Sunday, May 23, 2010
Lise sat up and got to her feet beside the bed. She was pleased with herself, half way through their little game and she was still in control. In control of John yes, but of herself, she wasn't so sure. Touching her throat and trailing her fingers down between her breasts, her skin was still slick with his come. She could smell the sharp scent of him - how she loved that. 'Now what?' she wondered.
John still lay on the bed, watching her through half-closed eyes. His cock was a small thing now. Lise wondered how long it would take for it to recover. Sometimes they would make love the following morning, sometimes it would be a couple of days. Quick, second fucks seldom happened. As usual Lise found herself wanting more.
She asked him to stand. He was in what he called his 'post-coital-phase,' but got slowly to his feet.
John was surprised to find he still wanted her. Usually he was happy to just lie snuggled up to Lise after they'd made love. But seeing her running her fingers over her cum-wet skin, was a wicked turn on. To his delight he felt his cock stir.
* * *
She'd led him back to the kitchen. It hadn't taken long and not that many of the cable ties to have John secured again for Lise's next little play. A belt made of the black ties kept him sat in the chair. A couple more secured his wrists to two of the table legs so that he sat there, pretty much unable to move.
Lise had left him briefly, to change. Returning, she'd announced, "This is my new peekaboo look," adding, "or soon will be." All she wore was a bra and panties. He recognised both as items he'd ordered for her for Christmas by e-mail. The panties were red with blacklace and they were crotchless. The matching bra was more decoration than support but looked wonderful on her, even if the job was perhaps too much for it. She picked up the scissors and came to stand close to him.
Her next act made him cringe. She pulled the tip of each bra cup outwards and snipped off the end. For a few moments he was too afraid about what MIGHT happen to notice the results. His mind yelled, 'Do be careful!' while his mouth opened and his eyes tried to close. But she knew what she was doing, and when she lowered the scissors her nipples jutted out through the jagged holes in the bra.
She'd done a less than perfect job and had cut away too much fabric. But it did look delightful. Nipples and a sizable amount of breast-flesh, protruded though the openings. Those nipples just begged for his attention.
Lise flicked each with a forefinger and said, "Peekaboo!"
John's cock began to lift. She perched her ass on the table, her thigh against his tethered forearm. Her right breast was inches from his mouth.
Lise moved her shoulders, making her breasts jostle. She looked into his eyes then down at the poking nipple, her message clear.
He bent to kiss her, sucking the nipple into his mouth, hungrily, urgently.
Lise gasped and threw her head back. Her pussy spasmed in response to the suction at her nipple. She looked down again at his mouth, her breast. He was suckling her like a hungry puppy, drawing more of her breast out through the ruined bra.
Her hands grabbed for her breast and squeezed,o ffering herself, urging him, "Harder, suck me harder," Nipple and pussy, her world shrank to nipple and pussy. She knew she was going to come. Her ass squirmed against the table edge, her knees worked one against the other as she struggled with the glorious turmoil between her legs. God! She was going to come. She was going to come.
Come she did. It was fast, too fast, her body seemed to become fluid. She'd never come like this before, with just breast loving and never, never standing. She pulled away from him, staggered, turned, rested her hands on the table. She fought for breath, a frightening wetness between her thighs.
John for his part was wondering how much more he could take. How much more ball-churning longing would she make him endure. He looked down at his cock. It was actually moving with the beat of his heart. For the hundredth time, he wondered if a guy could come just from wanting. But he wasn't going to beg, no sir!
Lise was longing for that cock too, but she was enjoying this as well. All the times John had finished his lovemaking and left her desperate for more. Lise was come-hungry. That's what she called it, the need to climax, not once but as often as it took to scratch the crazy itch inside her pussy.
She straightened and moved round to the other side of John. She brought her nipple close to him and said, "More, please," He looked up at her, his eyes seemed to plead but there was a flash of anger there too. Lise looked down between his legs, that beautiful penis. She almost weakened - she did want that lovely cock so very badly.
But she leaned forward and moved her nipple across the tip of his nose. She knew, as any woman knows, that the poor guy wouldn't be able to resist.
Sure enough, his lips opened and he took the bait. The jolt to her pussy was every bit as powerful as the one from her right nipple had been. Dear God! Her hunger frightened her, she wanted this, wanted more, more, more.
Her hunger surprised John, she seemed insatiable. But his own reaction amazed him too, a fresh hunger replaced his annoyance at her needs. His cock was rigid. This hardening nipple in his mouth was as much a turn on as its sister had been. He bit and suckled and pulled. She didn't seem to mind how hard. When she moaned and grabbed her breast he knew she was going to come again.
Lise had had her eyes closed, utterly focused on the sensations flashing from nipple to crotch. The waves were starting to build. John's mouth lost its grip on her nipple and she looked down to watch him capture it again. Her own mouth gaped as she watched him suckle her. He seemed to have half her breast pulled out through the ragged hole in her bra. It looked so sexy, the white softness against the torn red silk.
She glanced at her other breast, the nipple looked enormous! They'd never been this big, never. Like a big, ripe raspberry. Almost translucent, as if lit somehow from within. Oh God! It was about to happen again.
Her orgasm hit then, a wave that raced down through her and seemed to burst in her pussy. Her nipple pulled from his mouth and she crossed one leg over the other, clamping, squeezing. Her vagina spasmed. Was every muscle in her body having an orgasm? She crouched over the table, sobbing, squirming her hips, trying to hump the imaginary cock she craved so badly.
He asked her if she was alright. She nodded "Oh yes, I'm fine, just too weak to stand." She murmured, "Just beautiful, you have no idea how utterly wonderful that was. I thought I was going to gush out through my pussy."
He rested his forehead on the table and waited, listening, as her breathing slowed. "John, I've never come like that before. I thought I was going to die or turn inside out or ... "
The timer ticked away but he couldn't see its face. He hoped it would be his turn when the damned thing finally went off. Surely the hour must be up soon.
Incredibly his erection began to soften. He'd thought he was going to be permanently hard. John tested hisbonds for the hundredth time, wishing he could touch her. Her hip, her thigh, her ass were only inchesaway.
Slowly Lise gathered herself, her heart slowed to near normal. She'd planned to have him pleasure her until the last hour and then release him, so they could do what came naturally. She struggled to stand and slowly moved on unsteady legs to the other end of the table. She bit back an exclamation, the timer still showed fifty minutes to go. She realised she must have set it for two hours by mistake.
She glanced at John, "Poor puppy, maybe I should release you when this thing rings?"
"I'd like that," said John. She saw the smile and knew he must want her very badly.
Moving back towards him she felt her thighs moving wetly against each other. Did she dare ask him for more loving? How did she ever get so damned horny? After what she'd just been through, how could she still want more? She slid her hand down over her belly, into her panties. God, she was soaking.
John was watching her, watched her hand. The look on her face! Talk about bitch on heat!
She turned and perched her ass on the table. Swinging around she rested her feet on either side of his neck, and began squirming herself towards him. She stopped only when her ass was at the edge of the table and her legs draped over his shoulders.
Poor John, her pussy was only a foot or so from his face. "Maybe I should rest here a while for a few minutes," she said very quietly.
John felt the cool wet skin of her thighs on either side of his face. Lise had just come twice while he'd loved her big nipples. He licked his lips and groaned, he was fully erect yet again. What had happened to the two them? There seemed to be no end to their wanting.
* * *
The panties were slit from front to back, waistband to waistband. This wasn't obvious until she reached down and drew the sides apart. Lise eased the fabric aside, letting the red satin and black lace frame her pussy. Her neatly trimmed bush nestled in the opening.
John thought her very beautiful.
She reached down with both hands and slowly peeled herself open. She glistened wetly and her ass squirmed on the table.
His cock reared erect.
Lise opened herself wide with her fingertips, letting John see inside her, see into the tunnel that loved his cock and made love to his cock. Locking her heels behind his neck she drew him towards her, drew herself towards him. He went willingly.
His face between her thighs, the scent of her enveloped him. Her heat, her wonderful wetness, John opened his mouth and pressed into her. Lise screamed a soft scream, deep in her throat.
She moved her legs and crossed her knees. She had him now, had him trapped. She could fuck him or drown him. Her hands grabbed his hair and she ground her pussy against his mouth.
It was as if the breast fuck had never happened. John's cock was as hard and straining as it had been before. He wanted to stand, to plunge it into her, into that hot tunnel she'd clawed open and shown him. But he couldn't, his hands were strapped to the table legs and he couldn't escape the damned chair. God but he wanted her! Breathing wasn't easy with his mouth and nose clamped to her pussy. Her strong legs were hugging him to her and she was writhing under his face.
John moved his mouth up and surrounded her clit with his lips. He captured it and attacked it with his tongue. This was supposed to be done gently but she was going wild under his mouth.
John couldn't escape. Her fingers were tangled in his hair and she was pulling him against her. Her hips bucked and bounced, she was fucking his face. The hardness of her pubic bone was driving up against hisnose as she fought. Finally, he pulled his face away from her, gasping for air.
"Noooooooo!" she screamed the word, adding desperately, "Don't stop John, don't stop."
She had been so close, now she squirmed her ass. The table was slick with her juices. She writhed and begged. Then bliss, his mouth was back, his lips, his lovely tongue. He was biting the lips of her pussy none too gently. She loved it. He licked the length of her. Lise slid her hands down on either side of his face and pulled herself open. Wanting him deeper, wanting all of him inside her. She heard her voice saying awful things.
Then his lips found her clit again and her nervous system went ballistic.
This time John rode out her mouth-fucking storm. She screamed when she came and kept screaming as she kept coming.
Finally she was begging him to stop, to stop before he killed her.
He rested his cheek on her thigh, face was cool with her wetness. He breathed her sweet muskiness and wondered what it would be like to slide his cock into that wetness. John waited, knowing he was going tofind out, soon.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Leading John by the cock, Lise takes him to the bathroom.
"Don't go away," whispered Lise and went back to the kitchen and reset the timer. John tested his restraints, no tighter and no looser.
He watched her as she came back into the bathroom. Her tee-shirt was still pushed up high, her lovely breasts bounced below it with every strutting step of her high heels. She saw him looking and put her cupped hands under them and lifted. Lowering her head, she caught her right nipple and sucked it into her mouth. John watched and wished. When she released it, the nipple was proud, glistening with her saliva.
Lise hefted her breasts again and said, "I'll save these for your dessert, so long as you behave."
She moved to stand beside him. Reaching for his erect cock she said, "I think he might break if I try to bend him down for you."
Lise took a facecloth and held it under the cold tap, soaking it. Holding the dripping cloth in one hand she used the other to stroke and squeeze him.
John just stood, eyes closed, revelling in the feeling of her playing with him. Her hand drove him slowly nearer to his climax. His erection felt as if the skin might split. He moaned softly. Oh God, but he had to pee!
Lise cupped the dripping cloth in her hand and brought it up over his balls.
He gasped and cursed her gently. His cock dwindled in her hand. She gave a little cry of delight, amazed at the transformation; rigid weapon to cute little spout.
"Now," she said, pointing his cock into the toilet.
"Not sure I can let go with you watching,". he murmured uncomfortably.
Lise knelt, still aiming him carefully. John stood and tried. Nothing.
"Relax," she whispered and rested her cheek against his hip, her other hand stroking the back of his thigh.
Finally, he sighed and she felt him relax and he began. She could feel the sudden rush of his release inside his cock, "That's sweet," she sighed, watching him empty. She loved it, he seemed so vulnerable like this, like a small boy. The flow seemed to continue forever. The softness of his cock, being able to touch, to hold it, a wonderful intimacy.
Finally the stream slowed. Her closeness, maybe the innocence of the moment, and no doubt the touch of herfingers worked their magic. His cock was stirring. She grabbed the facecloth again and wrapped it around the beginnings of his new erection. He sucked air through his teeth as the coldness enveloped him.
"I'd like to try something," she said, "Always wanted to do this, to feel you grow." She took his flaccid cock in her mouth. Her nose was in his pubic curls,his balls were against her chin.
John sighed, revelling in the heat of her mouth, the sight of her black hair below his belly.
She felt him stir, beginning to thicken in her mouth. The swelling head of his cock crept steadily along her tongue. She fought to contain him but the touch at the back of her throat made her draw her head back in reflex. Swelling, lengthening, his cock filled her mouth.
He watched as she slid back along his growing erection, more and more of him appearing outside her lips.
When she sensed him fully erect, she drew her mouth off him. "Wow!" she said, letting his cock head rest against the tip of her nose.
"Wow indeed," murmured John.
"Your turn to please me lover," she said, getting to her feet, "Come along," and she led the way to the bedroom.
John was in love with Lise's ass and happily followed, his gaze fixed on the swivelling globes in the pantyhose. Her long thighs, the backs of her knees, the firm calves sculpted by the tall heels - a lovely picture. But it was the ass that held his focus.
In the bedroom, Lise sat on the bed and then let herself fall back. She slid a hand down and ran her fingers tips over her mound, "Kiss it for me John."
John got awkwardly down onto to his knees. This 'hands-behind-the-back' pose was getting more and more uncomfortable. He moved forward, between her legs and bent to kiss her.
The soft cushion of her pubic curls between the pantyhose and her mound delighted him. That and the musky scent of her in his nostrils, had his softening cock rearing erect again. He ran his lips lower, deeper between her thighs, she was wet there, very wet. Soaked, raspy nylon under his mouth. Her breathing had become audible and his arousal was reaching a sweetly painful level.
He moved his mouth down her leg, kissing as he went. Her weeping pussy had wet her half way to her knees, while she'd been standing. He paused and moved up again to bury his mouth in her sex. Her scent was wonderful, beyond his words to describe. His cock seemed to harden even more, if that was possible. She was so wet. John wanted to drown in her. He cursed his restraints, wanting to slide his hands under her ass, needing to pull himself deeper into her.
Lise was in heaven. She was writhing; inside and out. Her ass squirmed on the bed. Everything inside her, from belly button to bush, was in delicious turmoil. Why had she put on the stupid pantyhose? She spread her legs wider trying to thrust herself against his mouth. She closed them clamping his head, holding him, wanting his mouth to stay forever.
John caught at her pantyhose with his teeth and tugged.
She squealed as pussy hairs were pulled out. The crotch of the hose tore a little, then a little more. Finally the nylon ripped wide open. Cool air washed over the wetness of her bared sex. Lise reached down, peeling her labia wide open with her thumbs, offering herself to him. She strained her thighs apart, a hip joint clicked.
John just looked for long moments at her beautiful gaping pinkness. He bent and slowly licked, up along her slit. She screamed and grabbed for his head, forcing him against her. She bucked her hips just once, bruisingly, against his mouth. Lise came.
John swallowed, loving the taste of her. He found the tiny button of her clit and sucked it, oh so gently, between his lips. He suckled, feeling her begin to quiver, hearing her beg. He played with this tiny morsel with the very tip of his tongue, teasing, drawing her on.
Lise came again and began fighting his head away from her, as her clit's nerve endings screamed in silent protest. She thought she may have nearly died. She lay on the bed, arms spread, legs wide, her breasts heaving. Lise was, for the moment, utterly spent.
John got to his feet, moved round the bed and lay down beside her. He needed release desperately and was getting close to begging for it.
Lise rolled onto her side, facing him, her breasts against his stomach. She reached out and took his erection in her hand. John groaned and murmured, "No more teasing, honey, please."
She had no intention of freeing his hands, but sensed it was past time to give his cock some serious loving. "Would John like to fuck Lise's tits?"
She smiled when he just groaned. "I'll take that as a yes." She rolled over and took the bottle of lube off the night-table and turned back to face him again.
John wanted nothing more than to fuck her tits. He'd have happily fucked her any way he could, any way she'd let him. Anything to relieve the awful pressures inside himself. His whole being seemed centred in his rigid penis.
Lise rolled onto her back, long enough to dribble lube between her breasts. She reached again for his cock and looked down at it. A wet patch on the duvet marked where his cock had drooled precum. She felt her pussy clench in response to the sight.
She eased herself close to him and, holding her breasts, she gently enveloped his penis with them.
The sensation was incredible, his cock wrapped in her breasts. The unbelievable softness as his cock head burrowed deep in her cleavage.
Lise squeezed her breasts together, trying to make the grip on his erection tighter. The lube made it impossible to stop his cock driving between them. The pressure on her boobs felt just wonderful. She began rubbing her thighs together. Incredibly her body was catching fire again. He kept fucking her cleavage and dreamily telling her how beautiful it felt.
"Oh God, I'm nearly there," he said in a hoarse whisper. His frantic thrusting slowed, almost stopped.
John wanted to hold back, to prolong the incredible. He felt the first boiling moments of his approaching orgasm. He tried to withdraw his cock from between herbreasts but it was too late. His begging voice said, "No! No! No!" and he froze. As the inevitable spasming started and the first gush raced along his cock, he made his last thrust back into the heat of her cleavage. His cock erupted.
Lise felt the splatter of his first spurt, hot under her chin.
Poor John uttered a desperate, "Oh yes!" with each gush. He came and came and kept coming. Lise clamped her thighs together, wickedly aroused again.
In the kitchen, the timer began its chirruping.
She didn't altogether trust his talk of wanting to try the bondage scene. She'd glimpsed enough on the web about hot wax and labia clips and nipple clamps, rope and chains and kindred stuff. It's alright having safe words and promises and so on but ...
It was the 'but' that bothered Lise, bothered her enough to make her gently put him off every time.
He never really pushed the subject but ..., she knew he wanted to try.
He was a gentle man and passionate. He satisfied her and she him, but... Sometimes she wished they were a little more adventurous. They never talked about other roads. She wondered if the bondage thing was John's way of trying to add a little spice.
Trouble was, his idea of bondage seemed a little one sided and that was what worried her.
Then one day she'd talked to Angie, her best friend in all the world. "Well, why not tell him you want to try it on him first?" had been Angie's advice.
That was how come the kitchen timer was ticking away and John had his wrists tied. That was why John was wondering, a little nervously, about the next four hours.
When Lise had suggested she tried the bondage thing on him he'd jumped at the idea. When she'd said, "How about an hour?"
He'd replied,"Take as long as you like."
They'd settled for four.
Lise had slipped a black cable tie around each of his wrists. Loose enough to slip but only just. She joined them with a third tie. He might as well have been handcuffed. Sitting on the kitchen chair, he was pretty well helpless. The third tie that joined his wrists, also secured him to the back of the chair. Each time she'd snugged up one of those ties, the scratchy noise had sent a thrill right through her.
He wore just a pair of black briefs and Lise felt the familiar heat blossoming in the pit of her stomach. She had no real idea what to do with this helpless lover of hers. She did know she could barely keep her eyes off the lovely stuffed pouch.
She'd had all day to think about it and had had a few thoughts but this was new territory for her. Tease him was the main idea. She wasn't sure she could inflict pain, but tease yes. He'd pushed the idea for long enough. Hinting about a change being good for them. Something new, something different; John was nothing if not persistent. It had annoyed her more than he had realised. No matter how often she'd said 'No,' John would be hinting and suggesting again before too long.
Well, now he was going to experience a little bondage, but from the opposite side of the fence. Part of her was looking forward to this, but by far the bigger part was getting aroused.
Telling him she was going to get into something a little more comfortable, she left him sitting in the kitchen.
"Don't be long honey," he called after her.
In the bedroom she took everything off; blouse, jeans, panties and bra. Lise had thought about this part and put on brand new black pantyhose, a white tee shirt and lastly black, high-heeled pumps. She posed in front of the mirror and liked what she saw. Her breasts needed a bra really, but she decided they looked just fine under the shirt. Into the bathroom she went and peeled off the tee-shirt. She ran warm water into the basin and put it in.
Lise squeezed enough water out of it so it wouldn't drip, and struggled back into it again. She looked in the mirror and all but purred. What a lot of Lise, she thought. A day for firsts it seemed, up until then she'd only read about wet tee-shirt contests.
She walked carefully back to the kitchen in her high heels, suddenly nervous about this little scheme. Her legs and ass felt very naked in the hose. Her breasts were chilled by the air against the wet cotton, and she felt her nipples erecting. She glanced down, yes, the little devils were poking out against the fabric, wickedly prominent. How would John react? She smiled to herself, knowing exactly how John would react.
She click-clacked into the kitchen. His face said it all.
John was awed by the sight of her. The pantyhose and heels made her look so incredibly tall and leggy. But the jut of her nipples was what held his eyes. They seemed huge. Her braless breasts had a lower, heavier set to them, but those nipples, those crazy nipples. He groaned. He actually groaned. He felt his cock writhe slowly in his briefs, almost like an awakening snake, uncoiling. "Oh wow!" he exclaimed.
"Rule one," said Lise, "no more talking from you, not a word or I'll gag you, OK?"
John opened his mouth to speak but nodded instead.
Lise hoped he'd speak, she liked the idea of gagging him.
"Now then," she said, "let's see just how big and hard we can get that cock of yours." She took a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer and moved towards him, opening and closing the blades noisily.
She cut the sides of his briefs, and then squatted in front of him pushing his knees apart.
John wasn't sure he could get any harder than he was already. Lise was close enough to touch but he couldn't move his hands. Squatted as she was, with her own knees wide apart, the crotch of her pantyhose was stretched tight. He could see the shadow of her bush under the nylon.
She reached out and peeled down the front of his ruined briefs. "Oh my, he looks pretty big already."
Lise wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, to put her hand round his lovely hardness. She'd thought that teasing her man for four hours would be fun, but by then her own arousal had got pretty intense. Maybe one hour, maybe, it would be nice to hear him beg, nice to tease him, play with him for a little while. She'd try.
Lise stood again and placed her hands behind her head.
John watched in happy disbelief as Lise swung her shoulders, making her breasts do wonderful things under the wet cotton. So big and so heavy, he longed to cup his hands under them, feel their weight, get his mouth at those nipples. He wanted to make love to those love-able breasts. He wanted her. His cock hurt, it was so swollen.
She turned away and bent over slowly to touch her toes. The chair squeaked as John shifted uncomfortably. Her ass, oh god her ass! It was covered in that glistening nylon, it looked so wickedlybeautiful. The seam diving between her buttocks, joining the crotch insert. Her pussy's contours were emphasised by the clinging tightness. He strained towards her and heard himself say, "Oh God, but I want you."
She straightened and turned back to look at him, "I said no talking. Now you'll have to be gagged."
Lise moved close. The tee shirt was tight and wet and all but transparent. Her nipples and their aureolae clearly visible. She turned slightly and leaned towards him, "Now what could I put in your mouth to keep you quiet?" Her right nipple was inches from his lips.
John leaned forward and his lips found the offered morsel. He opened wide and took nipple and breast, flesh and wet cotton into his mouth. He bit her none too gently, sucking water out of the fabric. Her nipple felt huge.
Lise groaned and closed her eyes. Her legs threatened to buckle. She felt the zap in her pussy as the signals flashed down from her nipple. She grabbed his head and pulled him against her breast, wanting more. She was beginning to lose it, she thought. She pulled her breast away from his mouth and turning slightly, poked the other nipple at him. Why couldn't he suckle both at once?
John wanted to grab her ass or slip his hand between her thighs or pull the tee-shirt up, but he couldn't. Surely she wanted him free, wanted what he wanted so badly? This bondage thing was suddenly too frustrating. Why had he let her tie him up? She had too much control this way, damn it. He pulled his head away from her, "Untie me honey, please," he begged her urgently.
"Naughty puppy!" she said. "No more treats for you." She peeled the tee-shirt up off her breasts and began swinging them. Her nipples brushed his nose and mouth. She leaned closer and actually began slapping his face with them. "No more treats for a bad puppy," she repeated. She left him then and went back to the bedroom.
John liked the feel of having his face struck by her breasts. Liked the sight of them, big and heavy and swinging like that. God but he wished he could at least grab his cock.
When she came back she had her little white panties in her hand. She stood in front of him and balling them up she pressed them hard against his lips. When he opened his mouth to protest, she simply popped theminside.
John was now effectively silenced. If he spit her panties out she told him, she'd tie them in. She held up one of his ties, to emphasise her point.
She squatted again between his knees and reached for his softening cock. She played with its head with her fingers and all but purred aloud as it swelled and hardened in her hands. She'd never really looked closely at John's cock, any cock, before. It was beautiful, she knew that, but now, with him helpless she could really take her time. She traced the veins on his shaft with a finger tip.
John sat and squirmed and wondered. He wondered about what Lise was planning. He wondered just what would happen and as his cock strained and ached, he realised he was at her mercy. He could feel her breath on his thighs, and her dainty fingers playing with the head of his cock. She was talking to it.
"Aren't you beautiful, aren't you just the most lovely thing?" she said softly, then, "ooh but you're leaking." She took his precum with her finger tip and slowly painted his cock-head with the slickness. A desperate need had built in her. A vacuum between her legs that begged for filling. Teasing him had turned into teasing herself and Lise wondered just how long she could deny her pussy its needs.
John felt her hair brushing his legs as she bent her head and kissed him. Her lips were around the head of his cock, tight and sucking gently. She raised her head and her lips made a loud kissing noise as he popped out. "My, but you taste good."
All John could do was groan, and beg silently for more. He stared down into her eyes. They were huge and round and wide, wide open. She took his cock again, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. Could there be a more beautiful sight he wondered, than her staring up at him like that, while her swollen lips slid up and down his straining erection?
Lise knew he was getting close. He was beginning to thrust at her, fucking her mouth. She stood then and slid a hand down over the mound of her pussy. "You're not the only one leaking and horny," she told him. She ran her cupped fingers over the swell of her sex. "Should I rip my pantyhose open and straddle you and slip my wet pussy down over that beautiful cock? Should I? Should I?" she paused, head on one side, pretending to listen. "I can't hear you, hmm, guess you're not ready for it yet."
Then she ran her slick fingertips over his lips and under his nose. He caught the musky, woman scent of her and his eyes looked up at her, pleading. John had never experienced anything like this before. The unbelievable arousal and being unable to do anything about it. His cock was a torment, he could feel his every heart beat in it. He could taste her, his mouthfull of her panties, the panties she'd worn all day. She just stood there, legs and tits, pure girl power.
The timer announced the end of the first hour. She reached out and carefully pulled the panties from his mouth.
"I want you Lise," her said. There was a desperationin his voice that echoed her own wanting.
Then he added, "God but I need to take a leak, how about you untie me?"
She reached down and grabbed his cock, "I read somewhere that a guy can't pee while he has an erection. What happens if I keep you hard forever?"
He looked at her and squirmed while she gently stroked him.
Lise went behind him and took a new tie from the counter and slipped it through the two around his wrists. Then she took the scissors and cut the one holding him to the chair. He got to his feet with a groan, one of his knee joints popped.
She moved in front of him and took his still erect penis in her hand. "I'll help you," she said and led him, small hand gripping big cock, to the bathroom.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Copyright January 2010
To “Playjock Magazine”
My boyfriend and me were reading the letters in your magazine. When we got to the one about the woman who could control her cumming, Roger, he’s my boyfriend, said I couldn’t control mine, not if it was him going down on me.
We thought about it a while and I said I could control mine forever. So I’m sat here at the computer and Roger’s down there on his knees under the desk waiting to start on me. I’ve told him I can write and not cum and he’ll get too tired to keep going long before my whistle blows. He says he’ll make me come long before he gets tired. Should be fun.
I’m wearing a skirt. That’s kinda different for me. And panties too. Roger says that’s not fair because I don’t usually wear panties. But I said he’d have trouble going down on me if I wore my jeans so he said OK.
Anyway, here goes, I’m going to open my legs.
Aah! His hands are on my knees and he’s sliding the skirt up. Hope he takes his time, he usually does, Roger’s a great lover really. Hope he likes the panties. If he knew I’d borrowed them from my older sister that would turn him on I bet. I know he has the hots for Angela.
Oh God! He’s kissing his way up my left thigh. Higher and higher. Slowly, one kiss at a time. He says I smell good. I like that, the idea he likes the way I smell. I showered this morning but I only used soap so that’s my pure pussy scent he’s saying he likes.
Nearly at those panties. Jeez I can feel myself getting all trembly.
Oh no! He’s stopped and gone back down to my right knee. Must be dark under there so I guess he won’t really see the panties anyway. They’re pale blue and shiny, sort of satiny stuff. They’re too tight and they’ll really get in his way. They’re already in the crack of my ass. More like one of those wicked, little thongs he bought me for Christmas.
Here he goes, up my other thigh, little kisses I can hear him kissing and feel him too. Higher and higher, please don’t stop this time Roger. I want your mouth on me. I’m getting horny. This’ll never do if I’m going to outlast him.
Oh Jeez yes! That’s it Roger. He’s got his face pressed into my crotch now. He’s perfectly still against my pussy. God! Why did I wear these stupid panties? If I hadn’t, his tongue would be into me now I bet, honey dipping.
This typing’s difficult! I want to just sprawl here, grab his head in both hands and just fuck his face. Just hump my little cunny against his lovely mouth.
I shaved my little puss this morning. Now he can’t feel it because of the stupid panties! Never mind I’m supposed to be tiring him out aren’t I. But this is turning me on! Turning me on? Fuck, I must be wetting those panties now!
I can’t get my legs open any wider. Ouch! There goes that hip joint doing its click thing.
Oh I love it when he does that; kisses the hollows at the tops of my thighs.
Oh yes! Do it! He’s got a finger inside my panties and he’s pulling them aside. Ouch! They’re tight. I’m squirming my ass.
He’s found my bare pussy. Says he loves it. Like a little girl’s he says. He’s looking up at me now and grinning. I tell him I’m a long way from coming, which isn’t really true.
Christ! There he goes. His open mouth covers me. He’s biting, gently, a whole mouthful of my pussy. And he’s making that humming noise that he does when he goes down on me. Pressing his face between my legs, biting, worrying like he’s hungry and trying to bite piece of me. Oh God Roger, don’t stop, don’t ever stop.
I can’t type ……………... I need to keep his head there, I need to squeeze my tits, pinch my nipples, I need to come, Oh fuck I need, need, need.
He stops. Oh god, don’t stop I beg silently.
He looking up at me again, grinning again, he knows what he’s doing to me, how can he not, I can‘t keep still and I know I must wetter than fuck down there.
His hands move and now he’s peeling me open with his thumbs. My pussy gapes, it’s all wet pinkness. It’s hungry, a hungry pussy. Looks like it might bite him first.
Roger sticks out his tongue and wiggles it. All the time his eyes are on mine. Teasing bastard. Get at my cunt, I scream inside my head, get at my cunt.
Oh God! He does the lick thing. Lapping at me, bottom of my slit to the top. Once, twice, again and again. My hips buck, I want more and more and more and more. I know he’ll suck my clit next, I pray he’ll suck my clit next. Please suck my sweet little clitty Roger!
He stops again and tells me he’s going to win. His mouth is wet. I’m wet. He doesn’t know he’s licking beside the crotch of my sister’s panties.
I’m nowhere near yet, I tell him. Liar, liar, cunt on fire!
He looks down, tells me it’s a cute little clit. Tells me he’s going to bite it off. He touches it with tongue tip. Fuck, I’m rigid. His lips close over it and he sucks, sucks it in for his tongue to play with. He’s sucking, sucking my fucking clit like it’s my nipples.
Oh fuck, I gotta grab his head, clamp his ears with my thighs, keep him there and fuck his lovely, clitty-lickin’ face. I’ll be cumin’, I’ll be cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
Oh Jeez, Oh God, Oh fuck, I’ve cum and I’ve cum. I’m done. Limp as lettuce. Sat in a puddle of cum. That rhymes!
I’m staring at what I wrote. Roger’s still down there, all wet faced and grinning because I came and he won and telling me we gotta swap places.
Angela’s panties are up between my cheeks of my ass, so tight it hurts. Soaked with my cum and his spit. Maybe I’ll make him wear them now, before I drain his balls.
Oh God he’s licking me again, says he’s still hungry. No Roger, no, I can’t, oooooh yes I can, please do it! Eat me! Eat me all up Roger.
Editors note: Sue’s account stopped there. We chose hers as 'letter of the month.' Well done Roger. Well cum Sue. Here at "Playjock” we agree that really, you both won.
A free year’s subscription to "Playjock" for Roger, don't forget to thank Sue appropriately.
Copyright May 2010
In idle moments he often wandered the Internet’s corridors of porn.
As so often with his generation, it posed as many questions as it answered. Sex, in his earlier years had been new and sparse, hard won and often frightening.
His new partner was forty-three, young enough to be his daughter but, as she laughingly claimed, old enough to be a grandmother to his grandchildren.
As they lay late abed one Sunday morning he asked, “What’s face-sitting?”
She giggled. “I love you.”
“Because I ask funny questions?”
“That and because I get to answer them.” She thought for a moment, smiling at him. “Wriggle down the bed a bit.” She gestured.
When he was where she wanted him she got to her knees beside him and looked down. There was that hunger in her eyes, it always made his heart race.
She wore a sheer, pink, baby doll. It covered, but didn’t hide, her pretty breasts.
Gripping the headboard to steady herself she knelt awkwardly astride him.
He was now in the tent formed by the nylon, the soft under-curves of her breasts above him. Nearer was her pussy. She’d let her hair grow back and it formed a pretty bush that normally hid her charms. But now, pantyless as always, she was open, a palette of pretty pinks, inches away.
They’d showered together the night before but now, woman-musk vied, and won, against the soap’s perfume. Nostrils to cock went the signals and behind her, the latter reared in eager response.
His hands went to caress the soft, twin globes of her ass. He loved that ass.
She sank slowly down. He felt her radiated heat on his face. Moisture glistened in her pussy’s gape. Then the first tickling touch of her curls against his chin, his lips.
He turned his head, ever so slightly, and took a bite of her, gently, gently.
Eyes closed, ears muffled by her thighs, he was in a world of breathed scents and tasted sweetness.
It was a mouthful of cunt, a cuntful of mouth.
They were sittee and sitter.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
(The thoughts of a Connoisseur a.k.a. Julius)
Copyright March 2010
There are so many variables, that choosing a woman, perfectly suited to all one’s needs, is a daunting task. That said, the following might aid the prospective owner. The sequence of headings is deliberately random so I beg you to remember that wherever a requirement falls in the list, its position should not influence your thinking.
Height: This matters little if she is pleasing to the eye. However, if you have any choice in her height, imagine her bent submissively over the kitchen table. If her opening is level with your groin and she is therefore comfortably mountable in this position, then this is ideal. Measure yourself, floor to cock root and commit this figure to memory. If this measurement is not given for a woman you find attractive, you must ask.
Bosom: I like ’em good and heavy myself, bordering on pendulous but of course this is a matter of preference. However, the importance of there being a sufficiency of flesh to allow titty fucking cannot be emphasised enough. Each breast should fill your hand to overflowing, this allows you or she to enclose the whole of your member comfortably in soft, yielding breast flesh. A small breasted or boyish figure is of no use for this pleasure of course.
Nipples: All the better too if her breasts have large nipples - “All the better to suck and bite on my dear!” Also, they can be a great comfort at any time you find yourself overstressed. A perfect means of administering pain or pleasure.
Her and anal sex: In my opinion anal sex and bathing in a septic tank are much of a muchness. That is to say, it is not my choice. Of course this is another of those personal matters. Rarely need her preferences in any matter be considered. However, be sure that her preference in this matter matches yours. You don’t want to have her whining for a cock up the arse when you don’t want to put it there or, conversely, whining that she doesn’t, when you do. Her obedience is a given but they are inclined to complain, even when they should not.
Age: There is no substitute for experience of course. That is not to say that ‘the older the better’ but rather, better mature than immature. Younger women tend to be silly and quite scatter-brained and therefore quickly become tiresome. But be cautious, older women tend to feel a sense (undeserved of course) of superiority. Perhaps early thirties is best. Then she will still have some good years left in her while being more entertaining in those post coital times when conversation can be enjoyable if it is relatively intelligent.
Weight: Avoid thin women! Boniness can cause bruising to your person while engaged in vigorous copulation. Do not choose a woman who is all elbows and hipbones. Softness and warmth are so important in a bed warmer. Beware too much weight of course! A man might suffer suffocation or crushing or worse while underneath such a one. But a little soft flesh provides good hand-grips when romping with her and good cushioning when your passions run amok. The rule is: some buxomness is essential. One can always feed them less and/or exercise them more, an easy means of control, should excessive weight gain occur.
Manners: All a man asks is obedience and a quiet disposition. She must not be forever chattering; she must be silent unless spoken to. Of course during copulation she may be vocal if only to display how well you are pleasing her while pleasing yourself. By all means let her be the vocal evidence of your prowess.
Arse: Full and round. This cleft is as good a spot as the bosom in which to do a little cleavage fucking from time to time. A well-spanked bottom is a pretty sight too and a delightful warmth in bed on a cold night. Her backside is of course ideal as the means of disciplining your woman. Sadly they tend to enjoy having their nethers reddened so alternative punishments may have to be sought.
On the subject of punishment or discipline: no matter whether she likes corporal punishment or not.If she DOES, then the hairbrush, cane or whatever can be a source of pleasure for both of you and if punishment is needed, simply lay it on the harder.If she likes it NOT, no matter. The smack of wood or leather on her pretty arse can serve as pleasure for you or punishment for her - at your whim. So, she’ll be getting her buttocks reddened anyway. No woman can avoid having a few imperfections. The more she needs correcting, the more pleasure you’ll derive doing that correcting! Remember the sorer the arse, the prettier a woman sits.
The muff or pubic hair: No question here. Where possible, choose a hirsute love mound. If your preference is trimmed or shaven, considerable pleasure will be derived from doing the barbering yourself. There can be few joys to match using comb, scissors and razor in this fashion. So, choose a cunny au naturel.
There gentlemen, ten suggestions. Finding the perfect plaything may not be easy. Try as many samples as you deem necessary in your quest for the ideal. Never hesitate to give them chores to do while you are trying them for your physical pleasures. A gentleman friend of mine got his whole mansion spring-cleaned before finding his heart’s desire.
Remember, God made pretty women for us; it would be a sin not to enjoy them.
Copyright March 2010
(delighted to say that this was the 50th of my tales chosen to appear on ERWA's Galleries)
Bobbles or pom-poms or maybe even tassels but I think bobbles sounds best. You know what I mean? On girls' boots lately, a bobble on each lace end. The chunky, furry boots are best.
There’s something so utterly sexy about bobbles. The bobbles draw attention to the boots, the boots to the legs, the legs to the thighs, the thighs to the ass and the ass to the sexy young thing with the bobbles.
She goes by, bobbles dancing at her ankles like four tiny kittens. The eye goes: boots, calves, thighs, ass. See what I mean?
If she has “IT” and most girls do, my mind goes into lust-drive.
My favourite fantasy is “her” wearing just bobbled boots. Nothing else, just her bobbled boots. She stands astride my head and grinds her hips, lifting first one heel off the ground, then the other and so on. The bobbles hop and bob beside my ears.
High above, her pussy hovers, oscillating in time with hips and heels. It’s at the confluence of her thighs, a little, furry, munchable morsel.
Then, in my happy fantasy, I issue the command, a one, has-to-be-obeyed word, “Squat!”
And down comes the fifth bobble.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Copyright March 2010
Roy was more than pleased with his new, big, flat screen. The picture was incredible, money well spent he decided. The movie, an old favourite, began. Roy loved porn movies. With his shorts at mid-thigh and a bottle of lube to hand he was all set for a delightful afternoon.
Outside, it was a warm, almost hot, spring day. His garden beckoned, but he was horny and there was only one cure for that. Roy tried to be good at whatever he did and he reckoned he was a very good masturbator.
He figured the ideal self-pleasuring session should last for two, full-length movies. He seldom made it last that long of course, his movie collection was too good for that. Women always claimed it was the foreplay that counted. If his climax lasted only seconds Roy thought his foreplay should be as long and as pleasurable as possible.
With the new screen Roy realised that his solo sex would be about as good as it gets.
The girl on the screen began her little dance. She was one of his favourites and he loved black lingerie. He squirted lube into his left palm and brought his half erection to full flower. Levering his recliner a little further back he began the slow and steady stroking. On screen the first heavy breast slipped out of the inadequate bra, its nipple pointed straight at Roy. God! The new screen was incredible. Roy’s cock was rigid.
“Roy! Roy, are you home?”
Fuck! He’d not bolted the back door. It was Monica, one of his neighbours.
“Roy, it’s me, Monica.”
Roy got the recliner upright and managed to mute the TV. “Hello Monica, I’ll be right there.”
He struggled to get up but a lube-slick hand slipped on the recliner’s leather arm.
“Roy, I, oh my god!” Monica’s voice exclaimed from much nearer.
He looked round and there she was, staring at the big screen.
“You should knock,” Roy said, anger and embarrassment vying with each other. His shorts were still down, and if she took another step …
Monica stepped into the room and her gaze went from the movie to Roy’s face, then down to his hand which was over his groin. He erection was gone, banished by his embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she said and turned to flee.
Roy managed to stand and pulled up his shorts.
“If you’d knocked,” Roy said defensively.
She paused in mid stride and, with her back still towards him, replied, “Well, you were hardly dressed to answer the door, were you?”
She turned to face him. “Is that really one of those porno movies?” She looked past him at the screen.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” He looked for the remote but it had disappeared.
“Don’t apologise Roy, I’ve always wondered what they were like.”
On the screen the big blonde had lifted a breast and was licking its nipple.
Roy’s embarrassment went up another notch and he looked behind the chair, found the remote and picked it up.
“No, don’t turn it off. Could we maybe watch it a while?”
“I guess,” he said but wanted to say no. Wanted her gone, perhaps wanted the earth to open up.
“Brian and I just had an awful row. I just slammed out of the house. I don’t know where to go, I’ve no shoes on. Thought I’d come and have a coffee with my old gardening buddy. Perhaps I should go.” It all came out in a rush.
Roy didn’t know what to do. “Let me make us some coffee,” he offered.
“I’d like that.” She crossed to the sofa and sat down, staring at the movie. “I wish I had breasts like those.”
Roy stood in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, and thinking. Monica, and Brian of course, had been his neighbours for forever. She loved gardening, as did Roy. She was attractive enough but he always seemed to see her dressed in her gardening stuff, devoid of makeup and with her hair up. She hadn’t registered on Roy’s lust scale, not until now anyway.
The few times he’d seen her dressed up, she'd been a different woman, going out with her husband. Monica was Monica, the woman next door who gave him cuttings and seedlings and happily accepted the vegetables he always grew too many of.Today she was different, rather excitingly different. Wearing a cute yellow summer dress and barefooted and her long hair in a ponytail she looked delightful, beyond pretty, almost beautiful. Not only that but she was sat in his living room watching one of his porno movies.
He carried two mugs of coffee into the living room. Monica sat staring at the TV, her left hand pressing her skirt between her legs. When she saw him she moved her hand quickly away and smiled up at him. It was a strange little smile and she was blushing.
“God! What must you think of me?” she said.
“I don’t know. What did you think of me when you walked in just now?”
She smiled. “You looked so embarrassed and guilty somehow. I thought you looked cute and very sexy.”
“There you are then,” he said, “I think you look very cute and extremely sexy.”
She patted the seat beside her. “Let’s watch together.”
He handed her a mug and sat down.
Roy was acutely aware of his slick cock and his lack of underwear beneath his shorts. He thought about the movie and realised it still had better than an hour to run. Then he thought about some of the scenes still to come. No! He couldn’t imagine her sitting there, next to him, through those.
“I’m not sure this ... ,” he hesitated and gestured at the screen, “that this is suitable for,” his voice trailed off.
“Suitable for a lady,” she said. Her voice had deepened somehow.
She pressed her hand back between her legs and added, “Perhaps I’m not feeling ladylike today.”
On the screen one scene had ended. Now a woman in a bikini was asleep in a garden.
“An hour ago I came on to Brian. I’d got myself all prettied up. He wasn’t interested; I could see that. Before I knew it we were yelling at each other. He said I was always horny. I said he never was. We both got very angry, very quickly and here I am.”
She looked at him. Her eyes looked huge and they glistened. She didn’t cry, just sat holding her coffee.
Roy swallowed, loudly. “Let’s watch the movie.”
The woman in the movie slid her left hand slowly under her bikini‘s panties. Roy watched the outlines of her fingers moving between her legs.
“I’m not wearing any panties,” announced Monica.
Roy chuckled. “Neither am I.”
“I know,” she said and giggled.
Roy’s cock stirred and he lowered his coffee to try and conceal the restless thing.
On screen the hand was hard at work between the legs and Roy could smell Monica’s perfume. His cock grew and was caught in his shorts and it hurt.
She put her coffee on the small table beside her, got up and went to his recliner. She picked up the bottle of lubricant from the floor and came back and sat down again. She handed him the bottle.
“Go on Roy.”
Roy froze. He couldn’t do it. Not in front of her. He couldn’t.
She took the hem of her dress and slid it slowly up her thighs. Roy watched. Up higher, until she was bare to the waist. A tuft of brown curls peeped out from between her closed thighs.
“Now then, where were you before I interrupted?”
He stared at her nakedness, and then looked up. She was smiling at him, her hand still holding out the bottle.
“I’ve showed you mine,” she said.
He took the bottle. His erection had disappeared yet again. On screen the woman was writhing silently.
His shorts had an elastic waistband, no fly. He was going to have to push them down again. He glanced at her knees, her bare thighs, the delightful glimpse of her curls. He didn’t have a choice did he?
His cock was a little thing now. His crop of pubic hair made it look pathetically small.
Monica got up again. To Roy’s dismay the hem of her dress dropped and covered her.
“I’ll go lock the back door shall I? You never know, somebody might barge in.”
Roy liked the implications of her locking the door. The dress clung to her hips and ass as she headed into the kitchen. This couldn’t be the next-door Monica, could it?
She came back, picked up the remote from the arm of the recliner and sat down again beside him.
On the screen a bronzed young man knelt between the woman’s legs.
Monica said, “I’m sorry, I forgot.” She pulled up her skirt again. The sound came on as she pressed the mute button.
Roy just sat. The situation was quite unbelievable. Monica leaned against him and put her head against his shoulder.
“How long is the movie?”
“At least another hour.”
“Can we watch it all?”
“Why not?” Roy liked that idea although he seldom made it to half way through.
“Can I watch you too?” she asked putting her hand on his bare thigh.
Surely she didn’t expect him to jerk off in front of her? The young man had his face between the woman’s thighs, apparently pleasuring her through the bikini.
“I wish I could persuade Brian to do that,” said Monica, gently stroking Roy’s thigh.
Roy thought he’d be happy to oblige. His cock was stirring again. He watched it swell and lengthen.
She was looking too. Her hand want back between her legs again. “Let’s both do it while we watch the movie.”
Seeing her touch herself, watching the screen action and his near erect cock were making it difficult to just sit there. She moved her hand off his thigh and took his hand and moved it towards his cock.
“I want to watch you,” she said in a husky voice. “You have a lovely cock.”
He wrapped his hand round it and squeezed. He was very aroused. He wished she’d do it for him.
Monica picked up the lube and squeezed some, too much, over the head of his cock. It trickled down over his knuckles. Roy slid his fist down his erection. He groaned; it felt good. Monica’s hand went back between her thighs.
“There.” she said softly, “now let’s watch the movie together.”
Poor Roy, he had to divide his attention. Monica’s legs had parted and she seemed to be sliding two fingers up and down her pussy. She obviously didn’t need any lubricant. On screen, the bikini panties were gone and a shaved pussy was being enthusiastically devoured. Roy slowly stroked his cock. It was fully erect now, hot and rigid. He wondered how long he could keep control. How long before he spurted and was spent? He didn’t want that to happen, not yet. He wanted to watch Monica.
Then, in a flash, he realised he wanted Monica, wanted her very badly.
“I’ve always wanted to be shaved like that,” Monica said, “with just a little strip, pointing at my belly button.”
Roy pictured his electric shaver. Pictured mowing Monica’s little front lawn. He stroked nearly once too often and froze. He stared down at himself.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
“I almost came,” he said.
“I’d love to see that. I want to see you come. I’ve never actually seen Brian come.”
“If I do, I’m pretty much done for the day.” He was shocked at how easy it had become to say a thing like that. He’d gone from nearly paralysed with embarrassment to almost at ease with her.
“Well, we’d not want you finished for the day, would we? Leave it be for a while and we’ll just watch the film.”
He took his hand away. His cock looked huge and it glistened with the lube.
Monica took her hand from between her legs and picked up her coffee. On the screen the woman was stroking the man’s cock and telling him to come. Her stroking was slow and gentle. Seemingly, just slow enough and just gentle enough that he didn’t come. She was doing a wonderful job of keeping him on the brink while begging him to come. Maybe it was all just acting but it was incredible erotic nonetheless.
Monica was motionless, staring, her lips parted. She looked down at Roy’s cock then at him. She licked her lips. Her hand had gone back to her pussy. “Do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Maybe the same as me.”
“I want to touch it,” she said looking down at his cock again. His erection had softened a little and now lay to one side on his thigh.
“OK,” he said and gasped as she reached out and took it in her hand.
“It’s so hot!” she said and squeezed him gently. A pearl of precum oozed from the end. She brought her other hand from her groin and, with a fingertip, spread the precum over the head of his cock. She milked another drop from him and repeated the smearing. His cock stiffened yet again.
She stroked him gently and he closed his eyes and told her it felt wonderful. It did too, having a hand other than his own doing it. How long since?
She picked up the remote and pressed “pause”. She got to her feet and stood in front of him and began to slowly unbutton the dress. She shrugged it off her shoulders. She was naked underneath, no bra, nothing, just Monica.
“You’re lovely,” he said and sincerely meant it. She had small breasts with big, protruding nipples that were surrounded by big pink aerolae. She pirouetted slowly showing him the cutest of asses. The urge to grab her was all but overwhelming. She turned to face him again.
He chuckled. “Do you know what I’m thinking?”
“I think so, but we’ve a movie to watch.”
“I’m so glad you came to visit.”
She sat down again, closer this time. He looked down at her incredible nipples.
“Big, ugly things aren’t they?” She asked him touching a finger to a nipple.
“Ugly! No! They’re beautiful,” he said and, without thinking, added, “just made for suckling.”
She pressed the “play” button and Roy resigned himself to watching.
They watched the movie for a while. Roy gently stroked his cock from time to time, careful not to come too close to coming. It wasn’t easy. Monica’s nipples seemed to be sticking out more than when she’d first shown them to him. Her hand moved almost constantly, doing things to her pussy, things that made her squirm.
She divided her attention between screen and cock.
The movie was approaching the point where Roy usually lost control. On-screen, the woman was kneeling between the seated guy’s feet and was pumping his cock slowly. The look on her face was one of pure anticipation. She was doing it so slowly, so carefully that he was obviously very, very close.
Monica said, “Oh my,” and sat still, staring.
The hand stroked, slowly. The muscles in the guy’s legs tensed and Monica said, “Yes, yes, yes,” very softly.
The movie went to slow motion at that moment and the first jet of cum slid out of the cock and soared, in a long wiggly string, up onto the guy’s chest. The woman moved her hand and the second spurt splattered on the bridge of her nose and across her face.
Successive, smaller jets went here and there, on his belly over her hand. Monica’s hand left Roy’s cock and went between her thighs again. Her other hand went over her mouth but she managed to say, “Wasn’t that incredible?”
The scene again then, at normal speed, and still Monica stared. She fumbled for the remote and paused the movie yet again.
She slid off the sofa and there she was, on her knees in front of him.
“Can I?” she asked, “Please?”
Not waiting for an answer she grabbed his cock and began to stroke. “Tell me when to slow down,” she said, glancing up at him.
Her hand felt different and much better than his own. It was smaller, making him look bigger. She was gentle and moved slowly. She seemed fascinated by his cock and stared, wide eyed, at it as she worked.
Slow and gentle maybe, but soon enough the familiar boiling sensation began behind his balls.xx
“Slow,” he murmured, wanting to come, but not yet. This was the way he pleasured himself, holding off, prolonging the pleasure, delaying the inevitable.
Monica learned quickly and in no time was bringing him close, then slowing or stopping. He looked at her face and she glanced up from her work and smiled a wicked smile.
Next time she didn’t stop or slow, just slid her slick little fist up and down, squeezing the head of his cock almost to the point of pain.
Roy knew he’d come. The point of no return and that incredible gathering sensation began.
“Oh no!” he exclaimed, then, “Oh yes!”
The first rush through his cock, the sudden clench that gathered every nerve and muscle behind his ball sac. The first geyser burst past the grip she had on his cock-head and shot straight up, level with her startled eyes only to fall back over her wrist and knuckles.
Her startled, delighted, “Oh!” of wonder was followed by his next spurt that hit her chin and lips.
She laughed and pumped at his cock, milking him in decreasing spurts until he was spent. She carried on stroking his straining erection until he was begging her to stop.
There seemed to be an aching void in the pit of his stomach, as if he’d emptied his whole being out through his cock. He slumped back, chest heaving, heart hammering. His eyes closed.
She still held his fast-deflating cock and stared in girlish wonder at his come that covered her curled fingers.
Monica got to her feet, turned and dropped onto the sofa beside him, laughing.
His voice was full of wonder as he said, “That was incredible, I thought I was going to pass out or maybe die. Oh wow!”
She spread her legs wide and reached down and pulled herself open.
“My turn now Roy, my turn.”
The only response she got was a gentle snore.
Monica sat very still as her emotions rose and fell. Anger, frustration and lastly, amusement came in waves. How typically male she thought. Give him what he wants and needs; offer him more and he falls asleep. She look down at her gaping nakedness and sighed. Another gentle snore came from beside her. She dipped a finger into her wetness. She was close to tears. Her frustration surfaced again.
God but she was horny! Could a pussy ache with need? Hers did she knew. She looked sideways at the shrivelled little cock nestling in the shock of Roy’s pubic hair and sighed again.
Monica got up and slipped the dress over her head. She peeped out through the curtains. Brian had gone, the driveway was empty She thought she’d heard a car door slam earlier.
Monica walked through to the kitchen and let herself out of the back door.
She came back a while later with a plastic shopping bag in one hand and a pair of black heels in the other.
On the sofa Roy still slept. Monica looked down at him. Her anger was gone; after all, he was just a man. A man, she suddenly realised, that would be very easy to love.
On screen the jerker and jerkee were frozen, both staring at the last white drooling.
Monica went behind the sofa and slipped out of the dress again, praying Roy would sleep until she was ready. She drew the little red panties up her thighs. Crotchless, they barely covered her ass and her pussy, not at all.
The corset was still laced from its first, futile and only wearing. It was a brilliant, shimmery red and trimmed in black lace. She loved it. Hooking it up the front was a challenge.
The last three hooks were nigh impossible as she and the corset captured and restrained her breasts. The little, lace-edged cut-outs made her big nipples jut almost obscenely. With fingers and thumbs she pinched and pulled at them, feeling the jolts in her pussy that made her whole body spasm. She’d been horny since dawn.
Monica stepped into the heels and wished there was a mirror. She moved around the sofa and picked up the remote. She clicked ‘play’ and brought up the sound.
Roy never stirred. She lifted her foot and pressed the sole of her shoe against his cock; the spiked heel threatened between his balls.
His face lit up and she heard his intake of breath. His eyes flickered back and forth between nipples and pussy. “Oh dear God!” he murmured.
“Like I said Roy, my turn.” She dropped a hand and combed her fingers through her bush and added, “Now!”
A 100 word Flasher
She was the bank's loans officer. Brian Jenkins' arrival had made her sunny, Spring morning suddenly much sweeter.
As he closed her office door her brain exclaimed, "Nice ass!"
"Nice bulge!" her pussy purred. The handshake was powerfully gentle. 'Nearing forty,' she guessed.
She knew she was blushing and looked down at his application. He was divorced! He ran the "Appliance Repair Co." She'd had her old food mixer overhauled there last year!
Glancing up she met a smile that stole all her blue-suited poise.
Young Brenda the lender, had a blender mender on her agenda.
A 100 word Flasher,
Ravenous, they'd ordered in pizza, eating by the pool.
Now, fresh, fruit salad, her favourite.
He stood behind her. The too-small bikini had tormented him all day. He dribbled sun tan oil over his erection.
He nuzzled at her armpit with his cock head and she shrugged that shoulder gently. He thrust, slid through and she trapped him, almost.
This new exquisite tightness, him thrusting, her breasts jostling! Seconds only and he was poised.
She sensed it and lifted her bowl, holding it ready.
As he spurted over the fruit, she cooed, "Nothing like fresh cream!"
by JuliusCopyright 2003
James found her standing, staring at him, as he crossed the basement, "I can't get back!" she said very quietly, an edge of panic in her voice.
He put his arms round her while she told him what had happened. "Is it such a bad thing?" he said softly into her hair.
"It's the only home I've ever known and everything I have is there," she was trembling, "what if I can never go back?"
* * *
He sat in the living room and listened to the shower running. The fact that the 'time machine' had changed its frequency was as frightening as it was intriguing. It meant "someone" was using it. This scared him a little. For some reason he'd thought it 'disused', now it seemed it wasn't lying dormant after all. From a ten year, suddenly to a hundred year cycle. The questions came tumbling in. How long, if ever, before it went back to ten years? How would he react if 'they' turned up in his basement? More importantly, what about Cilla?
He was only too happy to have her stay. She was beautiful and magic. He was lonely and, to be honest with himself, desperate for female company. But, and it was a big but, he worried if she'd be happy with him and his "now". For a while at least she was his responsibility but that suited him fine.
The shower stopped and he got up to put the coffee on. He found himself with a real spring in his step. He smiled, he'd not felt this full of life in a long while.
Upstairs Cilla had finished her shower. Things like the shower in this world weren't that different from hers. A shower was a shower. She didn't feel too much like a stranger. But the clothes! Hooks and buttons, zips and the funny stuff that made the tearing noisewhen you undid it! She'd met them all during the shopping spree. It seemed such a complicated way to dress. She was used to the all but exclusive use of magnetic fastenings. 'Oh well, when in Rome'.
Cilla was aware of several emotions teasing at her. She knew she wanted him and that want came in long waves, the peaks disturbingly high. Her mind teased her with memories of his cock in her hand. Then there was the worry of being marooned here, that would surface and she'd feel panic bumping away in her chest. Of course there was the almost desperate need to dress herself in her recent purchases. 'His recent purchases!' she corrected herself. This most feminine of urges made her smile to herself.
She finished drying herself and stood looking at the clothes on the vanity. She'd got the 'time machine' problem pushed into a back corner of her mind for now. As she reached out and touched the frilly blue underwear she knew that the awful want between her legs wasn't going to be so easy to control.
The bra was a puzzle. She'd never seen one before, let alone tried to put one on. She seldom wore anything but her little slave uniforms and those shaped and held her breasts so easily. Moulding and supporting wonderfully; but this thing! Hooks and eyes, four of each and adjustable straps and it seemed much too small. Now she was faced with getting into it.
Some minutes later she was looking at her captive breasts in the mirror. From what she'd seen in the mall and the catalogue she thought he'd be well pleased. The bra was the right size, or too small, depending on the viewpoint. This period's males obviously worshipped breasts. Hers looked very worshippable she thought. Unfashionably large for her time, they were crowded into the bra giving her a very noticeable cleavage. The thin, powder blue fabric showed her nipples quite plainly, her rising arousal making them prominent.
The panties were easier, not skimpy little things. They almost covered her shock of red curls at the front and most of her ass at the back. They were so incredibly feminine, frothy with pale blue lace. She loved the way they clung to her mound and she slid a hand over herself. She gasped at the touch. In a moment her desire leapt out of hiding and the near desperate urge was back.
Cilla crept out of the bathroom, her nose scenting the smell of fresh brewed coffee. She sat down on the top step and called down to James, "Come tell me if you like what we bought." She leaned back on her hands and moved her feet as far apart as the stair tread would allow. She was offering herself, knowing his need, achingly aware of her own. Quite a sight for him when he saw her. 'Oh, but make him want me enough,' she silently begged.
James came to the bottom of the stairs and began to climb. He was halfway before he glanced upwards. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes almost level with her crotch. He knew he was staring and where. He glanced quickly up to meet her eyes but he was caught by the sight of her overflowing breasts. She almost purred at his reactions and said softly, "Do you like my new clothes?"
He wondered if she really saw it as underwear. After all, that little outfit he'd met her in was arguably briefer than what she wore now. "You look lovely like that," he told her.
Before she could stop herself she heard her voice saying, "Would you, ... would you like to ...? Oh, I've never, never asked this before, would you pleasure me?"
"I'd love to!" his mind jumped to the moment her small hand had first held his cock. He'd sensed her arousal then, now he was sure he could feel her heat on his face. His cock seemed to go from limp to rigid in a heartbeat. He knelt on the step, his face inches from the tight nylon. Red curls sprouted from the sides, mingling with the lace, he could see flattened curls plainly through the fabric. A darker patch showed the moistness of her arousal.
He sensed Cilla letting herself fall back to lie on the carpet of the landing, her feet on the step below. He leaned foward and pressed a kiss into the crotch of her panties. Her response was between a sob and a long sigh. He felt her thighs close gently on his ears and then she spread herself, opening, opening herself. Soap perfume and her sweet muskiness mingled in his nostrils. He felt her wetness with his lips.
James struggled awkwardly up one step and put his hands on the outsides of her thighs. He nuzzled his mouth and nose against her mound, tasting, smelling this wonderful creature. A long, gentle, open-mouthed kiss. She squirmed and writhed under his face, between his hands. Her flesh felt almost fluid through the thin fabric.
Suddenly there were fingers clumsily working between his face and her panties. For an awful moment he thought she wanted him to stop and he lifted his head. But the hand quickly peeled the panties to one side and there she was, a dozen shades of glistening pink amid the bush of red hair. He heard the one word, "Please!" and he bent to kiss her again, tongue seeking, exploring. Her sobs measured her mounting arousal. Then, near silence as her thighs closed over his ears. Her fingers grabbed his hair and pulled him hard against her pink wetness. There was no way now that he could control the pace. Her thighs, her hands, her grinding, humping pussy were fucking his mouth. He was lucky he could breath through his nose, through her wet fur. He was swallowing her juices all but drowning. Then she began to chant, a faintly heard "Now! Now! Now!" each word coming with a buck of her thighs, she seemed desperate for release. Suddenly her thighs opened. Now he could hear her again. "Don't stop, don't stop, nearly there, oh nearly, oh!!" Then a keening cry and she bucked frantically against his face. He clung to her thighs, his face against her wet heat while she struggled in the throes of her orgasm.
She seemed to come forever. Her thighs repeatedly closing over his ears then opening wide. She bucked and writhed like a wild thing. Sobbing beautiful nonsense all the while. Then she was pushing his face away from her, begging him to stop. Begging, begging. He drew back and looked at her in wonder, she was glistening wet, her pubic hair matted against her mound, his beard must look the same he realised. She was fighting for breath.
James moved up to crouch beside her. He cradled her head in his hands while she gasped for air.
She tried to tell how it had been, the words coming in little sentences, "Never came like that before. Never been loved by anyone's mouth. Beautiful. Thought I'd die. Turning inside out!"
He stroked her hair, kissed her. Told her how beautiful it had been. She clung to him, giggled, "I can taste me, smell me in your beard!"
"I think there is much I've never done before. A slave doesn't get to choose!"
"Perhaps you could have a slave," he ventured, a delicious idea forming in his mind, "I could be your slave."
"That is unthinkable!" came her protest.
"No it isn't! I just thought of it." Almost simultaneously they broke into giggles.
He'd protested, red faced, at her suggestion that he wear her outfit. She'd explained that slaves, male and female, wore them. "It would never fit me!" he'd argued.
"Oh yes it will," her eyes alight at the thought, "this fabric will fit anything!"
* * *
And fit it had. Very flatteringly too she proclaimed. He looked like a well-endowed male ballet dancer. He'd hated it, she'd loved it and slowly, as she'd oohed and aahed and walked around him, he'd come to accept it. In the mirror he could appreciate her point. It clung and moulded itself to his genitals like a coat of green paint. It flattered his upper body. But he wasn't about to answer the door in it!
So James was now her slave until midnight. He liked the idea and she was so childishly delighted, as if he'd given her a wonderful gift. Perhaps he had, he thought soberly. She'd never been free before!
She ordered him to make her a coffee. Alone in the kitchen he ran his hand over the silk coated bulge of his groin. In an instant it seemed, he was hard. The amazing fabric seemed to sense his need and with no resistance at all his cock squirmed erect and stood proudly up his stomach.
"That is beautiful!" exclaimed a voice beside him. Her hand was to her mouth as she looked in awe at his erection. "We must find a use for that!" she reached out and ran her fingers up and down the length of him making him groan. Then she turned to the doorway, "I must dress in something appropriate for a mistress."
She added, from the stairs, "This mistress is hungry too!"
"Yes Mistress," smiling he set about making sandwiches.
He carried the sandwiches and coffee into the living room and carefully closed the curtains. One thing was bothering James and bothering him badly. He was so damned horny that he wondered what control he had left. The expert hand job of yesterday, wonderful though it had been, had merely whetted his appetite. Now, after the beautiful frolic on the stairs, he was sexually as high as a kite. Her slave for the rest of the day! With his cock and balls so tight and snug in this carressing fabric he was cruelly aware of himself. He was rock hard now, he was sure he could come, just by thinking about that red-furred pussy of hers. And those breasts!! Dear sweet Jesus ... he wanted her so badly. How in God's name was he to act when she came downstairs?
Upstairs, Cilla dressed, if that was the word. She struggled with another bra, only three hooks this time but it was still so very difficult. Finally! She was in and fastened. Black crotchless pantyhose. These made her almost drool. She mastered the knack of rolling them on and then moved about the bedroom, revelling in the feel of this lovely extra-skin sensation. The odd chill, as the air moved over her thighs! She postured before the mirror, loving the way her ass peeped from the cutouts at the back! Her pussy framed in the opening of the front. Cilla loved Cilla at that moment and rather thought James would too. Poor James! He was so horny, you could almost see his aura!
She'd not washed herself. It seemed wrong to clean away the magic of that orgasm. She could smell her muskiness as her body's still unsated hunger fed on her scent. 'Like a mink in heat' was a phrase she'd learned on one of the slave courses, she'd no real idea what it meant but it kept running though her mind "I'm like a mink in heat!"
He watched her come down the stairs. His heart hammered, his cock strained. Black bra, blackpantyhose, the latter crotchless. She was SEX incarnate! Her silver hair, that crazy red bush at her thighs' junction. She paused on the bottom step and turned towards him and smiled. How could this creature smile like a little girl? But she did.
He'd decided to tell her right there, how much he wanted her, how desperate he was. To warn her, to ...
But she spoke first, "Lie on your back on the floor slave, I wish to use you." She smiled a sinful smile.
Puzzled, half hoping, half guessing what was going to happen, he did as he was told.
She walked over and stood astride his hips. The pantyhose so dark, her thighs so pale. Her breasts looked huge from this angle. She was staring down at his erection. "My slave is very aroused isn't he?"
She bent from the waist and reached for the silver collar. How were those breasts staying in that bra he wondered? Her fingers moved and the front of the green costume snapped free. She took the corners and peeled it down, off him, flicking it away to lie between his knees. The cool of the air on the heat of his cock was exquisite. She dropped to her knees and took his cock in her right hand. He moaned, terrified he'd come right then and there. She held his cock erect and simply lowered herself down onto him. Hot, scalding hot and tight and slick. He howled almost silently through clenched teeth as he speared up into her.
Cilla settled her weight onto his thighs, squatting, perfectly still. "Don't move my slave!"
He didn't dare move. His climax was a straining captive thing, ready to burst out in an instant. By unspoken consent they were still. Time seemed to stop awhile. She could feel his heart beating in his cock, pulsing gently against the walls of her vagina. How deep inside her he was! She was full and stretched. So beautifully full, full, full. Full of him. Tears prickled her eyes.
James lay staring up at her. Drinking in her loveliness. The bra was too small, areolae peeped like rising suns. But it was her heat wrapping his cock that was his focus. His hardness pulsed steadily inside her, he could feel the throb of his heart throughout his body but most strongly in that cock of his that she was impaled on.
Then she did it! The contraction of her pussy around his cock. Strong yet soft. Like powereful lips kissing and squeezing his erection. His eyes widened in wonder and she saw this and gave a little chuckle ... the ripple of that carressed his cock too.
"I can make you come like that you know."
He knew, oh he knew! And she did it again. "Tell me when to stop." she whispered and did it again.
She was milking him! And not a muscle moved on her body except that beautiful rippling grip inside her.
He told her to stop but it was too late, they both knew that. Both sensed the instant when his control went. She raised herself and instinct took over for him. He began to thrust up into her desperately, frantically. A year of hunger and need couldn't be denied. Three thrusts, five and then it was happening. Bursting, boiling, he spent himself inside her, gushingand spurting. They both felt the pulsing wonder of it. She, complete perhaps for the first time in her life and he, sobbing with the joy of it.
She came too but somehow it was his release that she felt. A silent, hot, flooding joy spread inside her. She collapsed onto him, eyes streaming tears, "Don't send me back!"
"Never, never in a thousand years."
They clung together, satisfied, yet wanting more. They had all day and they had eternity.
It was almost dark when Cilla stirred in his arms. "Slave?"
"Can we do it again?" she whispered dreamily.
"Soon," she paused, "and another thing slave."
"I must teach you about foreplay."
"Oh yes Mistress!" he smiled into her hair, "That I would like."
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Cilla was in heaven as she fondled James' cock. It was new and strange to her, so naturally different. She couldn't believe the surge of her arousal at the moment she'd first touched it.
Loving her own Master's cock was a part of her duties. Sometimes she enjoyed it, sometimes she even needed it. Yes, needed to do it. But all too often it was because he needed it and wanted it, with no thought of asking about her needs. But with James it was different. This was her choice. There was something fresh and sweet about having a choice.
James groaned, Cilla stilled her hand and pressed his hardness against her cheek. She needed to concentrate! The wonderful springy curls, magic! After the immaculate hairlessness of her Master this was a new delight. She pressed her face into his groin. Feeling the hair on her eyelids, her lips, tickling the edges of her nostrils.
She sat up and squeezed some more oil into her palm and reached for the beautiful hardness.
She could keep her Master on the edge for an hour, sometimes longer. Keeping him balanced, close to release, taking him close, close, closer. Knowing just when to slow and when to stop. She wondered if she could do the same to James guessing that he needed this so very badly. Cilla doubted she could control him the way she controlled her Master - not this first time. But she would try.
"Relax James," she said softly, "let me play, let me please you." She slid her hand slowly down to the root of his cock. "Focus on the feeling. One thought, let everything else float away." She gripped him tighter and drew her slick hand up the length of him, he sighed a long sigh.
She cupped his balls gently with her other hand. Loving their weight and warmth. She wondered what it would be like to impale herself on this cock of his. She slapped herself mentally, she must not think like that. Faithfulness was the first rule. But the word 'impale' echoed round in her head. Massaging James was for his comfort, this was the slave's prime function but she knew at the back of her mind that she was enjoying this too much for it to really be right. She was, she knew, a little over the 'faithful' line! But he was a little longer, a little thicker than her Master ... 'a slave can dream can't she?'
He thrust up, driving his cock through her fist, reminding her that she was day-dreaming again. She gripped its head and forced her clenched fingers down the length of him. His hips squirmed on the bed. 'You're loving this aren't you?' she asked him silently. 'So long since you had a woman do this for you.'
The heat was building between her legs. She needed pleasuring too. Her nipples chafed against the side of the bed and she drew back. The signals had flashed down to her crotch, that was more than she needed right now!
James was squirming on the bed making happy noises in his throat. Cilla kept up the slow strokes bringing him nearer and nearer. His cock was oozing steadily now. A droplet glinted like jewel. She licked her lips, wanting to taste him. She was concentrating with a fierceness that made little frown lines appear between her eyes.
He kept saying "Oh!" and "Yes". Words, sounds she understood so well. They meant 'I'm going to come soon!' and 'Stop! or I'll come!' and "Don't stop!" The sweet sounds of barely contained joy. This crazy, sweet conflict would go on as long as her skill could control him.
She watched his whole body, his head, moving from side to side, the tightening of his stomach, the straining tendons in his thighs. Her eyes kept coming back to his beautiful cock. Its glistening head disappearing in and out of the top of her fist. It drew her, her whole body seemed to strain towards it. And that was what made her nearly lose control of him. He tensed, his body went completely still and she eased her hold on him, just steadying his rigid cock with finger and thumb. His body was rigid, he was close, close, close. She blew gently on the head of his cock, cooling it, soothing the quivering nerves. She stared, as motionless as he and waited. His cock twitched just the once and a slow ooze of white boiled out of him and trickled down his shaft into his curls.
The moment was past! 'There must be a name for that,' she thought. It was a beautiful moment for her. Her hand began moving again, slowly oh so slowly, lubricated now with a mix of oil and his come.
"Should we let it happen soon James?" she asked him softly.
"Oh yes," he murmured, "if you don't I think I'll die!"
She smiled and tightened her grip on him and began moving his balls in the cup of her hand, so very, very gently. Now his hips were moving in concert with her hands.
Her own arousal was extreme and in her mind he was thrusting into her pussy not her hand.
This time she just let it happen. Just let her hand stroke him, no thought now of pausing or prolonging. He groaned and said a long soft "Yesss...," Cilla watched in delight as he came. The sudden, beautiful violence of his movements. She held his cock vertical and his juices squirted high and then fell back over her hands and wrists time and again. Over his thighs and belly and into that lovely pubic hair of his. She pressed her face against his cock again and felt his last spasms, like a beautiful heartbeat pulsing against her cheek.
They stayed still and silent for a while as his pulse and breathing slowed. 'What about you?" he asked.
She almost cried that he should ask about her needs. That was a wonderful first. Nobody ever asked slaves if THEY need release!
"I'm fine." she said, almost meaning it. Almost meaning it but acutely aware that her brief costume hadn't coped with her arousal. She climbed, wet-thighed, onto the bed and snuggled against him, stroking his belly with her small, come-slick hand.
Despite the gnawing need between her legs Cilla was happier than she could remember. Perhaps defending her, her mind moved towards sleep and her thoughts drifted back to ninety years hence.
She'd known about the 'doorways' in her office in the basement. Her Master had shown them to her, it was obvious that they worried him. It was several weeks before he confessed that he was too afraid to go near them after seeing his arm disappear into one. Cilla had been off and exploring as soon as his back was turned. She'd chosen to go back but had found seemingly endless dark and dirty basements before trying to go forward. This had produced two 'jumps' before the way was apparently 'turned off'. The next 'forwards' door simply wasn't there and she'd had to come back. Her duties and her Master's antiques business kept her very busy. For the next few weeks she merely glanced at the door from time to time and wondered.
Then James had appeared. His mention of a basement filled with 'stuff' had really piqued her dealer's instincts. His way of speech, his style of dress and that beard. She had instinctively trusted him. Yes, Cilla was glad she'd come visiting.
She awoke to find him watching her. Her body betrayed her before her brain could get control. She wanted him, wanted him badly. All the training and all the conditioning couldn't override this need. She felt tears near and scrambled off the bed, "I don't want to go back!"
He propped himself on an elbow, saying gently, "I don't want you to go back."
When he came down to the kitchen she had a coffee waiting for him. She was sitting at the kitchen table in his bathrobe poring over a thick catalogue. It was open at the lingerie section. She looked up, eyes dancing. "How I'd love to wear this stuff." She made 'this stuff'' sound positively prehistoric.
"Let's take you shopping then," he said mirroring her enthusiasm.
"Wouldn't people stare?" she gestured by pretending to open the robe and reached a hand to touch her hair.
Half an hour later they were walking from his car to the mall. One of his wife's coats had hung in the spare room closet, now it covered Cilla's nakedness. Her hair washed and combed down and to the sides made an almost passable silver page-boy. Her plain silver shoes were no stranger than many being worn around them. Her nakedness under the coat felt wonderful and she knew James must be very aware of it too.
Cilla wondered too how he felt about her, walking with him, wearing his dead wife's coat. She'd seen his face cloud as her helped her into it. Poor James, she wanted to heal him.
Their stomachs were growling by the time Cilla had satisfied her curiosity about clothes and much else. She was like a little girl, flitting wide eyed from store to store. Of course everything was different and she had to see it all. He'd made two trips back to the car with her purchases before she asked about lunch.
She'd loved the restaurant and the strange food. Sitting naked in the coat with people around her. The torment of rough cloth on too sensitive nipples.
Back at the house they'd sat with a pot of tea, full and happy after the big meal. She liked it 'here' she decided. The complicated women's clothes, the food, the freedom to go out and about. She looked across at him. He seemed very happy, the change since he'd stepped though the wall was wonderful to see.
When she announced she had to be going he looked devastated. "I'll be back to see you," she told him gently. "I'll leave all my new clothes with you."
In the bathroom she slipped out of the coat and began putting on her own little red outfit with its silvercollar. The 'slave's collar'! Suddenly she hated it. The still wet fabric pulled snug between her legs had her wanting him again.
They parted in the basement surrounded by dusty boxes and furniture. She thanked him for the clothes. He gallantly said her presence was payment enough. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. She wanted so much more. The wanting ache in the pit of her stomach had never left her since she'd first touched his cock. She'd never felt this screaming longing before. What a beautiful pain it was.
She glanced back and smiled as she stepped through the wall.
Into the grey fog and turn and into 2013. No! It was 2093! Her office! No, not for another eight cycles surely. But it all looked wrong somehow, changed but unchanged. She glanced at the clock, at the year; 2103! Time was now in hundred year bites! Footsteps above her, she froze, then fled.
Back in 'his' basement. The light bright above her head. She was shaking, her knuckles against her teeth.
"James!" she called, then, with an edge of hysteria, she shouted, "James!" She heard his footsteps, his voice, questioning. She couldn't get back! Fear flooded through her ... then a sweet, sweet thought...
cont'd in Part 3 ....................