Monday, August 15, 2005

The Study

It is well past midnight, and I cannot sleep. I normally do not watch television, but tonight I saw a show that really disturbed me. It was one of those “whodoneit” shows, and the murder was rather grizzly. I stare at the ceiling for several minutes, all I can hear is my husband sawing logs beside me, and I realize that my nightie is missing. It is not near the head of the bed, nor can I see it on the floor. I suppose that I have kicked it under the covers, as there is a lump near my feet, but I dare not retrieve it – for fear that I will wake my husband.

I slowly get out of bed and look for my slippers beside the bed, but I cannot find them. I do not pursue the slippers, now wondering where I placed my mind this evening, and slink down the hall. I approach the kitchen, knowing I really want to go towards the computer in the study. I take a glass from the cupboard, fill it with ice and then pour some bottled water over the cubes, listening to them crackle. I take the rest of the liter bottle of Perrier, the glass of water and myself, and I quietly make my way to the study.

Passing the laundry room on the way to the study, I peek in to see what clothes are clean, wanting to put something on my top. No clean clothes at all, but there is a pile of clothes needing to be washed. My husband’s dress shirt is on top – so I sniff it, and finding that it smells clean, slip it on.

I finally arrive at my destination, the study, and turn the computer on. The screen quickly comes to life, and I take several sips of water, watching the computer go through its initialization sequence. Then I click on the Internet Explorer button, and I hear the modem kick into action. I take a few more sips, and find the glass empty. I must have been thirsty.

I re-fill the glass, this time not hearing much out of the ice – not a crackle, not a pop. I take another sip or two as the home page loads. I type in the address for my online mail account, the account my husband does not know about, and the page slowly loads. Another couple of sips of water, and I smile when I see that I have received some mail. I click on the in-box, and finish the second glass as the page is loading. Sometimes I think we should get a cable modem, but I am against it for two reasons – I enjoy the anticipation, and if I could download files faster, I am afraid I would spend all of my time looking for pornography. All I really need is my pen pals and a couple of really good pictures, and I am all set for some, as my favorite on-line pal puts it, “wanking.”

He has written me a very nice note, concerned that I have not had much time for “wanking” and hoping that I will be able to self-satisfy me soon. Like him, when I travel for work, I am able to spend some time in the room, and they always turn into late night sessions. At the end, I am satiated but sore, tired but content.

In some of his notes, he places pictures that usually accompany the subject on which he writes. I read his letter further, and he describes, in this passage, a particular episode at the beginning of his sexual exploits. I sometimes wonder how he is as a lover – actually I often wonder.

The pictures that accompany the note this time are of young men, all touching themselves and in the height of pleasure. As he often does, he includes a couple of pictures that are meant to be me, young brunettes, usually with nice, full pubic regions, that either are satiated with cum in their vaginas, on their bums, or on their chests. And, as normal, it begins to turn me on.

I take another drink, only to have the ice rush forward and hit my nose – I was so intent on his note that I failed to notice that I was again out of water. Another refill, and another sip or two. Oh, how his note reaches my core.

I press the reply button and then describe to him how his note and pictures make me feel. I stop, on occasion, to ponder my words. Sometimes I think we are having a heated affair, but I know he is half-way around the world in his own place, with his wife, his practice, and his hobbies. As I sign the note “NBV,” for a little name he gave me, my heart is almost racing. I look at the clock, and I cannot believe that an hour has gone by. My bladder is now full from the water, and I hit the send button. I briefly look at the other notes and do not find anything of interest, so I decide that I will wank for my virtual lover on the guest bathroom toilet before going to bed. As I gather the empty glass and bottle, I notice there is but an inch of water in the bottle. Not wanting to put it back in the fridge, I drain the rest of the bottle on the way to the kitchen.

I place the bottle in the recyclables, the glass in the sink, and I am off to the bathroom for my early morning wank. I get to the bathroom, and I am about to “go”, but then I have an idea. I take off my husband’s shirt, and fold it neatly on the vanity. Then I straddle the toilet, facing the wall. I have wanked in this position before – but instead of walking out of my panties and wanking, I take a deep breath.

Then I begin to pee on the toilet, the pee soaking my crotch area and dripping into the toilet. Since I have had so much water, I continue to pee, and the stream is even stronger after the initial shock and feeling of wetting my panties. The fluid begins to creep up the panties a bit, and then I feel some urine running down my legs and onto the floor. Not a lot, but it is uncomfortable. After finishing, I sit still for a moment, listening to urine that had soaked my panties drip into the toilet.

Suddenly, I feel dirty. I remember my friend talking about “pissing in panties” when his wife was out of town, and I wonder if his experience was similar. My guess is that he is more expert at this than I, and he took precautions to make things easier. Still thinking of my friend, I remember that I was not finished. I reached my hand into the front of my panties, and I touched myself in my sweet spot. I continued to touch myself, and within minutes, I was cuming on my fingers. It was fast and intense, and it took me completely by surprise.

I smelled my fingers, and they smelled of my vagina and of urine. I wanted to lick them, to taste me like I had done on so many other occasions, but the thought of the urine prevented me from doing so. I later learned that the urine was probably safer to taste than any cum I had swallowed from any guy I had previously serviced.

I wrung out my panties over the toilet, and more urine made its way into the bowl. Then I took a washcloth and wiped myself off – and I nearly came again, probably would have, but I heard something, and thought it might have been my husband. I cleaned up the floor with the washcloth and a towel, making a note to clean the bathroom in the morning. I went to the laundry room, and I put the panties, the towel and washcloth and my husband’s shirt back in the dirty clothes. Then, because of the unusually strong fragrance, I started the wash, knowing that I would have to lie to my husband the next morning – saying that I forgot I had put a load in before I went to bed.

I made my way back to the bedroom and slipped under the covers, completely nude. I could not risk waking my husband up at night. In the morning, when the alarm went off, I surprised my husband with a “good morning fuck,” the only way I knew to throw him off the fact that I went to sleep clothed and woke up nude. I do not think he thought anything of it, especially since I did not ask for him to eat me – he quickly took me from behind before, came rather quickly, and then headed into the shower. I started the dryer after he was in the shower, and I was tempted to log onto the computer again – but thought better of it.

My shower followed his, and a few minutes after putting on a fresh pair of panties, his cum leaked out of me, wetting my panties. For a moment, I flashed back to the previous night, a little excited, and a little embarrassed.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Treading Water

I wake up from a deep sleep – and I feel so well rested. I look at the alarm clock, and it reads 4:30 a.m., and I remember that I fell asleep unusually early the night before.

4:40 a.m. – tried to go back to sleep but I can’t. Turn on the television, but nothing interests me – then fire up the computer to see if I have any mail. Several pieces of junk mail – mostly of the weight loss, refinance your mortgage type. Deleting these messages is easy work – from people I do not communicate with, and usually in all caps. And then I two real messages – one from my mother, a small chatty piece of mail. The other from Dr. Allan – I think of him as my personal psychiatrist. Although we have never met, him living in Australia and me in the States.

He has written another piece of e-mail with a story attached. His stories are always well written, always highly erotic but not dirty, and an unopened message from him always makes my heart jump a beat.

As I read his message, my breathing becomes a bit quicker and shallower, not noticeable at first, but I often have to remember to slow down my breaths after reading his stories. Quite uncontrollably, my hands sometimes wander, mostly to my hair, where I twirl my finger absentmindedly into my shoulder-length brunette hair. A nervous habit, I remind myself.

After finishing the e-mail, I am tempted to visit one of the few erotic sites that I know about – I frequented these types of sites a few years ago, but I have mainly lost interest over time. But I refrain, remembering that I normally will find a chat room, flirt and eventually some anonymous person and I will find a room where I spend most of my time typing, and he or she (not knowing the sex of the person) spends most of his/her time masturbating to my words. Not typically a shared experience. So I disconnect from the Internet, and make my way into the bathroom.

I wash my face in the basin, taking time to ensure that my face is well cleaned. I place my hair in a pony-tail to keep it out of my face, and then I go to work. I start with warm water to open the pours, use my hypoallergenic soap, wash all of the soap off with warm water, and once my face is clean, I use cold water – and love the way I can almost feel my pours tighten and constrict.

I look at myself in the mirror – taking stock of myself. I like the look of myself – dark, natural brunette hair, soft freckle-free (I always wanted freckles as a little girl) skin – that was a shade darker when I was younger – well, proportioned facial features, bright blue eyes.

5:00 chimed the grandfather clock. Could it still be that early? I went out to the living room, and then to the kitchen, not knowing what to do next. Then I opened the sliding glass door, and out to the deck in the backyard. I could not see many stars in the sky, but the moon shown bright. Since our house is on a hill, I could see the front and back porch lights in many of the neighbors’ houses.

I noticed a couple of lounge chairs out of place, so the organizer in me straightens out the chairs. I look to the pool, and there are several large leaves floating in the pool. Grabbing the pool net, I approach the pool, skimming out several of the leaves and placing them in the yard. A couple of leaves are slightly out of reach, so I use the pool net as a paddle to attempt to bring the leaves closer to me and my net. A little close, a little closer . . . and then I lose by balance and unexpectedly fall into the pool.

As my head re-emerges from the surprisingly mild-temperatured water, I wonder how loud my scream was. I giggle, out of nervousness mostly, happy in the fact that I did not injure myself from my klutziness. I am wearing an old t-shirt, white cotton panties and a robe, and now the cotton robe reminds me that I need to get out of the water. Luckily for me, I fell in the deep end of the pool, but now I must swim towards the ladder – the weight of my robe would prevent me from lifting myself from the pool at the location where I entered the pool.

I reach the ladder, and begin to climb out, water rushing down my body as I exit the pool. The water runs fast, and I am a little amazed at the amount of water stored in my robe. After looking back at neighborhood below, I re-trace my steps and step back into the water, really enjoying the feeling of the water again weighing down my robe. I let the robe fall off my shoulders, me helping the robe as it clings to my body. I take the robe and begin playing with it in the water; spinning it around and watching the motion take control of the robe. For a moment, I feel like a little girl again. I laugh, throwing the robe towards the center of the pool, watching it perform its dance in the water sans me.

I swim out to the robe, treading water and again tossing it in front of me. I go back to the side of the pool, eying the location of the robe. As a game, I swim to it under water, turning and returning to the safety of the side. I do this several times, being able to reach the side easily. To make things more interesting I take off my t-shirt, throw it out, and because of the lighter weight, it travels nearly as far as the robe. Off with my panties, and I drop them a few feet from the side. Now, almost like a steeplechase, I, submerged, swim to the robe, my t-shirt and then return to find my panties. I ma successful on the third try, my panties being the cause of my misses – they are just too small to see until I am right near them.

Then my mind drifts to Dr. Allan. I wonder what he would think of me doing this – in relative safety, as I am in a pool which in all likelihood cannot be seen from anyone except for my closest neighbor, as long as I stay in the water. I wonder if he would attribute this behavior to my risk-taking concerning my sexuality, or the skinny-dipping fantasies that everyone seems to have. The second time in a row that I successfully touch all articles of clothing under water, I celebrate by tossing my panties in the air. I laugh a bit at my silliness and want to toss them higher, unfortunately because of the second toss, they land out of the water. I look at the panties, as the water starts making a more-or-less circular pattern on the recently dry cement. I quickly swim to the ladder and exit the pool, intent on retrieving my panties.

The warm night and the wonderful swim make me feel so alive. At first I was slinking to the panties, and then I stand up, feeling a slight wind blow past me, almost caressing my naked body.

Rather than return to the pool, I recline into one of the lounge chairs, and look at the neighbors below me. It may be 5:30 by now, not quite sure because I am losing track of time. If I had an almanac, I would know at what precise moment the sun would be coming up. I can tell it is a bit lighter, but the sun is still tucking safely below the horizon. My fingers move to my tummy, the tips lightly touching my drying skin. I wonder how many people are eating breakfast right now. And then my mind races to Dr. Allan in Australia, and I think to myself, “He is probably getting ready for dinner right now.”

I think about Allan, wondering if his wife is cooking for him tonight, if she is even in town. If she is gone, has he ordered a pizza, and is sitting in the living room, stroking himself, watching a tape of a woman who looks like me? My finger drifts, almost instinctively to my private area, my finger softly caressing my outer labial lips. Would Allan call it my labia majora, I wonder.

My finger stops for a moment, and I return to reality. What a beautiful pre-morning dawn, I think, my finger starts teasing my outer lips again, brushing against my opening on occasion. I need to feel my fingers from all sorts of angles. I am adept at pleasing myself, and then my thoughts return to Dr. Allan.

I wonder what kind of lover Dr. Allan is – patient, to be sure. Self-confident, imaginative, and inventive. This I know from our correspondence. My fingers continue to explore myself. I part my inner lips for the first time, and I think of Dr. Allan. I am sure he would run his tongue to tease my labia minora, probably more expertly than my fingers can. I love the feeling of tongue, and my fingers continue to drift over my private parts. In and out of crevices, as I wonder what Dr. Allan’s tongue would be like. I wonder if he would eat me out after cuming inside of me – I would want him to eat me before to ensure a more-exciting lovemaking session, but I would also want him, perhaps 30 minutes after depositing his seed deep within me, to again eat me. Not so much for the excitement, though I am certain I would be excited, but because it takes about that long for cum to exit my vagina – it is like clockwork, my panties get wet from cum almost precisely 30-minutes after lovemaking. And I would want him to prove himself by eating me, having him taste his salty gift as it flows outside of me.

My mind again drifts back to reality, and because of my mind and thinking of my virtual lover, the area between my legs is on fire. My pulse has increased, my breathing is shallow, and my vagina is engorged. I begin to feel myself coming, knowing the feeling so well. The feeling seems to come from deep within me, not nearly as well-defined as an area near the surface of me. It does not seem to radiate from my vagina, from my clitoris, from any distinct part of me. I start to spasm slightly, knowing what is coming, what is here. Again and again, I feel the waves of a finger-induced orgasm radiate from deep within me. I contort slightly, noticing for the first time the beginnings of a daybreak. My nipples are hard, the waves continue, and the sun, my heavenly foe, shows itself in the morning sunrise. The sky becomes, as my organism subsides, a brilliant golden-orange, almost too bright to fully appreciate.

Then it dawns on me (Allan would tam my arse for the pun) that I am completely nude – and I return fully to reality. I dive into the water to retrieve me robe and t-shirt, re-emerging from the pool quickly. I pick up my panties, and in a flash (another spanking from Dr. Allan for the additional pun), ring out, as best I can, the wet clothing as I walk towards the sliding door. I enter the house, toss the clothing in the washer on the way to the bathroom.

I look again at my nude frame in a mirror and smile. I empty the contents of my bladder in the toilel, facing the toilet, thinking again of Allan. Still horny, I masturbate once more on the toilet before taking a shower. I glance at the clock to see if there is enough time to write this down for Allan, and I am out-of-luck; I will have to remember the experience and write Dr. Allan in the evening. Although I am disappointed that I can not capture the moment in prose, I think about my experience many times during the day, getting flushed at times. How wonderful it is to have such a pen pal.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Strange Bedtime Story

This story is based on a true experience, but it is enhanced to give readers a more interesting story.

I had been going out with Allan for several weeks - and the "courtship" was fast, meaning I slept with him on our first date. Not normal for me. Neither is the rest of this story.

Allan and I went dancing on Saturday night. We had gone dancing before ˆ drank heavily before we left, and then we drank plenty of water at the club. It was cheaper, and you had to drink because it was so hot on the dance floor. We started home about 2:00 a.m., and were at his place by 2:30. He had two roommates but both were gone for the weekend.

We started kissing, our hands running over each other‚s bodies, and Allan said, "Want to try something different?"

“Sure," I answered, thinking he was going to ask for some anal sex. I had anal sex three times before, having two wonderful and one painful experience.

“You have to have an open mind," he warned.

“Just so you don't hurt me . . . much," I coyly responded.

Allan retrieved a plain white cotton shirt from his dresser drawer, and asked me to but it on. Only the shirt. As I was going to the bathroom to change, he beckoned me back, saying I could change there.

I also mentioned I had to go to the bathroom, and he said there would be time for that. Then he unlocked his footlocker, and took out a couple of strange things, a diaper, baby powder, a large baby bottle and a bottle of Evian.

He filled the baby bottle with Evian, and asked me to lie on the bed.

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

“Sure," I replied, not really knowing if I were sure anymore.

I lied on the bed, and he asked me to lift up my ass. He placed the biggest diaper I had ever seen under me, and I lowered myself onto the diaper. He then said, "its alright dear," and proceeded to powder my privates and then put the diaper on me.It was a strange feeling, and I wiggled a little. Because of the plastic and cotton construction, I could hear the plastic make noises on the bed.

“Good girl," he said, and he led me to the living room with the baby bottle and another Evian in his hand.

We sat on his roommates Lazyboy .

I sat on his lap. He cradled me in his arms and offered me the bottle. "Drink," he said.

I started to drink from the bottle, half thinking this was crazy. It took me a few seconds to get good at drinking, and soon I had emptied the bottle. We had been dancing, and I was still thirsty.

He re-filled the bottle and offered more to me.

“No thanks," I said.

He said that babies can't talk, and that I should continue to drink.

So I drank. It took me longer to finish this bottle, and he was singing me songs during this time, children’s songs.

Now I was getting uncomfortable. I had to urinate and I just came to the conclusion that is what he wanted.

I kissed him long and hard, then as we parted lips, I said, "I have to go to the bathroom. Let me up."

He patted my diapers right over my vagina (on purpose, I am sure), and said,

“That is what the diaper is for.

"I was right. Then he started patting my back, saying, "I have to burp you now.

"Maybe it was the role-playing, maybe I swallowed air while drinking from the bottle, but I actually burped. Not lady-like, but it is hard to be a lady in a big diaper on your boyfriend‚s lap early in the morning.

“Tell you what," he offered. "If you can drink one more bottle without peeing in your diaper, you can take off the diaper and pee."

“Fair enough," I said, and then he said he had to fill up the bottle. He came back with an even larger bottle, and I drank it almost as fast as the first bottle.

Then Allan said he would like to take off the diaper for me, to which I agreed, and he carried me into his bedroom again and gently lay me on the bed.

Before he took off the diaper, he wanted to play peek-a-boo with a pillow, and I was humoring him, since I knew this was a fantasy for him. When he had the pillow over my eyes and nose, he grabbed on of my wrists, and before I could stop him, he handcuffed my wrist to his headboard. Then he kissed me on the cheek and said, "Call me when you need changing" as he got up and walked out of the room. I was shocked and lay there in disbelief for several minutes. I had to urinate, but I did not want to wet myself. After about ten minutes I really had to go, and knowing no alternative, I began to pee. When I started to go, the feeling was strange, as the absorptive material in the diaper kept the urine from my skin. But I continued to pee and filled the diaper with urine. I could feel a warm, itchy feeling because of this, and I called Allan to the room. I could smell myself as he entered, and a grin was on his face. "

Punkin had a wee-wee," he said as it was evident he got his wish.

He had the handcuff key in his fingers, and he immediate uncuffed me.

Let me get that, he offered, and he took off my wet diaper, smelling me as he was unfastening the Velcro. He lifted down the diaper, the bottom of which was still between the bed and me. I looked up at him and his erection. He was loving this.

I said, "Too bad you can't fuck babies," and laughed. "Please clean me up, you pervert."

Then he parted my vaginal lips, caked with wet baby powder and smelling of urine, and he drove his member deep inside of me.

It surprised me for a moment, and we started fucking harder than we had ever fucked. He came quickly, then often that night.

We had to wash all of his sheets the next morning, they smelled strongly of urine and sex. That was the last time I would ever have sex with him. It was great that night, but it was too much for me.

To this day, when I smell urine, I remember Allan. I wonder how many other women wore diapers for him.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Girl Scout Cookies

I was at work the other day, and a co-worker was hitting us up for Girl Scout Cookies. I ordered two boxes of Thin Mints for my husband, but it reminded me of a spring break I spent in Savannah, home to Juliette Gordon Lowe, founder of the Girl Scouts.

I was a freshman at the University of Georgia, and I was coming home for Spring Break. It was a time for me to renew some high school friendships, as I did not have the cash to go to Florida for Spring Break.

One of my old girlfriends was Wendy. She was a very beautiful girl - medium length blond hair, nice brown eyes, dimples, a wonderful smile and very large breasts - and was not going to college. I actually was jealous of her figure, as I was so flat-chested. I was in college, but I sported modest 32-B's (I had not grown since sixth grade). Anyway, Wendy was working for the Girl Scouts of Savannah, Georgia in their gift shop on Drayton Street. It was an old, historic building, and she liked working with the girls.

I met her at the shop 30 minutes before closing in Mid-March, and we were going to go out to dinner that evening, catching up on each other's lives. We also had agreed to go out the next day to the Saint Patrick's parade - Savannah has the second largest one in the nation, and it was a chance to get plastered and stupid, things college girls needed to do on Spring Break. I got to the shop, and it was completely empty. She had some bad news, saying that she had to work the following day at the parade - selling Girl Scout cookies, of all things. Apparently the council bought too many cookies, and it was a last ditch effort to unload the cookies on the public. Most of my other friends were either in Florida or other places for Spring Break, so I had few options to myself.

"How many boxes," I asked.

"500" was the answer Wendy gave me.

I did not know how she would be able to do it, as I had remembered St.

Patty's Day was full of drunks, and beer does not go well with cookies.

"Hell, I will help you sell them. I have nothing better to do," I offered.

"Sure," Wendy said, "but we will have to find you a Leader's Uniform. You

can borrow one from the shop and I will return it after the parade." Well, I tried on the smallest leader's uniform and it was too big. Most of the Girl Scout mom's were fairly large women, I guess, and the uniforms were hanging off my body. My petite size and small breasts did not help one bit.I fit well in one of the Older Girls uniforms, so I figured that would do. Not great, but it would have to do. I joked that I would be a Girl Scout for a day!

The next day I met her in front of the shop, and she introduced me as Debbie. She did not say I was in college because I was wearing the GS uniform. I had some fun with the uniform (short-sleeve shirt and short skirt), pulling my hair back and only wearing the most basic make-up. I looked young.

Wendy and I went in one direction, and the others scattered in other areas along the parade path. We were not doing well - again, cookies do not go well with beer, but then I started flirting with the crowd. I played it up, acting bubbly, bouncy, and saying how they would help our troop with a trip to Washington, DC. And it worked.

Wendy and I were selling lots of cookies. Per her request, I even unbuttoned the top button - not showing cleavage as I was flat-chested, but I felt several men look down my shirt when I was giving them their cookies. One cute guy who was in college and definitely drinking said he would take 20 boxes, but he was wondering if I could carry them to his house around the corner. Quite an order, since most had been one's and two's. We were carrying three cases of cookies (36 boxes), as I was going to try and unload the other cookies after making this delivery.

As we walked to his house, he asked me about me. I made up that I was a high school junior, skipped a grade, and was still active with the Girl Scouts because some of my friends were still in the organization. When we were inside, he continued the chit-chat, asking if it were true that all older Girl Scouts were lesbian. I said "no", knowing he was talking about a book published in the late 1980's.

I could tell this was his parents‚ house - it was in the historic district, tastefully furnished. There were several museum-quality paintings in the house, not Van Gogh but good 19th Century work.

He said he had to go upstairs and get the cash, and he asked me to wait downstairs. Before he left, he asked me if I wanted anything to drink, and I asked him what he had. He started listing alcoholic beverages and I giggled, telling him I was 16. He said that there was no harm in one drink, that he would make it very dilute, and then he was off to get the money.

I started drinking his lime concoction - and I could tell that it was strong. I sank into a very comfortable leather couch, and fixed my ponytail. It took him 10 minutes to return, and by then, I had finished the drink. He said he would buy 24 and gave me the cash for them. He then went into the kitchen, emerging with two drinks, one for him and one for me. He asked if I had time for one more drink, and I nodded, adding that I was not used to drinking (another lie, but I giggled again).

He sat down beside me, and we chatted. I do not remember the chatting, but it was the nervous chatting that people do when they would rather fuck than chat, but were afraid to do. Then he started talking about my eyes, how deep they were. I asked them what they said to him, and he kissed me. It was a slow and deep kiss, and I returned the kiss almost aggressively. I was still holding my drink, and some of it spilled, interrupting the kiss. I placed the half-finished drink on the coaster, and we kissed again and again.

Pretty soon, he was pushing me into the couch, his two strong hands clutching my buttocks. It was a bit strange being groped in a Girl Scout uniform.

Then he suggested we go to a more comfortable room, his room. I said I had to freshen up a bit, and I went into the bathroom to take my panties off. As I entered his room, the room was poorly lit. We embraced again, kissing, and then he led me to the bed.

I asked him if he had any protection, and he said he had already slipped something on. I reclined onto the bed, and he made a motion to take off my panties. Finding them already removed, I could tell he was excited. He asked me if it was my first time, and I laughed.

He lifted up my skirt, and he began smelling and then licking me.I was so ready for him, and it seemed like an eternity before he planted his flag into me. As soon as he started fucking me, I had a heightened sense of my lower region. I could feel his member stiffen and throb. I think he was trying to pulsate it himself. I have felt this since then, but this was the first time a man did this in me.

He started to fondle my breasts through my Girl Scout uniform. And then I had the weirdest thought: "I am borrowing this uniform; I better not get anything on it."

Before I knew it, he started cumming, and I felt his penis release his load. That is when I guessed he was lying to me about wearing a condom, as I felt his cum flood me; the first time a guy ever came inside of me. As he was finishing, I wrapped my legs around his skinny butt. It felt so good, but I felt a little betrayed at the same time.

As we were cleaning up, I asked him, "How old are you?"

He said, "21, and how old are you really?"

"Fifteen," I lied again and kissed him on the lips. "Does it matter?"

"No," was his reply, and I knew at that point in my freshmen life that men really do not care about any rules during sex. You could be 15 and willing, a sister-in-law, drunk off your ass.

As long as your vagina (or asshole) gives them the friction they need, that is all that matters.

At least men are dependable that way!

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Pee Between Friends

I had been corresponding with him for months. It started out innocently enough - me admiring his writing and he mine. But we wrote erotica, so there was always the sexual tension in the correspondence.

He never said he wanted me - in fact, he did not say anything about me physically. We kept the letters focussed on our writing.

The closest it got was when I would mention that his style of writing was so real, that I admired the little details in the stories. It made them seem more real.

He would pay me other compliments, mostly how my stories stimulated him. But none of this sounded dirty to me.

Another reason most of this seemed harmless is that I was safely in the United States, while he lived in Australia. That was as far away as he could be, and I never saw myself traveling to Australia. Similarly, I never dreamed he would ever come to the United States.

Well, as fate would have it, he had wrote me that he would be traveling to the United States for a conference, and he wanted to know if I knew anything about Houston, Texas. He was a Psychiatrist, and he was attending a medical conference there. He did not know much about me, but he knew that I lived in Georgia.

What he did not know is that my brother lived in Houston, so I had a connection to that city. Well, to further the story, I had decided to visit my brother during Allan's conference. I was not sure that I would meet him, but I had communicated that I would be in the area and that I might meet him for lunch one day. Lunches are safe. Well, I knew his name and the hotel he was staying at, and I called him one morning while my sister-in-law was in the shower and my brother had already left for work. He answered the phone, almost shocked that I called, and then we made plans to eat at a Korean restaurant near the conference.

When I first saw Allen, he was a little older than I had thought, although he was handsome and distinguished. He had a kind face, and a very graceful way of carrying himself. He took me by the arm, almost like a friend of the family would take my arm, and lead me to where we would be eating. Our lunch took more than an hour to eat, and I was enthralled with listening to him converse with me. He had a way with words and conversations, and we must have gone through two pots of jasmine tea and many more stories.

We had to leave the restaurant, as we were not going to eat anymore, and I was so at ease with this fellow writer. When he invited me up to his room, I accepted, wanting to continue our talks. These talks were about when we were children, what fascinated us, what continued to fascinate us as we grew and matured. He put on some more tea in the room, and we continued to talk about things which I cannot remember.

All I know is that time was passing so quickly, and I was worried that I would have to be leaving soon. The tea from the restaurant and the tea afterwards filled my bladder quickly, and I asked if I could use his restroom.

As I got up, Allan said casually, "Let me watch you pee."

I had known that some of his stories centered on urination, and I felt a little surprised by the request.

Almost out of character, I agreed to his request.

He followed me into the restroom, and I continued to do things out of character. I stepped out of my black skirt and put it on the sink. I then stepped out of my plain cotton white Hanes Her Way panties and stood in front of him.

His eyes were glued on my vagina, and I had known that he enjoyed dark, hairy vaginas.

He had mentioend that he liked looking on Camilla's web site at the amateur submissions of muff shots. I enjoyed the attention.

In fact, I felt very desirable, almost like a super model. Then I remembered that I still had to urinate. I really did not want him to see this, but I had already agreed, and I also did not want to back down now.

I sat down on the toilet, and I spread my legs further apart than I normally would while on the toilet.

Allan stood in silence while I urinated. I could tell he was excited, as I could see his penis enlarge.

I urinated for an uncomfortably long time. His eyes remained glued on my vagina, his eyes seeing the light golden stream of urine between my legs.

When I was done, he asked if he could wipe me dry. I declined his offer, reminding him I was married, and I considered that crossing the line.

He left the bathroom, feeling a little dejected, I am sure. I put on my panties and skirt, and I joined Allan in conversation once again.

He had small beads of perspiration on his forehead, but he did not even bring up what had just happened.

He was a perfect gentleman through the rest of the afternoon. I returned to my brother's house, and I did not meet Allan again that week. When he returned to Australia, he continued to write me as if nothing had ever happened between us.

I still consider Allan to be one of my best advocates, and I am glad that nothing else happened.

I am also glad that he got to see my vagina, the kind of vagina he dreams about, the kind of vagina he writes about.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Trick or Treat Part IV

After the door closed behind me, I found myself alone in the hallway, wearing a formal black evening dress, hands restrained my handcuffs behind my back, the key in a plastic container inside of my vagina, a butt plug in my arse, and my arse aching from the spanking I endured during the last hour or two. My mind began to race.

I did not want to knock on the door to my room, because the couple who did this were still in my room. But how could I go down the hall, knocking on doors, asking for help. If someone would help me, at the very least, they would have to pull down my panties and pull the container out of my vagina.

I do not even feel comfortable when getting a Pap smear. I walked up and down the hall, thinking about my predicament. I did not hear any noise from most of the rooms, which is not surprising, since it was after midnight on a weeknight. I walked up and down the hall, looking for a bathroom. I thought I would be able to try and free myself by myself if I had a secluded place to do it. I could not believe a luxury hotel did not have a public bathroom on the floor.

There was a cubby hole with two vending machines and an ice machine, and my heart quickened at the thought of me trying to dig in my vagina at such a public place. Since my hands were behind my back, I knew that the first thing I needed to do is loop my hands around so that my hands would be in front of me.

With that done, I could try to free myself.

There were two things working against me: I had a dress on, which limited movement, and my ass hurt, from the butt plug and the spanking. I was not sure if I could stand the pain if I was trying to pass my hands under my legs on the floor. While I was thinking this over, I heard a door open and close. I hid in the corner of the cubby hole, hoping that the person was going to the elevator. I heard the elevator bell sound, and I was a bit relieved.

I tested bending over, and the butt plug really hurt. I was not sure that I could get out of this situation. Another door opened and closed. I waited, and after a moment, Ross appeared with the ice bucket from my room.

His eyes widened when he saw me. "Find anyone to help you yet?" asked Ross.

"No, I have not. Please help me get out of this."

"Kiss me," Ross demanded.

With that, Ross planted a hard, passionate kiss on my lips.

We exchanged tongues, kissing for several minutes, his hands tracing my body, touching my breasts, my legs, my arse.

We parted lips, and Ross explained, "If my wife finds out I helped you, she will spank me raw. She is really pissed at you, and she wants you to suffer."

With that, Ross filled up the ice bucket, then grinned at me. He removed two ice cubes and placed one in each of my bra cups. In an instant my nipples were frozen bullets, and shortly, my whole body was cold.

Ross swatted me on my arse and left. I could not believe my luck. With my body heat, the ice began melting, feeling even colder as it melted. My dress quickly absorbed the ice water, and I again thought of freeing myself.

I decided that I would have to ask the desk staff if they could help me. I walked from the vending area towards the elevator. Along the way, I passed one door with music on loud enough for me to hear from the hallway.

I put my back to the door and knocked on the door, turning around quickly. The synthetic music quickly was turned off, and in a moment, a young man answered the door.

He had a robe on, and his breathing was a little elevated. My first thought was that I was interrupting him making love to his bride.

"I am sorry, wrong door," I said.

"Are you okay," he asked. His voice was soothing and warm.

"No, but it is late. I should not impose," I answered.

"Come on in," he said. As I entered the hotel room, I noticed a washcloth on the floor in front of the television and the television was off.

The remote control was near the washcloth. Now this makes sense, he was watching a porno film.

"I really should be going," I stammered. The man noticed my hands behind my back. "Hiding something," he inquired.

"Just a hand towel," I lied.

"Okay, I understand," said he, "just close the door on your way out."

I could not open the door, let alone close it. I told him that as a prank, my boyfriend had cuffed me. He told me that he did not have any experience picking locks and he had no tools in the room to help me.

"Actually," I admitted, "I have the key." I took a deep breath, then continued, "He placed it inside of me, inside my vagina. Will you retrieve it for me?"

He turned almost white at that last request. He shook his head yes, and I timidly sat on the edge of his bed.

"Please be professional about this," I requested.

He blew his breath into his hands, saying "Sorry my hands are so cold."

With that, he pulled up my dress and down my panties. He stared at my crotch area a little longer than he had to, and then he said, "Here goes nothing."

He inserted a finger inside of my vagina, and I could swear he pushed the container further into me. He took two fingers, and softly grabbed the container.

He started pulling it out slowly, and then his fingers slipped, my vagina sucking it back into me almost as far as he had initially pushed it.

"Hold on," I said, as I got further on the bed, spreading my legs apart and feeling the butt plug press against me.

"Is this a better angle?"

"Sure," he said.

"You are really slippery down there, and it is hard for my fingers to grab the container. It is buried deep inside of you."

"Wipe me off, first," I suggested, knowing that his washcloth was within reach.

All of a sudden, I could feel his mouth on my vagina, sucking at it. I did not know how old he was, but he could not have been too experienced.

He then reinserted his fingers and pulled out the container. It hurt a little. He then began licking me again.

I knew if I totally rebuffed him, I was in no position to assert myself. Furthermore, I was now laying on the handcuffs, and I was very uncomfortable.

I interrupted, "Sport, although I really am enjoying this attention, you should know that the fluid is my boyfriend's semen, not my own juices.

If you uncuff me, I will give you a blow job for your troubles."

He spat out whatever he had in his mouth and agreed to my proposal. He took the keys out of the container and quickly uncuffed me.

I knew that my dress needed dry-cleaning, if it was not ruined because of the water, but I took off the dress anyway.

He had already been at my vagina, seeing my breasts was no big deal now anyway. The young man quickly removed his robe, and he had nothing on underneath. Unless you count his hard on.

I asked him to lie down on the bed, and I turned on the TV before I got on the bed myself. Sure enough, porn filled the room.

"You have been a bad boy," I said before I kissed him on his penis after first inspecting it for any growths.

Then something happened. The phone rang, and I muted the television.

The young man answered the phone and started talking to someone, calling her dear. He closed his robe, so I figured it was his wife. He placed his index finger over his lips, warning me to be quiet. I placed my index finger over my grinning mouth, and I opened his robe up, exposing a hard penis.

I started licking his penis, and I noticed his voice went up an octave, before he coughed, excusing himself to his wife. He was conversing with her, obviously he was on a business trip like myself. I continued to glide my tongue over his penis, paying particular attention to the ridge below his penis cap.

He listened more than talked. I was paying complete attention to his penis, although I heard him say that he could talk with her for hours. He wanted me to give him a blow job while he was on the phone. I encircled his penis with my lips, and I began silently moving up and down.

He covered the mouthpiece, and I continued. I could taste a small amount of precum which leaked from his penis, and I continued. My hair was falling over my face, and I believe it was tickling his legs because he placed one hand over one of his legs. I continued to move my head up and down, being careful not to be too loud. I played with his lovely cap with my tongue each time I moved my hear upward.

"What happened next," he said to his wife, and I continued to suck his penis, it getting harder and larger. He was covering the mouthpiece and biting his hand, trying not to say anything. He placed his hand on my head, wanting me to stop because of his wife. I simply used my tongue to continue the oral stimulation.

Then it happened. He spewed all over the inside of my mouth, some of the semen dripping onto his robe and my face. He hung up the phone with his thumb as he came, not saying goodbye or anything.

"Fuck yes," he said, and I continued to manipulate him with my mouth. He came again, and then he started becoming flaccid. The phone rang again.

"We got cut off," he said as soon as the receiver was at his mouth.

"Sweetie, I need to get some sleep before the meeting tomorrow." He then hung up, turning his attention to me. I told him I needed to get to bed soon myself, and I suggested that the blow job was more than adequate repayment of freeing me.

I cleaned myself up, choosing to leave the butt plug in my bottom. I was getting used to the pressure by now. I gave the young man my panties, not wanting to remember everything that happened that night, and partly because I knew he wanted a memento for the occasion. My guess is that I was only the second woman to ever see his penis, let alone touch it. I went down to the front desk, and I said I had locked myself out of my room.

They gave me a replacement key, and I returned to my room. Before I entered the room, I noticed that the crack below the door was dark.

My "friends" were either asleep or gone, I had hoped.

I opened the door, and I found Ross alone in my bed. I turned on the light, and he quickly awoke.

"My wife had to go home and get the kids from the babysitter. I stayed to see that you made it safely back here. We were worried about you."

"Bullshit," I said.

"You just did not want me to press charges."

"Did you remember what you did to me earlier this evening. I would say we were even. I would love to hear how you got out of the handcuffs and plugs."

"You are right," I answered, "We are even. And I still have the butt plug inside of me."

"Let me take it out," you half asked, half demanded.

"Okay," I answered, "but you will have to take it out without your fingers."

Ross seemed to enjoy that answer, and I squatted doggie style, still in my dress. Ross started biting the hem of my dress, trying to pull it above my bottom.

He was not having too much luck, and I pulled it up for him. He then noticed that the butt plug was deep inside of me.

He started trying to grab it with his teeth, and it tickled and hurt at the same time. As he grabbed the plug between his teeth, I tightened my ass, and I felt his teeth slip off of the plug. He tried again, me again tightening, and then the plug slipping loose.

The third time he gripped it, he growled a little and then I felt it start coming out. I did not tighten, as I really enjoyed the feeling of him slowly taking it out of my arse.

He pulled it all of the way out, and it fell to the floor. He then muttered something about "Poor angel," and he started licking my sore asshole with his tongue.

I felt dirty and excited. He continued to lick my hole, exciting me greatly. I had had to pee a little while ago, but the feeling completely subsided. He pushed his tongue inside of my hole, and I could feel his teeth and nose press against my cheeks.

He must have licked me for ten minutes, and my legs were growing weak.

Ross asked if I wanted to go to the bed, and I shook my head "yes."

Ross turned me over so that my back was on the bed, and he began kissing me on the lips. I was returning the kiss, lost in the moment, when I felt his penis enter my vagina for the second time.

He fucked me fast and furious, coming before I was ready for him to cum. His face had a pained expression on it, and he was not worried about whether I had cum, that much I knew.

Afterwards, he stayed inside of me for some time. I did not want to say anything, feeling his penis shrink inside of me. When he got off of me and started dressing, I awoke.

I fell asleep with him in me. He mentioned that his wife wanted me fucked good.

When he left, I was afraid that he may have impregnated me.

I would be scared the rest of the month.

This ends the story of the first time Ross, Debbie, and I met.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Trick or Treat Part III

As we got back to the room, thoughts of dread filled my head. I wondered how Ross was doing. Sure I was pissed that he wanted to lie to his wife that I was a hooker, but does that deserve me paying some man to butt fuck him without his permission? No. There was a chance that he enjoyed it, but knowing Ross the way that I do, I had a feeling it really freaked him out. I also did not like him using the name John instead of Ross. I thought it was disingenuous.

All of these hostile feelings began dissipating after I entered the hotel room. Ross looked helpless. "Miss us?" I offered as we crossed the threshold of the room.

I took the handcuff keys from the dresser and unlocked them. "I bet your wrists hurt, sweetie," I said. Debbie looked at Ross and then at me, and she said, "Slip into John's position for a while." I paused momentarily, almost forgetting that Rossâ name was John.

I had kept the name deception straight all night so far, and I almost slipped up. I slipped one of my wrists into a cuff and shut it with my other hand.

Then I offered a wrist to Debbie. "Cuff me, sweetie." She cuffed the other cuff, and I was now helpless. As soon as I heard the mechanism snap into place, Debbie said, "Bitch." That did not sound promising. "Debbie," she said to me (remembering from the other stories that we were both named Debbie) and she touched my jaw, positioning my face so that I was looking at her on the bed, "we are going to play a little game, sort of like 20 questions.

I will ask you a series of questions, and you will answer Yes or No." Debbie paused for a moment, then corrected herself, "You will say Yes and lick me when you mean No."

Then Debbie unbuttoned her pants, slipping out of them quickly, making the bed move a little under her preparations. She then removed her panties, revealing herself to me and to her husband. She went over to her purse and took something from it, giving it to her husband. I tried to see it, but I could not turn my head far enough to see the transaction.

She then got back on the bed, spreading her legs so I had access to her vagina. When she mentioned licking, she meant licking. Debbie began the questions: "Has my husband ever paid to have sex with you?"

"No," I answered, then remembered the rules. "Sorry."

"Debbie, you know the rules. John, please spank Debbie for forgetting."

I felt Ross hit me with something made of wood. It stung a little, but surprisingly, it really did not hurt. I quickly licked Debbie's cunny, knowing that this would satisfy her.

"I believe you, Debbie," she said.

"Have you ever met John?" I licked her cunny a little slower, remembering that I might be in better shape if she enjoyed the licking.

"I do not believe you. Spank her John.

" Another hit. And then another.

"Again, have you ever met John before tonight." I licked her again, and I received another hit.

"John, plug her up. What size butt plug would you like?" "None," I answered. "Use the big one, John," responded Debbie. I knew she wanted to control the whole situation, but I did not want her too. Then I felt a cold gel on my arse, and then Rossâ finger in my arsehole.

I then felt Ross placed the large butt plug in my arsehole.

It was very uncomfortable. Ross then hit me again, and part of the wood hit the butt plug, and it hurt so much more.

Debbie grabbed me by the hair and said, "Don't lie to me again, bitch." Has John ever been in your little asshole before?" Debbie asked. I licked her again, slowly tracing my tongue along her large labial lips. I received three more stinging spanks. I began to suspect that Ross wanted to spank me.

"Debbie, do not lie to me. I am sure John, or should I say Ross, is spanking you with more vigor now. I know Ross christened your ass last night."

"Did you enjoy Ross fucking your ass last night?," continued Debbie.

"Yes," I answered.

"Ross, hit her for enjoying herself with a married man."

Three more hard hits, each one nicking the butt plug.

My ass was on fire.

"Debbie, Ross wants you now, I can tell. But his ass is sore from the spanking I gave him when I found out about you. He told me that you would not allow him in your vagina, is that correct?"


"Would you allow my husband in your vagina right now?"

I began licking Debbie's vagina greedily, wanting to convey how I did not want her husband in me. I parted her smaller lips with my tongue, and I tasted her sex in my mouth. I knew she was enjoying this. I traced her outer lips with my tongue occasionally, doing what I enjoy when my husband licks me. Debbie then did something totally unexpected. She got up, a bit unsteady on her feet, but she got up nonetheless.

I could tell she was behind me, and she asked, "Do you want my husband to fuck your little cunt?"

"No," I said, and I received a hard hit, by her, I am sure.

"My husband is really ready for a fuck. Can he fuck you in the cunt?"

"No." Two hard hits.

"Can he fuck your little pussy?"


Three additional hits, two took a direct hit on the butt plug. I was in agony.

"Yes," I screamed.

"Yes, what?"

Debbie asked me.

"Yes, I would like your husband in my vagina."

"Call it a pussy, Debbie," Debbie answered.

"Yes, I would like your husband in my pussy."

"Open yourself for my husband," Debbie said laughing, then added, "I will do the honors since you are a little tied up now."

Debbie spread me open, and almost immediately, I felt Ross inside of me.

"Yes," is the only word Ross said. Ross was fucking me doggie style, and I could tell that Debbie was kissing her husband.

He was pawing her and fucking me. This I could tell. It was not long before I felt Ross empty himself into me, the first two squirts being incredibly strong, spewing his cum deep inside of my unprotected vagina.

He continued to cum, continued to deposit his sperm into me. He stayed in me until her was completely flaccid.

It was a great fuck, but now I could not tell my husband that another guy had not been in me since we have been married. I felt guilty and was beginning to feel cold.

Debbie instructed Ross to uncuff my left handcuff.

Ross then untied it from the bed. "Nice cuffs," Ross said after inspecting the handcuffs.

They were very sturdy, needed to be since they needed to restrict Ross when he was getting buttfucked.

"Stand up," instructed Debbie. Because my other wrist was still cuffed to the bed, I was leaning to one side.

Ross then took both my wrists behind my back, his strong hands securely clutching them. He then uncuffed the other cuffs. Debbie then instructed me to clean up and get dressed. She told me not to remove the sore butt plug just yet.

I got completely dressed, even putting my panties over myself, which obscured the butt plug from view. Ross then took my wrists and began kissing them.

I started to lower my guard, and just then he put both hands behind my back, deftly cuffing me before I knew what was going on. Debbie then asked for the keys. She placed them in a small plastic container and sealed the container.

"Neat small butt plug," she said, showing it to me in front of my face.

"It even has a small area to carry things. Debbie pulled up my dress in front, and then pulled my panties down past my vagina.

She stared at my vagina for a moment, and said, "Still wet, I see."

She then shoved the cold hard plastic container into my vagina and put my panties on again. She smoothed my dress down, and then looked me over. She went to the bathroom and got a hand towel, then draped the hand towel over my handcuffs, hiding them.

Debbie then explained:

"It is now about 12:30 a.m., and most of the guests in this hotel are asleep. I hope you can find a Good Samaritan to help you out of your predicament. Of course, I would guarantee that any guy would love to dig into your pussy and remove the key.

But why would he unlock such a taste fuck? Unless you want to let us release you and tell your husband what you have been doing these last two days."

"No, don't tell my husband," I pleaded. With this Debbie said, "Good luck," and kissed me on the mouth, inserting the tip of her tongue in my mouth. I bit her tongue, to which she replied, "Bitch.

Funny thing is that I was just going to scare you and have Ross take off the cuffs. Not now."

With that, she pushed me out of the hotel room. I was fucked. Please e-mail me if you want to see what will happen next.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Trick or Treat Part II

The night before, I had ambushed someone I had a relationship with, and we ended up in his bedroom, him christening my ass the first time we met.

The next morning, I got a call from Ross in my hotel room.

The conversation was brief, as his wife was in the shower and he did not want her to know she was calling.

"Hello, dear," he started.

"How did you dream last night?" I answered.

"I do not have a lot of time. I got my wife to meet you for dinner. Does your hotel have a restaurant?"

"Yes," I replied, "but I do not think the food is very good."

"That's okay, I will not be interested in the food. My wife thinks we are going to meet a call girl at the bar."

"Me?" I ask.

"Yes, you. It was the only lie I could think up to get you and her together."

"Ross, I wanted to meet your wife, not sleep with her. Men and their fucking threesome fantasies."

"I have already had a threesome, dear," Ross boasted.

"I am not sure . . ." I started to counter.

Ross ended the conversation with a quick, "Eight oâclock. My wife will be out of the shower in a minute. See you then."

I had managed to get out that he should bring $200 to pay me. That burned me up. And then the dial tone greeted my ear. I was fuming after I processed this information. I wanted to meet the other Debbie, his wife, to see the woman whose husband I allowed in my ass the night before. It was twisted, but he got what he wanted last night. I just wanted what was coming to me.

I came up with a plan, and I made some calls.

That evening I wore my evening dress. It was not at all what a normal call girl would wear, but this was a really nice hotel. I did, however, go to the nearby mall that day and select some edible lingerie. I also had some handcuffs and rope, which I did not use the night before.

There was not time the night before. I went down to the bar at 7:45 p.m., and I ordered straight bourbon. I normally do not drink, but I normally do not impersonate a call girl, either. Ross showed up at five 'til eight, his loving wife on his arm.

They were both dressed more casually than me. Ross spoke first.

"Hi, my name is John. Are you Debbie?"

I cannot believe he is not using his name, but he is calling me by mine. I was mad, and I tried to hide it by swallowing the last of my bourbon.

"Want to buy me another drink?" I asked.

"No, Debbie, you are on the clock now, and I think we should get started," the fake John answered.

That bastard. I was glad that I had made preparations. I led the couple up to my room, and I opened the door.

I was careful to leave all my personal belongings locked up in one of the two closets.

It looked like an unused hotel room. I excused myself to the bathroom, and I asked them to get comfortable.

I exchanged panties, slipping on the edible panties in the bathroom.

I did not want them to melt or anything. When I returned, Debbie was still clothed and Ross had taken his pants off.

"Are you just going to watch, Ma'am," I asked.

"Yes," Debbie responded. She had not even given me a name for her.

I deftly removed my cocktail dress, so I was visible to them in my edible panties and black bra.

"A pity, Ma'am," I responded, "because I wore these just for you. I assumed you have never licked another woman before, and the taste of cherries can help any taste I have."

Debbie smiled.

"Let me do this," I asked, "Can I call you Debbie? My name, so I do not have to continue to call you ma'am." Debbie looked a little shocked, and then she said, "Sure."

"John, this is your nickel, what do you want?" I asked Ross.

I had to remember his fake name. I wish he would come clean about this whole thing.

"I want to fuck your cunt," Ross said. He knew that I do not allow other guys inside of my vagina. It was 8:30 p.m., and if my plan was going to work, I would need to stall a bit.

"Why don't we start by having you start on desert. Lick me for a while. Entice your girlfriend."

"Wife," Debbie corrected.

I got onto the bed, spreading my legs apart, giving Ross a good view of my panties.

"Come on, John, lick my lolly."

Ross put his head between my legs, as I unfastened my bra from behind. I through my bra next to my dress, and I felt his hot mouth touching my panties.

The edible underwear was sugar-based, and the sugar almost melted off my body. His mouth was directly over my snatch, and I could feel his tongue on my skin in short order.

There must have been some thread holding the panties together, because soon I could feel his tongue on my vagina, his tongue running over some of the strings.

He tore the underwear from my body, exposing me to his tonguing.

Debbie slowly moved to the bed, looking intently on her husband pleasing another woman.

I know she had done this before, but I also knew she thought I was a call girl, and I may have intimidated her a little.

"Dear, let me guide you in her," Debbie broke the silence.

"Debbie, please suck on my nipples first," I responded.

Ross was wonderful with his tongue, and between the tonguing and Debbie on my nipples, I soon came.

I then suggested that I give Ross a blowjob before his fuck.

I glanced at the clock, 8:50 p.m. I began licking his shaft, my tongue gliding over his cap, the tip of my tongue running along his penal ridge.

Pre cum started to seep from his penis, and I lapped it up tenderly.

Then I remember that I was suppose to be a call girl, and I began taking his penis inside of my warm mouth. I started violently giving him a strong blowjob, and he started pressing his penis into my mouth more.

After a short time, he shot his load into my mouth. I swallowed most of it, only getting a little on my cheek. It was now 9:05 p.m. I looked at the clock, and said, "Well, so far the tab is $200.00. How long do you want me?"

Ross looked shocked. I thought to myself, make me a hooker and I will be a real shit.

Ross said, "I only have $230.00"

I made a bargain. "Tell you what I am going to do. I do not have another john until 1:00 a.m., and I would like to have fun with you two. If you let me tie John up and experiment, I will only charge you the $200.00"

The deal was struck. I had already prepared the bed by fastening both sets of handcuffs to the bed, held by the rope.

Debbie helped me unclothe and restrain her husband on the bed. The upper part of Rossâ body was on the bed, secured by outstretched hands.

He was in perfect spanking position, him on his knees, his ass in full view of the room. After I did this, I took a scarf and covered his eyes.

I also gagged him.

9:30 p.m. I asked Debbie to go downstairs for a drink with me before we were going to continue.

She agreed, and I got dressed with everything but my panties, which were in the bathroom.

I asked her to go ahead of me, as I had to make a quick call.

She left, and I looked at Ross. He was helpless, bound and blind. I fished his wallet out of his trousers pocket and retrieved the $200.00.

I placed the money near him, but he did not see me do this. I then told him that I would be back soon.

I also asked him not to ask to get inside of my vagina again.

He just laughed. I then went to the bathroom and retrieved my KY jelly. I squeezed some into my palm, and I began rubbing it around his asshole.

"Don't make me buttfuck you," I warned.

"Hey, I would love you to spend some time on my ass," he retorted.

I don't know if he was just trying to be tough or what. I took my keys, told him we would be back after a drink, and left, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I found Debbie at the bar, and I asked her what she wanted to drink.

"White wine," she answered.

"Two white wines," I asked the bartender, palming him a $10.

We got a table in the corner, and started watching people. It was ten 'til ten.

The tension was obvious.

"John has never been to me before," I reassured her.

She grinned. I knew she was wondering if Ross had ever been to a call girl before. I ran my fingers through my hair, out of nervousness more than anything.

"You are a beautiful woman, Debbie," Rossâ wife said to me.

"Why do you do this kind of work?"

"Do you really want to know?" I asked, looking at the clock again, knowing that I needed to time this right.


"I will tell you if you kiss me in this bar," I answered.

I was wondering how bad she wanted to know, but the bar was sparsely populated, so even a kiss may be concealed.

Debbie looked around, then gave me a peck on the cheek.

"On the lips, Debbie" I informed her.

"I have to go to the restroom, Debbie," she told me.

"Come with me." We went into the restroom, her in one stall, me in the other.

She said from her stall, "I have no toilet tissue, can you hand me one roll?"

I was going to hand it under the stall, and she asked me to come around.

She did not want to dirty the roll. When I opened the stall door, she was on the toilet and she said, "Kiss me."

I hiked up my skirt, sat on her lap and gave her a passionate, wet, sloppy kiss.

Just then, someone else came into the bathroom. Instinctively I raised my legs so that my legs could not be seen from under the stall.

I breathed silently, put a smirk on my face, and flushed the toilet. The other person in the room went into the other stall.

I mouthed "No toilet paper," informing Debbie that she had the only roll in her hand. "Dear," an elderly woman said, "Are you finished because I do not seem to have any toilet paper in my stall?"

"Here," Debbie said, and I grabbed the toilet paper before she could maneuver it under the stall.

"For a kiss," I again mouthed, and Debbie shook her hand. Debbie, very acrobatically, gave the old woman her roll.

"Are you okay?" the old woman asked.

"Yes," Debbie lied.

"I think I ate something which disagreed with me."

In a moment the old woman was out of the restroom, and we were out of the stall, after another kiss. I was beginning to feel sorry for Ross after we left the bathroom, looking up at the clock and it being 10:30 p.m.

I told Debbie that I had become a call girl in college, and the money was too good to pass up, so I continued doing it after I started working.

While Debbie and I had out bathroom adventures, Ross was getting his just deserts upstairs.

I do not know what actually happened, but I paid a male escort to buttfuck him.

That was what the $200.00 was for.

We ordered another drink on my assistance. I did not want to run into the male escort. I told Debbie that the anticipation when John (Ross) was tied up should cause him to fantasize.

We got back up to the room, and the door was closed. I unlocked it, and I saw no money on the floor. Ross asked who it was, and I said that it was us, silly.

He did not tell his wife some man fucked him while we were getting drinks. And he never again asked to cum inside of my vagina. I think I will have to tell you what happened in the next part at another time.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Trick or Treat Part I

I had been writing Ross for almost a year, and in that time, I learned a lot about him.

I learned the city in which he lived, I learned about his children, I learned many of his likes and dislikes, and, eventually, I learned his phone number.

In a particularly horny day, he gave me his phone number for a little sex chat, and I called him. I did not stay on the phone very long, having second thoughts, but I got his phone number. I even looked up his address with a reverse phone number directory on the Internet, and when my company sent me to a nearby city in Arizona, I thought I would surprise him.

This is how that adventure began. I was in town for a week in late October, early November, so I decided to call upon him on Halloween night. I had a harem girl costume that I have had since college. I have only worn it a few times since college because I get all kinds of stares.

Although the blue material is see-through, it is layered so that it is not indecent. I parked my car a couple of blocks from the house, and I started trick or treating towards the house. It was about 8:00 p.m., and I correctly guessed that his wife had taken his two children trick-or-treating for the evening.

I did not want to come earlier, because there were so many trick-or-treaters around, and by this time, the traffic had subsided. I waited for a group to finish at his house before I went to the doorstep. Once there, I rang the doorbell, and I waited for Ross to answer the door.

He opened the door, instinctively looking down for smaller guests, and I held my bag open.

"Trick or treat?" I asked.

Ross took some candy from the bowl and put it in my bag.

"Trick or treat," I repeated.

"You did not answer the question."

"I beg your pardon," came Ross' answer.

"The question means that would you like me to perform a trick on you. You gave me candy without thinking of the question. I am Debbie, the woman from Georgia you have been writing."

Ross' face froze. I winked at him and told him I was in town.

He let me in and we chit-chatted until the doorbell rang again. Ross left the living room to doll out the candy.

When he returned, I was completely naked.

"Ross, I will not leave until you butt fuck me. Your wife will find a naked lady here unless you take me know."

"You are kidding," Ross responded.

"When is the family coming back?" I asked.

"About 9:00, I suppose."

"I suggest you turn out your front light and start fucking me," I suggested.

Ross knew he had little choice. Debbie, his wife, would not believe him. I wondered what Debbie looked like. I knew we shared the same name and hair color.

That is all I knew about her. Ross went to the door to turn out the light, and I retreated to the bedroom with my costume in my hands.

When Ross went back to the living room, I called to him. He found me at the foot of his bed on his wooden bench. His face was twisted, and I could not blame him.

Here I was, supposable a friend, blackmailing him for anal sex.

He felt excited, betrayed, scared he might get caught, all in the same thought, I was sure.

"I suggest we start," I said. I kissed Ross, and he did not kiss me back.

"Ross, please, this will go better if you want to do this." I kissed him again, and he returned the kiss, not passionately, but not pure mechanically either.

He took off his shoes and started removing his pants.

"I can help you with that."

I pulled his pants to his ankles, and I saw his manhood bulging in his briefs. At least he was excited. He kicked his pants away from me, and I pulled his briefs down, exposing his penis for the first time.

I kissed it lightly at first, and then I began tonguing it hungrily.

I knew I did not want that after the anal sex, but I did not want him to come outside of my ass either.

"Just a minute," I said, as I took a pillow from the bed and laid it down on the wooden bench.

I took some K-Y jelly from my trick-or-treat bag (it was part of the thick) and squeezed out some, then applied it to my asshole.

I lay on the bench, and declared, "I am ready."

Ross touched the globes of my butt for the first time and shivers went up my spine. He firmly grasped my cheeks, separated them, and guided his heat-producing missile home.

It was a tight fit, as I normally do not let men into my ass. I am a strange bird and I do not consider being unfaithful if a guy has not penetrated my vagina.

Ross started slowly. At this moment, I am wondering if I made a mistake. This is a bit painful, and I do not know that much about this guy in my ass. He applies a bit more pressure, and all of a sudden he is all of the way inside of me.

"Ooooowwww," I vocalize.

"This is really nice."

"Are you okay," Ross asked.

"Sure, I have you in my ass and this feels really good."

"I am beginning to like this, too."

"It is 8:30, sweet pea," I reminded him.

His pace quickened. I was not sure if he was going faster because of the threat of his wife coming home early, or that he wanted to come inside of me, even if it was my ass. My hole was on fire. I hurt and felt good at the same time.

I wanted this feeling to last forever, to be over at the same time. So many contradictory feelings at once. At last he began making small, guttural sounds.

He stopped for a second, and I felt him shoot his semen into me. Two seconds, and another squirt, another second and another squirt.

I nuzzled my butt into him, and he reached around to cradle me, his hands touching my breasts for the first time. "Thank you," Ross whispered in my ear.

"You are a great fuck."

With that, he squeezed my breasts again.

"I bet you say that to all of the brunettes you nail." I felt his penis harden when I said that. Not completely stiff, but harden.

"We need to get cleaned up," I reminded Ross. He got dressed and cleaned up before me, and he went into the other area of the house, presumably to turn the light back on and continue to dole out candy. I got back into my costume, freshened up my hair in the master bathroom.

I saw an atomizer on the counter, which I presume from the level of perfume left in it, was his wife's everyday perfume. I sprayed a bit on my wrist, and transferred some of the scent to my neck. I entered the living room, sensing that Ross wanted me out of the house. It was 8:50 p.m., and I knew that he wanted me gone.

We kissed briefly by the door, and as we were leaving, I mentioned that I would like to have dinner with he and his wife tomorrow evening.

"Are you crazy?" Ross stammered. I reached into my trick-or-treat bag and pulled out a tape recorder, turning it off as I took it in my hand.

"I just love listening to myself afterwards. It really gets the juices flowing."

He knew we were going to have dinner.

I gave him my number at the hotel, and asked him to fill me in on whatever lie he would have to tell his wife for the meeting to take place.

The doorbell rang, and Ross handed candy to the trick-or-treaters.

I left after them, wondering about the following night.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Old Flame

It was a little past nine in the morning, and I been vegging in front of the tube.

I had gotten my children off this morning with no crises, and I was rewarding myself with a little Good Morning America. As I was eating my Special K and listening to some puff story, the phone rang.

I instinctively reached for my ear to unclip my right earring, but I had yet to get fully dressed this morning. "Hello," I answered to the ringing phone. There was a pause.

"Remember me," a voice softly broke the silence.

"Who is this," I asked, not recognizing the voice.

"This is John," came the reply.

My mind searched for a moment. "John X," he revealed his last name.

An old boyfriend. It had been years.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Fine. Listen, I have to get to a meeting in a minute, but I am in town, and I thought we might have lunch. I will be flying out this evening, and I would like to see you again."

"Sure," I answered.

"Where do you want to meet."

"How about the Galeria?"

The Galeria was a large mall with several eating establishments. Since I love shopping, I answered, "Fine. How about meeting at the ice rink at 11: 30?" I did not want to think about where to eat at this time. The date was set. As I hung up the phone, I just realized that I needed to get ready immediately if I wanted to make a good impression. I completely re-thought my wardrobe.

I changed underwear, choosing a tasteful Victoria Secret matching bra and panties.

It was not too daring, as I did not want to look like I was doing anything special for him. I changed my dress three times, thinking that I did not want something too short or too conservative. I decided on a dress which was fairly conservative but a little short. It was almost a mocca color, a cotton dress with a floral print, which happened to go well with my bra and panty set.

I wanted an excuse for wearing nice underwear, if it came to that. My hair was already in a french braid, and I did not have time to change it, anyway. It would have to do. Before I left, I removed my wedding and engagement rings. He did not ask about the husband and kids, now, did he? I figured, at worse, I would get a nice lunch. I arrived at the Galeria early, getting to the ice skating rink in the middle of the mall about 11:15 a.m. I love to watch people, and I was watching some young girls and boys skate.

There were many falls, but everyone was having fun. I was almost startled when he made his presence known. How long had he been watching me watching the skaters, I had wondered. He took me to a nearby eating establishment, which was right off of the skating rink. I think he tipped the person seating us, because we got a table with a view of the skating rink. He pulled out my seat for me, and I felt flattered.

I am not sure what guys think when they eat, but I needed to eat something that doesnât look bad when eaten, doesnât give me bad breath, and doesnât make me look like I eat too much. I scanned the menu, and there was almost nothing that met all of those requirements. I settled on a large garden salad, but I wanted to try the fajitas that day. We were talking about old times, and he filled me in on what some of our high school friends were doing. At one point, he asked if I wanted to try his meal, and I caught him looking down my dress as he offered a fork to my mouth.

I knew I was wearing a pretty bra for something. When lunch was winding down, he looked at his watch.

"Debbie," he said, "I have to check out of my room before they charge me for another day. I have to go."

"I will walk you to your room," I answered.

I knew that the rooms in the Galeria were really nice, and I partly wanted to see for myself.

I took John's arm when we entered the elevator, partly because the elevator was a little crowded. John pressed the appropriate floor button, and the doors closed.

He was on the second to the top floor, so the elevator ride took a long time. At each floor, at least one person got out. Finally the door opened, and we exited the elevator. As we were walking down the hall, we were concluding a conversation.

"Thank you for a very nice lunch, and an even nicer visit," I concluded.

"May I use your restroom before you check out?" It was a way to see the room, and my bladder was definitely full from all of the water I always drink at lunch. He invited me in, and the room was beautiful.

"Nice room," I commented.

"Yeah," John agreed, "but it is sort of a waste. I barely saw it while I was here."

Then I excused myself, while John had started pulling his clothes together to check out. After using the restroom, I checked my makeup in the mirror, and exited to the room.

I thanked John again, and I was preparing to leave. "No kiss?" John joked. I was going to be a big girl and give John a peck on the cheek.

Then at the last minute, I kissed him softly on the lips, no tongue, but a gently sexy kiss.

John responded positively, and he took my head in his hands and continued to kiss me. Our lips parted, and we kissed for three solid minutes, exchanging tongues, fluids, passion.

As our lips parted, I moved a way a little, and I wiped off my mouth.

"I am sorry," I said, "but I am married. I did not tell you that."

"I am so sorry," responded John.

I climbed back into Johnâs arms and continued to kiss him. After another minute of kissing, John pushed me back and said, "This is wrong, Debbie. You are a married woman. I canât do this."

I kissed John again, and he pushed me away again. "I canât do this, I said." "What did you say," I asked, taking my hand and starting to manually manipulate the bulge between his legs. I could tell his knees were weakening. "When do you have to check out," I asked, looking at the unmade bed.

"Forty-five minutes," came his answer. "Take off your pants," I commanded him. I took three steps back, and I stepped out of my dress.

"I just had this dry cleaned," I said. John took off his shoes and pants quickly, and by the time his pants were off, I was helping him with his briefs. He laid on the bed after moving the covers back, and I put my warm mouth over his penis. He did not have a very large penis, the smallest I have seen, but I wanted it in my mouth.

After sucking on the penis, which easily fit in my mouth, I began licking it seductively. I glided the tip of my tongue along the cap, and with all of the precum, it slided nicely over it. It was as if my tongue was ice-skating. After skating over the cap for a while, I followed my tongue to the ridge between the cap and the shaft.

That is my favorite part of the penis to lick. I cupped his penis with my mouth, my lips encompassing my favorite ridge. I could tell John was in heaven.

If I had learned anything from my pre-marital partners, I learned that a good blowjob was better than a fuck to most guys. John tried to get up for some reason, to participate more directly I suspect, and I stopped for a moment to ask him to lie back down. Then I repositioned myself over his body, almost in a 69 position. I did not want him to lick me (it throws off my concentration), and I told him so. I continued to lick his penis, placing my crotch inches from Johnâs nose.

After I licked him for a while, I took his penis inside of my mouth again, and I began fucking his penis with my mouth. I could tell he was sniffing my snatch, but I had to continue to get him off. After a few minutes, John started coming. I caught some of his cum in my mouth, and I had to swallow. While I was swallowing, he continued to cum, him hitting me above the eye, a little in my hair and a little on my face. Sort of an accidental facial, I guess. I asked him how long we had until he had to check out, and he said 15 minutes. I was wondering if he would pay for another day for some more fun, but he started cleaning up. Not knowing what to do, I went into the bathroom and washed off my face.

I toweled off, and got into my clothes quickly. I went down to the desk, and John checked out of the hotel. We took his suitcase to his rental car, and then he walked me to my car. I started kissing him goodbye in the parking garage, and he pinned me against my car. We kissed intensely for a moment, and then our lips parted. I knew he still wanted me.

"If only we had more time," John said. I did not know if that was a brush-off or if he meant it.

"You know you owe me," I reminded John. He kissed my neck, and I know he pressed an arm against one of my breasts. We kissed again, and then I got in my car. I raced home, and I went into my bedroom to change. No sooner that I had changed into jeans and a top than one of my children bolted through the door. "What do we have to eat," he asked me.

"There is leftover pizza in the fridge," I answered.

Then I tasted my mouth, remembering that I had let an old boyfriend cum inside of it not two hours ago. I had talked with my son with that same cum-stained mouth. I brushed my teeth and used some mouthwash. What was I thinking?

Friday, August 05, 2005

Keeping up appearances

This story is basically true. The true part is that I was house-sitting for a neighbor and I did have a one-night stand with a guy. And I pretended to be underage. I did not, however, tape anything.

Here is my story.

I was home from college as a freshman on spring break. Yes, it sucked because I did not have the cash to go to Padre Island or further. So I was stuck going home, where I was going to be house-sitting while my parents and sister visited Mom's parents.

I was exempt from this, as they were taking two weeks, and my spring break was one week. Anyway, I was happy that my family gone, because that meant that I could goof off all day - tanning in the sun mostly.

After a few days of tanning, I decided to go out to a local club. Since I was not anticipating this, the only things I had to wear were from when I was a senior in high school - clothing that I did not take to college.

Anyway, I went to the club, got my hand stamped because I was under 21, and had a blast dancing. I had a few drinks before I entered the club - courtesy of my father's well-stocked liquor cabinet. One of the guys I met when I was there was cute. He had to be 21 because he could drink at the club.

In no time he was feeding me drink after drink. And I did not mind. We started kissing and dancing, and soon he wanted some air outside of the club. We left together. I asked him to take me home, as he was not as nearly smashed as I was. It was about 2 a.m.

All of this reminded me of high school, I guess, since I was returning home in an inebriated state. I mockingly whispered, "Shhhh. Everyone is asleep as we tiptoed inside."

The truth of the matter is that I did not want to be making any noise for the neighbors to complain about. I remembered that my room was a mess, and as I had left it when I went off to college. I was sort of embarrassed, so I took him to my sister's room.

Besides, she had the bigger room now. In minutes we were kissing. It did not take him long to start touching my breasts "accidentally," and I moaned so he knew he could continue.

He went almost straight for my breasts, cupping them while kissing me. When our lips parted, he started right in on my breasts. His tongue worked feverishly on them. Then my mind began to race ö I had no protection in the house. My roommate and I shared a big box of rubbers at school, but I was home. I froze up, and he took that to mean that I did not want to continue. He continued anyway, saying how he loved my eyes, my smell, my body.

In short order, he was getting protection from his jacket pocket. I seductively placed it over his penis, not large, but definitely adequate for the job. As he was kissing my hungry lips, I slipped my panties from beneath my skirt. I caught my balance as my panties momentarily got stuck at my ankles, but after one stutter step, I regained my graceful poise.

We continued to kiss as he eased me onto my sister's bed. I instinctively parted my legs, skirt still on, and he knew it was time to plant his spade inside of me. I let out a muffled peep as he entered me ö he surprised me with the non-delicate nature of this thrust. I did not want to make a sound. I then controlled my volume, remembering that I told him not to wake anyone up. He came hard and came quickly. I remember being mildly disappointed, but I continued to kiss him.

Afterwards, I turned around and we drifted off to sleep like two spoons in a drawer, his penis nestling itself between my two cold buttocks. I woke up the next morning with a slight hangover and his right hand between my breasts.

I wanted him out of my parents house, thinking the neighbors might see his car. It was five-thirty in the morning, early for a vacationing college student.

Then I got an idea. I lightly crept out of bed, then looking in my sister's closet, I found her cheerleader uniform.

My sister was a JV cheerleader, and I thought I would pretend to be her. I showered quickly and put on her cheerleading uniform. My sister is one bra size smaller than me, and her ass had not fully developed, so getting into the disguise was a little harder than I thought. I went into the den, where the VCR and other equipment was. My sister's room was a temporary nursery, so there was a baby-monitoring camera there. My dad was a bit of a geek, and there was a VCR which was patched into the black-and-white camera.

I inserted a blank tape, pressed, record, and then it was acting time. I went back into my sister's room and awoke my new lover.

"Sweetie," I softly said, you need to wake up before my father wakes up.

The look in his eye was priceless.

Panic camped on his face. I kissed him tenderly on the lips.

"Daddy will wake up in fifteen minutes."

"What are you doing in that?" was all he could muster.

"It is Wednesday," I lied, "and we have a special practice today."

"How old are you," he said, then looked like he did not want to here the answer.

"How old do you think I am?," I retorted. "Eighteen," he answered.

I know he hoped I was eighteen. I should add that I put my hair in a ponytail this morning, wanting to look the part.

"I turn 16 in a month," I smiled, "And thanks for the compliment." I reached for his penis, as he pulled away.

"What is the matter?" I asked innocently. "I had no idea," was all he could get out.

I touched and started massaging his penis. "Certainly my age does not bother you. I know it does not bother me."

Then I placed my lips, my lips which he thought belonged to a 15-year old, over his penis. He was completely powerless.

I continued to suck on his penis, knowing I was taping myself and him. His penis hardened in an instant. I abandoned his penis for a second to ask, "I hope you don't mind this."

"No," he whimpered. I put my mouth back over his penis, continuing. After a moment, I added, "Please talk dirty to me."

He was bad at talking dirty. He said that he felt good. "Who is doing this?" I asked. He said my name. "Do you enjoy this," I said when catching my breath.

"Yes," he answered.

"Would you drop me off at school, I asked afterwards. He agreed. He wanted to come again, I knew it. "Do you like my ass?" I asked dirtily.


"How would you like this 15-year old ass after school," I asked.

At that moment he came into my mouth. It was all caught on tape. When he came back that afternoon, I was in jeans and a T-shirt. I showed him the tape, and he paid me $300 to destroy the tape.

I destroyed it in front of him, sort of relieved the evidence was gone myself.

That was the last day I saw him. I sure hope he goes into politics.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Protein Shake

The anniversary date is approaching four years, but I can remember it as if it was yesterday.

I was visiting my sister and her husband in Georgia. They live on a barrier island near Savannah, Georgia, and I was visiting for St. Patrick's Day. While visiting, I stayed on the futon in the living room. We had stayed out late into the night on St. Patrick's Day it is a really big deal in Savannah and I woke up with a bit of a hangover.

Truthfully, I had a bit of a buzz from the night before. I was in the kitchen making coffee and starting my breakfast. I was reaching to get a glass from the kitchen cabinet, when I heard the rustling of papers. I turned my head around to see my brother-in-law looking at me from over his paper. He was in the living room reading the morning paper.

It was fairly early in the morning, so I did not have my robe on, so my brother-in-law who I will call David for the sake of the story saw me in a fairly skimpy nightie. Because I was reaching for the glass, I am sure my nondescript cotton-white panties were in full view.

I returned to the living room to get my robe on, making me feel more comfortable and less revealed.

"Thanks for the show," Dave mused. "Dave, you are such a pervert," I retorted. Dave answered, "I was not in the kitchen in that nightie."

Brushing my hair behind my right ear, I said, "Yes, you would certainly be a pervert if you were in this."

I heard the shower in the master bathroom turn on. "Not my color," Dave through back at me.

At that point, I cannot explain why I did this. Maybe it was because my sister was taking a shower and could not hear the banter.

Maybe I was still a little drunk. But for whatever reason, I approached Dave and kneeled down on the floor next to him.

"You are in my bed, sweetie," I told him, looking directly into his dark brown eyes.

My sister hated when I called Dave sweetie, but I knew he liked it.

"There is room for two," he suggested, but I just looked at him again.

"No thanks," I answered.

Then I reached into his shorts, and started massaging his penis.

He looked like a frightened deer. He loved my sister , I knew that. I loved her, too.

But then I took his penis into my mouth, and he was silent.

He was hard in an instant. I rolled his penis in my mouth slowly. I touched every part of it with my tongue.

I began to suck it, and I knew he would not stop me. He was silent during my oral gift, and when he came, I fixed my mouth tight around him, catching every last drop.

I swallowed, grinned and thanked him for my morning treat. In the background, I heard the water shut off from the master bathroom. I tied my robe tightly around my waist.

There was moisture between my legs, and really wanted Dave to be inside of me. But I did not want to get caught.

I retreated to the kitchen, starting to make bacon and eggs. When my sister came into the kitchen, she asked why I was cooking bacon, knowing that I don't eat much meat.

"I wanted my protein this morning," was my reply. The taste of her husband was still in my mouth when I said that.

The rest of the week, Dave tried being alone with me, but I would not allow that. I was not ready for him to take it to the next level.