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shroom soon 420: hi im shroom soon and im from silver city nm:)
11 Years Ago
christincharlesruble07: Anybody in silver city searching tods
2 Years Ago
Am Me: Is the any girl on here from Silver Spring Hit me up.
11 Years Ago
dirtydon301: Looking for that wet wet in silver spring‚md
55 Years Ago
400killin: Looking to eat pussy in silver spring
7 Years Ago
Tommytohard1978: I want to fuck in Silver Springs Florida, I'm just under a year being here. I'm from Detroit MI. I want to eat it out and take it to go and where you flow and glow, you'll know who did it so.
2 Years Ago
Tommytohard1978: I want to fuck in Silver Springs Florida, I'm just under a year being here. I'm from Detroit MI. I want to eat it out and take it to go and where you flow and glow, you'll know who did it so.
2 Years Ago
chebss: The game of life. Me im a black gold silver, looking for a pink purple white.
1 Year Ago
sunnie71: Looking for someone to eat my pussy till my whole body quivers and i go completely limp . Im divorced and i havent had anyone do that to me in to long . Where is that silver tongue
2 Months Ago
truckingmf: Seeking young hot women all across USA. I travel all over constantly and I want to meet up w girls from all over that either just love sex needing to make money wanna fulfill a fantasy or whatever the case is message me and let’s set up something. Maybe u always wanted to have sex in big rig well u can w me. Maybe u like to role play and wanna pretend to be the hooker at truckstop and have me buy you. Maybe you college girl just needs make extra to get by. Also I have a couple vids I’d like made and if you bored and wanna do what I’m looking for I’d pay ya for em. I looking to fulfill every single fantasy I can imagine and also help do yours too. Maybe your guy that likes to watch his woman fucked by another man ok I do that to. Maybe u always wanted to squirt well I’ve not met girl yet I couldn’t make her squirt.
5 Years Ago
truckingmf: Seeking young hot women all across USA. I travel all over constantly and I want to meet up w girls from all over that either just love sex needing to make money wanna fulfill a fantasy or whatever the case is message me and let’s set up something. Maybe u always wanted to have sex in big rig well u can w me. Maybe u like to role play and wanna pretend to be the hooker at truckstop and have me buy you. Maybe you college girl just needs make extra to get by. Also I have a couple vids I’d like made and if you bored and wanna do what I’m looking for I’d pay ya for em. I looking to fulfill every single fantasy I can imagine and also help do yours too. Maybe your guy that likes to watch his woman fucked by another man ok I do that to. Maybe u always wanted to squirt well I’ve not met girl yet I couldn’t make her squirt. Best way reach me is 2544583911 or truckingmf@gmail.com
5 Years Ago
RandyS08: I'm looking for women who squirt, open to trying new things, having three somes, foursomes couples pegging I love to eat out and have sex enroll crazy places I have sex for hours and hours
8 Months Ago
Delsex4u: Im from USA Looking for hot sex overseas
55 Years Ago
leeguy: Man 41 searching for no strings sex duscreet in orl fla. Usa want details hmu ;-)
10 Years Ago
Romeo85: Need a girl for sex around Maryland USA
1 Year Ago
baba: from india‚gujarat‚ gandhidham. interested in sex with girls living in nearby places.
11 Years Ago
baba: from india‚gujarat‚ gandhidham. interested in sex with girls living in neaby places.
11 Years Ago
waseem: Hi I'm a hot‚ horny‚ hottie looking for a lady or a shemale transvestite to satisfy my voracious sexual appetite. I love experimenting in the bedroom and other places too. In fact the more sex the better as far as I'm concerned... any time‚ any place‚ any where... as the saying goes. I'm looking for someone to fulfil my wildest fantasies and if you catch me in the right mood I might well help fulfil yours too. if there are any ladies or shemales out there‚ feel free to add me on whatsapp: 081 853 1149 or leave your number
55 Years Ago
dedeenum: Looking fir sex imean lovr Is this again the wrong places??
4 Years Ago
Bgdk4u: Looking for sex in all the wrong places apparently
2 Years Ago

Places for Sex in Silver-City NM USA

Already Home Already Home · Erotic Couplings · She's already home when I get there still wearing my favorite 2 pieces of a 3pc skirt suit. There's just something about the easy access of a button down dress shirt and with her, the inevitable fact: there's no panties under that knee length skirt. She's sitting in our old wingback chair. Her back straight, elbows to wrists resting on the old chair's slightly worn arms, shirt unbottoned down to a risque depth, skirt hiked up just enough for legs to cross, resting on just one of the heels she's still, to my absolute excitement, wearing. A'la 1992 Sharon Stone, fingers crossed for the mid leg switching beaver shot. "Hey babe!" I offer as greeting while walking toward her. "Shut up, Sit down!" She replies sternly. While nonchalantly pointing with a flick of her wrist before returning her hand to it's previous position, dangling carelessly off front of chair arm's fillagree carved wooden edge. Her long index finger casually directed me to the dining room chair sitting ominously center square of the living room. "How did I miss that?" I pondered as I thirstily followed her command and nervously sat. I Began to lean forward intent on taking my work boots off... "Be still!", She says in a calm yet authoritive tone. I quickly resume good postured seating. "Good boy, stay." She says with narrowed eyes and widened smirk. She then stands and turns 180°. Those heels splendidly tighten her calves, thighs and ass to an undeniably sexy tone. She slowly tugs at her skirt working It's hem up one or two inches per side. Until barely exposing both of her beautifully bubbled ass cheeks. "I've got a few things here that I'm in the mood to put to use." she follows with, "How's that sound?" Then, as I begin to draw a breath to respond, "Shut up!" snaps across the air. All delivered without so much as a glance in my direction, in a tone resembling a grade school teacher, "That was a rhetorical question. Boy. It doesn't matter if you're in mood or not does it?" " No Ma'am.) Methodically she bends forward and removes the chair cushion, obviously being mindful to only bend at the waist. I can see her little pussy, resting like a treasured jewel carefully placed atop a pillow of her creamy thighs, it's lips just wet enough to glisten, beckoning to me like a watering hole mirage to a desert lost wanderer. My pestilent inner child wants to scream, "It's mine! Give it to me!" Silent though, happily obedient, I stay. She picks up a bag, replaces the seat's cushion, straightens her body to upright. Then slowly shimmies her skirt's hem back to it's designer's intended length. She turns, and despite the *click* *tap* *click* *tap* cadence of her heels, it's as if she glides to a point just out of my reach. Poised beautifully directly in front of me, hands on hips, intrigue laiden bag hanging securely from one elbows inner crease. She then extends her arm, bag in hand, raises it to parallel with the floor then abruptly drops it. Kneeling down directly in front of me, her knees in line with my heels. My eyes, like that of any man's eyes begin taking in the down buttoned view. Voluptuous blanched breasts with lucious Lemonade Pink shaded and gum drop shaped nipples. She pulls the bow from the first boot's laces then quickly and a bit aggressively tightens the remaining knot. Criss crossing the two ends as she wraps them around chair's leg and boot's ankle top, pulls a quick knot then, a bow then, a second. "Great move!", I think to myself while she repeats the clever process on the other boot. Still kneeling there before me she reaches into her bag and retrieves what looks to me like roughly 25' of nice three cord braided hemp rope. I am rock fucking hard already, my excitement is brimming, damn near uncontainably. I show nothing though. Fuck, I love her! She takes hold of my right wrist, gives it a little outward twist as she slides it in her shirt and places it on her tit, palm over nipple and releases it. Before she can reach other wrist I'm squeezing and pulling on left tit. Quicker then I could react she smacked my hand, barked, "Be Still" and was now poised, pimp hand raised, threatening to smack me across the cheek. I feel the warmth in my face as it flushes to red. For her sake I flinch a little extra careful to keep mostly still though. She then gives my left hand the same treatment as my right. Both hands now on beautifully baroque breast she leans in applying enough pressure to excite us both and begins to wrap figures eights around my wrists and up my firearms. Though I'm starring only at her face she refuses eye contact. "Damn she's good at this." I take mental note. Twenty something(I lost count somewhere around the 5th fabulous friction burn) wraps over right and left forearms. Slack splendidly pulled across my flesh at varying speeds. Coils covering from wrists nearly to elbows. Six loops between forearms to cinch the coils, terrifically tightening their hold. Now I sit, rope cuffed and bound forearms resting in my crotch, ankles tied, boots and all to the chair. Not sure I've ever been this turned on before. As much as I've fantasized about this type if thing. She's the only one I'd want doing this. She is a natural for sure. She's standing now, directly in front of me and again hiking her skirt up, alternating sides just a little at a time. Only difference from her skirt hem line's last tumultuous climb is the distance hiked. This time the skirts hem climbed to hips tip tops before it stopped. That shaved slice of glistening pie there in my face. I was leaning in to steal a quick lick when again, bitch moved quick. Asserting her dominance in an instance. Grabbing hold of the hair atop my head she forced my gaze to the skies. Stepped forward, straddled me and slapped my face. Now, with that delectable pussy damn near touching the bottom side of my chin her looking straight down at me using the narrow sight line just beyond her tits and the protrusion of their nipple's, her eyes grip mine for the first time since the start of this fantasy and says, "Stay, Boy." I try to tip my head forward, dying for a taste of that twat. She pulls harder at my hair. I shake my head and struggle a bit, mostly for the fun of it. She's serious though and doesn't relinquish grip, just waits for me to quit. "You done Boi?!" She asks with a heavily accentuated finish and shockingly aggressive tone. I use the miniscule range of motion left in my neck to timidly motion yes. She released my hair and I didn't move a muscle. She then took a seat on my lap first close then she slid back to release my arms which for a brief moment had been happily held captive there beneath her twot, taint and tail. She guided them over my head bent my elbows, taking my hands back and with the texture of the rope slighty scratching at the base of my neck she began tying the leftover bit from the cinch to the steel frame rail at the top of my chair's back. Blatantly brushing her beautiful breast across my face multiple times in multiple direction till knot was securely tied. I'm now, biceps over ears, elbows to the sky, wrist bound and chair rail tied. Feet still tied to chair legs. She starts grinding. Hard. Side to side, back and forth. Hard. Circular motions now, all with brute force. Doesn't take long and I can tell she's getting close. Harder. She grabs the sides of my neck puts her hands beneath my ears. Harder yet. Her thumbs meandering jaw line towards chin. Harder. She's grinding so vigorously the chair is sliding and shifting. Her thumbs slip down to my throat. She begins to squeeze, closing my throat and my corodit simultaneously. Nervous excitement, finally, someone gets it. Hopefully she sees all I do to others is what I want done to me. Her hands are cold against my neck. I close my eyes. Then in the darkening darkness I hear her,"Open them, look at me!" I open them but can't focus, "Look at me! Loo..." cut to black... I awaken to the sound of a clap and a curious sting across my face. I'm back, euphoric about to orgasm but not cum. She is still straddling my lap barely moving, then her sigh gives her away, she has cum. She moves back, her ass now on my knees. She grabs a fist full of my hair with one hand forcing my head down, as if I wanted to look anywhere else. "Do you see that?" She asks calmly in a sweet voice. Still groggy from the black out I barely muster an inaudible mumble. Using that fist full of hair she shakes my head wildy. "Asshole, Do you see the cum on my pussy?" She asks harshly. "Yes ma'am" I say while trying to shake my head. But she's giving me no room to move. She slides 2 fingers up her pussy, barely penetrating. I blink and it's admittedly long but my heads still foggy. Well, it apparently took too long, she slaps my face. "Open your mouth, Boy" She says, sliding her fingers up her pussy again. I open my mouth, saying, "ahhhhh" audibly with quivering in my tone. I can see her cum dripping from one as the two make their way like a child's feeding spoon towards my face. The moment I feel her finger tip on my tongue, I close mouth and suck, I use my tongue to lick her fingers clean of her cum. She tastes so good. I want her so bad! I needed this. She slides her long fingers back and forth, trough my lips and across my tongue, taking care not to let finger tips pass my puckered lips and leave my mouth. I close my eyes. I moan at a rate commensory to her pace. I groan. There's true passion in my tone. I moan. I groan. It's a lust filled, desire to satisfy, moan for the in stroke with a desperate plea not to stop, fuelled groan on the out stroke. She moves her other hand to the back of my head again acquiring a fist full of hair. She stops moving the fingers in my mouth. Holding that hand steady she's now pushing and pulling my head. First slowly then faster then she slows way down forcing me further on to her fingers with each slow repetition. I gag slightly. "There it is." She triumphantly says then, forces it again. I gag again. Not sure when she started but she's grinding again. Again I gag. This time she holds it there I'm gagging, trying to shake my head, trying to pull away. She wont let me. My eyes are watering now. My mouth is full of saliva and I'm drooling a bit. She's grinding. She's pushing and pulling again when she says, "Don't fucking swallow that spit, hear me asshole? I want that mouth messy and wet while I'm finger fucking it." She's grinding. I'm trying to nod yes but she's still giving me no room for motion. "Mmhmmm" I offer as it's all I can do. She's grinding hard now, tight to my pelvis, her hips rolling back and forward opposite the direction of my forcibly directed head. She slips a third finger in mouth. Slowly she pulls them back to nearly out, rolls her hips back to my thighs with matching pace. Unexpectedly she begins forcefully poundinh her crotch into mine, thrusting my head, her fingers travel deep down my mouth to my throat, over and over. I'm gagging every two or three thrusts, I can feel my pelvis and hips bruising. I'm crying now but, God Damn if I'm not close to cuming. I'm unsure if it's because of pleasure from this treatment or from pleasuring her by being a good Sub. With a final thrust of her hips she arches her back dramatically Simultaneously she was wildly throwing her head back. Suddenly she grabbed my crotch with both hands one on either side if my zipper and squeezes, hard then pulls harder. I twitch and bounce in reaction to the pain felt by the single unlucky nut to suffer the force of the orgasmic rip and grip just shown by her. More motivation for the tears streaming down my face. "Are you crying?"she asks with a touch of distain riding the words. "What a fucking bitch boy!" She says harshly as she slaps my face. Placing a cupped hand under my mouth, she commands me, "Spit, dumbass" I told you not to swallow it, I'm frantically nodding yes while I nearly fill her hand with hot sticky saliva. She steps off me and back with the assistance of a forceful push off my chest. She steps once more before using her empty hand to unzip that skirt it falls to the floor with ease. She reclaims her spot in the wing back, unbuttoning her shirt's last few buttons as her ass finds the seat cushion. With one foot up on chair's arm she places her cupped spit laiden hand over her crotch roughly, basically slapping her pussy lips then, rubs it all over her fucking hairless pussy. I can feel her staring at me. I keep my eyes fixed on her pussy. Excitedly watching her spread her pussy lips and fumble at her clit. She looks down and gives her pussy a couple easy slaps. To which I blurt out, "Harder! You bitch. Like you've been slapping me." Slowly her head rises just enough to make eye contact and for me to see the menacing smile now wide on her face. *SMACK* The sound is crisp in the air like that of a celebratory high five. "She's so amazing." I say to myself. Upon contact she nearly screams but her head doesn't move her smile remains the same and our eyes stay locked. Again without thought I blurt out, "Harder! Let's see it, you fucking bitch." She chuckles a bit tits bouncing in response to the laughter as if they too are snickering at my request. [ ] "Is bitch boy done crying now?" She asks, standing, stepping towards me she places one foot across the crease atop my thigh with her heel narrowly missing the head of of my dick. She slaps her pussy hard again then my face. Before I can react she asks. "Harder? Or is that gonna make you cry?" "Come on then, let's see slut. I say calmly and finishing with a head nod and a smile. This time I hold eye contact. I hear the loud smack of palm to wet pussy, out of the corner of my eye I catch a flash of flesh in motion then, nothing, blackness. Interrupting the silent darkness, I hear the sound of wet pussy being penetrated repeatidly, quickly, clapping a bit. I raise my head to see her finger poppin that tastey twat just inches from my tingling face. I smile wide. Seeing my smile she grabs me by the chin, leans in and kisses me. It's a long deep, tongue kiss, the kind that's so frantic it's like your struggling to occupy the same space, noses grinding, foreheads bumping, nostrils flaring, oxygen obtained in quick sharp inhales as if drowning and breathing in the tiny moments your head bobs above waterline. She pulls away. "Fuck me. Fuck me like the cock I am, please." I say in a wanting but not quite desperate tone. "No." She replies as plain as plain could be. "I won't fucking beg. Fuck me damn you!" Again a blase, "No." With her backside to me and again only bending at the waist she rummages through her bag. She fucked up though.... Seeing my opportunity I lean forward chairs backegs off the floor. Quickly getting pussy lips in my mouth I suck, my nose tickling at taint. Her first reaction is to pull away but I'm already licking the pussy like a dog on a dropped ice cream cone in August. But, she pulls away again, th walks out of room....wth... Quickly she returns. Carrying two more dinning room chairs placed one sideways in front of the other which faced me from the other side of the first chair. She says nothing as she crawls across the chairs, first away from me then backing that thing up til her knees were on my chair, her twat, taint, and tail all up in my face. Her face down on furthest chair she reaches back and spreads her beautifully bulbous cheeks. "15 minutes. Do what you want you've been a good boy, you earned it. Show me what that mouth do, fuck boy!" All of it was said kinda rough and tough like. I waste no time quickly starting with a playful bite of the bigger cheek, then another nibble this time at top of thigh, ass cheeks bottom crease. I then lick across crease to pussy. Already so wet and tasting wonderful. I get my face just deep enough that my fully extended tongue's tip barely slides over clit. And that is what I'm ecstatically doing, licking from taint through labia over clit and back again stopping occasionally to suck on pussy's lips, ok maybe a slight bite or two also. I feel a little twitch. My tongue outstretched I start shaking my head as if urgently saying No. Another twitch, another, she's close. Im mixing it up now side to side, back and forth, fast and hard. Then with a massive inhale and slow shakey exhale, shes cumming. I'm doing my best to lap it all in, sucking and licking frantically fillng my mouth with her juices and cum. I pull my head back and immediately following her next quiver spit my collection of her orgasms drip at the top of her ass crack. She moans in response as I watch the load slowly dripping down her crack. Just as that drip covers that starfish I dive in, my tongue catching the load as it barely reaches taint and spreads that lust filled load back up to the top of her ass crack. Licking my way to starfish again, once there, I slip my tongue in and push. Beginning with tongue at maximum protrusion. I start face fucking that ass. Slowly at first, in and out, in and out, each stroke gaining speed and force. My chin beating against taint, forehead spreading ass cheeks till i hit tail bone on every down stroke. "Oh Fuck!" I hear her say as she spins away. "Times up bitch boy." She tells me, her over pronounced smirk now irritatingly visible. Resting her back against the farthest chair. Her legs are spread to either side of the middle chair. I wish I could take a picture right now. Right now she epitomizes 'Woman' to me. Pure, raw sexuality. Her hair in beautiful disarray, a few wisps, sweat soaked and stuck precariously to her forehead. Chest heaving, eyes blinking slowly as if they don't know weather to stay open or closed. Sweat dripping sensuously from her chin to her breasts to her thighs, the cascade of lustful liquid pooking on the chair's seat, nuzzling the soft soft flesh of her inner thigh. Her luciously flirtatious lips curled upward ever so slightly at there ends almost as if fighting back a smile. Her petite yet perfect breast adorned with tiny droplets of sweat shimmering like lickable stars. Mmmm, I can damn near taste the salty passion filled elixir from here. Her milky white thighs tapering from knees to hips like flesh covered guiderails directing my sight to the gloriousness that is her pretty little, perfectly sculpted, lusciously pink, shaved slick, glistening pussy. My God what a picture that would make. "That was nice, Boi." She says her voice stale and monotone. "Why does she have to call me boy in that way? "Bitch", I say to myself. "Yes Ma'am. Will you fuck me now? I so badly want to be in you!" I say in my most innocent tone. Really I want nothing more than to scream, "I'm so fucking turned on! Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me! You devilish angel you!" Her reply... "No." This cocksucker, my arms are numb from pits to wrists, my earlier struggle definitely caused the rope to break skin. I'm bleeding. I could feel it dripping in my hand before the numbness set in. My fucking face is covered in pussy juice and ass sweat(ok, i kinda like that, so what... Don't judge me.) My dick hurts from being hard as fuck this whole time but twisted a bit inside my jeans and no way to adjust it. All that and this bitch, this amazing, loving, caring, ride or die, I love her more than I love I, fantasy cunt just says... "No." I decide I'll try a different approach. Head high and turned to the side I collect what ever funk and saliva is available in my mouth and spit it to the living room floor then quickly turn back to deliver a glare in her direction, her head snaps to make eye contact as well. Now with scowls on our faces we're locked in a staring contest so intense it's nearly blinding. I aggressively say, "I'm not fucking around whore get over here pull my God damn, rock hard, cock out and fuck me. Or I swear to..." "Oh my gosh." she interupts in a mildy childish tone "I'm sorry, let me do something about this situation, gimme one second. I'll make it all better, you'll see." "God damn right! Maybe my little whore should suck it first." I say attempting to take control and in hindsight pushing my luck a bit. She picks up her bag and steps behind me. Out of site. I hear her rummaging in that bag. "There it is..." She says with a sense of accomplishment. "There's what?" I ask with nervous vibrato in my voice. "Just what we need to proceed" she replies in an overly sweet voice. Then something slips quickly past my eyes, ouch, fuck pressure at my lips. Opening my mouth to speak and, "Mmm mmmm m mm" This Bitch just... just ball gagged me! Mother... Fuck... I love her! "So much for taking control." I think to myself while laughing in my head. She's talking, well ranting, mumbling, but mostly to herself I catch things like. "I got your little whore... Feelin fucked now I bet..on the God damn new carpet..." She steps around my side. Now wearing a short little silk Kimono she knows I love, it's loosely tied and completely sexy. She's carying the bag in one hand and moving hair from her face with the other as she aggressively kicks the two chairs in front of me aside they both tip over, the second teetering on the first. "Now. Any more orders? Sir." She asks, sharply, as she slowly turns to face me. Her demeanor Is calm and polite as if she's innocently just started a new soring day I offer no sound, being as sounds are all I could offer. I am however doing my best to say, "Fu-ck Youu." sarcastically with my eyes. I've never wore a ball gag, it's not as uncomfortable as I would have guessed though swallowing is a bit tough. Damn, she's sexxxy! She reaches into her bag and retrieves a pair of scissors. Looks at me and holds the scissors in our shared sight line and demostrates there function with a *SNIP* *SNIP*. Oh Shit, the nervousness, the thrill, the sheer (no pun intended) fucking anticipation! She reaches down and pinches a bit of my T-shirt at the center of my chest pulls it away from my body forcefully till the material tugs at my back, with a *SNIP* it snaps back minus a hole now residing middle of my chest. She then pinches my nipple, hard, I flinch and groan. She pulls till my nipple can't be pulled anymore, then pulls fabric till again it tugs at my back. *SNIP* shirt snaps back with my nipple now sore and exposed. Grinning she repeats the process in random spots and of course my other nipple. She stops abruptly, admires her work for a minute before carelessly tossing the scissors over her shoulder and disappearing to the back of me again. By the sound of her breathing I know she's behind me. But nothing happens for a few minutes. My mind steadily racing with possibilities and the thought of her fucking me. Suddenly her hands are my shoulders and sliding over my chest. Both sides of my lower rib cage are given a little squeeze. Her left hand finds a Hole on my side just below my ribs soon her other hand is there too. Caressing my flesh tracing the upper part of hip bone then with the sound of tearing fabric the pre-cut hole increases ten fold. Her hands find my sides and slide up to my armpits, then follow my clavicles to my chest's center and the first hole cut. No caress this time, no pleasurable prelude. Nope, this time I immediately feel eight fingernails damn near puncturing my flesh. I twitch at first, the pressure increases. I *squeal* for lack of better term and struggle. To no avail so, I sit still, breathe slowly, basking in the pain. "I can endure because I enjoy." I repeat over and over Inside my head. About the time I'm centered the nails start seperating... 2 inches... 4 inches... Ow... shit... fuck my... GD... nipples. "Oh you Fucking CUNT" I try to scream but, "oo yyuuffuuu uhh" is I'm sure all she heard. The shirt tears as she goes, she makes much quicker time the final few inches. Looking down I can see two of the four horizontal stripes now carved in my chest. Flesh only tore enough to bleed in a few unpatterned locations. She steps back around, the shock can be scene on face. Before sympathy or regret can kick in, I rock the chair a bit and mumble in attempt to change focus. She looks up and I give her a quick *wink*. She kneels down in front of me and slowly licks the blood from my skin delicately kissing each wound while also unbuttoning and unzipping my pants. As she addresses my last wound her finger tips are nestled in my waistline on both my sides. The moment last kiss is planted she begins pulling forcibly, roughly trying to remove my pants. I thrust my hips and squirm in attempt at easing the process. Once passed my knees she gives one final tug. With an exhale that proclaimed job well done. She slapped my balls a couple times, with two fingers on the head of my fully erect dick she pushes it down to the seat chair and lets go, it snaps back and slaps against my stomach. She snickers a bit and as she pulls it down again I roll my eyes *Slap*. She stands up, seeming pleased with herself. She looks at me and winks as she bends down, beautiful tits dangling there before me, nipples rubbing silk, acquiring what seems to be 35' or so of rope from her bag.. She has a seat on my lap as far back towards my knees as she can. Ohhh, my desire peeked imagination can almost feel her pussy on my dick. She looks me in the eye and asks,"You wanna fuck me?" I shake my head yes, yes, yes. "No ." She sternly says. She holds the rope up, makes a loop at its middle, just below the loop she grasps the two lines pulling them through the loop and creates a simple lashing loop. She looks down at my dick, then up to my face, then back to the rope and back to my dick. "Son of a bitch." is all I can say to myself. She slid the lash over the head of my dick carefully, as to avoid pinching she pulled the two strands in opposite directions. Then up and around my neck with both lengths going in taking seperate but equal routes. She gently pulls it tight so now my dick is being stretched to painfull but nothing to be done, no way to escape. With about 15 foot of rope remaining she starts wrapping coils around my torso. The coils start one turn above my nipples and made it just past my lowest rib. She wraps them through the chair's vertical rungs pulling them tight as she goes. My breathing labors under the pressuree. Stopping at mid front she tied them off to the vertical strands holding my cock up. With maybe 2- 1 foot lengths remaining, she whips at my thighs as if holding drum sticks and reenacting a Travis Barker solo, contemplating a use for left over length I believe. With a final, wince and moan inducing drum roll, this time including my cock and ending in a double handed symbol crash on my ball sack. She gets to work bringing her idea to fruition. She isolates my balls and begins wraping the rope about three coils, pushing my balls about five inches from body, ends double knotted to secure it all. While looking down and admiring her work she said, "Still wanna fuck me?" Yes, yes, yes I vigorously shake my head. "No." Of course is her reply. She interlaces her fingers behind my neck, arches her back, places her pussy on the rope coils above my captive cock and slowly slides twitching a bit when she slides over the knots. "Wanna fuck me?" She asks with a shocking amount of innocence in her voice. In protest, I make no movement an utter no sound. Not that I could do much of either at this point. Six or seven repetitions in she's grinding and thrusting quicker and harder. "DO You wanna fuck me, boi?" No innocent tones this time, No, this time the wordswere almost growled. Still I offer no reply. She grins, moans and carries on. My cock is wet, my balls are wet, the rope around them is wet. I close my eyes and throw my head back, I'm about to cum. "No!" She hollers as she slaps my face, her hips jerking the uncontrollable, unmistakable spasms of an orgasm. "Damn..." she says smiling wide as she slaps me again. "...didn't plan on cumming like that." I'm so fucking horny. So GD turned on that my hips involuntarily try to pump. "I said, No! Asshole!" She says obviously annoyed as she back hands my now blue almost purple sack. Resulting in a gringe and pain filled moan from me. Fuck, My eyes are watering too. "Don't cry, bitch boy, I'm almost through." Her voice soft, gentle almost sleepy. "You do still wanna fuck me, wanna feel that hard dick balls deep in my wet pussy, right?" She says while standing up and dropping the kimono to the floor. Casually she turns away from me. She picks up her bag, between blurry, watery vision and her beautiful backside, my view is blocked. She places something on the arm of the living room chair she first sat in. "Right bitch boy, You wanna fuck me real badly, don't you?" she moving closer and nearly whispering. Again, I'm a rock. No motion, no noise. She grabs the the vertical leads to my aching, throbbing, fading heart-on. Causing my entire body to convulse. She slowly takes a seat on my knees, "Don't you? bitch!" She yells. Her eyes fixed on the stretching of my dick the whole time. Slowly, I nod yes, as she redirects her eyes toward mine. Contact gained, she adds yet more tension to rope in her hand. She screams, "DON'T YOU? YOU FUCK!" Ignoring the the pain from my cock, I frantically tried nodding, simultaneously tried to say Yes, yes, yes... "Yhmm, hemnn,yaua" is how it came out after curling round black leather bound Teflon ball still in mouth. "You wanna fuck my mouth?" She asked loud and sternly then, displays the prize. Opening mouth wide, tongue out, curled down, she moves in toward my face cocks her head back and forth arrogantly. Mocking me. Slowing down, I nod yes, as she barks another inquiry aggressively in my face. "Wanna fuck my ass?' I nod yes, as she walks past me. "Wanna fuck my wet pussy?" Calming some. I nod yes, then pause as I realize she set-up a camera and small tripod on the arm of the chair. I remember thinking, "Shit, must be a hell of a finish she has planned." "I'm going to do a couple things, don't you dare move boi. Stay boy, stay" she cautions softly double slapping my cheek then squeezed my face roughly to a pucker with her index finger and thumb. It's quiet, except for the slight panting sounds my labored breathing is producing. I think she untied my coil cuffs from the chair back. Ok, now she's undoing the cinches that tighten the rope coils around my fore arms. "How bad do you wanna fuck me, bitch?" "Boy, *slap, slap*You wanna Fuck me?" I'm staring, I slowly nod yes. "Good... I'll be upstairs waiting. Get yourself undone, if you can. Then, come fuck me, if you want." Her words trailing off as she in all her naked Splendor heads up the stairs. Hollering from the second floor, "And clean that fucking spit off the floor, you asshole!" My arms are so numb I struggle for a few minutes just to move them to my lap. Waiting for some blood flow to return, I'm staring straight through the camera. My dick is starting to go limp the rope still refusing to do so, pulls unforgivingly, forbidding my cocks retreat. I push back the pain and focus on freeing my arms. I go at the rope puzzle backwards according to most, I shimmy my arms back and forward till I have sufficient slack to slip the original loop then rubbing wrist to wrist for a minute, bending elbows and snapping arms straight the coils swiftly slide past my hands and add to the floor's clutter. I immediately reach to unbuckle the fucking ball gag, throwing it at but past the camera. Looking at the camera every second I can. I take the pocket knife from my jeans, slide it's blade between laces and chair leg. With one swift pull, one leg is freed. Same steps on the other side and my legs are both liberated. Leaving only my well coiled torso to free. The knots are easily reached but they are tied inches from softening dick, which was being pulled so taunt by then It felt like it could tear in half. I got to my feet, bent at the waist, chair legs and chest parellel to floor. I back up to one of the rooms arched entry ways twist and bust chair bottom to pieces. Still not enough slack I have to get hard. I step to the front of the camera holding chair. Standing directly in front of it a carefully start stroking my cock from base to rope just above head and back again. "You fucking dirty slut, the way have treated me tonight... You fucking tortured me, abused me, teased me and I swear to christ...I love you! Thank you! And as soon as I get hard again...to slip this cockholding rope... I'm coming to fuck you, Im gonna plug the camera to the TV so can watch my escape while I hate fuck all three of your fabulous holes." I rant knowing full well the camera can probably only see the stroking of my cock as dark as it's gotten to be. The rant did it I'm getting hard on a random up stroke the lash slips over and off my cock's now purple head. I easily untie the coils around my nuts. Then the knots securing my torso coil after coil, after a few minutes of uncoiling... I'm completely free. I step outta the jeans remove what's left of my tattered shirt. Standing naked in front of the camera I turn a slow 360° so she can admire her handy work. Taking little more than a minute to recoup, I snatch the camera, head upstairs to claim my reward's and pine over my lovers ultra high level of kinky awesomeness!!
Angela ~Chapter 1 of a book Angela ~Chapter 1 of a book · One on One · The Magic Glade By Nicholas Wolf Angela It was still only 9 o’clock‚ but already the temperature in the cottage was becoming unbearable. The windows were flung wide open‚ but with little breeze to stir the air this seemed to have little affect. “Well I can’t just sit here melting‚” Angela thought to herself‚ ”perhaps the woods would be a bit cooler. At least there would be fresh air and shade.” Her mind made up‚ she took her small backpack from the cupboard under the stairs‚ and went through to the kitchen. Taking two bottles of water from the fridge she dropped them inside. She went back through to the small lounge and looked around‚ searching. “Ah there it is‚ I knew I left it here somewhere.” She said to herself‚ as sun lotion followed the water into her pack. “Can’t be too careful.” She thought. “I know I’ve applied some already‚ but in this sun...” “Book‚ book.” She searched around‚ finally locating it on the table beside her favourite chair. “Can’t go without a book.” It was one of Angela’s pleasures in life to simply sit in a sheltered glade‚ or beside the small murmuring stream‚ and let herself be transported to other lands and times‚ lost in a good book. She took her wide brimmed straw hat from where it hung beside the door‚ and went outside‚ pulling the door shut behind her. Not bothering to lock it behind her she started down the garden path‚ and on reaching the gate turned right‚ and headed off towards the centre of the village. As she walked past the old church‚ making her way to the field beyond‚ a slight breeze caught at the hem of her thin cotton dress. “Aah! Much better.” She thought‚ and moved along more quickly. The field was lush‚ thick with grasses and wild flowers. This was the first really hot day‚ and this coming at the very end of August‚ she could remember all summer. The preceding weeks had been overcast at best‚ it seemed to have rained nearly everyday since April. The wild flowers grew in abundance. Red and yellow‚ white and pick‚ the field was a veritable kaleidoscope of colour. She bent and picked some blue‚ now almost faded to lilac‚ harebells from between the tall blades of grass‚ which she twirled between her fingers as she walked‚ getting ever closer to the inviting shade ahead. Suddenly smiling‚ she placed the flowers in the band of her hat‚ and skipped the remainder of the way. As she passed from bright sunshine into the shade of the trees‚ it was just as she had thought‚ the temperature dropped noticeably. It was cool. She stopped‚ removed her hat‚ and mopped the sweat from her brow and neck. Replacing it she headed off along the well-trodden track heading in the direction of the stream. It was a glorious day‚ and Angela felt good. She smiled at the twittering and chirping of the birds‚ chaffinch and willow-warblers amongst them. She was lost in the colours‚ shapes and textures of the trees and shrubs. There was dogwood and brambles. There were Ash‚ Alder and Oak‚ but her eyes always lingered on the birch. Of all the trees perhaps the silver birch was her favourite. Not long lived by tree standards‚ it gave it a kind of mortality. Not only that‚ she loved its’ silver bark which peeled back and curled in so many ways. She had long ago given up trying to find some kind of pattern‚ and put the numerous different shapes down to the whim of the tree‚ the elements and nature. She couldn’t resist pulling a piece back‚ revealing the brown of the wood beneath. A small shape scurried across the track ahead of her‚ moving to fast to identify. A shrew‚ a mouse perhaps? She sipped some water as she slowly walked along‚ enjoying the peace and solitude‚ the tranquillity. “Peace and tranquillity?” She thought‚ hearing the sound of a flute or whistle coming from close by. The sound was melodic and tuneful‚ the refrain hauntingly familiar‚ although she couldn’t quite place it. It nagged at the back of her mind‚ but refused to come forward. She turned in a circle trying to locate the source of the music‚ and finally drawn by the melody‚ pushed aside two bushes‚ and stepped between. She emerged in a sunlit glade‚ and looked around. Trees and shrubs with various coloured flowers surrounded a circle of soft lush grass‚ which seemed to cushion her feet as she stepped upon it. The scent of the sweet briar filled the air. The grass was cut short‚ which she found surprising‚ but what she found even more surprising was what she saw in the centre. Sitting on a long thick trunk of a tree was the musician behind the music. It was perhaps the smallest man she had ever seen‚ and he was staring straight at her. He lowered his flute from his mouth. “Top o’ tha mornin to ya‚ and how be you this fine sunny day?” “What?” She said. “I said Top o’ tha mornin..” “No‚ no I heard what you said‚ it’s just that you’re ..” Being no more that three feet tall‚ dressed in mainly green and brown‚ red hair‚ a matching coloured long bushy beard‚ and speaking in a broad Irish brogue‚ well he had to be “a leprechaun.” “Well is that what I be girlie‚ and am I not to your liking then?” “It’s just the shock‚ your accent‚ the speed you talk” She stopped‚ not sure how to continue. The small figure seemed to shimmer before her eyes‚ and was then surrounded in a bright white light. She lowered her eyes to the grass‚ shielding them against the sudden glare. As she noticed the light fade she raised her head. Her jaw dropped slightly‚ her lips forming an almost perfect ‘O’‚ and her eyes opened wide. “Well dear lady‚ is this more to your liking?” Angela looked quickly around the glade. “Where?...How?....Magic?..” “ Perhaps it seems magic to you my dear‚ but for myself‚ well. It’s just natural.” He started to explain before disappearing in white light‚ to be replaced by an Elf‚ with his distinguishing pointed ears and upward slanting eyebrows. Again the light flared‚ a giant fully 10 feet tall‚ and once more a glare caused her to avert her eyes. As the light faded a huge black wolf sat staring up at her with dark brown eyes‚ its long pink tongue hanging between sharp pointed fangs from its snout. Tilting its head back it let out a deafening howl‚ before itself being consumed by white light‚ which cleared leaving once more the well spoken man sitting on the log. Angela took a half step backward and just stood staring‚ to shocked and surprised to speak. “I’m so sorry‚ it wasn’t my intention to startle or scare you‚ I just aimed to demonstrate that what you referred to as magic‚ is in fact quite natural to me.” He apologised. “What? Oh that’s fine‚ startled not scared. Just give me a minute.” As she tried to gather her thoughts she focused on the man in front of her. Well spoken definitely‚ and from the accent and manners‚ certainly English. He was not young‚ but neither was he old. He was slim‚ but fit looking‚ she could see little sign of fat‚ his hair was dark‚ showing silver at the temples. He was dressed in a short sleeved shirt and shorts‚ and wore sandals on his feet‚ which rested on the ground. His shirt was unbuttoned down to his stomach‚ and she could see a hint of hair on his chest. As to his height‚ well perhaps two or three inches taller than she was. She stared into his light blue eyes. “The leprechaun‚ are you some kind of fairy?” She asked. “Excuse me!!” “Fairy‚ you know‚ magical folk.” “Would you mind spelling that for me please‚ fairy that is?” he asked‚ his eyebrows slightly raised. “F-a-i-r-y.” she answered matter-of-factly. “Hmm. Pronounced the same‚” he mused‚ “and yes I am a member of the ancient races‚ but we spell it F-a-e-r-i-e. I believe the term fairy when applied to a man has a whole different connotation now days.” Angela giggled‚ a tinkling‚ happy sound‚ and she raised her hand to cover her mouth‚ stifling a laugh. Having composed herself she lowered her hand. “Why yes I guess it does. She continued‚ now unable to contain her laughter‚ as she smiled at him. “I didn’t mean to imply...” “No‚ no don’t apologise‚ it is of no matter.” Her smiled back at her. “Where are my manners‚ won’t you sit down. May I offer you refreshment?” She waved the bottle she still held in her hand. “Yes I see you have water‚ but perhaps some cold juice‚ wine perhaps?” “Juice sounds good thank you.” “And to eat? Choose anything your heart desires.” He offered. “Well I am rather partial to cherries.” “Then cherries you will have. Please‚ do sit.” He gestured behind her to her right‚ and she turned her head. Where before there had just been grass‚ there was now a large coloured woollen blanket‚ with juice and a bowl of cherries at the centre. She moved to the blanket‚ and as he had offered‚ she sat. The blanket was incredibly soft‚ possibly the softest wool she had felt. She ran her hand up and down‚ enjoying the soft‚ almost sensual feel on her skin. She took a deep red cherry from the bowl‚ and sucked it into her mouth. Her teeth bit into the soft fruit and it burst‚ succulent juices covering her tongue. Mmm‚ she moaned quietly and let the juice slide down her throat‚ before chewing and swallowing the fruit. As she reached for a second she turned her head and noticed him moving towards her‚ his fingers undoing the remaining buttons on his shirt. He removed it‚ and dropped it to the blanket. Angela lent away from him. “Excuse me?” She asked. “Oh. I can assure you there is absolutely nothing to worry about. You can rest assured that I won’t molest you in anyway....unless you would like me to of course.” He smiled‚ and she thought she saw a twinkle in his eye. “I was merely going to sunbathe. I do so enjoy the sensation of the suns warmth on my naked flesh. He undid his shorts and let them drop to the ground‚ before stepping out of them. Angela coughed. He stood in front of her totally naked. She ran her eyes down his chest‚ his stomach. Beneath soft curly black hair‚ his manhood hung thick and limp between his legs. She licked her dry lips‚ before placing another cherry in her mouth. He lowered himself to lay face down‚ his head resting on his arms‚ the juice and cherries between them on the blanket. She removed her hat before‚ smoothing her dress‚ she too lay face down‚ her arms cradling her head. After about ten minutes he turned his head towards her. “Do you not sunbathe?” He asked. She turned her head to look at him. “Well not really‚ and well..” Her eyes seemed to scan around the glade. “Oh you don’t have to worry about that my dear‚ we really are quite secluded‚ and people seldom come here. In fact you’re the first in‚ Oh let’s just say a very long time. Do you not like to feel the heat of the suns rays on your naked body‚ it really can be quite invigorating‚ quite sensual.” “It’s just that‚ “she looked down at her dress‚” I’m not wearing much under here‚ and with you lying there‚” she looked down his back to his firm buttocks‚ “naked‚ well...” “Rest assured you are safe here with me‚ we’ll just share in the pleasure the sun gives us.” Not knowing why she even considered the idea‚ she sat‚ her arms going behind her back to the zip on her dress‚ and undoing it. As the straps began to slip down her arms‚ she looked him in the eye. “Well?” “Oh‚ please excuse me.” He turned his head and resting it again on his arms‚ looked away. She let the top of the dress drop down‚ then lay back to remove it completely‚ before folding it and placing it beside her on the rug. Then‚ like him she lay face down to enjoy the sun. He turned his head to face her. The sun did indeed feel nice on her skin. It’s warmth seeming to seep into her. The occasional breeze would stroke sensuously over her naked back‚ as if an invisible mouth were blowing softly. She looked across. The man’s eyes were shut‚ his breathing shallow‚ he looked so calm and peaceful. She felt an urge to stroke his cheek‚ and her hand reached towards him. She stopped. “Just what are you thinking?” She shook her head admonishing herself. “Cherries‚ think of the cherries.” As she lent up on her elbows to reach towards the bowl‚ she felt her nipples rub gently against the blanket beneath her‚ The softness of the woollen fibres seemed to stroke as soft as a feather‚ gently at the tips. She sighed softly. All thought of cherries slipped away‚ as lowering herself‚ she repeated the action‚ making her nipples stiffen slightly‚ to protrude from her breasts. “Mmm nice.” She thought‚ as once more she rubbed her chest backwards‚ and then forwards as she arched her back She stopped‚ now leaning on her elbows. She reached to take another cherry from the bowl‚ and moved it towards her parted lips. Tilted her head back she sucked this third cherry into her mouth. Sweet juices burst in her mouth as she bit down hard‚ and again she let them flow slowly down her throat. She looked at the glass on the rug beside her. “Who needs that?” She thought. After all‚ the cherries did both ease her hunger and sate her thirst. His eyes had been slightly open as she moved her hand towards him‚ and he had sensed the indecision in her. She wanted to touch him‚ but felt cheapened by the thought. He smiled‚ and his eyes moved down from his study of her face‚ to fix on the curves of her white breast‚ a merest hint of it’s dark pink nipple showing‚ its tip being cushioned by soft wool. Mmmm. His tongue slipped out between his dry lips‚ circling to moisten them. He tilted his head‚ returning his gaze to her face. He opened his eyes fully. “Would you like me to apply some lotion to your back? You are after all pale of skin‚ and the sun’s rays are quite powerful.” She reached a hand back over her shoulder‚ and touched her back. It did already feel a bit hot and slightly tender to the touch. “Well if you wouldn’t mind.” She reached for her pack‚ and pulled out the sun lotion. Placing it between them on the blanket she averted her eyes as he started to rise‚ turning so to kneel beside her. “Oohh!!” She shivered and a tiny squeal escaped between her lips. “Cold?” He asked her. “Just a bit. More the shock I think. Carry on.” He had drawn a line down her spine with the creamy lotion‚ and now began to massage it into the soft skin of her back. His hands moved in circling motions‚ moving slowly‚ his fingers stroking‚ up and down. He reached across her back‚ stroking down her side. The tips of his fingers softly brushed the side of her breast. She turned her head‚ once again resting it on her arms‚ and looked at him‚ her eyes barely open. On his face was a look of intense concentration as he stroked her‚ his fingers pushing at her skin as he massaged her back‚ and up over her shoulders. Again he rubbed over her side‚ this time his fingers lingering slightly‚ pushing gently at the softly yielding flesh beneath. She looked down‚ his member was slightly larger now‚ thicker‚ longer‚ and seemed to be growing before her eyes. Her mouth felt dry‚ as she moaned softly to herself‚ her passion beginning to rise. Smoothing the lotion onto her skin his hands moved lower‚ the tips of his fingers sliding inside the waist of her white panties. Her eyes opened wider as he looked down at her face‚ his eyebrows raised in question. She nodded slightly and felt his fingers once more stroke and caress her lower back. Her nerve ends were fired‚ tingling‚ as he expertly stroked and caressed her. Her imagination took wing‚ and carnal images vied for position in her head. She moaned softly as she saw him move down her body‚ and out of her line of sight. She felt her legs eased slightly apart‚ and felt the hot skin of his legs on the inside of her calves. He ran lines of lotion down the back of her legs. With strong fingers he stoked upwards as if easing the tightness from her muscles. He stroked down the outside of her thighs‚ her calves‚ before again rubbing upwards‚ his thumbs this time stroking up the inside of her legs. Higher and higher‚ stopping just short of her panties‚ to stroke softly back down. She felt a tingle exciting her body‚ felt her nipples stiffen against the soft wool‚ felt heat build between her legs‚ as he again stroked firmly up her legs‚ her inner thighs. “Would you prefer an all over tan do you think?” She was started back to reality by the unexpected sound of his voice‚ and turned her head to look at him. She nodded as she slowly raised her hips from the ground. He leant forward and slid his hands under the waistband before sliding her panties over her hips and easing them down her legs. He moved to kneel beside her as he slipped them over her feet‚ and placed them on her dress. He looked up at the curves of her firm cheeks. Round‚ firm succulent‚ like a peach he was eager to bite and taste. He ran his still lotion-coated hands over them‚ stroking‚ squeezing‚ kneading them‚ as she tensed her muscles. Angela could only moan‚ as her body trembled with suppressed emotion. She raised her self on one elbow‚ and looked back at him. She could see the tension in his face‚ the inner tension that had grown as he had massaged and stroked her back‚ as he had caressed her legs and her cheeks. His member had continued to swell and grow. It was harder now‚ not hanging‚ but rather its tip pointing sideways at his hip. She rolled to her back. He stared down longingly‚ taking in the roundness of her firm white breasts‚ with their dark pink nipples jutting proudly from their centres. His eyes moved down‚ taking in the flatness of her stomach‚ her slim waist and small rounded hips‚ finally resting on the dark delta between her legs. He swallowed hard‚ his mouth felt dry‚ and again he circled his lips with his tongue. He looked back to her face. She was wearing a mischievous smile‚ as she picked up the bottle of lotion from where he had left it. He gave a small cough. “The front my dear?” His voice sounding husky. “Hmm.” She lent slightly forward‚ and poured some lotion into her left hand. She slowly raised it moving it up to first cup‚ and then close it around her right breast. She squeezed‚ and he saw the creamy liquid ooze between her fingers‚ and run slowly down her stomach. She held the bottle towards him‚ her eyes now fixed on the wide girth and the long length of his cock‚ which stood fully erect in front of him‚ throbbing. Sighing‚ she moistened her lips. “Legs perhaps.” He took the proffered bottle from her hand‚ and poured the thick lotion onto his palm. Dropping the bottle‚ he rubbed his hands together. Her hand squeezed and rubbed at her breast‚ slowly circling. Her fingers squeezed at the firm nipple‚ pulling‚ leaving it glistening in the sunlight. She stroked across to her left breast and caressed and squeezed‚ tweaking her nipple‚ pulling then releasing. Backwards and forwards‚ stroking‚ caressing‚ pinching‚ twirling her stiff nipples. Her right hand moved lower to trace circles and stroke her stomach‚ the tips of her fingers briefly touching her soft pubic hair‚ before once more returning to the blanket at her side.. He stroked up the front of her legs‚ leaning towards her‚ watching as she gently writhed‚ and softly murmured‚ her tongue licking her lips‚ as she lost herself in her pleasure. Down the outside quickly‚ his needs building inside him. He stroked up the inside of her thighs‚ Angela moaned louder as his fingers reached the top‚ fingers stroking outward‚ circling‚ to meet‚ to twist and tease her hair. She raised her hips as his fingers retraced their route back around her pussy‚ and then down her legs. Again she felt his hands stoke her thighs‚ and again they parted at the top to toy with her soft hair. Once more he gently stroked‚ her sense of anticipation‚ her frustration‚ building as she yearned to feel his touch between her legs. She stroked and squeezed harder at her breasts thinking‚ “please... please.....” She raised her hips higher‚ thrusting towards him‚ as she felt his hands on her legs‚ stroking ever nearer to the heat between her thighs. “Oooh!! Aaah!!” She moaned‚ as she felt not his finger‚ but the tip of a soft velvety tongue lick slowly up her lips. She looked down to see him looking up at her‚ the bottom of his face hidden between her legs. He lowered his head‚ and she sighed as again his tongue licked slowly up her pussy. Slowly‚ gently‚ sensuously he used his tongue to tease and please‚ licking up her now swelling lips. Up‚ his tongue easing them slightly apart‚ pushing slightly harder. She was hot and wet‚ and her juices started to flow slowly between her lips. “Mmmm.” He licked‚ savouring her taste on his tongue. His tongue moved faster now as he licked‚ up and down. It pushed harder‚ probing. He buried his face deep between her legs‚ pushing his tongue fully out‚ to slide it into her. Again he moaned at the taste of juices on his tongue‚ her heat surrounding it. Angela was moaning softly as she lowered her hands to grip the back of his head as she felt his tongue swirl inside her. Squeezing her thighs in his strong fingers he moved his tongue slowly in and out of her. In and out‚ licking her juices into his mouth to savour their taste‚ before letting them slide down his throat. He stopped‚ and she felt his head push back against her hands‚ and reluctantly she let go. She leant forward as he sat back to kneel between her knees. She sighed at the sight of his member‚ which stood proudly throbbing‚ its’ purple tip shining in the bright sunlight. She reached out and stroked the tips of her fingers down its’ hard length. He closed his eyes‚ sighing at her touch. “Perhaps that would be a little easier.” He nodded back over his shoulder directing her gaze behind him. The trunk was now draped with woollen fleeces‚ which covered the top‚ hanging down over the sides. She nodded‚ and taking her hands in his‚ he helped her to her feet. Hand in hand they walked naked across the glade. Taking her waist‚ he lifted her to the broad trunk‚ lowering her gently onto the fleece-covered top. He eased her slightly back before kneeling between her legs. Stroking his hands up the backs‚ he raised them and placed them over his shoulders. She lay her head back‚ and raised her hips‚ longing to feel his tongue once more buried deep inside her. He bent forward‚ and again started to lick his velvet tongue up and down her wet and eager pussy. His blood more fired his licking became my urgent‚ as his hands stroked up and down‚ and around on her stomach. His tongue stabbed out pushing hard and fast between her lips‚ and into her sweet tasting hole. In and out‚ in and out‚ Angela moaned and her muscles tensed‚ her legs gripping the sides of the head between them. In and out‚ in and out‚ the tongue felt wider‚ longer‚ felt rougher as it now darted in and out of her‚ harder and faster. Her pussy lips parted further as the tongue seemed to grow‚ pushing them wider to take its’ size‚ and licking deeper and deeper inside her. Angela saw an image of a black wolf with shining eyes‚ a long rough tongue hanging from its’ snout between pointed fangs. She looked down‚ it was a man not a wolf‚ but still she couldn’t shake the image from her mind. “Aaah!!” She groaned‚ the tongue seemed to fill her‚ as it continued to slide in and out‚ twirling‚ licking‚ burying itself deep. In and out‚ in and out‚ the tingling between her legs grew‚ spreading through her pussy‚ and out across her stomach and chest tingling her hard jutting nipples. His hands squeezed her breasts. Every nerve end in her body was stimulated‚ excited‚ and she writhed moaning as he continued to lick her inner walls. The tongue slid out to lick hard up over her clit‚ his mouth sucked hard. “Yeeeess!!” She screamed out‚ as wave upon wave of electrical energy seemed to shoot outwards. Her back arched‚ her muscles contracted as she shook and shivered‚ her orgasm electrified and heightened her senses. Her clit and nipples tingled and throbbed. As her orgasm subsided she sat up to see him now standing between her legs. “Mmmm Thank you?” she told him. “The pleasure was mine‚ I can assure you.” She watched his mouth as he spoke. His tongue was quite normal. “I must have been lost in the moment‚ in the intense sensations.” She thought shaking her head slightly. She lowered her eyes to look at the length of hard flesh protruding upwards from his loins. She slipped down from the trunk‚ and extended her hand to wrap her fingers slowly around it‚ and squeeze firmly. “More mine I think‚ but let’s see shall we.” She slowly pulled down‚ exposing his tip. Up‚ then down. She bent‚ her tongue slipped out between her lips. Up then down she stroked before she gently licked the very tip of her tongue along the slit on the end‚ tasting his seeping juice. His eyes were closed as he moaned softly. She took him into her mouth‚ licking around his hard flesh‚ as she gently sucked. Slowly‚ rhythmically she moved her head up and down‚ sliding him between her lips as her hand stroked up and down his cock. He gently gripped her arm and pulled her hand away. She looked up in surprise. “Not that way.” He said‚ and holding her shoulders‚ he turned her and bent her over the tree trunk‚ laying her on a soft woollen fleece. His fingers slid between her legs‚ and started to stroke forwards and backwards. Forwards and backwards he gently stroked her pussy‚ as her juices started to moisten his fingers. Forwards and backwards‚ she felt the heat build‚ her juices begin to flow. He slipped a finger slowly inside her. “Mmmm.” And she moaned. In and out his finger probed‚ as she grew hotter and wetter. He inserted another finger. In and out in and out he pushed and stroked. He moved forwards towards her‚ his hand wrapped around his length‚ lowering it and sliding it between her legs. She reached back between her legs‚ her thumb and forefinger circling his hard cock. She stroked it up and down her slit‚ lubricating the tip‚ before guiding him inside her. Holding firmly on her hips‚ he bent his back‚ easing his own hips forward to slowly push himself deep inside her. She felt his stomach push against her cheeks. “Aah.” He groaned. He just stood‚ his cock fully inside her‚ lost in the sensation of her wetness and her heat surrounding it. Pulling back his hips he slid almost out‚ before once again sliding slowly back inside her. In and out‚ in and out‚ a slow‚ easy rhythm. As Angela moved started to mirror his movements he withdrew his length until just the tip was inside her. “Hmm?” Slightly frustrated she looked back over her shoulder. He drove his cock in hard. “Aaah!!” She moaned as she was forced forward‚ Her hands gripped tightly on the fleece. Again he pulled almost out and stopped‚ teasing her once more‚ before driving hard back into her. Out‚ and he stopped‚ sliding slightly in and out‚ savouring her growing sense of frustration‚ as she squirmed‚ pushing her pussy back towards him. She felt his hands grip over her shoulders‚ and he forced his hips quickly forward to bury his cock hard and deep. “Ooh Yess!!” Angels raised her head‚ words and sounds coming unbidden from her lips. As he pumped backwards and forwards‚ his actions more urgent‚ harder‚ she was forced forwards‚ just the tips of her toes now touching the lush grass. In and out‚ his arms beneath hers‚ his hands clutching her shoulders and pulling back in time to his action. “Ooh ! Aah!” They moaned as one‚ as she felt him‚ move faster and faster. His cock seemed to swell more‚ becoming thicker and longer. “Aahh!!” She moaned as it buried deep inside before sliding out. In‚ and his hands moved to the top of her shoulders. Out‚ his hips moved back. In‚ and she felt nails‚ yet not nails‚ dig into her flesh. No not nails‚ they felt more pointed‚ harder‚ perhaps more like claws. He racked them down her back as he again powered his now huge cock into her. She moaned‚ and groaned‚ pain mixed with passion‚ with lust. He filled her‚ and she could feel her juices seeping round his hard flesh to run down her inner thighs. As he drew his length back he grabbed her shoulders. As he powered back into her willing yielding flesh‚ his nails or claws scratched down her back. In and out‚ in and out‚ his rhythm now regular and hard. Angela looked back over her shoulder‚ not certain what she would see. His cock had swollen and grown‚ longer‚ thicker‚ like nothing she had experienced before‚ as he now fucked her hot pussy harder and faster. His face seemed unaltered‚ his eyes closed‚ mouth open and moaning as he rode her. However his chest seemed broader‚ his arms seemed larger‚ more hairy. His hand on the back of her head pushed her face down. His action slowed‚ his thrusts becoming longer‚ harder as his passion grew yet higher‚ more intense. He lay on her back‚ and she felt his hot breath on her neck. “Oow!‚ Aah!” She let out a groan of pain mixed with pleasure‚ as his teeth bit hard on her neck‚ his teeth feeling sharp and pointed. He raised his head and howled as his cock jerked inside her‚ his hot seed bursting against her inner walls. Angela’s breathing became short‚ as she panted‚ sighing and moaning. Shocks again ripped through her body‚ her swollen clit seemed to spark. Her pussy muscles contracted around his length as he jerked again sending more of his cum spurting into her already full pussy. Every muscle in her body contracted and she writhed‚ as electricity seemed to play over her‚ her nipples so hard now that they ached. He held her hips burying his still jerking cock deep inside her as his lust spent itself‚ and his orgasm subsided. Dressed now in his shirt and shorts‚ he zipped Angela’s dress. When she had finally been able to raise herself from the fleece blanketed trunk‚ Angela had seen no visible evidence that he had ever been other than she had first seen him as a man. He was no bigger and no hairier‚ his member was surely that of a ‘healthy’ man. So why couldn’t she shake the image of the wolf from her mind. Wolf-man‚ Man-wolf‚ no surely not. But then hadn’t he been able to change his appearance? “Did you....did you... well sort of change?” She hesitantly asked him. “Change‚ in what way? My passion definitely rose to great heights‚ and my senses‚ well you all but rid me of those‚ but change? No I don’t think so. I’m still just a man.” “Hmm?” Angela was not so sure. Taking her by the hand he walked her back to the spot where she had entered. “Well my dear‚ I can only thank you for what has been a truly memorable‚ and thoroughly enjoyable day‚ but night draws on and I’m sure you would not wish to be walking these woods in the dark. I would see you safely home‚ but I am afraid that is quite impossible.” Angela looked around‚ and for the first time noticed that the sun was indeed low down above the tops of the trees. “Dusk already?” She thought‚ it didn’t seem as if she had been here that long. “EIGHT HOURS?” She thought with surprise. She couldn’t believe it‚ but judging from the position of the sun it must have been about that long. “No‚ I mean yes. Yes I guess I must be going‚ and thank you‚ I’ll be fine.” It was certainly not what she was thinking‚ but all she was about to say. “Will I see you again? I didn’t even know this glade was here.” “Perhaps my dear‚ for anything is possible. As for the glade‚ well it is always here‚ but can not always be seen. So as I say‚ perhaps‚ and should you want to enough‚ you may find your way back.” He turned her towards the gap in the undergrowth‚ and she stepped through. Turning back to say good-bye‚ all she saw were bushes and wild flowers where just moments before had been a beautiful glade. She shook her head‚ turned and began the walk home. Perhaps it hadn’t turned out to be such a bad summer after all.
Before A Midsummer Night's Dream Before A Midsummer Night's Dream · Interracial Love · Memories are important to me, specifically the good ones. I would concur that it's the small things one does during their lifetime that are going to be the most impactful on them when they go back to cherish. In my 25 years, I've tried to make as many of these little moments for myself as possible. I hope to continue doing so. As I circumvent the cobwebs and flip the grimy pages in the convolution that is my brain, I still recall a balmy Friday afternoon during the summer of '14. There have been many days around here where the climate could make it feel exactly like so. Though reiterating: The minutiae of details which were taking place during that day are what I think a person can treasure the most. Even if specifics become lost, they may blend and be a larger whole after a time. Speaking for myself, I now see the sun shining on that day more than I'd cared to notice then. I turned 19 that May. My self-confidence had been improving along with what amount was already there from the time I'd graduated from high school. I did so with the Class of 2012. I was on a tight leash that was loosened by my parents for the remaining year of my minority. They removed the leash when I became an adult by law the year later. I had finally escaped the austerity enforced in my orthodox household during my upbringing, and in lieu, set out with the intention to experience and to make myself happy. To think less of what was expected of me by those who play God, and more of my perennial passions. I'd recognized my flaws. I've never stated to anyone that I'm a good person. Never. But I felt that helping other people would be helping me; what else can we do? I pondered on a medical field or social work — and a steady source of income, of course. I knew this was going to be a tremendous undertaking, but I was adamant when I set my mind to something important to me. I'd been told so by teachers — people of authority outside the homestead. A university accepted me. It required a distanced move several hours away. I would have to do this on my own without support or enthusiasm from my family. Yes, I was frightened; I don't blame myself. But this was what it took — to overcome my dread and doubt while bearing in mind my goals, which I purposely left petty and superfluous so they would be feasible to complete and not damage me from unexpected failure to fulfill them. By my pragmatic, if not sardonic philosophies by default, expecting good things to happen in this world's rocky landscape leads to disappointment in many cases. Maybe then I wasn't aware of this factuality, but I am now. I recognize. I stop to think about those without. The body I am in, the innocent lusts I have, the blessings bestowed to me by God are all good things, so long as I humble myself and take heed to what I know to be right. They will not be denied by me, rejected by me, or taken for granted, as often as I can remind myself. As contradictory and ironic as the following account will seem, I'm only human, none of which is perfect, all of which is pardoned. II I always knew what the passions and lusts aforementioned were. They seemed like untapped and beautiful things that escaped my domineering nature of cynicism and restraint. Even early on in my childhood, I was inquisitive; whatever was there had always been a part of me. I could not, or rather, was forbidden to act on any carnal urges — rightfully so, since I was only a child. Yet, with all the boundaries and restrictions and doctrines of what is “Right” and what is “Wrong” firmly implanted, there was exposure to so many sexual contexts and innuendos, nonetheless — not only that but other discretions that a young girl should not be allowed to eavesdrop on. I was being informed well before my sanctioned time by three older siblings and made fully aware of how things plied. My brothers had no capacity for complex emotions such as concepts of morality or guilt — a typical encounter for me then. They did not care. They brought their rambunctious peers for visits while Dad would work around the clock, Mom would drink her gin and tonic, and I'd impinge on their misdeeds. Why did my dad ignore me? It bothered me more than he knew and would affect me down the trail. Why did my mom harbor such an indefensible hatred towards me? Was there something in me that she saw in herself, or was it merely me, having been the “accidental” fourth? The two live-in grandparents, who were Dad's parents, just made everything that much more awkward and unbearable. Why go into it? No more time should be wasted dwelling on any of them; the less, the better. I could not breathe in that household. In any case, it wasn't much different around my contemporaries. Only, I'd be the one to refute classmates' naive banter and false notions by having known it all in advance when sat down in sex-ed, courtesy of three dick-headed and repugnant siblings with age and primacy on their side. It was a stark contrast when compared to the ridicule I would languish in the home, having not known jack shit when gunned down by a belligerent firstborn, ten years older than me. Sex is so ubiquitous that it's just impossible to avoid anymore — if it ever was possible to avoid it — especially with my level of drive. In one way or another, everything will pertain to it unless a prude, which I am certainly not. I was innately fascinated by it. I asked harmless questions. Why did my bros have to be so mean about it? I'm not having any self-pity here; this is only an explanation of what life was like during my childhood and growing up in my family — a veritable psychiatric field day. My clusterfuck of a house demanded a 1955 mindset, regardless of whatever was going on behind closed doors. Mommy and Daddy never sat me down for a tête-à-tête about birds and the bees, or anything else for that matter. My parents and grandparents would force their lectures on love but never practiced it themselves or set an example. And I mean the sum of what love's supposed to be like, what I understood it should be like, not just the sexual elements that intrigued me the most. This hypocrisy angered me. What the fuck was this? Love — it is all I wanted to feel but was unable to receive it by any means there. After all that the abstinence had cost me through puberty, I planned to change things for myself by finding love elsewhere, and I would demand nothing in return for it. III Work was almost out on that sunny day sometime in June. I'd been interning in several hospitals and facilities while I studied for a planned degree in pharmacology. As the end of my stint approached, I thought more of my plans for that nightfall and how to pull them off to perfection. These non-sequitur thoughts were unsuited for any run-of-the-mill and holier-than-thou work ethic. They flew around with the rest of the hustle and bustle incessantly going on up there that I would do anything, short of opting out, to mitigate. They made me fidget in my seat, causing my muscles to tense and my breathing to fluctuate. To only exacerbate my uneasiness and anxiety, an inbound text message had arrived from my newfound friend, Naomi. I don't recall precise words, but I'd guess something along the fringes of, “Are you going out for scalps later?” Over the years I've known her, she'd often refer to my newly acquired boons as “scalps,” or in another form of acrimony which — coming from how endearing and friendly she was — would still put it lighter than I was in my behavior towards most of those poor kids. I was coming out from an inferno of juvenile years that were indeed affecting both me and my surroundings. I regret it now; I do. I've hurt; yes, I have. Naomi's perspectives and definitions of propriety were different from mine — ones I frequently envied. I'd met her for the first time in January of that year. She'd been a neighbor when I decided to get out of the dorm and rent something instead. I was still 18 then, and she had six years on me at her 24. From my first impression, she did not seem to carry any hint of whatever constitutes a Child left in her at all. She was self-governing, incorrigible in her mold, and who she distinguished herself as — no one would be changing her mind. I admired those aspects and sensed genuine wisdom in this chick. Naomi quickly became a close friend to me, as I'd moved hours from my home and knew no one in this sprawling and daunting megalopolis beforehand. She saw my electrons and only confuted them with her more overbearing protons. I learned that it was only futility to be anything other than happy and amiable around her. I grew up with antonyms of joy. She had an overwhelming ardor I'd not spent ample time with before. I eventually opened up to her about my past. My kitsch is considered old-school, old-fashioned, and I have no problem with that. In an age of social media, I may have — or I may not have — a different definition than bulks do of what a friend is and who gets placed on the 'Friends List.' It's a close circle, and in effect, a small list that is pretty damn important to me. I consider Naomi to be one of the people on said list. I mention her extensively because she became a pillar that supported my happiness. Her impeccable judgment regarding getting the most out of what this life had to reward me was never questioned or depreciated. I was indebted to her. By that point, I had possessed what the forms of those rewards were continually able to come in, allusive pun intended. I was already being made aware of the effortless perfection in which my soul resided. I made efforts anyhow — if only to maintain my temple. I went out of the way to run miles every day during the week. I was only continuing what I'd been doing as a form of escapism since junior high. I had myself conditioned to the point of feeling like I could keep on figuratively running away from my troubles in perpetuity. I loved it like an addiction — “Runner's High,” they call it. It made me feel sexy. People — suspected to be in the same frame of mind as me, e.g., 'on the hunt' — would look at me as I went past them in my own made world, where the cosmos centered around the area where the middle of my foot would connect to the asphalt. I caught many gotten glances from the corners of my eyes, which I consider dark and intimidating. If I did lock my formidable gaze with the odd pedestrian on my cool-down period, nine out of ten times, I'd cause them to glance off in another direction as swiftly as they could. Any place that didn't involve the prerequisite set of balls it takes to meet my peep, continue inwards, and break my barriers. However, the tenth time consisted of those sure enough of themselves to take a plunge and brave a journey into my complex irides intent to burn away any veil in theirs. Destinations varied. I would arrive home to my leased residence in a cold sweat and dampened clothes to undress for a hot shower in a ritualistic manner. The release from the confinements of my sports bra only made me feel like I could breathe the more so. As I poured out of the nylon stitching, my breasts would instantaneously settle back into their rightful perky place and be permitted to jut from my chest in freedom, just as God had intended for Eve's to do so before the Fall. I shimmied myself out of what thin fabrics remained on the lower portion of my framework — hips and all that is divine between my legs were revealed to me, reminding me of my luck again. I knew what I saw in the mirror's reflection; I was not blind to a familiar sight. I eyed my curves and contours and the landing strip I regularly like to rock on my mound. It was abundantly clear what I was beholding: I was the quintessential woman who could have anything she fancied. It was entirely my choice to ditch the conviction and despair I suffered through adolescence and enjoy being in my niche instead. What a hedonist I was. I would undo the knotted bun resting atop my head to let my blackened hair fall past my shoulders and onto my skin. I could detect a familiar and intoxicating fragrance in each of the strands. The moisture and scent from having pounded on the pavement not long before would also be in the air. It would mix with lingering aromas from whatever perfumes I'd sprayed in it from that morn. They joined with the traces of shampoo and conditioner from the previous night. The amalgamation became a tang of raw Sexual Energy that cannot be withstood or further described without the risk of raving. A lot can happen in a bathroom before a shower. In times like 'in front of the mirror after a run,' I feel an aura surrounding me. I see myself in my purest and most vulnerable form as my damp and weighted tresses brushed against tender bits. Naked and battling with an abiding lust, found in spiritual sectors that cannot be labeled by anatomy, I would do things to myself in front of these mirrors — I'd been doing so in secrecy for quite a while. I would explore places, touch parts, and imagine my empty spaces made occupied by things I was, in my infancy, only able to catch glimpses and then lose sight of, left to have them in my dreams. Later on, I would see them but never be allowed to feel them in my presence. These dreams became increasingly vivid. But by that summer in '14, the need for imagination and improvisation was no longer necessary. I had felt the sensation of a cock pressing into my flesh and was able to say so. Even if a phantom in my time of solitude, I oft feel nerves on zones inside me where I want the head to bear the brunt of its punishment most of all and induce the climacteric point of no return. In these moments, I cast aside whatever piety and temperance I have over myself and realize how bad I need fucked. My cock craving would arrive in times as such — the times that were so commonly encountered during weeks consisting of long days with nil opportunity to sate my needs and cause the build-up and frustration to become that much more acute. These times called for me to do something about it. They bring me back to the Friday reminisced on, the reply to my friend's question, and whatever lucky guy — the emblematic scalp — would get his chance to serve as this completion for me as the five days of absence waned, and the weekend drew nearer. IV I replied to Naomi; asked her if she knew where I could go to make this happen. She had lived in the City all her life and was a social animal. It amazed me how she could throw names and addresses at me at the drop of a hat — any place where something was going down. It wasn't long after that when she told me, “Go here,” gave me the deets and coordinates, and wished me well. I planned to brave it alone that night since I was working some distance from home. More and more routinely, I found myself still out, waking up in strangers' beds and being gone even well into the next day. It was becoming a custom for me to be prepared for this to happen. I would keep clothes in my car, influenced by whatever vogue was going on; lots of clothes. I kept stocked on survival essentials, too, i.e., food and drink — mainly trail mixes and bottled water. I had plenty of cosmetic and hygienic supplies to maintain my beauty and preserve my health. I could do work while sitting in the car if obligated. If I needed sleep, it was trivial enough to recline the seat. I was able to be out and about more by these means. Staying or fleeing a scene was all contingent upon how it was and the vibes I was feeling. After I got out of the job, I went to find the park I'd been using to run laps during that week. Though, today, I would run only to a point where I'd not work up so much fatigue and make a sweaty mess of myself — which, with my stamina, took some work. From what I remember, it was supposed to be an open house slated for six o'clock or so — a later part of the evening. It would be no more than a fifteen-minute drive from where I was. I had plenty of time. Also, I liked to show up late at these things. Exercising was not only delightful to me but my way of cleansing the deed through its health benefits. It was my absolution from whatever substances and sordid activities I would undoubtedly be indulging in. During those years, I spent time playing dress-up in my vehicle. I'd strip out of my work attire and into sports gear for my runs. Then I would return and swap back into something suitable for whatever I'd be doing after that. In many instances, I would be within plain view as I was changing in the car. In retrospect, I'm surprised I don't need neck surgery as a result of how much surveying I was doing while I switched outfits to see if I was being ogled at by some perv. I told myself nobody saw me making a nouveau riche bimbo out of herself, but maybe I was, in my subconscious, wishing someone had. Perhaps someone did see me once or twice, but that's another story. My black Honda Accord was like a home for me, pillow in the back and all. If push came to shove, I kenned I could always go to my car and nap there in safety. Unless close, there was no reason for me to drive back home. I could be spending that time doing something productive or heading towards something that made me feel good instead. I was being taught different things now; to love myself and cease in the denial of loving it. I wasted none of what coupled youth and adulthood instigated. At 19, I was milking these advocations for everything they were worth, although I never wavered from my own beliefs; my Faith. Love is at the center of it; the rest is redundant to me. With that in mind, I arrived back after I had concluded my jog. I always felt carefree and sensuous after the fact, being glad it was done and feeling much healthier. I threw something on and freshened up. I wanted myself as flaunted and sultry as possible, sparing no expense or giving any pretense as to what I would be looking for at this shindig. I made sure not to hold back on Chanel and L'Oréal and make my hair as liberated, salacious, and untamed as possible. I swallowed whatever lurking fret there was and brushed aside whatever bullshit second thoughts I had, then ignited the engine to hear the radio blasting A Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay. I remember it. V It was dusk when I got there. I parked a reasonable distance away on the curb and walked to the address Naomi gave me. A driveway went up for a bit that led me to a two-story home that looked to be an upper-middle-class sort of place. There was activity going on. Lots of people were there; I was not counting. The age group appeared anywhere between their teens like me, into their early thirties. I could walk right in and assimilate myself without anyone noticing, and I was all right with that. I figured most of it was going on in the backyard. There was a lot of landscaping around the front and a fence, so I had to go through the front door to get there, which was wide open. It seemed warm and stuffy when I stepped in, especially for the intermingling Latin blood running hot in my veins. The lights were down; I recall candlelight. I remember the usual smells of food and spirits. The familiar odor of marijuana was also in the air. I was 19 and very much underage, doing something I knew was not allowed, as if I was going to let that deter me. A blond-haired mistress I did not know walked up and hugged me. She said some indistinct things I don't remember now. She might have been the owner of the house since she was a bit older. Whoever she was, she looked to be well on her way, like she had taken something. I wasn't sure what was going on yet. I could not hear her, either. It was loud in there, enough to make a girl go deaf with the proper soundtrack going. People were yelling over each other as the typical EDM and pop music blasted on a stereo system. Music is at the epicenter of a good party. There have to be good tunes to have a good party, in my opinion. Of course, I did not expect to hear anything underground, abrasive, or hardcore, like a gabber at their rave or mosher in their pit. But the night was young, and so was I. At 19, a bit of what I knew was passed vicariously through the older folks I was becoming acquainted with — my friend Naomi was one of them. And her being 24, a sophisticated and diverse individual, they only got older from there. She was regularly around people in their thirties and upwards, back to when parties were happening in the '00s, '90s, and '80s. I hear they were tumultuous times, and Naomi had been exposing me to those capable of saying they were there. The only way to be there was to be there. They carried no smartphones back then, nor did they need them. Technology did not matter since it did not exist. It was the memory and the moment, nothing more. Whatever knowledge was in my academics and studies did nada for me while I was subject to those circumstances. What many of them attained was my definition of wisdom — having lived on Earth longer than me. Which is to say, they had witnessed more of what reality is and felt more pain than I had. The years they'd spent listening and partaking, as I was doing, had paid off. I could not compete with any of it, but she let me in on their private jokes, notwithstanding, and involved me in their antics as often as we were around each other. When I went to events with Nomi and whoever else she had along, there was no question about how confident I was. It meant a great deal to have her as a friend and to be able to call her one. As all this was happening, she confided with me just as much as I was confiding in her. With all that emotion and proximity, not to mention her talents in temptation, she began touching me and welcomed me to touch her, too. Lots of frivolous hugs were going on, but then they became more compelling. I did not know if she was manipulating me into something — if she was, it was working. She had the advantage of seniority and being the Cooler Cucumber than me, not to mention having a charisma that I lacked. She deadlocked me in my eyes all the time — a powerful thing to me. It reached the point when she trapped me on my lonesome one day, got me to open my mouth, and let her stick her tongue in it. It ended with her leading me by the hand and both of us on her bed, fucking one another. She pulled this off even amid my sobriety and having had considered myself a very straight female before then. Wow. Kudos to me, more power to her. Naomi became the first woman I was intimate with — she opened that gateway for me, broke that boundary and taboo. She was breaking lots of those not long after that. Things I never imagined myself doing began taking place, and I was doing them; things were taking me, more ambiguous puns intended. As time went on, she felt more like companionship and someone I could place my trust in and lower my guard around. It has remained as such to this day. VI Since I was alone at this particular event on that night, I wanted to be cautious. I was being analyzed head to toe by strangers left and right. I felt their eyes already peeling my duds off. During a warm night in June, there was not much clothing on me, to begin with — all my prominent features were out on display for them. I had done this on my own before and was discovering what worked for me, albeit tentatively. I needed to find a spot to settle in to get my bearings, with a drink in my hand that would put me on the path to enough of a buzz of courage to make a move on someone — or allow them to make theirs. A year farther down the highway, I might have done something insane and not thought twice, but I did not want to overdo anything here this evening. I was on my own, which is already taking a risk — too serious of one for my better part of judgment then. I found an unoccupied piece of patio furniture outside in the backyard. It was more spacious and less constricting than being inside the sweltering domicile. More air and fewer clusters of crowds brushing into my Safe Zone allowed me to relax and contemplate. People were in their groups and cliques and saturated in their confidences for reasons obvious to anyone. In that sort of environment, being ingratiated within a group makes a state of mind different from when unescorted. I felt withdrawn and homesick at this function that night, to be sure, drinking alcohol in my teens and prone to rash decisions. I had to remain vigilant and keep my wits about me. This garden party had been carrying on for a while now. I saw people dancing, fornicating, and rambling incoherently across the yard from what looked to be drug use, alleged to be ecstasy. I saw a surreptitious group of males, the type known all too well to me by then. I assumed they were selling — my assumption proved correct after time spent sitting with my drink and policing them. Club drugs were still out of my depth then, and taking something like MDMA — or taking any substance for that matter — without someone to trust nearby leads to bad decision-making and potential catastrophe. It's a wonderful way to wreck your entire life in an instant — and be left with the sickening hindsight of, “Why did I have to do it? I could have Just Said No. Everything would be fine right now if I had.” Thoughts such as those make me think of what is taken for granted, not to mention my health. With what I was doing for a better amount of six years, it is a miracle I am even alive and not in a coma or dead. Which is worse, the former or the latter? There would be no fucking way I would be taking anything on that night, let alone pay anything out of pocket for whatever insalubrious garbage it may have been cut with. I was searching around for someone who appeared to be in a comparable situation as me: they were at this festivity to get laid and bust their nut — no cons, illegalities, or ODs attached. Nothing wrong with a little lovin'. I had been there for at least half an hour now. I recall having a Dark and Stormy — a drink I have thoroughly enjoyed over the years. I doubt the rum was anything from a top shelf, but volume is volume. Speaking of volume, since the time I'd strolled through the home, the music was getting better. Maybe they'd replaced whoever was doing the DJing with someone who knew their shit — a connoisseur who viewed music as an art form, as I did. It sounded to be deep-cuts of minimal techno, vocal trance, et cetera. Echoes of numerous, unknown artists and tracks that someone could quite easily only ever lay ears on once during a lifespan and then never hear again. Hearing the unheard has always been a big deal to me. I thrive for a moment where I will hear something to fall in love with — or take offense from. As cruel as it seems to say to anybody sober, genres such as techno and trance will only sound better while rolling on uppers or while bombed out of their gourds on herb — or, in my case, that eve, floating on alcohol. But please permit me to be a hoity-toity, high and mighty, la-di-da ball-buster by repudiating what was literally just said: Don't do drugs; don't even drink hard liquor. It's the smart thing to do. VII I remember attempting a conversation with a couple of passersby if you could call it a conversation. Most of what they were mumbling to me about was idiosyncratic gibberish. Obviously Zonked. I told them, delivered as a fait accompli, what I was here for — my thirst needed to be quenched by some sort of personified punch after the stressors of my existence throughout that week, hither. While I continued to sip my beverage and soak in the sounds, I looked for a suitable other to aid me in accomplishing this feat. It would be an extreme responsibility for them. Most of the guys I saw there thought themselves larger than life, and justly so, I guess. They had girls with them already. It's possible actual relationships were going on, e.g., boyfriend and girlfriend. Most looked thunderous and hyper. Always something to say. They frolicked in their esteem. Were I to walk up to these characters or them to me, dictation would be on their terms. They could easily cast me aside and find someone looking nearly as good as I was that night, and I was looking severely good at 19; it would be untenable to deny or just plain mean to tell a Missy otherwise. I was getting tons of inspections, lonely and abandoned as I was. Time was running out for me to choose, and the alcohol was in effect. VIII I saw one of the smaller assemblages that looked to be more phlegmatic than the norm. They casually conversed and gave no evidence of having any terminal impairment. From a stone's throw away from my location, they looked like respectable working-class — blasé and hospitable; no flamboyance. One guy was the odd man out. He had no Lady on his arm, as the other two Gentlemen did. He looked to be a real Somebody. I would say he was in his upper twenties. His physique looked active, rugged, and undemanding — a type I loved to tempt. His hair was dark, dense, and wavy — enough of it to run my fingers through to feel good about myself. He had maintained facial hair, but not too maintained. He seemed rough around the edges, with nothing tapered or outstanding. His clothing — a distinctly recollected dark and drab T-shirt and tarnished denim jeans — fit loosely enough for comfort and snug enough to show off his sculpt — one that looked lean with a fatally underestimated power behind it. Hell yeah, I'd tap that! I was eyeing him up and down, gorgeous as I was, and he saw me doing it. He was participating in a chat with his buddies and their dates while he was more and more glancing over at me, sitting on my own, trying to pretend like he was not affected. I wondered if they were talking about me — it looked like they were touching on something. From what I was observing, he seemed to have a reserved opinion of himself. His friends appeared that way, too. There was no complacency or delusion present. I was stricken to carry myself with the same decorum in ordinary cases, but I was horny and infatuated with myself at the minute, not to mention Sloshed. I thought the man was looking at me and assuming right away that there would be no bet in hell of scoring a nasty summit of a number like me on that night. Too modest for his own good. Or was I wrong? Was I too conceited and haughty for my own good? I wondered what kind of beast of a Cock was skulking behind the excess seen in his weathered jeans like it was some predator waiting in ambush. Each seam and tear in those pants he bore so eloquently were more than likely earned by his merit at whatever tedious daily grind he had, rather than been pre-installed at purchase merely to resemble liveliness. As I continued studying him, I felt my mouth salivate. My breath began to elevate. My muscles were contracting, and I was fidgeting in my chair like I'd been doing at work earlier. What charm lay bare and void betwixt my thighs was going from moist to damp, damp to wet, and throbbing with each heartbeat. Steamy thoughts were going on in my fucked up and dirty head. I queried how much I could get away with here — Niña Loca, arguing with the Voices. The hand that did not contain a plastic cup involuntarily traveled down to paw at the soft Hill found in my shorts. I oftentimes do this with the knuckles bearing inward — really, there is no control over it. Then I felt my face begin to tingle and my mouth abruptly dry. I took another swig of 40 as if that would alleviate the dryness in the long run. My chest became tight, and my heart began to pulsate with even greater intensity — so much more that I felt it shocking my body from root to stem. My adrenaline was kicking in — something I still needed to get used to feeling. I wanted this dude to put his brawny hands all over me and force me to moan for him as he fucks me to climax. Oh, God, how I needed it. I wasn't going to wait around for it to happen. I got up and took concealed, stumbled strides athwart the grass and over to him. IX He grew taller as I neared — at least a head's higher than my 5'5''. Oh yeah, this fella was interested, so was I. Definitely a Smash. Something was trying to click here. His eyes lit up a bit, deep and complex as they were, like mine. Still, he did not turn them away from me to stare at his feet or act like he didn't know what was happening. I sensed he had assurance in himself, whether he cared to concede to it or not. As I landed my sights on the more intricate of his features, it became clear why he did. He was indeed much older than I, more into his early thirties. This was not some boy as green as the ground I stood on; it was a full-fledged Man. With the age comes the experience, as I was going to find out about later on. A man's age advantage over me also stirs my more discreet and frailer of psychological quirks — the lack of a Father Figure. Where I was invisible to my dad, I had found an adjacent alternative, who did appreciate me and lavished me in sensuality, furthermore. I'm a believer in Occam's razor — that the Quickest Avenue is probably going to be the right one to go down. Short and sweet; no meandering BS or trying out new techniques. I asked him if he was with someone. He took my meaning, shook his dear head in a neutral expression, and told me No. We shared the same policy, apparently — candid, concise, and straight to business; this is not like the movies. I asked if I could be with him. He said Yes — just like that. I went up to meet his chest, albeit hesitant from the slight jolted shock to my nervous system when I realized he was more seasoned than I had anticipated. But he extended a sinewy arm to give me signs I had nothing to fear from him. An indefinable surge of warmth went over me. Feelings of Happiness and Acceptance flooded inside as I hugged my body closer. I was on his left; I remember it. He put his arm around me. He was a rock-solid Bull. I wanted to put my arm around him, too. When I did, it felt like trying to hug a bronze statue out of Ancient Rome. I felt out of my body so often during these escapades. It was something surreal like a déjà vu or feeling like I'd reached the pinnacle of a precipice, one where reality only existed inside my mind and falling off the ledge would turn it into a black nihility, like before being born into a soul. I wished to rest my head on him and shut my eyes, then open them to see if I'd wake up someplace else — I didn't want to wake up; I wanted to go nowhere else but 'Here' and 'Now.' He had a scent of cologne that merged with a nostalgic hint of tobacco that I grew up around in a family of smokers; casual, and chain. His conferees were, as I inferred: Around their late twenties and precisely the kinds of laid-back folks that I could correlate to and mellow out with. One might even label it esoteric — no conformity, only themselves. There was an introduction. We exchanged our names — of which now I cannot recall. Mine was Melanie, and it is appalling that I cannot remember the name of my new boyfriend as I write in the present tense. His pals seemed tranquil and only spoke about as much as need be. They continued having a conversation about something that I draw blanks on now. I think it was work-related. I gathered they were co-workers. What was running through my mind was who I had my arm around. My hand and its fingers lightly traced the finer details and digits of his spine. They went up to the lower parts of his neck to brush his hairline. I was touching him with greater zeal and affection at an alarming rate of attrition. He was considering it, and I could see it. Who knew I had it in me? I had to raise my head to meet his height. My eyes were looking up and to his. Even if he turned away for a moment to those he was already familiar with, as if to equivocate my presence, I did not falter — my sight remained on him. This technique was not just for him to enjoy but also was a means for me to read him — to try my damnedest to discern what kind of man this was. What kind of secrets did I need to know about, hmm? Eye contact. It's important to me. I wanted to trust this stranger enough to give him Carte Blanche and let him have total Dominion over me and all that could be his. Capriciousness had nothing to do with the decision I had made — and despite my inebriation, while crossing over the lawn, I knew what I was doing here. It was the End Game in mind — for me to have my brains Fucked out in earnest and their gray matter suspended in Orgasmic Euphoria. Such has always been my Vice. The rest is impertinent; diversions or tactics to lead me to it. When they met my soft skin, I recalled the grain of his hands calloused and stalwart, like a man's hands should feel. As I expected, this was an active human being with a firm grip on a very clingy gal who coveted to get a lot more of her parts gripped on before the roosters had a chance to crow at sun-up. What I did not expect was how much this buckaroo knew what he was doing. It leads me to believe that this is why I still retain the night, even over six blurry years later, where I would find myself in similar predicaments during every week's end. X I finished my Juice and nonchalantly tossed the obligatory Red Solo Cup elsewhere, scattering the condensed ice cubes and soggy rum-soaked lime wedge amongst the turf. A Party will be a Party, and this one was not mine. A proper Fucking Mess — “Fucking” in verb form — for the host/hostess to clean up after all's said and done is, in consolidated fact, a Given. I now had both of my lovely hands vacant and available to touch him, as my inborn omnipotence concerning these libidinous affairs deemed fit. I edged myself from his side and into his front, though not all the way. Of course, this rose his attention; why would it not? No dialogue was going on between us, and I was quite all right with that. The Music played. The Multitudes in the yard carried on hooping and hollering like not a thing was transpiring between He and Me. My hands were running up and down along his sides and anywhere else stimulating they could conquer. I have been told countless times in so many ways about what it is like to feel my reception and bona fide sentiment via my touch. I did not grab the Bulge I wanted so desperately to have in my clutches, quite yet. It's crucial not to overstep bounds, initially. I needed to wait for that moment, a critical one. I had a Good Vibe going on here; high hopes; this was most certainly a Catch. He “wasn't most guys,” and for once in a blue-fucking-moon in the Sky, this Truth was held to be self-evident. I wanted him to have it, this luscious body in its entirety. He did not have to prove a thing to a girl endeavoring to cultivate herself. I finally got him to focus on Me, Me, Me, and fuck all else — the narcissistic wench that I was. In that instant, I banked on the Accolade to take place — the bit where this man took over for me and granted me something in return; quid pro quo. And he did. First Base! He had been a downplayed professional, touching me in all the right places with all the right amounts of pressure applied. His friends were very polite, and I don't even remember when they shifted elsewhere to give us our privacy. The only thing I remember was how fast I was being pulled into his body from a forceful tug on my Butt and my lips meeting his. I felt my boobs flattened on his torso in their usual somatic fashion — always a treat. My eyes closed, and what was subtlety on both our parts quickly turned to passion. I had no choice in this anymore. I was being manhandled and forced to submission by this Tank, made to feel like a Woman. My forearms went around his Hull and my fingers through his hair — any place I could nudge and turn on. All the while, he is doing the same things to me. Inside, I am growing aroused beyond words — driven to moan and whisper indiscretions and Freudian slips I would only utter from my authentic pleasure. My emotional state, psyche, and soul were being taken back to childhood — dismissal then, embrace now. They should be signals to this man — to any man — of how much I was getting into this. I was 'F4M/DTF/NSA,' unequivocally. He had taken his Big Bat and hit the Baseball well into the outfield, if not a home run, so he rounded to Second Base without the obligation to halt on the first plate. The heat and waves from his approval and endorsement enveloped me. I was standing on tippy-toes and then felt a drag in the small of my back by a stern and assertive hand. I was as closely knit to his body as allowable with our clothes still on. My kisses grew more adventurous and liberal, of which happy campers have told me are as great as my touch. My tongue was doing its handiwork; he impressed me with his. He was pulling up my leg to rest against his midsection as if to lift me from the ground and spare me my encumbrance. I'll admit, it was tough being Me sometimes. He had his other hand grabbing into my tight Ass in the interim — a lot of Ass to grab into. Courtesy of a South-American heritage, the Brazilian Butt Lift came with the Package. As he did this, it caused everything so tender and bewitching to the commonfolk to stretch apart and shoot waves of exhilaration through me, from the top of my pointy hat, to where I sit on a broomstick, to the tips of my toes. I like it when my backside is played with and violated by a stronger counterpart, 'tis true. I emphasize: With all that is Corporeal, simultaneously existing with all that is Conceptual, the pleasure I feel from this is Incommunicable. I felt another brutish hand betwixt my pregnable legs and its fingers pressing into fertile valleys below the pubic bone. He knew precisely where my Clit was, even with my dungarees obstructing it. We — being me and Her — were assuredly in trouble. Giving this Paragon of Masculinity no sign of refusal and every incentive to take this to another level, I immediately placed my hand on the Bump of unmentionables in his slacks. I was, dying then and there to have it rammed inside me — through any choice of an entrance — to placate my yearning. I felt how hard it was and only wondered of its potential size when I had it out to put my hands on it. It felt disconcertingly Huge. Too huge for captivity. I aimed to be the girl to release it for good. XI I do not know how long we were making out. What could have been minutes seemed like hours to me? Or is it the other way around? My guy and I were standing out in public, and this shit was getting Real. He was going under my skimpy little summertime top and touching my bare, prohibited flesh by that point. I wanted him to take it off. I didn't stand a possibility to surmount to this; he would just triumph in one way or another. He could put me over a desk, stick his Dick in my Ass and fuck the reading glasses off me, and there would not be a goddamned thing I could do to prevent it. I knew it. Despite all that Respect I had for myself, I was ready to accept being got and fucked back into my place on the Hierarchy — fucked out of the Feminist Mindset that liked to creep up on me. And him being a Hunk and having it all rock-hard in his pants because of me only validated my Role and gave me that much more esteem — I accorded him his hard-on. He was digging me. On the Ortho-Novum, or whatever I was taking at the time, there was no cause for us to be concerned about unplanned cherubs should things come to that. We were ready for this to happen. My areolae diminished, nipples coagulated. I felt numb from the cocktail in my system. What a lousy feeling sometimes. Contrary to what's said about alcohol warming the blood, the opposite is true — it reduces body temperature. I was getting cold. Finally, my boo gave me an interval to be able to tell him that I “really wanted to be alone with him” — more than likely in those selfsame words, or fewer — implying that I needed him to fuck me. He understood. This guy was exceptional, incredible. Most talk too much, but he was of few words. He explained to me, in brevity, that he lived only a five-minute stroll from the house party and asked me if I wanted to go there with him. I answered, “Yes," with as much sincerity and solemnity as I could muster from my drunken state. He put his arm around me, said some hazy farewells and valedictions to his associates, and lead me from the property. XII The eve had turned late, at least according to whatever Pecksniffian condescender declared that 'when the sun is down, then it should be deemed by us as such.' I didn't know the exact time, but as long as I'd lived with Time, it had to have been at least after 23:00. It was a peaceful walk, lit by the scattered lamps on the road and the city's glow and hum. Not a lot was spoken between him and me, though I remember trading compliments and informing him of how much I was looking forward to this. We were enchanted by each other in the ambiance of the midnight that warded off the distant sounds of commerce, transit, and day-in-day-out hustle-bustle. My other half had a sturdy arm around my curvy waistline, and a steady palm on my belly — my more supple touch sought to rouse him on his back while he did so. I was on his left side; I reckon it's the instinctive side of an alpha male for me to choose. It made me feel great; these fluttery butterflies in my head with his hold down there. I strived to stay as flirty and lewd as I could with my hookup. But mayhaps a more magical side of me gave a more devoted sort of touch to him, as plausible while in motion, as we neared wherever he lived. Maybe my caring touch hoped to sustain the comfort and warmth we had already shared at the gathering together. Perhaps it hoped to obtain more. I can get a bit melancholy while on the sauce; it is a depressant, after all. I remember my touch carrying a gravity. Was my fling feeling it like it was? Nah, probably not. Regardless, my swooning and blushing from this tall and mysterious drifter, leading me to be fucked, may have evoked some facepalming drama. He had his arm around my waist. His hand pressed into my womb; it possibly jerked a tear in the corner of my eye or two. Maybe a little one. I can become very emotional when my guard is down like it was there; is that so bad? I get this fucking longing to gratify another entity and receive something in return from it. It is kind of difficult to explain. Most of my frequented types did not give me this in return. I wanted to exploit some form of compromise — a chunk that was taken out of their armor by means I would hope to overhear during pillow talk, highs, trips, or something. I aspire to get a hard-ass such as this one with my arm wrapped around to open themselves up to me; make me feel meaningful, if not indispensable to them. Maybe then I would repay them by letting them see me open up — let them have a taste of what really flows through my heart. Though I would find myself in similar situations shortly in the future, most of the liquor was subsiding by then; I only downed the one cup at the gala — granted, a large cup. The temperature had fallen, and I was freezing. I remember shivering and trembling, my teeth gritting, but this could have been from the looming plans. I will confess, I was slightly anxious since I knew what was coming. I was in this sexy rascal's grasp and heading with him towards the fabricated and murk unventured. It did not matter; it was a beneficial kind of worry, more of a therapeutic dilemma, or being in labor before childbirth — the kind that made me feel like a lady. I had to have been looking good — my heavy eyeliner to lose himself in; my myriad of long sable hair abound for him to stir and sway. He was treating me well. He had respect for me, and I knew he would not hurt me. I was fucking ready for this. XIII We'd reached our destination. I had deduced — all while keeping up with the tradition of oohing and awing over the immaterial and mundane on our way over — that the structure was a lesser idyllic sight, fixed closer to the street. It was more of a bungalow, with less of a yard in front — a bit of a far cry from the dazzling, bourgeois casa we'd trekked from in the minutes that felt like ages ago. But if it's Moolah I'm after, then they don't know me at all. He took me around to the rear of the dwelling to unlock a door. The backyard was more spacious, only as I recall from the low level of visibility, it being past my bedtime. No moment was wasted going inside. He closed the doorway. I heard the keys clank as they hit the kitchen counter. It was dim, save for a small tinted light seen in his living room — he had left it as such for us: dark. The curtains were closed. I heard a radio on low; 88.1, a jazz station — maybe to dissuade intruders? Or had he been planning something here all along? What space was there appeared to be well-kept, as if he wasn't home a lot — or when he was, he had a needy bombshell clinging to him as he did on this night. It had this atmosphere of order and neatness — that of an industrial and regulated one — a well-disciplined fellow. Though, it felt like a cozy and homey place to me, too. I was only judging all of this in a brief instance because he turned to confront me. I gawked at him with a minor trace of hesitancy, as if I could not believe this was happening to me right now. He took me in his arms, and I melted into a fervent kiss. XIV You get out of me what you put into me. Most of the plights that I braved with men were pseudo and superficial. There was no real thought of affection from them. But this seemed offbeat. I was feeling it — the vibe and the passion. He was giving me everything he had while still being vertical with clothes on his person, and he was fucking good at it. I don't know how long we were fondling one another or how we were veering towards the living room floor. As we did so, I understood that pieces of our clothing no longer wanted to be a part of the equation. I had my Beau's shirt off before we hit the rug. An effortless quintessence of a man was on top of me, giving it up to me, and I back to him. My top was still on, likely thinly sown and suggestive. I must confess I had not been wearing a bra since that eventide when I left work. It is my habit to ditch a bra from my soma at any opportune respite I can get. I have claustrophobia, and they are so fucking choking and uncomfortable. And, yeah, what was underneath the required conduct and expectation for people to have raiment on their persona in Society was probably blatantly visible to the public, too — i.e., my voluptuous 30Ds. But why should I have to wear a bra on such a nefarious night? He already knew it, of course. His hands were well up into my shirt and directly applied to all that is magnificent back at the party. He had not seen them unfiltered yet, however. We were still kissing; necking; feeling each other up — making love with each other. Does this not seem like it could want to go on for an eternity? My toned legs were wrapping around his back and pulling him in. I hugged him as close to me as I could. He touched me all over, was rubbing his hand on my shorts, right where I like it. Arousing noises were being born by me through concupiscence and pleasure. He stopped a moment, said nothing, only looked at me — my mood dazed and bewildered; my hair a scintillating and frantic mess, as he edged my top over my boobs. He paused another sec, and his eyes went wide. Nevertheless, he did not comment, and neither did I. Our facial expressions were our conversation. Maybe I would be getting another kind of 'facial' pretty soon. I looked at him and gave half a smirk with a feigned exhalation through my nose. He seized the meaning that I wanted this to proceed. He smooched me all over my upstairs and became enraptured by the visage of my exquisite knockers handcrafted by God. I closed my eyes and felt hot inside as he did so, never ceasing to convey my profound affections to him. He was traveling further downstairs in his affections towards me. My scantily sported top, a fluorescent orange insert brand name as I hark back to, had been discarded — flung across the pad. Both of us still had our pants on, obscuring the most sacred and sought-after regions. His was all I was musing about; what kind of monstrosity would I have to tussle with here? I could only feel it confined to his pants — what I felt scared me and shortened my breath, made me bite a lip or two. I was so fucking aroused. He was past my navel at this point; his tongue had been in there. My pants, still being equipped, did neither of us any good. It was time. He knew it, and so did I. He slid them down my legs and past my bare feet that draped over his shoulders. I have cute feet and toes, probably painted then. He saw them — before glimpsing at the shaven grandeur farther up, clearly conspicuous behind a decadent thong — and was not opposed to putting any part of me into his trap. He did something like stick me in his mouth, and I did something such as stroke the excess of his penis in his jeans with my other foot if only to entice him — as is my intuition when an apex has my toes at his mercy. His blue jeans were indeed still present, and I would be giving him prompts to take them off in succession with my waxed legs spread for him. He did not succumb. He took his time and it was turning me the fuck on in the meantime. My darling had skipped down several floors. He was now operating from bottom to top, inevitably leading to my delectable vulva and all points between — within and without; protruded and retracted. Would whatever animal that lay hungry in the foliage cause a prolapse when it sprung out to attack me? We — me and my pussy — had to wonder how bad this was going to be. What had we gotten ourselves into this time? It was no tricky task for this specialist to maneuver around my slutty looking band of string and put his mouth on areas and orifices that need no introduction to Mankind. There was no excuse not to know the female anatomy in 2014. Like the rest of his touch, it was an intrinsic gift to him — the right amounts of oscillated pressure applied under my little canopy. All I could think to do was just lay there and deal with it, play with my boobies, bite my lip, look down in amazement and reverence and savor it. This was a man who was not afraid or ashamed to go down on a woman. Evidently, this was about my pleasure, not his. I felt like a queen. He tapped his tongue right into my spot with my hand on his head whilst I was gasping in total awe of this hottie and pleading with him for it to continue and never desist. What more could a girl want? Everything was dripping in secretion, famished to have this panther make a meal out of us. His tongue in my box and on Dr. Grafenberg's spot was positively Awesome — I never use this word lightly. XV At this point, we had me moaning in agony for him, my legs trembling, and nerve endings bestowing euphoric bolts of lightning through my body. I was so fucking close, and yet, he paused. He brought my legs together and ditched the sad excuse of synthetic material that remained on me, leaving me in the nude. I do remember faintly saying to him, in helpless and perplexed excitement, “Let me see it, Daddy,” as if I had to tell this guy how to do his job. I could not help it; I needed it so fucking badly! He took the sides of my arms in both his hands and elevated me from the floor. He didn't have to tell me twice when he stood to his feet. I got on my knees and put my hands on his legs, never forgetting eye contact — laborious as it was, to focus on anything but my prize. My mate had already trod well past the third base by now, and I hadn't even seen it yet — I would not malinger here. It was time for him to head for the home plate — the final sprint. He undid the button and saved the zipper for me. I'd waste no time keeping his briefs on, either. I wanted the shock from this to strike me — though slowly, steadily, and in all profundity, I gripped the tops to slide them down. In exact, shuddered words of, “Oh my God,” as it lept out from behind the final barrier of cloth and fell from its weight, oxygen had been displaced in my lungs and replaced by another wave of an electrical current that detonated in my chest. I could not believe what I was bearing witness to here. Before then, I'd seen in propria persona what constitutes Perfect and Large dicks — these are not terrible items at all. But I had not seen a cock as colossal as his, staring me right in the face as tangible. This dude was Hung. How in Fuck's name was I going to manage this! He put the 'Well' in 'Well Endowed' in every literal and iterated sense. My breath quivered, and all I could think to do next was to put my hands on it — yes, it required them both. I'm on my knees, naked and flushed, before this monument of a man looking down at me. He was petting my head and pampering my brown-black hair, encouraging and inspiring me. Fuck, I was hot. It just behooved me, instinctively, to begin the process of engulfing it. Need I go into copious detail here? I was a prodigy of oral sex — of any sex. The simple translation: I love fucking. I heard his breathing go up and felt his grip begin to tighten. He didn't do anything brutish or obnoxious to me, only tilted his head to the ceiling to enjoy it. This delighted and satisfied me as I proceeded to go down on it further. I couldn't fit its entirety into the back of my throat, as diligent and persevered as I was, so I ran along its sides instead. I glanced up at him and sought his trust in me to put his nuts in my mouth — gently so as not to hurt them. One hand remained to stroke on his cock, the other wrapped around his leg. I closed my eyes and listened to his stifled groans from the fabulous head he was receiving. The erotic redolence of sex was in the air and affecting my anima. I felt both of our raised pulses; my own was crippling me. My heart could not beat any faster than it was; my body was ready to explode like a volcano. I rose from my knees a bit to play with myself. I doubt he noticed me reaching down to rub my pussy and press a finger or two onto my asshole. I continued to suck his dick off and allow as much of it to slide down into my throat as I could. I was so fucking ready for this guy to vanquish us. How were we going to fit this? I trusted him to be helpful and patient; he seemed like such a nice and handsome gent. We were communicating with each other only through our expression; it went without saying. Both of us knew what to do before the moment had arrived. My sweetheart saw me dawdling and hesitating with his circumference still in my yap and gently withdrew. He had his hand brushing the side of my adorable mug and went to a bended knee to lay on the soft carpet. He didn't have to signal me; tell me two times — we had already agreed upon it. It was beautiful and organic. On my way back down to meet him, I gave fellatio for a moment longer, simply to show how much I cared and also to prep it for penetration. Then I settled my hands on his warm and naked hide and laid atop him, my comely profile facing his. My body was swollen in its arousal as I lay pressed against him, everything so sensitive in the slightest movement. My lover put arms around me; I was no longer cold. I was like china, but he was gentle, caring only for my comfort. I wanted to kiss him again for it, and now free in the nude with the thought of his lush cock eagerly waiting in the middle of my titillating legs. My choice. An inexpressible joy that can only be comprehended while feeling the phenomena; two conglomerate bodies becoming a better and fuller whole. I felt like a part of this person. We laced hands, sought fidelity while entwined, and committed ourselves to one another. We withheld nothing. I felt safe; he would not harm me. I only go by my nature when I feel this fierce of a connection with my partner. XVI I don't recall any other specifics of our lovemaking prior to insertion. What I do remember about this night were the length and girth. We were going to have to take this slow; it went without saying as he caressed me, and I gave him whimpers and hints of how nervous I was. I was as ready for it as I would ever be; burning, drenched, and relaxed. His very erect Johnson was still loitering around the entrance to my pussy. No condom was involved — always a gamble, but he seemed like a well-kept enough chap to me. I took his hand in mine and guided it down my back to display my wish. I placed mine on his shaft and carefully prodded its head through my labia and onto my slit to squeeze it in. Yeah, he was enjoying himself. I did not remove my cajoling gaze from him, either. It entailed some parted mouths, some blood-and-tears, some concentrated squints, and mixed cries of anguish and relief, but we slipped the tip in. Every part of my vaginal cavity was screaming, “No, don't do this to me, Mel! It's too big!” But despite her quandaries, this was working out for us. Notwithstanding her bitching and vanity, we'd managed it, hand in hand, side by side; we were in this together now. I began to acclimate to my man's ferocious size and take his cock like it was put on Earth, designed, and tent for my insides. I did my utmost to have as every much of a blazing inch stretching me apart as possible. I dug my fingers into his chest and arched my back, going down on this fucking fire-breathing leviathan as much as I could stomach. Its master and ruler — its Neptune — only laid there with his eyes closed and head on the carpet. He had stopped touching me at that point. Was he just relishing in my depravity and my desperation to make this work? Various “oh gods” and “oh fucks” were forcibly ousted from my vernacular amidst each heavier land onto his column. My tits bounced up and down for his entertainment and viewing pleasure. How great does that sound? Still, he lay there, hands behind his head like nothing was happening, and my determination to win over his heart didn't mean fuck all to him. I felt it striking withering blows to my cervix at that point, and a substantial number of fiery inches remained outdoors. I could not, for the life of me, adjoin his ball sack to my filled gape. I leaned back like I love to do and could not sit down on it all the way. It forced me to remain aloft, quite literally. This man was fucking huge — a cock to contend with a giant's. Enough said. XVII The challenging amount of size was negligible after some minutes of nurtured friction, slower plummets, and repeated grindings. This job was not without its complications. It's not kids' stuff; it's strenuous and taxing — this was not easy work, and Pussy and I were having our work cut out for us. There were pings of discomfort and pleasure, but eventually, I was landing on it in enough of a meticulous rhythm to begin to feel an orgasm in the making of such immense depth and explosive magnitude as I had never felt. Its surface texture just felt so damn fine inside; words cannot tell. My membrane encompassed every pulsing vein and intricacy. Its foreign heat melded with my familiar — it accommodated the ache on the spot where I kept liking it to hit. I was getting comfortable, slicker from the continual reams in and out of my hole. It was getting a lot easier to endure, very rapidly. The explosion, and my trip to it, would not be canceled. His cock was hitting the home plate, and then some. If any pain persisted as it broke through the gates during the relentless siege into my pink, I was ignoring it. It was too good to stop. I had no jurisdiction over myself at this point; it had all switched over to mental. Nothing else was relevant. God, can I get into it. I was getting ready to come all over Daddy's cock, and I was telling him so. He did not need to be apprised by me; he saw me getting close. He no longer just lay dormant but reciprocated with affection, put his hands all over me, and gave me the time of night. The feeling of his acknowledgment, on its own, was enough to send me over the edge, then and there. I tried to hold out for as long as I could. Why? I do not know. Perhaps it was my pride. Maybe I didn't want him seeing how easy I was; or how much I was fancying him. I didn't trust myself enough to let go. It would not matter; he would force the orgasm out of me eventually, by my will or not. Things were getting more vocal on my part; nothing said was being moderated. I have something of a terrible fucking lip, nihilistic as I tend to be. He began to pound into my body as I met with his — a synchronized love dance that has been going on between Man and his woman for quite some ti
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Help Meat (A Dystopian Tale part 1) Help Meat (A Dystopian Tale part 1) · Fetish · There’s something in the bible I heard preached when I was very young, back when girls were still allowed to go to school. It described Eve as Adam’s “help-meet,” and went on to add that just as with the world with all its animals, women were put upon the Earth to benefit men. The reading came again a few weeks later after there had been rioting in the streets. The monotone voice again repeated that women were intended by God to be the perfect servants of men, a resource to be used and enjoyed—even harvested as sustenance to feed hungry bellies. “Let the woman return to her original purpose,” the speaker had said. “She is made for recreation, for procreation, and above all else—to nourish and sustain men.” I was twelve when I was taken from my family. I have no idea what became of my mother and two younger sisters, for they had vanished like so many women and blemished girls. My older sister still lives, as far as I know, doing one of the many things attractive girls must do. As for me, my name is Dani, and at fourteen years old I’m almost to the age of usefulness. This camp that I am staying at is actually meant to deprogram boys and teach them God’s will. Each camper is assigned a girl as his project on the first day. For one month that boy is expected to work with his girl, doing his best to ready her for service. This involves a lot of coaching, as our thoughts too, were in need of correction. My boy is Pete, a tall lanky youth with thin hands. Once Pete had played the piano, but now I’m his instrument. The first part of each day I must spend in the tank. For three hours I’m required to swim without resting—never touching the sides unless absolutely necessary. I am of course naked as all girls are. We can wear robes when we get chilly. But if a male staff member should cross our path, we are to uncover ourselves for his inspection. For we females are lowly creatures. Such things as privacy or pride are a male privilege only. It would not be so bad, except for the blistering summer heat. The men are never too concerned, since girls are not to live long anyway. But at least most places around the park are protected somehow. The tank where I swim has a wooden overhang. Even the walkways we girls take to get to our meals have covers overhead. It is a Tuesday and I have finished my swim. I towel off my chilled body, and then I await the arrival of my coach. At age fourteen my breasts are now at last showing promise. I suppose I would be into a C cup by now, if such a thing as bras still existed. Pete will focus on my breasts first in his obsession to make them larger. I pad into the empty gymnasium beside my tank, starting on the bench press to strengthen my pecs. After this I do my sets of push-ups, followed by cable flies. Pete enters the gym and quietly watches me as I work, his gaze on my chest as I separate my arms. “Done pullovers yet?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Pull downs?” No. Another negative. “You’re behind, Dani.” I nod, and as I stand, he gestures me over to the freestyle weights. We work together for about an hour, and Pete makes me repeat the sets he missed. “Now stand before me,” he commands in his bossiest voice. I obey at once, my head turning sideways as his hands massage my breasts. I tense when he takes my nipples and pinches them gently, rolling them thoughtfully between his fingers. “Your sister’s tits are huge,” Pete says, “So I know we can get you there, too.” He cradles my right breast, rubbing it firmly between his palms. “She’s a swimmer, isn’t she? That’s the work I want for you. It’ll keep you cool in the summer. During the winter they heat the water so it’s no big deal.” I nod, thinking of my many long hours each day in the smaller tank behind the aquarium, away from the public’s view. The large glass container had once held salt water and fish, but now the water was pure, slightly warmed and clear. All the girls in the performance pool out front are at least seventeen, with thin waists and jewelry adorned breasts that sway and bob as they move. Some are costumed as mermaids, while others crouch before the underwater glass, spreading their legs for the men on the level below to see. It is a millionaire’s club—or a billionaire’s club. I’m not sure which and I guess it doesn’t matter. Though now I see the police in the parking lots, too. The elite who run this club favor the town’s sheriff, a greasy fat man who supplies them with the prettiest girls. Pete is crouching before me, his knees spreading my thighs where I stand, then pulling apart my girlhood with his fingers. I continue to look away, my eyes closed as I feel one finger find the wet spot between my legs. He rubs gently, a slow circular motion that spreads my fluids out, making me slippery in every crevice. Then he slides one finger slowly in. I open my mouth, licking my lips as the finger crooks and explores my interior. Pete pulls it back out and shows it to me, flecked white with my juices. He returns to his work, separating my folds and spreading them flat. Two fingers sink in, reaching upward as far as they can. Pete is holding my buttocks close to his chest, his arm cocked as more fingers glide in. Four fingers now, clamped together to form a funnel. “What are women for, Dani?” Pete asks. He is up on his knees, his strong arms around me. “To . . .” I am panting. “Please men!” “Exactly.” Pete tucks his thumb into the funnel of his half-inserted fingers. “Slow and easy,” he croons. I feel the skin around my opening stretch wide almost to tearing. Remembering my previous sessions, I breathe slowly, deeply, and relax my legs. “Good girl,” Pete observes. His strong arm holds me steady as he works. “Now what is God’s will?” “That I should please men,” I answer. I lean over his head, my fingers grabbing his hair. He is tilting his hand slowly from side to side, softening the mouth of my pussy even more. “Dani,” he admonishes. “You’re trying too hard. Shall we give you your pill?” “Y-yes!” I cry. Smiling, he reaches into his pocket and produces the tiny tablet. I swallow it quickly, gratefully, and then droop forward again, my soft breasts draping over his head. He continues to smile, his hand maintaining the gentle rocking. His four fingers are half inside me, with the added girth of his thumb. He rotates his hand in a circular motion, tilting it up and down, and then side to side. I am feeling the heaviness begin in my legs. My tongue goes dry, cottony. I feel my eyelids drooping. He removes his hand and lowers me onto my back, his hands separating first my petals, and then my opening. I hear the pumping sound as he squirts lube through a tiny straw directly inside me. “Gently now,” he breathes. I close my eyes. The fingers are stretching me more with every movement, and I feel them pushing, working their way in. Pete has my pelvis lifted—pillowed on his thigh. My legs are up and flopped to each side, my feet dangling close to my shoulders. The pressure continues as the fingers twist, as more of the thumb makes it in. I feel my muscles submitting around his hand, the tight sensation easing somewhat. There is one more hard push, and then he is in me, embraced by my flesh, his entire hand delving inward. I am drifting with the currents of the drug, feeling his hand pressing me out, the fingers turning to expand my interior. He progresses until his knuckles touch my cervix. I let out a gasp, though my sleepy eyes are closed. “Now listen to my voice,” he says. “This camp is about preparing you girls to be women in this new world. Proper women—not like what you were before. The grownups can’t do it. There are strict laws against pedophilia now. But they can watch if they want to, because they are men, and men can do whatever they want.” “Whatever they want,” I repeat dully. “This is the first time I’ve had my whole hand inside you,” he tells me. “You’re so amazing, Dani. I am proud of you.” I nod as his hand glides in and out, exits and re-enters my body. I feel fluid dripping down, the feathery touch of his fingertips on my clit. With every stroke my body submits more, my muscles softening under the pressure and pull of his hand. He seems tireless as he works, his muscles rippling in his arm as he changes angles, sinking deeper than before, touching places no one’s been. He motions me to cross my ankles, then lifts my legs over my belly, holding them aloft with his hand behind my knees. He rolls into a crouch, and now uses the weight of his arm to drive quickly in and out. I grunt rhythmically with each penetration. More liquid dribbles where I can feel it. I can see his hand glistening as it withdraws, his tanned smooth skin flecked white with my juices. He enters again and pauses, then speeds up his tempo, the hand barely entering before snapping back out. I am loose now around his wrist, my flesh yielding as he turns and angles and stretches. Then once more he resumes the deep plunges. A whole hour passes and still Pete works. He is panting hard with exertion, sweat trickling down his neck. I climax twice and still he continues, his face sprayed with my fluids. “You’re a good girl, Dani,” Pete soothes as he works. “I’ve made a device I want you to wear to bed tonight, and every night. It’ll be uncomfortable at first, but you’ll get used to it.” “Okay,” I mumble groggily. “As much as I’m loosening you right now, in an hour you’ll be tight as a drum again, maybe even more. We need to keep training your body. It must remember how to open, be readily accessible whenever men want it. Most men want to fist, but rarely are willing to do the work. So you must do it for them. Understand?” I close my eyes as Pete lowers my legs. Now he raises one to his shoulder, my other one dangling free. He rolls again to his knees, and lifts my pelvis with him. The hand is gliding in and out, so effortless I barely feel him. Then finally he withdraws and sets me down, wiping me out gently with a warmed washcloth. I feel him strap something around my waist. Then something firm and cold slides in. There is a pull and click of a buckle in front, and then another behind. “There,” Pete says in satisfaction. “That’ll hold it in place. Wear this for the rest of the day, ok? And to bed tonight. Over time we’ll swap this out—graduating to larger sizes. But this is good to start.” “You do nice work,” an older voice said. “Keep track of her depth from now on. Vagina and rectal both, if or when you get that far. You can pass the info on to the next boy assigned to her. I was wondering.” The doctor eyed Pete speculatively. “If you’d like to stay on after next week. Work part time here while you’re going to school.” “What would I do?” Pete went to the sink to wash his fingers. I climb to my feet, staring at the length of black leather around my waist. I could feel the object hard within me, and the trickle of fluids down my leg. “Help train the new boys coming in,” the doctor said. “You could also measure these girls and keep a spreadsheet. The measurer’s in your kit. Have you used it yet?” The doctor turned and I lost track of the voices. My insides were warm and pleasantly achy, the area between my legs throbbing. “It’s a deal then,” the doctor said in a hearty voice. “Good. I’ve been watching you work and I recognize your skill. It’s not just about getting as much as you can to fit. It’s an artform—as you know. A kind of dance.” I like to think I’m helping her reach her full potential.” The doctor coughs. “That’s a great way to see it,” he says. “The value of the woman depends entirely upon her usefulness. Even those we harvest for food—even they have more purpose in life than a woman left on her own.” There was a pause as the doctor sauntered off. Then I felt Pete’s hand on my bare shoulder. “Think you can walk with that thing?” he asks. I nod slowly and take a few steps. *** “Get your holes nicely stuffed?” Breanne glares at me across the aisle. The barn is chilly today, its high rafters filled with the chatter of small birds. I sprawl sideways on my bunk, the highest of a stack of three. The barn has been styled in the manner of the Auschwitz prisoner barracks, with long narrow rows of bunks. There are three rows altogether, with the capacity to hold ninety girls in one barn. We have numbers assigned to us, too, like the residents of the Nazi camps. Only ours are hidden—tiny microchips beneath our skin. I shrug. The blond girl hates me intensely. “Just the one,” I respond. “She’s jealous of Pete,” another girl quipped. This was Diane, a fiery redhead that the men favored. “I am not!” Breanne returns hotly. “I just hate how she just lays there. Like she’s not even alive! And look. He’s put a spacer inside her. Gonna stretch her nice and wide!” I glare at the rafters, my arms pillowing my head. “We’re supposed to stay open, aren’t we?" “No, we’re supposed to fight!” snarls Breanne. “We are human beings, not livestock. How dare they?” Another girl peeks out from under my bunk, her raven hair swirling down her arm. “They are following God’s word,” she says. “Have you read it? Women were made for the happiness of men; it’s very clear in the bible. Adam was unhappy, and so God made him a help meet. That’s us. We are here to help however we can.” “Help the men?” Breanne growls the words. “By letting them torture us? Have you heard the cries from the barn on the hill? Or letting them harvest our bodies as if we are cattle? They have women attached to machines for at least two years. All those women do all day is hang there and produce milk. That’s slavery!” “The men rule over us.” Helen replies, her blue eyes meeting mine. I like my bunk mate. She is a year younger than me. And just like Helen Burns her namesake from Jane Eyre, she is a calming influence, and very smart. “They decide where we fit the best—where we can be the most useful.” “And if the men decide you’re best at being ground into hamburger—” Helen shrugs. “I’m not ugly, so I doubt that would happen.” I tune them out and return my gaze to the rafters. The dildo inside me isn’t so uncomfortable if I stay on my back. The girls go on talking around me, Breanne expressing her outrage over my docile behavior. “She’ll live longer,” Helen says from beneath me. “But with that attitude, Breanne, you might find yourself at the torture barn.” The torture barn. My innards writhe at the thought, for like everyone else I hear stories. Some men like happy things to do with women, appreciating the beauty of our form, or even our taste alongside beans and potatoes. But not all men have the same needs. The torture barn caters to a gentlemen’s club, and the unfortunate girls carted off into the forest are never again seen. But they are heard. Late at night if I happen to wake, I can catch the sounds of the far-off screaming. Not all the girls cry out. But when they do, the terrifying cries echo in my ears, haunting my thoughts for days to come. *** I hear the bell for dinner and jump from my bunk, wincing as the dildo bruises me inside. The food is good here. They feed us as though we are prized pigs. Everything is organic and healthy—superfoods to keep us tasty if or when they decide to harvest our meat. I attack my meal with gusto as I do every night. It is a plate of peeled carrots, topped with chickpeas, pumpkin and sunflower seeds, and hemp hearts. Added to the mix is ginger powder, a splash of apple cider vinegar, and nutritious yeast. It is delicious and I eat every forkful, washing it down with a glass of iced mushroom coffee. Doctor Burns appears behind our tables and saunters slowly, his hands behind his back, to the dais up front. The boys from the camp appear in his wake, each carrying a chair that they place beside our tables. The doctor plugs in the microphone at the back of the dais, then gives it a tap to call the room to order. “Pete Jennings,” he calls in his ringing voice. “Has your girl finished her dinner?” Pete stands slowly and glances my way. “She has, Dr. Burns.” “Excellent!” the doctor exclaims. “Bring her forward along with your tools.” I tense as I stand, the skin prickling behind my neck. The doctor continues to address the entire room. “This boy performs in ways that outstrips some of our best full-time trainers; hence I have asked him to stay on as part of our staff. I thought it might benefit the rest of you boys to observe his techniques. Peter,” the doctor gestures to the table being wheeled onto the dais. “Do you have everything you need for a demonstration of your skills?” Peter frowns at me as I step to his side, then turning his body in such a way as to hide his right hand, he passes me the little pill to help me relax. I turn away, gulping it down quickly as I climb shakily onto the table. He gestures me onto my back, then nods toward the doctor. “What now, Sir?” The doctor seats himself in front of our tables. “Pretend we’re not here. Consider this another session. Business as usual.” I close my eyes and will myself to sleep. Pete’s hands are on my breasts, kneading them firmly. He pauses as he works, leaning over to finger my clit. I breathe deeply, a wave of fatigue creeping down my limbs. Pete takes his time with my breasts, his fingers digging through the tissue to find my muscles. “Why do that?” One boy calls from the left side of the room. When Pete fails to respond, the doctor speaks for him. “It gets her juices flowing. You should be doing this, too—all of you. A lot of men still get off on the breasts. Better to have our girls ready for whatever comes.” I float with the effects of the drug, my legs raising up as Pete slides them into the stirrups. He lifts me to the point that I feel a breeze between my buttocks and the cushion I am on. The design of this table is alien to me, appearing to have been created for this purpose. It has a light that Pete switches on to shine between my legs, fully illuminating my groin. He loosens my belt deftly and slides out the dripping dildo, setting it aside on the bench beside the table. His fingers glide up inside me, two and then three, turning slowly as he applies a slight pressure. He takes his time, bending low to explore my interior and gaping me as he has done before. He adds lube to his hand, then twists in effortlessly, his elbow turning this way and that as he expands my interior. I let my head droop to the side, feeling the drool running down my cheek. The fisting continues for what seems like forever. Pete glides slowly in and out, focusing fully on his objective. His fingers form a fist at my core, his knuckles rubbing against my cervix. Then he draws out his hand with a squelching sound, his fingers glistening. “If she was a year older, he could double it now,” the doctor says. “Have any of you boys gotten to that part in your books?” A few raise their hands. Smiling, Peter glances at his fellow campers hurrying to gather around the table. “She’s not fighting you at all,” one observes, staring down. A boy moves next to Pete, his fingers reaching in to spread my folds back, making the entry and exit of Pete’s hand more visible in the light. A few boys trade places with Pete, their hands penetrating me as Pete’s had done, so smoothly I barely notice. I am aware of hands holding my buttocks, lifting my pelvis even higher. Pete’s arm is in me again, the elbow rising and falling, the wet sounds filling my ears. “She’s a good girl,” Pete said. He is rotating his fisting hand carefully, massaging my sore interior. *** That night I sleep without the dildo. It is Pete’s idea, since I worked so hard today. I watch a girl braid Breanne’s hair as sleep eludes me. The girls are the rebels in our group, but tonight they seem subdued, as if Diane’s threat of the torture barn still lingered in their heads. Horror stories abounded of the torture barn. No death was easy there. “If we’re dead, we can’t fight back,” I hear one of the girls say. “We can’t resist them,” whispers the other. “Christianity has taken this country completely. It’s worse than Afghanistan now.” “I don’t know about that,” Breanne says. “They’re probably just as bad. They don’t have red meat, either, right? And real men can’t live without it. Show me a man who’s vegan and I will bet you my last penny he’s gay.” Pete eats meat, I think as I drift off, dreaming obscurely of men wearing dresses and swimming in the tank with mermaid tails. *** The new day brings a blast of chilled air onto my face as I jerk awake. The barn doors are open, the bell ringing us girls to breakfast. I stop absently for my shot as I leave the barn, then trot naked, the third in a long line of sleepy nude bodies. The boys and men pause grinning to watch us, and I avoid their eyes as a proper girl should. Our breakfast is oatmeal, with raisins and honey. Once again it is the best oats money could buy—seeded organic oats with fresh moist raisins. We top this with cold milk and drink it down with mushroom coffee. Dessert is an orange, thin skinned and bursting with juice. *** I sink into the water of the tank and breast-stroke to the other side. Watching me, Pete frowns. “What have I said about shaking loose first?” He crouches beside the pool and I swim to a stop below him. “Your muscles support your breasts,” he said. “But they are separate. To be a swimmer your breasts must move freely with the water. They cannot be tethered to your muscles. Now go on; assume the position.” I nod and reach downward with my arms, my legs beneath me as I pretend to crawl on my hands and knees. I hold my arms away from my body and jerk my knees forward and back, the motion of the water catching my breasts, dragging them to and fro. I double my speed until my breasts are flopping back and forth. Then I change my movement, scissor kicking my legs to make my flesh jerk upward and down. Pete is nodding above me. “It’s good practice letting them hang. This is the position the milkers take. The breasts dangle from your ribcage, the weight of the milk drawn away from the rest of your body. Used to be a girl could produce twenty-five ounces to thirty ounces daily. That was three years ago. Now most of our women pump out fifty ounces per day, with some coming close to a half gallon. The eventual goal is a whole gallon. A carton’s worth per woman. And who knows? With drugs they might pull it off.” I flip onto my back and swim where Pete can see, the tissue over my ribcage bobbing easily in the water—rippling with the waves. I turn back, pivoting toward Pete. I start when I find him treading water beside me in his loose red swim trunks. “All girls become milkers eventually. You need to get used to it.” He turns me in the water, then grasps my nearest breast and pulls it downward, squeezing it hard. “Being handled by men, I mean. Once you are a swimmer, you’ll be given the Somatotropin to help your breasts grow. Milkers get huge, you know, which is why they hang from slings. They cannot walk anymore. Or at least not far. Which is why we need to make your muscles stronger for all the weight you’ll support one day. Here,” he says, and hands me over a pool noodle. Seeing my confusion, he gestures. “Tuck it under your arms so it supports you from behind. I’m going to try something new before you swim.” Mystified, I obey, and Pete pushes at me until my head bumps the wall. “Hold onto the ladder. I don’t want you drifting.” I grip the rungs, and lay back. My breasts float and point skyward, jiggling under the sun. Pete turns my body, gripping the edge of the pool with one hand—then twists his other into the softness between my legs. I tense at the coolness of the water entering me. Pete works his hand inside me, the lube making a patch of oil on the water under his chin. “Spread your legs wide. I can’t do it for you.” I obey as best as I can. The arm pushes in past the wrist, and turns, and I shiver at the water that is sucked in with it, a chillness he pushes deeper before drawing his hand out. He catches one of my legs and slings it over his shoulder. Then he fists me steadily, the water entering me again. “A good washing after yesterday,” he says with a grin. “Does this feel good?” “Yes,” I gasp, eyeing the white haze forming about me, my fluids snaking around us both. “I thought it would ease some of the burning. All that work yesterday.” I recline as far as I can, my one leg bobbing in the tank’s current. With every stroke, Pete angles his wrist deliberately to invite more water in, the coolness filling my depths along with his hand, easing the heat I didn’t realize I had.” “You’re a good girl, Dani,” Pete croons as he works. “I’m giving you the rest of today off after your swim. Keep the dildo inside you if you can. Even when you’re not in bed and walking around. We need to keep your body open until the men want it —teach it to be accessible at all times, like I’ve said. Most men want to fist, but rarely want to do the work. Do you remember what is most important?” I nod. “Pleasing the man.” “Or men,” Pete corrects me. “Sometimes there’ll be men. No matter what they do, or how roughly they do it, you need to always look for ways to please—however they want you to.” “What if they want to kill me?” There is a strained pause. Pete stops his hand, his knuckles gently massaging my cervix. “That, too,” he says finally. “A woman with uses is a woman fulfilled. If they kill you for their pleasure, then your life has not been wasted. You’ll be processed into meat and you’ll serve a second purpose—to fill their bellies. Not many women get to have multiple ways to find meaning for their life. That’s why the girls who go up the hill are the luckiest of all.” I gape at him. “But they’re tortured!” He sighs, and his hand resumes its work. “It’s just foreplay, Dani. Just a different kind. Those women pleasure the men first, and then feed them. Compare that to an ugly girl who gets carted off from her home, never to be seen again. She serves one purpose only. Just one. Do you think she’ll be remembered for that? No. But you will, and so will the girls on the hill. You represent a pleasant memory for a man. Or perhaps for many men. Isn’t that lucky?” I nod, genuinely believing it after he puts it that way. But Pete is not finished. He wrinkles his brow, as if trying to remember words he had read. “God created men,” he recites slowly. “We are his creations, and in following our creator’s example, we made women from our rib. You are created from men. We are your gods. Don’t you want to please us?” I raise my leg from his shoulder in response and cock it high over my chest. Pete, grinning approvingly, turns slightly to drive in his fist. “So . . . it’s a good thing to go up the hill?” Pete pats my hip. “All women die young,” he says gently. “Seems to me the more useful the death, the better. The men in that club aren’t so bad. They simply have different tastes than other men. I’ve heard it said that their methods are creative, but for the woman there is always a lot of pain. I think you should try to be like your sister. In a year or two your breasts will be strong and big. You will bring lots of pleasure to the men who visit us here. It’s a good club. Even when you enter your last phase and become a milker—you’ll see. I hear they even have movie nights for the dairy girls. Useful. The word echoes in my ears as I stare beyond the buildings. I go the rest of the day with the dildo inside me. I have the belt around my waist to hold it in, and I have to be careful when I sit on the bench for dinner. I can feel my fluids leaking onto the seat—a trickle I try discreetly to wipe with my hands. *** The next day I wake early and tiptoe out to greet the sun. The road into the foothills has mist covering its base. During the night I had roused to the familiar sound of the old truck’s engine. A girl had been taken up to the barn in the hills. All night I had stayed awake listening for sounds of screaming. But this death had been a silent one. I ask Pete about it during my swim. He sits on a chair working on his computer. He is a junior in High School, and though he is at camp, he still has several projects he needs to finish before the fall quarter begins. “Oh, did they?” Pete glances at the forest behind our heads. “I didn’t hear it. But your barn is closer to the road than our cabins. “Did they give her something?” I asked. “Like you give me?” Pete shakes his head. His blue eyes are fierce as he glares at his computer. “Drugs taint the meat, so no they wouldn’t. They just haven’t . . . done her yet. They might be collecting several girls for something. They do that, you know. Work on more than one per night. If it’s a weekend thing they usually have a barbeque after. They do if it’s sunny, that is.” I lick my lips, punching the water rapidly with both fists. Pete glances down at my jiggling breasts and grins. “Does this really make them grow?” I ask, wanting to change the subject. Pete laughs. “Nah. I just read a lot so I can sound smarter than I am, and some of this stuff I make up as I go. But it does make sense. Weight lifting makes muscles bigger. Whether or not it makes your tits grow, who knows? But I do know they’ll end up huge eventually. Your owners will see to it in their quest for more milk. I’m surprised you’re not getting the shots yet.” I nod, and hearing the chime of the clock go off, climb shakily up the ladder. I stand beside Pete, water sluicing down my legs. He gestures approvingly at the dildo still strapped inside my body. “Good girl, Dani. Way to take the initiative.” “You said I needed to open easily.” He stands and sets down his laptop. Taking me by the shoulders, he stares into my face. “You really mean it, don’t you? You do want to please.” Tears burn in my eyes. “More than anything. I want to do what’s right,” I manage. “I thought God created women, too. That’s what my mother said. But—” He was emphatically shaking his head. “I know better now, Pete. And I’m sorry if I ever angered you or did anything disrespectful.” “Hush now; you’re fine.” He smiles at me, genuine affection on his handsome face. “Come, let’s get you on your table.” I follow him into the grooming room with its black and white checked floor and big basin sink. There are six tables in a row. What had once been chiropractic tables had been modified so a girl could lay face-down on her belly with her breasts poking through. I settle myself, hearing the squirt of oil from a bottle beneath me. Pete massages the liquid onto my cooled skin. My breasts follow his touch like magnets, the nipples clinging to his hands as if begging for more. He kneads deeply for a time and pulls, sliding the nipples between his fingers. “I do think you’re bigger. Not as big as your sister yet, but there’s definitely some heft here.” He cradles each breast—testing their weight. “How old are you?” I think about my birthday. “What month is it?” I ask. “It’s August,” he said. “August third.” “My birthday was July 31st,” I tell him. “I’m fifteen now.” “Fifteen. So, we’re now just a year apart in our ages.” He reaches up over the table and presses my back hard against the mat. “Strain down to me,” he commands. “Fill my hands.” I obey, turning my head to press my cheek into the bed. He grasps each breast one at a time between his hands and tugs downward, the contours of his palms grinding into my tissue. Then he presses up through the flesh, his fingers massaging my muscles. “I do get some kind of shots,” I tell him finally. “They’re just vitamins though. That’s what they tell us in the barn. Do you think—” “No, that’s either the Somatotropin for humans I told you about, or something like it.” His heavy breathing pauses beneath me, his knuckles grinding into my breast. “I’m glad they’ve started you on it early. You’ll get big very soon. Bigger than your sister, probably. You should see the ones in the milk barn. They’re actually kind of ugly,” he muses, “by the time they get so big. The slings keep the girls from having to see how bloated they are. And their nipples are as fat as this or bigger!” He brandishes his thumb. “All purple and swollen. As long as my thumb, too!” Sighing, I close my eyes. The knuckles are mashing into my tissue, my own nipples growing sensitive and hard. I feel the fluid welling again around the dildo. It dribbles onto the table, dripping to Pete’s head. “God, you’re wet! Here.” Rising to his feet, he reaches around my waist to release the dildo. It jettisons out with a rush of warmth to land with a thump on the floor. “Nice!” Pete exclaims. “See Dani, this is exactly what the men want to see. A female dripping and ready for work, begging to be opened inside. Here.” He raises the table to his waist. Then standing beside me, slides one whole hand in past his wrist. “Oh!” he exclaims. “Look at you!” Delighted, he moves between my legs, cocking my knees up until my toes touch my rump. With gusto he fists hard into my depths. Then grinning, he shows me his hand, the pale liquid dripping. “Should we try to double fist?” he asks as he resumes. “You’re fifteen now. I bet you’re ready. You’re certainly wet enough.” I draw a deep breath, eyeing his hands. “If you think I can.” “Absolutely.” He reaches into his pocket, then hands me a pill. I quickly shake my head. “I want to feel it as much as I can,” I told him. “I like how it feels. Please, I’ll relax.” He studies me briefly, then again takes position. I feel his hand gliding in deep, then slowly withdraw as more fingers hug his wrist. “Dani, I want you to think about opening yourself,” he says. He enters cautiously, the new fingers forming into the palm of his fist, sliding gradually in as he twists. The skin around the entrance to my cunt springs tight, painful to the point of tearing. I feel his every movement, each tiny adjustment making me hiss. “Easy,” he urges. I breathe deeply as I fight to relax, imagining the mouth of my opening yawning wide to meet him. I feel a sudden stabbing pain just inside my vagina, and then another on the opposite side. I have the sensation of being poked three more times around my entrance, but there is numbness now. “Just a little novocaine,” Pete is saying. “There, that should help” I feel the twisting continue, the pressure deeper now, as if the tightness at my threshold has ceased to exist. The hardness of his hands is rotating slowly, sinking down into my core. There is a sucking resistance as he pulls his hands outward, and I gasp in pain. Then I feel a pricking deep inside, and spot one of his hands between my legs. He is holding a syringe with a very long needle—guiding it carefully in. Another prick I barely feel, followed by another further in. “I know we’re cheating,” he says. “But I want this done right.” Once again his hands penetrate my body, the walls of my numbed flesh yielding. He groans in delight, his entwined hands twisting hard and fast to loosen me up. “Let’s get you soft while the novocaine lasts,” he mutters. “I didn’t give you very much.” His body rocks as he fists; he is grunting softly in his throat. “You’re doing so good,” he says, and before I can react, he plunges again, twisting eagerly to reach my cervix. Then he is out, and back in, his hands glistening. He pauses to turn me onto my side. “Can you hold your left foot over your head?” I obey, holding my leg as far forward and up as I can. He cocks back my right leg with his knee, then drives into me steadily, his two hands as one gliding effortlessly in and out. Fluids are trickling down my right thigh as I writhe on the table. I am starting to feel it, the wide-open stretch and the massage deep within. He pulls out as my fluids gush, then wipes his face with his arm briefly before resuming his work. With my hypersensitive skin it feels incredible, every nerve on fire as his hands punch deep. The sound of my wetness is loud in the grooming room. The world is spinning around me. And still the pounding continues, the sliding of my body up and down on the table. I pass out at some point, yet dimly I am aware of Pete turning me onto my back, raising my knees to secure them to the rings above the bed. My legs are opened and tied, so widely spread I can feel the tendons at my groin stretching. His two hands enter me again, alternating one and then the other, the hands inside no longer entwined, one sliding in as the other glides out. It goes on like that for what seems like hours, but then, abruptly, it stops. I feel Pete’s hands stretching the entrance of my pussy, pausing just inside and pulling me apart. “What are you doing?” I mumble. “I’m gaping you,” he tells me. “Something else men like to do. To see inside after they work. I can see very clearly inside you, Dani. You’ve done very well today.” I feel my face flame hot. “Do I have to be a milker?” He pats my thigh, then opens me wider as he bends for a long look. “Don’t be embarrassed now. Pleasing the man, remember?” I nod, breathing deeply. “Dani, milkers live two years longer at least. Don’t you want that? You’ll get to have a baby, too. If you’re really lucky, it’ll be a boy!” “But I won’t get to raise him. They’ll take him away.” “Girls cannot be trusted with such important work,” he agrees. “The church raises babies for you now. Besides, you’ll be too busy providing milk. For him, and everyone else. Girl’s milk goes into everything, you know. You drank some this morning.” “I don’t want purple nipples,” I pout. I glare at the ceiling, feeling Pete’s hands deep within me, the entwined fingers holding still, as if feeling my body’s pulse. “You won’t see them,” he says. “The breasts hang out of your sight, with bracers to support the weight. You forget they’re there after a while, or so I’ve been told by a reliable source. But think of it, Dani. All the healthiest food you can possibly eat. And movies! You get to watch movies!” I close my eyes. The hands are turning within me, pressing me out. “If I don’t become a milker,” I venture to say. “What then?” He sighs and the hands stop. “Well,” he says slowly, “if it turns out you can’t have a baby, you’d come to the end of your journey, wouldn’t you? They’d either take you up the hill to entertain those men, or you’d go to the processing plant, which is much more likely. I haven’t seen how it’s done, but I’ve heard there’s some kind of machine that does it really quick. You wouldn’t even feel it.” I lick my lips. His hands are moving again, gliding slowly in and out. I try to relax despite my raised hips and widely spread legs. He is fisting me with his hands entwined, pumping me vigorously with loud squelching sounds. I am drifting again, my feet going numb from the straps under my knees. I see two men enter the grooming room and stop to watch Pete work. They are talking in low murmurs, their voices appreciative—praising his efforts. One shines a light in when Pete stops to gape me, the two faces rapt as they peer between my legs. My guts squirm as the men take their time, scrutinizing my interior and taking pictures as they talk to Pete. “Have you done anal yet?” The taller man asks. “Yeh,” his companion says, leaning down so I see his face. “First, why not tell her everything, boy? We work at the plant, little Miss. Wanna hear how it’ll go down? A knock on the side of your head to stun you first, see?” He taps his temple. “Then we’ll pop you into the D, D and D device. As in decapitate, dismember, and disembowel. All done by one machine. Thwack, thwack, thwack it goes, and It’s very quick, as your coach boy says. Then someone like old Jake here will get to wash out your torso and cut it in half, then a quick acid dip to loosen breast tissue and skin. And then what, Jake? Scraping, the stamp on the rump, and then the freezer?” Jake’s mouth twitched. “Something like that. But it’s one big chunk, not three. The head and limbs come off simultaneously.” He stares at Pete. “I hear you’re talented, boy. I want to see your hand up her ass.” “Not yet,” says Pete tightly. “One new thing at a time. I’ve been vagina fisting her for two straight hours and my hands are tired. I had to numb her up to get two inside. I’ve had enough for one day.” “Then there was the time the machine wasn’t calibrated right,” the shorter man says. He leers at me, waggling his eyebrows. “Cut her head cleanly in half—it was something to see, I’ll tell you.” “We’ll come back tomorrow to watch,” the man called Jake says. “We’re not allowed to work on these girls. We only ever see them in pieces.” Pete clears his throat. “It’s a date. Though I warn you gentlemen, I doubt I’ll get my hand in. She’s never done anal before.” The two men start for the door. “Oh, you’ll get it in,” the shorter man calls. “We won’t leave tomorrow so easily as today.” I lay still as the door clicks shut. The cold air wafts between my legs, my fluids chilling my naked skin. Pete is squirting something soothing inside me, using one hand to push it deep. He wipes my exterior with a warm washcloth, clicking his tongue as he releases my legs. “What did I say is most important,” he asks. I try to swallow. “Pleasing the men.” He takes my hand and helps me sit up. “Exactly, Dani. Pleasing men. Those men in particular are very dangerous. There’s nothing I can do; as men they have the right to watch. So, we need to get you ready for tomorrow. Do you know what anal is?” I draw a quick shaky breath. “A kind of fisting?” “Yes.” Pete sets a pillow on the table, then gestures me onto my stomach. He raises my hips from behind, moving the pillow until it elevates my pelvis. “Only from the back. From here.” He taps my rosebud, as my mother once called it, the one private place I still have. “This is another thing a lot of men like. In fact . . .” Pete slathers on a thick lubricant, using one finger to poke some in. “Men like to see both holes fisted at once. A girl being fully utilized. If they could, they’d stick their penises in your mouth, too. But that kind of thing’s not allowed at this club.” I accept the drug Pete gives me. Laying on my stomach, I wait as Pete stands beside me. Gradually I feel the weight of my head compressing my cheek on the table. I am drawing deep breaths, sinking rapidly into slumber. Vaguely I am aware of pain as my anus stretches, feeling oddly embarrassed like I’m going to the bathroom. I feel a hard object at first, something small graduating to big, making a pumping noise beside my head. The object is turning within me, straining my anus at different angles. Then it is gone and I feel Pete’s fingers. Motionless, I try to sleep, relaxing my body as much as I can. The fingers twist slowly in and out. Then there is the object again, with more pumping sounds and the pain of stretching. Now it is Pete’s whole hand working its way in. Fingers are gaping me from behind, then the hand Is pushing inward, slimy with lube. Pete is inside me now, his hand a firm pressure as my tissues guide his way. He leans into me as he turns his arm. I feel the ball of his fist pressing my innards. His other hand enters my vagina, and begins to fist very gently. Groggily I splay my legs, lifting one from behind to give him room. “You still in here?” A boy asked from the doorway. “It’s past dinner time, you know. I saved you a hot dog.” Pete pauses in his work, breathing hard. “Trent. Can you help me with something?” “Sure!” The larger boy hurries to the table. I am aware but not aware, drool soaking the table under my cheek. “We have a problem. You can’t tell anyone, promise?” “Promise!” Trent exclaims. “What do you want me to do?” I blink, feeling the hand in my rectum slowly draw out. “Have you done anal?” Pete asks. “Not yet.” “Let me see your hand.” Another pause. “Good, we’re about the same size. Now cover your arm with lube to the elbow. Ease it in, like you saw me doing. Don’t force it. Let her body tell you what to do.” “Oh God!” Trent groaned, as I feel the hand sliding in. “How far does it go?” “You’ll feel a soft resistance; once you do, explore around a bit. Go in as deep as you can.” “So what’s the problem?” Trent leans against my buttocks. His fingers are open inside, stroking my interior as he feels his way. “Two men are coming tomorrow and they want to see anal on her. I figured it would be better to practice first. Lift her leg with your free hand. Pull the foot behind you and up.” I feel Pete’s hands at the mouth of my cunt again, the two hands twisting themselves in. The skin is tight—painful to the point of tearing. “Easy,” Pete whispers to me. “Dani, relax!” I try to sleep, to let the drug carry me back down. Three hands are inside me now, moving and twisting within. “Three!” Trent exclaimed. “Wait, let me get my phone.” There is a pause as the larger boy makes his video. “Look at this! We’re at camp and he’s double fisting?” Pete is pumping steadily now, the two hands entering my drugged body easily as I come and go from awareness. This lasts for some time, the double fisting below Trent’s deeply imbedded hand. “Do you have a light?” Pete asked abruptly. “Oh good. Dani, we’re going to try this again.” I nodded groggily as the arms inside me slowly retreat. “Gonna gape?” Trent asked. “Absolutely. Here, if I stretch the sides, can you get a few fingers in to press out the bottom? Just . . . that’s it. Straight down—firmly. Now hold.” There was a click, followed by sounds of amazement. “That’s great! I’ve never seen that before.” “That’s her cervix.” I hear a few more clicks, and then the fingers release. “I want copies of those,” Pete says. “You got it. Ready for your hotdog? I put it in foil so it should still be warm.” I am laying where the boys leave me, the two of them sitting on a bench as Pete eats. My stomach twists as I think of the ingredients. “These are actually better for you than the old pork variety,” Trent is saying. “At least with girl meat there’s nothing disgusted added. Besides, pigs were smart. It was pretty terrible that we killed them for food.” “Nope, just girl.” Pete makes a face as he stares at his food. “This makes us cannibals, you know?” Trent shrugs his broad shoulders and grins at me. “If it was made out of men, then maybe that’d be true. But what’s wrong with cannibalism? Pretty sure there’s a verse in the bible that condones eating your children. Besides,” He gives me a wink. “Don’t forget what women are for. To be our help-meets. Get it? Help MEATS?” Pete rolls his eyes. “You ok there, Dani? Want some food?” “Sure she does.” Trent approaches my table. “Here, let’s clean you up first.” I submit as the larger boy washes between my legs with the now soiled cloth. “There.” He helps me sit up, and I shakily climb off the table. “Hungry?” I glance dubiously at the bag on the bench and nod. “Good, because I brought something from the kitchen for you. They were very clear on the matter that this is for you.” He lifts out a cardboard box and hands it to me. Opening it, I find a large serving of wild rice, broccoli and buttered pinto beans. I stare at the yellow grease congealing beneath the veggies, visualizing the girls hanging from slings in the dairy. “Thank you,” I say, and accept the wooden spoon he hands over. “Besides,” Trent continues to Pete. “We were all going to die from overpopulation. This way only half of us live beyond twenty-two. And the other half . . .” He pats my arm. “We have all the food we need for a very long time. You know they had us eating cockroaches before the pandemic. Alternative foods—it’s not like it’s a new concept.” The rice and beans are good, despite the fact they are now at room temperature. I clean out the box, and even eat the biscuit Peter hands to me. I hesitate at the milk carton and straw Pete passes to me next, eyeing the image of a cow on the front. It is whole milk, and I know very well that it does not come from cows. “Go on,” laughs Pete. “You’ve had it before. What’s the difference?” I take a sip and savor the sweetness on my tongue and the rich creamy texture. “This is actually better for us by far,” Trent is saying. “Cow’s milk was meant for baby cows, not humans. This is one hundred percent for us!” Drinking deeply, I empty the carton as both boys watch. “Like it?” Trent inquires. “Um, yes, actually.” I am staring at the carton. Ingredients: Pasteurized Girl Milk. Girl, I think to myself. Because none of us get to be women anymore. *** I follow Pete to my barn just as the lights are about to go off. “Get in bed,” the head girl commands with a glower at Pete. Pete turns me where I stand. “Keep both dildos in,” he says in a firm voice. “The one in the back comes out only if you have to go, understand? You have a very big day tomorrow. Get some rest.” I squirm uncomfortably and nod. Climbing into my bunk I finally find a comfortable position on my left side. The lights go out, leaving me sore and alone in the darkness. The dildo in my vagina is twice as large as the first, and it almost feels like the two chunks of latex are touching each other. With the one in my rectum, I feel constantly like I have to go. It is only when my stomach cramps that I run to the toilet. “Where were you at dinner?” Helen’s voice floats up from below as I return to my bunk. “Getting stuffed,” I snap, and screw my eyes shut. *** When morning comes I find I can’t eat, and must choke my oatmeal down under the head girl’s stern eyes. The milk for our oatmeal is from hemp hearts, I realize, recognizing its frothy texture and nutty taste. I leave for the gym after breakfast, but find Pete stepping in my path cutting me off. “No, he says sternly. “Today is about making you ready for those men from the plant tonight. And I am betting there will be more than just the two. Come on.” I trot naked at his heels, bypassing the tank and the gym and going at once into the grooming barn. He gestures me to the table and onto my stomach. I comply, and tense as he removes both my dildos. “Very good,” he says approvingly. “We’re not going to fist right now, because I know you’re very sore. But a few things.” He inserts a large needleless syringe into my vagina and I feel a coolness flooding my body. “This will help you feel better,” he tells me. “It will keep you numb for the next fifteen hours. Trust me, you will not be hurting tonight.” I heave a sigh of relief as he repeats the process with my anus, inserting the fluid deep into my rectum. I am smiling as I lay there, oblivious to the stretches Pete is putting me through. He starts with several bottles, each progressively larger than the first, though for the life of me I can’t exactly say which orifice each bottle is for. We work for about an hour, with me lying still and Pete standing beside me, both of us waiting for my body to adjust. “You’ll do just fine tonight,” he tells me. “These men just want something different, that’s all. They get tired of only seeing the dark side of our new society. They want to enjoy some of the benefits. I can understand that.” “Somebody has to do what they do,” I hear myself mutter. He looks at me sharply. “That’s exactly right, Dani. These men do the dirty work to keep the rest of us from going extinct, including you girls. Men cannot survive without these resources you provide us. It’s a hard fact, and one we must live with.” “Do you think . . .” I hesitate. “Your God is punishing you for letting women be equals?” Pete taps his fingers on my head. “Could be,” he muses. “I never thought of that, but maybe so. If we had used you from the start the way God intended . . .” his voice trailed off. “Could be . . .” He moves in behind me and slides out the bottles. I am shaky as I stand, my entire pelvis numbed from my belly button down. “Ready for a swim?” he asks, eyeing me. “I think so,” I tell him. I am eager to get to the tank—to swim off my anxiety and fear. The expressions on the faces of those men last night—like they were inspecting raw meat. *** My stomach gurgles loudly in the grooming room as we wait. I sit on the table, my legs swinging back and forth over the side. The table with the light has been brought from the clubhouse, complete with its “hi-lo” stirrups and bright adjustable lamp. Trent stands to the side with his arms crossed. Pete has asked him to assist, and the larger boy agreed. “You’re still a bit numbed now, but you’ll be hurting tomorrow,” Pete tells me quietly. “Please go along, and trust me. These are dangerous men. If they want to kill you for their pleasure, they can. They can even ask me to do it, and I’d have no choice. You are nothing but meat to them. That’s what they see all day long—that’s how they have to be to survive their jobs. If they see you as human . . .” He fidgets uncomfortably, running his hand through his hair. “Just know . . . whatever I do tonight—I’m trying to save your life." “And act like you enjoy it!” Trent put in. “But I do,” I say, gazing dazedly at his face. The men from the plant are arriving in their cars. I can’t see them because the parking lot is to the back of the building. But I can hear the gravel crunch under the wheels, and then the hurried footsteps. Three men enter and jerk to a stop, surprised to find us waiting. The man I know as Jake motions his friends to gather the chairs stacked high in a dusty corner, placing them in a semicircle behind the table’s bright light. “Are any more coming?” Pete asks. His hands are folded across his chest. Stupidly, I nod, the double dose of pills in my system are kicking in. Jake smirks as he cracks a beer. “Two more. Larry, the fellow you met last night, is one.” As the tall man speaks, the new arrivals appear in the doorway. Both are wearing work clothes from the plant, their white bloodstained shirts untucked. I am staring at the floor as the men join their friends. Trent catches my shoulders. He pulls me back, settling my head on a pillow. Pete raises my thighs, lifting my buttocks off the table as Trent stuffs pillows beneath my hips. My feet are placed in the stirrups and tied, then with mechanical clicks my legs are spread wide, a clamp on each side immobilizing my knees. A rubber device the length and width of a ruler is placed vertically between my labia folds. Pete bends it to the shape of my pelvis, and then turns a knob at its base. The device separates down the middle, and as the two halves widen, the folds of my girlhood are stretched apart and flattened, held in place against my body and out of the way. I close my eyes as the mouth of my cunt is revealed for all to see. Though I am still partially numb from my navel down, still I can feel the anticipating pulse of my tissue under the light. The men lean forward, and one of them points. “My God, she’s wet!” Pete smiles and steps in close. “Dani’s always ready,” he says. “Easy to open and obedient.” He tosses a pillow on the floor and kneels down. Sliding in a few fingers, he stirs my juices slowly as wet sounds fill my ears. He widens his circles, his fingers gliding over the spade shaped contours of my vagina to coat my girlhood, drawing the moisture down to my anus and back up. “Best lube on the planet,” he tells his observers. Slowly then, he inserts his whole hand, twisting slightly as he pushes in. “Would you look at that,” a man exclaims. “No resistance whatsoever!” “I told you she’s easy.” Pete smiles, fisting gently in and out, his action steady and smooth. He adjusts the light so the men can see, fisting casually, languidly, his free hand catching my fluid welling to the surface and spreading it around his wrist. The wet kissing sounds of my tissue yielding to his strokes is pleasant and relaxing to hear. I turn my head, smiling as he works. I feel disembodied, as if I’m levitating from the table as I stare blankly up. Pete pauses to lube both his hands, and I draw a deep breath, exhaling as I feel him twisting two-handed into my exposed and vulnerable cunt. He slides in with a firm push, the mouth of my pussy hugging his wrists. His body rocks forward and back slowly as he pumps me deep. I moan as I feel his hands separating within me. In this position he draws his hands up, pressing my pussy apart as he halfway exits, then holding his hands static, pushes back in. He turns his hands, his knuckles rubbing my cervix as once more he unlocks his fingers and pulls. “Do you see what I’m doing?” Pete asks his rapt audience. “By loosening up my hands or even pushing in opposite directions, I can expand her as I work.” I take deep breaths as Pete sinks widely back down. With every stroke he separates more, pushing hard against my interior. His hands break the surface and holds me stretched, his half-immersed fingers rotating slowly. “And now I can do this,” he says.” Embracing his fist with his other hand, he plunges in hard and snaps out. I am grunting along with his strokes, my thighs trembling above my immobilized knees. Pete is turning his hands as he thrusts, twisting more of my juices to the surface. I watch the clock, feeling dizzy as the pounding draws out, the sound of flesh slapping flesh as he connects and sinks down. Ten minutes, and then twenty, unendingly he thrusts. I feel cool air inside my cunt, my pussy staying open as he exits—too relaxed and stretched to spring back. The fisting continues as the men look on, with some of them leaping forward—eager for a glimpse as Pete stops and gapes me, my vagina yawning for the men to see. He fists me again with even more vigor, the men gathering at his back. “Won’t this destroy her?” one asks as Pete works. Pete laughs. “Naw, girls are made for this. Why do you think she was wet before I started? She knew it was coming and her body was preparing itself. She hungers for this. It’s a well-known fact; the female body yearns to be opened wide. To be prepared for motherhood.” The man looked down at Pete. “You sure know a lot of things.” “He reads,” says Trent with a chuckle. “As in all the time! Mr. Bookworm here.” “I also talk to my girl.” Pete nods at me. “Ask her yourself. Dani, do you enjoy being fisted?” The men wheel toward me, the ones still seated tilting to see my face. I moan and lick my lips, trying to think beyond the pounding. “She’s still too drugged,” Trent says. “I don’t think—” Pete cuts him off. “Dani,” he repeats loudly over my grunts. “Do you want these hands inside you?” I fight to focus on his face. “I . . . “ “Yes?” Pete urges. “Yes!” I gasp. “Yes, I want . . . yes, please!” “There you have it.” Pete parts his hands again as he works, the airy noises from my cunt filling the little room. Again he gapes me, holding me open for the men to see. “Can you try fisting one handed while your friend does that?” The man who was Jake’s partner askes. “So we can see your hand inside?” Pete brightens at this idea and nods to Trent. The larger boy reaches past Pete with both hands, his fingers gripping the bony top of my vagina for leverage while he stretches my lower wall down. Pete adds fingers to press back one side as his fist passes into my gaping cunt. Slowly he fists, his hand and wrist more visible now as it penetrates my body. “Okay, now do behind,” Jake says, licking his lips. “I assume you prepared her for that ahead of time, too?” “You men work hard; we wanted to give you a good show,” Trent replies. He is grinning as he hurries to flip me onto my side. My leg is lifted, held aloft by the rings above the bed. I am scooted down until the lower half of my buttocks extends over the table. My right foot drifts limply to the floor before Trent scoops it up, pushing my knee forward against my chest and securing it with straps to my body. Trent smears lube on his arms while Pete adjusts the light. “Do you want me to start her for you?” he asks, and Trent shakes his head. “No, I got this. It’s pretty easy once you get in.” Pete moves up beside me, catching my closest breast and kneading it hard. I feel Trent probing my anus with his fingers, slipping in fingers one by one. Slowly the hand works itself in, the fingers clamped into a cone shape. I feel the soft give as Trent slides into my rectum all at once, the tissue yielding as he ventures inward. “Nice,” Pete croons gently. “You’re a very good girl, Dani. Open wider for him, will you?” I sigh as the hand sinks into the deepest well at the core of my being. Trent leans his body forward, his knuckles rotating back and forth. Ever so slowly he withdraws his arm, then with a firm solid pressure, thrusts in to his elbow. I lay very still. I had never experienced just the anal by itself. The strokes are long and easy within my half-numbed body, the hand rising shallow toward my anus, then plunging back deep. The gas escaping from around his wrist makes my face burn hot. “Remember what matters,” Pete whispers in my ear. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He moves to crouch beside Trent. The larger boy is standing, using the weight of his body to pump in and out. Pete stirs the fluids of my cunt with his fingers, playing at the edges of my opening, using the lamp to explore it out. He expands it wide with two fingers from each hand, then inserts three as far as he can, reaching in and drawing out. He moistens the pink interior of my opened folds with my juices, then dives back in with four fingers now, turning them slowly within my opening. He stretches the lower wall of my pussy, then plunges deep with his free hand, fisting hard and fast alongside Trent. I am groaning now despite myself, the two hands filling my body. Then Pete clamps his free hand around his wrist, sliding in to my half-numbed cunt with just the slightest pause of resistance. The men are around us now, some taking pictures with their phones. The three hands plunge and retreat, dive in and pull out, my body rocking in time with the rhythm of their thrus
Hunter Hunter · General · Sunshine warms your face as your eyes slowly open. You stretch feeling your heart still racing from the half remembered dream. Stretching in the sensual comfort of the bed you listening to the day you grasp at the wisps of the dream you don't want to get away‚ but the harder you try the more elusive the dream becomes. Now listening to the sounds of morning throughout the house and beyond‚ this day seems different. There's something that you can't quite put your finger on. Oh well‚ you have the whole day off and so much planned to do around here‚ is seems there is never enough time‚ yet today still seems different. All morning it has been with you that feeling that today is different. Your morning has gone by so fast‚ all those chores‚ duties and responsibilities completed in record time. It is only a little after noon and you have accomplished so much‚ you deserve a break. A walk on this beautiful day would be a perfect break from the routine. There is an energy in the air‚ a tension that makes your nerve endings tingle. Maybe a storm is building‚ you close the door and check the sky seeing wispy clouds and wide expances of blue. Time to go to that special place‚ the beautiful clearing in the woods where you can enjoy the day and forget the reality of duties and responsibilities. As you walk the day is pulling you on with that strange energy a power and tension is building and it is having a very interesting effect on you. Everything seems brighter and clearer than just another day. Its warm and the clothes you have on are light and you know that you look good‚ but you aren't going to meet someone so you wonder why exactly you just thought about that. In fact where you were going you would not see anyone‚ your sure that someone else might know the clearing with its luxurious grasses and wild flowers‚ its butterflies and the song birds; yet you had never seen anyone there. Everyone is too busy. As you walk‚ taking your time‚ you can feel the days energy intensify. You become accutly aware you your body‚ it seems like every nerve is standing at attention. You can feel the movement of the soft fabric against your skin‚ the sensuous feeling it gives you brings color to your cheeks. you can feel goose bumps and yet it is a warm day with a light breeze. You are walking quickly‚ not knowing why but wanting more than anything to get there. You feel the movement of you clothes now on your breasts and your nipples are erect soldiers standing at attention‚ which of course makes the feeling of your top and bra that much more exciting. You stroke your hands up your arms feeling the goosebumps and brushing over your breasts you gasp as your arms crossing your chest slide over those tiny soldiers and send‚ what feels like‚ and electric shock of pure sensual animal pleasure all through your body. Now you know this is silly. You enjoy some self love as much as the next person‚ but now you are hurrying through the woods as if you had a date. You could enjoy your time in the playing lights and shadows and maybe you could get your body to calm down until you could go home and release some of this pent up feeling‚ it had been too long. You are just going to have a relaxing walk in the woods and enjoy your special place away from everyone and everything that seems to be intent on pulling you in different directions all day long. The energy of the day continues to climb‚ now along with your nipples sending deliciously sexual feeling of pleasure through your body‚ like waves on a beach‚ the shorts you are waring are putting pressure on a place that is stimulating even more pleasure with each step. The smile on your face brightens the day further and your rebellious body continues its waves of sensual/ sexual pleasure‚ those waves were becoming stronger as if a storm was nearing. By the time you reach the clearing your having to hold back a giggle and gasps of pure pleasure. You'll just sit down in the dappled shade and wait for your overheated body to calm down. The feeling is delicious though‚ energizing‚ pleasure flowing through your whole being‚ not just your body now‚ images in your mind‚ scenes from that dream from early this morning. The dream of bliss‚ excitement‚ heat and passion. Some glimpses of bits and peaces as tantalizing as your body was and needing just as badly to be touched. You give in and sitting there in the grasses all alone stroking first your arms and your face remembering from your dream that faceless man who had driven you wild with desire. His touch burned and his kisses set you ablaze. Now they were his hands not yours‚ those first tentative touches‚ the the stroking‚ and caressing that your whole existence needed right now. The world drops away now and there is only the dream. The days heat‚ energy and tension had led you to this spot at this time just for this. Now your hands moving over your body crave the touch of skin on skin and sliding your top up and pulling up your bra is too confining‚ too uncomfortable. Slipping them off enhanced the excitement and the pure pleasure of this. The passion flowing through you now is pure animal sex‚ your body craves release from the bonds of normality‚ craves excitement and the most passionate embrace. Gasps and moans escape as you explore yourself and the mounting sensations are crowding out all thought. It had not been enough to take off your top now you are naked and the grasses prickely touch is making you even more aroused. A sound nearby ‚ a shadow‚ a man is standing there. The sun through the leaves cast light in your eyes and you know it is just the dream. You reach to him and he comes to you‚ whispering his awe at your beauty. But his words are replaced by a more animal sound as his hands lips and body press against yours. He knows you! His touch just right‚ the caress just perfect‚ each move increasing the pleasure until you are riding on the surf‚ you can hear the waves crashing on the shore. His lips on yours‚ his hands exploring searching finding each pleasure that your body needs to have released. He moves down your body and knows just what you need him to do. There is no hurry to him no rush to get it over and go. He is delving into your mind and letting all of your passions flow forth uninhibited by human concerns‚ only animal passions. Yes‚ yes‚...yes... yess... OH YESSSSSssss‚ Fuck me‚ FUCK ME NOW!! Your fingers curled in his hair as your hips press you against his face‚ tongue‚ lips. The purity of the ecstasy overwhelms you and sweeps you away as the waves of orgasms crash over you. You pull him up over you first noticing how handsome he is‚ you crush your lips to his and guide him into you. This is your dream and he is yours to do with as you wish‚ and right now you wish to have him deep inside you. His movements‚ and rhythm come from you. Your bodies wants‚ needs‚ desire‚and lust driving you wild. After you have peeked several times and several more intense than you imagined possible you feel him explode in you and you tremble at the pleasure. You need to have more and you roll him on his back‚ like a beast on its prey and no prey ever moaned so passionately as you move down to his cock. Stroking‚ kissing‚ teasing until it is a shaft of power you straddle him and take him inside again. You set the rhythm again‚ rocking your hips and pressing just the right way to give yourself the greatest pleasure. He is fully enjoying this too. His eyes burn with passion and lust for you‚ just you. The light plays across his face making it seem you have seen him before‚ but your needs are all your mind and body will think about now and as you ride him you pull first his hands and then his face to your breasts. Sometimes he is gentle‚ and sometimes rough as his sucking draws your nipples between his teeth. Each different nuance simply puts you in orbit. You have never been so consumed‚ nor wanted to consume someone in this way. As you collapse on him as he erupts again‚ you are drained and soooo satisfied. You wake with the light in your eyes‚ stretching and feeling the scratchy grass against your skin. You are dressed you see‚ but you would be‚ it had only been a dream. You‚ especially you‚ would never strip naked and have wild passionate anmial sex outside in the woods. You'd die of embarrassment. Yet the satisfied feeling lingers. The places where the tenderness‚ after heavy sex‚ can be felt were tender. You feel the drying sweat and more on your body and you smile and think‚ what if? You walk home more content than a cat on a warm sunny day and your whole being sings with satisfied pleasure. The few people you pass look at you and smile‚ some wave‚ they all seem as happy as you are. As you get home and head for the shower you stop to look in the mirror‚ you can see why all the people were smiling‚ you are radiant‚ your whole body gives of a glow of health‚ happiness and satisfied lust. Well‚ maybe the last only she could see. It had been a dream after all‚ all of it. Yet the feelings she has of satisfaction and the tenderness of places that... oh that's silly‚ you would never let yourself give in to the passions. As you undress for the shower you find a wild flower tucked in your bra and a leaf that must have accidentally gotten in your panties‚ but it had to have been a dream... Hope you liked it‚
I Am Your Master I Am Your Master · BDSM · *****Dummies will always say that you'll never find a good quality sex partner at a bar. That bars aren't the places to look for relationships. Yet, over 90% of the people that go to bars have money, are experienced in giving others pleasure, and guess what else? They're looking for sex! *****I met Molly at a bar called Hoppers. She was a short dark haired girl with huge tits, loved sucking dick, and was quiet most of the time. If she was talking a lot, that was her way of saying that she needed a dick shoved in that mouth. I'm not a blowjob-loving type of guy, but if a girl can fire her load into my mouth while giving head, then I'm all in. *****Molly said absolutely nothing as her eyes scanned Hoppers. Drunk guys would randomly go up to her and give her comments about her huge tits. But, Molly would just look at them, smile, and say nothing. So the drunk guys would lose interest and walk away. I watched this going on for awhile and Molly noticed me watching. Then she shot me the smile I was looking for. I returned it, she looked away, then turned her head and smiled again. It was game on. I had better talk to her or I'd be losing her. *****I got up and sat as close to Molly as possible without looking directly at her. When she turned her head and looked at me, I met her gaze, and said, "What's up?!" She smiled, but didn't say anything. Normally I won't buy women drinks because that's what "Suckers" do, but some inner gut instinct told me that Molly was worth buying for. I called the bartender over, pointed at Molly's drink, and said, "Get her another one!" The male bartender made a mental note of what Molly was drinking, looked at me, and said, "Sure thing!" Molly looked at me, but didn't say anything, so I said, "My name is Jake! And you are?" Molly blushed, turned to me, and said, "Molly". *****The drink did its magic and Molly started opening up and talking some, so I bought her 2 more drinks. At one point I was kissing her hand and telling her how pretty she was. Then she was like, "You're not too bad looking yourself!" Then I reached up and caressed one of her locks of hair as I said, "Is that so?" But that was way too much stimulation for Molly because she was wet between the legs and staring repeatedly at my cock. I had to get her out of Hoppers because this just wasn't proper. The least I could do was dry off that wet area between her legs with my giant tongue. *****I stood up and started making out with Molly in front of the whole bar, then I let her pull back, and when I saw she was ready again, I made out with her some more as I directed her hand to my raging hardon. She rubbed my hardon, so I lifted her hand, and gently tugged on her arm as I suggested, "We should leave this place to take care of each other. Your place or mine?" Molly smiled and said, "Just follow my car!" I followed her car and ended up at her horse ranch in the country. *****We walked into her house together holding hands the whole time. Actually, she was literally dragging me into her house like a hungry trapdoor spider. She pointed to some pictures of her with horses on the wall and said, "Those were my barrel racing days. I have 5 trophies, 8 blue ribbons, and 3 silver medals". I looked at Molly with excitement and said, "Very impressive!" as we headed toward her room upstairs. When we made it to her room, she began stripping off her clothes immediately, wasting no time. I was hungry for that nectar between her legs, so I scooped up her naked body, laid her on the edge of her bed, forced her legs apart, and madly started eating out her pussy. Molly was so horny that she fired load after load into my eager mouth. Then she was like, "OHH! JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!" I knew what she really wanted, so I crawled up on the bed next to her. *****I lifted Molly up and threw her pussy first on top of my eager mouth. She grabbed my throbbing cock and began sucking on it like a pro. I was close to cumming when she shot another hot load into my mouth and that made me shoot a ridiculous amount of cum into her mouth. My cum just made her suck me harder and she shot load after sweet load into my mouth filling me up completely. Then Molly was like, "What else can you do?" so I flipped her on to her belly, and said, "You're going to have the most powerful orgasm imaginable...". *****I commanded Molly just to lie there and not move no matter what. But Molly was curious, so she asked, "Why?" I just smiled and said, "You'll see!" I grabbed her legs and roughly buried my face into her ass. The force at which I buried my face made Molly jump a little, but I just started rapidly licking her asshole. "OHH!!" Molly gasped in surprise at the sensation as she shoved her pretty ass toward my mouth. I kept eating her ass out until her asshole opened and allowed my tongue to enter her. I quickly spat into my hand and started jerking before I went back to eating out her ass again. Molly felt my face slamming into her ass with my giant tongue wiggling inside her. She was rubbing her pussy and I was jerking fiercely, then her skeen gland exploded. "CUM IN MY ASS!!!" Molly screamed. I sucked as much of her load down as possible, then I was on top of her easing my hard cock slowly into her ass. I started fucking her slowly, but she thrusted her ass back on me, encouraging me to fuck her harder. So I fucked her relentlessly, until I was shooting a massive load of cum into her ass, which made her have another skeen gland orgasm. *****Before we finished up, I had Molly on her back fucking her pussy hard, then doggystyle in her pussy, doggystyle in her ass, and I finished by titty fucking her huge tits as she sucked my dick dry. "Mmm yeah, I just love being dominated by a strong, sexy man!" I looked Molly in her eyes as my cum was dripping from her chin and said, "I am your Master...".
Im young, athletic, and sex deprived. I just keep trying but... Ask Women · Im young, athletic, and sex deprived. I just keep trying but... · I cant seem to get anywhere with ladies. I'm assuming that the main problem is my antisocial tendencies. Pretty much a hermit and I've been trying to learn and explore. I either don't know how to ask properly or I'm looking in all of the wrong places. I've tried all the apps. Don't know how not to be rude of offensive. I try my best to be polite, but all it comes out as is awkward. I've heard bars are great places to meet new ppl, but I cant seem to hold a convo when I'm sober. When I drink I just shut up and my brain just freezes. I'm losing my mind! Help!
Silver Male · New Zealand. This is the member profile for Silver
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I find my fabulous piss-sex geriatric nympho I find my fabulous piss-sex geriatric nympho · Fetish · I am a sexual paradox. First, I am 35 yet only attracted to old women – I get so fucking turned on by their droopy tits, flabby bellies, wrinkles, fat hairy cunts, and shitholes. Secondly, after being molested (it was great) by a plump geriatric nympho I also fell hook, line, and sinker for girdle sex. And lastly, my old nympho made me piss on her hairy cunt every time she fingered herself on the toilet. Now, I can’t often find randy old birds who wear girdles and have saggy tits and bellies but none at all to date who enjoy or will have piss sex. What I wanted was a fat randy old lady who had some fetishes and liked piss play. Little did I know that the answer was solved by Rosemary who was a tenant in a small block of flats let out to seniors, and I was the general factotum. She was around 65, buxom going to fat but good-looking with great legs. On Tuesday last week, she asked me if I could help her with a ‘delicate situation’. She had surfed the web and found a site called dark secrets and had struck up a friendship with an elderly couple who had sent her some personal videos and they wanted some of her. “The problem is, I cannot film myself, can I? Would you do it for me? I am desperate because, for the first time in my life, I have found someone who shares my long-term but sadly unfulfilled interest in what I now believe is now called water sports.” As soon as she said water sports my nice thick eight-inch cock took notice and I agreed to help her. That evening whilst having a sherry in her apartment, I asked how her interest in water sports was triggered. “Well, one day, I was lying enjoying the sun in a field and started daydreaming of the usual stuff. I was horny and as no one was around, I took off my knickers and my clit started getting stiff, and as I was coming, I had this massive urge to pee urgently, so I just let it gush out which triggered the most fantastic orgasm.” She added that she continued with her fetish on her own for many years as she thought she was a freak and not something elderly ladies should enjoy. “You know, this is the first time I have truly found someone like me and I intend to enjoy it.” “Well, Rosemary, I am pleased to tell you I too am a devotee of piss sex and like you have never found a lady to share it with.” “Oh, that’s divine.” We arranged a time for us to shoot the video the next day. Arriving that evening, Rosemary opened the door wearing a simple blouse covering a pair of ripe 36 DD melons finished with a light brown skirt that stretched over her bulging sexy belly and finished about 2 inches below the knee. “Go through to the living room, I have set up the basics, so to speak, but we need to get run through how we will film this….I am just going to have a drink, would you like a beer?” Bringing the drinks, she added, “Whilst I am not embarrassed in acknowledging my ‘kink’, this is the first time anyone has seen me do it. The last thing I want is to feel humiliated. So, if what I am about to do is going to make you feel uneasy, please say so now and we will forget all about it.” “Fuck me, Rosemary, I share your interest too. So no, I won’t be embarrassed….more like excited. Shall we have another pint?” She beamed and hurriedly refilled the glasses. “Now we know where we stand, let’s make a great movie”. Lifting the settee cover, she showed me the plastic sheets and those around it “Now, I am not very creative, how do you think we should film this? Don’t forget this couple has been kind to send me some movies but they are rather basic…her on the toilet, him peeing on her at the same time. I would like something a bit different. What do you think?” My mind was going into overdrive. “What about this? You’re sitting down reading and sipping a drink, very refined. Then, think back to when you first started, slowly pulling up your skirt and start fingering yourself. You get carried away, the book drops, and you undo your blouse to show off those luscious tits and pert nipples. “Now bearing in mind that I am not here, you slowly open your legs wide for the close-up of your clit... and then I pan away. The thing is it will surprise the viewer. What do you think?” Her smile gave me the green light. My opinion of porn videos is that they are never very erotic; an erotic video, as opposed to a porn film, is harder because you have to engage and build up the viewers’ emotional climax as well as their physical one. “You are great. Now let’s start.” She was getting into the mood and quickly finished off another pint of larger! With her on the sofa, I started shooting but there was a problem …stage fright, I suppose. She looked like a very bad actress. “Look Rosemary, will it be ok if I help get your imagination going? That should get you in the mood.” “Think back to those days, the sun is hot and you’re reading a saucy book.” Suddenly, as if a switch in her was turned on, she was in the mood. The music and the effect of the larger took over. Languidly she slowly opened her creamy fat thighs and started caressing her silver-haired cunt which was highlighted by her open crotch girdle. Rosemary had a lovely bush of fanny hair. Whilst dreamily fingering herself she gradually unbuttoned her blouse, revealing those great tits. She was getting into the mood as I swear those nipples had grown by at least another quarter of an inch. She was shedding inhibitions as fast as her clit came out of her labia. So far, I was just the cameraman, but I was also the voyeur. And boy did I want to fuck her. Fully reclined with her eyes dreamily half-closed, she started talking extremely dirty. “ I love my clit. It’s like a small cock in a way, don’t you think? And when I do this – rubbing her finger over the top - it makes me want to spurt.” As she said that, a shower of piss arched up. With three pints of larger in my straining bladder and a very big lob on I was getting both randy and uncomfortable. Seeing my bulge, she added “I do believe I am turning you on – look at those trousers” Looking down I saw a large wet patch. “You’re dribbling, you naughty man. Take off those trousers right now and come over here.” Still filming, I scrabbled out of my trousers and walked over. Taking my semi-hard dick Rosemary put it in her mouth and tongued my piss hole. It was fantastic but it also loosened my bladder and I squirted. With my piss dribbling down her mouth Rosemary smiled and swallowed. “Now you know how to squirt too,” she said. Never once during all this did, she let up pulling and tugging her clit and was getting very excited. “I don’t think I can hold out much longer, time for the close-up. This will make it easier for you.” Lifting one leg up and still rubbing and tugging her ever protruding thick clit she was gone…. Sighs and moans and then: “Hey, I have a great orgasm when I piss, but I was thinking, it would be even better if you piss inside me at the same time. I know you can.” This was not in the script, but my bladder was near to bursting, and not having taken my magic tablet, my semi-hard cock was up to the job. Why waste this experience? Placing the camera low and checking that we would get a great scene, I went over and eased my piss proud cock into her very wet cunt. “That’s great, you are going to make me very happy.” “Oh, that’s lovely, not hard, not soft…just the way I like it. Then, slowly but steadily, surges of hot piss gushed from her hole as her orgasm started. She started writhing underneath me and I opened my bladder and pissed deep into her. As soon as it hit her wall she went nuts and I was showered in more piss. It went everywhere. Suffice to say that as soon as it started it was over. The film? With editing, it looked great. Rosemary’s cyber couple loved it so much that they invited her to bring ‘her friend’ when she visits them next month. I said that I was not sure as piss sex can only last as long as one’s bladder is full. “Oh, you are a silly one. Look, Philip and Gwen, my new piss friends are into all sorts of perversions and fetishes. And as for me, I am looking forward to having lots of your lovely spunk up my cunt as long as you don’t mind if I squirt.” Before meeting Philip and Gwen, I wanted to explore more kinky fucking with Rosemary. One thing that she fucking loved was when I put my hand up her skirt in the morning and shoved all my fingers up her hairy hole. Of course, she always pissed herself when she orgasmed. And to my surprise, she took great delight in pissing in public. Her favourite was wearing a plastic mac and walking with me in the park. So when she pissed herself while she walked in front of me, I told her she was a dirty, fucking piss whore. She loved being spoken to like that. Needless to add of course that at home she always wanted me fuck her shit hole so she could piss freely as possible. I preferred fucking old ladies’ arse holes as they are usually much tighter than their cunts. Before we left to drive to our hosts, Rosemary informed me that it had been agreed, that the first lot of sex play would be focused on piss as she and they wanted to, as she said, “ soak up and enjoy the fun.” She had no idea what they had in store. But we had to arrive with bladders nicely filling up and ready for action. Rosemary added that the hosts had kindly said that it would be best if we both wore minimal light clothing and no underwear Philip and Gwen, you could tell were a very sexual couple. Gwen was similar to Rosemary in build, fat with big tits. Philip was a small guy and looked very unassuming. They made us extremely welcome with Philip giving me a very tight hug, grinding his crotch into mine which I liked as I was pleasantly surprised to feel his cock get nice and hard as was mine. Rosemary and Gwen were also hugging pressing their massive titties against each other and I swear I saw Rosemary put her hand up Gwen’s very short skirt but it could have been my imagination. After a few minutes, Gwen said that she was positive that we would all like a nice big drink and went to make the coffees. Of course, I should have guessed, the coffees came in very large mugs. I looked over at Rosemary who had the biggest smile. Suddenly she said to Philip, “ Tell me, Philip, how did you get into enjoying piss sex?” “Well, Rosemary, it started when I was obsessed with wanking but I used to cum too soon. But I found that if I had a full bladder, I could last a lot longer and after shooting my spunk, I just pissed myself and it was glorious. Then afterward I got highly turned on when I used to visit my granny and listened to her having a very loud piss. One day she caught me outside the toilet door and whilst I thought she would be annoyed, but she just smiled and said then next time she wanted to ‘go’ would I like to help her? Of course, I agreed and it got to the stage where she would give me a blowjob whilst taking a piss. It went further as I wanted to finger her as she pissed. We both enjoy doing that even though she was 85. Whilst he was telling us his story, Gwen was looking at me and at the same time, pulling up her skirt and parting her fat thighs to give me a bird’s eye of her grey hairy cunt. I could see that Rosemary had taken this as the sign previously agreed she said to Philip: “Philip, your story has got me quite excited. I just love my cunt filled with spunk and then washed out with strong streams of piss. Have you ever tried it with Gwen? Here let me show you, you don’t mind do you, Gwen, you’ve told us to help ourselves.” Gwen, now unashamedly fingering her gash said, “Of course take him into the conservatory and your young man and I will watch”. Their conservatory was extremely warm with underfloor heating and with the lack of rugs and plastic-covered easy chairs and sofa it was their pissing palace. My now naked Rosemary was getting Philip nice and hard and I was jealous. His cock was not big it was very thick. Laying on her back, he entered her hairy twat and started humping her. Gwen had got my cock out and said, “I bet your bladder is fit to burst – mine is. Now let’s get you nice and hard and you can fist me. I don’t know if they both timed it but we all came at the same time. Philip then pissed up Rosemary’s fanny for a least a minute and, I don’t know what came over me, but Gwen and I were pissing over each other she urged me to piss in her mouth saying “give momma another hot drink.” It was fucking wild and very erotic. After we cleaned up and showered it was time to leave but they promised us some more fun and games next Saturday. The following Saturday could not come quick enough as far as we were concerned. Arriving in the afternoon, Gwen invited Rosemary to go shopping with her and for us boys to amuse ourselves – “we have some lovely horny videos you can watch.” Phil made us a drink and put on one of the videos. It was kinky. There were two guys dressed in stockings and knickers feeling up and double fucking a fat granny with a massive hairy twat. I must admit it was making me very horny and my cock was tenting in my trousers. Phil’s cock was doing the same. So we agree to wank each other as a change. It was lovely, lots of pre cum made it very easy. And we took it real slow so as not to cum too soon. Phil said asked if I was bi like him. I said that I had not considered it, but I must be a bit as I was enjoying our wanking. Then he shocked me by admitting that not only was he bi but also cross-dressed. He said that he loved wearing ladies’ panties and sheer nylons and his favourite thing was being fucked up in his shithole while fucking his wife. “But the best bit is that when we’ve all cum, we piss up the holes and then let it all ooze out”. “It is the ultimate orgasm,” he added. We both agree that our piss session was good. But I said the trouble was that they didn’t last very long as you can only piss so much. Then he started telling me how he and his wife can make it last for hours. “First, you make sure that your bladders are full to bursting but you hold it in. For us guys it’s easy as when we have a hard-on we can’t piss, I cannot at least.” The wife and I go shopping and she just loves dribbling her piss all over the place and nobody knows a thing. And back in the car, I start fingering her and as she cums she also squirts out a fuck load of hot piss. You will have to teach Rosemary how to dibble her piss. It is so fucking erotic”.
just me and my favorite places Photo gallery: just me and my favorite places · me beach house river work
me my favorite places Photo gallery: me my favorite places · me beach boats fishing my house river and work
Sucking Angry Straight Ma Sucking Angry Straight Ma · Gay Male · Now I'm a shameless little whore that will do just about anything to get cock in my mouth and to fuck my little white asspussy. During the summer of 2017 I was in Phoenix Az - the heat there alone is enough to drive you to insanity, I had been working a lot of OT and needed a break for cock so I took a few vacation days and said fuck everything Im getting some dick. I had run some ads on craigslist and the men were showing up right and left fucked me filled me with cock and cum and left but I was craving something more some straight man abuse! For anyone that understands how some fag brains are wired (like mine) I get off on the rush of a highly unpredictable straight man using my mouth and ass for his gratification. So I ran a special ad "Seeking straight man to abuse faggot" I got a few bites and then this dude emailed me and said - I know what you need faggot give me your cell# and meet me at the evelyn hallman park 1pm sharp bring your phone and some cash so you can pay your fagtax , so I send him my digits and he texts me he said when you get there txt me so 1pm hits I am there and txt him he says goto the restroom second door its unlocked away I go and when I open the door 2 well built construction workers are just inside the door one grabs me and the other slaps me across the face with everything he had and said get on your knees faggot and he asked did you bring your fagtax I said yes sir and reached into my pocket and grabbed a hundred I brought I hand it to him and he spit in my face he said faggot next time you bring more. He then instructed me to strip and give him my clothes and keys to the other guy so I quickly did as he asked and the guy took off with my clothes here I am back on my knees when the door opens and hes back with my phone and hes recording the mean dude that slapped me tells me to take his cock out I unbutton his jeans and slip then down a bit and take his meat out he hit me again and said hurry up fag we dont have all day and he said what do you want? I said I want to suck your cock please sir, he laughed and said maybe show me how bad you want my cum open your mouth and he grabbed his cock and placed the head right on my tongue and said swallow if you waste any Im gonna beat you bloody and he starts pissing in my mouth I had never drank piss before so Im kinda shocked and the flow was heavy I started to choke and he stopped the flow and backhanded me so hard I fell to the floor the other guy grabs me by the neck and lifts me back to my knees he said that was a warning faggot now finish drinking and he starts pissing in my mouth again by now im shaking and scared (this is part of the rush for me) he finishes pissing and orders me to clean his cock and balls with my tongue I give his manhood a good licking and he says suck it for me now faggot and if you gag you're going home with black eyes. So Im giving him the best possible head I know how and my own cock is rock hard the guy recording tells me to sit on the floor and point my dick forward as he places his workboot on my cock and presses it hard to the floor im sucking like my life depends on it now and the mean dude says to me Im getting close you ready for my load faggot I give him an mmmhmm and keep sucking and suddenly he blew his load down my throat I kept sucking to get every drop and he pulled out of my mouth he then orders me to stand up and spread my legs and bend over the toilet I assume the position and the guys trade places the former camera guy steps up behind me and with no lube or spit shoves his huge cock up my ass I screamed out and suddenly a fist hits my face and he told me to shut the fuck up he pounded my hole for a good 10 minutes and blew his nut juice inside my ass when he finished he told me to sit back on the floor he brings his now deflating cock to my mouth and orders me to clean it with my tongue while Im licking the guy recording says your a pathetic faggot but I guess since you paid your fagtax we will let you cum start beating your little dicklet you have 5 minutes to cum if you dont shoot in 5 minutes we are gonna beat you again the guy who just fucked me is standing right in front of me still and grabs his cock and aims it at my face and started pissing on me while im beating off its raining down my chest and when his stream finished he backhanded me across the face 3 times and said hurry the fuck up Im jacking my cock hard and he reached down with both hands and grabbed my throat he said you could die here today faggot is that what you want?I said no please Ill cum soon and he started squeezing my throat harder he said if you dont cum soon I'll choke you harder until you stop breathing and he increased the pressure on my neck I shot my load all over his left work boot huge load of cum the other guy hands me my phone and car keys and says get up fag I heard footsteps outside and he tells me come on its time to go I said but my clothes he says your clothes are in your car you're walking naked to your car I was scared shitless as they opened the door and walked me out, as we get outside I see a man walking up the sidewalk and the mean dude turned around and said FAGGOT you got your nasty cum on my fucking boot get down there and lick my boot clean I didnt move and he slapped me hard as he possibly could I dropped down and started licking the cum off his boot as the man approached the guys said hello to him and he says damn you guys worked him over one of the men said yeah hes a nasty lil faggot dude went into the restroom and they walked me to my car when I got home my face looked like I had been in a bad fight and my cock was still rock hard I never saw those men again but damn I beat off to the memories all the time. Im back in the midwest now but if I ever go back to Arizona Im for sure gonna try to find those men again!