Invent Op

***This might be of interest: For readers of my other stories, His Sister’s Tutor and Choice Matters, this actually can be considered kind of a precursor to them which I had written many, many years before. I had lost the floppy disk this was stored on and by some elaborate circumstance, I stumbled upon it again recently. It might be hard to see but there are some “fingerprints” with plot points and characters. I edited it and fixed it up a bit, but it still is representative of my earlier works and youthful notions and interests. If anything, by submitting it to Literotica it’ll at least be preserved should I lose the floppy again! Thank you always in advance for taking the time to read and comment.***
**********
Clara Pembroke was an alluring and elusive beauty. The description suited her. She had caught the eye of many men but not because she was “sexy” or a “striking beauty”. She was pretty, very pretty, but it was more like something about her nature that seemed to draw the attention of men. And that was the problem: often the guys weren’t quite sure what it was about her that got them turning their heads and walking in circles to see her. That made things difficult because how do you claim something that causes you more confusion than clarity?
At any moment she could various combinations of so many qualities: kind, spiritual, attentive, serious, smart, funny, coy, prim, playful, on and on. And what beauty that laid within her emanated ten-fold to her outer attractiveness.
A simple beauty, make up or no, Clara’s natural physical qualities were never hidden. She had wide hazel eyes which could unnerve people as they seemingly peered into their minds, giving each person she spoke to her full undivided attention. It was impossible to pull away from them. Her eyes were the centerpiece of a genuinely caring face framed by flowing dark honey locks that at one moment could be hanging down past her shoulders, and the next curled up properly in a neat bun behind her head, only wispy strands that casually dangled down to her neck saving her from looking at all matronly. She always wore simple yet demure clothes, nothing that could be described as revealing or sexy. But if you asked some, Clara could make a full length summer dress sway and flow as seductively as a lace nighty.
Alluring and elusive. Those qualities had been her shield whether deliberate or not. Many men who had first caught a glimpse of her would often walk by with barely a slight glance, but after a few steps, they would turn around and take a second, longer, almost curious look. Within moments after that, for some reason, their hearts were beating a little faster, their palms a little warmer. It wouldn’t be long before more and more of their time and attention would be dedicated to this young woman.
But somehow in her 24 years on earth, Clara managed to elude all of the advances of the opposite sex, and not necessarily deliberately. It was more like her suitors would self-destruct, their minds and libidos in turmoil as they struggled to decide if they wanted to protect this precious angel or pluck the feathers from her wings. Clara ended up with more men who she treated like her “older brother” or male “buddies” than she knew what to do with.
So it was that Clara, the object of many thoughts of love and lust, and the subject of much confusion and frustration, could side-step the awkward moments with various suitors. It meant that she was never in a steady relationship but then again, she never had much time to dedicate to a lasting relationship and she would never “sleep around”. That was the way she was raised. That’s what she believed. And once men came up against her beliefs, that shield easily deflected their come ons no matter how aggressive they were. Then again, maybe she just never met anyone she felt strong enough for to even those defences slide even a little. The person who could get his foot into that door may find opportunities with her even she couldn’t dare imagine.
She was an angel waiting to be stolen from Heaven.
**********
Clara walked down the cement corridor of aisle D in the warehouse. It was lunch time so the usually noisy building was nearly empty and silent. She looked up at the tall shelves holding stacks of boxes which contained hundreds of books. Christian books. They were the books her company distributed to specialty stores and churches around the country. Before she had started working in the front office, she had never figured Christian books to be such a big business. But after only working three months in the sales department, she knew the staff members at the thriving company were already being hard pressed to keep up with the demand.
Clara checked her clipboard and walked further down the corridor. She stopped at holding bay 56 and examined the numbers on the boxes. They were different than the ones she had on her clipboard. She shook her head. She looked around a bit then proceeded down aisle D, turned the corner then walked back up aisle C, glancing at all the bays and boxes.
Like a mouse in a maze, her actions weren’t going unnoticed.
“Hey, what’s she up to?” Josh nodded towards the young woman wandering the warehouse aisles before taking a bite out of his sandwich.
“Looks like she’s checking inventory. Doesn’t seem to be having much luck, huh?” Damon said as he drank his coffee.
“Well, those admin honchos aren’t supposed to be walking around in this area. This is our turf,” Josh said, his mouth full of tuna.
“She’s not a ‘honcho’, she’s just a sales assistant,” Damon said pointedly, dismissing his partner’s blue-collar tactlessness, “Clara’s fine. She’s cool.”
The two of them were sitting on the stairs that led to the viewing office in the upper level of the warehouse. Actually Damon had noticed her when she had first come in. Josh was too busy rummaging through his lunch bag. Damon had become accustomed to spotting Clara wherever she was in the company’s complex.
For a month after she was briskly introduced to the ‘family’ of employees at the company, Damon paid her no more attention than any of the other office staff. Aside from daily hellos, they had spoken only for a few brief moments.
One time Clara came up to him with a playful grin on her face. She held up a book, “Final Truths: Beyond Earthly Fulfillment”. Damon blinked and frowned.
“Look,” she had said with a gentle smile, “Open it up.”
Damon sighed and took the book from her. He flipped through the pages quickly. Then he paused and said, “Waitaminute. All the pages are blank.”
“I know! The entire shipment is that way!” she said and laughed gleefully, “How’s that for “fulfilment”?!”
Despite himself, Damon looked at her and chuckled. He caught a glimpse of just how warm and pretty this girl was, the beauty of her face. As she whisked away to the next person to show off her little joke, he watched her. He admired how her slender body gracefully moved away from him, the way her skirt swayed gently as she moved, and her scent that trailed after her would from that point on become a familiar one to him.
A couple of days later, he heard some of the guys in the warehouse playing up their bravado and discussing which of the office girls they wouldn’t mind taking a crack at. Somebody mentioned Clara.
Damon chimed in, “Clara? Nah. She’s a nice kid. I don’t think she’s like that. She’s like an angel.”
“Hey! I’d like to clip some of her feathers!” somebody snorted and they all laughed luridly. More jokes about “taking her to heaven and back” and “showing her the light” followed.
Damon laughed with them. However, the thought of the other guys in the company making a play for her really got him thinking. Now his mind had begun to wander, and at every turn there was Clara.
Damon finished his coffee and placed the cup on the step beside Josh. “Well,” he said as he stood up and stretched, “May as well see what she wants.”
Clara had just made her way to the end of the aisle C still looking at the clipboard. As she turned the corner, she walked into Damon.
“Oh!” she yelped, dropping her clipboard which hit the floor with a rattle.
“Whoops! Watch it there!” Damon put his hands up to buffer her when she bumped into him, “You okay, Clara?”
Clara gasped as she caught her breath. She put a hand on her chest and steadied it, “Damon! You startled me!”
“No kidding?” Damon looked around with a goofy smile, “Is it my brilliant smile?”
She laughed and waved her hand at him, almost brushing his chest before she pulled back. Damon noted her motion with a curious tilt of his head.
“Yes, I was so blinded I nearly fell over,” she said jokingly.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, “Just came down to see if you needed some help. Oh, and I would never have let you fall, by the way.”
Clara paused to smile at his kind words. Her white teeth stretching her lips wide, and her eyes squinting as some colour formed in her cheeks. Damon realized how attractive she looked even with so little make up.
“I was just checking for something,” she said as she looked down for her clipboard. Some forms had scattered from it around the floor. She bent down to pick them up.
Damon squatted down and picked up a couple of papers at his feet. He stayed in the position, his hands resting on his knees as he watched her pick up the other sheets in front of him. She was stooped over. Her white, lace-lined crew neck top hung lazily down from her neck. Considering how protective he had been of her amongst the other warehouse guys in the past, he felt only a subconscious level of concern as he took the opportunity to peer down the gaping neck of her shirt, along her chest, to the top of her bosom nestled softly in her delicately patterned bra.
When she looked up he handed her the papers he had gathered.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“No problem,” he replied as he stood up. He took her by the hand and elbow and helped her up, “Watch yourself.”
Again, Clara flashed a silent smile. Once standing she noticed that he hadn’t let go of her hand. She pulled it away and rubbed her wrist awkwardly.
Damon tilted his head and squinted.
She saw the questioning expression on his face, “Oh. My wrist gets stiff sometimes. We’re in the computer age after all. All that typing.”
Damon reached out and took her hand. He gently stroked it once, “Maybe you just need a good massage.” He smiled.
Clara watched him do this for a second, an uneasy swelling in her gut. Then she firmly pulled her hand away. Damon’s smile quickly faded. He had moved too fast.
Again she spoke softly, “But really, it only hurts once in awhile if I’m doing something with it for too long.”
“Well, that’s good. Don’t work it too hard then,” Damon said with genuine concern. Switching gears he asked, “So Clara, what brings you to the dungeon?”
Her attention quickly shifted back to the clipboard. She spoke matter-of-factly, “Well, if you could help…I had received a call from the North distribution center saying they were expecting a delivery yesterday. Our order records confirm that but I can’t find the shipping invoice. Their order was supposed to be in bay 56 but I checked the numbers on the boxes there and they don’t match.”
Damon rocked on his feet, his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. “Ah well, Miss Pembroke,” he said noting how she smiled and rolled her eyes at his formality, “You see the numbers don’t match because they’re not the same boxes.”
Clara crossed her arms and raised a coy eyebrow, “Ri-ight?”
“Beca-auuse the North shipment went out only this morning. We had a problem with the trucks yesterday and the delay backed us up. The North went out first thing this morning. They should be getting it right about….now! Bay 56 is now holding for the Southeast order,” he finished up with a wave of his hands and, “Ta-dah!”
Clearly she appreciated his animated explanation and broke down her only marginally professional demeanour. “Ah well,” she said nodding deliberately, “That would explain it. Thank you Mr.Garcia.”
She snapped off a mocking salute.
“Not at all. I’m good aren’t I?” he winked.
Clara slapped him in the arm with her clipboard and said in her most officially polite tone, “But next time we would very much appreciate it if you people in stocks would inform us of your adjustments in the shipping schedule. It would save us so much time and energy and I wouldn’t have to go wandering in your…’dungeon’ was it?”
Damon curled up and backed away like a disobedient pup and spoke like a yokel, “Okay, lady! Okay! Please! Please, don’t hurt me!”
Again she rolled her eyes.
“I got me a wife,” he moaned on, “I’ve got kids, Rico and Sally….and-and a dog, Damon Jr. Please! Think of the kids!!!”
Clara clicked her tongue then laughed as she swatted him with the clipboard again.
Damon reached out to push her away gently. As he moved her back, he suddenly realized his hand wasn’t on her shoulder. As he pushed, his felt the tender give of her soft breast beneath his fingers. In that brief moment, he had the urge to squeeze the finely shaped flesh in his palm.
Clara stepped back. The suddenly calm expression on her face gave little evidence to Damon as to whether she had noticed his unintentional touch, or if she had, what she was thinking. She cleared her throat, brushing a strand of hair around the back of her ear, and said, “Well, thanks for your help, Damon. I guess I should get back to the office.”
He nodded, smiling crookedly, curiously, and watched her as she walked past him. She pivoted around and walked backwards, smiling and waving back at him. Then she continued to saunter towards the exit with light steps.
Damon stood there, staring at her as she floated away towards the exit.
He thought about how, for months, after he had figured out that she was going to be in his head everyday, he had played out in his mind just what he wanted from her. Various ideas of finally finding someone he might want to build a long lasting relationship with mingled with thoughts of carnal desires, of primal urges. It was this part of himself he always found so difficult to deny. Now the blood surged in him as he held tight to the feeling of her breast in his hand. He wanted it there again and he wanted to explore more of her fine, supple body. Sooner, not later.
Clara turned just before she reached the door as she heard the slamming of heavy footsteps behind her. Damon ran up to her.
She faced him, holding her clipboard down between her hands. He slowed to a stop and drew a deep breath.
“Look Clara,” he said, “I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime.”
“Oh, uh,” she said hesitantly while looking at him. Her eyes shifted past him.
“Friday. This Friday,” he gave her a firm date.
“Uh…,” she paused for a long moment, blinking as she thought. “Okay. That would be nice.”
“Well, great,” Damon said trying to sound excited but he found the expression on her face to be more of concern than enthusiasm, “I’ll pick you up at your place after work? Maybe we could go for dinner, a movie?”
“Sure. That would be fine. Okay.”
“Okay?” Damon repeated still troubled by her muted response.
“Alright. Bye,” Clara said quickly then exited.
Again Damon found himself just standing and staring, this time watching the door slowly close. It was his turn to notice footsteps coming up from behind him. He turned and looked at Josh.
“So,” Josh started, putting his hand on Damon’s shoulder, “Got yourself a date with the nun?”
Damon walked away from him, letting Josh’s hand slide off, “She’s not Catholic, Josh. And she’s nothing like a nun.”
“Oh I know! I’m kidding!” Josh smirked, “Never met a nun that made me want to go to a washroom stall for some private time.”
The two went up the stairs. “So what’s on the agenda, then?” Josh continued, “Go out for dinner? A show? Clubs?”
As Damon opened the door to the office, he said in a low, barely audible voice, “I’m going to see if I can blow out a candle.”
Clara walked the office halls slowly, her gaze fixed on the fading green carpet before her. She was in a familiar moment: A guy asking her out of the blue to go out on a date with him and she accepting the invitation, more out of politeness that actual interest. But it wasn’t that she was totally uninterested in Damon. If she didn’t want to go she would have said so no problem. Damon seemed like a nice guy whom she felt comfortable talking to and acting playful with. That was enough for her to accept his invitation.
Physically, he was attractive with wavy black hair that fell to his neck and wide dark eyes. He liked to keep himself clean cut, his skin smooth and toned. He was what the other women in the office described as their “Spicey Spaniard”. Clara didn’t go for things like that, though.
If she searched her mind and heart deeper, however, she knew there was something a little bit more to him that stirred her curiousity. Damon was a person of serious intent and determined conviction. She recalled the day they had break together at the picnic table in the small patch of grass in the company’s parking lot. She had mentioned that she was considering taking some extra credit business courses at night school.
“Maybe I can just enrol then go to a couple of the classes,” she had thought aloud, “Then if I don’t like it, I can always drop out.”
Damon responded without hesitation, “No. I don’t agree with that.”
She looked at him as he shook his head side to side. He continued, “You either do it and do it all the way or you don’t.”
Clara smiled, “You seem pretty sure of yourself. Don’t you believe in trying out different things?”
“It’s not like you’re picking an ice cream flavour,” he insisted, “This is something important.”
“School is important to you?” She cringed as she spoke, realizing she may have sounded condescending.
He fixed a cool gaze upon her. It rattled her a bit and her chin lowered slightly. He said, “I know that it’s important to YOU.”
It was true. She had told him many times that she was proud of her education. Maybe she didn’t think he was actually listening to her all those times. She nodded thoughtfully.
She nudged him playfully, “So are you always this certain about things?”
“When I’m sure about something,” he said grinning, “I’m totally committed to it.”
Clara’s heart missed a beat as he said that. She always told herself that she should feel the same way about things. To see someone else so intensely dedicated to that idea as well was inspiring. For that someone to be Damon, she found him particularly intriguing. That determination on his face definitely churned something deep within her.
Clara wondered how sure he was of her?
She shook her head. No. This would be a casual, friendly get together. If it’s a first step in a long lasting relationship, then fine. More likely, as she had become accustomed to with many of her dates, she would be able to salvage this as a friendship.
Clara lifted her head, more assured in thought, and walked to her office. Damon was harmless, she thought to herself.
***********
When Friday evening came around, the plans had changed. Clara had told Damon she would just meet him at the restaurant rather than him picking her up from her place. This bothered him slightly only because he felt he would get a better foothold on the evening if he were to see her at her place, maybe even bring some flowers. As it was he sat at the table waiting for her trying not to look too conspicuous. She had also picked the restaurant. A bright, busy family type of place, with kids running betwen the tables. Again, not exactly to his liking. He had taken off his coat but even in a simple black Henley sweater, he felt out of place. It was far too casual for the type of evening he had been anticipating.

\I sit in my favorite rocking chair by the bed sipping on a glass of amaretto. The chair was a gift from my brother. He had made it for me one Christmas. I love my brother. There is something about being twins that has made us close and keeps us that way. I sit here and the smell of the ocean is on the breeze. The moonlight comes through the window and bathes my lover in its glow. I think of how beautiful she is and smile. She looks so peaceful with wisps of hair falling across her face and the blanket pulled up tight to keep her warm. I set down the drink and walk to the bed. Very carefully I crawl into bed and curl up next to my love; I brush the hair from her face and kiss her cheek. I am smiling as I lay my weary head back on the pillow and fall back to sleep.
Morning seems to come too early; the sounds of the gulls are relentless. I wonder sometimes how I ever thought that was sound I would never tire of. I turn in bed to find myself alone. I sit up. Today is Sunday. She must be downstairs. I put on my robe and head for the kitchen. The smell of coffee starts to clear my head. I definitely drank too much wine last night and the amaretto didn’t help. I am so weak when it comes to a good bottle of wine I can never stop with just a few glasses. It was such a beautiful evening though the wine never seeming to catch up with me till now. She looked so beautiful in her dress. When she smiles she can still take my breath away. I turn the corner wanting to see that smile and find myself alone. I walk to the coffee pot and see the bottle of Baileys next to my favorite cup. I pour the coffee and Baileys into my cup, take a sip. It never taste as good as when Adrienne does it. I don’t know how she does it but everything she touches always turns out good. I look for the note I know she left and don’t find one. As I look across the counter and I see her through the window coming up the drive. She is wearing the blue sundress I bought her last week. I wonder if she knows that the sun shines right through the dress and leaves little to the imagination. I know I won’t tell her. She was so happy when I gave her the dress she looked wonderful in it. She was a vision. She is a vision. I remember that she had made me so angry with her the night that I gave her the dress. I almost took it back. Her tears, my sore hand, the blood rushing to the surface of her skin turning it a bright red; I know she needs to be reminded. I smile.

PART 2
“Hello Mistress I went to the bakery to get you some fresh bagels.” She is smiling as she comes over to give me a kiss on the cheek. The smile I love to see. I can smell her perfume and the freshness of her hair. I wonder how early she got up to be showered and dressed and out the door so early. I look at the clock on the wall and realize that it is already 11am. I must have been wiped out last night.
“I got your favorite bagels Mistress cinnamon raison” she cuts one in half and puts it into the toaster.
“I didn’t think it was so late….” My thoughts are cut short as she takes the coffee cup from my hand so she can make it the way I like it.
“I thought you would sleep longer Mistress. I guess the gulls woke you up”
“Yes they did.” She knows me so well.
“I like the sound of the gulls. It is like music in the mornings.” She is like a child with her love of the beach. She hands me my coffee with a smile. It is made to perfection. She takes the bagel from the toaster and spreads butter on it. I move to have a seat at the counter. She hands me the bagel, melted butter filling every nook and cranny. She puts a bagel in the toaster for herself. She comes up behind me and kisses my cheek again this time her lips linger a little longer. She pours herself some coffee, butters her bagel and comes to sit across from me at the counter.
SLAP….she whimpers “That was for last night. You embarrassed me in front of my guests.”
“Did you think that I would have had so much wine that I would forget?”
“Do you think that running to the bakery for bagels would make it up to me?”
“No Mistress” she looks down at her plate. “I know what I did was wrong but……”
SLAP
“There is no but. I heard you. You said you knew it was wrong. So you willfully disobeyed me. Is that what you are saying?”
“No Mistress I would never disobey you.”
SLAP…she starts to cry.
“So tell me, what did you do?”
She comes around the counter and kneels at my feet. “I am so sorry Mistress. I was disrespectful to you and I… and… I ….” She is crying harder now.
I sip my coffee. I look down at her. “Go upstairs and wait for me”
“Yes.. yes… Mistress” she gets the words out through her sobs and hurries upstairs.
I know that she is in the room kneeling on her pillow waiting for me. The pillow sits on the floor next to the bed. From the kneeling position you can almost see the ocean through the glass doors and over the balcony. I know she isn’t trying to look out, her head is down. I had asked several times last night for her to get more coffee for our guest and she was busy talking to her friend across the room. She didn’t think to come over until I had to excuse myself to my guests and stand up with coffee carafe in my hands. She came over immediately. To me it was already too late. She saw the look in my eyes. I smiled and I thanked her for taking the carafe to the kitchen to get it filled. I sat back down with my guest and continued my conversation.
How long do I make her wait? Anticipation is always the worst part. I remember getting into trouble when I was a little girl and my mother was so mad at me. She couldn’t think of anything to say except “Just wait until your father gets home.” There was this lump in my throat at hearing those words. I sat in my room and waited. That was the longest afternoon of my life. The punishment didn’t seem as bad as I had imagined it would be. All I remember was the waiting. I go outside to get the paper.
There are the usual headline about world events and political corruption nothing seems to change much. I read a story about a business merger that might affect one of my pending sales. I write down some notes and think that I need to make a few phone calls on Monday. I finish my coffee and bagel. I want more coffee but never like the way I make it. I put down the paper and look to the stairs.

Part 3
I walk over to the bottom of the stairs and look up. I know she quietly waits for me. I start walking up the stairs and the third step from the top squeaks, it always does. It is very quiet in the house I know she can hear me on the stairs and now knows just how close I am. I stop at the entrance to my room. She is there with her back to the door. She kneels naked on her pillow, her skin is flawless. I could never mark that skin. I know she feels me staring at her. I see her tense ever so slightly. I still remember the first time we met. She was a free spirit with fire in her eyes. I never wanted to extinguish the flame that burned so brightly in those eyes. I wanted to tame it, control it, and make it mine. She was a challenge. I saw in her what she never saw. She wanted to be controlled she needed to be controlled she denied this in herself. How many times did I see the mischief in her eyes and want to smile at what she did? She was the little girl trying to get her mothers attention. I was the mother wanting to laugh at her but knowing that she needs to be punished for what she did. She needed to learn.
I wonder if the anticipation has been building. I step into the room. I sit in the chair in the corner. My robe falls open. I look at her and through her hair I see that her eyes are closed and her hands are in her lap. She is biting her lower lip.
“Adrienne.” She tenses at the sound of my voice.
“Yes Mistress” she says in a small voice. She keeps her head down and her eyes closed.
I take my time. I watch her. Her breath is starting to quicken. I see her skin flush. Her hands squeeze her thighs ever so slightly. She is beautiful.
“Adrienne, look at me.” Her head rises and turns to face me, her eyes are moist with tears and have a longing in them. She wants my forgiveness. She wants my approval. She wants to make me happy.
“Come to me dear.”
“Yes Mistress” she whispers. She starts to crawl over to me. Her supple body moves like poetry. She is a dancer who only dances only for me. She moves slowly. I don’t mind. She comes to me with her head down and kneels at my feet. I look at her; her chestnut hair catches the light coming through the windows. I am tempted to run my fingers through it. I lean forward and stop I can smell the fragrance of her perfume. She is wearing my favorite. I wonder if she put it on when she came upstairs.
“Adrienne.”
“Yes Mistress.” She says quickly as my voice has taken her by surprise.
“You know I don’t like to have to punish you.”
“I know Mistress”
I really don’t want to punish her. To me she is a small child who needs my protection. She needs to be taken care of. She needs to feel safe. I know that for her to feel these things she needs to know there are rules and that breaking the rules has consequences. I lift her head to look at her. Her tears have streaked down her face and her eyes are red from crying. There is a sadness to her eyes. She hasn’t been crying from the slaps to the face that turned her cheeks red; she cries because she has disappointed me, she cries from being sad. She wants my forgiveness. I look at her and motion her to lie across my lap.

Part 4
She slowly lies across my lap. I feel her body against my bare legs. I just look at her lying there. Her beautiful skin, the flare of her hips, the arch of her back, I notice the wetness between my legs for the first time. God how she does excites me. I lightly trace the line of her spine from her between her shoulders to the small of her back. She tenses ever so slightly at my touch. I run my fingers over her ass ever so lightly and down the back of her legs. She shivers, her skin comes alive; goose bumps they’re one of my favorites. Do I touch her there? I know she is wet. I can smell her. My hand lingers on her flesh.
SLAP
I feel the stinging in my hand and hear her whimper. She jumped ever so slightly at the sudden pain she feels. I see the mark my hand has left.
“Adrienne.”
“Yes Mistress.”
SLAP
My hand rises and falls again. She doesn’t move at all this time. I hear the faint sound of her sudden exhale.
“Do you know why I am punishing you?”
“Yes Mistress.”
SLAP
The sound of my hand falling fills the room. The blood is starting to rise to the surface; a pale shade of red. Still she doesn’t move, her breath coming in short burst.
“Tell me then.” I say very calmly.
“I was not paying attention to my Mistress.”
SLAP.
“And what else.”
SLAP. She starts to cry.
“Please Mistress I am sorry.”
SLAP. I see the redness in her skin becoming more pronounced. She is crying louder.
“Tell me why you are being punished Adrienne”
“I was not attentive to my Mistress’s needs”
SLAP. She starts to squirm. She is unconsciously rubbing her legs together.
“I want you to tell me why I am punishing you Adrienne.” I raise my voice as I spank her even harder. My hand begins to hurt. She is rubbing her thighs together and is pressing against my leg. I am getting wetter. She is crying uncontrollably. She is sobbing. She needs this, she wants this.
SLAP.
“Tell me Adrienne I want to know”
SLAP.
“Tell me.”
SLAP.
“Tell me now Adrienne” I yell at her.
SLAP.
“Because you love me Mistress.” she almost screams the words, she says them just as my hand is about to fall. Through her tears and sobbing she has said the words I am waiting to hear.
“Yes dear, because I love you.” I speak in a whisper in her ear. My hand softly caresses her red skin and slips between her thighs. I touch her. I feel her wetness and she explodes. Her body wracked by tears and crying and then by her orgasm she falls from my lap onto the floor.
She lies on the floor at my feet trying to get her strength back. I am touching myself. She slowly rises and kneels before me laying her head in my lap. I feel the moistness of her cheeks against my skin. I lift her head and look at her face and I kiss the tears away. “Yes dear I do love you”
“I love you Mistress.” I see it in her eyes the love she professes to me through the tears that are still falling.
“I know you do my sweet Adrienne” and I do know this.
I take my fingers that have been between my legs and offer it to her. She gently sucks on my fingers. I lead her to the bed.

Part 5
My robe falls to the floor as I pull her into the bed and she falls on top of me. I feel the warmth of her body against mine, I feel her wetness against my leg. Our mouths meet and I taste myself on her lips. Her lips are so soft. I close my eyes; I want only to think about how her lips feel; the passion and hunger of her kisses, the desire. My hands run through her hair as we kiss I pull her mouth to me. We stop kissing; we need to breathe. As our lips part I look into her eyes. I wonder if she sees my love for her in my eyes. I do so love her. I know that I cannot hide what I feel from her. She smiles at me she sees so much in me. Her kisses find their way to my neck and shoulders. Her hand roams my body touching me, caressing me. I feel her breath on my nipples. I arch my back, my stomach quivers with her touch as she continues to trace circles with her fingers. I feel the softness of her kisses as they cross my belly I am already raising my hips in anticipation. She is going slowly. Her fingers lightly play with me I can feel how wet I am through her touch. God how much I want this, she has already brought me to edge. Her mouth captures me in its warm embrace. I start to tremble, I pull her close, my eyes close tight, my heart races, my breath quickens, my body tenses, I scream, and I am washed away. I try to regain my breathing as Adrienne comes up to lie next to me. She is brushing the hair from my face; she traces the outline of my lips with her finger. I keep my eyes closed. She lays her head on my shoulder and I wrap my arm around her.
“I love you Mistress.”
“I know” I breathe the words out as I am still recovering. “I love you my dear sweet Adrienne”
I wake up a few hours later. I was still recovering from all the wine I drank last night. Adrienne is still next me; I don’t think she ever moved from my side. “Hello baby” She gives me a squeeze and snuggles in closer. “Have you been awake the whole time hon?”
“Yes Mistress. I needed to be close to you. I wanted to be close to you. I love you so much. I am so sorry that I disappointed you last night. I don’t like when you are angry with me.” Her hand is playing with my hair
“I am not angry with you.” I hug her and pull her close. “I love you too dear.” She is so sweet, so vulnerable. I wonder if I am too hard on her at times. Was it so bad what she did last night? I question myself. No, I need to be this way; she needs this, I need this. She needs for me to be strong. She has given herself to me and I have accepted. I think now is the time to show her what she means to me. “I have something for you dear.”
“You do Mistress. What is it?” Her excitement makes me smile.
“Sit up baby.” We both sit up in the bed. She is smiling, her face bright with anticipation. “Close your eyes dear.” I climb out of bed and go over to my dresser. There in my jewelry box I find what I had placed in there weeks ago. I had gone to 4 different jewelry stores to find just the right one. I had carefully picked it out, it had to be perfect. I didn’t care about the price; I had to have this one. The man had told me it was from an estate sale it was an antique. The man tried to tell me all about it but I wasn’t listening all I knew was that I had to have it. I brought it home and waited for just the right time to give it to her. I knew this was the right time. I carefully took it out of its box. Antique silver beautifully engraved. I had never seen such a locket before it was one of a kind. I had taken several strands of my hair and placed them inside. I sat back on the bed. “Now keep your eyes shut you.”
“Yes Mistress.” Her voice was anxious. She was smiling. I carefully put it around her neck and closed the clasp. It hung between her breasts a perfect place for it, close to her heart.
“Open your eyes dear.” She did and immediately took it in her hands. She smiled her whole face lighting up.
“It is beautiful Mistress. I love it.” She throws her arms around me and squeezes me hard. She let go and held it in her hands again.
“Open it dear.” She is still smiling. I love that smile.
“Mistress… are these…..”
“Yes dear. It’s a little something of me for you to have and hold close to your heart.” She smiles even bigger. “This will tell everyone that sees it that you belong to me.” “Mistress I love it. I will never take it off. You are so good to me. I don’t know what to say. I… I…’ I hold my finger to her lips to make her stop talking.
“I am glad that you like it. It will always be yours.” She throws her arms around me and knocks me over on the bed. She kisses me over and over again. She gets up to go look at herself in the mirror. She is smiling; I am smiling. I couldn’t be happier.
Part 6
The following weekend we had reservations for dinner at our favorite restaurant. Adrienne and I went shopping for a new outfit for the evening. We went to our favorite dress shop down on the boulevard the shop always has the cutest dresses. We always find something that looks wonderful on Adrienne. We picked out several outfits and she goes off to try them on. The first thing she comes out with is a blouse that you can easily see right through and a lightweight springy skirt that comes just above the knee. Her next outfit is a shear dress that is made to have a slip worn with it. She is constantly smiling and looking right at me. She knows she looks good in the outfits and knows how much she is teasing me. I smile back at her with a knowing smile that tells her she will get hers later. The last outfit is a little black cocktail dress that barely covers her ass. She gives me a little wiggle as she parades it in front of me. I buy all three of the outfits. I couldn’t resist how good she looked in them all. Our next stop is to the shoe store.
‘Adrienne you are such a little tease dear”
“Yes Mistress” she giggles.
We enter the shoe store to find a young man working there. He isn’t very busy and walks right up to us and says hello.
“How can I help you two lovely ladies today?”
“We need a couple of pairs of shoes for this young lady here.” Adrienne smiles, I can see he is taken with her. I pick out the shoes for her to try on. A pair for every outfit we have bought. She sits in a chair the young man hurries to the back to get the shoes for her to try. He comes back smiling and sits in front of Adrienne lifting her foot to the stool that he now occupies. I think that he lifts her leg just a little too high. I rest my hand on Adrienne’s thigh and inch her dress up just a little. Adrienne covers my hand with hers in a silent protest. I look at her and she moves her hands to the arm of the chair. I slide my hand between her legs and run my hand along the inside of her thighs. None of this goes unnoticed by the boy sitting in front of us. Adrienne quickly stands up to try the fit of the shoes. She is happy to be standing with her skirt covering her legs again.
“They look wonderful dear.” The salesman quickly agrees with me as I see him attempt to adjust a growing problem in his pants.
“I love them Mistr…..Miss T.” She stumbles with my name. I have told her that she should call me Miss T in public. Some people wouldn’t understand the special relationship we share. She sits back down in her chair straightening her skirt as she sits and I quickly put my hand back to her thigh but just a little higher than before. I feel the warmth of her skin as I slide my hand even higher. The young salesman is taking his time in getting the next pair of shoes on her feet. He drops the next box of shoes as I pull Adrienne legs slightly apart. I look at Adrienne and she is blushing, turning her head away from the young man. I can smell her light scent as she starts to get excited. The young man gets the next pair of shoes on her feet and she stands quickly.

Tarotica V - The Heirophant
The Hierophant represents that which is orthodox and traditional even to the point of ineffectuality. The heritage and past symbols are often more important than the practicality and necessity of change needed in the present.
- Tarot Classic, Stuart Kaplan
You may participate in a rite or a ceremony which links the individual with the traditions of a community. You may visit a place of worship, perhaps to attend a wedding. .
- Tarot, Plain and Simple, Anthony Louis
I was a good child – in fact, I was a pious child. So pious that my mother hoped I would become the nun she’d always wanted. Unlike my sisters, I loved going to church. I loved the ceremony of the mass, the smell of the incense, the dramatic stories of Easter and Christmas – I didn’t even mind the shrill winter-cold of the cinderblock church. When I was young, my mother would drive us – herself and whatever children were still around – to town in a ’77 Impala. The car’s heating system never worked well, and only kicked in, really, when we had finally traveled the five miles to town. I remember huddling in the front seat, dressed in my Sunday best, covered by a heavy winter coat and several afghans. Then, it didn’t really matter what you wore to church – it was so cold, no one took their coats off, and, thus, no one saw it – whatever it was — the elaborate pink skirt, the tight-fitting knit dress – anyway.
It didn’t matter – I loved the lull of the priest’s voice, loved the familiar hardness of the pew, the comforting feel of the missalette. I could voice every response by heart, every hymn almost by the number. When I got older, I wondered, a bit, about the Church’s stance towards women – and the sadomasochistic aspect of the Crucifix and Christ, bleeding, yearning, looking for release – an image of which, in one form or another, I’ve seen in every Catholic Church I’ve visited. Still, I was proud, somehow, to belong to this “first” religion, and I remember one of my CCD teachers responding, to a question about conversion to another faith, “Why would you want to switch? What other religion would you want to belong to?” For a long time, those words held, for me, a significant impact.
When I went away to college, my faith fell away somewhat. I remember one of my close friends and colleagues – she was the product of a Catholic high school, and quite proud of her Irish-Catholic upbringing. About her was an incredible naivete – and yet, at the same time, she had done things of which I had never dreamed – speed, heroin – she knew countless girls who had gotten pregnant (they were Catholic, so they wouldn’t use birth control – but they would have sex). Sometimes, she would go out and drink way too much, and come back to the dorm room absolutely blasted – as would I – but it seemed so incongruous, so strange somehow, for the childlike Molly to be doing the same. Still, she went to Church every Sunday – I think I lasted through the first week of the fall semester. Dutiful, I followed Molly to church, and we experienced Mass together. Still, though, by the next week, I couldn’t bring myself to return. It was not the same church of my youth – it was a strange church, inhabited by strangers – and the creeping hypocrisy of it all was beginning to bother me, somewhere at the base of my spine.
When I returned from school, I went to Church with my mother and family – sometimes there were nieces and nephews who followed us, sometimes not – and I would see former classmates, smell the familiar incense, recognize and rejoice in the familiar cadences of the nearly-programmed responses. There was peace in it, somehow, and, at some level, a spiritual comfort.
One Christmas, I returned for the long winter’s break. We had over a month’s vacation – over a month to spend in my small town, living with my aging parents – no parties, no mental stimulation. The first week home, I napped on the couch, continually – recovering from my finals, from the parties, from the mental stimulation. The following Sunday, I dressed for Church, and my mother told me how thrilled she was to have me home, how much she enjoyed someone sitting next to her in our accustomed pew. We went through the familiar ritual, and I felt myself, again, nearly dozing, until the time came to share peace. I roused myself, hugged my mother, turned to the pew behind – and blushed. I hadn’t noticed, had been so out of it, but Trey was sitting behind us. Trey, my old flame. Trey, with whom I used to fight and fight and fight. Trey, who used to, by turns, excite and infuriate me. Trey, still as good-looking as ever. He smiled at me, his teeth white, his skin – somehow, even in the depths of a Minnesota winter – swarthy and dark. He held out his hand, and I gripped it in return, trying not to stammer, trying to meet his eyes. “Peace be with you,” he said, his voice rolling out in tones as soft as the altar drapery. “And with you,” I responded. He held my hand for one second too long, winked at me, then returned his attention to the Mass. I turned around, facing, again, the Crucifix, the robed priest, the altar. As usual, the cinderblock church was cold, but my face was flushed and my hands felt oddly hot.
At the end of Mass, Mom and I made our way through the crowds of thick winter coats and vaguely familiar faces. Mom greeted nearly everyone by name, asking about their health, their spouses, their loved ones. “Hi, Marion – How are you? How’s Mabel?” she would ask, and Marion would respond a bit sadly, her voice thick with the rounded O’s of a Minnesota accent, “O—hh – not good, you know, just not good.” And the conversation would go from there. I waited patiently, listening to the latest filial health bulletins and hoping Trey had gone. At last, Mom and I made our way to the cold car – the Impala had long been replaced. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, as she took my hand, “I volunteered us to come clean the church this afternoon.” I groaned inwardly, but had made a Christmas resolution to get through the holiday season cheerfully and without complaint, “No – that’s fine. Nobody’s around, anyway – so there’s not much else to do.” We drove the few blocks back to the house, and walked in to the ambrosiac smell of Dad’s Sunday chicken.
After we finished Sunday dinner, Mom and I returned to church, bringing with us Mom’s substantial supply of cleaning agents. The church had the charming, if somewhat comic, name of “Our Lady of Perpetual Help.” I hoped that, at least for this afternoon, the help would not be perpetual. We entered from the back, walking up the aisle after Mom dutifully crossed herself with holy water. With no body heat, the church was even colder now, and there were only a few older women in front, taking stock of their cleaning supplies and doling out chores. We walked up to join them. “Oh, Kristen – I’m so glad to see you home – and here to help,” Betty, the organist, croaked as we came in – Betty could play, but she could not sing, and her voice had the resonance of a rotting, rusty gate. “Let’s see – who’s all here?” she consulted her list, “The Johnson’s – the Bjornson’s – the O’Malley’s.” My heart stopped a beat, and I gulped so loudly I was sure everyone there could hear it. No one paid any attention, though, and Betty continued with her list. “O’Malley’s not here yet –“ she muttered, and, from the back of the church, a voice boomed, “We’re here – we’re a bit late – but we’re here.” And in walked the O’Malley family – Mr. O’Malley, Mrs. O’Malley – and Trey O’Malley. Betty smiled, “Okay, then, let’s get going – good to see you, Trey – I was just telling Kristen – so good to see the young people back.” Trey flashed me a smile, which I tried to return. I’m sure it seemed more of a death’s head grin.
Trey was, quite possibly, the best lover – up to that point in my life anyway – I’d ever had. We had experienced kink together, had tied each other up, had sex, once in a cemetery, on top of a grave. We were both a bit of Midwestern fringe – not quite fitting in, not quite outcasts. Of course, our families thought we were perfect for each other – there are so few Catholics in my small, Midwestern town – my mother was absolutely thrilled. The night of our graduation, Trey had ended it, with an absolute pronouncement. “We’re both going to college,” he said, “And we don’t need to pretend we’re going to hold on to this.” Perhaps for the first time in my life, I was truly, truly heartbroken. I was the one who broke relationships – I was the one who decided when it was over. Not this time. The day after graduation, I stayed in bed all day, claiming sickness and crying myself into infrequent naps. Of course, we had both gone to college – I had dated, danced, drank, fucked – but I’d not quite forgotten Trey. And here he was, smiling at me, a mop in his hand.
I heard Betty’s croaking voice – “Umm, let’s see – Trey and Kristen – since you’re the young ones – maybe you can share the floor mopping, hmm?” The “hmmm” was a verbal tic Betty had never quite gotten over. “Yes,” I heard Trey say, “We can do that – here’s one mop – do we have another? And floor cleaner?” Betty looked over the collected cleaning supplies. Somehow, Mom had gotten swept away with the dust and the chatter and was now cheerfully polishing pews. I could hear her laugh and her distinctive gossip tones. Betty clicked her tongue, and said, “You know, Trey – I think there’s another mop in the cleaning closet downstairs – and I’m sure that’s where the Soilax is, too – do you want to go get it? Let me know if it’s not down there.” “Sure,” Trey said, “We can do that – c’mon, Kristen.” Numb, I followed Trey down the steps to the basement, site of my early religious training – my mind jammed with thoughts of Sunday school and saintly filmstrips.
“So,” Trey said, “How’s school?” I shook my head a little and smiled, “It’s going well – actually, very well. I think I’ll make the Dean’s List this semester.” “Yeah?” he sounded genuinely pleased, “Good for you.” “And you?” I asked, “How’s school for you?” “It’s all right,” he sounded uncertain, “I think I’m just making an adjustment – to go from here to the University of Minnesota – well –‘ I nodded an acknowledgment, and we both stopped in front of the cleaning closet. “Well,” he chuckled, “In we go – brave enough to follow me?” I could never resist Trey’s dares – hence the socks, hence the cemetery. I lifted my chin and followed him. Automatically, the door clicked shut behind us. It was dark, and I fumbled for the light. A hand covered mine. “Kristen,” Trey’s voice was different – the way it used to be, when we lay panting in the back of his car, or sweating in the hay mow of my family’s barn – “I’m sorry – I never should have – I mean – I don’t know what to say – I really miss you. I thought, somehow, I was going to go – be this Big Man on Campus – and – I just really miss you. I’m sorry.” My breath was coming in quick gasps, but I tried not to show it. “No big deal – it’s okay – We did have a good time, though, didn’t we?”
Trey’s hand lifted from the light switch, and he turned me towards him. We faced each other, there in the darkened broom closet, in the church of my youth. “Oh, Kristen,” he moaned, and his hands were on my neck, in my hair, traveling down and under my thick winter sweater. His hands traced my nipples, then bit them with a pinch. “Trey,” I breathed, stepping back, “They’re going to expect us back – they’re going to come looking . .” Trey stopped me with a deep kiss, then leaned against me, towards the door, and locked it. “Trey,” I said, “Have you done this before?” He laughed, and I hoped those upstairs couldn’t hear, “Do you think I would tell you?” After his stumbling apology, Trey’s devilry was back. He leaned against me, in control, and I felt the doorknob press into the small of my back. I shifted forward, and found myself pressed against Trey’s thin, muscled body. I could feel the thick hardness of his cock, and groaned in spite of myself. Trey’s tongue was in my mouth, probing, and I could taste the familiar cinnamon of Big Red. Trey’s hand traced my cheek, my neck, then moved down to my jeans – the zipper echoed, a gunshot almost, in the cleaning closet, “Trey,” I said, “Shh,” he responded, “We’ll make it quick – tell them we couldn’t find the mop,” “But Trey,” I said, even as I felt my cunt getting wetter – wet enough, in fact, to mop a floor, “My mom –“ “Your mom loves me,” he said, and that was true enough. His long fingers entered my open zipper, probing my thick hair and my wetness. I could feel his smile against my hair, “Still doesn’t take you long, huh Kristen?” “Nor you,” I responded, and unzipped his jeans to release his pulsing cock – purple, hard, crying for attention. He moaned softly. I took his cock in my hands, moved my fingers up and down, reached for his balls. His head went back, and I grabbed the opportunity, leaning over to take his shaft in my mouth, his balls cupped in my hand. His groan was loud. I put my finger on his lips.
“I have to have you,” he mumbled. “Here?” I asked, wondering about logistics. “Right now, there seems no better place.” I chuckled. “It’s going to have to be quick.” “I know,” he groaned, “Unfortunately.” He yanked my jeans down, almost a violent gesture, and I tripped forward. Trey caught me, leaned me back against the locked closet door, his cock thrusting towards me, insistent, unafraid, not intimidated by the church, the church altar, the church closet, the church ladies, upstairs chattering like busy field mice. I looked up, saw the dark of the closet ceiling, held tight to Trey’s neck. His pants were down to his knees, and his cock jabbed towards me. I spread myself, wanting him inside again, wanting to feel that thick, hard cock opening me the way it used to. I reached for him, guided his cock into my wetness. As always, the passage was easy, and I stifled my gasp as his cock reached its limit. I leaned against the closet door, my eyes closed. I saw myself, tied up, laughing at Trey’s feather torture – and then Trey, tied up as I scraped my nails down his chest, down his thighs. I felt the grave underneath us, the dank soil as we scrabbled madly against each other. I saw the Crucifix, Christ agonizing in perpetuity, the velvet of the altar robes, heard the moaning of the priestly ritual. All of it melted together, somehow, in kaleidoscopic colors – so appropriate, so wonderful. I tried not to yelp as we got there – Trey first, me shortly thereafter. I could feel the warmth of his semen as it spurted inside of me, spilling, in its old delicious pattern, down the insides of my thighs. I wanted to laugh, but couldn’t –
“Trey? Kristen?” It was Betty’s croaking voice, carrying down the church stairs, “What’s taking you so long?” We zipped hurriedly, and Trey quietly unlocked the closet door, opening it slowly, stealthily. “We couldn’t find the mop, Mrs. Peterson – but we have it now.” “Oh good,” Betty answered, seemingly oblivious. “And the Soilax?” Trey looked around him, grabbed a box and a mop and yelled, “Got it – it was just behind a bunch of other stuff.” “Okay,” Betty called, “Come on up and we’ll finish this off.” Trey and I returned to the church proper, mop and Soilax in hand. Together, we mopped the floors, sometimes exchanging jokes and college stories, sometimes just looking at each other and laughing. When we finished, Trey grabbed my hand. “Can I ask you out – while you’re here?” I laughed, feeling the old blush creep from my tits to my face, “Of course.” “I’ll call you.” He smiled and followed his mother out, the church floor gleaming under his path.
Mom and I walked out together. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” She asked, stopping to zip one of her clunky, winter boots. “No, “ I said, “Not bad at all.” “And I’m so glad,” she gave me a sideways glance, “That you were able to talk to Trey again – I always thought he was such a nice young man. I hope you’ll see him while you’re home.”
“Well, Mom,” I smiled, “Maybe I will.”

What started out to be a short ride to see the leaves turning this fall, turned out to be a very adventurous weekend. After having driven most of the day with my girlfriend, looking at the beautiful colors of all the autumn leaves, we decided to take a break at this little roadside diner. With still being in, the middle of no where, we walked in the diner to find that the only other people there were the bartender/cook and another elderly gentleman. I noticed that he was pretty well on his way, as he stumbled to the bathroom.
All of a sudden my mind started to work a devious plan to tease my girlfriend while we were to await our food. We ordered and then it began. First I suggested that she go to the bathroom and remove her bra and panties. She did a little reluctant; however this was not the first time I was to ask for strange things.
When she returned to the table our drinks had arrived. I instructed that she should sit beside me, as I like to have her close to me. She was to soon find out that it had nothing to do with what she thought!! As we sat just chatting about this and that I started to run my fingers up and down her bare leg. This a normal routine she thought nothing of it…till I started to slowly work my way up her skirt. With the look of what the hell are you doing, I continued upward. Again she asked and I told her to just relax and enjoy. To which her reply was, “You cannot do that here and I cannot keep quiet!!” I told her that she was going to keep quiet and I wasn’t going to stop. She reached for my hand but I told her no and instructed that she keep her hands on the table!! Slowly she moved her hands to the table. I continued to run my fingers up and down her leg.
My light touches were sending waves of goose bumps though her whole body. I knew this by the obviously visible very erect nipples which were standing at attention though her tight shirt. She is not wearing a bra, rarely does she, as she knows how this drives me crazy!! I kept on running my fingers up and down her thighs, occasionally grazing her shaved pussy. Driving her more and more crazy, she was really turned on now. Juices were flowing and she was trying her damndest to be quiet. Letting out a few stifled moans every now and then. Just as she turned to tell me that we needed to hurry up and leave…the waiter came around the corner and delivered our drinks. Also informing us that the food would be along shortly, I noticed that his eyes wandered downward and that was when I realized that my hand was visibly not where it should be. He smirked a little as he walked away.
I then continued to tease her. First by slowly inserting one finger into her swollen, soaked lips. Then another, she was near climax within seconds. I stopped and told her she would have to be patient. Removed my hand from her skirt and let her suck my fingers dry. When the waiter returned with our food we wasted no time. Devouring it quickly!! My girlfriend, when finished, asked to be excused to go to the ladies room. I agreed and said that I had to go to. I left the waiter a tip and then proceeded to the bathroom. When I reached it I realized that it was across the hall from the ladies room. Looking about to see if anyone was watching, I carefully opened the door.
Peeking in I could see that my girlfriend was the only one present. I slipped inside and locked the door behind me. Then stood quietly next to the stall door and awaited her to exit. When she did I grabbed her by the hair from behind and covered her mouth so no one could here her scream. I told her to calm down. Realizing it was me she then calmed immediately. I told her that the door was locked and that I was going to take her here and now!! With little resistance I led her to the sink by her hair.
I bent her over the counter and ripped her very short skirt up. Ran my hands lightly over her bare ass and then gave her a quick sharp slap on the ass. She let out a quick yell. I told her that if she was not quiet then we would not be able to continue!! She was very good with the next slap on her ass. This time all she did is moan a little. Reaching down between her legs I found that she was incredibly wet. I unleashed my rock hard nine inches and then positioned it to tease a bit. With the tip of my cock I teased her clit then rubbed it up and down her slit. Pulling back away from her then slapping her on her puckered asshole. Again she moaned, this time a little louder.
Again I reminded her of the importance of being quiet. She nodded and then with one stroke I drove my cock, all nine inches, deep into her sopping wet cunt!! Again she moaned…this time I did not say anything. If she wanted to be heard she could. There was nothing going to stop us now. I Pumped in and out her slowly at first, just enjoying how wonderful she felt. After what seemed to be an hour, although really just minutes.
She was really starting to get into it. Again I reminded her that she needed to be quiet. I informed her that I could gag her if need be. She, having been gagged before, did not think it was necessary. She was a good girl and did not need to be told many times. She was well aware that if she did not listen and do as she was told that she WOULD get punished later.
Still pumping into her hot pussy, I started to quicken the pace. I was beginning to think that the waiter might start to get suspicious and come to check on us. Driving my cock as deep and as hard as I could. I was getting so close to bursting that I was not sure if I could stop or not. I pulled out of her, spun her around and then came all over her face. She caught a little with her mouth, but most was everywhere. She licked up what she could and then cleaned my cock with her tongue. I told her to straighten up then we needed to leave. She did and as we headed out of the diner the waiter hollered out he hoped that we had enjoyed our meal. Especially the dessert!!!
When I looked back he just smiled, winked and said “Come again!!” I laughed as we strolled out to the car.

Tim Lewis was standing at the front door nervously awaiting an answer to the doorbell he had just rung. Tim was 35 years old, and had recently come out of a messy divorce after a sudden end to a 10 year marriage. He had moved into a condo complex four months ago, and was forced to live on his own after his wife had run off with a family friend.
Luckily, he became friends with the couple who lived next door to him. Jim and Becky Johnson were slightly older than he was, but they all had common interests that included movies, fishing, and books. Becky had been the first one to inquire into his plans to get into the dating scene. When Tim said that he wasn’t sure that he was ready yet, Becky dropped the subject for a couple of days, but over the next two weeks, both she and Jim let him know that they would help in any way they could.
Eventually, over a Saturday night dinner at their home, Jim told Tim that they were members of a club that might help him spread his wings, and meet new people. Becky thought that this club might give him the confidence to start a new relationship. When Tim asked more questions about what type of club it was, both Becky and Jim became rather coy about it. Their reluctance to fully disclose the club’s activities both scared and intrigued him. As the evening concluded, Tim put together most of the half answers that he had received, and asked if the club had a major sexual component.
Knowing smiles spread across their faces, and Becky let him know that he was on the right path. Tim wanted to know if this was a couple’s club or not. They said that it was made up of mostly couples, but openings were also open to the right type of individual. Becky said that memberships required a meeting with the selection committee, but that she thought he would probably get through the interview with flying colors.
Tim went home to think this offer over. He hadn’t told Jim or Becky that he had led a rather sheltered life in the sex department. He had slept the a few girls in college, but his marriage had really been his only long term relationship. Therefore, he wasn’t the experienced swinger that they might have thought him to be. Over the next few days he went back and forth on his decision, but eventually decided that they were right; he really needed to try new things, and this offer was something that he couldn’t turn down.
So he was very surprised when the door opened, and saw a woman who immediately reminded him of his aunt. She was about slightly shorter than he was, with shoulder length auburn hair, and looked to be in her late 50’s. She introduced herself as Virginia Taylor, and after verifying his name, assured him that Becky and Jim were waiting in the living room for him along with the rest of the committee. He followed her through the main hall, and into a living room that was about as big as his whole condo.
He saw Jim and Becky on one love seat, another couple on one couch, and a gentleman on the other couch who Tim thought would be Virginia’s husband. She introduced him to Paul and Valerie Thompson, as well as her husband, Gordon. Paul and Valerie were the youngest of the group; Tim guessed that he was about 27, while she was probably 25.
Before he sat down, Virginia asked him if he’d like something to drink, and got a Pepsi for him from the wet bar in the corner. After Jim had sat down in the wooden chair that had been placed for him, Gordon asked Tim how much he knew about their club. Looking at Becky and Jim, he said, “Not much really, Becky and Jim only told me that this club was where their friends met, and that it had a sexual orientation, but were not really specific.”
Gordon said, “That’s about as much as they are allowed to say before this meeting.” He then went on to explain that the club met once a month at member’s house on a rotating basis. Each meeting had between 15 and 20 couples, and another five or six individual guests who were included on an invitation only basis. Each meeting had its own theme, and that there were erotic activities that usually involved all of the attendees.
At this point, Gordon asked Valerie to describe the latest party. In a very casual manner, she described the Hawaiian Luau that they had hosted. The party had included native foods and drinks, along with naked hula dancers and body painting activities that ended up with about four hours of fucking.
Tim was both shocked and exited by the language that Valerie was using, as well as the images swirling around in his mind about what he was getting into. This discussion had also caused the inevitable reaction on his part, namely a very stiff erection. When she had finished, he looked over at Becky who was beaming at him. “We had a very fine time at that one,” she said.
Virginia then explained that while everyone had participated in the fun that evening, it was the single guests who initiated the festivities by leading the naked hula, and allowing their bodies to be painted first. It was important to know that as he was being considered for one of these spots, he needed to complete the rest of the interview before he would be invited to an upcoming party.
After a moment of thought, Jim said, “This is all new to me, but you haven’t scared me off yet. How do we proceed?”
“I think it is now time that you undress,” Virginia said.
A stunned look crossed his face. He thought that this would probably happen, he just hadn’t expected it so soon. He looked at Virginia and asked, “You mean right here?”
“Right here, right now,” Virginia’s reply was almost an order.
So then, as confidently as he could, he leaned forward to remove his shoes, and socks. He then stood up took off this jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair. His shirt was next, and was also placed on the back of the chair.
Then he turned to face the group, and began unbuckling his belt. All of the couples had leaned back, and were looking on with a relaxed attitude that was at odds with the excitement and, yes fear, that Jim was now feeling. He unbuttoned his pants, unzipped his zipper, and then stepped out of them. He turned to the pants on the back of the chair, before facing the group again.
His gaze fell on Valerie, who looked him in the eye, then at his crotch before looking him in the eye again. She then winked at him, and smiled. Taking this as an invitation, Jim hooked his thumbs under the waistband, and lowered his shorts. When he stood up, his shorts were now in his right hand, and his very erect 6″ cock pointed due north. At this instant, he realized that he had just crossed a new threshold, and with a broad smile on his face he looked at each of the three couples as he dropped his shorts on the seat of his chair.
Gordon began, “Now you have to know that at the parties, being a single guest, you will have to comply with the requests of the other members. I think that you should stand in front of Paul and Valerie, and do as they ask.”
Tim walked toward the two as instructed, and at Paul’s request stopped in front of him. A new feeling washed over Tim as he saw Paul gaze at his erection. He wasn’t exactly proud, but he was truly reveling in the moment, being completely nude in front of three couples, with a sexual tension in the room that he could almost taste.
Paul looked up at Tim without saying anything, and then reached out and softly grabbed his balls. He tugged on them a little, before releasing them; then he grasped his cock. He pulled it down, and looked at it as someone would site down a rifle. When he let go, Tim’s cock snapped back, hit his stomach so hard that the sound was heard by everyone. Paul said, “Well, you sure are happy to be here. Now I’d like you to turn around, bend over, and spread your cheeks for me.”
When Tim had assumed the position, he felt Paul nudge a finger at his anal opening. He thought, “Now there’s something I wouldn’t have expected this morning.” After a few moments, Paul told him that he could stand up and move in front of Valerie.
Valerie looked up at him with a big smile, and sparkling eyes. He was suddenly reminded of a cheerleader he knew in high school that he’d had a crush on, but never talked to. He couldn’t wait for Valerie to say anything.
Very shortly Valerie said, “Paul treated you much better than I will. I’ve always liked to spank people, but he’s not that interested. So I’d like you across my lap right now.”
Surprised, but also extremely excited. He lay down over her thighs. “Lift up just a little please,” Valerie said. He then felt her hand snake under him, take hold of his cock, and position it between her thighs. They clamped tightly on his dick and she said, “I don’t want you sliding off.”
She then started spanking him. They weren’t especially painful, but they did sting. She stopped somewhere around 10 and asked him, “How you doin’ down there?”
“OK so far,” he replied.
Valerie resumed her spanking, and now Tim was acutely aware that the motions of his and Valerie’s bodies were causing his cock to slide up and down between her thighs. This was bringing him very close to a climax he was desperate to experience.
Just before the point of no return, Becky spoke up, “Valerie, we don’t want you to wear him out too soon.”
Both Tim and Valerie groaned at the same time, but each for different reasons. She then helped him up. Tim softly rubbed his now sore ass, and waved his erection that now had a small drop of precum on its tip in front of her.
Gordon then instructed Tim to stand before Becky. She smiled as he came toward her, as his erection swayed back and forth. When he was directly in front of her, she said, “I’ve been waiting for this almost from the moment we met.” She then reached for his cock, and leaned forward so that she could put it in her mouth.
Instantly Tim’s cock experienced the wonderful warmth of her mouth, and the soft texture of her tongue. His eyes fluttered, and a low groan escaped from his mouth. He kept his hands on his ass and savored the feeling that he was about to cum.
Sensing that he was very close, Becky used her right hand to grasp both of his balls, and started to hum to herself. The vibrations that this caused sent Tim over the edge. He almost lost his balance as his orgasm roared through his body. At the last instant, he had to grab her shoulders to steady himself.
It took about 30 seconds for him to come back to his senses, but Becky continued to milk his cock for every last drop of cum. Finally, when no more was produced, she released it from her mouth and said, “My you really needed that. You spewed all over my tonsils.”
After regaining his composure, he looked at Jim. He was surprised to see that he had removed his pants, shorts, and was sporting a 7″ woody. “Now it’s your turn to bring me off.” Jim had taken hold of his prick at the base and was waving it at Tim.
Still experiencing the wave of sexual intoxication in the room, Tim didn’t need to be asked twice. He knelt down in front of Jim, and proceeded to give the first blow job of his life. He made up for his lack of experience by giving the job the full gusto that it deserved. It took a few tries, but he was able to swallow most of Jim’s prick without scraping it with his teeth. His up and down movements quickly had Jim on the verge of a climax. Not even thinking about what it would taste like, he too began humming and was rewarded with a flood of cum. Instinctively breathing through his nose, he was able to swallow most of it without choking, although a little leaked out at the sides.
When Jim’s prick stopped pulsing, Tim released it from his mouth. He stood up, wiped the leftover from his cheek and licked his hand clean. Jim grinned at him and said, “Nice one for a beginner.”
Turning back to the host couple, he saw Gordon move his hand behind Virginia’s back, and then heard the unmistakable sound of the zipper on her dress being lowered. She stood up and let the dress fall from her. Gordon picked it up and put it next to him on the couch. Then Virginia unhooked her bra and let her large tits free from their confinement. While they did sag, she had the biggest areolas he had ever seen.
She finished undressing by stepping out of her panties but remained standing. “Come over here and suck on my titties,” she said. Magic words to Tim’s ears. Standing before her, he hefted both breasts in his hands and was amazed at their weight; his ex-wife’s were very small by comparison. Inwardly he was jumping up and down, but he was very cool as he bent down a little and latched onto her right breast.
He slopped and slurped, nibbled on her nipple before attacking the left breast. Very quickly Virginia began to moan pleasurably and then said, “You make me very weak in the knees.”
This went on for about two minutes before she took his head in both of her hands, raised him up and planted the most erotic kiss on him that he’d ever had. The kiss lasted long enough for his penis to rise to full staff again.
Virginia finally broke the kiss and sat back down on the couch. Giving him a devilish smile, she said “Now you have to service my cunt.”
As he knelt down, he was aware that Gordon had stood up and was taking off his clothes. Under normal circumstances he would have wondered what this meant, but these were far from normal circumstances. As he closed in on her pussy, the aroma her juices were making completely overtook him, and he began to nibble on her clit.
Virginia shrieked as her body stiffened. Her hands immediately found the back of his head so that it would not move. “Oh fuck, that’s good,” she shouted. “You just keep eating mommy’s cunt until she blows up.”
Not really needing this encouragement, Tim continued his assault on her clit. He added the periodic lapping of her pussy with his tongue whenever he needed to take a breath. Before he expected, Virginia moaned a couple of times, and then clamped her legs like a vise on his head as she shuddered through a thunderous orgasm.
He could only lick at her pussy as the convulsions racked her body, but she did begin to calm down. Soon she released her knees, and lifted her hands from his head. He sat back on his heals, looked up, grinned at her and said, “So what’s next?”
Virginia quickly noticed the return of his erection and said, “Well, I really like it doggy style.”
She moved him aside, and went over to the coffee table on the far side of the room. She knelt down, the lay her upper body on the table and said, “It’s just the right height.”
Tim didn’t need to be asked, he just scurried across the floor until he was in the proper position. He knew that she was already wet enough for him, so he grabbed his cock and guided it to her pussy.
“Oh my, that’s a good fit,” she said.
“Mrs. Taylor, I must say that it’s almost as if your cunt has a mind of its own,” he replied.
They then commenced in the fucking. Very soon each of them was shouting words like “Fuck”, “Harder”, “Deeper”, and “Faster”. Time and space evaporated for Tim. He was lost in his own world of orgasmic bliss, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He slowed down and looked to see Gordon standing next to him.
“Mind if I join in?” Gordon asked.
“Not at all”, he replied.
Gordon then gently pushed Tim on his shoulder so that he leaned forward till his was lying on Virginia’s back.
Suddenly, Tim felt his ass cheeks being spread, and something greasy being forced up his rectum. He turned to see Gordon with a smile on his face. “Just getting you ready for my woody,” he said.
Without thinking, Tim said, “OK” and prepared himself for yet another new experience.
Slowly and gently, Gordon proceeded with the insertion of his cock into Tim’s ass. Tim had never had this feeling of fullness before, but it wasn’t altogether uncomfortable. He breathed slowly through his mouth until Gordon was all the way in.
Gordon waited a few moments as he savored the position he was in. “OK everyone, let’s see if we can all work together.” He started to pull out, which allowed Tim to do the same with Virginia. Once Tim started to move back in, Gordon followed him, and amazingly, very quickly they found a rhythm. Moans and groans filled the room as all three of them moved toward their next orgasms.
This was almost too much for Tim as his cock seemed to have grown another inch since Gordon had invaded his ass. He quickly looked around him to see that the other couples had also undressed, and were cheering them on.
Tim was once again reminded of a fantasy he’d had of that cheerleader in high school as he watched Valerie urge him on, while her pert tits waved at him.
All of a sudden, Virginia screamed as her climax pounded through her. He cunt then did magic things to his cock, causing him to shower her insides with a flood of cum. Not to be out done, Gordon grabbed Tim’s hips so that he could forcibly plow his cock into Jim’s asshole. He could last only five more pumps before he screamed in ecstacy as his cock erupted inside Jim.
The other couples complimented them on their performance, and patted them all just like they had scored the winning touchdown.
It took a couple of minutes for them to untangle themselves, and lay back on the floor. Paul finally looked down and said, “I think that I can speak for the entire committee, and say that you have passed your interview, and will be allowed to participate in future parties.”
“I’m glad you responded so well Tim,” Becky said. “But before we call this a night, I think that we all could use some more fucking.” The rest of the night involved so much imagination on the part of all participants, and required so much energy, that after Tim finally got back home, he slept for the entire next day.

Finally… A weekend alone with my wife. It’s amazing that after more than 15 years of marriage we still have the hots for each other. Of course we have our ups and downs, but make-up sex is better than just a quickie while the kids are busy.
As luck would have it, my parents wanted the kids for the weekend, so that left me and my wife to figure out what we were going to do for a couple of days. Being your typical male, I knew exactly what I wanted to do and it didn’t involve dinner or a movie.
However, being the sometimes-wonderful husband that I am, we treated ourselves to just that, and had a very enjoyable evening. Arriving home, my wife suggested that “quality time” was in order. Needless to say, I readily agreed. On to the story…
After a nice dinner and our very enjoyable evening afterwards, I was informed that it was now “playtime.” A grin painted my face. I liked the sound of that.
So, there I was, lying on our bed in my silk boxer shorts trying to be sexy for my wife, hands behind my head, relaxing while she “got ready.”
She appeared wearing a silk robe. I couldn’t wait to see what was underneath it. After lighting a few scented candles and turning on some soft jazz music, she finally opened her robe, revealing her surprise.
She was a vision in white silk and lace, from the lace teddy, to the lace garter belt, to the silk panties and stockings, capped off with the four inch heels that she calls her CFMPs (Come Fuck Me Pumps).
When I saw this ensemble, I began to rise from the bed, intending to take her in my arms; but, I was told to stay put. “Not yet,” I was told.
What a beautiful woman: all five feet tall and 110 pounds of her. Shoulder length chestnut hair and eyes with more than a hint of her Asian descent. Legs to die for… made to be admired, especially when she left a room. Let’s just say that this woman in stockings standing before me would make a very successful lingerie model.
So as I lay there, the effects of just seeing her began to tent my silk boxers. She made a slow cat-like crawl up from the foot of the bed, telling me not to move. Did that register in my testosterone-infested mind? Of course it didn’t; I was just enjoying the show.
Almost leisurely, bit by bit, she crawled up my body, planting kisses along the way. By the time she got to my neck, I’m sure I would have been able to drive a nail into a concrete wall with my dick.
She straddled me, pulling down part of her teddy to offer me a breast. I accepted it eagerly and began to lathe it with my tongue, nipping and tugging, nibbling and sucking. Then she pulled down the other side of her teddy and I took her other nipple into my mouth, this time sucking it deeper as I consumed her breast, taking her nipple as far into my mouth as I ccould and using my tongue to lick the underside of her breast as I pushed the nipple against the top of my mouth.
I am so engrossed with suckling at her breasts that I hardly hear the click of the handcuffs that she has placed on the headboard and fastened around my wrists.
With a wry smile, she sits up and says, “NOW it’s playtime.”
I am as hard as a missile and her womanhood is warm and wet and I can feel it getting wetter against my groin. She is beautiful, suddenly at odds with her heavenly visage, but definitely in control and having a good time making me want her even more than I already do. She will be in charge for the rest of the night and there is no doubt I will not be freed until she has been satisfied. To emphasize this, she kisses me lightly and tugs on the handcuffs binding me as she breathes into my ear, “You WILL be a good boy, won’t you?” The smirk on her face is priceless. It says, “You’re not going anywhere.”
She begins a slow, erotically excruciating journey down my body. She nips and nibbles on my nipples. I’m dying to touch her, but all I can do is flail about.
She reaches the waistband of my boxers. There is a large spot of precum on my boxers that shows exactly what effect she has had on me and she purrs, “Oh…Did I do that?” Without waiting for an answer, she draws my boxers down bit by bit, exposing my cock to the cool night air. She grips her hand around my shaft, slowly stroking up and down, as I moan at her touch.
With my hands still bound above my head, she decides that it is time to slow down, and releases me from her grasp. Sitting up and straddling my legs, she begins to play with her very erect nipples, pulling and twisting them. Now that I am fully under her control, all I can do is watch as she snakes a hand into her silk panties and begins to rub her pussy.
She was already hot and wet; the power of having me confined more of a turn-on than she originally thought it would be. I can only watch as she dips one finger, then two, into where I yearn to be. She brings her fingers to her mouth but then thinks better of it and presents them to me. I take them eagerly, savoring in the sweet taste of her nectar.
“Do you want some of this?” she asks as she pulls aside her panties to show me her beautiful pussy.
“Oh, God, yes,” I groan. I anxiously moisten my lips, eager to stroke her display with my impatient tongue. She spreads her labia, showing me just how glistening wet she is from all the teasing. She knows what’s in store for her when placed at the mercy of my talented mouth and her teasing is heightening the anticipation for both of us. When I work my magic on her clean-shaven mound, getting her to orgasm enhances our love-making. Watching her body’s reaction to my ministrations only intensifies my own pleasure and eagerness for more of her lovely body. Still confined with my hands above my head, she scoots forward over my body and presents me with her smooth pussy. I yearn to grab her and bring her to me, but she only lets me get a taste before backing away. She is in charge. My tongue flicks out, just nipping her bud, which elicits a moan. She is very wet and her nectar is flowing. She enjoys being in charge.
After a few more licks at her nub, she suddenly thrusts forward and I am engulfed in the sweetest flow of juices known to mankind. As she grinds her hips into my face, I continue to lick, lap and tongue furiously until her body stops shaking. I am surprised at myself for not coming yet.
Think about it… I have a beautiful woman in white lace, garters and stockings who has handcuffed me to a bed and made me service her. Wouldn’t you be ready to blow a load?
As she calms down, she lets out a low growl, one that I take as approval. I am still lapping up her juices slowly, rubbing just enough to elicit a soft hum. She reaches back and her fingers wrap around my very ready, very willing member.
“Hmm… seems like someone is enjoying this,” she taunts.
I can only grunt, “Uh-huh,” as my mouth is still busy swirling in her juices.
Slowly, she gets up off my face and stands next to the bed, still glowing from her orgasm, but clearly not ready to give me my release yet. She languishes there for a moment before announcing that she needs a glass of wine; and then she is gone.
I lay there, rock hard, hands still handcuffed to the headboard and wait for her to come back. After a few minutes, she reappears, offering me a sip of her drink.
Crawling atop me again, she straddles my legs and brushes her fingernails lightly on my slightly wilting member as if testing its strength. In response, I am fully erect again, yearning to feel her warmth wrapped around me. She giggles, knowing the exquisite torture she is putting me through and once more wraps her delicate fingers around my shaft.
“Would you like me to suck your cock?” she asks seductively. Rarely does she use this language, but she is obviously as turned on as I am.
The answer to her question is a no-brainer, but all I can do is moan, “Yes… please.”
Looking into my eyes with pure and simple lust, she snakes out her tongue and licks just the tip of my cock. My eyes roll back into my head with the mind-blowing sensation and my back arches in response. With a slight “Hmmm,” she takes the head of my cock into her mouth and begins swirling her tongue around it, flicking under the helmet and driving me insane.
I am near the point of no return when she stops, squeezing me at the base, saying, “No, not yet.” I groan in disappointment, anxious for relief. Still holding me in her hand, she twirls around. I realize that she has relieved herself of her panties as she passes a leg over my head, presenting me with a very wet, very juicy-looking pussy. Oh, the things my tongue will do!
I lap at her lips, spreading them and delving as deep into her folds as I am able, licking and sucking at her clitoris, all the while hoping that she will engulf me as I am engulfing her sweetness. She squeezes me tightly and thrusts her body down as another orgasm rolls through her body. As she floods my face, I feel her take me into her mouth, slowly, down to the root and then back up again. The pressure in my balls builds again, but she lingers only for a moment before releasing me from her mouth.
Again I groan in frustration, but with my face being covered by her pussy, the vibrations of my moans only cause another small orgasm as she shakes and shudders above me.
Talk about being at the boiling point! At this point I am so hard it is almost painful. I want to come so badly and she knows it. All I need is a few short strokes or a moment in her mouth and I’ll have my release.
Unfortunately for me, she knows this, and keeps up her death-grip on the base of my cock. She untangles herself from me, never once releasing the pressure, and reaches for what I think is her wine. WRONG! She has more in store for me as she produces an ice pack, which is suddenly, painfully, laid across my groin. Needless to say, the effect is like a cold shower and I begin to deflate immediately.
At this point the only thought running through my head is, “She’s having way too much fun with this,” but I am in no position to argue and I must admit I’m not too unhappy with the way things are progressing.
She looks at me for a moment, takes a sip of her wine, smiling as if she is the cat that just ate the canary and says, “Relax, I’ll be right back.” Removing the ice pack to reveal a much-deflated member, she places a towel over my eyes and leaves the room.
After what seems like hours, she comes back into the room, saying, “You bad boy, you got me sooooooo horny.” She whips the towel from my eyes, allowing me to see that she has changed her outfit.
No longer a vision in white lace, she is now wearing a black leather bustier with black stockings and heels. To add to the ensemble, she has black lace gloves that come up to her elbows. Slowly she peels the cups off the bustier, revealing her beautiful breasts.
Snaking up the bed again, my balls begin to tingle as she works her way up my thighs and takes my half-staff member into her mouth.
“Mmm… I love the way I can feel it get hard in my mouth,” she says between licking and sucking. Then she begins in earnest, taking me deep and sucking me to full hardness. All I can do is moan as she says, “Are you ready to fuck me?”
She straddles my hips, her pussy glistening, rubbing against my hardness and spreading her wetness over my cock. Her breasts in my face, I lick, suck and nibble while she coos and continues to taunt me with her pussy.
Suddenly, she rears back, a guttural groan coming from the back of her throat. Holding my stiff cock in her hand, she points it at her opening and impales herself on me.
We both cry out: me from finally getting to feel her silky warmness and she from being filled with my cock. She settles down on me and begins to rock slowly, back and forth, stimulating her clitoris with my groin as she pushes me deeper into her heavenly depths.
I strain at my bonds, wanting to take her and knead her swaying breasts, pushing my hips up as she begins to saw herself onto me in long, slow strokes.
Her hands are on my chest as she begins to ride me like there is no tomorrow. The look in her eyes is that of pure lust as she flails on top of me, swirling her hair and crying out, “Yes, Yes, Yes!”
When her orgasm hits, it is monumental, her body shaking and trembling like I have never seen before. She collapses on top of me, her breathing heavy, but with a satisfied hum to it. I am still rock hard within her folds.
Finally, she raises her head, kisses me deeply and purrs, “Hmm… I kinda like this ‘being in charge’ thing. I think you deserve a reward for all your hard work.”
With that, she dismounts me and slides down between my legs, immediately taking me into her mouth, cleaning her juices off of me. She sucks deeply, drawing more of me into her mouth and begins to bob her head up and down, bringing me closer and closer to the brink. Once again she wraps her fingers around my shaft, pumping me with both her hand and mouth, working me to heights I never thought possible.
As she feels me swell, she lets go and mounts me. The sensation of entering her is nothing short of incredible. I am so close. She leans in, gives me a kiss, and commands, “Fuck me! Fuck me now!”
That’s all I can take. I thrust up into her once, twice, three times and I am coming like I have never come before. My body tenses as every nerve is concentrated on the sensations running through my cock, and she convulses as well, squeezing me with her vaginal walls and milking me dry.
I must have passed out. When my eyes opened, my hands were freed and I was covered by a sheet. As I blinked back to reality, she approached, walking into the room with a cold drink for each of us.
“Are you okay?” she asks with a hint of concern as I sit up and take a sip.
I can only exhale, “Ahhmm…Never better. That was amazing! I can’t wait to see what you have planned for the rest of the weekend.”
She just grinned.

One Shot Deals: the Dancers
Having reached the age of fifty-five and grown invisible to young women, I find myself reminiscing more and more about my former sex life. It was a good one. The list of women I had intercourse with numbers thirty-six, unless I’ve forgotten one or two. As I created the list, I realized that more than a third of those were “one-night stands.” Seven of those relationships were just bad mistakes, “thinking with the wrong head,” and quickly remedied. Seven others, however, were among the most spectacular of my life. This is one of them.
The time is from fall of 1976 to no later than 1979. The exact dates are lost in the haze of memory. But the memories of specific events are still crystal clear. If you indulge me all the background material below, I promise to reward you with very juicy and graphic details of sexual revenge at its best.
For a few years I made my living performing in musicals, both on Broadway and on tour. I am straight, but more than half the men in musical theater are gay. This gave me a distinct advantage with all the heterosexual women in the various casts. Young women in the theater are fixated on their careers rather than “settling down,” yet still require sexual release. Also, as performers, they are narcissistic and totally into their usually gorgeous bodies. Because of this, during that phase of my life I was like a bumblebee in a meadow filled with daisies. If you can tolerate with their many-layered neuroses, yo