Scars never lie

I'm only doing this meme to prove I'm not dead

alruccabah@gmail.com — Sat, 24 Sep 2005 17:43:49 GMT

I haven't posted in a long time. Too much flying around the country, too much work. I should be doing something else right now, but instead I'm going to waste time on LiveJournal.

1. When you look at yourself in the mirror, what's the first thing you look at? My hair.

2. How much cash do you have on you? Five bucks. I meant to go to the ATM yesteday, but I got distracted.

3 What's a word that rhymes with "TEST"? Rest.

4. Favorite plant? Cherry tree.

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone? My friend Ben.

6. What is your main ring tone on your phone? It's the only one that came with the phone that actually sounds like a phone ringing. All the other ringtones were only suitable for a fourteen year old girl.

7. What shirt are you wearing? A NYC tourist souvenier t-shirt.

8. Do you "label" yourself? I used to call myself a slacker, but nowadays, you know, whatever.

9. Name brand of your shoes currently wearing? Not wearing shoes.

10. Bright or Dark Room? Bright. Else I shall fall asleep.

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you? I think she's very depressed, and I wish I could say something to her that would help, but I can't even help myself with my own depression. Also, I think "Why do all the hot vegetarian submissive chicks all have to live hundreds or even thousands of miles away?"

12. Do you know what an 8-track is? Yes. And I even know what a four-track is.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night? Email, I think.

14. What did your last text message you received on your cell phone say? No one ever texts me.

15. Do you ever click on pop-ups or banners? Only by accident.

16. What's a saying that you say a lot? "Screw that."

17.Who told you they loved you last? My dad.

18. Last furry thing you touched? A friend's cat.

19. How many hours a week do you work? Forty.

20. How many rolls of film do you need to get developed? Two or three, I think. But I don't know where they are.

21. Favorite age you have been so far? Twenty-five or so.

22. Your worst enemy? Who has ememies? This isn't middle school.

23. What is your current desktop picture? It's still the default plain blue, because I can't be bothered.

24. What was the last thing you said to someone? "Thanks, you too."

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to erase all of your regrets, what would you choose? My only regret is that I don't have a million bucks.

Pictures of Sarah

alruccabah@gmail.com — Fri, 26 Aug 2005 16:15:37 GMT

Sarah is a shy girl who never thought about modeling or anything like that, but I happen to meet her in the grocery store. I tell her that she is quite a pretty girl, and that I'd love to have her come to my studio for some pictures.

Sarah giggles and says she couldn't, but I tell her how disappointed I'll be if she won't agree to at least a few shots, and finally she relents. The next day, she stops by my studio, wearing a pair of stretch pants and a t-shirt, as I had asked her to. I explain that it’s a good idea to stretch out and loosen up before a shoot, and I guide her through a brief series of positions -- bending over to touch her toes, bending at the waist to either side, standing on one leg and extending the other one as far back as she can, and so on. Sarah turns out to be a surprisingly graceful and limber girl.

Then when I think she's had enough, I show her the dress I want her to wear, and send her behind a screen to change. While I wait and make some adjustments to my camera, I try not to think about the girl with the remarkably flexible body who's stripping down to her underwear just a few feet away. I'm supposed to act like a professional, I tell myself, but sometimes a man's mind just wanders.

Then Sarah steps out from behind the screen, and I look her over. The dress looks even better on her than I had expected. It's a dark green, with thin straps, coming to just above the knee. It's dressy, but not quite formal, and it sets off Sarah's chestnut hair and fair skin perfectly. "You look beautiful," I say, and Sarah smiles and nervously checks herself in the mirror.

"So, let's take some pictures," I say, and instruct Sarah how I'd like her to pose. But she's nervous, and stiff, and it's not working. I put on some music, and try her out with various props and backdrops. It's still not working. "Okay, let's try something else," I say, and change the music to something slower, more sensuous, dreamy. "Listen to the music, and show me how it makes you feel. Just relax and express yourself."

That seems to do the trick. Sarah turns, and sways, and flirtishly smiles. I begin to get some really good shots, and I continue to encourage her. "That's great. You're a very beautiful girl, and you should enjoy it. Show me how you enjoy it."

Sarah continues to give me great shots, and I can tell that she's beginning to get excited about this modeling business. But then she starts to get a little too excited, maybe. She pulls the dress up her legs a little too high, and she leans over toward the camera a little too much. "Now, Sarah, let's be careful," I say. "I'm looking for pictures of a pretty girl in a pretty dress, nothing more."

"Sorry," she says, and calms down a bit. But as soon as I tell her again how wonderful she looks, she goes a little too far again. She starts to pout, and keeps running her pink little tongue over her teeth. She runs her hands over her body, and almost squeezes her breast while looking into my lens steamily. I'm beginning to get excited too, and I let her go on longer than I should, but then I tell her again that she needs to tone it down a bit.

"Sorry," she says again. "I'll be good." I figure maybe the music is somewhat too sensuous for this girl, and change it again to something faster and dancier. She perks up and starts moving more energetically, but not too suggestively. "That's great, Sarah. Absolutely gorgeous." As if that were her cue, she's no longer just dancing prettily, but now quite sexually. She arches her back, she wiggles her little behind at me, and I can no longer pretend that I'm not completely enjoying it. I let her go on, and she goes farther and farther. She hooks her thumb under the strap of her dress and pulls it down so that I can almost see her nipple. Then she whirls around and leans over, holding the top of her dress up to cover her breasts while hiking up her skirt, showing more and more of her slender legs until -- yes – I can see a little flash of her panties. Now I'm mad at myself for how far out of control I've let things get.

"Okay, that's enough," I shout, and turn off the music. "I brought you here so I could take pictures of a sweet, pretty girl, and now you're acting like a total slut!"

Sarah freezes and looks embarrassed. "I'm sorry. You asked me to show you how I felt, and when you said I was beautiful, that made me feel...you know...."

"What? Like a slut? I asked you to be a good girl, and that's certainly not what you showed me."

"But I am a good girl," Sarah protests.

"Not right now you're not. You're being a very bad girl, and I'm going to show you what bad girls get." I grab her and pull her over to a couch at one end of the studio. "You're done wearing that dress," I say, and yank the zipper down. I pull it off her, and it ends up in a pile at her feet. I'm startled by what I've just done, exposing this girl's body so suddenly, but the sight of her just reminds me how my desire let things go too far. I throw myself onto the couch and pull her down across my lap. "Now I'm going to teach you your lesson."

"What are you -- you can't --" But then I bring my hand down onto her behind, and she shrieks, more in shock than in pain. "No, no," she says as she squirms and tries to get away, but I hold her down with one arm while I paddle her rear with the other. She's wasn't wearing anything but her red panties under the dress, and I have a fine view of her lovely legs, the curve of her back, and her rapidly reddening cheeks. I keep on spanking her, all the while blaming myself for letting things come to this, while Sarah continues to plead and struggle.

Finally I stop. Sarah isn't struggling any more, and I can hear her quietly sniffling. Feeling guilty, but not wanting to admit it, I try to begin a lecture again. "Sarah," I say, "I just want you to be a good girl." But then she starts to cry. I can't go on, and I sit there with a crying, nearly naked girl across my lap, trying to figure out what to do next.

"I'm sorry," Sarah says between sobs. "I want to be a good girl. I'm sorry." I pull her up so that she's facing me, put my arms around her and lay her head onto my shoulder.

"Shush, sweetheart. It's going to be all right." I stroke her hair and pat her on the back. "You can be a good girl; I know you can. We'll work on it together."

"Um. Okay," she says. "I was trying to be good. It's just that I thought you liked it when I, um. You know. Acted that way."

"I certainly like looking at a pretty girl," I say. "But when you act that way, it makes a man feel a certain way. It's not nice to make me feel that way when you shouldn't."

"But I --"

"Hush, sweetie. Be good. Just be a good girl." I kiss her on the forehead, hoping to calm her down. She looks up at me. I kiss her on the cheek. Then I put my hand under her chin, tilt her head up, and kiss her on her sweet, warm lips.

She kisses back, hesitantly. She's not sure if this is being good, but then she decides that she likes it anyway. I break the kiss, and she looks at me inquiringly. I kiss her again, then nuzzle her cheek and her neck. I run my fingers over the skin of her young, soft body, and my hand soon finds it way to her breast. She moans into my mouth as I rub and gently pull at her nipples.

I break away from her again. Am I going too far? But Sarah is looking at me lustily, and any thought that I am pushing this girl too far vanishes from my mind. I kiss her once more and nibble at her ear. My hands wander over her body, down from her breasts to her stomach, then to her hip, then her thigh. I reach out slip a thumb inside the hem of her panties.

She gasps and grabs my hand. "I'm not ready for that yet," she says.

"It’s okay," I tell her. "I won't do anything you don't like." I let go of her panties and rest my hand on her thigh. We resume our kissing and nuzzling, and I run my hand up and down her leg. I tickle the back of her knees and she giggles. I move my hand up again, stroking the inside of her thigh with my thumb, slowly getting closer and closer to her panties.

She shifts in my lap and parts her legs a little, and I make contact with the crotch of her panties. I tenderly glide my thumb over the fabric, pressing just a tiny bit. She moans and parts her legs a little more. I rub her through her panties, and I believe I can feel a little wetness beginning.

Growing more bold, I press my fingers against her crotch, and she inhales sharply and lifts her hips up while holding on to me tightly. She squirms around, trying for stronger contact. "Easy, sweetie," I say. "I'll take care of it."

I take my hand from her panties and guide her knee up and away from me, so that she's well spread. I return my hand to between her legs and pull the crotch of her panties aside. She's definitely wet now. I touch her bare skin, run my fingers through her pubic hair, and then find her soft pussy lips.

She gasps again, but does nothing to stop me. I rub her up and down, eking more wetness out of her, and probe a little deeper. She's gritting her teeth now and mewing a little. I hold her head against my shoulder with my free hand while pushing past her lips with the other.

I get the tip of one finger into her. She's very tight and wonderfully liquid. I flex my finger around a bit, then push in again. I continue stroking her lips with my thumb, and then, when I've got my finger about halfway inside, I move it upward to her clit.

She jerks in my lap, and then settles down again. "It's okay," I say. "Do you feel good?"

"Mm-hm," she says.

"Good girl." I rub her clit with my thumb and press my finger fully into her. When I've got it in as far as it will go, I stop for a breath or two, then begin to draw it out again. Halfway, I stop and press inward again. I can feel her begin to relax as I slide my finger in and out of her.

Her breathing has become ragged. I remove my finger, and replace it with two. She moans into my neck and accepts my hand. I rub her lips with my thumb as I work two fingers into her, then switch back to her clit again. Her breath comes in shallow gasps now as I fuck the sweet young girl with my hand.

Soon she is right on the verge, and tilts her head back and grabs my hand with her own. She presses it into her and moans. Her body tenses and she thrusts her hips forward. I do my best to hold her in my lap while the orgasm courses through her body. She moans and twists and I keep my fingers moving in her tight pussy the whole time.

It passes. She begins to catch her breath. "Mm," she says. "I, um...."

"Shh." I stroke her head and kiss her on the temple. "You liked that?"

"Mm-hm."

"Will you be a good girl for me, and make me feel good too?"

"Okay." She turns in my lap. I help her move her leg across so that she's straddling my hips, facing me. "What do you want me to do?"

"Kiss me," I say. She smiles and moves her pretty lips to meet mine. I hold her tight, pulling her hips in so that her pussy is pressed against my erection. I kiss her again, on the nose, and then the forehead. I begin to unbutton my shirt, and rub my throat. "Kiss me," I say. "Here."

She kisses my throat. I guide her hands to my shirt, and she continues unbuttoning it for me. It's open to the bottom of my sternum. I indicate the spot with my thumb. "Kiss me." She does.

My shirt is all unbuttoned. I lean forward and ease her onto the floor so that she sits at my feet, smiling. She seems to like this game. I pull my shirt off and rub my belly, right around the navel. "Kiss me." Sarah giggles, and presses her lips to the spot.

I place her hands at the button of my pants. Sarah takes a deep breath, and undoes the button. Nervous, she looks up at me for approval, and I nod. She unzips my fly. I help her get my pants past my hips, and I lean down to untie my shoes. She pulls my pants down to my ankles, takes my shoes off, then removes my pants. I lift each foot up and she pulls off my socks. She looks up at me and waits for what's next. I rub my stomach right above the band of my shorts. "Kiss me."

My erection is bulging in front of her. Keeping her hands away from it, she leans in and timidly touches her lips to my stomach, and as she does so, she bumps her chin against my cock. She looks away, but I take her hands and hold them while she overcomes her embarrassment. "It's okay. Be a good girl."

She settles down, and I place her hands on the hem of my shorts. She takes a moment, then lifts the band up and over my cock. She keeps her eyes on it as I shift so that she can pull them down and off me. She doesn't simply toss my underwear aside, but neatly folds them and carefully places them on the floor. She moves her hands to her lap and looks up at me.

I reach out my hands, and she places hers in mine. I give them a little squeeze, and move them slowly toward my cock. I arrange her fingers around my shaft, and take my hands away. "Kiss me."

Keeping her eyes on mine, she bends toward my cock and places her lips on it. She very gently puckers her lips, then releases. I can feel her breath. "Again."

She kisses my cock again, and looks to me for more instruction. "More." She kisses it a third time, and this time squeezes ever so slightly as she does so. Another kiss, and then I indicate more places for her to put her lips. Just under the head, then down the underside, to my balls. I place my hand over hers and guide it in slowly stroking me up and down. "Like that." She obeys.

I close my eyes and enjoy Sarah as she stroke my cock and finds other places to kiss. I give her a few minutes to get comfortable with what she's doing, then I give her a new instruction. "Lick it."

She gingerly sticks out her tongue and touches it to my cock on the underside of the shaft, then withdraws it. I wait, and she gives it another tiny lick, farther up. I smile my approval and she smiles back, then begins licking with more confidence. She runs her tongue up and down my shaft and around the head. "Everywhere," I say, and she soon has passed her tongue over every inch of my cock, wetting it with her saliva.

I take her head and hold it in my hands, then run my fingers over her lips. "Such a pretty girl," I say, and she smiles again. "Open." She swallows, then opens her mouth, and I guide it toward the tip of my cock. Her lips close around the head. She looks at me and waits. "Wider." She opens her mouth farther, and takes the entire head into her mouth. "Use your tongue."

She grips my shaft with her soft hands and touches my dickhead here and there with her tongue. She passes it over the slit, and I say, "That's the spot." She pauses there and wiggles her tongue on top of the slit, as if trying to work it inside. "A little farther" She opens a little more and takes more of my cock into her mouth. "Now suck it, and use your hands."

She obeys, slowly at first, then with growing speed and strength. I run my fingers through her hair. She responds to gentle pressure on her head by moving it up and down on my cock. Soon I no longer have to guide her at all, and Sarah devotes herself to sucking my cock with girlish enthusiasm. I rub her temples as she slurps away with her beautiful lips and strokes me with her delicate hands.

I become aware of my impending orgasm, and slow her down a little. "Look at me," I say, and she gazes at me with her big brown eyes, continuing to work my cock with her lips and tongue. "I'm about to give you something. You want to be my good girl, don't you?"

"Mm-hm," she says, with serious eyes.

"I want you to take what I give you in your mouth. Will you do that for me.?"

Her eyes widen a little. "Mm-hm."

"It will be very soon." I close my eyes, and concentrate on the feeling of Sarah's mouth on my cock, then open them as I begin coming. Sarah is still looking back at me as the first gush splashes into her mouth. She sighs, and another follows it. She tries to swallow, but isn't quick enough, and the third stream overflows her mouth and dribbles down her chin. I squirt a fourth stream of my semen into her mouth, and again some goes down her throat and some slips past her lips. A fifth, smaller spurt, and I am spent. My cock continues to twitch in her mouth, and she swallows the last of the come in her mouth. The rest of it drips off her chin and onto her tits and legs. Still she sucks at me and swirls her tongue around the head of my cock.

Finally I soften, and I withdraw my cock from her mouth. She leans back, looks down at my come dripping on her, then smiles at me. "Was that good?"

"Yes, Sarah," I pant, trying to recover my breath. "Very good. You're a very good girl."

Fugitive

alruccabah@gmail.com — Fri, 19 Aug 2005 22:16:02 GMT

I needed to stop. I needed to stop and think, and figure out just how screwed I was.

First thing, I figured I should get off the freeway. They’d be looking for the car, and I needed to get someplace it wouldn’t be spotted from the road. I took the next exit, which put me onto an arterial somewhere out in the suburbs. I didn’t even know where I was. I picked the direction that I thought was away from the city.

I drove along until the large suburban houses thinned out, and driveways got longer. I was in an area of mixed small farms, wooded land, and the occasional gas station. I looked for a house with a clear view of the road but without any vehicles around. When I found one that looked about right, I pulled into the long driveway and stopped in front of the house. I kept the engine running and looked around.

The house was good-sized, with a little detached shed or something. It looked like the driveway went around behind it, so I would be able to get the car out of sight. Good. I drove around behind and parked the car.

I got out of the car and approached the house. I listened for voices, or a TV or radio playing. Nothing. I walked all around the house, looking for an open window, but didn’t find one. I walked around to the back again. What was my best bet?

The back of the house had a deck, and a sliding glass door leading inside. I tried it, but it was latched. I moved along to the adjacent window. It moved about three inches when I tried to open it, then stopped. I moved along to the next window, but it didn’t budge at all. I moved along. The next window was smaller and set higher up. If I had to, I could break one of these windows, but I got lucky – this one opened right up.

I held on to the frame and hoisted myself up. I was looking into a kitchen, and the window was right over the sink. I wrestled my way up and through the window, got my legs through, and crouched on the counter beside the sink. Now I could add breaking and entering to the list, but that hardly mattered.

With no cars around the house, I figured there must be no one home, but I listened again, just to be sure. Still nothing. I stepped down to the floor and looked around.

The kitchen was clean, with no sign that anyone had used it lately. If I was lucky – hell, I was lucky just to get this far – if I continued to get lucky, this might be a weekend place for some family from the city. I opened the fridge. It was full of food, and the sell-by date on the milk was a few days away. So someone was using the house, and I could expect them back before long.

I didn’t intend to stay long. I went into the next room, a living room, and sat down in a chair. What did I want? Whatever money I could find in the place, for starters. Probably should raid the fridge too. Mostly I just wanted a chance to think. How did things get so fucked up?

First things first. If someone came home, I wanted to be able to get out fast. I went to the door that led to the deck and unlatched it. If I heard anyone coming, I’d go out the back, get in the car and zip back onto the road, hopefully before they even realized someone had been inside.

Now, if there was any money lying around, where would it be? There was a dining room on this floor, a little bathroom, and a utility room with a washer and dryer. Upstairs, maybe, hidden in a dresser drawer or a desk. I climbed the stairs up to a narrow hallway that ran the length of the house. I turned to the right, and heard a door open behind me.

I whirled around, and standing there was a woman in a short robe. We stared at each other for an instant, and then she screamed and ran into another room.

Fuck! I went after her. She was reaching for a phone on a table beside a bed. I pushed her onto the bed and knocked the phone aside. She tried to scramble away, so I grabbed her by the leg. She shrieked, twisted around, and flailed at me with her hands and her free leg. I dragged her onto the floor, and she wrenched her leg free, but I got ahold of a wrist. She kicked again, this time making contact, and I fell down, half on top of her.

She twisted and yelled. I grabbed her other wrist, pushed her up against the bed, and held her hands up behind her head. “Hey! Shut up!” I yelled, face to face with her. “Shut up!” She just screamed again. I held both of her wrists in one hand, and slapped her hard across the face. “Shut up!”

She stopped struggling and quieted down. “Who else is here? Tell me!” She didn’t say anything. I slapped her again. “Fucking bitch! Who else lives here?”

She swallowed hard and sobbed. “No one.” Her voice was breathy with fear.

“Bullshit! You live out here with no car? Who else lives here?”

“I never learned to drive,” she said, and sniffed. She let out a couple ragged breaths, and added, quietly, “I have a bicycle.”

Fucking hell! This was not part of the plan. I looked around the room, her bedroom. Nothing suggested itself as being useful. “All right, I’m going to let you go. Don’t try anything, or I’ll beat the living hell out of you. And I’ve got a gun, too. Don’t be stupid. All right?” She nodded. I released her hands and stood up.

One of her tits had popped out of her robe; she quickly covered herself up again and folded her arms in front of her. I looked her over. She was in her late twenties, I guess, and from what I had seen during our brief fight, had a compact, well-built body. Her hair was a medium brown and straight, and it reached to her shoulders. Her robe was of a light, silky material, in a colorful print, and it left her legs bare from the mid-thigh down. It had been a long time since I had seen anything as nice as her.

“Get up.” She rose unsteadily to her feet, and smoothed the hem of her robe down. She wouldn’t look at me, and tears fell quietly down her face. “We’re going to look around. You’re in front.” I grabbed her arm and pushed her towards the door. As she stepped in front of me, I put my hand in my coat pocket and put my hand on my gun. I didn’t want her to see it, because I figured she was already scared enough, but I wanted to be ready.

We stepped into the hall. One other door was open, it led to a bathroom. I could hear a fan running, and the air was thick with humidity. I pointed to another door. “Open that.”

She pushed the door open. It was another bedroom, very simply furnished with a twin bed and table. “You said no one else lived here,” I said.

“This is the spare room,” she said. She had regained better control of her voice, but the fear was still evident. “In case someone ever comes to visit.”

I pushed her inside. There was a dresser. I yanked a drawer open, and it was full of clothes. “Whose are these, then?”

“Mine. I don’t have enough room in my dresser.”

“Bitch, don’t you fucking lie to me!” I yelled. “Whose are they?”

She cringed. “Mine! It’s just all sweaters and things I don’t need all the time! Look around, there’s dust all over the floor. And the closet is full of boxes and stuff. I don’t usually even come in here.” She looked desperately around, as if looking for something else to point out to prove her case.

I looked back in the dresser drawer. It was, as she said, full of sweaters and heavier shirts. The second drawer was the same, and the bottom two were empty. I opened the closet. Boxes, some rolls of paper, and a pair of skis.

“Okay, next room.” We returned to the hall. “That door.” I checked each of the upstairs rooms, always keeping her in sight and within arm’s reach. There was an office and a storage room full of miscellaneous crap, but nothing that indicated anyone else lived there.

“Okay. Downstairs,” I said. We stepped back into the hallway and she proceeded down the stairs. I walked behind her, watching the thin material of her robe move over her body. I ran my tongue over my teeth, but then I pushed those thoughts out of my head. I could not afford to think about that now.

“In there,” I said, pointing to the living room. “Sit down.” She took a seat on the couch. I stared at her, trying to think, while she stared at the floor. What to do now? I still needed to get some money, but I didn’t need to leave immediately because it seemed she lived alone. No one would see the car from the road, and the police wouldn’t have any reason to think I’d come here. What about getting another car, though? And if I did, where would I go then?

I noticed she was watching me, and that brought me back to the present. Before anything, I had to figure out what to do with the woman who had become my hostage. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Holly,” she said.

“Why do you live out here all alone?”

“My parents…I inherited it.” Her words came out clearly and calmly, her fear apparently gone. I didn’t want to scare her, but I found her calmness disturbing. She kept her eyes on me and waited. Blue eyes, I noticed. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked.

“What?”

“You’ve got your hand on your gun, there, don’t you?” She nodded at the hand I still had in my coat pocket. “Are you going to shoot me?”

The directness of her question surprised me. “No,” I said, and took my hand out of my pocket. “I’m not going to hurt you. As long as you behave.”

“I’ll behave,” she said, and sat quietly with her hands in her lap.

I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. “We’ll make sure of that,” I said. “Get up.” I took her by the arm and led her into the little utility room. I rummaged through the storage cabinets there. Laundry detergent, light bulbs, plant fertilizer, some tools, a can of paint – there, a short extension cord, that might do. I tossed it on top of the washer. It wouldn’t be ideal, though. I kept searching. Plastic bags, some empty jars – aha! A tangle of plastic clothesline. I took it out and started coiling it up.

“You don’t have to tie me up,” she said, sounding a little worried.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I said. “Turn around. Hands behind your back.”

She hesitated. “There’s some rope, down in that cabinet,” she said.

I was suspicious. “Why would you tell me that?” I asked.

“Because if you tie me up with the clothesline, it will hurt,” she said.

I supposed that made sense. The clothesline was thin, and would cut into her. “Get it,” I said.

She opened the cupboard she had indicated and pulled out two generous coils of white nylon rope. I took them from her and led her into the kitchen. I took a knife from a drawer and cut off a length from one of the coils. Holly turned and crossed her wrists behind her back without being asked a second time. I looped the rope around and around her wrists, tied it off, and pulled at it to make sure it was secure. “Now sit down,” I said, and nudged her toward a chair at the kitchen table.

She obeyed. I put the knife away. Okay, now what? It occurred to me that I was hungry. I opened the freezer and looked around for simple, packaged meal that I could heat up in the microwave, but I didn’t find anything. Nothing like that in the fridge, either, but there ware a few plastic containers that might have leftovers in them. I opened one. Lasagna. That would do.

I heated it up, found a fork, and sat at the table to eat. Holly watched me. I wondered if she was hungry, but I didn’t ask. It still bothered me that she was as calm as she was. Maybe she knew something I didn’t. “Are you expecting someone to visit here?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

“Somebody expecting you to show up somewhere? Like at work?”

“No. I work from home.” Her answers came without hesitation, and I was convinced she wasn’t lying.

“What do you do?” I asked.

“I’m a web designer.”

“And you live alone out here, without a car?”

She shrugged. “I ride my bike to the grocery store once a week, and I can get nearly anything else delivered.”

She still seemed too comfortable to me. “You don’t seem to be too bothered that I’m here.”

“I don’t want to get hurt,” she answered, “so I’m not going to fight. I’m going to wait until you get whatever you came for. What else can I do?”

I should have been satisfied that she was being so reasonable, and I knew it, but it still bugged me that she wasn’t more frightened. It would all go better for me if she wasn’t scared enough to do anything stupid, but somehow I didn’t like the way she acted. Right now, though, I had no time to ponder this curiosity.

I finished the piece of lasagna and put my fork down. “That was good,” I said. She made no reply, so I moved on to the next order of business. “Is there any money around here?”

“My purse is upstairs, with a few dollars in it. Nothing else.”

Whatever there was, I figured I’d better take it, and whatever else I might find useful. “Okay, I’m going to poke around a bit,” I said. “In the meantime, I don’t want you wandering off.” Taking the coil of rope off the counter, I stepped behind her and bound her wrists to the chair, letting the rest of the rope hang free. I left her legs untied, since I didn’t intend to be gone long. “You might be able to scoot around a bit,” I said, “but if you do, I’ll hear you, and I won’t be happy about it. So just sit tight for a few minutes.”

I went upstairs, and found her purse in her office, with forty-three dollars in it. She had credit cards, too, but since I didn’t think I could pass myself off as a Holly, I didn’t take them. I went downstairs and out the front door, making sure it was unlocked. A quick check through the shed didn’t produce anything useful. I went back inside.

I stood in the living room and thought about my situation. Could I really get away? The car wasn’t safe for me to drive in, and Holly didn’t have one of her own. On the other hand, I didn’t have much of a choice. The longer I stayed, the worse things would get. I needed to come up with a plan and get back on the road. I took the gun out of my pocket and checked it. Three rounds left, as I thought. Those were my resources – forty-three bucks, three bullets, and a car that every cop in the state would be looking for.

I should have left right then, but I dreaded taking the risks I would have to take. I decided to stay a little while longer. Maybe there would be something on the news that would tell me what my best bet was.

I went back into the kitchen and found Holly right where I’d left her. “I’m almost done here,” I said, as I undid the knots that held her to the chair. “Keep cool, and everything will be all right.” She didn’t say anything. I led her into the living room, parked her on the couch, and turned on the TV. I flipped through the local stations, hoping to find some news. It was all talk show and soaps at that time of day. I continued flipping around until I caught the end of a commercial break. It cut to a news teaser. The TV showed the outside of Chuck’s house, and the cops were taking a covered body out on a stretcher. “A fatal shooting at an area home, and a police officer is hospitalized,” a voice said. “Authorities are still searching for a suspect. News tonight.” Then it went back to a talk show.

Wait a minute. The cop was hospitalized, not dead?

I looked at Holly. She had her eyes on the floor. “I didn’t kill anybody,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” she said, without looking up.

“I’m no killer. I didn’t kill anybody.”

“Okay,” she said. “I believe you. It’s none of my business anyway.” I could tell that she didn’t believe me, and she was frightened again. Then I realized why the way she acted bugged me so much. She behaved exactly like an inmate. Do what you’re told, don’t cause any trouble, stay out of the way. Everything I’d been wanting to get away from for the past eight years. She was acting just like I had had to act, every day right up until this morning.

It made me angry. “You’re damn right it’s none of your business,” I said. I didn’t want her to be there anymore. Not if she was going to accuse me with her eyes and her voice. I’d had enough of people who only thought the worst of me. I turned off the TV and went into the kitchen and gathered up the rest of the rope. “Get up. We’re going upstairs.” She rose and headed toward the stairs, and I followed after her. I guided her into her bedroom.

I untied the knots that held her hands behind her back. “Put your hands in front,” I said. She looked at me warily, but she obeyed. I tied her wrists together again, leaving a bit of loose rope. “Now, onto the bed.”

She didn’t move. “You said you weren’t going to hurt me.” He voice trembled.

“I’m not. Get on the bed.”

“No, please!” She had started crying again.

“Bitch, get on the bed!” I yelled, and shoved her. She fell back, and I took the trailing length of rope and tied it to the head of the bed. I took another coil of rope and began running it around her ankles.

“No, no, no!” she shouted, flailing her legs. I sat on her, immobilizing her legs, and got her ankles tied together. I fastened the loose end to the footboard of the bed. She wouldn’t be going anywhere now.

I got off her and stood up. Her robe had come open when she had struggled, exposing her tits, her legs, and her pussy. Only her waist remained covered, where the belt of the robe had bunched it up. I stared at her, and she saw the hungry look on my face. She thrashed against her bonds. “No! Please! You said you wouldn’t hurt me!”

“Fucking bitch, why can’t you do what you’re told? I said I wouldn’t hurt you if you behaved!” I stared at her for another few seconds while the tears ran down her face, then shook myself out of it. I still had no time to think about that.

I went back downstairs, and turned the TV back on. I kept changing the channel, and eventually found a local news broadcast. I was the lead story. They showed my picture and said I was wanted in a shooting, and they gave a description of Chuck’s car, and the license number. Then the anchor said that the cop was hospitalized and in a coma.

I thought back over what had happened. Chuck had fired first, but he missed. Then the undercover cop drew and shot back, and he and Chuck hit each other. I thought Chuck had hit him twice. I took the gun out of my pocket and checked it again. Three rounds fired, and three rounds left. Right. I put the gun down on the coffee table.

Chuck and the cop both dropped, and I figured them both for dead. I grabbed Chuck’s gun and ran, got into his car, and took off. That’s how I had gotten to this house.

When I thought the cop was dead, I knew they would pin it on me. Even if they didn’t finger me for the shooter, they’d never believe the drug buy wasn’t my idea, that Chuck had dragged me along. It would be felony murder of a police officer, and that’s the death penalty. To them, I’d be a cop killer, and I’d be lucky even to be taken in alive.

But if he was alive? If he lived? He might not. And even if he did, he might not remember how things went down, or might just lie about it, and I’d be back in prison. So, maybe, if he lived, maybe I’d be out of this jam. But would he live?

I looked outside. The sun would set soon. I could leave now, and they’d be less likely to ID the car at night. I had the forty-three dollars for gas.

On the other hand, I really wanted to know if the cop would live or not. I could stay here for a bit, and see if there was any more news. No one would go looking for Holly, and the car was out of sight.

But then, Holly was another problem. I didn’t want to deal with her. When I was inside, I had to deal with the suspicion and the judgment and the brutality every day. I survived by telling myself I’d be leaving all that behind when I got out. I’d get out, get a job, find a girlfriend, and get on with my life. But now, with Holly, and the way she had looked at me, I knew I wouldn’t be getting away from that fear, that look that said that I wasn’t a man, but an untrustworthy animal.

I thought about Holly, lying up there on her bed, with her body exposed, unable to do anything about it. I thought about her struggling, and I became aware of my desire again. I reminded myself that I didn’t have time for that, but then I thought, why not? If I was going to stay here a while and wait on the news, then I had time.

I stood up. My cock was hard. I shifted it in my pants. I had told her that I wouldn’t hurt her if she behaved, but she hadn’t. And she expected me to do it anyway, that was clear.

I went up the stairs to her room.

She looked at me with frightened eyes. “Are you going to let me go? You said you were leaving soon.”

“Change of plan,” I said, quietly, and took off my coat.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” she whined.

“I said I wouldn’t if you behaved.” I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the robe open, exposing her fully. “You didn’t behave.”

“No, please, no,” she sobbed.

I ran my fingers over the skin of her thigh. So soft. “You should learn to expect better of people,” I said. “I told you I didn’t kill anyone, but you didn’t believe me. No one’s going to believe me. Well, if I’m going to do the time, I might as well do the crime.” I stood up and started unbuttoning my shirt.

Terrified, she watched me, whispering “No, no, no” as I undressed. I took my time, since there was no hurry. I tossed my shirt on the floor, then took off my shoes and socks. I turned to face her and unzipped my pants. I pulled them down, pulled my cock out of my shorts and stroked it. It pointed straight at Holly, and I let her get a good look at it. Then I pulled my pants and shorts the rest of the way off, and stood there nude.

I took the spare coil of rope and wound it around one of her ankles, and tied it off to the footboard. Now I could untie the other rope, the one that held both of her feet, without letting her kick at me. I retied her other ankle, and with them now separated, I’d be able to spread her legs.

I climbed up on the bed looked her over. She silently watched me, trembling. “I’m tired of not getting what I want, Holly,” I said. “Tonight, I’m getting what I want.” I put my hands on her knees and forced her legs apart.

“No!” she screamed, and thrashed as best as she could. That was fine, I wanted her to struggle. I leaned forward, and brought my dick to her pussy. I had to put a hand on her hip to hold her down. She tried to close her legs, but I was between them. I rubbed my dick up and down her slit, then lined up and pushed forward.

Eight years. Eight years since I had had the pleasure of entering a woman’s body, and Holly’s cunt didn’t disappoint me. Soft, warm, tight, and – could it be? Yes, wet. I sneered. “You dirty slut,” I said, and plunged my cock into her.

She struggled as best she could, which wasn’t much. She pulled at her ropes and twisted her body, trying to throw me off, or push me out. It wasn’t effective, and I just smiled as I fucked her. Her tits bounced as I pounded her, and her squirming flesh just added to my enjoyment. I pinned her hands down above her head, and that frightened her even more. She wailed, and I thrust away.

I was breathing hard and sweating. Rape turned out to be harder work than I would have thought. Soon I felt the pressure building up in my balls, and I fucked harder and urged it on. It had been too long, far too long since I’d had a woman. I put my hands on her shoulders and leaned down with my head next to hers. “You should have behaved, Holly,” I said, and then I began to come.

I shot a strong, powerful stream of come deep into her cunt. She was sobbing. I thrust again, grunting. “Unh! You whore! Take it” I growled, and spurted again and again, forcing shot after shot of my semen into her. I gave her all I had, and kept going, trying to stay hard, trying sustain it as long as possible.

But nothing can last forever. I slowed, and moaned into Holly’s ear. She was still sobbing, and as I wound down, her sobs became louder. I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked down at her. Her sobs changed to gasps, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. I thought I knew what was about to happen, and it fired me up to keep going just a little longer.

Holly shook her head from side to side, as I ground my final thrusts into her, and breathed “No, no” in between gasps. Then, unable to hold back any longer, her orgasm overtook her, and her pussy quivered on my cock. “No!” she wailed, and thrashed, as I watched her struggle with the orgasm that I had forced on her.

I kept thrusting slowly until it was over. My dick was fairly soft by then. I pulled out and rolled off her, lying on the bed beside her. The sun had set, and only the lingering twilight illuminated the room through the window.

I shut my eyes, and listened to her breath slowly return to normal. In prison, I had so often dreamed of this – lying in bed with a woman after sex, feeling her warm body next to mine. A beautiful woman. Like Holly. I put my hand on her stomach and stroked it.

She flinched. I opened my eyes. She was still crying, but she had no tears left. Her face was pinched with her torment, and her eyes were tightly closed. I wasn’t angry anymore. I just wanted her to stop crying.

I turned onto my side. “Holly,” I said, and touched her on the cheek. She turned her head away. I stroked her neck. She flinched again, and said something I couldn’t hear. I moved closer, and put my arm around her.

“I’m dirty,” she said, and tried to shrug me off. She sobbed. “I’m a dirty whore.”

“Don’t say that,” I said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the bad guy here.” I tried to be reassuring, but she just kept calling herself names. I sat up, untied her hands and feet, and curled up next to her. “No,” I said. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for this. I forced you.”

She turned and buried her face in my neck. “But I came,” she said. She was struggling to control her voice. “I came, because I wanted it, because I’m a dirty slut!” She clung to me and didn’t say anything more.

I lay there for a long time, thinking. Finally, I said “If you are, it’s not your fault. You can’t help what you are.” I kissed her on the forehead, and hugged her tight. We lay together in the darkness, rapist and victim.

Much later, I woke up. It was light out. I rolled over and put out my hand, trying to find her. She wasn’t there.

I sat up. The untied ropes hung from the bed. Fuck! I jumped up, pulled my pants on, grabbed my shirt and shoes, and ran down the stairs. How long had she been gone? How long before the cops arrived? I ran through the living room and toward the back door.

Suddenly I stopped. There was Holly, standing in the kitchen, at the stove. I dropped the shirt and shoes to the floor, my mouth hanging open. “Good morning,” she said.

I charged forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. “What did you do?” I shouted. “Did you call the police? How long?”

She looked back at me, unafraid. “I didn’t call them,” she said. “If I had, would I have stayed here?”

I let her go. I didn’t understand. I ran to the back door. The car was still there. I went to the front of the house and looked out a window. All was quiet. I looked for the gun on the coffee table, but it was gone. I went back into the kitchen.

“I made breakfast,” she said. “Do you want some?”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“There’s coffee.”

Yeah. Coffee. I took a deep breath; it smelled good. Probably what woke me up. I sat down at the table, and she put a mug in front of me. “What did you do with the gun?” I said.

“I got rid of it. I don’t like guns, and you don’t need it.”

I sipped the coffee and tried to think. “Got rid of it where?”

She set a plate of food in front of me. “There’s an old well in the field out back.” She put another plate on the table for herself and sat down. We ate breakfast without talking.

When we finished, she cleared the plates away, and put them in the dishwasher. Then she sat down at the table and waited.

“Why didn’t you call the police?” I asked.

“I watched the news,” she said. “You were on. They said the police officer had come out of his coma, and he said that it wasn’t you that shot him.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“But still,” I said, “why did you even stop to watch the news? I mean, last night….”

“I wanted you to stay.” Her gaze fell to the table.

“Why?” I asked.

She looked up. “Because you know what I’m like. You know I’m a dirty whore, and you were nice to me anyway. After you got what you wanted.” She smiled again. “Will you stay?”

I thought about it for a second. “Are you going to behave?”

“Yes, I will. I promise.”

“I didn’t tell you to get out of bed.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to go back?”

I stood up. “Yes. We’ll both go.”

She got up, and I followed her out of the kitchen. She turned at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you going to rape me again?”

“Yes, I think I will,” I said, and we went up the stairs.

Letter to Lori

alruccabah@gmail.com — Fri, 12 Aug 2005 18:29:57 GMT

I missed posting last week because I was out of town. This week, I have a story in a somewhat different style.

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Dear Lori,

I’m sorry I fucked your sister. Let me explain.

Remember when you asked me to stop by your apartment and check on your cat and so on once a week, while you were doing your summer program in Italy? That’s how it started. The first weekend, on Saturday, I was at your place and I had just filled Penny’s water bowl when Amy walked in. I asked her what she was doing there, and she said that you had asked her to take care of Penny during the week, and that she also would come by on the weekends in case I forgot, and also to play with the cat so that she wouldn’t get bored. So after that we took turns getting Penny to chase a bit of string around. I told Amy I was going to stop by every Saturday after work, so she didn’t have to worry about me forgetting. Then we left, and that was that.

The next week, when I got there, I thought that the apartment was empty. When I went into the kitchen to check Penny’s food and water, though, I could hear someone in your bedroom. The door was closed, but I heard what I guessed was Amy’s voice coming from inside. At first I thought she was talking on the phone or whatever, but it didn’t really sound like a conversation. I walked over to the door, and then I could distinctly hear Amy talking dirty to herself. She was masturbating, actually.

I’m not going to lie to you. I admit that I stood there and listened to her, but that’s it. In a few minutes she began moaning really loud and then I could tell she was getting off. When she quieted down, I thought it would be really embarrassing if she came out and saw me there, so I tiptoed back to the front door, opened and closed it loudly, and then walked into the living room and sat on the couch, trying to make a lot of noise. A few minutes later Amy came out and I said that I didn’t know she was there. She said she was just putting back a jacket she had borrowed from you. We sat on the couch and played with Penny. Amy kept looking at me kind of funny, and I started to get a little uncomfortable, so I left. I thought it was funny that Amy had been playing with herself in your bed, but I figured that girls get horny too.

The next week, when I got to your apartment, I checked to see if Amy’s car was parked anywhere. If she was there, I was going to try to make a noisy entrance this time so that she wouldn’t be surprised. But I didn’t see her car around, so I just went in without expecting to find her there. When I got inside, I discovered that I was wrong.

I could hear her in your bedroom again, more clearly this time. I went over to the door, and it was open a tiny crack. It was enough for me to see inside, if I stood right by the doorframe. I could hear her moaning, and see her lying on her back naked. She had her eyes closed, her legs spread, and her hand twitching at her pussy.

I swear I didn’t do anything but watch that time. I know I should have left, but you’ve mentioned before how cute your sister is, and I have always thought she was pretty too. I figured there was no real harm in watching. Amy rubbed her crotch with one hand and tugged at her tit with the other, and she mumbled “fuck me, fuck me” as she did it. I watched her arch her back when she came. Then I quietly left again, but this time I walked around the block before I came back, making sure to make some noise this time.

Amy was sitting on the sofa. I said hi and we went into the kitchen to make sure Penny had everything she needed. As she handed me the water bowl to fill, Amy’s hand touched mine, and it was still wet. She said Penny was sleeping so we decided not to bother her. We chatted for a few minutes and then left. On the way home, I wondered where Amy had parked.

The next week, I drove around looking for Amy’s car and found it parked at the end of the next block. Like always, there was plenty of parking located closer. I went to your apartment and went inside, quietly. I just wanted to know if she did this every week, that’s all.

I quietly approached your bedroom door. This time it was open a few inches. I had a really good view of Amy doing herself again. She was on her back, like before, with her eyes closed. She had her legs spread really wide and her hand between them. I got really horny watching her, so I lifted up my shirt and stuck my hand in my pants. I squeezed my dick and stroked it a little. I could see that she shaves her pussy.

After a while, Amy moved and for an instant I was afraid she would get up and see me. But she rolled over onto her hands and knees and stuck her ass up into the air while she kept masturbating. Now I had a perfect view of her pussy, and she even bucked her hips in my direction and mumbled “fuck me” over and over again. She rolled over again and finished herself off. I noticed that she kept her eyes closed the entire time.

I snuck out again and went back to my car. I wasn’t sure what to do. Part of me wanted to go in and chat with Amy again, but on the other hand I was very horny and I also wanted to go home and jerk off. Also I was feeling a little guilty about this, even though I hadn’t done anything that would be cheating on you. I sat in my car for about ten minutes and then went back inside.

Amy was in the living room petting Penny. She smiled and said everything was taken care of, so we could just chill for a while. I sat down with her and we talked for about half an hour, while she held Penny in her lap and petted her. Then Amy left. I went into your bedroom. Amy had smoothed out the sheets, but there was still a damp spot there. I bent down and sniffed it. She smells a lot like you.

I took off my clothes and lay in your bed and began to stoke myself. You had been gone a month and I really missed you. I tried to think about you while I jerked off, but my mind kept coming back to the image of Amy lying naked right in the same bed less than an hour earlier. I looked around for a picture of you. I remembered that there was a photo of you and Amy together sitting on top of your dresser, so I got that and put it on the table beside the bed. I masturbated while looking at that picture, and after I came I wiped up and put the picture back on the dresser. Then I left.

For the next week all I could think about was you and Amy. I thought about how you would be all tan when you got back from Italy, and how we could have great sex and then you could tell me everything that you did all summer. But then I also thought about Amy in your bed with her legs spread open and touching herself. I wanted to see her again, but I didn’t have any intention of doing anything other than watching.

The next week came around and I went to your apartment. I didn’t look for Amy’s car that time, but just went straight inside. I entered quietly, and when I came around the corner to your bedroom door, I froze, because it was wide open. Amy was in there as usual, but with the door all the way open, I was more worried than ever about being seen. I backed away very slowly, went into the living room, and took off my shoes. I went back to your bedroom, stepping very softly, and stood in the doorway. Amy was touching her pussy with both hands.

I watched her for a minute, and then I felt that I needed to do something about my aching cock. Being very careful not to make any sound, I opened my pants and took it out. I tried to imagine that it was your hands that were touching me, but with Amy right there in front of me all I could think about was her. She moved her legs apart and together again as she rubbed her pussy and plucked at her nipples. I decided that since she always kept her eyes closed, I would be safe if I got closer.

I walked a few soft steps closer, and then a couple more. I was going to stop halfway to the bed, but the view just kept getting better and better, so I got closer and soon I was standing right beside the bed with an excellent view of your naked sister. I watched her and furtively jerked myself. I found it very exciting. She looked very sexy with her eyes closed and her lips working, but I also enjoyed the sight of her tits, her stomach, her legs, all of her.

I stared at her pussy for a while. I thought about how it would feel to touch it, and if she felt like you do. I wondered if she got as wet as you do. I looked back up to her face, and her eyes were open.

I stopped stroking my cock. She looked at me, not saying anything. She kept on touching herself and moaning. I stood there with my cock in my hand. I felt like I should say something, but I had no idea what. She smiled faintly. I couldn’t do anything but resume jerking myself again. She closed her eyes and sighed.

Now it was different, masturbating over her while she knew I was there, and I knew that she knew. Before, my plan was to wank for a while and then sneak out, but now, with her showing herself to me on purpose, it began to be too much for me. I started breathing hard. Amy heard me and sped up her own motion. I closed my eyes, threw my head back, and groaned as I came. I shot a few times and kept stroking myself. I looked down and saw that most of my come had landed on the comforter, but some of it had landed on Amy’s hip, arm, and stomach.

My dick was getting soft, so I just held it while I watched Amy have her orgasm. It went on for a long time. When it was over, she opened her eyes again and smiled at me. I said I was sorry, and she said that it was all right. She said she would clean up the bed. I went into the bathroom to clean myself, and then I left.

I didn’t go to your apartment the next week. I was feeling too guilty. The next week, on Friday, Amy called me and asked if I was going to go to your apartment the next day. I told her that I had a lot of things to do. She said that she hoped I would come and help her play with the pussy. I asked her what she meant, and she said it could mean whatever I wanted. I said I was probably going to be busy, and said goodbye.

The next day I tried to stay away, but I kept thinking about Amy and her pussy. I drove to your apartment and sat in my car at the curb for a long time. Eventually I got up and went inside.

Amy was waiting for me in the bedroom, naked and lying on her side on the bed. I walked in and suddenly I found it hard to look at her. She asked me if I liked looking at her, and I said yes. She asked if I wanted her to pretend that I wasn’t there. I said no and that it was fine if we watched each other. I took off my clothes and she scooted over on the bed. I lay down beside her. I took her hand and asked if we could just talk for a while. She said that was okay, and we held hands while I talked to her about how much I missed you and how I much I wished I could just see you. Eventually we ran out of things to say and we just lay there quietly.

After a while, she said she wanted to play with herself, and said that it was okay if I didn’t. I held on to her left hand while she touched herself with the other. I just looked upward and listened to her for a while, but then I sat up in the bed to watch her. As she got close, she squeezed my hand tightly and I began to get more excited. I started jerking, and right after that she came. I held her hand and stroked myself while she whined and squirmed. After it was over, I let her hand go and she just watched me. When I felt myself getting close, I leaned over her, and then came onto her tits and stomach. She rubbed my semen all up and down her skin, and then licked the residue off her fingers.

As I got dressed, she asked me if I was going to come back the next week. I told her I would have to wait and see. I tried to act like everything was normal. I asked her about Penny, and she said she would make sure she was taken care of and I didn’t have to worry about that. I tried to think of anything else to say, but it was just too weird, so I left.

I tried to stay away the next time. I showed up an hour after when I usually would. I figured Amy would have already left, but she was coming down the stairs as I pulled up. She came over to my car and said she was glad to see me. I asked her if she was leaving, and she said no, that she would rather go back inside.

We went into your bedroom and she sat on your bed. She said she had already taken care of herself, because she thought I wasn’t coming, but that she could keep me company while I masturbated. It made me a little embarrassed that she was talking about it like that. She asked if I wanted her to take her clothes off and I said yes. We both started to undress but after I took my shirt off I stopped and watched her. She slowly stripped for me and turned every which way so that I got a good look at everything. Then she sat at the edge of the bed and waited.

I took off my clothes and stood in front of her with my hard cock in my hand. I worked it slowly because I was feeling strange about doing it in front of your sister when she was just looking at my cock. She asked me if I wanted her to help. I thought maybe she meant she would start playing with herself again, so I said yes. Instead she reached out and wrapped her fingers around my cock. I wasn’t expecting that and I almost said so but then she was jerking me off. She put her other hand on my balls and slid her fingers over them. When I began to leak precome, she smeared it around the head. She leaned in close and then I told her I didn’t want her to use her mouth. She said okay and licked my precome off her fingers and said she liked the way I tasted.

I wanted it to be you touching my cock, but your sister’s hands were also very good. They were soft and feminine and so much better than my own. I put my hands on her shoulders, closed my eyes, and thought about you sucking me. I felt something besides Amy’s fingers on my cock, and looked down. She was rubbing it against her cheek as she jerked it. I said again that I didn’t want her to use her mouth, and she said she wasn’t. I started to come and it got all over her face. It covered her cheeks and lips and chin. She stuck her tongue out and licked it off her lips. I said that I had to go.

I showed up right on time the next week. I was still feeling guilty about what was happening between me and your sister, but I knew that I didn’t feel it strongly enough to keep me away, so I decided not to fight it. When I got to your apartment, she wasn’t there. I poked around the apartment for a few minutes. I figured she had decided to stop things, and I was sort of relieved, but I still I wanted her to be there. I wanted you to be there too. I wanted both of you.

I was thinking about whether I should leave when Amy ran in. She said she was late because her car was getting new brakes and she had to take the bus. We went into the bedroom and sat on the bed. I held her hand and told her that you were my girlfriend and that I couldn’t go too far with her. She said that she understood and we could back off if I wanted. I said that I appreciated the fact that she understood and gave her a hug. I rubbed her on her back and then kissed her. We made out and undressed each other. She was warm and soft and reminded me how much I missed being with you. Soon we were masturbating each other. I got my fingers into her pussy and found that she’s not quite as wet as you are, but still very nice. She came while I massaged her pussy with my hand and finger-fucked her.

I hadn’t intended to go that far and I said I thought we should slow down. She said that was okay and we both lay down on the bed. She curled up to me, rested her head on my shoulder and held my dick and rubbed it slowly. She said she thought it was sweet how much I missed you and that she thought you were a lucky girl. I told her I felt very lucky to be your boyfriend.

She asked me if I was ready to get off and I said yes. She moved down and used both hands on me while studying my cock carefully. Then she asked me if it was okay if she tasted me, because she really liked that. I said it was okay, and she softly kissed my cockhead. She lightly licked at it and then kissed it some more. She put the head in her mouth and started sucking at it. She likes to give a very slow and wet blowjob, like you do. I told her I was going to come and she sucked and stroked me harder. I came in her mouth and she swallowed it.

We didn’t say anything as we got dressed. She asked me if I could give her a ride home and I said sure. I dropped her off at her place and said I would see her next week. Then I just drove around for a long time.

The next time we made out and undressed the same as before, but she sucked me off while I masturbated her instead of afterward. She swallowed my come and asked me if you liked to swallow it too. I told her that you did and she said that you were lucky to be able to have my sperm all the time. We cuddled for a while and I told her that she was a very nice girl and I liked giving my come to her, but that when you came back it would have to stop.

The next week was the last weekend before you got back. We went into your bedroom and started kissing each other. We undressed each other very slowly, and then she started rubbing my cock. I didn’t touch her pussy, though, and she asked me if something was wrong. I told her since this was our last time I didn’t want to hurry it.

She said okay and we kissed and cuddled for a while. We ended up spooning with me behind her with my cock tucked between her thighs. I told her that I should be happy that you were going to be back that week, but that being with her just made me miss you even more. She asked me if I wanted to pretend that she was you. She said that I could call her by your name and do to her whatever I liked to do with you.

I thought about it for a long time while we lay in that position. Then I called her Lori and said I was so happy to have her back from Europe. She said that she missed me so much while she was gone, but that she was there for me now. I started rubbing my cock against her pussy and she said that her pussy had missed me too. I asked her to get on her hands and knees, and then I knelt behind her and entered her. She felt a lot like you and from behind looked a lot like you too. I called her by your name as I fucked her and I called her by hers as well. She rubbed her pussy with her hand while telling me how much she liked being fucked by her boyfriend and then she came.

I pulled out and told her I wanted to see her face when I came so she turned over. I pushed my cock back into her and called her Lori and said I loved her so much. I started to come and she wrapped legs around me. I tried to forget that it was her I was coming in and not you.

I kept my cock inside of her while I grew soft and watched her smiling face. I imagined you smiling at me too. Then we cleaned up and I left.

The next Tuesday was the day you got back into town. Amy called me and asked if she could ride with me to meet you at the airport. I said that was okay and picked her up. When we got to the parking garage I told her that now that you were going to be back things between her and me would have to go back to normal. She said that was okay and then she asked me if she could taste my cock again one more time. I said I didn’t know, and she said she just wanted to do it one last time since she didn’t get to do it at all the last time we were together. I still wasn’t sure but since I was so horny from thinking about you being back I said yes. She unzipped my pants and started to suck me off in the car. I was just going to let her suck it for a while but then I decided to let her finish. I came in her mouth and she swallowed it all as usual. Then we went into the terminal to meet you.

It was a long wait for your flight to get to the gate and let the passengers off. When I finally saw you, you looked even more wonderful and happy than I had expected and very excited to see me. I gave you a big hug and a kiss and told you that I love you over and over. Then Amy hugged and kissed you and I was suddenly worried that you would smell my come on her breath, but you both just smiled at each other like everything was fine.

I felt weird having both of you in the car and that’s why I was so quiet on the ride back into town. I didn’t think you would even notice because you were so busy chatting with Amy and asking her if she had had fun that summer. Then afterward when we went to dinner I thought everything was going to go back to normal.

So that is everything that happened. I fucked Amy once and let her suck my cock three times, plus the other stuff. You wanted me to tell you all of it so that is why I wrote you this letter. I don’t know how you found out but I am kind of glad that you did because it feels good to be honest with you about it.

Once again I am so sorry for what I did with your sister. I swear I have never cheated on you with any other girl and I never would have done anything with Amy if I did not miss you so much. I love you more than anything and I will do anything to save what we have. Also I don’t want you to hate your sister because I know that you two are very close.

Please let me know how you feel and what I can do to make things right between us. I love you.

Elevator

alruccabah@gmail.com — Fri, 29 Jul 2005 20:39:12 GMT

Timing is everything. If I’d done the slightest thing differently that day – if I’d lingered for a moment longer over breakfast, or if it had taken me another second to feed change into the parking meter – then this whole experience would never have happened.

I walked into the building unhurried. I had plenty of time, and I wanted to arrive early, but not too early. I arrived at the elevators just in time to see the middle set of doors closing. I stabbed at the button, and the doors opened again. I got on and stepped to the other side of the car from the two women who were already there. I didn’t pay any attention to them, because I was preoccupied with what I’d be doing for the next hour. What I thought I’d be doing for the next hour, anyway.

The button for the 11th floor was already lit, so I just waited for the doors to close. The elevator climbed up to the sixth floor unremarkably, and then there was a noticeable change in the sound of the motor far below us. The car gave us a jolt, and continued climbing slowly. I scowled at the LED display showing the floor. Elevator trouble was not part of my plan.

Slowly the car rose up past 7, then 8, then it shuddered and stopped. Great. I waited for a ding, or for the doors to open, or some other sign that we weren’t just suspended in the elevator shaft between floors. But nothing happened.

I looked over to the two women on the other side of the car. “Well, this is no good,” I said. They both looked calm, and that was a relief to me. Worse than being stuck in an elevator would be being stuck with someone who freaked out. The elevator had a phone marked EMERGENCY by the door. I picked it up.

There was nothing to dial, no buttons or anything. I heard some scratchy static, and then a faint, faraway voice that kept cutting in and out. “—thi—con—em—rea—oon—pa—“ And so on like that. Not a bit of it was intelligible. I frowned.

“What’s wrong?” asked one of the women.

I turned to them. It was the shorter one who had spoken. “It’s a recording, but the connection keeps breaking down. I can’t understand it at all.” They looked at each other. I hung up the phone and picked it up again. More of the same. I looked at the two women and shook my head.

“Could I try?” asked the shorter one. There is a universal human tendency to believe that if only you could try out the broken machine for yourself, it would suddenly work. I know well this feeling myself, so I wasn’t going to stand in her way. I handed her the phone while I looked around the elevator car for anything else that might tell us something.

She went through the same process that I had, listening, hanging up, and listening again. “Don’t they test these things?” she said with disgust, as she put the phone down.

“Yeah,” I said, looking at the wall over her head. “Eight months ago, according to this.” I took out my cell phone, and at the same time she did the same. “Who are you going to call?” I asked.

“My office,” she said. I put away my phone, since I didn’t actually know anyone in this building. .Whoever she was calling answered. “Gary? It’s Sharon. Emily and I are stuck in the elevator along with another fellow. Number…four. Mm-hm.” She listened for a moment. “There is, but it’s not working. I want you to call--.” She paused again. “Gary, listen. Just call down to the concierge’s desk and tell him that there are three people stuck in elevator four, near the eighth floor, and that the emergency phone isn’t working. Okay?” She appeared to get a satisfactory answer from Gary, and snapped her phone closed. Good, I thought, don’t take any nonsense from Gary. I liked her already.

Sharon moved back to her side of the elevator, and I leaned against the wall on mine. I looked the women over. They both wore business attire, as I did. Sharon was short and petite – I doubted she reached five feet or weighed over a hundred. She was about my age, and had short auburn hair. Her complexion was a deep tan, and the conservative cut and coloring or her skirt and jacket suggested she was at least a mid-level manager, whoever her employer might be.

The other woman, Emily, was a good bit younger. She was about average in height, with light brown hair that reached her shoulders. Her outfit was also businesslike, but her skirt was considerably shorter. That, and the fact that her makeup was a little more noticeable, suggested that she was secretary or assistant of some sort. Perhaps Sharon’s assistant.

We regarded each other quietly for a few minutes when Sharon’s phone rang. “Hello?” She listened for a moment. “Okay. Let me know if he has any news. Okay. Thank you.” She closed her phone again. “That was the concierge. He says the building engineer is working on it.”

“Thank you,” I said. I took out my own phone. I had an appointment, and it didn’t look like we were going to be moving in the next few minutes. I called the only contact number I had. Voicemail. I left a message explaining my situation, and saying that I would likely be late.

That accomplished, I had nothing else to do. I put my phone away. I looked around the elevator again, as if another way out would suddenly appear. I put my hand back in my pocket where I kept my phone, thinking if there was anyone else I had any reason to call. Nope. I looked at Sharon and Emily and smiled. “I’m glad you have an office in the building you can call,” I said, “because I don’t know anyone here.”

“We shouldn’t be stuck long,” said Sharon. “It’s happened to me before. Only ten minutes last time.”

“Old building, I guess,” I said.

“Nineteen-thirties,” she replied. I had no clever rejoinder to that, and the conversation died out.

A few minutes passed. There was an electric whirr somewhere below us, and the elevator budged slightly. Then came a groan and a rather nasty grinding noise, and the car jerked abruptly. All became quiet again.

We all looked at each other. “I hope they can do better than that,” I said. Sharon looked at her phone, which she still held in her hand. We all hoped it would ring, and someone would give us some news. Instead, the emergency phone rang.

I was standing next to it, so I answered it. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Glen, the building engineer. This is elevator four? You’re the ones who are stuck?”

“That’s right,” I said. “We just had a bit of a jolt.”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a while before we can get you out. What you just felt was us locking down the cables. We’re going to have unship the main motor and replace a coil, and we can’t move the elevator before we get that done.”

“So how long is that going to take?” I asked, pretty sure I wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Probably about an hour and a half,” he said. “Give or take.”

“Well, is there any way you could get the doors open and let us out?”

“No, sorry, you’re between floors. Even if you could open the doors, you’d be looking at a blank wall.”

“Ah. Okay. So we’re stuck. Any other options?”

“We’ll do the best we can, and give you a call if the situation changes, but I’m afraid that’s about it.”

“Then I’ll let you get back to work,” I said, and hung up. I turned to Sharon and Emily, who were looking at me apprehensively. “It’s going to be longer than ten minutes,” I said, and relayed what Glen had told me.

“An hour and a half?” asked Emily. These were the first words she had spoken since I got onto the elevator. She looked really worried.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said. “All you have to do is stay in one place for ninety minutes. I’ve done it many times.” I smiled at her in a way meant to be reassuring.

Sharon frowned at me. “I’ll handle this, if you don’t mind,” she said, and took Emily by the hand. She leaned close and said something quietly to Emily, who nodded her head in response. Emily then stood calmly, but without looking as me. What was that about?

I called my one contact number again, and again got voicemail. I left another message, raising my estimate from “late” to “very late.” I put my phone back in my pocket. Sharon was calling her office again, and her arrangements must have been more complicated than mine, because she had to talk to several people.

In the meantime, it was starting to get warm in the elevator. I took off my jacket and loosened my tie. Emily looked up at me. “May as well be comfortable while we wait,” I said. She looked at Sharon, who was still on the phone.

“I have to wait for permission,” said Emily.

“Permission?” I said. “For what? Not to sweat to death?”

“She – my boss – she sets my dress code. I’m not allowed to change my outfit at all unless she approves.”

“I see,” I said. I pondered this. What kind of maniac boss makes you ask before you can take off your jacket in a hot, stalled elevator? Either she was some kind of psychotic control freak, or….

Sharon concluded her phone calls and looked from Emily to me and back again. She seemed to have followed what we had been saying. “It’s okay,” she said to Emily. “You can get comfortable.” She started to shrug off her own blazer. “In fact, I don’t think I’m going to want to stand in these shoes for the next hour-plus, Emily, and I don’t suppose you do either. You can take yours off.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Emily. She shrugged her jacket off and stepped out of her sandals. Sharon also removed her jacket. Both women wore sleeveless blouses underneath.

“And could you get my shoes, too, dear?” said Sharon. Emily knelt at her boss’s feet. “It’s not easy for me to bend over in these,” Sharon said to me. Indeed, she wore shoes with quite a bit of heel to them, which did a little to compensate for her lack of height. Having removed her boss’ shoes, Emily tucked her legs under herself and sat on the floor. “I think you have the right idea, Emily,” Sharon said, and also sat herself down. “We’re going to be here a while.

I shrugged and sat down as well. There were worse ways to spend the morning than in the company of two attractive ladies. With their arms bared and their legs tucked demurely beneath them, they made quite a picture. Emily in particular looked much more calm, and therefore prettier, seated close by her boss. I noticed that she wore a gold chain around her right ankle.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier,” said Sharon. “Sometimes I get overly protective of Emily.”

“It’s all right, I understand,” I said, and I was pretty sure that I did in fact understand. “I’d be protective of her too, in your situation.”

Sharon looked at me seriously for a moment. “Would you? Do you have someone in your care, like I do Emily?”

“Not right now,” I said. “But I know what it’s like.”

Sharon considered for another moment, and then seemed to come to a decision. She leaned over to Emily and said something to her quietly. I barely heard Emily reply, “Now, ma’am?”

“Yes, now,” said Sharon. She looked at me and smiled.

Emily turned so that she faced Sharon directly. She sat squarely with her legs tucked under her, and folded her hands in her lap. She kept her eyes on the floor. She cleared her throat, and then said in a soft voice, “Ma’am, I’m sorry I spoke out of turn. I humbly request my punishment.”

“To whom did you speak out of turn?” asked Sharon.

“To this gentleman,” said Emily.

Sharon looked at me. She was smiling, but she said to Emily in a serious voice, “Then address yourself to him, and explain what you did.”

Emily turned toward me. “I’m sorry I spoke as I did when you told us how long the elevator would be stalled,” she said, with her eyes still downcast. “I had no reason to speak, and it was foolish of me to question what you had just said. I apologize.”

“No big deal,” I said. “It’s never fun to be trapped in an elevator.” This was a lie, of course. Things were starting to be fun. How much more fun would they get? “Nothing to worry about,” I added.

“That’s good, Emily. Now come here,” Sharon said. Emily scooted over by the other woman, and Sharon put her arm around her. “Do you think he’s right? Do you think this is something to be overlooked?”

“No, ma’am. My mistakes should never be overlooked.”

“Explain this to him.”

Emily looked at me. “You are very kind to be so forgiving. But I must always be punished when I do wrong.”

“Oh, come on,” I said, trying to sound incredulous. “With what, a spanking?”

Emily gaped at me. “How did you know?” I grinned at her, and she realized that if I hadn’t known what was going on before, she had just told me. She blushed.

“Yes,” said Sharon. “My girl Emily needs a spanking.” She stood up. “Do you mind if we do that here?” she said to me.

“Not at all,” I said. “May as well use this time productively.”

“I’m glad you agree. Emily, prepare for your punishment.” Emily stood up, and since I wanted to watch what was going on, I did too. “Hands here, please,” said Sharon, and indicated the rail that ran around the elevator car at hip height. Emily stood in the middle of the elevator with her back to the door, placed her feet shoulder width apart, and bent over to grab the rail with one hand. With her other hand, she reached back and pulled her skirt up over her hips, exposing her cute little behind. She wasn’t wearing any panties. She put her other hand on the rail and stood still. I could see that she was still blushing furiously.

Sharon took a pair of handcuffs out of her purse. She locked one side around one of Emily’s writs, passed the short chain behind the rail, and secured Emily’s other wrist. “Emily is a brave girl and holds her place well,” Sharon said. “But sometimes she gets tired during a long punishment, and I need to keep her in place with these.”

“And is this going to be a long punishment?” I asked.

“It might be,” she said. “It depends on Emily’s future behavior. She looked into her purse again. Whatever she was looking for wasn’t there, it seemed, because she shut it without taking anything out and put it aside. She put her hand on Emily’s rump. “Now Emily, are you going to be a good girl and count for me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And what number are we counting to? What is the punishment for speaking out of turn?”

“Eighty blows, ma’am.” Emily was no longer blushing. In fact all the emotion was gone from her face and voice, unless passivity is an emotion.

“Very good,” said Sharon. She rubbed Emily’s ass a few times, gave it a momentary squeeze, and said, “We begin.” She lifted her arm up and then brought her open palm down on Emily’s right cheek.

“One,” said Emily. Sharon did nothing for a moment, her eyes on Emily’s ass. I watched too, as in a few seconds a pinkish handprint appeared. Satisfied, Sharon stepped to Emily’s over side, and spanked her on the left cheek. “Two,” said Emily. Sharon waited again, and in a moment Emily showed matching marks on either side.

Content with the first fruits of her labor, Sharon now repeatedly spanked Emily’s ass, and Emily counted as she did so. “Three…four…five….” Sharon placed a few blows on one cheek, then switched to the other, and continued to alternate between them. The clearly delineated handprints with which Emily’s cheeks started were replaced by a red region on either side that covered her ass completely.

At twenty-five, Sharon stopped. She rubbed her hand. “Emily, your little rump is stinging my hand,” she said. “And I have only a hairbrush with me. That won’t do.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said Emily.

“I know you are, dear, and yet it still stings. What do you propose to do about it?”

Emily hesitated, trying to figure out what to do. “I—I don’t know, ma’am. There is no paddle available in this elevator.”

“No,” said Sharon. “There’s one upstairs, but we’re stuck here, and your punishment won’t wait. But what else do I spank you with, Emily?”

“Uh…sometimes you use a belt, ma’am.”

“And do I have a belt with me now, Emily?”

“No, ma’am, you do not.”

“Is there someone in this elevator who does have a belt?”

Emily looked at me, then turned her face to the wall again. “Yes, ma’am. The gentleman has a belt.”

“Then maybe you could ask him for the use of it.”

Emily turned to me again. “May I ask, on behalf of my mistress, to borrow your belt so that she can punish me with it?”

“Certainly,” I said, unbuckling it and pulling it out of the loops. “That’s no trouble at all.” As I handed the belt to Sharon, our fingers touched. We smiled at each other.

“Thank the gentleman,” said Sharon.

“Thank you,” said Emily. Sharon doubled the belt over, raised it high, and brought it down on Emily’s ass. “Twenty-six!” There was much more pain in Emily’s voice now. I could see why Sharon, small as she was, preferred the added leverage a belt could give her. “Twenty-seven!”

Sharon piled the punishment on with gusto. It was quite a pleasure for me to watch these two women, one half-naked, bent over and quivering under the blows, the other fluidly wielding the belt. I admired how Emily stood attentively, slowly swaying her hips side to side, counting out the spankings, and how Sharon put her entire small body to work on each stroke, using her legs, hips, shoulders and arms all together on each swing. It was like watching two skilled athletes perform. Two very sexy athletes. “…Fifty!”

Sharon stopped, breathing hard. “Emily,” she said, and then paused for breath. She rubbed the girl’s ass lovingly. “Emily darling, how are you holding up? Not tired?”

“No, ma’am. I am fine.”

“Well I’m growing tired. It’s rather hot in here.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Nothing you can do about the heat, dear girl.” She fanned herself with her hand, and looked at me. I would gladly have volunteered to take over, but I thought it polite to wait for her to ask. “Whew! I wish I had some water. Would you mind,” she said, “if I asked you to spank my girl for me?”

“No trouble at all,” I said.

“Emily, what do you say to the gentleman?” Sharon asked.

Emily turned her head to me. “Please, if I may ask, would you finish my punishment? I have thirty more blows to go, and my mistress is getting tired.” The pleading expression on her face was adorable.

“I’d be happy to spank you,” I said. Sharon offered me the belt. “No, thanks, I prefer to use my bare hand.” I stood by Emily’s left hip, facing in the opposite direction. Bracing my leg against hers, I stroked her fine red buttocks, then held her other hip with my left hand. “Continue your count, Emily,” I said, and brought my right hand down on her ass.

“Fifty-one!” she reported. I alternated between her cheeks, and Emily continued to count upward. Every six or seven smacks, I would pause to run my hand over the skin, and then resume. I forgot all about Sharon and concentrated on spanking the sweet, obedient girl I held. It ended all too quickly. “Eighty!” said Emily, and I stopped spanking. I gave her ass a final caress, and stepped away from her.

“Very good, Emily,” said Sharon, rushing in to give the girl a kiss on the cheek. “You’re my very good girl.” She stroked Emily’s hair and rubbed her back. “Punishment’s over, and you are forgiven.” She uncuffed one of Emily’s wrists, unlooped the chain from the rail, and put the cuff back on Emily, so that her wrists were still chained together, but free of the rail. Sharon turned Emily’s skirt down again, covering her.

Emily turned around and knelt before Sharon, who leaned over and kissed her. I noticed that Sharon’s ass looked pretty nice when she bent over, too. Sharon stood up and held Emily’s hands in hers, while Emily gazed up at her blissfully. I admired how well the shorter woman dominated the taller one.

“Thank you, mistress,” said Emily. “Thank you for punishing me.” She kissed Sharon’s hands. “I am a very lucky girl to have you to instruct me.”

“I think I’m not the only one you need to thank,” Sharon said, smiling. Emily looked at me, then back to her mistress, who nodded. Emily crawled over to me.

I took her hands in mine, just as Sharon had. “Thank you for punishing me, and allowing my mistress to rest,” she said. She briefly touched her lips to each of my hands, then let them go. She returned to Sharon, and sat by her quietly. She was blushing again.

“I am happy to instruct you, Emily dear. You’re such a good girl.” Sharon petted her on the head. “And I’m glad we’ve gotten your punishment taken care of. But I’m afraid now you’ve caused another problem.” Sharon looked at me.

“What’s that, ma’am?” Emily asked, without looking up.

“Look at this man, Emily. Don’t you notice anything?” Emily looked at me, and unless she was blind, what she noticed was the erection bulging in my pants. “What do you notice, Emily?”

“I can see that he’s…excited, ma’am.”

“And why do you suppose he’s excited? Hm?” Emily couldn’t say anything. “Is it because you showed your pretty little bottom to him?”

Emily hesitated. “Yes, ma’am. I think he’s excited because I showed myself to him.”

“And because he touched and spanked your bottom?”

Emily took a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am. He helped you to punish me by spanking me, and that’s why he’s excited. Because of me.”

“I think you’d better go and talk to him about it,” said Sharon.

Emily crawled over to me. She looked up at me, and I held her hands in mine again. “Is it because of me that you’re excited?” she asked.

“Horny,” I said, preferring that she use the more direct word.

“Horny,” she said. “Did spanking me make you horny?”

“It sure did,” I said. “That, and watching your mistress spank you.”

“My mistress says I shouldn’t be a tease. If I made you horny, I’d like to do something about it,” she said, and looked over her shoulder at Sharon. “If my mistress will allow it.”

Sharon looked at me. “Anything you want. Just don’t come in her pussy.” She stepped forward and kissed Emily quickly. “And you do whatever he says, but you’re not allowed to have an orgasm. Not until I say.” Then she stepped back to watch.

Emily turned to me. “What would you like me to do?” she asked.

“…sir,” I said.

“Yes, sir. What would you like me to do, sir?”

“I liked seeing your pretty ass, Emily, and now I’d like to see the rest of you. Stand up.” I helped the handcuffed girl to stand. I looked to Sharon, who handed me the key, anticipating what I was up to. I unlocked the cuffs and took them off Emily’s wrists. “Just so you can get your clothes off. Now, strip.” I put the key and the cuffs in my shirt pocket.

“Yes, sir,” she said, and eagerly began to unbutton her blouse.

“Slowly,” I said.

“Yes, sir.” She undid another button, and another, taking her time. She reached the last one, then pulled the blouse off her shoulders, revealing her peach-colored bra. She slid the blouse off, then looked around for a place to put it.

“In the corner,” I said, pointing, and she let it fall there. “The bra next.”

“Yes, sir.” She reached behind herself, unhooked it, and slid it off her arms. Her left nipple was pierced.

“Stop,” I said. “Come here.” She stepped over to me, and I took the bra from her and tossed it into the corner. I turned her around so that she faced Sharon. I reached around and cupped her breasts from behind, and pulled gently at her piercing. “You have lovely tits, Emily. Do you enjoy being such a sexy girl?”

“My mistress likes my body, and that makes me happy,” she said. Sharon smiled.

I kissed the side of her neck. “Do you like it when your mistress gets aroused looking at you.?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“And you think she’s getting aroused now?” I kissed her ear.

She giggled. “Yes, I believe she is.” Sharon smirked at us.

“Okay, Emily, time to take off the skirt.” She reached back to get at the zipper in the back of her skirt. I kept my arms around her and held her close, which meant her hands brushed against my cock through my pants as she was unzipping herself. She slid it over her hips, and then I let her go so that she could bend over to get it down her legs. She put it in the corner with the rest of her clothes. Now fully nude, she faced me again to wait for her next instruction.

I looked her over. She was a fit and well-built girl, providing a compelling contrast to her shorter and slimmer mistress. My eyes roved over Emily for a while, then flitted briefly to Sharon. Too bad I couldn’t make a more direct comparison. Sharon said nothing.

“Hold up your hands,” I said, and took the cuffs out of my pocket. I slapped them around her wrists, in front. “Now down on your knees.” She obeyed wordlessly. “Take out my cock, and I’ll tell you what to do with it.”

As Emily opened my pants, Sharon stepped around to my side so that she could have a better view. Emily pulled my shorts down far enough to free my cock, and then took it in her chained hands. She squeezed it slightly and patiently waited.

“Lick it. Get it good and wet.” Emily stuck out her tongue and touched it to my shaft, just above the balls. She gave it a gentle lick, then another, and another as she worked her way upward. The handcuffs clearly did not hamper her. She must have been well accustomed to wearing them.

As Emily wetted my dick with her saliva, I took off my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. I fished the handcuff key out of my pocket and handed it back to Sharon, then removed my shirt and dropped it on the floor. I took off my watch and dropped it on top of my shirt.

Emily had made good progress. She had gone over my entire cock, and was making a second pass to make sure she hadn’t missed any spot. “That’ll do, girl,” I said. “Take off my shoes and pants, and quickly.” Emily immediately obeyed. As I lifted my feet to let her finish removing my clothes, my glistening, erect cock waved in the air over her.

Emily tossed my clothes into the pile with the rest and sat up again. “Now suck it.” She took my dick in her hands and opened her mouth to receive it. As she put it into her mouth, she closed her eyes.

“No, no,” I said. “I want you to look at me. I want to see your eyes.” She opened them again and I smiled as she moved her mouth up and down my cock, sucking as instructed. “Very good,” I said, and put my hands on her head to control the pace.

Sharon stepped even closer. I looked over to her. “Your girl is very well-trained,” I said. “I appreciate you letting me borrow her.”

“Yes, she’s a good girl,” she said. “She’ll please you well.” Sharon put out her hand to touch Emily on the cheek, and I moved my hand out of the way. Sharon caressed Emily’s face, then put her hand on the back of her head. My other hand fell away, and I let Sharon guide Emily’s head up and down my shaft. I put my arm around Sharon’s shoulder, and we stood side by side and watched Emily’s lips slide up and down my cock.

I let a couple minutes go by while I enjoyed the girl’s mouth. Then I put my hand on her head to stop her. “That’s very nice, Emily, but now I’d like to fuck you.”

She took her mouth off my cock. “Yes, sir. How would you like me?” She licked up a stray bit of saliva that dripped from me.

“On your knees, in the middle of the floor,” I said. She turned around and got down on all fours. I knelt behind her and positioned my cock at her pussy. Sharon sat down on the floor beside us.

“Make me proud, now, darling,” Sharon said, as I pushed into Emily. Her cunt was tight, and I took my time working my way in. Sharon smoothed Emily’s hair away from her face. Emily winced, then smiled.

I held Emily by the hips while I fucked her. She moved her ass in sync with me. Since Sharon had ordered her not to come, I didn’t worry about that, but just humped away as I pleased. Emily occasionally looked back at me, but mostly kept her eyes on Sharon.

Emily tried her best to keep herself supported on her arms, but I could tell that she was weakening. I was considering moving to a different position when Sharon stepped in. She moved in front of Emily and sat with her back to the wall. “Come here, baby. Lean on me,” she said. Sharon pulled the girl’s bound hands up and over her head and let her rest her head on her chest. She put her arms around Emily’s neck and kissed her.

Sharon looked at me and we smiled at each other as we both enjoyed her girl. “I’m only using this end,” I said. “So her mouth’s free, if you’ve got some use for it.” Sharon thought about this for a moment, and then unbuttoned her blouse. She unclasped her front-hook bra and pulled Emily’s lips toward her nipple. Emily took it into her mouth and sucked it. Sharon tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

I would have been content to fuck Emily all day long like this. I tried to hold out as long as I could, so I could watch Sharon enjoy Emily’s mouth while I enjoyed her pussy. But after far too short a time, the tingling in my balls that told me I wouldn’t last much longer. “I’m going to need that mouth back soon, I think.”

Sharon nodded. “Sit up, Emily,” she said. I sat back and let Emily take her arms from around Sharon’s neck and half-sit on me. I put my arms around her and held her close.

“You looked so cute sucking on your mistress’s tit,” I said into her ear. I fucked her slowly, barely humping at her, holding off while I prepared for the finale. “I need you to lie down on your back now.”

Emily eased herself off of my cock and spun around. Sharon took her head in her lap, and I spread her legs. I entered her again. “I’m going to fuck you a little more,” I said, “and then I’m going to come in your mouth.” She nodded in understanding. “Won’t be long now.”

And it wasn’t. Sharon shrugged off her blouse and bra so that she was bare above the waist, and then the two women were too sexy for me to continue fucking for long. I pulled out of Emily with regret, and moved my cock up to her mouth. She closed her lips around it and sucked, her head still resting in Sharon’s lap.

I came in a good long stream, and Emily gulped it down. I leaned against the wall beside Sharon, and she put her head on my shoulder. I tuned to Sharon and kissed her on the temple as my sperm continued to pour onto Emily’s tongue. Sharon looked up and I kissed her lips, as the last of my orgasm played out in her girl’s mouth.

Sharon put her hand to the back of my neck and our tongues met. She was a very aggressive kisser. We continued to tease each other with our tongues for a minute or so. Our hands played in Emily’s hair, and our fingers linked together.

Eventually Sharon let go, and I took my softened cock from Emily’s mouth and leaned back against the wall. “That was wonderful, Emily,” I said.

“Thank you for saying so, sir,” she said. “And thank you for letting me have your come.” She smiled at Sharon. “And thank you, ma’am, for everything.”

Sharon smiled down at her and rubbed her shoulders. “You’ve been a good girl, Emily, but you’re not done yet. Sit up.” Emily obeyed her and Sharon rose to her knees. She unzipped her skirt and slid it off, followed by her panties. Turning to me, she said, “I hope you don’t mind if I put her to work again.”

“Not at all,” I said. I was eager to see the two women together. Sharon sat back down and spread her legs. Emily moved in, knowing exactly what was expected of her. She parted Sharon’s lips with her fingers, and applied her mouth to her pussy. Soon she was lapping away at Sharon even more eagerly than she had sucked me.

“Do you want her handcuffs off?” I asked.

Sharon looked dreamily over at me. “No, she’s used to wearing them.” She licked her lips. “But there is one favor I’d like to ask of you.”

“Yes?”

“Would you finger her pussy while she eats me? I want my girl to be as worked up as she can be.”

“I’d be glad to.” I moved to the other side of the elevator, between Emily’s stretched-out legs. Emily, being busy, said nothing, but she parted her legs for me and I placed my hand at her crotch. “Still quite wet,” I said.

“Mm-hm. And she’ll stay that way, because I told her not to come until I said so.” I stuck two fingers into Emily, and she rocked her pelvis back and forth in response to my probing. Sharon ran her fingers through Emily’s hair. “Back up, dear. I want to lie down.” Emily took her mouth from Sharon’s pussy only long enough for her mistress to recline, and then set back to work.

I had enjoyed watching the two women together earlier, when Sharon flogged Emily with my belt, and now I enjoyed this new sight even more. Sharon was slender and elegant; Emily was fleshy and luxurious. Together they worked toward building Sharon’s orgasm, while I worked on stimulating Emily, who was forbidden to come. I was growing hard again, watching them.

Emily knew her task well. Sharon’s breath became rapid and shallow, and she emitted small squeaks of pleasure. Her eyes closed, her eyebrows worked, and she bucked her hips toward Emily’s mouth. With one final squeal, she squeezed Emily’s head between her thighs while her whole body shook. It had been a while since I had seen a woman give another woman an orgasm, and I was delighted.

Sharon regained her breath and opened her eyes. “Oh, oh, oh. Thank you, dear. Mmm. I think I’ll have another. Keep going.” She shut her eyes again.

I still had my fingers inside Emily, but now that I’d had a little rest, and the inspiration of watching Sharon come, I wanted to put something else in there. I rubbed my cock against Emily’s ass. “Mind if I fuck her again?” I asked.

“Hm?” Sharon looked at me as if she had forgotten about everything in the world except for Emily’s mouth at her crotch. “Please, go right ahead.” She sat up and leaned on her elbow. “Or, actually….”

I stopped with my cock poised at Emily’s pussy. “You have a better idea?”

“How about you let me ride it?”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Emily moved aside so I could stretch out on the floor. Sharon straddled my hips, took hold of my cock in her hand, and pointed it at her pussy. She slowly lowered herself onto me, then commenced a steady rocking motion. I held her by the hips and smiled as this little woman’s cunt squeezed my cock. “Lick me again, baby,” she said.

Emily lay down sideways across my stomach and put her tongue back to work. I had to move my right hand out of the way, and that hand naturally found its way back between her legs again. I had wanted to get my fingers out of Emily and my cock into her, but this was even better: my cock and my hand in two different cunts.

Sharon and I moved slowly and steadily together at first, and then with increasing speed. Emily soon couldn’t keep her mouth on Sharon’s clit, and Sharon moved her out of the way. Her little body bounced up and down on my cock, I and thrust into her with equal enthusiasm. She began squeaking again, and leaned forward to grind her clit against me. The orgasm hit her, and I clenched my teeth as her cunt fluttered on my cock, struggling not to let myself come. She rolled and rolled her hips, and I sat up to put my arms around her and support her. She pressed her face against my chest and hummed quietly to herself.

I let her catch her breath, then tilted her head up to kiss her again. She rode me slowly now, with a circular motion to her hips. “Going to come soon?” she asked.

“Mm-hm” I very nearly had during her orgasm.

“Not in me, okay?” I nodded. “It’s not you, it’s just—“

“I understand,” I said. “Emily’s mouth?”

“Be my guest. When you’re ready.” She pressed her body against mine and positively purred. I put my hand on her hips, slowly building the rhythm up again.

She sat in my lap, her hips churning against me, until I couldn’t hold out any longer. I let her go and leaned back. “Almost there,” I grunted.

Sharon rode me for another stroke and then dismounted. Emily was right there with her sweet mouth again, and just as I felt her lips on my cock, I erupted with another stream of come. Emily swallowed it with a “Mmph,” and I gave her another. Though my second orgasm was not as strong as the first, Emily’s talented tongue made sure I got the most out of it, and that she got the most out of me. I closed my eyes while she licked and sucked the last of my semen away.

She took her mouth off my cock and laid her head on my stomach. I petted her hair and relaxed, thinking how lucky Sharon was to have this girl to play with all the time. I heard her moan, then moan again, longer and louder. I looked up to see Sharon with her face buried between Emily’s legs. Sharon stopped long enough to say, “You can come any time you like, dear,” and then went back to it.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Emily. With the workout she’d had so far, it didn’t take much to send her over the edge. Her breath quickened, and I saw her lips moving, but I couldn’t hear anything. As she got closer, she got louder, and I was able to make the words out: “Thank you ma’am, thank you ma’am, thank you ma’am,” whispered over and over again. She came with a long sigh as she squeezed her eyes closed tight. Sharon lapped at her a little more, then curled up beside her, also resting her head on my stomach.

We lay like that in peace while I absently petted one or the other of the women from time to time. They talked in low tones to each other. Then there came a grinding noise, and a lurch, and we were jolted back into reality.

Sharon found the key to the handcuffs and took them off Emily’s wrists. I scrambled to round up my clothes, and somehow get them back on. While I was just getting an arm into my shirt, the emergency phone rang. I picked it up and answered “Hello?” while I tried to get the other sleeve of my shirt on.

“Hey, this is Glen again. We’ve got things sorted out down here, and we should be good to go in a few minutes.”

“Okay, great,” I said. “Thanks for your hard work.”

“Just part of the job,” said Glen. “Thanks for being patient.” He hung up.

“We’ve got a couple minutes,” I said. No longer frantic, we all dressed calmly but quickly. Emily straightened my tie for me just as the elevator began to rise again. Up to the 11th floor, and the doors opened with a ding. We stepped off.

My appointment was long past, of course, but I needed to see about rescheduling. “Do you know where Jacobs-Semmler’s suite is?” I asked Sharon.

“I should,” she said, as she turned toward their door. “I work there. I’m in Legal, and Emily is my assistant.” Emily opened the door to Jacobs-Semmler’s offices and we stepped inside. “And you are…?”

“Interviewing. With David Bryant’s group.”

“Really?” She lingered a moment while Emily preceded her to what I suppose was her office door. “If he hires you, we’d be working together.” She walked to her door, then turned and said, “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Paramedic

alruccabah@gmail.com — Fri, 22 Jul 2005 15:05:27 GMT

One of the big positives about being a paramedic is that you get to meet a lot of interesting people. One of the downsides is that mostly you don’t ever find out what eventually happens to them.

When I started this job, for about the first two weeks, I tried to follow up on every patient I had. I told myself that being a good paramedic doesn’t end at the emergency room door, and that if I wanted to do my job as well as possible, I needed to know the outcomes of my patients. But it got to be too much for me. I couldn’t possibly keep track of every asthmatic kid and middle aged guy with chest pains. There were always some particularly tricky or dramatic cases that I managed to follow up on, but for the most part I found that I didn’t have enough time and energy to cover them all. I hear that a lot of paramedics start out like I did, and go through the same adjustment I did.

Even with the patients that you get to know well, you can still lose track. Case in point: a sweet little old lady named Dorothy. She was one of our frequent fliers. Every week or two she’d call 911 complaining about dizziness or weakness in her legs or something like that. My partner and I, or one of the other units, would go out, assess her, and then bring her in. The rules are that it doesn’t matter if we’ve seen the same complaint a dozen times before and we know she just needs to lie down for a while. If the patient has a certain set of complaints, we have to take them in. And I don’t want to say that Dorothy was scamming us or anything, but the frequent flyers get to know what complaints will guarantee them a ride to the hospital.

Dorothy was, I guess, just lonely after the death of her husband. She was in reasonable health for a woman in her early seventies, and was always pleasant to us, which a lot of people aren’t. We’d have a nice chat on the way to the hospital, the nurses would greet her cheerfully at admit, and that was the end of it for me. She’d get to talk to a doctor, and they’d tell her just to take it easy for a while, and she’d go home again. It must have been costing her insurance company a fortune, but hey, I don’t shed tears for those people.

And then she just stopped calling. I was talking to some of the other EMTs in the ambulance bay between calls, and we were talking about some of our favorite and least favorite cases, and someone asked if anyone had seen Dorothy lately. No one had, and we moved on to other cases. A couple weeks later, I asked at the ER desk when her last admission had been, and it turned out that it was a month and a half. I shrugged and mentally filed Dorothy away with all the other patients that I’d never hear from again.

A few months went by. Then one day, as I was restocking my rig at the end of a shift, I heard a knock at the back door. I opened it and there was a young woman standing there. “Hi,” I said. “Something I can help you with?”

“They said inside that you’d be out here,” she said. “These are for you.” She was carrying some little boxes wrapped in butcher paper under her arm, and she offered me one. It had my name on it.

“Oh, thank you,” I said. Sometimes patients bring us treats or flowers, which I always appreciate. I opened the box. Cookies! I looked at the young woman again, but I didn’t recognize her. She was really quite attractive, so I thought I would remember her if I’d seen her before. “Uh…were you a patient?”

“No, not me. My grandmother. Dorothy Gibbon.”

“Oh, Dorothy! I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Well, she passed away over the holidays,” she said. “She was visiting my parents and had a stroke and died in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, but in fact I thought that was a fine way to go after seventy-odd years of life. And if you’d seen as many elderly Alzheimer’s patients as I have, I think you’d agree.

“Thank you,” she said. “At least she didn’t suffer. She always talked about how nice everyone was at the hospital, so we thought we’d give all of you something to remember her by.”

“’We’?” I asked, as I started nibbling on a cookie.

“Me, my mom and my aunt. We baked pretty much all day. Grandma’s recipe, too.”

“Well, they’re good,” I said. “But why today?”

“Today is Grandma’s birthday.” She looked past me into the rig. “Did she ride with you often?”

“About as often as with anyone,” I said, standing aside so that she could see. “The gurney’s fully adjustable, so we could make her as comfortable as possible, and we’d give her a blanket too.”

“Can I see?” she asked, smiling.

“Sure,” I said, and gave her a hand up into the rig. I sat on the bench and she sat on the gurney and looked around.

“I’ve never been in an ambulance before,” she said.

“Most people try not to be,” I said. She smiled. “I was just restocking some of my supplies, here,” and I gestured at the stacks of boxes all around.

“Oh, go right ahead. I don’t mind.” I started putting things away in the various bins and storage areas. “What do you do when you go pick up a patient?”

“Well, that depends on the patient’s complaint,” I said. “In your grandmother’s case, we’d take her vitals – her pulse and blood pressure and so on – and ask her a few questions. Not much, really. She was in pretty good health, overall.”

“And what about me? What if I was your patient?”

I looked at her carefully, and she calmly looked back at me. Something clicked between us. I sat down on the bench again. “Well, first I would ask you your name.”

“Oh. Carrie.” She gave a little laugh.

“Okay, Carrie, what’s troubling you today?”

“Umm...just….” I could tell she wanted to be my ‘patient’ but couldn’t think of a problem.

“Headache? Nausea? Soreness? Fever?”

“I guess I feel a little overheated.”

“Well, let’s take a look at you.” I tilted her head up and went through the motions of feeling her forehead, checking her eyes, and so on. “Let’s check your pulse.” I sat beside her on the gurney and took her wrist. I looked at my watch for fifteen seconds while her vein moved under my fingers. “Sixty-eight. Quite normal.”

“Are you going to check my blood pressure?”

“Sure.” I took a cuff from the rack and put it around her arm. “Now just let me hold your arm. Let it go limp.” We sat there in silence while I pumped up the cuff and then deflated it. “145 over 90. A bit high.”

“Really? I get plenty of exercise.”

“Well, some people’s blood pressure rises whenever they get around a doctor or nurse or paramedic. It’s called ‘white coat hypertension’.”

“Oh. That could be, I guess.” I took the cuff off.

“What about that?” She was looking at my stethoscope, which was lying across my bag. “Are you going to listen to my heart?”

“I suppose I should,” I said. I put it on. “First, your lungs, though. Take a couple of deep breaths.” I held the diaphragm against her back while she inhaled. I took this opportunity to take a really good look at her. She had dark red hair a little past her shoulders. A turned-up nose and rounded cheeks. Fit, but not thin – she had a good set of curves on her. If only all my patients could be like this.

I wasn’t really paying attention to her lungs, but they sounded fine. “Okay, now in front.” She was wearing a tight beige safari blouse. I put the diaphragm on her skin just below her throat.

“Oh, that’s cold!”

“Sorry. It’s best if I contact the skin directly. Deep breaths, now.” She inhaled and exhaled a couple more times. “Good. Now, your heart.”

“Do you need bare skin for that, too?”

“It would be best.” She unbuttoned her shirt a little ways and drew it back on the left side. She wore a black bra. I put the stethoscope just above her breast. Now, I’m a professional. I touch women’s bodies all the time in the line of work, and keep it professional. So I want you to be aware that I don’t treat my other patient this way, but Carrie was turning out to be a special patient. I held the diaphragm a little lower than I normally would, and let my ring and little fingers fall on her breast.

“Oh, still cold,” she said, and put her hand over mine, pressing down on it.

“Shh. I’m listening.” I waited a heartbeat, and then squeezed a tiny bit. I took a few more heartbeats to enjoy the moment, and then said, “Everything sounds fine.” I took my hand away from her chest.

“Now what happens?”

“Well, you appear to be in excellent health, Carrie.” I wanted to keep our game going, but I wasn’t sure how far she wanted to go with it. “If you’re just feeling feverish, I’d recommend you take some Tylenol and get to bed early.”

“That’s all?”

“Unless you have some other complaint. Fatigue? Loss of appetite? Dizziness?”

“I could be a little dizzy.”

“Then you should probably lie down.” I scooted to the edge of the gurney. “Feet up. Turn this way.” She lay down and folded her hands across her stomach.

“What about all this other stuff?” she asked, looking around. “Would you use any of that on me?”

“Well, if you needed oxygen, I’d use that on you,” I said, pointing at the O2 tank and the mask. “If you were in anaphylactic shock, I’d use some of this on you,” and I showed her a dose of epinephrine. “And if your heart failed, I’d use that on you,” pointing at the defibrillator. “But trust me, that one’s no fun.”

“What about those? What are they?”

“These? These are restraints.” I lifted them up for her to see.

“Who do you use those on?”

“Crazy-ass crackheads and violent drunks. Patients who are in so much pain they can’t hold still. Patients who are having seizures.”

“Seizures? Really?”

“Sure. You might hurt yourself, or stop me from helping you.”

“I see. Well, I think I might have some sort of a fit.”

“Then I’d have to restrain you. But if you did, I’d also need to use something else on you.”

“What’s that?”

“These,” and I held up a pair of shears. She wrinkled her eyebrows in puzzlement. “To cut your clothes off. Because they might have to do some invasive procedure at the hospital, and with restraints on, scissors are the only way.”

She laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t like to have my clothes cut up.” She sat up. “Do you often have to take people’s clothes off?”

“Not often. That can almost always wait until the patient gets to the hospital.”

“Oh.”

I thought hard. “But if it’s going to be a long ride to the hospital…”

“…and there’s a chance I might go into a fit at any time…”

“…then it might be a good idea to get you out of your clothes now.”

Carrie found that to be an adequate excuse. She took her shirt off and then her shoes. She lay down and shimmied her slacks over her hips. “Do you need the patient to take off her underwear, too?”

“The top, yes,” I said. She quickly reached behind herself and unhooked her bra. Her breasts spilled out and she dropped the bra on the floor. “The bottom, usually no, unless there’s a specific reason.”

“I think I might have some kind of…condition…down there.”

“Then I’m going to have to examine you.” She arched her back to slip her panties over her butt and then slid them down her legs. “Let me help you with that.” I slipped them off over her feet and tossed them on the floor. I noticed she was a natural redhead.

“But first you’re going to restrain me, right?”

“Right. Your arms first.” I put the arm restraints on her, making them snug. I put the side rails of the gurney up and secured the restraints to them. She tested her limits of motion and smiled. “We have leg restraints, too, but I don’t think they’re going to do in this situation. They don’t hold your legs open, which is what I’m going to need in order to examine you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“In the field, we have to improvise a lot.” I looked around the rig for something suitable. I didn’t want to use any kind of tape on her skin, but it had to be something that would hold her securely. I grabbed a knee brace and tried wrapping it around both her knee and the gurney’s rail. It only attached with Velcro, and I didn’t know if that would hold well enough. Well, then…how about tape over the brace? I took some two-inch tape and wrapped it around the brace a few times. Perfect! I secured her other knee in the same way. “How’s that?’

“I can still kick my legs,” she said, and demonstrated, padding her feet like a duck.

“Well, then we’ll use the leg restraints on you as well.” I put them on her and cinched them well up to the rails, so that her ankles were elevated. That gave me a clear view of, well, everything. “Now then, is the patient comfortable?”

She wiggled around as much as she could. “Yes.”

“Okay, then before I examine you, I want you to describe this condition of yours to me.”

“It’s a, sort of a pressure, and a…sensation.”

“What sort of sensation?”

“Mmm, a kind of an itch.”

“Okay. I’d like to test your skin responsiveness. Close your eyes, and tell me if you feel something.” She shut her eyes and I waited. The tension built up on her face. I reached out a finger, and when I thought she couldn’t take it any more, touched her on the nose. She jumped. “Feel that?”

She almost laughed. “Yes!”

“Good.” I slid my finger up her nose to her forehead, and outlined her eyebrows. “That?”

“Yes.” I moved my finger down to her cheek. “Yes.” On to her ear, then her lips, then her neck. She reported each touch dutifully. I ran a finger over her collarbones, then down her sternum, then around her breast. I touched her nipple. “Yes!”

I rubbed it with my thumb and plucked at it gently. “Pretty sensitive there?”

“Very!”

“Let’s see about the other side.” I cupped her other breast and tweaked the nipple.

“Oh, yes, that’s pretty sensitive too.”

“Okay, that’s good. That will help me with my diagnosis.” I took another moment to enjoy holding her tits, then moved on. Down her stomach, around her navel, and right to the margin of her pubic hair. She reported an excellent sensitivity at every point. I drew a couple of her hairs between my fingers. “Now let’s go a little farther,” I said, deliberately misleading her. I waited for her to prepare herself for the next place I would go, and then I said, “Down here.” I touched her big toe.

“Oh. Yes. I can feel that.” I could tell she was simultaneously disappointed about where “down here” meant, and pleased that I was continuing to tease her.

I touched the top of her foot. “And here?”

“Yes.”

I had to skip over her lower leg, because of the restraints. I checked her just below the knee, then skipping over the knee brace, just above it. I ran my finger down the top of her thigh, then to her hip. She continued to tell me that she was feeling everything just fine.

“Okay, Carrie, I’m going to go back up here,” and I placed a couple of fingers above her knee, but more to the inside. “And we’ll see if we can’t find the source of your condition. We’re going to play hot-or-cold. I’ll move my hand, and you tell me whether we’re going to a more sensitive spot, or a less sensitive one. Can you do that for me?” She nodded happily. “Okay, starting from here, and going here.” I moved my fingers a couple inches up the inside of her thigh. “Hot or cold?”

“Hot.”

“Good. Keep talking.”

I moved my hand bit by bit up her leg. “Hot. Hot. Hotter.” I was almost at her crotch. “Hot! Getting really hot there!” Just shy of the gap between her legs, I made a detour toward the outside of her leg. “Oh, no, that’s colder.” I turned back toward the obvious destination, making contact with her hair again. “Hotter.” Finally I touched her pussy lips, and she said, “Hot! Yes, that’s exactly were it is!”

I pressed lightly between her lips with my thumb. “What’s more sensitive,” I said, and stroked her breast again with my other hand. “Down there, or up here?”

“Down there.”

“Are you sure? Take your time.” I fondled both her pussy and her tit. “No hurry. Just think about how they both feel.”

She waited about a minute while I touched, tweaked, and softly teased her body. “Down there. Down there is definitely better. I mean, more sensitive.”

“Okay, Carrie,” I said, as I took my hands off her body. “You can open your eyes now. It appears you’ve got what we call engorgement of the labia.”

She smiled. “Is that bad?”

“It’s fairly common, and it’s treatable. But I’m going to have to do some internal exploration.” I ripped open a packet of Surgilube and gooped up my hand. “Just to be sure.”

“Whatever you think is best.”

“Just relax now.” I slathered the lubricant over her pussy and the inside of her thighs. Watching her face, I began to push a finger into her. “Make sure you tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Should I close my eyes again?”

“If you want.” She closed them. I pushed inward with my finger while I traced up her lips with my thumb toward her clit. “Is the area still sensitive?”

“Yes, very much.” I reached her clit and flicked at it. “Oh, um, yes.” Her reports became less and less articulate as I continued working on her. I ran my finger in and out of her, then stepped up to two. Taking my time, I alternated between finger-fucking her and rubbing her pussy on the outside with my hand. She began to breathe faster and throw her head from side to side. I kept at it until I thought she was about to pop, then abruptly stopped.

“I think you were about to have one of your fits there, Carrie.”

She opened her eyes and her voice was full of disappointment. “Yeah, I was. Almost….”

“It wouldn’t do to have one interfere with your treatment.”

“Oh, no, I have them all the time. It would be fine.”

I could see she wasn’t close anymore, and I started fondling her pussy again. “I think it’s about time to start your treatment, and if you have a fit in the meantime, we’ll just work through it.”

“Is it a complicated procedure?” she asked.

“It can be.”

“Long?”

I smiled. “It can be. But it requires a specialized instrument.”

“And do you have one available?”

“I keep it with me all the time.” I stood up and unzipped my pants. “You can help me get it ready.” I took out my dick and put it in her hand. She squeezed it and began to jerk it as well as she could, given the limits of the restraint holding her arm. “That’s good. Just keep doing that.” I bent over and stuck a couple fingers back into her.

She closed her eyes and smiled. “Yes.”

“What?”

“You told me I had to keep telling you if it’s sensitive. So, yes. It is.” I smiled back at her and we masturbated each other for a while. I had the advantage, not being the one strapped to a gurney, but she managed to keep me hard, even if I was in no danger of coming yet.

She was, though. Her smile was replaced by quivering lips, and then she drew her lips back and inhaled sharply through her teeth. “Yes. Oh yes. Yesyesyes….’ She flailed her head back and forth as the orgasm hit her. She forgot about holding on to my dick, but I kept at her, trying to draw it out as long as possible. It faded, and she opened her eyes. She cleared her throat. “So that was one of my fits.”

I started taking off my clothes. “We’d better get on with your treatment,” I said, climbing up onto the gurney, “before another one comes along.” I knelt between her legs, leaned forward, and pressed my cock against her pussy. She pushed her pelvis toward me and I slid it into her. With my palms planted on the gurney on either side of her, I thrust in and out in a steady rhythm. She groaned and pulled against her restraints.

I sped up, and the ambulance began to rock in time to our fucking. Carrie clenched and unclenched her fists, and kept trying to bend her legs up around behind me, but the restraints held her in place. True to her word, it was not long before she showed signs of another approaching orgasm. I dropped down to put my weight on my elbows and rested my head alongside hers. “Come on, sweetheart, you’re almost there,” I said into her ear. “Give it up for me.”

With a keening, wailing sound, she burst forth into another orgasm. Her limbs tightened and she pressed her face against my shoulder. With an “Umph,” she started to come and her wonderful pussy juices spread out around my dick. I fucked her as fast as I could, and then, as she wound down, slower and slower, until I was barely moving at all.

I leaned over on to one elbow, and with the other hand, turned her face toward mine. I kissed her on the lips and cheeks, while she pawed at the air, trying to touch me, or anything, but failing to do so. “Very nice,” I said. “But we’re not done yet.”

“No? What happens next?”

“Now,” I said, as I pulled out of her and rose to my knees, “I think we need to try things from a different angle.” I released her legs from the restrains and started to unwrap the tape from around the knee braces.

“Okay. What’s going to hold me in place, though?”

“I’ll get to that. First I want to make sure you’re all good.” I had the arm restraints off now, and I helped her up to a sitting position. “Now stand up and stretch. I don’t want you stiffening up or anything.”

I let down the side rail of the gurney, and she wobbled to her feet. She stretched her arms out, then bent them back and clasped her hands behind her, which was a lovely sight to see. She looked around, trying to guess what my next plan was.

I got up and stood behind her. “Up here,” I said, and took her hands and placed them on one of the grab-handles by the upper storage bins. “Take hold of that – don’t lace your fingers, just put one hand on top of the other – and that will be your anchor point.” I took some rubber tubing, normally used for tying off a patient’s arm for a blood sample. I stretched it taught, wound it around and around her hands and the handle, and tied it off. I made sure it was tight enough to keep her in place, but not too tight for her circulation.

Still standing behind her, I rubbed my dick against her thighs, still slick with the Surgilube and her own fluids. I took her by one hip, and holding my dick in my hand, took aim at her pussy. “Now,” I said, pushing it in to her, “back to work.” She was still thoroughly wet inside, and I fucked her joyfully.

In her new position, she had even less freedom of movement for her arms, but could move her hips a lot more easily. She pushed her ass towards me with each thrust, and I held on tightly. This was a lot of fun, but more effort too, and both our bodies soon glistened with sweat. It was hard for her to keep her legs under her, and I wrapped my arms around her and supported some of her weight. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold this position for long, so I fucked her as furiously as I could, trying to get off before my own legs gave out. “How – we – doing – Carrie?” I grunted out in time to my thrusts.

“Yes, good -- really good,” she replied between breaths.

“Almost there,” I said, and then I began to come. I gushed out a good long stream, and a heartbeat later, as I spurted into her again, she came with me. I leaned into her, forcing my own weight onto her, as she tried to pull herself up with her arms. I ran my hand up and down her torso, between her pussy and her tits, as I squirted more of my come into her. She almost lost her footing, and I took my weight off her and held her hips to steady her. I kissed her neck and shoulder as she rolled her head around in pleasure.

I held her like that for a long moment, while we enjoyed the glow of our orgasms and the feeling of each other’s bodies. Then I pulled out of her, made sure she could stand on her own, and untied the rubber tubing. I held her hands and rubbed them, and her arms too. I sat on the gurney and pulled her into my lap and kissed her.

“Feeling better?” I asked.

“Much better,” she said. “But my condition, you know, always comes back. Do you think I’ll need ongoing care?”

“I suppose you will, Carrie,” I said, and kissed her again.

Life Drawing

alruccabah@gmail.com — Sun, 17 Jul 2005 16:42:51 GMT

This is the story that beigekhakis reqested last Tuesday in eroticfantasies. Or my version of it, anyway.

I meant to get this up by Friday, but it turned out much longer than I expected.

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I didn’t do more than glance at the flyer, but the word “nude” has a way of catching the eye. “Wanted: nude models for life drawing class,” it said. “$25 for one 50-minute session.” I stood there in front of the bulletin board thinking about it. That would be kind of weird, standing there naked in front of a bunch of people while they draw you. On the other hand, it would be a quick twenty-five bucks, and a college student always needs cash. Nah, I decided, and walked on down the hall. I didn’t think about it for the rest of the day.

The next morning, my roommate, Greg, mentioned that the cable bill had come. Crap, the cable bill! I had forgotten all about it. I figured out my half, and thought about the rest of my upcoming expenses. Gas money for the next week…phone bill coming soon…some fun money for the weekend…I’d get a paycheck at the end of the next week, but then the rent would be coming up...hm. I was pretty close to broke, actually.

I took off for school early and stopped by the art building to take another look at that flyer. “See Prof. Marten, room 312,” it said. I found the room and knocked.

A woman opened the door. “Yes?”

“Uh, I’m, uh…” I was expecting some little old, gray-haired guy, and this woman’s appearance was throwing me off. She was tall, and probably no older than 30. She had black hair pulled back in a ponytail, olive skin. She wore slacks and a lightweight black sweater. “I’m looking for Professor Marten,” I managed to get out.

“That would be me,” she said, and smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“I saw the flyer for models for your art class, and I wanted to ask you about it.”

“Oh, right, right. Come on in.” She held the door open for me and I entered her office. It was crowded with books, drawings, and a few small sculptures in wood or ceramic. She cleared some charcoal sketches off of the small sofa. “Please, have a seat.” She sat in the chair at the desk and regarded me. “Have you ever modeled for an art class before?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“There’s nothing much to it. You just have to be able to hold a pose for about five minutes, long enough for the students to make a rough sketch, and then move into a different pose. All our modeling is nude, in case you didn’t notice that from the flyer. I assume you’re comfortable with that?”

“No, I got that,” I said. In fact, I wasn’t exactly comfortable, really, but I was willing to do it for the money. “It’s no problem.”

“Alright. What is your schedule like?

“I’m free after two, most days, or after one on Fridays. But then I work most nights at seven.”

“Then you can start today?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“I’ll put you down for our four o’clock class.” She quickly wrote something on a pad on her desk. “Room 140. Show up a few minutes early, so we can get you situated.” She handed me a piece of paper with the time and room number on it. “And one more thing.”

“Yes?” I asked.

“If I schedule you for a class, I need to know that you’re going to show up. I’ll have twenty students there, and if you don’t show up, that’s a big problem.” She fixed me with a serious look. “So if you can’t commit to being there, I want to know now.”

“I’ll be there,” I said. “You can count on me.”

“Good. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

I left her office and looked at the slip of paper in my hand. Room 140, 4:00 pm. I had only meant to ask about the job, but somehow I had ended up making a promise to go through with it. I folded the paper and put it in my pocket.

I had other classes to keep me busy, but my mind kept returning to the modeling job all day long. Now that the prospect of standing naked in front of a room full of people was real, questions occurred to me that I hadn’t thought of before. What if my friends found out? The guys would rag on me about it, I was sure. What if there was someone in the class I knew? What if I met someone from the class later? That would be awkward. What if there was a hot girl in the class, and I began to get a hard on? What if I got turned on by the professor? She was pretty hot herself.

At two, after my last class, I headed over to the library to study. I cracked a few books, but my mind kept wandering. I looked around at the other people in the library. The art classes must have a lot of different models – I wondered if any of these people had ever done it. I imagined various other students standing naked in front of an art class. Hell, if any of them could do it, I could do it. Soon it was almost four, so I gathered up my books and headed on over to the art building.

I found room 140 and walked in. There were easels here and there, and some students setting up their papers and charcoals. A couple of them glanced up at me. I realized that since I was the only one new to the class, they all knew right away that I was the model. No one paid much attention to me, though. I spotted Professor Marten and approached her.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” she said. She put down a portfolio she had been looking through. “Come this way, and I’ll show you where you can change.” She led me toward a door back of the room. As I walked after, I wondered if the art students were checking me out behind my back.

The door led into a small room full of art supplies. She opened a cupboard and took out a white bathrobe. “You can put your clothes and other things in there, and you can wear the robe until we start. When you’re ready, come out and I’ll show you where to stand.” She left the room and closed the door behind her.

I put my backpack in the cupboard and stood there for a moment. If there had been a chance to back out, it looked like I had already missed it. I shrugged and began taking off my clothes, just as the bell rang to mark the hour. I put everything into the cupboard, put on the robe, and went back into the studio.

The room was full of students now. There was a low platform, like a little stage, on one side of the room, with two wooden chairs sitting on it. “Right over here,” said the Professor. “You can sit in on of the chairs, or stand and lean against it, or just stand on your own. I’ll tell you when to change your pose. There’s a hook there you can hang the robe on.” She pointed. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I looked at the chairs. It was quiet in the classroom, except for some students rustling paper or scraping their charcoals a little. I didn’t feel ready, but nothing was going to happen until I took the robe off. I decided to start with what seemed easiest. I took off the robe, hung it on the hook, and hurriedly sat in one of the chairs. I crossed my right ankle over my left knee, which kind of hid my crotch, and let my hands rest on my thighs. Then I just stared at a spot on the wall.

The room filled with the sound of charcoal moving over paper as the students began to draw. No one said anything. I tried to keep very still. Professor Marten moved quietly around the room, saying a few words to a student now and then, but mostly just observing. I kept my eyes directed toward the wall.

It wasn’t long before I realized that there was an unforeseen problem. An itch had developed at the back of my neck. I tried not to think about it and hold still, but the more I tried to ignore it, the more it itched. I wondered when the Professor would tell me to change poses. I tried to count seconds, but I quickly lost track. Come on, I thought, it’s been like ten minutes already. Then I felt another itch on my lower left leg. My hand twitched. How much longer could this go on?

“Change, please,” said the Professor. Finally! I hunched forward and scratched at my ankle with one hand, and my neck with the other. Then I stood up. My butt was sore from not moving. I stood beside the chair, put one hand on its back and leaned against it. There was a big rustling sound as all the students turned over a page on their drawing pads. I stood there in my second pose.

Professor Marten continued to wander the room, then came up to me. “You don’t have to be absolutely rock-still,” she said. “It’s okay if you move a bit. Just try to get back to the same general.” She moved on to look at another student’s drawing. Now that I knew I could scratch if I needed to, I didn’t itch anymore.

Only then did I think about the fact that I was now completely exposed. Oh well. I didn’t really mind anymore. I looked around the room, and noticed a clock high up on the wall. It was six minutes after four o’clock.

Now that I was a bit more comfortable, I began to look over the students. The class was about half male and half female. They worked quietly, alternately looking at me and at their drawings. They didn’t look at me in a personal way, but more in the way you’d look at an inanimate object. This actually made it easier for me, and I watched the studious expressions on their faces as they drew. The second five minutes went by much more quickly than the first.

“Change, please,” said the professor again. I moved to the other side of the chair and faced the right side of the classroom. Stationed over here, I found a student I had overlooked before. She was short, with a cute triangular face and bob-cut black hair. None of the other girls in the class really appealed to me, but here was the cute girl I had worried about encountering earlier.

She was turning over a fresh sheet of paper. I looked away, and then looked back just as she looked up at me. We held each other’s gaze for a moment, and then she looked me up and down. I had the feeling that, unlike all the others, she was looking at me with personal, and not just artistic, interest. She lowered her eyes to her paper, began to draw, and glanced back to me.

It was difficult, but I tore my eyes off her. I was worried that I was going to have that problem that I had considered earlier – that I was going to pop an erection in front of all these people. I bit my tongue, looked upward, and tried to concentrate on counting the holes in the ceiling tiles.

The trouble was that the girl was right in front of me, and I had to keep resisting the impulse to steal another glance at her. In any other situation, this was the kind of girl I would be checking out, and most likely I would go over and try to ask her out, but here I had to ignore her. I lost track of counting the ceiling tile holes and started over a few times. I could still see the clock on the wall from this position, but only barely. Just before the time was up, I looked down at the girl again. She had her eyes on her drawing, and added a few lines before looking up again. She saw me looking at her, and smirked.

“Change, please,” said the professor. Relieved, I turned away, put one foot on the chair, and rested my elbow on it. In this position, I couldn’t see her anymore. But just knowing she was looking at me made it a struggle to keep my mind off sex.

For the rest of the class, I avoided poses that would have me facing the girl. Finally, the minute hand rolled around to fifty, and the bell signaled the end of the class. I breathed out a long sigh, grabbed the robe, and put it on. The students were busily packing up their supplies as I headed back to the little storage room.

Professor Marten intercepted me. “That went fine, I thought,” she said. “You model well.”

“Thank you,” I said. I didn’t know what modeling well meant, but I was happy she had liked it.

“I know we only agreed to one class, but…are you going to be free for another hour?”

“Uh….” I shifted my weight back and forth. I was stiff from all the holding still.

“Oh, you’re tired,” she said. “I understand. But if you’re up for it, I’d like to have you for another session. I have some of my advanced students around at five. It’s the same sort of thing, just short poses.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to get the kinks out. “Okay, sure,” I said. I could use another twenty-five bucks.

“Great.” She smiled. “Why don’t you walk around a bit and loosen up, and then I’ll let you know what we’re doing.” She patted me on the arm and scurried off.

I looked around for the cute girl, but I didn’t see her. I wouldn’t have minded talking to her, now that I wasn’t stark naked, but she had evidently already left. All the students were packing up and leaving, in fact, except for one, who was setting up an easel at the rear of the room and laying out her charcoals. I hadn’t seen her before, so I supposed she was one of the professor’s advanced students.

She was short, petite even, and pretty, with very short blonde hair. She finished unpacking her things, picked up a cup of coffee from where it sat on a counter, and took a sip. She noticed me standing there, nodded, and sat down on a stool at her easel. She waited without paying me any attention, drinking her coffee.

I paced back and forth and swung my arms around to get the ache out of my limbs. All the other students had left, except for one who was talking with Professor Marten by the door. I wondered how many students there were going to be in this group. The last student from the previous class left, and just then another girl walked in, carrying a portfolio and a backpack.

She was a long-haired brunette, again very attractive, with a round and open face. “Oh, almost late!” she said, dashing by the professor. She dragged an easel over by the blond girl’s, and began to unpack. “And we have a model today!” she said, looking at me and smiling.

“Hi,” I said.

“Alright, girls, I think we can get started,” said Professor Marten, as she went to the back of the room. There was an old-fashioned sofa against the back wall, covered in a drab-looking dropcloth, so that I hadn’t noticed it before. She whisked the cloth off and handed it to the blond girl. “Erica, would you put this somewhere. And you” she said, motioning to me, “I’d like you on this end of the settee. Angie, would you take his robe?”

The brunette student girl came up beside me. I unbelted the robe and she helped me out of it. Behind me, I heard what I thought was the supply room door open. “Sit right here, and put your left leg up,” said Professor Marten, and I did as she said. “Face the other end with your back to the arm, so we have room for Gwen. Other foot on the floor.”

Gwen? I looked over my shoulder. There was the cute girl from first class, wearing a bathrobe of her own. “Uh, are we…?” I looked from Gwen to the professor and back.

“Oh, yes, you’ll be modeling as a couple,” said the professor. “Gwen, I want you to sit here in front, and recline against him.”

Gwen smiled at my confused expression and slipped out of her robe. “You don’t mind sharing, I hope,” she said. She was very nicely curved with good-sized tits, but before I could get much of a look she was sitting in front of me, and leaning against my chest.

Was this the whole class? Me and these four women? I swallowed hard and tried to follow what the professor was saying. “Over on your side more, Gwen. Scoot in closer. Now put your hand on her shoulder,” she said to me. The professor arranged us like two lovers nestled together. With Gwen in front of me, my crotch was hidden from the others’ view, but Gwen’s back was pressed right up against my dick. My now half-hard dick, as I’m sure she couldn’t help noticing. Her head lay on my chest, and I could smell her hair.

Professor Marten took a step back and considered us. “Alright, that’s good,” she said. The other two girls, Erica and Angie, began to draw. The professor watched their work quietly. I could only think about how Gwen must be getting offended because of my erection.

But if she was, she didn’t give any sign of it. After about half a minute, she said quietly, “Your first time modeling?”

“Uh, yeah.” Were we allowed to talk? The professor didn’t say anything. “Not yours, I guess, though.” Was that a stupid thing to say?

“No. I fill in whenever Professor Marten asks, if I can.” Talking to Gwen as she lay snuggled up against me was just making me harder. “I like doing it.” She squirmed against me a little, rubbing against my cock. “I guess you do too.”

“Um, I didn’t mean—“

“I don’t mind,” she said, and smiled. “It adds to the, hm. The realism, I guess you could say.”

Angie moved her easel up closer to us. “You guys go so well together, I want to do a study of your faces.” She looked back at Erica. “I’m not in your way, am I?” she asked. The blond girl just shook her head. “Anyway I’m so glad you’re both here. I was afraid we’d have no model at all today.”

“What do you do when you have no one to draw?” I asked.

“Then we just have to take turns posing,” she said. “Or sometimes Professor Marten will have us draw her. She’s got a really nice body. Not flat-chested like me.”

“Oh, I think you look great,” said Gwen. “I’d love to draw you sometime. If you think the professor wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind what?” asked Professor Marten, coming up to stand behind Angie.

“Gwen was just trying to talk me out of my clothes,” Angie said, and giggled.

“Maybe later for that,” the Professor said. “Anyway I think it’s time for a change. Turn over on your stomach, Gwen, and rest your head on his chest. Good. Now put your arms around her.” As we moved according to the professor’s directions, my cock was exposed to everyone’s view, and listening to the girls talk about themselves posing naked had gotten me as hard as I could get. I hoped I wasn’t blushing.

No one said anything about it, and Gwen soon covered it up by lying across me, with her stomach now pressed against my erection. She wiggled against it a bit as she laid her body down on me, and I suppressed a groan.

“Both of you comfortable?” asked the professor.

“I sure am,” said Gwen. I just nodded.

Erica and Angie went back to drawing, Angie from close up and Erica from about eight feet away. Professor Marten strolled back and forth between the two, making an occasional comment on their work. Gwen may have been comfortable, but I was not.

This would have been a perfectly pleasant way to lie naked with a girl, if we had just had sex. Instead, the warmth of her body against mine, and the way her breath tickled my chest, and the fact that there were three other women watching, had me horny as hell. I wondered whether Gwen was flirting with me for real, or if she was just taking advantage of the situation to tease me.

I decided just to enjoy things as they happened. I closed my eyes and imagined that Gwen and I were not lying on a sofa in an art studio, but instead at my house, lying in bed. I imagined that we had just come home from a long day at school, and were relaxing together before having sex. Afterward, we’d have a shower together and then maybe go out to a show or something.

“You’re awfully quiet,” said Gwen.

“Hm? Oh, I was just thinking,” I said.

“What about?”

“Um.” Thinkfastthinkfastthinkfast. “Uh, my cable bill. It came today.”

“I see,” she said. It was probably the weakest lie I’d ever told, but what was I supposed to say?

Angie had left her own easel to look at Erica’s drawing, as Professor Marten made some point about it. “Gwen, you should look at this,” she said. Gwen got up and went over to look at the drawing, leaving me uncovered again.

“You see how…” said Professor Marten, and then went on in low tones to her three students, gesturing at the drawing and at me. My embarrassment at being seen by these women with my dick hard came back, and I was sure I was blushing this time. I sat up and looked around for the robe. If we were going to take a break, maybe I should put it back on, I thought.

“Okay, one more pose for you two,” said Professor Marten. She approached the couch and stood over me. “Lie down,” she said, and I did so, with my cock standing up rigidly. How could she ignore it? “Gwen, you sit on top of him, straddling his hips. Just tuck his penis under you.”

Even worse than having everyone pretend that my dick wasn’t obviously hard was to have the professor mention it in such a matter-of-fact way. I blushed even deeper and mumbled something that might have approached an apology, but the professor had already turned away, and Gwen was standing over me. She put her hands on my shoulders, sat down over my hips, and sort of scrunched her hips forward a bit, so that her pussy was pressed right against my cock, pinning it against my stomach.

Professor Marten looked at us from a few steps away. “Mm, good. Now take his hand, his left hand, and hold it against your right breast.” Gwen did as the professor said, and as my hand cupped her warm flesh, she looked down at me, smiled, and wiggled her hips, just a little.

Angie had drawn her easel back a few steps, so that both she and Erica were at about the same distance. They began drawing once more, with the professor supervising them.

Unlike earlier, Gwen and I could now look at each other in this pose; in fact, there was little to look at other than each other. I looked down at my cock, with her pussy lips pressed tight against it, and up to her tits, then to her face. She smiled slyly at me, and squeezed my hand, the one that held her tit. I squeezed her tit in response.

Moving slowly, she pulled at my ring finger so that it curled down, so that the tip just made contact with her nipple, and with her thumb, brushed my finger over it a couple times. She licked her lips, then ever so slightly, but definitely, nodded at me.

I stroked her nipple with my finger. I didn’t think the others could see, because they were on my right. Gwen half-closed her eyelids and broke eye contact with me. I let my gaze wander down her body, watching her stomach move in and out as she breathed, and thinking of all the other things I wanted to do with Gwen besides playing with her nipple.

Gwen sighed, and I felt her shift her weight a little. Her pussy rubbed against my cock, and I felt a little slickness of moisture there. I fondled her tit slowly, thinking what would happen if the professor noticed what I was doing. Would she get mad and kick me out? Would Gwen get in trouble?

Gwen shifted her weight again, moving her hips back slightly. Then forward again, then back. I was getting the slowest, sexiest dry-humping of my life. It wasn’t all that dry, though – I could definitely feel lubrication from her pussy as she moved it, just by a fraction of an inch, back and forth over my cock.

I wanted to move against her too, but I didn’t dare. I glanced over at the others, but if they noticed what we were doing, they gave no sign of it. I teased her nipple more boldly – that at least I thought I could get away with. Gwen responded by pressing her pussy down against me even harder, and grinding more forcefully.

It became a struggle for me to hold still. Gwen gradually increased her motions, and I had to stop playing with her tit, because it was all I could to keep from grinding back at her. She was becoming more and more obvious, but what could I do? Say, “I don’t think this is what where supposed to be doing”? Ask the professor if we could have a few minutes alone? I don’t think so.

“Gwen, you seem to be having trouble holding still.” I looked over at the others. Angie and Erica had stopped drawing, and they and the professor were just watching.

“Um,” I said.

“Sorry, professor,” said Gwen. “I never got to pose with a boy before.” She stopped what she was doing and let go of my hand, but she seemed utterly unembarrassed by what had just happened.

“That’s okay, I think we’re done with this pose. Actually, I think I’d like to set something up for you to draw.”

“Really?” Gwen jumped up and padded over to the professor. “Who’s going to be in it?”

“All three of them. Girls, wash the charcoal off your hands, and then we’ll have all three of you on the settee.” She turned and eyed me.

I sat up, wishing my erection would go away. “Listen professor,” I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for…. You know.”

“You didn’t mean to get turned on by having a naked girl sit on you?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

“That’s about the silliest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said. Angie came and sat to my right on the sofa. I glanced over at her, and she was, of course, naked. “Modeling isn’t just about sitting around, you know. I expect my models to act like real people, and to react to each other.” Erica approached from the other side, also with her clothes off, sat on my other side, and tucked her legs under her. “Look at Angie, here,” Professor Marten went on. “Do you find her attractive?”

I looked. Angie may have been flat-chested, as she said, but it looked good on her. She was slender and athletic-looking, and her brown hair, slightly curly, fell midway down her back. She smiled as I looked her over. I thought she was attractive indeed. “Of course,” I said.

“And Erica?”

I turned and looked at the other, much shorter, girl. She leaned back against the sofa, her legs slightly apart, and looked back at me calmly. She had the same slender hips as Angie, but more in the way of breasts, and a pinkish complexion. Her pubic hair – she didn’t trim it as much as the other girls – was very pale. “Yes,” I said, and turned back to the professor. “They’re both very attractive.”

“Good. You’re going to be sitting here between these two beautiful women. And you’re a man, so I expect you to react like a man, and show it.”

“But the way I was posed with Gwen,” I said, “you couldn’t see anything anyway.”

“That’s true, but I know it’s there, and so do the girls you’re posing with,” she said. “So if you find them attractive, I expect you to have an erection.” She paused to let her words sink in, then leaned down and wrapped her hand around my cock. “Is that going to be a problem?” I was too shocked to say anything. She stroked it a couple times, squeezed it as if making sure it was sufficiently hard, then said, “Good.”

She let me go and stepped back. “Now, you’ll be leaning over Angie, who will be against the right arm. Angie, scoot down a little more. Now move in close – I want you to look like you’re just about to kiss her. Erica, you kneel and embrace him from behind. Wrap your arms around his waist. Angie, bring your knee up. Good.” She went on to make some additional adjustments, until she had us just how she wanted. The way we ended up, my cock ended up hidden again, this time by Angie’s drawn-up leg. But we both knew it was there, all right – the tip just barely grazed against Angie’s belly. And I was still totally hard.

“Okay, Gwen, let’s see what you can do with that,” said the professor, finally satisfied. Gwen began to sketch away.

The three of us on the sofa held still, and all was quiet for a moment or two. Then I felt something touch my cock. Face-to-face with Angie as I was, I couldn’t see who, but one of the girls was wrapping her hand, either Angie’s left or Erica’s right, around my shaft. “Don’t worry, honey, you’ll do just fine,” I heard Erica say from behind me. I realized this was the first time I’d heard her speak.

The hand – I supposed it was Erica’s – found a good grip, and began to slowly masturbate me. The tip of my cock tapped against Angie’s stomach with each stroke. I groaned quietly. This was going to be even harder to hold still through.

“You like that?” whispered Angie.

“Mm, yeah,” I whispered back. Maybe I was wrong about whose hand it was. “Is that you?”

“Well, it’s got to be one or the other of us,” said Angie. The hand stopped stroking and pushed my cock against Angie’s stomach, rubbing it back and forth. “Does it matter?”

“Uh—“ I was leaking precome, and it was getting smeared onto Angie’s skin. “Maybe not, but if whoever’s doing that doesn’t let up, I’m going to come on you.”

“Oh, so soon?” She sounded disappointed.

“Gwen got me pretty worked up,” I said.

The hand relaxed its grip, and touched me more lightly. “We’ll have to be careful,” Angie said. I relaxed a little, and then I felt other fingers on my balls. So it was both of them now, but I didn’t know which was which. They kept me perfectly hard, but at least I didn’t feel like I was going to spew my come all over Angie at any moment.

During the next several minutes, while Gwen drew us, and Professor Marten looked on, I always had at least one hand touching me. I’m pretty sure they switched off once or twice, but I was never able to figure out whose hand was where. Gwen took a lot longer drawing us, maybe because she was less experienced as an artist, maybe because she had more people to draw. Or maybe she wanted to leave me in the hands of the other girls for as long as possible.

Eventually she produced a drawing that satisfied both her and Professor Marten. “I think we’re done for now,” said the professor. “Why don’t the three of you take a break?”

I tried to stand up, but Angie hooked her leg around my back, and Erica threw her weight onto me. “Take a break, honey,” said Erica in my ear. “That means relax.” Angie kissed me.

I kissed her back. There was still a hand on my cock, and it was guiding me downward, toward what I’d been wanting all this time. I pulled my lips away from Angie’s. “Wait, wait,” I said. “Are you sure we should – I mean, right here, with—“

“You’ve been working hard, dear,” said the professor. “The girls know how to help you relax. Just let them.” The head of my cock was right at Angie’s pussy. “Why don’t you try taking some quick pencil sketches of them, Gwen?” I pushed forward and entered the girl underneath me, and kissed her again.

Angie groaned and I grunted. Erica sat back and fondled my balls as I fucked Angie. I could hear the scratching of Gwen’s pencil on paper. Where the professor was I had no idea. I didn’t care. My long-teased cock had finally found some pussy, and I made the most of it, thrusting into her eagerly.

Angie squirmed and humped back at me. I looked down at her small tits, quivering with each stroke. Angie saw me looking, and clutched at one with her hand. “Do you like them?” she asked, smiling.

“Uh-huh,” I panted, not being in the best condition for talking at the time.

“You can come on them, if you like,” she said. “Or would you rather do it inside me?”

“In – inside!” I said. I was so close.

“Not yet,” said Angie, “I’m almost there!” But I was already coming. All the pent-up semen the three girls had been coaxing along came flooding out of me, and squirted deep into Angie’s cunt. I kept thrusting, trying to make it last, trying to stay hard. I lasted just long enough, because just as I started to go soft, Angie gasped and clenched her eyes shut. I nearly collapsed on top of her as she came. I was tired.

I held Angie for a moment, then looked up. Professor Marten and Gwen were watching us. They sat on stools right by the sofa, Gwen with a sketchbook in her lap. She snapped it closed, leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Save some for me for later,” she said, and got up.

Angie touched me where Gwen had kissed me, turning my back face toward hers. “Better?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you,” I said. I felt a million times better. I hadn’t realized what a strain holding myself back for so long had been.

Angie pushed me up. I pulled out of her and tried to stand, but Erica pulled me back down from behind. “You’re still relaxing, honey,” she said. “Just take it easy.” She got up and I leaned back against that end of the sofa.

I looked up at Professor Marten. She sat on her stool, in her black slacks and sweater, with her legs crossed and the heel of one shoe hooked onto one of the rungs of the stool. She smiled. “I hope you’re not too exhausted,” she said.

“Uh, I’m not, I guess,” I said. “Why, do you still want to draw us some more?”

“There are always more drawings to be made,” she said. “But not today, I think. What I meant is that you’ve got more women to satisfy.” She turned to Angie. “Why don’t you see if you can get him hard again?”

Angie moved to the middle of the sofa, leaned down and took my cock into her mouth. She did the combined job of cleaning our come off of me and stirring me back to arousal. I hadn’t thought I could get it up again so soon, but Angie’s tongue was very persuasive.

Erica and Gwen reappeared from wherever they had gone to. There were too many naked girls running around for me to keep track of. Gwen sat on her stool, and Erica sat on the couch on the other side of Angie. She had a rag with her. “Let me clean you up, hon,” she said, and Angie spread her legs for her. Erica wiped at Angie’s pussy, and dabbed up whatever of our fluids she found there.

I looked at the three naked girls, and then at the professor, the only one of us still wearing any clothes. Angie slurped away at my cock. What did Professor Martin have in mind? Did she want me to fuck her too, or what? Angie took her mouth off my cock long enough to say, “He’s ready,” and went back to it.

“What are you thinking, Erica?” asked the professor.

“I want to ride him,” Erica said. Angie got out of the way, and Erica rose to her knees. “Lie down more,” she said to me, and I stretched out on the sofa. Erica straddled me, took my cock in hand, and brought it to her pussy. She lowered herself down, steadied herself with an arm on the back of the sofa, and began to move.

She fucked energetically, even roughly, but since she was such a small girl, she didn’t land on me with much force. I moved in time to her, but mostly just watched her go wild. She gave a very good demonstration of why it’s called “cowgirl.” Her tits bounced deliciously, and her stomach rippled. She began to run with sweat. If I had not just come, I don’t think I would have outlasted her.

But I had just come, and I think she had been playing with herself while I fucked Angie, so she was already warmed up. She moved her hand down to her clit, and stroked herself. I thought she was just about to come, when suddenly she slowed down.

“What?” I asked.

“Look,” she said, grinning, and jerked her chin towards Professor Marten. I had fixed all my attention on Erica, and forgotten about the other girls. The professor had stood up. She had her sweater and shoes off, and Gwen was removing her bra while Angie took her slacks down. I watched as the two students undressed their professor, who then sat on her stool again. She spread her legs, and Angie knelt between them. Angie planted her face in the professor’s crotch, while Gwen sucked on one of her tits.

Erica began moving faster again. Gwen had to bend down to get her mouth onto Professor Marten’s tit, and she stuck her ass out in my direction. I admired her pussy. Erica noticed me staring at it. “Touch her,” she puffed, as she neared her orgasm again. “Stick a finger in her.”

Gwen wiggled her ass at me. I held out my ring finger, lightly touched her pussy, and then probed it into her. She was still wet from before, or wet again. I slid my finger into her, connecting us all, just as Erica came on my cock.

She stopped bouncing on me so violently, leaned forward and dug her fingers into my chest. “Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” she said, and her pussy clenched at me. I looked from Gwen’s pussy over to her. Her eyes were wide open, and she gasped and panted. “Oh, fuck, fuck.”

I took my finger out of Gwen and held Erica up, because she was about to fall on me, or fall off the sofa. “Mmm-mm,” she said. “That was good.” She leaned back and slowly rolled her hips, looking down at me contentedly.

“Keep him interested, Erica, but don’t let him come,” said Professor Marten. “We’re saving that.” She held her hands to the back of Angie’s head, as Angie lapped away at her, and pulled Gwen up to kiss her. “I think I’d like sit on the settee, girls.”

Erica got off of me and I sat up on the left side. Professor Marten sat on the other side, and Angie got down between her legs again. Gwen squeezed in between us, and kissed the professor and sucked her nipples. Erica sat in my lap and held my cock in her hands, keeping me interested, as the professor had put it.

Angie’s tongue was persuasive, as I said, and soon it was persuading moans out of Professor Marten, with Gwen’s help. I stroked Gwen’s pussy, because it was right there beside me, and I was about to stick a finger into her again when the professor eased the girls away from her. “I want him inside me for my orgasm,” she said.

The girls hopped out of the way, and Professor Marten swung a leg over me and replaced Erica in my lap. She took my cock and pointed it at her pussy. “Have you ever had sex with an older woman before?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“Almost like a virgin,” she said, and slid down onto my cock. She didn’t move at all fast, like Erica had, but slowly, slowly and powerfully. She ground her hips against me and squeezed my cock tight. I put my arms around her and rocked with her. She put her hands behind my head and pulled my mouth to a tit, and as I sucked her nipple into my mouth she came. I sucked and licked her as she continued to roll against me in long, slow motions. She groaned, loudly, then groaned again, then sighed. She slowed down and hummed quietly, then pulled me away from her nipple. “You’re a nice boy,” she said, and kissed me. She sat back. “I’ve got one more for you.” She nodded towards the other end of the sofa.

Gwen was on her knees, her hands resting on the other arm of the sofa, her ass stuck out towards me. She looked back over her shoulder and smiled. The professor pulled herself off of me and stood up. “Go to her,” she said.

I knelt behind Gwen and put my hands on her hips. “Is this how you like it?” I asked.

“I like it every way,” she said. “Come on, I’ve waited long enough.”

I supposed she had. I pushed forward into her, entering the pussy that had first tantalized my cock. All the way in. She sighed, her long prelude over. We started fucking, not fast, not slow. Just right.

“Did you like them?” she asked.

“Hm?” I was vaguely aware of the others watching us, but my attention was focused on Gwen. “I sure did.”

“And me?”

“And you. Absolutely.” She let her head hang down, and pushed back against me more forcefully. I thrust back at her just as hard.

I wanted to keep fucking Gwen forever, but it had been a long afternoon. Between the posing and the sex, I was tiring, deep down. And I had already been in one mouth and two cunts since my last orgasm, before getting to Gwen, so my cock had had about all it could take. Already I felt the tingling in my balls. “It’s almost time,” I said.

“Give it to me,” said Gwen. “I’m ready.”

We sped up, and Gwen tilted her head back. I held tight to her hips and plunged away at her, and as I felt her pussy fluttering on my cock, I let go. I had already poured a lot of my come into Angie, so I didn’t have as much to give Gwen, but I struggled to get every drop I had left into her. She pushed back toward me and wriggled her hips, gasping and moaning.

I leaned against Gwen, and rubbed her back with one hand. Professor Marten stepped forward and put her arms around my neck. She kissed me on the temple. “Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You just lie down beside Gwen.” Gwen and I twisted so that we both lay on our sides on the couch, me behind her, with my cock still inside her. The professor stooped and kissed Gwen. “Good job,” she said.

I closed my eyes and put my arms around Gwen. “Girls, I think we should leave them alone,” said the professor. I heard them getting dressed, and then the door opening and closing. Gwen and I lay together for a while without talking. My cock became soft and popped out of her. I kissed her on the neck.

‘Thank you,” she said.

“You too. Thanks.”

There was another moment of silence, and then she spoke again. “What did you think, when you first saw me?”

“I thought you were very beautiful. I wanted to, you know, chat you up and maybe ask you out.”

“Oh. So are you going to?”

“Mm.” I kissed her neck again. “Yes. Gwen, would you like to go out with me?”

“Yes I would.” That seemed to be all the agreement we needed for the time. I was happy just to know I’d be seeing her again. After another few minutes, she said, “We should get going.”

“Yeah,” I said reluctantly, and sat up. “I have to work tonight.”

“And don’t forget we have to stop by Professor Marten’s office on the way out.”

“Why?”

“To pick up our checks. We’re getting paid for this, remember?”

Hitchhiker

alruccabah@gmail.com — Fri, 08 Jul 2005 15:07:39 GMT

I like my car. It’s not an expensive car, nor really a very fast car, though I try to drive it like it is. But I think it’s a fun car, and it suits me.

Sometimes, when I wake up in the early morning hours and I can’t sleep, I’ll get in my car and just drive. I’ll get on the highway, with no particular destination, and just enjoy the curves of the road and the feeling of the wheel in my hands, and the throttle under my foot. I was out doing just that, one early morning, when I met Lucy.

I was stopped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, just as the sun was about to rise. I started the pump and went inside to buy something to drink. When I came out, there was a girl standing by the door. If she was there when I went in, I didn’t notice.

I went back to my car. As I came around to my door, I saw that the girl had halfway followed me, and was standing there looking like she was trying to say something.

I hung the nozzle back on the gas pump, put the gas cap back on, and looked up again. She had come over to my car, and had worked up the nerve to ask what she wanted to ask.

“Hey, there. Do you think you could give me a ride?” She gave me a pleading smile.

I looked up the road one direction, and then down the other. “Which way are you headed?”

“North. Out of here.”

I had been headed south, but at some point I needed to turn back home and return to the real world. This might as well be the place. “Sure, no problem.” I ducked into the car and reached over to unlock the other door.

She climbed in eagerly. I noticed that she had only a little purse with her, no other baggage of any kind. She reached out her hand. “I’m Lucy.” I shook it, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t feel like telling her my name.

I pulled out of the gas station and back onto the highway. Lucy put her purse on the floor in front of her. She fidgeted in her seat, and then said, “I’m sure glad you agreed to give me a ride.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

She looked around, trying to find something to talk about. She looked at the radio, but I made no move to turn it on. She looked down at her hands, then out the window. “Almost daylight,” she said.

“Yep,” I said, and let things fall back into an awkward silence. I wanted her to feel awkward. She stopped talking and settled back into her seat. Occasionally, she would yawn, but apart from that, the only sounds were from the car and the road.

I let a dozen miles roll away behind us. She yawned again, and I broke the silence. “Long night?”

She perked up. “Yeah. Things didn’t work out like I’d planned.”

“Strange place to be stranded without a ride.”

“There’s a bus stop there. But the bus doesn’t come until way later.” She clearly wanted me to continue inquiring, but I didn’t give her any encouragement. Finally she decided to proceed on her own. “I made my boyfriend drop me off there. We had a fight.”

“And what was that about?”

“We were at a party and it was breaking up. I wanted us to leave and spend some time together, but he wanted to go off with his friends and keep drinking. Jerk.”

“So you made him drop you off in the middle of nowhere? Why didn’t you go home?”

“I’m just visiting Kyle for the weekend. Or I was. And I was out there because I figured I could take the bus back home.” She sighed. “But it doesn’t run at night. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

I didn’t feel like talking with this girl about her problems with her boyfriend, so I let the subject drop. Having explained the cause of her frustration, she seemed content now to wander in her own thoughts. We rode on in silence again, punctuated only by her occasional yawn.

After a while, she stopped yawning, and I looked over to see that she had fallen asleep. I took the opportunity to look her over more carefully. Young and slender. Pale, clear skin. Straight hair, almost black, and just under shoulder length. She wore a short, black skirt and a white top, with a denim jacket on over that. If she’d been waiting for a bus for long, she must have grown quite cold.

In her sleep, she had slumped down a little bit, causing her skirt to ride a little way up her legs. I liked her legs, and I decided I wanted to see more of them. We were on a long straight stretch of road. I slowly sped up, getting near 80, and then I stepped on the brakes. Not hard, not enough to jerk her out of her sleep, but enough for the car to perceptibly lean forward with the deceleration. It had the desired effect, and she squirmed around in the seat trying to get a little more comfortable. She slumped down a bit more, and her skirt rode up a fraction in response. I sped up again and repeated my maneuver, over and over. It didn’t always work; in fact it failed more often than not, but I had nothing else to occupy me at the time

Finally her skirt got up about as far as I figured it was going to go. I decided to help it along, and reached over and slid it up just far enough to see her white panties. After that I drove along stealing glances as my unconscious passenger from time to time, formulating another plan. The sun had risen, and it was full daylight by now.

I slowly allowed the car to drop to around 40, and looked for a good place to pull over. I passed through a little no-horse town, and when it disappeared from my rear view mirror, I figured I was in as good a spot as any. I slowed down some more, then turned off the highway onto a smaller county road. I looked over to see if Lucy had stirred, but she slept on.

From the new road, I looked for something smaller still. I approached a gravel turnout, and saw that there was dirt road leading off from it into the trees. Perfect. I turned onto it. Perhaps it was a fire road, or an old logging trail. No matter. After fifty yards or so, past a little bend, I figured I’d found my spot.

I stopped the car roughly, intending to shake Lucy awake this time. She stirred and looked around, then noticed that her skirt wasn’t covering her as well as she thought it should. I pretended not to notice, and got out of the car while she straightened herself out. I took the bottle of water I had bought at the gas station with me.

I walked out in front of the car. The road went northeast from here. The trees were thick and deep on the left side, but the right was more lightly wooded, and the sun broke through. It was a cool, clear morning. There were birds chirping, and I could see a mist a ways down the road, where the sun was starting to burn off the dew.

Lucy got out of the car and approached me. “Why are we stopped?”

“Just time for a break,” I said. I stretched, and took a drink from my bottle. “Want some?”

“Thank you,” she said, and took it from me. I watched her as she put it to her lips and threw her head back. She handed it back to me and yawned. “I sure do appreciate you giving me this ride.”

“Mm-hm. Since you bring the subject up, how much do you appreciate it?”

She looked startled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve given you this ride, and you say you’re grateful. But what are you going to give me in return?”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before coming up with anything to say. “I, um, I don’t really have anything. I have a little money, but not much.”

I looked straight at her and smiled. “I don’t think I want your money, honey.”

She looked at me with real worry in her eyes. “I really don’t have anything to offer besides that.”

“Sure you do,” I said, and stepped closer to her. She looked down at the ground. “Sure you do.” I touched my hand to her chin and tilted her head up so that her eyes met mine. “You’re a very pretty girl.” She was trembling. “Very pretty. I’ll bet you’d look even prettier with my dick in your mouth.”

She jerked away from me and averted her eyes. I believe she suppressed a sob. “Please don’t hurt me,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Hurt you? I’m certainly not going to hurt you, sweetheart. I just wanted you to know that if you’re looking for a way to show your gratitude, that there’s something you can do for me.”

She looked up again. “You really won’t hurt me?”

“Of course not.” I took another drink of water. “It’s your choice.”

She looked marginally reassured. “Then, I, um, no. I’m not going to do that.”

“Okay,” I said, and started to walk back to the car. “See you around.”

“What? Hey, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said as I got into the driver’s seat, “that I’m glad you appreciated the ride, and I hope you have a nice day.” I turned the key in the ignition and started the car.

“Wait!” She ran over to the passenger side door. “You can’t leave me here.”

I reached over and grabbed the door from the inside before she could try to open it. She pulled at it, but I kept it shut. I rolled down the window a crack. “Girl, understand that if you get into this car, it’s for the purpose of sucking my cock. Are you sure you want to open that door?”

She let it go and stepped back. “But this is not fair! You said you’d give me a ride.”

“And I did. You said you wanted to go north, and we’re north of where you started. You got your ride.”

“But this is the middle of nowhere! It’s not fair!”

“You’re right. Fair would be if I did something for you, and you also did something for me. But you say you won’t, so how is that fair?” I looked up the road. “And I’m sure you can find a bus around here somewhere.”

“But you – I can’t believe this! How can you be like this?”

“I’m not forcing you into anything,” I said. I opened the door for her, and she stepped back from it again. “But if you want into the car, you know what you have to do.”

She looked up and down the empty dirt road, tying to find some way out. Finally she made a desperate attempt to salvage something from the situation. “Couldn’t I, like, just use my hand or something?”

“What’s the matter, sweetheart, you never sucked a guy off before?” She blushed. “If you can do if for your boyfriend, you can do it for me.”

I watched as she resigned herself to the decision she knew she was about to make. “All right,” she said, and got into the car.

I killed the engine. She sat stock still, staring ahead. I looked at her, waiting. She shifted in her seat. “You know where to find it,” I said.

She sighed, turned in her seat and reached over to unzip my fly. She opened up my pants, and I raised myself up so she could scoot them down a little. No, this wasn’t the first time she’d done this, not even her first time in a car. She pulled my underwear down and took hold of my cock.

She gave it a little squeeze and then made a final plea to me. “Couldn’t I just—“

“No!” I snapped. She bent her head toward my lap.

She closed her lips around my dickhead. Making a good tight seal, she bobbed her head up and down while she jerked me with her right hand. “Slow down, sweetheart,” I said, putting my hand on the back of her head to guide her pace. “And use your tongue.”

She sighed heavily through her nose, but she obeyed. I felt her tongue lick over the head of my cock, and she turned her head to the side so she could reach the underside. I twisted toward her so she could get a better angle.

Her lips were as warm and soft as I had hoped, and her tongue was wonderfully agile. I petted her head and ran my fingers through her soft, dark hair. Life was good.

She kept trying to hurry things along, but with my hand at the back of her head, I kept her to a nice slow pace. I gave her little encouraging grunts when she did something I particularly liked, and she soon figured out what worked best. I was determined that she would get me off my showing me her skill, not just through speed and force.

She kept maneuvering to get a better angle, and slid off the seat onto the floorboards so she could face me more directly. She replaced her right hand with her left, and I enjoyed the change. Versatility is a virtue.

I continued to play with her hair and enjoy the slurping noises she was making as she worked my cock with her lips and tongue to the best of her ability. I looked down and noticed her moving her trim little ass back and forth. I tilted my head down to try to see where her right hand had gone. It appeared to be buried somewhere in her crotch.

“Glad to see I’m not the only one enjoying myself,” I said, and she jerked her right hand away from herself. She paused in her work for a moment, breathed hard, and then continued the blowjob.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. “What are you thinking right now, Lucy, I wonder?” I said. “Isn’t it funny that we should be so intimately joined, but you can’t say a damn to me about how if feels to you?” Her only response was to suck harder in an apparent effort to get things over with. “But I can tell you. It feels great. You’re a damn fine little cocksucker. You put your heart into it.”

I reached down and pulled her little black skirt up over her ass and gave her a pat or two, then went back to playing with her hair. After a minute or two I noticed that her hand had disappeared back into her crotch again, but I didn’t say anything.

She began to hum and mew her enjoyment, and I returned with appreciative noises of my own. I felt the tingling in my balls, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long now. I took my hand off her head and rested it on her shoulder, letting her speed up. She clutched my cock in her slippery little hand and sucked for all she was worth. Her hips undulated as she no longer bothered to disguise the fact that she was masturbating as she sucked me. A beautiful sight. It was too much for me.

I came into her mouth as she was on a downstroke, splashing the back of her mouth with my semen. “Suck it, girl,” I said. “Suck it and swallow it!” She took another gout, and another, and tried to swallow them. She mostly succeeded. I lifted my hips up as she went down as far as she could go, seeking every drop of my come she could get.

When she’d gotten everything out of me that I had to give her, she took her mouth off my cock and twisted her head back. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She gasped deeply, and with a long and loud sigh, brought herself to orgasm. She moaned and shook, and opened and closed her mouth several times. I rubbed her back and stroked her hair.

She wound down and regained her breath. She pushed herself back into her seat, put her head in my lap, and took my softening cock back into her mouth. She sucked gently at it until it was completely soft.

“Okay, sweetheart,” I said, “time to get going again.” She sat up. I buttoned up my pants. Lucy took a tissue out of her purse and cleaned up her face as best as she could.

I started the car, backed up to the main road, and turned around. Soon we were back on the highway, headed north. I looked over at Lucy. She had fallen asleep again. A little smear of my come still stuck to the corner of her mouth. She stirred and slumped down in her seat, raising her skirt up her legs as she had done before. I reached over and smoothed it down for her.

Diner

alruccabah@gmail.com — Fri, 01 Jul 2005 16:49:23 GMT

It sounded like a romantic idea: two lovers jumping into a car and driving off with no particular destination in mind. And it was romantic, when we started our vacation. But two weeks of driving later, when we'd listened to every CD we had at least three times, and gotten tired of looking for funky little tourist attractions to check out, well, things can get a little snippy.

Don't misunderstand me. I love Rachel incredibly much. But neither one of us is the easiest person in the world to get along with, and we were both in a kind of a mood. We were driving through the Arizona desert on our way to Tombstone. We thought it would be fun to go and see a cowboy shootout when we left Santa Fe, but then the miles and miles of hightway stretched out, and now it was two in the morning and we hadn't said a word for hours.

I noticed we were coming up on a roadside diner. I figured I was a little hungry, and stopping here might shake us out of the mood we were in. I slowed down and turned into the parking lot.

"What are you doing?" asked Rachel.

"I want to get a bite to eat. Come on, I'lll buy you a milkshake."

"Fine," Rachel said, but not enthusiastically, and unbuckled her seat belt as I stopped the car.

Inside, the place was deserted. I didn't even see any wait staff, and I was thinking maybe someone had forgotten to turn out the lights when they left, when a waitress came throuogh the kitchen door behind the counter. "Oh, hi," she said. I smiled. "Just the two of you?"

"Just us." She smiled back. She was a very pretty waitress.

"Sit anywhere you like, and I'll bring you some menus. Coffee?"

"No thanks," I said, and slid into a booth. Rachel sat down across from me, and when the waitress looked at her for an answer, she just waved her away. Rachel rested her head on one hand and stared at me. I looked around, at anything but Rachel, and when the waitress brought us glasses of water and menus, I naturally watched her walk away again. I've always liked pretty girls.

"She's a bit young, don't you think?” asked Rachel, drawing my attention back to her.

"Hm?" I said. Busted. Oh well. "Maybe. She's got to be at least eighteen, to be working here at this hour."

"A bit young for you, I meant, and you know it." I was going to say something to try to move the subject off our waitress, when she reappeared, holding her order book, and I was temporarily off the hook.

"You guys know what you want?" she asked.

I looked at Rachel. She just shook her head. "I'd like a chocolate milkshake," I said. "And a slice of Dutch apple pie."

The waitress scribbled on her pad. "Would you like that heated up?"

"Of course he does," said Rachel. "He likes his pie hot."

I gave her a dirty look. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

"No trouble at all," she said, and gave me a pat on the arm before scurrying off again. This time, I didn't watch her go, but glared at Rachel.

"You don't have to be rude to her," I said.

"Well, she doesn't have to flirt with my boyfriend."

I sighed. "It's just her job to be friendly. They get bigger tips that way."

"Melanie should figure out a way to get tips that doesn't involve throwing herself at you," said Rachel. I gave her a puzzled look. "Come on, I know you saw her nametag. Or did staring at her tits cause you to become suddenly illiterate?"

Did I mention that Rachel's got a bit of a mouth on her?

"She's got nice tits," I said. Did I mention that I never bother to lie to my girlfriend about other women? These are things that we settled in the first week we were dating, and we've been happy with that arrangement ever since.

"Anyway," she went on, "what are you getting a milkshake and pie for at this hour? You won't be able to sleep if you eat all that."

"The milkshake's for you."

"I didn't say I wanted one."

"Well, it's coming, and you can either have it or not." And just then, Melanie came back with the food. Rachel continued to be rude, and I tried to be extra friendly to make up for it. But that only made Rachel treat her worse. I figured this was a no-win situation, so I just thanked Melanie and let her go.

I started in on my pie. The milkshake sat there on the table between us. Rachel didn't make any move for it. I didn't say anything, but I kept watching her. Finally she sighed and reached for it, unwrapping a straw and dunking it into the shake. "Well, you're right about her tits," she said. "They're very cute."

I just smiled. I knew Rachel couldn't resist chocolate. Her mood seemed to change and we chatted about what we would do when we got to Tombstone, and whether we should keep driving or find somewhere to stay for the night. I figured my idea of stopping at this diner had worked to cheer us up after all, and I was feeling pretty satisfied with myself.

But the truth is, sometimes Rachel gets over what's bugging her, and sometimes she just puts it on the back burner to simmer for a while. Melanie came back to take away my plate and Rachel's glass. "Was everything okay?" she asked.

"Everything was just great, sweetie," said Rachel. "The milkshake was very good, and I hear that the pie was excellent as well." I knew that something was wrong, because Rachel is never this nice unless she's up to something. "There's just one more thing I think we'd like."

"Okay. What can I get you?"

"What I'd like -- or what he'd like, actually," said Rachel, nodding at me, "is you."

"Rachel!"

"Come on, you can't tell me it's not on the menu. And he obviously wants you." Melanie just stared. "How much do I have to tip you to get you to fuck my boyfriend?

"Goddammit, Rachel, what are you--"

"You want her, she wants you, what's the problem?" Rachel smiled, stood up, and took Melanie by the hand. "He likes to do it from behind. Is that okay?"

Melanie was still in a state of shock. "I --"

I stood up and pulled Rachel away from Melanie. "If you're angry at me, then fine, let's have it out. But don't take it out on our waitress."

"I'm not angry, honey," she said, giving me her angriest smile. "We haven't had sex for three days, and you must be awfully horny. I thought you might like a change."

"Rachel, this is not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny, baby. I just want you to be happy, and I think fucking her will make you happy, so--"

"I can't believe you're being like this."

"Do you want her to blow you? She's got such a pretty mouth."

"I want you to stop this, is what I want."

"And I will, honey, right after you fuck this girl."

I glowered at Rachel, and she continued to smile at me.

"Okay," said Melanie.

I looked at her. She was looking at Rachel. "What?"

"Okay," she said. "I'll fuck your boyfriend."

There was a little pause, and then Rachel squealed, "Great! We can do it right here." She turned Melanie around so that she leaned against the table, and then looked at me. "You're up, sweetie."

And I was up, actually. I had often thought about what it would be like to have sex with another girl while Rachel watched, and here was Rachel practically begging me to do it. Even though I knew she was just messing with me, it was still turning me on. And it didn't help that Melanie was smiling at me expectantly.

I decided that if Rachel wanted to play chicken with me, I wasn't going to be the one to back down. "You're sure you want me to fuck this girl, sweetheart?"

"Absolutely. Isn't that what I've been saying?" Rachel said, giving me her sweetest smile. "Come and get it. She's willing."

Okay, I thought. I'll just start with something harmless. I started to unbutton Melanie's blouse, figuring Rachel would stop me right there. But she didn't. "I thought he might go there," she said to Melanie. "He likes your tits."

"Yours are bigger."

"Yes, but yours are very cute." I was going slowly, but I was running out of buttons, and Rachel wasn't doing anything to stop me. I undid the last one, and then stepped back. Rachel glanced up at me, and then back to Melanie. "Let's show him what he's looking for," she said, and pulled Melanie's blouse back, exposing her bra, which was white, and her flat stomach. Rachel looked at me again.

I decided to ignore Rachel until she'd had enough. In the mean time, there was a pretty girl in front of me with her shirt half off, and if Rachel wasn't going to give me any other way out, I might as well enjoy myself. I stepped forward again, put my hand up to Melanie's cheek, and said, "They really are very cute." I moved my hand to the back of her neck and leaned in for a kiss.

It was a nice kiss. I moved in closer, put my other arm around her back, and pulled her to me. I had barely even kissed Rachel good morning and good night for the past three days, and it felt wonderful to have Melanie's soft, warm lips against mine. I began to think this maybe wouldn't be so bad, really.

We broke the kiss and I moved my hands down to her hips. Sensing what I wanted, she leaned back against the table. I slipped my hands around to her ass -- a nice, firm ass --- and then down the back of her thighs. "Lean back, honey," I said, and I eased her legs apart as she did so. I pulled her skirt up, running my hands up her thighs and revealing her panties. Which were purple.

"Purple is nice," said Rachel, who had apparently decided not to be ignored. "They don't match your bra, though."

"I know," said Melanie. "I didn't think anyone would be seeing my underwear today." She smiled at Rachel.

"We'd better take the bra off, then." Rachel helped Melanie to shrug her blouse off, and then reached behind her to unhook her bra. I watched this while skimming my hands over Melanie's thighs, enjoying her soft skin and feeling myself get very, very hard. Rachel pulled the bra straps off Melanie's shoulders, and then her pink-nippled tits were bare before us all. I licked my lips and pushed forward as I looked at them, grinding my crotch against Melanie's.

"Nice, huh?" Rachel said to me. "What are you going to do on that end?" I held her gaze as I slipped my fingers under the hem of Melanie's panties and pulled at them. Melanie raised herself up so I could slide them over her ass, and then I pulled them up her legs and off.

Rachel stared back at me, smiling. I looked back for a moment, and then deciding that I'd rather look at Melanie's pussy than get into a staring contest, I turned my attention to what was in front of me. She wasn't shaved, but she had trimmed her hair close, and her lips were long and full. "You're gorgeous, Melanie," I said. "And I think I'm going to have to take a taste of you."

I bent down on one knee and stroked Melanie’s lips. She wiggled her hips and sighed. I needed no further invitation, and began to lick and suck, starting at the bottom and working my way up, taking my time. I spread her pussy open and nudged at her clit with my lips a couple times, and then dug in with my tongue.

Melanie groaned and twisted. I looked up to see that she was fingering her nipple with her left hand, while her right was holding Rachel’s hand – Rachel’s hand! – against her other tit. I looked back down before Rachel could see that I had noticed her. Melanie was getting thoroughly wet, and I busied myself in lapping at her pussy and making her more so.

It wasn’t long before Melanie was breathing fast and shallow, and I knew she was getting close. She put her hands down and twisted her fingers into my hair. I looked up again to see Rachel sucking on one of Melanie’s tits while cupping the other, and at that moment Melanie began to come. She pushed at the back of my head, cooing incoherently as her legs flailed. She wasn’t exactly a squirter, but I got a good helping of her juices spread over my face.

Her orgasm began to subside, and I raised my head while continuing to stroke Melanie. Rachel gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and stood up. “Don’t stop,” Melanie said weakly. “Please.” Was she talking to Rachel or to me?

I probed into Melanie’s pussy with my middle finger, and found it plenty wet and welcoming. Using my other hand, I rubbed her clit, and then leaned in to lick her again. Rachel was doing something behind me that I couldn’t see. I heard a couple somethings hit the floor, and then I felt Melanie’s bare foot on my shoulder. I looked back at Rachel, who had just taken Melanie’s socks off. “Don’t mind me,” she said, and I went back to finger-fucking and licking the young waitress.

Rachel put her arms around my waist from behind and unbuttoned my pants. She unzipped my fly and ducked her hand into my shorts to wrap her fingers around my dick. “Does she taste good, honey?” she asked. “Like me? Is she sweet?” She stroked me a few times, and then pulled my pants and shorts down. She crawled under the table, sat on the floor, and took hold of my dick again. She rubbed her thumb across the head, smearing my pre-come around, and then I felt her tongue on my balls.

Rachel licked me up and down while I kept licking and fingering Melanie. When she had gotten me good and covered in her saliva, Rachel parted her lips and took my cock into her mouth about halfway. She sucked briefly and then slowly pulled my cock out of her mouth again, slithering her tongue back and forth across the underside as she did so. She repeated this a couple of times and then crawled out from under the table again.

Melanie was getting close once more, but I wasn’t going to lick her into an orgasm this time. I stood up and looked over the naked girl lying on the table. She was rubbing and clutching at her tits, her eyes closed. She opened them to see why the pleasure she had been getting had stopped, and saw my erect, wet cock pointing at her. She smiled.

“Let me get her skirt off,” said Rachel. Melanie twisted so that Rachel could get at the zipper in the back, and then Rachel pulled the skirt down Melanie’s legs and off. That was the last of her clothing, and she now lay on the table completely nude. I stepped forward and pressed the head of my cock against her slickened pussy. Rachel leaned in to watch. I rubbed my cock over Melanie’s puffy lips, and then pushed into her.

Melanie moaned and pushed back at me. I slowly glided into her warm, soft flesh, all the way in, then paused. I backed out a fraction, pushed back in, and soon developed a steady rhythm, fucking the pretty girl while Rachel watched. When had I crossed over from fighting with my girlfriend to having sex with another woman in front of her? I couldn’t remember.

Rachel watched the two of us going at it with her eyes half closed. She was chewing on her lip and had difficulty standing still. I knew what that meant. “Come here, baby,” I said, and pulled her toward me. I slid one hand up under her t-shirt while I kept the other hand on Melanie’s hip so I could keep fucking her. I cupped and squeezed her tit, then pulled my hand back out. I found Melanie’s clit and rubbed it with my thumb. “Take your shirt off,” I said to Rachel.

She pulled it up over her head and off, then reached behind herself and unhooked her bra. She started to take that off too. “Wait,” I said. I pulled it off the rest of the way and revealed her tits for myself. I left Melanie’s clit alone again and held Rachel’s tit in one hand, while I slid the other up Melanie’s body to squeeze her tit at the same time. Rachel was probably a full size larger than the other girl, but they both were firm and nicely rounded. I stopped moving in and out of Melanie for a moment and simply enjoyed the feeling of my cock in the girl on the table, and a tit from either girl in my hands.

“Kiss me,” I said to Rachel, as I resumed fucking Melanie. Rachel put her arm around my neck, opened her mouth, and met mine. I held her close and touched the tip of my tongue to hers. I felt sorry for all the stupid fights we’d had over the past few days. Rachel was really a wonderful girl, and I loved her endlessly.

Our lips parted. I looked down and Rachel’s hand was resting on Melanie’s thigh. “Again,” I said, and we shared another kiss. She ground her crotch against my hip, and I heard Melanie cooing again. I nuzzled Rachel’s cheek and licked at her earlobe. When I looked down again, Rachel’s thumb had replaced mine on Melanie’s clit. I licked her earlobe again and whispered, “Now kiss her.”

Rachel moved onto the seat of the booth and leaned over Melanie. She brushed the other girl’s hair back, then stroked her cheek as they looked into each other’s eyes. They kissed. Their hands sought out each other’s nipples, and they kissed and petted each other as I looked on delightedly.

Melanie began breathing hard. Rachel stopped kissing her and asked, “Getting close again, sweetie?” Melanie could only nod. Rachel sat up on the table and swept the salt and pepper shakers and all the other table trappings onto the seat. She sat cross-legged and held Melanie’s head in her lap. “You looked so beautiful when you came last time. Do it again. He’s really enjoying fucking you. I can tell.”

Melanie held Rachel’s hand while her heavy breathing changed into whining, then moaning, and she came again. Her pussy clenched and unclenched on my cock, and she let go a flood of wetness again. I slowed my pace but kept screwing her as she tightened her legs around me and slapped her free hand against the table. Her orgasm seemed to last longer this time. It ended with her body going limp and a satisfied, inarticulate syllable.

Rachel had been watching Melanie, the same as I had. Now she looked at me. “Are you getting there, baby?”

“Not yet,” I grunted. I could have let myself go, but there were still more things I wanted to do. More things I wanted Rachel to do.

Rachel rubbed Melanie’s neck and shoulders. “How about if he fucks you from behind? That ought to do it for him.”

“Okay,” said Melanie, still a little out of breath. “My butt is getting kind of sore on the table here anyway.” I pulled out of her and helped her stand up, then turned her around and bent her over toward the table. She spread her legs apart and I placed the head of my dick against her pussy. She pushed back as I pushed forward.

I grinned at Rachel as I started happily fucking away again. She beamed back at me. “Like that?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Come here.” She crawled to the edge of the table. “Move forward, Melanie,” I said, and gave her a little swat on the ass. We stepped forward together so that I could reach Rachel. I kissed her and said, “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Too beautiful to keep your clothes on. I need to see all of you.” I unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. “Take them off.” She pulled her jeans down to her ankles, then untied her shoes and slipped them off. I started giving it to Melanie a little harder. Rachel stripped off her jeans and sat back on the table. “Everything,” I said.

She took off her socks, and then rose to her knees to slowly slide her panties down over her ass. Melanie and I both watched her. She took them off and threw them aside, then demurely settled back down again with her legs tucked under her.

“Uh-uh,” I said. “Spread them.” She leaned back with her hands on the table behind her and opened her legs, resting one on each side of the table, with Melanie bent over between them. My sexy, naked girlfriend smiled at me and waited. Melanie’s eyes were fixed on Rachel’s crotch.

I didn’t say anything for a long moment, just kept thrusting into Melanie. I wondered if she would act on her own, or maybe ask for it. I decided not to wait. “Go to it, girl,” I said. “Eat her.”

Melanie reached out and drew Rachel to her, and sank her face into my sweetheart’s pussy. Rachel closed her eyes and tilted her head back. I had gone down on her many times, and I always enjoyed seeing her react to getting her pussy licked, but now I was seeing her from a new perspective. Rachel put a hand on the back of Melanie’s head and bit her lip again.

With all three of us getting satisfied, Rachel didn’t feel a need to talk anymore. I banged away at Melanie and watched Rachel. She was truly beautiful. I knew she had messed around with other girls before, but I didn’t know how much. Had she had a girl go down on her before? Would she do it again? I thought about how it would be to fuck Rachel while she licked another girl. Maybe something to try out another day.

I could tell Rachel was getting along toward an orgasm, and I felt one coming on too. I wanted to get Melanie off again, so I bent forward, reached around and found her clit with my hand. Melanie groaned, Rachel groaned from the feeling of it, and I began to fuck Melanie harder. I was driving her forward into Rachel, and Rachel was pushing forward to meet my thrusts, mediated by the girl between us. The three of us were rocking along in unison.

Melanie came first. She moaned loudly into Rachel’s crotch, and then I felt her pussy spasming on my cock. I couldn’t hold back any longer and drove myself into her as far as I could as I shot my first stream of come into her. I groaned, and Rachel, finally getting to see me get myself off with this girl, clenched her teeth and fairly screamed her climax out. I thrust into Melanie again as I squirted again, and again, as her pussy kept squeezing at me. Rachel whined and whined and held Melanie’s face to her pussy with her hand tangled in the other girl’s hair. Melanie’s moans subsided, and I pulsed a last dribble of come into her.

I was tired. I pulled my softening dick out of Melanie, and a stream of our fluids followed it, running down her leg. I dropped myself onto the seat of the booth. “Thank you, sweetheart,” I said. “That was great.”

“You’re welcome,” they both said at once, and then laughed. Which one had I been talking to? I wasn’t sure either.

Melanie stood up unsteadily. I scooted over on the seat and pulled her in next to me. Rachel climbed off the table and knelt down in front of her, easing her legs apart. “Oh, no, no more,” said Melanie. “Please. I can’t.”

“I just want his come,” said Rachel. She licked the trail of ooze off Melanie’s leg, then stuck her finger into Melanie’s pussy to draw more out. She licked it off her finger. “You can clean his dick.”

Melanie looked at me. She couldn’t possibly twist around to reach my cock while Rachel was cleaning her out, so I sat up on the table. Melanie took my cock, now almost entirely soft, into her mouth and sucked the last of my semen off it. I sighed and thanked heaven for pretty girls.

And then they were done. Melanie tucked my cock back into my shorts and I zipped up. The girls gathered up their clothes. “Why don’t you come with me to the bathroom,” said Melanie, and they left together.

I figured that was a good idea and wandered into the men’s room. I wiped my face with some paper towels, and dabbed up some stray wet spots on my pants, then washed my hands. I came back out and waited for Rachel and Melanie. They seemed to be taking a long time.

They came out fully dressed and holding hands. They both hugged me and I squeezed them tight. Melanie let go, but I held on to Rachel and we both smiled and stared at each other. I felt like we’d hatched some brilliant conspiracy between us. It was almost like the first time we’d ever had sex.

“Um…I’d better get your check,” said Melanie.

I left a huge tip.

alruccabah@gmail.com — Sun, 26 Jun 2005 11:18:26 GMT

Correspondent #2 (I'm wary of even using her initial here) asked me when I'll write a fantasy about her and me. I asked her to give me some more information about herself, and it turns out she's married. This is a small disappointment, but on the bright side I can ask her if she acts out any of these fantasies with her husband.

Correspondent #1, meanwhile, hasn't emailed me at all since I sent her the second story.

alruccabah@gmail.com — Sun, 26 Jun 2005 11:14:18 GMT

I've sent two stories to each of my correspondents, and written yet another one, which I don't think is approprate for either one of them. I like how the writing is going, and I'm thinking about posting them into a community on LJ. But for now, I'm going to keep them private.

alruccabah@gmail.com — Sun, 26 Jun 2005 10:58:42 GMT

Arranged to meet with a woman to live out a rape fantasy. I don't know her name, and she doesn't know mine.

It was last night. It didn't work for me. The inability to communicate bothered me. I don't think I'll seek anonymous sex in the future.

Procrastinating

alruccabah@gmail.com — Tue, 18 Nov 2003 11:57:10 GMT

I've spent the last week avoiding writing a story. I really don't have a good excuse. I could start on it this morning, but I'll probably be tired later when I have a chance. Perhaps I should just do it anyway, tired or no.

Hint from my past

alruccabah@gmail.com — Tue, 11 Nov 2003 20:54:46 GMT

I have a friend, whom I've known for years. I'll call her T. I've never had any romantic or sexual interest in T. -- she's just not my type. Nevertheless, I have always enjoyed teasing, provoking, and sometimes, hurting her. I think I might have smacked her in the head on the first occasion I met her. Certainly I have smacked her many times, as well as punched her, shoved her around, kicked her, and head-butted her. I'm also rather free with the verbal invective. It's rare that we meet that I don't inform her that she's an utter nerd.

And there's no sexual angle to this at all. This is how we relate as friends, and we're both comfortable with it. (I am, anyway, and she continues to hang out with me, so I suppose she is too.) And until recently, I never would have thought of including this kind of playing at being mean into a romantic relationship. Perhaps that's part of the reason my relationship endevors have been so unsatisfying.

Well, I'm still looking for that woman that I can play at being mean with. Where the hell am I going to find her?

Her Hands

alruccabah@gmail.com — Sat, 01 Nov 2003 12:47:20 GMT

Her Hands

She had been nervous all day. She had made a mistake; she knew that. It was a mistake she hadn’t previously made in the two months they had lived together, and she wasn’t sure what the consequences were going to be.

Her palms were sweaty. She pressed them against her body, pressed them against the blouse she wore and slid them down to her skirt. Master would be home soon.

She went upstairs and into the bedroom. She removed her blouse, bra, and skirt. Now nude but for the collar, she went to the bathroom and put on her bathrobe. She looked in the mirror, checking her hair and her makeup. She turned her head and looked at her neck, her ears, and her plain earrings. She wanted to change them for something prettier, but it was not allowed.

She went back downstairs. She looked apprehensively at the doorway to the den. That was where she had broken the rule. Such a simple rule, so easy to obey, and she really had no desire to disobey it. Simple carelessness. How important a rule was it? Maybe not very serious. It seemed like such a little thing, but it had been one of the first rules he had laid down. She didn’t know.

She heard his car pull into the driveway. She moved to the front door and stood on tiptoe to look out of the small glass pane. No one was with him. There would be no delaying the punishment, she was sure.

Moving briskly, she opened the closet in the foyer, slipped off her robe, and hung it up. She took the leash from its hook, returned to the door, and sat on her knees. Her small hands held the coiled leash at her knees. She kept her head down.

She waited. She heard his footsteps outside the door and she shifted her feet under her. She heard the key in the lock and then the door opened.

He stepped inside and closed the door. She kept her eyes down. No kind word today, no pat on the head. He stepped past her and sat in the chair by the closet.

“Leash.” Keeping her eyes fixed on the floor, she held it up to him. He did not touch her hands as he took it from her. He did not touch her neck as he clipped it to her collar.

“Shoes.” She turned to him and unlaced his right shoe and slipped it off. She wanted to touch his skin where it was exposed above his black sock. There was no rule against it, but she was afraid it would offend him. She removed the left shoe and crawled to the closet. She placed them inside, took the slippers, and crawled back to his feet. She once again suppressed the desire to touch his skin as she put them on his feet.

He stood up, removed his coat, and laid it on the chair. “Stand.” She got up off the floor, eyes still downcast. “Hang it up.” Usually, he let her remove the coat for him. Usually, she was allowed to feel his broad shoulders and inhale his fragrance. Not today. She put the coat in the closet and closed the closet door.

He led her into the kitchen. “Face the counter.” She obeyed. He stooped down and she felt a pang of anguish as he took two large bowls from the cupboard. He was handling the dishes instead of her. He had to do this, because of her mistake. She stared at the countertop.

He laid the free end of her leash on the counter and went to the freezer. He took three ice cube trays and dumped them all into a bowl. This he took to the sink, and she heard the water running behind her. He placed the filled bowl on the counter, and took the other one. She heard the water running into the sink for a moment, and then heard the sound change as he filled the other bowl. He placed it, full of steaming water, on the counter, and moved the two bowls in front of her. He stood behind her.

“You broke a rule this morning, slave.” She said nothing. “Do you know what rule you broke?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And what rule was it?”

“I am forbidden to touch the Master’s books without permission. But I did so.”

“And why did you break this rule?”

“I was careless, Master. I leaned on the bookcase as I bent down to unplug the vacuum cleaner. I was not careful where I placed my hand, Master.”

“Yes, you were careless.” He reached out, took her right hand by the wrist, and held it up. She tried not to be thrilled at his touch. “With this hand, you broke a rule. You need to become more aware of where you put your hands.” He turned her hand over, rubbed his thumb across her palm, then turned it over again and held it over the bowl filled with ice water. “Are you ready to receive your punishment?”

“Yes, Master.”

He lifted his left arm to look at his watch, paused a moment, and then plunged her hand and his into the icy water. She gasped as the pain hit her. It crushed her hand like a vise, and the cold licked her at every pore. She did not pull back as his strong hand held hers under the water.

They stood in silence. She instinctively tried to shut the pain out, then remembered herself. She opened herself up to it. This was her punishment. She deserved it. She needed to feel everything, so that she would learn, so that she would remember.

She stared into the water. Their hands were distorted by the floating ice cubes into blobby pink clouds. They didn’t look like hands at all, no hands there at all, just pink clouds – no, she told herself, focus on the pain. Ignore what you see. Just feel the pain.

The cold ground its way in, deeper into her hand. She could feel it scraping like a cruel file, deeper into her flesh, down into the bone. Her body began to betray her will, as the blood vessels constricted and her nerves began to shut down, one by one. Still the two stood in silence.

She could no longer feel his hand on hers. She realized that she had already given up any hope or fear that this would be a quick and easy punishment. The pain was less intense now, but it had changed in character. She had lost any sense of location in her hand. It felt like it had been chewed up and spat back out into a pile of mush, and squeezed back into place. She couldn’t tell the pain at the back of her hand from that in her palm, or that in the tips of her fingers from the pain in the fleshy folds between them. It was all one pulpy mess. Her hand had blended with his into that pink cloud. A disorganized, used-to-be part of her anatomy. Was her hand even still there? She felt nothing now, nothing at all.

He lifted his left arm and looked at his watch again. “Wiggle your fingers.” She did so, feebly, and the ice cubes jostled a little. “As hard as you can.” She tried again, but got little movement. They stood silently together some more.

“Look at me,” he said. She turned her head around and up, and saw his impassive face. He was so strong. With him there, she could stand with her hand in the water all day. She felt nothing at all. She unconsciously leaned back against his chest, pressed herself into him just a little. She did not mind at all.

“Your hand is in that water because you used it to break a rule,” he said. “But my hand is in the water too. Do you know why?”

“No, Master.” He had done nothing wrong with his hand. She was sure of that. He had good hands.

He snatched her hand from the ice water and thrust it into the hot water. She still felt nothing. He rubbed and squeezed her hand with his, and a faint tone of sensation began to ring there. It echoed louder and louder. She felt her hand throb with her pulse as blood and life returned to it, and pain flared there again. Warmth and pain seeped into her flesh, cut each cell apart form the others, and burned it with a separate little fire. She felt every one of them burning her hand back into life. She kept looking up into his gentle eyes.

“It hurts me to hurt you,” he said. “Do you understand? When you hurt, I hurt.”

“Yes, Master.”

“When you are bad, when I punish you, it hurts me. Do you understand now how you hurt me with your hand?”

“Yes, Master.”

He lifted her hand from the water and turned her body to face his. He took a towel from beside the sink and pressed her hand into it. It flamed now with merely tolerable pain. She did not mind. She continued to look at his face.

Her right hand had turned bright red, redder than any sunburn had ever made it. He used the towel to dry it off, turning it over and back again as he did so, and bending every finger. When he had finished, he held her two hands in his, one pale and one red.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m okay, Master.” She smiled.

They looked at each other for a moment, then he pulled her to him for a soft kiss. She knew she was forgiven. She was happy.

“You have pretty hands,” he said.

Copyright 2003 Alruccabah

What the hell

alruccabah@gmail.com — Sat, 01 Nov 2003 12:43:30 GMT

On further consideration, I have reworked the story a little, and I think it's presentable now. Not all pain has to be white-hot and mind-numbing, and the pain isn't reallly the point of the story anyway. So now I think it works as a story.

I don't know, however, if it will at all ring true to people who have any experience with a D/s relationship. But the only way I can know that is to show it to people and see what they say. So I've decided to do that.

What I want

alruccabah@gmail.com — Thu, 30 Oct 2003 20:17:20 GMT

If I'm going to get anything out of this, I should make clear to myself what it is that I want.

In poking around LJ and elsewhere on the net, I encountered submissives, in some cases outright slaves, writing about their needs. Their needs to be directed, controlled, instructed, and protected. And they were not weak and desparate women, either. They sounded intelligent, willful, and happy. This was a huge revelation to me. I had the idea that a strong, capable woman would always, naturally, insist upon total equality in a relationship. Now I know different.

Well, that's what I want. A couple weeks ago, I would have said that I was looking for a good woman to start a relationship with, looking for a girlfriend. Well, I still want that, but now I want to feel those needs directed at me. And I want to fill them. But I want it with someone that I genuinely like, even without considering with the D/s and relationship elements. I don't just want to order some girl around or take her over my knee. I want actions that mean something.

So that's what I'm looking for. A nice relationship with a nice girl, but with a D/s orientation. As for how I expect to get that, I'll leave that to a later post.

alruccabah@gmail.com — Wed, 29 Oct 2003 19:48:23 GMT

Well, my first attempt at a kink story turns out to be a failure. I'm happy with the mood, the narrative flow, and the characterization, but the problem is that the punishment I thought up for the story turns out not to be very painful. (I decided to suffer for my art, as a reality check.) Oh well. I suppose this is going to happen when I try to write about things I know nothing about. Perhaps I'll recycle some of it with a slightly different scenario.

alruccabah@gmail.com — Wed, 29 Oct 2003 12:23:28 GMT

And now I have an icon. Progess.

alruccabah@gmail.com — Wed, 29 Oct 2003 10:10:15 GMT

Looking at the adds on bondage.com, I'm suprised to see that so many women are bi or switches. I was expecting hardly any bi women, and only a few switches.

alruccabah@gmail.com — Tue, 28 Oct 2003 21:52:03 GMT

Okay. Here I am. Now what?

I've decided that I'm in no way a sadist or masochist. I hate pain, and I hate seeing anyone else in pain. I had previously held the idea that D/s required that. Reading other people's journals made me realize how the S/M and the D/s are not necessarily entangled.

I can see using pain as a means of discipline or teaching tool, but I don't have any interest in it for its own sake. I've written a story that runs along those lines.

It's a first draft right now, so I'm not going to post it. It turned out longer than I thought it would, and I'm very pleased that I got it out. Tomorrow I'll look at rewriting.