Wednesday, March 17, 2010

"Coming and Going" Part 3

"Coming & Going" Pt. 3





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?"

"Umm?"

"Can we do it again?" she whispered dreamily.

"Now!"

"Soon," she paused, "and another thing slave."

"Yes Mistress."

"I must teach you about foreplay."

"Oh yes Mistress!" he smiled into her hair, "That I would like."

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