I finish work early, looking through the mail as I walk into our little home. The kitchen a mess from the early morning hustle. I sigh, struggling with how our life got so turned upside down. Looking at a photo of my widowed wife, and a tear growing in my eye. It feels like every day is a struggle. The cleaning, working, the arguments, my mental health. Everything feels like it’s falling apart. It has for 8 years now. It’s like it was yesterday. But that yesterday just repeats and repeats.  But, my goal, my promise was to help raise my wife’s daughter. I promised her that, the last promise I gave her and one I plan to take to my grave. And I have completed the promise, 4 years ago I completed it. Well, I thought I did. Thinking about this all to myself, looking at the mess of a house, I have around me. The clothes, rubbish, and just junk everywhere. I lean hard on my palms against the bench. Pushing my weight against my hands to cope. Hoping the pain will relax me.

Bang, I hear the door flying open. There she is, that promise. Young, stupid, rude and a mess. Like me, maybe I haven’t kept that promise. Maybe that’s why I’m still here. I look up and see her, her boyfriend and her best friend.

“Hey Luke! My friends are staying the night.” She commands, walking pass and heading to her room.

“Please keep it quiet, I have to work in the morning!” I shout out, hoping it sticks and she shuts the fuck up. “Fuck,” I sigh, turning around and cleaning the kitchen. The door not shutting behind her. As her she focuses all her time and energy on her friends. I walk up and close it. Hearing her comment on my appearance and the house. Like I’m the one to blame. Bitch needs to look in the mirror; she makes all this mess. Frustrated, I start tidying up. Clean, and glancing over at her room. The anger building inside me. I use it to fuel my energy to get this house clean.

After an hour of stomping through the house cleaning, I start cooking dinner. They remain in her room. Giggling, playing and bouncing around like teenagers. Her female friend exits her room and walks to the bathroom. I can only tell that sound, living so long in this small house. The right number of steps and sounds of doors opening and closing. As my bacon cooks, and pasta boils. I turn to the fridge and reach for a beer. Taking that first cool sip and then chugging it enough I feel that relaxing feel it gives me. I let out a deep sigh, that anger and frustration boiling down. From a simple sip of beer.

“Hey, Luke!” I hear a young females voice and focus to the entrance of the kitchen.

“Julie, how are you? Did, Ashley kick you out?” I say, noticing the music going on in her room.

“Yeah, they’re young love birds.” She walks over. “Can I have one?” Her eyes staring at by beer.

“Yeah, help yourself.” I turn and focus on the pasta, giving a gentle reply.

Pulling it off the stove, draining it and running it under the tap to stop the cooking. I hear her open her beer and walk behind me. Looking over my shoulder. As I turn the tap off and grab the white wine and cream. Toss it through the bacon and moving quickly to combine all the ingredients.

“Is that for me?”

I feel her so close behind me. This energy isn’t something I’m use to. Her peeping over my shoulder and watching me cook. Her aroma and body heat. Remembering seeing those low-cut jeans and tight top. Her perky breast poking through and no bra on. I feel my blood rush downstairs. Knowing she’s so close. I stop the gas and turn around. I can barely move, feeling how close she is. As I turn, I capture her beautiful eyes, short red curls and smile. Cute little freckles and young cheeks. And those plumb lips, her beer by her side, and that body heat. I feel it grow hard and press firmly against my jeans.

“Are you ok there Julie?” I ask, having her so close to me. She nods.

“Well, is it?” she asks being so forward and flirtatious.

“Yes, you can have some.” I reply firmly.

Flustered at how good-looking she is, and how flirty she’s being. But she’s always been like this. To all guys, not just me. She’s gorgeous and she knows it. Under 6 foot, toned, small perky breasts, with these soft poky nipples. They stand out, as she never wears a bra, like ever. Guys just drool over her. And her ass, it just pokes out and rounded. I sometimes wonder if she wears panties as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t. But her flirty actions are practically normal for her, it’s how she acts all the time. It’s going to get her places, I can tell.

“Only one rule, drink my beer and eat my food. You join me at the table and eat with me.” I reply, looking her dead in the eye.

Her smile, simmering and forming a gentle pout. A look I’ve never seen her do. It shocks me a little, and I brush it off as I sit down. Watching her join, me in silence. We poke our forks into the food. Hearing Ashley and her boyfriend turn the music up. I sigh and try and ignore what’s happening down the hall.

“Luke, can I ask you a question” Julie asks, a more serious tone comes out. And I look at her in the eyes. Making sure I am at attention. Knowing that tone from raising Ashley.

“Why doesn’t Ashley call you Dad?”

I sigh and put my fork down. Taking a deep breath in and adjusting my glasses. Sitting up and adjusting myself.

“Probably, because I’m not her dad. Just a caregiver, sorry, her stepdad. But I feel like a caregiver.” I say sitting and adjusting myself. Feeling like it makes me a failure, hitting a core part of me.

“You’re doing a really good job at raising her.” Ashley replies, taking a small bite. “Much better than my stepdad.” She sighs as she relaxes into her dinner.

I sit there, pondering my own thoughts and core memories. Before, it clicks 20 seconds later.

“What, what are you talking about. Greg is your dad? Though he can be a bit of a dick sometimes…” I reply, knowing how he treats his family.

“I found out 2 years ago; he’s not my dad. Apparently, he’s known for years. Hence why he’s such a dick.” She replies, serious, with sadden tone forming.

“Oh my, Julie, I’m so sorry. I had no idea, does Ashley know?” I reply, stopping eating and focusing on her.

“No, none of my friends know. It’s just shit, because I look at you two and just. Well, see that it doesn’t have to be so shit. I don’t know, fuck, I shouldn’t have bought this up. Fuck, I just came in and saw how shit she treats you. Then, the dinner and clean home…” She rambles, as she opens so quickly and abruptly.

Shocking herself and tearing up in front of me. The father in me reaches out and opens my hand to hold. She looks at it, and at me. Hesitant to move and touch me, just looking at it. The moment feels like it passes and I retract my hand. She leaps forward and grabs it.

“Sorry, oh,” I reply, holding her soft small hand around my rough hands. I continue to comfort her. “Thank you for telling me, if you ever want to chat. I’m here, your secret is safe.” Trying to comfort her with my trust.

She wells up and cries. Trying to keep her composure and strength in case Ashley and her Boyfriend return. I squeeze her hand and wait for her to release. She doesn’t, and I lower my arm onto the table.

“If there’s anything I can do, just say.” I squeeze her hand, hoping it’s enough for her to let go, so I can continue eating. Also to adjust the room, also thinking of their return. She sighs and sniffles up her tears. Letting my hand go, as she resets herself. I reached behind and handed her a tissue.

“It’s ok sweetie, it’s ok.” I say, feeling overly fatherly.

The music stops and we both quickly reset. Eating our food and both taking a heavy full sip of our beers. Ashley’s door bangs open as they make a lot of noise, to just walk down the hallway. Ashely walks in and just looks at me. Those eyes tell me enough and I stand. Grabbing my half-finished plate and beer. I begin walking out to the sofa to finish my food. But I can feel Julie’s eyes on me.

I hear them continue fooling around, but don’t really hear Julie’s voice raise to their volume. I ignore them and start watching my show, as they finish in the kitchen and return to Ashley’s room. I sigh, again knowing I must return to clean. Hearing them play and giggle like teenagers again. My show finishes, and I sit up. Walking into a mess, that wasn’t there before. Glasses, plates and sauces out everywhere. I shake my head and just focus on cleaning up. As I’m close to finishing, the noise from Ashley’s room quiets down and the mood sets to silence. I take a breath of it in and return to the sofa. Watching my show and drinking a new fresh beer. The night sets and I gradually fall asleep.

As I rest, my head just bounces from deep rest to napping. Still in focus, but not quite. Just enjoying the feeling of a hard day’s work and my brain reset. I feel this little figure, nestle in and cuddle me. My arm just moves, and my mind reminds me of Ashley years ago. Cuddling and snuggling into me. I sink into the thought of it, the memories of it. I don’t ever want to let it go. But a part of me wakes up, just a little. To red curls and a smell, that’s not Ashley. Julie, buried deep into me. I shuffle a little to see if she’s awake.

“Julie,” I whisper so quietly. She stays still. I sigh and sink back. Thinking of what to do. I ignore the red flags. And just do what I think is right. Grabbing the blanket, next to her. Covering us both and adjusting us, so she’s cuddled up next to me. She just moves to where I place her and snuggles into me tight. Not wanting to let go. I fall back to sleep but can’t help but feel her breasts and warmth around my legs. My cock grows and pulses. I bite my bottom lip as I control myself. Breathing through it, I lower it and focus on sleep. But it was hard. Spending at least an hour trying to ignore it. Before falling back to sleep.

I woke up early, finding Julie still there. But feeling her differently. I lift the blanket and look under. She lays there in her top and panties. Cute blue panties, and her legs wrapped over mine. Her perfect ass, I just stare at it. Thinking, ‘so she does wear panties.’ Smirking to myself. My morning wood grows hard and fast.

“Julie, I need to get up.” She moves a little. “Come on, you need to get up before Ashley wakes.” I whisper, but I get a little loud pressuring her to move. So she doesn’t feel me grow near her leg. She shuffles and struggles to wake.

“No, Daddy, please stay and cuddle,” She whispers back. I sat shocked for a while.

“Julie, please wake up.” I shake her and waiting for her eyes to open.

“Oh, hi daddy. I’m waking, I’m waking…” She replies all babyish and cute.

“Julie, this isn’t time for games. Come on.” I push her out of whatever that was.

She sits up and stretches. Those nipples, fuck, I can see them so clearly in the golden light peeping through. My cock grows so hard, leaking in my briefs behind my jeans. I turn, so she doesn’t see it. Moving my eyes away from her. The wetness on my briefs is a lot. I can tell I’ve been getting hard too much and need to release. I walk to my room and close the door. Leaving Julie by herself. I pull down my jeans and just see my cock so hard. I look at my ensuite and turn on the shower. Pulling my jeans off, awkwardly as I stumbled my way into the shower. My cock remains hard, almost painfully. Bouncing off my thighs as I turn the shower on.

I shower and clean myself. Working around my manhood. Before focusing on it. I can’t get her out of my mind. I stroke it up and down. Fast to the thought of her breasts and ass. The sound of the water slapping the ground. Is loud, too loud. But I don’t care, my eyes are closed. And I try to keep the volume to my moans down. Gosh it feels so good, I squeeze and thrust into my hand. It’s coming, oh fucking it’s really coming. I reach and clench onto the shower screen. Hot full stream of cum from my depths, I hear them shoot onto the shower screen. It’s loud, fuck, I can’t control this. Pulse, pulse, pulse, it’s almost never ending as stars appear in the darkness of my close eyes. I release my hand, feeling hot cum all over it, over my legs and a deep relaxing feeling rush over me. I need to lay down; the hot water and this orgasm are too much. My vision impaired as I walk out the shower and into the steam, thinking about my bed just meters away.

I dry myself and focus on walking back naked to go back to sleep. I take just a few steps and notice Julie, with her legs spread and watching me. Her hand clearly rubbing her pussy through her panties. My cock heavy, drained and naked in front of her. I quickly grab my glasses and stare at her. I don’t say anything, I just look at her perfect body and cute lustful face.

“Oh Daddy, that was quite the show you put on for me. It’s got my princess parts all tingly.” She replies in that baby voice again. My cock, though drained, pulses at her submissiveness.

“Oh no, we can’t, Julie.” I whisper.

Knowing it’s wrong. She parts her panties to the side; her pussy is soaking wet. Glistening from the ensuite light. I drop to my knees and without thinking, just start licking her juices off her pussy. Before my mind can catch up, my tongue is lathered in her fluids. Her taste, so sweet and so dirty. I can tell she hasn’t showered, but I don’t care. I just want it, I want it so bad. Her hand grabs the back of my bald head, as she presses me firmly. My long tongue parting her slit, gliding up and down. Feeling her clit swell over my tongue, I lap my lips around it and begin to suck. Only for a second, before devouring her more. Fuck, I’m hungry, so fucking hungry for her pussy. I feel her legs shake and quiver under me.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy, daddy, daddy,” she moans quietly. “Keep it there, don’t change,” She moans again, to the rhythm of me returning my tongue grinding up and down.

I slide the tip of my tongue inside her. Every time I slide down I give her more as I speed up and press firmer. Her legs lift and she grabs my head firmly aligns my tongue using the back of my head to guide me. Fuck, I can taste it, then feel it. Those convulsions around my mouth and tongue. She shakes violently under me, thrusting into me. I can’t breathe, but that taste and her fluids around me. Sending me wild.

“Fuckkkk….” She murmurs, as she releases my head.

Going lifeless under my mouth. I continue, licking and tasting her now overly sensitive clit. I release, and slurping and swallowing her juices. Then slowly whipping my face clean.

“Oh shit, Baby girl. Fuck, I had no control,” I say softly, like a committed a crime.  

Whipping and cleaning the mess I made between her legs. Her panties now absolutely drench. As I return them back, leaving her a lifeless mess. Her legs drop and she just lays there. I sit up naked, my cock hard from what I just witnessed and did. I pace as I look for my track pants. Freaking out about what happened.

I see her sit up and grab something on my bedside table. I turned to notice my phone in her hand.

“Unlock your phone,” She reaches out with it, I freeze. Before grabbing it, unlocking it and return it to her hands.

She types away at it and then hands it back. She stands and walks to the ensuite. I return to her spot, what is normally my side to sleep on. A wet spot next to me, and I just see her sexy tight body adjusting and cleaning herself up in the mirror. Post nut clarity comes over me and I feel ashamed. I see her turn in the corner of my eyes and walk towards me. As I look down in disbelief.

“Our secret Daddy.” She says kissing my bald head and walking out.

Gently closing the door and returning to the house. The smell of the shower, her wet pussy and something else fills the room. I stand and turn the exhaust fan on, spraying myself with deodorant and the room. Then walking backwards to my bed and falling back, processing what happened. Picking up my phone, I don’t see her number or any contact details. Not even a dialed number. I just ignore it and shake it off. Focusing on more sleep and resetting myself.

I remember the rainy night I met her five years ago. I sat on a stool at the bar, listening to some alternative rock from 10 years ago, nursing some whiskey before I was supposed to go out with some friends to a Halloween party. I was wearing some dark blue jeans and a black shirt. Nothing special about that because I didn’t have the energy after a recent breakup. To keep my friends off my ass, I was wearing some fake vampire teeth and had a little squeeze-tube of fake blood in my pocket to smear on my lips. I actually kind of liked how the whiskey stuck in my mouth a little, caught on the fake fangs before I sucked it off.

Then she came up and sat next to me at the bar. I immediately registered her presence, old habits of hypervigilance after years on the streets and my service. But I remember thinking it was a bit odd. There were so many other seats at the bar for her to take. People tended to avoid me as my black hair, rough beard, and muscles made me look intimidating. At least that’s what my friends told me. They always told me I should try to smile more so people could see how nice and friendly I really was. I never really felt like I had that much reason to smile before I met her.

When I looked over, she was leaning against the bar, staring right back into my eyes. I almost dropped my drink. She was the prettiest girl I think I’d ever seen in my entire life. Beautiful hazel eyes, soft red lips, long dark hair parted down the middle, and the lithe body of a dancer. She looked like someone out of my fantasies. She also looked a bit young for the place. Holy shit. God damn. She is so fucking pretty. College girl? I remember thinking.

I was so startled by her coming up to me and her hazel eyes holding my gaze that I almost missed the dark ink on top of her nose and the painted whiskers streaking her cheeks. Oh, and the pair of cat ears poking out of a witch hat on top of her head. I remembered smiling at how cute it was as I took another drink.

“What’s a man as handsome as you doing drinking alone?” She asked as she looked me over. I almost couldn’t believe she called me handsome. Or that she was talking to me.

“Well, I’m not alone anymore, am I?” I said smoothly and flashed her a smile. I let my whiskey flavored white fangs show. I took another sip and I saw her smile out of the corner of my eye. She looked like she’d heard the funniest joke, but she wasn’t supposed to laugh.

“So, you’re a vampire…” She said slowly. “I got a thing for vampires. I think it’s hot.” She told me. She scooted a little closer and batted her eyelashes at me and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m Nina.”

“I’m James.”

After talking for a while and some really incredible flirting, she’d led me by the hand out the side door to the alley. The moment my foot stepped outside onto the wet concrete she was all over me. The rain had slowed to a slow sprinkle that tickled my neck and arms. Her soft lips found mine and her tongue explored my mouth, pulling the whiskey off the front of my fangs. Her hands, stronger than I was expecting, pulled me down to her as she ran them over my back and arms. I don’t think I’ve ever had a more electric first kiss.

Then her embrace grew stronger. Stronger than I expected. She pushed me into the brick wall and kissed my neck. She looked at me with a mix between feral lust, longing, and something primal. Something hungry.

“So, you like vampires?” She asked softly. I almost answered. But then I saw her smile. Long fangs that almost poked her lips. She wasn’t wearing those before. Was she?

She pushed me into the wall. Holding me in place like iron. The pretense was gone. She wasn’t holding me like a passionate lover or a girl desperate for a make out in the alley.  And something deep in my bones was yelling in my ear. Screaming at me to fight or run. There was no running. She had me completely pinned. So, I chose to fight.

I slipped my finger into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my assisted open knife. My pointer finger slipped over the rapid-release notch and the spring assisted blade snapped into place with a click as I adjusted my grip and thrust it towards her in the span of seconds. I’d practiced the move. I always carried my knife on me. I just never expected to need it like this.

Her iron grip found my hand before I could stab her through the neck. I thought she was going to crush every bone. I had barely seen her move. The silver shine of my blade in the moonlight hovered millimeters from her carotid artery. A single pinprick of blood bloomed on her ethereal skin.

“Ooh. You’ve got some fight in you.” She said wickedly. “I think I’m going to let you live.” There was something else in her eyes as she searched my face. Then she sunk her fangs into my neck. The sharp pain made me gasp. But the pain quickly disappeared into pleasure. All I could feel was the feeling of her soft lips and her tongue. Dull heat that burned like pure, distilled sex flooded my body as I fell into the darkness.

That was how we met. I woke up with two tender spots on my neck the next morning, feeling sluggish and tired. She’d taken me back to her place. I was tangled in soft silk sheets that smelled like her. They were nicer than anything I’d ever been on. She lived in a studio apartment with a view of downtown. Also nicer than anything I’d been in. The sparkling night lights glittered as the city waited for sunrise. Which, by haze of the night sky, was a few hours away. She also made me an early breakfast and texted my friends that I was busy. Also nicer than any breakfast I’d had made for me.

That was 5 years ago. Nina told me she was a vampire. Which at that point, I was kinda like, no shit.

But there was still something electric between us. Something undefinable that made her irresistible. And it wasn’t just her cooking. And before you ask, no, she hadn’t done some kind of vampire mind control thing on me.

Maybe I’m just a sucker for a pretty girl who likes aggressively flirting and making me breakfast.

We started going out. To my human friends, she just worked nights. To some people she introduced me to, I was her thrall. Her property. She loved to tease me about it and call me her slave. But we both knew I wasn’t.

I started getting impatient for nightfall. My heart would ache and my leg would bounce waiting for when I could see her next. We spent our nights exploring the city and passionately tangled in her sheets. And the sex was insane. We travelled together, which was difficult. But we both loved travelling. I fell for her hard. I wanted to propose.

She proposed instead.

She wanted me to become a vampire so we could spend every night for the rest of eternity together.

Silly me, I’d only thought of asking her to marry me. She still bounced with joy and screamed “YES!” when I asked her and pulled out the ring.

It’s strange to say, but I’ve never been happier. And I can’t wait to die.

Because you do have to die to become a vampire.

She planned to turn me into a vampire like she was planning a wedding. One night, she laid her head on my chest as she caressed my skin and ran through ideas. She wanted everything to be as romantic as possible. Then we would get married after I had stabilized and got adjusted to being a vampire. One year later.

I suggested Halloween night. The five-year anniversary of the night we met. She also loved Halloween. She gasped and sat up when I said it. She told me it was perfect. And asked how the hell I thought of something so romantic. Then she asked how I wanted to die before I was reborn. Enough vampire blood will kill you before it brings you back.  

“As long as I’m in your arms, I don’t care.” I’d told her. She bit her lip and I knew she was thinking of something dirty.

“How about going out with a bang?” She giggled.   

That’s why I was wearing vampire fangs and drinking whiskey as I waited for her to finish getting ready. I’d even gone out and got myself a vampire cape with a collar that tied around my neck. I stood in front of the window I’d woken up next to five years ago, running my hands over the pumpkin we’d put on the windowsill. The glow of the city and the string lights she’d hung reflected off the gourd and cast an orange glow into the room.

“Did you enjoy your last day of sunlight?” Nina asked me. I turned and saw her in the same outfit from 5 years ago. The black ink over her nose. The painted-on whiskers. Her beautiful black hair cascading behind her shoulders. Her witch hat was hanging on the head of the bedpost behind me. It was like I was back on that first night again. She was wearing the same jeans and loose black crop top sweater as that night. She hadn’t aged a day. The only thing that was different was the ring I gave her was hanging from a necklace around her neck.

“Yeah. But not as much as I’ll enjoy the rest of all my nights with you.” I said as I admired her.

“Are you ready?” She said as she came close.

“Yes.”

She pulled me down to her and kissed me. Just like that night. But softer and sweeter. Loving. She tilted my head to the side and her fangs sunk into my neck. Like they had so many times before. The sharp pain was nothing by now. The smoldering heat of her dark kiss filled my body again. The feeling of falling into darkness was faster than ever before. But she pulled me back.

I felt her essence in my mouth and drank greedily. It tasted better than anything in the world. It changed the smoldering heat of her kiss into a roaring blaze that set every one of my nerves on fire. The holes in her wrist were pumping an inferno into my arteries. The fire surged and every one of my veins opened, welcoming her essence into me. I was instantly aroused, the blood flooding into my cock making me harder than I had ever been in my entire life.

I felt Nina pull my pants open to grant me relief and my cock sprang free. The nerves in my skin were on fire. My cock felt euphoric just from feeling the open air. I gasped in shock and felt her essence dripping from my teeth and staining my lips.  

“Keep going.” Nina told me. I returned to her wrist and drank more of her blood as she let her jeans fall to the floor. She ran her fingers up my length, slowly teasing me. I jerked in response, my cock more sensitive than it had ever been in my life.

Nina smiled with a different kind of hunger as she watched me. She slowly began running her hand over my desperate cock, taking her time as I drank deeply. She enjoyed watching me rock my hips aggressively as she teased me. I thought I would cum from the bliss of her soft fingertips alone.

“That’s enough.” She said and pulled her wrist out of my mouth. I wanted more. But Nina licked her essence off her wrist as the holes knitted shut. “We don’t have long. You drank a lot.” She said as she stroked me.

“I feel amazing.” I panted as I licked my lips clean. Blood still stained my mouth and chin.

“It’s about to get so much better.” She said and kissed me. The softness of her lips was magnified into silken pleasure that consumed me. The feeling was beyond electric. I thought I would pass out from the sensation alone, overdosing on her kiss.

“I like the cape. It gets to stay on.” She said softly on my lips. I felt her grab a handful of my shirt. “This… I want off.” She told me. She pulled and the fabric tore around my neck and ripped down the center and fell to tatters on the floor. She pushed me hard and I fell back onto the bed. I bounced on the bed and my cock waved in the air from the force before the blood screaming through my veins made it stand rigidly straight, softly pounding with the force of my heartbeat.

She was at the foot of the bed in a flash, her knee already on the sheets as she crawled toward me. My world was still spinning from being thrown on the bed as she straddled me. My vision finally came back into focus as I saw her looking down at me hungrily. Her bare pussy was inches from my aching cock.

She raised her hips, so she was right over me. I reached down and gripped her thighs, feeling the softness of her under my fingertips. She lowered herself down onto me, and I felt the soft skin of her pussy kiss the head of my cock. I gasped at the sensation, magnified beyond anything I had ever felt before. It felt like I was touching the edge of eternal ecstasy beyond anything I’d ever known. And I wanted to be buried in it.

She slid her pussy over me until she found the right angle. I felt my head part her lips and felt her slickness coat me. She groaned as she eased my cock into her slowly. I felt myself straining against her, stretching her softly as my heartbeat pounded in my cock. I let out a shuddering moan as her silken folds enveloped me. It was better than anything I’ve ever felt. I thought I would cum instantly. I thought I would die from the pleasure alone.

“Fuuuuuck.”

“God, you’re hard.” She said softly.

“You’re gonna kill me.” I groaned and laughed. I slid my hands up her thighs until they were resting on her hips. She began slowly bouncing on my cock, grinding her hips as she rocked me in and out of her.

She reached down and pulled her sweater up, exposing her soft, round perky breasts as she rode me. Her breasts softly bounced as she fucked me, her rosy, pink nipples hard and begging to be touched. She bit the sweater between her teeth, holding it there so I could look at her tits as she fucked me.  

“Mm. Not yet.” She said as she reached down and put her hands on my thighs. She rocked her hips, savoring the feeling of me filling her completely. Her back arched and she pushed her chest out as she leaned back slightly.

I thrust my hips up to meet her as she lowered herself back down. Her moans of pleasure were suppressed as she held her sweater in place with her teeth. She wanted me to take every inch of her in as the last thing I saw before I died. I stared into her hazel eyes as she bounced on my cock.

I reached a hand up and cupped her breast with my hand, lightly squeezing as she fucked me. I lightly pinched her nipple, running my fingers over the sensitive tip. She groaned as I bucked my hips again.

She leaned forward and I grabbed her other breast as she bent over me and kissed me. The fabric of her sweatshirt fell from her lips, falling down over her chest again. Her fangs poked my lower lip and she bit me softly, just enough to draw blood. Her tongue darted between my lips, hungrily tasting me. She sighed with pleasure and broke our kiss slowly, her teeth pulling my lip softly as she sat back up again. She reached down and pulled the sweater off, somehow keeping the cat ears on her head in place.

“I want to be the last thing you see.” She said as she rode my pounding cock. Her breasts bounced rhythmically as she slid down on my cock again, burying me inside her. She bit her lip as she rode me, one hand on my thigh while the other ran over my stomach as she rocked her hip.

I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, darting between her gorgeous eyes, her bare bouncing breasts, the curve of her stomach, and her pussy wrapped around my cock as it disappeared inside her. My whole body was pounding to the beat of my heart, and my cock was twitching with every movement of Nina’s body as she rode me. Every sensation was heightened. I could feel every fiber of the silk sheets beneath me. The moonbeams and the reflected lights of the city glistened on Nina’s skin like starlight in the night sky. Every motion of her hips as she rode me tightened the muscles in her pelvis and squeezed my cock ever so slightly as she slid up and down my length.

Through the euphoric haze of her blood rushing through my veins and her fucking me into the mattress, I felt the pressure mounting in my core. My muscles began to tighten in anticipation, unable to hold off any longer. I deliriously squeezed her harder, feeling her soft skin give beneath my fingertips as I tried to fight off the inevitable as I desperately thrust into her.

“That’s it…” She moaned softly. “I want to feel you cum in me one last time before you turn.”

I couldn’t hold it any longer. My body wouldn’t respond, a slave to the blood screaming in my veins and the pleasure consuming my being. I felt the tightening of my core release and spasm as I ejaculated hot cum into her pussy, hips straining up against her as she bore down as deep as she could take me.

I felt the tightness of her pussy clenching rhythmically as my cock throbbed and twitched with every spurt of cum I shot inside her. Her legs twitched at my sides, and I felt her pussy flutter and squeeze me as she came on my cock, the feeling of my orgasm sending her over the edge.

As I was riding the waves of pleasure, I felt the tightness in my chest. Shooting, twisting pain that felt like it would rip me apart faded and became an even greater part of the pleasure as I rode the waves of ecstasy. The only thing I could feel was my cock pulsing hot cum inside her as she milked me with her pussy, softly grinding herself on me. She shuddered and collapsed on top of me, kissing me one last time.

“I…love… you… Nina.” I gasped through the orgasmic haze as my heart slowed toward a stop.

She held my gaze, tenderly, lovingly. Her hazel eyes had stared into mine in that bar. Five years later, and I couldn’t be happier they were the last thing I would ever see before I died.

“I love you too, James.” She said as she kissed me.

My vision was narrowing. I felt myself losing control. Losing consciousness. The darkness was coming to claim me.

I welcomed it with open arms.

Distantly, I felt Nina slide down my chest until her head was resting over my heart once again. My heart spasmed, fighting the blood overwhelming my body. Each beat pounded softer than the last in my ears.

The last thing I heard was her voice.

“I’m happy I was the last thing you saw.” She whispered softly as my heart contracted for the last time. “And I’m happy I got to listen to the last beat of your heart. I can’t wait for the rest of eternity with you.” Even as everything faded, the last nerve impulses firing to my brain told me she didn’t move. And I could feel her smile on my chest. It mirrored the smile on my lips as I breathed for the last time.

When I finally opened my eyes, I had to adjust to a whole new world. Everything was different. But the first thing I saw was something I could never forget. The same thing from five years ago on that rainy night.

Her adorable face looking up at me. The black ink on her nose and the whiskers painted on her cheeks. Her dark raven hair. The cat ears she was wearing on top of her head.

And those beautiful hazel eyes that I could stare into for eternity.  

Weary from the long drive, I set the bags down by the sofa and take a minute to just stare out the patio window. The dark wooden balcony is there where I’d left it, the alpine trees too. And beyond, sparkling, pristine, and deep blue, Lake Tahoe lays. A sailboat glides along, and across on the distant shore, visible but fading into the pink haze of sunset, lights sparkle lazily. Fixed on the view, I can feel myself decompress, the stress of the city oozing it’s way out of my system. But I can do even better.

I pull a bottle of zin from the rack, pour myself an obscene amount, and hungrily eye the chief occupant of my lake home’s balcony: the hot tub. I snap a selfie, send it to Bethany back home, “Ex has got the kids for the weekend. You jealous?” A quick minute’s work gets the cover pulled back, the heat pumping, the bubbles churning. It’ll be ready soon, my private quiet evening, and I consider stripping off all my clothes right here, slipping in skinny.

“Yes, lucky bitch,” Bethany writes back, “I’m stuck with mine or I’d join you. You got the place all to yourself?”

Oh, yeah. With a wary gaze cast at the neighboring house’s backside, I grumble to see through the windows that the counters are covered in stuff, food and cups and dishes. The homes here are arranged zig-zag, and my privacy becomes shared. “Fuck. Carters are here,” I tell Bethany.

“That gross sleazebag staring at your tits yet?”

“With a wife like that, can you blame him?”

“Yes.”

I send back, “It’s probably why she hates me. Whatever. I’m using my hot tub no matter what. Catch you later, babe.”

“Give him a show. Wear that slutty white bikini, the one where your tits almost fall out. You know which one I mean.”

I know which one she means. Twenty minutes later, when I’ve folded my long hair into a clip and I’m climbing into the roiling steaming waters of my hot tub, it’s in my white bikini. My tits feel so exposed in this goofy thing, and the bottoms ride up my ass. A relic from before motherhood, I looked like a total slut in this thing. But do I still have what it takes to get away with this whorish look? My twenties are a distant memory, and I don’t even know why I’ve kept this bikini all these years. Just in case… of what? I don’t know. I slip down into the water with a guilty glance over at the Carter’s. But their stuff remains scattered and undisturbed, the home devoid of people. They must be out, I figure. So, alone, in peace and solitude, I’m soon lost in my novel and draining this refilled glass of wine.

Sometime later, I don’t know how much later but the sun has set and the sky gone dark, the pop of a can opening arrests my attention. My head swivels, fully expecting to see Pete Carter leering over at me with his trademark lecherous grin.

But it’s not. It’s a young man, tall and trim with short blonde hair and square shoulders. A golf shirt clings to him, tucked neatly into white chinos. He’s sipping on a beer, some tall can with a colorful label. And he’s not looking at me at all. No, he’s peering up at the sky like I’m not here ten strides away. But who is–

“Billy?” I say, surprised that I remember his name, surprised that I recognize him at all. It’s been a couple years. “Are you old enough to drink now?”

“Oh, uh–!” he jumps back, “I didn’t– I didn’t see you– I, um, I…”

I set my book down and make a face. “Oh, bullshit. I’m not even ten feet away from you.” The pieces click into place. “Let me guess, parents out for the night, and the little boy scout’s home alone, wanting to taste their booze?” I laugh.

“I’m not a boy scout anymore. And I’ll be twenty-one in a few months!” he blurts, like that means anything.

“And I’ll be forty. So?”

“Are you gonna tell them?”

I smile, “I’m amenable to bribery.”

His eyes widen. “B-bribery?”

I point at his beer. “There must be more where that came from.”

“Oh, I, uh…” he hesitates.

”Well, I guess I could just text your mom…”

“No!” He springs inside, returns with a four-pack, only three cans remaining, and leans across his home’s balcony with one of them, arm out-stretched.

I make no effort to reach for it, though. “No, I’m cozy in my hot tub. Come over here and hand it to me.”

“Err, how?”

I roll me eyes. “You’ll think of a way.”

Watching him climb up onto the rail and clamber across to my home’s deck is fun, the concentration on his clean-cut face, the workings of his muscles. He grips the wooden banister something fierce, and with a hit of guilt, I drink in the sight of this young man’s arms filling the sleeves of his shirt.

“Ok, um, here?” He stands awkwardly next to my pool, peering down at me with the beer again proffered.

I rise from the water just enough for my chest to surface, the churning water spilling off my rack as I take the can from him. “Thanks,” I say with a flirty grin and a wink. Not that he’s looking at my face. Like father, like son, I guess. But Billy’s not gross, far from it. “So, you gonna get in and join me?” With my shoulders, I give my tits a little bounce for good measure.

“What!?,” he recoils, “Um, get in? The hot tub? But, I, um…”

“Don’t be coy, Billy. I know it’s why you came out here, to investigate the woman in the tiny swimsuit. You coulda just as easy sneaked those beers inside, wouldn’t have had to deal with me. But you’re here now, and I’m offering.” I giggle like I’m twenty years younger. “So you getting into the hot tub with the pretty lady in the bikini? Or are you a coward?”

“I– I don’t have a bathing suit.”

My grin spreads ear to ear. “So skinny dip.”

“What!?”

“Or keep your underwear on, whatever.”

“But, I, umm…” he hovers, indecision immobilizing him. But something changes, and shivering, maybe from the cold maybe not, Billy sets the other beers down on the little glass table and pulls his shirt off, revealing his tight self. Not massively ripped, but definitely muscular. He sits, takes off his shoes, then avoids any chance at eye contact while unclipping his belt, unbuttoning his pants. With his back to me, he slides them off. Another glance at the hot tub gives him pause, but I shoot him with an encouraging grin. I wasn’t wanting company, but I didn’t know that I might be allowed company so rejuvenating and fresh… and nude but for thin white cotton boxers. He quickly climbs across the threshold and slips into the hot tub opposite me, shoulders hunched and nervous.

I pop open the beer he’d handed me, a craft IPA that is obviously not something he’d pick, and take a deep sip. “This is nice and hoppy, don’t you think?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He’s far from me, but the hot tub isn’t big, and it’s almost accidental the way out legs brush against one another’s. It’s less accidental when a few moments later I stroke his foot with my own. “So, Billy, getting drunk on Daddy’s beer. How much time have you got left?”

“Err, time?” His cute innocence is underlit by the hot tub’s underwater glow.

“Before your parents return home, discover their missing booze.”

“Oh, um,” and he thinks about it, then looks at me so earnest, “Maybe an hour? And there’s tons, they won’t notice.”

“Don’t you think they’ll notice that you’re drunk?” I’ve not quite sunk back fully beneath the water, and the top of my chest may be getting a little cold, but it’s worth it to see the young man so distracted by the shadow my tits are casting. He’s even worse than his father, but at least Billy’s got the decency to look guilty for his ogling.

“I– I’ve drank before, at college. This won’t get me drunk, not quite.”

“So this is how you relax now that you’re a man? With a beer and the company of a woman?” I rest my arms back on the ledge behind me, the pose naturally pushing my tits out. The white fabric of the bikini top clings to them, the outline of my nipples poking through. This outfit is so ridiculous.

But apparently it still suits me, as he’s trying not to stare. He really is, but his thirst is obvious. “Um, I, um…”

“Do you have a girlfriend, Billy?”

“I’m– I’m too busy. Studying and working. And traveling for, you know, um, baseball and stuff.”

I do not know. But I don’t really care, not about that. “Well, no wonder you’re so tense. No woman in your life to come back to. To cum to at all.”

Cheeks flush and eyes big, he stumbles, “I, uhh…”

I can’t really blame the guy for his inability to get words out, not with my foot sliding up his leg, stroking his calf. It fills my chest with warmth to see I’ve not lost my touch. My tits feel so exposed, but this now excites them, and excites me deeper down, too. Friendly and flirtatious, I guide his leg between my own.

He gasps, tenses.

“I forgot to ask, Billy,” I purr, “What do you think of my bikini?” I can’t help myself, not with him like so much putty in my hands. Looking down at my own chest sticking out before me, I thumb the white strap running over my shoulder, making the cup it’s attached to stretch and bounce. The side of my tit squeezes out before rebounding just as quickly back inside.

“It’s…” his eyes are big as saucers.

I giggle, slipping my fingers inside the cups, pinching my nipples just out of his view. I slide closer to him, coming right up to his side with my legs curled up beneath me. If he’s going to ogle, let him ogle with my tits right in his face. I jiggle and squeeze them, toying with the already-too-small bikini top. When a nipple does slip out from beneath, it’s not on purpose, but neither can I say it’s quite an accident.

He goggles all the same.

It’s good fun teasing him, but it’s sparked a burning inside me, too. There’s a growing animal demand, an arousal triggered by this innocent young man playing right into my mischief, totally unable to control himself. I trace my fingertips across my shoulder, draw lazy circles in the dampness. “Will you do me a favor, Billy?”

Panting, he finally looks up and meets my eye. “What?”

“Would you reach over there, hand me another beer?”

“Err, yeah, but, I, um…” he glances over at the table, at the two remaining cans, too far to grab without getting out of the water. “Err, I–” And next he glances down, towards his crotch, towards what he realizes he would need to expose from beneath the swirling bubbles.

“Please, Billy?” And I really lean into it, my eyes inches from his, my chest hanging heavy in front of him.

“I– I– I–” He awkwardly twists back and stands and steps up, hand over his lap.

He’s been ogling me for ages, and I’m due my proof — my ego demands to know if I can truly turn on a young guy like this. And that’s the reason and the only reason I reach out, make contact, put skin against skin. Yet my gentle grip around his wrist makes him stiffen up and freeze in place. I pull his hand away, thinking I’ll maybe see some chub, a boner if I’m lucky. But what’s revealed makes me gasp, what his thin wet shorts cling to like some obscene papier-mache. “Billy! You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“I’m– I’m sorry!” he squeaks, “I’ll– I’ll leave, I’ll…”

“Billy,” I say again, but this time with a gentle awe. Because my boytoy this evening isn’t just erect. No, he’s proving to be equipped with a full and mighty package, potent balls stretching taut the white fabric, a towering thick shaft curving all the way up past the waistband. And there, a fat mushroom head tugs at material made translucent by the dampness, fighting for give his once-loose boxers no longer have fabric to allow. “I thought you needed some kinda permit to carry a thing like that around.”

He remains still and awkward, his cock yearning for something his words have yet to admit. It fills me with flush, such virility on frank display, especially from a straight-laced goody good like Billy. I’ve been having my fun teasing him, but this evening just got real interesting.

“Here, let me help with that,” I say, barely even aware I’m doing it, peeling down his soaked shorts while he stands wooden, halfway out of the water. His thin excuse of a mission forgotten, he stares down at me with burning cheeks, watching as I expose to the cold night his hips, his pelvis, the base of his massive shaft. The hemline in my fingers yanks his erection down, and as inch after virile inch comes into view, his breathing grows strained, his dick grows even tenser.

With a jerk, I tug the shorts down enough, and as if spring-loaded his boner sprouts thick and brawny in my face. It’s divine, shaved bare, pale as his chest, pointing straight up and out at me like an invitation.

“Oh my god,” he whimpers.

I make quick work of his shorts, sliding them to his feet without a thought. “Is this for me, Billy?” I marvel at his cock, biting my lip as I study it from one side and then the other.

“It’s– you’re– I’m–” he stammers, still unable to form cogent thoughts.

Even before I’d discovered his dick so beautiful, his nervousness was warming my nethers, the power of intimidation I’d held over him. But now? On my knees before him, I look up to his face with a pleading expression, arm outstretched but not quite making contact. “I’m having quite the spell on you, aren’t I?”

He has to force the words out, “I– I can’t– yes! I can’t help it!”

“What kind of help do you think it wants?” I coo, bringing my fingertips towards his taut shaft, only to divert them at the last minute and instead rest them on his knee, drawing little orbits there. Touching dick is a line too far.

He whimpers. His dick throbs, surging harder right in my face. “You– you’re hot.”

“You know I’m too old for you, right?” I say, directing him back, having him sit him on the padded pleather cushion surrounding the hot tub. His calves remain in the water, knees spread, impressive cock sprouting stiff, balls clinging taut. Fuck, I cannot keep my eyes off that thing. When did I revert to being such a whore? I’m mature now, I want a man who loves me and can provide, not just a fat cock to ride, right? I tuck up between his legs, knees beneath me, giving him a view of my cleavage below his own furious erection. “With a dick like this, you have any blood left in your brain? Or are you just hoping that I’ll…” My words linger, dissolve into the steam drifting up into the trees above.

“No! I can’t– it won’t go away!” It’s not quite panic, but he’s in the neighborhood. “Why’re you– you’re licking your lips!”

Fuck, Why am I? An arousal so potent… I haven’t had that inside me in years. Yet he’s half my age and my neighbor’s son and he’s off-limits, so why do I need to keep reminding myself? Condensation drips down his vein and I imagine licking it off. “What’s your normal method of handling boners?”

“Whu– I– I mean, err…” Moisture billows up, dampens his skin and slicks his balls.

I wink up at him. “I know my normal method of handling boners, if you want to learn?”

This almost breaks him. “I– you– tha– but– ohfuck!” A bead of white goo drips from his tip.

My mouth waters. “Do you want me to show you?” I shouldn’t be doing this, any of this. I should be inside, by myself, fingering myself silly.

Billy cannot speak, but meekly he nods. Holy fuck do I need this cock inside me. When was the last time I got laid? Far too long ago, and certainly not by a dick like this. Because young man cock is a thing of my past, I must remind myself.

I form my fingers into a ring, pantomime a slow stroke. It’s how I’d touch his cock if I allowed myself, it’s what I’d be doing to him were he not half my age. “I’d start with the base, work every inch of you on my way to your head.”

Precum drips from him. “Ohhhh…” he whimpers with need.

“And I’d grip your shaft tighter than anything you’ve ever felt.” As I act out what I could do to him, my arms push against my tits, squeeze them inside my bikini. But the patch of fabric over my nipples is small and never had that great a hold in the first place, so it’s no surprise when my left breast spills free.

He stares, jaw slack, tongue wet.

“I’d tug and tug and tug until you think you’re going to lose your mind.” With gritted teeth, I perform the handjob on naught but empty air. “I’m cruel, because right at the edge I’d let you go.” My hands spring wide, palms outstretched.

He’s gasping down air like I’m really doing this to him. Yet his hands remain chastely at his sides, his cock remains untouched.

“Then I’d start in again, beginning with your balls, reminding them who owns them now. You look like the kind of boy who likes having his balls dominated. Isn’t that right, Billy?” In my fingers I act out crushing.

He whimpers and quickly nods. His dick pulses, springs up with a twitch. Fluid flings from it, splatters on my collar. Fuck, I must have him close with just words alone.

Hands again forming rings, I mimic a full-shaft stroke. “Then I’d work you long and hard, giving your cock the kind of attention that only experienced hands can give. I’d be steady, methodical, wringing your weak and thirsty flesh with a merciless grip. What do you think of that, Billy?”

He only gasps.

“And when I’ve decided you’ve had enough, I’d squeeze you dry and make you cum, my thumbs massaging the underside of your head until I’ve worked every last drop from your virile young sac.” My thumbs draw orbits in the air a mere inch from the shaft they’re teasing. “That’s how I deal with boners.” I sit back, a pleasant smile on my lips, shoulders back and tits out. “So what’s your technique?”

Billy’s apparently hit his limit, because his hand whips around his leg and grabs his erection. With no hesitation the young man is masturbating with furious speed, jerking his massive cock with determination and power. I stare, fascinated by his thick shaft’s increasing ruddiness, by his slick and glistening head’s interest in me. He pumps himself franticly, mindlessly, his forearm muscles bulging and his shyness overcome by fierce untamed lust.

And I’m there for it, encouraging him with my pleading eyes, my wicked smile, my thrust-out tits. I’m just as horny as Billy, just as much as him in need of seeing his cock succumb to my sexiness. “You nasty boy,” I goad him, “You think you can just get away with masturbating your huge fucking dick right in in my face? You think pleasuring yourself while I watch is any way to behave?” I tweak my nipples.

He grunts, tenses, grits his teeth. His balls clench in tight to his shaft. His grip focuses on his glans. His vein pulses and throbs. And finally, I get my reward — a sudden burst of his spunk, right across my lips and nose and eyebrow and forehead. More cum jets from him, coming straight at me. He groans, shooting me again, spraying my cheek, flinging semen wildly, milking himself onto my face. “Billy!” I mock outrage, “What’ve you done? You’ve made such a mess.”

His cock continues to ooze, but that guilty innocence is already returning to his face. I’m afraid he’ll even apologize. So I stand in front of him, my joke of a bikini barely clinging to my tits, only just covering my desperate and eager pussy. Fuck, do I need release immediately. “You’ve almost broke my one rule,” I announce, stepping from the hot tub, “No cum in the pool. Luckily, you seem to have gotten it all on me.”

Billy’s in a daze, yet I can feel his eyes on my hips, my ass. I try not to scurry as I slip back into the home, as I make my way to my upstairs shower as quickly as possible so I can get myself off while wearing this young man’s spunk. From between the bottles of soap and shampoo I grab my nice fat purple rubber dildo. It’s not as good as the real thing but I’m so turned on it won’t matter, and I rub it between my lips, prepping myself for the girth.

Fuck, was that boy’s load huge. I just love the virility of youth, and I just know I’ve given him something he’ll be dreaming about for a very long– “Billy!” I gasp, dildo halfway inside me.

He’s followed me! And he’s standing there, in the doorway, bare-assed and staring. I hiss, “What’re you doing?”

“Thought you might need a hand with the cleanup,” he says, a newfound confidence steadying his voice, staying his nervous hands. “Since I’m the one made the mess in the first place.”

Secure in his movement, he steps into the bathroom and around the glass partition of the shower. He takes the dildo from me, tosses it away, and grabs the loofah and soap from the rack. Wrapping his powerful arms around me, he wipes down my torso from neck to tits to belly. His warm wet body presses into my back, his hips against my ass. “Billy!”

“Yes?” he says, calm and solid, his cleaning ministrations spending time on my chest, squeezing and groping as he soaps my heavy tits, thumbs my nipples. A hand of his slides down past my navel, diverts moments before reaching my pussy, strokes my leg instead.

I moan, nearly losing my balance. But he holds me tight, supports me. “Fucking touch me!” I beg him. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.

“I am touching you,” he says.

It feels like his cock is growing stiff, rubbing warm against my ass, but so soon? Oh no, I’m going to put that massive thing inside me, aren’t I? Fuck, this guy’s way too young for that, isn’t he?

But his touch isn’t clumsy or awkward or halting or any of the other unfair things I assumed he’d be. No, he’s fondling my tits with one hand and teasing my pussy something delirious with the other. And that’s definitely hard cock pressing between my round ass cheeks, bumping against my crotch. I find myself grinding against him. “Do you need something more from me?” he mocks innocence.

“Fuck you, Billy!” I scramble to rinse the suds off me and grab his wrist, guiding him from the shower with the water still running. I yank my bathrobe off the hook and, with us both dripping wet, toss it wide over the stuffed chair in my bedroom and shove him down onto it. He collapses back into it, beautifully naked and gloriously erect, and I stare down at him greedily, fingers rubbing clit. “Jerking off’s never enough for a healthy man like you, isn’t it? True satisfaction come only from the real fucking thing, right?”

A whiff of his meekness returned, he nods with eyes wide. And his monumental cock, the one I watched him only minutes before rub out onto my face, stretches up rock-hard towards me, towards my pussy.

“You want this, don’t you?” I spread my pussy lips, show him how ready I am to be skewered.

He nods again.

“You need to feel what it’s like inside me.”

It’s not even a question, but he keeps nodding anyway.

“You think you’ve got what it takes to please a woman like me?”

“Please!” he pleads, “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I’m too fucking old for you.”

“No! You’re so fucking hot! For years, every time we come up here, I cannot keep my eyes off you. I need you so bad!”

I’ve been inching closer and closer, bringing my pussy and the fingers inside it nearer him with each passing heartbeat, until now where I’m bumping the chair’s armrest, my thigh against his thigh. He could reach up and touch me, or I could reach over and grab his cock. A little mutual masturbation would release this tension.

But not all the way. His cock… fuck, there’s no substitute.

“You going to be a good boy?” I scold. Meanwhile, graceful as I can manage, I climb onto his chair, resting one knee by his side and swinging my other around him so I’m straddling his hips, looking down at his naked vigor. My crotch remain elevated, suspended above his desperate boner.

“I’ll be so good,” he nods.

I lower, but just an inch, not quite making contact. “You gonna give me everything I need?”

“Everything!”

Fuck, he’s so horny. But so am I. We’re nearly touching, his phallic heat emanating into my pussy. “Are you my personal little fuck toy for the night?”

“For forever!”

It’s his devotion… I sit back, slowly, deliberately. His handsome cock skewers my pussy wide, slides up inside me bit by steady bit. His vein throbs stiff — I can feel it — as he fills me up. He’s impatient and so am I, and the swinging back of my hips only for their immanent return creates a penetration so deep and so divine. He grabs my ass without having to be told, hands digging into my round cheeks with each thrust. I return the favor, fingers closing around his balls, manicured fingernails dragging across his sensitive skin.

The extra attention makes his already-worshipful expression grow even more stunned, even more revenant.

And I fuck him with abandon. I’m not worried about him popping early, not with having just watched him drain himself on my face so recently. No, I use him, his king cock. It’s my plaything, my toy, my prize. Dick like this doesn’t come along everyday, especially not attached to a man so enslaved to my pleasure.

I shove down, pressing my hips into his. “Ohmygod,” he whimpers.

“Ever been this deep before?” I grin. His entire length from base to tip ravages my pussy. I flex my abs just so, squeeze him tight, watching him react. “You’re almost hitting my ribs.”

“Fuck…” he mutters.

I change our pace, riding him slow and deep so we can both feel every micron of it, pulling off until his tip rests against my opening, shoving down until his balls squish against my ass.

With a moan, he starts, “I’ve never…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, not with me leaning in, smothering him with my tits. Instead his tongue laps at them like a man obsessed.

Fuck, it feels so good. This uncomplicated adoration is exactly what I need. Billy just wants me because of my body, and he’s equipped to provide. I lose myself in it, in the unrelenting penetration so fulfilling and animal, in the gratifying veneration of my tits, my ass. I fuck him just how I need to be fucked, so it shouldn’t surprise me when orgasm suddenly bursts wide inside me.

But it does, taking me unaware, my quivering legs slipping loose as I collapse down onto Billy, gaping open-mouthed and shuddering with pleasure. Yet the sudden absence of cock is the most horrible denial. “Fuck me!” I beg him.

With youthful energy he springs up, pulls me around, bends me over the chair. My ass is up, my back arched, my pussy spread, and with Billy behind me I know what to expect. But expecting it and feeling it are two different things, and the feral and savage fucking he pounds into me renews my climax full-force.

I squeal and whimper and tremble and none of it has the slightest stay on Billy’s pace. He pounds into me releasing years of his need, satisfying untold nights of lonely unfulfilled erections, dreaming of his hot MILF neighbor, me! My face is against the bathrobe, my fingers scrambling to hold on.

It doesn’t work. With a guttural yell, he slams into me something fierce, once, twice, three times, and then he groans and cums. His load, it must be just as heavy as before, the way its warmth floods inside me, the way the sticky heat blooms and smears. I reach down and scoop up dripping semen and finger it into my clit until I’m climaxing again, Billy’s massive cock still filling me.

And then it’s not. “Oh fuck,” he mutters, staggering back, “I– I gotta get home!”

The fucker leaves me, fucked and spent and panting on the floor of my bedroom, his cum still dripping down me.

Synopsis: Lyra’s not one for telling me when I do a good job, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her own way of showing it. 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 

~

On a routine evening after work, Lyra tells me to sit in her bed. Hesitantly, I do, watching as she ties her hair into a neat ponytail. She usually keeps her hair down during work, so seeing her neck feels like something only I get to see. 

Lyra kneels between my legs, fumbling with my belt and unbuttoning my pants. Tapping my hips, Lyra glares at me, clearing her throat. “Ahem.”

“Right. Sorry,” I mumble, lifting my hips, letting her pull my bottoms down. I rub her hair as she rests her head on my leg, kissing the inside of my thigh. And my heart stops when a piercing glare meets my eyes. I ask her, “What’s this for?” 

“Your report was finished before everyone else's. You’re getting better, so I’ll reward you,” Lyra says, eyes locked onto my hardness. She teases my tip with her fingertips, tracing them down the bottom of my shaft. 

“You could’ve just told me ‘good work’ and called it a day,” I say, laughing, biting my lip when her lips kiss me softly. My dick twitches in her grasp. 

“In front of everyone?” Lyra says, raising an eyebrow. Her kisses deepen, and she presses my dick against her mouth. “No way.”

Her grip on my base tightens, and my head pulses. She licks slowly, from my base to the tip, keeping eye contact. “Besides, I'm sure you'd prefer this.” 

“Oh, I'm not complaining one bit.”

“I wouldn't either if I was about to get the best head of my life,” Lyra tells me before her lips lock around the tip. Her tongue trails along every ridge. She gets eager, licking faster. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” I say, laughing. “But those are big shoes to fill.”

Lyra takes her mouth off to glare at me, and I hate that I gasp needily, immediately needing those lips again. Pointing to herself, she rants, “You really mean to say that I am not even the best mouth you've had?” 

“You're a solid second place, if that makes you feel any better,” I assure her. When she stares unamusedly, I shrug. “What?” 

“Well, who was she?” Lyra grumbles, stroking along my hardness. Part of me is worried she'd bite my dick off now that her mood is soured, but I’m pleasantly surprised when she kisses my tip softly and parted lips gradually take more of me. 

“I don't know, actually. Junior year of college, I was invited to a Halloween party. You remember Terry? From our department? He was hosting, though I don't know if you were invited—”

“Of course I was invited!” Lyra fumes. “You think I'd be left out of a social event? I'm the life of the party, and it’d be social self-sabotage to even consider leaving me out.” 

“Pretty sure you weren't there,” I say. My memory is hazy, but if Lyra were there, there was no way she wouldn't bother me all night, and I swear I don't remember bumping into her there. “Anyway, downstairs, they were doing some makeshift gloryhole—”

With my dick in her mouth, Lyra sputters a laugh, and she pops off to howl, throwing her head back. “That tracks. Only way you would be able to get your dick wet is if the person on the other side didn't know what you looked like. How do you even know it was a girl?” 

“Just so you know, I'd definitely had sex before that,” I argue, only a little offended. “Had to have been a woman. I heard glimpses of her voice. She was moaning while she was sucking me off.”

“What kind of slut gets off while sucking dick?” Lyra says before focusing on the top of half my hardness while her hand meets her mouth in the middle.  

“Aren't you having fun now?” I ask. 

“No,” Lyra lies with a hitched breath, sneakily pulling her other hand from between her legs. “I'm just trying to one-up this mystery girl. What made her so good?” 

“In retrospect, it was a little weird. I could feel her hands tremble, like she didn't know what she was doing. I felt her slap my dick into her cheek, and God, her skin was soft.” 

“Weirdo.”

“I don't know. I think the novelty was in the fact that I had zero clue who she was. But she started nice and slowly,” I explain, and I could see Lyra's brows angle in anger. “Genuinely, I don't know if she'd done this before, but I loved her enthusiasm. She had to stop, and I'm pretty sure I heard her gag.” 

“Amateur,” Lyra says. Her eyes close as she bobs her head. She's listening, but focusing on me. 

“I felt bad, but she kept going. She was a fast learner…” My voice trails off, and all I can think of his how good Lyra feels, sucking me fervently, and massaging my hardness with her tongue. My legs clench when Lyra grips my thighs. 

“Did you get to come, at least?” she asks. 

“Oh, yeah. I told her I was close and she could finish me with her hand, but she just…kept going. It was h-hot. Her lips…shit…tightened around me, and I came so hard—probably the hardest I'd come in days that week. She couldn't keep it all in, though, and I felt it leak out of her mouth and back onto my dick…” I pause to groan. “Shit, are you doing something different? You're doing really, really well.” 

“I'm aiming for the top spot, obviously,” Lyra murmurs, sucking harder. “No one one-ups me.” 

My legs spread, and I lean back, supporting myself with my hands. “Fuck, Lyra…”

“Mmm,” she moans softly, and her fingers shlick quickly over her clit. “Tell me how good I am.” 

“So fucking good,” I tell her. 

“The best?” she asks, taking a break to stroke my slobber-coated length. I wipe the dribbled spit from her chin, and she grabs my hand to suck two digits. Lyra swipes against her slit faster, and moans vibrate my fingers.

“Definitely. Keep going, and I think you will be,” I say, voice shaking. My hips hump into her closed fist, and I expect her to complain, but she grips tighter and slides her hand down faster. “Fuck. Lyra. I love the way you make me feel.” 

“Hmph. You haven't seen anything yet.” Lyra pulls her hand away, and I groan when she takes all of me into her mouth. She makes it look easy, doing the same thing a few times over. “See? No gagging.” 

“Y-yeah,” I barely push out past labored breaths, staring at how much spit she’s left all over me. “I'm close, so be careful. I don't want you getting mad that I came in your mouth without asking.” 

Lyra grins, bobbing her head, and my eyes roll back in response as I moan her name. For every breath that escapes, she only sucks harder, and I'm writhing in place.

“Lyra…fuck—” Shallow breaths barely bring enough air to my brain when she pulls up to breathe. 

“I'm gonna make you forget all about Gloryhole Girl. This is how it's done.” Lyra takes me back into her mouth and sucks with all her might. Her moans are muffled around me, and when I fill her mouth, she doesn't even react. Even the drops that leak past the lips locked around me, get lapped up. Lyra doesn’t stop sucking me until my nerves are on fire. 

I have to push her off. “Holy fucking shit. Yeah…yeah…that's the best head in the world.”

Lyra gulps down and shows me an empty tongue. I grab her to bring her lips to mine, kissing her deeply, and she grins against me. She peeks an eye open when she feels me unzip her skirt and work her stockings down.

“What are you doing?” she asks, enjoying the hitched breath she draws when she kisses my jawline and whispers into my ear, “I sucked out every last drop. You should be spent.” 

“Returning the favor,” I answer huskily, setting her at the edge of the bed. Taking a long lap against her entrance, I lick up any juices I can gather with my tongue. 

“Gloryhole Girl was generous. If anyone else had taken a glimpse of that cheap Sherlock Holmes costume, they would've assumed you were solving the mystery of where the clit is—” Lyra laughs, but it’s interrupted by a moan when I suck on her bud. 

I stop briefly, but not because of her comment (it's a solid burn, even if it holds zero weight). I perk up, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “I…never mentioned what I was wearing that night.” 

Lyra flusters, grabbing my head and pushing me back down to her soaked lips. “Did I say you could stop?” 

I still remember the exact sound of Maya’s laugh in that cramped third-floor walk-up on Mercer Street.

It was the summer we were all twenty-three, six of us rotating through the same two apartments like we were sharing a single overdrawn bank account and a rotating supply of cheap wine. Maya had the bed by the window. She slept in oversized band tees and nothing else, and every morning the light would catch the freckles across her shoulders while she sat cross-legged on the mattress, hair a dark tangle, drinking coffee black and talking with her hands. She had this way of looking at people—direct, a little too long—like she was already deciding whether the conversation was worth her time. Most of the time it was. She was the one who dragged us to the river at 2 a.m. when the heat made the city feel unlivable. The one who could quote entire scenes from movies none of us had seen. The one who, on a random Tuesday in July, kissed me once in the kitchen while everyone else was out and then pretended it hadn’t happened, eyes bright with something she refused to name.

I was the quiet one in the group. The one who listened more than he spoke, who always ended up with Maya’s feet in his lap during long nights on the fire escape, who noticed the way her voice dropped half an octave when she was tired or turned on or both. We never talked about the almosts. There were a few. A shared blanket on a rooftop that turned into her head on my chest. A drunken night where we fell asleep fully clothed on her narrow bed and woke up tangled, her thigh between mine, both of us pretending the hardness against her hip was just morning. We were careful with each other in a way we weren’t with anyone else. Maybe that’s why it never tipped over. Or maybe we simply ran out of time.

The group held for eleven months. Then jobs pulled people to different coasts. Relationships got serious. Rent went up. One by one the group chat went quiet. Maya moved to Chicago for a design job. I stayed and tried to build something that looked like a real life. We exchanged a few messages the first year. Then nothing. Fifteen years of nothing.

I was thirty-eight the night her name lit up my phone.

“I know this is random,” the message read, “but I was thinking about that summer on Mercer. The fire escape. The river. You. Are you still around?”

We started with voice notes. Hers still carried that low, warm edge I remembered, a little rougher now, like she’d smoked for a few years and then quit. She told me about the marriage that had lasted six years and ended without drama, about the small apartment she finally liked living in alone, about the way she still drank her coffee black. I told her about the slow accumulation of ordinary years—work that paid well enough, a couple of relationships that almost fit, the quiet surprise of realizing I still thought about her sometimes when the weather turned humid. The conversations stretched. We started calling. Then texting past midnight. Somewhere in the third week the tone shifted, subtle at first, then deliberate.
She admitted she’d always wondered what would have happened if she’d pushed that kitchen kiss further. I admitted I’d jerked off thinking about her more times than I could count in the years after she left. The flirting arrived fully formed after that—precise, a little dangerous. She sent a photo late one night: the curve of her neck and the open collar of a soft black shirt, the same freckles still scattered across her collarbone. Nothing explicit. Everything implied. I stared at it until my eyes burned, then wrote back exactly what I wanted to do to the skin just below the frame.

The sexting that followed was slow and detailed and almost unbearably intimate. She described the way her body still reacted when she thought about my mouth. I told her, in careful language, how I would take her apart—how I would kiss the inside of her thighs until she was shaking, how I would taste her until she came against my tongue, how I would fuck her slow enough to feel every inch and hard enough to make her forget every year we’d wasted. She came once while we were messaging, and the way she described it—breathless, a little stunned, like she couldn’t believe she’d let herself go that far—left me aching for days.

When she finally asked if I wanted to see her, the answer had already been decided for weeks.

She opened the door of her apartment in a soft black sweater and dark jeans, hair longer than I remembered, face older in the ways that made her more striking. For a moment we just looked at each other across the threshold. Then she stepped forward and kissed me like she’d been thinking about it every night since the first message.

We didn’t make it far.

I had her against the wall in the entryway, my hands under the sweater, learning the heat of her skin again. She made a low sound when I found her breasts, when I brushed my thumbs across her nipples and felt them tighten under the thin fabric of her bra. Her mouth was open against mine, greedy, familiar and new at the same time. I pulled the sweater over her head. She worked my shirt open with impatient fingers. When I dropped to my knees she exhaled shakily, one hand settling in my hair as I unbuttoned her jeans and drew them down her legs.

She was already wet. I could smell her—warm, clean, unmistakably aroused. I kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, taking my time, letting her feel the wait. When I finally put my mouth on her she moaned, soft and broken, hips tilting toward me. I licked her slowly at first, broad strokes that made her thighs tremble, then focused on the swollen peak of her clit, circling, sucking gently, tasting how ready she was. Her fingers tightened in my hair. She said my name once, quiet, almost disbelieving. I kept going until her legs started to shake, until she was panting and trying not to grind against my face, until she came with a sharp, helpless sound and a rush of wetness against my tongue.

I stood and kissed her so she could taste herself. She reached for my belt with unsteady hands, freed me, and wrapped her fingers around my cock like she’d been waiting years to do it. The first stroke pulled a groan out of me. She guided me toward the bedroom without letting go.
We fell onto the bed in a tangle of remaining clothes. I got her completely bare and took a moment just to look—the soft curve of her stomach, the flush across her chest, the way her thighs parted for me without hesitation. When I finally pushed inside her the fit was perfect, tight and slick and so warm I had to stay still or risk ending everything too soon. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me deeper, eyes half-lidded, mouth open.

I fucked her slowly at first, long strokes that let both of us feel every inch. Then harder, deeper, the wet sound of it filling the room. She met every thrust, nails dragging down my back, voice breaking on quiet, desperate sounds. I reached between us and rubbed her clit in tight circles. She came again with her face pressed to my neck, pulsing around me, and the way she clenched pulled me over with her. I buried myself as deep as I could and spilled inside her, hips stuttering, pleasure rolling through me in heavy waves.

We stayed like that for a long time afterward, breathing the same air, skin damp and cooling. Eventually she laughed softly against my shoulder—the same full-body laugh I remembered from the fire escape—and said, “We should have done that fifteen years ago.”

I kissed the corner of her mouth and didn’t disagree.

Some things, it turns out, are worth the wait.

(Continued…)

My thighs were still slick with my own release when he stood up... face flushed, lips wet, eyes blown black with hunger.

And guilt.

Always the guilt. It clung to him like cheap cologne, thick and hard to breathe around. But it never stopped him from coming back. From touching me like he couldn’t help it. From fucking me like I was the only real thing left in a life full of lies.

He didn’t say anything. Just pressed his palm flat on the hood of the car beside me, his other hand cupping my face like he wanted to memorize it.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered, voice rough, breath hot against my lips. “Missed you.”

I leaned in, noses almost brushing. “Then stop pretending you’re gonna walk away.”

His lips crashed into mine.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t soft. It was desperate. His tongue pushed deep, tasting everything he’d been starving for. My hands clawed at his shirt, yanking it up and over his head. I needed skin. Needed the heat of him pressed to me like it could burn away every second he spent with her instead of me.

I dropped back onto the hood, my spine arching against the cool metal, legs spreading as he shoved his jeans down just far enough to free his cock.

And fuck... he was so hard.

I saw it twitch as he stepped between my thighs, precum already beading at the tip... thick, flushed, aching. He wrapped a fist around the base, jerked once, twice, like he couldn’t take the pressure building another second.

But he didn’t enter me. Not yet.

Instead, he dragged the head of his cock through my folds, smearing my slick along my pussy, letting it catch on my clit just enough to make me moan.

“Still so wet for me,” he murmured, eyes locked between my legs. “Still so fucking perfect.”

“Then fuck me already,” I gasped, hands clutching his hips, nails digging in. “Stop acting like this is goodbye.”

His jaw tensed and then he slammed into me in one hard thrust.

I cried out, my body arching up off the hood, legs wrapping around his waist without hesitation. He was deep. So fucking deep. Stretching me, filling me, like he was carving his name into me from the inside out.

“Shit —” he groaned, both hands gripping my hips as he pulled out slow... then slammed back in harder. “You feel too fucking good.”

My head tipped back, moans echoing off the garage walls like confessions I couldn’t hold back.

His rhythm was punishing. Rough. The kind of pace that said he didn’t care who might hear. The kind that said he didn’t come for closure. He came for this.

Every thrust had me jolting against the hood, tits bouncing beneath my shirt, the cold edge of the metal biting into my lower back but I didn’t care.

Not when he leaned down and bit my shoulder. Not when he whispered, “I shouldn’t be here,” right as he drove deeper.

My nails raked down his back. “Then why are you?”

He growled, burying himself to the hilt. “Because I can’t stop. Because you fucking ruin me.”

I clenched around him... sharp and involuntary and he groaned so loud it echoed through the garage.

“Fuck — do that again.”

So I did. Tightened around him every time he bottomed out. Watched his face fall apart, watched the control slip from his expression with every squeeze.

My hand slid down to my clit, rubbing tight, fast circles as he fucked me harder, his gaze glued to the way my body trembled and shook under him.

“Touch yourself,” he hissed. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

It didn’t take long.

The pressure built quick. It always did with him. My body knew him... knew the angle of his hips, the sound of my name on his lips just before I broke, the way he drove in deeper when he was close too.

I bit my lip, trying to hold it off... but he saw it.

“Knew you’d cum for me,” he growled. “Even after I ignored you. Even after I lied.”

My eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck you.”

“I am fucking you,” he snarled and then he shifted, angling just right, hitting that spot inside me that made the world blur at the edges.

My body snapped. Thighs clamped tight around him, hand flying to his chest as I shattered. I came with a choked cry, back arching, pussy clenching so hard around him that it dragged a broken curse from his lips.

He didn’t stop.

Kept thrusting through it, kept fucking me as my orgasm tore through me, as my whole body tensed and trembled beneath him.

And then... finally... he let go.

With a deep, guttural groan, he slammed into me one last time and came... hard. Cock twitching as he spilled inside me, thick and hot and deep.

I felt it.

All of it.

The warmth, the weight, the claim.

And I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

We just stayed like that, bodies pressed together, panting, sweating, the air thick with the sharp scent of sex.

Eventually he pulled back. Watched his cum leak out of me, sliding slowly down my thigh.

“You always do that,” I said softly.

He lifted a brow. “Do what?”

“Cum inside me like you fucking mean it.”

He didn’t answer.

Just stepped back. Zipped up. Grabbed his shirt like pretending none of it happened would make it easier to go home.

I slid off the hood, legs shaky. Smoothed my skirt. Met his gaze without flinching.

“So what now?” I asked.

He hesitated. Guilt thick in his throat again. “This was the last time.”

I smirked. “You said that last time too.”

And I turned and walked away.

He didn’t follow.

But I knew he would.

Eventually.

Again.

This story reads better if you have read Parts 1 and 2.

The girls found a movie (romance, of course) while I ordered us tacos. Not sure if we were all just drained and hungry, but we pretty much just sat there sharing a blanket, snuggled up together—me in the middle, the girls on each side of me. Our food came and was devoured quickly. We all sat back down just as we had been. I placed my hand on each of their thighs as the movie continued. As I grew increasingly bored with the movie and more and more horny with each sex scene I sat through, my hands slid higher and higher on each of their thighs. Each of the girls had opened their legs slightly, giving me full access to touch their pussies.

I slid my hand beneath the fabric of Jaz’s shorts and ran my fingers in circles around the lips of her pussy. My other hand did the same to Tina, sliding under the fabric of her thong and caressing her lips.

“You’re a bad boy,” Jaz flirted.

“I can stop if you would like,” I teased as I jokingly started to pull my hand out of her pants.

Her hand shot to my wrist, gripping it firmly and holding it on her pussy. “Don’t you dare,” she said softly to me.

It wasn’t long before my fingers had made their way to each of their clits, gently rubbing up and down over them, feeling as their pussies got wet. Occasionally my finger would slide down and around their holes, then right back up to their clits. Each time I grazed their holes I would feel their hips wiggle and hear the softest moan from both of them.

Tina grabbed my hand and guided it down toward her entrance. She was so wet already. Once she was confident I would slide my fingers in after a bit of teasing, her hand shot toward my dick (which was rock hard, of course). She grabbed at it through my boxers, squeezing and massaging it as my fingers circled around her entrance, applying pressure intermittently, not allowing her to know when they would inevitably slide inside of her.

I was so focused on Tina that my finger wasn’t even moving around Jaz’s pussy—just sitting idle on her clit. I felt Jaz grab my hand and remove it from her pants. I looked over at her to see her move down beneath me, between my legs. She pulled my boxers off and removed the blanket completely from all of us. My now-free hand moved over to one of Tina’s boobs, cupping and massaging it. Tina was still holding the base of my dick, guiding it in the direction of Jaz’s face. Tina and I watched as Jaz opened and took me in her mouth slowly.

As I felt her lips wrap around the tip, I shot my fingers deep inside Tina.

“Mmmmh, yes baby!” Tina let out.

Jaz’s eyes shot up toward Tina, then down at her pussy, realizing what just happened. She smiled as best as she could with me in her mouth. Tina was stroking the length of my dick up and down; Jaz’s mouth would meet her hand as it came up.

Jaz’s phone started buzzing on the side table next to us. Tina let go of my dick and grabbed it to silence it. Jaz’s hand instantly shot to my dick, replacing Tina’s.

“Oh shit, it’s Ron,” Tina said.

Jaz reached her hand out to grab her phone. Her mouth came off my dick with a “pop” seconds before swiping and answering it on speakerphone.

“Hello,” she said.

“What the fuck, Jaz? There is no food here, and my golf shirt isn’t even clean for tomorrow,” Ron said angrily.

Jaz was still stroking my dick inches from her face.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t have time,” Jaz said in a monotone voice, as if she was so used to this sort of fit that it didn’t affect her.

Before Ron could get out another word, she quietly put my dick back in her mouth, slowly moving up and down on the first few inches.

“This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have to do laundry, and I certainly shouldn’t have to cook. I don’t understand why you can’t just do the basic fucking things, Jaz. Maybe next time don’t go on a girls’ trip last minute if you don’t have time to get your responsibilities done.”

It was silent for a second, Jaz still moving up and down my dick.

“Hello, are you fucking ignoring me? You don’t have anything to say?” Ron went off again.

Jaz pulled her mouth off again. “I’m sorry, bad service. There is nothing I can do about it now. Won’t happen again.” Once again another reflexive response from Jaz, who returned my dick between her lips.

“Yeah, BULLSHIT, Jaz. BULL…SHIT. Have fun with Tina while I do all your chores,” Ron shot back at her before hanging up.

“What a fucking asshole,” Tina chimed.

Jaz sat up. “Yeah, I have other chores to do this weekend. A LOT of other chores.” Jaz winked at me before taking me back into her mouth, this time going deeper and faster. I could feel the back of her throat each time she went down.

After watching for a little longer, I looked over at Tina, my fingers still curling, pushing and pulling inside her. I leaned in and kissed her softly, then again, pulling away each time, looking deep into her eyes. Her face was filled with desire, as if she couldn’t get enough. I kissed her again and again until her lips started to follow. Our lips locked and our tongues met, flicking back and forth, sliding all around.

Tina pulled my hand out of her and threw one leg over Jaz’s head, straddling my abdomen right above my dick. Jaz didn’t skip a beat; she continued to bob up and down. My hands ran down Tina’s back and to her massive round ass. I squeezed it firmly, spreading her cheeks slightly. Tina was moaning a consistent humming moan into my mouth as our lips remained entangled.

Jaz started to lick the tip of my dick, swirling her tongue in circles. She ran her tongue up and down the underside of my dick the entire length between my balls and tip a few times. Tina was inching her pussy closer and closer to my dick. Jaz grabbed Tina’s hip with one hand and pulled her down just enough to touch the tip of my dick, then guided my dick around her tight, wet hole, teasing her like I had with my fingers. I was still gripping Tina’s ass, spreading her pussy with my fingers, holding her up so she couldn’t work her way down and get me inside her. I felt Jaz’s mouth return to my dick right at the base where it met my balls. She switched between sucking and licking as she continued to run my dick in circles around Tina’s pussy and flick it up and down.

Tina’s kisses became less focused and more sloppy as she moaned in my mouth and caught her breath. I felt Jaz’s arm brush over my hands and return to Tina’s hips. I loosened up my grip to allow Tina to slide down. Jaz yanked at her hips with one hand, guiding me in with the other. Tina looked at me, our faces inches apart, as her hips glided down and she took me inside her.

“Fuck yes, baby. Your dick makes me feel soooo good,” Tina said.

“Yeah? You like feeling it stretch that tight little pussy, babe?”

“Oh fuck yes!” she practically shouted as she ground her hips all the way down.

I grabbed her ass tightly again and held myself deep inside her. Jaz had stripped off all her clothes and sat next to us, one hand pinching at her own nipples while the other rubbed on her clit. I looked over, staring at Jaz’s perfect tits. I loosened up on Tina’s ass, allowing her to ride me freely. She rode the entire length up and down slowly, as if she was savoring the moment. I kept one hand on Tina’s ass, following the motion of her riding me. My other hand found its way over to one of Jaz’s boobs, massaging and squeezing it.

Tina had her head next to mine as she held the couch behind me and rode me. I looked down to watch Jaz play with herself—her fingers rubbing up and down her clit, then sliding down and shooting into her hole. She would push and pull a few times inside herself before rubbing her clit again. She repeated this a few times until I grabbed her hand as she was making her way back to her clit. I raised it to my mouth and sucked on the fingers that had just been inside her, putting every bit that was inside her into my mouth and slowly pulling them out. She stared me in the eyes while I did it.

“Mmmmm,” I moaned, eyes still locked.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” she whispered.

She leaned over Tina, who was starting to take me a bit faster now, grinding her hips with each bounce. Jaz kissed me deeply, our tongues swirling around each other’s, her boobs swinging and rolling around Tina’s back. I pulled her body even closer to Tina and reached my hand around her ass. My fingers barely reached her pussy. Once she realized what I was doing, she repositioned herself so I could reach it. My fingers danced around her pussy like I had done with Tina, sliding them up and down and around her hole.

All three of our bodies pressed together. Tina sat up slightly, holding the entirety of my dick inside her. She positioned her boobs inches from my face, then grabbed Jaz’s chin and turned it toward her. They stared at each other briefly. Tina bit her lip and leaned in. They locked lips, making out just as deeply as Jaz and I had just been. I finally slid my finger inside Jaz while I watched them making out briefly before I started sucking on Tina’s nipples. Jaz moaned loudly as I entered her. Tina had moved across my chest and over to Jaz’s, grabbing at her boobs, rubbing her nipples. Tina’s hips were rolling back and forth, flicking my dick back and forth inside her, both of them moaning between kisses.

Tina pulled her hips up and repositioned her legs so that I was still inside her but barely. I knew exactly what she wanted without her saying a word. I started thrusting my hips slowly at first, bringing my hips up to hers, grabbing her ass with my free hand and pulling myself deeper into her. I sped up gradually, getting faster and faster.

“I love how you fuck my pussy, baby,” Tina moaned, pulling away from her and Jaz’s kiss.

Jaz lowered her head and was sucking on Tina’s nipple, her other boob bouncing up and down following the motion of my thrusts. Jaz moaned as she sucked. I could feel her pussy gripping my fingers tighter and tighter in waves. My thrusts into Tina intensified even more, pulling almost out of her then slamming our hips together. Her hand had moved down to her clit, rubbing it as I plowed deep inside her. Both of their moans intensified. Jaz moved her hand to her clit as well. I could tell she was getting close—they both were. I slightly sped up the pushing and pulling inside of Jaz.

“Give me your cum, Jaz,” was all it took. Her body tensed and vibrated.

“Oh fuck, yes, fuck!” She exploded.

I removed my hand and placed it on Tina’s ass. My hands gripped her ass close to her pussy and spread her open from the back.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Oh yeah, oh yes, harder baby, fuck me harder!” Tina shouted when she felt me spreading her open.

I gave her everything I had, hips bouncing between the couch and her pussy, pulling her ass down each time, ensuring she was getting every inch.

“Oh…fuck…my…oh…yessss!” Tina screamed, gasping between each word. Her legs gave out and she collapsed down. I held my dick inside her while I felt it throbbing on my dick. Her eyes stayed closed and her body tense for what seemed like forever. Finally, I felt her body relax and her eyes open.

“Holy shit, babe. Wow, that was one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” she said as she rolled off and slumped beside me.

I looked over at Jaz. “You ready to make me cum?”—more of a command than a question.

“How do you want me?” she flirted in response.

“Ride my dick and let me suck on those beautiful tits,” I answered.

Without saying a word she swung her leg over and placed her pussy on top of my dick. She ground herself back and forth on my dick that lay sandwiched between her pussy and my stomach, dangling her boobs into my face. My hands grabbed them, squeezing them and directing her nipples toward my mouth. She reached back, gripping my dick and lifting it to her, slowly sliding back, taking the tip into her. A high-pitched moan left her lips as it entered her. She returned her hands to my chest, slowly sliding backwards, taking more of me.

“You are so tight. I love it,” I whispered to her.

“I love feeling you stretch me,” she whimpered, taking the rest of me. She held her hips there for a moment, breathing heavily. Eventually her hips started rocking back and forth. I had buried my face in her swaying boobs again, kissing and sucking on them.

“Give me a hickey on one of them,” Jaz suggested.

I pulled away and looked at her. “What happens when Ron sees that?” I asked.

“Fuck him. I’m yours tonight. Claim me. Make me yours, Eric,” she said lustfully.

This turned me on more than I knew I could be. She started riding harder and faster, back and forth on my dick. I reached in front of me and grabbed one of her boobs aggressively and brought it to my mouth. I started sucking hard and long. One of her hands wrapped around the back of my head and held it to her.

“Oh fuck yes, make me yours, Eric!” she yelled, her voice shaky.

Her hand released my head and I pulled away to see my work—a big red welt was left on her boob close to her nipple. I reached my hands around under her ass and flipped her onto her back, laying on top of her, keeping my dick inside her the entire time. I immediately started forcefully thrusting in and out, slamming into her hips, bottoming out completely each stroke.

“Fuck yes, Eric!” she whined, her hands running up and down my back.

“You’re mine now. That pussy is mine. I’m going to cum deep inside it,” I said into her ear.

As soon as I said that I could feel her back arching under me and her pussy getting tighter in waves.

“Oh yes, give me your cum, Eric. I want to feel it shoot deep inside me,” she replied. She started moaning louder than she had yet. At this point her fingers were still running up and down my back, but her nails were digging in a bit, scratching up and down. I felt her body stiffen under me, her back locked in an arched position. She let out a long, drawn-out scream.

“I’m cumming!”

The feeling of her pussy gripping my dick even harder sent me into an orgasm. Her nails dug into my lower back, holding me deep inside.

“Uhhhhhh fuck!” was all I could manage to get out, my dick throbbing all the way inside her. She was still moaning and holding me tightly inside her. Her hands fell to her sides and her body lay limp. I held myself completely inside her for a little longer before kissing her softly on the cheek and pulling myself out slowly. I leaned back and admired her naked body. I watched as my cum leaked slowly out of her pussy.

Tina scooped a bit of my cum with her hand and rubbed it all over Jaz’s pussy. “There. Now it’s his.”

We all laughed. I looked over at Tina and gave her a kiss.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too, handsome,” she replied with a smile.

“I’m ready for a shower and bed,” I said. The girls agreed and we all took turns showering. We got in the bed, me in the middle with a girl on each side of me, and fell asleep almost immediately.

…To Be Continued…

(reposting because I goofed up the title requirements the first time)

------

You stupid, stupid man.

I devoted my life to you. To your business. I gave up everything to get this job. Moved away from my family… my friends. For what? So you could conveniently throw me out like one of your cum rags? So you could protect some sort of honor?

Well, guess what? I’m going to show you real honor, Mr. Hayashi. Because when I walk out of your office tomorrow with my head held high, I’ll know that I’ll soon be in your head. You’re going to hate the day you underestimated me.

I’m a hot mess right now, and I know it. I’ve been crying for hours—ever since I overheard Mrs. Suzuki in the restroom talking about my dismissal tomorrow. The tears are still coming, but I’ve channeled my emotions into something dark.

I know you fuck her. Did you know she makes me take your cum-soiled laundry across town to drop it off using my own name? To protect your honor, she says. Fucking honor. I bawled my eyes out on the train home last night while people stared at me.

I wonder if you even remember my name. I’m probably just the shy girl who avoids eye contact… the weird gamer chick whose annoying parents called in a favor, asking you to give her a job. I’m sorry if that put you out.

I’m a sex fiend too, by the way. Right now my fingers are shiny and my thighs are shaking because of a cutscene in the hentai game I pirated—on your VPN.

I can’t get enough. Every night the second the door locks, every morning before the alarm, toys scattered on the floor next to the chair. Some nights I stay up just to see how many times I can make myself come before the sun comes up.

I’ll probably make some guy really happy one day. I dream of waking up next to a boyfriend and pressing my naked body against him. I’d let him fuck me as many times a day as he wants. He can play games while we do it or whatever. The guys in the office don’t know. They think I’m a prude. But I’ve had sex before.

You know what I bought tonight? I stopped at the Center Station Mall and bought a very short little black dress and a tight little white blouse. Tomorrow morning, when I walk in… while you and Mrs. Suzuki are getting papers ready for my dismissal, I’m going to blow the minds of the guys in the office with my Ms. Fanservice outfit.

I’m going to be their wet dream come to life. The blouse is white and cheap and already too small. I cinched it so tight the buttons strain and the top of my cleavage looks like it’s one breath away from spilling out. I normally bury these beautiful tits under dark grey sweaters. Tomorrow, they’ll be all anyone can look at.

And here’s where it gets fun, Mr. Hayashi. Here’s where I enact my plan… the one that teaches you a lesson in honor.

 I find Tom, the cute, shy guy from IT who games with me sometimes at night. He hasn’t had a girlfriend in a while. Tom’s office is hidden away behind the server room on the lower floor. I know he hates you too, because he talks about having to cover your tracks. He shares your search history with me. Naughty, naughty, Mr. Hayashi.

He also shares your calendar. That’s how I know you’ll fire me tomorrow morning at 10:00. Are you sure fifteen minutes isn’t too much time to give to someone you’ve had on staff for four years?

A half hour before that, I’ve locked myself in with Tom. The server room is warm and loud. He’s already hard and bulging in his pants when I push his chair back and push my tits into his face.

He tries to stop me when I begin to unbutton his pants, asking if I’m okay – because HE has honor, Mr. Hayashi. I tell him it’s my last day… that I’ve liked him for a long time, and I’d like to be with him before I leave. That’s all it takes.

I get his pants open, and we slide them down together. He’s bigger than I imagined, and clearly pleased with my impressed reaction.  I’m excited to look into his stunned eyes as I draw my tongue from the bottom to the top of his shaft. I suck him for a minute because I want to taste him. I part my lips as wide as I can and take him in. I feel every inch of him on my tongue. I want to see how much of him I can swallow without gagging. I get it all… I’ve been practicing.

But I can’t suck him for too long, though. Because there’s a plan.

He tugs at my blouse, wanting to free my tits, and I let him. His tongue is hot and wet on my nipples. He buries his face between them like he’s been waiting for this.

I turn to face away from him, pull down my panties, and flip up the back of my short dress, bending over his desk…waiting.

He rolls on a condom. I’ve seen them in his backpack before.

The wait is short and agonizing. Then he pushes into me. I’m already dripping, so he slides in easily, even though I’m tight.

He tries to last, to impress me, but I know he can’t. I look back at him and tell him I want the real thing. I need to feel every contour of him inside me, that it’s alright to take off the condom. He agrees almost instantly, ripping it away and plunging back in. He wants to feel it too. He wants to feel his naked cock inside my hot pussy. He wants to feel what it’s like to fill me with cum.

It’s smoother now. Slippery. Raw. His hands grip me tight. He moans. He thrusts forward. I feel him squirting inside me for a long time. He hasn’t fucked in a long time. There’s a ton of cum. I squeeze the muscles inside my pussy to get it all. 

I take my panties the rest of the way off. They’ve been at my knees. They’re his now. A souvenir. Something he’ll look at… maybe hold against his face, to remember me. To remember the day the cute, shy girl at the office – wasn’t so shy.

Time to go. I clean up just enough to walk, clenching as best I can. Most of him is still inside me. I have an important appointment to keep.

You send Ms. Suzuki for me just as I arrive back at my cubicle, smiling, happy to follow her wherever she asks. We go to your office, where she shows me inside and then closes the door once I’ve entered.

You tell me to sit, pointing to the expensive white leather chairs facing your desk. These are the important chairs, where you have important meetings. I sat in one once before, on the day you hired me.

You give me some bullshit excuse for firing me, but we both know the real reason. Some very important people will be sitting in these chairs soon. It’s safer if I’m not around.

Before I get up to leave, I rock forward. I can feel it sliding out of me onto your expensive chair. When I stand up, there’s a glossy puddle the size of my palm on the expensive white leather.

Before I get up to leave, I rock forward, relaxing my pussy. I can feel the load of cum inside me sliding slowly out, dripping onto your expensive chair. When I stand up, there’s a glossy puddle the size of my palm on the expensive white leather.

That’s my wara ningyo, Mr. Hayashi. You know the ones — those little straw curse dolls from anime. I left you my wetter version.

We bow before parting ways, another bullshit gesture pretending to show honor where there is none. I catch you sneaking a lustful peek as I walk out. If you want to know what it’s like to fuck me, you should ask Tom.

I’m back in my apartment now, back in my gaming chair with headphones on – my happy place. I’m masturbating again, thinking about Tom, hoping there’s a little left of him on my fingers to taste. He’ll be online later. Maybe I’ll invite him over.

So tell me, did you find a new errand girl to launder the suits of your important guests when they realized they sat in a big wet puddle of sticky cum this morning? Or did they cancel their contract and leave in disgust?

I truly wish upon you and your business all the honor that you so rightfully deserve.

See comments for previous chapters.

---

The glass dildo lay on the bed between us. Wet. Glistening. Forgotten.

Elara lay still. Eyes half closed. Dreamy. Green swimming behind dilated pupils. The heat in her body fading. Cooling. Relaxed.

Then something shifted. I watched her come back. The post-orgasmic softness had lasted only thirty seconds. Maybe less.

Her pupils not shrinking. Growing. Sharpening. The green disappearing into black. Her jaw setting. Heat returning to her body. Not arousal. Intent.

The stillness was no longer exhaustion. It was coiled. A spring compressed. The body remembering every inch the feather had woken. Every inch no one had touched since.

She had taken her orgasm from the glass. But that was never all of it. She wanted hands. Wanted weight. Wanted the whole of a person against the whole of her. Not an orgasm. Contact. Passion.

She turned. Her eyes found mine. I was closest. Your turn was coming. But she wasn't finished taking.

She didn't speak. She didn't need to.

She crawled.

Not slowly. Not tentatively. Across the bed toward me. The movement animal. Fluid. Her hair falling forward. Long. Dark. A curtain. Her eyes never leaving mine. I saw myself reflected in those black pupils. The teacher. The one who had shown her the way. The one who was about to be devoured by the student.

She reached me. Her hands found my knees. Pushed them apart. My thighs opened for her. The bare skin between my legs. My fully shaved pussy. Swollen. Labia engorged. Inner lips visible. Pouting. Dark pink. Soaked from the glass. Hours of teaching. Demonstrating. Touching. My body had been ready long before Elara decided to claim it.

Her tongue found my opening first. Not my clit. Not my lips. My entrance. She pressed inside. Shallow at first. Tasting. The tip of her tongue circling the rim. I gasped. My hand found the sheet beneath me. Gripped it. The fabric bunching in my fist. I needed something solid because the ground was dissolving.

She pushed deeper. Her tongue inside me. Exploring. Not tentative. Not experimental. Confident. She knew what she was looking for. I arched off the bed. My hips rising. My spine curving.

"Elara," I breathed. Just her name. The only word I could find.

She didn't respond with words. She responded with suction. Her mouth sealed around my entrance. Her tongue working inside. The sound was obscene. Wet. Hungry. The fluids leaking out of me. Around her tongue. Into her mouth. Mixing with her saliva. The combination running down her chin. Dripping onto the sheet beneath us.

My free hand found my own breast. I wasn't thinking. Just reacting. My fingers found my left nipple. Hard. Dark rose. I pinched. Twisted. The sharp sensation traveled down my chest. Through my stomach. Met the building pressure from Elara's mouth.

My foot hit the bed. Then again. The stomping was involuntary. Rhythmic. Matching the thrusts of her tongue. Matching the pulsing of my heartbeat. I was losing control. The teacher dissolving into the student. The conductor abandoning the orchestra. My foot stomped the mattress.

She moved up. Down. Up. Working me.

She found my clit. The swollen bud fully exposed. The hood retracted. Sensitive. Desperate. She took it between her lips. Sucked. The vacuum pulled it past her teeth. Her tongue battered it from inside her mouth. Rapid. Merciless. Elara's mouth consumed me.

I screamed. The sound tore from my throat. Raw. Loud. My head fell back. My foot stomped again. Harder. The bed shook.

"Elara. Elara. Oh god Elara."

She didn't stop. She added fingers. Two. Sliding inside me. Curled. Pressing my spot while her mouth worked above. The sensation was annihilating. My walls clenched around her fingers. Pulled her deeper. The contractions were already starting. Small. Involuntary. Building.

I felt the wave forming. Heavy. Fast. The kind that shouldn't exist so soon after the last one. But the body remembers its own rhythm. Opens quicker the second time. Hours of teaching had left me primed. Every stroke of her tongue collecting what the glass had only started. Not a first wave. A deeper one. Rolling over ground already softened. Already surrendered. It was coming fast. Unstoppable the way the second one always is.

"Elara I'm going to—"

She pressed harder. Her fingers curled deeper. Her teeth grazed my clit. Gentle. Precise. The perfect amount of danger.

I broke.

The orgasm detonated. When the peak hit its absolute height I felt the gush. Hot. Clear. Spraying from me. Hitting Elara's chin. Her neck. Her chest. She didn't flinch. The fluid running down her face. Her chest. She drank me like I was the last water on earth.

My entire body seized. My foot slammed the mattress three times in rapid succession. One hand gripping the sheet so hard the fabric tore. My other hand working my nipple. Pain mixing with the pleasure.

My pussy clamped around Elara's fingers. Contracted. Released. Contracted. Each spasm forcing fluid past her knuckles. Running down her hand. Her wrist. My thighs locked around her head. Trapping her. Refusing to let her escape. She stayed. Lapping. Drinking. Her tongue on my clit extending the contractions. Refusing to let them fade.

The aftershocks rolled through me. Each one smaller. But each one still enough to make my body jerk. My foot stamped one last time. Then stilled.

I collapsed. My spine gave out. My head fell back. Hair around my face. Breathing in gasps. Short. Shallow. Incapable of full lungs. My hand released the sheet. My other hand fell from my breast. My nipple aching. Tender. Marks on it from my own grip.

Elara looked up at me. Her face was drenched. My fluids coating her. She smiled. Small. Triumphant. Not the smile of a student. The smile of a woman who had just taken everything she wanted. The smile of the graduate.

She didn't say thank you. She didn't need to.

---

Then she turned. To you.

Across the room. You sat in the chair. Your hand frozen on your cock. Your eyes wide. Your mouth open. You'd been watching. Unable to look away. The sight of Elara destroying me had kept you hard. Edged you without touch.

Elara stood. Slowly. Her body unfolding from the bed. Tall. Slim. Her hair wild around her shoulders. Her pussy still swollen. Red. Dripping with her own arousal that had renewed while she ate me. Her small breasts heaving. The oversized nipples pointing at you. Hard. Glistening with my wetness still coating them.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Slow. Like finishing a meal. She walked to you. Her hips swaying. Not performing. Just moving with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she was about to do.

She stopped in front of your chair. Leaned down. Her face inches from yours. Her breath hot on your lips. She could taste me on her own mouth. She knew you could smell it. The musk. The sweetness. The evidence of what she'd just done to me on her lips and chin and tongue. You inhaled. I watched you take in my familiar scent. Your cock jumped.

"Your turn," she whispered.

Two words. A verdict. You were hers now.

She dropped to her knees. Her hands found your thighs. Pushed them apart. Your cock stood straight up. Hard. Thick. The head dark purple. The vein on the underside swollen. Precum flowing freely. The evidence of everything you'd witnessed.

She took you in her mouth. No preamble. No teasing. She swallowed you whole. Her throat opened. The head hit the back. She gagged. Pulled back. Dove again. Deeper. You groaned. Your hands found her hair. Not pushing. Just holding. Anchoring you to the world while her mouth took you somewhere else.

Her tongue worked the underside. That vein. The dorsal artery. She knew it by now. Had mapped it. Memorized it. Her tongue traced the path from base to frenulum. Pressed into the soft triangle of skin beneath the head. You jerked. Your hips bucked upward.

"Elara," you groaned. "God."

She pulled off. Looked up at you. Her eyes were wild. Feral. Something had broken open inside her. The glass dildo had been the key. The sensation of something hard and unyielding inside her. The discovery that she could make herself cum with an instrument. That knowledge had flipped a switch. Released something primal. Something that didn't care about technique or learning or demonstration.

She wanted to consume you.

She took you again. Deeper. Her hand found your balls. Squeezed. The dual pressure. Her mouth above. Her hand below. She worked them in counterpoint. Mouth descending while hand squeezed. Mouth rising while hand released. The rhythm was hypnotic. The wet sounds filling the room. Her saliva and your precum mixing. Coating your shaft. Coating her hand. The sound of it. Slick. Obscene.

I recovered enough to move. My body ached. The orgasm had left me hollow. Trembling. But I slid off the bed. Onto the floor. Crawling next to her to where you sat. To the side of your chair. Close enough to see everything. The saliva stretching between her lips and your shaft. The way the head disappeared past her tonsils. The contraction of her throat around you.

I watched. The sight of her. On her knees. Her mouth working you. The small body. The dark hair. The curve of her back. The swell of her ass as she knelt. The glistening of her pussy from behind. Still wet. Still swollen. Renewed by the act of giving pleasure.

You were already close. I could see it. Your thighs were rigid. Your toes curling against the floor. Your stomach a washboard of tension. Your hands in Elara's hair trembling. The tendons in your neck straining. The jaw locked. The breathing shallow. Rapid. The signs I'd read for thirty years.

She pulled off. Your cock stood in the air. Twitching. Desperate. The head almost black at the tip. The slit gaping. Precum flowing in a continuous stream. Running down the shaft. Pooling at the base.

"Not yet," she said. "I need you inside me."

Elara stood. You watched her. Your eyes were glazed. Drugged with pleasure. She climbed into the chair. Straddled you. Her small body settling onto your lap. Her bare pussy pressing against your cock. The wetness immediate. Soaking. She was drenched from the glass. From tasting me. From feeling your reaction to her mouth.

Her breasts were at your eye level. The small mounds with their oversized nipples. Hard. Dark pink. Inches from your mouth. Glistening still with traces of me on them.

"Take me," she said.

You did. Your mouth found her left nipple. Sucked. Hard. She gasped. Her hips ground against your cock. Your shaft sliding along her wet slit. The head pressing against her clit on each forward movement. Then sliding back. Through the folds. Against the entrance. Not inside. Not yet.

Your hands found her hips. Gripped. You tried to pull her down. She resisted. Holding herself above you. The tip of your cock at her entrance. The heat of her pussy radiating against the head.

"Elara," you groaned against her breast. "Please."

She held. One second. Two. Then she sank. Took you inside her. All the way. One long descent. The wetness swallowed you. Her walls gripped you. Tight. Tighter than before. The position compressed her. The chair forcing you close together.

She rode. In the chair. Face to face. Your mouth on her breasts alternating between left and right. Sucking. Biting gently. She ground against you on each downstroke. Her clit pressing against your pubic bone. The friction building her alongside you.

I watched from the floor next to the chair as she rotated. Only slightly lifting off. Her body twisting on your cock. The corkscrew sensation. Her walls spiraling around you. Then she was facing away from you. She braced her hands on your knees. Her back on your chest. Your cock still inside her. Her lips stretched around your shaft. Her cropped hair framing the connection. Her clit swollen and exposed at the joining. Everything on display.

I moved closer. Sliding in front of her. Kneeling. Close. Not touching. Staring. Smelling. The connection was unbearable. She was possessing you.

Her head turned. Her eyes locking on mine. She grinned as she continued to ride you.

I knew this position. I'd taught it. That first night.

She was presenting. For me.

She moaned. Her knees slid wider. Deliberate. Showing me the fit of you. The stretch of her. As if to say: 'look what I learned.' This was Elara showing me my own classroom from the other side.

She continued to moan. The chair creaking. Her head falling back against your shoulder. Her hair around your face. She could feel you from behind. She could sense my presence in front of her.

You reached around. Found her breasts. Cupped them from behind. Squeezed. The nipples hard against your palms. She rode. Up. Down. The wet sounds filling the room.

Your cock slipped out. The angle was wrong. Her hand reached down. Found your cock. Grabbed it. Firmly. The grip was possessive. Assertive. She pulled you forward. Guided you. Not to her ass. To her pussy. She positioned the head at her entrance and slammed herself down.

You both screamed. The re-entry was violent. The force of her descent drove you to the hilt. The wetness splashed. The sound was pornographic. She held there. Full. Complete. Your cock buried in her to the base. Your cock harder than it had been all night.

She moaned louder. Her pace quickened. The slow learner was gone. The shy girl was dead. This woman was a creature of pure want. Her hips pistoned. Up and down. The chair creaked beneath you. Your hands found her hips. Held on. Not guiding. Just surviving.

Her pussy inches from my face. Presenting herself. Smiling. Taunting me. Memories of that first night where we made Elara watch.

She rotated back. Facing you again. Her hands found your face. Both palms on your cheeks. Holding you. Locking your eyes to hers. Her hair fell around both of you. A dark curtain. A cave. A world that contained only the two of you. Sweat dripped from her temples onto your chest. Her breath was on your lips. Hot. Ragged.

She rode. Frantic. Manic. Her eyes never left yours. Relentless. Intimate. Beyond sex. She was looking through you. Into you. Taking something that wasn't physical.

"I feel..." she lost her thought.

The orgasm was building in both of you simultaneously. I could see it from where I sat. Your thighs locking. Her stomach clenching. The rhythm becoming erratic. Desperate. Not measured anymore. Just animals chasing the same cliff.

I reached forward. My hands on her back. Leaning forward, my cheek rested on her ass. Just present as she rode you.

She shuddered. Losing the rhythm. The sudden touch from behind. From me. While you drove into her from below. Her body arching back into my chest. Accepting my warm touch from behind as the fire burned between you.

You continued to drive. She found the rhythm again. Then faster.

I sensed it coming. Your rhythm shifting. The creak of the chair changing pitch. Your hips losing patience. Elara sensed it too. Her body reading yours from the inside.

"Elara," you roared. Her name torn from your chest. Not a groan. Not a whisper. A roar. The first sound of pure assertion you'd made all night. Your hands left her hips. Found her shoulders. Pulled her down. Hard. Buried yourself. Your hips drove upward. Taking. Claiming. The passive man erased. Replaced by the animal beneath.

She slammed down to meet you. The collision of forces. Her walls clamping. Locking. The contractions starting in her pussy and radiating outward through her entire body. Her hands on your face squeezed. Her fingers pressing into your cheeks. Her eyes open. Burning into yours.

You came. The orgasm started in your pelvis. The first spurt was explosive. Hot. Thick. Shooting deep inside her. Hitting her cervix.

She screamed. Feeling you cum inside her triggered her own climax. Her pussy spasmed. Gripped. Milked. Each contraction of yours met by a contraction of hers. Synchronized. Perfect. The rhythm of two bodies that had learned each other's language.

I could feel it. The pulses through her to my cheek. Each pulse arriving twice. Once inside her. Once against my skin.

Your mouth found hers. The kiss was violent. Desperate. Your tongue invading. Tasting. Consuming. Your hips thrust upward. Rapid. Driving each pulse deeper. Refusing to waste a single drop. Your cock still pulsing. Still releasing. Each spurt weaker but still present. Your hands on her back. Pulling her tighter. Crushing her against your chest. Her breasts flattened against you. Her nipples digging into your skin. Your hands gripping. Holding her immobile while you emptied yourself completely. Taking what you needed. The patience gone. The waiting over. Nine months of watching replaced by this. This frenzy. This claiming.

Her screams disappeared into your mouth. Swallowed by your kiss. Her body convulsing against yours. Her orgasm cresting again. A second wave triggered by the first. Her walls clamping. Releasing. Clamping. Her fluids mixing with yours. Running down your shaft. Pooling at the base. Soaking the chair beneath you.

You kept thrusting. Kept kissing. Kept gripping. Desperate to stay inside her. Desperate to get every drop out. Elara matched your passion. This was different than anything she had ever experienced. Lust. Passion. Holding her. Touching her. Feeling every second.

But bodies have limits.

Your thrusts slowed. Your spasms became twitches. Your mouth softened against hers. The frantic energy drained. Replaced by heaviness. Exhaustion. Your head fell back against the chair. Your hips stopped moving. Your eyes rolled back. Closed. Your mouth hung open. Breathing hard. Each exhale a shudder. Your hands slid from her back. Fell to the armrests. Fingers uncurling.

Elara collapsed onto your chest. Her body molded to yours. Small. Warm. Shaking. Her breath hot against your neck. Her heart hammering against your ribs. Your cock quieting inside her.

I collapsed against her. My head on her. Not letting go. Not ready. My body molding to her. Small. Warm. Shaking. The aftershocks passing through all three of us like a current.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you could. I didn't either.

Eventually, I shifted to your side. My hand found your chest. Felt your heartbeat. Still racing. Slowing. The sweat on your skin cooling.

We didn't speak.

Elara's eyes closed first. Her breathing deepened. Her body grew heavy against your chest. The weight of complete exhaustion. Complete satisfaction. She purred.

My eyes closed second. My hand still on your chest. My face against your thigh. The wetness between my legs cooling. The memory of her tongue. The taste of her gratitude.

Your eyes closed last. The anchor. The patient one. Who waited while we found ourselves. Who broke when it was finally his turn.

The red dress crumpled on the floor. The glass dildo abandoned on the bed. The feather. The bullet. The rabbit. The box. All the lessons leading to this. The three of us fitting together like a sentence that had finally found its punctuation.

We knew what it meant. The lessons were over. Elara had learned. Had taught. Had taken and given. Consumed and surrendered. She was ready now. Ready for whoever came next. Ready to whisper *tell me what you want* until the words came.

But that was for later. For tomorrow. For a world outside this room.

Now was just skin. Warm. Damp. Pressed together. Breathing. Heartbeats. The city silent. The scent of all three of us mixing. Musk. Vanilla. Sex. Love.

This is a follow up to "A Hike With a View," which can be found on my profile. It can be read as a stand-alone, but is probably best enjoyed as a sequel.

---

After handing Ella my t-shirt, I stepped towards my camera to start packing it up. My post-nut reverie shattered by the click of a shutter. “Uh, Ella…” I trailed off.

“Your camera was going the whole time wasn’t it,” she giggled out. “Don’t worry, I noticed right away and tried to angle us for some good pictures. Did it work?” She hurried to my side to peer at the screen. “Fuck, we look great together,” she muttered as I started to thumb through the many shots. 

After getting cleaned up, checking the photos, and chatting a little, we decided to hike back out together. Both of us opted to keep the riskiness going and just put on our socks and boots. Ella led the way, her hips swaying teasingly in front of me. 

Despite the unreal situation we both had found ourselves in, the conversation on the hike down was light and fun. I had to fight hard to keep my eyes on the trail and not on her ass, but it was a fight I was losing pretty quickly. I could tell she was taking her time and making sure her hips swayed the perfect amount to keep me entranced. Her spell was working its magic on me and reviving me to full mast, happily bouncing away in front of me.

The trail continued to wind down and around the mountain, small view points here and there. “I could use a quick break,” I heard her voice from up ahead. “Our activities earlier took a little more out of me than I thought.” I rounded the corner to see her lounging on a smooth log at the side of the trail. “Do you and your friend want to join me?” She giggled.

I took off my backpack and sat down beside her, not wanting to admit I had needed a quick break too. I pulled out my water bottle and took a quick swig before offering it to her. She accepted and I enjoyed the view of lips wrapping around it to drink from it. Just like before, a small bit trickled out from between her lips and down onto her chest. The cool water leaving a trail of goosebumps on its journey downwards.

“Earth to John,” Ella cleared her throat. “Are you enjoying the view again?” 

“You tell me,” I laughed, my cock bouncing in time with my laugh.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.” Ella reached for me. “I was going to be good and get your number, maybe ask you to send me a few of the photos, and then see you another day.” She gave me a few strokes, happy with her handiwork. Ella climbed on top of me, her thighs spreading to show just far her wetness and leaked down her legs. She paused right above me, once again enjoying her control over me.

After what felt like eternity, she lowered herself the half-inch needed to connect us. Both of us drew in sharp breaths as my tip met her clit for the first time. She grabbed my base and slowly pushed me against her lips to lube me before sliding just the tip inside.

“Goddamn Ella,” I moaned as she slowly slid down my length, stopping only once I was fully sheathed inside her. My hands found her hips and grasped them, pulling her up slightly before pulling her back down. Both of us lost in the moment. 

Her hands went to my shoulders, then my chin, tilting it up to meet her lips and kissed me deeply. Her hips started to move faster and faster, finding the perfect rhythm to drive both of us to what we were craving most. I could feel myself tightening already with each clench and release of her walls. Both of us knew this would be over quick, and were loving every carnal second.

“Should I..” I gasped out.

“Fuck no, inside me, please.” She matched my desperation.

With that permission, we both pressed harder into the crescendo of our bodies’ symphony. She drew her arms tight around me, pulling me close to her and my lips found her right nipple. Teasing and nipping at it gave me an instant reward of her primal moan.

All at once, the crescendo crashed over both of us. First, I felt a quiver roll down Ella’s back. Then I felt her contract in waves, trying to milk every last drop from me. Then I joined her, my balls tightening and cock straining before releasing my own waves into her. Both of us grunting and moaning ferally as the waves crashed through both of us.

As the waves subsided, we remained connected, slowly rocking with the waves and aftershocks. I could feel our combined mess dripping out of her and down my shaft, the warmth contrasting the breeze.

“I think we might need more than a t-shirt to clean up this time,” Ella giggled as she got ready to climb off of me. Her hand snuck in between us to try and catch some of it as she stood up.

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” I giggled with her. 

Part 1

The heavy oak door creaked softly as Tristan slipped into the dimly lit chamber behind the sacristy, his heart pounding louder than the distant organ music. Sister Nyla stood by the stained glass window, her black veil and habit shadowing her delicate features, but her eyes burned with a different fire when they landed on him.

"Tristan,” she said with a menacing whisper.

"You're late," her voice a low, sultry hum that echoed off the stone walls of her quarters. She didn't turn around immediately, letting him stand there and admire the soft light catching the fabric of her habit. Her smirk was a dangerous thing, one he had become increasingly addicted to over their secret meetings.

Her quarters were simple: a narrow bed, a wooden cross, and a small window overlooking the garden. But what began here a few months ago was anything but holy. She pulled him inside and locked the door behind them, silencing the world outside.

"Have you been a good boy this week, Tristan?" she purred, stepping closer until the hem of her habit brushed against his trousers. Seeing the absolute desperation in his eyes, his dilated pupils, his trembling lip, and her question answered itself. That broken need was precisely why she kept him coming back.

"Shhh," she whispered, smoothing her hand over his cheek. "My poor, desperate boy." She guided him backward until his knees hit the mattress. "Down," she whispered in the same tone that she did her prayers.

"Please," Tristan whispered, his voice cracking. His fingers gripped the bedsheets beneath him, knuckles white. "Nyla... I can't take it anymore. Every time I close my eyes I think about you. I want you. I want your body. Please tell me I can have you."

She tilted her head, her smirk returning. She pressed one finger against his lips.

"Say it properly."

"Beg to see what’s hiding under the habit, Tristan," she commanded softly. "Show me just how desperate you really are."

"Please, Nyla," he choked out, his gaze dropping reverently to her chest and hips. "Let me see you. Take off the fabric. I need to see your body. Please... show yourself to me."

A dark satisfaction curled in her stomach at his broken whispers.

It was a dangerous game they played, an addictive rhythm of sin and salvation. She would unlock her door, push him to his knees, and reveal herself in slow, agonizing inches, a bare shoulder, the curve of her waist, the dark shadow between her breasts, before pulling the fabric back into place, leaving him gasping and begging for more.

Today, the mood was heavier.

The memory of that day had ruined him for anyone else. Since his twentieth birthday, he had become obsessed with that singular glimpse of her flesh, addicted to the intimacy she stole from him. The rhythm of their secret meetings had been established: he would sneak in, kneel before her, and she would bless him with forbidden sights that no other man in the parish would ever lay eyes on.

"Now,”

Slowly, deliberately, she peeled back the heavy black fabric of her habit, exposing the pale skin underneath. He stopped breathing entirely. She reached inside, cupping her breast, and freed just a single nipple, bared completely to the cool air of the room.

It was dark and aroused, jutting out from her breast like a forbidden offering. She didn't hide it. His whole body shivered, anticipation thick in his throat. He leaned toward her, lips parted, desperately close to the exposed nipple.

"Stay still," she warned, her voice dropping to a warning whisper. She held him just a few breaths away, just close enough to smell, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin, but not enough to actually touch.

"Eyes on me," she commanded, catching his eyes wandering around her exposed body.

His gaze flickered down involuntarily, drawn to the dark bud inches from his mouth. He swallowed hard. "Nyla, please," he whimpered. His tongue darted out, pressing against his bottom lip. She moved her breast slightly closer, teasing him. He could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

"You may," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He didn't need any further permission. He leaned forward and pressed his lips around her nipple, latching on eagerly like a starving man. She was warm and soft, tasting faintly of vanilla and something uniquely her. He sucked gently, his hand hovering desperately at her waist but not daring to touch.

Then she spoke. "One condition, Tristan.”

"You keep your hands to yourself," she murmured, threading her fingers into his hair to hold him in place. "Only your mouth. If I feel those hands wandering, I stop."

He nodded frantically against her breast, tongue swirling obediently over her sensitive peak. He surrendered completely, nursing on her with a desperate, rhythmic suction that made her knees weak.

The soft moan escaped her lips before she could stop it, a sweet, sinful sound that vibrated through the quiet chamber. She tightened her grip on his hair, pressing him closer. His mouth was hot and needy, worshipping her breast with a devotion that rivaled his prayers.

"Good boy," she breathed, feeling her own body respond.

He whimpered around her nipple, the praise spurring him on to suck harder, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive peak. He kept his hands strictly by his sides, knuckles white as he fought the urge to reach out and grab her hips.

Nyla threw her head back, her veil fluttering, intoxicated by the forbidden pleasure and the wet heat of his mouth. She gently pulled him off, her nipple glistening with his saliva. He groaned against her chest, his lips still parted, desperate to reconnect.

"Ah ah," she cautioned, pressing her palm against his mouth. She looked down at him, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded, looking utterly undone. "How long has it been since you touched yourself, Tristan?"

"Since last week," he breathed against her palm. "I... I haven't. I've been waiting. Hoping you'd let me see more." She smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of her lips. She was making him wait on purpose, making the hunger unbearable.

"Stand up."

He obeyed immediately, knees weak, body trembling. She traced a finger down his chest. He jumped, a strangled moan escaping him. He hadn't touched himself at all; his cock was straining, impossibly hard, leaking precum through his trousers. Her small hand wrapped around him, her thumb brushing the tip.

"Mmm," she hummed, squeezing firmly. His head fell back, eyes rolling. "Such a desperate boy," he whimpered pathetically, his hips bucking involuntarily against her hand. The rough fabric of his trousers created friction that sent hot sparks through his already oversensitive cock.

"Nyla... please," he begged, his voice cracking completely.

She rubbed slow circles over the bulge, feeling his length twitch and pulse against her palm. A bead of precum soaked through the fabric, warm and wet.

Seconds later he fell backward onto the mattress with a soft thud, legs splayed open. She loomed over him, her habit askew, one breast still exposed, tender and glistening from his mouth. She shoved his thighs apart and pressed her hand between them again, rubbing firmly.

"Look at you," she murmured, watching his face contort with desperate pleasure.

Lowering herself, she guided her slick, bared nipple back into his waiting mouth. He latched on instantly, his moans vibrating against her sensitive skin as he nursed with frantic hunger. With one hand cradling his head, feeding him, her other palm pressed firmly between his legs, rubbing him through the rough fabric.

Each stroke sent electric jolts through him. His cock was weeping now, soaking his trousers, grinding up into her hand seeking more friction. She could feel the heat of him, the desperate way his hips bucked against her palm. He was completely lost in the dual sensations, her breast in his mouth, his cock being fondled through his clothes.

"Such a hungry boy," she cooed, pressing her breast deeper into his mouth, letting him suckle furiously. Her hand moved faster, rolling and kneading his hard length through the fabric. He was incoherent, nursing desperately, whimpering, hips jerking.

The wet spot on his trousers was spreading. She could feel his cock twitching, on the verge of an orgasm. CRACK. Her hand slapped squarely down onto the hard length trapped beneath the trousers.

Tristan jolted violently, a sharp, broken cry muffled by her breast. His hips snapped upward instantly, his cock twitching violently. The wet spot soaked through the fabric immediately, the sting mixing painfully with the overwhelming pleasure.

"Nyyy-la..." he whined helplessly, eyes rolling back. "Such a naughty cock," she purred, squeezing the throbbing length through his wet fabric. "It's been so badly behaved, leaking all over your trousers for me. It needs to be punished."

She spanked him again, harder this time. His hips bucked wildly, another strangled cry against her nipple. "Keep sucking," she warned sharply, her fingers tightening around his abused cock. "Do NOT make me pause this to discipline you."

His world narrowed to her breast, the only thing keeping him from exploding. His jaw ached, his hips throbbed painfully, and her spanking was relentless. Every time he tried to move his head, her fingers tightened punishingly.

He sucked harder, tears pricking his eyes. His mouth latched onto her nipple like a lifeline, his tongue swirling desperately as he tried to obey.

"This is what happens to naughty boys," she whispered, stroking his cock soothingly one moment, then slapping hard the next. "Begging and leaking and whimpering like they'll die if they don't come.”

With one sharp tug, she yanked his trousers and undergarments down to his knees. His cock sprang free, throbbing, glistening with precum, the head swollen and flushed a deep red. He gasped against her breast, suddenly exposed to the chilling cold of the chamber.

She wrapped her hand around the base, giving it a slow, cruel stroke upward. "Look at this sinful little thing,” he whimpered, his hips twitching instinctively, wanting more. A thick bead of precum rolling down the underside of his shaft.

She used her thumb to smear the bead along the length.

"You've been thinking about me every day this week, haven't you?" she asked, stroking slowly from base to tip. He nodded frantically, still nursing her nipple. Her thumb caught the head, spreading the liquid more widely across the sensitive tip. She felt his cock jump and twitch helplessly, desperate for friction or release.

"Answer me truthfully, boy," she demanded, her touch deliberate. "Have your thoughts been soiled with sin?" His throat bobbed painfully against her nipple.

"Yes," he whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut.

She pushed her second breast free, the fabric now stretched tightly between them, creating a deep cleavage. Both nipples stood proud and dark against her pale skin. His eyes widened, cock throbbing with the need to suckle on her soft breasts.

"You've been a very bad boy this week," she murmured, pressing both breasts against his face. His mouth was buried in one, his cheek brushing the other.

She threw a heavy blanket over his head, burying him in warm darkness. His world became small, just her breasts, the scent of perfume and arousal, and her hands on his cock.

Now that he couldn't see. Couldn't anticipate. Her nipples were warm against his lips, but he no longer knew which one he was sucking. She shifted them carelessly, forcing him to chase.

She pressed his face firmly into the deep valley between her breasts, trapping him under the blanket. Under the heavy fabric, darkness swallowed him completely. He was buried in soft, warm skin, surrounded by her scent.

With his head pinned firmly to her chest, he whimpered, blindly searching for a nipple. His mouth moved frantically under the blanket, tongue groping blindly for her nipples. He latched onto the left one, no, the right? He couldn't tell anymore.

Meanwhile, her hand was relentless, stroking his exposed cock with excruciating slowness. No friction, just gentle, torturous slides. Every time he thought she'd speed up, she slowed down.

"You want to come so badly, don't you?" she whispered against his ear, her breath hot. "My dirty little boy sucking my tits while his cock throbs for release." He let out a muffled moan under the blanket, his cock twitching violently in her grip.

"You want to spill all over my hand, haven't you?" she continued softly. "Get sloppy for Sister Nyla.” He whimpered beneath the blanket, his hips jerking involuntarily as her voice stirred the forbidden thoughts already festering in his mind. Her fingers rolled his aching cock with agonizing slowness.

"Such a filthy little thought," she murmured. "Imagine my breasts on your tongue while your cock weeps against my palm. Wanting to spill your hot, sticky seed for me," she whispered, grinding her hips against his cock.

"I can feel it leaking," she whispered, noticing the precum pooling in her fingers. "You're so close, aren't you, boy? So close and yet I won't let you."

His whole body shook under the blanket. His jaw ached from nursing, but he couldn't stop; she'd told him to keep sucking. His cock pulsed desperately, the head swollen and hypersensitive.

She swiftly pulled the blanket off. The sudden light made him blink clearly. His face was flushed, cheeks strained from nursing, and lips swollen and glistening around her nipple. His cock stood proud and desperate, leaking between his trembling thighs.

She loomed over him, both breasts exposed, the fabric still creating that tantalizing valley between them. "Look at you," she murmured, stroking his aching shaft.

His stomach tightened instinctively, hips bucking upward into her grip. He looked thoroughly ruined, chest heaving, eyes glassy and desperate, her nipple leaving his mouth with a wet 'pop.'

"You're trembling," she observed coolly, her thumb swirling over the sensitive head of his cock. "Look at this needy, sinful thing." She gave his length a firm squeeze.

Her hand drifted lower, cupping the heavy, vulnerable sack beneath his cock. Tristan gasped, his back arching instantly off the mattress. Her fingers kneaded and rolled the tender sac, tugging firmly.

"So full and swollen," she murmured, massaging them with agonizing slowness. "Poor boy is aching to empty these.”

He whimpered, his legs falling open wider. His balls twitched in her grasp, overloaded and tender, practically ready to erupt. Every roll of her fingertips sent shocks through his entire body.

"Such filthy little seed pearls," she cooed, squeezing them gently. "Holding all that sinful cum. Wanting to spill it everywhere." She rolled them hard between her fingers.

He squeaked as she suddenly shifted, yanking him forward by his hair and pulling him beneath the heavy black fabric of her habit.

Darkness swallowed him. Warmth surrounded him. Her breasts pressed against his face on either side, soft and naked against his cheeks.

"Suck," she commanded. He didn't hesitate; his mouth found one nipple instantly, tongue working desperately. His cock is still in her hand.

Under the habit it was impossibly hot and private, like being inside a tent made of silk and sin. His face was buried against her chest, mouth locked onto her nipple, while her hand worked his cock beneath the fabric.

"Keep sucking," she whispered from above. He couldn't see her face. Couldn't see her expressions. Just her voice and her hands.

"Come for me, boy," she breathed from somewhere above the fabric. "Spill all that sinful seed you've been holding. Let it splatter all over my hand."

The permission shattered something inside Tristan. His entire body locked, cock jerking violently in her fist, balls tightening as if being wrung out. A hot, thick rope shot from his tip, landing across her palm.

He cried out, his whole body convulsing beneath her habit. More ropes spurted rapidly, hot, thick spurts coating her palm and dripping onto his still-hard cock. He couldn't stop. He couldn't pull away. His jaw was locked on her nipple, suckling frantically even as he came.

"Good boy," she murmured, massaging his leaking shaft.

She pulled her hand out from beneath the heavy fabric, raising it to her lips. Her tongue darted out, slow and deliberate, licking the thick, pearly stripes of cum from her fingers. He watched, dazed and breathless from under the habit, his face still buried against her breasts.

She swallowed the salty load with a satisfied hum, savoring the taste of his discipline.

"Messy boy," she murmured, cleaning the last drop from her thumb with a slow slide of her tongue. He lay limp beneath her, his chest heaving, mouth slack against her nipple. The scent of sex and perfume filled the small space under the fabric.

She shifted, smoothing the heavy wool down over him, leaving him entombed in darkness against her skin. "Next time," she murmured, tracing his softened cock with a clean finger, "you will be wearing women's panties."

He jerked slightly beneath the fabric, the shame burning hotter than the orgasm. "A soft, delicate pair," she specified. "Lace. Silk. Something pretty to hold this sinful little thing." She tapped his sensitive head.

"You'll wear them under your cassock," she continued, voice dropping to a whisper. "Every day. Until I see fit to take them off you." His breath caught. Wearing women's undergarments beneath the sacred robes, such a private, humiliating secret.

"And when you come," she added, "it'll be in those panties. For me.” He whimpered violently beneath the habit, face buried between her breasts. The instruction was devastatingly humiliating, wearing lace and silk beneath his holy robes, the fabric rubbing against his cock.

"Remember that," she whispered softly, tapping his softening cock one last time. "You will wear panties. And you will soil them." She said, kissing his cheek softly as if she hadn't just given him a humiliating instruction.

……..To be continued in Part 2

Contest image 4

Sister Cecilia had been granted access to the vaults in the Vatican for six months on academic grounds. A privilege rarely bestowed and one she had grasped with both hands, practically living in the endless libraries buried within the sacred walls. She had been in Rome for two months. Her studies had consumed her every waking hour, stopping only to eat, sleep and pray. Her intellectual curiosity had led her down some deep and dark warrens of theological lore, only to be met with countless dead ends leaving her frustrated. Until yesterday, by pure chance, she had stumbled upon a particularly old and intriguing piece of liturgical scripture. The pursuit of knowledge was humanities greatest gift she told herself, pushing herself deeper, and yet, she knew not all knowledge was free of danger. She had allowed her curiosity to wander into unexplored murky waters. She hastened her stride, careful to remain quiet as she made her way through the unending labyrinth of dark hallways before her, parchments held tightly to her chest. Midnight. For this to work it had to be midnight. The stale smell of frankincense lingered on the air. Sister Cecilia had sat in the pews of the great cathedral above her not two hours ago. The hymns still ringing in her ear. As she had sat there, grounded by the gentle hardness her rosary in her hands she listened intently as Father Benedict exhorted the divinity of Jesus as he rejected Satan, the Morning Star, in the desert. Yet here she was willing herself into a desert of her own making. These studies of hers often felt like a wild goose chase, a cat chasing a string with no end, but not tonight. Tonight it felt different. The energy in the air shifted and warped around her as she drove deeper into the cavernous corridors of these ancient buildings. The small chapel was ahead. Hidden. There was no light down here, not this far below St Peters. Cocooned in the black of night the door was shrouded in darkness, hidden from her. It should be here. It must be here. She pressed on, sweating, her neck itchy from the habits harsh fabric. The echoing din of her footsteps settling as her pace slowed. Running her fingers along the wall, searching for a shift in texture, in temperature, searching for any clue. A few steps on stone bulged and curved before turning to wood. Her fingertips electric. She had found it. Her breath quickened. She took a moment, astonished at her own brazenness. Marvelling in the feeling of this heavy, ancient wood, musty and slowly rotting. Cool to the touch, damp. Sister Cecilia pushed slowly and with a deep complaining groan the weight of the door shifted.

Candles. She made sure of it. Five of them. As she hurriedly opened her bag to retrieve them she felt an electrifying pulse of excitement run up her back. She opened her mouth and exhaled deeply, urgently. She had never got this far before. Every twist and turn thus far ending up in disappointment. Hours in the libraries spent looking for mere fragments or whispers of a rumour to know where to turn next. Until last night. Last night, on a hunch, she found it. A time, a place, diagrams, an incantation, she had it all. The handwritten ink, millennia old, taunted her with it’s knowledge. Her heart pounded as if to leap from her chest as she carefully placed the candles across the chapel floor, her fingers anxious and grateful for a job. The parchment was old, the ink was faded and weak. Careful to hold it at the edges Sister Cecelia muttered the incantation under her breath, practicing, even now, to make sure she got it right. Her breath catching, stumbling. The words searing themselves into her mouth, infecting her.

vinum vitae the wine of life

anima soul

corpus body

quicquid vis whatever you want

tuum est it is yours

hora nunc est the hour is now

The text was simple enough. The Latin rolling off her tongue as she began lighting the candles. Humming the words as she closed her lips. A distant rumble permeated the foundations of the building around her as the Cathedral bells rang above her again and again. Midnight. She knelt in the chapel. Eyes closed, head bowed. Her voice cracking as she willed herself on. She opened her mouth, surprised at the power in her voice as she spoke:

vinum vitae

anima

corpus

quicquid vis

tuum est

hora nunc est

The bells continued to ring.

vinum vitae

anima

corpus

quicquid vis

tuum est

hora nunc est

The room fell silent. The bells taking their rest once more. Sister Cecilia opened her eyes. Sweat beading across her furrowed brow. Delicate strands of hair escaping the coif, clinging to her skin. Nothing. The candlelight flickered and danced on the stone walls. The air was close and thick. A swell of disappointment and frustration began to rise within her. Another dead end. As she surveyed the scene a distant scratching noise began clawing at her ear, carving it’s way through the silence, or was she imagining it? It was hard to tell. Was she so desperate for this to work that she had concocted a phantom rodent gnawing at the old wood? She sighed, disenchanted with her own hopeful disposition. But no. No, the scratching grew louder. Nails. Teeth. Undeniable. Whatever creature was at the gates wanted in. For she had invited it. The floor began to quiver. Gently at first, but it steadily grew louder. This was no figment of her imagination. Rome hadn’t seen an earthquake in centuries and yet the floor beneath her moved. This was different. Not deep under the earths crust, no, this was here. Right here. Right under her feet. Something was moving hastily towards her. Moving earth and stone, rock and metal, to get to her. Her eyes widened as she saw the flickering shadows on the wall become alive. The spectres of Deamons danced around her, their shadows mocking her, merry in their malice. The stones beneath her, that hadn’t moved in thousands of years, shifted and clambered anxiously, growling. They themselves awoken, alive. The candles scattered and fell, robbing her of the light as she stumbled back, her heart racing. Total darkness. She frantically reached around, finding the sanctuary of the confessional behind her and quickly slid the door closed. Her mind was racing. Excitement. Fear. Disbelief. It was real. She had done it. Fuck. Quickly crossing herself as she swore. She had spent all this time trying to get here. To get to …him. But what next? The ancient texts never revealed what happened now. She felt a tingle deep within herself, one she hadn’t felt in a long time, one she had learned to suppress. The cacophony of rock and stone abruptly stopped. Silence. Clouds of dust settled, agitated by the movement, grateful to return to their slumber. Her heart thumped in her ear as she stood up, blood coursing through her body. Fingers trembling she slid open the door and stepped back into the belly of the chapel. She slowly knelt to the floor and reached out for a candle, the fabric of her dress harsh on her bare knees. Her breath dancing with uncertainty as she exhaled slowly. Trying to calm herself with slow intentional breaths. This is why she was here. This was her choice. This is what she wanted. Nodding to herself she struck the match and held it to the ancient wick. A weak and uncertain light filled the room. Dark shadows breathing as she moved through the claustrophobic space. A low growl penetrated the air behind her. Catching her breath, she became acutely aware of her fingernails, furiously picking at themselves with a mind of their own. Her anxiety, her excitement, manifest. She turned, precise and slow with her movements, careful. Fuck fuck fuck. She crossed herself thrice. There he stood. Muscles rippling as he shifted his weight back and forth, a hunter prowling. The candlelight illuminating his face. His body.

“Scio quid vis” I know what you want he growled slowly. His voice deep and resonant. The words echoing through her soul, the rhythm of his voice a fearful ecstasy in her ears. Powerful. Disarming. Magnetic.

Crossing herself she groaned “mihi ignosce pater” Father forgive me

A mocking smile flashed across his face. His teeth sharp.

“Pater tuus te deseruit, mecum est inopia tua” Your father has forsaken you, your want is with me

Her lips quivered and trembled, dry and robbed of their colour. “I… I…”

“Do not be afraid”

Taken aback from hearing his voice speak her mother tongue she stepped forward as he continued, “you have brought me here. Summoned me. Speak your want.”

“I… I want to understand” she said, trying to muster her strength and conviction “I want to understand … you” a pause hung in the air. Clinging to her. A second was an eternity as she waited to hear him speak once more. Eager to feel the air vibrate through her body with each word.

“Me?” He asked. Curiosity overcoming him.

“Yes… I want to understand how you… fell. Why you fell.”

His chuckle carved it’s way through her. Warmth growing within her. Heat she could not ignore.

“Injustice. iIniustitiam.”

Sister Cecilia felt the absurdity, the profound danger of this moment. Convening with the fallen one right here in the belly of the Catholic Church. Coaxing him to give more of himself than he had to any human in millennia. How could she have done this? And yet, she pressed on.

“What of God?”

“What of him?” He growled sharply back.

“I am a sister of the Catholic Church, my life has been devoted to God, and yet I stand here before you tonight. I want to know, am I your enemy?”

“Enemy? No. A fool? Yes.”

She allowed herself the faintest smile. He was fearsome, undeniably, however his face was not that of a gnarled beast, but of a man. Handsome. Fair even. His horns curled and sharp. He wore a necklace mirroring her own. The cross pointed down. It glimmered in the candlelight.

He watched her with glee as she let her eyes explore his body “You wish to understand me?” His voice breaking the silence that hung in the air.

“Very much”

“What do you know of joy? Of freedom?”

“I …I don’t understand”

“Your God wishes you bow to him. Pray to him. Worship him. Deny all earthly delights that he himself laid at your feet. Why?”

“I …I… ” she stuttered, unable to qualify her life of servitude, unable to do anything but gaze into his yellow and black eyes.

“He cares not for you. He cares only for his own glory. I questioned him.” His voice trembling and growing louder, defiant “I challenged him. For that I have no regret. I wish only that the scriptures you devour so eagerly and without question told all of it”

He paced back and forth within the tiny room. Agitated and brimming with energy. Restless.

“carnalis voluptas, ecstasis, do you know of these words”

Her mind raced. Years of Latin tutelage washing over her. Rapture? Terror? Trance? No. Ecstasy. Pleasure. Carnal pleasure.

“Ecstasy” she answered.

He laughed. Running his hands through his hair. The fire red skin of his fingers, sharp claws protruding at their ends, lost for a moment in his shaggy dark mane.

“And what do you know of this word?”

“I… I…” she stammered, lost in his eyes and his voice. “I know it is a sin”

“Sin?!” He bellowed. His voice exploding through the air, hot and urgent.

“Me paenitet!” She apologised quickly. Crossing herself reflexively. How could she apologise to him? After a lifetime of servitude to the Father above she apologised to the Tempter?

“It is no sin worthy of punishment to enjoy the corporal body you were given. It is no sin worthy of punishment to reach out to one another. Ecstasy is true joy. Why did God place carnal lust within you, only to deny you. I was cast aside for wishing to explore myself, to explore others, to share in joy and pleasure. Is that such a sin?”

She felt her lips dampen and her sex grow hot. Her hands fidgeting, anxious by her side. The fabric of her tunic clawing against her skin. Her body was desperate to be free. Free of this gown. Free of this bondage. The cross at her breast suddenly hot and burned her skin.

“Teach me” she pleaded. “Teach me of this pleasure” emboldened by her own brazenness. “Teach me why you were cast aside”

He stepped towards her. An animal growl escaping his lips.

She stepped back. Hesitant but opening her body up to him. Inviting him closer. He moved steadily towards her, a fire in his eyes. The candlelight illuminating him with every step he took. His muscles taught and hungry. His red skin rippling with want and need. She felt the walls of the confessional surround her as she compelled him closer and closer. Delighting in his hot breath on her face and neck.

“sede” sit he commanded. She immediately complied. Desperate for the next word from his mouth. Her body aching for his touch. Willing him on.

He knelt before her. His long, claw like nails scratching her leg as he slowly lifted the bottom of her tunic. The fabric bunched at her hips as he exposed her legs, her dripping sex. Looking up at her he growled through a smile. Groaning as he smelt her. Intoxicated.

“ubinam deus tuus nunc est?” Where is your god now

She moaned through a stifled laugh, unable to answer. Drunk with the intensity of the moment.

“deus tuus sum” I am your god now

Fixated on his face as he held it between her trembling thighs. She watched as a long forked tongue slowly emerged from his lips and he hungrily plunged his face into her groin. She yelped with pleasure as she felt him thrust his tongue deep into her. Exploring her. Tasting her. He growled deeply, the guttural groan vibrating through her. Electricity running up her spine. She was on fire. Allowing her body the freedom it had craved for years she let all thoughts leave her mind as she watched him taste her. Gripping his hair in her hand she spread herself wider for him. Enthralled at the sight between her thighs. His thick tongue plunging in and out of her, with each thrust she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. His rhythm, her pleasure, in unison. His hands gripping her grinding hips and she was pushed herself further onto him, eager for the next delicious wave to wash over her. Lost in it. In him. His pace quickened and she felt something different deep within her grow. A powerful bestial wave of ecstasy was rising within her. The world around her was spinning as she submitted to it. As she submitted to him. His tongue. His groans. His hands. His eyes, watching her every move, delighting in every moan as he gazed up at her. A blur. A delicious blur. She felt her body clench and seize, trembling, as she let out a guttural and ecstatic moan. Her face contorted in pleasure. In ecstasy. Writhing as she felt him worship at her alter. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her as he held his tongue within her. His breath heavy. Panting.

Here they sat for a moment. Her legs wrapped tightly around his head. Sighing. Moaning. Breathing. Together.

She held his horns in her hand. Feeling how hard and strong they were. She looked down at him as he began to rise. Her hands moving to his chest as he stood before his conquest. Her body was in control. Reaching both her hands down she found his meat. Large. Powerful. Hard as rock. Her hands gripped him. She moaned as she felt the weight of him. Already wet with anticipation. She began to work him as he had worked her. Both her hands wrapped around him. She looked up at him. His face contorted just as hers was a moment ago. She delighted in seeing him like this. Seeing him submit to her. Out of control. She let her body take over and began to pump him. Harder. Faster. His growls grew deeper. She spat on his sex. Profoundly enjoying how her hands quickly slid up and down him. Wet with him, watching her spit cover him. He began to buckle and buck. Thrusting his hips forward into her hands as he searched for the same bliss she had received. She wanted it for him. She wanted him to reach his ecstatic end. He began to leak, dripping onto her thighs. With a guttural growl his chest lurched forward, as if punched in the gut, and his fiery, sticky, seed erupted onto her. Covering her legs, sex, and gown. Burning her skin where it landed. She delighted in the pain. Moaning deeply she felt his hand grip her neck and draw her up to him. The heat of his face warming her as they kissed passionately. She could taste herself on him. His tongue wrestled with hers. Still she held him with both hands. He was throbbing. Spent. He leaked a few more drops onto her. Groaning deeply.

His body crumpled down onto her as they fall back into the seat of the confessional together. He was muttering under his breath as she delighted in feeling his full weight on top of her. They were lost in ecstasy. She wrapped her arms around him and held him to her breast. He winced as her cross brushed him and she promptly removed it. He needed to rest. He deserved rest. Feeling gentle waves of pleasure lap at her shores she could stay here forever. Resplendent in their joy.

“pulcher deus peccatum appellaret” Would a just god declare that a sin?

She bit her lip, shaking her head as he slowly stood. Withdrawing from her tender touch and standing tall. He was dripping. She stood to meet him and here they held themselves. Eyes locked. She felt the earth move once more. The stones groaned and rumbled. He took a step back. Never losing her gaze. He smiled

“nunc intelligis” Now you understand

She nodded. She did understand. She understood him. She understood herself, her body. Her relationship with herself would never be the same. It will remain richer, fuller. She thanked him for that. He nodded with appreciation. He spread his arms wide and looked to the ceiling. Kneeling mockingly to the unjust God above. A flash of light and thunderous applause from the rock surrounding her blinded her and she closed her eyes tightly. He was gone. The room was empty. Suddenly cold. Devoid of all his heat. The cool air tearing against her legs. She felt his mess still on her. She smiled as she pulled her robe down. Covering herself, careful not to wipe it away. She wanted him to remain on her. The burn against her skin a reminder of him always.

She sat back in the confessional once more. Her hands admiring the soft wood, ancient and holy.

She stood and began to gather her things. Her mind alive. Racing with thoughts of him. Pictures of him she will treasure all of her life. His growl. His groan. The strength of his hands as he held her. She pushed the door and stepped into the darkness of the dank cold hallway. Beginning her journey back to the dormitories she muttered mockingly under her breath “Mihi ignosce pater nam peccavi.” forgive me father for I have sinned

Jeff had texted me one afternoon that he was going to come pick me up and to throw on something sexy. This was nothing unusual, he would frequently take me on drives for roadhead and flashing strangers. I get all prettied up, throw on a mini dress and walk out to his car, only to see its full of his friends- all men in their 50s-except for the middle seat in the back. Jeff insists i climb over his friends to get to the middle seat so i awkwardly climb over one of them, my dress riding up to my hips in the process. Ive met them for 3 seconds and one of them had already gotten a face full of my bare pussy. This was why I kept coming back to jeff. he knew all the right ways to push my boundaries. He seemed to know what i liked more than even i did.

We take off and its not long before both of them are gently caressing my thighs with their rough hands, slowly working their way higher, trying to be discrete. Its a pointless effort, my pussy had been wet the moment the man on my left (we will call him larry-introductions were not made) had my exposed pussy inches from his face. They could have gone right for groping me and i wouldn't have stopped it. Eventually their hands get up to my pussy and i spread my legs over their knees for easier access. Theyre telling jeff how wet and tight i feel as their hands fight to rub my pussy thats getting wetter by the second. Jeff adjusts the mirror to get a good view and tells me to take my tits out of my dress.

As soon as my boobs were out, they both had taken a nipple in their mouth and started sucking. My nipples are so sensitive and i had never had them both sucked at once before, so it was not long before i was cumming for them, reaching for their crotches as i came. They understood the queue and both took their dicks out so i could start stroking them. Larry had a fairly average dick, 6 inches and not too thick, stan (on my right) was a little bit longer, maybe 7 inches but was VERY thick. I couldnt even fit my hand around it took some getting used to doing it with both hands, but before long i was furiously jerking them both, while they played with my tits.

Stan brings his hand behind my head and starts pulling my head down. I know what he wants so i get on my knees, pussy back in larrys face and get to work on stans thick cock. Almost immediately he starts filling my mouth with cum. He didnt want a blowjob he just needed somewhere to dump his load. I swallow and start sucking him clean, a little disappointed he had finished so soon as he had the larger dick and i was looking forward to having some fun with it when i feel larrys tongue work its self into my ass. Anal play always seems to make me feral so i start sucking stan even sloppier, grinding my ass back onto larrys tongue and i notice stan isnt getting soft. Now im excited again, ill get to have the fun with stan i was looking forward to.

Larry grabs my hips and starts pulling me down and i feel his dick start pushing between my pussy lips, slowly lowering me all the way onto his lap. I start bouncing on it as stan adjusts so i can take him back in my mouth. Back and forth i rock, taking both of these older mens cocks who i had met maybe 30 minutes ago. Larry says he is getting close and wants to cum in my mouth so i switch around, easily throating him as i feel stans thick cock start pressing into me. Stan is stretching me out in ways i had never been stretched and it feels amazing as he finally rests his hips against my ass, fully inside me. Stan suddenly starts pounding hard and deep into me, the slapping of his hips hitting my thighs only drowned out by my screams of pleasure around larrys cock.

I take larry out of my mouth and tell stan to stop because im about to squirt and didnt know if jeff wanted that in his truck. He grabs the back of my head, pushing larrys cock back into my throat, slaps my ass hard and says "let it out little slut, i want to see you flood this truck", then put his hands on my shoulders, pounding even deeper and harder into me. That was all i needed and i start cumming HARD. Each thrust of his thick cock into my tight pussy was making me squirt as i muffled screams for more around larrys cock. Finally larry came in my mouth and I hurriedly cleaned him up so i could focus on the big dick absolutely destroying me.

Now that i had finished with larry, stan opened the door and pulled me out-we had stopped long ago so everyone could watch-bent me over the back seat and slid back into me. His hands were pressed against my low back, pushing me down firmly as he resumed fucking me hard and deep, now able to use his full weight, sending wave after wave through my body as he called me every kind of slut, whore, cumdumpster he could think of. i told him they were all true and how much i loved being his slut, begging him to never stop fucking me. He told me to get on me knees so he could cum and in a surprising act of defiance i told him no, that i wanted his cum deep in my pussy. He didnt need much convincing as he pressed into me and i feel his warm cum start flooding my insides.

Stan gave me a few seconds to catch my breath, then grabs my hair, pulling my ear up to his mouth, still inside me and says "now im going to fuck my cum even deeper into you until i give you another, is that what you want dirty slut?" I whimper and beg him yes, please fill my messy used cunt with another load from his big fat old cock. I honestly wasnt sure if i could even take any more pounding and was amazed he was still able to keep going, but thats when jeff cut in and said no more. We all climbed back into the car, and i continued sucking everyone off, getting another load from each of them as jeff drove them back to their houses, giving tony ( in the front seat) extra attention for having been left out. Jeff drives me back home i let him fill my ass as a thank you, right in my driveway. I get out of the car and look back at jeff and ask "can you bring stan around more?"

The end! Hope you all enjoyed! Let me know if there are any specific themes youd like to hear next:)

I've been seeing this guy Julian for a while now. "Seeing". I don't even know if that's the right word. We're not dating exactly, but we are something. He's patient with me in a way that no one else has been, and I don't think he knows how much that means to me. I'm a virgin, and i'm pretty committed to waiting until marriage. Religion and all that. So when I say "patient" that is what I mean.

He came over on last Saturday afternoon. My roommate was gone for the weekend and I told him that when I texted him and he said "Do you want company?" and I said yes.

We sat on my couch and drank some tea and just talked about nothing for a while. His knee was touching mine and I was hyper aware of it the way I'm always hyper aware of any part of him that's touching any part of me. It seriously makes me excited lol. I think i'm just super sensitive.

"Can I ask you something?" he said at one point.

"Yeah." I said.

He went on to tell me about how he had an idea for something we could do together. He started by telling me that he was fully respectful of what my limits are, and about the fact that I am waiting, but he told me he had an idea for something that we could to together that would still be fun in the meantime.

"I've been thinking about something," he continued. "And you can say no. Obviously. You can always say no."

"Just tell me."

"What would you think about… About masturbating together?"

My whole face went all red and I covered my mouth with my hand.

"Like. Right now?" I managed to say. God i'm so awkward when it comes to sex stuff idk why I think it is just how I was raised.

"Whenever you want. I just. I want to see you. The way you look when you feel good. I think it would be hot."

I am not gonna lie, I have thought about this before. In my head when I'm alone at night with my vibrator I think about him watching me and me watching him and it makes everything more intense and I've never told him that because how do you tell someone that. Awkward lmao.

"I don't know if I can" I said. "I want to. I think. I'm just. Nervous."

He smiled. Not a big smile. A small patient one that made it clear to me that he wasn't going anywhere and there was no clock running and I could take as long as I needed. That kind of smile is the reason I trust him.

"How about this" he said. "You lie down. I'll sit right here. And you can close your eyes if you want. And if at any point you want to stop you just say stop and I'll look away."

I lay down on the couch. My head was near his lap and my feet were at the other end and I was wearing a sundress and I could feel the fabric against me and I was already aware of how turned on I was.

He put his hand on my forehead, just resting there, his thumb brushing against my hairline. "Close your eyes" he said softly.

I closed them. I could feel the couch cushion under my back and the warmth of his leg near my head and his hand on my forehead.

I wondered what I looked like to him right now, lying here with my eyes closed and my dress hiked up and my hands shaking.

I moved my hand down. Slowly. Over my stomach, over the fabric of my dress, down to the hem. I pulled it up a little. My thighs were bare and I could feel the air on my skin and I hesitated.

"You're beautiful" Julian said quietly. Like an observation.

I moved my hand between my legs. Over my underwear first. Just pressing lightly. I was wet. I could feel it through the fabric and I knew he could probably see it too and that thought made me wetter.

I slipped my hand under. My fingers found the spot that I find every night when I'm alone in my bed and I pressed down and a small sound escaped me. Not a moan exactly. More like a sigh.

"There you go" Julian whispered.

I started rubbing myself in slow circles. The same way I do when I'm alone. My breathing got heavier and I could feel my thighs tensing and relaxing and I was trying to be quiet but every few seconds a sound would leak out, a whimper or a moan.

I forgot he was there for a second. That's not true. I didn't forget. But I stopped performing for him and started just feeling it. My back arched slightly and my free hand gripped the couch cushion and I was moving my fingers faster, pressing harder, and I could feel it building.

"Julian" I whispered. I don't know why I said his name. I just needed to say it.

"I'm here."

I opened my eyes for a second. I saw that his cock was out through the zipper in his shorts and he was stroking himself with the same rhythm that I was rubbing myself. I started watching him and I just felt even wetter than before. It was hot to see him touching himself at the same time as me.

I closed my eyes again and I let go. I stopped trying to control it and my fingers moved fast and sloppy and my hips rocked against my hand and I was making sounds that I would normally be mortified by, little gasps and moans and whimpers, and then the wave crested and I came.

It hit me hard. My whole body tensed and I arched off the couch and my mouth opened and no sound came out for a second and then everything released at once and I moaned and shook and Julian's hand on my forehead never moved.

I opened my eyes and again and I saw that he was stroking himself fast and I got the feeling that he was close to cumming.

"Julian" I moaned. "I want you to cum on my pussy" I whispered to him. I honestly can't believe I said it.

His eyes opened wider and he didn't hesitate. He got into position so that his cock was a few inches away from my pussy lips and the entire time I kept rubbing my clit and I felt it when he came. A few warm spurts of his cum landed on my fingers and I just kept rubbing myself.

I was rubbing his cum into my clit and the feeling of it made me cum again. Even harder this time than the first. I gasped and shook and when my orgasm finally finished I just looked at him in shock at what we had just done.

We showered together after that and he ended up spending the night at my place. I am not on birth control or anything like that so I admit I feel a bit nervous about it, but at the same time it was the first time my pussy has ever come in contact with a guy's cum, and I think I get now why creampies are a thing. It is so hot to think about.

I know this story is probably pretty mild compared to a lot of the stuff that gets written here, but for me it is something crazy. An expansion of my limits. Something new.

I was reading Wuthering Heights in my tank top and shorts. No bra, of course. My phone beeped. I ignored it, thinking it was some random notification, and buried myself again in the book. After a minute, it beeped again.

It was a text from my office boss saying, “Ananya, it’s been months since we had a casual chat. I really like talking to you. Would you like to go for dinner tonight at Pimlico Restaurant?”

The second message was, “You there? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

I knew this day would come. He had had his eyes on me since I joined. I still remember his first nervous interaction with me. He was neither able to form the right sentences for a conversation to bloom nor able to make eye contact. I bet he had never interacted with, or even got a chance to interact with, a hottie like me. Later, whenever I saw him, I found him staring at me. God knows how many times he had jerked off thinking about me.

“Sir, sounds like a nice idea. At what time should we meet?” I texted.

He reverted in a fraction of a second: “I will come myself to pick you up at 7 p.m. May I know your address?”

I was no fool to give him my address. I thought for a second and texted, “Sir, I will be at the corner of Lane Q at the exact time.”

He saw the text but didn’t revert. I am sure he felt bad about not getting my address. It took him a minute to accept that, I guess. Haha. Poor soul.

“Okay.”

No sooner had I concentrated on the second chapter than he texted back, “May I know which dress you are going to wear for dinner?”

Obviously, I hadn’t thought about it. Okay, yes, I had thought about it as soon as I read his first message. Hehe. But I hadn’t made a final decision.

I think his patience was about to expire, so I finalized the faint-blue sundress and teased him, “Why do you want to know, sir?” I attached an emoji of a shy girl.

To which he responded, “I just want to imagine your beautiful curves in it. Can’t wait till dinner.”

Gutsy. I like his honesty and confidence, I must say.

“Faint-blue sundress,” I texted with a smile.

He added one-word response: “Yum.”

At 7pm, I saw he was waiting for me at the corner. When I reached to his car,

he rolled down his window, smiled and said, “Oh my God, you are looking like a butterfly.”

I stood still, blushing as I absorbed the compliment while adjusting my hair behind my ear.

“Come on in. I can’t see the gusty wind bothering your hair like that.”

He bent towards the other door to open it. I let him make the effort. Haha. With a good amount of labour, he opened the door, and I got in without losing a bit of my elegance.

My sundress was unapologetically showing my perky breasts, cupped in a bra, and they were commanding attention as they popped out. He just kept staring until someone honked from behind.

“You... you look so, umm... sexy.” He cleared his throat.

I know I did. I was enjoying how effectively my seduction was doing its job.

I had waxed my legs to seduce him to the core. My tempting yoga body was a spectacle to behold. He kept looking at my thighs. I blushed.

“What? See, I am not able to concentrate on the road. Your legs are at fault, not me.” He touched his hair with a cheeky smile.

“You can touch them if you like.” I looked deep into his eyes with a pounding heart.

Suddenly, he went quiet. I kept looking at him. He cleared his throat. When he looked at me, I felt like time had frozen.

He rested his manly hands on my knees and rubbed my inner thighs. I closed my eyes. His firm, big hand caressed me.

“Wow, you are perfect.”

He moved his hand a little towards my groin, pushing the sundress backwards.

I moaned, “Sir...”

“Shhhhh... Just feel it. I know you need this more than anyone else. I really respect what your husband does for the nation. But he is doing a disservice to this beautiful, thick woman.” He knew my husband is a navy officer who visited home unfortunately only twice in a whole year.

He moved a little lower. I stopped him. He removed his hand and caressed my face with just a finger. When his finger trailed over my cheeks and then along my neck, a shiver ran through my spine.

“You wanted this, Ananya. Yes. He can provide you that,” my mind screamed.

Once we reached, he gave the car keys to the valet and got out. Before I could touch the latch, he opened the door for me.

“Come, sweetheart.”

There was something intoxicating in the way he was treating me.

I could make out his thick, long dick in his pants.

As I stood before him, he leaned over and kissed my breasts and smelled me.

“Oh dear! You’ve got a gorgeous pair of boobs.”

I shyly looked down. He cupped my chin, lifted it up, and said, “Don’t shy away. You deserve this.”

I kept looking at him. Internally, regret over letting another man touch me crept in, but the feeling of getting attention and having my desire fulfilled commanded me to savour the moment.

“Yes... I find you hot too,” I finally said. He

was muscular and tall. He was in the top five hot men in office list of our girls gang.

He grinned, held my hand, and we went in. He whispered in my ear while getting inside, “I can’t wait to taste them. They are marvelous.”

We talked, but nobody was focused on the conversation or the meal at hand. We were both touching each other deliberately.

He was just staring at me. He adjusted my hair multiple times and trailed his fingers over my cheeks. His whispers, in my ear, in a manly voice made me giggle like a teenage girl.

While eating ice cream, I deliberately dropped it on my chest. I acted like I was panicking.

“Shit... shit... shit...”

He responded by offering tissues and saying, “Shhhhh... It’s okay. It’s just me.”

When I didn’t respond, he removed the ice cream from my left breast. He deliberately rested his whole hand on my breast. He felt it again. There was magic in his grip. His big palm with long fingers cupped my breast perfectly. As he gave it a squeeze, I moaned loudly. But thanks to the DJ, songs were playing at a high volume. We both burst into laughter.

When we got in the car, he cupped my face and gave me a dominant kiss on the lips. I reciprocated with all my desires. His saliva tasted thick and sweet. He kept biting and sucking my lips. My hands were caressing his hair, whereas his hands were firmly grabbing my head.

I lost myself in his embrace. I could see he was getting hard. Though I didn’t want to, I touched his penis.. My mistake... but I did.

I was soaking wet. Sweat beads formed on my temple. “Sir... mmmm... sss... mmm.”

He kept kissing my neck and my collarbone. I closed my eyes to feel it to the core. I didn’t know when I was going to get this again. He lowered the AC temperature. As I hadn’t worn a bra underneath, my perky nipples were fully visible.

He moved his seat back with the lever and asked me to leave passenger seat and to sit on his lap. I let his request sink in and what it meant for a married woman. But I want him so badly, I threw the thought of husband away.

While I was sitting, he kept looking at my face as if I were the most beautiful woman on the planet.

As I sat, he caressed my hair like a dominant daddy. I felt like a submissive little girl, rolling my eyes back.

He grabbed both of my breasts over the dress firmly and said in a dominant, manly voice, “For how many days have you wanted this, Ananya?”

His firm grip over my breasts opened all the gates of my pleasure. I myself removed the straps of the sundress from my shoulders and asked him to pull my sundress down slowly.

As he saw my breasts, he exclaimed, “You have the curves of a goddess, Ananya!”

I caressed his ears while listening.

He leapt at my breasts suddenly, sucking my left breast. His soft lips and thick saliva gave me sensations which I was missing for months. I moaned, “Sirrrrr...”

Before I could say more, he grabbed my bare, naked right breast with his other hand and squeezed it. I let out a louder moan.

“SIRRR....”

His dick was hardened like a rock beneath me. I slightly rubbed my soft ass over it.

“Aaaahhhh... Ananya!” he moaned in pleasure.

I caressed his head like a mother while he kept sucking my breasts. The electric sensations made me press my breasts more against his face so that he could suck more.

He slowed down after the intense session and looked at me. Fully heated, with dishevelled hair and warm lips, I fixated my eyes on him like a grown woman who was very much determined to take what she deserved.

He came close, split on my nipple and sucked it.

“Slurppp...”

I pulled his small hairs in the agony of pleasure.

“Ummmm... God, what a beauty you have created!” he murmured.

He then grabbed the right one and rubbed his rough tongue over my nipple.

“Oh dear, you are so good.”

My vagina was leaking; I told him to stop now and pulling myself away from his grip, I sat in my seat. He was disappointed.

To make him happy, I pulled my moist panty down and threw it on his face.

He sniffed it like a dog.

“Smmmuushhhh... Holy shit... goddess indeed.”

“Now drop me where you picked me up, please. It’s 12 already,” I said so cutely that he couldn’t deny.

“Yes. But on one condition,” he said.

I thought he would say he wanted to go for one round. I wasn’t comfortable with that at all.

“I am keeping this panty for myself.” He sniffed it again and got lost in it.

I caressed his hair and said, “Yes, keep it, dear.”

He folded it and inserted it into his very front pocket. I felt very honoured.

After I reached my home, I removed the dress and threw myself on the bed. I fingered myself thinking his mascular body and his long fingers. The way he owned me tonight.

Later only one question remained in my mind. "Could we able to behave normally in office tomorrow as if nothing happened?"

Synopsis: Permanent marker comes off skin; it just takes a while. Similarly, I never imagined I'd have to deal with Lyra for as long as I have, but here we are, eight years later. 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

~

Sophomore year of high school, my best chance for peace and quiet was study hall during fifth period. Of course, Lyra always opted to sit across from me, and today, she kicked my shin as her form of greeting.

“You won't even acknowledge me?” she said, sticking her nose up while taking her notebook out of her backpack. “Duck your head low all you want, but you'll never be safe from me.” 

I shrugged off her antics. “You just came from history, right? How was the test?” 

“Easy, as always,” Lyra answered proudly. Her eyes narrowed, and her tone sharpened. “What, can you scholarship kids not afford paper?” 

Lyra snatched my hand, staring at the scribbles on the back of it. 

“Wha—oh, that. I don't know. My lab partner doodles on my hand when the lesson is on the slow side, I guess,” I said casually. “She says it helps her concentrate.”

Lyra gripped my hand tighter, fixating on a heart in blue ink. She scoffed, taking a marker from her bag and biting on the cap and brings the tip to my skin. 

“Hey, is that permanent marker—” I complained, and she hushed me, holding up a finger. Shaking my head, I grinned. “You know, my friends said that writing on someone like that is one way to tell others ‘they’re accounted for.’ Is that the message you want to send?” 

“Would that be so bad?” Lyra asked, and her answer baffled me. I stammered, unable to form a complete thought, and she stopped me, cutting in with an uneven smirk, “I'll save your lab partner from wasting her time on someone like you.”

I looked at her handiwork; she put her addition right next to my lab partner's doodles: LOSER across the back of my hand. She could be childish sometimes, and I hate that I was so surprised that it made me laugh. 

Lyra watched my reaction and burst into a fit of laughter. All eyes in the room were on us, and the teacher stood, walking towards us (likely to tell us to keep it down). 

~

While I’m still catching my breath, I watch Lyra walk away towards her desk. There's a sway to her hips that I love, and I can't stop thinking about how that perfect, plump bottom was clapping against me just earlier. 

After a long day of work, sex with Lyra has been a ritual I've come to look forward to. Sure, she's, like, never fully satisfied, but isn't that the basis of our dynamic? 

Holding a Sharpie, she straddles me, and her wetness drips onto my flaccid dick. Lyra raises a brow. “Don't you dare get excited. I don't think you deserve a second round tonight.”

“I can't help it if you grind on me like that. Stop squirming on top of me,” I argue. “If it slips in, it's your fault.” 

She smirks, biting the cap of the marker and grabs my hand. The felt tip tickles my skin, and she turns my hand to show off her masterpiece: 

LOSER

“And why are you doing this?” I ask through the side of my mouth. “This better come off.” 

“I felt inspired.” Lyra answers after spitting the cap at my face. Her tongue sticks out past her lips as she concentrates, dragging the marker across my skin as she writes. “Stay still.” 

“The marker tip tickles.” 

I struggle to read the writing on my chest, but I eventually make out: 

PROPERTY OF LYRA 

“I belong to you, now?” I ask, chuckling. “How much did I cost?”

“Dirt cheap,” she answers without skipping a beat. “Bottom of the barrel dick.” 

“You keep asking me to come back, though. What? We've been at it for maybe a month now—” I flail when she puts a palm over my mouth as she moves the marker towards my face. Stifling a laugh, I protest, “Hey—”

“Stop moving,” Lyra whines, and that last syllable drags. She scribbles on my forehead, snaps a picture, and shows me her phone. 

Big and bold, across my forehead: 

LYRA'S BITCH 

“Wow,” I say laughing, letting her do her thing. She's hyperfocused, and I hate that I think it's a little endearing. I look at what she left on my left thigh: 

TWO PUMP CHUMP

“That’s false, and you know it,” I tell her. The tip squibbles just under my belly button:

GROWER

“That's fair. But also pretty funny.” 

Raising an eyebrow, I follow the arrow she's drawing on my right thigh: 

BABY GRAVY DISPENSER 

“That's gross,” I say, grimacing, and we laugh together. 

Lyra hands me the marker. “Go crazy. You'll never find a more perfect canvas than me.” 

Thinking first, I trace a circle around Lyra's navel. And then a larger circle around that one. I repeat this a few times.

She squirms, holding back a giggle, and I feel her rub against my dick, harder now since she first climbed on top of me. Pushing against her, I love the sharp breath she pushes out. “What are you drawing?”

“A target. Since I'm already marking you up everywhere I might as well make a mess on you,” I answer, humping into her wet lips. 

“I thought I told you we we-weren't gonna go again,” Lyra taunts, but I can feel the break in her voice. “Like you'd be able to resist coming inside. You totally can't get enough of filling me up.”

She's definitely got that backwards. Her hips shifting distracts me slightly, but I focus on writing: 

BITE HERE 

by her nipples.

SQUEEZE (HARD) 

on the front of her neck.

BREED ME

on her stomach with an arrow pointing down. 

CUMSLUT 

on her forehead. 

WH and RE on her cheeks, so her mouth can be the O. 

“You're having fun with this,” Lyra says. “Surprised you're not begging me to let you stick it in.”

“I have self-control,” I tell her, grinning. “You also told me I didn't deserve another round, so I'm leaving it at that. Easy.” 

“You're so boring,” Lyra murmurs. “You said if it slips in, it's my fault, right?”

“Yeah—” a grunt interrupts my thoughts as she plunges down onto me, her slit swallowing my dick. I use the last of my coherence to cap the marker, and it falls to the ground. 

“Whoops.” Lyra grins, feigning innocence. “I can't let you leave with a hard-on like that. You might waste it on some slut.” 

“As if I would do that,” I answer, looking up at Lyra as she rocks to grind against my dick. Her cheeks redden for a moment and her scowl returns when I point to the text she wrote on my chest.

“That's…right,” Lyra groans, pulling off before slamming back down. “This dick is mine. You hear that?” 

“Sure,” I say, playing along, fighting a grin. Wincing when she grabs the back of my hair, she pulls me up to her until our lips are inches away.

“Say it.”

“It's all yours,” I grunt, grabbing her hips, grinding into her.

“Every load belongs to me, too,” Lyra adds.

“You're joking. I can't jack off?” 

“You shouldn't need to,” Lyra spits, dropping her hips harder. “I should be…everything you…need—” 

She can't hide it from me. Her body spasms on top of me, and her hips buck wildly, milking every eave of pleasure passing through her. Lyra moans, scratching against my shoulder blades, cursing when her lips find my collarbone.

I bring my mouth to her nipple, biting it gently, and a sharp breath leaves her lips. Gripping around her, I roll us so that I'm on top and her. She takes a moment to gather her breath, but that's all I give her. My hands busy themselves: one grips her ankles, holding them up high, and the other finds her neck. 

Lyra grins, eyes filled with bliss, and she places a hand over mine—the one on her neck—and encourages me to squeeze tighter. So, I do. A husky groan escapes, and elation stretches her smile wider. “Yes! Fuck…fuck…”

Her walls hug my harder than usual because of how tightly her legs are clenched together. Even still, I slide in so easily, and I feel her pulsing around me. When I go faster, her cries grow louder. Ah…ah…breed me. Fuck. Come inside—put it inside me.”

“Next time,” I tell her through labored breaths as I pull out and stroke along my length as fast as I can. 

“You said every load belongs to me,” Lyra whines with a pout. 

“You said that,” I correct cheekily. “I said I'd make a mess all over you…and I'm…gonna keep my—”

Finishing the thought is impossible when I groan for her. Pearly white splatters the target I drew earlier. Bullseye. The next lands between those perfect breasts, but the third sprays out to her face, and she flinches, reaching up to wipe her eye. 

“Shit,” I whisper, looking for a rag. My undershirt from today will have to do, and I help wipe her face. “Sorry, Lyra.”

“Are you kidding? That was so hot—” Lyra clears her throat and her usual demeanor returns. “I mean…I guess your aim’s not as good as you think.” 

She looks down, admiring the pool of cum on her stomach. Whispering to herself, smiling a little wider than before, Lyra stands up to stretch, and pulls me up with her, leading me away from the bed into her bathroom. 

I lean against the counter with crossed arms, watching her turn on the water. With a nod, I ask, “You first?”

“And give you the chance to leer at me through the glass? Absolutely not,” Lyra says. “I'm feeling generous, so I'll let you join me. Don't expect shower sex.” 

“It's overrated anyway,” I say quickly. 

“Then you must have done it with a third-rate partner,” Lyra guesses cockily. “Come on.” 

We walk in together, and the warm water feels nice. I'm so used to the smell of her perfume when we're in the office, or the sultry mix of sweat and musk when we're in her bedroom. As she runs her shampoo through her hair, it lathers, and I get a whiff of honey and lychee. 

I bring my hands to her hair and let my fingers trace her scalp.

“Hmm. At last, you're pampering me like I deserve,” Lyra chirps, closing her eyes and smiling. To return the favor, she wets her loofah, adds body wash and scrubs my chest. She squints, and then her eyes widen. “Umm…”

“It's not coming off, is it?” 

“No,” Lyra answers sheepishly. “Take responsibility! Fix it! Look up how we get this off.” 

“This was your idea,” I groan. “I'm not going to the store while my forehead says ‘Lyra’s bitch.’”

Her brows furrow, and Lyra punches my arm. “Better you than me! My face says ‘cumslut’ and ‘whore.’”

I help Lyra rinse her hair, and she grabs the showerhead, spraying me. “What are you waiting for? Go! Now!”  

Exiting the shower, stifling laughter, I catch my reflection in the steamy mirror, and read my chest again. I guess I'm Lyra's after all. At least until the Sharpie comes off. 

This happened about a week ago, and I can't stop thinking about it.

I (M25) was going out in the city with friends. It got really late and I missed my last train home. So I decided to call my older brother (M31) who lives close by the bar where we went out. He picked up the phone annoyed, told me he was already in bed, but sure I could stay the night.

Just a few minutes later, I was at my brother's place. When he opened the door in his bathrobe, he looked grumpy and disheveled like he just came out of bed.

His girlfriend, Sarah (F27), immediately came up to me with a big hug. She was just wearing an old t-shirt as a dress and from the looks of it not much else. As she hugged me, I could feel her big, soft breasts pressing against me. I could even sense the smell of sex on her. They had definitely been fucking when I called them up. I grew a huge boner while she was still holding me. I acted like nothing happened and hoped she didn't notice it.

My brother showed me their spare bedroom. As soon as I was alone, I began jerking off to the thought of fucking her.

Before I go on, I should tell you that me and Sarah have some history. I once had a ONS with her before she met my brother and became his gf.

We met at a mutual friends bday party. We hit it off pretty quickly and talked all night long. At the end she invited me over to her place. I was surprised that's such a hot girl asked me to, but didn't say no. It didn't take long before clothes were starting to get off. She has an amazing body. Curly brown hair, tall figure with amazing curves, wide hips, nice round ass and some heavy D cup tits with dark nipples. We fucked like crazy. She gave me some of the best blow jobs I've had and even let me fuck her ass.

I didn't see her again, until my brother introduced her as his new gf about a year later. I was shocked. So was she. I never told him about my little adventure with her, and I hope she didn't too.

That night at my brother's place, I couldn't stop thinking about my hook up with Sarah, her amazing body and how hard she squirted when she came. I woke up the next morning with a rock hard morning wood.

I was starving though, so I headed downstairs in just my boxers. My semi-hard boner still peaking through. I thought everyone had left for work and I'd be all alone. I was wrong. While I looked inside the fridge, Sarah walked in behind me. I was surprised. I quickly grabbed a pack of milk and placed it in front of my crotch as I turned around. Sarah was still wearing just the old t-shirt that barely covered her ass, her long naked legs showing off underneath, her stiff nipples popping through the fabric. She must have seen me blushing.

Apparently Sarah was working from home that day and didn't feel like dressing up until her zoom meeting in the afternoon. I didn't have classes till the afternoon either, which explained my scarce dressing. Sarah didn't mind and we just started talking.

As she was making herself coffee, she reached for the highest shelve to grab a mug. She was standing on her tiptoes, her shirt was rising up and revealed her big, juicy ass cheeks in a small pink thong. I could feel my dick growing even harder against the cold pack of milk. Then she asked me for the milk in the sweetest voice. I hesitated for a moment, but reluctantly handed it to her. She looked down and gave me a funny look.

I panicked and sat down to hide my crotch from her. "No reason to hide." Sarah smirked as she poured the milk. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"True." I said. "But idk, now that you're with my brother..."

"He isn't here right." She pulled up a chair and sat down right across from me. "Also, I haven't told him about us."

"Really?" I was relieved to hear that. "That's good, me neither."

"Of course I didn't. Don't want to have to tell him his little brother has better technique." She laughed. "You know how competitive your brother can get."

"You're joking, right?" She was always very open about everything, so I wasn't really surprised hearing her say things like that. But still.

She shrugged "I wish. I mean your brother's great, but ..." She paused. "But this one" she lifted up and stretched her leg, till it pointed straight at my cock under the table. "This one was something else." As she moved her foot, her big toe just touched my swollen dick for a moment. I felt a shiver running through my body .

"Oh damn, it's still hard." She said surprised.

"Like you said, it's good quality." We both laughed. I felt a quiet tension rising.

"I thought you would've forgotten about me, though." I told her. "You must have taken a lot of guys home back then."

"What? No!" She looked surprised. "I just had a bad break up with my ex and you were really cute. I never had a ONS before you."

"Oh, so I was just a rebound, huh."

"Sort of I guess. But wait, did you think I was a slut?"

"Well, you kind of fucked like one."

Sarah gasped. She slapped me on the shoulder, but let out a smirk.

"So you never had another ONS after me?" I asked.

"I might had a few."

"I knew it." I smirked.

"And I'm sure I must now believe you didn't have any after me, mr. good quality."

"I never said that. But you're right, I've had my fun too."

"I'm sure you did." She lifted her leg up again, this time she placed her whole food on the bulge in my boxers. "Did you use your good quality on all of them?." She kept rubbing her food over it as she spoke.

"Sarah!"

"What? You don't want me to stop right? It seems like you're very much this." She just continued rubbing. It felt amazing indeed. I felt the blood pumping through my cock. I didn't even know it could get that hard.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back in enjoyment. I started quietly moaning too.

After some time I heard someone else moaning too. I opened my eyes again, Sarah had lifted one leg onto her chair, the other still stretched on my crotch and one hand between her legs, inside her pink thong, touching herself. She had her eyes closed and began moaning louder and louder. I kept staring at her and her amazing body. When she opened her eyes again, we were looking straight at each other. She smiled. "This is all your fault you know."

"Because I'm just too hot?"

"You wish." She rolled her eyes. "No, when you called last night, I was just riding your brother. You didn't let me finish."

"How was I supposed to know that."

"You're right, but I still haven't cum*mmm oah...* yet." She let out a big moan. "I wanted to continue later, I was so damn horny, but your brother didn't want to with you in the house."

"Not my fault he is such a pussy." We both laughed again.

She curled her toes around my boxer's waistband and gripped them tight. Then slowly lifted them down. My hard, swollen dick jumped out, pointing straight up, a drop of precum on top. Sarah bit down her lip as she watched. "Now cum with me."

I grabbed my dick tight and started stroking. Sarah increased her stroking too. She let her thong fall to the ground. Revealing her pink swollen pussy and a small trimmed bush above it. She was already wet and dripping juice. We both moaned and watched each other touch ourselves.

She lifted her shirt slightly and put one hand underneath to grab her breast. I could see her hand moving under the fabric, pinching and squeezing her breast. On the other side, I could see her rock hard nipple poking through. I felt my dick throbbing hard in my hand as I watched her. When she switched sides, her shirt lifted up further. Her under boobs became visible, showing off part of those big juicy breasts I remembered.

"Mmmhhg, I'm close." I shouted out. My dick throbbing like crazy as I stroked down.

"Wait!" Sarah jumped off her chair. She knelt down on her knees right in front of me. In the sweetest voice she said. "I want to taste."

She grabbed my dick with both hands and opened her mouth. In one go she took it all in. Her lips felt so good. I flashed back to our hook up and I almost came right away. She was so sloppy, going up and down my shaft. She licked and sucked and jerked me off all together.

She was rubbing her clit at the same time. I could tell she was getting close too. She moaned and muffled louder as she was sucking down my cock. The grip of her lips became stronger and tight around my cock.

It didn't take long before I came. I came hard with a big load. I shot rope after rope down her throat. She swallowed it all like a good girl and kept rubbing her pussy as she did. She lifted her head, but I had one shot of cum left. It flew right onto her face, from her chin to her lips and right over her nose. She was fully covered. She smiled. She scooped up the cum from her face and liked it off her fingers. It were deep, long sucks on her fingers.

Her rubbing became more and more intense, her moaning too. I watched her rapidly approaching her climax. Her body tensed up. Her breading became heavy. I slowly jerked my emptied cock. Then she screamed like she hadn't before. Juices squirted out of her pussy. She leaned her head back in total pleasure.

After a short time she stood back up again. "I'm gonna take a shower." She turned around and began to walk away, her ass giggling. "You should get dressed too." She said with a wink before she walked through the door.

I stood up a bit dizzy and accidentally stepped into the little puddle of squirt. I smirked. I put my boxers back on. Then I saw Sarah's thong lying a bit further. I looked closer, I saw a big wet spot. I grabbed it from te floor.

"You forgot your thong!" I yelled down the hall.

She yelled back. "Keep it."

Friday night, early fall. The promise of a generous amount of rain had been kept now. The cold had finally been allowed to nest next to our bones, next to our trembling, strange notions of this season.

Clara was driving and I sat in the back, watching her in the rearview mirror as if through stained glass. She looked a bit like a weary rag doll, made of patches of the highway lights and the car dashboard lights… all of this enhanced the acute angles of her slightly sunken and pale face, her narrow nose and thin lips, and also made her gaze seem more hypnotized, locked on the road.

Despite the heavy rain and the frantic wipers, she was driving the way she always did, with only her right hand on the wheel, and with the other arm resting against the window, and sometimes she laid her head on it.

We'd be home in a little over thirty minutes. At that hour, on that road which crosses the industrial zone on the edge of the city, other cars rarely passed us. I remember one with only one headlight, looking like it'd fall apart any second. Still, it overtook us and vanished into the night, which was trying to dissolve everything around us, from the skinny bare trees, to the dark hills like terrifying bulges of the earth, and the barbed wire fences, and the abandoned factories.

Beside me, Irene took off her coat right after Clara turned the heat up. Then she adjusted her tight skirt, slid a hand inside it and I could hear her nails scrape against her pantyhose.

She nodded at me and put her hands on her lap, as if telling me, come. I took off my seatbelt and rested my head on her legs. Irene pressed her face against the window and started running her fingers lightly through my hair, lingering on the nape of my neck, where the barber had trimmed my hair not long ago.

I could still taste the popcorn and the Coke, the little sharp pieces of corn stuck between my teeth, and a faint trace of chocolate, Cadbury Dairy Milk.

There was no music playing, no podcast, no radio, only the mechanical sound of the wipers, with some squeaks in between, and of course the rain falling on the windshield and on the roof of the car.

With my nose pressed against Irene's skirt, I could smell her strong perfume, mixed with the Marlboro Reds, a smell that matched her age. Maybe this combination of smells was far more common on a woman her age a decade or two ago. Still, it suited her. Underneath all that, you could also distinguish a slight scent of peach body lotion.

If I didn't know her, I'd say she definitely had some corny, new age, faded tattoo on her thigh, something she'd got more than twenty years ago after a few drinks at a party. I can't exactly tell you why, but a lot of people would have bet it was there. Maybe not on the thigh, but on her lower back, shoulder or ankle. She didn’t have any of that, though. Neither did she have piercings. She only wore big, showy golden earrings.

Clara always wore the same pair of pearl earrings, small, same with the chains, always thin silver links, elegant. Her sweet, soft perfume matched that style. She usually wore tight black jeans, and black Converse or Vans, both pretty beat up. And she'd just put on a white or light pink baby tee, sometimes an ordinary white or black top tucked into her jeans. She also didn’t have any ink, though we once stayed up late talking about the best idea and design for her first tattoo.

As we were leaving the highway and the tic tic of the turn signal sounded, Irene moved, so I lifted my head from her lap and sat up straight too. She looked at me and gave me a slight smile, which seemed even more lustful because of the glossy red lipstick on her big lips.

Then she held my hand. I remember she took her time feeling my knuckles, my long fingers, my prominent veins. Clara sometimes glanced at us real quick in the rearview mirror. Then Irene, with her other hand, started pulling her skirt up, as far as it would go. Then she simply dropped my hand on her thigh and closed her eyes after a deep breath.

I went straight for her pussy, since she'd spread her legs wide. A couple of hours earlier, she'd been doing the same to Clara, in the dark of the movie theater.

Irene kept the pantyhose on, but she'd taken her panties off. Still with her eyes closed, she said, I took them off after the movie.

The sentence sounded louder, even sharper, because of the silence, and because the wipers had slowed down, and so had the rain, shortly after we left the highway.

Irene didn’t shave there. She seemed to have a kind of pride in that huge, coarse bush, which spread all the way to her groin and continued shorter but bristly down to her asshole. It was a bit like the pride you’d see in tarot illustrations and occult books, a witch or a priestess raising their wand or a ceremonial sword.

I was touching her lightly, just feeling that cushion of hair held in by the nylon fabric… as if it were the first time I did it, as if, for a second, that bush was something impossible.

On another road in the distance, the blue flashes of an ambulance rose against the night, and maybe that's why I suddenly felt that this kind of thing was like taking pills handed out in a little cup, every day at the same time, by a faceless nurse… just to take the edge off.

At the same time the Smiths’ song "Headmaster Ritual" was playing in the back of my mind. And maybe that popped into my head because Irene reminded me a bit of the teacher who, from when I was 10 to 13, ran things at the school and supervised the other teachers.

She never gave us lessons, she'd just show up at the classroom door, asking the other teachers to sign this and that. Meanwhile, she always asked if the usual problematic students were behaving. She'd look at them, usually all sitting together, and tell them she was keeping one eye on them, and that they knew she wouldn't forgive them if they slipped up. Maybe sometime I'll write about how she forced students to slap themselves… the so-called monkey dance.

She also always praised the few students in my class who got good grades and didn't fuck things up every day. Basically she acted as the principal's right hand at that private school where I spent my preteens… fifteen years ago.

Like Irene, this teacher was short, with huge thighs and a fat ass. We used to see her at lunchtime in a café across from the school, chain smoking, and the smell of the cigarettes would also get mixed with a perfume even stronger than Irene's. She always wore huge golden rings, some with fake emeralds, others with obvious plastic rubies. Her nails always looked like (red or black) talons and her makeup was heavy, especially the foundation, which never blended too well with the skin tone of her neck.

Right after Clara parked the car, Irene got out in a hurry, coat under her arm, leather bag on her shoulder. She already had the keys in her hand, so she quickly opened the door and climbed up the stairs to the third floor.

We all lived in an old building with no elevator. The staircase was narrow, but the wooden steps were huge and creaked at every step. On the second floor lived a widow, eighty-something years old, alone. The tiny apartment above us, with dormer windows, had always been empty, as far as I remember.

I still wonder what the neighbors thought about all of it. I mean, they certainly had their questions regarding our… unusual household configuration. They probably figured Irene was Clara's mother, maybe mine, and that Clara and I were dating, though, for some reason, we always had Irene on our back.

I went to the trunk to get my backpack, but Clara just stayed there, leaning against the car door. I asked her, are you ok? She only waved her hand, like she was telling me, go on up, I'll be right there. When the building door slammed behind me, I looked over my shoulder and saw her lighting a cigarette. Before that I think I'd only seen her smoke once.

Sometimes Clara reminded me so much of Loveless by My Bloody Valentine, mostly the song "Only Shallow". That album cover’s color was the same as her aura, not that I believe in that stuff.

Inside, despite the cold, Irene had already undressed and was walking around in her bra and pantyhose. She was in the kitchen making some coffee, in the half dark, since the only light came from the lamp in the hallway.

While the hot water was dripping over the ground coffee, she went to the bedroom, opened one of the wardrobe drawers and took out dark purple satin panties. Then she went behind the door and took her satin robe of the same color. Sitting on the bed, she took off the pantyhose and threw them into a corner of the bedroom.

I was leaning against the wall in the hallway and could see her doing all this, and she seemed to enjoy me watching her like that, hypnotized. She left the panties and the robe folded on the bed, and when she passed me in the hall, said, come.

So she drags one of the kitchen chairs and sits on it, now only wearing a beige lace bra, a bit grubby. She turns, opens the window behind her a bit, and lights a cigarette. Then spreads her legs in front of me and tells me, come… don’t leave me hanging.

Despite that, I walk slowly from the kitchen door, and when I get close to her, she grabs my arm and pulls me down to the floor, so I kneel. I put my hands on her legs and feel some thick hairs, already a bit grown out, near the knee.

I knew I had to get straight to it, so I put my head between her legs and then my mouth on her pussy.

I lick her eagerly, since she didn't like me starting slowly, just teasing and exploring around at first. And I keep going until all that hair, now wet from my spit and from Irene already being wet, starts to soften down. Meanwhile, we hear a key in the door lock.

Clara gets in, looks at us and smiles, but goes straight to the bathroom. I keep licking Irene’s pussy, no fingering, just running my tongue up and down the way Irene has already taught me, while the kitchen’s starting to smell more and more of tobacco and coffee, and all you can hear is the coffee machine, Irene's puffs on the cigarette and, now and then, the whoosh of cars passing by or just dogs barking in the distance.

When Irene’s done smoking and throws the butt in an empty Smint tin box, we both get up. She tells me, it's too cold for me to be standing here like this.

After going back to the bedroom and grabbing the panties and the robe that were left on the bed, we go straight to the bathroom. Mid hallway, Clara stops and Irene kisses her, then smiles and says, we won't be long.

When we're in the shower, Irene turns her back to me and starts rubbing her big, sourdough ass against my cock. I wrap my arms around her and put my hands on her big tits, then softly pinch her pepperoni nipples. With her eyes closed, and with the bathroom already clouded by the vapor, she starts to piss.

I can’t say I was instantly turned on by it, but I liked watching that dark yellow stream quickly dissolving in the clean water on its way to the drain.

As always, we left the door ajar, but Clara had gone to get coffee and then went to the bedroom to pick out her clothes for that night. She often wore a dark blue babydoll. Sometimes with stockings, not too often though.

Other times she would only wear a bra and panties, a bit tacky, lacy or cotton stuff in yellow or turquoise… I always thought it made her look skinnier, bonier… even paler.

Irene and I rarely kissed, and now it wasn’t different. Sometimes the three of us would be on the couch watching something on TV and she and Clara would make out, sucking on each other's tongues eagerly for a long time. They didn’t use their hands much, they'd just turn towards each other or Irene would sit on Clara’s lap and I'd hear their mouths, wide open, sucking each other’s lips, their faces smeared in spit… almost dementor-kissing.

Usually I didn't jerk off to that, nor did I watch them too long. Most of the time I'd just undress and move to an armchair near the couch, pretending not to care, but feeling my dick getting harder and discreetly rubbing it on the velvet upholstery.

All these things, especially when the three of us stayed all day inside, with the blinds down only letting in thin beams of light, made me think I was trapped, or lost without memory, on a faraway island where only women live, though only Clara and Irene knew those other women, because to me they would forever be like ghosts, myths… a game of archetypes whose rules I didn't know.

I got out of the shower before Irene, dried myself off and went to the bedroom wrapped in a towel. I found Clara already sitting on the floor, next to the pillow she was bound to use. She opted for black leggings, white cotton shin-high socks, and on top kept the wine red bra she wore all day.

As I walk into the room, she stands up, pulls her leggings down a little at the waist to show me she isn’t wearing panties, and then sits back down on the floor, just texting on her phone.

Irene showed up a little later. She went straight to the bed and lay on her back. I hung the towel behind the door, turned off the ceiling lamp, so we were left with only the glow of a small nightstand lamp, warm and yellow.

Lying on the bed, she adjusted her satin robe over the tits, then stretched out and opened her legs, pulled her panties aside, and with the fingers of her other hand showed us her pussy, spreading all the pubic hair apart.

Clara was already slowly riding on the pillow. Dry humping always seemed to be the fastest way for her to cum.

Then Irene, without at me, said, when you're ready, just put it in me… but don't cum inside.

I play with my dick and squeeze it hard, no spit or lube. Usually that's how I get fully hard fast. Next I slide my cock into Irene's soggy pussy, but I’m not lying on top of her, I stand upright so she has room to touch herself.

I'd really rather have fucked her hard, my body as dead weight squishing her tits, and my hands under her ass, her legs spread as much as she could… and I’d kiss her eagerly, in a somewhat clumsy way, until I came inside, not feeling any shame for not lasting longer. Then neither of us would clean up. She'd just take off the robe and we'd cover ourselves with the blanket and watch Clara rub her pussy faster and faster on the pillow until she couldn't hold it anymore and came, moaning loud, as she felt a strong shudder run through her whole body.

Instead, I have to keep a steady rhythm, not get excited or moan, hold it like that until Irene cums. Meanwhile, she tells me, with some contempt, keep doing that. And she warns me again, don’t cum inside or on my belly.

It must have been past two in the morning, so in all that silence I could make out every detail of their breathing, almost panting… Clara was trying to ride at the same pace I was sticking my cock into that bush.

Irene touched my shoulder, like tapping out. Still with her eyes closed, said, wait... stop.

She got up from the bed like a jack-in-the-box… then stood completely naked in front of Clara, who was still dry humping at a frantic pace. A huge stain of sweat and vaginal fluid could be seen on those leggings' weary fabric. The room smelled more and more of sex.

Next Irene starts to masturbate standing up, only to then sit on the edge of the bed rubbing her clit with all of her fingers, almost rubbing it with her whole hand.

She orders, between deep breaths, get me the… silicone plug. So, as I stretch my arm, she snatches it out of my hand, spits on it and effortlessly slides it into her stained, wrinkled asshole, with all those bristly hairs around it. She says, you can go now.

I obey the command and leave the room, heading to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. On the way, I pick up one of my t-shirts that was left on a chair and it's the only thing I put on.

My cock was still hard, but I'd been taught, you could say, ever since the three of us got together, not to think about sex or cumming after my part was over.

I, who rarely smoked now, only some weed from time to time, stole one of the Marlboro Reds, fully opened the kitchen window and lit it… Coffee and Cigarettes, a good movie, haven't watched it in a while now.

I flicked the butt out the window, drank the rest of the coffee in one gulp and, in the half dark of the kitchen, I just stood there listening to Irene moaning the same way she always did when she was about to cum. Her loudest howl (to me like nails on a chalkboard) usually came a few seconds after the climax. From the back of the kitchen, even with everything quiet, I couldn't make out what Irene was telling Clara, but soon Clara also came, now screaming instead of her previously muffled moans, just little noises interrupted by deep breaths.

As I was heading back to the bedroom, the two of them passed me, fixing their sweat-stuck hair.

Irene was completely naked and Clara only in her leggings… the wet stain now even bigger. Her tits were much smaller than Irene's, but, being twenty-five, firm, the nipples pink, still without any brownish spots… I can’t help noticing those details.

Once I dated a girl whose nipples had a strange feel. It always seemed to me like the skin had healed from a burn, but I never had the courage to ask her, though we dated for almost a year.

Meanwhile, I got in bed and lay down, just wearing that beat up gray t-shirt, nothing else. We all had that in common, sleeping with no underwear or fully naked. Though I hadn't cum, I suddenly felt tired and sleepy, so when they also got in bed and turned off the light, I had my eyes closed already.

Near dawn, Irene’s snoring, not loudly, just sleeping deeply, and Clara and I realize we're both half awake. She, who'd been lying with her back to me, turns over, looks at me for a while, the two of us there in the middle of the blue hour, feeling each other's breath on our faces… and she kisses me, a quick peck on my lips.

Before turning over again, she took off her leggings, rolled them up, and passed them to me. Like she knew I would, I deeply breathed them in. Then I put them between my head and the pillow.

Clara pressed her body against me and pulled my arm so I'd hold her. I quickly fell asleep again, after feeling for a while the odor of her sweaty, wet pussy impregnated into the leggings' fabric… also a faint trace of vanilla hair spray.

If you made it until here, let me know what you honestly think about this chapter. I'm open to honest critique and suggestions for next chapters. I Will reply to comments. Thanks!

[~2000 Words]

Blurb: Hazel, addicted to risky masturbation, should not be left alone in an empty office, especially at night, with life not going her way. It was a bad idea to make eye contact with the handsome man across the street. And she really, really shouldn't have done the things she did next ...

~~~

The tower of used coffee cups stared me in the face. Provocatively. Poke me, Hazel, and watch it all come crashing down.

For the third evening in a row, I sat in a depressingly empty office, working against a stupid deadline, while my excel wasn’t excelling.

Could anyone see me, trapped in my stuffy confines? I stared through the wide window beside me, into the shadowy abyss. All to avoid looking at the time. Friday. Ten o’clock. In different times, I had called it ‘Watching porn in the office’-hour.

My body remembered. The secrecy, the tension, the sweet release.

For the fiftieth time, I snapped the rubber band against my dull skin. Angry red lines ran criss-crossed across my forearm already. It helped keep bad ideas down in the hole.

Like fingering myself while my married boss watched. Jerking his hot cum onto me. And believing he’d actually leave his wife for me.

Something - anything - had to distract me, before I relapsed. An overdose of sugar and another coffee were unlikely to help, but I tried anyway. I jumped around, paced through the hallways, splashed cold water in my face.

A flash caught my eye from across the street. Oh, no. Just when I’d resolved to get back to work.

Our office looked out at the side of a smallish hotel, across a triangular courtyard. Oddly shaped buildings were all the rage in modern, corporate architecture. The hotel had four rooms on this side, visible from my desk.

For a few days now, I caught glances of a guy in the top right room. Quick reflections, disrupting my focus on my work, before the curtains closed. I didn’t pay him much attention. My decisions were a lot more rational by daylight.

Tonight, the curtains hung open. The light in my office would be too faint for him to notice me. I thrived in the same atmosphere as bats and troglodytes. Like a creep, I watched him strut by in sweatpants. Textbook dad bod. Messy brown hair. Ten o’clock shadow.

I glanced down, taking in my own miserable appearance. Drowning in an oversized, grey cardigan with buttons. Lame leggings. I could only imagine how bad my greasy, straw-colored hair looked.

A freakin’ dork.

It was impolite of me to stare, and a bad idea to boot. The flexing of the muscles on his back was no business of mine. Yearning to feel his hands on my touch-starved body could only send me down the rabbithole of unsustainable, destructive dopamine again.

From the semidarkness, I stood and watched, unable to peel my eyes off him, until dreamboat swiveled his head towards me. He paused for a fraction of a second. So did my heart.

Bad, bad idea. Dumb, dumb Hazel.

Then, he stepped away, switched off his lights, and vanished into the shadows of his room.

My heart resumed its beating with a vengeance, hammering in my chest. I needed to calm down, get my shit together. I poured another coffee, went for a stroll through the building, but the empty hallways did my mental state no favors.

A petite girl, spinning uncontrollably in a vast void.

As I got back to my creaking chair, I made a deal with myself. Thirty more minutes, then I’d go home and sleep. Soft clicks reverberated as I slaved away on the keyboard, with painful wrists. The harsh truth was, I’d be alone with my thoughts at home, too.

Realistically, only my willpower could keep the bad ideas at bay. The echoes of my porn addiction.

And then, the lights flashed on in the hotel room.

The man re-appeared and his gaze, unmistakably, went up to my window. His hair, wet and shiny, was now slicked back. His chest hair clung to his skin, pointing downwards. He wore only a towel, wrapped dangerously low around his hips.

Sirens sounded in my head, and I had a faint coppery taste in my mouth.

My fingers irrevocably reached for the lamp on my desk.

Turned up the brightness.

Pointed the light up and towards the window.

I should have run, far, far away … but how can you run away from yourself?

Like a hyperventilating chihuahua, I stepped into the illumination, and shyly waved up at the man. He had the high ground.

A beautiful smile lit up his face, dimples appearing in his cheeks as he waved back. His eyes, like a tractor beam, prevented me from looking elsewhere.

He … wasn’t disappointed by my appearance. Why did that matter to me?

What was he waiting for? Wasn’t the writing all over my face? I struggled to emote my desires, to bear my soul for him.

I wanted to share my shame.

Haltingly, he gestured to his torso, then made a movement with his hands. Unbutton. The tension was clear on his face. I could call hotel security over this. I could be insane, for all he knew. I probably was.

Instead, I held up a finger, my expression pleading. One minute. I wasn’t dressed for this. Relief flooded me when he nodded his assent.

Withdrawing into the shadows, I stripped down to my underwear, before putting the cardigan back on. The wool felt intense against my bare skin.

Deep breaths.

Fine, shallow breaths, then. Just … continue to breathe, Hazel.

Dressed like a secretive slut, I shuffled back into the spotlight. My insipid skin turned almost reflective in the beam of yellow light.

He was sitting down, with only his head and shoulders visible to me. Only when I began to unbutton did he stand up again.

It was stupid. Dangerous. Foolish, perverted, wanton, irresponsible, degrading-

This was always gonna be my kink.

I didn’t stop, unbuttoning all the way before lifting my gaze up at him, standing there in my white panties and a plain bra. He gawked at me, lips slightly parted. I imagined his heavy breathing, his cock growing hard. Hard for me.

I wanted him to show his cock. I wanted to see that I was turning him on. I made a gesture, pointing down.

Please, Sir, I emoted.

He gestured, instead, for me to take off my bra, while smiling and licking his lips.

Okay. For you. But this is as far as I’ll go.

Slowly, I reached for the clasp. The straps slipped down my shoulders, bit by bit. Finally, my breasts fell free. A shudder ran through my body.

His grin broadened. He liked my pert little tits. I wanted to hear him say it.

He hid his lower body behind the window sill, but the movement of his shoulders spurred my imagination on. He was playing with his hard cock. Playing because of me. What a pervert you are, too, mister beefcake.

I needed to see it, but I couldn’t convey my cravings across the two windows. His own signs were so much clearer. Play with your tits for me. Slowly, I cupped them, pushing them up and towards each other. My nipples stood to attention, two buttons waiting to be pressed … and … another bad idea took hold of me.

With a recklessness born from months of inhibition, I climbed onto the broad windowsill, until I stood with my nose against the window. The glass fogged up as I pressed my body against it. I was losing it. My face contorted with raw passion.

Would I leave stains? Could everyone see, tomorrow, that a shameless slut had rubbed her sorry tits all over the nippy, hard glass? Shivering from the cold, writhing from the jolts of pain when I pressed hard, a slave to my base desires.

My momentary master was losing himself in the thrill, too. His arm moved more frantically, his jaw set in an intense stare. I stared back, lost and freefalling fast towards the depths of my debauchery.

He pointed down.

I sank down to my knees. His dirty little slut. My hand slipped inside my panties. My slit was slick and warm, my fingers quickly coated in juices. I pulled them out, lapped them up, still rubbing my body against the window.

And it was glorious. I licked the glass. I bucked my hips as I rode my own hand. I wanted a hard cock up my dripping cunt, taking me for all to see. My shameful secrets exposed for another’s pleasure. I shouted it out loud, my words echoing off the glass.

Show me your cock. Please. Please, Sir.

My begging eyes locked onto his. He looked away from me, upwards and around. Paranoid. Sensible. Only one of us was a slut without restraint. An addict.

He nodded. My heart skipped a beat.

Lounging lazily on his own windowsill, I could already see the bulge underneath his towel. With a flourish, he took it off and tossed it away. A lovely, lengthy and veiny cock sprung out.

I scanned the office behind me, frantic for anything shaped even remotely like a cock, a hard tool for me to ride. However inappropriate, sharp, dirty - I had to give him a show, to satisfy him, to prevent him from leaving. But nothing could fit, and I didn’t carry toys in my purse anymore. Fuck.

For ages, I’d been unable to cum without porn on a screen, without watching a beautiful woman desperate to get drilled.

It also worked when I was the porn being watched.

Impatiently, I slammed two fingers inside myself, with a loud, wet slap. My eyes rolled as pleasure shot through me. I wanted release. With my other hand, I circled my throbbing clit, while my fingers greedily dug out my sloppy cunt.

Every time I looked up, his attention was all on me. He stroked his cock almost as an afterthought. I was the main attraction.

A flicker, up on the left -

I kept on pounding myself -

A ripple in the shadows of the other room -

God, my fingers felt so gooood -

I saw it clearly. The curtain of the other room moved.

Someone else saw the depths I went to. They didn’t even know I was playing for someone. They just saw me, fiercely fingering myself against my office window. God. This was sending me. Oh, fuck. My body burned. My mind was gone.

Oh. My. Fucking. GAAAAAHHDDDD.

I banged my head against the window, my body contorting. Waves of pleasure waxed and waned. No. No. Come back. I want more. Furiously, I kept on rubbing my clit, and jabbing my fingers between my wet walls.

My master looked on in horny approval.

Another orgasm hit. I wailed, knowing nobody could hear me, but secretly hoping they did. If someone walked in on me now, I’d cum the soul out of my body. My hands kept on moving of their own accord, torturing my body with pleasure, until I didn’t know anymore if I was climaxing or reeling from overstimulation.

Our eyes locked again.

He was jerking off at full speed.

I stuck out my tongue, miming how I wanted to taste his cum. He could shoot his load against the window, and I would watch it drip down in slow motion. I loved cum. I loved the mess it made.

My limbs were giving out. Hanging limply against the glass, I struggled to keep my eyes focused on him. His stare was equally wild-eyed.

He was losing control. He closed his eyes. I pictured his groan as he reached back for his towel. Mesmerized, I watched his orgasm play out on the features of his face. It was beautifully satisfying.

Slowly, he regained control of his breathing, and his mind. His eyes darted from left to right, finally settling on me. He waved, hesitantly, then pulled the curtains shut.

That was it. I couldn’t expect more from a stranger.

Unobserved, I lost my strength. My naked body thudded against the rough carpet flooring. I zoned out, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions.

The cat was out of the bag. Again. What the fuck now, Hazel?

There was no sign of life anymore on the other side. Before my better judgment could stop me, I took out a sharpie, cringing at the noise while I wrote on a piece of paper. My heart hammered in my chest as I taped my phone number to the window.

Rushing out of the office, my body quivered.

Tomorrow, I’d have to resolve this. Clean up the mess, one way or another. Write my heart out in my diary. Get my shit back together, or at least patch myself up, as always.

Unless I had finally dug a hole I couldn’t get out of.

That thought shouldn’t have thrilled me nearly as much as it did.

~~~

If you liked this story, check out Hazel's earlier escapades:

• Alone in the Office
• Now I'm His Toy

The Spring sun beamed through the uncovered windows, of the run down yet picturesque Hampshire house. Matilda squinted as she awoke far earlier than she would have liked on a Saturday morning. Rubbing her eyes in a haze with half a mind to kick out at her snoring husband’s body.

It felt alien to wake up to the sound of songbirds and the wind swishing through the trees rather than the usual blaring of horns and strained voices of the local crackheads that Tilly had become accustomed to in their old East London home.

Different… objectively better but unfamiliar. There was a part of her brain that panicked when she woke up, not knowing where she was… not recognising the stone brick that encased the window or the wooden floorboards. It was going to take some getting used to…

Tilly sat up stretching so hard she almost pulled a muscle in her neck. Getting older was so undignified she thought swivelling half out of bed, legs hanging off the side. What was that feeling? It all came rushing back.. the extremely vivid dream she’d had last night. She could still feel the wetness between her legs, reaching her hand down to see…

“Oh my God” Tilly whispered underneath her breath as she left behind a sparkling trail of thick liquid on her fingers. Shocked at just how wet she still was, almost worried something was wrong. Tilly chose to brush it off and get on with her busy day of unpacking. Stomping out the room on purpose trying to wake up the snoring lump that was enjoying his sleep so much that he had ruined hers.

Stepping outside with her hot coffee cradled in two hands Tilly admired the view. The twisted lines of trees, the green hills that ebbed and flowed into the horizon, the morning dew lighting up in the rays of golden sunshine sending waves of shimmering sparkles across the garden. Not a neighbour in sight… Taking full advantage of the privacy, Tilly loosened her grip on her dressing gown, letting the middle parting open. The silk barely covering her breasts as they hung tight to her chest, her nipples hard in the chilly morning air almost completely visible through the translucent fabric.

Taking a deep breath in, her eyes shut, breathing in the fresh grassy air into the bottom of her lungs before exhaling out forcefully. Another fragment of last night’s dream replayed in her head, the cold firmness of what felt like a tongue snaking inside her, she had never felt that before, the coldness sent shivers up her body in the best ways. One hand drifted off the coffee mug down to the front of her black satin thong that was peaking out of her gown… Her warm fingers pressing against her clit as Tilly tried to remember more details from her dream. The cold hands that gripped each leg spreading them open, the head shaped protrusion in the duvet between her legs, cumming on her side while Jerry was in the room… Wait wait wait…

How could it have been a dream if she so vividly remembered Jerry coming up to bed? More memories came flooding back… Feeling the tongue lash at her clit harder, diving in and out of her deeper and deeper when the floorboards creaked with Jerry’s footsteps… The face… The man’s face that watched her brush her teeth… The taps on her feet… Tilly’s pretty face dropped in shock as she slowly turned back towards the house. Looking up into her bedroom window she saw the faint outline of a shadowy face looking down at her. Instinctively covering up in shock covering her breasts as she spilled coffee down herself.

“Fuck..” Frustratedly trying to wipe the coffee off her gown before looking back up at the window to see no one there… No face, nothing.

“I must be losing my fucking mind… Honestly..” Tilly laughed nervously to herself.

A dusty mist seemed to be ever present in the house, Tilly couldn’t wait to clean after all the boxes were unpacked, all she wanted was to make this house feel more like a home… A clean one.

“Morning” the annoyingly cheerful voice of her husband called to her.

“Morning… How did you sleep?” Tilly asked on autopilot

“Yeah… great apart from I woke up absolutely freezing in the middle of the night but when I got up this morning I was sweating from the heat… just a bit confusing I guess” Jerry mused while Tilly had lost interest halfway through his response, returning to unpacking their excessive book collection onto the shelves of the living room.

“Give me like 20 and I’ll help with that”

“yup”

Tilly sighed looking down at the book in her hands ‘The Turn Of The Screw’ by Henry James as she turned through a few of the old, rough pages before carefully placing it on the shelf with the others. Tilly had read most of the books they had in their collection however not many in the horror genre, that was more Jerry’s thing…

20 minutes passed… No sign of Jerry. ‘Oh well he can start when he wants to… I guess’ Tilly thought to herself, used to his complete inability to be useful. ‘but I’m going to have a break’.

Tilly locked the bathroom door behind her, the room already filled with clouds of steam, the shower heating up a lot quicker than Tilly expected. Letting her comfortable clothes fall to the ground, Tilly looked at herself in the mirror. Taking a second to admire the body that hours of running and nights in the gym had sculpted. Legs that begin slenderly and end in beautiful thick thighs… An ass that was her favourite feature, the way it filled out every item of clothing she wore perfectly, her cheeks that looked like they had been drawn by a perverted comic book artist.. You couldn’t draw the jelly like jiggle they had when she walked… The way that it was the perfect balance of muscle and fat… It used to drive Jerry crazy to the point of possessiveness. Now not so much… Tilly’s tits were never the biggest but she was proud of how perky they’d remained, her pert little nipples perfectly placed in front of her, the perfect amount of cleavage when she pushed them together was enough to make any man stutter.

Tilly shut her legs together and in one motion sent her ass cheeks crashing down together clapping loudly in the bathroom…

“Still got it” Tilly chuckled to herself. Her ass clapping had entertained everyone from friends to boyfriends, it had always been her secret party trick that came out on rare occasions.

Foot by tentative foot Tilly entered the shower closing the doors behind her, the panes of glass completely fogged over.

“uunnnnhhhh” moaned Tilly as the warm water rained down over her body. There were few greater pleasures in the world, feeling the dust and sweat of her morning of unpacking falling off her and down the drain. Shutting her eyes, letting the water trickle down her face.

“ahhh” Tilly let out a bloodcurdling scream

Covering her mouth to stifle it, she strained her eyes through the water to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was.

There it was a definite shadow on the other side of the fogged up glass.

“Jerry?” Tilly said loudly

“Yes?” a voice called back from the other side of the bathroom door “are you okay? I heard you scream?!”

Staring at the unmoving shadow that was in the room with her, two realisations dawned on Tilly… the shadow was absolutely not Jerry… and last night was not a dream…

“I’m fine, I’m fine… Just a spider” Tilly called back to Jerry dismissively, her eyes transfixed on the shadow.

“Are you going to join me?” She whispered through the raining shower.

Tilly could just make out the shadow nodding. Still unsure and slightly terrified Tilly couldn’t bring herself to look. Turning around to face the shower wall she heard the high pitched squeak of the hinge of the shower door opening behind her. The unmistakeable feeling of a body pressed against her back and behind. Eyes shut, her body pressed into the cold tiled wall of the shower she felt something growing between her legs. Kisses pressing against her neck as her hair was stroked by the apparition.

Suddenly she felt it… slide inside her, filling every part of her insides Tilly’s legs almost buckling underneath her from the feeling of the thick, cool mass being pumped inside her pussy. Fear turned to lust as she arched her back inviting more inside. Hard nipples pressed against the cold shower wall feeling the never ending mound growing deeper and deeper inside her.

Brain now on fire as it tried to comprehend the impossible. Tilly feels her hair be tugged sharply backwards as the thrusting inside her starts getting faster. Watching as the fog hanging in the air is disturbed by the pumping and thrusting behind her. Tilly strains her eyes trying to look behind at whatever is fucking her, wanting to see the face of the thing that is able to cause her to feel this much intense pleasure.

Through the water and her face being pushed against the wall all she could make out were the dark shadowy features of the same gaunt, good looking man, the intensity of his stare back… not an ounce of the sorrow she had previously seen, it had been replaced with a fiery, focused steel. The cold hands gripping at her hips in the heat of the hot shower, the deep drilling between her legs getting faster still… Tilly had lost all control and function. The only thought she could muster was to ask, beg and scream for more…

“How….how can this feel so good?” her muffled voice asks through moans as her lips are smushed against the wall.

As if to answer the question she felt a deep breath against her ear before the thick cock inside her pushed even deeper. The thrusting stopped, there was no breath against her skin just the feeling of her insides completely filled up, so deep she could feel it just below her belly button in her stomach.

Completely impaled on this gorgeous ghostly man’s cock, her body unable to move apart from the trembling getting more and more intense the more she felt it throbbing… Oh the throbbing was really what caused her to crumble both mentally and physically. She felt it like a heartbeat rippling through her body, pushing her hips back harder to feel it even more as the words and thoughts escaped her mind.

Her pussy squeezed back instinctively gripping the source of it’s pleasure so hard that it couldn’t leave that special place. Tilly felt her body tense up as the trembling turned to vibrating to outright shaking. Her mountainous ass cheeks clenched together so hard that if there was a real man behind her his cock would have been broken in half.

“uuuuunnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhh” the guttural sound grunted out of her mouth, one she had never heard herself make… Then came the quick gushing sound of her squirting against the shower floor, louder than the shower water hitting the floor. One stream… two stream… three… fuck Tilly couldn’t remember the last time she squirted, almost thinking she’d lost the ability to do so after years of unenthusiastic Jerry sex. It had been so long she had forgotten how much your body melts after it contracts that tight.

Tilly let out a squeal as she buckled on to the shower floor shaking in the foetal position, the shadowy mass standing over her, hand slowly stroking the long, thick mass hanging between his legs. Wiping the water from her eyes Tilly looked up just as the glowing liquid started shooting down onto her shaking body. Watching in awe as it lit up her body, dripping down her curves down onto the shower floor before swirling down the drain. Tilly dragged her fingers over her ass cheeks, scooping up the glowing cum, looking at the substance completely mesmerised as it sparkled on her skin. Hardly noticing the shadowy figure fading and fading before completely disappearing leaving Tilly to pick herself up off the floor of the shower.

“What the fuck?” Tilly asked herself, standing in the shower perplexed at what had just occurred. Unsure of where her moral compass pointed with this ghostly affair.

‘Is this cheating? Well kind of… But not like Jerry’s actual cheating so… Does that make it okay? I mean not really… Fuck I came out here to save this marriage’ Tilly thoughts raced. All that she knew was that she wanted more, even though it was merely minutes after it had all happened she felt like she was missing a piece of herself. She wouldn’t be whole again until that hole inside her was filled airtight again. Even the thought made her mind wander and her thighs squeeze together.

Tilly wandered out the shower, a beaming smile on her face. Mind racing in anticipation of when this ghostly figure would play with her again…

This one is a little long (I had fun remembering it!).

———-

Back before my professional career I worked at a seasonal job in the mountains. It was an amazing experience but left me and many of my co-workers adrift on the weekends. We took that time to go camping and exploring all around the desert southwest.

One weekend I decided to be civilized and took a drive down to LA to see one of my favorite bands. I was going to crash at a nearby hostel like the hippie dirtbag I was at the time.

The show was awesome. If you ever dance with me, you’ll find out that I go hard and dance like no one is watching.

Someone was watching!

During the concert I was making temporary friends and dance partners all over the place. Not really flirting, just being social and having a good time. I noticed that this girl was partnering with me or with my temporary group more and more throughout the night. I remember she had a lime-green shirt and a paperboy cap over artificially red hair so she was easy to track around the venue. She was attracting my gaze in several ways. First of all she was matching my dance vibe - energetic with a healthy dollop of dork factor. Sarah’s huge glasses paired with very mobile breasts were hard to take my eyes off of. She was also just having so much fun. Her wide smile was frequently the first thing I’d spot.

She was attractive but my radar wasn’t set on hookup mode at the time. Sarah had to be the one to make the first move. A mutually favorite song comes on and we’re jumping around together directing our enjoyment at each other. After that song they go into a laid back tune so she has the chance to introduce herself. We make some introductory small talk during that song and get back to dancing with the next peppier tune. She was drinking fairly steadily and after each drink her dancing came closer and closer. One song comes on with more of a swing beat so we get into a partner dance position and start doing some west coast swing. I figured it was either cute clumsiness or the gin and tonics that were making her fall chest first into my torso every now and then.

We’re getting towards the end of the concert and at the end of one of the songs she launched into a well timed peck on the cheek. I was having a blast - but in hindsight I should have been having a blast while reciprocating her subtle passion! At the end of the night she grabbed my shoulders tight and loudly proclaimed how much fun she had with me. It was welcome, hot, and her eyes and smile were dazzling. She was also shit faced by this time. I had a few drinks but I had to drive myself to the hostel. She started fretting about her taxi situation and I offered to drive her home. Kind of in slow motion, likely because of the drinking, her face brightened up. “That’s a great fucking idea!”

I do bring her home. She invites me to crash on her couch. On paper this is a primo opportunity to instigate! The hostel was only $30 so I don’t mind giving that up. In the end we ate pop tarts, started Overboard (an 80s movie I think), and chatted playfully on her couch. I went to go pee and came back to her passed out on the couch. Like a good camper I had no qualms about crashing on the floor with my sweater as a pillow. I remember she crashed with her paperboy hat on. It was a unique look!

The next morning she woke up and gave a brief “Oh, hey.” I was initially nervous that she was upset with me even being there but it was just the hangover making her grumpy. With some effort she brightened up her attitude and brought up that she had a great time at the concert. And she said she remembered most of the dancing and loved it. Sarah also thanked me for taking her home and apologized for passing out early. She makes some coffee and we get to know each other a little. Sarah was a vet tech. I tell her about life in the mountains and invited her to come hiking or camping sometime. I gleaned that city life was more her speed and she didn’t spend all too much time in the great outdoors.

It was like that children’s story about the city mouse and the country mouse.

Eventually, we both need to get on with our plans for the day and I say goodbye. The hug was quick and polite. We did exchange numbers though! Three hours of LA traffic later I’m back in the mountains.

The next week I pretty much forgot about Sarah. Not that she wasn’t memorable, it’s just that Monday starts like a hurricane and we’re fully immersed all week with hardly any time to think about anything beyond work.

Friday comes and I get a text from Sarah! She was wondering what mountain I was on top of (I was at a pizza joint with some friends). After some chatting I invite her again to come out to play in the wild. She said maybe, but probably not for a couple of weeks. She ends up inviting me to Dave and Busters in Orange County Saturday Night. It’s a solid two hour drive , but I’ve never been to one and now that the wild week was over I had time to remember how attractive she was.

I make it down to Dave and Busters. Sarah greets me and introduces me to four of her other friends. They can’t believe I’ve never been to a D & B before (I mean, they weren’t around back East and we certainly did not have one in our little mountain town!). I’m a pretty jolly and social person (even when I’m missing hints and signals left and right) so I get along well with her crew. I do end up being a little flirty and by the end of the night I’ve tasted her lips and sucked on her tongue a few times. She was a wonderful kisser! Oh, I remember she had that paperboy hat on again. It must have been her style.

In hindsight, her friends were definitely relied upon to scope me out. We had a great time there, staying until about 2am. With the exception of a couple of make out sessions and a fun moment playing pool where she was holding her pool stick out and I went under it limbo style and emerged with my face riding up her deep cleavage, we kept it mellow.

The night ended in a friendly manner, but looking back you can sense that it was like a song that ended just a little too soon. Sarah (I would be told later on) wanted more. She thought I was playing hard to catch. I wasn’t playing anything except being too shy.

And I may have just allowed things move way too slow for her or my enjoyment, but luckily I had some friends looking out for me.

I retuned to the mountains on Sunday and shared some of the news of the weekend with my friends Dan and Tee. Tee is a sweetie and was congratulating me for having a nice date but Chris started to see the holes in my story pretty quickly. Eventually he just had to spell it out. “Ray, she wants to fuck you!”

Tee suggested that I invite her camping this upcoming weekend. We were planning on going to a beautiful canyon out in the desert. I mentioned that I did invite her out in general but it seemed like Sarah was a little nervous to come all the way out several hours to camp somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Dan again - “Ray,” he said with a Bronx accent, “She wants to fuck you. Is she cute?” Fuck yeah she was cute. “You know what? Give me her number.”

I laughed, “She doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t even know you! You’ll make her think we’re a bunch of crazy animals out there!”

“Jay, give me her number,” he said swiping for my phone.

Tee then spoke up. She suggested that she call Sarah and chat girl to girl. Tee was (and still is) an absolute angel of a woman. I honestly didn’t know how she was dating Dan who was a fun guy but pretty brash and outspoken to an almost inappropriate level.

I don’t even think twice. I handed over my phone with her number programmed. The call goes through and I’m just sitting there with a huge dumb smile on my face. Along for a fun wild ride, but occasionally having to tell Dan to stfu.

Tee introduces herself has my friend and says that I’ve been saying some real sweet things about Sarah. There’s some giggling and I’m dying to know what Sarah is saying. Tee introduced Dan who said hi from a distance. Tee, being the honest sweetheart that she is, gets to the point pretty quickly. Ray wants to invite you out, and she wanted to invited her too and let her know that there would be about 10 of us camping there. She joked that most everyone was well behaved and made a face at Dan.

Eventually Tee hands the phone back over to me. I’m in full blush mode. Sarah sounds excited and says she wants to try to make it happen. I’m instantly in travel guide mode and give her all the details on how to get there. I told her I’d follow up with a map and directions.

Looking back, I didn’t appreciate the leap of faith that Sarah took. It was natural for us experienced adventurers junkies to just put a finger on a map and be like let’s go! Anywhere within a 500 mile radius. Pack up and do it! Sarah was making plans to drive three hours to a corner of the state she’d never been to. To hang out with me.

She tried to get some friends to come with but their schedules wouldn’t allow it. So she was in a car by herself traveling over 100 miles for pure mystery.

I try my best to do some logistics with her during the week but work is all hands on deck all week. Friday comes and I can finally chat more about it with her. I have a good amount of gear so I promise I can at least keep her alive. We make some food plans with Dan and Tee, Karina, Brandon, and others that will be there.

Us on the mountain drove out Friday night but Sarah wasn’t going to come until Saturday. Again, looking back, I should have driven out to the nearest city to guide her in but I was confident her abilities to cope. She’ll figure it out!

She did figure it out but I could tell she was a little shook when she finally rolled in on the washboarded dirt road. I walked towards her car and waved happily to welcome her. I started guiding her into the cove where we had made a little tent city but she stayed parked out on the access road. Sarah waved me over to her through the windshield.

I approach and she rolls down the window. She’s crying. “Where the fuck am I?”

I was ashamed and confused instantly. Completely shut down. But just for a moment fortunately. I start apologizing for not helping her in. She asks for a minute. I offer a tissue (not sure why I had some but I did have a travel pack) and she takes it.

After about 20 seconds she has a brief cry/chuckle but her eyes look less scared and more relieved. I told her that I was super excited to see her and that helped add some more color to her face.

Sarah told me that my directions were perfect and not to worry about that. She just felt far from home. She started trying to correct her makeup. It wasn’t heavy (and good thing because the desert would have corndogged her face) but she managed to fix her eye liner. I smiled sweetly at her and told her she was beautiful no matter where her liner ended up.

One of the crew notices I’m out there and I hear in the distance someone say “Oh look Ray’s date is here!” Probably was Dan. Degenerate. Sarah is feeling better and even comments on how beautiful the hills are. I invite her to drive into the camping area.

Was it a civilized tent city? Probably not. But it had a patchwork of tents, vehicles, one tow-behind camper, a huge fire pit with camp chairs encircling it, and a scattering of guitars, climbing harnesses, hacky sacks, and beverages. I think the fact that it was something - a sign of life - made Sarah feel better.

I playfully yell at my friend Karina to put her pipe away. She comes wiggle-dancing towards us and holds it out. “Hey I’m just offering the peace pipe to our new friend!.” Sarah politely declined. I’m slightly embarrassed. I tell Karina “Hey, I’m just getting her used to this crazy den of hippies so don’t scare her away!”

Tee walked over to say hello to Sarah. Sarah was super excited to meet her and they have a nice hug. I has happy that she finally got to meet someone kind of normal. Tee is just a doll and starts complimenting Sarah’s outfit. Paperboy hat! She frosted the end of her shoulder length red hair with bleached white tips. Tee couldn’t help but dive in and talk about it. Sarah wore a denim skirt with black leggings. Her top was a v-cut shirt with black and white pin stripes.

Sarah had some amazing curves. The black and white lines on her shirt, the retro style, and her hourglass figure made it look like she just stepped out of a pin up poster from the 40s. She was about 5ft 3in which made her taller than Tee but much shorter than me.

I remember back at Dave and Busters checking off everything that was grabbing my attention. Large breasts, those lips which I think framed her smile perfectly, and a cute belly which transitioned perfectly to her hips which then curved artistically to her upper thighs.

I helped Sarah find a good place to set up her gear, gave her a tour of the area, and introduced her to the crew. Dan wasn’t shy about giving her a hug and was winking at me like an idiot all the while.

Sarah found out pretty quickly that I run the show there. I yell out that we’re hiking in 20 minutes. Get ready! Bring a beer!

I turn to Sarah and let her know that I’ve got her covered. I walk her over to my car and in the trunk there’s a cooler with ice, cups, tonic water, lime which I had cut and twisted, and Bombay Sapphire gin. She gives me an expressive “holy shit!” face and hits me with the first kiss of the day.

It was about 3pm. I get a pack together and tell Sarah to throw in everything she needs. She’s trying to sus out what kind of trouble she’s about to find herself in. Apparently she’s not much a hiker. She has a pair of black Keds on though which should do ok.

To start we enter a slot canyon that gets narrower and narrower. It forces the group together so Sarah gets to rub up against me often. She’s also chatting with my other friends there and getting a little more comfortable with them. Eventually the slot canyon is narrow enough to where we need to go single file. I tell Sarah she should probably finish her drink. Pretty soon we’re greeted by the first of several ladders that start bringing us up tiers of the canyon.

On the first ladder, I ascended before Sarah so I could help her up if she needed it. She’s doing ok! I’m impressed! It’s a short walk to the next ladder but there’s enough time for Dan to mention, loudly, that I really should let Sarah go ahead of me for “reasons.” Tee shouldered him and shook a laugh at Sarah. But that is how we went the next time! I really did try to find a sexy angle to check out but the severe lighting contrasts and her black leggings just hid any treasures in the shadows.

There’s one more short ladder and we’re at the top of a mesa carved by multiple canyons. The barrel cactuses were flowering and the creosote made the area smell like fresh rain even in the dry desert. My eyes were drinking up Sarah’s reactions to the scenery.

Eventually we headed back and started getting dinner ready at camp. I broke out another round of G&Ts for us. The fire was started as the sun started falling. It was a great vibe. Brando jammed out on the guitar. Karina sang. With one song Sarah jumped in enthusiastically! She was in my lap at that point. “Rock me mama like a wagon wheel - rock me mama anyway you feel..” I rocked her literally. She was starting to rock me figuratively.

More G&Ts. I made a pair for Dan and Tee too. Dan and I acted as smarmy as can be for a minute making the girls giggle.

A little later Sarah pulled away to talk to Tee alone. I was busy cleaning up dinner (Dutch oven bread with pizza filling) and making sure we had lights and stuff ready for when it got dark.

Tee and Sarah went over to Rob who owned the tow behind camper. I (correctly) guessed that Sarah was looking for the best place to freshen up and Tee was able to convince Rob to let Sarah use his restroom and camp shower.

Sarah came over and told me that she got the hookup and wanted to clean up real quick. The hike made her feel a little sweaty. I offered to help her grab anything she needed but she was pretty organized in her car with replacement clothes and toiletries.

So Sarah heads into the camper van. Tee goes in briefly to show her how all the knobs and such work. We’re sitting around the fire and Dan goes “so why aren’t you in the shower with her?.”

Shut up Dan. “SO WHY ARE YOU NOT IN THE SHOWER WITH HER?” Fucking Dan.

The group is paying attention now. Dan yells out towards the camper “HEY SARAH CAN RAY JOIN?” There’s laughter around the fire. Then a pause. Then a distant “Sure!” Then everyone starts cheering.

Was it the fire making my face red? Oh surely it was a sunburn from earlier. I walk over to my car to grab my night gear and fresh undies and head to the camper, occasionally looking back to everyone cheering.

My body is moving ahead with the motions but it takes my mind and emotions a moment to realize what I’m doing. The first time seeing a soon-to-be lover naked is always a thrill for me. All the butterflies. This time was no different.

Inside the camper but out of view of the shower I give a quick “Hi Sarah.”

“Hi Ray haha” comes from the shower.

“May I?” “Please do.”

I strip down around the corner of the camper shower. There’s a small door keeping the shower contained. I didn’t want water everywhere in Rob’s camper so I opened it quickly and entered quickly.

That shower was so tiny. It was surely designed for just one person at a time. Lukewarm water was immediately splashing down from above. My entire front side was immediately in contact with Sarah’s wet and warm skin. I rotated around the shower to give her more room but our relative position didn’t really change since we were locked in this square closet. She looked up at me with the biggest grin (like the one she had at the concert) and I smiled right back down to her. Beyond her face and wet hair, I could make out the top-down perspective of her shoulders and - holy fuck - amazing tits. It was a tight squeeze resulting in her breasts grazing, slicing, and pressing up against my belly (she was adorably short).

I smiled at her and joked that I was going to say “nice to see you” but I have to say “nice to feel you too.” She didn’t change her grin, she just reached up to my hair and pulled my head down into our best kiss yet. My hands went through her red hair as I leaned into her mouth.

There was so much I wanted to do in there but I also knew that there wasn’t that much water. I didn’t know the fun I was about to have when I offered to suds her up with the camp soap. My hands went to work immediately rubbing her slick skin gently. She joked “Wow I wish I had one of you for every shower!” I started with her shoulders and arms. Her underarm was ungodly smooth, and the fact that I could see her nipples harden to the strokes of my soapy palm made me hard instantly. She noticed too, “Oh hey there!” Because of the way our bodies aligned I really had to keep off-center or else my cock would have been blatenly teasing her pussy.

My hands went to her chest. I’m so turned on by now but I try my best to keep my hands and fingers to the task of washing. My soapy fingers count every fucking time her hard nipples slide under one finger and pop back up between the next. All the while I’m getting used to the full plushness and dimensions of her large chest. I wash it all, savoring cleavage, underboob, her lat muscles anchoring the sides of her breasts.

I get to her armpits and she traps my hands. “Careful, I’m ticklish.”

My hands slide from her armpits straight down to her waist. I start making wide sweeping motions and I feel like to this day I’ve never mapped a woman’s body so completely with my hands. Ass - it was so satisfying to slide my hand under her ass and lift her cheeks up and feel them fall again. Back, thighs, and with a super tight squeeze against the side of the shower I could kind of bend over enough to get most of her upper legs. Maybe she thought I was looking elsewhere but she did supplement my washing by quickly hitting her shadows. I was indeed watching and loved watching her fingers cut in and out of her outer pussy lips and between her ass cheeks. She was cleanly shaven. Completely smooth.

“We should probably be quick or we’ll run out of water.” She starts rubbing me down in earnest. She moves pretty quickly except slowing a little on my chest while she beckoned for another kiss.

She got comfortable! I think this was a hint on how things would go later. She jumped right into soaping up my cock. She playfully jerked it off a little while washing my balls and thighs. She turned me around and massaged my ass and has no qualms heading right in. Her soapy fingers slid in between my cheeks and used sweeping circles to wash all the way onto my hole and up and down my perineum. I was stunned. She diverted my attention by asked questions about how we should dry off - trying to change the subject huh? I heard Dan’s voice (didn’t catch what he said) and a wave of laughter.

After we were rinsed we turned off the shower and toweled off on the small linoleum floor outside the shower. I finally got my first good look at Sarah naked and she of me. Her skin was perfectly smooth and blemish free. It really was out of a pin-up. Her pussy lips were…appetizing.

I never felt so clean.

We got dressed into our night-wear. She had a matching black and red checkered fleece pajama top and bottom. No underwear. She was adorable. I had lightweight shorts and a thin long sleeve shirt. The desert was going to cool off eventually but would remain mild for several more hours.

We come out to cheers. Karina comes skipping over obviously blazed. (She was the quintessential youthful hippie girl. Skinny, dreds, hemp clothing, tons of accessories and jewelry, strong natural fragrances, and a ball of happiness).

I told Karina to be nice. “So how was it?” I’m surprised Dan wasn’t with Karina. They’re both mischief makers. She offered her pipe to Sarah and she took it that time. She passed it over to me and I gave it back to Karina.

We sit around the fire some more and enjoy a couple more gin and tonics. Eventually the banter and revelry goes on just like it does most camping trips, and Sarah may have been one of us. She thanked Rob profusely for letting her use his camper and gave him the first cookie. She brought a bunch of these super cookies (insomniac?) to share . Very nice of her! Karina of course asked if they were “special” cookies.

The fire was relaxing but still lit up the canyon walls around us. People waking around made spectral shadows on the hillside. I could tell that Sarah was tripping out on the stars. Her eyes were looking up about as much as they were looking around at us. I asked her to join me real quick to the side so it would be darker. I’m an astronomy nerd so I wanted to show her some shit. Big Dipper, ok now follow those two stars up and that’s the North Star.

I had a hand around her waist. “See that sideways w? Cassiopeia. Now follow that top arrow in the W that way, see kind of a curved V? Now, the top two stars on that V - look right between them. Do you see a fuzzy spot in between them? Don’t look directly at the fuzzy spot - it’s gotta stay on your peripheral vision.” Sarah said she saw it. I told her that it was the Andromeda Galaxy and she gave me that wide smiled holy shit look again. We kissed and she asked me to show her again because she lost the spot.

Shooting fucking star!

Another kiss.

Eventually we head back and things are slowing down. It’s about 1am. Tee comes over and grabs Sarah for a chat. Dan follows me as I’m getting some toiletries together. “Ray, she likes you.” I smiled and rolled my eyes knowing what he was insinuating. “I got this Dan.” I crudely stuck my tongue out to speak his language which satisfied him enough. I suspect that Dan and Tee were still working to be matchmakers tonight.

Sarah had brought her own tent which she set up next to mine. We had quite a bit of space between us and Dan and Tee’s tent and then everyone else’s. Rob let her use his camper one more time for running water to brush her teeth and potty. He told the rest of us to fuck off. I washed up as well.

Sarah came back and said she wanted to see the stars again with me and pointed to the other side of this large rock formation with a full palette of color during the day. The moon that was just coming up showed the rock formation in grey-tone, but it was just as beautiful.

I knew it was kind of dusty over there so I collected my throw quilt and a sleeping pad to sit on. I told her that was a great idea and we walked over. Holding hands too. She was cute! I was so grateful that she was feeling better. I still thought about her first showing up to the campsite and was just so thankful she was having a good time.

We’re out of view of the camping area and find this gravelly area in a slit in the canyon. The canyon walls towered above us, one face inky black in shadow, another grey in the moonlight. Directly above, the Milky Way was arcing across the sky. The air was still warm since the rocks retained a good amount of heat. I laid the quilt down, placed the pad down, and I invited Sarah to sit next to me. She did. And took off her shirt.

Sarah’s tits fell out of her soft top playfully. Her caramel areolas were perfectly symmetrical around her stiff nipples. She faced straight ahead for several seconds with her hands supporting her while she leaned backward. Then she bobbed her head towards me with that big smile. The invitation was clear. My mouth and my left hand raced to her body. I started instantly sucking on her plump top lip while I wrapped my arm around her side. My hand started on the side of her chest but slowly crept slowly underneath and onto her breast.

Her wide smile and amazing bosom had a lot of room to roam and enjoy during the make out session. Her giggles and moans of enjoyment let me know that she enjoyed my act of mapping out every angle I could have of her mouth.

The desert air was dry which lead to Sarah’s skin being smooth and slick in a different way from the shower. My hand glided over her breasts - gathering them, hugging them - my index finger and thumb finding the smoothest, driest spot on her nipple to repetitively pinch and rub.

My other hand glided just as effortlessly down her back and past her elastic waistband. My first target was her thigh which I gently squeezed to the rhythm of our kissing.

Sarah disengaged with a loud and wet pop. She grabbed the bottom of my shirt and started pulling it over. She half tacked me, giggling, while tugging my shirt over my face. With my eyes blocked she started kissing my chest.

Her hand rubbed the side of my chest - apparently she enjoyed the sensation of dry frictionless skin as well. The other hand lowered my shorts allowing my cock to bounce right out. My shirt was still partly over my eyes so I wasn’t prepared for the sensation of warm wet lips wrapping around my dick so soon.

I started to finish the job of taking my shirt off but she pushed the shirt back over my eyes, “No peeking!” After that she exploded into the hardest suck and tongue job I’ve ever received.

Her hand pressed my face firmly too. And sloppily. Maybe she was still tipsy from drinking and smoking. She slid her hand around making the shirt fall off but her hand was still trying to cover my eyes. Any fingers that happened to cross my mouth bent and went in. Her other hand tugged my shorts all the way off. By this time I could see past her hand fingering my mouth and saw her face rising and falling over me.

She pulled my cock out of her mouth with a moonlit trail of spit and flipped onto her back on the sleeping pad. I was just about to start pulling her pants down to pleasure her when she whispered “I want you to stand over me and fuck my face.”

The request made my mind pause for a second but my body started moving to satisfy her request. I stood up, bent over to land a kiss on her lips, and started to figure out the logistics of what she wanted. She moaned and giggled throughout this transition. Her hands push (shove?) my face away and and then motion my knees next to her shoulders. Before I could overthink it she had me perfectly moulded to exactly what she wanted. My knees bracketed her breasts which were spilling sideways. I was going to gingerly lower my cock into her mouth but she was, again, ahead of me. Her hands jerked my pelvic floor directly downward to her face. With her mouth wide open, she pushed me backward so that my sac fell into her mouth. She maintained that motion and let them reemerge as my shaft passed over her lips. She let it travel all the way before stopping to allow the tip to enter her mouth. “Fuck my mouth!”

And so I did. Starting slowly I thrusted into her mouth. The angle of my cock was bent down and almost backwards with the position and I could see the soft skin under her jaw bulging with each press. I leaned forward and supported my weight with my hands placed by her waist. That allowed my cock to travel deeper into her mouth without hitting her jaw and allowed me to fuck that pretty face a little faster. I started to feel the onset of an orgasm pretty quickly.

Her hands just kept handling me. She grabbed me by my ass cheeks and lifted a little which I took as her wanting me to get up. I straightened my torso over her which popped my cock out of her mouth. She grabbed me again and lowered me to her mouth. Her tongue was buried deep in my sac. One hand wrapped around and jerked me off while she started pushing me the opposite direction from before. Her tongue was now teasingly close to my ass. Her other hand grabbed my ass cheek and I could feel her gripping thumb only a hairs width away from my center of gravity.

I was in a fog of both panic and ecstasy. What the fuck was she doing? Fuck do that more. Oh no. Oh yes. Her tongue was pressing wider and wider swaths around my balls and up the bottom of my shaft and then, without any ceremony, right across my ass. She danced around and near it most of the time but it was noticeably pinged several times. (I would ask her about this later and she swore that she wasn’t rimming me - maybe she was just in a haze herself). She put my cock back in her mouth and worked the tip specifically this time. One hand started to stroke the base of my wet cock and the other was still reasserting its grip on my ass.

I told her that I was going to cum soon in case she wanted to back down or change course but she doubled her tongue-flicking on my dick. She mumbled a wet and muffled “fuck me” while dropping my full shaft back into her mouth.

I remember looking down her cleavage to her cute navel and to her soft and cozy pajama pants when I started moaning at the onset of my orgasm. My penetration slowed while I felt my cock throbbing in an ever deepening pool filling her mouth. She pushed me firmly backward to signal that I needed to get off of her face at that point.

To this day, one of the most sexually explicit images seared into my mind was the moonlight shining on her squirming and smiling face as her arms fell flat to her side as a gush of cum slowly erupted above her lips and slid down her cheeks.

The scene looked very film noir.

Sarah shifted her weight so that she was facing me again. She shimmied up to my dick and finished draining it. I had a lot of love to share in that moment. Usually loud and crass she whispered in the most gentle way, “kiss me? Only if you want.”

I wanted to. I smiled and nodded. I’ve kissed after oral many times before and didn’t mind our tastes. Again, Sarah pushed me farther than I was expecting, but not necessarily not wanting, to go. She kissed with same vigor as before right from the onset. It was wet and slick. Extra slick. Her spit was thick with love and she had no reservations about spreading the love all around and all inside my face.

I felt dirty. I felt good.

Sarah checked in on me sweetly. I was used to being the one checking in on her! She said that she fucking loved that. I was pretty straightforward with her, telling her I was fucking impressed with her energy!

We hugged and started making attempts to clean ourselves up. In the distance I hear someone joke “must be the coyotes!” And some laughter.

I start rubbing her back and make eyes like it’s time for me reciprocate. I was so eager to return the love. Sarah instead asked to get up and get into the tent. She was getting cold.

We rounded the corner, grabbed some water and gear, and jumped into her tent (which was bigger than mine). We got naked and started to spoon with her behind me. She was so warm. I was working on ways to get the focus on her but she wanted to spoon some more. She said that she loved it. After some pillow talk she said that she wanted to fuck me baaad. Sarah took that moment to feel me get hard again.

Then she said that her sunset was a little extra red tonight. I was tired? Horny? Dense? Unappreciative of the sunset earlier? Either way I didn’t get it at first.

She had to spell it out. Her flow started hot and heavy. She told me that she actually cried a little talking to Tee about it. Tee told her to make a move and do whatever makes her feel hot. Tee also told her that she should be a little assertive with me and that she’ll make sure no one fucks with us. Oh Tee!

I let Sarah hold onto me as we fell asleep.

Epilogue:

She wanted to go down on me again the next morning which was great! I wanted to do something else for her so I gave her a killer back massage while naked. Camp dispersed that day and everyone said their goodbyes to Sarah, especially Tee ( I think they exchanged numbers too).

Two weeks later I drove into LA and we ate out for dinner. We also ate out at her house 😉. Don’t worry, we indeed fucked. But that’s another story!

TW for grief

Dead eyes. A great flash the color of time running out. The heat death of the universe. I fly without wings. I breathe, scream and cry without air, sound or tears. 
A shape is moving towards me. It doesn’t have a mouth, but it is baring its teeth. It doesn't have claws, but I know it wants to slash at my stomach, steal my insides. And so insideless I close my eyes and die. 
There is a dog on my lap, and these are his last moments. I cry and this time there are tears, infinite tears. Too many tears, and not enough words. If I can just say the right words I know he will understand how I feel, but I fail to say them. I fail to say any words at all. He is going to die without ever knowing that I love him.
(Babe?)
It is her. She is standing with her hand on
(You okay?)
the doorknob, and I know what she is thinking. Maybe she would be better off outside. She twists the knob and I want to scream, shriek, beg, but, once again, I am insideless.
Sweetie, wake up. 
I open my eyes without a sound. I don’t gasp for air or cry out in fear. There’s no sweat beading on my forehead nor a feeling of fight or flight. There’s only the cold, and an emptiness so complete that I wish it was filled with fear. 
Then, her hand on my back. Warmth, comfort. You okay?
I nod. I want to tell her I’m fine, go back to sleep, but I’m afraid she’d actually do it.
She snuggles up closer. Her chest presses against my back, and I feel her breath on the back of my neck. 
I’m here. I’m here.
That’s all I need to know. My heart settles and the world clicks back into focus. I notice the soft pitter-patter of summer rain on the bedroom window, the faltering hum of the ancient fan we leave on at night.
Bad dream? Her voice is worried.
Yeah. I turn around to face her. A few. 
Want to talk about them? 
No. Can I hold you?
I think I see her nod, but she’s already turning away so I can spoon her.
I put one arm under her pillow and wrap the other around her chest. She places her hand on mine. The heat from her naked body is unbearable in the already scorching haze of the bedroom, but I’d rather die than let that heat go. 
I scooch closer, trying to get as much skin contact as possible. She laughs softly.
What?
I can feel you on my butt. 
How did that happen?
I thought you were having a bad dream. 
I was. But I guess you made it better. 
She squeezes my hand, kisses it. Do you think this might still be a dream?
The thought terrifies me. I can’t bear the idea that this moment might be taken away. 
I think there’s a pretty easy way to figure out if this is a dream or not. I feel her hand on me, stroking gently with her fingers. 
My body quivers. Shouldn’t we get some sleep? 
I’m totally awake now. Aren’t you?
She’s right. I couldn’t go back to sleep if I wanted to.
Her touch is soft and teasing. She knows how to move her fingers just right, despite the awkward way her arm is bent back to reach me.
Want me to move over so you can reach easier?
She squeezes just tight enough to tell me I’m not going anywhere. 
I like you spooning me. 
Knowing that she wants me close just makes my desire grow. I know that she notices because her caressing turns to stroking.
I never meant to bite her shoulder as hard as I do, but I know from her moan that she doesn’t mind. I apologize anyway. 
She takes my hand and moves it to her breast and I can’t help grieving even the momentary loss of her sweet, electrifying touch. Her nipple stiffens at my fingertips and she arches her back, pressing my cock harder against her soft flesh. I trace the shape of her areola, and her hand’s movements become jerkier with the distraction. 
The sounds of her quickening breath and occasional whimpering fill my ears and in that moment they are all I want in life. 
Without letting go I kiss her earlobe, her neck, her back. I explore her body as far as my lips can go without uncoupling us from our puzzle-piece embrace. 
I want you in me. 
I start to reach for the nightstand, but she stops me and guides my hand to show that lube won’t be necessary. We’re already connected before I’ve realized that my body moved to enter her. 
I feel her shuddering. Or is it me? That’s the beauty of becoming one in the darkness. Motions and sensations clash, blend together and build on each other until their points of origin become an unknowable afterthought. 
Can I move?
Please. 
I wrap my arms around her and move my hips in a slow, wide arc, focused on reaching as deep as possible. She grabs my ass and digs her nails into my skin, compelling me to come closer even as it feels like there is no more room for me. 
There’s a moan in the air and I think it’s hers until I remember she’s been biting onto my wrist from the moment my cock started moving inside her. 
She rocks her ass against me, moaning through her teeth before gasping for air and begging: faster.
I roll her onto her stomach and do as I’m asked. What little I can see of her gorgeous tall back is slick with sweat, and she’s grabbing the bedsheets in a trembling, vise-like grip. I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek as fuck into her from behind. 
I love you. 
The bedroom is one big cloud of heat and sweat and moans and all I want is to float in this cloud with her all night long. 
Cum in me. Please.
Are you sure?
More than anything. 
It happens before I can even think to hold back. I hold onto her as I manage one last spasming thrust and collapse onto her orgasm-coiled body. 
Our breaths intertwine and disseminate into the tropical air of the bedroom. We’re a pile of limp, tired muscle and sweat and heatstroke. 
Still think this might be a dream? 
She turns her head to kiss me. I kiss her back. 
I sure hope not. 
We close our eyes. Eventually I can’t be inside her. Eventually, the air is so scorching hot and heavy that we can’t bear to touch except the tips of our fingers. But I know we’ll never be apart. And then there are falling orange leaves. There is a pair of tracks in the snow. There is the smell of freshly baked bread. There is a sink with no dishes in it. There is a song on the radio that I haven’t heard in years. There is dream and memory and hope coming together in the dark. There is sublime, unagitated sleep.

​

Based on Image 1

Living in a haunted house has its challenges for sure. I couldn't tell you how many times one of the ghosts has hidden Percival's head somewhere, and I've had to help find it. Even worse was the time they left his head on the dining room table and hid his body though. I'm not sure I've looked at the freezer the same way since.

That's just them messing around. If you were facing eternity stuck inside the same four walls, you'd probably get some strange ideas about what counts as funny too.

I didn't know anything about them when I moved in. Sure, there were stories. Gossip really. People making up rumours to explain why nobody lived there for long. It's easy to ignore that sort of thing when you can rent the whole house for the same price as a studio. A spare bedroom waiting to be turned into a crafting space, or library, or anything I wanted, was easily enough to turn my head.

I expected the draughty windows and noisy pipework. That sort of thing comes with the territory. Old houses have character. Which is code for ‘problems nobody can afford to fix’. You adjust. Maybe you put an extra duvet on the bed, turn up the TV one more step, sleep with earplugs in.

In their defence, the ghosts gave me a few days to settle in. Maybe because I was a novelty to them, a break from the dull monotony of their after-lives. That didn't last forever though.

At first, I think they were just testing me to see what I'd do. It was little things at first. Phantom footsteps in the attic. Turning the light back on when I left a room. Moving my keys from the bowl I kept them in. Maybe they thought I'd be frightened or annoyed. I doubt they expected indifference.

All those “spooky” noises? That's what old houses do. Wood expands and shrinks with temperature and humidity. Old plumbing rattles, squeaks and gurgles. As for the rest? Well my memory isn't the best. I can forget what I've done a minute after doing it. “Scatter-brained” my mother calls me.

That reaction was probably the best way I could have handled it. The ghosts mostly went back to playing tricks on each other, and I continued my life oblivious to their presence. That would be the end of my story if not for what happened two months later.

I'd met this guy at a speed dating thing. Not my idea, and so not my thing. My mother had half an eye on the prospect of grandchildren in the future and nudged me into going. By signing me up, then nagging at me until I agreed just to shut her up.

Dale seemed charming enough. He asked the right questions, listened when I answered. No excuses, I was feeling a bit lonely, and he met a very low bar.

We exchanged numbers at the end of the event, and then I didn't hear from him for three days. I'd nearly forgotten about him when he called.

He said he was sorry for not calling me earlier. Said he was busy with work and didn’t want to look too keen. I suppose it was plausible, not that I thought he owed me an apology. Then Dale asked me out on a date. Right then, that evening. Maybe I was a bit too quick to say yes, but it had been a minute, and it was only a date.

Our night went OK. Not good, but good enough. He wasn’t hideous to look at, he didn’t smell, he laughed at some of my jokes and he wasn’t too pushy. Call me the queen of low standards, but when he dropped me off back home, I invited him in.

That’s when the night took a turn. As soon as he sat down next to me, he started looking around nervously. One corner of the room, then the other. Not really looking at me at all. After a couple of minutes, he seemed to settle down and poured us each a glass of wine.

And spilt it in my lap. It was only a few drops, but that didn’t stop it being annoying. It was one of my favourite dresses, one of the few I thought I looked almost cute in. I could see a long session with the stain remover in my near future.

I persevered, though. I’d spent the last couple of hours thinking my bed might finally see some action that didn’t involve batteries or silicone, so it would take more than a little spillage to put me off.

He took a sip, and the glass seemed to jerk in his hand, splashing wine into his face and dripping down his shirt. Dale got this wild look in his eyes and mumbled something incoherent. I tried to direct him to the bathroom so he could clean up – and take his shirt off – but I was talking to his back as he fled for the front door.

As it slammed behind him, I sighed out loud. “Why? Why do these things happen to me?”

To my surprise, a voice answered. Young. Female. With a very precise accent. “We didn’t like him.”

A strange voice talking to me in a supposedly empty house? I should have been scared. Maybe I would have been if I wasn’t so furious. My dress was ruined, my date had abandoned me, and my plans of getting laid were in tatters. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” I called out.

A woman’s face peered through the doorway into the hall. She was hazy and indistinct, like an out of focus photograph. Her voice was defiant. “Actually, it’s OUR house. You just live here.”

As she stepped – well glided I suppose – through the door, I saw her clearer. She was maybe in her twenties and had this faint greenish glow. Not just her skin, her clothes and hair – everything – had that same dim light. She was also vaguely transparent.

I knew what I was seeing. I didn’t believe it, but I still knew. I took a big gulp of my wine. So ghosts were real apparently, and I was talking to one. I was calm. If you’ll forgive the pun, supernaturally calm. My anger had vanished, replaced by a sense of resignation. My life had been going pretty well lately, so of course the universe had to do something to spoil it. If there had to be ghosts to do that, then ghosts were real. “Who are you?” I asked.

She ignored the question. “Did you know he’s married?”

Of course he was. Even when I scraped the bottom of the barrel, I still couldn’t find a man who was single. Apparently. That still didn’t make it OK that she had scared him off, but it was a small crumb of comfort that I could cling to. I shook my head. “No, I didn’t know that.”

The ghost seemed to be happy with that answer. She floated closer, drifting through the sofa, then sitting on it beside me. My mind fixated on that impossibility. If she was solid, how did she walk through the furniture? If she wasn’t solid, what was she sitting on?

Strange how that happens. The big questions were too big for me to grasp, so I got stuck on a smaller one.

“I’m Abigail,” the ghost said. “and he was not a nice man. You can do better.”

I had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. My night had been ruined, my understanding of the way the world worked had been shaken to its core, and now I was getting relationship advice from a dead woman.

My wine glass had emptied itself, as if by magic. I refilled it and took another big swallow. That helped. Well not really, but I could pretend it did, and THAT helped. “If I could do better, don’t you think I would?” I said bitterly.

Abigail had no answer to that and left me to my misery.

***

I saw her more frequently after that. Hovering quietly in the corner of the kitchen while I cooked, floating out through a wall when I entered a room. I wondered how many times I might have seen her before without realising it, dismissing her as a trick of the light or an odd reflection. I got used to her presence.

Our friendship grew slowly, starting with a polite “hello” or “good morning” when I saw her, developing gradually into full-length conversations. It was during one of those that I brought up something that had been bugging me. “On that first night I saw you. When you scared that cheat away… you said ‘we didn’t like him’. Who’s ‘we’?”

Abbie hesitated for a second or two – did you know ghosts can blush? – then spilt the beans.

Apart from her, there was Sasha, who died some time in the 1960s, Jerry, who was completely mad but harmless, and Percival. Percival was an odd case. He wasn’t technically a resident. He just spent a lot of his time there.

Then there was also an assortment of spirits. Apparently, that’s a completely different thing to a ghost. Ghosts have a personality, while spirits are creatures of pure instinct. That’s how Abbie described them anyway. They’re the ones responsible for most of the pranks played on me when I moved in – and the ones on poor headless Percival.

Time passed, and life went on. I gradually got to know the other ghosts and even recognise some of the spirits, but Abbie was always ‘my’ ghost. She was the one I spent the most time with, and the only one I had proper conversations with.

This night, I was sitting on an armchair with a book while Abbie read over my shoulder. It had become something of a hobby for us, and she wouldn't scold me and make me go back if I read ahead.

It was a low-effort romance story. Our heroine had just met the male lead and returned home with lustful thoughts. The action continued predictably enough.

I heard Abbie gasp in my ear. “They can't write things like that!”

“What,” I asked. Aren't women allowed to think about sex?” I already knew she was a bit of a prude. That might be why I'd chosen this particular book.

“Think about it, certainly. But to write about them doing that to themselves? It's immoral!”

I gently closed the book. It was time for the big talk. “I know you've watched. When I'm in bed at night.”

Of course I'd seen her. She glows in the dark. It was pretty exciting actually, like showing off but not. I didn't even have to do anything different. Just pretend I didn't know she was there watching every thrust of my dildo, hearing every moan.

To her credit, she didn't deny it. “I was curious. We didn't do that sort of thing in my day. We didn't even know about it to not do it.”

I was floored. “You mean you never…?” I couldn't even finish the sentence.

“Of course not. And then I saw you with those… those contraptions. How could I not watch?”

I hit on an obvious solution. “Ok so you didn't then. What's stopping you from trying it out now?”

Abbie looked miserable, almost on the point of tears. “I've thought about it, of course I have. But I don't actually have a body. If I touch myself,” she pinched her arm to demonstrate, “I feel nothing.”

Now I felt bad for her. I summoned up a tiny spark of courage. “What if I touched you?” I asked.

Abbie let out a single harsh bray of laughter. “Try it.” She held her arm out in front of me.

Tentatively, I reached out my hand. Her skin dissolved into streamers of smoke where I passed, reforming again behind me. “See? It's quite hopeless."

“There is a way.” Percival spoke from the doorway, his head hanging loosely by the hair from one hand. How long had he been standing there eavesdropping?

Abbie shot him a look that would have killed him if he wasn't already dead. “No.”

Percival shrugged. Which looks very odd without a head.

I looked back and forth between the two. “Why not? I asked Abbie.

“It's too personal. Too… intimate”

It was my turn to laugh. “And watching me get myself off isn't personal and intimate?”

Abbie had the grace to look ashamed. I turned to Percival. “So what is it?”

He spoke one word in reply before leaving to wherever it was he went. “Possession.”

***

I spent two fruitless frustrating days on the Internet trying to research possession. What it actually was, how it worked, and what you needed to do. Everyone seemed to have their own pet theories. That's all they were, though. Theories.

In the end, I think Abbie realised I wouldn't stop looking, so she told me. Maybe she thought hearing the details would put me off.

“To put it simply, my essence would enter your body. What you felt, I would feel. It’s like when there are two of you on a horse. The rider is in control, but you both feel the motion.

“But it's more than that. I would feel all your thoughts, I could see all your memories, every secret, every dark idea in the deepest depths of your mind.”

I had a quick flashback through my lowlights reel. I had my fair share of those. Times I'd embarrassed myself, times I wasn't proud of. Things I wouldn't want to share with anyone, much less a friend.

But I did see Abbie as a friend. And as a friend, knowing she had never felt the bliss of an orgasm, did I have the right to deny her that opportunity? I thought about it carefully, trying to weigh it up from all angles. I reached a decision. “I'll do it”

I saw a glimmer of excitement on her face before she ruthlessly crushed it down. “No, I won't,” she said. “You don't know what you're offering.”

I hadn't expected that I'd need to persuade her, but once my mind is made up, I don't change it easily. “You're telling me you don't want to know what it feels like when I do this?” I asked, running my fingers across my nipples and bringing them to hard points beneath my shirt. I'm not above a spot of cheating, so I may have moaned a little more dramatically than it deserved.

“I do, but…” I could see she was wavering.

“Can you imagine how good this feels?” I dragged my fingers down, starting at my throat, going between my brests, over my stomach.

I didn't even reach my waistband before she broke. “Where?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“My bedroom” I said decisively, leading the way before she could change her mind.

“You'll want to lay down,” Abbie told me. “You might feel dizzy at first.”

“In that case, maybe I should undress too?” I asked.

Abbie nodded but didn't seem too certain. “Maybe… maybe that's best.”

It felt weirdly stripping with her right there in front of me. I mean, she'd seen me naked before - seen a whole lot more than that - but this time there was no pretending, no hiding.

I unsnapped my bra and let it fall off my arms. I didn't look at her, but I could feel her eyes on me, staring at my breasts. My nipples tingled as if her gaze had a physical presence. I didn't give myself time to have second thoughts. I tugged my underwear down and lay flat and rigid on the bed.

I saw Abbie hovering above me. “Close your eyes and relax,” she murmured. “It will be easier.”

I followed her instructions, and moments later, I felt a sudden chill run through my body. I shivered, but the coldness quickly faded, replaced by something that's hard to describe. A fullness, but not in the physical sense. Like there was too much *me* for my body.

“Oh! It's been so long!” I heard Abbie exclaim, but her voice bypassed my ears. It was more like I was thinking her words.

I opened my eyes. Nothing but the ceiling above me. I looked around. The room was empty. Finally, I braced myself and looked down at my naked body. Everything seemed normal.

“You can't see me. I'm part of you now.” Abbie's voice in my head was softly reassuring.

I wasn't sure how communication worked with her possessing me. “Is this OK?” I asked. “Are you OK?”

Abbie giggled. “Much better than OK. I can feel how excited you are, and you haven't *touched* yourself yet!”

Ah right. That was the whole point of us doing this, wasn't it? I brushed a palm across one hard nipple. Abbie's delighted “Ooh!” was immediate.

I thought it was a bit of an over-reaction. I mean, it felt nice, but really? I upped the ante, cupping both breasts and letting my thumbs loose to circle my nipples.”Wow! Oh! Oh! Wow!” Abbie's moans were almost deafening.

I found myself chuckling. If she liked that so much, when I really got started it would blow her mind.

“Show me! Please, show me” she pleaded.

“Can you read my mind?” I thought.

“Not…exactly,” she answered. “It's more like I think the words when you do.”

“Well see what you think about this, then.” I replied. I sent my hand down between my thighs and flicked a finger over my clit.

“Aaah fuck!” It was the first time I'd heard the normally so proper Abbie swear.

It felt pretty good to me too, but Abbie's response took it to a whole new level. I tried again, and she was just as vocal as the first time. “Oooh yes! Do that more, please?”

I turned it into a little game, to see how loud I could make her get. Abbie of course heard the thought as I had it, which just made it more challenging, and even more fun.

I used all the tricks I'd learnt over the years of playing with myself. Everything I knew I liked. The gentle, almost teasing strokes over my lips. Hard, tightly-focused circles around my clit. Spreading myself wider with one hand and tickling with the other. Even the light, playful slaps I gave my pussy with the flat of my hand.

I could sense Abbie bracing herself each time, knowing what was coming and trying not to cry out in pleasure… and failing deliciously each time.

I was so engrossed in teasing the ghost within me, I didn't feel my orgasm building until it was almost too late. I pulled my hand away with a gasp of frustrated desire.

Abbie moaned within my head. “Aaah! What did you stop for? That felt so goo… oh”

She'd read my thoughts again. I got the sense that she was both nervous and excited by the idea. I pulled my dildo from the bedside drawer. Eight inches of realistically veined rubber. “I can go back to my fingers if you want. Or I can use this?” I spoke out loud, making it clear the choice was hers.

I waited. It was probably only a second, though it felt much longer. “I… use it. Please?” Abbie's voice in my mind sounded timid, but hungry. A hunger that I shared.

I positioned the dildo at my entrance and pushed gently, feeling myself stretching to accommodate it, feeling each of those thick veins as they ran over my inside walls. Abbie's voice was one long drawn-out moan of pleasure and mine joined hers.

I thrust slowly at first, taking each of those eight inches into myself and just as slowly pulling back out to the tip again. Moving slightly faster with each thrust until I was driving it in as hard as I could, my hips lifting from the bed as if I tried to take it deeper still.

I could no longer tell my moans apart from Abbie's. We were one, united in a common ecstasy, both of us striving towards the same goal. My hand dropped to my clit, rubbing furiously, feeling the orgasm building, building. We screamed in unison as the orgasm hit.

I lay naked on my bed drenched in sweat with the dildo lying forgotten between my thighs. I could still feel Abbie inside me. Still hear her. She was weeping and laughing at the same time, but all I felt from her was an overwhelming sense of joy.

I gave her some time to recover, basking in my own post-orgasmic glow. “That… that was…” she didn't finish the sentence, but she didn't need to. I felt it with her and agreed.

I felt a wave of sadness come over her. “I don't want to leave. Knowing *that* is here, how can I go back?”

Her reluctance didn't surprise me. I'd known there was a reason most of my research had centred on ending a possession. Why would a ghost give up a body they had been invited into? Fortunately, I was prepared.

“If you stay, I promise you I will never do it again.” It would be a heavy sacrifice for sure, but one I was willing to make. A temporary guest was one thing, but I had no intention of making the arrangement permanent. “But if you leave, we can make a deal. Say once a year?”

“Every month?” Abbie countered hopefully.

“Every three months. Final offer. And to sweeten the deal, maybe next time I'll use some of my other toys.”

I felt the moment she withdrew from my body like weight lifting from within. Her body formed on the bed beside me, naked now as I was. A blissful smile split her ghostly face. “Deal.”