felt like this before. It lasted less than a minute, I remember telling her to stop, that I was going to cum, and she laughed and said that was the whole point, she wanted me to cum, she wanted to make me cum, and my scarf fetish was born.

Ruth’s playing the fantasy exactly as I asked her to, but I don’t want this now, I want her to stop. Being chloroformed was nothing like my fantasy, I feel sick, my head’s thudding, my wrists and ankles sore from struggling against the scarves.

I shake my head from side to side, “nnnnooooooo.”

Now running the scarf over my crotch, between my legs.

I’m still woozy from the anaesthetic, I want to push her off and can’t really understand why I can’t move.

“NNo.”

Now she’s rubbing the scarf up and down, up and down over my cock, four, five, six, firm stokes. I feel myself begin to respond, as I do she takes hold of my cock through the scarf, the soft silk encasing me as my erection grows, now taking a stronger grip, sliding the silk scarf up and down my shaft, my cock swelling in her fist, getting hard and harder.

“You see, I told you you’d like it.”

Again I shake my head, “NNNNooo”, but still she continues to masturbate me.

I’m pulling, struggling against the scarves, screaming into the gag trying to make her understand, to get her to stop. Then suddenly I’m hit by a wave of nausea in my stomach, and for a moment I think I’m going to be sick; I drop to the bed and lay still while the feeling passes.

She moves around the bed, eventually she settles sitting between my legs. Taking the scarf, she lifts my cock slightly, and plays it around my balls.

“I bet that feels nice doesn’t it?”

“Nnnnnnnooooo.”

“There’s no point in struggling, I’m not finished with you yet!”

“What about this?”

Leaning forward, wrapping the scarf around my cock, her fingers around the shaft, her thumb starting a rubbing motion over its head.

“nnnnnnn.”

My heads still throbbing, I just want this to stop, the nausea past I start to wriggle, and squirm, constantly yelling into the gag.

“NNooo.

“Nnoooo.”

“NNNOOOOO.”

All the time I’m twisting, struggling she continues to wank me.

“NNNOOOOO.”

“NNNNOOOOOOO.”

“NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

Eventually I seem to have made her understand and she stops wanking me.

I pull at the scarves, turn and twist more violently.

“MMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

“MMMMMmmmm.”

Oh Victor, don’t you realise there’s nothing you can do.”

She reaches into the pocket of her uniform and takes out the bottle and handkerchief, “Remember this?”

I scream into the gag, “MMMMmmmmm”, this wasn’t part of what we’d discussed, she was going to chloroform me once, wank me and then release me.

“NNNNNNNNNoooooooooooooo.”

“nnnnnnooooo……..ppplllllsssee””

I’m shaking my head.

“Pppplllse.”

She climbs off the bed and moves towards me, I turn my head away from her, but out of the corner of my eye I can see her opening the bottle, refreshing the cloth.

“NNNNNNNNNNNooooo……..NNNnnnnnnooooooo.”

I try to pull away further, but the scarf around my right wrist is now biting deep into my hand.

She’s leaning across me, her left arm going under my neck, her hand on my chin.

I try to twist, turn my head, all the time her hold tightening, pulling me back towards the cloth.

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

Hello you naughty girls and boys!

I realized too late I missed my opportunity for a good Halloween story this year, which means next year will have to be twice as special. I also may be too late for one of my larger Christmas Holiday stories. But I can at least tempt you with the beginnings of another holiday tale.

Richard’s mother-in-law has come to visit and she wastes no time putting him in his proper place. Let’s take a peek.

*****

I went to see who was at the door but my wife was already there. I didn’t think we were expecting anyone but when her mother stepped through the door all the color drained from my face. Reflexively my tongue rolled around in my mouth as though I was already trying to relieve the cramps from hours of service.

“Don’t you worry Dear, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up. But now the trip has taken its toll and I need some time to relax. Where’s Richard?”

I wished I was somewhere else but it was already too late. A mad dash from the hallway would have only led to a lot more trouble. I had to clear my throat; just her presence in the house was already choking me.

“I’m here Mother.”

“Richard…”

“Sorry. I’m here Mommy Dearest. What can I do for you?”

My wife might call it a joke but I didn’t think it was funny. One night Sylvia, her mother, said I should call her Mommy Dearest and I didn’t think it was funny then, but I didn’t think it would last. I was wrong. She has since made a point of making me refer to her in that manner. I had briefly forgotten; but she was quick to remind me.

“Well you’ll need to bring in my bags at some point and you can arrange for our dinner this evening, but right now I need you to follow me to my room.”

“Yes Mommy Dearest.”

Did my wife tell her mother that maybe it was time to drop the ‘Mommy Dearest’ joke? Did my wife step in to say that I would be glad to bring in the bags but that I might be busy at that moment with something else? Did she do anything to save me from what she knew was coming? No. No, she did not. Instead she just smiled and chuckled as I stepped back to let her mother past and then obediently followed her to the guest room; her room.

It really was her room. According to layout and marketing it was the guest room, but my mother-in-law had quickly taken it over as her own. She wasn’t there all year long, thank God, but she demanded it be kept solely for her. We weren’t to use it for other guests. People never really stayed over with us, but it was just another way to exert her authority.

Of course she wasn’t really exerting her authority over her daughter, my wife, she was exerting it over me. Beth was fine with the room being dedicated to her mother and if they had any disagreement about it I’m sure they would have worked it out before Sylvia made her decision. Did I mention that I’m the one responsible for keeping the room clean and prepared?

It was like a private hotel for just one person and I was the hotel staff responsible for pleasing a finicky guest. The bed sheets were part of the laundry I did. Every week fresh sheets, whether she had plans to visit or not. I also did the vacuuming and dusting and since there was an attached guest bath, I also cleaned that every week.

And as soon as she stepped inside her room she took taksim escort bayan a finger to the chair rail. She was already checking my work for dust. I was certain there wasn’t anything to find but she rubbed her fingertips together as if removing any traces of the dust she found. She then looked around the room with a critical eye.

“Hmmpf. Smells a little stale in here. Maybe it just needs some fresh cut flowers. It’ll have to do for now.”

Right. It needed fresh cut flowers. Probably needed a new coat of paint in a different color and new furniture. I wasn’t going to make a comment though. I was afraid if I did I would be adding a trip to the florist every week, just to keep her room ready. Instead I just kept quiet with a neutral face.

She then stepped casually over to the side of the bed. She touched one of the pillows and moved it slightly. Whether she was truly trying to fix its position or if it was a subconscious act of hers always trying to correct others I’ll never know. She took a last look around and gave a heavy sigh as she dropped her purse on the floor next to the night stand.

“So Ricky, have you been taking good care of my daughter?”

“Yes Mommy Dearest, I have been taking very good care of her. She means the world to me.”

“Hmmpf, well she and I will discuss your behavior. It had better be up to snuff.”

Then without further ado, she began to unbutton her blouse. I stood with my head barely lowered as well as my eyes. I wasn’t to stare at her at any time but I knew I wasn’t supposed to be looking at the floor either. She wanted me to watch.

Underneath she wore a sleeveless stretch lace top in place of a bra and I wondered at the lack of true support. Her breasts were full and well-formed and I couldn’t imagine how she kept them so alive and buoyant over the years without a little help. But it wasn’t my place to question, so I simply took in the floral lace pattern, noting the perfection of her breasts behind them, and waited.

“Here, take this.”

She handed me her blouse and then proceeded to remove her wide belt. After handing me the belt, she unzipped her skirt and shimmied out of it, letting it fall to the floor. The skirt off, I could now see her black panties as well as her garter belt, holding up her black stockings.

It occurs to me that I should probably give you a description of her looks. She’s blonde. To some degree I know it’s natural but I’m also sure she gets her hair done at no small expense and there is likely some coloring or highlights going on if I had to guess.

She is in her 50s. Some days she looks younger and some days she looks older. She could be a grandmother but she isn’t. I think she tends to wear too much makeup. Penciled eyebrows and bright red lipstick are standard. And jewelry. She always wears jewelry of some sort. Today she’s wearing a pearl necklace composed of several strands, and she has large dangle earrings made of silver and a matching bracelet, as well as several rings.

Physically she has a body to be proud of. I’m sure there are even some twenty-year-olds jealous of what she’s got. Large, full breasts that don’t look fake or too large. Full, round hips and ass that has just a little extra; again not too much. And then there are her legs. şişli escort bayan She has legs and feet that can be used to model, and apparently have modeled in her younger days.

And now here stands this attractive woman in her underwear. And with each piece of clothing she removed it’s like she was breaking down my will. As I gazed upon her body I could feel my resistance melting away.

“Pick that up for me.”

She was referring to her skirt, still pooled around her ankles. I lowered myself almost to one knee and reached for the skirt. As she raised her foot to step out of the skirt she brushed my cheek with her stocking-clad calf. Of course I said nothing. Then she stepped out of the skirt completely and I stood up with it.

“Leave those by the door; you can take them when I’m finished with you.”

I carefully dropped her blouse, belt, and skirt on the floor near the door. When I turned back around she was standing with her feet shoulder-width apart and her hands on her hips. The image looked like an old movie poster or the cover for a pulp fiction. Then she pointed at my feet.

“On your knees.”

There was no point in resisting and I don’t know if I could had I wanted to. I simply dropped down onto my knees as ordered and waited for her next command. I didn’t have to wait long.

“Come here.”

I shuffled the short distance on my knees until I was directly in front of her. Then I sat back on my heels. My eyes were level with her black panties and I knew this was what she wanted. She took a small step forward, bringing her panties to within an inch of my nose.

“Do you like my panties Ricky?”

“Yes Mommy Dearest.”

They were black panties and no doubt expensive given her tastes. The top was a shiny and slick material, maybe satin or silk, but going lower to the vee of the crotch, they became a transparent, breathable mesh. So I could already see her soft pussy lips right in front of my face.

“Since you like them so much, why don’t you give them a kiss.”

“Yes Mommy Dearest.”

I knew what was happening but I was powerless to stop it. This woman constantly made my life miserable. To call her a thorn in my side would be offensive to the thorn. And yet here I was on my knees, unable to resist her. And not only was my resistance all but gone, it was replaced with an undeniable craving. At that moment if she had set me free it would have been a punishment.

So slowly and with reverence I leaned in and put my lips to hers, separated only by the thin veil of material. Our lips met and I tasted her. I knew I would taste more of her soon but this was just a kiss and I had to let it end.

“Hmm, I think the panties aren’t the only thing you like. Maybe we should take them off. But first you’ll need to unclip my garters. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes Mommy Dearest.”

Slowly I raised my hands to the first clip. I knew this wasn’t something to be rushed. But then I couldn’t keep her waiting either. I had to find the right gentle pace. As I slipped my fingers behind the garter I felt the soft skin of her thigh. Carefully I unhooked the stocking.

I then reached one hand around and the other between her legs to find the garter at the back. I relished the skin to skin contact on the back pendik escort bayan of my thumb as I worked to unhook the stocking completely. Slowly I brought my hand back through her legs to reach the other garter in front. In mirrored motions I unhooked those garters as well, now allowing for her panties to be slid down over her stockings and off her legs.

“I think it’s time for you to remove my panties. But first I think you should give them a kiss goodbye.”

“Yes Mommy Dearest.”

Another gentle kiss, wetter than the first. And then my hands came up to her waist as I carefully hooked my fingers into the waistband. Slowly I pulled them down and took a deep breath in. As I lowered them to her ankles she stepped her feet together and then stepped out of them.

“I’ll take those.”

She then took the panties from me and placed them on the nightstand. At first I followed the panties, but then as she turned back around I was looking at her bare pussy. Her lips weren’t as tight as in her youth, but that only made them softer.

“So Ricky, are you currently locked?”

I knew she was referring to my penis. She was asking me whether I was currently in a chastity device. I was thankful that my wife often let me out and left me unconfined as long as I was well behaved, but I knew that Sylvia would be disappointed. Still there was no use in lying to her.

“No Mommy Dearest, I am not locked up today.”

“My daughter does have a soft spot for you. That’s something else we will have to discuss. No matter, as I come prepared. You will find a purifier in my purse. Strip off your clothes and put it on.”

“Yes Mommy Dearest.”

As I reached for her purse she sat on the edge of the bed and removed her heels. The purifier was easy to find. She called it that because of how it was meant to keep me pure and not prone to masturbation. In my experience it didn’t make me pure but rather heightened my lust as I had no means to relieve the building sexual tension.

Having pulled the device from her purse I began to get undressed. I carefully placed my shoes next to her clothes by the door and then as I removed the rest I carefully tossed them into a stack on my shoes. Once nude I began the process of attaching the purifier.

I was familiar with such devices so it didn’t take me long to figure out how to wear this one. What was a bit more difficult was getting my dick to relax enough to be put inside it. I actually had to pinch myself a couple of times to get enough shrinkage to force it inside.

While I was getting undressed and putting on the chastity cage Sylvia reattached her garters and was getting comfortable on the bed. Her bed had a high, padded headboard and she was arranging the pillows around her for comfort. She looked regal, like a queen on her throne.

“Now Ricky it’s been a long day and I’m tired. What do you think you should do for me?”

“I think I should lick your pussy Mommy Dearest.”

“For how long?”

“Until you tell me to stop Mommy Dearest.”

“But what if I should fall asleep?”

“Then I should continue licking your pussy until you awake Mommy Dearest.”

“Sounds like you know what to do Ricky. Now get busy.”

“Yes Mommy Dearest.”

And with that I lay between my mother-in-law’s legs and began to lick her tired pussy. It wasn’t fresh from the shower; it was stale and sweaty from a long day of travel. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t get to decide when and how to serve her; she made all those decisions. My job was to obey.

As I lay there licking her pussy I wondered how long she was planning to stay with us.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Chapter 6 — The Proof is in the Pussy

Not long after my brother-in-law’s protracted stay with us he got a terrific job offer that required him to move some distance away. I couldn’t help but feel some of the same crushing heartbreak they both were experiencing as they said their tearful farewells. Now their incestuous affairs (and Andy’s voluminous creampies) would be limited to holiday visits only.

If nothing else, Ann and I both shared intense sex drives. Almost to the point of competition. More than possibly anything else I adored the time I could spend licking and sucking pussy. Ann’s biggest passion, aside from having a big cock stretching her cunt, was being filled with large quantities of cum. There was just one problem: My physical attributes did not measure up in any way close to satisfying her needs. The size, or lack thereof, of my erections was almost laughable. Not only that, but my ejaculations, while not minuscule, were not at all impressive either. In other words, my abilities were in no way able to match my wife’s requirements.

It quickly became obvious, there was but one solution: Ann would need to seek out and utilize the talents of others. Men who were properly equipped. Fellas that, unlike her husband, had been blessed with fat, long cocks and a prostate and testicles to match. The ability to stretch and exercise her cunt then pump out large quantities of cum. Only a real man would ever be capable to give my wife what she craved. The freedom to do just that was my gift to her.

Early on Ann informed me that cum had special beneficial qualities. Aside from the tranquility she felt when her belly was being pumped full of it, cum was special in that it contained large and potent quantities of nutrients and proteins. According to my wife, for some unknown reason my body had not been producing the very nutrients it should have and that is why at a young age my penis stopped growing and maturing. But, she said that it wasn’t too late to change that. I just needed a vitamin supplement. And accordingly, the absolute best, most effective supplement would be to swallow Mother Nature’s homemade remedy: CUM! It contained exactly what I was lacking: The ingredients that could make a small dick grow into a full-sized cock.

It all sounded quite logical and made perfect sense.

So, in return and as her gift to me, Ann would unselfishly fuck other men — often — just so she could save the cum of these various lovers all for the purpose of providing regular doses for me to swallow. We had even given this all natural vitamin supplement a name: “Cock-Gro.” In many ways this would be the best of both worlds for both of us. She would get to fuck big cocks ending with a belly full of cum. And I’d get to spend long periods of time licking and soothing her sweet pussy plus the extra bonus of swallowing their nutritious cum.

In partnership we would both get what we wanted. What we NEEDED!

For Ann, there were two big pluses about being pregnant: Birth control was no longer a worry; And since she wasn’t getting her period, she was never “out of commission.”

Throughout the pregnancy, Ann’s itch to get fucked only increased. Not by me, her husband, of course. But by just about any OTHER cock she could get to enter her pussy! Since it seemed she rarely set foot out of the apartment how she found these cocks and the men who owned them I don’t know. But pretty much any day of the week someone would do his part to scratch that itch. It got to the point that she hardly ever even bothered getting dressed.

This continual nudity alone was enough to keep me in a constant state of arousal. Her small frame and hairless pussy, it was like living with a naked nymph. Not that I had much free time to enjoy this aspect of my home life. When I wasn’t cleaning up that day’s deposit of Cock-Gro it seemed I was out of the apartment more often than in it. Between working extra hours or otherwise occupied running errands or in the complex’s laundry room washing sheets, I hardly had time to simply sit and take in her youthful beauty.

Stopping by to relive the past and create new memories with Ann were many (and I do mean MANY) old boyfriends, as well as guys previously known only casually from our school days. Even some of MY old friends from school and the swim team found their way into my home — and into my wife.

Several fathers, uncles, and even a grandfather of these “friends” and classmates also found their way onto our bed and into my wife. But it didn’t end there. More than one of these men even offered to pay Ann “to make a man” out of their younger sons — which she all too willingly accepted. As far as I could tell, Ann never once turned down an opportunity to fuck — with or with out payment! (To the best of my knowledge, she never asked for money — that would be prostitution. However, she never turned down any payment, er, “gifts” either.) According to her, she had also “taken care of” several of our neighbors “in exchange” for not reporting all the traffic at our apartment. Anyway, the guest list only grew and grew.

Ever since our wedding escort etiler day, Ann kept her pussy totally hairless. Licking her smooth pussy was always thrilling. Cleaning her of all that sperm without stray hairs getting in the way was so much easier and satisfying. But I quickly became infatuated with the way it made her look. Since she rarely wore anything around the apartment, the small package of a figure along with the bald pussy made her appear so much younger than her true age. To be honest, she looked to be little more than half her age. More like an immodest ten-year-old who delighted in showing off her newly developing body. Simply put, visually at least, it was like I was living with, and being orally intimate with a LITTLE GIRL.

Everything in my upbringing told me I should be repulsed from feeling any kind of sexual attraction. Yet, sick as it may have been, the exact opposite happened. And Ann knew how to take full advantage of my internal moral struggle. While I tended to her pussy she began speaking and employing mannerisms like she was an even younger little girl than before; much softer, squeaker voice. Calling me a dirty old man for molesting little girls, or thinking up incestuous situations. Saying things like, “The teacher’s big stick made a mess all over me and mommy’s gonna get mad. Will you clean it up for me ‘big brother’ before mommy sees it?” Or she might say, “Oh daddy, you’re making your little girl feel so good!” Never before had I had a lustful thought towards young girls. I knew we were just role-playing. Yet, for some reason when Ann spoke like this, it really excited me; imagining that I was a grown man licking the pussy of a prepubescent girl.

And since some of her lovers were two, even three times as old as her, I have little doubt that she used that same little girl act with these lovers too. They probably got their rocks off pretending they were screwing their own daughters, even grand-daughters. Ann told me that she was often asked to call the guy “daddy” while he plugged away at my wife’s smooth snatch.

Upon returning from work I’d enter the bedroom only to find my wife on our bed — naked of course — legs pressed tightly together. Invariably, Ann would say something like, “Honey, my pussy is so sore and I’ve got so much cum in there I can’t get up.” She’d look at me with those puppy dog eyes and say, “Please do what you do best.” Of course I knew what she wanted. Ann had trained me so well and so thoroughly conditioned that I desperately WANTED the very thing she was saving! “Cock-Gro!”

Even though I would have been more than willing to clean-up my own creampies, with all that had happened at the wedding reception, and pretty much every day since, I came to the realization that — at least until the Cock-Gro worked on me the way I had been promised — the chances of sliding my little dick into my wife’s pussy ever again were slim-to-none. (And based on the thickness of some of the cocks that her pussy could accommodate, I’m not even sure I could have felt much anyway.) So until the Cock-Gro did its job and my dick had grown into a man sized cock, I would never again get to taste my cum mixed with hers. Relief for me was now truly in my own hands … which Ann insisted I do daily, then praised as I licked and swallowed it from my cupped palm.

Actually, I have no idea how loose or tight her cunt was or what I might have felt if given the chance. After all, as a wedding present her mother had given Ann a set of Ben Wa balls to help her daughter exercise her Kegel muscles for keeping her pelvic floor tight and youthful. As time passed Ann had graduated to a large Yoni egg and weighted Ben Wa balls.

By now, my days were spent working at my job with a hard-on in my pants, wondering what delicious treasures awaited me. Anxiously watching the clock, anticipating the moment I would climb between my unfaithful wife’s legs. First I would lift her legs and spread them wide so I could get a good look at the baby making seed oozing from her pussy. Ann loved for me to illustrate how dilated her hole was, then have me guess just how thick the guy’s cock was. (Did someone have their fist in there?!) Next I had to describe the color, thickness and amount of sperm that was leaking from her cunt. My darling wife had made it very clear that if I ever hoped for my cock to measure up to her standards, I’d need to swallow as much protein and vitamin rich Cock-Gro as I could get down my throat. And through Ann’s guidance, I had become not only a true cum-slut, I was now a certified cum connoisseur! I loved not only the taste, but also the way it coated my mouth, throat, and esophagus as it flowed down to my tummy.

And remember that virgin boy she deflowered? Well, she told me that the kid was not only very well hung, he had almost no downtime, fucking her three times straight. This was confirmed when I sucked out and swallowed his massive deposits. Hell, I was so enamored with that sheer volume and sweet flavor of his cum that I sucked up the overflow that puddled on the sheets. I swear I could feel that young escort taksim studs potent cum making my dick grow. Afterwards, it sure caused me to blow a generous load into my hand.

Sure, I knew my wife was fucking these guys for fun. (Well, and sometimes for money.) But deep down, I truly needed to believe that she was also doing it out of her love for me. And because of my loving wife’s insistence as to the benefits of consuming other men’s cum, I absolutely believed that fucking other guys was done as much for me as it was for her. I had thoroughly convinced myself that Cock-Gro was what I desperately needed to get into my system. And the more the better. After all, the half-a-shot glass worth of Cock-Gro I was swallowing after jerking-off into my hand simply would never be enough. I needed more. MUCH MORE!

Plus, as Ann had explained it; the bigger the cock, the more potent the Cock-Gro. Well, that seemed only logical and made perfect sense. If I wanted to make my dick bigger, I would eagerly swallow as much cum as possible. Hell! Whatever it took to end up with a man sized cock I’d do it. Anything to regain fucking privileges with my wife. And after more than two months of sucking and swallowing this extra potent cum from her pussy I swore I was seeing positive results.

Like I said, arriving home after a hard day at work, upon opening the front door I would be assaulted the heavy, musky smell of sex in the air and know my wife had not spent the day alone. On several occasions, I’d pass the guy going out the door as I was coming in. And a few times I got to the bedroom door just as the stud was still banging away before grunting and dumping his load into my wife. Only once was I yelled at to leave and shut the door. Then there was this other guy who, more than once, simply acted as if I wasn’t there or didn’t care that I watched. By the way they carried on it was like he/they had made certain that I would get a good show.

As I stood there watching silently while they grunted and groaned, there were strange things going on within me. It was as if I had developed this split personality. Knowing that some stranger and his massive pile driver was repeatedly penetrating my own wife’s cunt made my chest tighten. My head and heart hurt. At the same time, my eyes and ears became enthralled by the live action porno show happening before me. The sight of Ann’s tiny body beneath a much larger man. The two naked bodies thoroughly absorbed in each other’s thrust and heave. But most of all, it was the sound of his deep throated praises of her body and skills in stark contrast to Ann’s squeaky whimpers and moans. Her childlike voice begging him to fuck her harder that never failed to quicken my heart rate.

Sure, I was well aware that scenes like this most likely had played out enumerable times when I wasn’t present. Just the same, each time I was privy to this live sex act it never failed to stir such intense and conflicting emotions.

No matter the position of their coupling — missionary, doggie, reverse or forward cowgirl, standing, etc. — when it was obvious that he was about to climax and his balls were ready to fill her insides, she always insisted that she be flat on her back. Then this youthful voice would beg him to fill her belly full of his cum. With her legs wrapped tightly around his ass pulling him in tightly so she could feel the jettisoning ropes of cum against her cervix she’d be emitting little girl-like whimpers while praising him because she can feel his heavy cream warming her insides. Sounding more like a 5 year-old child than an adult, she would sweetly tell him that his cum makes her belly feel so full. Topping it all off by thanking him for making her be a bad girl.

After a few gentle kisses, plainly in my view, he would roll off and get up. Turning towards me with a smug smile, his cock still semi erect and dribbling cum on the carpet, he’d begin getting dressed. He had only barely left the bed when Ann gave the signal that, without delay, it was my turn. Now I was the one ignoring the extra body in the room because in a flash I was between her legs merrily lapping away.

Sure it was humiliating to be seen hungrily sucking and swallowing the copious flow of another man’s seed out of his unfaithful wife’s cunt. But at that moment I was totally motivated with the idea that, the fresher the better.

(I would later be formally introduced to Caleb who would eventually become a regular around our place.)

To further my humiliation, it seemed that whenever Ann did get dressed, we couldn’t go anywhere without Ann pointing at some hunky guy and telling me his name, then add, “You had him!” or, “He has helped little Scott grow.” Inevitably, if he and I made eye contact, I would turn beet red while my insides were churning with the embarrassing knowledge that his vitamin rich cum had, and hopefully continued to circulate throughout my system.

From the very beginning, following many of her sessions she delighted in torturing me by making me look closely at her pussy so I could describe aloud how stretched she escort pendik looked and the much greater quantities of cum other men — even the teenagers — make compared to my spurts. Yet even after this humiliation, or because of it, my bride had manipulated my mind so; that by putting me through this act actually served as a motivational tool to grow that man-sized cock I desperately longed for. Keeping my ambitions focused on that prize was the ultimate endeavor.

The daily exposure to the musky smell that only occurs from animalistic sexual abandon mixing with the combined aromas of both pussy and cock juices had become my aphrodisiac. This, along with the visual aspect of oozing residuals of wanton sex never failed to cause sensory overload, making my lust for Cock-Gro all that much more intense. I had a newfound appreciation for the artful aspect of white cream leaking from a vagina. The magnificent beauty of a creampie.

Once Ann was completely satisfied I was both visually and mentally primed, then I could dive in, tongue first to drown in the creamy residue of that day’s elicit sex between my wife and another man.

The thing is, these creampies from various sources never got boring. I learned early on that no two loads of cum looked or tasted exactly the same. Every day, after every coupling, was a little bit different. Each day offered a different taste and/or texture and/or thickness.

As another one of my assigned ‘chores’, Ann had taught me how to shave her pubic area for her. Later on, as her belly got larger with the baby inside this came in handy. In fact, before long, it became my responsibility to also shave and powder her legs too, so she was always “smooth and youthful” for her men.

Throughout the pregnancy, Ann gained precious few pounds. Maybe it was because she spent so much of her day fucking. Possibly all that fucking burned off most of the extra fats and calories. Perhaps she was just lucky. But from the back she still looked just as small and petite as the night I first saw her naked. I imagine she had looked that way since puberty. It was only from the side that over time anyone could detect the slow expansion of her belly.

By the end of her seventh month Ann’s boobs had only grown from an “AA” cup to a full “B” but her nipples were now constantly erect. It also became obvious that the bigger her belly got the more popular she became. She began entertaining on weekends as well. Now I’d be there to open the door for some of these studs. I’m pretty sure the ones I didn’t know personally still knew I was her husband. But if I was home to greet them at the door, few of her guests had any problem shaking my hand then coming in and chatting with me before going off with Ann. A few of her “regulars” even arrived with flowers for Ann in one hand, and a six-pack of beer or bottle of wine for me! While I sat out in the living room getting drunk I’d have to listen to them rutting in our bedroom. With a lump in my pants I’d wait for the guy to finish making his deposit and leave so I could then make my withdrawal.

This is the part I am left to wonder about: While some may have suspected, I question just how many of the men actually knew where all those deposits ended up? (Aside from Caleb and Ann’s brother who knew for sure.) When these other guys came to my home and shook my hand and made small talk, did any of them know that Ann wasn’t the ultimate recipient of their creamy gifts?

Speaking of the weekends, it wasn’t unheard of for her to arrange for two, possibly three appointments on the same day. No sooner had I slurped down the gifts of guy number one, she would jump into the shower while I quickly changed the bedding. Removing the sheets and mattress cover — all soaked with sweat and other bodily fluids — then remake the bed to look pristine and perfect. I would spritz some air freshener and she would still be drying and prepping herself when guest number two would ring the doorbell. And as ridiculous as this may sound, but by being an active participant in this whole process, doing what I was doing and the depraved ulterior reason for doing it never failed to give me such an intense adrenaline rush. Each time I would be welcoming some stud into our apartment while also attempting to hide the excitement and anticipation I felt.

One day as I finished shaving her she decided that my pubic area should also be shaved, “So we both can see how much the Cock-Gro is working.” She was right. Without the nest of curly hair it looked to me like things had improved. Like there were signs of actual growth. Nothing extreme, but better. I was certain that my balls had increased in overall size and my dick was not only a bit thicker but somewhat longer too. And I wasn’t alone in this observation. Ann also commented on the improved appearance of my manhood. (No doubt, her words had more to do with her ongoing use of suggestive reinforcement to keep me on track than what she actually believed.) But, no matter; in my mind this was all the proof I needed as to the effectiveness of Cock-Gro. If I had had any doubts before, now I was totally and thoroughly convinced about there being beneficial ingredients in Cock-Gro. Especially the donations from much larger cocks than mine. If I kept it up I was certain that before long my dick WOULD be “man-sized.” Big enough that I would finally be able to reclaim my wife and allowed to fuck her again.

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

Katrina and Rose had worked together for almost three years. Katrina had a wicked sense of humour that often left Rose in tears of laughter. Her antics were at times outrageous and more than a little risqué.

One afternoon, the company installed a new piece of software on their PCs. It was called The Company Office Communicator. Much like MSN, it allowed people in the company to chat via their PCs allowing instant access to all staff. The company heralded it as a huge success as it ensured that people in many different locations could get together on line and share ideas and solve problems. But to Katrina, it was a source of much amusement.

The company loved its acronyms and Katrina had got a special one for this application. She called it ‘COC’ (as opposed to its official name see-oh-see) and on the afternoon of installation, her comical imagination was on fire. She made numerous jokes about her COC (cock) such as ‘It’s nice to have a cock.’ And ‘Let’s meet on my cock so that we can talk about whatever comes up.’ And ‘I’ve just maximised the application. Now, my cock’s really big!’

The one-liners kept coming thick and fast and Rose was in tears laughing. Near the end of the afternoon, Katrina’s COC stopped working. ‘Ooh, my cock’s gone down!’ She told Rose. “I’d better raise a call with the Helpdesk.”

Using the on-line Helpdesk form, Katrina informed IT of her problem. This is what she wrote:

“Hi,

I got COC this afternoon and, although it was really good to start with, after a while it stopped working. It’s now a useless COC and I don’t know how to get it going again. I tried re-booting my PC but my COC flatly refuses to come up. I’ve never had a COC before so I don’t know what I need to do to get it up again. Please help me sort out this problem with my COC as I need it in good working order to fulfil my duties.”

She showed Rose what she had written and that’s when it all got too much for Rose and, holding her hand to her mouth in horror, confessed she had just wet herself. Katrina laughed and looked under the desk. Sure enough, she could see pee dripping off Rose’s chair and onto a wet patch on the floor. She giggled as she grabbed some tissues from her handbag and got under the table to wipe up the pee. She knew this would embarrass Rose and she quietly giggled under her escort taksim breath at the thought.

When she had finished, she told Rose she had better take her panties off as she wouldn’t want to drip as she walked around the office! Rose looked around and confirming that no-one was watching, put her hand up her skirt and carefully removed them. “Now what am I going to do with them?” She asked through persistent laughter.

“Here,” she said, passing Rose a small plastic bag that she had for no apparent reason kept in her handbag for the last two months. “Put them in here and then you can take them home with you.”

Rose slipped her panties into the bag and was just about to put them in her handbag when the phone rang. It was the boss. He needed to see her immediately. Without thinking, she put the bag on her desk and went off in search of her usually very elusive boss.

Katrina saw the bag on the table and picked it up and put it in her own handbag. She knew she could have put them in Rose’s bag but something stopped her; a curiosity that she couldn’t quite explain.

Seeing that it was now just gone 5, Katrina packed up for the day. She told herself that if Rose came back before she left, she would return the bag to her. Secretly, she kept her fingers crossed that she would be long gone by the time Rose got back.

She left the office minutes before Rose returned. Whilst talking to the boss, Rose suddenly realised that she had left her wet panties on the desk. She was very distracted for the rest of the meeting as she worried about this. When she returned to find Katrina had left for the day, she was relieved to see her panties were no longer where she had left them. She looked around for them and after a few minutes, gave up assuming Katrina would have put them somewhere safe.

When Katrina got home, she went to the bathroom and took Rose’s panties out of the bag. She looked at them for a while, noting the ivory satin and lace and absently ran her fingers over the smooth, wet material. She didn’t mind that her fingers were now moist with Rose’s pee; in fact, she liked it. She’d always had a thing about wee and she fantasised about Rose wetting her knickers. She would have loved to have seen it, would have loved to have had her hand inside Rose’s panties, feeling escort şişli her warm pee trickling between her fingers.

These thoughts filled her mind as she washed Rose’s panties in the sink. She left them hanging above the sink to drip dry and then went to her bedroom to spend some time with her rabbit as she continued to dream about intimate moments with Rose.

Katrina was first into work in the morning. She checked her emails and there was one from the boss telling her off for the way she had worded her Helpdesk report. She dismissed it with a slight snigger.

“Morning,” Rose said as she walked into the room. Moving close to Katrina, she whispered “What happened to my knickers?”

“I took them home and washed them.” Katrina replied. “I was going to bring them with me this morning but they hadn’t quite dried. Anyway, I thought they were very sexy. Can I keep them?”

Rose couldn’t decide if she was serious or not. Testing the water, she said “You can but I’ll need a pair of yours in return.”

Katrina looked at her. “Ok,” she said, “will these do you?” And took of the sheer blue thong she had on beneath her skirt.

Rose, a little embarrassed but also feeling a frisson of excitement at this suddenly kinky exchange said, “Yes, I’ll have them.” A lascivious smile formed on her face as she leaned over the desk to take them but Katrina moved her hand away. “You’ll have to agree to my terms first.” She told her.

“Oh? What terms?”

“You have to put them on now. Take yours off and put these on instead.”

Now Rose felt extremely embarrassed but despite this, stood up, slipped out of her panties and put them in her handbag. Grinning, she stretched her hand out, gesturing Katrina to give her the thong. Katrina obliged.

When Rose had slipped the thong on, she sat down and started a chat session with Katrina on COC.

Rose:

Wow, that was fun!

Katrina:

Mmm 🙂

Rose:

I love your thong! It fits nicely, thank you

Katrina:

Good. Does it feel sexy?

Rose:

OMG yes!

Katrina:

I have to make a confession

Rose:

Oh?

Katrina:

That whole thing yesterday about you wetting yourself – it really turned me on.

Katrina looked up, her heart pounding escort pendik in case Rose was disgusted. Rose looked back at her, smiling.

Rose:

I feel so horny right now

Katrina:

What would you like to do about it?

Rose:

I’d like you to help me stop feeling horny

Katrina:

How?

Rose:

With your fingers

Katrina:

Do you think I should risk climbing under the desk and doing it here?

Rose:

I’d love that but you’d better not

Katrina:

🙁

Rose:

My house is 10 minutes away. We could go there at lunchtime

Katrina:

Ok. Early lunch at 12 then?

Rose:

Def x

Katrina:

One more favour?

Rose:

Sure

Katrina:

Will you drink a lot of water between now and lunchtime

Rose:

Why would you want me to do that 😉

Katrina:

So I can watch this time! 🙂

Rose:

Sorry, I have to go now. I’m feeling very, very thirsty…

Katrina:

xx

Rose:

xx

At 12 o’clock sharp, the girls left the office and quickly made their way to Rose’s house. Nervous first moments of intimacy turned to confident experimentation. They stood in the bath, naked apart from their panties. Each stood with one hand inside the other’s underwear feeling the delicious warm spring. Katrina knelt before Rose and pressed her mouth between her legs, sucking pee through the thin material of her thong. When both girls had finished peeing, they went into bedroom. Now naked, they made passionate love to each other, grinding their pussies together in one deliciously intense shared orgasm.

The girls promised to keep this a secret between them. Subsequently, they often shared sexy moments at work frequently involving exchanging panties. Sometimes, Rose would let just a little drop of wee go. Just enough to make the crotch of her panties wet before the swap. She loved the look on Katrina’s face when the cool, wet material touched her pussy.

COC was very quickly renamed – partly due to Katrina’s constant jokes. The young IT developer who wrote the system hacked into Katrina’s communicator and spent many hours enjoying her and Rose’s sexy exchanges. One day he decided it was payback time and let the girls know that he knew all about their sexy antics. He told them that he would need to be involved on some occasions in return for his silence on the matter. The girls complied and despite the awkwardness and resentment at the start, the three of them had some very interesting adventures. But that’s another story…

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

“Well hello, Kitten.”

She was leaning on one elbow looking down at me as I woke up. I had a now familiar feeling in the back of my throat and my ass from the night before. I was getting used to being used by her and her big, black dildo.

“Good morning, Mistress.”

She just smiled as I responded to what was now my new name.

I don’t remember exactly when she decided to change my name. It was sometime after she started using me on a regular basis to take her huge cock in my mouth and ass.

Now i felt her rubbing me through my red, silk panties.

I hated getting hard now. I knew it just meant more frustration for her amusement.

“I’ve got a special treat for you today,” she said.

I knew by the way she said it that it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Not for me anyway.

She turned her naked body on top of mine, pushing her pussy into my face. I knew what to do.

I licked her and tasted her as she rubbed the side of her face on the front of my bulging panties. It was maddening. After a few orgasms she got off, and told me it was time taksim escort bayan to get ready.

“You’ll need to shower first, of course,” she said.

She followed me into the bathroom and then watched me get into the shower, still so hard.

“Here, let me help you with that,” she said.

As I stood there, she reached out and turned on the cold water full blast. It was the punishment I hated most, but sometimes, like now, she would just do it for her own amusement.

I could hear her laugh as I tried to shrink from the ice cold water beating down on me. I went soft immediately.

“That’s better, Kitten,” she said. “I hate it when you’re frustrated.”

I finished showering as quickly as I could, but not before the minimum of 10 minutes that Mistress said I needed just to be clean. It felt like an hour.

***

I knew as soon as we pulled into the parking lot what she had planned. The local salon. She had talked often about having me waxed, but we had never actually done it. Today was the day, apparently.

I şişli escort bayan cringed inside, but followed her in the door without a word from either of us.

Inside, the thin college-age girls were busy moving around their stations, clipping and styling. I heard Mistress speak.

“We have an appointment with Nikki.”

The girl in front of us clicked through a computer screen with disinterest.

“Oh yes, the brazilian wax. Come with me,” she said to my Mistress.

“Oh no, it’s not for me,” she said. “It’s for Kitten here.”

I’m not sure which of us was most embarrassed.

“Well follow me,” she said, this time looking directly at me.

I was dreading the next few steps. Mistress had picked out a pink lace thong for me to wear that day.

When we got to the back room, the girl in the waxing room looked up with what seemed like a smirk.

“Right up here,” she tapped her hand on the table in front of her.

The woman in front of me was a tall blond, probably about 27, with a cute smile and pendik escort bayan curvy figure. In spite of myself, I could feel it getting hard.

Mistress moved in and started unzipping my pants. In one quick motion, she had them off, leaving just the small pink thong for my embarrassment.

“Hello, I’m Nikki,” she said.

I just nodded.

“Where are your manners? Tell her your name,” my Mistress scolded.

“I’m Kitten,” I said softly.

They both laughed.

“Well Kitten, what would you like done?” she said.

My Mistress answered.

“Kitten here really wants his pussy to be waxed clean,” she said.

“Ah, well I’ll need those panties to go.”

I was frozen, but Mistress reached over and swiped them off me, freeing my cock.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mistress apologized. “Her little clit is always in the way. Let me help.”

I felt her hands squeeze it hard, her long nails digging into the stretched tight skin. I gritted my teeth.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur of pain, as hot wax oozed over my skin, and then Nikki ripped it out at the roots from my sensitive skin.

When we were done, I thanked Nikki.

“No problem, Kitten,” she said.

Then she took the card my Mistress handed her and punched out a circle on it.

“Look, Kitten,” Mistress turned back to me. “Just nine more waxings, and your tenth one if free!”

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

This series will document the exploration of my sexual fantasies and boundaries with my fiancé’s super-hot sister. It starts with a knickers fetish and will move on to anything from piss, scat, feet, bi etc etc. If you don’t like any of that stuff, please don’t read this series.

*****

Background – my partner, her sister Rachel and me

I’m Steve and I’m happily engaged to my partner of 10 years – Steph. We’re both 26 (yes, we got together super early) and lead a happy life. I got lucky with Steph. I mean, I’m not a bad looking guy but she’s something else. She’s tall, slim has small but pert tits, a nice round bum and she’s naturally beautiful. So that’s Steph, and then there’s Rachel – Steph’s younger sister…

Rachel (22) could be a model. Like Steph, she is a naturally gorgeous looking girl with a pretty face and long brown hair, but add to this her skinny and incredibly sexy size 6 body and oversized tits and it makes her an absolute 10 of 10. She’s very unassuming, however. Her manly boyfriend is a little ‘low-key’ for her and she’s not the sharpest tool in the box either. She has attitude too – which I love – and an Essex girl accent to die for.

My obsession with Rachel

My obsession with Rachel began when Steph and I first started dating. Rachel would laze around the house in very little clothing (usually thin leggings) and have little regard as to whether I saw her exiting the bathroom half naked or had to move her dirty underwear off the bed before I climbed in. That’s what really got me you see – Steph and Rachel shared a room. Granted, Rachel would sleep downstairs if I came over to stay (unfortunately) but obviously all her things were in the shared bedroom, so she would come and go as she pleased, wearing what she pleased. Whether she meant it or not, she was a tease and she drove me crazy.

For the first few years I never really acted on my impulsions. I mean, every lad fancies his partner’s sister, right? Soon etiler escort bayan enough though, I started to think more and about her and the things I like to do to her (I’m getting there you see!). Rachel is even the reason for many of the fetishes I have now. Feet, for example, She has the most amazing size 7 feet – skinny with long, perfect toes. Before I met her, I had no interest in feet whatsoever. But it’s a part of her body that always seemed to be on show, teasing me. There are many others too, as you’ll come to realise throughout this series – I have no sexual boundaries where Rachel is concerned. As my initial ‘warning’ paragraph indicated, my sexual fantasies and experiences with Rachel range from foot worship to scat to a bisexual threesome. Crazy, I know.

So here goes with the first installment. Here’s where my lust started to get a little more real.

Steph had slipped out at midnight, off to pick her parents up from the airport. This 4-hour time slot meant one thing to me – time to dig out Rachel’s dirty underwear and wank myself to a mighty orgasm. I had done it a few times before, but had rarely had this length of time in the house alone to really indulge and commit.

As soon as Steph left the house, I hopped out of bed in search of her sister’s knickers, shoes, bras or anything really. I was that desperate and that horny for her. Rachel had used the room to get changed before she went out for the evening – Steph had asked her to tidy up but, as ever, she hadn’t, so finding garments to satisfy my cravings wasn’t hard. Slung over a chair was a tiny white g-sting she had been wearing earlier that day. Result. I grabbed the g-string and simultaneously reached into my pants and pulled out my cock. I was already rock hard at both the sight of Rachel’s used underwear and the thought of what I was about to do.

I dropped to my knees beside the bed and examined my find. The tiny crotch area carried a multitude pendik escort bayan of creamy stains while the ass string was smeared with remnants of Rachel’s sexy backside. Enough looking, I brought the g-string to my nose. The smell was incredible, with deep aromas of her pussy, but not too overpowering. I sniffed hard at the dirty crotch while I frantically wanked my cock and imagined how the material would’ve been riding up her tight 22-year-old cunt. I could’ve made myself cum right there and then but was determined to make more of the time I had. Slowing down my pace of masturbation, I began to run my tongue along the dirty g-string. I licked at the filthy crotch, savoring the taste of my fiancé’s little sister’s hot pussy. Picking up the pace, I was once again stroking myself into a frenzy and now excitedly sucking at the smatterings of stained-on shit, smeared along the white g-string. What had I become? I was harder than ever and close to orgasm over the taste and smell of my girlfriend’s sister’s shitty knickers. But I wanted more.

I delved into Rachel’s handbag. Bingo. Amongst all the other rubbish women carry in their bags, I pulled out a dirty thong that she had obviously brought home from her boyfriend’s. Coral-colored and frilly at the top, I could see instantly that this thong was even dirtier than the white g-string. The crotch was heavily stained. I brought it to my nose and inhaled deeply before licking slowly at the white, creamy cunt stains. Oh my god it tasted amazing and I was in my element. If the closest I could get to sexy Rachel’s tight pussy was licking discharge off of her filthy knickers – then so be it!

I don’t why I did what I did next, but it seemed the right thing to do to take my debauched actions to the next level. I dipped into Rachel’s bottom underwear drawer. This is where she kept her ‘sexier’ underwear sets (if you can get any sexier than micro white g-strings). The stuff in her drawers never really bothered taksim escort bayan me as they were clean, but I had this urge to wear her knickers… so I did. I pulled on a designer silk thong which, just about making it over my thighs, wedged itself up my arse and sat just below my balls with my stiff cock protruding over the top. It felt incredible and I still have no idea why. The fact that my cock was in Steph’s sister’s underwear just did it for me.

I wasn’t finished yet. I rounded up two more items – her favorite and well used high heels and the tights that she had worn to work during the day. Already inside-out from where she had taken them off and slung them on the floor, I ran my hand inside the leg of the tights and then brought the foot to my face. The dirty nylon smelt amazing and again, the thought of her feet having been inside them all day drove me crazy. I rubbed them all over my face like a madman. Wanking my cock while sniffing and licking at Rachel’s worn pantyhose. Heaven. Getting close to orgasm, I quickly had my way with her black high heels. I roughly fucked in between the sole and the heel of the right shoe while I held the left one over my face. I knew all this was slightly weird and over the top, but I didn’t care – I just wanted to touch, sniff, lick and fuck anything to do with Rachel.

It was time to bring it all together. I gagged myself with the filthy coral thong, forcing it down my throat. I then wrapped her worn tights around my cock and began to wank hard, still wearing the silk thong. With my other hand I picked up the smelly, stained white g-string and again began to sniff at the dirty shit marks. Worn knickerss over my nose and in my mouth, a tiny designer thong up my arse and used, sweaty pantyhose rubbing against my throbbing cock. With the smell and taste of hot 22-year-old pussy and arse and the feel of soft nylon around my dick – I couldn’t last much longer – I needed to cum hard. Still on my knees, I lined up the shoes I had fucked earlier. I moaned, groaned, sniffed and sucked for a little longer before shooting a shit load of hot cum into her tights, dripping through and down into her high heels.

I didn’t even have time to reflect on what I considered to be a pretty successful night let alone clean up before I heard someone making their way up the stairs…

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

Peter closed the pool at four o’clock as he had been directed. The last patrons had left some time ago and the lifeguard on duty had left soon after. Now all he had to do was clean up the pool deck before he could clock out for the day. He had been fortunate to get a summer job managing an outdoor pool. Most of his friends were stuck working in cafes and factories all summer.

He was sweeping under a set of deck chairs when he heard the gate click on the far side of the pool area. Someone must have forgotten when the pool closed. He turned to tell them that they were closed but there was no one there. The gate had clearly clicked but there was no one around. Maybe it was a patron leaving late that had taken awhile changing in the bathroom. He turned back to the sweeping.

A few minutes passed and he had forgotten about the gate. He finished sweeping and was walking back to the tool shack when he spotted a woman in a lounge chair on the far side of the pool. She had long tan legs and blonde hair that fell to her waist. All she wore was a tiny black bikini that left little up to the imagination. He recognized her at once. It was his girlfriend Annabelle.

She smiled over at him and he was instantly irritated. “You can’t be here right now. I am closing up. You are going to get me in trouble.” She rose from the chair and moved towards him. “What are you going to do about it? Are you going to punish me?” It became clear in an instant why she was there. Peter was torn. This could get him fired but at the same time, sex with Annabelle was like nothing else in this world. They had been dating a couple months and each time they had sex was better than the last time. She was wild and kinky, always coming up with new and exciting ideas. Peter wondered what she had in mind this time. They had never tried it at his work place before. Maybe she was going for the kinky workplace roleplay.

He made his decision. “I am definitely going to have to punish you”, he said smoothly. He pulled off his taksim escort shirt and walked towards her. She moved away from him and pulled down one side of her bathing suit top, teasing him. Each time he moved closer, she danced away, until she reached the pool steps. This time she slipped into the pool. Peter joined her in the pool and she let him approach. When she was in arms reach, he pulled her towards him and kissed her. She reached behind her and untied her bathing suit top, letting it fall away. Her breasts were magnificent. They were firm with perfect rock hard nipples. As she swayed in the water, they bounced slightly. There was a mischievous look in her eye as the kiss ended. Without a word she slipped beneath the surface and began to pull the drawstrings on Peter’s bathing suit. When they were loosened, she pulled them down and slipped them from beneath his feet. So this is what she was up to, underwater sex.

Two of their mutual friends had tried it and would not stop talking about it. They kept saying that the lack of oxygen had made the orgasms so much better. Peter had been skeptical but clearly Annabelle was game to try.

She bunched up his swimsuit and kicked away beneath the surface. She had already been under the water for thirty seconds and now she was headed for the far side of the pool. Peter watched the sleek graceful form slip through the water, her golden hair streaming behind her. She surfaced at the far side of the pool holding the swim suit. She had been underwater for forty five seconds. Peter had been so distracted that he only just realized that he was standing in the pool completely naked. She teasingly held the swim suit as though she would throw it out of the pool deck. “Oh no you don’t”

Peter kicked off the wall and swam the length of the pool underwater. She waited for him to arrive. When he had almost reached her, she slipped beneath the surface and grabbed him around the chest, pressing him towards the bottom. He did not şişli escort have time to get a new breath. She had a twenty second advantage over him. He pulled her tight and kissed her hard. He felt her breasts brush against his chest. She opened her mouth slightly and a tiny stream of bubbles raced for the surface. Peter felt his chest tighten. He needed air soon. With a twist, he tried to pull himself free of her grip but she held on determinedly. With a free hand he grabbed her nipple and twisted hard. A large column of air poured from her lips and she let go. He rocketed to the surface and sucked in a solid breath of air. Annabelle surfaced alongside him breathing hard. “That wasn’t very nice”, she complained.

“You were well on your way to drowning me. Let’s see how you like it.” Peter grabbed her head and swept her legs out from under her. She got a half decent breath before she plunged beneath the surface. She didn’t struggle under his grip. Instead she began to caress his sunken cock. She took it in her mouth and began to give him an underwater blowjob. It truly felt incredible. He kept his hands on her head, guiding her movements and she made no move to stop him. In his enjoyment, he lost track of the time she had been under. She began to struggle under his grip and a large column of bubbles burst on the surface. She was struggling hard with his cock still in her mouth. He held her under a few seconds longer. Finally he relented and she burst to the surface. “I can’t believe how turned on that made me. Sarah was right, being held under really turned me on.” Peter just smiled. “The best has yet to come.”

She was on her tip toes and the water was up to her neck. He kissed her on the lips and began moving down her body. Her breasts, her stomach, and then her pussy. She quivered slightly as his tongue found her clit. Her hand came down on his head and guided his movements. He had been underwater for thirty seconds when she joined him under the water. She slipped pendik escort beneath the surface and lay horizontal to the bottom. It was clear that she was close to cumming. Peter fought off the urge to breathe. He smothered his lips with her pussy to keep the air from escaping. Her back arched and her fingers dug into his hair. He moved his tongue faster and she began to writhe as she came. The air was expelled from her lungs as she screamed in ecstasy. She sank to the bottom momentarily as her orgasm subsided. Peter was already on the surface. She swam to the surface to join him. She pulled herself into his arms as the last spasms of the orgasm faded away. “It is now your turn to cum. You can do whatever you want to me”, she cooed.

She pushed away from him and slipped beneath the surface. She lay on her back on the bottom of the pool with her eyes closed. Peter swam down and entered her. Her eyes opened and she smiled up at him. He began to fuck her and she responded to his rhythm. After thirty seconds he felt the tickling need for air. He pulled out of her and surfaced. She remained on the bottom, waiting for him. He took a deep breath and swam back down. He entered her and she chirped in delight. His orgasm was building and still she showed no sign of needing air. He grabbed her shoulders and began to fuck her harder. She responded with increasing intensity. She had now been under for over a minute. Peter suppressed the need to breath. She dug her fingers into his back. Clearly she was nearing another orgasm. Seconds later she let out a gurgling scream as she came again. Her body shook as she came hard. Following it, she fought to keep in her remaining breath. Her blue eyes were wide as she silently pleaded with him to finish. Tiny bubbles flowed from the corners of her lips as she fought the losing battle.

The orgasm came twenty seconds later. He came deep inside her. As the orgasm faded, he loosened the grip on her shoulders and pulled out of her. She raced for the surface with cum streaming out of her pussy. She had been underwater for a minute and thirty seconds. He surfaced in time to keep her from slipping back beneath the surface. She gulped in the afternoon air as Peter kept her exhausted body afloat. When her breath finally returned, she leaned in and kissed him.

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 first heard about PeePillow TM from one of my internet friends. No one in real life knew my proclivities: only the select individuals online, many of us separated by countries and continents, who were active in the community knew my secret.

There was yellowdog, who posted amazing videos of himself covertly pissing in crowded, public areas. Sometimes he even managed to splash other people without getting caught. The dude was an expert carpet-soaker.

Or sheildla, who liked to cosplay powerful women and piss standing up. Her boyfriend was a professional photographer, so we were treated to high-def, glossy, bold, and beautiful shots of Wonder Woman, or Buffy, or Xena standing tall and pissing on the ground in front of her. (And sometimes, pissing on men. If she was Wonder Woman, there was an extra element of bondage, of course.)

There was pissbitches, who submitted quality erotica to the site; no-water-no-wee, the funny guy of the group, who was always in the chat room (he and I had never met in real life, but privately sent each other dirty messages when we were in a mood), always updating us about how much fluid he’d consumed that day, how desperate he felt, how much longer he was going to hold it; naturecalling, the husky lumberjack of the group who blogged about his nature hikes (and pisses) in the woods; and me, who liked to lurk but didn’t often post my own stuff. I didn’t have a niche yet. And I was still growing into my piss fetish, having only recently accepted the fact that it turned me on in a big way. So I wasn’t ready to start broadcasting — I just watched their videos, looked at their pictures, read their porn blogs, and chatted with them online. The six of us, with a few others who were less active, made the core of the piss community.

So one afternoon, arriving back in my dorm room after class, I lay in bed and chugged a glass of water while I waited for my laptop to boot up. It was too early for my dorm-mates to return: now that we were juniors, I shared a quad with three of my girlfriends, and each of us had a private single off the common room/kitchen suite. With a private room, and no chance of anyone being home to overhear anything, it was the perfect time to masturbate.

Because I liked my bladder to feel pleasantly full, I kept drinking water as I opened new tabs in an incognito window: all my favorite piss porn sites, blogs, erotica, and, of course, our chat room.

The only one currently online was no-water-no-wee, and even he was idle. So I pinged him and read through the latest chat logs to see what I missed while I waited for his response. Near the bottom, posted by a username I didn’t recognize, was a link, with a description: “you guys gotta check this out. I got one for myself because I hate getting out of bed in the morning to go piss, but my girlfriend loved it so much that she stole it for herself and made me buy another.”

Curious, I clicked. The link brought me to the sales page for a product called PeePillow TM, with a tagline that promised, “Go where you want, when you want!”

The picture was of a long body-pillow that looked indulgently foamy, something you could really sink into and cuddle with. A description next to the photograph read:

Do you have trouble leaving your warm bed in the morning to sit on a cold toilet seat?

Do you ever wish you could relieve yourself at your own convenience?

Do medical complications make toilets inconvenient for frequent use?

Now introducing: PeePillow TM!

PeePillow TM is crafted with cutting-edge technologies which absorb and process urine into a fine, toxic-free, completely odor-less powder. PeePillow TM is capable of absorbing five gallons of liquid at a time, or nearly 20 liters, which is more piss than the average person produces in 10 days. It dries quickly and leaves no lingering odor, so you can get back to your REAL business.

To clean, simply pop open the small powder trap which is tucked inconspicuously into the side of the PeePillow TM and empty the contents into the nearest waste receptacle. The PeePillow TM is machine washable and only needs to be laundered once every two weeks to keep it feeling fresh. Please hang dry.

All PeePillow TM purchases include a 6-month warranty, and you are welcome to a product replacement or a full refund within that period if you are not satisfied with your purchase. We guarantee that this product will become a fun, convenient, and indispensable part of your household.

We also offer discounts for all PeePillow TM purchases in quantities greater than six. Click here to check out our family plan!

Ordinarily, I would have shrugged this off. It was a fake product, no doubt, except it had come with the endorsement from the guy in the chat room…of course, he could just be phishing. Maybe a bot. I hadn’t recognized the username. But the idea intrigued me, despite the etiler escort fact that it seemed totally outside the realm of possibility…a pillow that converted urine to powder? Something capable of mitigating odor and dampness? But offered the freedom and luxury of pissing all over it, wherever you were: in bed, sitting, playing computer games, reading a book, so long as you were naked from the waist down and had the PeePillow next to you? It seemed too good to be true.

And then I scrolled down and noticed the reviews. There were hundreds — and most of them had given 4 and 5 stars.

Couldn’t believe this actually worked! wrote one person. I expected it to be really gross, stink, leave a mess…but I’ve had it for a month now, use it every day, and it still smells fine even though I haven’t washed it once. Awesome!!

Someone else said, This is my favorite thing. Let me know when you invent one for crap too, and I’ll buy it.

And another said, No joke, this thing works. It’s so comfortable, I snuggle with it all night, and then in the morning, I wake up…ahhh. Just let loose with this between my legs. I like it so much, I use it all the time, even when I don’t have to. Washed it twice now, it’s been holding up fine — and I wash it only because they recommend to, not because it needs it. I spritz a little perfume on her just to make things extra nice!!

Still another commented, Five stars!!! I love pissing all over this, all the time. And guests don’t notice anything strange about it! I get compliments, actually!

And another: sometimes I jack off into it and that works fine too

One reviewer had a lot more to say: Hey there, I want to encourage you, yes you, to buy this pillow immediately because it will change your life. Pissing is always a bit of a taboo act, isn’t it? You have to do it away from other people. You have to do it in a special room. You have to clean yourself afterward. But what if I could tell you that you can liberate yourself from these restrictions and feel a newfound sense of freedom?

How many of you have felt the thrill of pissing in your bedroom, or relieving yourself in your dining room, or urinating in your living room?

Here’s what a day in the life looks for me, now.

I wake up. I sleep naked, because I like to feel the sheets against my skin, and the warmth of my husband behind me. I wake up in his arms. Because now I have the PeePillow, I don’t have to move out of his embrace when my bladder calls me to the bathroom. Instead I put the pillow securely between my thighs and let loose over it. The fabric soaks it up immediately, leaving me feeling dry and clean and warm.

Then, when I feel like it, I’ll get out of bed and go downstairs to make some coffee and start breakfast. I keep PeePillows in every room, and I’ve taken to wearing lots of skirts without underwear. But in the morning, I’m still wearing my nightgown and slippers, so it’s easy, when I feel the urge, to sit down on the chair at the breakfast table where I put it, lean back, and release my stream onto the fabric. I love the fact that it’s so long, the full body pillow size, because you can sit it upright in a chair like a person and straddle it, or sit on its lap when you urinate. Something about having soft fabric pressed right up against my private parts when I’m urinating feels really good, but I never knew it until now. And sometimes I like to pretend it’s a person, and I’m pissing right into his lap, or leaning back to aim my stream in an arc onto its lower legs. I grind against it, too — my husband keeps joking about buying me a dildo to use in the laps of the PeePillows — but it just feels so good, pissing and grinding at the same time, feeling this firm, pliant pillow between your legs.

My husband will join me for breakfast, and I’ll sit on the pillow so I can just hitch up my nightdress and use it under the breakfast table if I feel the urge. And then he goes off to work, and I carry on with some of the domestic tasks and the cleaning — I keep one in each room, in case I’m folding towels in the laundry and don’t want to interrupt my work to run to the bathroom…now I just walk over to where it is on the floor, squat over it, and piss freely — before sitting down at my desk. Let me tell you, as a freelance artist who works from home, this thing is a godsend.

For my work setup, I put one PeePillow on the chair and one on the ground in front of me, under the desk, just in case of splatter. I hitch up my skirts. And then I start working. I’m so much more productive without the frequent bathroom breaks, because anytime I feel the need, I just release it. I know the PeePillow will catch any spills, so I don’t worry about making a mess. I just lean back and piss right into the fabric. It soaks it up almost immediately…my bottom always stays dry.

I draw a lot of smut comics, pendik escort so I have to admit that I often find myself humping the pillow while I work without even realizing it. I really love the feeling of it between my legs, and sometimes I’m so turned on while I draw, and I’ll get this deep satisfaction from pissing, just really letting everything go, in the middle of my home office, and I’ll hold the pillow between my thighs and feel it go warm briefly while I relax my muscles and let loose this flood of piss, and hump it until I realize what I’m doing.

At that point, I usually put down the pen, stand up, pull my vibrator out of the drawer in the desk where I keep it, position it on the PeePillow’s lap, and straddle it. I get myself off really quickly when I do this — it’s even faster if I hold back a bit, save some pee to reserve it for now, when I’m grinding: I love the feeling of tightness in my legs while I kneel in the chair, straddling the pillow, feeling it rubbing against my bare cunt, before I piss all over it. When I cum, I feel really, really spent. Good spent.

Then I’ll eat a snack and go back to work.

At night, hubby and I will lay in bed and watch a movie together before bed. And now I don’t have to get up for trips to the bathroom in the middle. We don’t pause it at all anymore, now that we have PeePillow. If I need to go, I’ll just pull it a little closer and squat over it. My husband uses it now too.

He was skeptical of it at first, but now I know he uses it more than he claims — he won’t be obvious about it, but while we’re snuggling I’ll feel him position himself and aim his stream into the pillow, which, if I’m being honest, kinda turns me on now. There was this one time when he was feeling frisky after waking up…I was awake, but I had my eyes closed, resting. I had already used the PeePillow and was feeling relieved. But he hadn’t.

He started rubbing against me, reaching around to pinch my nipples, giving me all the signs of wanting to fuck.

But I was comfortable and I didn’t want to move yet, so I guided him between my legs, not to penetrate me, but to rub between my thighs from behind, the head of his cock grazing my clit with each thrust forward. I was still facing the PeePillow, and after a moment I realized, when I heard a slight hissing noise, that as my husband spooned me, fucking between my thighs, his cock pointing forward towards the PeePillow, he was pissing into it. He relieved himself into it while he pleasured himself. That thought turned me on so much that as soon as he was done, I turned around, straddled him, and speared myself on his cock. I suspect that the PeePillow might help in the bedroom in more ways than one.

Buy one! Buy ten!!

One four-star reviewer only said: Makes a lot of powder.

Another five-star said, great for car trips!!

Exactly as advertised.

Brilliant! Just what I needed!

My mom gave me one of these while I was resting from surgery in bed for two weeks, and it made things so much more enjoyable! I could just relax and watch netflix while she brought me water and crackers and soup, and it saved me so many painful trips to the bathroom. I really enjoy letting go all over this. And snuggly too like a boyfriend! Love it!

I read a few more, but my mind kept returning to that housewife/artist — she seemed great. I wanted to track her down and get her in the group, if possible. And this pillow…it was so intriguing.

No-water-no-wee was back in the public chatroom, so I tabbed over and started talking.

Me: you check out this peepillow thing yet?

Water: yeah, looked interesting, but I don’t have the money for it right now.

Me: think it’s the real deal?

Water: seems to be. People are coming out with all kinds of weird futuristic tech things these days. I mean, look at some of the stuff on kickstarter.

Me: Hmmm.

Water: btw, on hour five of holding.

Me: keep it up!

Water: thanks 🙂 what are you up to?

Me: ah, just got home. Catching up on internet things.

Water: So, porn.

Me: Yes.

I tabbed back to look at the pillow’s price tag. It wasn’t outrageous, but it was a little out of my budget.

Me: I’m really interested in this pillow thing, but you’re right, it’s too expensive for me right now

Water: put it on your christmas list

Me: hah. Yeah, that’s a list I would never show my family.

Water: see, you should sell porn online like some of the others. Then you could buy your illicit playthings with porn money.

Me: tempting thought. I don’t have a good deal like the others, though.

Water: what do you mean?

Me: I can’t pull off badass outfits like Sheila. I’m way not ready to piss in public like yellowdog. There aren’t any woods nearby to go in like naturecalling. I don’t write, or make taksim escort art. I don’t know what I could sell.

Water: well, yeah, they all have a thing. What’s your thing?

Me: clearly I don’t have a thing

Water: you need to make a thing. What distinguishes you from the others?

Me: I’m more interested in pissing indoors. In private. On stuff.

Water: so, set up a webcam.

Me: you think?

Water: yeah. You control everything with webcams. You’d be inside. You wouldn’t have to show your face if you didn’t want to. Plenty of dudes — and probably more than a few chicks — would pay good money to see a girl squat on stuff on camera.

Me: …maybe I’m crazy but this doesn’t sound like a bad idea

Water: That’s because it’s a great idea. You should do it. And spend the proceeds to buy the pillow. So you can squat on that on camera too.

Me: thanks, water

Water: anytime.

Our conversation flagged after that, but I was still thinking about his suggestion. Could I pull this off? I bookmarked the PeePillow website to save for later.

So after dinner, I was very surprised to return to my computer to find an email sitting in my inbox. It wasn’t my personal email address, but the one I used to sign up for spam and porn websites. It was the email address I had attached to our piss community, and the chat room — and waiting there was a notice from PeePillow Co.

It was a e-gift certificate for the PeePillow, in the exact amount that it would have cost me with tax and continental shipping. Attached was a little note.

A small gift from a future fan. Good luck on your webcam adventure. Here’s a little something to get started with.

I was momentarily stunned — but not stunned enough to prohibit me from going immediately to the PeePillow website to plug in the voucher. It was valid. So I ordered one.

No-water-no-wee claimed he had nothing to do with the appearance of the gift certificate when I confronted him in chat later. “Didn’t I just say I didn’t have any money?” he said. “Besides, we were speaking in the public chat room. Anyone could have seen our conversation, looked up your profile, and sent you an email.”

“I suppose…”

So I left a message in the chatroom, expressing thanks for the anonymous gift, and promising future updates. I could only assume the donor found my note. I still had no idea who was responsible.

I was excited — and nervous — for the pillow to arrive. There was a part of me that feared that I’d get called down to Student Services at any moment, to demand an explanation for the lewd package that arrived in the mail for me — there would be some nasty postal woman who would say, “we don’t accept postage of this nature! Explicit! Banned!” — and I would be publicly embarrassed and shunned. There would be a bit in the school paper about a girl with strange proclivities who actually had the gall to order an item of a sexual nature — a gross one — can you even believe it?

But of course, nothing happened. I got the notification that a package had arrived, and I went down to the university post office.

“Got something good?” asked the strong-armed woman who wrangled the large package down off the mail room shelf for me. “This here’s a big ‘un.”

“Uh, care package from my parents,” I blurted, because it was the first thing I could think of.

“Damn,” she chuckled, passing it over to my wide and waiting arms. “They really miss you, huh?”

Back in my room, I ripped the box open and tipped the pillow out. It was at least five feet long, almost as tall as I was, and had a kind of memory foam exterior that made me sink into it when I laid on top. It really was like cuddling another person: firm and soft at the same time.

I sat up, suddenly urgent to put it to the test.

I placed the PeePillow on the floor first, in case this one happened to malfunction for any reason. I didn’t want it to soak my bed. I stripped naked, folded my clothes and set them aside. And then I straddled the pillow like a rocking horse.

I was nervous, so it took a few moments for my muscles to unclench and relax. Even then, they tightened reflexively a couple times, wary of pissing in a space that wasn’t the bathroom. I kneeled wide on the floor, the pillow directly below me rubbing against my inner leg, and used my fingers like a peace sign to spread my labia apart.

I relaxed. The need to piss overtook me. And then, with a small rustling sound, piss started trickling out between my parted fingers. I gushed a patter of widely-dispersed droplets before my stream coalesced and thundered down onto the fabric in earnest. I sighed with relief, now too concerned with relieving the pressure in my bladder than with whether I ended up soaking the floor. I just let myself piss freely.

But when I looked down, my pee trickling away to nothing, I realized that the fabric was already absorbing the material. Piss quickly worked down through the layers of fibers, leaving the surface feeling smooth and clean and dry. Fucking amazing.

A broad grin spread across my face. Oh, this was gonna be great.

—

Chapter Two coming soon!

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