Steamy-Stories

She makes up for a lifetime of teasing.

by musicankane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I awoke to the unthinkable; Columbus High school had had a fatal shooting. I stood in shock as the news broadcast told the story about a outsider kid who got fed up with being made fun of and went nuts in the schools main courtyard with his Dad’s handgun, killing two and injuring thirteen before he killed himself.

Although this wasn’t the first time something like this happened in the country, but what made it so much of a shock for me was that Columbus High was not five miles from the high school I go to now; Longpark.

As I sat and ate breakfast I thought about how bad it must have been for the shooter. Getting made fun of was nothing new to me. I’m six feet tall and skinny, and I’m not really a vision of popularity. I know what it is like to get constantly harassed by everyone at school.

I found myself thinking about what I’d do in the same situation, and quickly shook the thoughts out of my head. As bad as being made fun of, I knew it would all pass after school was over and done with. Besides why would I want to be friends with the jerks from school? I wouldn’t mind a couple of the cheerleaders though but to hell with it.

At school the mood was definitely somber. The usual chatter of the main courtyard was down to a dull murmur. I think the scare of just how close that shooting was, really hit home with everyone at school. Even the jock table ignored me as I walked toward my class. No one even glanced my way to say some lewd remark or anything.

My first class was art and I really liked the teacher Mr. Mackey, but I liked sitting near the cheerleading team captain Stacy Child. She was a vision of complete perfection; I mean this girl could beat Britney Spears in a beauty contest on her best day.

I expected to continue our art project of drawing an imaginary neighborhood with the use of depth, but instead Mr. Mackey stood at the center of the room. He looked around at everybody before he spoke.

“I take it you have all heard about what happened at Columbus.” He said.

The room was silent and Mr. Mackey took it as a yes.

He turned toward where Stacy and a couple of jocks were sitting. “I want you to think about this for a minute. You might think that the young man who did this was some sick depraved kid or something, but the fact was, he was just another kid. He was someone who got made fun of and picked on and drove to the breaking point by other kids, just like you.” He turned to all of us and raised his arms. “It could happen here. You realize that? Think on that one guy who everybody makes fun of, think about the things you may have said to that individual and how it affects him.”

He put his hands down. “I would like you to think about what could be done to make it up to the one you all think is a loser, because you never know what that ‘loser’ may do tomorrow.”

While it was a good speech I couldn’t help thinking that everyone began to look at me. I mean sure I got made fun of a lot but did they really it think I was capable to do something like this?

Without turning around Mr. Mackey said. “Everyone get your supplies and continue with your projects.”

Once settling I resumed the work I was doing to a Victorian style house that I had place on the edge of my block. It was then that Stacy sat down next to me. I glanced up at her in surprise that she was sitting down next to me.

She caught my eye and smiled sweetly, a smile that warmed me. “Hi, James.”

I blinked and shook my head. “Uh, hi Stacy,” I looked around. “Did you want me to move?”

She put her hand on my shoulder. “No, no nothing like that. I just wanted to see what you thought of what happened.”

I looked at her and felt a bit of anger rise in me. She wanted to see if I was going to go psycho like the guy from Columbus.

“Why do you care about what I have to say all of a sudden?” I asked sharply.

She jumped in her seat slightly. “No reason I just thought I’d ask is all.”

“Yeah, you wanted to see if I was going to go all crazy like that other guy. You know what Stacy? You and your fucking jock asshole friends can go fuck themselves.” I said and took my stuff to another table.

She paused a minute and then came after me. “Hey wait a minute.” She said. “Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that you know? I just wanted to see if I could make up for being mean to you.”

“I’m well aware of the fact that you’re only doing this because of what Mr. Mackey said. I don’t want you to be sorry I want you all to go to hell and leave me alone. That alright with you?” I asked.

Stacy frowned. “I really do to want to make it up to you James. I never realized the effect teasing could have and I want to do what I can to make things better.”

I snorted to myself and said sarcastically. “I think a blowjob would make everything go away.”

Stacy was silent for a second then she put an arm around my back and leaned in real close. I froze as she pressed her lips to my ear and I could feel her warm breath flow over the side of my face.

“It’s a deal.” She whispered. Then she pushed away from me and walked back to her table.

My eyes widened and I sat still for a minute. When glanced at her, she had resumed her work like nothing had happened. Did she really say yes?

I didn’t have any other classes with her so as they day went on I figured she was joking and forgot about it. I did the various class assignments and by the end of the day the mood in school while still not normal had certainly elevated from what it had been this morning.

I went directly home after school, and first thing I noticed was a red Mazda sitting in my driveway. My Dad was in the kitchen sorting out a stack of papers and putting them in his briefcase.

He looked up when I walked in. “Hey son! Your friend just got here so I let her in, she’s waiting for you in your room. And let me tell you son, you’ve got yourself a hell of a looker there.”

“Stacy’s here?” I asked puzzled.

“Yeah, get up there and do your thing.” My dad said.

My dad is a dirty bastard sometimes.

I went upstairs to my room and opened the door, and sure enough, there Stacy was, staring at the posters on the wall. She turned to me as I came in and shut the door behind me.

“Why are you here Stacy?” I asked, eying her up and down despite myself. She had somehow changed her clothes and beat me here, which I never would have expected from the beauty queen. She wore a white tank top that cling to her body revealing the fact that she was not wearing a bra. Her large firm tits pressed at the top trying to be released and I imagined my hands squeezing the shit out of them. She wore now a pair of jean cut-off shorts that barely covered her ass. Her long legs were smooth and tan; I wondered how tight she could wrap them around me.

She leaned against the far wall of my room right next to the window. With her left hand she gave the blinds a jerk and they slide smoothly down, dimming the room.

“We made a deal.” She said softly.

“Deal?” I said. “Stacy that was a joke. Look I know you all give me nothing but shit, but you don’t have to make it up to me.”

She stepped toward me. “No one should have to go through the shit that me, the football team, and other cheerleaders put you through. I mean the incident with the honey and feathers, come on, you must have been cleaning that out of your hair for a week.”

I grimaced remembering the eight hours I spent in the tub scrubbing until the damn water was freezing cold.

She came up to me and took my hand. “James, think of this as the payment for all your suffering.”

I looked into those beautiful green eyes that I so often dreamt about and gave in. I nodded and smiled thinly. “Alright.”

She grinned and pushed me toward the end of the bed, where she left me standing. She backed up slowly, smiling at me as she reached my desk, she leaned back on it, making sure to press her chest out toward me.

She ran a hand across her stomach and said. “So what do you want to do to me?”

I swallowed, and my cock grew achingly hard in my pants. “I thought it was just a blowjob?” I said.

“I could do that.” Stacy said. “And more. Come on James, I know you’ve fantasized about me, everyone at school has. I’m giving you a chance to do whatever you’ve always wanted to me. Tell me what your biggest fantasy has been about me.”

I hesitated. “You really want to know?”

She smiled and nodded.

I sighed, “Don’t get mad because it’s a little weird.”

She scoffed. “Just fucking tell me already, would you?”

“Alright here goes.” I took a deep breath. “I always knew I’d never get you under normal circumstances, so what I would always dream of was we’d be at a party and you got a little too drunk, and end up hitting on me. Since I’d never get another shot and it’d be kind of a payback from me I’d take you upstairs and have sex with you.”

She seemed a little disappointed. “That’s it?”

I shook my head. “Even while you’re drunk you’d still be aware enough to tell me not to finish in you.”

She stopped me. “Finish?” She smiled. “Oh you mean cum!”

I nodded. “Yeah. You’d tell me not to, but I’d I was going to, anyway. I’d finally uh, cum inside you and leave you there. Then a few weeks later you’d find out that I got you pregnant, and we have to get married.”

She nodded. “Well unfortunately I can’t help you with the getting pregnant part because I’ve been on birth control since I turned eighteen, but I’ve always liked to roleplay so I think I can reenact some dirty talk for you that will drive you nuts.”

“Really? You’re going to let me have sex with you?” I asked brightly.

She nodded. “Oh yeah; and this time I’m going to make you cum inside my little pussy.”

The thought of that made my cock press into my zipper painfully, as if it understood and was trying to bust out. Stacy came toward me and pressed herself against me. I could feel her firm tits smash against my chest. She grabbed a handful of my hair and kissed me, driving her tongue into my mouth. I was unsure of how to react, but my body seemed to take care of that for me. I grabbed her waist and my tongue pushed hers into her own mouth and further. I could taste her, drink her in, and she moaned forcefully as I did so.

Finally she pulled away breathing deeply. “Oh wow.”

I smiled and pulled her top over her head. She didn’t fight it, and let me remove her top, revealing her toned stomach and large 36C breasts. I gripped one firmly and pulled it into my mouth, sucking and squeezing the soft flesh. Stacy moaned delightfully and ran her hands through my hair, pulling my head to her chest.

My cock was painfully confined and I needed it out, so I let her go and motioned to my crotch with my eyes. Stacy smiled and dropped slowly to her knees. I watched with eager eyes as the girl of my dreams reached up and undid my jeans and peeled them down. I kicked off my shoes and then kicked the jeans away. She rubbed my cock through my underwear for a second, before tugging the them down and off.

My cock sprang forth like a viper unleashed and Stacy gasped as it seemed to reach out for her.

“My god!” She said. “You’ve got an eight inch beast in here!” She exclaimed.

I really didn’t think I was that big, but if she said so, I wasn’t going to argue with her.

She wrapped her hand around my shaft and stroked slowly. “It’s so hard too. Are you made of skin or steel, James?” She laughed and brought her lips to the head of my prick. I felt her tongue snake around my tip and she opened wide to let my prick slide between her lips. Her breath was warm and I felt my cock get slick with her saliva. She bobbed her head up and down; sucking with a passion. I’d only ever had one blowjob before this, from my cousin Jessie, and she was nowhere near as good at ii, as Stacy was. Stacy worked her mouth over my cock like it was a vagina with a tongue. I felt a tightening in my balls as they became ready to shoot their burden into her mouth.

Stacy sensed I was close and she let my cock fall from her mouth, a long string of spit dripped from her chin to my prick. She looked up at me, “You wanted to cum inside me right?” she asked.

I could only nod, not sure if my mouth could form words.

She stood up and unbuttoned her shorts before slipping them off. Her pussy was bare and shaven smooth. I could see her lips and my cock twitched as if it saw them too, and wanted to bury itself into her as much as I did.

“What’s your favorite position?” she asked me, clutching one breast into her hand.

I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Doggie.” I said.

Stacy grinned. “Mine too!”

She turned toward my desk and planted her hands firmly on the top of the cold wood. She bent over as far as she could, pressing her ass out toward me, giving me a perfect view of her cunt.

She turned her head to look back at me. She reached around with one hand and spread her labia open so I could clearly see her dripping hole. “My pussy gets wet easily, but you’ve got a pretty big cock so go slow anyway, ok?” She said.

I walked up to her, completely intent on fulfilling my dream. I placed my hand on her ass and lined my cock up to her pussy, pushing lightly. The head of my cock popped in easily, and she gasped loudly. She was very tight though, and I had to work at pushing the rest of my shaft into her tight body. I grabbed her hips and began to slide in and out of her, her moans exciting me.

“Oh fuck me James!” she pleaded. “Your big fucking cock feels so good in my pussy! Oh! Fuck; I can’t wait for you to cum in me! I wanna feel your big cock shooting a big load inside my little pussy. I want to feel your little sperm trying to find my eggs.”

Her words drove me on and on. With each moan, each gasp for breath, I moved faster and harder into her. I looked down to see my cock sliding in and out of her. Her cunt gripped tightly on my cock every time I withdrew, as if trying to hold me in or pull me back. I could feel her juices on my balls and heard the slapping sound I made as I drove into her.

I reached around to grab her tits and she pushed her body up so I could reach easier. I pinched and twisted her nipples as I slammed my cock into her.

“Oh yeah, play with my tits. Squeeze my fucking tits!” She cried.

I felt the return of that tingle in my balls that slowly radiated up my shaft. My cock hardened and swelled, and I knew I was near the point of no return.

“I’m close.” I managed to grunt.

“Oh yes! God, James cum inside me. Make me cum with you, I want to feel you filling me with seed. Get me pregnant, you stud! Pump it all inside me so I can hold it in, I won’t let a single drop spill out.” Stacy screamed.

I grunted and shoved my cock all the way inside her when I exploded. She screamed as my semen erupted from my cock like someone popped a cream-filled balloon inside her. I came for what seemed like forever, my cock constantly twitched and throbbed inside her, oozing more and more seed into her.

Finally it was over and I slumped over her back. She sighed contently and kept her ass pressed to me so she could feel my cock get soft inside her. I backed away, and sat on the floor looking up at her.

Stacy stood and turned to face me. “My god, that was incredible.” She said. She grabbed her shorts and hiked them up. She grabbed her top off the floor and put that on while I just sat there naked and watching her.

“That was so good I want to do that again. What do you say?” She asked me.

I looked up at her. “Uh, sure.”

She got down on her hands and knees and took hold of my cock. She stuffed it into her mouth and licked and sucked all our juices off it, leaving only her spit left. Then she stood up again.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow at school and then maybe we can hook up afterward ok?” She said.

I nodded. “Ok.”

“Great.” She blew me a kiss and left.

We hooked up about twice a week for about a month straight, until one day Stacy came up to me with a gloom look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She just stared at me.

“Come on; what is it?”

“You’ve got your ultimate wish.” She said simply.

“What do you mean?” I asked; my heart in my throat.

“I’m pregnant.” She said.

I grinned, “Really?”

She nodded, and then a slow smile spread across her lips. “And yes, I will marry you.”

That’s how I got my wife Stacy. We got married right after we graduated and she gave birth to our little boy, in October of that year. That was twelve years ago and we are still together today.

Nobody makes fun of me anymore.

by musicankane for Literotica.

The first touch of his tongue sent a wave of pleasure right.

by Bumpinguglies - listen to Podcast

She hated staying at her parents place. Unable to think of her as anything but their baby, they always insisted on separate bedrooms for them both. They didn’t want to think of any man being inside their little girl, let alone the possibility of her enjoying it.

Still in the nightie she had worn just for show, but with the panties long gone, she lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, listening for the faintest creak of a floor board or the soft sound of a bare foot in the hallway outside her room. Her pussy tingled under the covers in anticipation of him coming to her, sneaking into her room to make love to her. What if he had fallen asleep waiting for her parents to go to bed. She didn’t even want to contemplate that. She needed release and prayed it would be him to give it to her and not her own fingers.

A slight creak outside her door brought her back from her thoughts and she watched as the door to her room slowly opened. Even in the darkness, she could make out his outline, framed in the light of the open doorway. Instantly, her nipples grew hard and her pussy wet between her legs.

She watched his dark shadow move across the room towards her and she almost stopped breathing in anticipation. The scent of his aftershave caught in her nostrils and she watched his clothes drop to the floor. She couldn’t see him clearly but imagined him naked, his cock hard and swollen and wanting her. God she was wet… Come and fuck me! She thought, her whole body aching with desire for him.

An unseen hand pulled back the covers and naked, he slipped in beside her. Almost at once, his mouth was on hers, kissing her passionately, his breathing deep and excited, he wanted her. She felt a hand slip up under her nightie and onto her breast, the touch of his fingers on her hard excited nipple sending waves of excitement down between her legs.

“Im”; she moaned as his lips slipped from hers and slid to her ear and lightly down her neck. As his mouth trailed down to kiss her erect nipples, she felt his hands pulling up her nightie. She raised her bottom and then her arms as he slid it off, a shiver of excitement coursing through her as he pressed his chest to hers, the hairs on his brushing lightly on her throbbing nipples.

Both squeezed into her single bed and knowing her parents were in the next room, oblivious to the fact that their precious little girl was about to be fucked and fucked hard, made it all the more exciting. They were just like teenagers sneaking in a quickie while the parents were downstairs.

She felt him slide down between her legs, parting them with his hands, waiting with agonizing anticipation for the first touch of his tongue on her wet dripping pussy, waiting for him to make it cum

The first touch of his tongue sent a wave of pleasure right through her and she thrust her hips up crushing her aching pussy against his mouth. Her legs wrapped around his head as he licked at her swollen clit and drenched opening. Over and over he massaged her clit with his tongue till she was bucking uncontrollably, her legs squeezing his head between them and biting her hand trying not to cry out.

He broke free of her thighs and slid up on top of her. They kissed and she could taste herself, smell her pussy on his lips, turning her on even more. Reaching down, she traced her long nails over his hard throbbing cock. His balls felt nice and swollen and ready for release. As she pulled his cock, he slapped her between the legs, making those nice wet lips puffy. They both needed to fuck so bad.

Afraid of the bed noise, she threw a pillow on the floor and quickly joined it, pulling him down onto herself.

“God I want you” she whispered in his ear,

No sooner had she uttered the words, her pussy was stretched open painfully as his hard throbbing cock forced its way inside her. She cried out, partly in pain and partly in pleasure as his swollen hard flesh filled her completely.

Digging her feet into the carpet, she pushed her hips up hard, matching his thrusts into her, fucking him hard, wanting every inch of him inside her.

“Fuck me!!” she almost yelled, forgetting where she was, driving her wet cunt up to meet his cock. “Cum in me, cum in me”.

Grabbing her under the knees, he bent her legs back and drove his cock deep inside her… again and again… fucking that drenched pussy, her excitement driving him on.

About to cum, he reefs his swollen cock from her pussy, just in time to watch it squirt thick strands of cum all over her face and tits.

‘If only they could see their little girl now’ she thinks as she scoops up some cum off her cheek and sucks it off her finger.

by  Bumpinguglies for Literotica

.

Husband returns early from a trip.

by Lost_in_her - listen to the podcast at Steamy stories

She flopped down on her back onto her bed, and sighed in pent up frustration. She could not deny it, she was So. Fucking. Horny.

Her husband had been away for nearly two weeks and was not due to be back for another two days.

She didn’t masturbate very often - her husband was always up for making her cum whenever she needed it, and this work trip was a rare occurrence.

‘Fuck it’ she thought. ‘I can’t wait!’

She quickly stood and stripped out of her clothes in front of the mirror, pinching her left nipple as she removed her bra. This stiffened it immediately and sent an electric shock directly to her pussy, which she felt was getting wet in anticipation.

She peeled her black lacy panties down over her hips and arse, noticing how moist they were already. Her pussy felt a chill as the cool air of the bedroom hit her wet folds. she ran two fingers across her hole and clit to lube them, and shuddered with need.

Grabbing her favourite vibrator from the top drawer, on her way back to her spot on the bed, she settled back and began to tease her now dripping pussy with her fingers, running two up and down around her outer folds and around the outside of her clit. teasing herself as she loved for her husband to do to her.

Dipping a finger just inside her tight hole, it came out glistening and she finally allowed herself to rub her clit, arching her back and letting out a deep moan.

Quickly grabbing her vibe and turning it on, she concentrated this on her favourite spot just above her clit, not directly on it. Her breathing quickened and deepened, almost beginning to gasp. She was now moaning continually, wishing she was not alone.

She allowed her fingers to tease her hole, as her orgasm built within her. But she could not cum. Reaching a high, and then dying off repeatedly, she let out a whimper of frustration. She really loved to have his cock inside her to squeeze down on when she came.

With her free hand she reached back over to the drawer, trying to control her twitching body as she held the vibrator against her clit. Her free hand clasped what she was looking for, her black rabbit dildo. She liked this, though not as much as the real thing.

Discarding the vibrator to one side, she lubricated the bulbous head of the dildo and slowly slid it inside her tight pussy, not stopping until the rabbit ears pressed into her clit. She switched on the two mechanisms for the rabbit ears and rotating internal shaft.

This was more like it! She screamed out in pleasure as she felt the rotation nudge her g-spot, as the rabbit ears buzzed either side of her clit. Panting and moaning, her orgasm built again quickly, this time not stopping as it crashed over the top.

Moaning in release, she felt her first orgasm of the evening, ripple through her body in waves. It ended as quickly as it started. She switched off the dildo and slid it out of her pussy, feeling empty and only somewhat satisfied. She continued to lay there for a few seconds.

Her pussy was twitching and dripping wet as she lazily played with herself. She thought again, that she liked the dildo but it was just not the same. she needed more. Reaching for her vibrator again, she kept going.

This time she got onto her hands and knees, hanging her feet off the bed, thinking that a different position might help achieve the total release she craved.

—-

He tapped his foot with impatience, as the taxi driver slowly turned the final corner into his street. Pulling up at the end of his drive, he quickly paid and retrieved his luggage from the boot of the car.

The house was quiet. only a couple of lights on as he walked up the drive. Their cat looked up at him in recognition from the living room windowsill, then nonchalantly went back to her personal grooming.

He unlocked the door and put his bags just inside the porch, laying the bunch of flowers he had bought her on top of them. He closed the front door quietly behind him. He was two days early by a lucky twist of fate, and wanted the surprise to have maximum impact. and hoped she would reward him with their usual passionate sex. Oh how he loved to make her cum.

He took off his jacket and slowly made his way through the house. As he got closer to the bedroom, he could hear something. heavy breathing and deep, guttural moans. Unmistakable sounds of sex.

He nervously crept towards the door, hoping his worst fears were not being realized. As he got closer he was pretty sure he could only make out one voice. phew! Then just as quick he thought, ‘maybe she discovered my surprise, and is surprising me right back!’

He silently poked his head around the bedroom door and saw his beautiful, sexy wife with her back arched on the bed, her black rabbit dildo clearly pushing her through the start of an orgasm.

Holy fuck, she’s hot, he thought, and he quickly fished his rock hard cock out of his pants, giving it a couple of strokes, as he watched her orgasm flow over her, as she writhed in pleasure.

Deciding on how he would achieve his ‘maximum impact’ surprise, he stepped back quietly out into the hall, away from the door, and stripped out of his clothes. Peeking back around the door, he saw that she had changed position; she was now on her hands and knees, on the edge of the bed with her face buried in a pillow.

That settles it, he thought. 'She must know I’m back. she knows I love doggy!’

She had switched to her favorite vibrator, the one he had bought her. She was rubbing this around her clit and playing with her tits, using the pillow to muffle her screams. He tugged at his big cock once more, a drop of precum sneaking out of the tip. and coating his head. Now or never…

—-

She pressed the tip of the vibrator back against her clit, twitching violently as it was still sensitive from her recent climax. She powered through, and again felt her orgasm building inside her.

She grabbed a pillow and buried her face into it, then, used her free hand to pinch and play with her nipple, the pillow muffling her moans of pleasure. Still, her release would not come; she needed more. Her pussy twitched with desire to be filled once more.

Time slowed a beat as she felt a presence in the room, and she let out a yelp of surprise as she felt something warm and hard drag up the length of her pussy from clit to dripping hole.

She pulled forward a few inches in shock at the intrusion, and her head shot up from the pillow, looking back and into the eyes of her husband. She instantly relaxed. She had somehow managed to keep the vibrator on her clit the whole time.

“Oh!” She exclaimed in surprise at seeing him here. Then “Oh Yes” all in one word as he grabbed her hips and pulled her arse back towards him, dipping the head of his fat prick into her hot pussy.

“Please,” she whimpered as the vibrator continued to buzz around her clit, and he did nothing more than tease her with the first inch. “I need it so bad”

Not being one to disappoint, he started a slow thrust, pushing through her tight folds until his balls tickled just below her clit, then pulling back a half inch and pushing back in sharply.

She came immediately, exploding from her pussy outwards in waves throughout her whole body, her pussy clamping around his invading cock. No longer masking her noise, she screamed in pleasure.

As she began to come down from her monstrous orgasm, he began to move in earnest, pulling half of his cock out and slamming back in, over and over, the first few thrusts, extending her orgasm by a few seconds each.

She dropped the vibrator and it buzzed comically against the bedsheets. She panted as she concentrated on his wonderful cock, sawing in and out of her well satisfied pussy, using her muscles to squeeze and milk his cock.

Slowing his thrusts and pulling out almost all of the way, he had her feeling empty again for a split second, before sliding back in in slow, long strokes - the way he knew she loved to be fucked. He kept this rhythm up.

To her surprise, she felt the stirrings of a third monster orgasm begin to build. They were both breathing heavy and moaning with desire, when she felt his hands leave her hips.

He bent forward, sliding his left arm under her, and wrapping around her shoulder, then lifted her body so he could kiss her neck with his rugged, bearded face.

She arched her back in response, allowing him to penetrate her deeply. From this angle, his cock raked over her g-spot with every thrust.

She was overcome with passion, on the brink of cumming all over his cock again. Then he grabbed the vibrator with his free hand and brought it back into contact with her clit.

For the third time that night, she exploded in orgasm. She couldn’t hold herself up anymore and fell forward, dislodging half of his cock in the process. Registering slight emptiness, her brain took over and she thrust herself back into his body until he was balls deep again, all the while her orgasm continued to rip through her, and made her pussy contract around his cock.

This was enough to push him over the brink, she felt his cock expand within her slightly, and he let out a guttural roar of pleasure. Time slowed again as she felt his cock fire shot after shot of hot cum, as deep as he could within her pussy. His animal thrusts and spurting cock intensified her orgasm, and she almost passed out before collapsing fully forward on the bed and dislodging his cock.

He collapsed into a seated position against the wall, gasping for breath.

Using her hand to stop the cum flowing out, yet still a little seeped around her fingers, she looked back at her husband over her shoulder, now at eye level against the wall.

“Fuck” she gasped. “You came home early!”

“Actually” he replied, grinning like a horny teenager “I think you’ll agree, it was perfect timing”

by Lost_in_her, for Literotica

A story of my Jason Biggs moment with a sexy nurse.

by Stopokochac. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

It was the late 2000s, in my hometown in Northern California. I was 18 and although I had never been intimate with a woman before, I knew my body very well.

My sex drive was high, my hormones were raging, and I always knew my first sexual experience with a woman would play out like that classic scene from “American Pie”.

That particular year, I was having some issue with my bladder, and my doctor suggested I see a specialist who could perform an ultrasound. Never would have I imagined that such a routine medical procedure would end up being my first sexual experience.

There I was laying on the exam table of a dimly lit hospital room. The atmosphere was calm and relaxing. Suddenly, this sexy nurse, well into her mid 40s enters the room. She was tall, with light brown hair and glasses. Her uniform wasn’t doing much to hide her large mature breasts and sexy cleavage. I couldn’t believe my luck. This is usually the sort of thing that only happens in porn flicks. The moment she walked in, my heart skipped a beat, and stomach immediately filled with butterflies. Of course it was a dream come true, but I never expected that things would go as far as they did.

The exam started off pretty normal. She pulled up my shirt and began to ultrasound my stomach. The gel she put on the device had a warm, slimy texture that had a strange but pleasant sensation. She did an ultrasound on my stomach for maybe a minute or two, then suddenly out of the blue she stops and says to me, “Undo your shorts for me.”

I must admit, her remark caught me a little off guard. It wasn’t the first time a medical professional had told me to unbutton my shorts, but the wording she used and the way she said it, immediately turned me on. My heart skipped a beat, as I felt my dick suddenly get a little bigger.

I unbuttoned my shorts as she requested, but deliberately left the fly up. I must admit, the chances of her undoing my fly herself seemed extremely slim, yet there was a large part of me that was hoping. Low and behold, without uttering another word, she reaches down and with the tips of her long, unpainted, but well manicured fingers, begins to unzip my shorts, popping my fly wide open. Mind you, she wasn’t wearing any gloves during any of this. In less than a second, my dick went from calm, to the hardest it’s ever been. At this point, she still had no idea her medical exam was turning me on, and I was able to reach through my pocket and readjust my 6 inch boner.

She slid the device into the band of my boxers. The sensation of the warm gel felt even more pleasant on my hairy pubic mound, and with every movement of the device, my heart skipped a beat and my stomach filled with butterflies. I could feel myself getting harder and harder, and the tension starting to build, as her sexy bare hand slid further and further down my boxers, the device inching closer and closer to my virgin dick. I knew a millimeter further, and I wouldn’t be able to control myself.

Suddenly, I felt it. That warm tingling feeling I had experienced so many times, and I knew there was no stopping it. With the inevitable about to happened, I did the only thing I could. I reached through my short’s pocket and squeezed my foreskin as tight as I could, in a last ditch effort to stop my virgin cum from exploding all over her unprotected hand. I saw her glancing back and forth at the monitor, and the only thing going through my mind was whether she knew. She removed the device from my shorts, handed me some tissues and sent me to the bathroom. It was at that point I knew she knew.

I attempted to clean myself off as best as I could, but there’s only so much you can do with tissue paper. She gave me my prognosis and sent me on my way, giving no mention of the awkward incident that had just occurred. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough already, my mom was in the examination room with me. The plan was to take me out to breakfast, then straight back to high school. I ended up having to walk around with jizzed shorts for the rest of the day, because I wasn’t about to tell my mom I need to go home and change, because the hot nurse made me cum. But what a story I had to tell my friends that day. The story of my first sexual experience with a real woman, albeit unintentional. The kind of experience other teenagers only dream about.

To this day, I still get the occasional jealous guy, who refuses to believe that such an incident actually happened to me. I can only imagine what was going through that nurse’s head the moment she realized what she had done. I can safely assume, she probably never again performed that procedure without gloves. Whether her actions were intentional or not, she will always be the woman who took my innocence, and that’s a moment that will stay with me forever.

The End.

by Stopokochac for Literotica.

.

-

Best friend offers Her boyfriend to take Katie’s virginity.

By DanDraper. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

KATIE’S STORY

Katie woke up feeling like shit. She laid in bed wondering what the hell she was thinking of drinking as hard as she did last night. It took her a few minutes to realize she was fully naked under her blanket and suddenly remembered the incredibly handsome man she was hanging out with at the bar. She looked over at the other side of her bed. He was not there, nor were there any signs that he was around.

She remembered him taking her home and her having to drag him into the bedroom. She thought long and hard, trying to remember if they had sex or not.

“Oh, I remember now,” she said to herself.

It took a moment, but she suddenly remembered feeling very sick. The guy recognized that she was going to throw up and quickly took her to the bathroom, got her head in the toilet, and she vomited like she had the Spanish flu.

After that, everything was very hazy. She had no idea how she got naked and into her bedroom, or if she had had sex with the man she met. She doesn’t feel like she had sex, but then again, she wouldn’t know how it would feel afterwards. Katie was a virgin, or at least she thinks she still is, depending on what happened to her last night. She was setting out to finally have sex but was hoping to remember the experience as she hadn’t planned on drinking so heavily.

She heard a noise outside of her bedroom, she could tell there was someone in her kitchen. If it was the man she took home last night, he could shed some light on the subject. She found some clothes to quickly put on and left the bedroom. She was incredibly nervous about seeing that man. She hoped she hadn’t fully embarrassed herself in front of him.

As she reached the kitchen, her nervousness went away and was replaced with disappointment. It was not the sexy man she hoped she had sex with, but her best friend Jennifer, making coffee.

“Good morning, sunshine,” said Jennifer.

“Good morning,” Katie replied. “This is going to sound awkward, but did you see someone else around her before?”

“Oh, you mean that super sexy Marine you took home last night?” Jennifer asked. “I have to say, you’ve got good taste.”

Katie sat at the kitchen table, trying to ignore the massive hangover headache she was getting.

“I don’t remember much after I vomited last night. I’m trying to piece together what happened.”

“Let me fill in the gaps for you,” said Jennifer, as she got two cups of coffee ready for the both of them. She handed one to Katie and took the seat next to her. “He took you home because he saw how drunk you were from the way you were all over him despite how much he resisted your advances.”

“He resisted me?” Katie asked. “I thought it was mutual.”

“You were drunk, you thought what you wanted to think,” Jennifer reminded her. “So, after he took you home and you repeatedly tried to get him to fuck you, but he didn’t, he saw you were going to throw up and took you to the bathroom. After you vomited and began crying on the floor.”

“I cried, oh no,” Katie said, looking very embarrassed.

“He then looked through your phone and called me. When I came, he helped me get you washed up and undressed and took you to bed before he left, and I slept next to you all night.”

“Oh God, I feel so stupid,” said Katie as she took a sip of her coffee. “Did the marine leave his number by any chance?”

“Katie, that guy was gay,” Jennifer revealed. “I know because when I arrived, I first accused him of trying to take advantage of you. That’s when he told me he was gay and showed me proof by showing me photos on his phone of him and his boyfriend, some of which had them making out with each other.”

Katie felt like the biggest idiot in the world. She couldn’t believe she spent the whole night hitting on a gay guy.

“That means, it was all for nothing,” Katie began to say. “That means I’m still a ..”

Katie stopped herself before she revealed anything she didn’t want Jennifer to know.

“Yes, you’re still a virgin,” said Jennifer. “The gay marine told me that’s what you were crying about after you vomited.”

“Oh, shit.”

Katie felt incredibly embarrassed. It was a secret she was trying to keep from everyone.

“I can’t believe you never told me you’re still a virgin,” Jennifer snapped at her. “I’m your best friend; these are things you should be telling me.”

“It was embarrassing to be a woman my age and still a virgin. I couldn’t tell you or anybody, let alone you.”

Katie and Jennifer both grew up with religious families and went to the same strict Catholic school where they met and became best friends. Katie was always the more religious of the two, while Jennifer was the more fun one who was more obsessed with boys. Jennifer was the first of their entire group of friends to have sex in their senior year, while the others lost their virginities throughout their senior year.

Katie lied to her friends in order to impress them by saying she had sex with her then-boyfriend after their senior prom at a hotel they got. She had planned to lose her virginity to him, but right before she was going to get undressed for him, her Catholic guilt got the better of her and she began crying, telling him how she couldn’t do it. Her boyfriend did not want to put any pressure on her and told her she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want.

After that, she told him he could tell his friends they slept together because she knew he was also looking forward to it. She felt embarrassed about still being a virgin herself, so she lied to her friends about sleeping with him and how great it was.

Over the years, she made up excuses not to sleep with the men she dated, often because of her religious beliefs. To avoid embarrassment, she lied about the men she had slept with to her friends; never too much to make herself look like a slut, but not too little to make herself look like a prude either. When pressed for details, she kept it vague and said what she thought was right.

She had hoped that she would eventually find the right man, get married, and it would all be over. But she was on the verge of turning 30, and it was getting too frustrating for her. At that point in her life, she didn’t care what her religious beliefs told her about waiting for marriage; she just wanted to get laid.

In the last year, Katie had tried to have sex with the few men she dated, but she was having incredibly bad luck with them; one guy turned out to be married, another also had religious hang-ups about sex, and two others were just straight-up jerks to her. She was close to two other guys, one who had a bad case of premature ejaculation and always shot his cum right before they got to business, and another who couldn’t get it up at all and refused to get Viagra.

She tried to do an online hookup using Tinder and other similar apps, but found that some of them were straight up creepy. She didn’t know how some of her other friends were able to find online hookups without getting stalked by some of those weirdos. One guy she found online seemed like an ordinary guy until she found out he wanted them both to have sex while dressed in fluffy animal costumes; she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

After getting a little desperate because she was less than a week away from turning 30, she decided to just meet a guy at a bar for a random hookup. She went to a bar that was frequented by military types, hoping to be fucked by a handsome war vet who had just come back from overseas. She heard from her friends how good in bed most of them were and hoped it was true. She only drank to calm her nerves about being there for a hookup, only to find herself drinking too much and not realizing she was hitting on a gay guy the whole time.

Katie confessed everything to Jennifer, who still looked dumbfounded from hearing how her best friend was still a virgin.

“This is unbelievable,” said Jennifer. “Those nuns at Catholic school really did a number on you.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t become one of them,” Katie replied.

Jennifer was surprised that Katie had no luck getting a man to sleep with her. She would’ve figured she could’ve had any man she wanted. Katie was a very attractive woman, with long red hair and a decent figure. Her breasts weren’t huge, but she had seen her naked and could tell she had a good pair on her that most men would love to get their hands on.

“So, you had no sexual experience whatsoever?” Jennifer asked. “Like, other things besides intercourse?”

“What do you mean by that?” Katie asked.

Jennifer motioned with her hand to mimic giving a handjob.

“Oh, yeah, I have given plenty of handjobs,” Katie revealed. “I had to eventually do something to keep some of the men I dated happy. And in the last few years, I learned to give oral sex as well, and let guys finger me.”

“At least you’ve done something. So, I understand why you went to that bar last night, so let me help you with your problem.”

“Help me how?” Katie asked.

“I’m going to help you get laid, of course,” Jennifer replied. “You have three days before you turn 30, and I’m going to hook you up.”

“How are you supposed to do that?”

Jennifer assured her, “Just leave it to me. You were ready to find yourself a random hookup. I can find you that hookup myself.”

“So, you’re just going to get me a guy to help me get laid as if it’s that easy?”

“Do you want to be a virgin in your 30’s?” Jennifer asked.

“No, of course not.”

“Then just leave it to me.”

JENNIFER AND JOSH

Later that day, Jennifer’s boyfriend, Josh, came over to her apartment for dinner and a movie, and, of course, to spend the night with her. The dinner was alright. Jennifer had become a better cook than she was when they first met, especially since he gave her advice on how to improve her cooking skills.

After dinner, Jennifer brought out a cake for dessert. She bought it from a bakery as she had failed in her last few attempts at making one on her own.

“How’s Katie doing after last night?” he asked.

Josh was there when Jennifer got the call. They were about to go to sleep after fooling around when her phone kept going off, and she answered it, thinking it was Katie, when it was some other guy who took her home. As Jennifer explained to him what had happened to Katie, he tried his best not to laugh at her situation, especially the part where she found out the marine that she was hitting on turned out to be gay.

Afterwards, Jennifer told Josh about Katie’s big secret and was floored when he heard it. He knew she was very religious, but never thought she might be a virgin. He knew a lot of religious people growing up, and they never stayed virgins for that long. Even the few religious girls he dated before Jennifer liked to fool around.

“I can now understand why she wanted a bar hookup,” said Josh.

“So, that brings me to what I need to ask you. I want to help her get laid before she turns 30 in a few days, and I thought maybe you know someone among your group of guys who could help her out.”

“You want to set her up with one of my friends for a random hookup?” asked Josh. “How about I hook her up with someone to date? I know a few who are good boyfriend material for her.”

“No, she needs to get laid fast. Dating could take time before sex. I know some people move fast these days when dating, but not always.”

“Ok, I guess I can think of one or two people who could help,” Josh told her.

Josh thought long and hard, thinking about every one of his friends and even considering his brothers and a couple of cousins. For everyone he thought of, he could find a reason why they wouldn’t be a good idea, even for just a hookup. A lot more of his friends are either married or in some other kind of relationship these days. A few others now live too far away and probably won’t travel a few hours just for a hookup, no matter how horny they may be, especially at such short notice. There were one or two guys he knew of who were definitely into random hookups, but they were such jerks, he couldn’t do that to Katie. There were a few others, but they were more of the relationship type of guys, not the random hookup types.

“So, can you think of anybody?” She asked because Josh was taking a long time coming up with a name.

He told her, “No, I can’t think of anybody. Everyone I know has a reason why I can’t suggest them.”

Jennifer felt very disappointed. She was really hoping Josh could come through for her. But after he explained to her all the reasons, he couldn’t suggest any one of them. She had no choice but to agree with them. He apologized for not being able to help, but Jennifer said he didn’t have to because it wasn’t his fault. She told him to forget the subject and they cleaned up the table to be ready for the movie they were going to watch.

They were on an 80’s movie binge over the last month, watching some of the best films of the decade. They didn’t go in any particular order, just randomly choosing whatever film from that era they wanted to watch. Tonight’s film was “The Big Chill” from 1983, about a group of former college friends who spend the weekend together after the funeral of one of their friends. They loved the movie; it was a funny yet heavy-hearted film.

One of the things Jennifer found most interesting about the film was how the character Sarah wanted to help her friend Meg, who wanted to have a baby by getting her husband Harold to sleep with her. It was an incredibly awkward situation for someone to ask their husband to knock up one of their closest friends, but she convinced him to do it and they still remained friends afterwards.

Jennifer was surprised that the character of Sarah came to that kind of decision, but definitely understood; when your friend is in need of something, you would do anything to help them out. She found this relatable to her own situation with her best friend Katie and came to the decision that she should offer up her boyfriend just for one night to help her lose her virginity.

She wasn’t going to ask Josh about this right away after the movie ended, so she decided to wait until the morning to bring it up. When the film was finished, they discussed the film for a while, telling each other what they liked most about it. Afterwards, they went to bed to make love, and he spent the night.

In the morning, Jennifer woke up earlier than Josh to make his favorite breakfast, blueberry pancakes. She knew she wasn’t that good of a cook, but she was a queen at making pancakes. She had gotten a good stack ready for him just as he came into the kitchen.

“Oh, nice,” he said as soon as he saw the pancakes. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just because I like you so much,” she told him.

They gave each other a big kiss and sat down to eat breakfast. Jennifer wanted Josh to be extra happy to make him ready to ask him her big favor.

“What do you think about Katie?” she asked.

He replied, “She’s a great person.”

“Do you think she’s pretty?” she asked.

Josh had to think about that for a moment because it sounded like a trick question; most women don’t ask if their boyfriends think their friends are pretty.

“And before you have to think about it, this is not a trick question. I generally want to know,” she assured him, because she could see he was worried about answering the question honestly.

“Ok, yeah, she’s a pretty girl,” he responded. “It makes me more surprised she’s still a virgin; I would’ve figured a lot more guys would be all over her.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad she couldn’t find the right one to show her how wonderful sex could be.”

“If you want, I could still set her up with the guys I said would be good boyfriend material,” he told her. “She may still have to be a virgin after she turns 30, but she could wait a little longer.”

“I think I know one guy in particular who could help her with her situation,” said Jennifer. “A wonderful man who I know personally is amazing in bed.”

She said that last part as she grabbed his hand and looked deeply into his eyes.

“Where are you going with this?” he asked. He had his suspicions but wanted to hear it from her.

“I think you should be the one to take Katie’s virginity,” she finally revealed.

Josh burst out laughing, assuming Jennifer was making a crazy joke. After he finished laughing, he saw in her face how serious she was.

“Oh shit, you’re serious?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m serious. She knows you, she’s comfortable around you, and I personally know you can show her a good time in bed.”

“What made you think this would be a great idea?”

Jennifer reminded Josh about the move they saw last night and explained the reasons why it would work.

“That was just a movie,” he told her. “No woman in real life would offer up her husband like that, let alone her boyfriend.”

This was not going as smoothly as she hoped it would. She thought Sarah convinced Harold and Meg too easily to sleep with each other, and it did look like the movie never fully showed the conversations she had with them to convince them either. She still had to try nonetheless.

Jennifer continued to say, “I still think it should be you. If not, she may not have that chance for a good long time. Even if you do set her up with one of your friends, who knows what could happen in the long run? She needs this before she turns 30.”

“Is having to do this before she’s 30 really that important?”

“Would you have been OK with being a virgin after 30?” she asked in response.

Josh thought about it for a moment. He lost his virginity just after he turned 18, almost 15 years ago. He was no Casanova, but he did alright over the years with women until he met Jennifer, the best relationship he ever had. He would do anything for her, but he never expected her to ever ask him something like that.

He thought about Katie’s situation as well. Being a virgin at 30 was kind of bad, although not unheard of in these modern times. He thought it was a bad idea, but at the same time, he couldn’t help thinking how Katie nearly got into a bad situation the night before.

“I can’t help thinking how lucky she was to have run into a gay guy who helped her out the other night instead of some creepy dude who would have taken advantage of her and possibly hurt her. She is very naïve when it comes to this stuff, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is,” Jennifer replied.

“And you’re sure you would be OK with this?” he asked.

“It’s just one night, you would be helping someone out greatly, and our love is strong enough to overcome any kind of awkwardness about it.”

He thought about it some more, needing to be absolutely sure it was definitely a good idea. It may be an easy decision for some men. Some of his friends would’ve said yes right away, not caring about any consequences. But he was a different kind of man. He felt there were lines you shouldn’t cross, and he never cheated on anyone. Technically, he would not be cheating since it was done with Jennifer’s encouragement, but it was still very similar.

“So, is that a yes or not?” she asked demandingly.

“Hey, give me a break. You just sprung this on me like five minutes ago, and it’s still early in the morning.”

She backed off to let him think about it some more, but she was getting anxious for an answer. She watched him eating his pancakes as he continued to figure out all the pros and cons of the situation. She couldn’t blame him. As much as she hoped for a quick yes answer, she knew it was a highly unusual request.

“Ok, I’ll do it,” he finally answered. “Only because I don’t want her in another situation like she was in the other night and at least I can prepare her for what she may experience.”

Jennifer was so excited that she grabbed Josh by the shirt collar and pulled him in for a big, passionate kiss. She let him go, and he had a big smile on his face.

“You’re the best boyfriend,” she told him.

“Just so we can clear the air here, you’re happy that your boyfriend is going to be sleeping with your best friend?”

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

“Whereas most women never want that to happen for very obvious reasons?”

“Yes, I am aware of how weird all of this is, but I assure you that I am very much OK with it,” she assured him.

They continued eating their breakfast and discussing the situation some. The only thing she now had to do was convince her best friend to sleep with her boyfriend.

JENNIFER AND KATIE

“Are you out of your mind?” Katie asked.

“Listen, I know this all sounds a little crazy..”

“Not a little crazy, a lot crazy,” said Katie.

It was later in the day, after Jennifer had her big conversation with Josh. She was sitting with Katie at a booth in their favorite restaurant, where they often met for dinner. Jennifer invited her to dinner to discuss a guy she wanted to hook her up with to help her lose her virginity, and Katie was very excited about it. When she said it was someone that Josh knew, Katie was hoping it was one of his cute friends, but she did not expect it to be her Jennifer’s boyfriend.

“I’ve thought this through; it’s a perfect idea,” said Jennifer. “And Josh is all for it.”

Katie looked very surprised. She didn’t think she had talked to Josh about it already and that he was somehow OK with the situation.

“Seriously? He wants to sleep with me?”

“It took some convincing, because he didn’t say yes right away, obviously. But in the end, he thought it was a great idea.”

“You’re asking me to sleep with your boyfriend,” Katie replied. “What made you think this was a good idea and that I would say yes to it.”

“Have you ever seen the movie The Big Chill’?” Jennifer asked.

“Are you serious? Harold and Meg? That’s what made you think this would work?”

Jennifer was surprised that Katie had already seen the movie, but it did make it easier for her to discuss it with Katie.

“It worked out in the movie. Sarah cared about her friend so much she offered up her husband to get her pregnant, and afterwards, Sarah and Meg were still friends, and it didn’t ruin her relationship with Harold.”

“That was just a movie,” Katie replied. “But you don’t actually see how Sarah convinced Harold and Meg to sleep together, because the writers knew there was no way to make a conversation realistic enough to show how it would be so easily done.”

“Oh, wow, I never thought of it like that.”

Katie continued, “Also, they had artificial insemination back then. Why didn’t Sarah just ask Harold to just be a sperm donor and go to a clinic to get it done?”

“Meg was ovulating during that weekend. It had to be then.”

“They still could’ve waited another month,” Katie replied. “Also, there was no telling if she would get pregnant the first time. If she didn’t, does that mean she’d have to keep coming back to sleep with Harld until she does?”

Jennifer had to think about that whole scenario in that movie. She could now see that there were some plot holes there.

Jennifer continued her argument. “Ok, you’re right about the movie. But I’m still right about this. Josh would be a great person for you to finally experience sex with, and you should do this before you actually turn 30. Being a 30-year-old virgin is not unheard of, but it’s not something anybody wants, and I know you don’t want that, which is why you’ve been trying extra hard this past year to get laid.”

“I can’t believe it’s actually that hard for me to get laid,” said Katie very sorrowfully. “I’m an attractive woman. I should be having more men coming after me and getting me into bed with them.”

“You can question your bad luck with men as much as you want, but you don’t have much time to get this kind of opportunity.”

Katie thought about it long and hard. It was a good offer, and she had always thought Josh was a very sexy man and was often jealous that Jennifer got to have a guy like him. But it was still a very unusual situation; women don’t usually ask their best friends to sleep with their boyfriends, after all.

“Listen, I have to admit, I do like that idea,” Katie finally admitted. “If my situation was different, it would definitely be a hard no.”

“But you do like that idea,” Jennifer said with a grin.

“Yes, but I feel like a bad friend for even considering it, despite how much you’re OK with it. This is not what best friends do to each other, no matter what the situation may be.”

“Listen, I understand,” said Jennifer as she reached out and held Katie’s hand. “But I don’t think you would be a bad friend for saying yes. I love this idea, and I think it would be a wonderful thing.”

Katie had to think about it long and hard, making Jennifer anxious to hear her decision. She wanted to say some more things to Katie to convince her to say yes, but she didn’t want to push her.

“Ok, I’ll do it,” Katie finally answered. “If you and Josh are OK with it, I’ll do it.”

Jennifer almost squealed in excitement. She never thought she would be happy to get her best friend to sleep with her boyfriend.

“Ok, I’ll let him know you’re all aboard and make sure he comes by tomorrow night, so you better be ready for him.”

“What? Tomorrow night?” said Katie very nervously. “Oh my God, I just remembered that tomorrow night is the last night of my twenties. I don’t know if I can be ready in one day.”

Katie was breathing heavily, thinking about the situation and how soon she would finally be having sex.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” Jennifer assured her.

“What if I’m terrible?” Katie asked. “What if Josh doesn’t do a good job?

Jennifer put her hand over her mouth to muffle the laugh she was about to make. It took a few seconds for her to get control of herself.

Jennifer assured her, “Trust me, sweetie, he won’t disappoint you. If he wasn’t that good in bed, I wouldn’t be with him right now, no matter how well we get along in everything else.”

KATIE AND JOSH

Katie spent the majority of the day both getting ready for her big night and panicking about it. As much as she was assured by Jennifer that everything would be alright and she would have a great time, she was still incredibly nervous. Even her old Catholic guilt was starting to come back, telling her she was going to hell for this. But she realized it was all just nerves and that it would go away.

At exactly 7 p.m., there was a knock on the door, right when Jennifer said Josh would arrive. She was impressed with how punctual he was, but she didn’t know that Josh had actually come 15 minutes earlier and was just hanging around the hallway outside Katie’s apartment, getting himself ready for what he was expected to do. As confident as he usually was, he was incredibly nervous; even with Jennifer’s encouragement, it was still an unusual situation. He took those 15 minutes to get himself prepared to meet Katie, telling himself that he was not just helping his girlfriend’s best friend, but someone he thought was a friend also.

Katie answered the door and saw Josh standing there in a suit with no tie. She thought he looked incredibly handsome standing there; he was tall, clean-shaven, and muscular with short black hair.

Josh also thought Katie looked beautiful in her short black dress that showed a small amount of cleavage on top. He still couldn’t believe that this beautiful woman standing before him was still a virgin.

They greeted each other, and she asked him to come in. Josh handed her a bouquet of flowers.

“Oh my God, you didn’t have to do this,” she said gleefully. “Was this Jennifer’s idea?”

“No, it’s all me,” he told her. “I just thought it somehow seemed appropriate.”

Although the flowers were his idea, he didn’t mention that Jennifer helped him pick out his clothes for the occasion.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

She led him to the kitchen to put the flowers in a pitcher she had and filled it with water; the pitcher would work until she found a vase for the flowers.

At the kitchen table, Josh saw that Katie had made them both a fancy dinner. He was impressed with how the food looked and smelled.

“You didn’t have to make us dinner.”

“I felt like I had to,” she replied. “I didn’t feel right with you just coming here and us going straight to the bedroom. It made me feel kind of…”

“Nervous,” he said, trying to finish her sentence.

“Slutty,” she replied. “I know it sounds strange, but I feel slutty just taking you straight to the bedroom.”

“I see,” said Josh. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you’re slutty at all.”

“Thank you, it does make me feel better,” she replied. “Also, I thought we could have a nice dinner and have some fun eating and talking before we… you know… get down to business, I guess you can say.”

Before they took their seats, Josh took off his suit jacket and put it on the back of his chair while Katie tried to open a bottle of wine for them. Josh saw she had trouble with the bottle and insisted on opening it himself and pouring it into both of their wine glasses.

He was impressed with the meal she had made. Katie told him it was parmesan risotto with roasted shrimp. He felt like he was in heaven after his first bite; he was surprised that someone who was so close to Jennifer was a better cook than she was. He told Katie how wonderful it was, and she was glad to hear it.

They talked a little while they ate, talking about a variety of things. They were surprised at how much they had in common. They did their best not to talk about Jennifer; they didn’t say it to each other, but they both figured talking about her would kill the mood for what they were going to do later.

“This meal was fantastic,” said Josh as he finished his last bite. “I’m surprised you’re not a chef.”

“If you think that’s good, wait until you taste the dessert I made.”

“Wow, after seeing how good this meal was, I would love to eat whatever you made for dessert,” said Josh.

There was a long pause, and Josh noticed that Katie had something to say.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing is wrong,” she assured him. “I just think we should skip dessert and go straight to the bedroom.”

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” he asked.

“Yes, now is the perfect time,” she replied. “We are having a great time together; I feel very comfortable with you and I don’t want to waste any time.”

She said this with a big smile on her face, and Josh could tell she was very happy and excited. He was glad she felt that way.

“Ok then, let’s do this,” he said, with a big smile of his own.

They took one last sip of their wine and left the kitchen.

She led him to her bedroom; he could tell she didn’t know what to do next, so he took her by the arm and gently took her to the bed where they sat on the edge. He didn’t waste any time as he leaned in and kissed Katie on the lips. They held that kiss there for a moment before Katie pulled away from him.

“I am on the pill, by the way,” she assured him. “We forgot to talk about birth control, so I should let you know so you don’t have to worry about anything.

"Thanks for letting me know. I had a condom ready, but this is better.”

They went back to kissing. It started as a passionate kiss that evolved into a full-on make-out session as their hands began roaming each other’s bodies.

Without thinking about it, Katie began unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off for him. She broke their kiss so she could look at his chest and broad shoulders.

“Oh my,” she said with a big smile.

They began kissing again, and this time she went for his pants; ripping off his belt and going for the zipper. In return, Josh reached around her back and undid the zipper; he pulled down her dress to reveal the sexy black bra she was wearing and soon her matching thong. Katie thought hard about the kind of underwear she should wear and figured she couldn’t go wrong with traditional black lingerie.

They both got very excited and quickly took off the remainder of the clothes and tossed everything around the room. Katie was both shocked and happy to see the size of Josh’s dick. Jennifer had bragged to her about how big it was, but she thought she was exaggerating; she was glad to see that it was all true.

Josh got Katie on her back in the center of her bed. He started kissing her neck and fondling her breasts; she loved it and was getting very wet. Josh then moved down to her breasts, where he spent some time kissing and suckling on her nipples. He thought her breasts felt like two soft pillows and loved how they felt on his face.

He moved back up her body and began kissing her neck again. As he did that, he put his hand between her legs and began to play with her clit. She started to get wet instantly and began taking deep, rapid breaths.

“Oh yes, keep doing that!” she cried out.

He knew she was ready and didn’t want to keep her waiting. He positioned his body right on top of her and guided his dick right to the edge of her pussy and shoved it all in. Josh held it there for a moment to enjoy the feeling of being inside of her. He could see from the look on Katie’s face that she also enjoyed that incredible feeling.

“Oh my God, that feels wonderful,” she whispered into his ear.

He started pumping his dick into her. Slowly at first, to get her used to it, then gradually picked up the speed and pushed into her harder and faster.

“Oh yes, oh yes,” she cried out.

Katie held him close to her body, letting out loud moans every time Josh pushed himself into her body. She begged him to go faster, and he complied as best he could. Her body arched up as she screamed as an orgasm shot through her body.

They turned over, and she was on top of him now. Katie had her hands firmly placed on the headboard when she began riding his dick. She didn’t really know if she was doing a good job of riding him, but she still loved giving it a try and was having so much fun doing it. Josh had his hands on her hips; he was getting very excited about watching this beautiful woman enjoy herself as she rode him.

Josh got her on her back again and pinned her hands by her side as he began fucking her hard again. She was screaming into his ears, begging for more. After a while, he couldn’t hold off much longer and got that feeling in his dick that it would soon be over. He held off for a couple more minutes, wanting to make it last as long as he could. Then, with one last thrust, he shot his load right into her, and she enjoyed feeling that warm liquid filling her body.

Afterwards, he lied down next to her as they both took their time relaxing.

“Thank you, that was amazing,” she told him.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he replied. “I’m glad I got to be the one to do this for you.”

“I have one last request,” she said as she looked deeply into his eyes. “Can you stay the night with me? I just like the idea of the man I finally got to have sex with spending the night with me.”

“Of course, I was thinking the same thing. I didn’t think it was right for me to just have sex with you and leave right away.”

She pulled a blanket over their naked bodies as Josh turned off the lamp next to their bed and they snuggled up against each other. A moment later, she felt something moving along her leg, and it took a moment for her to realize Josh was getting an erection again.

“Seriously? It can come back that fast?” Katie asked.

“Depends on the guy, but yes, it can happen again that fast,” he replied.

Katie reached down into his body and felt Josh’s dick, giving it a soft rub up and down. She was doing her best to impress Josh with her handjob skills, and she could see from his face that he was loving it.

“You know, Jennifer didn’t actually tell me we only had to do it once,” she said. “She only suggested it would be just one night together.”

Josh thought about it for a moment, at least the best he could with the handjob he was receiving.

“That’s what she said to me too,” he told her. “Seems kind of vague to me. For all we know, she meant for us to do it more than once.”

They moved in closer to each other and made love one more time that night before they actually decided to go to sleep.

The next morning, they woke up at the same time, while holding each other.

“Good morning,” said Katie.

“Good morning,” Josh replied. “And happy birthday.”

“Oh right, I’m now 30,” she said with a large smile. “After last night, I feel like I’m 20.”

They kissed each other, and Katie felt his dick growing up against her leg again. She reached down and began jerking him off.

“Seriously? Again?” Josh asked.

Katie didn’t say anything, she just tossed the covers away and moved down his body. After giving him a good handjob, she opened her mouth and started sucking his dick. Jennifer did tell him that Katie had told her that she had some experience keeping some men happy while she stayed a virgin. That included giving oral sex, and he could see how great she was at it.

When she was done, she took his dick out of her mouth and got on his body. She got his dick in her again and started riding him like she did last night, but much better this time. She knew deep down she shouldn’t be fucking her best friend’s boyfriend more than that one time, but she couldn’t help herself.

Josh turned her around to be on top of her and took over, fucking her. He did everything he did with her both times last night and brought her to orgasm a few more times.

After they were done, they again laid down on the bed, holding each other. They both agreed that it should stop right there, as three times was more than enough.

They got out of bed and got dressed. Katie put on jeans and a t-shirt, while Josh, who hadn’t planned on staying overnight originally, only had his suit pants and shirt to put on.

They heard a noise in the kitchen and wondered what was going on out there. Then they smelled coffee and pancakes and had a guess on who it might’ve been. They left the bedroom and went to the kitchen, where they found Jennifer in Katie’s kitchen, having just gotten coffee and pancakes ready for the three of them.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” said Jennifer.

“Good morning, Jennifer,” said Josh.

“Good morning,” said Katie.

Jennier went over to Katie and gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“And happy birthday to you, sweetie. Did you have fun?” Jennifer asked.

Katie blushed and smiled at Jennifer. “Yes, I did very much. Best birthday present ever.”

They all went to the kitchen table to sit down for the breakfast Jennifer had made for them.

“I know this looks strange with me coming here like this, but I was afraid after last night that things may feel a little weird between the three of us,” she told them. “So, I thought I’d come over and make us some breakfast to help us overcome any leftover awkwardness between us.”

Josh agreed. “That’s a good idea. I mean, I know we can get over the unusual aspects of this situation, but it’s still good to get it out into the open.”

“Yes, I’m sure we can get past anything,” said Katie. “And also, thank you both so much for last night.”

“It was our pleasure,” said Jennifer as she held Josh’s hand. “And speaking of that, I really need to say something to get it out of my system. I did hear you guys have sex again this morning.”

Josh and Katie gave each other a concerned look.

Jennifer continued, “Thinking about it, I didn’t say how many times you two could have sex, but I did expect it to be only once. I just need to know how many times exactly you two had sex.”

There was an awkward moment at the table before Katie spoke up.

“We had sex three times,” Katie revealed. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s OK, I’m willing to let it all go. I was the one who encouraged you two to get together after all, so I can’t blame you for going that extra mile,” said Jennifer. “I’m just glad you both had fun.”

“Thank you, you’re a wonderful friend, Jennifer,” said Katie, then turned to Josh. “And you’re a wonderful man.”

“Thank you,” Josh replied, with a blushed face.

“Now tell me, was he as good as I told you he was?” Jennifer asked.

The two women began laughing, and Josh just sat there looking embarrassed.

“Yes, he was,” said Katie, with a big smile. “You would be proud of him.”

They ate their breakfast and changed the subject to a variety of other subjects to talk about. Afterwards, Josh and Jennifer left the apartment. Although it was early in the morning, Jennifer took Josh back to her place to reward him for a job well done.

Later that night, Jennfer took Katie out for her thirtieth birthday with some of their closest friends. They first went to a restaurant to celebrate with a big dinner and a birthday cake. Later, they went to a male strip club to party, where Katie got drunk and found herself making out with one of the male strippers. She wanted to take him back to her place, but Jennifer recognized how drunk she was to make any rational decisions, so she dragged her away and took her back home.

Over the next year, Josh set up Katie with the two friends he had tried to suggest before that could be good boyfriend material for her. Each relationship lasted only a few months before they broke up; they all agreed there was nothing wrong with the other person; it just didn’t work out. From what he heard, she did sleep with both of them, and later, Jennifer revealed to him that Katie became friends-with-benefits with the second one.

The next year, Katie began dating a man who had just moved into her apartment building and turned out to be the love of her life. They became engaged within a year, and they had a quick wedding as Katie found herself happily pregnant with twins.

By DanDraper for Literotica

Natalie: Office Party.

Natalie goes to a work party, and hooks up with a hot guy.

by Traumseele. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The office kitchen was somewhat cramped. A wall of microwaves, a couple of fridges, and a counter with two sinks was meant to satisfy the luncheon needs of the two-hundred-odd people who worked at this branch of Rodow-Mills Ltd., the corporation for which Natalie worked in purchasing. She was sat a round table, eating out of a box of noodles she had gotten from a takeout place in the neighborhood.

“Are you gonna wear that tonight?”

The question came from the short-haired woman seated next to Natalie. Lynn, her best girl friend and confidant at work since a long time back. There wasn’t that much contrast between the two, they were very much alike in both looks and manners. Women of medium height, with dark brown hair and eyes, dressed in “business casual” which meant jeans, a blouse, and black leather ankle boots. The main difference between them was in their hair, Natalie’s was curly and shoulder-length, while Lynn always kept it short and straight. Lynn also lacked Natalie’s prominent breasts, being almost flat chested, something she was sure was a common conversation topic among the guys at work.

“Why not?” Natalie responded. “It’s an office party. Not like I have any new impressions to make.” It was true. Her job was fairly routine. She knew everybody in her department, and everyone worth knowing outside of it. “Unless you want me to slut up for a night on the town afterwards?”

Lynn giggled. “I’m just teasing. You look great as always, Nat.” The short-haired woman took a sip of water from her glass. “I’m just thinking about… you know. I kind of want to hook up with somebody. I haven’t done that at work before. Feels like something I should cross off my list at some point, if I had one I mean.” She took another sip. “Don’t get me wrong but you’re a lot more experienced here than I am. Got any beginner tips?”

At first, Natalie felt a bit weirded out by that last comment, but then she realized that Lynn would never judge her for being a “slut” at work, and probably just wanted in on the action. She gave her friend a coy, thoughtful smile. “I don’t really know what to say that, Lynn!” she responded with a hearty laugh.

Her friend kept sipping water. She seemed nervous, for some mysterious reason. “Come on. You know it’s true. I want to be just like you, Nat!” The last bit came out with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

“Let’s just enjoy the free booze and try to avoid the annoying people. You’re gonna be fine. Besides, if one of these polo-wearing golfer guys were to try to steal you away from me, I would probably have to beat him up,” Natalie responded half-jokingly. Lynn was a real cutie, but Natalie just wasn’t into women in that way, even though she would often masturbate to them. That was different though, women were just sexier than men. Didn’t mean she was gay, not that she had any problem with that.

The rest of the working day before the party went by as usual. Natalie sat in her cubicle, sending out purchasing emails and handing invoices over to payments. But mostly, she was just trying to pass time and look busy whenever somebody walked past. She had been to plenty of office parties, at this job and previous ones, and these things just didn’t make her nervous anymore. She felt like she could already predict all that was going to happen that night. Free drinks, some speeches from upper management, maybe a forced “team building” activity or two, but most importantly, free drinks.

Her friend’s comment about her slutty work habits had bothered her a bit. Not because Lynn thought her to be a slut, she knew that she did and that was great, but rather quite the opposite. In truth, she hadn’t really been hooking up with any co-workers lately. That was a frequent activity in her mid twenties, but in recent years, the dull routine and general feeling of alienation at the office had pretty much turned off her sexuality completely in that environment. Maybe it was time to live up to her friend’s image of her? Not only was it a matter of principle, the prospect was also kind of exciting to her despite where she was at the moment, trapped in a grey cubicle.

“Hey Nat, they got a new coffee maker downstairs. You have just got to check it out!”

The cheerful voice was Diego, a tall, skinny, good-natured man with short black hair, olive skin, and a constant worried look in his eyes. He had appeared at the entrance to Natalie’s cubicle to share some minor news about the office, as he often did. It was a welcome break to the dullness of the average day, she thought. Diego was a nice guy, always happy and helpful, and the two of them had formed a bit of a workplace bond over the last couple of years. Doing small favors for each other here and there, spending breaks together, having coffee.

“You know what? I might just do exactly that. Wanna come?” she responded, and Diego’s face lit up. She whisked her mug off of her desk, and got up from her chair onto her leather booted feet. Their 2-inch heels made barely any noise as the two of them walked across the wall-to-wall carpet that covered the floor of the cubicle farm, heading for the stairwell.

“So… How are things?” Natalie didn’t have to specify the “things” she was asking him about. It was a bit of a sensitive topic, so she didn’t want to bring it up too directly. Diego had recently gone through a divorce, and was now adjusting to life as a bachelor again. It was difficult, as he had been married for a long time, and his meek, super-nice-guy manners weren’t especially suited for living it up as a single in the city, she thought. Nevertheless, the divorce hadn’t changed him much, at least not on the surface. He continued to be nice and cheerful, always notifying Natalie of “exciting” new happenings around the office, but she could tell it was bothering him.

“Oh you know… Getting used to it. Got everything set up in my new apartment. It’s a real bachelor pad, haha. Hey, there’s the new coffee maker.” He didn’t seem to enjoy the subject matter very much, so Natalie decided not to bring it up again, for now.

As Diego had pointed out, they had arrived at the awesome new coffee maker in the downstairs break room. There was nothing special about it at all, as far as Natalie could tell. There was a holder for your mug, and the usual array of buttons for selecting the type of coffee you wanted the thing to fill it up with. It didn’t really matter. A cup of coffee with Diego in the break room was always a nice and welcome distraction. They both knew that the “new coffee machine” was just an excuse to spend some idle minutes together, getting away from the daily grind. And so they filled up their cups, and took seats at a small round table.

“Looking forward to the party?” Natalie asked, half-sarcastically. Diego was as much a fan of mandatory corporate fun as anybody else, she knew, and he especially didn’t like big booze-fuelled parties. They made him feel anxious, he had confided in her once.

“You know me,” he responded casually, taking a big sip of coffee. “I’m the party animal around here.” He put the cup down with a somewhat dejected smile, as if part of him wished for that statement to be true. “I’ll stick around for a drink, make sure management notices my attendance, and then sneak out at my first opportunity before things get too rowdy. Got plenty of things to set up in my new place, anyway.”

Diego looked wistful, and Natalie felt pity for him. It got worse when he tried to cover up his anxiety with a forced smile. Maybe she could convince him to stay, even help him find somebody to hook up with? Lynn was certainly in the mood, but Natalie had no idea whether he was her type or not. She didn’t really know anything about her dating history, though Lynn knew all about hers, somehow. Besides, convincing him to stay at a loud, booze-drenched office party would be about as easy as convincing water to stop being wet. She dismissed the idea.

A few hours later, the party kicked off. Most off the staff had gathered in the lobby for an exciting speech about the branch’s promising future by their local chief of operations, and Natalie was already tipsy from the welcome drink. Something fruity, with booze in it. She didn’t bother to find out more details.

A delivery driver had dropped off boxes of pizzas and assorted snacks, which had been opened and left on a counter. A transparent fridge had been stocked to the brim with bottles of beer and wine, and a makeshift “bar” had been set up in the corner of the lobby for mixing cocktails. There, one could find the usual assortment of rum, gin, vodka, various mixers, and more. It would be her next stop when the speech was over, Natalie decided.

When the half-hearted applause died down and the music started, she made her way over to the cocktail bar. There was no use being sober at an occasion like this one, so it was time to get herself a gin & tonic, or something equally strong. A small group of people with the same idea had gathered nearby. Thankfully, Lynn was also there, and so Natalie snuck up on her and embraced her from behind.

“Hey there sexy,” she said, jokingly imitating a deep, masculine voice, as her arms wrapped around Lynn from behind, meeting just below her chest. Lucky girl, she never had to wear a bra, Natalie thought, as her own breasts burrowed themselves into her girl friend’s back.

A startled Lynn let out an exhasperated sigh, grabbing on to Natalie’s arms as if to tear them off of her, but stopping right as her fingers grasped around them, holding them in place. “Oh hi there,” she responded, turning her head to give Natalie a playful peck on the cheek, after which she wrestled herself free. “Booze?” she asked.

“Booze,” Natalie replied matter-of-factly.

The two friends walked up to the bar, picking out a couple of sizeable plastic cups, and filled them both up with gin and tonic. Getting too sloshed too early at an office party was always a bad idea, so they kept the gin-to-tonic ratio low enough to still give them a decent buzz.

“Talked to any hot guys yet?” Lynn asked eagerly.

“Not yet… Need to get in the mood first. This office has a habit of drying me up like a desert down there.”

Lynn giggled. “I know what you mean.” She took a big sip of her drink.

“Unless you have any leads for me?” Natalie asked her friend, who got a strained look on her cute little face.

“Yeah right. That means I won’t get you all to myself,” she responded jokingly, with a flirtatious raising of her eyebrows. Her friend seemed to blush after that.

“Shit Nat, I gotta go powder my nose. I’ll find you in a bit,” Lynn said, and scurried off. Knowing the habits of some of her co-workers, “powder my nose” could be meant both literally and figuratively.

Natalie walked around the office idly for a bit, stopping for small talk here and there, getting a glass of wine from the lobby, trying to figure out some kind of game plan. The booze did a good job at staving off the worst oh her anxiety, not to mention the general weird atmosphere of “forced fun” that office parties tended to have. Still, she found it difficult to loosen up, and seemed to have lost track of Lynn’s whereabouts.

She found her friend just outside the main entrance to the building, where people would go for fresh air, and others would go to ruin their experience with cigarette smoke. Natalie was not a fan of tobacco, and thankfully, her friend was in the former group.

“Hey Nat! Come here! This is uh… Well, shit.” Her friend seemed to have forgotten the name of the handsome man standing next to her, whose presence Natalie had just noticed. He was about an inch taller than her in her boots, his head topped by slick dark brown hair, and a thin beard that accentuated his chiseled facial features. His broad shoulders were clad in a modest black dress shirt, and on his legs he was wearing a pair of jeans and black leather loafers.

The man smiled, his face lighting up as he extended his right arm, inviting Natalie to a handshake. “I’m Konstantin. You must be Natalie I presume? Lynn here won’t stop talking about you!”

“Oh, it’s all true,” she said with a laugh as she shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Konstantin.” He was so hot. Natalie normally liked her men to be a few inches taller, but there was something about the way their eyes met almost level as he gave her his bright smile, full of confidence. His handshake had been gentle, almost romantic somehow. Natalie could feel herself starting to melt a bit. Well done, Lynn.

The three of them made some small talk out in the fresh evening air, with drinks in their hands. Konstantin worked in sales, and was often out on client calls, which was probably why they hadn’t met at work before. After a little while, Lynn excused herself and went inside, leaving the two of them alone in the midst of small groups of chattering, drunk coworkers.

Natalie found herself at a loss for words. It wasn’t typical of her. This hot guy was just beaming with confidence, something she would usually try to take down a notch or two, but he was so nice and considerate at the same time. He was filling in all the silences with questions about Natalie, seeming genuinely curious about her, and she answered as well as she could with brief statements while she tried to think of what to do next.

“Do you dance?” she asked somewhat awkwardly, as the music inside got louder.

“Love to!” Konstantin responded, still smiling. “Shall we?”

The floor of the lobby had been cleared up, and the “office DJ” was running some tacky playlist on her laptop. It didn’t matter so much. Natalie had two left feet when it came to dancing, and tried to focus on not making a fool out of herself as she tried to make subtle rhythmic moves. Konstantin seemed like a fish in water on the dancefloor. He didn’t do anything extravagant, simply moving his body to the music as if it was second nature to him, constantly beaming with that hot smile of his.

As the night went on, the dancefloor got more crowded, and Natalie got tipsier. She and Konstantin had been moving closer to each other the whole time, and by now, they were just inches away from each other. Anyone who glanced their way could see what was going on, but Natalie didn’t care. People hooked up in the office all the time, and it’s not like she had some virtuous reputation to maintain. She put her arm around his neck and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Let’s get out of here. My place isn’t far.”

Over Konstantin’s shoulder, she could see Lynn standing in the corner of the Lobby, nursing her drink. Natalie felt a little bit guilty about ditching her friend, but the look of approval on Lynn’s face eased her worries.

She leaned back, raising her eyebrows and looking into Konstantin’s light brown eyes with intent. He was biting his lip. His hand found hers, and they walked outside.

The air was electric as the pair stood in Natalie’s dark apartment hallway. Natalie had just closed the door behind them, and was staring at Konstantin’s silhouette as he took off his shoes, letting the outline of his hard body become clearer as her own eyes adjutsed to the lack of lighting. She pulled off her own boots, and stood on the floor in her ankle socks, anticipating this man’s next move.

It came suddenly. With force, he lifted her arms above her head, pressing them against the wall and kissing her passionately. She let out a surprised but excited moan, and tried to grab his head before realizing that her arms were trapped. He let go of her arms and let his ands explore her body all over, clumsily finding their way under her tucked-in blouse, caressing her naked body underneath all the way up to her bra-covered breasts. He squeezed them and dug his fingers under the fabric, trying to find her no doubt rock hard nipples.

Natalie kept her arms above her head in the dark hallway, letting Konstantin explore her body at his leisure. He was pressed up against her, hard, grinding away. The bulge between his legs rubbed against her clit through layers of jeans and underwear, but it was enough to make her want more. She wanted him inside of her, badly now.

Right then, Konstantin stopped, and took a step back. Natalie felt very confused. Was he teasing her? She wouldn’t have any of that, not tonight. Flustered, she groped the wall, searching for the light switch.

Her dark eyes squinted as light flooded the previously dark apartment. Konstantin stood before her, his face glistening with sweat and saliva from their sloppy kisses. He was sucking his lower lip in, hard, while giving her a puzzled look. What was he doing?

“Natalie I… I have kind of a thing I want to do with you, if you don’t mind,” he said after hesitating for many long seconds. The thing had better be to fuck her silly until she passed out from orgasmic pleasure, she thought, giving him a sly and expectant look. A nervous look washed over his face, as he continued hesitating.

Natalie stepped forward, grabbing Konstantin by the hairs at the back of his head gently. She licked her lips and said, “tell me what you want to do to me,” hoping that the command would dispel his nervousness and hesitation.

“I… You’re so hot,” he said, pausing for another few seconds, caressing the side of Natalie’s body up and down. “I’m going to cum in literal seconds if we fuck. Never been good at lasting long. So… I want to do that. I want to cum inside of you, and then eat my cum out of your pussy. It’s… kind of my fetish.”

Natalie interrupted him with another sloppy kiss before he could get too lost in his own thoughts. She had never tried that before, and at the moment, she was hot and horny enough to try just about anything. As long as it meant getting some dick in her. She unzipped his pants and dug his throbbing member out of his boxers. It wasn’t the biggest one she’d ever held, but it was firm and already leaking precum. Her pussy was screaming to be filled up, so she unzipped her own jeans, and resumed her previous position, back against the wall with her hands above her head.

Konstantin didn’t seem to need any further approval. Within a second, he was back to ravishing her, kissing her neck, hands going all over the place. Her blouse became unbuttoned, and her bra unclasped, while her pants and wet panties slid down to her ankles. She moaned and reached down for his erect cock, jerking it faster and faster.

He put one of his legs in between hers, spreading them apart as far as the elasticity of the pants around her ankles would allow for. They shared another sloppy kiss, tongues twirling around each other, as his cock slid easily up and all the way into Natalie’s eager, dripping wet pussy. She could feel it bottom as her throbbing clit pressed against his hard pelvis, tickled by his recently trimmed pubic hairs.

With his hands firmly grabbing her hips, Konstantin started fucking her, making sure her pussy got to feel the whole length of his cock, as he slammed hard against her clit with each thrust. Natalie gasped continuously, mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts. Their foreheads were touching, and they made intense eye contact.

As he had promised, Konstantin’s orgasm came quickly, after ten or so thrusts. His face scrunched up, and he grunted loudly, as his throbbing cock spilled load after load of hot cum into Natalie’s pussy. She instinctively felt a bit disappointed, as she usually did when her partner came well before she was anywhere close herself. But then, she remembered the rest of his promise, and waited excitedly for his orgasm to subside.

When it did, he pulled his dick out out of her, carefully replacing it with a hand, making sure to not let his seed spill out of her too much. Some of it was already dripping down her naked legs. She was a proper mess. Teary eyed, and with saliva glistening around her mouth. Her blouse was fully unbuttoned, and her unclasped bra was hanging around her neck like an albatross from an old poem. Konstantin’s face was beaming. This was clearly his favorite part.

Natalie didn’t bother adjusting anything about herself in her current state. She simply kicked her pants and panties to the side, strode on sock-clad feet into the living room, blouse and bra still clinging to her upper body, and lied down with her back half on the couch, legs spread as wide as she could manage, a hand holding the hot cum inside her pussy. She motioned for Konstantin to get down between her legs and get to work, as he had promised.

He wasted no time. Within seconds, he was on his knees between her glistening legs, lapping away at Natalie’s cum drenched pussy with his eager tongue, making sure not to waste a drop of his own cum or her plentiful juices that it had mixed with. “Oh fuck,” Natalie exclaimed without even thinking. This was so hot. Maybe she should make all guys clean her out like this if they wanted to cum inside her? She finally knew why guys liked to put their fingers in her mouth after rubbing her pussy.

Konstantin was, if possible, enjoying himself even more than she was. He was going wild, moaning and grunting, kissing the inside of her thighs and leaving big hickeys when he wasn’t pressing his tongue between her pussy lips, making sure not to miss a single drop. With the way Natalie’s juices were flowing, he would never be finished. That was fine, she could do this all night.

She was pinching and tweaking her nipples hard, moaning like the slut she loved to be, when she almost passed out from a jolt of pleasure emanating from her clit. Konstantin had sucked it into his mouth like a vacuum, and was skilfully flicking his tongue against it in just the right rhythm. Natalie lost her breath as she started squirming, her body contorting on its own, legs wrapping around Konstantin’s neck to force his face into her. Her thighs were pressed together so tightly that she was sure that he was suffocating, but that was a price she was willing to pay.

The orgasm washed over her like a tsunami. It was so intense. Her thighs squeezed up so hard that she was scared of accidentally killing Konstantin. Waves of pleasure conquered her body as she lost control. She squirmed around, starting to glide off the couch as her juices flowed, giving Konstantin more and more cum, even though it wasn’t his own.

She came to, lying on the floor, a naked, quivering mess. Above her was the hot guy from the office party. His face was beaming again, almost looking proud of what he had done.

by Traumseele for Literotica.

Prudence Plundered – A Victorian Master takes charge of his prim and proper wife.

By Ian56. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

In 19th century London, Henry Chambers was a man of note and some means. Left a not inconsiderable estate by his late father, he had speculated wisely in the city and had become a respected authority on the whims and fate of the money markets. Such was his status; his advice was sought from wide and far on all matters related to the pursuit of wealth and financial contentment.

He lived in a resplendent mansion in one of the most fashionable areas of Westminster where he indulged his public passions for art and fine literature. At the age of 50, he considered himself most satisfied with his lot and was able to look upon the years of his life with justifiable pride at his endeavors. His social standing had increased measurably due to his marriage some 20 years previously to Prudence, his dear love, whom he had been introduced to by one of his clients at a New Year’s Eve gala. Prudence had been the third daughter of the famous Fitzpatrick dynasty who had made their name in the early 1840’s as mineral traders and importers. For Henry Chambers it was love at first sight but his attentions had at first been met with a dry indifference by the handsome Miss Prudence who bore her airs and graces with a lofty distain, and it was not without some serious wooing and courtship on his part did he finally win her hand and agree to become his wife.

Three daughters and two decades later, she was still a remarkably attractive filly whose abundant charms had grown even more impressive with age and no man felt as proud as Henry Chambers did with such a jewel on his arm when out socializing in polite respectable society.

To polite society they presented themselves as a loving devoted couple but for Henry, beneath this nods and smiles, he nurtured a deep dark secret that even his dear wife knew nothing about..

“Avast wench,” said Henry, heroically. “I sense the shiver of lust cursing through thy bones I do. But fear not for I am the one to satisfy the aching of thy hairy damp pit with my trusty weapon. Take it out I say,” he bellowed, standing bare-chested with his hands on his hips. “Take out my emboldened cock for it is the deliverer of your salvation and redemption!”

At his feet, Bessie, his number two scullery maid, clasped her hands together in rapt but pleading forgiveness. At his command, she reached up and began to tug and undo the laces at the front of his breeches.

“Oh, Sir!” she exclaimed, her exposed bosom quivering in the flickering candle light most impressively. “Have mercy on a mere serving girl Sir for I am naught but a slave to these wanton desires of which I have no sense. Such sinful words are a torment Sir, a torment!”

“Sinful?” snorted Henry. “I shall have you know there is no finer word for a gentleman’s member than Cock!” He thrust his hips forward to impress his point. “What else do you know such a thing by wench?”

Bessie, her curly red hair cascading over her sweet natured face, grunted with frustration as she tugged on her masters entwined laces, her eyes fixed on his obvious arousal beneath the cloth. “For shame Sir, tis innocent I be and only know such sinful names from the station I keep and from those that wallow in the gutter below.”

Her face was purple from her efforts until, with a final pull, the laces came free and the front of his breeches sprang open. She gasped despite herself as his bloated deep crimson headed penis slithered and unfurled before her flushed face. Its mass expanding outrageously to reveal a most huge and impressive weapon that had her gasping in high heat and desire. She looked up at him with wide eyes as he stood leering lewdly down. “That Sir,” she gasped in wonder. “Is a prick the like of which I have nay seen and a prick that strikes fear into the well of my cunt so it does.”

Henry grabbed his lolling cock. “I like prick. The vulgarity of such a nasty word is worthy of an occasion such as this lass. I intend to take this prick of mine and spear and plunge deeply into that juicy cunt that lays waiting between your firm thighs. Do you expect any less, wench?” His right hand was gently stroking his tumescence and the quivers of ecstasy were sweeping from his groin to his toes and back again. At each up stroke his spare skin withered and unfurled with greater abandon as the head of his organ began to leak his pre-spend.

“No Sir,” shivered the maid, her face aflame with her heaving lust. “Though my faint heart flutters at the prospect of such a tight cunty as my own being invaded by such a weeping monster I shall bear its sweet agony with resolve and duty.”

She reached up and grasped his veined cock in her slim right hand, her fingers barely able to circumvent its pulsing fatness. Her mouth was dry and her desire urged her to taste his meat. “Sir,” she said hesitantly as she rubbed the underside of his magnificence with her thumb. “I fear my need is becoming overwhelming and its constant whisper begs that I ask you the favor of feeding your prick into my mouth for me to suck on without shame.”

Henry felt his heavy under hanging balls tighten in their hairy sac at the lascivious nature of her words. The thought of his comely maid devouring his outsized cock was one to savor for, alas, T’was only under such circumstance as their clandestine meetings whilst his dear wife was away that such a pleasure be upon him.

He frowned inwardly at the merest glimmer of his wife for even though he loved her passionately she was cautiously high strung and the very idea of anything more than straight forward love-making was abhorrent to her whiles. Heaven forbid he so much as suggested she pleasure him with her sweet mouth!

The frustration he felt at her lack of adventure had lain heavy upon him for all of their marriage. His pursuit of this adventure had found him cast between the firm thighs of his scullery maid who had no such hesitation in joining him in seeking pleasures of the flesh. Indeed, she had suggested and encouraged him on such dark travels that even made him gape at their outrageous landscapes. If only his wife had the merest hint at such mischief and want.

His mind drifted as he considered his dear heart on her knees before him, begging to take his staff between her lips and to suck out his thick creamy spend. The stuff dreams are made of he mused. Egad, he wished for nothing more than to ravish Prudence with eager abandon and have her panting beneath him like a bitch on heat, urging him on to fuck the ripe bulb of her vagina with all his might.

Bessie glanced up as she fisted her Masters Iron rod. His eyes were closed and he swayed slightly in rhythm to the pleasure of her ministrations. She knew that look for he had spoken idly with her after their exertions had ceased about his frustration and regret. Her Mistress was a sore old fish she thought. Blessed with good looks and a fine figure she was to all intents and purpose primrose, stuff and duty with naught in between. Bessie could only imagine her frigid nature in bed. T’was no surprise her employer sought comfort in the arms of another.

His bloated angry cock head was nigh kissing her lips and in that moment she knew it was her duty to ease his frustration. Shifting forward slightly, she opened her mouth as wide as possible and slipped her stretched lips over his pulsing bulge and down over his shaft until she felt his mushroom butt the back of her throat. The smell and taste teased her senses as she began to draw back and suck deeply on his organ. The sucking of cock was to her a delight, a dirty devilish deed that warmed her soul for she knew she was skilled and the pleasure it would bring in its wake. She smiled at the sound of his sigh and lowered her head again as she sucked his prick to her hearts content.

In her small room, the oak creaked and groaned as Henry forced his rigid cock into the maid’s succulent cunt as he held her face down over the end of the bed. Deeper he plunged until the neck of his organ slapped wetly against the petals of her orifice which clung eagerly to his girth as if trying to capture its thrust and never let go. The pleasure washed over them in warm wafts as the heat of their fucking grew steadily to a crescendo that had them both grunting and crying out loud. The room bore witness to the depths of their lust and the insanity of their passion.

“Take my fucking cock wench,” hissed Henry as he speared her again and again. His appendage was glistening with his pre-spend and her copious seepage now that the climax was near. “Thy swollen twat shall be sore for a week once I have had my way with you Bessie.”

Bessie scrabbled at the bedclothes feeling his tumescence crest deep within her belly. Her poor cunty felt over stuffed with cock and the ecstasy was so never ending she feared she might faint at its joys. “Oh Sir,” she gabbled. “Again. Again. Punish my poor cunty with your huge prick. Tis wonderful. Oh Sir! I can feel another climax building within. Fuck me Sir!”

The plain oak bed creaked and groaned louder.

Henry stared down at his mount, leering at the sight of her full arse wobbling from between the confines of her tugged open white bloomers. His feverish hands reached under her to grasp and kneed each full and impressive tit that had over spilled from the top of her starched blouse. He pinched each swollen teat making her shriek then moan with painful pleasure. He jabbed his cock into her again thus lifting her off her feet and held her against him as he flexed the muscles in his firm backside.

For a man of his years, he was still in fine shape and built for stamina. He slithered slowly out of her cunt making her whimper and claw at his naked thighs. Before the next thrust he gave her pale arse a firm slap that made her yelp in surprise. He grinned. Unknown to her, he had come across a book that detailed how the matter of pain by deed of flagellation or spanking was one which was being much discussed in secret society as a means of further sexual exploration, and it was one he was most interested in discovering with his pretty 19 year old maid at a future date.

But that would be for another time. The matter at hand was to slake his lust before his wife got home!

Bessie stood over the small bowl and began to wipe between her thighs with the damp cloth. She winced slightly for her well poked vagina was blistered and sore from its vigorous shafting by her employers cock. She could feel his spend seeping from between her flower and she shook her head with a smile for the amount of his cum was a never ending surprise. Behind her, he stood fastening his breeches and making himself decent again. She realized his wife would be home soon and it was with sly female knowing that she had eased his need before she got back. Her Mistress would benefit from a good night’s sleep this night no doubt. Though that was but a small victory for she had learned through servant gossip that the pair rarely indulged in marital bliss these days. She felt a slight pinch of regret for him. Mayhap she should offer a word or two.

“Have I pleased you, Sir?” she asked.

He looked at her. “As always Bessie,” he smiled. “I can walk in society now without feeling as if the frustration of my cock weighs heavily like a ball and chain.”

Bessie smiled. “I be glad, Sir.” She paused and bit her lip. Should she be so bold? Her station was only to listen and obey after all. But he had loved her nearly a dozen times now and perhaps he would consider her opinion. “Sir, if I may?”

He stood at the door to her quarters. “Yes?”

Bessie looked at him. “My mamma always told me never to be untrue to one self. In life, one has to live as if each day is the last and the day should be lived as if twas the last day. Do not let frustration spoil that last day with regret Sir.”

Henry looked at his servant. A moment of understanding passed between them until he opened the door and quietly left.

Dinner was served at eight o'clock sharp.

At one end of the long table sat Henry and at the other end, his wife, Prudence, who fiddled with the food on her plate as she was wont to do. Henry looked at her as he idly swilled the wine in his half empty glass. Their conversation was one sided and she chatted away about this and that, and how her day had gone. Dressed in a lace blouse whose frills danced around the crown of her neck, a sensible cut of pleated black ankle length skirt and strapped black knee boots, she looked as ravishing as ever to his gaze. At forty three years and the bearer of his three children, she had lost none of the vitality and beauty that had clasped his heart all those decades ago. He took another sip of wine and felt a familiar stirring in his loins. Despite the events of this afternoon he still felt the pang of desire whenever he looked at his wife. E gads, why did she have to be so willful and disinterested in the physical side of their marriage?!

“and I said we would be delighted and honored to attend your ball.”

Henry blinked. “What?”

Prudence put down her fork and looked at him in that way she had that made him feel slightly guilty. She dabbed the napkin over her full perfect lips. “Really dearest, I swear you look as if your head is in the clouds again. I was saying, Lady Fabisham has invited us to her winter bash on the 16th of December. I told her we would be delighted to attend such a society event. Everyone of worth shall be there. With good fortune, you may be able to charm some new business contacts and opportunities. By the by, I shall need a new frock for such an occasion for one must keep up appearances in such company. A small increase in my allowance is agreeable I’m sure. Heavens, I can’t wait!”

Henry pursed his lips, deep in thought for her words drifted in one ear and out the other. There were so many balls, galas, invites to this and that these days that to his mind they all merged into one unedifying mass of time wasted. He had more important things on his mind this night. He took another sip from his glass and waited for the moment when they would retire to their bedchambers later that evening.

Prudence stood before the long mirror in their bedroom unpinning her long and lustrous auburn hair. She could see her husband’s reflection as he leaned against the door watching her with the glass of wine still in his hand. For a brief moment she shivered for she knew his moods and the sound of his silence. Oh good grief, was that pesky male urge upon him again? She gave her head a shake and her hair bloomed around her porcelain face. No matter. She was tired from her shopping trip and needed her rest. A word of desist would suffice as it always did. Once every month was more than enough for such base encounters she reasoned. The last thing she wanted was to bear another child unto the world. No, Henry would just have to be satisfied with his lot in life.

Henry continued to stare at his undressing spouse who had let the black skirt fall to gather at her feet. His jaw steeled as he watched her bend over to pick the garment up thus revealing to his gaze her spectacularly broad bloomered bottom.

“The last day with regret.” said the voice in his head.

His maid was right. What noble deed was he following? He was head of the household and had rights because of that fact. His mouth felt dry despite the wine. Those rights included the say over his spouse and family. His wife should be beholden only unto him and at the behest of his requirements both emotionally and physically.

All his adult life he had been sworn by this sense of husbandly duty and had always submitted to her every whim both in public and private. That she was overt in public was of no import but her dismissal of his urges in private was a nagging boil that he now needed to lance

He downed the last of the wine and placed the empty glass on the table. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the side of the large double bed where his wife was slipping the nightgown over her head.

At the sound of his approach, Prudence turned around, unable to see her husband for she was still enshrouded under her night garment. “Henry, can you turn out the light dearest and help me with this infuriating thing.”

Henry ignored her, grasped her upper arms and lifted her off her feet. Hidden, he could hear her gasp with surprise before beginning to struggle.

“Henry, what are you?”

Henry kept silent. He carried her to the foot of the bed and dropped her face down, keeping a hand firmly in the small of her back to keep her in place. With his other, he reached up and tugged away the nightgown.

Prudence twisted her head to look over her left shoulder. Her face was a blushing mask of surprised indignation. Just what did he think he was doing? He had better stop playing games and let her up forthwith or else! Her furious alarm rose when she felt his free hand clasp the buttons which held the backside of her bloomers together. What? Was he possessed? Had he lost his mind? She writhed harder. That what he wanted was obvious by his very manner but it was most certainly not something she wanted right now!

“Henry, dearest, please, you have to let me up,” she gasped as she felt him tugging the second button free. “Look, this is not fair. Dearest husband, you should keep thy urges for when I am agreeable for such a thing. I am tired, give me a few days and I promise you shall have your way, once!”

A third button slipped undone. The deep crack of her bottom peeked from the widening gap making him more determined to follow his instinct. After tonight, his lovely wife would know who was master in this household and if he wanted to submit to his desires she would have no choice in the matter. Between his thighs he could feel his penis strain for release from its confines. His lusty gaze fell to his wife’s increasingly exposed backside and swallowed hard. He was determined to teach her there was more to fucking than poking her cunty. The shadow of her secret crack was deep and long. No, tonight it wasn’t her cunty that was going to take the length of his abundant cock. His desire mounted as the last button slipped free and the stretched cloth of her undergarment split wide to set free her glorious arse in all its abundant magnificence.

Prudence felt the cool air caress her now bare bottom. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she gasped as she felt his hand suddenly fondling both pale cheeks. This was intolerable! What gave him the right to do with her person as he wished? Used to getting her own way, she drummed her feet on the floor with a mixture of outrage and fear that her husband could be so, so, unreasonable!

“Henry,” she muttered. “Stop or else I shall be very, very cross with you!”

Her husband ignored her threat and grabbed the abundant flesh of her bottom harder. And what a fine bottom it was indeed. So very full and inviting for any man who wished to cast aside his morals for the pleasures awaiting him. He grimaced for his cock was most insistent on its need to be set free from its confines and to seek that which it hungered for.

“Henry, are you listening?”

“Be quiet wife,” he interrupted. “I shall not countenance your demands or excuses anymore. From this moment, you will obey my every word when matters of the flesh are in my thoughts. You shall be agreeable to my needs as a loving husband and physical man. Do you understand Prudence?”

His wife lay motionless face down on the bed as she considered his terms. He still held both her hands in his at the base of her spine so escape was not an option. Her husband was determined no doubt to extract whatever due he felt was necessary from her person and there was nay anything she could do to prevent such an event!

“I understand perfectly well, husband,” she replied coldly. “Tis not oft I say the pleasure is mine and this moment shall it be even less. Do as you will Henry for I submit to your whim as needs must. Indeed, once this penetration is over then tis normal we shall return and the sooner the better I think.” Resigned, she shifted her hips into a more accommodating position for her husband to spear her sex. Despite her graces, she still felt a shiver from experience their past love-making did have faint pleasures, though being a woman of repute she suffered such simple delights with reserve and kept her true emotions hidden. It was unseemly to appear so wanton even in the privacy of ones chambers even unto her mate in life. Until now, Henry was not a man to let his lust rule his head and after the birth of their children, his ardor had settled into a particular routine. Until now..

Prudence felt a stirring behind her. Henry was unbuttoning his breeches no doubt and releasing his manhood from its confines. A sudden flush colored her cheeks for the thought of his organ was one which sometimes caught her unawares during idle day dreaming. Brief glimpses caught in the low light of a candle as he slipped beneath the blankets and settled between her firm white thighs. The prodding of its swollen head seeking her wet Venus before the first deep thrust which made the world turn on its axis and the breath catch in her throat. Such a thrust seemed always never ending until the base of his member slapped against the stretched clasp of her womanly lips. It would forever be a guilty pleasure that she would never admit to. Even now, with Henry saddled upon his high horse, she felt the earth move and the forbidden thrill playing with her soul. What had made him so steadfast was not a concern to her anymore for her reasoning had slipped away for she was of high heat and need. Let her husband slake his own lust and she grasp the delirious pang of delight which made the dark glow and her heart sing..

Henry, though, had his lust set on more devilish schemes. His cock was now free and he grasped it firmly in his right hand. A gas lamp cast shafts of light through their bedroom window which fell across the raise bottom of his dear wife, the deep dark cleft between both cheeks keeping that which he sought hidden and secret. There was no time for second thoughts or doubt for he was determined on is course. That course was to take the virginity of his wife’s anus come what may.

Prudence lifted her head at the first touch of her husband penis to her puss. She was wet now and she could feel the ache of her sex grumbling away as it waited to be sated. Her breathing quickened and her senses began to command her thoughts as she felt his weight settling over her as she lay over the edge of their bed. She gasped as the head of his “engorged penis”, the very word a disgusting delight to her - rubbed up and down her dripping slot.

“Henry, I, please do it.” she sighed.

But the expected thrust never came.

Henry raised the head of his erect prick to push open her bottom cheeks so he could gain free access to the dark rosebud of her bottom hole. The pounding of his heart sounded like waves crashing upon the shore as he pushed down firmly with his left hand to keep his wife in position, for he knew the outrage that would cry forth when he began to force his erection into her virgin anus. Come what may, she would suffer such an invasion despite her protestations. A slight thrust and his cock head eased into the dark cleft and settled against her forbidden fruit. He was breathing hard. His excitement nigh overwhelming him and he fought to keep his spend within. It was time. The moment he had promised would happen was at hand. The one his scullery maid had said he must overcome to satisfy his manhood. The butt of his thumb pressed down on his purple bloated bulb and began to force himself into his wife’s arse.

In her whispy daze, Prudence sensed something was amiss. What was he doing? His insistence was too high and if he was not careful he would find himself in a most objectionable position that was as disgusting as it was unfortunate! Was his mind addled by drink? She gasped loudly as she felt his member pressing on more urgently.

“Henry,” she muttered, twisting her head to look at her dear husband who was a mask of concentration as he stared down at their joining. “Dearest, what are you doing? Thy aim is poor for the hole you seek is the one below.”

Henry shook his head. “There is naught wrong with my aim this night, Prudence. This night I wish to seek delight from your body in other ways. I have suffered the torture of its forbidden temptation for too long in our marriage my love, so on this night I intend to redress the issue and have my wicked way with you no matter what.”

Prudence stared at her husband wide eyed. “Henry?” she said, shocked. “Whatever are you on about dearest? Have you gone mad? Do not be so disgusting husband. I shall never submit to such a degrading spectacle. The very thought is abhorrent. Let me up this minute!”

Henry held firm as she tried to twist free from his grip. “Enough. I order you to lay still wife for this is a reckoning between us. For too long I had submitted to your whims both in public and private and borne them with sufferance and duty. No more. This night shall be a new beginning for our relationship Prudence for I am determined to put my prick in your arse.”

His wife felt her mouth drop open in shock at his coarse language. The sheer vulgarity of such a thing rendered her motionless with surprise under him. His prick?! In her arse?! Despite herself, she felt a shiver when there should be a river of outrage and disgust. Her husband was going to force his rather large member into the tight well of her bottom hole?! The disgusting man. It was if he was no more than the lowest type of vagabond who was ruled by the drink and his lust! That she knew such practices were indulged was of no matter. She was a lady and should be treated as befitting her station as mother and head of the household. She had her respectability to think about. More than anything, she suspected such an act would be very uncomfortable indeed!

“No wait, Henry. Please. Be still. Tis not a thing to make a wife endure,” she pleaded. “I am afraid of the pain it will bring.”

“Nonsense.” replied her husband. “As with your cunty, the pain of your first arse fucking will fade with use. As I have made plain Prudence, from this night forth I shall ensure that we partake of all pleasures of the flesh available to us as man and wife. The first time is one to endure, but from henceforth the delights of such an adventure shall become apparent. It is of some import to me that such a thing is so for my love of thee is not in doubt. Now, let us enjoy the fruits of our loins. Prepare yourself for I am about to take the virginity of your anus.”

Beneath him, he felt his wife submit to his words.

Prudence was drowning in a sea of emotion. That he loved her was in no doubt and that she loved him still was not in question. He was right in some way. With her whiles and charms, she had held sway over him for all their years together. Her manner had never been one to let her be ordered around and told what to say, do and think. She was so surprised it had taken so long for him to assert himself. Things, apparently, were about to change.

“Oh, Henry. If you must, but please take care.” she whimpered as she felt him beginning to invade her bottom.

Prudence groaned loudly with a mixture of pain and sufferance as she felt her husband’s penis force its way through her resistance and up deep into the canal of her anus. The white flash of pain made her scrabble and bite the blanket as it washed over her in an agonizing burst of deep dominance and her utter subservience.

“Ah, oh Henry,” she winced. “I cannot bear it. Your manhood is tearing me asunder inside. I can feel it’s heat in my very belly.”

Henry groaned for he was a tingle all over. He had done it. His cock was sheathed to the hilt in the warm tight grip of his beloved’s arse. The sensations were overwhelming and he prayed he would not expel his seed in such spasms of ecstasy. Their first arse fuck had to be one they would remember. He thrust his hips gently enjoying the soft slap of his heavy scrotum against her wet cunt. He was ecstatic. He flexed his massive prick inside her bowels and smiled as she gave a surprised exclamation at the sensation.

For the game to be of more worth she would need to learn the language of the gutter.

“Do you like my immense cock in your arse, Prudence?” he asked with a smile. He well imagined her blush at his choice of words. “That I love putting my iron rod in your bottom is without question. My cock loves being in thy tight arse dearest.”

Prudence quivered as she listened to her husband. His words like fireworks in the dark as her soul wept around his buried organ. His organ. His penis. What had he called it? That naughty word that made her toes curl. His cock. His immense cock. She groaned again for a guilty moment of bliss suffused her whole body in white joy. To think that such a disgusting act could bring forth such abundant sweetness was a thing to amaze her. The heat in her loins was of a kind she nigh thought possible. Such heat was kindled by his words. Those filthy, vulgar, base but oh so appropriate words.

She licked her lips. What resistance was gone and mere folly to chase by now. He husband’s desires had lain waste to whatever bedroom morals she had hid behind for all these years. She felt, excited. A strange sort of liberation. The dawning that any act was worthy in pursuit of such pleasure. One more virginity had gone. Her mouth was dry for the last was a thing he would make her do as well. She would feign outrage but, in her heart, she knew look forward to such a thing. But that was for later.

“Say it.” said Henry.

“No, please love. I cannot.” she whispered. “Such words are too dirty to speak aloud.” Inwardly, she smiled for she knew she would. She yelped suddenly for he eased his hips back and she felt the slow slither of his member as it exited her anus. It’s loss indescribable. She wriggled her bottom at him in frustration. Her husband, the bounder, was going to make her beg for his meat.

“Prudence.”

She bit her lip and felt her face aflame with shame. “Dearest Henry,” she whimpered. Oh, this horrid beastly man. How could he torture her so after awakening her sexuality? “I, I, I need your thing. Your cock. Your big cock. Please Henry.” Her bottom hole was gaping and twitching as if calling for it.

“And, just where do you want me to put my big fat cock, Prudence?” Henry held his organ at the entrance to her anus. Teasing her, by letting its weeping head touch the crown of her dark hole.

The insufferable cur!

“In, in my bottom, Sir,” she wheedled. “Tis with pleading that I ask you to take thy impressive prick, your magnificent cock, and spear it deep into my poor sore bottom hole. Make haste for I shall lose my mind.”

“Once my cock is in your bottom Prudence,” he said, with a broad grin on his face. “What shall I do with it?” It was not his wife who would lose his mind but him. His staff ached with the waiting and his balls felt swollen in their sac. He pushed forward and grunted as her arse swallowed him whole again.

Prudence reared up as she felt him slither into her again. Such sweet agony! All those years wasted when such surprise and delights were near. Silly little girl. Her first taste had her desperately wanting more and more and more. She had pushed up on her hands and glanced at her man over her right shoulder with her hair cascading around her.

“My arse, Sir,” she ordered. “I want you to take that splendid cock of thine and bugger me till thy feel the compulsion to spend. Dare not remove it for my anus awaits the soothe balm of it to attest my devotion and love. A fucking I seek Sir. Fuck my virgin arse dearest for tis now I understand thy reasons in claiming it.”

Into the night and early dawn did Henry and Prudence rediscover the simple pleasures of life and sex.

The soft pale light of the next day’s dawn found Prudence on her knees at her husband’s feet. She looked up with devotion as Henry took his stiff cock in hand.

“Open your mouth dearest,” he told her. “Tell me what you want to do.”

His wife grimaced at the dull ache nagging deep in her bowels for thrice during the night he had plundered her bottom passage. True to his word, each vigorous fucking had brought forth less pain and sprang for untold wonders that had her crying, begging and whispering endearments as he thrust mightily away. His, what had he called it again?, his spunk has been copious in its frothing amount, most of which was still seeping from her red sore hole.

Another delight of discovery was at hand, literally. Such a deed a mere day ago would have her aghast and calling for the Peel. But not now. Not after last night. She wanted more of what he could give. Her imagination had been set free and dirty dreams danced before her. Her bottom twitched as she glanced at the length of his leather belt as it lay across the bedside chair. Beware what you wish for she chided herself. She smiled to herself. She suspected she could match her husband for outrageous fortune somehow. But now she needed to learn this. This oral adventure.

“Dearest Henry,” she smiled sweetly. “Indulge me please. Tis a thing I’ve oft mused when no one is around and tis something that thrills me to the bone. Such a naughty thing it is for I feel such a wanton whore for even contemplating it. But Sir, if I may be so bold. I wish the privilege of sucking your impressive cock and the honor to taste the rush of thy spunk until I drink thy balls dry.”

Henry bent down and kissed his wife on the lips. “I feel the honor is all mine.” he said with love. Such an act from his beloved thrilled him to the marrow. Finally, after all this time, he felt she was his. The love he felt was without fault or measure. As her sweet soft lips licked and kissed the bloated head of his cock, he made a mental note to slip a little reward into his scullery maids wage packet for giving him the courage of his convictions.

There would also be the small matter to find her another employer. Just to be on the safe side and to avoid any possible awkward situations in the future. He had no doubt she would find gainful employ soon enough as she was a diligent and careful worker and his reference would count in her favor.

He felt a twinge of guilt. But it was a momentary passing for his groin was awash with the delight of having his wife sucking enthusiastically on his well-used member.

The past was the past. The only thing that mattered was the future. A future bright with the deep love and wanton desires of his sexually blossoming spouse.

By Ian56 for Literotica 

The Grand Old Lady Town Has Legends.

By Ian56. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Foreword:

In a sun-kissed valley and up over a green hill did one come upon the splendid sight of Old London Town. A landscape of steeples, spires, and belching chimney pots stretching to the far horizon as the populace go about their daily business in the growing community they call; ‘the grand old lady’.

Each living their own stories that would be told over and over as the years and generations pass. But some of those tales can only be spoken about in dark shadows with a nudge and a wink. Bawdy stories. Ribald stories. Lusty stories that quicken the heart, catch the breath and fire the blood. Stories that aren’t told in polite company; Tales that can only be shared in places such as this.

Max Phallus - the elephant cock of Old London.

London. November, 1899.

“Good God almighty,” the woman exclaimed as she stood there in the doorway holding a pile of freshly ironed laundry for her new lodger. Remembering her station, she put a hand to her mouth in embarrassment. “Forgive my intrusion, Sir.”

Mrs. Hoopenlicker was not one to stand on ceremony and always spoke her mind. Twice widowed and once forsaken, the woman had the benefit of wit, wisdom, and life experience. Or so she thought as she stared unabashedly at the dangling member belonging to the young man standing naked in front of her.

Gathering her wits, she knocked on the door she had already innocently opened. “There I go again,” she tutted as she stepped into the spare bedroom. “My most sincere apologies for barging in on you, Mr. Johnson. I thought, perhaps, you had gone out for a short walk to familiarize yourself with your new situation and surroundings. The old lady can be quite the eye-opener for those who have not experienced life in the big city.”

Albert Johnson finally found his voice as he stood there still dripping water onto the polished wooden floor. “Uh, I, well,” he coughed and stammered as he tried to cover his modesty with his hands. A futile gesture for he was well aware that, endowed as he was, a fair portion of his member was still showing. “That is quite alright, Mrs. Hoopenlicker. No harm done. I was merely availing myself of the clean pitcher of water and bowl to clean up. I shall be more astute with the lock next time.”

He watched as his landlady went over to the dresser and placed the laundry on top. “Thank you kindly,” he replied as he quickly grabbed a clean towel with one hand whilst still trying to hide his largesse with the other. “Your attention to my well-being is much appreciated.”

Flushed, she glanced at him as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “Supper is at eight,” she informed him as she walked to the door. “I usually cook some oats and milk with a touch of honey. They say it is most agreeable for the stomach and aids restful sleep. Now, I shall take my leave so you can unpack your baggage and settle in.” With that, she closed the door and went on her way with more than just the daily chores on her mind.

It was three days hence and the fading light shone through the lattice window as the landlady and her lodger sat enjoying their late supper together before a simmering log fire. In those three days, they had spent the time getting to know each other. They talked about his family back home in the shires. His new situation as an apprentice teller in the financial heart of the city. His pursuits and Interests as well as life in general and how much he was looking forward to living in the grand old lady.

Albert Johnson was nineteen years. He was tall. Countryside lean. Sporting a thick shaggy brown mop of hair with matching brown eyes and an attentive sensible nature. Through connections, he had managed to arrange suitable lodgings near to his place of employment and an initial payment for his monthly rent had been agreed with the lady of the house, Mrs. Hoopenlicker. All in all, things had turned out most fortunate as he sat there enjoying his late supper listening to his landlady chatting happily away about all things under the sun.

To his surprise, he found Mrs. Hoopenlicker a most entertaining companion. She was charming, bright, and witty with an easy-going manner that put him instantly at ease. Their little adventure on his first day had, apparently, faded into nothing more than an unfortunate memory and had never been mentioned again.

Or so he thought.

The sound of her voice and warmth of his supper helped the trials of the day float gently away as he sat on the couch enjoying her company. He rested his bowl on his lap and slowly closed his eyes feeling much contented as he listened.

Such was his sleepy repose, he didn’t notice his landlady get out of her fireside chair and ease down beside him and put a hand on his right knee.

“By chance in Summertime, Mr. Johnson,” said the older woman as she glanced up at her lodger who was now very much awake and staring wide-eyed at her. “The idyllic dreams of an unattached lady such as myself are sometimes disturbed in a way that does peculiar things to her sensibilities and there is not a jot she can do about it no matter how hard she tries.”

The young man was about to say something but she put a finger to his lips. “That first morning those idyllic dreams were very much disturbed by what this lady witnessed and is now the only thing she can think about,” She paused for she understood full well that the next step was the greatest step of all. “If you’d be willing, Mr. Johnson, I should very much like to share this dream with you.” To emphasis the point, she slowly drew her finger down the front of his stays.

To young Albert Johnson, it sounded as if his heart was in his skull with his mind all at sea. Rational thought had taken flight and even if he could think straight he doubted he would be able to give voice to it. “Ah, uh, well,” he managed as he stared at his landlady as she cuddled closer to him.

All things being equal, Mrs. Hoopenlicker was a fine looking woman. Late forties, he imagined. She was of medium height. Maturely curvaceous. Immaculately presented with long blonde hair that was tied in a fashion down her back. She was wearing a starched white blouse that was buttoned to the neck and tied at the wrists as well as a sensible yellow ankle-length skirt overlaid with flower stitching here and there. A pair of laced leather black boots completed the picture.

“Fret not about my presumptions, Mr. Johnson,” she confessed. “But I must speak of the things that are to the forefront of my mind. I ask only that you consider my request in the spirit it is meant,” Mrs. Hoopenlicker saw the first flush of desire flicker in his eyes. “And if I may be so bold, perhaps a little persuasion may assist in your decision.” she offered as she got to her feet and pulled out a wooden stool from under the table.

Facing away from him, she placed it in front of the fire as she leaned forward thus presenting her lodger with a perfect view of her shapely backside. She paused for a moment before she turned and put her right foot on the stool. Then, as he sat there watching her little erotic dance, she slowly began to draw up her skirt and petticoats to reveal more of her black stockings to his rapt attention. She stopped at the first sign of her garter and bare thigh. “There now, Mr. Johnson. Do you like what you see?” she teased.

“But I hardly know you, Mrs. Hoopenlicker,” gasped Albert. “Though I am much flattered by your attention, I think it only right to point out that we have only just met.”

His landlady tugged her clothes a little higher so that the needlepoint of her white French knickers was showing. “Isn’t that the thrill of it though?” she breathed suggestively. “What path we choose shall only concern the two of us at this moment. I trust such an arrangement shall be completely confidential by its very nature. I have needs, Mr. Johnson, and conversation can only get one so far. Besides,” she smiled as she ran both hands down her exposed thigh. “If there had been a whiff of doubt, Sir, you would have said so the moment I laid my hand on your thigh.”

Her lodger stared at her. The lady of the house was right. He nodded. “Your words have me at a loss, Mrs. Hoopenlicker,” he replied. “Some things are meant to be and I cannot deny I am aroused by the opportunity you are offering me. Let us have our way with each other and hell be damned.”

And so began the strange affair between the landlady, Mrs. Hoopenlicker, and her lodger, Mr. Johnson.

“What a magnificent appendage, Mr. Johnson,” gasped Mrs. Hoopenlicker as she admired the young man’s sex as it hung down from his groin. Its length was as long as her forearm with the smooth apple-sized head hidden under the foreskin. “I swear it is the most invigorating thing I have ever seen!”

Her lodger was flushed of face as he stood there with his shirt bunched up around his waist whilst his landlady knelt at his feet fawning and cooing over his growing prick. Growing not so much in length but in thickness as the engorged head slowly emerged from its sheath.

“May I touch it?” she asked politely, glancing up at him. Heavens, her heart was pounding so vigorously in her chest she felt quite befuddled as she reached up and extended a finger to stroke his stiffening manhood.

Albert was beyond reason as he stood gently swaying. What a ridiculous question! He very much wanted Mrs. Hoopenlicker to touch his thing and do so much more with it for he was quite unable to resist the temptations she was offering him.

He nodded eagerly. “Please do, Mrs. Hoopenlicker,” he gasped. “But with caution for I have little experience in such things and the bell may ring sooner rather than later.”

Grasping the monster at its base, she lifted it up so that its great head and one eye stared back at her as it throbbed in her grip. The most noticeable thing to her was how heavy and hot it was. Pushing it further back, she saw his ball sack reaching down to mid-thigh and she could only imagine how full each nut must be with the syrup contained within. Slowly drawing her fist up the shaft, she paused just below the crown and squeezed him gently so that a large drop of dew appeared. Peeking up at Mr. Johnson, she bent her head and deftly licked the pearl away with her tongue. “Never let it be said,” she smiled as she got to her feet; “that I let a single drop go to waste.”

Mrs. Hoopenlicker hefted her skirts and delicately removed her knickers before turning away from him so she could kneel on her couch. Revealing her full bare posterior, she glanced over her shoulder to see Albert fisting his weeping phallus as he gawped at her rear all agog. “Mount me from behind, Mr. Johnson,” she urged as the young man stepped between her spread thighs. “I much prefer to be taken this way.”

Albert stared at his landlady’s round bottom that lay before him as ripe and succulent as a split peach. Her rotundity was perfect. Large, yes, but perfectly proportioned with each white cheek hiding the delights in between. She had tilted her hips so that her mound was easily accessible to his excited prodding. As he watched, Mrs. Hoopenlicker reached down between her thighs and ran a solitary finger along her hairy slot.

Quickly, he dropped his trousers and stepped out of them leaving his heavy bell end swinging lustily in tingling anticipation. Below, he could feel his testes beginning to churn in their mottled sack as he grasped his stiff penis and positioned himself for his initial penetration of her cunty.

Suddenly, Mrs. Hoopenlicker raised a hand. “Wait, Sir, Wait!” she exclaimed. “The wattle. The sponge. Such is my state, I was remiss in my protection,” She pointed to her oak sideboard. “Inside is a small bag. To the left. Please bring it to me, Mr. Johnson.”

Albert shuffled across and returned with the bag. His landlady opened it and removed a small wedge of sponge. “Even at my age,” she confessed. “It pays to take precautions.” She then removed a ball of string and glanced at his member. Calculating how much she needed, she used a pair of scissors to snip the required length and tied one end securely around the sponge. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “Before you insert your prick, Mr. Johnson,” she instructed. “Can you be so kind as to push this into my hole first so that it can soak up your spend. The head of your thing shall force it as deep as it needs to go.”

To assist, she resumed her position and reached behind to spread her bottom as she felt him gingerly press the contraception between the lips of her sex and up into her passage as far as he could manage before withdrawing his finger.

“Are you ready, Mrs. Hoopenlicker?” he asked as he hefted his large purple knob so that copious amounts of juice oozed from the tip. He was consumed with lust and quivered with sexual excitement.

The older woman shivered with anticipation as she looked over her shoulder at the length of meat about to invade her womanhood. To penetrate and touch the very heart of who she was and where her true nature lay waiting.

Her finger still rubbed between the lips of her sex to help oil her waiting vagina for his prick was a monster! Could her poor sweet fanny even take such a thing inside it? Not only was it long, but it was as fat as a butchers dog with an angry head that wept impatiently from its single eye. “As I shall ever be, Sir,” she whispered. “Have at it and rest not until my venus has taken every last inch of you!”

“Ah!” Mrs. Hoopenlicker rasped as her penetration by her lodger’s immense cock continued. Even though she had taken less than half of him, half of him was so much more than she had taken before. He squeezed another inch inside her and she groaned loudly for she could feel her innards being pushed to one side. “Heavens, Mr. Johnson,” she gasped as she gripped the back of her couch. “I swear that thing will rend me asunder. Oh, oh, Oh!”

Albert was all a sweat. The mounting of his landlady, though most pleasurable, was surely hard work! Her fanny was wrapped around his prick like a vice and he had to pause while she got used to his probing. He was beginning to think that having such a large fucker was not a blessing but a curse. “You have the most delightful fanny, Mrs. Hoopenlicker,” he grunted as her sex gripped him tightly. “Are you able to take more of my prick?”

Mrs. Hoopenlicker was knocking on heaven’s door. Her mind was away with the fairy folk and the sensations that flowed from her sex made her weep with delirium. Her cunty felt absolutely and completely stuffed full of his cock. And yet, from her glance, she saw that he had much more to give her. Could she take any more? Was she physically capable of being fucked completely by such a thing?

“Push, Mr. Johnson,” she urged. “Push as if your very life depended on it. Force your ridiculous prick as far and as deep as you can. I shall accept every inch of you if it is the last thing I do!”

His landlady braced herself and thrust her buttocks up to make his penetration easier. Albert steeled himself and thrust forward with his hips in slow surges that had the poor woman impaled on his shaft yelping and squealing with wild abandon. The more he forced into her, the more vulgar her language became.

“Mr. Johnson!” she shrieked. “Mr. Johnson, sir. Oh my, oh fiddlesticks, I swear on the almighty,” Another thrust. “Ah, oh, oh, oh, fiddley Fuck!”

Albert began to twitch. He was hopping from one foot to the other as he rammed more of his prick into his landlady who was twisting and swearing as she knelt there on the couch. His hands had pushed the cheeks of her arse apart and he had a clear view of her brown hole winking at him above her distended cunt.

“OH, you well hung bastard son,” Mrs. Hoopenlicker grimaced as her lodger crouched over her with his large balls slapping wetly against her hairy mound. She felt a sudden surge of pure ecstasy and shuddered through the delightful spell it cast over her. Finally. He was completely inside her. She had done it. She had taken all he had to give and it felt wonderful. Her cunty was full of cock and the head of it pressed somewhere deep inside that made her shiver from tip to toe.

She turned her head as he heaved and strained above her. “Take me, Sir,” she begged. “Make me whine like a whore on a Sunday. Use that immense prick to pound my little fanny raw and fill my insides with your seed!”

The mounting of Mrs. Hoopenlicker continued apace. The room echoed to the sounds of passionate coitus with the fire casting erotic shadows upon the walls as they danced. Albert was struggling to keep his ardor in check as he flexed his hips back and forth against her upturned derriere. Goblin eyed, he drooled as he watched his fleshy spike appear and disappear inside his landlady who had grasped a cushion and was gnawing on it with a face contorted with pleasure and pain.

The filthy language she was using only added to his impending release. “Oh, Mrs. Hoopenlicker!” he cried as he banged away. “I adore the way you express your feelings in such a guttural way. But I fear such debasement shall soon tip me over the edge of madness!”

Mr. Johnson was right. Her language was from the gutter. A hellish place she had known all too well before her first husband had rescued her from the life she had been living amongst the dregs of humanity who inhabited the capitals underworld.

It was then she sensed that the young man riding her saddle was about to reach his peak. “Do not hold back, Mr. Johnson,” she urged as his thrusts became more erratic. “My constitution is well able to withstand the tempest which you are about to unleash upon me!”

Her lodger exclaimed a sudden “Oh!” and hammered her gripped buttocks thrice in quick succession as he shot his thick copious semen deep within the groaning woman.

Mrs. Hoopenlicker held firm as an exhausted Mr. Johnson collapsed on her as they reached the top of the mountain together. For an age, he covered her with his face close to hers and she could hear him panting like a sated dog in her right ear.

“Sir,” she whispered eventually. “The deed is done. You may unmount me now for I need to remove the sponge.”

Albert struggled up and watched as his landlady rolled onto her back, spread her thighs, and with a tug on the string hanging from her sex, pulled out the sodden dam. She held it up to the light as a teardrop of his spend dripped from it onto the floor.

As her young lodger stood there catching his breath, Mrs. Hoopenlicker knelt down in front of him and lifted up the drooping length of his spent cock so that it hung twitching from her grip. In the light from the fire, it still glistened wetly from the mix of their combined juices as she examined it closely before she licked his waning tumescence clean.

“Does that shock you, Mr. Johnson?” she asked as she knelt back.

Albert tried to rearrange his common sense and ability to speak as he watched his landlady lick her lips. “Yes. Very much so, Mrs. Hoopenlicker. Today is a day I shall never forget.”

The small clock on the mantelpiece began to chime as she got to her feet and walked over to him. “The first of many I hope, Mr. Johnson,” she whispered as she kissed him on the cheek. “The time is late and the day has been an eventful one. With your grace, I shall retire to bed and think upon things till I drop off. Be so good as to secure the locks and turn out the lamps.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

Mrs. Hoopenlicker stopped at the door and turned back. “Though it may not appear as such after our little tryst, Albert,” she began. It was the first time she had called him by his first name which somehow made the moment more intimate. “Please be assured that I am normally not a woman of such loose morals. It is just that sometimes I like to pretend I am,” she told him. “This day is done and tomorrow will bring what God or the devil decides. With that, I bid you a good night, Sir.”

Her lodger watched her take her leave wondering what lay in store for him in the days ahead.

“The Copper Kettle” tea rooms just off Whitechapel were the hub around which the tide of local gossip and news ebbed and flowed.

It was mid-morning as the brass bell rang and another customer entered the establishment to meet up with her two friends who were sat in a far corner enjoying another day of doing nothing much at all.

“Ladies,” said a familiar voice. “How are we this fine Summer’s day?”

Constance Mulligan and Edith Dowinger looked up to see their long-standing companion, Martha Hoopenlicker, hanging up her coat and coming over to join them.

Mrs. Dowinger smiled at her friend and raised an amused brow. “My, my,” she noted with a glance to the lady on her right. “The way you’re preening yourself, dear Martha, you look like the cat who got the cream. Has something happened?”

The younger woman sat down and composed herself as the maid delivered a hot pot of tea and a plate full of buttered scones. Pouring a cup, she smiled over the rim at her two friends watching her. She did so very much enjoy playing their little game of secrets and the adventures they dreamed up to while away the long hours of boredom.

She sat forward. “Ladies,” she whispered conspiratorially. “By chance and circumstance, I may have come upon a rather well-endowed solution to our much-discussed little problem.”

By Ian56 for Literotica

Communication Can Be Nonverbal. 

by Fugman - listen to the podcast at Steamy Stories.

To be perfectly honest, our sex life has been kind of stale lately. Between work, the kids, and other obligations, by the time we get to go to bed, we are both exhausted and not in the mood to be intimate.

One night not too long ago, I kissed Tammy goodnight and went to sleep, she was reading on her phone. We shared the ‘I love yous’ and I quickly faded out.

Several times in the past as Tammy reads her romance books, she’ll wake me up for some play time, but that hasn’t happened in a while.

This one night, I heard something and slowly opened my eyes. As I slowly adjusted to the darkness, I soon noticed that Tammy was playing with her bare nipple and moaning. I did not want to disturb her, she was literally enjoying herself, so I laid still staring at her naked body. She was pinching her nipple tightly and pulling them, stretching her breasts tall. I slowly tilted my head to see her legs wide open and her fingers playing with herself. I could not take my eyes off if her, her fingers, and I was starting to feel my hardness grow.

She took her fingers out of her wetness and I watched as she brought them to her lips and inserted them in her mouth. She moaned loudly, letting me know that she thoroughly enjoyed her own excited juices. I stayed still and silent and watched as her hand slid back down and her fingers disappeared back inside of her vagina. They slowly vanished inside of her and she moaned again, and everytime she played with her clit, her moans got louder.

I watched her as she pleasured herself, her fingers sliding in and out of her, occasionally licking them clean before returning down below. The moans were getting louder and louder and I watched as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feelings that her playful fingers provided. She turned her head towards me and I closed my eyes…a second later I opened my eyes and she was staring at me intently, mouth open as she was about to finish in front of me.

With our eyes locked, I watched as she hurdled towards her climax…I heard her fingers sloshing through her wetness, her moans increased in volume and frequency. She was a few strokes from screaming out and I watched her as she tried to keep her eyes open and connected to mine. Just as she hit her explosive finish, her eyes opened and she looked right at me. She looked incredible as her orgasm shook her body uncontrollably.

Tammy brought her fingers up and inserted them in her mouth again, this time looking directly at me as she slid her fingers in and out from between her lips. “Mmmmm,” she said as slowly withdrew them from her mouth. “Do you want to taste?” She asked, already knowing my answer would be yes.

She licked her fingers and slowly slid her hand down her body, pinched her nipple tightly and then continued tracing her fingers down her body. Once she reached between her legs, her eyes closed briefly as her fingers slid inside her already soaked opening. I watched her move her fingers in and out a few times before bringing them to my lips. I kissed them gently then wrapped my lips around her fingers and pulled them inside my mouth. My tongue swirled around her digits and tasted every drop of her juice that I could. Her eyes watched me intently as she slowly withdrew her fingers.

“Mmmm, baby, I love the taste of you,” I said, “I want more.” As I said that, I slid my body out form under the covers and moved down the bed. As soon as my head was near her privates, I could smell her aroma, the scent drew me in. As soon as my tongue touched her upper thigh, she moaned, her heart was already pounding in anticipation And I did not keep her waiting. My tongue slid down her thigh and I tasted her from the source. Her hands grabbed the back of my head and pulled me deep between her legs. My tongue slipped inside of her lips as I heard her moan again.

I had to fight her grip to raise my head slightly, “mmm, straight from the source!” As I moved back in and my tongue parted her opening and I moved it up and down. I love the feeling of her opening as it makes room for my invading tongue. I went up and down tasting as much of her as I could and then I brought my lips up and surrounded her pleasure button. As soon as my lips surrounded her and started to gently suck, she moaned loudly. She was already approaching her second orgasm, and I wanted to bring it to her. I continued sucking, licking, nibbling on her button until she begged for me to finish her. That is when my tongue slid down and back into her opening, up and down I moved it, then I started pushing it in and out of her.

Every few strokes of my tongue, then I would go back to her clit and suck, nibble, lick and suck some more. Her hands grabbed my head and held it tightly as her explosion neared. I swirled my tongue around and then bit down as I heard her intense moan indicating that she was coming again. I held her firmly as more juices flowed from her sweet opening. When she finally calmed down and released her death grip on my head, I licked her up and down again, coating my tongue and face with her juice for the second time.

She pulled me by the head until I kissed her, she swirled her tongue inside my mouth tasting her flavor once again.

Tammy felt my erection poking into her as we kissed and she reached for my underwear. Seconds later, my butt was bare and her hands were pulling me inside of her. The excessive lubrication down below had me sinking deep with very little effort. Once I was fully inside of her, she held me tight and ground her hips against mine. She was still pleasuring herself and I needed to take over and do the pleasuring. I lifted my hips, until only the very tip of me remained inside, I used my hand and slid my hardness against her seam, sliding up and down but not entering her. She moaned again, the angle I was hitting her pelvis was causing every up stroke to hit her already overly sensitive clit.

Back and forth between full penetration and sliding up and down her seam had her ready to come unglued. But I love hearing her moans, I love hearing her being fully pleasured and know that I am in control. I was coated in a lot of her wetness so it made it really easy to slide back and forth, in and out, up and down until she was rapidly approaching her third climax for the night.

I stayed inside of her and ground my hips, moving my erection around inside, hitting everywhere that I could reach until I knew she was about to go over the edge. Then I plowed hard and fast inside of her, she moaned louder and she held on to my hips feeling me thrust deep and hard. She was getting closer and closer and I knew it would not be much longer before she was cumming again.

I felt her hands move to my bare butt and I suddenly felt a sharp pain on my cheeks. She dug her fingernails into my backside and she held me in place, buried deep inside of her. She moved her hips back and forth until she moaned again. Her body shook violently as waves of pleasure ran through her body again.

Her body quivering was vibrating my hardness still buried inside of her, I felt a sharp pain on my bare butt cheeks, it was Tammy, digging her nails in deep so that I would not move until she was done with me.

The sharp pain in my backside conflicted with the pleasure that my erection was experiencing as her body was stroking me inside, almost milking me for my seed.

After she started to come down from her orgasm, she released my butt cheeks and told me, “let me taste me on you, lay down, it’s my turn to please you.” I did as I was told and rolled over, standing tall and proud. She rolled over and I watched as she locked eye contact with me and licked the head, swirling her tongue around to hit ever side, and the little hole on the top. She licked all around, didn’t let one spot get ignored, “mmmmm, you taste so good with me on you.”

My head fell back and I lost eye contact with her as she went up and down surrounding my tool with her mouth, lips, tongue, hand stroking me, she was working me, and working me well. It was like she was wanting me to finish quickly.

Her mouth moved up and down, her tongue swirled over my head, back and forth on the very tip, coating me with her saliva as it mixed with my excitement starting to ooze from me. I grabbed her by the hair and held on as she was definitely taking control, I knew what she wanted, but I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. I fought the urges to explode down her throat, but she was really ramping up the intensity. I was really fighting back but I knew I was fighting a losing battle, I knew it was only a matter of time before she drained me of every last drop.

I thought I had it handled, I was thinking of anything I could so that I wasn’t concentrating on what she was doing to me, but as soon as I felt her fingers play with my testicles, I knew it was coming quickly. She teased the underside and squeezed them, but as soon as she looked up at me and I made eye contact with her, she grinned around my tool in her mouth and nodded to me that it was time.

That was all it took, with a moan and a groan, I filled her mouth with everything in me. She played with my jewels as she drank down every last drop, “mmmmm,” she moaned around my tool. Causing vibrations around my shooting appendage, the feeling was too much to take as I held her head in place and moved my hips back and forth. I could barely think about anything but her mouth still surrounding me, drinking and using me as her straw to get to the very last bit of my special shake.

When I was finally drained of everything, she raised her head and licked me from the top to my jewels, making sure that she got it all, and she smiled up at me, “mmmm, straight from the source.” We giggled and cuddled until we fell back to sleep, saying our I love yous before drifting off again, both completely satisfied.

by Fugman, for Tumblr

Former fundamentalist begins her ministry to virgin men. (first time)

By April601. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

In my early 20’s I dated a guy named Terry. He was a nice enough guy, very respectful and polite. He was my age and not the typical bad guy type that for some reason I seemed to attract or was it I was attracted to?

I began dating him and soon realized he was on the more serious side. Honestly, I didn’t expect that he could hold my attention for more than a couple of dates.

After somewhat of a wild start to my sexual journey I reached a point of self-respect and I had established a few ground rules for myself that I tried to follow. The first rule being that I tried not having sex on the first date! Well, I tried anyway; bless my heart. If I managed to get by that crucial rule, I had made up a few more hypothetical rules.

1. First dates were limited to heavy kissing only.
2. Second dates limited to touching, exploring. I would allow my date to touch my breasts and I would go no further than rubbing his groin thru his pants.
3. Third dates maybe a hand job.
4. Fourth dates possibly a blowjob, and
5. If we made it the fifth date there were no limits.

I thought these were reasonable limits for semi-nice girls, which I considered myself as being. If you haven’t heard how I was still a naive, shelter, fundamentalist virgin when an older married man deflowered me, we’ll need to have that conversation; because it explains a lot of my personal journey and progression toward sexual awareness of myself. It also added to my empathy for others with retarded sexual awareness in adulthood.

I remember telling several of my dates these rules but honestly, I don’t ever recall a time when I was able to really stick to them; except with Terry.

My first date with Terry ended with us just kissing and making out in his car. It was all pretty tame and controlled overall. He was polite and seemed to respect the limits and restrictions I was trying to follow.

Some guys are just terrified of sexual intimacy; and need encouragement and affirmation. Some guys are raised to think that all women view sex as dirty male desires, that women inwardly abhor, and only tolerate in marriage arrangements.

After our second date we again began to make out in his car. As things started to heat up with Terry, I reached into his pants to do an assessment of his manhood. I liked what I felt as it appeared to be a good size and worthy of a third date. Never being the patient type, I unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Yes, I know; I broke my second date rule.

As I began to play with my new toy, Terry stopped me and said he had something important to tell me. Really? I’m stroking your cock, and you want to stop and talk? This was a first for me.

He sheepishly told me he was a virgin! What! Really! He now had my attention. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. I thought maybe he was playing games to entice me into having sex with him. He was a good-looking guy but a bit on the shy side, so maybe I could see it. I guess I must have overreacted as he immediately went limp. I apologized and that was pretty much the end of the date.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Is this good or bad? Should I go on a third date or run?

The next day I called my friend Jenny. She always had answers. I told her everything and wanted her take on the situation. Not to be mean but we did have a good laugh over it. Jenny had never been with a virgin before either. We both pondered over it and the more we discussed it the more intrigued we both became. We jokingly came up with the term “Virgin Boy.” But his sudden limpness was a result of my failure. He needed me to help him overcome his insecurity, and I’d just magnified it, instead. I owed him a do-over, if he’d even let me have another chance.

Jenny pointed out that guys think about sex hundreds of times a day. So if I were his first, he would probably then think of me every day for the rest of his life. Wow what an emotionally powerful thought that was.

“Imagine being his very first, the first girl he has sex with. You will always be remembered as ‘The One’,“ she said. “The one he lost his virginity to. You will always be special to him. You will forever be engraved in his memory. Even when he gets married; when he is 40 and is mindlessly daydreaming on his drive to work; when he gets old and reminisces; it will always be you that he thinks of when he thinks of his very first time.”

The more we talked about it the more we realized what a great opportunity this was. I think the thought of taking his virginity was turning us both on. By the end of the evening with Jenny, it was decided I would be his first.

But we also agreed that it had to be special, not just a quick hump in the car. This was becoming a huge responsibility for me. I had to do it right. It had to be extra special. I felt an obligation to make it special.

Jenny was dying to meet Terry so when he called for a third date, I told him my friend Jenny would be joining us. We all met at a bar and Jenny loved him. She gave me her approval but also had a suggestion. “How about for his first time he has a threesome with both of us? How special and memorable would that be!” I had threesomes with Jenny before during vacations, so it wasn’t out of the question. I told her I would have to think about it. I did have concerns, though.

A threesome sounded like a great idea but I knew that Terry would end up remembering Jenny and not me. Jenny was a bombshell. She was gorgeous and outgoing. Bigger curves, cute as fuck, guys were drawn to her like a magnet, that’s one of the reasons I loved hanging around with Jenny. She could be overbearing also. Sure, Terry would love to have sex with Jenny but what about me? What about me being “the one”?

As the weeks went on, I was doing my best to refrain from sex with Terry. He was cute and nice but really, he wasn’t anything special, he was just too serious for me. But Terry was a virgin, and this made him special to me. Taking his virginity was all I could think of. If he wasn’t a virgin, I’m sure there wouldn’t have been a third date. He was in my head or was it his virginity that was in my head. I was determined to take his virginity.

Up until this point I had dated older guys, and I was having sex on a fairly regular basis. With Terry I was not doing well without sex. Terry thought I was the good girl type by not having sex. Yes, I was sweet and innocent looking. But the lack of sex and the erotic thoughts about taking a young man’s virginity were driving me crazy. Self-gratification definitely increased during this waiting period.

I finally told Jenny that I wanted Terry for myself. I wanted him to remember me, not ‘Jenny and that other girl’. Besides it was me going without sex all these weeks. I needed his full attention. Jenny seemed a bit disappointed, but she understood.

Jenny and I came up with a plan. As both Terry and I still lived at home I suggested a weekend away in Niagara Falls. The honeymoon capital of North America, how appropriate was that?

Terry agreed and I was so excited. How could I make this special event even better?

Leading up to the weekend, I daydreamed how it all would play out. Would he ejaculate before we even start? Should I tease him or maybe just jump him? What should I wear? It was all I could think of. I was horny as hell in anticipation.

I bought a new nightie for the occasion. There really wasn’t much to it. It was short, sheer, and low cut, not much left to the imagination.

The day finally came. The long drive to Niagara Falls was filled with sexual tension. We chatted and joked during the drive, but my mind was racing. I couldn’t believe how aroused I was. I don’t think I ever thought about an impending sexual act as much as I did with Terry. I tried to rationalize it, after all we all lose our virginity at one point, but psychologically this had become a big deal for me. Maybe because my virginity was taken from me by a man ten years older than me that was only concerned about his own sexual gratification.

Now the shoe was on the other foot. It was my responsibility to make sure Terry’s loss of his virginity was a memorable and wonderful experience. Dam I was so thoughtful.

We arrived at our destination and checked into a cheap motel. I will always remember the name “The Rainbow Motel.” Terry was eager to begin and began groping me as soon as we entered the room but I quickly put a stop to it. I had a plan; this was going to be a slow seduction. We unpacked, freshened up, and went to get a bite to eat. No alcohol for either of us, I wanted him to remember this special night.

Once we got back to the room, we sat on the edge of the bed and started kissing. As things began to heat up I told him to get naked and in bed. I went into the bathroom to slip into my nightie. I slowly walked out of the bathroom and around the bed to make sure he got a good look.

I dimmed the lights but kept it the room bright enough so that he could see everything that was about to happen to him.

I could see his arousal as the bed sheet was poking up like a tent. I slowly and sensually touched him as I stood over him. I told him he wasn’t allowed to touch me. The lingerie I was wearing was totally sheer, so I wasn’t hiding anything.

I slowly pulled back the sheets and crawled into bed with him. His cock was standing to full attention as he lay there. I could see he trimmed his hairs for the occasion. How sweet.

I reached down and grasped his cock in my hand. I squeezed it tight as I stared at it. I could feel the pulsating blood as it gushed through his veins. I felt a sense of power as his virgin cock throbbed in my tight grasp. After many weeks of planning and anticipation the time had finally come. His virginity was in my hand. No pun intended.

I slowly began stroking him. I was very conscious of the possibility of him pre-ejaculating to my touch. I proceeded with caution. I didn’t want to over stimulate him. As I stoked him, I could hear his breathing picking up. I slowed down and began to coach him. I wanted this to last. I was in total control, and I loved the feeling it gave me.

I had thought it best to proceed and give him his first blowjob before he exploded in my hand. I slowly and seductively began kissing and licking his beautiful cock. Exploring his balls with my tiny fingers. I slowly lowered my mouth onto the tip of his cock and began slowly bobbing up and down, taking more of him inside of my mouth with every stroke. He was doing great and by now I was getting right into it. I began stroking and sucking his cock vigorously. I then moved down and began sucking and licking his balls. Placing first one them both in my mouth as I stroked him hard and fast.

I was hot and horny as hell by now and he was getting the full treatment. I wanted him to cum in my mouth and I wanted to swallow his first blowjob load. This was all part of my plan.

Despite my best efforts he wasn’t ejaculating! This was not what I was expecting but I carried on.

It was finally time for me to take his virginity. I was so wet with anticipation. I pulled my nightie off, so I was completely naked for him, my plump tits swayed and jiggled to his visual delight, as I straddled him. I was going to make this special for him. I already had decided I wasn’t going to use any protection to diminish the feeling, bareback only. I wanted him to feel just how good sex can be. I proceeded to mount his stiff rod. Ever so slowly, I wanted him to feel every inch of me as I slowly lowered myself onto his hard throbbing cock. I was soaking wet as I easily engulfed his entire cock deep inside of me. He grabbed and squeezed my swaying breasts. My nipples were swollen and erect. I was primed and ready.

Slowly I began riding him. I was taking it slow and easy, as I didn’t want him to cum too fast. It felt so good to have his cock inside of me. The thought of finally taking his virginity was too much. He had barely entered me and immediately began having an orgasm. I shook and quivered as I began riding him faster. Oh my god! it was me that was pre-ejaculating and not him. Terry thrust deeply and pulled on my nipples as I let out a deep moan.

I was still deeply implanted on top of Terry as I regained my composer. He was still rock hard, so I continued to ride him. Soon I was riding him like crazy. I was bouncing on him like wild as he had a tight hold of my hips thrusting me down on his cock. He was giving it to me right back to me. I was riding him so hard and violently I was pretty sure something was going to break. Was it going to be the bed or his cock?

He wasn’t ejaculating. I was so aroused about taking his virginity I came once again. This time was even more powerful than the first. My whole body shook as I had violent spasms. I let out a loud deep moan as I had an orgasmic eruption. In my twenties it was very rare that I climaxed so having two orgasms on the first go was incredibly rare for me. My juices were flowing. I needed a good fuck after going without for so long and he was giving it to me.

Then it hit me…what’s going on here? If he really is a virgin why hasn’t he ejaculated yet? I was convinced he had done this before. This couldn’t possibly be his first time. Was I being doped? He just kept fucking me hard and fast. Eventually I had to stop. I was confused and yes maybe even a bit angry for being lied to. “You said you were a virgin. why aren’t you cumming?”

He apologized and explained he was used to very frequent masturbating, and this felt; well, different. It felt great, but just different. I suppose that is possible? He seemed to have no idea that frequent jacking off could diminish his responsiveness with a woman. I could tell by the look on his face he was telling the truth. I also realized that a frequently-masterbating man performs better when he can stroke a pussie fast, furious, & freely; so I should not be riding cowgirl, tonight.

After a bit of hugging and kissing, I went back to work and started with a nice long blowjob. I was determined not to stop until I swallowed his load. I encouraged him to stroke his cock while I sucked his bulbous tip and manipulated his balls. With his assistance we finally had him cumming in my mouth and he gave me a huge load to swallow. Hurrah, success at last. I was proud of myself. His confidence was restored and still rising.

I sucked and swallowed every last drop and even licked him clean. This was his first time, and I was being extra nice to him. I was making it special. I wanted to set the standard high for all future blowjobs. A standard that every other woman he slept with had to be compared to. Yeah, I gave him a great first blowjob!

Once he recovered, he mounted me missionary style and we both watched as he slowly entered me. We both began moving in rhythm as he fucked me.

I began encouraging him to fuck me harder, I could tell he was getting worked up and it wouldn’t be much longer now. He loved the nasty language I used as I assured him of his prowess. He loved hearing how much my pussie loved his cock inside me. His self-confidence was naturally very fragile, being a virgin in his twenties. I needed to unleash the beast in him, and I knew he needed my affirmations to get there.

As he was getting close, I told him to cum inside of me, that I wanted to feel his warm cum deep inside of me. He came hard and fast. I screamed out “yes! Oh, my, god; yes” as he filled me up with his warm virgin cum.

He made me work for it, but his virginity was finally mine. I will always be remembered as, “The One,” that will be remembered. I think I was thrilled more than him.

That weekend we had sex 20 more times. Yes, I kept count, 20 more times. We were like newlyweds. Terry just couldn’t get enough, and I never refused him. We tried several positions, failed at a few, and even laughed together at our lack of gymnastic acumen. There was no way he would ever forget me after that weekend.

When I got home on Sunday night, I swear I was walking bowlegged. I was exhausted and sore. I couldn’t wait to tell Jenny. I felt such a sense of accomplishment.

I was hooked on the sense of power, control, and the adrenalin rush I had felt.

• The planning, anticipation, and buildup of finally taking his virginity.
• The epic orgasm I had felt when I finally had his cock inside of me.
• The psychological pleasure I felt, knowing I was forever special to someone.
• That this memory would never be forgotten by either one of us.

I wanted to do it again; I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to experience another virgin boy.

Since then, I have experienced several virgin boys. I will share my adventures about deflowering them, in time.

PS, I continued to date Terry for a couple of months afterwards. During that time he became quite proficient at sex. I was thrilled to be the experienced woman that taught him all about sex. It was quite a rush.]

By April601 for Literotica

The Black Cat

In 4 parts, by RachaelJane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chapter 16: An evening with Paulo

Of course I should have realized that there is an ulterior motive to his request. But I’m a willing participant to his brilliant scheme, even if technically I’m the victim. The lively dance music is sensuous and our bodies are almost constantly in contact. I’m not sure if it the desire building inside me or the strenuous activity that is making my clothes stick to me. Our bodies are glistening with sweat and the effect is driving me wild.

As the dance progresses our bodies seem to come into contact more and more until we are moving like a single being. When the music ends I don’t want to part. But the dancing is only the first stage of Paulo’s seduction.

“We need a shower,” he says, taking my hand and escorting me from the room. I don’t make any effort to resist, even though I know he means for us to share a shower. In fact, far from resist I feel a tremor of desire at the prospect.

I’m neither mistaken nor disappointed in Paulo’s plan. I’ve never showered with another person before, let alone a virile young man whose motives are as plain as day. I follow his lead and we undress each other. That act alone arouses me even more. Then we enter the cubicle and Paulo sets the buttons to start the water. I don’t know if these showers are programmed to cater for a shower for two, but everything about it is wonderful.

When Paulo starts soaping me I practically explode with desire as his hands work their dastardly deed. He kisses me and knows he has me where he wants me. Or so he thinks. I’m still in control of some of my emotions and manage to achieve the same sort of response from him as my hands work on his body. It’s a challenge both of us do our best to win. His hands work wonders between my legs, while I soon have his cock eager for more of my attentions. Who can be first to push the other into an orgasm? I’ve the advantage of my gender and can hide an orgasm. But for Paulo, the evidence of my claimed victory is obvious, whereas I secretly know Paulo won in reality.

The shower program ends after about fifteen minutes. We are definitely clean and no trace remains of the effects from our dancing or from our water games. For the moment our lust is sated. But not for long. Neither of us bother to dress and I know full well what awaits me beyond the door opposite the one we entered.

“Ready?” asks Paulo.

“Yes, I’m ready,” I reply, taking the opportunity to kiss him.

Paulo lifts me up and carries me into the suite’s bedroom. We have nearly four hours before the sensible part of my mind is needed again. Chloe is due to return at 2am and I need to be back in my dormitory by then if I want to avoid a confrontation. Given her actions last night, I’m not going to give her another opportunity to sabotage my chances in the Argonaut. However, between now and then I intend to explore all the opportunities this night presents. I was a shy and inexperienced maiden when I arrived yesterday. I shall not be leaving in the same state.

To describe the next four hours as sensational or wonderful barely does justice to the emotions Paulo drew from me. Or to the emotions I clearly drew from him. I lost count of the number of times we fucked, each time in a different position. Had circumstances been different I’m sure we would have a longer term relationship. Perhaps one involving genuine love for each other. But we both know that isn’t likely to be.

Sensible Jasmine rejoins me with twenty minutes to spare before my imposed deadline. I’m glad Paulo doesn’t resist my move to leave. If he held me back I’m certain I would risk Chloe’s wrath for another half hour with Paulo. I’ve no idea what she has been up to with Sarah tonight, and to be honest, I don’t care. But Chloe left me in no doubt she that intends to eliminate me from the Argonaut given the slightest opportunity. An impression neither Paulo nor Cassius have done anything to dispel.

With a final kiss and a sorrowful farewell, I enter the elevator with the most wonderful memories of tonight.

Despite it being after 2 o'clock in the morning, I find Harper standing in the corridor outside our dormitory when I arrive. He’s remarkably sober for this time of night, but he practically falls over in surprise when he sees me.

“What are you doing here?” says Harper, as he recovers from his shock.

“This is my quarters,” I reply, slightly annoyed he is questioning me like this.

“That’s not what I mean. If you are out here, then who is the girl with Patrick in our dormitory?”

I’d forgotten about Sheba. She and Patrick must have hit it off alright if she is still here.

“Um; It’s probably Sheba,” I reply to Harper’s question. “I met her earlier tonight and introduced her to Patrick. They must have discovered they have a lot in common.”

“And who is Sheba?”

"She’s the daughter of some Argon bigwig. She was heading for the party on the top floor when I realized Patrick might be the sort of company she was really wanting.”

“Hmmm; I suspect there’s more to this than you are telling me,” adds Harper. “But well done on finding Patrick a potential benefactor. I don’t suppose you rustled up a benefactor for yourself in the process?”

“Ah! Yes, I do believe I have,” I reply, remembering I put Sarah’s business card in my pocket. “Her name is Sarah. She said she wanted to me to contact her if I’m a winner of the Argonaut.”

Harper looks at Sarah’s card; the one which contains nothing but a picture of a black cat. He suddenly goes very serious.

“And just how did you meet this Sarah of yours, sweetheart? You weren’t supposed to leave the building tonight. The employees of Le Chat Noir don’t do house calls.”

“I didn’t leave this building. Sarah isn’t an employee, she’s one of the owners of Le Chat Noir. She was here on business earlier this evening. We got talking and she said she wanted to talk to me afterwards. Is that going to be a problem? What is Le Chat Noir anyway? And how do you know about it?”

“Never mind how I know about Le Chat Noir, and you’re too young to understand what sort of business it conducts.”

“OK, keep your secrets. Anyway, I had a good time tonight, and now I feel ready for bed. Where are the others if Patrick and Sheba are alone in the dormitory?”

They’ve having a slumber party of their own downstairs. I suggest you go and join them if you plan on sleeping tonight.

I take a quick shower in the communal bathroom, mainly to soothe some of the many tender spots around my body. Several parts of me received more exercise and attention tonight; than they’ve ever received before. What started out as a gentle tumble in bed progressively increased in tempo until Paulo and I were being quite rough with each other in our lovemaking. I probably discovered as much about myself as I did about Paulo. My only regret is it has left me wanting to repeat the whole encounter again and again, and I know that is likely to be impossible. The warm glow I was feeling when I left Paulo returns by the time I find my room-mates in the downstairs lounge, and my head hits my makeshift pillow. Sleep quickly follows.

Chapter 17: The Argonaut

I join an equally sleepy Patrick for breakfast at eight o'clock. He’s in a much happier mood than yesterday. I try to think of the right way to apologize for practically throwing Sheba into his bed last night, but Patrick speaks before I can say anything.

“Thank you for what you did last night,” he says. “I don’t know how you managed it but Sheba was just the person I needed. And if Sheba was being truthful, I was the person she needed.”

“Um; That’s OK,” I reply. “Sorry if I practically threw her at you, but I was late for the; er; party upstairs.”

“Hmm! Sheba mentioned she was going to a party before she met you. But it didn’t sound like the sort of party I thought you would be interested in. Sheba made it sound like it was all scantily clad girls competing for Paulo’s favor. Perhaps the rumor about Paulo and some dark-haired beauty dancing naked in a roof garden are true after all?” he laughs.

“Where did you hear that rumor?” I ask. “I’m sure it’s greatly exaggerated.”

“Some of the contestants were talking while we were waiting in the studio yesterday. You must have heard them; Oh. No; Of course; You arrived a bit later. Wait a minute. Harper let slip there are rumors circulating about Paulo and a girl who fits your description. Are you the girl referred to in that rumor? Is the rumor true?”

“Of course the rumor is wrong; We weren’t dancing,” I reply keeping my tone light. “That came much later. But I admit I’m the girl in the rumor. Are there are other rumors about me? It’s very difficult to get some privacy here with all the security cameras everywhere.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. I only wish I had half your courage to defy convention and take what you need.”

Patrick and I are back to being pleasant to each other and able to talk without any awkwardness. I just hope he and I don’t have to compete against each other today. While there can be multiple winners of the Argonaut, some challenges involve head-to-head tests in which one of two contestants is eliminated from the Argonaut.

At nine-thirty, forty-six of the fifty original contestants are standing in the huge hall that will be the main testing center for today’s Argonaut challenges. Apparently four contestants have already been eliminated. Despite plenty of rumors, nobody seems to know the reason, and the Argonaut officials are saying nothing on the subject. I can’t help wondering whether sabotage had a part to play in the contestants’ elimination.

The Argonaut officials are easily recognized by their bright purple gowns. The woman in charge has lots of gold trim on her gown, as if to reinforce her status here. Even the other officials seem nervous about being near her.

“By the end of the day, at least twenty more of you will have been eliminated,” she announces to us all. “For the first challenge, you will be divided into seven groups. When your name is called, go and stand under the colored banner of your group over there.”

Another official reads out everyone’s names in group order. I’m in Green group, along with Patrick, Chloe, Mansel, and two other contestants I don’t know. Paulo is placed in Yellow group, and Vincent in Blue. Once we are all assembled in our allocated group, an official marches each group off to a different room.

“Last night you have each been approached by citizen of Argon city, and received a card from them. The card indicates that the citizen is willing to provide you with employment in the city, should the Argonaut assessment panel be willing to loan you the money that you need to buy your freedom. Now, place the card on the table in front of you.”

Fortunately I’ve kept Sarah’s card in my pocket, heeding her advice that it may prove useful. Is this what she meant when she said that? I notice Chloe has a similar card, although the black cat on her card is lying on its back, while mine looks as though it is stalking a mouse. I presume Sheba was the source of Patrick’s card. The official studies each card and checks it against something written on his notepad. A grunt is the only indication that everything seems to be in order. He tells us to retrieve our cards.

“Your next decision will be critical to your success or otherwise in the Argonaut,” says the official. “You must now decide whether to accept your sponsor’s offer of employment. If you haven’t discussed the employment terms and wish to discuss them with your sponsor before accepting, then you should decline the current offer. I will now ask you in turn whether you accept or decline the offer.”

Patrick, Chloe and I are the only three of us who accept the employment offer. In my case, it is a rash decision based on a few minutes of conversation with Sarah last night. I could be agreeing to something I will soon regret, but I’m more terrified of being eliminated from the Argonaut than accepting an unknown job. The three of us are escorted to yet another room and told to wait.

We wait. And we wait some more. Finally Ellen and Cassius turn up.

“Good. That’s all sorted,” says Ellen, handing each of us an envelope. “Read those later. You must go to your dormitories and pack your things. Meet by the front door in forty five minutes.”

“What’s going on?” asks Patrick. “Have we been eliminated from the Argonaut?”

“No. No. On the contrary. You have all been granted a loan and a work permit for the city. You will be transported to your new employer’s place of business. He or she will sort out everything else. It’s all explained in the letter I’ve just given you.”

It takes me a few moments to remember to breathe. In my wildest dreams I never imagined winning the Argonaut would be so quick and easy. I had mentally prepared myself for a day of tests and challenges, and an anxious wait tomorrow for the final result.

Packing my few belongings takes all of five minutes. I had already returned the Jewels of Desire to Ellen first thing this morning. With over half-an-hour to spare, I sit down to read my letter. Ellen has covered all the salient details in her answer to Patrick’s question. My indenture to the Buchanan overlord has been purchased by the Bureau of Ancillary Services for just under eight thousand credits, which I must repay from my earnings over the next five years. Failure to repay the loan by the deadline means my indenture will be sold to any Argon citizen willing to buy it, and I will once again be a serf. I’m to be employed as a hostess at The Black Cat Club, working five days a week. The letter doesn’t contain any further details about the job or what in entails. With the letter is a laminated work permit confirming I am authorized to work in the city center and travel to and from Buchanan settlement.

Patrick and I join Chloe by the front door as instructed. There’s no sign of Ellen or Cassius, and I realize that we might be taken from here without the opportunity to say goodbye to anyone. A small bus arrives a short while later and the driver tells us to get on board. Ellen and Cassius appear at the last moment and wave us off as we drive away.

The bus has only a short journey before we arrive outside an odd-shaped office building surrounded by a jumble of similar sized buildings. Patrick disembarks after sharing a brief farewell and good wishes. He suggests that we keep in touch. I say ‘yes’, although I’m not sure how achievable that will be.

We have a slightly longer drive into the heart of the city center before the bus stops outside a building in what is clearly part of an entertainment district. The bus departs as soon as Chloe and I step onto the wide footpath. From the street, The Black Cat Club looks very unimpressive. The ground-floor doorway consists of a wide metal frame housing twin white doors, each with a black cat motif on the upper panel. There are no door handles nor any doorbell to attract attention.

“Did you come here last night?” I ask Chloe, risking a hostile reply.

“I don’t know,” replies Chloe. “I was made to wear a hood for most of the journey. If it’s the same place then I’ll recognize it once we are inside.”

Which, of course, is the problem. How do we get inside?

Chapter 18: Arrival at The Black Cat

The area is quiet at this hour of the morning and there is no sign of activity at the club. Gaining access to the club is going to be a problem we need to solve on our own. I study the door and the surrounding frame. On door frame, either side of the doors, are two dark square pads with a motif of a cat on them. The one on the right has a stalking cat, like on the card Sarah gave me. The left hand pad has a cat lying on its back, similar to the one on the card in Chloe’s possession.

Chloe tries pushing the pad in case it is a doorbell of sorts. The pad is solid so there is no audible or visible response. We wait a few moments in case what Chloe has done has summoned someone inside. However, nobody comes to the door, so I consider trying something else. I bring out my card and place it over the pad with the matching cat symbol. Success! The door on the right makes an audible sound as though a lock is being released. I push on the door and it swings open. Inside is short but wide hallway with a row of turnstiles left and right of a central column. The turnstiles are controlled by the same sort of pad we saw on the outside door. Those to the right of the column ahead of us have a symbol that matches my card, while those on the left match Chloe’s card.

We each pass through one of the turnstiles matching our respective card. Once through to the other side, we find ourselves separated by a wall. I’m now in a different corridor to the one Chloe entered, and I’m unsure how we can meet up again without reversing our route. There’s still nobody about and I’m beginning to worry about my rash choice to accept Sarah’s offer without further details.

“Are you still there, Chloe?” I call.

“Yeah. There’s a staircase going down to a lower level. I’m fairly sure this is where I was brought last night.”

“There’s no staircase on my side,” I reply. The corridor here seems to go past a cloakroom into a large room at the end.“

"Well, let’s explore our own area and see if we can find someone,” replies Chloe.

I quickly check that the cloakroom is empty before entering the large room at the end. It’s a night club, with a huge dance floor bordered by several rows of tables and chairs on two sides; a stage on the third side; and a bar next to where I have entered on the fourth side. On the other side of the bar to the entrance door is an archway, hopefully leading to an office, or somewhere that someone will be working.

I eventually find an office where a woman about my age is working. She doesn’t seem surprised to see me and introduces herself as Honeydew.

“The Bureau sent me your details but I haven’t had time to record them in our system,” says Honeydew. “If you take a seat in the lounge over there, I’ll do that now.”

“Okay,” I reply. “I arrived with another woman; Chloe. The card she was given sent her through the left hand turnstiles when we arrived.”

“She will be looked after downstairs,” replies Honeydew. “Don’t concern yourself about her.”

Honeydew’s attitude towards Chloe strikes me as odd, but I accept her assurance that Chloe will be looked after. Since Chloe isn’t a friend, I put her out of my mind for now. After about fifteen minutes, Honeydew joins me in the lounge. She hands me some documents and a card similar to the one Sarah gave me last night. This card, however, is laminated like my work permit, and has a copy of the photograph I supplied for the Argonaut on the reverse. At her request, I hand over the card Sarah gave me.

“The identity card allows you access to the club,” says Honeydew. “You’ve already discovered how it works. The documents are your terms of employment and your scheduled work hours for the next two weeks. A fifth of your earnings will be paid directly to the Bureau of Ancillary Services to repay your loan. Let me know if you ever want to make an additional payment. If you have any questions then come and talk to me.”

“What should I do now?” I ask.

“The club opens in just over an hour. Sarah will arrive just before then. I suggest you take a walk around the club and get an idea where everything is located.”

I do as Honeydew suggests although there isn’t much more on this level than I’ve already found. The gender neutral toilets, and a set changing rooms are the only rooms I haven’t explored when I entered the club. There’s a locked door next to the bar, near to the one I entered. As seems typical of the club, the lock is controlled by the proximity of my identity card. Rather than wander around aimlessly, I try opening the door.

The door opens onto a short corridor in front of two sets of stairs leading to the floors above and below. I take a quick look upstairs first. The landing at the top leads to what turns out to be a set of bedrooms, fitted out for some adventurous sex games. I then go basement level to see if I can locate Chloe. After my experiences over the last twenty four hours I’m not surprised to see the basement is fitted out like some medieval dungeon. There’s a dance floor and bar looking incongruous with the cages and restraints liberally scattered around the place. Every square pillar supporting the building above has four sets of shackles dangling down from above. That’s where I find Chloe, chained by her wrists to one of the pillars.

“Are you okay?” I ask Chloe when I see her chained with her arms raised high above her head. She can only stand on her tiptoes.

“Yes, Miss Jasmine,” replies Chloe, indicating with her eyes that one of the many security cameras is watching us. “Mistress is fetching my uniform. I’ll be fine.”

I quickly overcome my shock at Chloe addressing me in the way she did, but I suppose she knew from last night how she would be treated here. Even with that knowledge, Chloe accepted the offer to work here without further inquiry. I’m not sure what more I can say to her, so I simply nod in acknowledgement of her signal, and continue my exploration of the dungeon. My experience with kinky sex is negligible, and I can’t pretend to understand the purpose of some of the equipment around the room. I find it fascinating, but also a little scary.

“You must be Jasmine,” says a woman dressed in a black studded leather outfit. “I’m Caitlin.”

I turn to look at the woman who has just entered from the door on the other side of the bar. Her blond hair his fastened in a plait which is pinned around her head. If I had to guess at her age, I would say that she was in her mid-thirties, but it difficult to be sure in the subdued lighting of the dungeon.

“Yes, hello,” I reply. “Honeydew suggested that I explore the club while I’m waiting for Sarah to arrive.”

“That’s no problem. But if you are waiting for Sarah, then I suggest you return upstairs. Sarah arrived a few minutes ago.”

I promptly do as Caitlin suggests. I find Sarah in the office talking to Honeydew.

“Ah! Jasmine! Excellent! I wasn’t sure if you would understand my offer, and I had half expected you to be standing out on the street wondering how to get into the club. I’m pleased you understood on both counts. Welcome to Le Chat Noir. We can discuss your duties while I find you an appropriate uniform to wear.”

Sarah concludes her business with Honeydew and then she escorts me to one of the changing rooms I had noticed earlier.

“These are the changing rooms. Rooms one to four are for visiting artists, five and six are for staff use. It can get crowded in here at busy times, so I recommend that you change into and out of your uniform at home. Honeydew will allocate one of these lockers for your belongings.”

Sarah proceeds to describe my duties. Although my job title is given as 'hostess’ my duties include almost every task that could be expected of someone working in a night club, particularly one catering for clients with exotic sexual perversions. My base salary is no more than I was earning at the recycling factory in Buchanan, but with the added costs of my loan repayment, and travel to and from work. However, Sarah indicates some of the many ways I can voluntarily supplement my earnings at the club.

Although I don’t start work until tomorrow, I spend the next couple of hours observing the club in action and meeting some of the other staff.

Chapter 19: A session with Iris

By the start of my third week working at Le Chat Noir, I’ve reorganized by life to suit my variable hours of work. I’ve also decided; at least for now; which extra services I am willing to provide at the club in order to supplement my earnings. Tips from serving drinks at tables provide a small but steady boost to my income. But until I pay off the loan the Bureau of Ancillary Services provided to buy my freedom, I need to earn more. Prostitution is tolerated by the club, but that’s something I’m uncomfortable with doing. However, more subtle or specialized sexual services are something I could manage, particularly when it comes to helping out in the dungeon downstairs. Even Caitlin and Sarah seem impressed with the ease that I’ve adapted to being a part-time dominatrix. I confess that I like the leather gear I’m given to go with the role.

When I’m not needed as a dominatrix in the dungeon, I put on a much skimpier outfit and work the floor in the main club. My outfit is inspired by the Jewels of Desire, with small semi-precious gemstones sewn into the glorified bra and panties that I normally to wear. The effect from wearing either of my regular costumes gives me a warm and pleasant feeling I associate with sexual arousal. However, I refuse all offers of sex despite my traitorous body wanting to comply.

“Hello, princess,” comes a familiar voice as I pass one of the tables on a busy night.

“Paulo! I didn’t know if I would see you again.”

“Hmm. Like everyone else, I was shocked when you disappeared from the Argonaut. We all assumed you had been eliminated. It’s only when I met Chloe last week that I discovered what happened.”

“I was lucky to find a sponsor and job that suits me,” I reply. “How about you?”

“I was one of the nine Argonaut winners in addition to Patrick, Chloe and you. That’s a fairly typical success rate for the Argonaut these days. I’ve got a job with a building maintenance company; nice regular hours although the pay isn’t that great. I presume your job means you must work nights?”

“Yes. The club doesn’t open until mid-afternoon, and stays open until the early hours of the morning. I’m normally working from six o'clock in the evening until the club closes around three or four the next morning.”

“That must make it difficult for you to get home after work,” observes Paulo.

“There are several of us in the same situation. We’re allowed to sleep on one of the beds upstairs until the first train services start in the morning. As long as my travel card shows me travelling to and from Buchanan every day then I satisfy the city’s rules about residency.”

“I had hoped we could resume where we left off during the Argonaut,” says Paulo. “But our different work hours are going to make that difficult.”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” I reply, although I’ve no idea how we might achieve it. “Anyway, how did you get in here tonight? Are you a member of Le Chat Noir?”

“Chloe managed to get me a guest pass for tonight. The pass doesn’t seem to allow me access to downstairs.”

“Only members of Le Chat Noir can enter the dungeon,” I reply.

“Is that where Chloe works?” asks Paulo. “She was very evasive when I asked her. What does she do down there?”

“Chloe works downstairs, but you’ll need to ask her about her duties. That’s not the sort of detail I can provide.”

I’m being equally evasive as Chloe about her duties. Paulo might not understand Chloe’s submissiveness and react in a way that could cause problems.

“I need to resume my work, Paulo. It’s been great catching up. If you can find a way for us to meet up outside of work, then I’m okay with resuming where we left off before.”

My departure from Paulo’s company is a bit abrupt, but Sarah is trying to attract my attention from across the room. I promptly go over to where she is standing.

“Caitlin needs your services as a dominatrix downstairs,” says Sarah. “Go and change into your leathers and report to Caitlin. And Jasmine; play your cards right tonight and Caitlin’s client could prove to be a very profitable source of extra income for you. But remember what I told you the first time we met about knowing when to keep your mouth shut about what you see.”

“Yes, thank you, Sarah. I’ll go and change at once.”

I quickly change and take the back stairs down to the dungeon level. Caitlin is helping out at the bar. The dungeon crowd is smaller than upstairs, but it is still fairly busy. Caitlin comes over to me and takes me into one of the side rooms.

Although I am still new to playing the role of a dominatrix, Caitlin seems pleased with my efforts so far. I’ll admit that the role eases my pent up anger at the inequality in Argon society. And the extra money it earns me is welcome, and encourages me to develop my skills further.

What I told Paulo wasn’t entirely true. Access to the Black Cat’s dungeon is restricted to the club’s premium members, and even staff access is limited to a select few. Quite how I was designated as one of the few was a mystery to me at first. Eventually Sarah admitted to her involvement in that decision after she saw how I handled wearing the Jewels of Desire during the Argonaut. This will be the tenth session I’ve run as a dominatrix. Two of my clients have returned for a second session, although it’s too early in my career to call them regulars.

Caitlin takes me to one side and hands me some extra items to complement my outfit. A leather paddle and handcuffs are placed in a black leather bag along with a few lengths of rope. My rope tying skills are still work-in-progress, but I can handle a few basic restraints. My outfit is finished off with a black leather mask covering much of my face.

“I don’t anticipate any problems, but we had best keep your identity secret until we are sure there aren’t going to be any repercussions,” says Caitlin.

Before I can baulk at the implied danger, Caitlin ushers me into an area of the dungeon I normally avoid. This is the zone contains small private dungeons, and is reserved for the seriously perverted bondage freaks. Or at least, that’s how Chloe described clients who hire the facilities in this area. When I see it up close, I suspect Chloe’s description is slightly biased, but then, she and I are literally on opposite ends of the whip.

The scantily clad female is waiting for me in one of the private dungeons. I am already mentally prepared to meet one of Argon’s rich elite wanting to play at being a helpless submissive for an hour or two. I don’t suppose it occurs to them that they could live and work in one of the settlements and achieve the same result at no cost.

“This is Slave Iris,” says Caitlin by way of introduction. “She is yours to command, Domina.”

Some clients prefer to call me by a name, whether my own or a made-up one. Others, like now, prefer to call me by a title such as Madame, Mistress, or an older style title like Domina. Caitlin leaves us alone, which is my cue to begin.

“Kneel before me Slave,” I command, beginning a standard routine to establish the boundaries of this game. Iris obeys at once.

By the time I have completed the initial routine I am satisfied that I understand what turns Iris on, and what commands I should avoid. If I want to maximize my earnings with repeat sessions, I must endeavor to provide the experience Iris desires. My preliminary assessment suggests that she is naturally submissive, and she is clearly wanting a session in which she is bound helpless and punished for whatever misdemeanor she wishes to confess. Even the prospect of being spanked with the paddle seems to turn her on.

Despite Iris’s willingness to be subjected to harsh treatment, I’m careful not to inflict any tell-tale marks on Iris’s body. I recognize Iris from the numerous news-feeds featuring the higher echelons of Argon society. Caitlin’s warning was justified. No matter how willing Iris may be to the discipline I’m imposing, I’m well aware that her father is one of the generals of Argon’s ruling junta. How amenable he will be to me satisfying his daughter’s fetish is a big unknown.

I’m starting to attune myself to Iris’s likes and dislikes. I don’t know what motivates her fetish for bondage, which makes it harder for me to deliver the right intensity of control. I have handcuffed her to a ring high in the wall so that she must stand with her arms raised. I complete her bonds with ankle cuffs anchored to rings in the floor which hold her legs slightly apart. On impulse I run my hand between Iris’s legs and stroke her lacy panties. It’s a tentative touch to test her reaction, which is everything I hoped it might be. She starts humping my hand, which I allow her to do for a few moments until I sense she is working up to a climax. I withdraw my hand before she can peak.

I repeat the exercise numerous times and eventually I allow her to climax. She practically weeps with joy once her orgasm subsides. I tease her with the paddle and before long she is whimpering for my touch. The sense of empowerment it gives me is arousing me as much as the visible effect our games are having on Iris. I even have Iris satisfy my own needs by tonguing my cunt until I achieve an orgasm.

It is customary for the client to indicate when the session is to end by saying the standard club safe-word 'Kitty-cat’. Iris doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to end the session, which runs for a mammoth three hours. Eventually she is too exhausted to continue and she brings our session to an end. By now it is well past midnight and both of us are tired.

“Thank you, Domina,” says Iris, once I have freed her from her latest bondage. “Are you free for another session tomorrow night?”

“My availability is managed by the club’s owners,” I respond with the answer Caitlin requires me to give to such a request.

“Then we shall speak with Caitlin,” replies Iris, no longer the submissive slave she was ten minutes ago.

We return to the main part of the dungeon, which still has a reasonable number of patrons despite the late hour. Caitlin is still working at the bar and has no hesitation in agreeing to Iris’s request for my services tomorrow night.

When I finally finish work at three o'clock in the morning I get the chance to open the envelope containing my bonus for tonight. It’s more than I thought possible, and it reinforces my desire to train further in the art of being a dominatrix. However, I know I mustn’t get over-confident since the sessions with Iris could end at any time, and secrecy about her identity is essential.

I consider the next step in my strange and unexpected career. Navigating the Argonaut was easier than I expected, but that owed a lot to chance and making risky choices. I made it, though. Now all I need to do is survive in the murky world of Argon’s powerful elite. But that’s another story.

By Rachael Jane for Literotica.

Paulo’s Seduction

In 4 parts, by RachaelJane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

By the time Ellen and I join them, nearly all the contestants are in the dining area and are already eating at the table. Ellen and I go over to the side table where the buffet is laid out, and we select some food. Patrick looks at me as I sit down opposite him, but he doesn’t say anything. After Vincent’s revelation earlier about Patrick’s feelings towards me, I’m not certain what to say to Patrick.

“Were there many contestants in the practice rooms this morning?” I ask Patrick, more to make him to talk to me than any real interest in the movements of the other contestants.

“Um; No. I was alone for most of the time. Paulo joined me for a while, but a woman called him away. When he returned he looked like a cat who had fallen into a bowl of cream.”

I immediately realize the importance of what Patrick is saying about Paulo, but it is Ellen who quizzes Patrick for more details. By the time he’s done, I have no doubt that Sylvie was the woman Patrick saw, and Paulo was summoned to gather information from me while I was in Effie’s room. A very slick operation, but one which may still end in my favor.

When we arrived in the Argonaut complex yesterday, Patrick and I gobbled our food down in case it disappeared before our hunger was satisfied. Both of us come from poor families where meals can be irregular. Today we eat at a more leisurely pace. We would have time for a pleasant conversation if Patrick showed any inclination to talk. He simply eats in silence, although his eyes rarely leave me. After a while his gawking starts to annoy me. I’m about to say something rude when Ellen puts her hand on my arm.

“Perhaps if you stopped rubbing your breasts, Patrick wouldn’t stare at them so, Jasmine,” whispers Ellen in my ear.

I drop my hands in a flash and suddenly feel awkward. The tenderness hasn’t quite worn off, and I must have been trying to sooth my breasts without thinking about what I was doing. From Patrick’s reaction he must have heard Ellen’s words and I don’t know which of us is the more embarrassed.

“Er; Sorry, Patrick,” I say. “Ellen and I were trying on some jewelry and one of the pieces is quite heavy. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Um; that’s OK. I didn’t mean to stare. That’s a nice ring, by the way.”

I suddenly realize I’ve left the emerald ring on my finger. In my haste to get changed I forgot to take it off and return it to Ellen. Fortunately Ellen doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yes, it’s an emerald,” I reply. “Ellen has been kind enough to let me borrow it for the television show this afternoon.”

“Well you will look a very fine lady when you walk up onto the stage,” says Patrick.

“Actually, I’m not going for the fine lady look. I think the warrior princess style is more appropriate for me. What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” replies Patrick. “Harper said that sponsors might be put off from helping us if they think that you are.”

“That will do, Patrick,” says Harper, who is sat further down the table, but listening to our conversation. “Once we have finished lunch, Jasmine and I will have our discussion about how she should handle herself during the show.”

Harper’s interruption stifles any further conversation, and we finish lunch in silence. After lunch, Patrick and Ellen leave on different missions. I’m left alone with Harper.

“So,” I begin. “Are you going to tell me what you told Patrick?”

“No,” replies Harper. “I told Patrick what he needs to know and believe. Which isn’t necessarily the same thing that you need to know and believe. You and Patrick are very different people when it comes to handling interviews. Patrick has a natural gift that makes people instantly like him. You, on the other hand, have a knack of annoying and confusing people. I know you confuse me. You scowl at people you should please, and flash your eyelids at people you should avoid. Tell me how you think you should portray yourself this afternoon.”

“I thought your role is to tell me,” I reply. “I’ve no idea. I know I hate trying to read from a script.”

“Which is why I don’t think anything we rehearse here is going to help you. You are at your best when you are being spontaneous. My only advice to you is to remember that you need to attract potential employers; and you must.”

Harper lists a dozen or so pieces of advice, most which I forget as soon as he has said them.

“Now what?” I ask when Harper has finished his speech.

“You have an hour before you need to get changed for this afternoon’s charade,” says Harper. “Why don’t you go for a walk.”

Chapter 12: Sabotage

I return from my walk a few minutes late to find Harper, Ellen, Patrick, Vincent, and two other of my room-mates in the middle of what I can only describe as a crisis meeting. At first I think the crisis is somehow my fault.

“I told you where I was going,” I say before anyone can accuse me of doing a disappearing act.

“Yes, we know,” says Harper. “Ellen wanted to fetch you, but we thought we had better come up with a solution before we told you. But you’re here now anyway.”

“So what’s the problem?” I ask, relieved that for once that I’m not the cause of the crisis.

“It appears a maintenance man called while we were having lunch to fix a problem with your wardrobe door,” says Vincent.

“But there’s nothing wrong with my wardrobe door,” I say, assuming they mean the well-worn, but still functional, cupboard I’ve been assigned to store my things.

“So what happened?” I ask.

“Sabotage!” says Ellen. “The maintenance man tampered with your dress for tonight.”

I look at Harper for an explanation.

“A chemical has been sprayed onto your dress,” says Harper. “We’re having it analyzed. It is likely an irritant or mild poison. Nothing that would be noticeable to anyone picking up your dress, but powerful enough to cause the wearer a few problems after a short while. It was lucky I was suspicious when the security staff told me about the visitor.”

“Can the chemical be removed?” asks Ellen.

“Probably, once we identify it. But that would take too long. We have less than an hour before Jasmine must go across to the studio.”

“I’ll fetch some of my dresses,” says Ellen. “Perhaps one might fit Jasmine with only minimal alterations.”

While I appreciate Ellen’s offer of help, her taste in clothes is very different from mine. I’d rather wear my own dress; the one I was wearing when I arrived here. But that would be only as a last resort. I decide to take matters into my own hands.

“Ellen, thank you for your offer of help,” I say. “This is what I would like you to bring.”

I give Ellen a short list of things I know she has in her room. If she thinks my request strange, she has the decency to refrain from voicing her opinion aloud. She doesn’t hesitate and goes off to her room to fetch what I requested. I turn to the other contestants in my dormitory.

“Thank you all for your help, but I can manage with Harper and Ellen’s assistance from here,” I say. “You had best go and get ready yourself. Most of you are in the batches of contestants before mine, so you probably need to go soon.”

The others seem relieved and nod in agreement. They have wasted precious time dealing with a problem that shouldn’t have involved them in the first place. By the time Ellen returns, my room-mates have changed their clothes and left for the studio. My dress is still on the hanger where I left it. A slight stain on the wardrobe wall around it could be residue from the chemical spray.

“That stain is what alerted me to the problem,” says Harper. “We’ve checked around for other unwelcome additions. The maintenance man was only here for a few minutes, so he won’t have had time to do much. I think it is likely he was sent specifically to sabotage your dress for tonight. Once we’ve identified the chemical I’ll have the rest of your clothes and bedding checked.”

“So I can’t even wear my own dress?” I say.

“Not until it is checked, no. I’m sorry, we’ve let you down. I should have known to have a backup set of clothes for you. I’m new to these dirty games too.”

I explain my plan to Harper, who listens carefully. He goes thoughtful for a while before going into the corridor to make a telephone call. Ellen returns laden with the items I requested just as Harper completes his call.

The next half-hour is a whirlwind of activity inside the dormitory. To my surprise neither Harper nor Ellen oppose my decision to take personal responsibility for my costume tonight. Their comments are helpful and supportive as my costume takes shape. A few additions thanks to Harper’s telephone call help to perfect my outfit. By the time my make-up is applied I really feel on fire. I complete my preparations by sliding the emerald ring onto my finger. A new wave of confidence sweeps through me. I had previously complained of being a marionette in tonight’s show, dancing to other people’s tunes. No more; now I really feel in control.

Ellen places a large cape over my shoulders which completely hides my costume. A deliberate ruse devised by Harper to foil the paymasters of the saboteur. If they believe I’m wearing the studio dress, then it’s unlikely they will attempt any other act against me. It also allows me the element of surprise when I finally reveal my costume.

“Are you wearing those shoes?” asks Ellen, pointing to the training shoes I’ve been wearing all afternoon. Apart from the cape, it is the only part of my clothing that is visible.

“Only for now,” I reply. The shoes that matched the outfit are quarantined with the dress.

Harper escorts me to the studio. Ellen left a few minutes before us. They aren’t allowed backstage, so they’ll will be watching from their seats in the audience. The show has already begun. Each batch of five contestants spends about five minutes being paraded around the stage, at which point the audience vote for one of them to be interviewed. The chosen contestant is then interviewed for about five minutes, before rejoining the others on a platform at the rear of the stage.

While I was changing, Ellen told me about the nature and scale of the underhand tricks that are tolerated by the Argonaut’s officials. The guiding rule is that unless a contestant shows unexplained signs of physical injury, or is unable to stand unaided, the officials won’t undertake any serious investigation into any skullduggery. Providing that unwritten rule is observed, any amount of doping and intimidation is tolerated, and no investigation will be conducted into claims of sabotage. Had the saboteur of my dress succeeded in his mission, then his paymaster would have been secretly congratulated for a masterful stroke. The poor victim is such cases is left to rue their misfortune.

I join the other four contestants in the eighth batch at the studio, and we are soon escorted into a large room where the ten contestants from the preceding two batches are waiting to be called onto the stage. Most are simply standing about nervously. A few are making last minute alterations to their costume. Everything is done under the watchful eye of two of the television studio crew.

On one side of the room is a large screen displaying the show being broadcast from this building. The overbearing hosts, led by Darrian, are amusing the audience with anecdotes and recollections from previous Argonauts. In between segments, a batch of five contestants are brought out and paraded around the large stage, before standing on a raised platform at the rear of the stage.

I’m busy watching the screen, so I don’t notice Patrick approaching me until he is virtually on top of me.

“I just wanted to wish you good luck tonight, Jasmine,” says Patrick.

“You too, Patrick,” I reply.

It’s the only opportunity that I get to say anything to Patrick before his group is called onto the stage. I study each contestant’s costume as they make their final preparations, focusing mainly on the women. Most of their outfits are colorful evening dresses. That means they will be hoping to impress the same employers; the ones who like to hire young women who look sweet and pretty. A couple women in their mid-twenties are a bit more daring in showing their cleavage. They may impress a different segment of the audience, although I’m sure that segment will have more than its fair share of perverts.

As for me, I’ve no idea which employers I might attract. Will the audience admire my hastily designed costume, or will I be laughed at and mocked? To be honest, I don’t care. My real goal tonight is to wrong-foot my powerful rivals. My imaginary warrior princess who is guiding me tells me I’m doing the right thing.

Chapter 13: A special treat

I have nearly twenty minutes to wait before it is my group’s turn on stage. Since none of the contestants in the room are being very talkative, I focus on watching the show on the huge screen. It also enables me to avoid talking to Chloe, who is in the last batch of contestants. I adjust my opinion of some of the contestants as they take their turn in the spotlight.

Finally my group is called onto the stage. I wait until the last minute before removing my cape, and make the final adjustments to my costume. I may not be wearing Ellen’s great-aunt Sophie’s costume exactly as she once wore it, but it is close enough for my younger and inexperienced body. Ellen said this would be the first time in thirty years that the Jewels of Desire have been worn, and I’m determined to do the costume justice. Thanks to Harper’s tasteful additions, the costume is now suitable to be worn in public. I’m not showing as much bare flesh as the original costume left displayed. While near-nudity isn’t frowned on by the upper echelons of the city, it most certainly is at home. My modified costume is decent by my home settlement’s standards, but only just.

Chloe’s exclamation as I reveal my costume confirms that I will certainly attract plenty of attention tonight. What the audience won’t get to see is the hidden secret of the Jewels of Desire. The design of the costume has one obvious purpose; sexual desire. The wearer uses her costume to titillate and excite the observer. What isn’t immediately apparent to an observer is that the costume is also designed to arouse the wearer. The strangely shaped piece that fits over my cunt, rubs against my clit in a very sensual way. Of course I could adjust the piece to prevent it from arousing me, but having decided to wear the Jewels of Desire, I fully intend to do so properly, within acceptable bounds. Besides, it will help me quell my nerves during the interview, should I be selected.

I remove my shoes and take a few practice walks about the room. The initial discomfort is soon replaced by a more pleasant feeling. Within moments I feel every bit the part that I look; an extremely desirable young woman. I don’t care if some of the audience think me worse than a whore. This costume transforms me and I like the rebel it makes me.

“; thank you Patrick and to group seven,” says Darrian as he concludes his interview with Patrick, who has rejoined the group preceding mine on the raised platforms. “And now ladies and gentlemen I’ve just received word that we are all in for a special treat. I’m informed that the next group contains a contestant wearing a most unusual costume. Let’s show our appreciation as group eight take to the stage.”

As I step out from the wings and onto the stage, the polite applause given to every contestant suddenly erupts into gasps, cheers and thunderous applause. The audience is going wild by the time I reach half way across the stage. For once the hosts are torn between savoring the sight of me and calming the audience. The effect on me is almost as powerful as the emotional trip Paulo took me on last night. If it is possible to have an orgasm while walking about on a stage, then I think I just had one.

The audience loves my demonstration, unaware my movements are stimulating me as well. By the time the audience is called on to vote, I’m in a highly charged sexual state. I stand still so as not to tip my already sensitive body into another orgasm. I don’t know how many of the audience are watching me, but I feel as though hundreds of eyes are watching my every move. The idea of being watched only excites me even more. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that my costume has earned me an on-screen interview. The other four contestants in my batch look relieved that they have avoided being picked. They will still be interviewed, but in the peace and quiet of a private room, later this evening.

“Well, what a sight for sore eyes you are, Jasmine my dear,” says Darrian once the audience has calmed enough to make conversation possible. “What an exquisite costume. You have certainly excelled yourself.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I reply to the compliments each of the show’s hosts have heaped on my costume. “The costume isn’t entirely original, and most pieces have a history. The larger two pieces once belonged to a famous dancer, and are known as the Jewels of Desire. The emerald ring is said to have once been the property of a warrior princess.”

“Fascinating,” says Darrian, as his eyes roam every part of my body.

In fairness to Darrian, he is very professional and manages to ask his questions despite the delectable eye candy within touching distance of his chair. Of course, being a good showman, he has me conclude my interview by asking me to parade my costume once more for the audience to admire. I do so with a daring I didn’t think I had in me. The rubies on my costume catch the spotlights and sparkle. At the moment I feel like I’m on fire.

Half an hour later the tenth and final on-screen interview with Chloe concludes, and after a brief wrap-up by the hosts, the show ends. A thoughtful member of the studio crew has my cape and shoes waiting for me as the contestants file off the stage. All the contestants’ helpers are waiting to bustle us away before any more foul-play can occur in the confusion. Paulo makes a point of coming over to me before he is whisked away.

“Well done, princess,” he says as he slips a note into my hand. “And I like the costume.”

“Thanks. You didn’t do so bad yourself, professor,” I reply, keeping up our private game.

Vincent keeps watch over me while the rest of our dormitory are gathered together. There are crowds everywhere and it would be easy to get waylaid. After my performance on stage, I’m just as much at risk from over-enthusiastic admirers as potential saboteurs. We make it back to the dormitory without incident. While we were at the studio, Harper has had my bed and belongings checked for any other traces of the chemical that was on my dress. It turns out the chemical was a skin irritant that would have left me scratching my way through the show. After a quick debriefing and congratulations all round, Patrick and I are left in peace. The others are given ten minutes to freshen up before being escorted downstairs for their interviews. Those of us who were interviewed on-screen have the rest of the night free. I read Paulo’s note, which is an invitation to a party starting in just over an hour.

I take one last look in the mirror at myself wearing the Jewels of Desire. They are mine for tonight, and despite my exhaustion I’m reluctant to take them off. Ellen will collect them in the morning before all the contestants begin the first of a series of tests and challenges that make up the Argonaut event. I put on some light music and I gently dance to the rhythm. On impulse I adjust the pieces of my costume so the pieces play their diabolical, but wonderful, tricks to my senses. After a while I am contemplating joining Paulo’s party. My common sense battles with my slutty urges.

Chapter 14: Invitation to a party

I’ve only ten minutes to change for the party if I want to make an impression on the city-born guests who will be attending. Fortunately I showered and washed my hair straight after the television show. Changing clothes isn’t going to take long. I’m tempted to wear the Jewels of Desire, but I owe it to Ellen to keep the jewels safe until I can return them in the morning. That’s not something I can guarantee at a party, particularly one organized by Paulo. I’m not sure how he has managed to organize the invitations to include several of those in tonight’s studio audience. The Argonaut event is surrounded by festivities and celebrations among Argon’s elite. I can only assume Paulo has somehow persuaded a group to attend his party. Half a dozen or more, all female, from what Harper tells me, although Harper isn’t the most reliable source of gossip.

I ask Patrick if he wishes to come, but he declines. I’ve already established that he and Paulo don’t get on. I think Patrick was hoping that he and I would keep each other company tonight. If he were to come out and ask me to stay I might consider doing so, but I’m not putting up with his ‘secret admirer’ routine. Nevertheless, I feel a twinge of guilt for leaving a fellow Buchanan contestant alone tonight.

Paulo’s invitation gives me enough information to plan my attire from the limited wardrobe available to me. As Paulo said at the outset, clothing is almost optional. I begin to wonder if this is going to be a party or an orgy. To be honest, I’m more than a little nervous about how I am going to cope. I want to be with Paulo, but the prospect of sharing his attentions with other women doesn’t sit comfortably with me.

I present myself at the room set aside for the party guests to assemble. The guests arrive singly. The first is a young woman a year or so older than me with long blond hair. She has the superior look of someone from the Argon’s ruling elite, although her clothes are relatively plain. She makes no effort to greet me and she sits on the opposite side of the room. The second, third and fourth women are equally aloof.

The people of Argon’s city center place great importance on their looks. Despite their arrogant attitude, these young women are hardly the pick of the crop. Perhaps that’s why they are here rather than at some swanky party elsewhere. I have no idea what drives these people to do what they do.

A fifth woman arrives. Unlike the others she clearly doesn’t want to be here. I walk over to her.

“Hi, I’m Jasmine,” I say. “Is everything alright? You don’t look happy to be here.”

“Um; Hi; I’m Sheba; Bathsheba actually, but only my parents ever use my real name. And no; I don’t want to be here. But my parents said I must prostitute myself with a contestant tonight or they would marry me off to my slime ball of a third cousin.”

“They told you to prostitute yourself?” I say in genuine shock.

“Um; not in so many words, but that was their meaning. They know how I loathe my third cousin. He’s been trying to get his paws on me since I was twelve.”

“Did your parents specify any particular contestant?” I ask.

“No. Male or female. They don’t care. If I can seduce a contestant into working for my parents, I get another six months grace to find a husband. But with six of us here tonight I don’t stand much of a chance. I hear the contestant hosting this party is an arrogant peacock.”

“Yes, that sounds like Paulo. Perhaps I can help you. I know one of the other contestants. He would probably appreciate some feminine company tonight.”

I almost laugh out loud when she leaps at my offer. I quickly bustle her out of the room and up to the dormitory. I just hope Patrick accepts the opportunity on offer. Patrick is alone in the dormitory so I practically throw Sheba at him. What happens next is up to the two of them. That’s all the pandering I intend to do tonight.

I bolt downstairs before I miss the arrival of the final guest. The other women don’t seem the slightest bit interested in Sheba’s disappearance. We don’t have long to wait before the final guest arrives. Unlike her rivals, this young woman is pretty. A natural beauty with long black hair. I wonder why she wants to take part in this tacky party tonight. She puts on the all-too-familiar superior look and sits near the other women without greeting anyone.

Cassius, one of the volunteer helpers, enters a few moments later. He reads off the names of the women on his list. When he calls out Sheba’s name I tell him that Sheba withdrew. Another woman enters the room while Cassius is making the alteration to his list. She’s in her mid-twenties and dressed in a smart black leather outfit. She hands Cassius a small bag and murmurs something only he can hear.

He nods and the new arrival moves over to where the other women are sitting. Although there are empty seats on my side of the room, she stands over one of the women and tells her to move. To my surprise, she and the woman next to her meekly stand up and move across the room.

“The arrangements for tonight have been changed,” says Cassius. “Mansel from Bourbon commune will be hosting the party. Paulo and Chloe have each made alternative arrangements for tonight.

What?!

Mansel enters a few moments later and Cassius disappears with the bag the black clad woman gave him.

"Well, this appears to be my lucky night,” smirks Mansel.

Mansel calls out the names of the five city-born women and escorts them out of the room. They seem puzzled by the change of plan, but Mansel’s pleasant banter seems to remove their immediate concerns. While Mansel acknowledges my presence, it appears I’m not invited to his party.

That leaves me and the woman in black. The others have barely left the room when she stands up and moves across the room and sits next to me. I feel slightly intimidated by her domineering presence.

“Hi. I’m Sarah,” she says in a pleasant voice. Not at all like the tone she used with the other women only moments before.

“Hi, I’m.”

“I know who you are, Jasmine. Your face has been plastered on the entertainment feed for most of the evening. Which leaves the question of what are you doing trying to gatecrash this party? Were you hoping to sabotage some of your rivals tonight? That would be very risky and not very sporting.”

“There’s nothing sporting about the Argonaut,” I reply. “But sabotage isn’t my style. Paulo invited me to the party and I agreed to come. Now it looks as though he’s stood me up.”

“Nonsense. Why change the host of the party? It would be far simpler to cancel your invitation. Anyway, it explains the reason for the change of plan. I admire your courage. I’m betting on you being one of the winners of the Argonaut. Take this; it may prove useful. If you emerge victorious, then contact me after the Argonaut is over. I might be able to arrange something that is mutually beneficial to both of us.”

I look at the card Sarah has given me. It simply contains a picture of a black cat.

“Um; Thank you. But there’s no address on the card,” I say.

“Ha ha! What an innocent you are! So delightful. Any of the Argonaut officials will know how to find 'Le Chat Noir’. Just remember to ask for me by name.”

I tuck Sarah’s card into my pocket and nervously look about the room. Has Paulo changed his mind about seeing me?

“When you see Paulo, you must stamp your authority on him,” says Sarah. “He will feel uncertain about you after your success tonight. Don’t lose your advantage by turning into a blushing maiden.”

“You have experience at handling this sort of situation then?” I ask.

“Ha ha ha! Yes. You could say that. I was once an innocent young nineteen-year-old like you, but these days I’m co-owner of Le Chat Noir club. It caters for clients with rather special tastes. I’m here to meet a client now. Just watch and learn. But a word of advice; know when to keep your mouth shut about what you see.”

Cassius returns with Chloe. She is wearing a thin coat over whatever she is wearing underneath. She sees me talking to Sarah and freezes. The look she gives me leaves me in no doubt that I’ll be her first target for elimination tomorrow, possibly sooner. Sarah stands and walks over to Chloe and stands a meter in front of her. Without any verbal exchange Chloe removes her coat and hands it to Cassius. I thought the clothes I am wearing are skimpy and revealing, but Chloe’s clothes border on indecent. She wearing a leather skirt that could be more accurately described as a wide belt, and a top so flimsy that one good cough would send it flying across the room. A small black cat motif is visible on both items of clothing. The clothes must have been what was inside the bag Sarah gave to Cassius.

“Good evening, Chloe. I’m Sarah. You have requested my services for this evening. Do you understand and agree to tonight’s arrangements?”

“Yes,” says Chloe in a subdued tone. She suddenly flinches at the steely gaze Sarah gives her. “Yes, Miss Sarah,” Chloe corrects herself in a louder voice.

Sarah nods and signals Chloe to put on her coat. Sarah then escorts Chloe from the room. “I’ll return her here at two o'clock,” says Sarah to Cassius. As she leaves Sarah quickly turns to me and winks.

I stand bemused at what just occurred before my eyes. I’ve no idea what sort of arrangement Sarah and Chloe have but my fertile imagination can come up with several possibilities.

Chapter 15: Seduced by Paulo

“Chloe will kill you if you mutter one word about what you’ve just seen to Paulo or anybody else,” says Cassius, clearly not happy about Chloe’s arrangements for tonight.

“I think she wants to kill me anyway, but I’m not a blabber mouth,” I reply, heeding Sarah’s advice about knowing when to stay silent. “Whatever games she wants to play tonight are her own business as far as I’m concerned.”

“Hmm. OK. That’s a good attitude.; Now I shall escort you to where Paulo is waiting.”

I follow Cassius to the elevator, and we go up to one of the rooms on the top floor of the building. I can hear Mansel’s party further down the corridor.

“Be gone by 2 am,” says Cassius as we enter what must have once been a teacher’s living quarters. “If Chloe discovers you here when she returns I can’t answer for your safety.”

I nod in acknowledgement of his sound advice. I walk into the living room and see Paulo sat by the window. I turn to say 'thank you’ to Cassius, but he is already on his way out.

“We have the place to ourselves,” says Paulo. “Chloe decided to go out again and Mansel agreed to take over hosting the party. I hope you aren’t too disappointed about missing the party.”

“I’m most upset,” I lie. “I was so looking forward to a decent party and you change the arrangements without even informing me.”

“I’ll do my best to make it up to you. Would you like something to drink?”

I let Paulo make a close examination of my outfit. He reaches out to touch me but I grab his hand.

“Not so fast, Paulo. We have a few things to sort out before we go any further.”

He steps back and looks at me with a puzzled frown. This isn’t going the way he expected and I’ve got him off balance. I shall follow Sarah’s advice and show him who is in control of whom tonight.

“Firstly; What is my name?” I ask, recalling that he had admitted to previously fucking young women without bothering to learn their name.

“Jasmine,” he laughs. “After this evening’s broadcast I could hardly not know it.”

“Good,” I reply. “Now, there is the not-so-small matter of you abandoning me at two o'clock this morning with a chain locked around my ankle. I think I deserve some serious groveling from you for that shabby trick.”

“I said I’m sorry and explained it was Chloe’s doing. What more do you want me to do?”

“Don’t hide behind Chloe’s skirt,” I say, mentally recalling that very little could hide behind the skirt Chloe was wearing when she left here. “You can kiss my feet. Then I might forgive you.”

“Kiss your feet?! You’re joking, of course!; You’re not, are you?”

I let the silence between us continue. Paulo doesn’t know what to do. He resolves the impasse by pacing about the room. I’ve won a victory of sorts. At least he isn’t throwing me out. While he is pacing about I move over to a chair and sit down. Paulo returns with a plate of nibbles and silently offers it to me.

“Thank you, Paulo,” I say as though our previous conversation hadn’t occurred.

I can tell that his grand seduction scene has collapsed around his ears. I just hope he doesn’t take too long making his mind up about my demand. Yesterday I would have pretended it was a joke so we could move onto what we both want to do. Tonight I feel the need to ensure Paulo sees me as an equal and not just some wench who is good for a roll in bed.

Paulo sits on the couch a couple of meters away from me. He tries making small talk, but his efforts are half-hearted and our stilted conversation peters out. Then he leaps up without warning. I tense in case I need to defend myself. But he sits down on the floor near me and lifts my left foot. Off goes my shoe and he gives the top of my foot a short kiss. Then he removes my right shoe. Instead of kissing the top of my foot he nibbles my toes. The pleasant sensation makes me giggle.

“So, am I forgiven for leaving you alone in the café last night?” he says.

“Umm; possibly. Why don’t we move over to the couch and you can apologize some more?”

Before I can stand up Paulo lifts me in his arms. He carries me to the couch and lays me length ways with my head resting on the arm of the couch. He kneels on the floor by my head and before I know what is happening we are locked in a deep kiss. This is the seduction scene he had planned before my arrival and unless I exert some control over what is happening I will become a willing slave to passion. My traitorous body yields to his skillful hands as they roam freely over the exposed parts of my body. Any minute now those hands will be exploring more intimate territory and I’m not certain I will be able to stop him. Worse still, I’m not certain I actually want to stop him.

Finally he releases my mouth and begins work on my neck. The sensations I felt last night are returning in force. My body arches as his hands start working towards zones that should be out-of- bounds. At least out-of-bounds unless and until I give my permission. The sensible part of my mind makes a valiant effort to exert some control. Not control over Paulo, but control over me.

“Wait, Paulo!” I gasp.

Last night he would have completely ignored my request and continued with his great seduction. Last night I wouldn’t have made any effort to repeat my plea. Tonight Paulo is a little more wary of me and to my surprise he complies. Which is fortunate as I’m not certain I would have the willpower to repeat my request tonight any more than I had last night. I use the pause to reposition myself into a more comfortable position. In doing so I free my left arm which had been trapped under my body since Paulo lay me on the couch.

“You are going too fast for me,” I say. “We have plenty of time tonight, or have you other plans for later on?”

“My only plans for tonight involve you and only you,” he replies showing a remarkable amount of sensitivity to my needs.

It’s not that I’m unwilling or uncertain about tonight. I came here knowing full well our relationship would go much further than last night. My insides quivered with desire when I realized I will have Paulo’s exclusive attention. Not once have I been in any doubt that this is where I want to be tonight. I know tomorrow Paulo and I will be enemies; No! Not enemies. Rivals. The junta and their supporters are the enemy for perpetuating the evils of serfdom.

“You are going all thoughtful on me,” says Paulo when he notices my distraction.

“Sorry,” I reply.

This time I really am sorry for letting my mind wander. Tonight belongs to Paulo and me. My hand reaches out for his chest. Without any conscious command, my hand unfastens two buttons on his shirt and slips inside the opening. He simply allows my hand to explore. My other hand takes one of his hands and guides it towards my shoulder. Secretly I’m hoping he will take my hint and unfasten the single strap holding my top in place. But his hand moves in another direction and starts playing with my hair. His touch is divine and I respond willingly to his caress. He is far more skilled than me at this sort of play. I feel slightly embarrassed that I’m unable to give him the same degree of pleasure that he is giving me.

“I’m not experienced at this sort of thing. Tell me what you would like me to do,” I whisper as he leans forward and kisses my neck again.

“Anything? You would do anything?” he whispers.

“Yes. Within reason,” I reply. The sensible part of my mind is still with me, even if the rest of me wishes it wasn’t.

“Can you dance?” he asks.

Of all the things I thought he would ask of me, dancing never entered into my head. I haven’t danced in years. My mother taught me to dance when I was little. But twelve hour working days leave very little room for dancing.

“I haven’t danced in years, but I think I can remember how. Is that what you want me to do? Dance with you?”

“Yes. I’ll put on some music and we shall dance.”

To be continued in part 4, by Rachael Jane for Literotica.

The Jewels of Desire

In 4 parts, by Rachael Jane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chapter 7: An underhand trick.

I quickly realize the seriousness of my situation. If I don’t return to the dormitory before roll-call, I will be returned to Buchanan in shame. A chill runs through me. I berate myself for being so stupid as to drop my guard and allow Paulo to chain me like this. There is no doubt in my mind that he’s the one responsible for my predicament.

Is he being a coward who is scared of meeting me in fair competition? That seems inconsistent with the Paulo I’ve been with tonight, but he would surely have woken me had he noticed anybody else entering this café while we slept. Perhaps he is a better actor than I gave him credit. For all I know, his training could have included a course in seducing maidens. After all, half the contestants are young women. Some, like me, will be gullible enough to fall for Paulo’s charms, and walk into his deadly trap. But I mustn’t dwell on Paulo’s reasons. My immediate priority is to get free.

I test the strength of the chain restraining me. It’s similar to the security chain threaded through the handles of the cabinets behind the bar. Paulo must have come across a spare length of chain while he was exploring earlier. The chain is lightweight but strong. There is no way I can break it. Which means I must somehow break the lock securing the chain to my ankle. It is a combination lock like the one securing the other end of the chain to the table. Unless I’m extremely lucky, I won’t have enough time to open the lock by randomly guessing the five-digit combination. Just as I’m about to vent my frustration with a few choice curses, a flash of inspiration hits me. Paulo must have known the combination to fasten the lock to the chain. How did he know the combination?

I check the tables and floor around me, as far as my chain allows. The combination must be written on something. I just hope it is something within reach. Could Paulo have been careless and left me the combination?

The chain is long enough for me to reach the small service area next to the bar. If the owners of the café have written down the combination, then this is the most likely place on this level. My frantic search is rewarded when I find a basket holding more lengths of chain and padlocks. Each padlock has a small detachable tag with the combination for that lock printed on it. Unlocking the padlock enables the tag to be removed. I search the bottom of the basket for any tags no longer with their padlock. Sure enough I find four tags. Hopefully one belongs to the lock securing the chain around my ankle.

I try the numbers on the lock on my ankle. I meet with success on the third number, and within seconds I’m free of my chain. But before I can go anywhere I hear two people talking. They are coming up the interior staircase from the main café below. Two voices I recognize. Paulo and Chloe! They are too close for me to try and exit over the balcony, so I can’t leave the way Paulo and I entered. My only option in the time available is to pretend I’m still asleep and chained to the table.

“See, she’s still asleep,” says Chloe. “The sound you heard was probably the fridge humming.”

“I don’t know,” replies Paulo. “I’m still not happy about leaving her chained like this. It’s an underhand trick.”

“Think yourself lucky I didn’t chain you as well,” replies Chloe. “You saw her during the preliminary session this evening. She’s a serious challenger and she’s best eliminated now.”

“But someone will find her in the morning and set her free,” replies Paulo.

“Yes. But she will have missed the eight o'clock roll-call by then, and she’ll be disqualified from the Argonaut.”

“I still don’t like it. Anyway, why did you follow us? And how did you get out of the complex?”

“I saw the pair of you as I was returning from a night out. I realized that this is a golden opportunity to improve my chances of success. Did you not read the Argonaut rules? Despite what most people believe, the contestants aren’t prisoners while we are here. As long as we attend the morning and evening roll-calls, and the various tests and interviews, we can come and go as we please. Why do you think your night time frolics weren’t stopped?”

“The rules? You mean that fifty page book they gave us when we arrived? Of course I’ve not read it!”

“Well if you spent less time trying to climb between a girl’s legs, and more time paying attention to what really matters, your chances of winning a work permit might be better. Come on, we’re leaving before sleeping beauty wakes up and starts screaming the place down.”

“How do we get out of here?” asks Paulo.

“You’re not too bright are you,” scoffs Chloe. “The door lock only stops people entering the café. We can just walk down to the front door and back to our dormitory.”

Paulo and Chloe leave. My anger competes with my embarrassment. I get up as soon as I’m sure they have gone. Paulo has taken my nightie and Chloe has taken my towel. I’ve no clothes and I’m starting to get cold. A naked woman is easy target for any loiterers out there. At this time of night any city citizens still about may well be on the prowl for sex. I search the service area for a tablecloth or something to put over me. I find an apron that at least provides me with a semblance of decency.

I make my way back to the old boarding school, making sure Paulo and Chloe are nowhere in sight. Re-entering the school presents no problem. Chloe is right in saying the contestants are allowed to come and go. Perhaps I should have read the rule book as well but my late acceptance to the Argonaut meant that I only had a few days to prepare.

A retina scan at the security desk confirms my identity and I’m allowed to return to my dormitory. My anger at Paulo’s betrayal has abated. Despite Chloe’s intrusion, I did actually enjoy my time with him tonight, particularly when I remember why I chose to leave my room wearing such provocative clothing in the first place. I was looking for the type of experience and adventure which Paulo delivered. Not that I am in any mood to forgive him; but I’m no longer embarrassed or afraid. If anything, Chloe’s actions have filled me with determination and resolve. Yesterday I was nervous of the specially trained contestants; today I realize they are actually afraid of me. I shall look forward to seeing Paulo and Chloe’s faces when I appear for roll-call in the morning.

The clock says it is 3:30 in the morning when my head hits my pillow. This time I have no difficulty falling asleep.

Chapter 8: Preparations

“Stop fidgeting, Jasmine,” says Ellen, my dormitory’s assigned helper from the collection of city-born volunteers for the Argonaut. “You need to look your best this afternoon.”

It’s a message Ellen has constantly repeat. Along with the forty-nine other hopefuls, I will be paraded in front of the television cameras this afternoon. What’s worse, ten of us must endure a five minute interview with Darrian, one of the obnoxious hosts of the televised segments of the Argonaut. None of us will know which ten of us are to be interviewed until we are on-air. I can honestly say that I am dreading it. The only benefit in being selected for an interview is the opportunity it provides to improve my chances of winning. Only a few contestants will be declared the eventual winners of the Argonaut, but that won’t be until the final session on Sunday. Of course, fluffing an interview would be disastrous for my chances.

I sigh as I add the finishing touches to my dress. When I picked it from the studio’s wardrobe I thought it to be a beautiful dress. Now I’m not so sure. I’m grateful for Ellen’s valiant efforts to make me look my best, even if I don’t see the purpose of this afternoon’s charade.

“How do you feel?” asks Ellen when she is satisfied with her work.

“It’s a beautiful dress. Thank you,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster; which isn’t much, given my lingering dislike for this cattle market in the first place. But I had few other options open to me when I accepted the belated offer from an anonymous benefactor to sponsor me for this event. And winning the Argonaut will at least mean that my family can benefit as well.

“Yes, I know how you look in it, Jasmine. But how do you feel?” persists Ellen.

“How should I feel?” I reply, slightly surprised by her question.

“Jasmine! You ungrateful girl!” snaps Ellen. “I am trying to help you.”

“I know, and despite what you think, I appreciate your efforts,” I reply. “But I feel like a marionette; all dressed up to please an audience who simply want to ogle pretty young men and women desperate enough to parade about for the entertainment of our so-called betters. Aren’t we just fifty puppets, each performing to the studio’s script?”

“Your image is important, Jasmine,” says Ellen. “Most of those in the audience will be deciding their vote on how attractive you are. Harper will advise you what to say when you have your session with him later. Impress the audience tonight, even if you aren’t interviewed, and someone watching may help you to gain a work permit. If you don’t, then they will favor one of your rivals.”

I’ve heard this speech from Ellen at least twice already this morning, and it isn’t even ten o'clock yet. I know she believes in what she is saying, but somehow I can’t buy into the rotten arrangement. It’s true that several previous winners of the Argonaut owe their career success to the timely arrival of a sponsor’s helping hand. But nothing in our world comes for free. Some contestants may be naïve enough to believe that sponsors give their generous help through the kindness of their hearts, but I’m not one of them. If a contestant is lucky, their sponsor is only interested in winning a high stakes bet. But lurking in the background are those sponsors whose help comes with unsavory conditions that enslave their victim for life. The alternative is to fail, and live out your life as a serf in your settlement, but you don’t need a sponsor’s help to do that.

“You asked me how I feel, and I gave you my answer,” I snap. “Don’t worry, I won’t disgrace you this afternoon by picking my nose in front of the cameras. I’ll read Harper’s script as you demand.”

“Will someone try talking some sense into her,” says Ellen to nobody in particular, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, Ellen,” I say when it becomes apparent that she isn’t about to launch into another lecture. “I really do like the dress. But there’s nothing of the real me in this outfit.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. I should have realized what is missing before. You need some jewelry to complete your outfit. I have a good collection. You can borrow a few items. I’ll go and pick out a few suitable things for you.”

“No, Ellen,” interrupts Vincent, a contestant from Tudor who shares this dormitory. “Jasmine must be allowed to choose her own jewelry. At the moment she is merely the wearer of that studio dress. You should let her transform it into an outfit of her own.”

Ellen and I look at Vincent in surprise. For my part, I’m amazed by Vincent’s understanding of my needs; even though I don’t fully understand them myself. When I look at Ellen I begin to worry in case she might refuse. It’s one thing to lend me a ring or a necklace of her choice; it is something else entirely to let me rummage through her private jewelry collection.

“Yes, yes, OK,” says Ellen after a few moments hesitation. “I’m not certain many of my pieces are suitable for a young woman, but I will allow Jasmine to look through what I have. Follow me, Jasmine.”

I quickly change into my ordinary clothes and hang up my dress in the wardrobe I’ve been allocated for my things. I follow Ellen to her private quarters in the south wing of the old boarding school. Ellen’s room is one of several small but comfortable rooms provided for the volunteer support staff. Unlike the contestants’ dormitories, the rooms in the south wing aren’t monitored by the intrusive security cameras. I’m just thankful Ellen hasn’t decided to stay in her own apartment, which is apparently on the other side of the city.

“Make yourself comfortable, Jasmine, while I fetch my collection,” says Ellen as she goes to the safe located inside the wardrobe.

I sit in one of the two easy chairs and look around Ellen’s room while I wait. Her few personal effects tell me very little about the real Ellen. Until now I have thought of her as one of the many city-born oddballs. Someone who means well, but circulates in a completely different world to me. When I see the small chest full of jewelry I realize there is an aspect to Ellen I never knew existed.

“I’ve not had much chance to sort them out,” says Ellen when I peer into the chest. “Everything is a bit jumbled up.”

The contents of the chest resemble a pirate’s treasure trove in miniature. Some items are inside small boxes, while others are simply let loose. Several necklaces have become tangled around each other.

“Oh, ignore those,” says Ellen. “They’re just cheap trinkets. The items we are interested in are in the boxes at the bottom.”

I delve deeper into the chest. Sure enough, below the tangled necklaces and bangles I find a dozen or so different sized boxes. I carefully lift them out and spread them out on the table. I lift the lid on each box and my mouth drops in amazement. Most boxes contain a matching set of ring, necklace and earrings. A few contain broaches and other types of jewelry. I return to the chest and remove the two larger boxes at the very bottom. I place them next to the other boxes on the table.

“Ah! I wouldn’t bother with those,” says Ellen before I can open the lids to the last two boxes. “They aren’t suitable for a respectable young woman.”

Her comment raises my interest, but I do as she asks and focus my attention on the boxes I have opened. I’ve no idea whether I’m looking at priceless jewels or glass imitations. After studying each box in turn I realize I have subconsciously made my choice.

“May I try this one on?” I ask picking out a ring with a beautiful green gemstone. Ellen nods in response.

The ring with the green gem seems to draw me to it in a way none of the other items do. I slip the ring on my finger; it’s a snug fit, but not too tight. I try on the necklace and earrings as well, and walk over to the mirror. I think they are the most beautiful pieces of jewelry I’ve ever seen. In the corner of my eye I can see Ellen watching me with a strange expression on her face.

“I like these the most,” I say to Ellen. “May I borrow them this afternoon? I promise to take good care of them.”

“Hmmm. You surprise me, Jasmine. I had expected you to go for the diamond cluster or the rubies. What made you choose the emerald ring and necklace?”

“I don’t know. I like several of the other sets, but this ring somehow calls to me. If you think it inappropriate, I’ll happily change my choice.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Choosing jewelry is a very personal act. You like what you like. But you said it called to you. What did it say?”

I could be trite and say ‘pick me, pick me’, but that isn’t what I sense. It’s more like an energy flowing into me through the ring. It’s as though a former wearer of the ring has left her imprint in the ring and she is communicating with me. I try explaining what I sense to Ellen.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m being foolish,” I say when I finish my lame explanation.

“Interesting,” says Ellen in reply. “The ring is very old. I’ve never sensed what you describe, but my great-aunt always claimed that the ring spoke to her.”

“So the ring and necklace have a history then?”

“The necklace is a more recent piece my great-aunt had made to go with the ring. The ring, however, is hundreds of years old. It is reputed to have been made for the daughter of a great ruler. Legend says that she was a warrior princess who rode into battle at the side of her father. When her father died, and her brother became ruler, the princess devoted the rest of her life, and her considerable wealth, to helping the poorer people of her lands. It is a perfect match for you Jasmine.”

I try my best to stifle a laugh. Ellen must be joking with me. Warrior, princess and wealth are three words which have never been associated with me, nor are they ever likely to be. Ellen doesn’t pay my reaction any mind, and begins placing the lids back on the other jewelry boxes. A knock at the door stops Ellen before she can finish. She leaves me alone while she answers the door.

Chapter 9: The princess and professor

Ellen goes to the door, but she doesn’t admit the caller into her room. I can hear Ellen and another woman talking, but I can’t make out what they are discussing. It soon becomes apparent that they could be a while. I resume what Ellen had started, and close the lids on the remaining jewelry boxes. Then I remove the emerald ring, necklace and earrings I’ve been wearing and return them to their box, placing it to one side. Ellen still hasn’t agreed to allow me to wear the emeralds tonight, but I remain hopeful.

On impulse I open one of the boxes Ellen had dissuaded me from opening earlier. Inside is a large piece of jewelry. At first glance it looks like a large multi-strand necklace with several gold chains, each slightly longer than the one above, meeting at a single point at the back of the wearer’s neck. The chains are decorated with small red gems that catch the light. But what makes the piece unusual are the two small shaped metal discs on the lowest chain. The two discs look like flattened cones, and each is engraved with a strange symbol. I carefully lift the piece out of its box to examine the engraving. Too late I realize I’m not alone.

“What are you doing, Jasmine?” asks Ellen.

“Oh! Oh! I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t mean any harm. I was just looking.”

“Well, well, well, Ellen,” says the woman standing next to Ellen. “I can’t believe you still have that piece.”

I look up and see that Ellen has invited two people into the room. The woman looks very like Ellen, so I presume she is Ellen’s sister or cousin. My heart sinks when I recognize Ellen’s male guest is one of the other contestants. One I’ve tangled with before. Paulo!

“What’s going on?” I ask, suddenly feeling very wary.

“Don’t worry, Jasmine,” replies Ellen. “This is my sister, Sylvie. The Argonaut organizers have assigned her to support Paulo’s dormitory. Paulo you know, of course.”

Of course I recognize Paulo. He’s the man who deflowered me last night. Seeing him here like this does funny things to my emotions. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m attracted to him. An attraction which could spell disaster to my chances of succeeding in the Argonaut. Ever since I first saw him I must constantly remind myself that Paulo is a dangerous rival; not someone I should be trusting with my affections.

Sylvie takes the necklace from me and holds it up to my breasts. I almost die of embarrassment. I now realize the purpose of the spring-clips on the inside of the metal cones. Ellen was right; this isn’t something a decent young woman should wear. But Paulo’s presence and my self-preservation skills save me from revealing my naivety. I remember the golden rule which my father instilled in me when we hunted together in the woods; 'Never show weakness in front of a dangerous predator’. I brazen the episode through by making light of the situation.

“What do you think, Paulo?” I tease. “Do you think I should wear this tonight? Will the sponsors in the audience like it?”

My self-confidence takes an enormous leap forward when I see Paulo is struggling for words. Sylvie saves him from having to answer my questions.

“Don’t flirt with Paulo, Jasmine,” she admonishes. “What you wear is up to you. If you want to look like a prostitute, then that’s up to you.”

“That piece has never belonged to a prostitute, Sylvie,” exclaims Ellen. “You know it was made for our great-aunt Sophie.”

Paulo and I just stand and watch as Ellen and Sylvie have an extended spat over the occupation and morals of the great-aunt in question. In other circumstances their quarrel would be funny. But inside this small room, their quarrel is making me feel uncomfortable.

“We could go for a drink or something while they finish scratching each other’s eyes out,” says Paulo. “I saw a café of sorts just down the corridor.”

“Um; Yeah, sure,” I reply, anxious to get out of here.

“Paulo and I are going to the café while you two sort out your differences,” I manage to say to Ellen during a moments respite in her row with Sylvie. I don’t wait to see if what I say registers in her mind.

Paulo shows me the way to the café he saw earlier. The café is quiet since almost everybody in the complex is busy preparing for this afternoon’s television show. Fortunately I carry a small amount of pocket money for situations like this. It seems Paulo’s does the same. We each order a drink and sit down at one of the tables.

“You really are an enigma,” says Paulo in a pleasant tone. “Would you really wear a piece of jewelry like that?”

“Perhaps,” I reply, knowing I wouldn’t really do any such thing.

“So, how did you manage to get back in time for this morning’s roll-call?” asks Paulo.

“That’s for me to know, and you to worry about,” I reply, not entirely forgiving Paulo for his part in Chloe’s dirty trick of chaining me to a table while I was asleep.

“Fair enough. So tell me about yourself.”

I’m not going to fall for that one! Paulo must think me really stupid if he believes I’ll reveal all my strengths and weaknesses to him. I’m not going to forget that we are rivals. I’m relieved when I see the expression on Paulo’s face. He’s just fishing, and he knows I won’t tell him anything important.

“I’m really a warrior princess who rides into battle alongside my father,” I say, playing along with Ellen’s story about the emerald ring’s history. “When I’m not fighting battles, I spend my time helping the poor people of our realm.”

“Oh, really?” replies Paulo. “And I suppose Jasmine isn’t your real name.”

“No, of course not,” I reply. “It’s; um; Mihrimah.”

“Ah! Mihrimah. A name which means 'the sun and moon’ does it not?” laughs Paulo. “We obviously read the same books. How does the line go? Ah yes, I remember, 'The Ancients believe that mih ri mah, the sun and moon, protect the emerald forest.’ I think you aren’t being entirely truthful with me, princess.”

I can’t help but join in his laughter. There are hundreds of books available on the local feeds. It’s the only form of free entertainment open to serfs. What are the chances of Paulo reading the same book that I like?

“So, I’ve told you about me. What about you?” I reply.

“Oh me? I’m but a humble scholar who studies history; law; science; um,” begins Paulo.

“Really? I would never have thought a foot soldier would be so well educated, professor,” I tease.

“There is a lot you don’t know about me, princess.”

“I know. It’s a shame we can’t talk to each other like normal people,” I say. “There’s too much at stake for both of us.”

“But we can at least be civil to each other,” replies Paulo. “We must have a lot in common. We both like the same books, and we are both crazy enough to have accepted a sponsor’s nomination to be here.”

“What made you accept your nomination?” I ask.

“Winning the Argonaut will secure my future,” replies Paulo. “I didn’t want to sign up for another ten years in the military. Nor did I want to spend the rest of my life as a serf working in the pack-houses for twelve hours a day, and being paid inadequate wages. I can’t afford any of the other ways of acquiring a work permit for a city job.”

“Winning the Argonaut may simply give you a more comfortable prison,” I say. “How many Argonaut winners do you know of who have gone on to live a carefree life? None, I bet. Most of them are at the beck and call of their sponsors. According to the news-feeds, only a few have ever married and had children.”

“You have obviously studied the subject,” replies Paulo. “You are right, I suppose. But I’ve no intention of ever having children, and I’m strong enough to avoid seeking comfort in alcohol and drugs. How about you? Despite a bleak outcome if you win, that hasn’t deterred you from applying for an assessment. Wouldn’t you rather have a family of your own?”

“Me? Like you I must take risks if I want to be free of serfdom. And I wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to bring a child into the world we live in. Our rulers ensure our laws keep them secure in their privileged position.”

“But if the world changed, would you want children then?” asks Paulo.

“Perhaps,” I muse. “But changing the ways of our rulers doesn’t seem likely. What we did last night was probably a once-only event for me.”

“You still have time.”

“To do what? To change the ways of our rulers? Hardly.”

“No. To solve your other problem.”

“Is that some form of pick-up line?” I laugh. “When and where do you suggest we do the deed? Might I remind you we have to perform on a television show this afternoon; and tomorrow’s schedule won’t make it any easier.”

“I shall work something out. I’m greatly encouraged by the fact you don’t reject the idea out of hand.”

Chapter 10: Game in progress

I’m surprised. Not by Paulo’s words, but by my own behavior. For some reason I’m not being my normal shy and easily embarrassed self. Not that I mind. This whole conversation makes me feel so alive. I lean forward and look into Paulo’s eyes, daring him to respond. He matches my movement and we are sitting face to face, only centimeters apart.

Then everything turns into chaos. Just as I am contemplating sharing a kiss with Paulo, Ellen arrives. She’s not alone. Sylvie and three security guards are with her.

“What on earth do you think you are doing, Jasmine?” growls Sylvie. “I raised the alarm when I realized you had left Ellen’s room. Don’t you remember any of the personal safety instructions you were given?”

I glare at Sylvie, trying my best to restrain my anger. I’m about to let fly with a tirade, when Paulo places his hand on my arm.

“Jasmine and I came out here while you two had a sisterly reunion,” says Paulo. “Jasmine told Ellen where we were going. It’s hardly Jasmine’s fault if Ellen didn’t listen.”

“Hum, Well; OK; I suppose,” blusters Sylvie, unable to find anything wrong with what Paulo has just said. “But you two should not be together without supervision. Come on Paulo. We shall return to your dormitory.”

“We were hardly unsupervised,” Paulo replies. “The café proprietor was here.”

Paulo seems to have quietened Sylvie’s thunder. I’m still angry with her, but I will hold my wrath in check until we are somewhere more private.

“Thank you for a pleasant interlude, professor,” I say as I stand up. “As you can see, we are summoned back to reality. Such are the trials of a Argonaut contestant.”

“And thank you, princess, for bestowing a humble scholar with the honor of your regal company,” replies Paulo in a mischievous tone.

I can’t help but laugh, despite my anger with Sylvie. On impulse I lean over and kiss Paulo on the lips. I don’t know whether I do it simply to annoy Sylvie, or to fuel Paulo’s interest in me. Either way, my action succeeds on both counts.

“We must do this again sometime,” I reply.

I don’t get to hear Paulo’s response. Ellen takes my arm and guides me back to my dormitory. Neither of us says anything on the journey back along the corridors. Only when we arrive at my dormitory does Ellen show her relief and delight at finding me safe.

“Well? Are you going to explain yourself?” asks Ellen firmly, but without the venom Sylvie added to her same question when I was with Paulo.

“Paulo told you what happened. You and Sylvie got into a row, so Paulo and I stepped out while you sorted out your differences. End of story.”

“Not 'end of story’, Jasmine. What were you and Paulo discussing?” persists Ellen.

“Ellen!” I say, barely holding my anger in check. “I appreciate your help and advice, but you are not my mother. I don’t have to explain to you what I say and do with a man.”

“Yes you do,” replies Ellen, unmoved by my reply. “While you are here in the Argonaut complex, I am responsible for your safety. Your battle for victory doesn’t start with this afternoon’s television show. The Argonaut has already begun. Until you are either eliminated or declared a victor, I need to know about your every move so that I can protect you. Now, I repeat my question; what were you and Paulo discussing?”

I look at Ellen. As soon as I do, I realize that this isn’t an argument I’m going to win.

“Fine! Have it your way,” I sigh. “We were just talking about a make believe life and family.”

“And what was the meaning of the kiss?” asks Ellen, still not willing to let the matter drop.

“It’s what a man and woman do when they like each other,” I reply.

“You like him!?” splutters Ellen. “In case you’ve forgotten, he’s going to be trying to eliminate you from the Argonaut!”

“And I him,” I reply. “That doesn’t mean that we don’t like each other. The officials can put us through all the tests their warped minds can devise, but they can’t tell us who to love or hate.”

“I can’t believe this,” sighs Ellen. “Is there anyone who can make you see sense.”

“I know you think I’m obstinate and moody,” I say before Ellen can begin a lecture. “You don’t have to help me if you don’t want. I know my chances of winning are slim, but I want live my life on my own terms. I won’t think any less of you if you simply wash your hands of me.”

There’s a stunned silence. I’ve taken Ellen by surprise.

“What did I tell you?” says Vincent, who has been sitting on his bed watching our argument. “There’s fire in her soul. I for one will be proud to help Jasmine if she needs me.”

“Yes, me too,” says Ellen. “When we are finished here I shall fetch the emeralds you liked, Jasmine. You’ll knock the audience dead wearing those tonight.”

“Does that mean you are allowing me a free reign to do what I want later?” I ask Ellen.

“No. Of course not. You’re still a novice at the underhand games which will be played out behind the scenes this afternoon and tonight. In fact they’ve already begun. Doesn’t it strike you as strange that Sylvie and Paulo just happened to call at to my room while you were there? Was it you or Paulo who suggested going to the café when Sylvie started arguing with me? Do you think Paulo is really interested in you, or is he simply trying to gain useful information which he can use against you?”

“Those thoughts had crossed my mind,” I reply. “I agree. I don’t believe Paulo’s presence in your room was a coincidence. But which of us gains the upper hand as a consequence is still a game in progress.”

“What do you mean, Jasmine? What game?”

“I intend to see Paulo again when I can. He may be physically stronger than me, but very few of the Argonaut’s tests rely on muscle. However, when it comes to mind games, I think I am better than him. I shall find out when I next see him.”

“You are playing a dangerous game, Jasmine. I advise you to abandon your quest. If you fail, Paulo and the other contestants will target you for early elimination tomorrow.”

“I think my contestant profile that the Argonaut’s organizers have published already marks me as a target. Paulo’s appearance this morning only confirms it. My best chance is to weaken Paulo’s resolve to attack me. He must either fear me or love me.”

“If that is your strategy, then I salute your cunning,” says Ellen. “But I still advise against it. There is very little I can do to help you.”

“I don’t ask for your help. All I ask is that you don’t hinder my hunt.”

“Very well,” says Ellen. “Providing you keep me or the reception desk informed of your whereabouts. Kidnapping a contestant is a very risky tactic, but it has been tried before. Remember, if you fail to turn up for a roll-call, you will be automatically eliminated.”

“How about you let Jasmine’s try on her dress with the jewelry she has chosen,” says Vincent. “The others will be returning soon for lunch. It will be better if you have finished the fitting before they arrive.”

Ellen nods in agreement and goes to fetch the emerald jewelry I picked.

“Where is Patrick?” I ask, suddenly remembering he left the dormitory a few hours ago for a run.

“He finished early,” says Vincent. “He went down to one of the private rooms to practice his interview skills.”

“Is he still angry with me?” I ask.

“Angry with you? Why do you think he is angry with you?” asks Vincent.

“We travelled here together, but as soon as we arrived he suddenly didn’t want anything more to do with me. Something I did must have made him do that.”

“You have already identified the reason, Jasmine,” says Vincent. “You said your best chance of winning is to make your rivals either fear you or love you. Paulo isn’t the only man who will be competing against you.”

“But why would Patrick fear me? We were getting along fine until we arrived here.”

“He doesn’t fear you, Jasmine,” says Vincent. “Well, not much.”

“Then he; oh!” I say, suddenly realizing that the strange looks Patrick has been giving me had a deeper meaning than I thought.

Chapter 11: A little tenderness

I take the studio supplied dress from my wardrobe, and I quickly change into it. I’m busy admiring myself in the mirror when Ellen returns with her emerald ring, necklace and earrings. She fastens the necklace for me, and for the first time I see the combined effect of the dress with Ellen’s emeralds.

“Perfect,” says Ellen. I can’t help but agree with her. If looks alone could see me through this afternoon’s performance, then I would be home and dry. But I must still navigate my way through an interview, or make myself noticed if I’m not one of the ten contestants chosen. If I’m interviewed, I need to be eloquent and confident in my responses to the hosts’ questions. Not just because I want to impress any potential employers, but because Paulo and the other contestants will be watching my every move.

“Do you think Paulo will like my outfit?” I ask Ellen.

“Paulo? Hmmm; I think you will snare him with these emeralds.”

“Do you think I have a better chance if I wear that piece which belonged to your great-aunt Sophie?” I ask, remembering Paulo’s reaction when he saw it. “Who was this great-aunt of yours anyway?”

“Sophie? Oh, she was a famous dancer. Her stage name was Desire. She lived a very bohemian life. My parents regarded as the black sheep of the family. But I liked her. I used to visit Sophie quite often when I was young, so I knew Sophie much better than did Sylvie or any of my other sisters. That’s why Sophie left her jewelry to me when she died. The emeralds were hers as well. A gift from a man she lived with for many years.”

“Have you ever worn her jewelry?” I ask.

“The emeralds, yes, but not that piece you were looking at when Sylvie intruded. I’ve never been in a situation where it was appropriate to wear it. It’s not the sort of jewelry you wear in public places, and it takes a certain amount of confidence and practice to wear it. You do understand how it should be worn, don’t you?”

“Yes. Thanks to Sylvie’s demonstration, I know how it fastens,” I say, giving Ellen a demonstration using my fingers to represent the spring-clips. “You would need to be wearing a thin top to stop it sliding off, though.”

“Or no top at all,” laughs Ellen. “But we are getting side-tracked. The others will be here soon. If we are done I suggest you change back into your regular clothes.

"Ellen, could I borrow that piece of Sophie’s I saw earlier?”

“What!? There is no way you are wearing that on the television show.”

“No, of course I won’t. I do have some sense of propriety. But I might be able to use it to snare Paulo.”

I put on my most winsome smile and Ellen finally agrees after some hesitation. She must have anticipated my request as she has the box with Sophie’s piece in her bag. She hands it to me.

“You knew I was going to ask to borrow this,” I say.

“I didn’t know, but I suspected you might ask when you noticed Paulo’s interest,” smiles Ellen. “You had best try it on. You might not be able to keep it in place.”

I find a thin top and change out of the dress. Fortunately Vincent has decided to go for lunch. He’s harmless enough, but I think I’ve treated him to enough eye candy for now. Ellen hands me the jeweled piece and watches as I nervously place the discs in position. I anticipated a certain amount of discomfort from the pressure of the clips on my nipples, but the initial pain is almost unbearable. Fortunately the pain soon passes and after a short while I can only sense the weight of the piece tugging on my nipples and breasts.

“Now try walking about,” says Ellen. “Try to shake it loose. We need to see whether it will stay in place.”

I do as Ellen suggests and try moving into several different positions. The piece remains firmly in place, but several movements cause me to wince in pain as the weight or tension in the linking chain pulls against me. After a few minutes Ellen seems satisfied with my first attempt at wearing it.

“OK,” says Ellen. “You can take the piece off.”

What sounds like the simplest of tasks turns out to be the most excruciatingly painful experience I could imagine. As soon as the clips are removed, the numbness in my nipples quickly goes, and my body protests strongly. I bite my lips to prevent myself from crying out. If I fail this last test, then Ellen might not let me borrow the piece. I rub my chest gently to ease the pain, and after a while only a little tenderness remains.

“Hmm. Do you still wish to borrow this piece?” asks Ellen as she places it back in its box.

I nod and Ellen hands me the box. I give her a hug in thanks, being careful not to aggravate my tender breasts. The sound of Patrick’s voice coming from the corridor prompts me to finish changing and join the others for lunch.

To be continued in part 3, by Rachael Jane for Literotica.

Love in Dangerous Waters.

In 4 parts, by RachaelJane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Serf Jasmine seeks her freedom by entering the Argonaut.

Chapter 1: The next step

The domed city of Argon is a marvel of engineering created in the dying days of the old regimes. Uninterrupted wars; the plundering of rapidly diminishing resources; and extreme weather events, had reduced most of the planet’s population to little more than scavengers and refugees, dependent on the largesse of the privileged few who controlled most of the Earth’s remaining wealth and resources. The ideas of democracy and freedom had been swept away by the unstoppable return of the medieval concept of feudalism. The wealthy elite became the new aristocracy, while the bulk of the population was reduced to modern day serfs; indentured to their local overlord from cradle to grave.

History doesn’t record exactly when the planet’s ruling elites decided to create huge domed cities like Argon. Possibly the domed cities simply evolved as the ravages of war, and the uncontrollable elements, destroyed wide swathes of land. Floods and wild fires herded those with the wealth and ability to move into defensible towns and cities. Those who lacked the means were abandoned to their fate. Hundreds of millions died. Taxes were directed solely towards protecting the new centers of population. Many old and famous towns and cities were left to the elements, or to the marauding armies who lived off the misery of others. Within a few decades, there was little trace of the old world. Even the rogue armies finally disbanded when it became too difficult to find food and supplies to service their rapacious needs.

We’re told that Argon is typical of the domed cities scattered around what is left of the inhabited world. Argon’s large central city houses about eighty thousand people. Access to the domed part of the city is strictly controlled, and no serf is allowed into the central city without a special permit. To live inside the domed center requires wealth far beyond most people’s imagination. No city citizen ever dirties their hands doing menial tasks. Consequently, in order to service the needs of the new elite, nearly two hundred thousand people commute daily into the city from one of sixteen outer settlements. Most of the commuters are serfs who have purchased short term freedom from their settlement overlord. The commuting workforce provide all the essential services that keep the city operating from day to day. Laborers and house servants are in great demand, along with those who provide personal services ranging from hairdressing to sexual services.

Despite the strict rules that control our lives, we are generally a happy population, or so I am lead to believe. Our rulers constantly remind us that these days we have a steady supply of food, and that most settlements now boast their own medical center, albeit with unqualified medics and very few drugs or medicines. New laws limiting a serf’s work hours to only sixty hours a week mean that we have more leisure time. None of this existed until as recently as eight years ago. I can remember the days when my family went without meals, and my parents’ reliance on dubious folklore remedies for dealing with ailments.

The strictures of modern day serfdom prohibit those living in the settlements from obtaining jobs in the central city without compensation for ‘loss of future labor’ being paid to their local overlord. For young people, where 'future labor’ may represent forty or more years of service, the cost of compensation for a lifetime of freedom is well beyond the means of a young serf. Many must opt for purchasing their freedom for a limited time in the rarely-achieved hope of earning enough in the city to purchase an extension of time.

Those seeking permanent freedom usually take an indirect route towards achieving their goal. One such route is to undergo one of the quarterly assessments and authentication conducted by the Bureau of Ancillary Services. The Bureau’s authentication process ensures that the never-ending demands for young workers in the city are satisfied. Success in the Argonaut, as the assessment and authentication process is commonly called, means freedom from serfdom; although that freedom invariably comes at the price of a large debt to be repaid. The Bureau will lend the successful serf the amount of compensation due to the serf’s overlord, enabling a city work permit to be issued. However, even attending one of the quarterly assessments can be a costly affair. Firstly the serf must compensate his or her overlord for the three days absence from work, and secondly the serf is required to cover the cost of accommodation for the duration of assessment.

Argon’s settlements are named after American presidents and European royal houses, reflecting the origins of most of the city’s population. Governance of Argon, and hence its settlements, is by a military junta who appoint all the administration and military officers, including each settlement’s leader. The junta also creates and enforces the laws which control our daily life. Anybody who voices dissent against the junta’s reign is rapidly and severely punished without any right to a trial. Even those living in the city are careful about what they say. Rumors says that the worst offenders are executed, but none of our heavily censored news-feeds make reference to anyone suffering that fate. Minor offences usually result in longer work hours, or the loss of access to the few recreational facilities.

But enough about my world, it is time to tell you of my place in it. My name is Jasmine, and Buchanan settlement has been my home for all of my nineteen years. I’ve worked in one of the local recycling plants ever since I left school at eight years old. For a decade I have had a dream of buying my freedom so that I can work inside Argon’s central city. Now I have a chance. I am one of those who will be assessed at the next Argonaut, thanks to an anonymous benefactor who has sponsored my application.

For better or worse, I have chosen my next step. My arrival at the old boarding school that houses the Bureau of Ancillary Services assessment center is the gateway to my future.

Chapter 2: The lacy nightie.

It’s nearly midnight and I can’t get to sleep. The first session of the Argonaut starts in nine hours. I still can’t get over my sponsor’s generous offer that has allowed me to attend. I realize that the very late arrival of the sponsor’s offer confirms that I’m a last minute substitute. Given my father’s blemished political record, I suspect my anonymous sponsor is scraping the bottom of the barrel in choosing me. But he or she did, and that has enabled me to be here at the old boarding school which serves as the headquarters of the Bureau of Ancillary Services. The original school closed decades ago when Argon’s junta decided to close the last remaining links with the decaying towns and cities beyond the borders of Argon’s self-proclaimed territory, effectively isolating us from the world. There was no need for schools with boarding facilities after that.

Every three months, Argon’s Bureau of Ancillary Services accepts the applications of exactly fifty settlement adults between the ages of eighteen and twenty-seven. Successful applicants become contestants in the Argonaut, which consists of a series of interviews and tests supervised by an assessment panel. Some of the interviews are broadcast on the news-feeds throughout Argon and its settlements, with the intention of attracting future employers for the hopeful contestants should they secure a city work permit. The number of permits available each quarter is a closely guarded secret. Consequently, passing all the tests doesn’t automatically result in a contestant being granted a permit. And obtaining a permit doesn’t guarantee a good job. Not all city jobs are better than those in the settlements, but that doesn’t stop the competitiveness for the permits. That competitiveness often includes a range of sabotage and underhand tricks targeting the weaker contestants.

These days the Argonaut doesn’t automatically favor the handful of contestants who have served a ten-year term in the military, and who are now into their twenties. The leaders of some settlements still prefer the old tradition of favoring the applications of those who have served in the military. Former soldiers are often trained to do well in the Argonaut’s tests. A contestant’s success can give a boost to their own settlement’s ranking in the eyes of the junta; a ranking that determines the priority given to the funding of a settlement’s civic improvements.

It’s no secret which contestants were formerly in the military. Knowledge of their status is intended to intimidate the other contestants. Their names and reputations are etched in every other contestant’s mind; Paulo and Chloe from Eisenhower, Heidi from Grant, and Mansel from Bourbon. All contestants have the support of volunteer helpers who do everything from offering advice to helping solve minor problems. These helpers are an eclectic selection of oddballs and do-gooders from among the city’s bored residents. Not all of them are model Argon citizens, and three of the female contestants have already complained about being groped by one of the helpers.

I give up trying to sleep, and I decide to take a walk around the old school building housing the fifty contestants for the current Argonaut. I slip my short dressing gown over my even shorter nightie. Normally I sleep naked, but I had the sense to borrow a nightie and gown from my twelve-year-old sister. I’m not a blushing maiden, but sleeping naked in a mixed gender dormitory is asking for trouble.

The eight dormitories are designed to accommodate six people in each. Seven are single-sex dormitories. However, the late applicants, like me, must put up with eight of us crammed into the room, which now houses three male and five female contestants. Everywhere is quiet as I head towards the communal dining area. Everyone else must have had no trouble in falling asleep. In Harper’s case that probably has more to do with the quantity of alcohol he consumed during the evening meal, since he’s asleep on the dining room floor. Suddenly a movement catches my eye. I duck behind a door in case it is Patrick. He also comes from Buchanan, and he’s the closest person I have to a friend in this place. I’m not certain I want him seeing me dressed like this. I watch the figure at the other end of the dormitory for a few moments before realizing it is one of the robots that clean up after us. They try to be invisible, hovering just out of sight unless one is needed to clean up after us. The robot is using our absence to finish clearing away the empty glasses and plates from our evening meal.

The robot leaves the room through a side door. It dawns on me that there must be a service corridor somewhere in this rambling jumble of rooms to enable the robots to come and go. The main door to this wing of the old school is locked and monitored at this time of night. The sophisticated sensors provide security against intruders, and ensure the contestants don’t do anything underhand before the assessment begins. I feel the urge to explore.

I go through the door the robot used and find myself in a corridor with a relatively new door at the far end. Undoubtedly the robot is going to the kitchen and I follow it at a discreet distance. I follow the robot through the end door and I see that it opens onto a corridor crossing at right angles to the one I’ve just travelled. More doors are visible along the corridor, but I notice that each has one of the security pads used to unlock the door. My adventure is going to be short lived if all of the doors need a security code to operate them. I head in the opposite direction to the kitchens and try one of the doors at the end of the corridor. It’s unlocked. A set of rickety wooden stairs are on the other side of the door and I descend to the level where the recreation and practice rooms are located. The door at the bottom of the stairs opens and I tentatively peek out in case anyone is around. Everything seems quiet.

I’m now in the main corridor on this level, not far from where the main stairs are located. I know my way to the recreation rooms, but not what lies behind the many other doors branching off the main corridor.

The lack of security guards concerns me for a moment before I recall that everywhere is monitored by cameras. My little adventure is probably already being observed by the security guards in a control room somewhere. Any minute now I can expect to hear the sound of stomping feet and being faced with a squad of burly guards wanting to know what I’m doing. My best plan is to ignore the cameras and just walk as though I’ve every right to be here. Sneaking about will just raise suspicion that I’m up to no good. Fortunately my dressing gown is a similar color to the robots, so an inattentive guard may mistake me for a robot.

I walk along the corridor not daring to breathe in case I trigger an alarm, or my actions make the security guards decide to investigate. I haven’t thought about where I’m going other than I don’t really want to go into the games rooms. A door off the main corridor is ajar and on impulse I go through it into another short corridor with a door at the end. This part of the building is much newer than the area behind me. There’s plenty of light streaming through the window in the door. The lighting has been dimmed everywhere else, but the room on the other side of this door is fully lit.

The window in the door is misted, and the smell of chemicals makes me think that it’s a laundry. I open the door and peek inside. Not a laundry. It’s a large swimming pool. Much larger than anything Buchanan settlement can boast. The room is warm and the water looks inviting. At least to someone like me who can swim. I walk around the pool to check that nobody is about. I come across some racks with towels but there are no swimming suits. Nobody said to bring a swimming suit, so I must either forgo a swim, or swim naked.

The water looks enticing, but I’m also aware that the pool, like everywhere else, will be monitored by cameras. I can see at least three cameras around the walls. What I can’t understand is why I’ve not been accosted by security guards. Even the dopiest guard must surely have realized by now that I’m not a robot. But I push my concerns about that to one side and prepare to enter the water. I slip off my dressing gown and dive into the water wearing my short nightie. I’m not brash enough to strip myself naked in front of whoever is monitoring the cameras. That’s something I quickly regret. The way my wet nightie is clinging to me I can see that I’m leaving very little to the imagination.

I swim a couple of lengths of the pool before I realize that I have company. Someone else has entered the water. I make a sudden cry of alarm. Who is it? I’m in two minds whether to leave the water and make a hasty exit, or to stand my ground. The daunting prospect of running around the corridors wearing nothing but a wet translucent nightie settles my dilemma. I turn to face whoever is here with me.

The swimmer heads in my direction. As the distance between us shortens I realize the swimmer is male and that he has no clothes on. Suddenly running around the complex in a wet nightie doesn’t seem such a silly idea any more. My indecision causes me to waste my only chance of leaving the pool without confronting him.

The swimmer comes directly for me. He stops a few meters from me and treads water.

“I didn’t think any of the other contestants knew about this place, nor be brave enough to take a midnight swim,” he says.

Chapter 3: Swimming with a naked girl.

“We don’t need to fight,” replies Paulo. “There’s time for that soon enough. I intend to enjoy my swim and then go to bed. I suggest you do the same. Or can’t you sleep? You wouldn’t be the first contestant to be nervous and suffer sleepless nights before the Argonaut.”

“I’m not nervous,” I say defiantly, mostly for my own benefit. “I just can’t get used to sleeping on a soft bed.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he replies dismissively. “Well, in that case, you can race me to the other end of the pool and back.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because it’s fun and I don’t often get the chance to swim with a naked girl. Are you normally so argumentative?”

“I’m not naked. And I’m not arguing. I’m being; um; curious.”

“Ha! You may as well be naked for all that is hidden by that flimsy thing you are wearing. You have a nice body. You shouldn’t be afraid to let people see it.”

Paulo’s comments immediately cause me to feel awkward. He’s a rival and ex-military, so he’s a serious threat to my chances during the Argonaut. But my traitorous body would be happy to yield to his desires. I mustn’t let him see how much his comment has disturbed me, so I move into position for the race that he wants.

“Are you ready? Go!” I call as I launch myself off in the direction of the far end.

“Hey! Cheat!” he calls before taking off after me.

I’ve never tried swimming in a race, but I soon see Paulo’s point. It is fun. I’m almost reach the far end before Paulo manages to draw close to me. He’s a strong swimmer but doesn’t have the elegant style that my father drummed into me. We turn only seconds apart and I try to increase my speed on the return leg. Half way down the pool I realize that Paulo’s strength is starting to tell, and that I’m struggling to keep my lead. Moments later we are level and I draw on my last reserves to regain the lead. We reach the end of the pool neck and neck. I don’t think either of us can tell who touched the end first.

We are both breathing heavily as we climb out of the pool and collapse on the floor. It is only then that I realize that we are virtually touching. I’m lying next to naked young man. That’s something I’ve only ever done in my wildest fantasies. My limited sexual experiences to date have involved remarkably little nudity. Fortunately Paulo seems too preoccupied in regaining his breath to notice my discomfort. I should move away before he recovers, but something inside me makes me stay where I am.

“Is that the best your settlement’s wonderful training regime can teach you?” I say.

“Swimming isn’t an essential skill, even in the military. The Argonaut tests rarely require the need to swim beyond having sufficient skill to avoid drowning. Where did you learn to swim like that? I didn’t think there would be much call for swimming in the industrial settlements.”

“There isn’t, but my parents always hoped I would gain a permit to work in the city. It’s impossible to know what skills might be required if I land a job in the city. I suppose my father thought it useful for me to learn to swim well.”

Paulo turns towards me. As hard as I try not to look below his waist, my eyes are drawn like a magnet. I notice he is looking at me in a way that makes me both excited and uncomfortable. I look into his eyes and immediately sink into their depths. I don’t even notice when he moves closer so our bodies are actually touching. The kiss that follows seems so natural my body responds by itself.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I say with half-hearted sincerity when we break for air.

“Why not?” is his reply.

“Because we are rivals. We will be expected to try and outsmart each other tomorrow.”

“And does doing this make any difference? This is now. The assessments are later.”

“I don’t know if I can separate the two.”

“Not all contestants are selfish machines. Chloe may fit the classic win-at-all-costs profile, but unlike her I don’t enjoy sabotaging another contestant’s chances.”

“But your training will still make you sabotage that person’s chances regardless of how you feel now. And that person could be me.”

“I know. I won’t like doing that to a fellow contestant, but I’ll do it if necessary. It would be unfortunate if you and I come face to face in one of the tests. But you are right, my training will help me make the right choice.”

“I’m sure I shall be a lot happier knowing how cut up you are as you sabotage my efforts,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can manage.

“Yes, I may even shed a tear,” he replies with equal sarcasm as he leans towards me and shares a second kiss with me.

My mind and body are confused. Even fully clothed I’ve never been this intimate with anyone before. My near nakedness is sending all the wrong signals to both of us. I should stop and walk out of here, but as crazy as it sounds there is no way I want to do that.

Our third kiss is accompanied by roaming hands. His on my yielding torso and mine onto the rock hard shaft pushing against my thighs, and seeking entrance to the throbbing slit between my legs.

“Do you think the security cameras in this room are switched off?” I ask before Paulo can claim the prize his cock seeks.

“No. I’m fairly sure we are being watched.”

“Then why haven’t the security guards frog marched us back to our dormitories?”

“We aren’t trying to kill each other so there’s no need for them to intervene. Anyway, if they do then they’ll miss all the fun? Can you imagine how boring it must be to watch banks of screens for hours, with absolutely nothing happening to break the monotony. We are livening up their night for them. For all we know they could be selling tickets to watch the main event.”

“That’s disgusting. Anyway, what main event? I hope you aren’t implying that we are going any further with this liaison.”

“I’m not implying anything.”

Chapter 4: The hunter’s proposition.

“And what makes you think I want there to be a main event?” I say.

“Because you do,” says Paulo. “Otherwise you would have dressed more modestly before you left your dormitory. And you wouldn’t have stayed in here when you saw me in the water with you. Nor would you have let me lie close to you like this.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you. If I choose to say 'no’, then that is my right. Or did you have something more forceful in mind? Something more in keeping with your special training.”

“Nonsense! Have I in any way hurt you while we have been here? As far as I can tell you’ve so far enjoyed my company.”

I suddenly feel awkward and uncomfortable. My own feelings are strange to me and causing some confusion. Paulo is right. I have enjoyed his company, and I have no complaints about his behavior so far; other than his suggestion that this has all been the appetizer, and that the main course is about to follow.

His remarks have hit home more than I’m willing to admit. He’s right. I chose not to put on more clothes, because I felt an urge to free my sexuality from its everyday constraints. And the more daring I’ve been tonight, the more alive my body has felt. Even now the prospect of allowing Paulo to perform the most intimate acts with me is sending a thrill through my body. But common sense is telling me to stop. And I’m the sort of person who pays a lot of attention to common sense; well, most of the time.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Your behavior so far doesn’t deserve my last remark. But I still have the right to say 'no’.”

“And I’ll respect your decision. But can I remind you that is well past midnight and we might not have the opportunity another time.”

“Where I come from, it is customary to seduce a girl before leaping on her,” I say, not really knowing if that statement is true.

“Really? You would surrender yourself to someone who told you your eyes are beautiful, that your body is just perfect, and your choice of clothes is divine? Surely you are far too level headed to fall for that sort of line.”

“Hmmm; Well you aren’t persuading me at the moment.”

“Hah! You’re perfect! I love a woman who plays hard to get. The chase is just as much fun as the end result.”

“You’re talking from experience, I presume?” I retort.

“You are an interesting challenge! I notice that despite your reluctance, you haven’t ruled out accepting my suggestion.”

“You’re stalling. As you said, it is getting late and as much as I’ve enjoyed our time together, we both have a busy schedule tomorrow.”

“I agree. If I can’t make you say 'yes’ within five minutes then I shall concede defeat and we shall go back to our dormitories.”

He looks at me and I nod in agreement.

“So, what really excites a girl from Buchanan?” he muses to himself. “We can’t be that different. Your settlement has industrial factories and my last ten years have been in the military. Both require heavy manual labor. Sweating bodies and dirt everywhere. Which explains why you aren’t swooning at the sight of my bare chest. There are girls who almost faint at the sight; but not you. Despite what you said, I don’t think sweet-talking you is going to make you want to say 'yes’. So, that leaves a more physical approach. I think you are the type who likes to be hunted. Not the fake chases and mock play about being captured and becoming a helpless victim of a man’s wicked desires. No, I think you really want a man to prove to you he is able to outsmart you and is therefore worthy of your body.”

“What a bizarre idea,” I say, trying hard to sound casual. My already heightened senses are being pushed into overdrive. I’ve never thought about what attracts me sexually, but Paulo’s comments are setting me alight with desire. “How are you going to prove your theory?”

“I shall give you a thirty second start. If I can’t find you within four minutes then I shall return to my bed a sorry man. But if I corner you, then you are mine.”

“I thought I had the right to say 'no’,” I say.

“And you do. It will only take you ten seconds to reach the door to the main corridor, and from there you are free to return to your dormitory. I shall not attempt to stop you. You have twenty five seconds left.”

I leap up and bolt for the side rooms holding the towels. There are other rooms on the far side. Saunas and hot pools. All ready for use, but currently devoid of people.

There is a lack of good hiding places, but I only need to stay free for four minutes. It will take Paulo most of that time to check all these rooms. I settle for a room with several sunken hot tubs in the middle and clothes lockers around the walls. Some lockers are just large enough for me to hide inside. It isn’t until I’m hidden that I realize that by staying in these rooms I have made a major decision. If Paulo finds me then I’ve promised him that he can fuck me.

One minute passes; then another. I can’t hear anything. My hiding place offers only a limited view of the hot tubs. I begin to wonder if Paulo is actually looking for me. How embarrassing it would be if he simply left for his dormitory, leaving the security guards monitoring us to laugh at my folly. But I saw the look in Paulo’s eyes. He definitely had the look of a wolf eager to devour a lamb. A lamb called Jasmine.

The three minute mark must have passed before I hear something in the adjacent room. The sound of doors being opened and closed. He must be searching the lockers in that room. The speed at which he is doing it suggests he knows he is running out of time. He won’t have time to search the lockers in this room. I’ve won!

Or have I?

Chapter 5: Are we done talking?

Although I don’t have a watch, I know that Paulo’s time is definitely running out. Paulo must know that too. I do something I would never have thought myself capable of doing in these circumstances; I leave my hiding place.

Paulo bursts into the room with the hot tubs with what can only be seconds of his four minute deadline remaining. He stands by the door in shock.

“What kept you?” I say. “Your four minutes are nearly up. You almost missed enjoying a treat. This water is divine. Not too hot and not too cold.”

Paulo recovers from his shock and joins me in the tub. The tub is only two meters in diameter so we are fairly close together as soon as he enters the water. But he doesn’t immediately touch me as I had expected. He waits on the opposite side of the tub as though waiting for permission to approach me.

“You allowed me to find you when you could have easily hidden in one of these lockers,” says Paulo. “What does that mean?”

“What would you like it to mean?” I say.

“I would like it to mean that you have proved your cleverness and that you are now ready to continue where we left off before.”

“Are you sure you aren’t too tired and wish to go to bed?” I tease.

“I think I could manage to stay awake all night given the right incentive. How about you?”

“The same. Are we done talking?”

“I thought women like to talk,” he says as he wraps me in his arms.

“There’s a time and a place for everything. And talking isn’t what I need right now.”

He kisses me and I melt into his arms. My hands reach down to massage his already solid cock.

Just at that moment the lights go out and we are plunged into pitch darkness. But I don’t care. Paulo’s arms are wrapped around me and I simply don’t care.

Less than a minute later the emergency lighting activates and the room changes from pitch black to something akin to a moonlit night.

“Stay where you are and don’t move,” comes a man’s voice over a hidden speaker.

The warm glow flowing through my entire body makes me wonder why the man would think I would wish to move from this position.

“I think we are about to be arrested or something,” whispers Paulo into my ear.

I don’t care. I just want to hold Paulo like this and feel him pressed against me. The normal lighting comes back on and we break our hold on each other to look around us. I take the opportunity to retrieve my nightie which is floating in the water. I don’t recall whether it was Paulo or me who removed it during our brief interlude. I put it back on with some difficulty. The wet fabric clinging to me in a way it didn’t seem to do just moments before.

Three security guards enter our room accompanied by a man with enough gold braid on his uniform to indicate that he’s somebody important.

“This is most irregular. Most irregular,” grumbles the man. “These facilities are closed for the duration of the Argonaut. I don’t know how you gained entry to this building, but you must leave. It is fortunate you didn’t enter the old school. We would have had to arrest you if you went up there. Now, make yourselves decent and I’ll escort you to the door.”

I look at Paulo and realize that he is as baffled as I am at what is going on. As Paulo and I fetch some towels to dry ourselves it dawns on me that these security guards think we are central city residents who have found a way into this recreation center. They don’t know we are Argonaut contestants, and have sneaked down here from our respective dormitory.

Neither Paulo nor I have clothes, unless you count my flimsy wet nightie. I can’t remember where I left my dressing gown. Paulo presumably arrived wearing something, but he doesn’t seem inclined to go and fetch it. We both wrap towels around us and knot them to preserve a modicum of decency. The security officer signals for us to follow him. We meekly follow him like two naughty children.

“I know the festivities during the Argonaut are a time for high spirits, but you mustn’t enter a secure area like this,” lectures the man. “Now go home before you get into more trouble.”

With that brief lecture over, we are escorted out of a side door to the large plaza outside. The door is closed firmly behind us. The plaza is just outside the domed city, between the dome support wall and the huge drainage channels that funnel storm water away from the inhabited areas. Consequently this area is accessible to both city residents and the serfs of the settlements. However, the distance to the nearest settlement means that few serfs will bother travelling here for pleasure.

“You heard the man. We must go home,” says Paulo.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we have no clothes, no money, and it’s a long walk home,” I say. “Besides, if we go missing we are automatically disqualified from the Argonaut.”

“That’s true,” replies Paulo. “But we won’t be missed until morning. We have at least seven hours to ourselves. We can do a lot in seven hours.”

“Yes. We could look at the statues over there, and; ”

I almost break into laughter at Paulo’s reaction to my suggestion. He clearly has something quite different in mind and, in truth, so do I. I take his hand and walk along the wide boulevard that runs next to the recreation center and the old boarding school next door. I soon realize that this area is what passes for an entertainment zone, but the various places are closing for the night.

The boulevard is busy. Mainly with young couples like us enjoying each other’s company. In their case, they are returning towards their homes under the domed part of the city. Having worked myself up into deciding tonight is going to be my big night, I feel slightly disappointed that we can’t find somewhere to go.

“Can you climb?” asks Paulo, pointing to a wide balcony above a café which has already closed for the night. Climbing the wall to reach the balcony shouldn’t be too difficult.

“Yes. Can you?” I reply already heading towards a promising looking place on the side wall.

Paulo follows me as I make light work of climbing the fixtures adorning the café wall. Despite his military training, Paulo doesn’t find it quite so easy. Something I must remember when the Argonaut starts. We scramble onto the balcony and see it is laid out like a terrace with tables and chairs for the café customers. This place will be perfect.

Chapter 6: Games in the night.

I find a large sofa with a low table in front of it. I clear away the glasses and plates the last occupants of this area left behind. The owners of the café clearly intends to clear up in the morning.

“Hey, look what I found,” says Paulo. “A half-finished bottle of wine. I’ll fetch some glasses.”

It won’t be real wine, but I’m sure the technicians of the central city can produce something akin to the real thing. I make myself comfortable. Even outside the dome, the ambient temperature is several degrees warmer than in Buchanan; a product of the hot exhaust air pumped out of the city. The huge domes act like greenhouses, and the air inside must be continually vented to regulate the temperature.

I lie back and look at the starlit sky. It’s all very romantic, which helps put me back in the mood for what I know is about to happen. When we were in the hot pool we thought we were pressed for time and needed to rush things. Here we are alone and unlikely to be disturbed before morning.

Paulo returns with two glasses and a bottle of what I presume is pseudo-wine. I’ve never drunk wine before, real or fake. It isn’t the sort of luxury anybody in Buchanan can afford. Paulo pours some of the wine into the two glasses. He samples some wine before passing my glass to me.

“Need to check the wine hasn’t gone off,” he says when he sees my puzzled look. I shrug in response. Either he is showing off, or drinking Argon wine is a far more common event in the military than I thought.

“Ah! A Chardonnay, if I’m not mistaken,” he says has he sniffs the wine and takes another sip.

“Are you an expert on wine?” I ask incredulously. “Or are you just making that up?”

“Neither. That’s what is written on the label,” he laughs.

I join in his laughter. His playfulness is helping me relax and I’m no longer nervous about what is going to happen. By the time we’ve finished the wine we are sat side by side on the sofa. He puts his hands on me. Mine echo his movements. The real world seems a million miles away. I can’t tell whether it is the effects of the wine or Paulo’s attentions which are causing me to think only of this moment and the intense pleasure I’m feeling as our limbs entwine.

Then he starts kissing me. At this point I lose control of myself and crave for more of what he is doing. I’ve no experience at this level of intimacy, and only the vaguest idea of what I’m supposed to do. Knowledge gained from teenage gossip in the factory, which is probably completely wrong. But I needn’t have worried. Somehow my body seems to know what to do by instinct. When I’m not doing something quite right, Paulo quietly guides me towards the right action. Our bodies respond as though we are one.

Then, before I realize it, he is on top of me. I feel that I’m at his complete mercy. That should alarm me and make me struggle, but all I want to do is to surrender myself to his desires. I’m rewarded with the most sensational feeling I can imagine. Heavy petting is as far as I’ve gone before. Paulo’s actions make it clear that we are going well beyond that tonight. I had been told there would be some pain involved, but I’m too far gone into the stratosphere of my arousal to notice. Paulo senses my submission and rewards me with a gentle and unhurried treat. His cock pushes its way into my moist cunt and I wrap my legs around his thighs to hold him in position.

“Careful. I don’t want to get pregnant,” I say in a brief moment of lucidity.

If he hears me he doesn’t alter his actions in any way. I’m too light-headed to force the issue. It’s a problem for another day.

Finally Paulo and I are spent. Our emotions can only remain at fever pitch for so long. We eventually return to the real world. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been away. We lie in each other’s arms for a while regaining our breath.

“That wasn’t bad for a first timer,” says Paulo.

“More of your experience talking, I suppose?” I reply, not certain whether to feel complemented or insulted.

“You’re not my first, if that’s what you mean. There are benefits to being chosen as a contestant long before the Argonaut starts. Good performance in training is rewarded by a bevy of young women eager to be fucked by a contestant. But I meant what I said. I could tell that you were inexperienced, but you let go of your inhibitions. Few young women can do that the first time.”

“Well I’m not sure we will be in a position for there to be a second time. Things get very competitive once the Argonaut starts.”

“Who knows. Perhaps we will come face to face in one of the tests and you can throw yourself at my mercy and beg me to let you win in exchange for a repeat of just now.”

“In your dreams! I was thinking more of the other way round. Would you like to be my plaything, Paulo?” I tease.

“Now who is dreaming? You are bold, and you control your fears well. I can see you are someone I must regard as a serious rival. My chances of achieving a permit would be much better had you not been accepted as a contestant.”

The afterglow of our coupling is still flowing through me, making me feel mellow. The ambient temperature is dropping now that the local businesses are closed for tonight. I snuggle closer to Paulo, both for warmth and to try and renew the strange and wonderful feelings I’ve experienced tonight. He gently caresses me and I start feeling aroused again. Surely he doesn’t have the energy for another round of sex. Tiredness is starting to overtake me, and I can’t believe it isn’t affecting Paulo as well. But his caresses are divine. I don’t want them to stop. He gently runs his fingers up and down my spine and sends more waves of pleasure coursing through me. I respond in kind and despite my obvious inexperience my efforts are having a visible effect on him.

“I wish we could stay here like this forever,” I say. “But we both know we must return to our dormitories before dawn. If we don’t turn up for roll-call, our absence will be noticed by the officials and we’ll be disqualified from the Argonaut. Despite the security officer’s error in throwing us out of the center, I doubt we will be shown any mercy if we miss roll-call.”

“Yes, I know,” replies Paulo, deep in thought. “If only there was another way. Thanks for tonight. I can honestly say I really enjoyed it, and in other circumstances I would hope for many more. I’m going to be selfish and keep your nightie as a trophy to remind me of tonight.”

I was planning on doing the same thing, but I don’t refuse his request. “As long as I can have a trophy in return,” I reply.

“Agreed. I seem to be out of suitable offerings at the moment. Let me know tomorrow what you would like.”

I feel so comfortable that I easily forget that Paulo and I are soon to face each other as rivals during the Argonaut. Either Paulo is a superb actor or his feelings mirror mine. Eventually tiredness overcomes me. The warmth of Paulo’s embrace, and the after effects of the wine and our coupling, causes me to doze off despite my nakedness.

It must be an hour or so later when I wake. I’m disoriented at first, and wonder what has woken me. However, I soon realize it is the absence of Paulo’s warmth that has caused me to wake. I sit up to see where he has gone, but there’s no sign of him.

However, Paulo’s absence isn’t my main problem. As I move I realize there is a length of chain locked around my ankle, the other end of which tethers me to a heavy table.

To be continued in part 2, by Rachael Jane for Literotica.

Can Two Broken people make something whole, again?

In 2 parts, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Neighborhood Party

Cathy & John were holding a Christmas Eve open-house next door; and expecting half of the neighborhood over that evening. They were a high standard in generosity, for the rest of us neighbors to try to emulate.

I made my appearance, around 8:30, and stoically accepted the offered condolences which were definitely putting me in the wrong state of mind. After only half-an-hour I knew I had to get out of there, even if it did piss off Cathy.

John seemed to catch my mood, and dragged me outdoors to enjoy a cigar in semi-peace. With a heavily spiked eggnog in hand, and a more than decent Rocky Patel Decade burning nicely, I was willing to stick it out a little longer when he headed back indoors.

“I should skin you alive for that little stunt, you know.”

I heard a voice coming from poolside, and headed that way to face the music. Sandy was sitting there alone, a large, mostly empty glass of wine at her side.

“I know. I was bad. But I’m done now.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” she snapped.

“I just wanted Erica to have a decent Christmas, and wanted to help you out a little in your effort to sell your house.”

She cackled, and it wasn’t a pretty sound. “You too? You just barely met me and you’re so damn eager to get me out of the neighborhood.”

Her words surprised me. “Not at all. I’m just trying to fight back a bit against the unfairness of the world. What are you doing out here alone, anyway?”

“I can’t stand the way they look at me. Like suicide is contagious or something. They don’t know what to say; they all avoid me, or look at me like I was a leper or something.”

“People can be assholes.”

She smiled. “I’ll drink to that.”

I sat beside her and drank my 80 proof eggnog in silence. We watched a small group come out and start talking while they lit up their cancer sticks.

“I know you mean well, Alex. But you can stop now, Ok?” she said softly.

“One last thing.”

“Please. Enough already.”

“Steve called. Everything’s cleared up with the insurance. You’ll get your check next week.”

She looked at me like I’d grown a third eye, completely stunned. “Really?”

“Really.”

She finished her wine, gulping it down, then sat back. “Shit. Six fucking months they drag it out and then suddenly, like that,” she snapped her fingers, “they’re willing to pay up?”

“Steve’s good.”

She leaned forward and held her head in her hands. After a few seconds I could see her body was shaking. She was crying, silently.

“I’m sorry it took so long. If I’d been a better neighbor, we might have taken care of this months ago.”

She sat up abruptly, and I could see the streak of the tears on her face. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. Just don’t, Ok?”

“Ok.”

I sat awkwardly, while she wiped her eyes and turned away from me, staring out at the backyard. I leaned over and took her empty glass. “Can I get you a refill?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes, please. Thanks.”

“Be right back.”

It took a few minutes to navigate the crowd around the bar, and to endure the late arrivals expressing their sorrow over my “loss”. Like they know anything about loss. Shit. I was happy to get back outside, away from the doe-eyed suburban mommy’s pity and their awkward mumbling husbands.

I plopped down next to Sandy. “Jesus. Next time you can make the booze run.” I told her passing the wine glass over.

She gave me a twisted smile. “You volunteered, remember?”

“Don’t remind me.”

“That’s what you get for being a Good Samaritan.”

“That’s it for me. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson.”

She chuckled. “Somehow I doubt that.”

My cigar had gone out, and it would have been a shame to waste it. I ventured into the smoker arena long enough for a light, and immediately regretted it, catching the sidelong glances they gave each other, knowing what they were thinking. I didn’t spend a moment there longer then I had to, hustling back to my solitude and Sandy. The only kindred soul at this soirée who might feel a tenth of the loss I that was consuming me.

There was one last thing I wanted to do, but I didn’t know how she’d take it. I thought that maybe, just maybe, with one more glass of wine under her belt, she might acquiesce.

“Sandy?”

“Hmm. I don’t know if I like the sound of that. Are you up to something again?”

“No. Maybe. Not really. I mean, well, can I show you something next door?”

She gave me an odd look, which lasted quite a long time. “Can I bring my wine?”

“Of course. It’ll only take a minute.”

She stood, and followed me out the gate. We walked around the fence to my driveway and into my backyard. As we crossed my patio she piped up.

“Just because I’ve had a few drinks, and just because you did something nice doesn’t mean you’re going to get anywhere with me, I hope you know.”

Her words slammed into me like a bucket of cold water. I hadn’t even thought about anything like that. I turned and looked at her. She didn’t look bad. Not at all. She cleaned up nicely, and even if she was ridiculously skinny, I could see she was an attractive woman. Funny that I’d never even noticed. I stood there trying to think of how to reply.

“Jesus, Alex. I’m just teasing you.”

It took me a few seconds to reply. “That was the furthest thing from my mind.”

“Of course. Believe me. I understand.” Her sardonic reply was more surprising than the original tease.

Caught without a response, I entered the house and led her to the living room.

“What did you want to show me?”

I turned on the light in the living room, and moved out of the way.

“Holy crap!”

I gestured toward the piles of gifts. “They were for my girls. I don’t know what to do with them.”

“That’s all for your girls?” she asked, looking on in wonder.

“Yeah. I kind of over do it.”

“I’ll say.”

“I’d like Erica to have them. She doesn’t have to know they’re from me. They can all be from Santa if you’d like. If you don’t take them, I… I don’t know what I’ll do with them.”

“It’s too much, Alex. It’s a nice gesture, really. But it’s too much.”

“Please. No strings. Do it for Erica.”

She stood silent for a while, before she turned to me. “Why? Why now?”

“I don’t know. Look, they’re just sitting there. I’ll end up donating them to some charity or something. I’ve got a ton of gifts, and nobody left to give them too. You’ve got a sweet little girl who has one present under the tree and could use a bit of joy in her life.”

She wandered around the room, nudging the gifts with her foot, not answering, taking the occasional sip from her glass. She eventually wandered back and stood beside me.

She stood quietly for several seconds, apparently pondering a reply. “It’s not fair,” she finally muttered.

That wasn’t what I’d expected. “No shit. Life’s about as unfair as I could ever imagine,” I answered honestly. “Good people get hurt for no apparent reason. Jack-offs seem to glide along easily without a care in the world. Innocent little girls have their lives cut short meaninglessly. Good-hearted neighbors have their lives crapped on as if it was some big cosmic joke.” I could hear my own voice getting louder and more frustrated. “Life’s a fucking kick in the ass, and every time it looks like something nice might come out of it, some cosmic comedian pulls the rug out from under you. What kind of God destroys a family for no good reason? Huh? Answer me that!” I was almost shouting by the end of my tirade.

“I…I think I need to go home now.” She turned and started walking away.

I chased after her, “Please, can you take just a few? Please. It’s killing me to see them here.”

She stumbled a bit, then paused. Without turning she said, “Bring over what you want around midnight.” Then she slipped out the back door.

I took a few minutes to compose myself after she left. I’d made a complete ass of myself. Oh well. About par for the course. I decided to make another short appearance at Cathy’s to at least say my goodnights. My nosy neighbor caught me the moment I made it in the door. “John told me you were around, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I ran into Sandy, and we broken people sort of hid out in your backyard.”

She looked at me quizzically. “I was kind of surprised she came over. She didn’t say a word about what we did this afternoon.”

“Lucky you. I’ve still got the scars,” I teased. Then I told her a little about our discussion, including the insurance situation and the deal with the gifts.

“Thank God. Maybe she can finally stop working 16 hours a day, and spend some time with her daughter. That’ll be nice. I was wondering what you were going to do with all those gifts. I was afraid you were going to make a memorial out of them, leaving them there year after year, until the dust was an inch thick over them.”

Her words stung a bit. “I’m not that bad.”

“No, you’re not. Although you had me worried there for a bit. It’s just a hard thing to take. I understand that.”

“I guess it’s not a problem now.”

She smiled. “I guess not. Erica’s a lucky little girl.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that, but at least she might have a nice Christmas.”

“I’m glad you came over tonight. A lot of our friends were worried for you. Your appearance was a nice Christmas gift for them as well.”

“I can’t say I really care too much. I know it sounds harsh, but how they feel isn’t really high up there on my list of priorities at the moment.”

“That’s Ok. It’s still nice that you came.”

“I appreciate your inviting me. And for being the nagging neighborly meddlesome busybody you’ve been for the last couple of weeks.”

She laughed. “That’s the nicest thing anybody’s said to me in a while, and in the nastiest way. I guess you are feeling a little better.”

I sighed. “A little. Although I doubt Christmas will ever be the same for me again.”

She moved in and gave me a hug. “It’ll never be the same. But it may still, someday, be Ok.”

I hugged her back, quietly. I doubted it.

Santa Delivers

Back home, I dressed down to sweats and a t-shirt, torturing myself a little by watching The Little Drummer Boy, Briana’s favorite. Life was so fucking unfair. My girls were gone. It was Christmas and I was alone. I’d never, ever, spend another Christmas with Briana and Allora. Never.

An hour later I was at Sandy’s back door with three huge garbage bags full of gifts. It had taken me two trips. I knocked softly and a few moments later Sandy let me in. She’d gotten rid of her party clothes as well, answering the door in a plain robe. She looked tired. I guessed that she’d been waiting up for me.

“Erica?” I asked softly.

“Asleep,” she confirmed, taking one of the bags from me.

Quietly we headed to her front room and started spreading out the gifts. On each one, I removed the existing tag and she put a new sticker ‘from Santa’ on it. She asked me what was in each, but I couldn’t remember all of them. Still, I was able to fill her in on the majority. She must have had some plan in mind, because she organized them according to my descriptions of their probable contents, separating them in neat little piles. After about 15 minutes I looked over and saw her shaking her head.

“What?”

“It’s too much.”

“That’s what my ex said every year. I never got a complaint from the girls.”

She gave me a wry smile. “At least one of us is going to have a pretty spectacular Christmas.”

“Isn’t that how it should be?”

I saw her nod, and noticed that her eyes were glistening again. I decided to leave it alone.

Until those moments, I really hadn’t seen Sandy as a woman. I’d related to her as a person in need. But between her dressing up at the party, her comments on my patio, and the way she was dressed in just a robe, I’m almost ashamed to say I was scoping her out.

She was rail thin, with short dark brown hair, almost black. She wasn’t very large on top, but when she was moving around on her hands and knees, arranging presents, I got a few glimpses inside the top of her robe, and saw the swelling of very feminine breasts. Her legs were as thin as the rest of her, but with decent calf definition. Some of her movements were less than ladylike, and I saw myself peeking up the bottom of her robe, looking at her pale inner thighs, or glancing at her round rear giving form to her robe.

Her face was cute. Small turned up nose, narrow mouth with bowed upper lip, and natural eyebrows fuller than was popular, above big brown eyes. Those eyes were extremely expressive, and somewhat mesmerizing.

I found myself looking at her too often, and she eventually caught me at it.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I answered quickly. Trying to cover myself I explained. “You just look happier than I’ve seen you until now.”

One corner of her mouth turned up. “I guess for once you’re seeing me when I’m not completely pissed-off at you.”

Full Contact

We finished with the gifts and I carefully stood up and gingerly stepped around the pretty wrapped up presents. I turned and held my hand out to Sandy while she did her best to maneuver around them without stepping on any. She almost made it before stumbling at the last minute, kicking a pile over and falling toward me. I caught her and held her up, pulling her backward with me until the wall halted my retreat.

She stared up at me, my arms still wrapped under hers, holding her closer than I intended. Her hair smelled like strawberries.

“I should be furious with you,” she said, leaning into me.

“I know.”

I pulled her upright, but she clung to me, pressing against me.

“We don’t need anybody.” She sounded angry again.

I shrugged, hard to do while holding a fragile woman in my arms. “I don’t have anybody.”

Her look softened. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be Ok.” I closed my eyes, and thought once more of my kids. I could feel myself on the verge of losing it again.

Without warning her lips were on mine, gentle at first. Then I felt her fingers dig into my skin, and she was kissing me fiercely, her teeth pressed hard against my lips. I pulled her tightly against my body, opening my mouth to hers, returning her ardor.

It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. She was clutching at me, kissing me, hugging me, hitting me, scratching me, while I stood there holding her, absorbing it all. I waited for her to calm down, and when she didn’t I reached down and lifted her by the ass, holding her tight, while her legs encircled me. She bit my lip hard, and I could taste blood, while her claws sank into my shoulders.

I could feel the anger and frustration in her, the desire to strike out somehow at the unfairness of it all. I echoed those feelings, accepting them, expanding them, and returning them in kind. Yes, I was angry too. Furious. The taste of my own blood on my lips just served to fuel the fire.

Like everything else, having her vent her anger on me, while I was the only one in the world trying to help her was patently unfair. I was hurting too. I had lost so much more. So very much more. I was tired of being treated like dirt.

Holding her by the rear in one hand, I grasped her hair from behind, pulling her hair back making her gasp. I lowered my mouth to her slender neck and bit her, sucking on her flesh. Both of her hands went to my head, entangling in my hair, and pulling my face down against her. Her hips ground against me, while her bare feet beat a tattoo against my back.

Sandy pulled my head back by the hair, and I loosened my grip on hers. She stared into my eyes, hers flashing with pent up emotions.

“Damn you!” she gasped. She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine again, still fierce and unrelenting.

I turned and pressed her against the wall, trapping her there with my body. My hand lowered and slid into her robe, meeting nothing but bare flesh. I grabbed her breast and squeezed, causing her to moan into my mouth. Her hands weren’t idle and she was pushing the top of my sweats down, using her feet to push them down in the back. She squeezed a hand between us, her other wrapped around my shoulders, and I felt her fingers wrap around my hardness. It was hard to believe how I was responding to her and her tantrum, but there was no doubt.

I took over, pushing my sweats down, letting them slide down to my ankles, drawing my boxers with them. I was naked from the waist down and exposed. Our lips had never separated, and she sucked hungrily on my tongue, while I tore open her robe, roughly. Like me, she was naked underneath, except for a pair of loose shorts. She had my cock in her hand, and aimed it at her moist opening, pushing the leg of her shorts aside. I lowered her, easing into her, until I was fully sheathed.

She groaned. Her hand now free, she grabbed me by the hair and tugged back, drawing her lips away. “You bastard,” she gasped.

“Bitch,” I growled. I pulled my hips back and thrust into her hard, pushing her into the wall, eliciting another gasp. I felt my own anger welling up inside of me. I knew I wasn’t really angry at her, but she was the unintended victim of my fury. I slammed my cock into her hard, grinding against her. Pulling back, I did it again, even harder, doing my best to push her right through the wall. She gasped as if I’d struck her.

“That’s right, fuck me,” she whispered harshly. “Go ahead, fuck me you prick, like everyone else has.”

I took her ass cheeks in my hands and pulled her away from the wall, lifting her up off my cock, before releasing her, letting her weight impale her on my aching staff. One at a time, I reached my arms under her legs, her thighs resting on my forearms, my hands gripping her ass cheeks tightly. I tugged her shorts down in back, exposing her soft ass-flesh, and grabbed her cheeks tightly digging my fingers in. She linked her fingers behind my neck, and leaned backward, exposing her upper body to my gaze. Her small breasts had the most perfect little nipples, hardened for me. I fucked her hard and fast, while my strength and fury held out.

As my arms grew tired I walked to the living room. She released each of her arms long enough to let her robe fall, leaving her almost naked. I lowered her, setting her ass down on the arm of the couch. She let go of me, leaning backward, lowering her back to the couch. Her hips were now positioned well above her body, and I pulled her toward me hard, so her lower back was on the couch arm. I yanked her shorts off and threw them to the side, staring down at her sexy naked body. I opened her legs wide, slid my cock into her warm hole and pounded into her, fucking up into her tight opening, while she moaned so damn sexily. Holding her legs in my hands and lifting them high and wide, she was effectively immobilized by her own weight resting on her shoulders. I slid my cock in and out of her, banging away, free to do as I please.

She lay there, staring up at me, her eyes burning. I didn’t want to look into those condemning orbs. I pulled out, roughly turned her over, her smooth soft ass raised up by the arm of the couch. I spread her legs and pierced her again, thrusting deeply on the first stroke, making her pay. I held her hips tightly and vented my feeling through my hips, hammering away viciously, fucking her as hard as I could.

Looking between us, I was hypnotized by the sight of my thickness stretching her, filling her. With each stroke her flesh clung to me, stretching outward before yielding. I pulled out to the edge, spread her cheeks with my hands and toyed with her pink little slit, nudging my cock head into her, watching her opening stretch obscenely wide to take me. I slowed, squeezing her poor ass cheeks hard while slowly feeding her my cock. The incredible feeling was overcoming my ire, and I just enjoyed long-stroking her, making her feel every inch of my length, pushing deeply until I felt resistance deep inside of her.

I couldn’t take much more. I grabbed her hips and leaned over her, driving into her, filling her. I could feel her moist channel grasping at me, dragging me to the edge of desire. I looked down and saw she’d twisted her torso to look back at me.

“Do it.”

I slammed my full weight into her, unable to resist the urge any longer. Gasping, I came inside of her, the release painful in its urgency, exploding deep within her over and over again. Her legs were flailing, and as I slowed she relaxed, bent over the arm like a rag doll, lifeless.

She squealed when I lifted her up, spinning her around to sit on the arm. I took my still hard cock, and forced it back into her, pulling her against me, until just the edge of her ass was still resting on the couch. I could see she had tears in her eyes, and wet streaks running down her cheeks. I slid my arms around her, holding her close, squeezing her frail body. Her arms slid around my torso and she pressed her face against my chest.

I held her while I felt her body shaking. I felt horrible, sickened at what I’d done. I’d fucked her viciously, using her, venting my aggravation and unhappiness on the one person I knew who’d already suffered enough on her own. I could feel my own eyes welling up.

We held each other, desperately, clutching to anything that might let us ride out this horrible time in our lives. My hands relaxed as did the tightness that had been enveloping my body. I caressed her back, feeling her ribs under the soft skin. I pressed my lips to her hair, kissing her softly. She was returning my kisses, pressing her lips to my chest and shoulders, rubbing her hands over the scratches she’d given me earlier.

I realized I was nudging in and out of her, surprised to find my cock staying hard, eager to continue. I held her, slowly screwing her, while she sobbed against me.

I massaged her back, nuzzling her hair, kissing her temples. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t,” she sobbed. “Don’t you dare apologize! Not now. Not ever.”

I pushed her head back, and lowered my lips to hers, kissing her softly. “I won’t.”

“Good.”

She looked up and touched my lip, drawing back a finger red with my blood. “Oh God! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“No apologies. Remember?”

She answered by reaching up and kissing my lip. When she drew back I could see a little red on hers.

I kissed her back, feeling her return it this time, still moving inside of her. Her legs spread wider, accommodating me. I looked down to see where I was entering her. When I looked back into her eyes they were smoldering.

“Take me to bed,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

“No. Do it anyway.”

I stood carefully, my pretty little sister-in-misery still impaled on my rod. She wrapped her legs around me tightly and clung to me with both arms. I held her by her sweet little ass and slowly climbed the stairs. With each step I lifted and lowered her, screwing her along the way.

Nearing the top step she surprised me by giggling.

“What?”

“You’re stronger than you look,” she said, softening the words with careful little kisses bestowed across my chest.

“You’re light as a feather. I need to feed you.”

She smiled wickedly. “A protein oral injection?”

I almost dropped her, and she giggled, “What?”

“You, young lady, have a dirty mind.”

I saw a storm flitter across her face, but she shook it off and smiled. “It’s been a long time, Alex. I’m not so good at flirting and teasing.”

“Ditto, beautiful. Bear with me.”

She made a little rolling movement of her hips, ending with my cock completely sheathed within her moistness.

She giggled. “Damn! I can’t believe you can just hold me like this.”

I pulled her up and down on my cock a few times, drawing a quiet gasp out of her. “I could hold you like this forever.”

I had cleared the last step and was walking her into her bedroom.

Once again a flurry of emotions danced across her face, ending with a smile. “But then how would you ever feed me?”

I reached back and closed the door behind us.

A ‘Long Winter’s Nap’ (after round 2 completes)

Mischievously, I pulled her high in the air, making her squeal. She really was as light as a rag doll. I doubted she weighed a hundred pounds. I held her in my arms like a baby, rocking her. A very sexy baby.

I had one arm under her legs, and the other under her back, and she turned in my arms, her lips closing around my nipple. I lifted her shoulder high, then removed the arm under her back, causing her to fall downward. Not far, since I caught her by the hips, hanging upside down. She gasped, her legs kicking out, her arms circling my waist. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her legs down onto my shoulders, pressing her warm pinkness against my face.

Her face was down around my waist. She squeezed her legs tightly around my head, her thighs pressing hard against my ears. “You’re crazy!” she gasped.

“See. I can hold you and still feed you,” I teased, then licked her, my tongue probing her moist slit.

She giggled, and I felt her warm lips engulf the head of my cock. I grabbed her near the hips, and lowered her a bit, feeling my cock enter her mouth. I lifted and lowered her a few times, licking her on the upward movement, filling her mouth on the way back down.

For all my bravado, it was amazingly difficult, and I could feel my arms trembling from the effort. I held her still, her mouth filled with my cock, and walked the few remaining steps to the bed.

She was getting more active, sucking me and moving her head back and forth. It felt incredible. I almost didn’t want to put her down. But I knew if I didn’t there was a chance I’d drop her soon. With one last herculean effort I lifted her up and leaned over depositing her in a squirming ball of flesh on her mattress.

She spent no time at all sitting up and pulled me onto the bed. I reached out for her but she pulled away. “Lay down. My turn now.”

I stretched out in the middle of her bed, and watched her crawl to my waist, move between my legs and look up at me before lowering her mouth to my pulsating rod. She licked me, examining me, stroking me with her hands, kissing my cock with her warm, tender lips. Staring into my eyes she lowered her lips over the purple helmet and took most of my length into her mouth.

It felt so damned incredible I moaned loudly.

She pulled up and pressed her fingers against her lips. “Shush. We don’t want to wake anybody.”

I mimed zipping my lips closed, barely containing another groan when she took me in her mouth again.

She sucked me as if she were on a mission. Her hands worked me just below where her mouth took over. I reached down and brushed her bangs aside so I could watch her. That was enough encouragement for her to pick up the pace, pistoning her face onto my stiff pole, gasping when she pressed too hard.

“Sandy,” I started to warn her.

She held out her palm to me, sucking with complete abandon. I didn’t say another word. I let her draw my juices up and out, and moaned softly when I finally achieved my much needed release, erupting between her lips.

She was breathing hard through her nose, holding me in her mouth, taking all I had to offer and gamely swallowing it down. She sucked softly when I was done shooting, and I could feel the pulses of tightness while she swallowed repeatedly. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be concentrating hard on completing her mission.

When my hardness started to whither, she took me in her hand and stroked me, her mouth tenderly sucking me, carefully tugging on my shaft, her tongue massaging the tender head. I relaxed on the bed and enjoyed her attention, concentrating on the amazing feeling around my waist. The idea of getting hard for her and continuing our play was combining with her devoted attention, and I finally responded after a few minutes, hardening in her mouth.

That seemed to be a signal to her and she sat up, sucking me more aggressively, restoring the steel to my cock, until it could stand on its own, full and ready.

Sandy moved up my body, straddled my waist and slid my trouser soldier back home. She slowly worked her way up and down my cock until I was completely sheathed once more. Then she settled all the way down and stretched. It was beautiful to see, her slender body straining upward, her arms reaching to the sky, her head leaning back, the curve of her rib cage accentuated by the hollow of her belly, her perfect little breasts standing out brave and eager, the pretty pink tips showing hard little caps.

After a few moments in that pose she relaxed with a sigh, settling back down and leaning forward until her hands were braced against my chest.

“Thanks for the meal,” she said with a teasing smile.

“You are amazing,” I confessed.

She gave me a sad little smile. “It’s nice to hear someone say that. It’s been a long, long time.”

I reached out for her and she slid down to my chest, while I wrapped her in my arms. “That’s a shame. You are so beautiful.”

“You don’t have to say that,” she said into my shoulder.

“But you are.” I held her, pushing with my hips, slowly screwing her while I held her.

“I’m not. I know it. It’s Ok.”

I reached down and lifted her face so I could lean forward and kiss her.

It was a long tender kiss, and afterwards I just held her. I kept my hips moving gently, not wanting to lose the contact with her, staying hard and filling her.

“Just hold me a bit, Ok?”

“As long as you’ll let me.” I assured her, and I engulfed her in my arms, clutching her as if I’d never let her go.

I could feel her trembling, her arms holding me tightly. Her back was rising and lowering spasmodically, and I heard the tiny gasp of her crying against me.

I didn’t try to quiet her or comfort her. I just held her, raining kisses down onto the top of her head, holding her tightly, and easing my cock back and forth into her.

We spent several long minutes like that, until she slowly relaxed and her death grip on me eased. I loosened my own grip, allowing my hands free rein in their exploration of her body, stroking her, fondling her, holding her tight little ass in my hands and pushing up into her. She slowly responded, pushing back against my strokes, her tits pressing into my chest.

I pulled her tightly to my body, rose up on one arm and rolled over, lifting her body off the bed, and settling it down below me. On top of her now, I let go, raising my torso the length of my arms and thrusting into her with long slow strokes.

She looked so small and vulnerable underneath me. I leaned down and kissed her, and she grabbed my head and kissed me back eagerly. She finally let me go and I resumed fucking her, happy to be right where I was. I gazed down at her, wondering how I’d failed to notice how pretty she was right from the start.

“Stop staring.”

“I can’t help it. You are so beautiful. I want to memorize everything about you.”

“I’m not too skinny?” she asked.

“Nothing a few more meals can’t fix,” I teased.

I fucked her in silence for a bit, then rose up to pound her more thoroughly, opening her legs up for better access. She pulled her legs back, holding her own ankles nearly parallel with her head.

I spread my legs and straightened them, raising my hips high before plunging down into her. She gasped and I smiled, pummeling her from above, fucking her fast and hard, her wide open cunt screaming out to be filled.

For the first time that night I felt her responding deeply, shivering. She released her feet and clutched her legs behind her knees, her shins bracketing her pretty face.

I rose up to my knees, leaning over and pushing down on the back of her legs, screwing her as fast as I could, feeling the need to cum growing in me.

“Harder,” she gasped, “harder.”

I slowed down just a bit and put some more weight behind my strokes, pulling her forward to meet my onslaught. She was gasping continuously, her toes curling up and her feet stretching out. I watched in delight as her head tilted back and her eyes rolled back into her head, while she came on my cock, her entire body quivering, her chest blushing bright red.

Just as she appeared to be settling back down, gasping hard, I grabbed her thighs and fucked her as fast as I could, feeling my own need peaking. I couldn’t hold back any longer and buried myself deep inside of her, shooting hard, my hips jerking forward of their own accord, filling her.

Sandy cried out, releasing her legs which kicked out and trembled while she came with me.

I stretched out over her, while her legs slowly wrapped around me. Her eyes were large, staring at me in ego-soothing wonder. I kissed her softly.

“You are amazing,” I told her.

She blushed. “I…I never…not like that,” she murmured.

I was exhausted, from head to toe, and my legs and arms were trembling from my exertion. The front of my hips were sore from pounding against her, and my cock felt like it had been run through a wringer. I rolled off of her, lying on my back, breathing hard. She rolled over and leaned her upper body into mine. I reached around her, holding her close.

There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn’t know how, or where to start. Instead I just kissed the top of her head while she held me. I reached across with my opposite hand and stroked her side before allowing my hand to settle over her breast, holding it gently, my fingers idly toying with her nipple. She moved closer, lifting her leg over mine, laying half on top of me. It allowed my arm holding her to wander, touching her, feeling her. I could feel the wetness of her crotch pressing into my hip, cold and wet.

I closed my eyes, my arm stretched across her back, my hand holding the warm flesh of her ass cheek. Her breathing was slow and steady, her arm thrown across my chest. I pressed my lips against her hair one last time, leaned back and relished holding this sweet, sexy, troubled woman.

Morning Shock

I woke abruptly, confused. I was alone in a strange bed, the covers pulled up to my chin. Daylight was streaming in the window, and I sat up, disoriented. It took a few seconds for me to recall the previous evening, and I looked around for Sandy. I started to get out of bed, and realized I was naked, my clothes were still somewhere downstairs. I pulled the covers over my waist, and looked around for something to cover up with, before spotting my clothing from the night before folded on a chair nearby.

I pulled on my shorts and ducked into the bathroom for a much needed leak. I splashed some water on my face and borrowed her brush to run it through my wild hair. I took a swig of mouthwash and did my best to look partially human before heading back to the bedroom. I was pulling on my sweats when Sandy appeared with a cup of coffee. It smelled delicious.

She smiled and passed it to me. She was dressed in pajamas, and had clearly showered and cleaned up. Her hair was still moist. “Hurry up. There’s a little girl downstairs almost bursting with the need to open her presents.”

I took a sip of the coffee, hot and strong, then passed it back to her for a second while I pulled on my shirt. I straightened it out and retrieved my coffee for another sip.

She was watching me intently, a sad little smile on her face.

I started to speak but she cut me off.

“No. Let’s not talk about it right now. It was something we both needed, but it doesn’t have to mean anything. It just happened. I don’t regret it. Right now we need to go downstairs.”

I moved to her and grabbed her chin. I saw she was nervous and wondered if she’d practiced that little speech. I leaned over and kissed her softly, continuing until she responded.

“I just want to say you are amazing. Really.”

“So you keep saying,” she teased.

“What is Erica going to think?”

“I told her you had a sleepover. She probably has a good idea what that means, kids are so precocious these days, but she seemed alright with it.”

“Shit. I feel like a jerk, spoiling her Christmas with you.”

She hit me, her little fist landing solidly on my chest, almost making me spill my coffee. “Shut up. It’s because of you that she’s having a Christmas worth mentioning at all.”

She turned and headed downstairs, and I had to pull my eyes away from her cute little ass, before I had a physical response that would be almost too much to bear. I realized she was walking tentatively, and wondered if she was as sore as I was this morning. Probably. Maybe more so.

Around the Christmas Tree

We headed straight for the living room, and sat back on the couch about a foot apart while Erica waited for us, standing beside the presents almost shaking. She watched her mother anxiously, glancing my way long enough for a quick smile. When her mother nodded she dove into the presents grabbing the closest and tearing it open.

She would oh and ah over each new gift, while the pile of unwrapped ones grew smaller and an ever growing field of toys gradually overtook the room.

She shrieked and jumped up and down when she opened the iPod touch, pulling off the $50 iTunes gift certificate. She’d been pretty quiet up until then but she climbed over to her mother and gave her a big hug.

“He knew, Momma, he knew!” she shrieked in joy, stopping her present opening to crack open the iPod box and pull it out, looking it over, holding it reverently in her hands.

I felt a warm hand settle onto mine, giving a soft squeeze. I turned my wrist and held her hand in mine, interlocking our fingers. I looked over to Sandy, and saw the tears in her eyes. With a sniffle she carefully brushed them away.

As usual, the new clothing got short shrift, being tossed into a growing pile, but she did look each one over, holding it up against her body, asking her mother’s opinion on several before moving on.

I listened to Sandy laugh at her daughter’s antics, and thought it was the most beautiful sound I had heard in ages.

Erica was about halfway through the gifts. I watched her reach for a big box, and I gave her mother’s hand a squeeze. “Maybe that one should be last,” I whispered.

“Erica, darling, that one’s from Mr. Reed. Why don’t you open it last?”

Erica looked up, her surprise matching my own. She moved it to the side and continued her quest to eliminate the pile of wrapped presents.

The small purse with five $10 bills was another big hit, as were the rollerblades, each calling for another shriek and a visit to her mother’s lap, bringing forth more giggles and laughter from the woman beside me. Sandy was smiling hugely, taking the wrapping paper from her daughter and filling a garbage bag with it as we went.

I was torn. Each gift I’d so carefully picked out for my girls was disappearing. I couldn’t help but think about how I should be spending my Christmas, if I hadn’t received such a kick in the teeth from fate. A couple of times I felt myself tearing up, my breath catching in my chest. Sandy moved closer, her leg pressed against mine, holding my hand in both of hers, tightly, in her lap.

Then I would see the joy on young Erica’s face, and I’d wipe the tears away, taking a deep breath, knowing that it was what my daughter’s would have wanted. Their hearts had been as big as the world.

I felt Sandy’s head lean into my shoulder, and I gave her hand another squeeze.

Finally the presents ran out. There were two gifts remaining. The one that had been there on that first day, which seemed so long ago but had only been three days earlier, and the big one.

She looked over at us, then starting peeling away the paper off of her mother’s present. There was a book sized jewelry box inside, and she opened it shrieking. “Grandma’s necklace?” she asked.

“You always liked it,” Sandy said.

Erica came over and sat between her mother’s legs, lifting her hair up out of the way so her mother could attach the chain behind her neck. I could now see it was an old-fashioned locket and Erica was clutching at it like she’d never let it go. Sandy finally got the chain latched, and gave her a little shove.

Erica stood up and ran to the mirror, looking at herself. She came and stood in front of us, striking several poses. It was so damned cute. I couldn’t help but laugh.

That got Sandy’s attention, and she giggled as well, cuddling up next to me and pulling my arm around her shoulders.

We watched Erica go to the last big box, glancing back at us as if waiting for permission.

“Go on,” I teased, “you can’t stop now!”

She grabbed the edge of the wrapping paper, and tore into it. She ripped large chunks of paper off, tossing them toward her mother, before suddenly coming to a complete stop. She screamed out, stood up and danced in place. I’d never seen anybody so excited. She bent over and tore the paper away roughly exposing the PS3 and the piles of games taped to the top.

“Mom! Mom! It’s a PS3!” she cried out, bending over and lifting the box, twirling around with it, before stumbling and dropping it to the floor.

Sandy laughed, “Careful! You don’t want to break it before you get a chance to use it.”

Erica scrambled across the coffee table between us and launched herself into my lap. She gave me a huge hug, squeezing me so hard I thought she might break something.

I felt her breath against my ear. “Thank you, Santa.” I felt her soft lips press against my cheek, bringing a tear to my eye.

I hugged her to me. “I hope you enjoy your present.” I could feel the tears welling up, threatening to overflow, and I clung to her for a few seconds. “Go on now, open it up.”

She jumped up and started tearing at the box, peeling off the games, instantly separating them into piles. So much like her mother. I felt Sandy shifting on the couch next to me, and I turned toward her, just as her arms wrapped around me. She kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you.”

I hugged her. “I should be thanking you. I never thought I could enjoy Christmas again.”

She smiled. “That would be horrible,” she said softly, “if Santa couldn’t enjoy Christmas.”

I thought we were finally done, but Erica went behind the tree and returned with two gifts wrapped in newspaper comics. She gave her mother one, and gave me the other.

Sandy and I looked at each other, then she opened her gift. Inside was a hand-made ornament, a picture of their little family, Sandy, Erica, and the missing father, smiling as if everything was perfect in the world. The picture was framed in popsicle sticks, with pipe-cleaners glued to it. It was too cute for words.

“If we hang it on the tree, then Daddy can share Christmas with us from heaven,” Erica explained.

I saw Sandy choke up, then give her daughter a big hug. “It’s beautiful.”

“Hang it up, mom!” Erica insisted.

Sandy got up and placed it in the middle of the tree, carefully arranging it so it faced the room. “I love it Erica, thank you.”

Erica was standing in front of me, hopping from foot to foot. “Your turn,” she announced.

I opened the paper carefully, and saw a hand drawn picture, colored in crayons on some light colored cardboard. It took me a second to realize what it was. “It’s us painting the door, isn’t it?”

“Yep. And that’s momma, trying to look angry.” She pointed to a stick figure at the side.

It must have taken her a while. The picture was pretty big, more than a foot tall, and she’d carefully drawn the door in great detail, coloring it blue, and she had little Christmas decorations all around it. She was kneeling down painting the bottom, and I had this ridiculously long body, bent over at the waist, painting the door just above her head.

I pointed to the figure to the side. “If she’s angry, how come she’s smiling?” I asked.

Erica laughed. “She’s only trying to be angry. She’s really happy. She just isn’t allowed to show it. She has to act sad because Daddy’s gone.”

I held the picture up, then made a show of hugging it. “It’s my very favorite Christmas present. I’m going to frame it and put it on my desk.”

Erica climbed up on the couch and hugged me. “Will you hook up my PS3?”

“Of course I will,” I told her, returning her hug.

“And I’ll start breakfast,” Sandy announced. I looked up, and she was wiping tears from her face again. What a roller-coaster of emotions.

It only took a few minutes, and we had the game system hooked up and Erica was debating which game to start with. She barely got it loaded before we were called over for breakfast.

“Mo-om!” Erica pouted.

“It’s not going anywhere. You can play after breakfast.”

It was surrealistic, sitting there at the table, with eggs, toast and sausage on my plate, and a glass of orange juice at the ready. Erica had cereal in her bowl and a tall glass of milk. Like a normal family.

I was still stunned by how talkative Erica had become, as she told us all about her gifts. “Can Taylor come over later and play?” she asked.

“We’ll see,” Sandy told her. “It’s Christmas, her parents may want her to stay at home today.”

“What are your favorite gifts?” I asked.

She seemed to think about it, and I watched her hand move up to the locket around her neck. It was cute watching her face scrunch up as she really thought it over.

“I think it was your sleepover,” she finally announced, catching me off guard and almost making me spit my orange juice across the table.

Sandy was just as surprised, “Really? Better than the PS3?” she asked.

Erica nodded vehemently. She looked at me, “Momma’s happy.”

I looked over at Sandy, and saw her blushing furiously.

I reached over and tousled Erica’s hair. “I’m happy too. Happier than I thought I could be.”

Erica nodded solemnly. “I know. Your girls went to heaven too. These were their presents, right?”

I nodded. “I knew they’d want you to have them.”

She took a bite of her cereal. “Allora was nice. We made a poster for her in class. I drew an angel.”

Hearing her name was tough. Suddenly everything felt wrong. I should be sitting at a table with her and Briana, listening to them chatter. Watch them fight over playing with each other’s gifts. No chance of that now. The room was becoming blurry, tears for my lost girls filling my eyes.

“Don’t be sad,” Erica said, reaching out and touching my arm. “They’re in heaven now, and they get to watch us. They wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

I forced myself to smile. “I bet the poster was beautiful. I wish I could see it.”

“Mrs. Viola would probably let me take it home for you,” she said.

“I’d like that.”

Erica was eating her cereal as fast as she could, and she pushed the empty bowl away. “Can I play now?”

Sandy gave her the go ahead, and she made a beeline toward the TV.

Sandy and I looked at each other. “She’s become quite the chatterbox,” I mentioned.

“Thank God,” Sandy said, standing up and taking up the plates. “Let’s hope it sticks.”

I cleared my own stuff and joined her at the sink. “I should go home soon.”

“I understand,” she said softly.

“I have to stop by the in-laws. I promised. But I’d like to come by later if you don’t mind. Maybe we can have dinner together.”

She seemed a little distant. “You don’t have to. You’ve done enough already.”

I put my arms around her, and felt her stiffen. “Don’t tell Erica, but her drawing was only my second favorite Christmas gift.”

I felt her relax a bit, and she turned toward me, allowing me to hug her properly. I leaned down and kissed her softly.

She giggled. “Oh, really?”

“Really. The sleepover was my favorite.”

“That gift will have to hold you over for a while. Another sleepover and I don’t think I’d ever be able to walk again. You beast.” Her smile took any sting out of the words.

“No kidding. I’d have to learn to talk with only one lip.”

Her eyes opened wide, and she raised her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

I kissed her again. “No apologies, remember.”

She smiled. “Alright. Dinner would be nice, but I didn’t have anything special planned.”

“Let me take care of the dinner.”

She grinned salaciously. “That’s right. You did promise to feed me.”

That made me blush.

“As a matter of fact, if you’re not in a huge hurry, maybe you could feed me again, before you have to leave.”

I looked over at Erica.

“She’ll be fine. You won’t be able to tear her away from those games for hours.” She took me by the hand, and drew me over to the stairs.

Half-an-hour later, I’d fed her, but not before proving to us both that we fit each other perfectly. It was quiet, and gentle, and just what I needed to make it clear that the previous night wasn’t a one-time accidental thing. In the last month I’d been to hell & back. Who knew my recovery should manifest from forgetting my woes and doing something about others’ woes.

Our 2nd Christmas

It’s been a year since that first Christmas. Things weren’t always easy between us, we still had sharp edges and wounds that weren’t quick to heal, but we stuck to it.

Any talk of holding Erica back in school ended quickly. She’s an A student, smart as a whip, and even talking about playing volleyball. Her quiet spell snapped that Christmas.

Within six months I’d moved in with Sandy and Erica, and we’d become landlords, renting out my two houses, and using our new found wealth to buy a few foreclosures, renovate them and rent them out as well. Sandy quit her jobs and was relishing her new real-estate magnate career. Even if the rentals can be a headache sometimes.

By September we were talking about marriage, and decided to forgo any big ceremony and flew off to Vegas for a mini-vacation and a quick wedding. We even conned Cathy and John to join us for a couple of days. Cathy was our matron of honor. Steve and Darla surprised us by showing up as well. He insisted that if I was going to put on the noose again willingly, he’d be my best man. He always was.

We’re wrapping Erica’s gifts now. I guess overdoing it at Christmas is one habit I’ll never get over. Every once in a while I can’t help but reach over and rub Sandy’s belly. Erica’s excited by the idea of having a new baby brother by summer.

Me? I’m excited by our new Christmas tradition. I get to re-enact our first Christmas sleepover. Sandy’s even wearing that silly, ratty old robe. She’s promised never to get rid of it.

Christmas will always be bitter sweet to me, and sometimes I still get the blues and need some time to myself to think about those little girls that had their lives cut short so unfairly. I miss them terribly, and think about them every day.

Christmas will never be the same. But I’m not complaining.

By Tx Tall Tales, for Literotica.

Life isn’t fair. So when you fight back, fight dirty.

In 2 parts, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. I married young, and had two perfect daughters, but my marriage was far from perfect. We had been young and in love. I was entering the community college and Denise was starting her senior year when we decided to tie the knot. Her family’s ready acceptance of me was a huge factor - the family I’d never had, making me feel like a real member of theirs. I can admit it now; I probably loved being a part of the family as much as I loved Denise.

Our split up was inevitable, two teenagers who knew nothing about life thinking their infatuation with each other would make everything else workout. I wasn’t an all-star, super jock, Rhodes Scholar with a 12" swinging cock. I was just your average student, A and B grades, spending some bench time on the football team to get my letter, and losing my virginity at 18 to the girl I’d eventually marry.

When times got rough, we didn’t know how to handle it, and struck out at each other. Her family often stepped in and helped out when they could, but time after time, the great sex wasn’t enough to make up for the difference in our wants, needs and ambitions.

In the end, we gave up. Sometimes I think it’s a miracle we made it through 5 years. Our devotion to our children allowed us to finally see past our own issues, and work out a remarkably amiable truce, with our girls at the center. Even though Denise and I couldn’t live together, it turned out we got along a lot better divorced. We shared our daughters’ time, lived only one neighborhood apart, and worked together as a team to make our personal differences have as little impact on our girls as possible.

I had initially shared an apartment uptown, but eventually bought one of the smallest houses in the same school district, just to make things easier. It was a lot more than I needed most of the time, but when the girls stayed with me it felt like a home. And we only lived a couple of miles apart.

The neighborhood was nice, predominantly younger families, in older, smallish homes. Most of the people were cordial, kept up their property, and after a few years I knew many by name and would exchange greetings at the grocery store, or when out shopping. I had become suburbanized.

This was our fourth Christmas since the divorce. Denise was living with Eric, who I wish I could despise, but he was a decent guy with a great job and lousy taste in sports teams. He doted on my girls without trying to take my place. It had taken a while, but we’d developed a friendship, which wasn’t a bad thing.

My child support was pegged at just over $1500, with the kids on my health insurance. Even though we weren’t married long enough for alimony to kick in, I was paying another $500 a month just to make the kids’ lives better. And for me, that was all that really mattered.

The expense had been rough at first, but with little to concentrate on other than work, my performance skyrocketed. Two promotions in three years had made the financial aspect much less problematic, but increased travel had made the ability to be available for the girls less guaranteed. Denise was good about it, and worked with me. In return I picked up some more of the girls’ expenses, including music lessons and a piano.

At Least we still had Christmas

Christmas was special. We celebrated Christmas as an extended family. I’d come over early, and we’d have a big family breakfast and open all the presents together. I really went all out to make sure the girls got their favorite items. At six and eight years old, they were still young enough to have simple wants, and the magic of Christmas was as real as it gets. The in-laws would come over in the afternoon with more presents and we’d have a good old fashioned Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. It was nice to be part of something.

I got a Christmas shut-down at work and Denise didn’t, so we agreed that they’d stay with me from Christmas to New Year’s, and any time she could get off, we’d usually work out something to get her time with the kids. It was understood that I wouldn’t leave town, at least not for more than a day.

Summer was great with the 2 weeks I got to spend with them, and we’d usually spend it on the beach. Christmas was still different. Christmas was magical.

I always was given the girl’s wish list, but I’d also start my shopping in late November for the must have items of the season. And I wasn’t stingy; I’d buy them all up, just to make sure I didn’t miss any. Stores, online auctions, Craigslist, I’d use any way possible to get my hands on the hottest presents. The first two years I’d caught hell from Denise for buying everything on the list, leaving nothing for them to get. Now I received a separate list of things I wasn’t allowed to buy.

So it was that I had just finished wrapping my forty-fourth present, all in glitter Barbie paper for Briana, and in Hannah Montana paper for Allora. December 5th, my earliest date so far to finish the bulk of my shopping. Sure, I’d pick up a few more things, including something for Denise and Eric, but my girls were taken care of. The presents were carefully spread around my living room, where they’d remain on display until just before Christmas, when I’d bring them over to Denise’s in a big ceremony.

The call came from Denise’s mother, Sharon. It took me 11 minutes flat to get to the hospital. I was still too late. Denise and Briana had both died en-route. Eric had passed away only ten minutes before I’d arrived. But Allora, my perfect little Allora, was fighting for her life, in critical condition. She’d always been a fighter, would never back down from any challenge. She’d beat this too, I just knew it.

It was a freak accident, with a car dodging out of the way to miss a coyote on the road. An 18 wheeler behind the car did his best to avoid the car in front of him, but ended up fishtailing, and taking out a suburban in the next lane over. That vehicle crossed the median and hit my ex-wife’s family van head-on. Six dead already and one little girl still fighting hard for her dear life.

Sharon and I kept a vigil over the little towhead, and when the doctors came out after 6 hours and declared the worst was over and she was in stable condition, we fell into each other’s arms and cried like children.

We stayed by her side, one of us always present, and Sharon called me when my baby woke up and spoke. For three long days we watched her slowly heal in the hospital, the worst of her bruises, cuts and contusions blossoming on the second day, and only just starting to fade again. I’m not a religious guy by nature, but I found myself on my knees beside her bed, praying to God to take care of her, and giving thanks for pulling her through this horrendous disaster.

At 4:18 pm on December 7th she passed away.

No warning, no reason, she was there, and then she wasn’t. The doctors suspected a clot. I suspected incompetence.

I finally understood how a person could get so down on themselves that life might not even feel worth living.

I went home and shut myself off from the world. After a while I took the phone off the hook. Hell, let’s be honest, I ripped the fucking wires out of the wall so I didn’t have to listen to one more bleeding heart tell me they were “sorry for my loss”. The cell phone was easier. I just turned it off.

Several people from work came by and assured me that I could take as much time as I needed. They’d bring me food, and news, and would leave as soon as they felt they’d spent the minimum time required socially by the situation.

Denise’s family took care of the funeral arrangements. They attempted to call, and even stopped by for my input. I gave them a check for $10,000 to take care of the girls, nearly wiping out my savings. What was I going to spend it on now? I couldn’t bring myself to go to the showing but I did take a shower and put on a suit for the funeral. It was a bleak day, gray skies, 20 mile an hour winds threatening to tear the top off of the outdoor tent. The ground was soggy from rain the previous night. Just perfect.

“Thanks, God. Piss on a guy when he’s down. Well, fuck You too.”

I shook the required hands, and kissed the offered cheeks until I just couldn’t take it any longer. All these fake people. Fake emotions. Tell me how sorry they were then go home to their perfect little families and eat meatloaf. Fuck'em. Fuck'em all.

The Valley of the shadow of death

Fourteen days. Two solid weeks in that dark house. I wouldn’t turn on any lights. No TV. I didn’t bathe, I didn’t shave. I sat in my chair or I lay in my bed and wallowed.

I had a few visitors after the first couple of days, but I’d rarely let them in, and before long they had the decency to stop showing up. Only Cathy from next door wouldn’t let me sink into complete oblivion. Every day, at least 3 times a day, she’d check in on me. I wouldn’t have let her in, but she had a key to the back door for emergencies and wasn’t afraid to use it.

She’d open the windows a crack, and goad me into getting out of bed and at least sit in the living room. She’d bring food, which she’d set in front of me, and refused to leave until I at least tried it. I insisted on getting my key back, and she handed it over willingly enough. And showed up again the next day. She’d made copies. Meddlesome bitch. Again, she badgered me into eating her breakfast.

And she’d talk. God, how that woman could talk! I got tired just listening.

All the neighborhood gossip, town gossip, political gossip, school gossip - she was plugged in everywhere and knew it all. Who was doing what, or whom. Griping about people who still had Thanksgiving decorations up, or had Christmas blowups in their front yard. Church fiascos and neighborhood vendettas, she would sit there, drink her tea (or bourbon and coke if the sun had set) and fill me in.

I didn’t care.

Cathy Has A New Therapy

It had been two weeks since the accident. I’d lost more than 10 pounds, and really just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. But Cathy wouldn’t let me. She made it her personal mission to cheer me up, get me to respond, bring me back to life.

Then one day she let me have it with both barrels.

She walked up to me and slapped me across the face. Hard. “Damn it Alex! Snap out of it! Life is hard. And it isn’t fair, but as bad as you have it, there’s always someone who has it worse. Often in your own backyard if you have the eyes to see it.”

“What do you know about it?” I snapped viciously. “I notice your kids are alive.”

“I know my mother died when I was six, and my father left when I was thirteen, leaving Mike to raise my sister and me. He was seventeen years old. But he manned-up and did the job the best he could. That’s what I know. Life is hard.”

“Life is hard. Life’s a bitch and then you die. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When God closes a door he opens a window. If I hear one more God-damned cliché I swear I’ll kill something,” I growled.

“Alex, you got a raw deal. You had two perfect little girls, and now they’re gone. Your past is shattered. Your little bit of immortality is lost. And as bad as you’ve got it, I’d remind you others have it worse, and they just press on. You need to as well,” Cathy told me, kneeling beside me and holding my hands.

The woman barely knew me. A middle-aged mother of three with grown kids, and a workaholic husband. Her life was her home, keeping it immaculate and decorated for every holiday and season. Now it seemed I was her newest project. Why should I matter that much to her? Couldn’t she see I didn’t want her help?

“Sure, starving Ethiopians, children in Nigeria dying of aids, Tibetan monks martyred, it’s a tough world. Boo hoo.”

“You don’t have to look as far as Ethiopia or Tibet. There are people right here, right on your own block that are really struggling. Open your eyes. If you don’t like the unfairness do something about it. Even up the odds a bit. Make a difference somewhere. Get back to living.”

Something she said must have gnawed its way down to my subconscious. I spent my usual 14 hours or so in bed, but when I awoke I was thinking about her constant comments about someone in my own backyard that had it worse.

I cataloged each person on my block, in my head, and nobody really had it that bad. Sure, Neil, three doors down had lost his job, but his wife was still working, and he was looking. The Harris’s on the corner had a boy in Iraq, but as far as I could tell he was still Ok, and they had three more at home. The Martins, one down from the corner, fought all the time, and even had the cops called in on them once but they were still together. What did Cathy mean?

I expanded the radius of consideration to include the blocks surrounding us. Then it hit me. Across the alley in back, two houses past Cathy’s own. Six months ago. Barry Morrison had driven into an empty field behind the local middle school and eaten a bullet. I didn’t know much about the family - I just knew there was one.

When Cathy came over, I had showered off the top two layers of grime and sweat, and was drinking a Coke in the living room.

The Morrison Prescription

“Good morning, Alex, beautiful day outside. Why don’t we go out on the porch?”

“The Morrisons. Tell me about them.”

She placed her mug of tea in the microwave, warming it up, then walked out my front door and sat in one of my rocking chairs out front.

Irritated, I followed, and sat in the chair beside her. “The Morrisons?”

“Sandy and her daughter Erica. You won’t see much of her; she’s working two jobs trying to keep the house over their heads. They’re still fighting with the insurance company over payment. Suicide clause won’t pay under two years. He had insurance for years, but just around two years ago he changed the terms. She’s been trying to sell the house, but it’s underwater, and nobody’s buying.”

“How’s the little one?”

“Erica’s not doing so well. She’s seeing a counselor twice a week, and hardly speaks anymore. The school’s talking about holding her back,” Cathy explained. She sounded sad.

“Do we know anything more about why he did it?”

“No crimes, he wasn’t fired, no embezzling, it’s not clear what it was about. Apparently he’d been depressed for quite a while, but the underlying situation is still a blank as far as I know.”

“Harsh on the family, going out like that,” I told her, finding the whole idea hard to grasp.

“To say the least. The poor woman is worn to a frazzle.”

“And how does this all matter to me?” I asked.

“It doesn’t. It doesn’t have to matter to anybody. They’re on their own. Alone.”

“No family help?”

“Not that I know of. If they’re around, we don’t see much of them, that’s for sure.”

“Cathy, how the hell do you know all this stuff?” I had to ask.

“People just like to talk to me. I’m a very good listener,” she told me with a big smile.

We sat quietly enjoying the crisp air, finishing our drinks.

“You’re a good neighbor too, Cathy. Thanks,” I said softly.

“That’s what neighbors are for,” she said, reaching out and patting me on my arm.

That’s what neighbors are for.

Cathy brought me dinner again and I realized I was starving. She beamed at me when I finished the whole platter.

“Let’s go for a walk, Alex. You could use a stretch of the legs.”

It had gotten chilly, and we bundled up a bit. She took the lead and we walked down the block and turned up the neighborhood. We headed back up the next block and she regaled me with the entire history and habits of the inhabitants of each place we passed. She might have been a good listener, but I had to wonder when she ever was quiet long enough to hear anything.

It was obvious when we got to Sandy Morrison’s place. The “For Sale” sign was a dead giveaway. The unkempt yard and overgrown bushes indicated a lack of care for months. It couldn’t help with the sales prospects. The door paint was faded, and there were no Christmas lights or decorations set up. I thought the Realtor wasn’t earning their commission, letting the place show like this. Through the window I could see a desktop Christmas tree, maybe two feet tall, lit up all in white.

Strangely, Cathy stopped speaking before we got to the house, and didn’t speak again until the end of the block. “Sad,” was all she said.

We took a round-about path back to my house, and our conversation had returned to the safety of weather concerns, community issues, and such, carefully skirting any discussion of the Morrisons.

I was feeling the chill after the walk, and invited Cathy in for a cup of coffee, Irish fortified if she so desired.

We drank our coffee in front of my gas fireplace, warming our old bones. Damn that neighbor of mine, and her good intentions! She’d not only gotten me to think of something other than my own misery, and the unfairness of it all, but she had me thinking about those poor girls behind me, and what they must be going through. Damn it! It wasn’t fair.

I guess I still wasn’t ready for pleasant company. Angry at the world, I threw my mug at the wall, shattering it, and leaned over with my head in my hands, doing my best to hold back the tears. Big boys don’t cry.

Cathy stood and ran her fingers through my hair for just a moment before leaving out the back door. Kind enough to leave me alone to wallow in my misery a little longer.

Giving Is Healing

December 22nd. Just three days until Christmas.

When Cathy came over that morning, I was already up and dressed. I had my working duds on and coffee and bagels ready.

“You’re up early,” she commented, helping herself to the java.

“It’s almost 10,” I reminded her. “Not so awfully early.”

She laughed. “Seems to me anything before noon is quite early as of late. Got plans?”

I nodded. “Thought I’d head over to the Morrison’s and see what I can do about the outside of the house. Clean it up a bit. Make it a little more presentable if they’re really planning on selling it.”

“That’s mighty neighborly of you.”

“It’ll give me something to do. I need to get out of this damned house.”

After our coffee, she walked with me across the alley, all my yard-work gear in a wheelbarrow. The grass was dormant, but long, and the bushes were out of control. I didn’t notice when Cathy left, but she returned in a few hours with some sandwiches for lunch, insisting I take a break.

I’d finished the bush trimming and had mowed the lawn, bagging the trimmings. I was just finishing the edging when she appeared. I took a break, and listened to her chatter about the neighborhood activities, and how sad it was that in the past few months nobody had offered to do as much as I had.

“I guess we victims of fate need to stick together.”

“It already looks 100% better. If you want to work in the backyard, I have a key to the gate.”

“It figures you would.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“It just doesn’t surprise me. I bet you’ve been helping out when you could.”

She sighed. “Not too much. She’s too damn proud. Doesn’t want any help from anybody.”

I shook my head. “Now you tell me. She’ll probably call the police on me.”

“So what if she does? You know you’re doing the right thing. I’ll bail you out if need be.”

I let her unlock the back gate, and saw I had my work cut out for me. The back yard was worse than the front. The fence needed work as well, some boards were broken and loose, and one whole section was sagging. Luckily, my tools were only a couple of hundred feet away, across the alley, and I was soon at work, determined to finish before the residents arrived home.

The biggest problem was one of the fence posts which had rotted out at the bottom. A new post and some quick-setting cement, solved that problem. Within an hour I’d be able to reattach the fence crossbeams to the new 4x4.

I turned to see a young girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old, watching me from the porch. Crap.

“Just thought I’d fix your fence, before it falls down. I hope you don’t mind.”

She just shook her head.

She stood there watching me, and I felt ill at ease. I was a stranger. She shouldn’t be talking to me. I should probably leave. “I’m just going to clean up here and head back home. I can finish up later when your mother’s home.”

I straightened up my clothing a bit, wiping my hands on my pants. “I’m Alex Reed. I live across the alley,” I explained, pointing down a few houses.

She nodded.

She reminded me so much of my own daughter, right around that age. Her hair was the same length, blonde, but not quite as light as Allora’s.

Allora. My perfect little Allora. I closed my eyes, seeing her in that hospital bed, bruised and bandaged, fighting for her life. Her hair tucked under the bandages, the few strands that stuck out dark from sweat. Her body so small in that antiseptic white bed. My Allora.

Gone.

It felt like somebody had wrapped a band around my chest, and pulled it tight. I couldn’t breathe. I turned away from Erica, so she wouldn’t have to see me lose it. She’d suffered enough already. I felt the tears rise, unbidden, and I started for the gate. I had to get out of there.

I barely made it as far as the driveway. It was too much. I closed the gate behind me and crumbled to the ground, seated with my head between my knees, my hands covering my head. It was Christmas, damn it! Christmas! My girls were supposed to be with me, shaking their presents and trying to guess what was in them. Instead Allora and Briana were gone. Their lives snuffed out before they could see anything of the world, before they could find their place, before they could fall in love. No shaking presents. No stomach aches from eating too many holiday sweets. No late night parties to drive me crazy with worry. No learning to drive. No struggling to find the right college. No bringing a boy home for the first time. No cramming for tests. No Spring Breaks. No proms. Nothing. Ever again.

I was sobbing, and the little girl who had lost her father was standing on the driveway beside me, her hand resting on my shoulder, while I made a fool of myself.

“Erica! You know your mother doesn’t want you out if she’s not at home. You should go back inside. Mr. Reed will be all right, he’s just tired. Go on now.” Cathy had me by the arm, and was doing her best to get me back on my feet. “Come on Alex, not here. Let’s get you home.”

I knew she was right. I stood up, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. “I’ll be alright. Just give me a minute.” I pulled myself together, took a couple of deep breaths, and stood straight. “I’m Ok. Seeing her was just a little too much, too soon. But I’m fine now. I need to clean up here, and put the fence back together.”

“Alright. I’ll help.”

It only took us a few minutes to clean up and cart the bags of yard trimmings out to the rear curb. I ran all the yard tools back to my house, and returned to finish the fence work. I braced the new post with a couple of 2x4’s and reattached the two panels. Cathy’s help made it a lot easier. When we were done we both stood back and looked over the yard. Much better.

“I’m going to go inside and fix Erica her after-school snack. It’s about all that Sandy will let me do. Why don’t you come with me?”

“I don’t know if I should. Sandy doesn’t know me. She may not want me in her house when she’s not there.”

“Never mind that. She’ll be fine. Just come in a moment. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

I followed her inside, through the glass sliding door. Erica was sitting on the floor watching TV. I didn’t even look that way. I was afraid that seeing the wrong TV show would dredge up more painful memories.

“Where can I wash my hands?” I asked Cathy.

She pointed to a door. “In there.”

I headed to the bathroom. “Don’t use the toilet. That one doesn’t flush anymore.”

I could hear the running water in the commode. I washed my hands and wiped them on my shirt. There was no towel in the bathroom. Then I took the top off the tank and examined inside. Nothing complicated. The chain that connected the stopper to the handle extension was missing. Lifting the rubber stopper, I saw it was under the lip, the cause of the running water. I reattached the chain, and tested the flushing. Worked fine.

“Fixed. The chain was just off.”

Cathy nodded, and returned to making a grilled cheese sandwich. Briana loved grilled cheese. But you couldn’t cut the sandwich, and you had to remove the crust. I wouldn’t be cutting the crust off of sandwiches anymore.

I took a deep breath, and went to examine the front door.

“Cathy? I’m going to head home and get my sander and some paint. This door needs some help desperately.”

“Go ahead. Sandy won’t be home until late, and if we’re going to get in trouble for the yard and the fence, we might as well make it a trifecta.”

Fifteen minutes later, I was running the battery powered hand-sander over the door, removing the worst of the existing paint. I didn’t have too much to do, it was already mostly bare. I had brought over three possible paints to use, all of which I knew were approved by the homeowner’s association.

“What color paint do you think I should use?” I asked Cathy.

“Let’s ask Erica.” She returned in a few seconds with Erica at her side. “We’re going to paint the front door, Erica. What color would you like?”

We had a choice of off-white, light blue, and a dark brown. She pointed to the light blue, then seated herself nearby to watch.

I had already removed the hardware. I taped the hinges and bottom kick-plate, laid out my drip cloth, and started applying a coat of paint, top-to-bottom. I looked over at the young girl watching me so intently. I saw the tree beside her, so small and bare, with one little package underneath it.

Christmas trees shouldn’t look like that.

They should be big, full of decorations, all sorts, each one with its own story. Handcrafted special ornaments, with pictures of your family members. Popsicle stick ornaments with the Elmer’s glue showing. Lights blinking in an assortment of colors, candy canes and tinsel, and an angel on top. There should be presents around the bottom, stacked and scattered, so many you can’t even get near the tree.

It was the first year I didn’t have a tree.

We’d normally go out as a family and visit one of the Boy Scout tree lots, picking the biggest, fullest tree we thought could fit in my living room. Then we’d decorate it together, Christmas songs playing in the background, and sipping eggnog. We’d spend an eternity untangling the lights, replacing the bulbs that wouldn’t work, and replacing the metal hangars on the decorations that needed them. It was an all-day affair.

Not this year. Not ever again.

I realized I’d stopped painting, and I was staring. A long drip of paint from my brush was running down the door. The little girl looked at me, almost as if she understood.

“Would you like to help?” I asked.

She looked around, as if to ask if I was talking to her.

“Yes, you.”

She shyly nodded yes. I reached over to my bucket of painting supplies and pulled out a small brush. I pointed to the inlaid panels on the bottom half of the door. “You can paint here, around the edge of the panel. It needs to be done with a detail brush like the one you have. Get into the cracks.”

She nodded, dipped her brush, and started painting straight down the panel edge, doing a good job.

“That’s perfect. Just like that.” I went back to work completing the top half, and had to work around her, sometimes leaning way over to paint above her. She saw what I was doing, and I saw the mischievous heart of a little girl for a moment when she started backing away from the door, making me lean further and further over.

“Hey!” I said in mock outrage. “You’re doing that on purpose!”

When she giggled, apparently ignoring me, and continuing with her painting effort, I felt a small leap in my heart. It was nice to hear her giggle.

“When you’re done with the painting, and done torturing me, you can paint around the edges of the two hinges and the kick-plate. If I won’t be in your way.”

Little Erica nodded, and continued her careful painting, working slowly and deliberately around the perimeter before moving onto the hinges.

I found myself kneeling beside her, painting the bottom-half of the door, while she detailed the trim. We switched places so I could work on the side near the hinges while she completed the bottom trim.

“Not bad,” I commented, holding out a drip bucket for her to dump her brush in. I sealed up the paint can, peeled off the trim tape, and stood back to get a look at the results. A little girl stood beside me, her blonde hair a poignant reminder of all I’d lost. I took a deep breath to compose myself.

“Not bad at all. Think your mother will like it?”

I looked down at her while she thought it over. A smile slowly spread across her face. She nodded twice.

I put my hand down for a fist bump, just like I would with my girls. She shrank away for a second, then glanced up at my face for a second before making a tiny fist and bumping her knuckles against mine.

We were enjoying the last of the natural light as dusk was settling in. Cathy walked out and stood beside us, giving her approval. “The blue is perfect. Great choice Erica.”

Erica stopped admiring her work, looked at Cathy, and blinked like she was just seeing her for the first time. She looked up and down the block, then walked back into the house and planted herself in front of the TV.

“Ready to call it a day?” Cathy asked.

“Yeah. Best get while the getting is good.” I packed up my paint supplies and in just a couple of trips hid any trace that I’d ever been there. Except of course for the door, yard and fence. Oh, and the toilet, although that really didn’t count for much.

Back home I cleaned up and sat down pondering what I’d just done. I had mixed feelings, a little guilt creeping in for taking liberties with someone else’s house. But thinking about that little girl, and what she must be going through, made anything I could do to help worthwhile.

Thinking was dangerous. I realized I hadn’t been very nice to the people who had tried to help me. I decided to rectify that if possible, and found a new phone cable for my phone and plugged it in. Picking it up I heard a dial tone. Good.

I made a list of phone calls, and went to work. Calling, one-by-one, my friends, neighbors and co-workers, I apologized for my behavior and thanked them for their concern. To a one, they blew off my boorish behavior, and promised they’d be there for me if I needed anything.

I stopped, with just a few calls remaining, wondering where those people were for Sandy and Erica, who seemed to need it far more than I.

I picked up the phone and dialed Denise’s family. I knew it was going to be tough. I apologized for leaving the funeral arrangements to them, and thanked them for all they had done. Speaking to Dan was difficult, but my conversation with Sharon almost did me in. The time we’d spent in the hospital, watching over Allora came up, and I had to take a break for a bit to get my emotions under rein, while I listened to Sharon sob. Even after the divorce we’d remained friendly, and I was glad that we’d had each other on that fateful watch. I promised I’d stop by in the next couple of days, she insisted there was some paperwork that needed taking care of.

My last call was to Steve, my roommate for three years in college, and best friend in the world. I had hung up on him twice that first day, and it was haunting me. He’d left more than a dozen messages on my cell-phone voicemail. Plus, I had ulterior motives.

The phone rang several times and went to the answering machine. I felt like a weight had lifted, I wouldn’t have to face him. “Steve, Alex here. I’m sorry I…”

“Alex, I’m here, don’t hang up, I’m here. Let me turn off this damned machine. Hold on.” I heard some rustling and the echo of our voices disappear. “Jesus, Alex. You’re killing me.”

“Sorry. It hit me so hard; I just couldn’t listen to one more well-wisher.”

“I understand.”

He would understand. His father had passed away while we were in our last year of college, and he took it hard. Started drinking heavy, cutting classes, and chasing anything with boobs. I took care of him as much as I could, going so far as to collect his homework and projects, even talking to his professors. He’d been slow to pull it together, but eventually came around.

Five years later, less than a year out of law school, it was his mother. I had flown out and spent a week with him. I knew it would be hard - he was an only child, and he had few relatives, and none he was close to. He came out of that funk bitter, and it cost him his girlfriend - no loss there. We’d been as close as brothers, hell, probably closer. We still were.

Steven understood.

I opened my soul to him, and stayed on the phone for ages. I heard him send his wife off to bed, while I vented. It was a much needed cathartic outpouring that left me exhausted.

“What can I do? Anything, you know it. Should I fly down?”

As much as I’d love to see him, it had been nearly a year, he was a family man now, and it was Christmas. “No. Stay with your family. I’m doing better, and if I need to I can call.”

“Of course.”

“I also wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Sorry that I couldn’t do more for you when you lost your parents. I never really experienced losing anyone like that, and couldn’t comprehend what you were going through.”

“Shut the fuck up. You were there for me, buddy. Always. When nobody else was. I’ll never forget that. Enough said. Don’t need to be getting sappy over it.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright. By the way, there’s one other thing you might be able to do for me.”

“Anything. That’s what friend are for.”

That’s what friends are for.

Meeting The Reaper

The pounding on my front door was not unexpected. Ten o'clock at night might be a little of a surprise, but the knock wasn’t.

I went to the front door, and looked out through the glass beside it. A woman stood there. I had a fairly good idea of who it was.

I opened the door. “Mrs. Morrison?”

She glared at me and nodded.

“Come in, please. Can I get you a cup of tea, or coffee?” I turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open. I walked to the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of coffee. I turned to see her standing in the archway to the living room.

She looked ready to burst, but I watched her breath deep and run her hands through her short hair. She looked young. Too young to be going through the hell she was currently experiencing.

“I don’t want you around my house or my daughter,” she finally snapped.

“I understand, and I’m sorry I interfered.” I walked past her and sat down in the living room. “I can’t explain it. I had to do something to get out of this house, and when Cathy told me about your situation I guess I got carried away.”

She stared at me, and crossed her arms. “Don’t mention her name. I could kill her.”

I smiled. “Believe me, I understand that. She’s been in my house every day, 3 or 4 times a day, meddling in my life.”

“Meddling is right,” she snapped. She walked over and sat on the loveseat across from me. “Listen. I appreciate the thought. And I’m sorry for your loss.” She smirked. “Ha, listen to me. Sorry for your loss. Crap.”

She leaned back. “We’re doing fine. I don’t need your help, I don’t know you from Adam, and I don’t want you around my daughter when nobody’s around. Jesus, you painted my fricking’ front door blue! A little presumptuous, don’t you think?”

I smiled. “I would have picked the wood tone. Blue was Erica’s choice, one of the four approved colors according to our Stalinist homeowner’s association.”

She leaned back, rolling her eyes up. “Don’t remind me. If the bastards send me one more notice about yard and fence maintenance, I’ll rip their lungs out.” She seemed to calm down for a second, maybe realizing that those notices would no longer be coming. “I know. I should be thankful but I don’t need a stranger meddling in my life. Understood? No more doing things for me.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for that little girl. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. Agreed. I don’t know what happened to you and your family or why. Not really. What I do know is that girl of yours doesn’t deserve the hand she’s been dealt. That’s all I could think. I just wanted to help where I could.”

She looked angry. “I’m sorry you lost your daughters. I am. But Erica is Mine. My daughter. My responsibility. Not yours.”

“You are right. She’s no responsibility of mine.”

“That’s right. I don’t know you. We live three doors down and in two years you’ve never spoken a word to us. Six months we’ve been on our own. I certainly don’t need you poking your head in now. I don’t know you, I don’t want to know you, and I’m not sure I’d like you if I did.”

“Welcome to the club.”

“Club?”

“I’m not sure I like me either. I’m sorry, alright? Now I’m tired. You can let yourself out.”

She got up and stomped her way to the front door, closing it sharply behind her.

That had gone better than I’d expected.

Irrepressible

December 23rd. I got up early, cleaning up, even shaving. I had errands to run. Cathy showed up in my kitchen while I was preparing breakfast.

“At least neither of us is in jail,” were her first words.

“Not yet.”

“You did a good thing. Don’t forget it.”

“I know. Still she was right. We should have asked permission.”

“The hell we should! She’d never have given it.”

“Then maybe we should leave her be.”

“If a person was drowning, and they couldn’t yell for help, wouldn’t you still throw them a life preserver?”

“A little overly-dramatic, don’t you think?”

“No. She’s going down for the third time, and is in complete denial. By the time she accepts the fact she needs help it could be too late.” She looked me over. “You clean up nicely. What are you up to?”

“I need to run some errands, see a few people, stop by work, some other stuff.”

“Don’t overdo it,” she said, still in her ‘caring’ mode. “Need some company?”

“Thanks, I appreciate the offer. I can handle this.”

“Ok, you have my number. Give me a call if you need anything.”

Making The Rounds

The office visit was painful. I stopped in, thanking my bosses for their understanding, visiting a few friends and letting them know I appreciated their concern. The way they looked at me just drove home how alone I was. I was glad to get out of there.

I made a visit to the florist and picked up a trunk-load of Christmas cacti. I drove around to everyone I could think of, expressing my gratitude, and leaving the pretty plants behind. I used the same corny line with each one, comparing my 'prickliness’ the last couple of weeks to the plant’s spines. I left a few plants on doorsteps with a note. By mid-afternoon I felt I’d done my part.

I stopped by Denise’s parent’s house, and Sharon greeted me at the door with a hug before she broke into tears. After she’d soaked my shirt she brought me in.

“There’s something you need to know, Alex.”

She sounded odd, and I wondered what was up.

“Denise left a will. She left you the house and the lion’s share of her insurance, to take care of the girls if anything happened to her.”

I was stunned. It was so unexpected. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Sharon reached out and patted my hand. “It’s not what I’d expected, but if you think about it, it makes sense. What are you going to do?”

“I guess I’ll sell the house. I certainly don’t need two houses.”

“She had mortgage insurance, it’ll be paid off. You could rent it out, you know. Earn some steady income off of it.”

It was too much too fast. I couldn’t think straight. “I’ll have to think about it. I just wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

“I understand.” She held my hand. “How are you doing?”

“Better. Not good, but at least I can get out of bed.”

“We’re here if you need us. You know that, right?”

“Yes. Thank you. After the girls, you were the best thing that came out of our marriage.”

“We love you too. Don’t forget it.”

“I’m sorry I was so useful about the funeral arrangements, I don’t think I could have handled it without you,” I confessed.

“Don’t even think about it. That’s what family is for.”

That’s what family is for.

My day wasn’t quite complete. A few more calls and I was putting things in motion I wasn’t sure I should, but I couldn’t resist.

Around dinner time, I ventured next door. Cathy’s husband John answered the door. “The hermit has left the cave. Good to see you out and about.” He shook my hand, letting me in. “Cath - Alex is here.”

Cathy came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. “How’d your day go?”

“Not bad. A few surprises, but I survived.”

“We’re about to eat. Care to sit down with us?”

“Maybe. When do you think Sandy will be getting home?”

“Probably nine-ish, would be my guess. Why?”

“Just want to talk to her if I can.”

“You have time for dinner then?”

“Sure.”

Another Confrontation With Sandy

By 8:30 I was enjoying a cigar with John, sitting out in their driveway, trying to figure out what our football team’s chances were of going anywhere in the playoffs. We were strategically positioned so I had a view of the Morrison’s driveway.

When Sandy drove up, I excused myself from John and jogged across the alley.

“Sandy, can I talk to you a moment?”

She looked ready to chase me off, but after a few awkward seconds she crossed her arms, leaned back against the car and raised her eyebrows.

“Again, I’m sorry I entered your house without your permission. I know that was wrong. All I can say is I wasn’t really thinking straight.”

She rolled her eyes. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I know you told me you didn’t need my help, but there’s someone I’d like you speak to. I have a friend that’s a lawyer, and he’s willing to check into your insurance situation pro bono. Like you and me, he’s suffered a few losses in life, and he’d like to help you if he can. If you’d just give him a call, he’ll see what he can do.”

I could see she wanted to say no, but was torn. She gnawed on her bottom lip, which I saw were chapped. She looked exhausted. I pulled out his card and held it out to her. “It’ll only take a couple of minutes. It can’t hurt.”

She finally nodded and took the card from me. “Is that it?”

“One last thing. I’m headed over to my ex-wife’s house tomorrow to clean out the refrigerator, and to get rid of her tree. It’s my responsibility now. I was going to ditch the tree; it’s one of those pre-lit artificial ones which I never could stand. I thought, if you don’t mind, and it’s not interfering too much, I could bring it by here and you could take if off my hands. Otherwise it’s going to the dump.” I spit out the words quickly before she could find too much fault with me.

She seemed resigned to allow me to interfere, at least this much. She sighed and finally spoke up. “Alright. That would be nice. Now if that’s all, I’d like to go in now. My feet and back are aching and I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“That’s all. You can call Steve tonight if you’d like, he’s a night owl and is expecting your call. Good night.”

I took off quickly before she could change her mind about anything.

Just ‘a bit’ of decorating

I had recruited Cathy’s help over dinner the night before, assuming things went Ok with Sandy, and by noon we were back at the Morrison house, knocking on the door.

Erica let us in, and we hauled our goodies in after us. I had the tree folded up and left it on the front doorstep while we made room for it in the living room. After I’d put it in place, I hauled in a large plastic crate of Christmas decorations, and encouraged Cathy and Erica to get to work making the tree look 'festive’. Right on schedule my weekly cleaning crew showed up and I put them to work giving the entire house a thorough cleaning. I had felt guilty chasing them away the last few weeks, and had begged and cajoled them into doing me this one favor, on Christmas Eve of all days. The team of four went to work like whirling dervishes, storming through the rooms in pairs leaving sparking chrome and sweet smells in their wake.

We only had a few hours if Cathy was right, and I had one more big task lined up. The Chem-Dry carpet cleaners were running a little late, but showed up not long after the cleaning crew had finished with the living and dining rooms, and I had moved most of the furniture into the hallways and kitchen. They went right to work, and had the downstairs completed in a little over an hour. While they worked at that, I spent the time decorating the front yard and the house with Christmas lights. I hoped that Sandy liked traditional multi-color displays. I wasn’t all that fond of the 'all-white’ look, and was using my own lights to decorate her house. By the time I had finished I was sweating up a storm, and was getting nervous about the time.

The carpet guys left first, reminding me to let the carpet dry for another hour before returning the furniture to its place. The cleaning crew followed shortly after, and I’d rewarded them nicely, tipping them an extra $100 for coming out on Christmas Eve. I moved indoors, with the lights complete and lit up, to find a Christmas wonderland awaiting me.

Cathy and Erica had done an amazing job, using what I had brought over and getting the Morrison’s decorations out of the attic and putting those to use as well. You could hardly tell it was the same house.

“You ladies have done an incredible job!” I announced, standing in the doorway.

Cathy looked a little disheveled but very pleased with herself. “Let’s finish up quick. I have to get home; John’s going to kill me.”

I’d promised her we’d be done by 4:00 and it was already nearly 5:00. She was holding a Christmas Eve open-house and was expecting half of the neighborhood over that evening. She only had a couple of hours left to finish her own preparations. I gave her a hug for all of her effort and shooed her off, while I started hauling the furniture back into place, working at a frenzied pace to get done before the unsuspecting benefactor got home.

Erica followed behind me, arranging all the lamps, baskets and knick-knacks, and adding additional holiday decorations as we went. With the last of the furniture in place, I turned and gave her a high-five.

“This is all our secret, right? If your Mom asks, the Christmas elves stopped by to help clean up. You did a great job, Erica.”

She smiled and held her arms out to me. I leaned down and gave her a hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered, just before she let go and disappeared up the stairs.

I felt a lump in my throat. Whether it was fear of being caught by her mother, or the joy of hearing her speak her first words to me, I couldn’t be sure.

A Legal-Eagle Call

By eight o'clock, Sandy still hadn’t shown up on my front-doorstep with a shotgun. I guess she was going to wait until after Christmas to eviscerate me over meddling where I didn’t belong.

I didn’t care. I felt good, the best I’d felt in two weeks, thinking about that little girl celebrating a real Christmas. Kids should have Christmas.

I had cleaned up and decided to make an appearance next door, as I’d promised, when I got a call from Steve.

“Hey-ho, Stevorino.”

“Only my Grandma gets to say that, asshole.”

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas to you too.” I teased.

I heard him chuckle. “Merry Christmas is right. At least for your neighbor.”

“How’s that?” I asked, suddenly interested.

“The insurance creeps were just stalling. They don’t have a leg to stand on. The only change to the policy was upon their advice after an annual policy review by their own agent. A little legal pressure was all it took. It’s not a lot, less than $300K, but she’ll be getting her check next week.”

“Steve, you’re the man. I take back all those nasty things I said about you.”

“Shit, they’re probably true. If anybody would know, it’d be you.”

“All kidding aside. You’re a life saver.”

I knew he hated any hint of seriousness. I could almost hear him blushing over the phone. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?”

“That’s right. And I couldn’t ask for a better one.”

“Ditto. Asshole.”

“Shit. You had to go and spoil it. Listen, I gotta run. Give your family my love and have a great Christmas. I’ll give you a call next week.”

“You got it. And Darla sends her love. She made me say that. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Got it. Give her a kiss for me. Scratch that. I’ll come out after the holidays and give it to her myself. When are you going to be out of town next?”

“Funny guy. Start anything with her, and I’ll make you keep her and the credit card bills.”

“Ouch. You win,” I had to laugh. “Thanks again.”

“Merry Christmas. Hang in there buddy.”

“You too.”

To be continued in Part 2, By Tx Tall Tales, for Literotica.

Wives get to thinking about how life is too short.

Based on the works of CoyoteHoward. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Jenny & The Barbeque Gathering

It was the picture of Americana in southwest Idaho.

A partly cloudy sky, with more sun than shade. Deep green grass. Horses munching away in the pasture while the kids, whose ages ranged from 2-16, played on the trampoline and playset.

The husbands primarily were under the porch overhang, gathered around the grill, while Osvaldo and his 8 year old son Elliot jokingly played corn-hole in the grass.

Their wives were on the furniture on the other end of the porch, doing as women do, keeping an eye on the children for the most part and enjoying their own trials and tribulations. Most of which focused on family dramas, future plans and prices for various groceries.

“Yeah, so what I’d like to do,” Brady said, beginning to flip the burgers from the top left, “is kinda what you did, but I’d like to do 4 rails instead.”

Steve nodded and took a drink of beer from his Payette Brewing Co. bottle. He absentmindedly watched Brady do so, his left thumb tucked into the front pocket of his jeans, shifting his cowboy booted feet to equal distribution instead of one leg being cocked slightly. His slight belly showed his 36 years of age, and while he didn’t like it, and wished he could find the consistent motivation to work out, his wife didn’t mind, and his shirts still fit, including the plain white t-shirt he wore now.

“Yeah I don’t mind the three, but the three inch- I wish I’d of been able to afford the three and a half,” Steve said, shifting the bottle to his left and adjusting his multicam hat on his head, though it needn’t be done. His brown, fade cut hair wasn’t bothering him, it was more just a habit.

“You did your fence yourself?” Jeff asked. He was blond, worked out tons and was wearing a polo, cargo shorts and flip flops.

Steve nodded, “Yeah the little mustang got out suddenly last year, little shit.”

The women meanwhile were discussing flowers.

“I’m so jealous of your little play area Jenny,” Hannah said, taking a sip of her soda.

She was married to Brady, and three of the tikes running around were hers. She was 36, was 5'7" and 133 pounds. She knew she was attractive, as all the women here were, but her husband appreciated her the most, and that’s exactly the way she prefered it.

They’d been married for well over 10 years, he was the father of all her babies, and they led a great life.

“Well it’s been a lot of work, but yeah, it’s coming together,” Jenny said. “We’ve done a ton of work just to try and keep the weeds away.” Her husband was Steve, and as she finished her sentence she looked over at her man.

They’d been together the longest of the group of six couples, having been dating since junior year of high school, over 18 years prior. They had the second oldest child there, at 15, and the second youngest as well, a three year old girl.

They’d been the ones to leave though, he going into the Army right after high school and finally leaving six years prior, and they’d all reconnected.

Steve was still her king though, and she his queen, as they routinely told each other. Even now, as Heather, a half-asian, half-hispanic woman asked her about the newest berry they’d planted Jenny couldn’t help but think about what her king had done to her last night, and her panties got warm under her flowery, blue, spaghetti-strapped sundress.

Steve noticed her looking at him, and flashed her a smile, giving his queen a fun wink.

And that’s why she couldn’t help but love him. He just did those little kinds of things that other men didn’t with their wives. Sure he had a temper, he played video games, his memory was horrible.

But his positives more than made up for it.

“I’d like to plant blackberries, especially if they have uh, no thorns,” Amanda winked, and took a bite of potato salad. She was a short, slightly heavy black haired woman married to Osvaldo.

She looked over and saw her son and husband playing cornhole still, though Jeff and Joe had gone over to play with them. They were married to Heather and Ellen, respectively, to Amanda’s left.

“Yeah me too,” Hannah said, to which the others laughed slightly.

“Bullshit,” Kelly said, deciphering the code words; “You have too much going on already. Brady would strangle you!”

“Oh he’d be a little upset, but he always cools off,” Hannah said, chuckling.

But Jenny couldn’t get the thought out of her mind now. The thought of how Steve had taken extra care to put the baby to bed, to not play Mass Effect, and to take her to bed.

He’d sweetly pulled her jeans off, then nuzzled and licked at her cunt through her panties until she’d cum, THEN he had proceeded to have his way with her, bringing her off several more times before finishing off inside her.

She imagined she could still feel his cum, making her wetter still.

She suddenly looked at the whole situation. At everyone around her and the thought of them getting old, tired, and ending…

“Hannah, watch Claire for me. I’m gonna go get fucked silly in your powder room,” she said, locking eyes with her friend and rising with a slight smirk.

Hannah’s eyes went wide as she choked slightly and let out a huge smile.

“What?!” she exclaimed, but Jenny was already striding across the patio to her man.

“Did she just-”

“What did she say?”

“Whoa!”

“Hahaha! Oh shit she’s really doing it!”

Jenny had reached Steve, grabbed him by the belt buckle with one hand and had begun leading him away, walking forward as if leading a stud to a mare.

“Hey babe, whoa, what’s up?” he asked.

She turned and smirked a small smile at him, and she knew it achieved the desired affect. Her intentions must have been written all over her face, because he couldn’t help but put his beer down and follow, his own smile bursting forth.

She lead him through the door and didn’t give him time to properly shut it, but he was able to with a strong hand.

“Jen, what are you doing?” Steve asked, grabbing her wrist. She was closer to her target though.

“I need you,” she said, suddenly breathless as she kissed him deeply, her sexy body pressing up against his.

She made sure to press her bra'ed 34C breasts into his chest, her left hand around his back, her right up in his short hair.

Steve’s hands went around her pinched waist first, then his left up her side and back while his right went around and down to her plump ass, cupping and kneading.

She moaned at the touches, then broke the french kiss and backed away towards the half-bath by the front door.

Steve followed eagerly and suddenly they were in the little bathroom, finding the light and locking the door behind them.

“Hun, what’s gotten int-ohh shit!” Steve started, but she hushed him by immediately dropping to her knees, and getting his jeans undone.

“Damn girl, the fuck has gotten into you suddenly?” he asked, as she got the front of his pants open, not pausing and pulled down his underwear too. But his hands went to her head, lightly rubbing the sides and back encouragingly.

“Can’t I just want my husband?” she asked before throating his semi-hard, 6 inch cock in one go.

“Ah fuck,” he said, his biology taking over for a moment as he thrust his hips an inch forward, his hands tightening on her head.

Her tongue was going crazy on the underside of his shaft, the tip even coming past her bottom lip slightly to lick his balls as much as she could, and he got rigid hard in moments.

He gasped and breathed as if he were in pain, but she knew he wasn’t. Jenny didn’t give him head very often, so this must be a real treat for him. Though truth be told, this was a means to an end. She bobbed her face on his crotch for a dozen or so pumps, until she felt his cockhead nudge the back of her throat. That end was now.

She rose, looked him in the eye as her right hand grasped his hard prick, some of her hair in her eye as she did so, stroking it in short strokes as she turned to the vanity and mirror.

God she looked slutty. One of her spaghetti straps had fallen off her shoulder and her lips were an excited red from having just been stretched in an obscene ‘O’ around his magnificent cock.

But she could still FEEL her sex drive though, his taste still in her mouth. Her boobs were hypersensitive in their confines, feeling wonderfully constrained as she breathed, and her panties were probably soaked through.

She pulled up the hem of her dress and bent over the counter, looking back at him over her right shoulder.

“God, just fuck me. Fuck me!” she said, “I need it.”

Steve couldn’t refuse this personification of pure lust in front of him. She wasn’t his wife in this moment. She was a bitch in heat. A mare in season. And he was going to give her the beast she needed.

He grabbed her brief-cut panties with both hands and yanked them down with animalistic urgency to her feet, where she stepped out with one sandaled foot.

He then rose and put his right hand to her cunt, immediately confirming how wanton she was by the heat and wetness he found there, easily one of the wettest times he’d ever seen her.

“Oh fuck,” she said, finding her own lustful gaze looking back at her in the vanity mirror, feeling his fingers run through her sex from her clit(which he brushed ever so slightly) right up to her asshole. She knew he must’ve thought about playing with it, as she’d let him take her ass several times in the past year, finally.

But he didn’t linger, instead he stepped right up to her bent over body and slid his steel hard cock into her cunt, all in one go.

“Oh! Oh fuck! Oh god that feels soo good!” she practically screamed, but huskily.

His hands went to her wide hips, finding her pelvic bones that made the perfect obscene handles, beginning to piston her cunt, slowly.

But she wanted more, she wanted to be fucked, and fucked well.

She looked over her shoulder at him, “Steve, god damnit, Fuck me!” With each stressed word she pushed herself back on his cock, sparks flying from her sopping cunt through her body as she did so as his rod plowed her depths.

Out at the patio, the ladies’ conversation suddenly halted when the screams and moans were faintly heard coming from the little vent, high on the side of the house. It piped the narrative from the powder room, just on the other side of the brick exterior. First Claire took notice, then all the ladies went silent, their devilish grins showing their vicarious delight. A couple of the guys noticed the silence over at the other end of the covered patio, then all the guys heard the faint echo of a raging hormonal woman’s voice could just barely be heard yelling; “Steve, God damnit. Fuck me!”

Jenny was rewarded with her stud pulling her hips back so that she’d fall backwards if he wasn’t there, cock lodged inside her. Her hands were wrapped tightly around the spout of the faucet, now somewhat in front of her as her hair swung with his thrusts. Her tits were swaying as much as her bra would allow, and the pulling on her chest added to her sexual experience. The thumb of her left hand subconsciously rubbed the underside of the chrome spout, but in her entranced state, she imagined it was Steve’s turgid cock.

In moments he was fucking her hard. Fast. Making her ass jiggle with every impact of his pelvis. She felt his cock running though her with abandon, the heat from her cunt quickly turning into a fire, then a blaze, until stars burst in her vision and she screamed a carnal, drawn out “ah” in orgasm, her legs shaking uncontrollably. “Steve, you beast!” she screamed in satisfaction.

Her hands slipped as they clenched and gripped the sink, Steve stepping up as her hips were pushed forward against the edge of the counter.

Whereas moments before she’d cum from her assertive pushing back, now she was trapped with nowhere to go. More precisely, her hole couldn’t get away from the prick fucking it.

Jenny realized that she’d be forced to cum at least again, maybe more even. Her king had slowed as he’d trapped her, bringing his hands up to her shoulders and finding new grips with which to pound her.

She looked up and saw her sweaty self in the mirror again, her jaw dropped open as she breathed heavy with sexual arousal, her whole body jarring with each impact of Steve’s hips against her ass.

God she was so sexy, and her cunt was doing such a good job of clenching around the invader, her body doing as it was designed to do, trying to bring the penis inside it to orgasm. Her hole wanted his semen. That was its purpose, to get fucked and filled by cum, so she could carry his child.

And it was working, her own voice raising with every fourth or fifth quickening thrust as she felt her second orgasm building in her depths, Steve’s cock hitting amazing pockets of nerves inside her.

It suddenly was upon her as her left hand pressed against the mirror, her right coming around to grab Steve’s hip as her cunt exploded in pleasure, her eyes wide. She rocked herself back as he tried to pull out for another thrust, trying to keep him inside her as she came, throwing her head in an out of control nodding motion and half panting, half exclaiming “ahs.”

Steve for his part wasn’t faring well on holding out. He regularly told Jenny that her orgasms would collect massive amounts of cash on the internet, and they usually brought him off. But Jenny had never been this needy before, and though she did have bouts of increased sexual activity, this was a whole new level.

As she came again for the second time, the thrashing of her head, her hair flying and her hand on the mirror, almost got him.

It was her hand landing on his right side, hip and ass cheek coupled with her rocking cunt clenching on his shaft that got him. He slammed forward to the hilt as his cum rose from his balls, rocketing down his weapon until it fired into her hot sheathe.

Again and again it fired, "Oh yeah! Uh! Uh! Uh! Take it baby!” he said through blurred vision and clenched teeth.

Out on the patio, the ladies were squirming; embarrassed, but getting aroused. Claire was frustrated when she had to go comfort a child who tripped and fell in the play area; “Tell me what I’m missing, Kelly.”

In the powder room, Jenny was affirming Steve’s virility; “Ram it in me, Deeper!” And though she hadn’t fully finished her orgasm, it had been ending, that is, until she felt her man begin to fill her.

“Oh! Oh god! Oh fuck, it’s, so hot! Oh fuck Steve!” she seethed, feeling him pumping his seed into her. Her cunt suddenly went taught and rippled against the tool that had penetrated it, sending Jenny into another fit of orgasm, catching her off guard as her legs finally gave way, coming off the floor and slightly spurring Steve’s calves as all she could experience was the ultimate, womanly pleasure. Through blurred vision she looked at the mirror her face was resting on, her tits as well as her weight was mostly on her hips.

Steve smiled as he fired his last shot of cum into his wife, enjoying her multiple orgasm as he rubbed the small of her back right before it went into the crack of her ass, reveling in the clenching of her cunt.

“Ha ha, fuck yeah, you’re awesome baby,” he said, taking a deep breath as his heart rate came down.

She slowly relaxed until her feet came down to the floor again, finally taking her weight. She came upright, allowing Steve to pull himself free of her depths before turning around and leaning back on the counter.

“Umm, holy shit, that felt so good,” she said, smiling.

“You’re damn right about that,” Steve said, reaching down to pull up his underwear and jeans. “What got into you?”

“Nothing, I just, I was looking at you,” Jenny said, finding her own panties around her right foot and stepping back into them. “And I suddenly thought about how short life is. I wanted to be taken, and I didn’t want to wait.”

He chuckled as he finished buckling his belt, “Jesus. Fuck that was good. You drained the shit out of me.”

“Mmm, and you fucked the hell out of me. Whew!” she exclaimed, finally seating her panties comfortably and pulling the strap of her dress up onto her shoulder.

Steve stepped forward and kissed her, her left hand coming up to his cheek. His groin pressed into hers and a light heat radiated from her cunt again.

“Um, stop it!” she smiled at him, pushing him away, “Argh, you do that anymore and I’ll need you to fuck me again.”

He unlocked the door and they stepped out, a couple heads on the porch turning their way, followed by the rest.

When they came out onto the porch, hand in hand, everyone clapped as if they’d put on a performance, then laughed openly at their friends, with some light cheering from both the girls and the guys, to which they both blushed But laughed as well.

Steve brought Jenny back to her bench next to Hannah and sat her down, then kissed her hand sweetly before stepping away.

Brady promptly high fived him. “Steve You beast!”

“Dude fuck yeah!” he said enthusiastically, then took a bite from his cheeseburger, “Food’s ready!”

“Dude Steve, you really just go fuck your wife just now?” Osvaldo said, holding a plate of chips, cheeseburger and veggies but not eating anything.

“Yeah, she just, she wanted it, man,” Steve said, sort of shrugging and finding his warm beer, enjoying the sip nonetheless.

“That’s awesome,” he said looking at his wife who’d heard him, her already watching him.

“Don’t you be getting any ideas!” Amanda shouted at him with a smile, and everyone laughed.

Ellen handed Jenny her half-full drink, saying; “Yeah, take it baby!” quoting Steve’s very words from 10 minutes ago. The gals all broke out laughing.  Jenny blushed & felt both violated and riddled with questions.

Ellen just pointed up to the 4 inch vent opening, high on the wall. Jenny’s face said it all. But she quickly recovered and decided to own it. She recovered her proud continence and took a big swig of her iced tea and winked back at Ellen.

“Seriously, what came over you Jenny?” Ellen asked her. She and Joe were the most religious and reserved of them all.

Jenny half shrugged, feeling her man’s cum begin to seep out of her well fucked, wet cunt.

“What? He’s mine, and I wanted him. And I didn’t want to wait,” she said, meeting the prudish woman’s eyes.

“But what even started that?” Amanda asked next, her four five year old son running up to her and wanting a sudden bite.

“I just, I suddenly had a thought about how short life is. And why wait?” Jenny said, Claire having toddled over for the same.

Hannah’s eyes drifted to her husband.

“Not to start like, a thing, but you’re pretty right,” she said, and gave Jenny a knowing look before rising herself and sauntering over to Brady.

Jenny just laughed, the other women commotioned, and as Brady smiled the largest shit eating grin, he handed the spatula off to Jeff and they went inside.

By nightfall, the powder room was a new code-word that every couple knew the meaning of. As the guests said their farewells, everyone hoped the groups would do this again, soon; and often. The group had some unspoken standards of discreteness, and the circle of friends were clearly monogamous and faithful to marital sanctity. But no one left that night with any shame about their coupling priorities.

The next morning at church, they were all as devoutly religious as the widows in the front pew. Yet daydreaming fantasies for some Sunday afternoon delight, after lunch and settling the kids for a nap or a long movie.

Hannah Goes Buck Hunting

Several weeks later, Hannah and Brady had decided to get away from the kids for a bit.

These hunting trips were fun, and more than just camping. Brady always needed something more than camping, and when he was happy the family was happy. For Hannah though, as the mom, this was a ton of work.

If she thought about too much, she’d work herself up into a pissy mood, and she had goals with this ride.

Brady had wanted a new ATV after they’d gotten rid of their first two and trailer, so she’d stated he could, but they’d have to discuss having a third baby.

And they had discussed it. He wanted to wait, she didn’t want that much of a gap between the kids.

It was an on-going discussion, but overall they were happy together and with their lives.

The two of them bounced along the dusty trail with their ATV plume of dust being carried off by the warm eastern Idaho wind. She rode behind him, sunglasses on her pale green eyes and shoulder-length, platinum blonde hair in a bun, clutching his body to stabilize herself and to enjoy the closeness. And also to enjoy the angle of her jeaned hips on the seat, her legs spread naturally due to the design of the machine. Her clit pushed deliciously into the foam, the vibrations continually sending tiny shocks through her system.

He in turn enjoyed her body against his, and especially her white tank top covered, C cup tits being pressed into his shoulder blades. Little did he know her nipples were getting harder and harder against her bra with each minute they rode.

It was at this moment that Hannah thought of the BBQ from several weeks before, and how her friend Jenny had suddenly pulled her husband Steve into their powder room and had sex with him.

The boldness of it had ignited something within Hannah herself, who’d in turn taken Brady upstairs and allowed him to plow her vigorously. They’d both cum, her several times, in a matter of minutes. Their friends had given both couples good natured grief for their impetuousness, and it was of course still hinted about.

Neither couple really cared though.

And as Hannah thought of that day, she did the math and realized today was one of her most fertile.

They came up to a bend in the trail with a gorgeous view of a whole ridge and Brady pulled the ATV over to a stop. He rose and climbed off, getting his binoculars out and began glassing the hillside.

Hannah made her decision and hiked her leg over the seat in order to put her left toe on the heel of her right boot, slipping it off, then followed by the other. She stood on the floorboard and undid her jeans, sliding them and her plain bikini cut grey panties over her plump MILF ass and down to her ankles.

She reached down, pulled her boots back on then pulled her leather belt from her jeans. She seated it around her shapely hips, then reached under her tank top and unclasped her bra, pulling it free and onto the floorboard of the machine with her jeans and underwear.

Lastly, she pulled the front of her top down so her tits were exposed. What warm blooded male could resist?

She walked up to Brady and without ceremony knelt in front of him, staying on her feet so she was kneeling obscenely, her knees spread wide.

The breeze had made most of the noise she’d made imperceptible to her husband, he only noticing when she’d come near, and that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

What was unusual was his fly suddenly being undone, his glassing immediately stopped to look at his mostly undressed wife fishing his eight and a half inch cock out of his boxers and jerking it off as she looked up at him with a smile.

“Brady?” She asked coyly, kissing his quickly hardening mushroom head. “Can I please suck your cock?”

“Hannah, what the fu - uh fuck,” Brady said, her tongue running up the length of his shaft before twirling around the end, her hand still clasped around the base. “Uhh, uh, fuck woman. Ahh god damn!”

She’d not really waited for his permission, engulfing as much of his cock inside her hot, wet mouth as she could. She wasted no time in bobbing her head, keeping her hand at the base to keep herself from gagging.

She’d had a bit of a wild youth, but she was still human and maintained a healthy gag reflex.

Brady though had gone from looking for antler tips in his 10 by 50 binos to suddenly having his tool worked over by his wife.

But she sure didn’t look like his wife in this moment. He could see glimpses of her boots on her feet, her naked ass with just her belt around her sexy waist. Her boobs were out of her shirt and while her one hand was around his meat her other was down in her crotch, moving in the telltale motion of frigging herself.

It was several minutes later, when she was looking up at him with those pretty green eyes, moving her face along his fully hard cock when she stood her body up, remaining bent over at the waist and blowing him at the same time, her tongue playing along the underside of him. He couldn’t take it anymore and needed to act.

He dropped the optics and grabbed her head with both hands, taking charge and pushing her down himself with force, her hand having nowhere to go but to his thigh to steady herself as she fully gagged and choked.

Brady didn’t care in the moment though, feeling the back of her throat hit his tip and shoving further anyway. When she coughed it opened her up and he went further, her nose finally pushing into his stomach.

He thrusted several times into the fuck hole that was her mouth before he let go of her, allowing her air and a reprieve.

*Cough!* “Fuck baby!” *cough cough!* “Got you going huh?” She spat out, standing upright.

But Brady was the man in their house. She was his woman.

She’d wanted to fuck around? Well she was about to find out.

He pushed Hannah towards the ATV, her stumbling the several steps with his force, her hands going to the side of the rear rack before being able to turn towards him. His eyes had a different look to them as she leaned her ass up against the metal rack.

“You sure the fuck did,” he said, not pausing or asking.

He grabbed her left leg and lifted it, unceremoniously plunging his cock inside her sopping wet cunt all in one glorious thrust as her booted foot rested on the floorboard.

“Ah! Oh, god!" Hannah screamed, her slit so lubed by her thoughts and ministrations that all she felt was pleasure as her tunnel was stretched around the invader.

Brady grabbed her right hip as he wasted no time, slamming into his wife with hard, forceful pounds. If she wanted to act like a slut, he was going to fuck her like one.

"Ahh yeah, fuck yeah baby,” he said, hips pumping away at Hannah’s gash now with more speed instead of strength, savoring the feeling of her heat wrapped around him properly.

“Oh, fuck,” she said, her whole body moving with each hump. “You, feel, so, good. Ah, ah, ah. You’re, gonna-a, make, me, cum, ah fuck!” she said, then screamed.

She was orgasming. Here in the woods and wilds of Idaho. Being taken by her mate like countless females from eons prior, her flesh milking the organ that would make her round with child.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh” he merely said, satisfying his basest instinct, his length mostly buried within her quivering and gripping snatch.

Again it was her eyes, her eyes that caught his at the tail end of her climax, squinted with exertion and pleasure but opening enough to see his that, combined with her words, made him unable to hold back.

“Do it Brady. Give it all to me.”

“Ugh-fuck! Huh-huh-huh-huh!” he gritted through his teeth as his balls boiled and his seed rocketed out of him and into the canal of his female.

He was thrusting wildly, gripping her ass more than her hip as he pumped her body full of potent semen, eventually coming down and catching his breath.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. God, damn. That was amazing,” he said, spent.

But Hannah was a woman. And right then she was a woman on a mission.

She brought her left leg down to the ground as Brady fell out of her cunt, quickly turning and arching her ass out before reaching back and guiding his still hard enough member back into her cum-filled hole.

“Wha-oh god damn!” was all Brady could get out as his wife thrust her ass back against his hips, stroking his cock with her already white-coated walls in order to maintain his stiffness.

“I’m not done with you honey,” Hannah said, looking over her shoulder and smiling, taking him inside of her again. “You need to pump another load in me.”

Brady’s head came upright from its tilted back position. He’d enjoyed the orgasm immensely, and had been looking up into the trees as she’d begun fucking herself on him, but her words brought him back down.

“Oh- is that what you’re doing? You’re looking to get knocked up?” he said, looking her square in the eye as his energy renewed with his clearing mind.

She chuckled as his prick within her was stiffening more than it was deflating, “Well it’s working so far babe! Ah, ah, ah, huh!" Hannah had started to goad him, but his sudden grab of her belt and violent thrusts into her cunt stopped her words and forced feminine moans from her instead.

"You’re, fucking, manipulating, me, into, pumping, a kid, in, you?” Brady grunted each word, unrelenting in his carnality.

“Ah, ah, ah!” was all she could say in response, her nipples hard as erasers moving with her breasts to their rhythm as Brady put his own thumb in his mouth, adjusting his other hand to pull on the belt with each thrust, driving ever harder into her vulnerable snatch.

Then Brady suddenly stopped his pounding, Hannah’s body moving on its own for several moments before he grabbed her hair and pulled her head backwards.

“Fine bitch,” he seethed into her ear, placing his saliva coated thumb at her anal entrance, his fingers pulling on the belt, her eyes going wide. “Then I’m going to knock you up properly.”

His digit breached her backdoor in moments, fully seated and taking her tight, final virginity, held in place one-handed by his grip in her hole and the leather in his fingers.

Even with all the sex she’d had in her wild years, all the cocks she’d sucked, cum she’d swallowed, loads on her face, chest, stomach, back, ass and up her tunnel; after all these years with Brady and the countless boat fuckings, back country car rides with road head and spontaneous fingering, all the seed she accepted into her vagina in the erotic and romantic efforts to have their three kids, she’d never let anyone play with her ass.

“Oh, oh god!” she exclaimed, unable to stop herself from pushing back on the second intrusion, a type of instinct taking over her body and craving more penetration.

She saw stars as his cock thrust for the second time, rubbing delightfully against her other invader through her inner wall, a wordless scream silent from her open mouth as her eyes rolled back in her skull. Her legs shook as her cunt exploded around the stiff rod running through her sheathe.

Brady felt her heat and orgasm not only in the clenching flesh around his pole but in her ring squeezing down on his thumb.

He chuckled as he wiggled it around.

“Yeah, there you go you fucking slut!” he smiled triumphantly as he really began pounding her, fucking her ass now with his hand alternately from his cock in her insanely hot cunt.

They fucked like animals for several minutes, with no words spoken. Just primal animal grunts and moans.

Brady was taking his woman, intent on blasting her womb with the fluid that was designed by nature to ruin her lithe, 36 year old body.

She reveled in giving herself fully to her stud, no longer squeezing her asshole but just relaxing it and allowed him to finger her with unbridled, short jabs. He’d possibly put his baby in her already, but god this was good.

“Oh, fuck,” she said, turning her head despite his hold. “I’m going to get so big. Everyone’s going to know you pumped me full. Oh god, honey! You’re going to fucking destroy my body again!”

Her eyes had gone from passion-filled as she talked to squinting with ecstasy, her whole body rocking with his power.

“Argh, uh, fuck!” Brady exclaimed, finally letting go of her hair to grab her hip, his balls letting go as well.

Hannah knew her husband’s cock well, knew him well, and knew she’d sent him over the edge. She felt the penis swell within her cunt, his pelvis grinding into her ass, his thumb having hooked up and was helping to drive his weapon into her further.

She was still breathing hard from her latest orgasm, and was happy she wasn’t coming still.

She wanted to feel every single moment of this, her last impregnation.

She swore she could feel the cum pulse down his shaft, depositing deep within her stomach. A heat radiated from within her, just below her belly button, and it got warmer are larger as he held her tight and humped her naked ass.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!” Brady grunted, putting all of his being into injecting his wife with his cum, planting his seed as deep as his cock could reach.

She felt every ounce inside her, destined to make her belly bulge, her tits swell, her gait become not a seductive sway but a motherly waddle.

Everyone would know she’d laid down for him. That she’d allowed him to dump his cum into her. To use her. She shuddered, looking down at her flat tummy, knowing it wouldn’t last.

Finally he let go of her hair, allowing her upper body to fall forward. He was most certainly out of breath, and Hannah was breathing heavily. He remembered where his thumb was and wriggled it again within her.

Now that they weren’t actively fucking, Hannah immediately clenched her ring reflexively, holding him in there.

“Hey! You asshole! Careful!” she said, looking back at him and his now quickly softening cock sliding part of the way out.

“Naw naw naw, this is your asshole,” he said, pushing his hand and eliciting a squeal from her.

“Ah, hey, stop it!” she said, but laughed slightly.

Brady laughed too and pulled his cock from her loose cunt, then slowly retracted his thumb, making her sigh when it was out.

“Oh babe, that was fucking amazing,” Brady said, stepping back from her a few feet.

“Yeah, I know,” Hannah said with a grin, finding her panties and getting them on first, over her boots.

She could feel her double load dribbling down her inner walls. She wished she could-

She walked around the ATV, then sat her pantied-ass on the seat sideways, leaning back while holding on to the bar of the rack and the handlebar. The move made Brady groan out loud as she simultaneously craned her head back to look at him upside down, and brought her legs up, tilting her hips.

“Brady,” she said seductively, “Will you please come clean your cock off in my mouth while your cum knocks me up?”

Brady took a deep, smiling breath as he shuffled up to his open-mouthed wife.
The wind on that ridge spread the news to all the deer in that ravine, While it was clearly not the musk of a doe in heat, several bucks couldn’t ignore their own curiosity, or their territorial aggressiveness. As Brady was about to start up the ATV and ride the ridge to the north; the snort of a buck caught his ear from below the sage brush to the south.
Within seconds, Brady was prone and scoping his rifle toward the sound of the buck. It only took one glance of the 12 point buck, up above the brush. A single shot dropped him. Within 2 hours Hannah and Brady were back at their RV and strapping the field-dressed buck in the ATV trailer.
Hannah was in the camper, preparing a last meal, and packing up to head back home that evening. She was a proud woman. She had captured her trophy, deep in her very fertile cunt. Out behind the RV, Brady had his trophy roped securely on the trailer, for all the world to see.

Hannah gushed on the praises of her provider’s prowess. He was a capable provider.

Brady needed no other affirmation than what his wife gave him.

Brady drove contentedly, fully satisfied by his trophies. One on the trailer, and the other, riding shotgun.

By CoyoteHoward, for Literotica

Father Jim Reconciles his two separate lifestyles. Did God ever ask him to remain celebate for life?

By GrushaVashnadze. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

“Oh yeah, cunt!” he muttered under his breath.

“Yeah, hot fucking cunt!” he continued, ogling the juicy specimen of beauty displaying herself to his lustful eyes. Her pussy was indeed beautiful, pink and delicate, with a finely-crafted blond landing-strip, held open by a pair of painted fingers, so that he could gaze into its hot, wet, steamy depths. He stroked his cock in anticipation, feeling his shaft stiffen and grow, and feeling that exquisite yearning sensation spread outwards, filling his body with testosterone-fuelled bliss.

The owner of said cunt looked at him seductively, the tip of her tongue gently tracing the outline of her lips, her eyes cheekily inviting, one hand kneading her huge, perfect, surgically-enhanced breasts, as the other continued to hold her fuck-lips wide.

“Oh, yeah, baby, I’m gonna fuck that cunt so hard,” he continued. “I’m gonna ram my fucking cock deep in your hot pussy, I’m gonna feel your juicy cunt around my cock, and then I’m gonna fucking come inside you, I’m gonna spurt all my fucking cum deep in your hot fuck-hole till you scream in pleasure. You want that, baby, you want that?”

But there was no answer from the buxom blonde beauty. For she was but a centrefold in a magazine, lying open before him on his bed. One picture among many, actually, for his eiderdown was covered with a selection of his collected periodicals, open to his favourite pages, featuring a variety of nude beauties, all displaying themselves, he liked to think, purely for his pleasure.

His cock throbbed as he stroked it, thumb and two fingers gently rubbing the glans while the palm of his hand wrapped itself around the shaft. He admired his carefully-ordered “cunt collage” as he liked to call it. The buxom blond (“Jenny”, according to the caption) occupied pride of place in the centre of his bed. Surrounding her were half a dozen other centrefolds: “Sabrina”; dark-haired, with huge natural flowing boobs, left hand holding her pussy open whilst one delicate finger of the right curled knuckle-deep into her arsehole; “Brea”; blonde and skinny, with pert breasts, irresistibly smouldering eyes, and a shaven pussy; “Elsa” bleached blond hair, sweet “next-door-girl” smile, hairy blonde cunt with’ “oh fuck!” he muttered, as he felt his cock twitch and jerk in delight, gorgeous flappy cunt-lips which dangled, glistening with little beads of pussy-juice…

He paused his cock-stroking, looking away and upwards at the ceiling, in order to calm himself down: he didn’t want to come too soon. Not yet.

Just in time, the phone rang. Nervously he scrabbled for the receiver.

“Hi Jimmy!”

It was the sultry voice he was expecting.

“It’s Beattie here, wiff yer fantasy call.”

“ Beattie, how are you?”

“Oh, Jimmy, I’m feeling so fuckin’ horny this evening, I’m been so looking forward to our call.”

“Talk to me, Beattie,” said Jimmy, as he resumed slowly massaging his dick.

“Oh, you know me, Jimmy, I just can’t get enough fuckin’. I’m sitting here on my bed, and I’m wearin’ this skimpy negligee, and I’ve shaved my pussy just for you, and it’s so fuckin’ wet, Jimmy, I just can’t wait for you to ram yer big cock in there. D'ye wanna do that, Jimmy?”

Beattie’s voice was warm and breathy, something she had practised and honed over the months she had been calling him. Jimmy knew that, these days, he could instead be watching a video online, or a camgirl, but he was a man of habit and tradition, and he loved the way things used to be when he was younger, when porn was always magazines, and audio invariably meant the telephone. And so he sat at the head of his bed, stroking his cock, listening to Beattie’s breathy seductive personalised filth, whilst he continued to ogle his favourite magazine nudes.

As Beattie spoke, his eyes continued to roam the pages spread open on the bed: “Codi”, a ridiculously slender blonde with big fake tits, pouting lips drooling slightly at the sight of her own shaven cunt, spread wide with two delicate hands; “Emma”, on all fours, so her pussy peeped cheekily out from between her buttocks, crowned by a tight puckered arsehole…

Beattie was very good too: she knew, after some six months of weekly Friday evening calls to Jimmy, just how he liked it. Jimmy wasn’t interested in toys, or blowjobs, or titfucks, or anal, or any other kinks. He liked cunt. He loved cunt. And he adored it when Beattie talked cunt:

“Jimmy…” “my pussy’s feelin’ so hot tonight. Will ye put yer dick in there, Jimmy?”

“It’s all for you, Beattie,” muttered Jimmy, in a half-hearted attempt to play along with the fantasy. Actually, he wasn’t much interested in the role-play aspect of things: it was, after all, pure fakery, but he liked hearing Beattie talk dirty, and so he said the minimum required to let her know that she was on the right track, and then revelled in the glorious obscenity of her wall-to-wall aural filth.

“Oh yeah, that feels so fucking good!” “Your cock’s so fuckin’ hard, Jimmy. I can feel it deep in my cunt, fillin’ me up. Go on, Jimmy, slide that huge fuckin’ cock in and out of my wet cunt; can ye feel my pussy all hot and juicy for ye?“

Jimmy listened, his eyes roving across the collage spread out on the bed before him, imagining what Beattie’s cunt might be like. Deliberately, he had never asked her, preferring to make it a new cunt each week: last week’s choice had been “Cecilia”, black, shaven, lips teased apart just enough to reveal her juicy pink haven inside; this week, it would be “Jenny”.

Jimmy loved Beattie’s voice, “chavvy South London”, he called it, oozing squalor; in his more lucid moments he imagined her as a single mum on the dole in some squalid high-rise council flat in Tooting, a ne'er-do-well scraping together a living using the only pathetic skill she had. But now she was his tart, his whore, his plaything, his fantasy: she could be anything and everything he imagined. He liked playing this game, as he continued to stroke his dick to ecstasy whilst revelling in Beattie’s increasingly filthy ongoing monologue. Beattie, for her part, was the consummate professional, sensing from Jimmy’s pants and grunts just how far he was on his journey to release. And when Jimmy muttered, “Say my favourite things, Beattie,” she knew just what he meant.

“You know, Jimmy, I’m a dirdy, filfy, cuntfuckin’ whore… That’s what I am, Jimmy, just a cuntfuckin’ whore.”

Jimmy loved those words, and Beattie’s grimy accent was the icing on the cake: his cock jerked and bucked in response, stiffening even further.

“I’m a whore, Jimmy. And you like dirdy fuckin’ whores, don’t cha? You wanna fuck my filfy cunt wiv ‘at big cock?”

Jimmy was in ecstasy. Soon Beattie had progressed to

“My cunt’s so fuckin’ wet, Jimmy: that’s what you do to me, babe. You’re gonna make me fuckin’ come, Jimmy, ‘coz I’m a dirdy, filfy, cuntfuckin’ whore, and I’m gonna fuckin’ come all over your big cock!”

Jimmy took the cue, fixing his eyes on “Jenny’s” pussy, still, of course, reliably wide open and glistening for him, drinking in its beauty, and gradually ramping up the rhythm of his stroking so as to time his own orgasm to match Beattie’s ersatz one. And when Beattie got to;

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come, Jimmy, here it is baby, come all over ye dirdy filfy cuntfuckin’ whore, oh yeah oh Fuck!”

Jimmy did exactly that. He felt the tell-tale boiling sensation in his balls, felt his cum surge and rise through his shaft and explode from his bucking, twitching cockhead.

“Jenny” was the chosen recipient of Jimmy’s cum this evening, six or seven thick ropes of semen splattering over her picture. Jimmy aimed at her cunt, and watched as the likeness of her vulva disappeared under a gloopy coating of semen. Beattie was continuing to moan and squeal down the telephone line:

“Oh yeah, Jimmy, are ye comin’ for me? Does ‘at feel good, babe?”

as the last few dribbles of sperm landed on “Jenny’s” tits and face. Beattie’s voice turned breathy and softer;

“Was 'at nice, Jimmy?” "Do ye like comin’ in my dirdy hot cunt, Jimmy?“

Jimmy panted incoherently in reply, his imagination desperately clinging on as long as he could to the illusion of sexual fulfillment. But it was always too short-lived. Even before his cock was flaccid, the illusion was fading and Beattie was in business mode:

"Same time next week still good for ye, babe? Take it off yer card, yeah?”

Jimmy muttered a “Yeah, thanks, Beattie,” before hanging up and surveying the mess. It never looked as good afterwards as he hoped it would before. Sperm-soiled magazine “Jenny” looked, frankly, ridiculous and tawdry now, a far cry from the seductive perfection she had exuded when pristine on the page. And wrapping up and disposing of semen-soaked magazine pages was anything but sexy. But Jimmy did so with his customary goal-oriented efficiency, trying to, and largely succeeding in, staunching his creeping feeling of shame, until the job was done, his penis was wiped clean, and he had put on his clothes again.

Then his collar.

And then his cassock.

And then Father James Wright knelt on the floor of his bedroom and wept bitterly.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the Divine Power of God; cast into Hell Satan and all the evil spirits, who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of… oh fuck…”

Father Jim’s voice tailed off. He had performed his morning ablutions, had his breakfast, and said his Office, and was preparing himself by examination of conscience for his weekly two-birds-with-one-stone excursion to the Cathedral, first to confession, followed by his weekly exorcism training seminar. He usually dressed in civvies for these visits, not wanting to draw attention to himself on public transport, but he never missed his hebdomadal chance to unburden his soul, and timing it for Saturday mornings made sense. Apart from anything else, this way, he felt less guilty saying the Eucharist over the weekend than if he were to have his Friday evening sins hanging on his conscience.

But this morning Father Jim’s voice gave up mid-supplication, as the thought impinged upon his intercessions: Am I a hypocrite? Actually, this was a thought which frequently went through his mind. The answer, of course, was yes: regularly, deliberately, and with full foreknowledge, every Friday night, and he knew it. For hypocrite though he was, he was neither stupid nor deluded. He had learnt to corral his fleshly weakness into one weekly episode, and it would soon be, gratias Deo, effaced from his soul by the Sacrament of Reconciliation, after which he could continue to pursue his presbyterial vocation with confidence. Until next Friday.

Today, though, he felt somewhat less confident than normal, less spiritually bullish, more vulnerable than usual. Perhaps it was the weather, dull and grey like many an English spring morning, but it was almost as if he felt that the hosts of Satan were genuinely massing on the horizon, and that he might truly need the intercession of an archangel to forestall the ruin of his soul. In short, Father Jim’s carefully calibrated balancing act between spiritual propriety and sexual concupiscence was feeling unaccountably precarious this morning.

He was just letting himself out of the presbytery when a young woman came dashing round the corner, her heels clicking unevenly on the pavement.

“Father Jim! Father Jim! Oh, I’m so glad I caught you. Please would you hear my confession?”

Behind the urgency of her request Jim descried a pleasingly upper middle-class voice (“so” came out a bit like “say”), but ever so slightly Estuary (“t” in “caught” barely noticeable), as was common with the younger generation.

Father Jim thought, but did not say: Oh fuck. He tried not to think swear words between Saturday morning confession and the end of mass on Sunday evening. But he had not been to confession yet, and therefore made the split-second judgment that he may as well, for now, think obscenities. After all, he liked them; he liked the sound of them: “fuck”, beautiful, he thought. And this young lady was, he thought to himself, “fucking hot”. She was slender and small, almost a waif, and yet her pencil skirt was just a touch too tight, and her blouse ever so slightly translucent, so that the shape of her nipples, puffy and rounded but not huge, made two soft tents in the front of her top.

Oops, he thought, as he felt his penis begin to stir inside his rather ill-fitting trousers. No, it would not do to be groping his cock out of the way in front of a parishioner, so he banished “fucking hot” from his brain with a quick piece of well-practiced spiritual legerdemain, and switched into concerned parish priest mode. He vaguely recognised the girl, from the back row of the 10:30, perhaps? but wasn’t sure if they had ever exchanged words. He felt within his rights to say, “I’m actually on my way out now, er…” as he looked at her quizzically with that I’ve-forgotten-your-name look customarily used by parish priests.

“Bernadette, call me Bernie,”

said the woman, pronouncing the “r” softly but clearly.

OK, thought Father Jim. Typical second-generation immigrant. Tries to keep up the religious traditions of the home country, but talks like a Sloane except when asserting her identity. Clearly done well for herself, been to uni. But, Jim groaned inwardly, she wasn’t taking the hint.

“Oh please, Father, I really need you to hear my confession, I… I…”

Father Jim looked into her eyes for the first time, and there was that look of moral desperation he was used to seeing in some people. Some could live in their sins for long periods of time before emotional need drove them back to the Church; others, like this girl, presumably, were made of less stern stuff. Her eyes glistened with barely held-back tears, as she continued:

“I think I may be under a curse, or a hex, and I… I know you are training to be an exorcist, aren’t you?”

Her lower lip trembled, as her damp eyes pleaded with him.

In the silence of his heart, Father Jim thought to himself: Oh fuck. But he took no pleasure in this particular iteration of his favourite obscenity. He had met this kind of woman before: excessively impressionable, with an inclination to see spiritual warfare lurking under every pebble, when her only problem might a temporary imbalance of hormones. Exorcism? Bullshit. But Jim was, despite his cynicism, a kind man, and so he said, “All right, Bernie. Of course. Let’s go in,” as he ushered her through his front door. “Face-to-face, or in the box?”

“Oh, I prefer the old-fashioned way, if that’s all right, Father?”

she replied sheepishly.

He gestured her down the corridor towards the church, and then up the long nave, pleasantly illumined by the shifting colours which filtered dully through the great east window. As she walked ahead of him, he watched her bottom jiggle gently from side to side, red heels clicking on the stone floor, her medium-length ponytail of light brown hair swishing behind her. Fuck, he thought, and this time revelled in the thought. Fuck yeah… he muttered silently, his mind’s eye briefly, secretly, undressing her from behind.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,”

said the girl, once they had both settled into their respective halves of the confessional.

“How long has,”

“Oh, over a year, Father. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Fuck, thought Father Jim. But, because he was basically a kind-hearted man, he instead said: “Well, take your time. It is good that God has called you back to the Sacrament now.”

“Thank you, Father.” “I… I’m married…” "But I’ve not been strictly… faithful…“

There was a long pause.

Ho ho, I knew it, thought Jim. Another pretty young slut, got hitched too soon, screwing around behind her husband’s back. Two a penny. Had one just last week, didn’t I? But instead he said, "And how long have you been having this affair?”

“Oh, it’s not an affair, Father,” "It’s kind of a weird binge, a bit… perverted, if you know what I mean. On the rebound, I guess, because I walked in on my husband, you know, with someone else…“

Oh shit, thought Father Jim. This’ll take all morning. Web of adultery, seen it all before. One fucks around, the other goes off the rails, and soon they’re all crotch-deep in moral turpitude. Why do they even bother to get married if they’ve got no continence? Should try and be celibate, then they’ll learn how lucky they are… All that passed through his mind in an instant, but of course he voiced none of it.

"You see,” “we were married a year ago, here, before you came: Father Peter married us, and, well, I thought it was going so well. We… we were really good in bed, you know… I mean, we really liked the sex and everything.”

Too much information! thought Jim to himself. But he did not say that either.

“You know, I was a virgin when we got married. I’d saved myself up for this. And the first time, it was wonderful. You know, for some girls it hurts? But for me it was bliss. He just slid in, and I loved it. And we loved it, just like that, in and out, you know?”

Father Jim felt his cock begin to stir. It was the inevitable involuntary reaction to a sexual confession which was becoming just a touch too detailed. Fuck, girl, why are you telling me all this? he thought. But Bernie continued to jabber, exuding, though unseen, an air of wide-eyed innocence from behind her latticed screen.

“But then Giles started wanting me to do things I didn’t want to, you know, oral, and anal, and stuff, and I really wasn’t comfortable with it, so we had a few arguments about that. "I mean, when he wanted me to give him a blowjob, you know, he’d just pull down his trousers and waggle the thing in front of my face…”

Too much fucking information! Jim screeched in the silence of his own heart. But he couldn’t stop himself imagining the husband’s cock, stiff and huge, waggling back and forth in front of Bernie’s pretty face, her narrow mouth opening wider, wider, her tongue extending to lick pre-cum off the frenulum before her lips softly enclosed the… Fuck, Jim, pull yourself together, man! he thought, as he felt his cock begin to make an uncomfortable tent in his trousers. He stammered out loud, “Er… sister, you don’t need to tell me all that, you know, just stick to…”

“Oh, but it’s important, Father,” “Because that’s what led to it. I told him I didn’t like sucking him off, but he kept trying to persuade me, and I kept saying no…”

Father Jim imagined he detected the faintest hint of a smirk in her tone, but of course it was impossible to tell…

“And then,” "there was the anal. Sometimes when we were making love he’d wet his finger with… well, you know… and then he’d reach round and try to stick it in there. I really didn’t like it, and of course he never forced me; I mean, he’s a kind man, he’d never do anything nasty, but it was clear he was disappointed…“

Oh Jesus motherfucking Christ, thought Father Jim. His cock was stiff now, and he could feel his own pre-cum beginning to leak slowly from his glans. He reached down to adjust his cock inside his trousers, and inevitably his hand lingered just a bit too long, grasping his own erect shaft through the fabric and squeezing it gently. That familiar thrill of pleasure surged through him, but he made himself let go, telling himself: Later, Jim, later. Just get this girl through her confession for now…

"But the strangest thing of all, Father,” "was when he’d want me to talk dirty to him, you know?“

Are you kidding? thought Jim incredulously. Do you think that just because I’m a priest I don’t have male blood boiling in my veins? What are you on about, girl?!

Bernie seemed oblivious to her confessor’s discomfort. Either that, or she was deliberately winding him up, he couldn’t tell for sure.

"See, Father,” "he’d ask me to say dirty words, like… 'tits’… and 'pussy’… and…“ , her voice lingered a while on the first consonant, "fuck”

In an instant, Father Jim’s resistance crumbled. That word was his favourite, a glorious fillip to all that was unholy and self-indulgent in the deepest recesses of his mind, and it banished all his residual will-power to the four winds. He quietly but swiftly unzipped his fly, removed his stiff sweaty cock from its prison, pulled back the damp pre-cum-lubricated foreskin, and began to slowly wank his shaft up and down, his lips trembling, his breath coming in ragged bursts. This was wrong. This was so wrong , he knew it, of course. But he was going to do it anyway. This girl could not possibly be for real. This was no sacrament, this was an ambush. The Evil One was tempting him, and he was succumbing. And he fucking loved it…

“See, Father Jim, it must be something about men, they all like those dirty words so much. My husband did: he wanted me to say things like”

Bernie lowered her voice conspiratorially;

“'Ram your fucking cock in my pussy, baby!’ and 'Fuck my hot cunt with that big dick!’ Things like that… Do you like hearing things like that, Father?”

Bernie’s voice was hot and breathy now. Her prey was in her grasp, and she was playing with him: Jim knew it, but, though he had no idea why this woman had chosen to ambush him in this manner, he knew it was too late. He groaned, as he felt his cock stiffen further in his sweaty palm, felt his heart pound faster with excitement.

“I’m sure we could have worked things out, Father. You know, I got quite used to the dirty talk, that was quite fun actually. But the oral, and the anal; no way. He’d show me videos on the internet, you know; porn? Girls getting fucked in the arse, and taking cocks down their throats; and it just looked so horrible and painful and disgusting. And then he’d show me videos of group sex, and asked if I’d ever like to do stuff like that; and I said no! And then, to show him I really loved him, I’d let him fuck me. I mean, I really loved it when he fucked me: when his cock was all huge and stiff, and then he’d lie me on my back and fuck me all deep and squelchy. Sometimes he’d lie flat on me and grind the base of his cock against my clit to make me come. Sometimes he’d shift down, so his cockhead found my G-spot. Sometimes he’d flip me over and do me doggy. Sometimes I’d go on top and drive him wild, teasing him with my wet pussy lips before plunging down onto this cock. And I loved all that, Father, I did, truly. Cock in cunt that’s the way it’s meant to be, isn’t it? I mean, that’s the way God made us, isn’t it?”

Father Jim groaned at the absurdity of his situation. Here was a young girl giving him lessons in Saint John Paul’s Theology of the Body, while he stroked his cock in the confessional, what the fuck was going on?! But he couldn’t stop now. His cock was raging, his balls were aching, and his thoughts were in mindfuck mode. Here was a girl after his own heart, one who loved being fucked in the cunt, and who loved to talk filthy. “Oh yeah, oh fuck, oh God…” he muttered incoherently in his ecstasy.

“You Okay in there, Father Jim?” "I’m sorry for being so explicit, but ; I kind of have to, you’ll see why soon, I’ll explain…“

You don’t have to explain, thought Father Jim’ as far as he was capable of thinking anything at all, for he was past thinking now. His mind was now fixed firmly on cunt, on fucking cunt, just like this girl was saying: cock slip-sliding in and out, grinding against engorged clit-flesh. It didn’t matter whose cunt: his years of fake fantasy sex, week after week of dirty pictures; "Jenny” or “Codi” or “Elsa” or whoever the fuck they were; or of listening to “ Beattie” recycling her mind-banked fuck-fantasies for his delectation; all this had inured him to the sheer fakery of being a sex-obsessed celibate. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered now, except the filth-filled moment.

“But then,” “one day, about six months ago, I came home early from work, and… and I heard voices from the bedroom upstairs. I was about to walk in, but then, through the door, I heard things like, 'Oh yeah, suck that cock, baby. I’m gonna fuck your pretty slut-face with my big dick…’ ; you know, things like that?” Jim heard a nervous giggle from behind the lattice. “And there was the sound of squealing and gagging, like some girl was getting their throat fucked… So then I thought maybe he was watching porn…? But this was too real; and when I realised what must be going on… Oh God, Father, it hurt so much…”

For the first time, Father Jim paused stroking his cock. The girl was sobbing softly now. Father Jim felt sorry; and guilty. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, as his cock began to soften, and he began to recognise the reality of his own situation. And so his “I’m so sorry” became, retrospectively, not just an expression of sympathy for Bernie, but also an admission of his own culpability. What was he doing sitting in the half-light, pre-cum smeared over his hand, jerking off while listening to a vulnerable, disturbed young woman telling him about the moment she found her husband cheating on her? Shame on you, Jim, he told himself silently.

But Bernie had not finished.

“And so I opened the door,” “and there they were: Giles standing there shirtless, his big cock stuck out through his fly, ropes of spit dangling from the shaft and dribbling all over the face and tits of my best friend Vicky; you know Vicky: Victoria Berry, she runs the First Holy Communion programme here…? Anyway, she was saying, 'Oh yeah, babe, I fucking love it when you choke me with that big cock, go on, ram that cock down my throat again…’

"And then she saw me, before he did. At first she paused in shock. Then she screamed. And then she retreated to the corner of the bedroom, desperately trying to cover up her big tits and wipe the spit off her face. 'Oh God, Bernie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!’ But she wasn’t sorry; and I knew it.

"Giles didn’t even pretend. He just stood there, spit dribbling from his cock, smirking. He even said, 'Wanna join us, Dette? Come here and I’ll fuck your cunt just the way you like it, while Vicky licks my balls…’

"And I… well, I had no idea what to say. So I just screamed at him, ’"Just the way I like it” ; sorry?! You’re nothing but a fucking pervert, with all your porn, and your anal and your throatfucking. And now this?! How dare you treat me this way; your wife?! What’s wrong with you?!!’ And then… I didn’t know what to do: I wanted so much to hurt him, to make him suffer, standing there all smug with his dick dribbling all over our carpet. But more than that, I wanted to protect myself, to purify myself of the horror and degradation of it all. I wanted to show him I was better than all his filth, to save myself from where he was wanting to take me. So I shouted, 'You’ll never fuck me again, you bastard! No man will ever fuck me again. I swear, as God is my witness’; and I know I shouldn’t have sworn, Father: I shouldn’t have said anything like that, but, God forgive me, I did; 'I swear that no man will ever fuck this cunt again -or may God strike me dead!’ And then I ran out. And I never went back.

“So now what do I do, Father? I mean, I’ve called a curse down on myself. May God strike me dead if I break my vow! that’s what I said! And, you know, I’ve stuck with it, Father. I’ve kept my vow. Ever since then, I’ve not been fucked. And that was six months ago; probably just before you came to this parish, wasn’t it?”

Bernie paused. And Father Jim sat in the half-light, bewildered, confused, and scared. This woman must be unstable, he thought. Stark raving mad, actually. Why else would she come to the confessional to tell him, in the filthiest language imaginable; what exactly? that she had caught her husband in flagrante delicto and had now, on the rebound, forsworn sex?

“Bernie… Bernie…” Jim fumbled for the right words. “What can I do for you? You have committed no mortal sin. You don’t need exorcism – or even confession. But do you want help? Counselling? We have a wonderful ministry here for separated and divorced Catholics: let me put you in touch with the leader, she could help you…”

“No, Father,” interrupted Bernie firmly, “you don’t understand. I swore that I if am ever fucked again, God must strike me dead. I am under a curse, Father and I need to be released. And you are an exorcist, are you not?”

Father Jim sat in the semi-darkness, his flaccid cock dangling out of his fly, a little droplet of pre-cum still glimmering on his glans, and he took a deep breath. “I have been receiving training, yes; but you don’t need exorcism. Your words were spoken in haste, in an understandable excess of emotion: God will not hold that against you. You need to rebuild your life, not live in fear of an imagined curse that…”

“Father,”

Bernie interrupted again, even more firmly that before,

“Pray over me now: release me from my curse. The Evil One has my cunt in his grasp. After all…”

Beattie paused, then spoke very slowly and clearly;

“I am a dirty, filthy, cuntfucking whore.”

Father Jim’s heart skipped a beat. “What did you say?” he gasped.

“I said, 'I am dirty, filthy, cuntfucking whore.’ Or, would you prefer it like this:

'I’m a dirdy, filfy, cuntfucking whore, Jimmy!

Father Jim leapt up; terrified. Now he knew he was in trouble. Who was this girl? Who was she pretending to be? Who was pretending to be whom? And what was she after? And why was she playing with him like this? What it a trap? All these thoughts raced through his mind, but he did not have time to voice any of them before Bernie’s voice (or was it Beattie’s?), cold as steel despite the muffling effect of the latticed confessional screen, said:

"Don’t put yer cock away, Jimmy. Leave it danglin’ like the good li'l wanker you are, and join me in front of the Sacrament.”

He heard the door on Bernie’s side of the confessional open, and her heels click-clicking across the stone floor in the direction of the altar.

Obediently, though trembling in terror, Father Jim opened his door; and gasped. For Bernie’s tiny waif-like figure was naked now, apart from her red high heels, her tight bottom wiggling and swaying as she walked ahead of him, the wispy outline of her pubic hair just visible between her soft buttocks.

“Do 'ye like it, Jimmy?” smirked Bernie, as she looked back over her shoulder to watch his cock, still dangling awkwardly out of his fly, begin to stiffen again. “This is whatcha wanted ta see when you followed me in here, wasn’t it? Because ye like cunt, don’t ye, Jimmy? Nuffink better than the sight of a hot cunt peeping out from between Beattie’s arse-cheeks, eh? Ye wanna fuck my cunt, Jimmy? 'Coz you can…”

She reached the sanctuary steps, and turned to point one accusing finger at Jim as she bellowed;

“After you fucking excercise it!”

Beattie’s demented scream echoed off the stone walls of the church, as she backed up the three steps to the sanctuary and lifted her bottom onto the altar, carelessly scattering crucifix, sacramentary and candle-stands onto the floor. She spread her legs wide and leant back on her elbows, pert puffy tits and lightly thatched pussy-gape shamelessly displayed. Father Jim stood, horrified and transfixed in equal measure. The detritus of Beattie’s blasphemy lay scattered on the floor; but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Oh yeah, cunt! he thought, despite himself. Yeah, hot fucking cunt!

Beattie knew what he was thinking.

“Do 'ye like it, Jimmy?” she breathed. “If ye wanna fuck it, get yer prayer book, and fuckin’ remove my curse!”

Beattie began to slide one finger into her pussy, wetting it with her fuck-slime and gently rubbing her clit. Father Jim hesitated, rooted to the spot in terror, until Beattie screamed again,

“Get yer fucking prayer book and pray my curse away, Jimmy!”

Father Jim scrabbled through a pile of books on the front pew, retrieved a copy of Prayers Against the Powers of Darkness, and raised his right palm towards Beattie, who was now panting in ecstasy as she rubbed her clit with one hand, two fingers of the other plunging in and out of her sodden pussy.

“Lo… Lord Jesus Christ,” stammered the priest, “I place my sister at the foot of Your cross and ask You to cover her with Your Precious Blood which pours forth from Your Most Sacred Heart and Your Most Holy Wounds. Cleanse her, my Jesus, in the living water that flows from Your Heart. I ask You to surround her, Lord Jesus, with Your Holy Light.”

“Oh yeah, amen!”

screamed Beattie , as a spasm went through her body; whether of spiritual battle or sexual pleasure Father did not know, but no longer cared. His words were those of prayer; but his mind was fixed on cunt.

Cunt… oh yeah, cunt! he moaned in the silence of his heart, even as he continued to stammer: “In… in… in the… Holy Name of Jesus, I break and dissolve any and all curses, spiritual influences, evil wishes, evil desires, and every dysfunction and disease from any source including your mistakes and sins. In Jesus’ Name, I sever the transmission of any and all vows, pacts, spiritual bonds and satanic works.”

“Fuck yeah!”

screamed the girl, as another spasm passed through her body. Three slimy fingers were now pounding in and out of her cunt, as the other hand rubbed frantically at her clit.

Father Jim’s cock was stiff and throbbing again; but with one hand holding his prayer book and the other extended towards Bernie, he could not touch it, but continued to read with a trembling voice: “In the Name of Jesus, I lift this curse. I thank You, Jesus, for setting my sister free. Fill her with charity, compassion, faith, gentleness, hope, humility, modesty, tranquillity, truth, understanding, and wisdom. Help her to walk in Your Light and Truth, illuminated by the Holy Spirit so that she may praise, honour, and glorify Our Father in time and in eternity.”

“Fuck yeah, Jesus!”;

screamed Bernie, as her whole body shook from head to toe, four fingers now forming a blur as they pounded in and out of her cunt.

“Free me, Jesus! Free my fucking cunt! Oh fuck! “

Father Jim’s cock was sticking horizontally out of his fly, throbbing with wild desperation. Pre-cum dribbled down his shaft; but still he did not touch, as he continued to stretch out his right hand in prayer: "For You, Lord Jesus, are the Way, and the Truth, and the Life, and You have come that we might have life, and have it to the full.”

Bernie’s whole fist was now pounding in and out of her cunt, her fuck-lips stretched wide in agony and ecstasy as she screamed,

“Depart from me, Satan! Oh, I’m cumming! Oh yeah!”

Juice squirted from her cunt, across the floor and down the stone altar steps, splattering Father Jim’s shoes and trouser-legs.

“Surely God is my salvation,” intoned the priest, lips and hands trembling but his cock throbbing nevertheless. “I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord himself, is my strength and my defense; he is my salvation.”

“Amen… Amen…”

whispered Bernie as she slowly withdrew her slimy hand from her cunt, her fuck-lips stretching wide, leaving her pussy gaping, her pink flesh glistening in front of Father Jim’s face. The priest lowered his right hand, then stood, staring, bewildered, drained; but his cock still stiff and dribbling.

Bernie, had a wild deranged smile spreading across her face.

“I’m free, Father,” "Jesus has set me free from my curse!“

Jim stared in horror. Bernie’s face was luminescent, demented. But her cunt shone with a different kind of gleam; and Jim could not tear his eyes away from it.

"I can fuck again, Father,” "My cunt is free again: look!“

She spread her pussy-lips wide, so that Jim could stare into her pink gloopy bubbling depths. And then she said the inevitable:

"Now fuck me, Jimmy…”

Father Jim gripped his cock with his right hand, even as his left held his prayer book tight. He was scared; terrified of what he had just done, and of what this deranged troubled girl was now telling him to do. He knew this was all wrong. But the scent of frigged-out cunt, the sight of that glistening pink fuck-flesh, and the sound of her sultry voice breathing at him, were too much to withstand.

“Fuck me, Jimmy,” “Fuck my hot cunt. 'Coz I’m a dirdy, filfy, cuntfuckin’ whore. And you like dirdy fuckin’ whores, don'tcha? You wanna fuck my filfy cunt wiv yer big cock?”

Father Jim nodded, mutely, his right hand gripping his shaft. His prayer book slipped subconsciously from his left hand, landing in a little puddle of pussy-squirt on the stone floor.

“Come on Jimmy,” breathed Beattie. “Don’t be scared. My cunt’s all safe now. No curse no more. And I’ve been waitin’ for this for so long, Jimmy. Every fuckin’ Friday night I’ve had my fingers up my cunt, rubbing myself off for ye, listening to ye spurt your hot cum all over yer wank-mags. Now it’s time for you to fuck my cunt for real, Jimmy!”

“Wh… who are you?” stammered Father Jim. “Why me?”

Beattie spread her cunt-lips again.

“Later, Jimmy, later,” "Now fuck me.“

Trembling, Father Jim walked up the three stone steps to the edge of the altar, where Beattie sat, her legs spread wide, still adorned by her red high heels, her cunt pungent, oozing, inviting. He nudged his bulging cockhead against her cunt-lips, and pushed.

"Oh God!” He could not resist calling out; for here, now, for the first time ever, was something he had fantasised about all his life. He felt Beattie’s soft moist velvety depths yield and engulf him, felt her juices gently coat the length of his shaft, felt her inner cunt muscles squeezing, caressing. And then he started to fuck; slowly at first, relishing the heavenly-hellish feeling of her slip-slimy walls stroking the full length of his shaft as it slid all the way out, then in, and then again, and again, each new thrust taking his cock to a new level of pleasure, and his mind closer and closer to ecstasy.

“Is 'at good for ye, Jimmy?” “You lifted my curse, Jimmy. I knew you could, Mister Father James Wright! From the first time I saw yer card details I knew you were the one to save me. Giles and Vicky can go fuck themselves: 'coz I got a priest to set my cunt free!”

Jimmy knew deep down that this girl was mad, that he had been trapped, and that this meant the end of everything he had ever truly valued: his vocation, his career, his friendships, his reputation. But… cunt. Cunt. This was not like jerking off over his magazines on Friday night. This cunt was real; and truly, he saw that it was good. Beattie was now talking to him the way he could never resist:

“Feel how fuckin’ wet my cunt is, Jimmy? That’s what you do to me, babe. You’re gonna make me come, Jimmy, 'coz I’m a dirdy, filfy, cuntfuckin’ whore, and I’m gonna fuckin’ come all over your big cock!”

By GrushaVashnadze for Literotica.

Fully Compatible.

In 3 parts, by Member389. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The next morning he had the hood up on Ellie’s car and had tried turning it over a couple times, and the starter took, but it didn’t want to fire. He looked into the possible problems and everything looked in good shape, so he figured he’d look up the symptoms online and most pointed to the fuel filter, so he made a quick rundown the parts store and picked up a new one. That seemed to do the trick, once it was installed he was able to start her car several times without any problem.

Ellie came trotting down the stairs with a plate and mug. She walked up to Luke and leaned in fast and gave him a kiss.

“Thank you! What was wrong?”

“Fuel filter, I replaced it and now it’s turning over first try.”

“Hungry? I got up earlier than I thought so I baked banana bread.”

He smiled. “Absolutely, let me go wash the gas off my hands.”

“Here, this will make sure you come back.” She broke off a piece and fed it to him. As he hummed his appreciation.

“You think that’s all that will have me coming back? Remind me to fix the mirror in your bathroom.” He leaned in and kissed her again. “That is awesome banana bread though.” He grinned as he jogged into the house. He came back out to find her sitting on the hood of her car, half the slice she’d brought out was gone.

“Do you drink coffee?” She asked, and he nodded. “Guess I should refill this then, huh?” She chuckled. “If you hadn’t taken so long to wash up you might have gotten this cup. Come on up, and I’ll slice some more of this awesome bread.”

“Isn’t this how the spider lures the fly into its web?” He chuckled.

“Can spiders even make banana bread? I can assure you that I’ll never trap you, but as my dad used to say, ‘If you want the honey, you gotta deal with the bees.’ I think he meant that you have to take a chance on the bad stuff to get to the really good stuff.”

“Sounds like a good philosophy. I’m kind of scared though. What’s the bad stuff?” He paused for a moment.

“Have you always been such a deep thinker?” She asked.

“I used to get called out by my mom for being introverted and quiet. She was always trying to get me out of my shell.” He shrugged and smiled. “But quiet doesn’t mean stupid.”

“I never thought it did.” She refilled the mug with coffee and added sugar and milk, and sliced off a fresh slice for him and brought it to him.

“What about you Luke? Are you willing to brave the bees to get the honey?” She asked.

“I’ve only been called a coward once, by you.”

“I called you a chicken, not the same thing.” She grinned.

“So; what are we doing today?” Luke just smiled and drank his coffee.

“Jeans, comfortable shoes for walking, and a sweatshirt. That’s all you get for now. We should head out early, maybe 2:30 or 3. Is that okay with you?”

“Are we; becoming a 'thing’?” He asked her. The genuine innocence was so sweet.

“Well we’ve only been hanging out a few weeks, but so far so good.” She smiled, and noted that she’d been smiling a lot around him. That was a good sign too.

She was excited and curious. She’d gladly go where ever he wanted right now. She had a quick realization, that her little seduction of Luke was backfiring and without him even trying she was being seduced by him as well. “Do I need to bring anything? Water, snacks?” She asked pushing for a hint.

“No we’ll stop at the store on the way.” He smirked popping the last bit of bread into his mouth, washing it down with the rest of the coffee. “Oh, I have something of yours too. I’ll bring it up when I come to pick you up.” She gave him a questioning look. “Don’t look so innocent. I turned redder than your satin top when my dad pulled your panties out of my back pocket last night.”

Ellie bust out laughing. “I was wondering where they’d gone to. I thought you’d pocketed them you pervert.”

“Oh no! I know now that when you grabbed my ass last night you stuffed them in my pocket! You were hoping I’d get caught weren’t you?”

Ellie had tears in her eyes she was laughing so hard. She didn’t have a clue but Luke was hooked now. He had never seen her look more beautiful.

“No, oh my god no. I did sneak them in there, but not for that reason. I figured they’d be a nice little memento of our first date.”

“I thought tonight was going to be our first date?” He asked curiously.

“Well I couldn’t wait. I invited you to dinner last night, as far as I’m concerned that was our first date.” She leaned on her fist smiling at him. “How was it?”

He looked at her wide-eyed, slack jawed. She leaned forward and slipped her tongue between his parted lips and they kissed deeply. “It was fun wasn’t it?” She asked hoping for a little reassurance.

“It was fantastic.” He whispered urgently and kissed her again. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.” He gave her another kiss then stood and left looking over his shoulder at her beaming back at him. He smiled as he headed down into the house to spend a little time knocking off schoolwork before going out for the night.

He knocked on her door at 2:30 sharp. She called out for him to come in. He heard close the closet door, and she popped out of the bedroom in jeans and a black turtleneck. She held her arms out. “Is this okay?” She asked.

“Perfect.” He smiled. They headed down to his car and once again he opened the door for her letting her settle in before he closed it. He hopped into the driver’s seat and they were on their way. He drove out to the shopping center and pulled into a space at the grocery store.

“When you were a kid, what were the things you remember most about holiday meals. What was that one thing you couldn’t wait for?” He asked, he tilted his head indicating they were going inside.

“This is a first, a date at the supermarket.” She chuckled.

“Seriously. Was there something special that you only had at that time of the year but not usually any other.”

“Mashed potatoes with a lot of butter and pepper. Oh and my mom only used to make that string bean casserole at holidays. I love that too. Pie is a given, pumpkin and pecan, I’d have both.” She smiled.

“Good, good to know. He grabbed a basket and they started wandering around the store and he picked up the makings of the casserole. A couple boxes of instant mashed potatoes, and some canned gravy. He found canned pumpkin and put some of that in the basket. "What else?” Ellie gave him a curious look trying to figure out what he was doing.

“Well, she used to make glazed carrots too. If we were lucky, relatives from up north would send her a bottle of real maple syrup, otherwise she would make it from butter and brown sugar. That was awesome.” He found carrots and put several cans in the basket as well.

“Anything else?”

“Scrabble, well that’s what we called it. The rest of the world knows it as party mix with the cereal and pretzels baked with seasoned salt and our secret weapon, Worcestershire sauce.” Luke found the cereal aisle and grabbed the ingredients, and made his way to the chip aisle and found pretzels to go with it stating that they always had pretzels and mixed nuts in theirs. He looked down and seemed to be counting.

“Okay, first thing that comes to your mind when I say, comfort food.”

“Mac and cheese.” She said, and he grinned.

“Good choice.” He stocked up on the blue boxes.

“Are we stocking a fallout shelter?” She said nervously. He chuckled.

“You didn’t see the big hole we’ve dug in the back yard?” Ellie just rolled her eyes and grinned, she knew this had to be going somewhere and she was getting more curious. They made their way to the front and got in line at the check-out filling a couple of the re-usable shopping bags with their groceries. He stowed all the groceries in the trunk and held the door open for Ellie once again. They were on the road again heading out of town.

“Okay, you’ve got me. I haven’t got a clue what we’re doing.” She giggled. Nearly twenty minutes later Luke turned down a side road following a sign pointing out a fairground entrance. A few miles down the tree lined road the area opened up to fields filled with cars and signs for the county fall harvest festival. He made his way carefully up the dirt path and finding someone directing the parking.

“But why the store?” She smiled as he handed her the lightest of the grocery bags. They walked towards the gate and she saw the truck and tables. A sign indicating donations for the holiday food pantry in lieu of admission to the park could be made there. Ellie grinned at Luke, finally realizing his plan. They brought the bags up to one of the tables and the older couple behind thanked them and asked how many items they had brought. Luke told them twenty-seven, ten per ticket had been requested. “We went a little crazy remembering what we loved about holiday dinners and lost count.” The lady fawned over them while her husband took the bags back to a sorting area near the truck, and thanked them. They took their tickets and went into the fair.

They wandered through the attractions. Luke showed off his prowess for carnival games and won Ellie a stuffed tiger. They wandered through the exhibits, marveling at the giant pumpkins and petting the cute animals. They found the food vendors and ate everything that was bad for them, but you only go to the fair once a year, so they indulged. There was even a concert that night and they sat in the grandstand listening to the band. Ellie was glad he told her to bring a sweatshirt because it had turned cooler as the sun went down. She hardly noticed as they sat there with their arms around one another. He rubbed her back as she held him tight.

“Why didn’t you just tell me about the food drive?” She asked.

“I didn’t want you to think I was trying to impress you.” He paused. “My folks were pretty lucky. They both had good jobs and made a good living. We’ve never wanted for anything. Well there was this one time I wanted a dirt bike and they said no, but that wasn’t because of the money. I think they just wanted me to live to be twelve at the very least. They never let me get jaded, you know, they always wanted me to know there were people who didn’t have. They were much more subtle than the usual, 'Eat your broccoli, kids are starving in Africa’ parents. Hell, I never realized that some of those less fortunate families were kids I went to school with until years later. Giving back is just something they taught me to do. Besides it seemed more fun that way.” Luke smiled down at her. “I got to tease you for a change.”

“Well, it didn’t work.”

“Huh?”

“I’m impressed anyway.” She smiled. “You spent almost twice the cost of those tickets filling those bags.”

After the last song finished a loud whistle screamed out followed by a loud boom. Fireworks had started behind the stage and they sat and watched them arm in arm. Ellie laid her head on his shoulder as they watched, both occasionally jumping at the explosions.

Ellie had taken hold of Luke’s hand as they made their way home down the dark winding roads. She massaged it with her thumb rubbing in slow circles.

“Thanks, I had a great time.” She said softly. She could make out his grin by the dash lights.

“Me too.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

“Luke? When I asked the other night if you’ve ever made out before, you said you hadn’t. Have you ever had a girlfriend? I mean, have you ever had sex?” Her voice was soft but with an inquisitive edge to it. His hand flexed a few times in hers.

“No.” He replied with a nearly silent sigh.

“Any reason?” She pressed. “It can’t be that you’ve never had a chance. You must have had to beat the girls away with a stick in high school.” A soft giggle followed the comment.

“I was pretty quiet, I didn’t have a lot of friends.” He shrugged. Neither spoke the rest of the way home. Ellie had laid his hand on her lap and continued to rub it gently, and he rubbed her leg through her jeans. They pulled into the drive and parked. With all the lights off in the car Ellie slid his hand further up her thigh, and leaned over to kiss him. She was eager and let it be known in her kiss and he responded in kind gripping her thigh tightly.

“Would you walk me up?” She asked pulling away from his lips reluctantly. He got out and walked around to her door opening it. She stood, looked into his eyes and took his hand and led him up the stairs. “Would you like to come in?” She wasn’t sure if she needed to coax him but he was already in the doorway closing it behind him. A faint smile came to her lips and she tried to hide it. He returned the little smirk in kind. “There’s a bottle of wine in the fridge. Why don’t you open it up, and I’ll be right back.” She bit her lip and smiled backing her way to the bedroom. She was giddy because she knew she would have him tonight. She undressed and replaced her every day underthings with the yellow lingerie she bought the day they went shopping together, and dressed again. She wanted to see his face as he peeled her out of her clothes.

She entered the room and Luke stood up. “Who taught him this stuff?” Ellie wondered. She turned off the overhead light and put on a small table lamp. They sat down on the sofa, Ellie leaned into him pulling her legs up beneath her.

“Did you really you have a good time tonight?” He asked. Ellie chuckled and looked him in the eyes. Her smile slipped away as she leaned in to kiss him deeply.

“The night’s not over yet.” She whispered.

Luke’s nervousness was slipping away as he and Ellie began kissing in earnest. He leaned back pulling her on top of him as their hands began to roam over each other. His hand slid up her back slowly lifting the hem of her shirt, he sent shivers up her spine as he caressed her skin. She joined in and reached between them and unbuttoned his shirt pulling it free of his jeans and ran her hand up his t-shirt playing with his nipple.

Ellie broke free of his warm lips and came up to a kneel between his legs, and looked down at him as she crossed her arms lifting her turtleneck up and over her head. She shook her hair out as she tossed the shirt onto a side chair and smiled down at him. She grinned showing off the little yellow lace bra, which made him smile. Luke reached up and grasped the front of her jeans pulling her off balance and back onto his chest in a flurry of giggles. His hands not only roamed her back, but now slid between them as he ran his palm up her bra eliciting a soft moan as he massage her breasts through the fabric.

“The clasp is in back.” She said in a clear invitation. Using his other hand he reached down between her legs and dragged her higher up his body, placing her breast within easy reach of him. Rather than unsnap the band he slipped the strap off her shoulder and pulled the cup down revealing smooth white skin and puckered pink nipple to his hungry mouth. He kissed it gently, causing Ellie to gasp as his tongue ran lazy circles around the tip causing it to get even harder. Her breathing was short and quick. She pulled away from his agonizing teasing, placing her forehead against his, and closed her eyes.

“I don’t know if you want this, but I do. Would you take me to bed and make love to me Luke?”

He looked her in the eyes for a moment thinking it would be his pleasure. Her eyes closed for a moment, when she opened them, he felt himself fall into their depths, and he was gone. He kissed her deeply.

She stood shakily, Luke reached for her steadying her. She smiled as she took his hand and pulled him up too. He wrapped his arms around her taking her mouth with his again. He fumbled a few times with the hook of her bra. She smiled.

“Don’t worry, practice makes perfect.”

“I hope I get a lot of practice then.”

She walked backwards pulling him with her into the bedroom. She reached down and unbuttoned her jeans turning and giving her ass a little wiggle as she pushed them off showing her yellow lace panties, which thanks to the heavy petting on the couch were now quite damp. She kicked them aside and turned back to Luke who just stood there staring, his mouth hanging open. She smiled and pushed his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. He reached to take off the tee, and she stopped him.

“Allow me.”

She lifted the hem of the shirt and ran her hands up his chest and sides lifting the shirt with it.

“You don’t know how much I wanted to do this yesterday morning when you answered the door.” She smiled as she stroked his nipples with her thumbs. “I want you to know how good this feels.” She said leaning forward and taking one into her mouth swirling her tongue and flicking it.

Luke’s breathing got shallow a fast. She took it between her teeth, giving just a light tug before letting it free.

Luke gasped at the sensation. She pushed the shirt up and he raised his arms letting her pull it off completely.

“Damn do you look good without a shirt on.” She said.

“You look pretty fantastic without one too.” He replied smiling. They kissed again, their bare chests touching for the first time sent shocks through them both. The heat they were building was intense and made the room feel cool in comparison. He felt hands on his belt fiddling with it to get it loose, soon his jeans were unbuttoned and the zipper slid down.

 Her hand slid down inside massaging the length of him through his boxers.

“Hmm , that feels nice.” She mumbled into his kiss.

“It’s not very;” She halted him with a firmly planted kiss.

"Enough of that, you’ve been watching too much porn.” She giggled. “Remember, the pyramids were built with hand tools, it’s not the size of your tool, it’s how you use it.” That made Luke chuckle. She began kissing her way down his chest and stomach and eventually knelt in front of him. She reached up and tugged the jeans down to his knees seeing his boxers strain to contain his hardness. She peered up at Luke from under a fallen lock of hair as she reached slowly for the waistband. She pulled down slowly, revealing it finally. Slowly a grin crept across her face as she looked up again.

“It’s perfect.” She said biting her lip. She looked down at it, he wasn’t huge, but he was above average. She couldn’t wait to have him inside her. She peeked up again. “Mind if I take the edge off for you?” Luke just tilted his head wondering what she meant just as she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.

Luke let out a gasp as her lips engulfed him. It’s a wonder his knees didn’t buckle and land him on the floor. She started slowly taking a little more in with each stroke. She let him free and licked the length of him. He was gasping for air, she knew he wouldn’t last, & decided to bring him some relief. She began bobbing her head while stroking him bringing him to the brink.

“Ellie! I’m..” He didn’t get the words out by the time she felt the rush hit the back of her throat. She swallowed quickly hoping she could keep up.

“I’m sorry! Oh, shit.” Luke said looking down at her. As she continued to lick and suck him.

“Well I’m not. Now that the edge is off we can take our time.” She gave him a last lick to clean the tip. “I’m torn between wanting to instruct you and letting you discover on your own. Is there anything you’ve seen that you’ve wanted to try?”

Luke’s expression changed from horror to astonishment. Was this beautiful girl kneeling in front of him. Giving free reign to his sexual fantasies? He reached down taking her elbow and lifted her up so she was standing again, and quickly kicked the rest of his clothing free. Ellie turned and went to the bed pulled back the covers and laid down and looked at him expectantly.

“Why am I naked and you’ve still got those on?” He said nodding at her lacy yellow panties.

She grinned. “It’s because you haven’t taken them off yet.” She snickered. “Though maybe I should do that myself before you pilfer all of my panties.”

Luke grinned and walked over to her and sat on the edge of the bed, and reached for the waistband, he gave a quick peek up at her, she just straightened out and lifted her hips off the mattress giving him the go ahead to slip them off. They released from her hips and as he pulled them from between her thighs the moisture held them in place for a moment as he pulled them free, sliding them down her legs.

“They’re soaking.” He said surprised.

Ellie rolled her eyes a bit and smirked. “You have a, uh, certain effect on me. What can I say?” She sat up leaning into his kiss. “Have you thought about it, or shall I take the lead?”

“I want to taste you.” He said in a whisper. She kissed him deeply.

“Well you know what I taste like up here. Why not explore a little.” She said in a deep voice he’d never heard her use before.

He did just that, working his way down her neck leaving a trail of kisses that caused her to sigh deeply. Then laid a trail to her breasts taking an excruciatingly long time to take her nipple into his mouth.

She moaned a little deeper and ran a hand through his hair while her other found his still hard cock and massaged it slowly not wanting him to go off in her hand.

He lavished attention on her breasts for a while, and Ellie began to wonder if he’d go any further so she gently pulled herself up causing his mouth to land on her rib cage, hoping that would be incentive to continue south. It worked, he made his way down her stomach giving her belly button a little lick causing her to giggle. She gave his hair a tug to get him to stop.

He hesitated as he made his way down over her smooth skin kissing his way around, dragging his tongue slowly nearly torturing her. He slipped around pushing her legs apart and lay between her raised knees. He leaned forward and kissed her, his tongue teasing its way up her swollen pink lips causing Ellie to gasp and grip his hair a little tighter. It took all of her reserve to not pull him down into her, as she relaxed her grip he began to explore and he took the cues she gave him very well, as she leaned in and lifted. He was very attentive and gentle, almost too gentle as her climax neared she moaned a little louder, a little quicker.

Luke surprised her by slipping a finger into her molten core and taking her clit between his lips causing her to cry out and arch up as she peaked quickly. After a couple minutes of panting she lifted Luke’s head by his hair from the task of cleaning up the mess he’d made of her.

“You’ve never done that before?” She asked, an edge in her voice.

He just looked at her in wide-eyed innocence and shook his head back and forth.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked, suddenly worried. She just fell back and laughed.

“No, you did everything right, that’s why I wondered.”

Luke crawled up beside her and she looked over at his sweet face lacquered in her own honey.

She leaned over and kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue. “Listen. I’m on the pill, but I want you to wear a condom anyway. A girl can never be too safe.” Luke’s eyes went wide.

“Shit, I don’t have any. I mean; I never.”

Ellie giggled and reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a little foil packet. “It’s a good thing I was hoping this would happen and prepared for it.”

Luke’s eyes went wide.

“Oh seriously. Guys can be as thick as bricks sometimes. I’ve been practically throwing myself at you since I moved in, Luke. Hasn’t it been obvious?”

“Well I just thought you were being friendly, and well a bit of a flirt. I didn’t think any more of it until last night.” He shrugged.

“You surprised me with the stakes of that Jenga game.” She smiled. “I’m glad I lost.”

“I’m glad you did too.” He grinned.

“Lay back.” She put the packet to her teeth and tore it open. “See how it’s rolled. Place it at the tip, and unroll it like this, and voila. Mr. Happy is now properly dressed for the ball.” Ellie looked down at it, and her smile faded into a look of need as she looked up at Luke.

 "Let me.“ She placed a hand on his chest as she rose up and threw a leg over his body and straddled his hips. She took his length and ran it against her before settling gently down on it. She let out a gasp as he entered her slowly.

Luke lay back taking short quick breaths wanting badly to raise his hips and drive himself into her.

Ellie was in control of the moment, a hand firmly on his chest as she lowered herself further, as she took him in she sped up burying him into her completely causing them both to cry out.

"Oh that feels nice!” She said as she clenched down on him causing him to gasp again. She rose up slowly causing her own deep moan. She rode him for several strokes as he took hold of her hips getting into the rhythm of her body. She pressed herself down on him and leaned forward and kissed him. “Luke?”

“Hmm?”

“Roll me onto my back and fuck me good and hard.” She said biting his lip.

He smiled as he wrapped an arm around her and rolled over taking her with him.

She adjusted quickly and her legs went around him rocking her hips to get him to start.

He was a quick study, and he began thrusting into her in long deep strokes as he attacked her mouth and neck.

“Harder!” She urged. “Don’t stop!”

He had no intention of stopping if anything he was scared he was hurting her as the sound of their flesh meeting, repeatedly rang throughout the room.

“Yes!” Ellie cried repeatedly. He felt his climax approaching again. Ellie began to shudder under him as she let out a series of high pitched moans, he knew then he couldn’t hold out any longer and pushed hard into her releasing as she gripped down on him. He collapsed unable to hold himself up any longer.

They lay there gasping for breath for a long while when Ellie leaned over and whispered into Luke’s ear, in a little sing-song way. “Guess who’s not a virgin now?” She kissed his cheek as she heard him laughing into her shoulder.

“What now?” He asked.

“Well, first thing you may want to do is go and tie off your little goody bag and trash it.” She said. She looked deeply into his eyes. “Will you stay with me tonight?” She asked.

He didn’t know why but Luke’s throat tightened. He looked into her dark eyes, a feeling of falling into them washed over him.

“Yes.” He whispered. “I hope you don’t snore though, I’m a light sleeper.” He grinned.

They both busted out laughing as he rose to go clean up. When he came back the bed had been remade, Ellie lay there wearing his t-shirt which was enticingly short, her long supple legs leading up to the hem, it was obvious that she hadn’t bothered with putting her panties back on. He turned off the light and crawled in beside her, they kissed, and explored as they fell asleep.

Deep in the night they stirred, this time Luke took her slowly. She looked up, the faint light of a streetlight limned his body. Soft moans and whispers broke the peace as they concluded their lovemaking. The quiet enveloped them as they drifted off again.

The rumble of the door opener in the garage woke Luke. His head popped up realizing he wasn’t in his room. He looked down quickly and found shining brown eyes smiling up at him.

“Good morning.”

The blanket had pulled down and Ellie’s breasts were in full view.

“Pardon the morning breath.” He said as he kissed her. “You lost your shirt.”

She giggled. “More like you peeled it off in the middle of the night.”

“Oh shit!” He grimaced, looking at her neck.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” A panicked look settled on his face.

“What?!” She started to panic, and she noticed he was looking at her neck. She bolted out of bed and ran to the bathroom. A moment later she busted out laughing. “I look like I was attacked by a gang of vampires.” She came back out smiling. “Good thing I like turtlenecks.”

Luke was somewhat relieved but still worried. “I’m sorry!” He said again concerned that she’d be mad at him for looking like she’d been beaten.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.” She leaned forward kissing him quickly. “Except maybe waking me up with this a couple times over the last few hours.” She said reaching under the blanket and grasping his hard cock. “Let me check I may have a spare toothbrush, unless you want to run down and grab yours.” She grinned. “Sounds like your dad just left.”

“Yea I’m guessing he went to breakfast without me.” He smirked. “We like this place in town, it has a large glassed in dining room like a greenhouse. On Sundays they do a jazz brunch.” He looked over at the clock noting it was much later than he usually woke.

Ellie smirked. “Well we did have quite a workout last night. It’s to be expected.”

“Let me text him. If we hurry we can join him.” Luke said. “If you’d like to, I mean.”

“I’m torn between having my way with you yet again, but we’ll have plenty of time later. I’d love breakfast. Let me go clean up and find a way to hide the damage. You brute!”

“I should probably grab a clean shirt, & clean up myself. Jeans are fine.” Luke grabbed his jeans pulling them on and pulling on his shirt and made a beeline for the door. He paused at the bottom of the steps to text his dad then made his way into the house to wash up and change. He bolted out of the house to find Ellie leaning against the garage.

“Guys, always taking forever to get ready.” She shook her head. She looked absolutely radiant in the morning sunshine.

“What can I say. I don’t just roll out of bed looking this good, it takes work you know.”

Ellie chuckled as she said. “Seeing first hand evidence to the contrary, I’m calling bullshit.”

“He said he’d just have coffee and wait for us.”

They walked into the restaurant and were directed to the table where he sat. Derek stood as they approached.

“Now I see where he gets it. Hi Mr. Page.”

“Please, call me Derek. What do you mean?”

Ellie grinned as she sat down. “I’ve never seen a guy stand when I walk in the room, or hold the door for me like Luke does. It’s nice.”

“Well chivalry never goes out of style.” He smiled. “I ordered us the sticky buns, they should be out soon. They make their own here, and they’re endless. Thankfully, after seeing how many of them Luke can eat.” They all got a chuckle at that. Luke rolled his eyes.

“Did you kids have fun at the fair?”

“We had a blast.” Ellie said beaming. “Hercules here won me a stuffed tiger, and everything.”

They chatted amiably about school, work and the jazz band group playing at the other end of the dining room.

“What are you doing for the holiday next week?” Derek asked her.

“I’m going back home for the weekend. My mother and my aunt own a bed & breakfast up on a lake. It’s a huge old house which makes it perfect for everybody.” Ellie said. “What about you boys?”

“Not much, we’ll probably have dinner out and catch some football.” Derek replied.

“No way! You don’t have any family around here?”

“None nearby.” Derek confirmed.

Ellie gave them a shrewd look. “Do you work Friday?”

Derek shook his head. She already knew Luke was free. She paused for a moment and excused herself to go find the ladies room.

“Those are some pretty nice shiners.” Derek commented. “When she moves, a few of them peek up above the turtleneck.” He grinned.

Luke turned red. “Uh, yea. Well we went up to her place after we got home.”

Derek grinned held up his hand, and gave a little shake to his head. “No need to explain, you’re both adults.”

They both stopped speaking and stood as Ellie walked back to the table putting her cellphone in her pocket. She smiled at both of them as she sat down again.

“You are both now busy for the Thanksgiving holiday. It would be my pleasure if you would join me next week at the Bed & Breakfast. They have satellite so you won’t miss any football.” She grinned.

“Thank you, but we couldn’t impose.” Derek said.

“It’s no imposition, there will be guests there as well. I just called my aunt and asked if there was room and she said there are still plenty of rooms available for you to stay over. It’s about an hour away, up near the state park on the west side.” She smiled at him then looked at Luke. “Besides, I was going to try and drag him away with me. It doesn’t seem fair to leave you all alone. I’ve already told her you would accept. No backing out now.”

“You’re a regular fireball aren’t you?” Derek grinned. “I guess I have no leave but to accept on my behalf. What about you, Luke. Think you can be persuaded to spend an entire weekend in country with a lovely lady?”

Luke looked at Ellie grinning. “It’ll be tough, but I think I’ll manage.” She raised an eyebrow slightly and nudged him in the shin with her toe. “Ow!”

Derek chuckled deeply. Yes, Ellie was definitely the right choice, there was no doubt in his mind now.

 By Member389 for Literotica.

“About that date?”

In 3 parts, by Member389. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

School went quickly, with nobody lingering on a Friday and Ellie got a ride to work. She thought about what the specials had been today and decided to whip up something special for Luke. It wasn’t easy on a Friday night, it was pretty busy, but the regular clientele dropped off quickly after dinner, knowing that the café closed at 8. A couple tables sported coffee sipping hipsters but for the most part the place had cleared out by then. Ellie had whipped up a little dish for them to share while she cleaned up the kitchen.

“Damn.” Came a voice through the little window. Jody, one of the servers had whispered loud enough to be heard. “He’s hot.”

Ellie popped her head up and scanned where Jody was looking and saw look scanning back and forth. She grinned ear to ear.

“Back off, he’s already taken.” She said softly, but with a little edge of threat in her voice. He may not be taken yet, but she didn’t need any competition from the bubbly little server. “Can you sit him over at the chef’s table.

Jody chuckled. "Some chef’s table, it’s just the table nearest the kitchen door. What’s his name?”

“His name is Luke, and be nice, I have a large selection of cutlery at hand, and I know how to use it.”

Jody walked over and introduced herself. Saying that Ellie had told her she had a friend stopping by. “She said a dark eyed handsome stranger was coming to pick her up. I told her to snap out of it, Prince Charming isn’t real. Then you have to go and prove me wrong.” She smiled, and steered him over to the table against the wall near the kitchen, and fawned over him for a moment and got him a drink. Ellie made sure nothing was burning and wiped her hands on her apron and snuck out of the kitchen.

A smile spread across Luke’s face when he saw her, which warmed her heart. She walked over and he stood up, such a gentleman she thought. She couldn’t help herself and walked right up to him and kissed him softly. At first he seemed surprised but he didn’t take long to return it.

“Hi.” She said drawing it out. “Are you hungry?”

“You mentioned dinner, so I haven’t eaten since lunch.” He grinned.

“Good, park it, and I’ll go whip it up.” She winked at him and turned and wiggled back into the kitchen. Her ponytail danced back and forth as she peeked over her shoulder to make sure he was watching. She put herself into work mode and started pulling ingredients together. When in work mode Ellie was a sight to behold, like a kitchen ninja she got more done with fewer moves than anybody else in the café.

What seemed like only a few minutes later she walked out of the kitchen with two plates of seared scallops and linguine, setting one down in front of Luke and the other across from him.

“One second.” She said as she reached down and pulled the apron string sliding it off her waist. She unbuttoned the chef’s coat she wore and dodged back into the kitchen to hang them up.

She sat down and they began. Ellie peeking up to see if Luke was enjoying it. The speed with which he was eating told her what she wanted to know.

“I should have asked you if there was anything you didn’t like. I didn’t even think of that beforehand. Seafood can be touchy for some people. Hell I didn’t even think to ask if you were allergic.” She said getting frustrated with herself.

“No, it’s delicious!” He was being completely genuine. He saw her getting upset and reached across the table to take her hand and rubbed the back of it with is thumb. “I love seafood. My family used to go out to the beach in the summer;” He trailed off, his expression softened.

It was Ellie’s turn to comfort, and she took his hand firmly in hers. "Tell me about it. I bet you had a blast.” Luke went on to tell her about a trip to the beach they’d taken years earlier and he and his dad had gone fishing and he caught a striper that nearly hauled him overboard. He went from excited to wistful. She knew he was thinking about his mother, his dad had told her the previous week, and sympathized with him.

“I baked a small batch of cookies when I got here. Want to try one? They’re sort of an experiment, but I think they came out pretty good.”

Never one to pass up a cookie he smiled and nodded.

“That’s what I love about working here. I get indulge my creativity, and if things work out sometimes it makes it on the specials board.” She said setting down the frosted lemon sugar cookies. They talked for a while longer and a loud scrape of a chair pulled them out of their reverie. Jody had been sweeping and Ellie noticed the time. They had closed nearly half an hour before.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry Jody. I lost track of time.” Ellie hopped up and started clearing the table.

“No worries hon. I can see why. You just need to clean up that and we’re out of here. I’d ask if you need a ride home, but I think I already know the answer to that.” She chuckled.

Ellie wiped down the table and Luke helped out by flipping the last few chairs up onto the tables so Jodie could finish sweeping. He waited in the front while the girls finished up in the back. He looked out the window at the darkened street, the old style street lamps lending small town charm to the night. They came out of the kitchen whispering between themselves.

“You’re sure you don’t need a ride? This one looks a little dangerous.” Jodi said laughing.

“I’m fine, besides he knows where I live, he’s my landlord.” Ellie grinned.

“I wasn’t talking to you, I’m worried for him.” They all got a chuckle out of that as they locked up and made their way to their cars. Luke opened up the door and held it for Ellie, these small gestures went over much bigger than he realized.

On the ride neither spoke when Luke felt Ellie’s hand lay on the back of his giving it a squeeze. “Thank you for saving my ass today.” He just looked over and shrugged.

“You would have done the same for me I’m sure.” He smiled at her for a moment and turned back to the road. He was honestly elated that her car hadn’t started.

Ellie sighed. “I hope it’s nothing major. My dad had the car gone over before I came back to school. I can’t afford anything big.” She looked out the window, the lights of town faded behind them as they entered the suburbs.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, I can take a look at it if you want, if it’s something simple I can probably fix it.”

“Oh, would you?” She squeezed his hand harder. They got back to the house and Ellie reached over the seat to grab her bag. Luke watched her lean frame twist, and her rear end stick up, her jeans stretched over it nicely. He remembered just how nice it felt too and longed to hold it again. Ellie was no fool, she knew full well Luke was staring at her ass while she pretended to be looking for something in her bag. It didn’t hurt to pique his interest though. She sat back in the seat dragging the bag over with her.

“You coming up?” She asked smiling.

“I don’t know, you probably have stuff to do. You know school work or something?”

“I do have some reading to do, but I can do that later. I’m feeling a little restless and I can’t sit still and read when I’m like this.” Luke’s eyebrows went up a bit.

“You don’t have to. I mean if you want to come up and grab the car keys in the morning that’s fine too.” Her smile began to fade.

“Oh, I can get them now, that way you can sleep in if you want to.”

“Have something planned for tomorrow yet?” Ellie asked sweetly. Luke just grinned. “You’re not going to give me a hint? A girl needs to know how to prepare for a date you know.”

“Jeans will be fine, and bring a sweater or sweatshirt in case it gets cold. Oh, and walking shoes.”

“So something outdoors? Okay then.”

He wouldn’t give her any more information than that. He enjoyed keeping her guessing.

“Would you like to play a game? I found a box with my bucket of Jenga blocks while I was unpacking some stuff last night.” Luke nodded smiling and Ellie went and got the game. They sat on the couch and Ellie started stacking blocks and handed the bucket to Luke and directed him to keep stacking and she went to the bedroom and slipped off her jeans putting on lounge pants with some mall store logo down the leg and came back.

“That feels better. Do you want something to drink? I’ve got a bottle of wine, or something else maybe?” He agreed to whatever she wanted. She opened the bottle of wine and poured a couple glasses and brought it over to the table putting them out of the way of game.

“Have you ever had wine before?”

“I’m nineteen, I haven’t been under a rock.” He chuckled. “My mother liked wine so I’ve tried several different types and I like it.” He took a sip and swirled around his mouth taking in a little breath of air. “Stone fruit, oak, I’d say a California Chardonnay.” He added. It was Ellie’s turn to raise eyebrows.

“Very good! Napa Valley to be exact.” She looked at the blocks and noted he hadn’t put the last one on the top yet. She took it and put both hands behind her back. Luke noted just how nicely her top stretched across her chest as she did this. “Pick a hand.” He picked the one with the block winning the starting move.

“What are we playing for?” He asked, sounding crafty.

“I don’t know. What do you have in mind?” She smirked, wondering if he had the same thing in mind that she did.

He shrugged. “Loser has to perform a strip tease for the winner.” She grinned ear to ear hearing this.

“Okay hot shot. I’ll have you know I’m a master at this game. I hope you’re wearing cute briefs.”

“Maybe, you’ll have to win to find out.”

They both concentrated on the game intently for a few moves, and then the smack talk began. They taunted one another as the blocks started to wobble. “I don’t know, maybe you should stay in the kitchen and let us real men handle the engineering.” Luke said. Ellie reached over and flicked his ear sharply causing him to yelp in pain while he giggled.

The game progressed more slowly as the tower got more shaky. Eventually the tower fell to Ellie placing a block on top. “Shit.” She said, but she didn’t really mind it. She was actually excited about this idea. She had hoped to see him perform for her but the exhibitionist streak in her wanted to show off to him too. “Put the blocks away and find some music you like. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” He asked picking up the blocks watching her stand. She leaned over and turned the lights down.

“Well if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.” She winked and went into the bedroom again. He had toted up the game and set it aside and grinned to himself that he’d pulled off the coup. After the other night all he’d been able to think about is her body. Her pert breasts, and smooth skin, now he was going to see her strip for him. He was flipping through music until he found some dance music. He started tapping his foot and realized she didn’t have much room, so he slid the coffee table aside toward the window. The window! He drew the curtains so nobody would see her. The song he was listening to finished and she still hadn’t come back. He wondered momentarily if he’d gone too far when he heard her open the bedroom door. She must have turned off the lights before opening it because he didn’t get a peek until she walked out into the room.

She had put her hair up in a lazy twist on top of her head, and changed into a red satin top and gray skirt. She had even gone so far as to put on heels. She looked absolutely stunning as she walked out and noted that he’d made room for her. A small smirk touched her now red lips as she noted the look on his face. She was happy with the reaction but didn’t want to let on that she was enjoying his prize as much as he was. She looked off into the distance and listened, then nodded.

“Are you ready for me, Luke?” She asked, her voice husky.

He knew the line she quoted was from a movie, but he just sat there, his mouth hanging open.

She quirked her lips in a wry smile. She began to move with the music stepping carefully, heels on a carpet weren’t conducive to graceful movement. She reached down and slipped the heels off tossing them aside and continued. Her sensual movements were already having an effect on Luke and for the first time he didn’t care if he hid it or not. Ellie was beautiful, and he was totally captivated by her. She had turned sideways and began unbuttoning the cuffs of her blouse, she turned her back to him, her hips swayed to the music as she got into the music. She reached up and pulled the hair clip out and shook her head, letting her hair cascade down around her shoulders. She looked over her shoulder shooting him a sensual gaze, her hands worked the buttons of her blouse open. She spun around holding the front of her blouse closed and stepped towards him letting her hands fall as the blouse opened giving him a peek of the red and black bra she was wearing beneath it. He swallowed audibly and his jaw dropped open again.

“Thirsty?” She reached over and handed him the half empty wine glass. He took the glass and practically gulped the remaining wine. “Now we hadn’t spoken of limits before this all started. Am I on my own with regards to how far I let this go?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, knowing full well she was going all the way, but let him wonder just what he was going to see. She reached up and lifted the blouse from her shoulders and let it slide down her arms slowly. She flipped the blouse over the back of the couch next to him. He could smell her perfume, it was stronger than before.

He swallowed audibly. “Yes, as far as you’re comfortable with.”

“Is it how you imagined it would be?” He just nodded at her open mouthed. She tapped his ankles wider and danced between his spread legs swaying to the music and lifting her skirt giving him a peek of her smooth thighs. She noted that his jeans were straining to contain him. She couldn’t wait to get a look at him either. She turned with the music and reached behind her making a come hither motion with her finger and pointed at the zipper on the back of her skirt. He didn’t move for a moment and she looked over her shoulder at him and he was staring at her shimmy back and forth. He didn’t move, and she directed his attention back to the zipper. As he reached forward she swayed to the side then back again avoiding his grip. He managed to catch the zipper and slide it down slowly exposing the back of her black satin panties. He reached up and pushed the fabric together releasing the hook. She took his hands and laid them flat on her hips as she swayed with the music. She gave them a small nudge downward and he understood she wanted him to remove the skirt. The skirt gave way as it slipped past her hips, and he gasped at seeing her beautiful behind swaying in front of his face. She stepped free of the skirt and he bent to pick it up and laid it next to her blouse on the back of the couch as she turned.

“How am I doing?” She asked softly. He just nodded excitedly. Ellie was pretty sure that if she asked him to, he’d rob a bank for her right now. It was an exhilarating feeling for her to have him in this state of excitement. “Good.” She smiled.

She danced slowly to Wonderful Tonight. How appropriate he thought. As he stared in wide eyed wonder at this beautiful girl.

She ran her hands up and down her body slowly, her head swayed from side to side, her hair partly covered her face as she did. She peeked up at him as the song ended. She nudged his legs together again, and reached down and pulled his knees together. She turned and sat on the very edge of his lap, her ass just barely on his knees. She reached behind her and fanned out her hair and gathered it up over her head. The next song began and she waited for him to take the cue.

“Undo me.”

Luke wasn’t sure who’s undoing it was when he reached up and unhooked her bra, his hands shaking. She let her hair fall as soon as he did and took the shoulder straps down one at a time before standing again. She held it in place as she released first one then the other shoulder straps. She turned her back to him and tossed the bra to him over her shoulder. He put it with the rest of her clothing. She was standing there swaying in only her black lace panties.

 He noticed they had a tiny red bow on the front when she had walked over to him a minute before. She spun around with the music, her hands cupping her breasts as she took a step towards him, her nipples stood out hard and pink. She swayed to the music losing herself in the beat. She leaned forward placing her hands on his shoulders.

“We’re done, right? I mean, you didn’t want me to take everything off did you?” She was clearly taunting him. Luke closed his mouth, swallowing hard and opened again to speak and nothing came out.

“No? Okay, I guess we’re done then.” She said standing again.

“No! I mean please; I;” Luke stammered.

"Please what, Luke?” She asked innocently.

“Please take them off.” He whispered desperately.

“No Luke, if you’d like them off, then you take them off.” She replied turning her body in a few circular sways. She banged her hips side to side with the beat of the music, and looked over her shoulder to see what he was doing. His eyes were following her ass as she swung it back and forth. She stopped moving.

“Well?” She asked over her shoulder.

 Luke raised shaky hands from his lap wondering if this was real or if he was going to get slapped away at the last minute. His hands were like fire on her skin sending butterflies to her core as he ran his thumbs down, pulling the lacy fabric with them. He was going slowly, the fabric peeling off like the skin from a fruit. They slipped over her beautiful behind and the fabric stuck between her legs for a moment, but he kept pulling, down her smooth thighs past her knees. He let go and saw the slightest peek of her lips, they were pink and very wet. She stepped out of the panties and took a step away from him and turned covering herself with her hand.

The scent that bloomed now that her panties were off made his breathing even more shallow and fast. He honestly wasn’t sure why his jeans hadn’t exploded yet.

“Are you sure you want to see?” She said, her voice low and husky as she swayed with the music again.

He only nodded slowly as he stared at the hand she was covering herself with. She drew her hand lightly against her body and slowly ran it up over to her hip uncovering herself for him. She was shaved and pink, moisture shone on her slight lips. She danced for another song, winked at Luke and disappeared into the bedroom.

Luke started panting, not believing what had just happened. Ellie was so turned on she had to force herself to keep her hands off herself or she’d explode. There would be no telling what Luke would do if he heard her moaning in the throes of an orgasm. Though part of her hoped he wouldn’t contain himself and burst in the door throwing her on the bed and having his way with her. She took several deep breaths as she grabbed her bathrobe pulling it on, the soft fabric grazing her taut nipples. She walked back out into the living room and Luke swiveled to see her. A momentary crest-fallen look came to his eyes. Until she sat next to him and nestled against him giving him a long deep kiss.

“You’d better brush up on your dance moves buddy, next time I’m going to beat the pants off you, literally.” She said as she softly bit his lower lip. They made out for a while longer, Ellie slowing him down when he got excited.

 "We should probably get to bed.“ She said, and Luke’s eyes went wide. Ellie stood and went and got her keys pulling the car key free of the chain and brought it back to him. "Thanks for the ride today. You really saved my ass.”

“Any time.” He said reaching for the key, realizing tonight was done he seemed to get puppy eyes and Ellie just wanted to wrap him up and bundle him off to bed herself but she made herself a promise that she wasn’t going to jump him on the first date. Little did Luke realize that tonight was, in her mind, their first date. No matter what he planned for tomorrow, she was done teasing him, she was going to have him. She walked him to the door.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow. I bet it will be fun.” She smiled and kissed him and grabbed his ass giving it a squeeze through the jeans. “I can’t wait to get you out of these.” She thought before she reached for the door.

Luke made his way down the steps and went into the house putting his hands into his pockets to hopefully disguise the bulge if his Dad was still up. He walked in and heard the TV and poked his head in to let him know he was home and going to bed.

“Did you two have fun?” He asked. Luke said yes, not entering the little den, but speaking from the dark of the doorway. He turned to go to his room and his dad burst out laughing. He looked over his shoulder and wondered what was so funny, and figured it was just something on TV. He had a distinct problem and figured a shower would help him out with it. He hadn’t closed his door for more than a minute when there was a soft rap on it.

“Yea?” He said. The door opened and dad peeked in.

“Hey, I’m glad you two are getting along so well, just be careful Luke.”

“What do you mean?”

Dad took a deep breath and started. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. She’s a pretty girl, but this is her last year, right? I just don’t want you to fall head over heels and have her leave you high and dry.”

“I won’t, we’re just friends.”

“Mmm  hmm.” His dad stepped forward and reached behind him and tugged the black lace panties from the back pocket of his jeans and held them up. “Just make sure you protect yourself.” He grinned, handing them to Luke, his face was beet red. Dad smirked and left the room closing the door behind him. He went to take his shower shaking his head.

To be continued in part 3, by Member389 for Literotica.