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rizla: Orgy orgy orgy
11 Months Ago
mistered61: Isn’t life too short? Do the years just race by? The emotional concessions we make have drained us. Our commitments have painted us into a corner haven’t they? Life is not a box of chocolates is it? It’s a scrambled egg. But there is hope. You can’t unscramble egg’s but you can make something out of them. A breakfast burrito‚ an omelet. Or wait‚‚‚ OH‚ YEAH quiche.
If you have read to this point‚ ask yourself: Can we make a difference in each other’s lives? Or do we suffer in silence and live with disappointment?
I know I can turn YOUR wants in to MY needs. I’ll make YOUR passions MY desires. Our empty harts can be filled again with intrigue and romance. To quote Billy Joel” Let’s share this drink they call loneliness‚ because It’s better than drinking alone.”
Isn’t life too short? Do the years just race by? The emotional concessions we make have drained us. Our commitments have painted us into a corner haven’t they? Life is not a box of chocolates is it? It’s a scrambled egg. But there is hope. You can’t unscramble egg’s but you can make something out of them. A breakfast burrito‚ an omelet. Or wait‚‚‚ OH‚ YEAH quiche.
If you have read to this point‚ ask yourself: Can we make a difference in each other’s lives? Or do we suffer in silence and live with disappointment?
I know I can turn YOUR wants in to MY needs. I’ll make YOUR passions MY desires. Our empty harts can be filled again with intrigue and romance. To quote Billy Joel” Let’s share this drink they call loneliness‚ because It’s better than drinking alone.”
12 Years Ago
Bmillionaire: I’m a fit male who just turned 30, I’m new to this type of stuff..
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Elk-Point Orgy Parties SD USA
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
Photography Hobby
Photography Hobby · Incest And Taboo · This story is a work of fiction.
There are many advantages of being very wealthy as you might imagine but for me the best part is the ability to follow your lusts to any degree you want.
I have always found young girls and boys to be a secret desire for me, so at one point I opened a photography studio and fully equipped it with the latest cameras and computers just to take pictures of a particular girl. That project went well for a few months before it ran its course and mom wouldn’t let her little girl do any more modeling, and quite honestly I had forgotten about the studio, until my phone rang.
I had posted some ads months’ earlier about child modeling and part of the ad read that you could make 1000’s a week for the right person. The mom calling me sounded a little strung out and really desperate to know how she could get the big payday, so I gave her the basic rundown of how the modeling world runs. We could meet and I would take some photos of her daughter in various scenarios and different outfits – all of which I would provide – then I would send some out to my list of clients and see if they were interested. I usually send 25 photographs for an introduction and if they like them I will sell the 25 photos for $10-$25 per picture. This would make the Mom $500-$750 each set – minus my 20 % commission. (I had to take something for all my “work” or she would be suspicious of my motives) Mom eagerly agreed to this and we made an appointment for the very next day at 10am to meet for the first shoot.
After I hung up with her I went to my studio and started getting everything ready. It had been almost a year since my last model and I had to get familiar with the set up all over again. Satisfied that the video cameras were working and all the hard drives were empty I left for the night with great expectations for the morning. I was not disappointed in the morning as mom and her daughter showed up early for our appointment. I was spot on with my analysis of mom – she looked like a meth head and had erratic body movements which were most of the time a total alarm for being around them, unless she is in possession of a beautiful 9-10 year old girl that wants to become a payday model for mom. We introduced ourselves and I had to struggle to keep calm when looking at her daughter, Lisa. She was nothing like her mom almost to the point that I wondered if they were even related. I explained again how this would work and took a chance with Mom (I don’t remember her name at all) and told her that it was usually best if she wasn’t in the studio during shoots. She seemed almost relieved and as soon as she had signed the parental release form she left without even saying bye to Lisa. With just the 2 of us there I was surprised to find that Lisa was very comfortable and was excited about modeling. We went to the back dressing room where I had racks of different outfits ranging from Tennis clothes to lingerie and we started going through them looking for the right fit. She was a natural and loved the clothes so I let he pick out 5 outfits herself, all of which were very modest, and I picked out a shorts and halter top and a bikini that was just a little too small. I told her I would wait outside for her to change into the first outfit and then we could begin the shoot on the set that I had set up last night. I went back up front and check my computer that was hooked up to the PTZ high definition camera in the changing room and watched Lisa as she changed into the first outfit. I noticed she was wearing baggy white granny panties and made a mental not to change that as soon as I could. The photo shoot went great and after 2 hours Mom came back and I told her that I had 100’s of G-rated photos that I would go through and “edit” for my clients (Little did she know that I was my only client) and I would let he know what they thought of Lisa in 2 days. She seemed a little put off that it would take 2 whole days to find something out and her lack of patience made me even happier.
For the next 2 days I did create a portfolio of 50 pictures just in case Mom wanted to see what we had done – but as it turned out she never even asked. I also watched the changing room footage at least 50 times. Lisa absolutely loved all the clothes. She would run into the room to change into the next outfit and as she would dress she would stand in the mirror and turn at every angle to see how she looked in each piece. The bikini was her favorite, or at least that was the outfit she spent the longest in front of the mirror. As I suspected it was about 1 size too small for her and it made her ass pop in the back and showed off her plump pussy to perfection. This girl was my whole package: bubble butt, flat chest with barley budding nipples, and a fat camel toe. She noticed the camel toe too as she stood in front of the mirror and pulled her bathing suit bottoms in every direction to see if it would change. After realizing it didn’t matter how she pulled, it was still a pronounced bulge she tried pushing down on the front of her pubis to see if she could flatten it out. Watching her do this to herself for about 4 minutes was the highlight of the film and I couldn’t wait to get her back in the studio. So I called mom back and told her I had “sold” 3 sets to my clients and we should go ahead and do another shoot. She was as you can suspect very excited and we agreed to meet later that day at the studio. I took $1500 cash with me in an envelope and when she got there I made a production about paying her share to her and then asking her for the $300 commission for me. She quickly handed me the money and I asked Lisa if she was ready for another shoot. She smiled and said sure and this time I told Mom that we would need 4 hours and she was off in a flash with her cash in hand.
I looked at Lisa and she looked a little tousled and her hair was uncombed so I told her that today we would start with makeup and hair and for her to follow me to the back. I spent a good 45 minutes brushing her hair and talking to her about how makeup would make her look older and more sophisticated and she confided in me that she had never worn makeup before and was excited to try it but didn’t know how. I am not a makeup artist by any means but I did my best and showed her how to apply and blend and when enough is enough. We then went back to the dressing room where I had laid out 4 sets of new underwear, bikini cut, low cut, sheer, and a thong and showed them to her. I told her today we would be taking pictures for underwear ads and we would start with these. She asked about what top to wear and I casually told her that a top wasn’t needed for the shoot as I was only taking shots of the underwear and a top could get in the way, and that I would wait for her on the set. I couldn’t believe it was that easy and I rushed to my computer to watch the show about to go on in the dressing room. When I turned it on she was still dressed standing in front of the counter holding up the thong, and then I started to get nervous. What if she wasn’t going to do it? What if she asked for her Mom to come back? As these scenarios were running through my head she started stripping down and picked up the bikini underwear and pulled them on. These were a perfect fit and you could see a bulge in front but not a full camel toe and she spun around in front of the mirror for a good 5 minutes before walking out of the dressing room wearing only the light yellow panties. My throat was dry and I took a sip of water as she entered the studio and told her she was beautiful. Lisa was a natural and slightly blushed as she made her way to the set. I had put a sofa there this morning and made a show of getting her arranged for the first shoot. Positioning her sitting and looking back over her shoulder and having her long hair come down and cover her nipples. I told her that in the pictures she couldn’t be “nude” but the goal was to seem as though she was nude. She seemed to get it and was incredibly comfortable with me helping pose her. I went back to the camera and started taking pics and started asking her to move and sit in different positions. She was truly a natural so I decided to push it a little and asked her to get on her hands and knees and look back over her shoulder so I could get a picture of her behind. She looked and little puzzled and asked why I would want a picture of her behind, so I told her that my clients thought she was very pretty and enjoyed looking at her, especially her bottom. I’m not sure she understood my explanation but she assumed the position and as she looked back at me I thought the amount of precum oozing out of my cock would have a wet spot the size of a softball on the front of my shorts. I told her that was enough for this pair of panties to go and put on another and off she bounced to the dressing room. She saved the sheer pair for the last and was a little self-conscious when she came back to the set with her hands in front of her nearly naked pussy. She sheepishly told me that you could see right through this pair of underwear and she didn’t know if she should have them on. I acted concerned and went over to her and asked her to show me. I knelt down and she slowly removed her hands from in front of her and the most beautiful bald pussy was on full display to me. I knew I would have trouble standing up so I stayed there for a minute and reassured her that she was beautiful and that my clients were going to love her in these panties. I had one hand on her shoulder and she had gotten accustomed to bringing her hair down her front to cover her nipples and I casually brushed one of the sides of hair back and brushed her cheek lovingly and told her again how pretty she was. She smiled and slowly went over to the couch to do this final shoot. She had all the poses down from memory and I loved the view as she went from pose to pose – and then she asked the question that I wasn’t ready for: “Why do your clients like to see me without clothes on?” Don’t get me wrong I knew this was inevitable but still wasn’t sure how to play this out. I decided to be honest and told her I was going to treat her like an adult and tell her the truth. I asked her if she ever played with herself, you know rub yourself down there. She was posing at this time sitting on the couch with both legs pulled up and chin resting on her knees, and when I asked that she turned beet red instantly and looked away. I didn’t give her time to reply and continued with my response. I told her that my clients thought she was very beautiful, sexy even, and when they looked at her in the poses it made them excited and they would masturbate to the pictures. Trying to keep the photo shoot moving forward I asked her to assume another position which she quietly did, and then she asked me if I got excited looking at her. I thought about it for a second and told her yes, I thought she was very sexy and really enjoyed taking her pictures. She wasn’t satisfied with my answer and told me that wasn’t what she asked; she wanted to know if I masturbated to her pictures. This was it – this was the line I had never crossed. As much as I enjoyed the visualization of young girls and boys, I never played it out in reality. It had always just been a fantasy for me and I was comfortable with that. Now I was confronted with both lying to Lisa and being somewhat safe, or telling her the truth and see if she ran and told mom. Once again I appealed to her youthful desire to be a grown up and told her that I would always treat her as an adult and tell he the truth: Yes I would masturbate while looking at her pictures. She smiled and looked way as I asked her for the next position and she complied. Nothing else sexual was discussed that day and as she was getting dressed Mom came back in the studio, obviously high as a kite and very touchy-feely with me. I did my best to fend her off but Lisa came into the room while Mom was grabbing my crotch and me trying to politely push her away. I was embarrassed for Lisa but Mom quickly said she had seen more than that before and grabbed her and started walking out. Mom looked back at me as said: “2 days until payday?” I replied that I should hear back from my clients by tomorrow so 2 days would be perfect.
After they left I once again made a portfolio of 50 pics that were suitable to show Mom should she ask – but only after rubbing out an amazing orgasm looking at the pics of Lisa in the sheer panties. I thought back to Lisa’s questions and how she reacted to my answers and I felt as though Lisa viewed me as a trusted confidant and that Mom viewed me as a payday for drugs. I actually felt good about both.
Mom and Lisa came back to the studio in 2 days and I had decided to up the game and this time I told Mom that I had 7 clients that would pay me $500 for the sets – and I thought she was going to jump over the counter and rape me. I gave her an envelope with $3500 in it and asked her for my 20% - which after way too much figuring in her head I told her it would be $700 and she reluctantly counted it out to me. I have to admit it as amusing for her to “pay me” with my own money, but the game was afoot and the less she knew the better. I asked Lisa if she was ready for another shoot and she smiled and said sure, but since it was already after lunch time I asked if we could schedule for the next day at 10:00 and told mom that we would need until 5:00 to get the next set competed. Mom was already daydreaming about the drugs she could go buy and just said yeah and walked out the door before Lisa did. I put my hand on Lisa’s shoulder and walked with her to the door and told her that she looked beautiful and I couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow. When we go to the door Lisa turned and gave me a full hug and just said goodbye and walked out. The real reason I didn’t want to shoot a set that day was that I was waiting on some lingerie to be delivered. It’s not all that easy to find sexy lingerie that will fit a 10 year old so I had to order some online and it wouldn’t be there until later today. I spent the next few hours setting up the set for tomorrows shoot and then FedEx delivered. I was like a kid at Christmas as I unwrapped the boxes that contained 6 different lingerie ensembles that included fishnet stockings, garters, fishnet body suit, and see through baby doll teddies. All in all every secret fetish I had was all laid out for Lisa to model the next day.
I was at the studio at 8:30 in anticipation of Lisa coming in and the clock was moving slower than ever in my anticipation of her 10:00 appointment. 10:00 came and went with no Lisa. I was nervous and thought again about if I had properly hidden all of the hard drives with the non PG rated pics I had and if there was anything incriminating here if angry mom of the police showed up – the answer was I was good. It was now 10:30 and no Lisa. I was pacing back and forth and thinking about gathering all of my drives from the safe and leaving with in walks Lisa without Mom. Lisa looked awful; wrinkled dirty clothes, wild hair, and puffy eyes like she had been crying. I came over to her and dropped down on one knee and took he head in my hands and asked her what was wrong? Was she OK? She started sniffing like holding back a cry and said that her mom had left her at her boyfriend’s house and they had gone out to buy drugs and never came back. She took enough change from the boyfriends counter to catch a bus over here and that she was sorry she was late. I told her to come to the back and she was going to take a shower, pick out an outfit, and we were going out for lunch – anywhere she wanted. She seemed a little relieved and said she was hungry, but she asked if we were still going to take pictures today. She said her mom would be mad if she didn’t sell more pictures and she didn’t want her to be mad at her. After leaving her daughter at a druggies house overnight with no food – Lisa was still concerned about her mom’s feelings. She was a better person than me. I went back to my computer and watched Lisa take a shower and wash her hair. She was beautiful and innocent in her movements and I followed her from the shower to the changing room on camera and watched her go through the clothes rack while wrapped in a towel. She picked out a cute tennis skirt and top then went over to the bureau and opened the drawer we had all of her underwear in. I almost passed out when I watched her pull out the sheer pair of panties and pull them on. She stood in front of the mirror admiring herself for a moment then continued to dress and come up front. She looked amazing even with wet hair and especially since I knew what she had on underneath. I asked her where she what she would like to eat and she said Pizza – so I picked the place and off we went. As we were sitting in the booth across from each other, she on her third piece of pizza and me on my first, I asked her how she liked being a model and she said it was the best job in the entire world and she hoped to do this forever. She then asked me about my clients and how did I know them, how did I know what they did while looking at her pictures. I explained that there were a lot of grown men that found young girls attractive and since society said it was wrong for them to do so they were willing to pay money to see pictures without anyone knowing who they were. I told her that it should make her feel very special that these clients would pay money to see her – and she smiled and said it made her feel very special and especially special since I liked masturbating to her pictures her too. I almost choked as she said this and looked around to make sure nobody overheard her and thankfully no one had. She laughed at my reaction and not to worry she had made sure that there was nobody close enough to hear her. This little girl was amazing and had me twisted up like a pretzel. One part of me wanted to devour her like a piece of decadent chocolate cake and another part of me wanted to run and hide. The hard on in my pants was winning at the moment and I paid the bill and we headed back to the studio.
When we got back Lisa was all business and went straight to the changing room to get into today's outfit. I was extremely nervous when I opened a drawer and started laying out the different sets of lingerie with all of the components for each outfit in the same piles. I told her that today we would be doing adult sleepwear and lingerie and showed her each stack saying that all of these parts were to be worn together for the full effect, and then asked her if she had any questions or needed any help. She was holding up the fishnet body suit and had a puzzled look on her face, but she shook her head no, so I told her I would wait outside on the set for her. Back at my cameras I watched Lisa go through all the outfits one by one and inspecting each set very closely. I think my saving grace with Lisa was that the tags were still on the outfits and each one had a picture of an adult model wearing it, so Lisa had a visual image to follow. After a few minutes she chose the black fishnet stocking with the garters and matching panties and bra. This was by far the most complicated outfit I had – but it was also the most covering of all. It took Lisa about 15 minutes to finally come out of the changing room and I had enjoyed every minute watching her on camera trying to figure it all out – and she did finally succeed. When she came to the set and walked over to the white velour chaise lounge I had set up I just stood and stared with my mouth open, and finally my senses came to me and I told her that she was absolutely beautiful and I didn’t think I had ever seen such beauty before. This was not a lie – she was stunning and had an air of sophistication many adults would be jealous of. She sat down on the chaise and I went over to her and told her that with these outfits she was going to pretend to be inviting her boyfriend over to join her on the lounge chair. I went on to remind her that she was fully clothed but looked very sexy and that was what we wanted to capture on the camera. She smiled and nodded her head without saying a word so I went back to my camera and started the shoot giving her step by step directions on how to sit, where to look, mouth open or closed, every detail I could think of to give her innocent young self a look of sophisticated slutty that would carry through to the pictures. When she got to the sheer baby doll teddy outfit she stuck her head out of the changing room and yelled to me that there weren’t any panties for that outfit. I yelled back that it was ok – she wouldn’t be nude but would give the appearance of being nude and I would be careful with my camera directions. Yes I would be very careful with where I pointed that camera and my first shot was here walking to the set in that light pink sheer teddy that displayed all of her young exquisite body to perfection. She didn’t seem too shy about her appearance and started going through all the same poses we had done before with a little encouragement from me. After about 10 minutes I told her that I wanted to focus on just her face for a set of photos and wanted her to make a face like she was all alone in her room and was thinking about her boyfriend and was playing with herself. She just looked at me in bewilderment for a few seconds and told me that she didn’t have a boyfriend – and that she didn’t know what her face looked like when she did that. I realized that she didn’t deny masturbating and my heart skipped a beat – but now I had to figure out a way for her to replicate her facial expressions during that very private moment so I could capture it for prosperity on camera. I asked her if she had ever seen a video of a woman – I made sure to use the word woman – masturbate before and she shook her head no. I set my camera down and went over to my computer on the counter and within 45 seconds I had a video of a beautiful blonde model masturbating on a white bed. This was a very artistic piece of porn that I knew very well and when it was cued up I asked Lisa to come over and let me show her something. She walked over to the camera, still in her sheer teddy and looked at the screen where you could see the paused video of this model's face and shoulders. She had her eyes closed and her mouth was slightly open with her tongue running across her upper lip. I told Lisa that this was the look that we were shooting for and then casually asked her if she wanted to watch the video to get some modeling pointers for this photo shoot we were doing. While never looking away from the computer screen she nodded yes and I hit play. I knew this specific video by heart – all 13 minutes of it so as Lisa stood beside me as I was sitting in my chair I watched her reactions more than I did the video, but still made an attempt to make “professional” comments from time to time on how she would move and look. I never touched her or offered her to sit on my lap – I was too nervous to do so – so she stood there all 13 minutes watching intently on this beautiful woman make herself have a very apparent and wet orgasm. I was hard as a rock and had a small wet spot on the front of my pants from watching Lisa stare at the show in front of her and switch her weight from foot to foot from what I could only guess (hope) was arousal from the video. When the woman ran her fingers through her dripping pussy after her orgasm and brought them to her mouth to suck clean, Lisa made a little gasp and leaned in slightly to get a better view. When the video finished I tried to be “professional” again and asked Lisa if she could mimic what the woman did in the video she sheepishly said yes and walked back to the chaise lounge. I straightened out my cock and went back and got my camera and walked to the end of the chaise to start the set when Lisa asked me if that was what men liked, did they enjoy watching women do that? I thought about it longer than I really needed to and told her yes, men enjoyed looking at beautiful girls and especially beautiful girls enjoying themselves as much as that model had been doing. Lisa thought about it for a minute while still laying there with her hands in her lap and asked me if I had masturbated watching that girl in the video before? I smiled and told her yes, but that was our secret and not to tell anyone. She seemed to like that answer and asked me how she should start. I told her to lay down with just her head propped up on the pillow, arch her head back some and close her eyes. She started arranging herself as I had requested then I thought time had stopped – or at least my breathing did. Lisa had her right hand between her legs slowly rubbing her clit in a circular motion with both legs slightly bent at the knees. From the end of the chaise I had the perfect vantage point for this and for a few seconds I forgot to take any pictures. She had forgotten that I wanted head shots of this intimate act and instead after watching the video she assumed (correctly so by the way) that I wanted her to masturbate, so here she was. She had watched the video very closely as she mimicked the blonde model very well. She was spreading her pussy lips wide and licking her fingers to get wet, then slowly pushing one finger in and out of her hairless pussy then rubbing her swollen little clit, then back to the insertion. I got into the scene and started taking pictures frantically thinking how much I needed to cum and how I would be able to look at these whenever I wanted and jerk until my arm was too sore to do it anymore. She was really enjoying this – not acting - and her expressions were perfect, but after about 10 minutes she stopped and told me that it felt good when she did that but the girl on the video made it look like it felt so much better. I quickly surmised that Lisa had never had an orgasm, but had only had the enjoyment of stimulation, so I set my camera down and sat down on the end of the chaise. Lisa scooted up so she was upright leaning back on the arm with her legs stretched out and crossed in front of her and I started explaining an orgasm to her. I explained that it was something that would build and build until it felt like she was going to burst or pee and then it would wash over her like a big wave of pleasure. She told me that she could feel it building up but it never got to the level of exploding, and then asked if it was the same way for men? I told her it was exactly the same feeling but when a man had an orgasm he would shoot cream from his penis – yes I was still trying to be professional. She kind of giggled and told me she wanted to watch me masturbate as it was only fair, and that I had already told her I would masturbate to pics of her and the video of the blonde girl. I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do but in my state of extreme horniness I agreed to masturbate and told her to watch closely and I would let her know when I was going to have an orgasm and shoot my cream out. She was giddy with anticipation and sat up on her knees at the end of the chaise while I stood and dropped my pants to the floor. When I pulled my underwear down she gasped and had both hands over her mouth and both eyes wide open on my cock which was dripping a long stream of precum. She pointed and asked what that liquid was so I explained precum as a tasty lubricant to help intercourse between a man and a woman more fun. I don’t know if she understood any of that but I sat back down and wrapped my hand around my cock and slowly started moving it up and down. I could look over to my left and see all of Lisa in her nude teddy staring at me pumping my cock and I knew I wasn’t going to last long, so I told her I was about to have an orgasm. Lisa leaned a little closer to get a good view and the first shot of cum flew up and hit my neck (I was extremely excited and hadn’t cum like that in years) and the second then third shot covered my hand and crotch. I was breathless and swore that was the best orgasm I had ever had – then I remembers the video of the blonde girl licking her fingers clean, so I brought my hand to my mouth and slowly licked all the cum off, then wiped the cum off my neck and cleaned my fingers again. All this time Lisa hadn’t said a word but just watched me intently with a flushed face and neck as I sat there breathing heavily enjoying the post orgasm experience. I then told her that was what it was like for a man to have an orgasm and asked her what she thought? She said that was the most awesome thing she had ever seen and asked me if I would do it again. I laughed and told her that unlike women, men needed a little time between orgasms so they could recover and I pointed to my now deflated cock and told her see? It was down for the count for a while. She was good with that answer and I noticed much to my dismay that her mom should be there in 30 minutes so I told her that we were done shooting for the day to go get changed and ready for her mom to pick her up. I got dressed myself and started downloading all the pictures for the day onto my hard drive when Lisa came out fully dressed in the outfit she wore to lunch. She quietly asked me if she could wear this outfit home since her other clothes were dirty and she promised to bring it back. I laughed and told her that she could keep those clothes because they would never look as good on anyone else. We sat there until almost 6:00 waiting for her mom with no sign of her, so I asked Lisa if I should take her home and after trying to call her mom a few times she agreed. Before we left I got the release form that her mom had filled out complete with a photocopy of her driver’s license and cell phone number and stuffed it in my pocket.
When we got to Lisa’s apartment complex it was about what I had imagined. Nothing fancy at all and a little run down but somewhat clean with a mixture of all races – mostly young – in the parking areas. I pulled up to her apartment and asked her if she wanted me to walk her to the door and she said no – but then I asked her for her cell number in case she needed anything and she seemed happy to give it to me. I instantly sent her a text so she had my number too, and I watched her go up the stairs to the second floor and into the third door on the left. I sat there for a moment wondering if I was doing the right thing by leaving and if Lisa’s mom was there – or at least would be there soon. I reconciled that I was and pulled out of the complex, while at the same time texting Lisa to make sure. I asked if her mom was there yet and she told me no but that wasn’t unusual, so I asked her to let me know when she did come home and told Lisa again how much I enjoyed being with her today. After I got off the text thread with Lisa I looked up a number in my phone for one of my special clients, who happened to be a chief of police in the next town over, and gave him a call. I told him the story of Lisa’s mom not showing up to pick her up and that I thought she was into drugs and asked if he would do a quick search for any arrests or accidents and let me know. He told me no problem then asked if I had done any more shoots with Lisa to which I replied that the next set I did would be on the house for his work for me. He was happy with that when we ended the call and I made it home before my phone rang. It was my police chief friend and he told me that he had some bad news. Carole, Lisa’s mom (I never could remember her name) and her “friend” were in a car wreck the night before and the person they hit head on was killed. It looked as though both her and her friend were going to make it but when the police go to the wreck they found large amounts of methamphetamines and their toxicology reports showed that they were both high as a kite at the time of the wreck, so once they were out of the hospital they were both going to jail on charges of vehicular homicide and possession of a controlled substance with intent to distribute. He told me that they would be lucky to get out of jail in 30 years at the earliest. I hung up the phone with him and was walking around my home in a fog. I couldn’t believe my bad luck. I had finally found exactly what I loved and the relationship was going better than I could have ever dreamed, and now the dumbass druggie mother had ruined it all. I poured myself a drink and went out to my back porch that overlooked the Gulf of Mexico and pondered my options. I had to tell Lisa but when I did what would she do and where would she go? Did she have relatives here? After my drink was finished I knew I had to do the right thing so I got in my car and drove back to Lisa’s apartment. When I got there I called from the parking lot and told her I needed to talk to her and asked if I could come up. She opened her door with the phone still in her hand and waved me up. I know I shouldn’t have been noticing things like this but I noted she was still wearing that cute short tennis skirt and it made me happy – just for a moment. When I got inside and looked around I instantly was depressed. A futon, a folding camp chair and a 1990’s era tube TV were the only furnishings in the living room. I sat on the futon and told Lisa to come and sit beside me, and then I recounted the story my police friend had told me earlier. As expected Lisa started crying and we held each other for a good 10 minutes while she cried and processed the information I had given her, and when she had stopped crying I asked her about any family in the area. She told me that her grandmother had died a few years earlier and that it was only her and her mom now, and she asked if she could go and see her mom in the hospital. I was pretty sure we could arrange something but I told her it might take a few days and I wanted her to come and stay at my home while we worked everything out. She nodded her head in agreement and we went around packing what few things she had and set off for my home. As I mentioned in the beginning of the story there are many advantages of being wealthy, and another is to be able to have a 3 story, 8 bedroom home on the beach. When we pulled up to my home the look of amazement in Lisa’s eyes was enough to make her momentarily forget about the problems her mother was facing. She got out of my car and I grabbed her bag and inside we went. I took her to the bedroom that was across the hall from mine and gave her a tour. It had a spa tub, walk-in rain shower, and a private balcony overlooking the beach – and was able to look onto my adjoining balcony. I told her to unpack, relax, take a shower or watch TV and I was going to go and make us something to eat and she could come down when she was ready.
I made simple chicken Alfredo pasta and she ate like she was starving. I had a couple glasses of wine and I had a bottle of sparkling grape juice that Lisa enjoyed from a wine glass like mine, and we had a nice but quiet dinner. After dinner we cleaned up the kitchen together and then we both went to our separate bedrooms after agreeing that first thing in the morning we would look into visiting her mom in the hospital. I lay in bed thinking back to watching Lisa masturbate, then Lisa watching me masturbate, and I wished I had brought a copy of that video home with me. The memory was more than enough for that night as I quickly shot a load all over my stomach and went peacefully asleep. About 3:00 I was startled awake with Lisa slightly shaking my shoulder. I woke up and could tell that she had been crying and she told me that she couldn’t sleep and was scared and wanted to know if she could sleep with me. I told her of course and she climbed in beside me and I wrapped her in my arms holding her tightly until I could hear her breathing even out and I knew she was asleep. I was proud of myself for not taking this moment as a sexual moment – could have helped that I had jerked off a couple hours earlier – but just wanted Lisa to feel safe, and then I fell asleep too. I woke in the morning with Lisa still in my arms, but she had spun around and now had her back to me with my rock hard morning wood nestled on her panties, which just so happened to be the sheer pair she had put on the day before. I was scared to move as I was enjoying the look and feel of what I woke up to, but I had to pee, so I carefully rolled out the other side of my bed and took care of my needs quietly and went downstairs. I called my police friend and inquired about how to get her daughter in to see her in the hospital and that proved to be harder than I thought due to the homicide charges, but as it turned out a lawyer could get in. I then called another client of my photography studio who was a lawyer. Even though he specialized in real estate law I gave him an overview of what I wanted and agreed to pay his fees in full. I was on my second cup of coffee feeling pretty good about what I was planning when Lisa came down to the kitchen. I explained that the only person allowed to see her mom right now was her lawyer and I had hired one that morning that was going to go see her today and give us an update on her condition. What I didn’t tell Lisa was the main reason he was going to see her – I would wait until I found out how she took the offer before telling her. I then told Lisa we would have breakfast then go shopping for new clothes and she had to have a couple of different swim suits if she was going to stay with me here for a while on the beach. She instantly lit up and went upstairs to shower and change. We spent the entire day shopping and bought 3 swim suits and 12 outfits complete with 8 pairs of pretty little girl panties – nothing sexy but cute Cinderella, princess panties befitting a girl her age. After we got back home that evening I pooped and suggested we order out and Lisa ran upstairs to put away all of her new clothes. She came downstairs a bit dressed in a cute pair of short shorts and a halter top we had purchased earlier and we ate Chinese and watched cartoons on the couch. She asked if I had heard anything from my lawyer friend and I told her I hadn’t yet but not to worry, this might take a day or two and she seemed happy with that answer and went back to watching TV. A few minutes later she quietly asked if she was still going to be able to be a model. I leaned over and gave her a one arm hug and told her that she could be a model as long as she wanted to and I loved taking pictures of her. Lisa asked when we could do another shoot and I suggested we do her swimsuits she just bought first thing in the morning. She smiled and said great, and then we snuggled together and finished watching the movie. When I told her it was time to go to bed we both went upstairs to our own rooms. I had just finished brushing my teeth and was dressed as I usually was in my boxers for bed when there was a knock at my door. I told Lisa to come in and when she saw me standing at the foot of my bed only in my boxers she paused for a moment then came on over to the bed right in front of me. While looking down at the floor and pulling the hem of her nightshirt she sheepishly asked if she could sleep with me again, she was too afraid to be in this big house all by herself. I of course instantly agreed and we snuggled up to each other with her spooning me from behind. She had her arm around my chest with her hand resting on my nipple and it slowly became hard as a diamond – then my cock followed suit. There was nothing overtly sexual but the feeling of her holding me from behind was sensual and electric. She fell asleep much more quickly than I did but I finally managed to doze off. When I woke up that morning I was still rock hard but my cock was now sticking out of my boxers and I was lying on my back with Lisa’s hand on my stomach and the covers at the end of the bed. As I would take a breath in it would make the tip of my cock slightly brush her wrist and I realized it must have been doing this for a while because there was a string of precum from her wrist to the tip of my cock and pooling on my stomach. I wanted so bad to cum it almost hurt but I didn’t know how to move without waking Lisa. As I was trying to figure out a solution Lisa moved her hand and lightly ran her fingers down the shaft of my cock sending shivers all over me and making me hold my breath for a second. She got to my balls and gingerly rolled them around feeling their weight in her hand then she wrapped her hand around my cock – a little too tightly but I wasn’t going to complain – and slowly started jacking me off. At this point neither of us had said a word and she quietly asked me if she was doing this the right way, the way she had watched me do it at the studio. I moaned a yes, and don't stop, then erupted all over my chest and her hand. She smiled big and continued to slowly jack my cock milking all of the cum out until it went limp, then to my amazement she brought her hand to her mouth and cautiously licked her finger that was covered in my cum. Then when she decided it wasn’t icky, she licked her wrist and fingers clean, then wiped my chest with her fingers and cleaned them again. Watching her do this almost made me hard again and I rolled on my side and gave her a chaste kiss on her lips and told her how beautiful she was and how wonderful that made me feel. She just smiled and while still holding my now limp cock leaned in and kissed me again, but this time a little more passionately. I opened my lips slightly and flicked my tongue across her lips and she quickly picked up on this new game and in no time we were passionately French kissing. I broke the kiss after a few minutes and asked her if she would like me to give her an orgasm like she had done for me and she breathlessly said yes. I resumed kissing her and pulled her nightshirt up to the point we had to break apart and she finished pulling it off her body showing me her fabulous little nipples and completely flat chest. I lowered my head and kissed her neck and trailed down to her nipples and lightly kissed and licked them as they became rock hard. She was moaning at this point and writhing on the bed, and I hadn’t touched her pussy yet. I think she had a small orgasm from just my kissing of her tits but I wasn’t 100% sure. I slowly worked my kisses down her stomach and her navel sending her into another level of writhing and giggling as I reached up on both sides of her panties and slowly pulled them down. These were My Little Pony panties and as they cleared the bottom of her gorgeous bald pussy I could see a faint wet spot on the crotch, and since my nose was only inches away I could smell a very sweet but faint scent of pussy. I was enthralled and for probably a minute or two I just sat there looking at this beautiful sight, until Lisa had enough of me waiting and removed her panties herself. I returned to kissing her navel and moved down to her pubis, then her thighs as I spread her legs a little to see my prize. Her little bald pussy slowly opened up and I could see the little nub of her clit already swollen and red poking out. She was slightly wet already but when I ran my tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top and slightly sucked on her clit her juices flooded into my mouth as she clenched my head with her legs and arched her back. She shuddered and gasped and she experienced her first orgasm and I let her slowly start to come down from the feeling when I started in on her clit again. This time it took a few minutes but she was soon bucking and moaning as she grabbed my head with her hands and pulled me deeper into her crotch. I continued to work on her sweet beautiful pussy until she had enjoyed 4 orgasms and was breathing like she had just ran 5 miles, and then I crawled back up to her and took her in my arms and kissed her deeply. Her tongue was swirling around mine, tasting her sweet nectar, greedily licking my face clean. I was rock hard again at this point and wanted to fuck her so badly but I knew I shouldn’t push my luck so I suggested I go make us breakfast and she could shower and try on one of her new swim suits for a photo shoot at the beach. She agreed and bounced out of the bed into my bathroom and I heard the shower start. I thought I would take this opportunity to relieve my aching balls so I closed my eyes and lingered on the look and taste of Lisa’s beautiful pussy and started jerking my hard cock. I had no sooner started when I heard Lisa say “Hey that’s my job now!” She came over and stood at the side of the bed and removed my hand from my cock and replaced it with hers. Standing there completely nude with me watching her jack my cock was a visual I will never get out of my head – but in true fashion of never being satisfied I told her to kiss it like I kissed her and it would feel even better. She stopped jerking and just held my cock straight up and kissed the tip that was leaking precum. She licked her lips and then licked the head of my cock. I moaned with pleasure and told her to suck on the head like it was a lollipop – and she took off like a pro. As she was sucking the head I placed my hand over hers and started jacking my cock again and she picked up on that – and the pace – quickly. I thought I mumbled I was going to cum but to be honest I wanted to cum in her mouth so badly I might not have, and I shot my first load into her mouth prompting her to pull back in surprise, and timing the second shot to fly out and hit her on her nose. The rest of my orgasm just dribbled down her hand and she slowly regained her senses as to what was going on and wiped the cum from her nose and face then licked her hand and fingers clean. She giggled and said that she wasn’t expecting that to happen but she sure did enjoy it – and I kissed her again and told her how much I did too and off she ran to her shower that had been running this entire time.
Akron & Cleveland and Youngstown Swingers Parties
This is a group from Akron‚ Cleveland and Youngstown that put on parties for swingers and couples/females who are looking for real meets for gangbangs and hotel parties (group sex). We have a kik room to meet other members and see what we are about. To join the group you will need to follow the rules in the profile picture.
1. We will need a live face pic upon entering the room (if you can't submit a live pic then don't enter)
2. Introduce yourself upon entering the room
3. Be respectful
4. NO DICK pics
5. Chat in the room‚ NO PM's without permission or you will be removed from the group.
We have regular parties and always looking for new people to join. If you have parties as well we are always looking to collaborate - Akron & Cleveland and Youngstown Swingers Parties
Orgy parties in Houston
If you interested in creating a group chat and planning orgy parties add yourself and drop your number I will create the chat - Orgy parties in Houston
Boise Idaho orgy parties
Boise Idaho orgy parties - Boise Idaho orgy parties
Are the real swingers parties or sex parties actually happening in Tulsa? Really??
Other Locations · Are the real swingers parties or sex parties actually happening in Tulsa? Really?? · I must admit, I'm extremely new to this whole scene but I've paid some kinda attention to it for quite some time, albeit from a distance, and have never learned of actual swingers clubs or fuck parties around here - I just feel like surely I would have. But, that said, I'm oh so happy to be wrong, I'm just asking this to make sure this is real and the people here are truly down to, well, get down. Our is this a waste of time? I hope not, cus ladies I promise I won't waste your's, my wife would never let me and she super excited to get involved too.. I hope to hear something back soon! Thanks!
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
Hunting
Hunting · Incest And Taboo · Hunting
So, I had lived in this neighborhood for a few years now that backed up to a section of wooded land with about 300 acres. Being raised in the country I was raised hunting and fishing every chance I had, so I took this opportunity to get back to my roots and scout out the area. I was late August so I couldn’t actually bow hunt yet but I took some cameras and my climbing stand out and went scouting. I found a great looking area not too far in from my home that had a nice stand of oak trees filled with acorns and t big beech trees both with beech nuts, so I hooked my stand up to a nice elm tree beside the beech trees and climbed up about 25 feet. I had been there for about 40 minutes and was enjoying having all the birds and squirrels running around me but I had yet to see a deer when I hear something big crashing through the woods behind me. All the animals disappeared and for a second, I wished I had brought a weapon because what ever this was it was big and didn’t care about the noise it made. Well as soon as I had that thought out popped my next-door neighbors’ son, Bobby, walking up to the beech trees. My next emotion was shit – how am I going to be able to hunt with this kid running through the woods – so I thought I would scare him. Bobby started digging around the base of one of the beech trees that had a hollow trunk and pulled out an old backpack. Things were getting interesting so I decided to keep quiet and I watch Bobby pull out a large Ziplock bag from the backpack and toss the backpack on the ground and then sat on it. He opened the Ziplock and pulled out a couple of magazines, looked at the covers and put two of them on the ground next to him and opened the third and started reading. I couldn’t tell what the magazines were but I knew from the obvious hiding and subterfuge they were something he probably shouldn’t have. Bobby laid the magazine her was looking at down and got up on his knees and pulled his pants and underwear down, then sat back down and picked up the magazine. At this point I was frozen with excitement, even though I couldn’t actually see him jacking off because he was facing me and the magazine was in his lap, I could tell what he was doing and I almost popped my zipper with an instant hard on. Then about 3 minutes later he tossed the magazine down and cupped his left hand in front of his cock and emptied his balls into his hand. I thought that this was the hottest thing I had ever witnessed, combining 3 of my taboo fantasies -voyeurism, age difference, and cumshots all in one scene, until he took it over the top by bringing his hand up to his mouth and licking all of his seed off. I almost fell out of the tree and was consciously not breathing hard so he wouldn’t notice me. Bobby then stood up, pulled his pants back up and gathered all of the magazines and secured them back in the backpack inside the hollow tree, and started back toward his home. I sat there for about 15 minutes contemplating what I had just witnessed – and honestly if I should jerk off up here in my tree stand – until I decided I needed to get down and see what he was jerking off to. I climbed down and went over to his secret stashing place and pulled the backpack out to get to the magazines. If I thought I had experienced the most amazing occurrence in my life at that point I was wrong. The magazines were not traditional Playboy types but rather they were extremely explicit and were named: Blowjob Buddies, Uncle Teach Me, and Cum for Daddy. At this point is where I decided I had to jerk off before I came in my pants. I blew a load in less time than it took Bobby and then my mind started racing on how I could see more and possibly interact with his masturbatory sessions. I took the 2 game cameras I had brought to scout for deer and repurposed them to focus on the bottom of the beech tree where Bobby was sitting and then went home with grand schemes bouncing in my head.
I wasn’t able to get back out to the cameras for about 8 days, but had thought about the scene I had witnessed on a daily basis while rubbing my cock. I bought 2 new sim cards for the cameras and told my wife I was headed back to the woods for a minute and swapped them out. I wasn’t able to plug them up to my computer until the next morning after my wife had gone to work and I was excited to see that the first card was full with 140 video clips! I started watching the 15 second clips and immediately noticed that Bobby’s routine was the same and that he would come to the tree almost every day between 3:45 and 4:30. The clips weren’t the best quality but the angle was better for me to watch him jack off and it looked like each time he would cum in his hand and then lick it clean. I would jerk off twice that morning watching him clean his hand and imagining it was me doing that for him. I had to find a way to make this happen!
I was obsessed with the thought of Bobby jerking off and eating his cum, so I hatched a crazy plan for me to confront him. I went to the woods early that day, around 3:00 and pulled out his backpack, sat down against the beech tree and opened all of the magazines on my lap. I was casually flipping through the one titled Cum for Daddy when I heard the sounds of Bobby coming through the woods. My heart was about the beat out of my chest as he approached, but it was too late for me to chicken out now and I had to follow through and appear to be calm for this to happen. As Bobby came around the side of the tree I said “Hello Bobby. What are you doing out in the woods today?” Bobby froze in place and turned beet red as he looked down and saw his hidden stash in my lap. He stammered a few words that I couldn’t understand then said he was just out exploring. I pulled my phone out and asked him to come over here and look at something – I had downloaded a couple of the video clips of him jacking off. He hesitantly shuffled over and I closed the magazine on my lap and told him to sit down next to me and watch a video I had. He sat down and I hit play, then Bobby began to cry. I put my arm around him and laid the phone down and told him that he wasn’t in trouble and I was sorry if he though I was going to expose what he had been doing here, I wasn’t, I just wanted him to know that I knew. He wiped his nose and quite crying but was still very upset and embarrassed. I told him how I had discovered his secret and how much I had enjoyed the show, and that I jacked off after he left thinking about it. That confession made Bobby look up at me with a bewilderment in his eyes that almost made me laugh. I explained to him that all guys jerk off, and do it a lot, and I found it very exciting to have watched him do it. Then I asked him about the magazines since I had never even seen any like that and he told me he took them from his dad’s closet. I had known Tim for 5 years now and had never sensed that he would be into any of this – but good to know for later!
So, I just casually starting talking to Bobby about the magazine I had been looking at and picked it back up so we could both see it. Not wanting to make Bobby any more embossed or self-conscience of what was happening I started flipping through the magazine and commenting on what I liked. There was a full-page picture of an older man on his knees with the younger boys cock all the way in his mouth and a load of cum all over the older mans face. I stopped at this pic and said I really liked this one, it made my cock hard. Bobby nodded his head but didn’t say a word so I continued flipping pages until I got to the end and picked up the next magazine, Blowjob Buddies. This publication had all teen boys sucking and cumming on each other and was very hot. I got to a page where one guy was sitting on the side of a bed and the other was on his knees licking the head of his enormous cock. We hadn’t said a word to each other since my last comment on how my cock was getting hard so I looked at Bobby and asked him if he liked this picture. He nodded again and mumbled yes so, I asked him which guy in the picture would he rather be - the one licking the cock or the one getting licked? He turned red again – I thought we were past that but obviously not – and didn’t answer. So, I flipped the page and asked him another question: “Bobby have you ever had a blowjob?” He shook his head no still staring at the open magazine. I then asked him which of these magazines was his favorite? He just pointed to the one we were currently looking at so I continued flipping pages. We got to a page that had one guy licking up a cumshot off the others stomach and I told Bobby that I thought that was so hot. He instantly nodded his head yes so, I asked him – already knowing the answer – if he ever tasted his own cum and if he liked it. This time he nodded and spoke: “Yes, I really like the way it tastes”. I agreed with him and told him I liked the taste too. We flipped a few more pages and we got to a picture of cum dripping down from a cock onto the guys tongue and Bobby says: “That guy must like the taste too”. Good – Bobby was relaxing some. I laughed and said absolutely that it looked good to me too. I flipped a couple more pages and decided it was time to go for broke so I lair the magazine down and looked at Bobby. “Bobby, I know you came out here today to look at these and jerk off, but since I am here too, would you like a blowjob instead? I would really like to suck your dick and taste your cum.” Bashful Bobby showed back up and he just looked down and didn’t say a word, so I waited just a minute and reached over and placed my hand on his rock hard cock and told him that even if her wasn’t sure, his cock was, and I started rubbing him through his pants. Since he didn’t try to move my had or object, I told him to stand up, and he did. I pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees and his hard cock was eye level to me. The object of many a good jerk off sessions was inches from my mouth! I just stared for a minute taking in his cock and balls. His cock was about 6 inches long and not very thick, and there was just a wisp of fine hair on him, and his balls looked completely hairless. I grabbed his balls and gently pulled downward so his cock wasn’t pointing straight up then gently licked the head of his cock. Bobby whimpered and that made me even more excited, so I swirled my tongue around his head and then wrapped my lips completely on his cock. I was so caught up in the fact I was actually living out a fantasy I didn’t notice the signs of Bobby about to cum and about the third time I swallowed his cock completely I felt Bobby jerk, grunt, and shoot 3 spurts of sweet, sweet, cum in my mouth. I don’t think I had ever tasted anything as good and didn’t want to stop trying to suck the last little bit out of his balls, but Bobby was too sensitive and pulled away. He just stood there for a minute with a silly grin on his face, so I asked him if he enjoyed that as much as I did? He smiled and nodded his head yes. I told Bobby that as long as we could keep this a secret between us, I would like to do that every day we could and if he wanted it too, we could meet here again whenever time allowed.
Bobby and I did meet there again, and on the 5th time I had his cock in my mouth I knew his routine and stamina level pretty well, so right before he shot his load into my eager mouth, I stopped and looked up at him and asked him if he wanted to suck me too? I usually would jerk off while sucking him and would try to time my orgasm with his, but Bobby was a fast cummer and I wasn’t, and since Bobby hadn’t answered me yet I stood up and pulled out my hard cock, and put my hand on Bobby’s shoulders gently urging him to kneel down. Bobby did as I wanted and got on his knees and took hold of my cock and stared in amazement, slowly rubbing it and feeling my full balls as my precum flowed onto his hand and arm. Bobby was amazed with my precum because he didn’t produce much if any at all, so I explained it to him and told him to taste, it was sweet. He did and the next thing I knew he had his lips wrapped around my cock and sucking like he was starving. I coached a little about teeth and tightness of his hand, but Bobby was a natural and before I knew it I was approaching the point of no return. I was telling Bobby how good he was and how wonderful it felt, and then I asked him if he was ready to taste my cum. With his mouth full of my cock he hummed a “um huh” which I too as a yes and let loose a huge blast from my cock. Even though he was expecting that it still surprised Bobby to the point he pulled off and gaged a little, while my next shot found its way across his chin. He regained his mission composure and put my cock back in his mouth and I didn’t think I would ever quit cumming it felt so good and so taboo. When I pulled out of his mouth Bobby looked up at me and wiped his finger across his chin to gather the string of cum stuck there and stuck his finger in his mouth cleaning it completely. If I hadn’t just cum, the sight of him doing that would have made me shoot a load in itself.
I got back in my knees in front of him and wiped a little cum off of his ear and stuck my finger in his mouth and told him to stand up so I could finish him. He stood up and the minute I took hold of his cock the first shot of cum flew out of his cock and hit me square in the chest. I quickly dropped my head down the coax the rest out of him into my mouth and savored the flavor. This began a new era of both of us getting sucked off many times over the next 2 months, until winter set in. Not being able to conjure up a good reason to go into the woods anymore Bobby was stuck at home and I was missing our outdoor ritual, but I didn’t know a safe way to meet up anywhere else until one weekend my wife went out of town to visit her parents. I have a utility garage attached to the basement that leads into my man cave that is in the back of the house and not very visible to the neighbors, so I patiently waited on my back deck on afternoon until Bobby got home from school and called him over to the fence to talk. I had in the past paid Bobby to do odd jobs around my home, raking leaves, picking up sticks, etc... so my plan was for him to come over Saturday and pretend to pull weeds in my back beds while in reality we would go inside to my man cave and catch up on lost time. Bobby thought that he could tell his parents he was going to pull weeds and be gone for about an hour without raising any suspicions, and I asked him not to jack off that day rt the day before because I wanted a big load to make up for waiting so long. Bobby just smiled and said I should do the same!
Saturday morning rolls around and I have the place to myself and it is all I can do to keep from jerking off in anticipation, but instead I ready the room for our meeting. I hooked my computer to the TV and found a clip with 40 minutes of endless cumshots and facials and queued it up for Bobby’s arrival. I opened the garage door and waited impatiently until Bobby stuck his head around the corner with a big smile on his face. I told him to come on in and shut the door and led him into my man cave. He saw the TV with the frozen screen of a cock with cum shooting out the end and he plopped down in the recliner right in front of it staring intently at the screen. I hit play and Bobby’s eyes got huge. He said there was a filter on his computer at home and he had never seen a movie before, just the magazines he found in his dad’s close so I told him to sit back and enjoy for a minute and brought him a soda. I handed him the soda and got down between his legs and pulled his pants down until his cock sprung up. It had been weeks since I had seen or tasted his beautiful cock and I couldn’t wait another minute as I licked him from the base to the tip and swallowed his cock whole. Bobby had built up a little more tolerance than the first time I sucked him and the last time in the woods he lasted almost 10 glorious minutes of me teasing and sucking him, but this time the combination of the movie, not jerking off, and not having a warm mouth on his cock for weeks was just too much and he came almost immediately. The sweet cum filled my mouth as I milked his cock for the last drop and I savored the fresh clean flavor as I rolled his cum around in my mouth. I stood up and pulled my cock out and Bobby slid to the edge of the chair and started sucking on my balls. He had become fascinated lately with my balls since they were much larger than his, and I had no complaints as I love to have my balls worshiped. I was enjoying the sensation very much and was pouring precum out of my hard cock all over his hand and Bobby used that as lube and slowly started sliding his hand up and down my slick cock while my balls were in his mouth. The visual and stimulation were too much for me and I shot a load all over the top of his head and onto the recliner without him ever stopping the tongue bath on my sack. Feeling all of the tension leaving and still tasting his cum in my mouth was a great combination as I pulled up my pants and gave him $10 for “pulling the weeds” and told him we would figure out a way to do this again real soon. I let Bobby out the back garage and came back to my room and started watching the video again while still savoring the memory of Bobby’s cock exploding in my mouth and slowly rubbing my once again hardening cock, when Bobby’s dad, Tim, poked his head in the open door and said “Bruce…we should talk”.
To be continued….
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The Prude · Erotic Couplings · The Question
It all started out with a question‚ admittedly an incredibly personal one‚ but a question nevertheless. Laurie was no more than a casual acquaintance I’d met her at the school where I dropped off my two grandkids that I babysit during the day while my daughter and her husband are at work. Laurie on the other hand was a stay at home mum‚ with a child in kindergarten‚ which to start with shows the age disparity between the two of us. Anyway after the usual chit-chat‚ such as nice day‚ lousy weather‚ can you believe what the damn government is up to now and the such‚ she absolutely floored my one day by coming out with the most outlandish question I think anyone has ever asked me.
As usual after dropping off our respective wards‚ we sauntered back to our vehicles talking about nothing in particular. As we walked‚ Laurie glanced around then said. “Gerry‚ can I ask you something on a rather personal level?”
“Sure‚” I said‚ expecting her to ask me something about my personal life‚ or what my opinion was about some particular issue‚ man how wrong could I have been.
Stopping‚ she glanced around‚ and then said. “Gerry does your penis hang past your testicles?” She asked‚ her face turning bright red as she blurted out her question.
“You what‚” I asked almost spluttering in shock at the odd question.
“I’m sorry‚” Laurie‚ said when she saw how stunned I was‚ “I should never have asked such a personal question‚ please forgive me and forget I ever asked you for such an intimate piece of information.”
“It’s ok‚” I said‚ “I don’t mind‚ I was just taken aback for a moment‚” I continued trying to sooth her embarrassment. “As for an answer‚ yes it does hang below the level of my testicles probably by about three inches which means that it hangs to about here‚” I added allowing my hand to rest against my leg adjacent to where the tip of my cock hung when I was naked.
“Oh my‚” she said‚ glancing down at the point where my hand rested against my trousers.
“Can I ask why you’re so curious about how well hung I am?” I asked somewhat crudely just to see where it would lead.
“Jack and I‚ that’s my husband‚ have been together since we were teens‚ in fact he’s the only man I’ve ever been intimate with‚ and not only that‚ he’s the only man I’ve ever seen without any cloths on. I know it sounds ridicules‚ what with the internet and porn‚ but when it comes to technology and stuff like computers‚ I’m a complete Luddite and don’t have a clue how to even switch one on. Jack claims he’s well endowed‚ but to be honest‚ I have problems keeping him inside of me his penis is so short‚ that is when we have sex‚ which believe me is pretty infrequently. So just from a curiosity point of view‚ I thought I’d ask you seeing as we’ve become quite friendly over the last little while‚ and besides that‚ I’ve no one else to confide in‚ so I really appreciate you answering my question as personal as it was.”
“You’re welcome I said‚ If there’s anything else I can help you with‚ you only have to ask‚” I ended‚ hoping that I could get her to open up even more about what appeared to be an unhappy sex life.
“Thanks‚” she said‚ then bid me farewell and we both went our separate ways.
It couldn’t have been much more than a week later that we were walking back to our vehicles when for a second time she glanced around to make sure no one could hear her when she said. “Gerry‚ can I ask you another personal question?”
“Sure I said‚” not knowing what to expect after that last session‚ but glad that she hadn’t dropped the subject completely.
“Are you circumcised?” She asked a tinge of red showing in her face.
“Actually I’m not‚” I answered. “During the time period when I was born‚ circumcision wasn’t particularly common‚ that is unless you’re Jewish‚ which of course I’m not.”
“Jack’s been snipped‚” she said‚ so I’ve never seen a penis with the foreskin still attached‚”
For a moment I considered asking her if she would like me to whip my dick out and let her have a look at it‚ but decided against it‚ preferring to wait and see what her next move would be. Well I didn’t have to wait long. A few days later‚ a steady downpour fell from the heavens in such a torrent even during the short walk from the parking lot to where the kids entered the school I got somewhat damp‚ when I caught sight of Laurie‚ she was not just damp‚ but soaked through to the skin.
“What happened?” I asked‚ “How come you’re so wet?”
“My car broke down‚ so I had to walk to get the kids to school‚ luckily they had their rain gear on‚ but when I ran back into the house I couldn’t find either an umbrella or my raincoat so I just had to get them here and damn the rain. Once I get home‚ I’ll get dried off‚ so it’s no great deal.”
“Come on let me run you home‚ at least that way you’ll be able to get out of those wet clothes and get dried a lot quicker than if you have to walk.”
Giving me direction I was soon pulling into her driveway‚ as she climbed out of the car‚ she turned to me and said. “Would you like a cup coffee Gerry‚ it’s fresh; I put on a pot just before I left to take the kids to school. Accepting her offer‚ she led me through the house and into the kitchen.
“There’s cream in the fridge‚ the sugar is in a bowl over there beside the microwave‚ and the mugs are in that cupboard‚” she ended pointing at one of the doors just to the left of the Stove.
After pouring myself a coffee‚ I dropped into one of the chairs beside the kitchen table‚ and sipped at my drink and waited for Laurie to reappear. When she did‚ I was somewhat surprised that she had changed her sodden clothes for a loose fitting housecoat‚ and from what I could tell‚ from the way her breasts moved under the material‚ she didn’t appear to have anything on underneath. I can honestly say that my offer to run her home had absolutely nothing to do with any ulterior motive‚ that is until I saw how her tits‚ which I must admit to having ogled a time or two‚ bounced provocatively within the confines of her garment.
After pouring herself a coffee‚ Laurie walked over to the table and placed her cup next to mine‚ after a moment’s pause‚ she said. “Gerry‚ I can’t let this opportunity pass‚ since asking you about your penis‚ I’ve become obsessed with seeing it‚ please take it out so I can look at it‚” she ended‚ sounding on the one hand extremely embarrassed but on the other‚ determined to get her way.
Seeing an opportunity to fulfil a desire of my own‚ I stood up‚ pulled my zip down‚ and then said. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. So the deal is‚ if you get to look at my cock‚ then in exchange I want to see your tits‚ then you can look at it for as long as you want.”
“Well I guess fairs fair‚” Laurie said smiling‚ then taking hold of the top portion of her housecoat she pulled it open revealing two beautiful boobs just slightly past their prime‚ but then who am I to complain considering I’m way past my prime.
“Like them?” she asked causing them to sway back and forth evocatively.
“There beautiful‚” I said‚ determined to fondle them before I left‚ and with luck wrap my mouth around those magnificent pink areola and nibble on her nipples that protruded at least a third of an inch from her tits. “Well I guess you’ve lived up to your end of the bargain‚” I said reaching into my fly and tacking out my cock that was already starting to harden at the thought of sucking on her tits‚ but not to the point where my foreskin had pulled back.
“Can I see the head?” Laurie asked a hint of anticipation in her voice.
“Why don’t you get hold of it and pull my foreskin back yourself‚” I suggested‚ “that way you’ll get to see the head of my dick plus get to know how it feels.”
“You don’t mind me touching it‚” she said sounding somewhat surprised‚ “Jack absolutely refuses to let me touch his‚” for a moment Laurie paused and then said‚ “cock‚ there I said it‚” she went on‚ a hint of pride in her voice as though she had accomplished something monumental.
“That’s strange‚” I commented‚ “most men‚ including me love to have a woman caress their cocks. So go ahead and take as much time as you want fondling it.”
Tentatively reaching forward‚ Laurie at first just brushed the back of her fingers along the length of my dick‚ sending waves of pleasure rippling along the shaft. After a few seconds‚ she wrapped her fingers around my cock and slowly drew back my foreskin exposing the now very swollen head of my prick.
“Can I watch you cum?” Laurie asked‚ gently running her hand up and down the shaft.
“Absolutely‚” I said‚ “But not before I make you cum.”
No‚ we can’t have sex‚” She said‚ a hint of panic sounding in her voice. “As much as I’d love to have your cock inside of me‚ I can’t be unfaithful to Jack. This has already gone way beyond what I set out to achieve‚ but I’m not willing to take that final step.”
“As the old saying goes‚ there’s more than one way to skin a cat‚” I said “here‚ jump up on the table and lie back.”
“What are you going to do? She asked somewhat apprehensively.
“I’m going to lick your clit and make you cum all over the end of my tongue‚”
“But isn’t that dirty?” she asked.
“No more than a woman sucking on a man’s cock‚” I went on‚ finding it hard to believe that this beautiful young woman could be so naive‚ but on the other hand finding that very fact extremely erotic. Easing her onto her back‚ I undid the belt holding her housecoat closed and spread it out on either side of her‚ then gently spread her legs apart.
“I’m so embarrassed.” She said‚ covering her face with the crook of her arms.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about‚” I said.” people do this all the time. “Is this the first time anyone has done this for you?” I asked‚
“Yes‚” she said‚ her voice slightly muffled by her arms. I always thought that oral sex was when a man put his cock into a woman’s mouth and sucked him‚ I didn’t realise that a man could do the same for a woman.
“So Jack never did this for you?” I asked.
“No‚ but on the rare occasion when he did want sex‚ he would have me kneel on the floor with my hands behind my back and slide his tiny cock in and out of my mouth until he came‚ after that he just climb into bed and go to sleep‚ leaving me to clean myself up.”
“Well I’m not like that‚” I assured her‚ “To me satisfying my partner is as important as blowing my own load. So‚ I promise that you’re going to enjoy this immensely‚ if for some reason you don’t find having your clit licked absolutely mind blowing‚ I’ll stop immediately.
Leaning forward‚ I gently parted her lips and to my delight discovered that Laurie had a huge clit that glistened with pussy juice. Placing my tongue in her wet juicy hole‚ I drove it in as far as it would go‚ and then slowly worked my way up to her clit. The instant‚ the slightly rough texture of my tongue rasped across her engorged hood‚ I could feel her body tense and then within seconds‚ she had grabbed the hair on the back of my head and drove her muff into my face. Seconds after that her body convulsed and then with a massif spasm that shook her entire body‚ she let out a groan that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul and then fluid gushed out of her hole as she came all over my face.
For a moment‚ I stood there‚ Laurie’s pussy juice dripping off my face‚ allowing her to luxuriate in the aftermath of probably the first real orgasm she’d ever experience.
As the ripples of pleasure slowly subsided‚ I asked. “How was it‚ as good as I promised?”
“Better‚” she said. I wish I could experience it again‚ but I’m sure you want to climax yourself.”
“If that’s what you want‚” I said‚ “then your wish is my command‚” I ended‚ spreading her lips again and this time taking that beautiful huge clit between my teeth and gently biting on it. As I did that‚ I reached up and grabbed her nipples between my thumb and finger‚ and began to squeeze them. Gently at fist but as I alternated between nibbling her clit and lashing it with my tongue I increased the pressure‚ as I did‚ I could feel her climax building within her as her hips began to convulse and then with a massive spasm‚ a second orgasm wracked her body. This time though I didn’t stop‚ but instead waited until she started to come down from the peak of pleasure I’d driven her to‚ then again started to lash her clit until a third orgasm ripped through her body‚ then a fourth and finally a fifth.
“Enough‚” Laurie finally said‚ a mixture of exhaustion and pleasure sounding in her voice. “That‚” she went on‚ “was something else‚ I never knew that an orgasm could be so intense‚ not that I’ve ever been taken to such heights by Jack‚ that’s for sure‚ or that each subsequent orgasm could be more intense than the last.” After a moment’s silence‚ she went on. “Your turn‚ I intend to suck your cock like it’s never been sucked before.”
To begin with‚ Laurie’s technique was at best crude‚ with her teeth raking up and down the length of my dick. She was an amazingly quick learner though and after listening to a few pointers‚ she was sucking my cock ling a seasoned pro‚ until unable to hold back any more I dumped a massive wad of hot cum into her mouth and down her throat.
After she had drained every drop of cum out of my dick‚ she sat back on her ankles and said. “Gerry will you do something for me‚ it would mean a great deal to me?
“What’s that‚” I asked‚ willing to grant her just about anything.
“I realize that for you this probably has meant nothing other than the opportunity to screw some lonely broad‚ but I’d love you to give me a cuddle.”
“Is that it?” I asked helping her to her feet and then scooping her into my arms. “Now then where’s the bedroom‚” After giving me directions‚ I carried her over to the bed and gently set her down and peeled of her housecoat‚ after stripping off my clothes‚ I climbed up beside her and taking her in my arms‚ I said. “Believe me Laurie when I say this was anything but a slam bam thank you mam. Although we didn’t actually make love‚ that was among the most pleasant sexual experiences of my life. Your husband has to be a complete idiot for not realizing what he has‚” I ended contentedly drawing her warm naked body against mine‚ and after cupping one of her breasts in my right hand‚ we both drifted off to sleep.
From that point on‚ after we had dropped off the kids Laurie would come over to my place so nothing could get back to Jack about some guy visiting her several times a week. As soon as my door closed‚ we would strip naked and go at each other like a pair of horny teenagers‚ although she still refused to let me fuck her‚ there were still plenty of other erotic pass-times to while away the time. One of her favourites was to press my dick down onto my belly plant her clit on it than slide back and for until with a gush of pussy juice she’d orgasm and then suck my cock with a gusto that was hard to believe considering her inexperience when our relationship began.
But for a chance occurrence things could have gone on that way indefinitely‚ that is until one day she turned up at school and the instant I saw her I knew something was different.”
“You look happy‚” I said seeing the smile on her face.
“You could say that‚” she said‚ smiling mischievously.
“Well are you going to tell me what’s got you smiling like the Cheshire cat?” I asked.
“Wait until we’re in the car‚” she said.
The moment the car doors slammed shut‚ I said. “Well are you going to put me out of my misery or what?”
“I guess I’ve teased you long enough‚” she said giving me her sweetest little girl smile. “I found out something quite interesting about Jack last night.”
“What’s that‚” I asked.
“That he’s having an affair.”
“Who is she‚ someone he works with?” I asked.
Not quite‚ as you’re aware Jack spends about three weeks out of four on the road‚ so his love interest is as you surmised someone he works with and interesting enough travels with‚ but it’s not a woman‚ it’s a man.”
“How do you know that?” I asked curious as to how Laurie had gleaned that particular morsel.
“Jack was working in his study‚ which is upstairs‚ so he shouted down for me to get something out of his briefcase. When I opened it‚ lying right on the top was a magazine that he must have forgot was there. On the cover was a picture of an almost naked guy‚ when I picked it up a letter fell out of it. I know I probably shouldn’t have read it‚ but I just couldn’t resist. It started out by saying how much this individual loved Jack to suck his cock and swallow his cum and how he hated it when they weren’t on the road together. At first‚ I was going to slip them back in Jack’s case and pretend that I hadn’t seen them‚ until it occurred to me what a golden opportunity this was.”
“So what did you do?” I asked.
“I confronted him with it.”
“And?” I asked
“He admitted to the fact that he’s gay‚ that and more besides‚ I mean what else could he do?”
“This gets more intriguing by the minute‚” I said. “What else did he admit to?”
“That he only married me to cover up the fact that he’s gay. You see Jack’s father is two things‚ firstly he’s incredibly rich‚ and secondly he’s an incredible bigot. If he ever found out that Jack is gay he would cut him out of the will in a heartbeat‚ and I’m talking millions of dollars. The other thing I discovered is Jack’s dick isn’t quite as small as I thought‚ it’s just that while having sex with me‚ which he claims he only did as a last resort when he couldn’t meet with his lover‚ that he couldn’t get an erection.”
“So what came out of this little heart to heart you and Jack had?”
“Actually it ended quite amicably. I’ve agreed to allow Jack to bring his lover over to the house so they can be together as much as they want‚ and not just when Jack is on the road‚ “
“And what do you get out of this little deal?” I asked.
Smiling she said. “You; which is what makes this deal so perfect; Jack has no interest in me sexually but needs me as a front‚ so his old man won’t suspect his sexual orientation. And now that his love interest can come by any time‚ he is willing to turn a blind eye to our little tryst.”
“So he knows about me?” I asked.
“Yes‚” she answered. “I thought it best to be up front with him so that he could see that agreeing to my offer bought us both something.”
“So that means‚” I began until Laurie cut me off.
“Yep‚ when we get to your place I'm going to fuck your brains out’
True to her word‚ the moment the door closed Laurie dragged me up to the bedroom stripped me naked and pushed me back onto the bed. After removing her cloths‚ she climbed on top of me and slowly let my dick slide into her incredibly tight pussy and rode me until‚ for the first time since this incredible adventure began‚ I pumped wads of hot cum into her willing hole. For a moment‚ I lay there‚ luxuriating in the fact that Laurie and I had fully consummated our love for each other. Once I’d recovered sufficiently‚ I pushed her onto her back‚ spread her legs apart‚ and gave her cum sodden clit a good tongue-lashing‚ until with a fountain of pussy juice she came all over my face.
After that we snuggled up together both of us about as content as it’s possible to be. All I can say is that I’m glad that Laurie’s husband has no use for her other than a way to feather his nest when his old man croaks. Which to be truthful I find rather sad‚ because as bigoted as he is‚ I’m sure that once the truth came out‚ he would still find it in his heart to love him as I did when it turned out that my son was gay.
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