I used the big brass door knockers on the impressive oak front doors.
After a short pause there was a rustling sound from the other side,
someone fumbling with the knob no doubt. As the door mysteriously
pulled back away from me, a grand foyer was slowly revealed. Surprised
that there was no one to greet me, I was a little unsure of what
etiquette dictated under these circumstances. Deciding that the door
had indeed opened for a reason, I hesitantly stepped inside the stately
home.
I detected a light “clinking” sound as the door began to close behind
me as soon as I had cleared it’s path. I hopped back, out of the way. I
couldn’t help but think that something was not right here! It took just
a moment before I discovered the cause for my uneasiness. A burning wave
of adrenalin rolled down my spine as it became apparent what was
powering the mysterious door. I tried to take it all in, to be as
observant as my vocation demanded, but my cognition was disjointed and
slow in coming.
A girl. She was small, about 5′4″, not much more then 100 pounds. In
her early twenties I surmised. She pushed at the door awkwardly with
her back and bottom, walking backwards. Her hands seemingly held the
door latch which appeared to be pressing into the small of her back.
She didn’t even look up at me as she concentrated on carefully shutting
the door. My mind continued to reel as more observations became
apparent. She was blonde, her hair pulled back into a concealed French
braid. I decided she was dressed somewhat distinctively. She wore a
slim beige skirt that just brushed the top of her knees. A dark green
wool sweater with a V-neck snugly hugged her distinctly feminine
features. The outfit seemed to have a uniform-ish quality to it because
a white shirt and a bright red, man’s style necktie peeked out from
under the sweater. Some of the smaller details emerged in the seconds
that it took for her to close the door. Her white shirt had the those
little tabs on the collar, buttoned tightly under her tie knot. These
tabs caused her tie to stand out a bit more prominently and made the
collar form fit snugly around her supple neck. A small brass name plate
was pinned to her sweater, on her left breast. I couldn’t read it at that
moment. The door thumped closed.
My mind had tried to deny the obvious, I was sure that it was playing
tricks on me, as it surly had from the second the door had opened. It
couldn’t be, but as this strange girl looked up into my face and our
eyes met for the first time, there could be no question, no mistake.
Her big blue eyes gleamed up at me, over the tape. White tape, lots of
white tape covered her mouth. She was gagged. Her hands remained behind
her back as she stepped towards me. A thin chain rustled between her
dainty ankles as she approached with an unmistakable high heeled grace.
Suddenly fear took over my senses. Who could have done this to this
poor girl? Were there criminals in the house who had cruelly bound and
gagged this poor waif? Were they, even now, planning unspeakable things
to do to her? I looked back into her eyes. Why didn’t she appear
frightened? She seemed a bit surprised to see me, but her eyes sparkled
with such expression… There was such a unmistakable aura of
friendliness, of welcome, that I was inexplicably at ease once again.
My eyes were drawn back downward to her mouth. Or rather, the tape
covering her mouth. It was made up of four or five pieces of white
adhesive tape that crisscrossed and covered her entire lower face, from
just under her nose to the tip of her chin. Her chin seemed unnaturally
long before I realized that under the tape her mouth was stretched wide
open. Two wide, black leather straps passed around to the back of her
head giving a clue as to the reason for her open mouth. They exited
from underneath the tape where it ended just to the front of her ears.
Feeling stupid for not noticing it before, I realized that there was
writing on the tape. Upon examining it more closely, I discerned it was
written in flowing, feminine script. It said simply:
“Welcome to the Sumpter home. May I take your coat?”
The writing on the tape reminded me of the of the nameplate on this
mysterious girl’s chest, perhaps that could give me a clue. I glanced
down at it. Etched cleanly in the brass in large block letters was:
“Yvette” and under the name, in smaller scroll print: “Slave”
I suppose that it was natural, but my eyes wandered from the name plate
to the sweet line of the breast that it was pined to. These beautiful
breasts stirred ever so slightly on each breath she took, rising and
falling, stretching and pulling the supple wool embrace of her sweater.
I felt my face flush when I realized that my eyes had lingered a moment
too long on one of her more personal attributes. When I glanced up into
those mysterious eyes once again, I was amazed because her expression
indicated a coy pleasure in my admiration, rather then the almost
universal look of disdain that I was accustom to. She looked at me
steadily for a long moment and then leaned forward, pushing her chin
slightly out to me. My first thought was that she wanted to kiss me,
(Silly me… :^) but her eyes turned casually up and away, she was
attempting to make the writing on her lips more evident. It seemed almost
as if she was speaking the words on the tape. As I looked on dumbly she
turned her back to me and bent forward, raising her pinioned wrists to me.
She wore handcuffs.
Now, although I would never have claimed to be an expert at such
things, I had seen handcuffs before. I’d even worn them once or twice
in my rowdier days. The cuffs I had seen were different then the ones
that adorned her dainty wrists. I was accustomed to a chain between the
cuffs. Short, stout, unyielding, but a chain. These cuffs had no chain.
The two cuffs were linked directly at their base by a hinge type of
contrivance. Her wrists were held parallel to each other with only a
slight “V”ish in-out movement possible. Escape seemed impossible.
Indeed, it was impossible.
An amused voice broke the silence. I had no idea Joan Sumpter had
been watching. “She wants to take your coat, you know?” Joan said as she
approached, smiling. “I did say that you should leave your inhibitions
at home. Now didn’t I?” I was on auto-pilot as I shrugged off my coat and
dropped it over the outstretched arms along with my scarf. The girl
turned back around to face me, keeping her arms raised as high as she
could so my coat would not drag on the floor. Her shoulders were back
and her chest out straining the limitations of her sweater. Joan
sauntered up behind the girl and casually put her arm around her
shoulders. As Joan nonchalantly played with the girl’s clothing,
picking imaginary lint from her sweater and casually adjusting the
dimple in her necktie, she began to explain their unique relationship.

To be continued…

Joan explained that she and her husband enjoyed keeping several such
“domestics”. Each from a various backround, the servants came to their
employment with various objectives. Yvette, for example was a student.
She was studying dramatic arts at a nearby collage. The Sumpters
provided her with her tuition, room and board and enough time off every
weekday to attend class. All those benefits in exchange for absolute,
unquestioning, frequently bound’n'gagged servitude the remainder of the
time. Yvette listened patiently to this exposition and when Joan was
done, looked up at me and shrugged her shoulders as if to say “Would
you pass up a deal like that?” Joan chuckled and then continued on
telling me how Yvette ultimately did enjoy all these trappings. Yvette
tossed her head back haughtily and then humphed airily. “Who me?” Joan
said, clarifying Yvette’s little pantomime. Joan leaned forward and gave
Yvette a kiss on the cheek then shooed her off with a swat on the bum
and an order to have herself “fixed up” so she could help serve the
hors d’oeuvres. As Yvette tried to squeeze between us she brushed
against me, her breasts lightly touching my arm. After Yvette departed,
Joan went on to explain that all of her “Helpers” were with her for
different reasons, but, that they all shared their one common interest.
“If you catch my meaning…” she said. It was difficult not to.
I followed Joan down a hallway as she graciously elaborated on what I
was about to observe. She had kept “Pets” as she put it, for many years.
She had always loved being a boss, in total control. Domineering as it
were. Before she had met and fell in love with her husband, she had
assumed that she would go through life like that. Once they were
married she had tried to forget what she had become accustom to, to
deny it. She tried to put it behind her, and concentrate on their 50-50
relationship, but it just didn’t seem to work out. “Besides,” she said
with a smile, “I’m not a very good housekeeper.” So after several
unhappy months she confessed her desires to her husband. At first, she
said, he was reluctant, but grudgingly accepted a trial run. “After a
while, the idea did seem to grow on him.” She said that as she got to
know me she began to get the impression that I might enjoy her little
diversions. As she was trying to think of a way to thank me for all I
had done, it became more and more apparent to her that this would be a
perfect show of thanks. Certainly better then a case of scotch. I just
wasn’t sure I was up to all this…
We entered a large living room. I glanced around at the formal room
and the guests who chatted pleasantly. Two men and a woman were seated
on two couches. Another girl, statuesque and strong stood nearby. As
Joan and I entered the room the tall girl hurried over to us as fast as
her hobbled stride would carry her. This girl wore a maid’s uniform,
stylized to say the least. The frilly trim on the edges of black satin
uniform was a joy to behold. Lace circled the hem of the ballooning
skirt and starched petticoats peeked out from underneath. A gigantic
white apron edged in ruffles ran from her hem to her shoulders but left
exposed the plunging neckline of her dress. The apron was tied in back
with a big stiff bow. The girl’s ample bosom threatened to spill out of
the front of her uniform at any moment. Around her neck was a tight,
stiff, starched white collar and a floppy red bow tie. The back of her
collar seemed to go down under the back of her dress. There was a brass
name-tag pinned on her apron and I read it as she approached. It said:
“BABETTE Slave”
It was then that Joan explained how Babette had been one of her
biggest challenges. Joan turned to reach down onto a nearby coffee
table and picked up a small, aged, photograph in a frame and showed it
to me. The picture was of a biker woman, leather jacket, torn jeans,
boots, the works. Joan explained that Babette had come to her with a
dilemma: she just wasn’t happy with the way her life was going and she
wanted to make a little change. Joan said she had been eager to help
this lost girl, although perhaps the change was a little more drastic
then Babette originally bargained on. “Babette here, hadn’t even worn a
skirt in over 14 years.” Joan said as she carefully placed the photo
back on to the coffee table. “She came in jeans and work boots one day
and was wearing petticoats and 5 inch heels the next.” I glanced down
at the black patent ankle strap pumps that were locked on her feet and
they seemed to be even higher then that! A red rubber ball was wedged
tightly in her mouth secured with a black leather strap. Even that
strap was trimmed with pretty white lace.
Babette offered me an hors d’oeuvre from the odd tray she was
carrying. The tray was attached to two curved bars that were in turn
attached to pivots, one on either hip. These pivots were anchored to a
hard looking belt, buckled around her waist. The two bars continued up
behind her where they came together into a handle of sorts. The handle
just hung in the air at the moment. I took one of the hors d’oeuvres to
be polite and then Joan motioned her away. As Babette turned I was
surprised to see that she had no arms, or rather, her dress had no
armholes or sleeves. After my little meeting with Yvette, I had assumed
that her arms had been tied somehow behind her, but I had been slightly
mistaken. There was a bulge in the back of her dress and it appeared
that her arms were somehow folded behind her and her dress was then
pulled up over her arms to her shoulders. There were lace patches where
there could have been arm holes, but they were only decorative.
Joan graciously offered me a drink, and by this point I really needed
one. So we went up to the bar. My final surprise was there. Clarette. A
buxom little brunette, she was dressed almost identically with Yvette,
the only difference was that she had a blue pullover sweater vest in
place of the long sleeve sweater Yvette wore. Clarette stood at
attention behind the bar as we approached. A light chain was visible
running from an unseen spot behind her up to the ceiling where it was
securely anchored to a metal ring directly above her head. As she
turned to face us, the inscription on her tape covered lips became
apparent: “Your Pleasure?” “Scotch on the rocks.” I replied because I
really wanted it by then. Clarette pivoted on her high heels and
reached awkwardly for a glass. The chain in the ceiling ran to a
leather strap that pinned her elbows together behind her back. A thin
chain ran from one wrist cuff to the other across the front of her
belly With effort, she was able to reach the glass with her fettered
hand and set it in front of me. She carefully filled the glass with ice
as I marveled at her bound dexterity. Finally with a twist of her wrist
the glass filled with scotch. It may have taken a few moments, but it
was well-worth the wait. I quaffed the scotch and put the glass down,
sending Clarette into her gyrations again. I couldn’t help but be
amazed at her grace.
A side door opened and Yvette entered. Someone had attached the same
type of tray that Babette wore to her hips as well as a small white
apron to protect her skirt. A woman walked behind her with her hands on
Yvette’s shoulders “steering” her into the room. Joan motioned Yvette
over to the bar, while the woman joined the others by the couch.
“Another round for our guests.” She informed Yvette. With that,
Clarette began setting out several glasses and started mixing the
beverages. While Joan was busy straightening Yvette’s tie again, (“I
just can’t abide sloppy knots…” she informed me with a little wink.)
I watched Clarette as she went about her business. As she finished each
drink she hung the glass in a wire rack next to the bar. After Joan was
satisfied with Yvette’s presentablity, Yvette went to the wire rack and
guided the tray under the glasses. Although her hands were still
securely cuffed behind her back, she used the handle on the bar behind
her back to act as a counterweight and it helped position her tray to
lift the glasses out of rack. Amazing. Talent, skill, practice?…
Yvette then headed over to the party with a tray load of drinks
carefully avoiding any spills by manipulating the tray handle. She
curtsied to the guests and it was difficult to tell whether or not the
guests were happy to see her because they were thirsty, or whether they
just needed a new bum to pinch.
Joan took a few moments to introduce me around. Lawrence, her husband
was a painter and photographer, A tall man with lanky features and
graying hair. “Call me Larry” He said. George was the dumpy little man
who sat on the couch, He was slightly balding, and to me, didn’t seem
to have very much going for him. When we shook hands he seemed a bit
like a wet fish. The other two women were “Companions” of Joan’s. Rose
was an older woman, one who was probably very attractive one day, but
now she just looked kind of “hard”. She seemed nice enough, however.
Elaine was the other woman. She could have been your next door
neighbor. The one you borrow a cup of sugar from. Nice, but not really
very interesting.
After some small talk, more hors d’oeuvres from Babette’s tray and
another round of drink’s from Yvette’s I was really getting into the
spirit of things. All three “slaves” seemed to be honestly enjoying
their chores, with only Babette getting a bit cantankerous whenever
someone had the audacity to lift her skirt. You almost couldn’t resist
the temptation. Joan excused herself after a while and went behind the
bar and I saw her unclip the chain hanging from the ceiling to Clarette’s
elbow strap. The two girls then disappeared into the kitchen. I began to
become aware that when Yvette was not waiting on anyone, she would
always return to a place at my side. She would stand at attention
there, waiting to be of service. Babette was more retiring, showing the
same discipline, but back away from the group. Although I tried to be
nonchalant, I couldn’t help but glace up at Yvette a couple of times.
She was simply lovely. I thought I caught her eyes snap away from me
each time I looked up, but I could have been mistaken. After a while,
Clarette entered the room. Her hands were switched behind her back and
now, she too, wore a tray and a new tape message: “Dinner is served.”

To be continued…

–

The guests all retired to the dining room and the three servant girls
made a beeline to the kitchen. After we were seated, Joan joined us and
took her place at one end of the table. Her husband was seated at the
other end and the four guests filled in between. Joan rang a small bell
and the parade began. Clarette, Yvette then Babette entered in turn
each carrying a tray load of food. The tape had been removed from both
Yvette’s and Clarette’s mouths betraying the bright red rubber balls
that were strapped in their mouths. I could see Yvette bite down on the
unyielding rubber as she concentrated on her gait to avoid stumbling
on her hobble. The servants hurried back and forth between the kitchen
and the dining room bringing out plates of food. The meal progressed
with the three servants standing at attention against the wall waiting
to be summoned. I learned that it was considered bad form around this
dinner table for any of the guests to pass anything between themselves.
If one guest wished to use the salt for instance, they would request
the use of the condiment whereupon one of the maids would rush forward
to accept it onto her tray. She would then move to the requester and
offer the salt to them. Many times this only required that she turn her
body as the giver was often seated directly beside the receiver.
The meal was delicious, and as it wound down the three girls hustled
back and forth clearing the table. While Babette busied herself in the
kitchen, Clarette appeared with a tray full of brandy glasses to be
distributed among the guests. George took his glass and casually lit a
huge cigar. He leaned back and summoned Yvette. She came and stood
beside him and gazed across the table meeting my eyes. George shook out
his match and asked Joan: “Is it time for desert now?” Yvette jumped
as if she had been struck! Her eyes flew open and she gaped at me
beseechingly. I couldn’t really gather the significance of George’s
comment beyond the innuendo. Except for Yvette’s consternation, I would
have surly thought it was an idle comment. George dropped the spent
match on Yvette’s tray and waved her away. A look of supreme relief swept
Yvette’s beautiful face as she went to dispose of the match. Clarette
took the last tray of plates and followed Yvette into the kitchen. Joan
sighed and looked at her husband. He shrugged and nodded to her. “Oh,
Sometimes I think that is the only reason you come here…” She said.
“…But I suppose it’s O.K.” With that, Rose and Elaine looked at each
other and giggled. Then they got up and went to stand on either side of
the swinging doors to the kitchen. Rose smiled at my obvious look of
confusion and held a finger to her lips. The kitchen doors slowly
opened and Clarette stepped into the room. As the doors closed behind
her, Rose and Elaine stepped up behind the unsuspecting barmaid and
hooked their arms through her handcuffed arms, catching her elbows and
pulling them outward, totally taking the pretty young brunette under
control. Clarette’s shout was no more then a muffled grunt due to the
tight strap and ball in her mouth and she glanced anxiously back and
forth between her grinning attendants. The two women hustled the
squeeling, struggling, but somehow unresisting, girl out of the room
through the other door and no one (Not even me) raised a finger to intercede.
George stood slowly and stretched, rubbing his pot belly. “Same
place?” He asked Joan. She nodded and he casually walked out of the
room. Joan rose and asked me to chat with Larry for a few moments while
she was gone. Larry was the typical self-searching, reserved artist. In
the course of our conversation he confided in me that he had fallen in
love with Joan the moment he had lain eyes on her, those many years
before. What he didn’t understand at the time, was her sexual appetite.
He smiled as he explained with a twinge of pride, It seemed that she is
something of a nymphomaniac. “At first it was great, but I just could never
seem to get any work done…” was his explanation. When she had come to him
and explained about the urges she had hidden for so long, Larry said he was
not very happy with the idea of sharing her with anyone. But he could
not deny his beloved anything. Once he got used to the arrangements, he
admitted, it was rather pleasant having all these pretty girls underfoot.
The slave girls generally keep Joan content and he could finally get some
work done. It was working out quite nicely.
Joan appeared at the doorway and cleared her throat to get our
attention. She asked if I was ready to go, and I figured that I was. I
noticed that she was twirling a short, thin brown leather strap around
her finger. I followed her out to the foyer where I expected my coat
would be waiting for me. Instead I was astonished to see a pretty girl
kneeling on the floor with her back to us. A girl with blonde hair,
tightly French braided. A tight black leather strap was clearly visible
biting at the nape of her neck. Her green sweater hugged her features as
before, and I could see the back of her stiff white collar pinching her
neck. For some unknown reason, I was confident that she reciently had
her necktie adjusted. Her hands fidgeted in the unyielding steel cuffs.
I began to shake. Joan helped her stand, then looped the strap around
Yvette’s elbows and pulled it tight, pinning Yvette’s elbows together.
She snapped a tiny padlock into the buckle. “I like to make things a bit
more complicated whenever I have the opportunity!” She said as she
turned Yvette around to face me. The tape on her lips had been replaced
with some with a new message on it. It was short and crudely to the
point, “Please, Fuck me!” My mouth hung agape and Yvette looked up at
me innocently. I was simply speechless, I didn’t know what to say!
There was a sudden clatter approaching us as the sound of high heels
on hardwood rang down the hall. Babette rounded the corner in a
terrible hurry and almost slammed into us. Joan let go of Yvette and
jumped into Babette’s path with her arms outstretched. Babette stopped
as short as her patent leathers’ would allow. Someone had removed her
maid’s uniform, petticoats and apron. She stood before us now wearing a
bizarre white corset. It was, to use understatement, tight. It laced up
the front, running from Babette’s belly up to a pair of cups that
supported her exposed mammarys. At the bottom, it ended with six garter
straps that held her stockings in place and little else. Her flower was
on display for all to see, framed by the garter straps. The corset ran
from under her breasts, up over the tips of her shoulders and around
her body. Her arms were folded back behind her and under the corset. In
the upper section of the back, the corset extended up to her neck where
it turned into the normal looking, blouse collar she had buttoned
around her neck. This was more then decorative, it also kept the corset
from sliding down so she was unable to work her arms out of their
predicament. Although the knot of her bow tie remained tied, the bow
portion had come loose so she trailed two streamers of red silk behind
her as she tried to evade recapture. Joan deftly cut off her avenue of
escape and herded her into a corner. Babette’s face, flushed with
exertion from her romp showed nothing more then disappointment as Joan
scolded her. “You know the rules! No escaping without permission!”
(What a ridiculous statement!) Babette looked suitably chastised, but
just as feisty as before. Joan re-tied Babette’s bow, then reached into
her hair and grabbed Babette’s ear with a vice-like grip. She turned
back to me and suggested that I take Yvette upstairs and see if I could
find some way to entertain her. She twisted Babette’s ear, forcing her
to bend over at the waist. The gag in her mouth was more then efficient,
diluting her protests down to a stifled mumbling. Yvette and I watched
as Babette stumbled away under Joan’s coaxing. The last thing we saw
was Babette’s bare bum rounding the corner. We were alone.
Yvette contemplated me with her innocent blue eyes. It may sound
silly now, but I was not sure what to do. I could not be sure if she
even knew what was going on. The writing on her lips could have been a
cruel joke on either (or both) of us. Yvette’s seemed amused by my
indecision. I didn’t know whether she understood my conflict, or
whether she just needed it for herself, but when she snuggled in under
my arm and put her head on my shoulder, my indecision disappeared very
quickly. I helped her climb the stairway. The cuffs on her ankles
didn’t really hinder her stride as she stepped up the stairs, but she
began to lean heavily on me. I had never felt as strong as when I
assisted this almost totally helpless girl to do something as simple as
walking up the stairs. She seemed to tire a bit about halfway up the
long curved stairway. My action was completely natural, I didn’t really
give it any thought, It just seemed like the right thing to do so I did
it. I scooped her up into my arms. She gasped as I lifted her and
regarded me with her soulful blue eyes. She shut her eyes, sighed and
snuggled into my arms like a child, to be comforted and protected.
I was happy to oblige.
I turned right at the top of the stairs. There were closed doors, one
on each side of the hall. I picked the door on the left. It wasn’t easy
manipulating the door knob while holding a hundred pound girl in my
arms but the door opened and I gave it a little tap with my foot. The
door opened into a bedroom and an wild scene. There was a bed against
the far wall. It was placed sideways with one side butting up to the
wall. Rose and Elaine were here, having their way with poor Clarette.
Clarette lay on her back on the bed. They had tied her calf’s together
with each ankle pointing at the other leg’s knee. Then they tied her
lower legs to a long thin pole. This was to keep her legs spread as far
as possible at the knees and the pole prevented any chance of her
trying to roll over. A thin cord ran from her bound legs up under her
toward her upper body. It seemed that they had also bound her elbows
together again by the angle that her arms took as they went under her.
Another pole was tied under her upper body extending out away from her
body at her shoulders. Rose and Elaine were both naked, hovering over
the bound figure of Clarette on the bed. They hadn’t bothered to
undress her, they had simply pushed her skirt up around her hips.
Elaine knelt at the foot of the bed, assailing Clarette in a most
intimate way while Rose was in the process of settling in by kneeling
over the bound girl with one knee on each side of her head and then
sitting back onto Clarette’s chest.
Clarette’s head poked out from under Rose and turned in our direction
as we inadvertently entered. Her hair was matted with perspiration and
her face was crimson from exertion. They had replaced the rubber ball
and strap with a metal ring and strap that held her mouth wide open.
Rose glanced in our direction then slid her weight forward and pinched
her thighs around the helpless girl’s head. Clarette’s body squirmed
under the onslaught but her groans did seem to have a content ring to me.

To be continued…

–

We excused ourselves and backed out into the hallway. We went to the
next door and I cautiously opened it, not sure of what we would find.
To my relief it was a vacant bedroom with a big canopied bed with a
matching settee, desk and a dresser and mirror. I gently lowered Yvette
to her feet and she squirmed in her bonds for a moment. Not terribily
hard, she appeared to be testing their security but she didn’t seem to
really want to escape. I sat down at the desk and watched her. She was
glaring cross-eyed at a stray wisp of hair that had pulled out of it’s
braiding and was hanging in front of her eyes. She flicked her head to
the side to try to blow the offending hair out of the way. She rubbed
her nose on her shoulder attempting to move the hair without any luck.
She glanced up at me for a second, and scowled at me in mock
indignation at my unwillingness to help her. She stood in front of me
looking deliciously rumpled, with one hip extended and her right ankle
flopped over off her high heel shoe. I melted and moved the offending
hair.
I was still not sure what my next move should be. Oh, I know what I
*WANTED* it to be! But I would never have been able to live with myself
if I took unfair advantage of this dream. I tried to ask her what she
wanted to do. “Is this what you want?” I asked, hoping for some kind of
response. She looked at me with a befuddled look and shrugged her
shoulders questioningly. “Do you know what’s on the tape?” I asked
motioning to the proposition written on the gag. She gazed at me
uncertainly and then crossed her eyes again in an attempt to see the
writing. She went to the mirror and looked at herself for a moment. The
writing may have been backwards, but it was more then plain. She
blushed intensly for a moment and then turned to me and shrugged her
shoulders again, this time there was a distinct twinkle in her eye. I
smiled, “That really isn’t an answer. Is this really what *You* want to
do?” She nodded. My heart leapt. “Your positive? I mean, If you
don’t…” I asked again, just a little more reassurance… She slowly
meandered over and stood before me, strong, proud, defiant, sincere,
ultimately helpless, unquestionably gorgeous. She leaned down just a
bit and looked me straight in the eye. The answer was emphatic. YES!
It isn’t the easiest thing in the world, making love to a bound and
gagged girl. My first instinct was to untie her. HA! Joan was much too
clever for that, everything locked. The crass message written on the tape
didn’t do justice to this lovely lady so I pealed the tape back off her
mouth. I wanted to kiss her, I had to kiss her! The strap that held the
ball between her lovely lips was locked too. DAMN! I had to settle for
her slender neck and ear lobes. I hugged her to me and wanted to feel the
press of her body as she embraced me back. No way, they had neglected to
give me the keys to her cuffs. The frustration seemed mutual as she
pressed against me with all her strength. My hands sought her body,
caressing, squeezing, fondling. I found her nipples easily, even through
the wool of her sweater. They stood at attention to my touch, beckoning
me to continue. I pushed the sweater up in an attempt to pull it over her
head but with her arms strapped behind her back as they were, I couldn’t
comfortably work it over her head. So her sweater remained where it was,
rolled up under her arms to expose the buttons of her blouse. I made
short work of those. She moaned as my tongue danced over her engorged
nipples. We drifted over to the bed. She sat back and awkwardly slid into
a more comfortable position by pushing down into the bedding with her
pinioned arms. She made room for me and indicated it by straining her
arms around to her side and tapping on the open space with her fingers.
I almost dove on to the bed to join her.
I still desperately wanted to kiss her, when I did try all I could do
was lick and nibble on her lips tasting the invisible residue of
adhesive left from the tape. She panted and groaned as she strained to
push her tongue out from under the ball in an attempt to meet mine. My
hand ran slowly up her nylon sheathed thigh and brushed the hem of her
skirt. From her gyrations on the bed, it had crept high up her leg and
when my fingers lightly brushed under the hem I felt the cool smooth
skin of her thigh and then the lacy trim of her garter. She shuddered
softly, rubbing her knees together, trapping my fingers between her
thighs for a moment. Then, slightly spreading her quivering thighs, she
almost beckoned me to run my fingers higher still. I was delighted to
comply. Imagine my shock as my probing, dancing digits found only
fluffy hair and smooth moist skin at the end of their journey. Nirvana.
Yvette trembled. Her eyes were full of excitement as she strained to
press nearer to me. She rolled up on her hip and pressed her arms
around in front of her as far as they would go with the elbow strap
still pinning them together. Demonstrating amazing dexterity and
flexibility she began undressing me! The buttons fell open slowly. When
I tried to help her, she grunted angrily and pressed on with increasing
determination. If she didn’t want me to help, I figured, I might as
well find something to amuse myself. So my fingers began their quest
again. Stroking, pinching, caressing, I explored her lovely body.
My next inspiration was her hair, I wanted to see her hair. It took
me a few moments, but I finally found the strategic pins and bands that
held her hair in the tight French braid. When it finally fell loose I
was astonished by it’s length. Yvette’s hair fell almost to the center
of her back in it’s wavy blonde fullness. My fingers ran slowly through
it and brushed it back as she concentrated on what she was doing. When
she leaned forward, her hair fell down in front of her and hampered her
vision. With a flick of her head, and an annoyed scowl at me for
complicating her job, she threw her hair back out of her eyes. But it
was only for as long as it took her to go back to her work, before the
blonde wave cascaded into her face once again.
I was naked and Yvette knelt over me with a look of triumph on her
face. I reached to loosen her clothes, to try to make her more
comfortable, but she was not interested as she brushed past my hands
and began running her trammeled tongue over me. Our loveplay continued,
back and forth, coaxing and teasing, squeezing and stroking for some
time. Suddenly Yvette straightened and looked at me with her blue
bedroom eyes, “Pwneess,” she mumbled past the gag. “Mmmmooww!!” she
groaned. “Lefff mnoo Ifff mow!” It was unmistakable to me what she was
saying. It was a request I have never denied. I took hold of her
shoulders and coaxed her to lie back on the bed. She shook her head and
resisted so I let go. Yvette struggled up onto her knees and faced me
attempting to push her knees apart. The tightness of her skirt
prevented this, but only until I could come to her aid. She motioned
with her eyes and I complied, chuckling to myself as I realized that I
was no longer in command. I was being directed, controlled if you will,
by a thoroughly tied and gagged girl. I pushed her skirt up around her
hips and carefully slid my legs between her knees. The chain on her
ankles was just barely long enough so that her ankles could comfortably
rest on either side of my knees. Yvette’s breathing was reduced to
rapid panting as she gazed down, wide-eyed at me.
I coaxed her to rise up and I gently guided her back down. Each sweet
millimeter caused the passion to well up within us both. Yvette’s eyes
grew even larger and her face began to flush. She arched her back until
I could no longer see her face. But I could still see her neck. Her neck
went from pink to red to almost purple. The contrast between the stiff
white of her collar only exaggerated the color. Veins bulged out on her
neck, Every muscle in her body seemed to quiver and her knees squeezed
the breath out of me as she hugged me as tightly as she could, the only
way she could. I began to doubt that I had ever really seen a woman
orgasm before. She climaxed twice more before we were done.
We lay together on the bed for a long time, cuddling. She dozed off
for a while and I watched her. The red ball tucked in her stretched
mouth didn’t seem to disturb her at all, to my amazement. She slept
peacefully enough, but she still looked uncomfortable to me. She had
resisted any of my attempts to help. Her sweater was still bunched up
under her arms. The starched white collar poking out, buttoned tightly,
holding her necktie in place. Her left breast was covered by the green
wool of her sweater, but the right one was exposed. Her shirt was
pushed back behind her and the bottom of her red tie lay down her bare
belly almost to her navel. I cradled her in my arms as she dozed,
oblivious to her condition. She was adorable. I tweaked her nose
gently. Her eyes opened slowly and her eyes smiled up at me. We made
love again.
As we rested, Yvette squirmed around, trying to get a little more
comfortable. A sharp pain scraped my chest and I lurched to prevent it.
Yvette’s name tag had scratched me. I pulled her sweater down and
unpinned the offending object. I held the tag in front of me and
complimented Yvette on what I thought was a very beautiful name. Yvette
started laughing, although at first, for a horrifing moment, I thought
she was choking. She looked at me and shook her head. “It’s not your name?”
I asked, kind of confused. “Naathhne… Mfff nnamm niss Naathhnne…” I
was still confused, I asked: “Your name is Janie?” This suddenly mysterious
woman shook her head with exasperation again. She pushed her hands out where
I could see and moved her finger in an upward movement, then a downward
diagonal movement then a upward movement. She was forming a letter. “M?…
Martha?” I said without thinking. Wrong. She rolled her eyes skyward and
groaned. “N?” I questioned. “Nathne?… Natalie?” She smiled and nodded.
“Oh, Yvette’s an alias eh?” I said. “Natalie, That’s a pretty name as well,
Natalie… She chuckled at my naivete.
My mind was spinning as I reluctantly dressed. I had just redressed
Yvette. It was really a pleasure for me to help, but we didn’t have
much luck getting all her wrinkles out. It seemed that our athletics
had caused her to end up with an awfully rumpled uniform. I could not
take my eyes off this wonderful, delightful, mysterious, sexy, creature
as she sat patiently waiting for me. It was with a great reluctance
that we left our little world and went back down stairs.

To be completed…

–

George and Larry were no longer in the living room but everyone else
was. As we entered, Rose and Elaine got up from the couch and came up
to us. They looked Natalie up and down and shook their heads in a
scolding fashion. Natalie looked up at me again and shrugged, then Rose
crooked her finger in the direction of the back corner of the room and
then Yvette submissively followed the women’s orders. I glanced at the
opposite corner where the other two girls were being entertained.
Babette stood at attention in the corner. She still had the same corset
restraint she had worn earlier, but they somehow had been unable to
locate her uniform. For modesty, they had added a pair of tiny red
panties. They needn’t really have bothered. A big piece of white tape
covered her lips and a thin chain ran from the back of her corset to a
bracket that hung out from the wall. The chain was taught and prevented
her from even hoping to sit down. Her ankles were tightly bound with
rope. Just to her right was Clarette, seated on a straight back chair.
Thin white cord wound across her chest, one series of turns went above
her breasts and the second went underneath. The cord was also run around
her knees and in her mouth seemed to be the same ring thing I had seen
earlier. Added to this contraption now was a plug that fit through the
ring and had two industrial snaps, one on each cheek. Either way, she
wasn’t going to be talking much. Joan had just finished tying Clarette’s
ankles to the left chair leg, then she tightened and adjusted Clarette’s
necktie. There was a second chair with several coils of rope on the seat
to Babette’s left. A 35mm camera mounted on a tripod waited, centered on
the two girls, waiting to be put to use in this family portrait.
I glanced over to where Rose and Elaine had taken Natalie. Yvette
knelt before the two women while Rose brushed the submissive girl’s hair
and Elaine primped her clothes. When Rose had finished she pulled back
the tufts of hair that framed Natalie’s face and pined them back onto the
top of her head with a big red hair bow. Finished, they marched her over
to the chair and began substituting the rope for her steel and leather
restraints. After they tightly bound Yvette’s arms behind her again and
removed the cuffs, they coaxed her into the chair and used the rest of
the rope to secure her identically with Clarette, a couple of bookends.
Joan approached Yvette and went behind her and began fishing through
her hair. When I saw the key, I hurried over. Natalie winced as the
familiar red ball popped from her mouth. She worked her jaw for a
moment then looked up at me and smiled, a deep, warm, beautiful smile.
The kind of smile that simply beamed. “Hi?” she said in a raspy little
voice. I leaned forward and kissed her, deeply, longingly. It was
better then I had even imagined. Joan cleared her throat once and I
ignored her. I didn’t want this moment to end. She did it again.
Natalie’s kiss became more intense, more frantic. Joan cleared her throat
a third time, this time with more authority. I reluctantly backed off.
Natalie remained in place, straining forward against the rope that held
her in the chair. Her eyes were closed and her lips remained pursed. Rose
snapped her fingers and Natalie opened her eyes. Elaine held a big wad of
cotton in her hand and Rose motioned to the bound girl to open her mouth.
Natalie looked at me and then sighed, “I guess this is good-bye too…” she
said solemnly, tears welling in her eyes. Then Yvette obediently opened
her mouth and allowed it to be packed full of cotton. A wide rubber strap
made sure that Yvette had nothing else to say.
Joan led me to the door and provided my coat and scarf. She wished me
well and opened the door. I tried to argue, I wanted only to stay. I
could not leave without Natalie. That was not the deal I was told. There
would be no reprieve. The door shut behind me. It was raining, a light
cold mist stung at my eyes, mingling with my own emotions. As I got to
my car there was a flash from a flashbulb in the living room, then
another and another. I drove away.
A week went by, My thoughts were constantly clouded by the vision of
a mysterious blonde girl, one who could capture my imagination and hold
it forever. My calls had gone unreturned. I sat in my apartment alone.
Longing for just a glimpse of the girl who had won my heart in the
briefest of encounters. I remembered her scent, her voice, “Good-bye”
was all it said. I buried my face in my hands. There was a soft knock on
my door, I was angry. I didn’t need any salesmen right then. There was
another knock. I went to the door and pulled it open. Joan Sumpter stood
on the other side of my door. Behind her was a pair of wide blue eyes
peeking over her shoulder. I could feel my mouth drop open in disbelief.
Joan smiled, then stepped aside. The girl who stood behind her wore a
hooded cape. There was a big piece of white tape on her mouth. There was
no message. “We gave it some thought…” Joan began, indicating Natalie,
“… We decided that you might enjoy having a maid of your own for a
while.” She said as she placed a small suitcase at my feet. It rattled
with the sound of metal. I heard what Joan said, but I could not respond.
Joan guided Natalie gently towards me and turned and started down the hall.
“If you get tired of her, just let me know, and I’ll be happy to take her
back…” she said. I heard her whistling a show tune as she disappeared
around the corner. Her voice waifted down the hall. “Matchmaker Matchmaker,
Make me a match…” Tire of Natalie? That was impossible.
What began as passion grew into love, true love. Natalie and I were married
6 months later…

Now I’m aware that this story seems a bit far fetched. In fact, even *I*
have a hard time believing that anyone could be this lucky and in all
honesty, I never question anyone who would doubt it’s authenticity. All I
can say in closing is:

If this Tale I have just conveyed is *NOT* the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing, but the truth… Ahhh, well…, Then…, *Sigh*…
It ought to be…

So she leaves around 5:00, and I don’t decide to go back to Nice until
7:30. On vacation, my parents let me come home by 9:30, without asking any
questions, but I feel sort of lonely without my friend, and the guys are no
fun, so I decide to go back early.
I put on a short robe over my bathing suit and take my beach bag and
go up to the road and start hitching. Usually you don’t have to wait at all,
but today I avoid cars with single men or groups of men in them. I think it’s
better to get a ride with a couple. It takes longer this way. About 10 cars
with couples pass me by, with my thumb out. After about 10 minutes a gray car
stops, a brand I don’t know (Now I know it was a volvo).
“Where are you going?” the woman asks.
“To Nice, Madame.”
“Good. We are going there ourselves. You may get in.”
She leans over to open the back door, and I get in the car and sit in the
back seat, which is very comfortable.
“Thank you”, I say.
Polite. Always be polite, no?
The man and the woman say “bonjour,” and the car moves off.

Sitting on the right, I can see the man’s profile: he looks about 40 years
old, with very gray hair, but lots of it. He is very tan, and fairly handsome.
When he says “bonjour,” I find his voice beautiful. Not that it’s important,
whether he’s handsome or ugly, but I like to travel with nice people. He is
wearing a white shirt.
Changing sides, I look at the woman: she would be about 30 years old, with
fine features and blond hair, cut short. She has large eyes, which I think are
blue, although I can’t see them very well. She is wearing a blue blouse with
buttons on the back. She turns around:
“What do you think of us?”
“Uhhh…”
“Ha! Well, you know, the mirror works both ways. So what do you think of
us?”
She says this with a big smile. She has beautiful white teeth. There is a
very slight gap between her two front teeth. I see that her eyes really are
blue. A touch of irony passes over her face as she looks at me.
“Do you think we make a nice couple?”
“Uhhh…”
I feel a little stupid. I don’t know what to say to this kind of question.
Do they make a nice couple? Yes, you could say that. But I haven’t really
thought about it. I was looking at them because I didn’t have anything else
to do. I knew the route by heart, and there was no more countryside to
discover.
“Since you are not saying anything, may I say that I find you rather
attractive? Wouldn’t you say so, Henri?” The eyes of the man appear in the
mirror, studying me. I see his face in the mirror too. He has a certain
virility, with some gentleness to his features. Now that she asks the question,
I would say that I find both of them very nice.
“Very, very attractive,” the man says.
“Well, I think you are both nice. And you’re not bad as a couple.”
“Not bad. You hear that, Henri? But we are a perfect couple. More than
perfect, even. We have the same tastes, the same needs, and the same desires,
at the same exact moments.”

Somewhat impudently, without really being aware of what I am saying, I say:
“And at this exact moment, what do you both want?”
The man and the woman exchange a look, then a small smile.
“Well, if you had asked that question just before we met you, we would have
said that we wanted to go back to our place, and change, before going out to
dinner,” the woman says.
“And now,” the man adds, “we want you.”
This sudden “attack” takes my breath away. I am a little shy, and after
hearing this, I am speechless and a little uncomfortable. And what does that
mean, that a couple “wants me.” At 15, I’m having a hard time imagining what
three people could do. To tell the truth, I’ve never imagined this sort of
thing at all, and the brusque revelation of such a possibility makes me
uncomfortable and attracts me at the same time.
“What do you think of that?” the woman asks, still turned toward me.
“Nothing. I don’t know… What does that mean: you want me?”
“That means,” the man said, “that we would like to have you near us, in our
bedroom, and that we would like to kiss you, and caress you, and a thousand
other things. Both of us. At the same time.”
“What do you think of that?” the woman asks again.
I can’t think of anything to say. The idea appeals to me, but I don’t dare
answer, somehow. Are they making fun of me? Did they say this for a laugh?
Are they pulling my leg? But they look serious, even with their smiles.
“My parents expect me home by 9:30.”
“Good. It is 7:25 now. Here is what I suggest: when we get to Nice, you
come to our place and have a drink. We will take off your clothes and try to
bring you some pleasure, but you can stop or leave whenever you want. We give
you our word of honor, my husband and I.”
So they are married. But they don’t wear rings. Should I go with them?
Honestly, I want to. The idea excites me, and I am proud that they find me
beautiful in this way. If I go with them, it seems to me that I will be
entering the world of adults, for good, and I want that.

“I would like that very much.”
“Very good,” says the woman. “Have you already been with a couple?”
“No.”
“This is the first time? Really?”
“Yes.”
“And have you already been with a man?”
“Yes, a little.”
“You aren’t a virgin?”
“No… Last year, a boy and I…”
“Brava. And did you do it again, often?”
“No, but I have made love many times since then.”
I don’t want them to take me for a girl who doesn’t know what to do.
“Well! Good. But you say that you did not do it again, but…?”
“I didn’t do it with a boy; I did it with girls. I do that often.”
“Oh. You have girlfriends,” the man says.
“Yes, of course.
I say this in a very liberated and mature way.
“That’s very good,” the woman says. “But how old are you?”
“16.” (I grew a year. 16 is better than 15, I think.)
“Do you have a lot of girlfriends?”
“Three or four. But here, I only have one. In Paris I have four of them.”
“So you are a little bit bored here, maybe. Or perhaps, to compensate, you
caress yourself sometimes?”
“Oh… even in Paris, I masturbate often.”
They look at each other again. This time they seem to be thinking about
their good luck. It’s true. I know girls in Paris. I’ve picked them up and
they’ve picked me up. Girls do have these feelings, you know.
“Well, we will try to give you as much pleasure as you find with yourself
or your friends.”

I don’t answer, but this will be difficult for them. When I masturbate or
lick my girlfriends in Paris, or even in Nice with Martine, it seems to me
that I could not have more pleasure. But OK, if they want to try… Little by
little, the idea of being with them excites me, and I’m sure that I’m getting
a little wet. I would like to check with my finger, but I don’t dare.
“OK, Henri?”
“Very good, cherie, very good.”
I see the woman’s arm move toward the man’s legs. The seatback keeps me
from seeing more, but I think she must be caressing him through his pants.
“We are here. We live at the end of this street.”
She turns around to say this, but her left arm is still close to her
husband, and I see it move a little.
I would like to see what she’s doing, but I will never know exactly,
because we arrive and get out of the car.
She says they rented an apartment in this building–a very beautiful, de
luxe sort of building–on the seventh floor, with a balcony and a view of the
sea, as one must.

I am between them in the elevator. The man is not very tall. About 5′ 6″
He is closer to 45 than 40, but he’s still very thin. The woman is about his
height in her flat heels, and she seems to be about 28. Her chest seems large
to me, as do her buttocks. Slender, with long fine legs. We leave the elevator,
and she walks ahead of us down the corridor to unlock the apartment.
“You will come back, I hope,” the woman says, “but since I know you have
little time today, I won’t give you a grand tour of the apartment. You should
see the balcony. The view is really superb. Suppose we have our drink in the
bedroom. Would you like that?”
“Yes.”
“It’s over here,” the man says, taking my hand.
“I’ll be back with something to drink,” the woman says. “Do you like scotch?”
“Yes…” (I’ve never tasted it.)
The man and I go into the bedroom. It is beautiful. Paintings hanging on
pale, bright walls. A thick carpet on the floor and a canopy bed that I would
like to own. On the bed, an enormous white fur that must be nice to snuggle up
in. A little table, several chairs, and a mirror on the wall, facing the bed.

“Do you like it?”
“Yes, it’s beautiful.”
“Well, that’s nice. It is important to feel good where you are, no?”
“Well, a glass for everyone. What is your name, by the way?” the woman says
as she comes in.
“Lauren.”
“That’s very pretty. Well, Lauren, let’s drink to our meeting and free
women like you.”
I drink. A swallow. It burns. I cough.
“We have something else if that’s too strong… You needn’t drink that.”
I am grateful the man says this. With a look of thanks, I put my glass on
the little table. I’ve had enough. It’s clear they are thinking of something
other than drinking. Me too.

But suddenly I’m a little afraid. This is a very special situation, and
it’s the first time for me. In any case, they promised that if I would like to
leave, I can. This reassures me some.
“Come sit down near me, on the bed,” the woman says.
She is already sitting there. I go over and sit near her. The fur on the
bed is very soft.
The man remains standing, for the moment, looking at us.
The woman puts an arm around my shoulders and, with no preliminaries, puts
her lips on mine. Her tongue opens my mouth slightly and moves around inside,
lightly. This kiss affects me very strongly. She pulls me back, gently, and
we tip over onto the bed. She is lightly covering me.
“Take off your top of your bathing suit,” she breathes in my ear.
Yes… I want to take it off. She kisses well. Her lips are soft and warm.
I arch my back a little and move my hands under my back and unbutton the
top. Immediately, the woman unbuttons the top of my robe with her right hand
(her left is still resting on my neck) still kissing me. She lifts up the top
of my bathing suit, which ends up near my chin, and takes one of my breasts in
her hand. She pinches the nipple between two fingers and then takes it all in
her hand, sometimes caressing it softly and sometimes squeezing it hard. Soon
she abandons this breast and takes the other, continuing to caress me; one,
then the other, still kissing me. I feel wonderful. Very fine… For the
moment, I don’t want to leave… I have almost forgotten the man, when I feel
two hands taking off the bottom of my bathing suit. I am in a wonderful place,
and I raise my hips to let the bathing suit slide off completely. Straightening
my head a little, I see the man. He is completely nude, and I cannot take my
eyes off his sex: long, very long, not too thick. Much more beautiful than my
boyfriend’s. He becomes aware that I am looking at him.
“Does this please you?”
I cannot answer, since the woman is still kissing me, but my eyes must have
answered for me: “Yes, this pleases me, a magnificent penis, which should
know how to bring me great pleasure.”
I’m not afraid at all. I feel fine.

I let myself fall back completely. I close my eyes and try to taste my
feelings and sensations as much as I can.
The woman is still caressing my chest, and doing it very well.
Now the man passes his arms under my thighs and holds them rather firmly,
and, delightfully, I feel his mouth on my vagina. I am very wet, and his tongue
travels in, and sometimes makes very quick movements inside, tapping. No girl
or guy has ever done this to me before. The end of his tongue taps inside me and
turns a little, this way and that. A fabulous sensation. I will come quickly
if this continues.

The woman ends her kiss, and now she takes my breasts in her mouth. She
blows on one nipple and flicks it with her tongue, deliciously. My God, how
wonderful. I have never known this. Now the man takes my clitoris between his
lips and inhales it into his mouth, and his tongue slips and turns and licks
me. He does this so well. I feel I am going to come. The woman has one of my
breasts in her mouth, and she is caressing the other with her hand. The man
is licking me faster and faster. I no longer know where I am! I am in a place
where everything is beautiful, magnificent. I scream involuntarily, very
loud. I am aware of my body flailing and snapping when I come. I fall back,
panting, not moving.
How can one have so much pleasure? All that I’ve known till now is nothing
close to this… Thank you for giving me this enormous pleasure.

“So it was good?” the woman asks.
“Oh, yes. Oh, yes…”
“She is a passionate one,” the man says. “And she likes oral sex, I would
say.”
“Lie back now, Lauren. That was just an hors-d’oeuvre.”
“Perhaps she would like to go home now,” the man says, smiling.
“Oh… no… I say. I don’t ever want to go home.”
“You are a marvelous girl, Lauren,” the woman says.
“What is your name?”
“Marie-Laure. Do you like it?”
“Yes, it’s pretty, Marie-Laure. Gentle, like you.”
“You can watch us while you recuperate a bit, OK?”
I stretch out comfortably on the bed, my back against the headboard, and
look at the mirror across from me: a very happy girl.
“Would you like to take off all your clothes like us?” the man says.
I look at the woman. With a move of her hand she has undressed. What a
body! This is a real woman. A magnificent chest and a stomach that is almost
completely flat. She has red hair on her vagina, and she turns, letting me
admire her very beautiful derriere: two hemispheres with an extraordinary
graceful outline. I have an irresistable urge to touch them.
They are both standing up, near each other, and they really do make a
beautiful couple, physically. The man is still hard. I admire his sex.
I undress completely, as they suggested, and lie down on the bed again,
letting them look at me.

“You have a very beautiful body, Lauren,” the woman says.
“Oh, no, next to yours…”
“We are differently made, but believe me, you have a body that will please
many men.”
“Men! I make fun of them.”
“Really?” says the man.
“You are different.”
“You are beautiful. Open your eyes, Lauren.”
“OK…”
Don’t worry, I’m not going to close them, I think. They are standing
between the bed and the mirror, near the left column of the bed. I can see
their backs in the mirror.
The woman gets down on her knees between the man’s legs, and she does
something that I have never seen or done myself: she takes his penis in her
mouth. This is called “sucking,” I know, and I feel a certain strange awe,
watching.
His penis disappears entirely into her mouth sometimes, then comes out
halfway, then disappears again. Her hand holds it at the base. Sometimes she
takes it out and licks it all over with her tongue, sometimes lengthwise,
sometimes all around. He is very hard.
She puts his penis back in her mouth and sucks hard. She seems to like this
a lot! Is it that good?
My silent question seems to have been heard:
“Would you like to do this yourself?” the woman says.
“I have never done it.”
“So much the better. Come over here. Lie on the bed, on your stomach, so
your mouth will be near my husband.”
I go over. The man is near the bed, and the his sex is about the same
height as the bed. I move over on my hands and knees, and lie with my head near
the man.

“Here is what to do,” he says.
“The most important thing is not to touch my penis with your teeth.”
“Pretend you are licking some ce cream on a stick,” the woman says.
“OK”
“Don’t bite the stick,” the man says, and smiles.
“Put your mouth around me, and lick me as much as possible with your
tongue, all over. You can breathe, suck, lick, whatever you want. If you are
gifted this way, you will sort of know what to do..”
I am very excited, but somewhat hesitant. I move my face nearer his penis.
Inches from my eyes. It is red, somewhat crimson at the end. It pulses
perceptibly. Beautiful.
“Are you afraid?” the woman says.
No, I’m not afraid. You will see. I open my mouth wide and gulp it in, and
close my lips on it. It fills my whole mouth, warm and vibrant. Alive.
I do what I saw the woman do, moving my face backward and forward, letting his
penis almost leave my mouth and moving my mouth back around it again. This is
strange, but I like it. I get more used to it, and I am very happy to taste
and feel this living penis with my tongue and lips. I move it all the way to
the back of my mouth and begin to lick it all over with my tongue, holding
it fairly strongly with my lips.
“Formidable! You have a marvelous tongue,” the man says.
“Hold his penis with your hands, too,” his wife advises.
My mouth is too small to take it all in, and I hold the part that is still
outside fairly firmly with my hand, moving it in and out of my mouth. Then
I remember the other part, and take it out and lick it from bottom to top,
and go around it with my tongue. His pubic hair is brown and coarse. It rubs
my face. I rub his penis on my cheeks and kiss him here and there. I touch his
testicles carefully. There is less hair near his navel, which I touch with my
tongue. I put his penis back in my mouth and close my eyes.
I prefer to have it in my mouth. I suck more strongly and lick and lick and
purse my cheeks and move back and forth. How nice. I have found something
wonderful.. I will want to do this again, often.

“Stop,” The man says.
I stop, surprised.
“Am I doing something wrong?”
“Oh, no. But I was about to come, and I don’t want to do that now.”
“Really, you liked it?”
“Yes. You have a marvelous talent.”
Marvelous talent. Marvelous tongue. Lots of girls have told me that, but
never a man. I am proud. I want to be a complete woman, sexually, as soon as
possible.
“Let’s go to the end of the bed,” the woman says, “we have only begun.”
She says this as she gently touches my face.
I like both of them…

She leans forward with her back to him, and puts her elbows on the bed. I
see her lovely buttocks in the mirror, fuller than mine, not as hard. As she
leans forward, I see her tan back and the bumps of her spine and the way her
ass begins. Splendid. Her legs are slightly apart, and I see her blond pubic
hair in the mirror. She puts her head on her arms; her breasts touch the fur.
The man moves behind her and puts his penis in her vagina. He enters slowly,
with no apparent effort, and when he is well inside her, he takes hold of her
hips and holds her to him very firmly. He doesn’t move forward and backward,
but in a circular way, with his hips. I imagine that this way his penis
touches every part of her inside. I see him begin to caress her in front,
too, with his finger.
“Ohhh…”
The woman is making little noises, sort of cries, as he does this, which
stop sometimes, when the man thrusts his hips forward suddenly. Then she cries
out more intensely, in a satisfied way.
Her large eyes are half closed, but then she looks at me and says:
“Caress yourself, Lauren. I want to see your fingers between your thighs,
while my husband makes love to me. Pretend you are in bed, at night.”
Good idea. No need to ask twice. With a certain feeling of exhibitionism, I
move over to her and open my thighs as wide as I can and begin to masturbate
carefully.
The man caresses the woman more quickly, with his middle finger, rubbing
all over her clitoris. He thrusts with his hips more often, shaking the bed.
“Caress youself well,” the woman says, “Oh. I am going to come. Stonger,
deeper, cheri. Go, go. Caress yourself, Lauren, I’m coming…”
Now the man moves backward and forward in her with a steady rhythm, fairly
quickly, and his caressing finger is electrified. Her eyes turn up. I stop
masturbating and watch, captivated, until the woman collapses on her stomach
on the bed, her feet on the ground,” the man still inside her, his hand between
the bedspread and her stomach.
Very delicately, he takes away his hand and slowly removes his penis. The
woman does not move; her head rests on her left arm. The man is still hard,
and glistens with her liquid. That’s good. He has not come. I hope a lot more
will happen tonight.

“Since you seem to like licking me, would you like to do that some more?”
“Yes, very much.”
I start to get up.
“No, no. Don’t move.”
I stay as I am, half sitting up, my head leaning lightly against the head-
board. The man gets up on the bed and walks over to stand above me, with one
foot on each side of me. His penis is nice to look at that way. Then he kneels
down, with his knees on each side of my breasts and his penis about an inch
from my mouth. He puts one arm behind my head and moves it forward until my
lips are touching his sex. I open my mouth, and he moves his hips forward and
puts it in. Now he is holding my head with both hands, and I am immobilized.
“Don’t move. Just open your mouth and lick my penis when it is in your
mouth.”
The man begins to move forward and backward in my mouth. Exactly as if it
were my vagina, going deep in my throat sometimes. I move my tongue all over,
licking his penis and sucking him hard.
“What a mouth you have. A palace,” he says.
He moves in and out more rapidly. His penis becomes very large, and I have
to open my jaws wide. I have a lot in my mouth, but this is nice.
“Do you want to come like this?” his wife asks.
“No, no. But you know, this kid is fabulous.”
He continues to go in and out, and I continue to make a sex for him with my
mouth. I breathe as much as I can, each time he withdraws. He slows down.
I close my eyes and feel. A miracle in my mouth. Warm, wonderful darkness
and silence. He moves in and out, sometimes slower, sometimes faster, for a
long time. I don’t know how long. I have stopped thinking. I can only feel.
With my mouth. His wonderful, moving, warm penis. The slow rhythm reminds
me of sailboats with large white wings. I cry. He caresses my face. I love
him. I cry some more. I am so happy. After some time, he stops. I look up.
His eyes are closed, and he is totally still. I move my head to take him in
deeper again, but his wife says:
“No. Not yet. The sightest movement…”
The man opens his eyes and relaxes.
“You are marvelous, Lauren.”
“Well, cheri, perhaps you would leave Lauren to me while you calm down.
Would you like that Lauren?”
“Yes. Very much.” (What a question!)
“OK,” the man says, and he gets off the bed and goes to sit in an armchair,
where he can see everything. His penis is still very hard.

The woman lies down with her head near my thighs.
69. I do it often with my girlfriends, and I like it a lot. Now I can show
them what I know…
She takes me by the hips and swings me on top of her, very quickly. She is
bigger than I am. She takes a pillow and puts it under her buttocks and puts
her knees up in the air, around my body, and we are nose to sex.
“You’ve already done this, I guess.”
“Of course.”
I feel perfectly at ease with them now, and I talk frankly, with no fear.
“Have you ever tried anal intercourse?” the man says.
“No.”
“Would you like to?” his wife says.
“No. I think it would hurt.”
“Not really,” she says. “And many women have stronger climaxes that way.
Perhaps you are one of them.”
They are marvelous temptors. The idea never really occured to me, but now
that they mention it…
“Well, why don’t you get busy instead of talking,” the man said from the
armchair, where he was gently masturbating.
I get a little crazy. Some things do that to me. I used to ask my boyfriend
to masturbate often, because it excited me a lot. Seeing the man caress his
penis while doing this with his wife is very exciting for me.
The woman puts her tongue in my vagina and moves it around and licks me
very well. Her lips and nose are delightful. She touches me sometimes with her
fingers. I stop watching the man, and put my face between her thighs. She has
a slight odor, different from my girlfriends’, which exites me more.
My mouth and nose and chin are surrounded by hair, which covers her sex
completely. I have to use my fingers, and then, there, a very long clitoris
that guards the cave where I will drink from the sweetest of springs…

We play in these springs, very seriously. And laugh. I don’t know how many
times, or how long. My orgasm is continuous, as is hers, I know, as she
writhes under me. We go crazy. I move my fingers around in her vagina as I
caress her clitoris with my tongue. I feel the shocks of her orgasms with her
clitoris in my mouth. She puts her finger into my anus, a delicious surprise,
and I hold it tight as it moves all around in me, throwing my senses
off-balance. I do the same, leaving three fingers of my other hand in her
vagina. I have never done this to anyone. You can’t think of everything.
I am surprised: once past the entrance, I can move it very freely inside. I
try to do everything I can with it, in this new world.
Her clitoris is still in my mouth and she moves continuously under me,
tasting me constantly, sucking and licking and rubbing and doing things that
feel new to me. She caresses my derriere as I come. And holds me gently, and
pulls me this way and that, and sometimes holds me very firmly with her arms
and legs when I come, which intensifies my climax, as I struggle to thrash
out, without being able to move. I am dimly aware of the weight of the man as
he gets on the bed. The woman takes her finger out of my anus and puts two
fingers in my vagina, moving them rapidly. This excites me even more, taking
me farther away from the world. I continue to work away with my hands and my
mouth.

I feel the man’s hand spreading my buttocks. Why? I want them both to do
whatever they want with me. I belong to them…
Now his tongue licks my anus, which feels very sweet, a new kind of
pleasure. He points his tongue and tries to enter me there. And she licks me,
and moves her fingers inside me, and I do the same. And I have a tongue in my
anus, and my finger in the woman’s. Mmmmm. I hope this this never ends.
Then the man’s tongue leaves and soon I feel his body, pressing against me.
He pushes his hard and warm penis between my buttocks. I want him to put it
in my vagina. Enter me. I nibble the woman’s clitoris and move my fingers in
her vagina and move my finger in her anus more and more. She sucks in my
clitoris and licks it quickly and continuously. I have never felt higher.
I feel the man’s hand join hers near my vagina, but it does not stay there.
He seems to be wetting his fingers. Take me, soon. I lick frantically now. I
want him inside me. I need him inside me. She had him before, but I haven’t had
him yet. Fuck me!
There. He is moving over me. I think he is taking his sex in his hand,
and… but no, he puts a finger in my anus. He puts it in and takes it out,
several times. Not bad, but it’s not enough for me now. Fuck me. Put your penis
in me. Why doesn’t he understand? And then I realize what he is going to do: my
anus, not my vagina. I am still a virgin there, but not for long. I am so
excited that I feel no fear at all. I want him to take me, there or anywhere
else. The woman said that sometimes the climax is stronger there… Well.
Yes, I feel his penis touching my anus, and I feel the end begin to go in.
Go quickly. I can’t wait.
He presses harder and harder. I don’t feel any pain. His sex is perfectly
lubricated and seems to slide in by itself. Really, I feel no pain, no
tearing. Now I am complete, sexually. The man goes in very cautiously, and
soon I feel his pelvis and pubic hair touching my buttocks.

“Are you OK?”
“Yes,” I say, panting, my mouth in the woman’s sex.
This penis in my derriere brings me a certain sense of regeneration, and my
excitement starts over, fresh again. I suck and lick at the woman’s sex
furiously and move my finger faster in her anus, imagining what the man is
feeling. The woman’s fingers have left my vagina, but her mouth and her
tongue are doing wonderful things to me. Better than I have ever felt before.
What a couple. Now I can say it for sure: You make a beautiful couple.
Now the man moves in me, and I feel something extraordinary: with each
movement I seem to go out of my body. I become another being. My womb is
apotheosis, truth and nirvana. This penis inside me is the instrument of an
ultimate climax, which started with the first movement of the man, one that
will never leave me. It grew slowly in me, and now transcends me. The man moves
faster and faster. I can no longer lick the woman or move my fingers. I stop.
But she continues wonderfully. And his penis moves and moves, tearing out
inarticulate cries of joy. And suddenly, a superclimax comes from some secret
depth and shakes me and carries me away. The man moves very, very fast and
gasps for air. The women licks my clitoris dementedly. I escape the world.
Everything.

The man thrusts very hard, twice, crushing me completely against the
woman’s sex, and I scream. I feel the man’s sperm jetting within me in bursts.
I grab the fur with my hands and tear at it with my fingernails. I take the
woman’s sex in my mouth again, and I am sure that the three of us come
together.
But for me, it is more than a climax. It is beyond that, outside of
everything. I know this. I believe I will never know such a pleasure again.
We stay there together, her sex in my mouth and her lips on my sex and the
man with his penis, still hard, inside me. Its hardness goes away very slowly,
and I keep the heat of his sex inside me for a long time.

We stopped there for the night. We used the time which remained to lie down
together. I was in the middle, and they each held my hands. It was sweet,
very tender. Taking me home, they said they were leaving the next day for
Cameroun, where the man worked. They had been in France for two months.
We exchanged addresses. I write to them at Christmastime, and they write back.
They were more important to me than I was to them–that night they were
everything for me.

“No, take you -in- bed”, was your reply, voice soft and deep.

So, we undressed, quickly, and I went off to the bathroom to
clean up. The lights were off when I got out, and I could see you lying
there, with the covers kicked back, by the light from behind me, just
before I turned that one off too. I made my way over to the bed, slowly
in the dark, letting my eyes adjust to show me your form stretched out
there. And I knew I wanted you tonight…

Wanted to taste you, feel you… A gentle push on your hip, and
you were lying flat, and I could lay a trail of kisses down your chest,
and down the line of fur that leads down, across your abdomen, bumping
into your smooth, half-erect cock with my cheek, feeling how soft the
skin of it is before running my tongue over it once, just to get your
attention. Oh, yes, I had it now… Long, soft licks, savouring the
feel of you, growing harder with each touch of my tongue.

And you, moving your hand against my leg, trailing it softly up
the inside of my thigh as I continued my work. You reached my crotch,
as I knelt over you, and pressed up against it with your knuckles, and I
moaned softly, taking the head of your cock into my mouth, enjoying the
feeling, and turning my hips further towards your hand. You moved it up
further then, trailing it across the back of my thigh, and then across
my cheek, and then back down by my tailbone. I moaned again as you
brushed against my anus, and then paused there, rubbing slow circles,
and pressing ever so slightly as I slid my mouth slowly up and down the
length of you. As we continued, I pushed back against your hand, almost
to urge you on.

“Umm… your finger, it’s awfully dry…”

“I was wondering… Can you reach the lotion?”

“Mmm, hmmm…”, and I reached up to the dresser top for it,
passing the bottle back to you and returning to my licking, applying
just a little bit of suction. The lotion was cool along my tailbone,
but warmed quickly. This time, your finger slipped in easily, and you
began a slow pace that I echoed with my mouth and hand. A little bit
faster, then, and I could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building,
even though you were doing nothing beyond stroking that one finger
slowly in and out of my ass as I suck and licked at you.

The second finger went in almost as smoothly as the first, and
the pace never changed, but it was getting harder and harder to keep up
the blowjob I’d been giving you as the tension grew. And then I was
shaking and spasming around your fingers, unable to continue stroking
you, managing a lick across your balls as I shuddered. I felt you
withdrawing, and the twist of your body as you reached for the towel.

Then your voice, muttering something about more, and your hands,
gently moving me, urging me to turn, facing the edge of the bed, your
knees inside mine, and I -did- want more. You must have heard that,
because after a moment, you had spread more of the lotion over me, and
then nothing, for a while, and something about wanting to be well and
thoroughly lubricated for me.

Again, then, just one finger, only this time there was half a
sting as it entered me, and I twitched, and then the soothing lotion was
doing its work and I was relaxing again, just enjoying the sensation. I
knew what was next. The head of your cock felt smooth, and warm, as you
pressed it slowly against me, easing me open, and I could feel you stop
your motion, letting me rock slowly back onto you, slowly, slipping
maybe half the head in, and then out, as my muscles relaxed into the
feeling of your penetration. Then the whole head slipped in, and I
gasped and stopped rocking for a moment, then started the rocking again,
trying to get you deeper. Passing the widest part, I had to stop again,
and hold, and then pulled almost off and back into you again, clearing
the hurdle and stopping again, and feeling you start the slow rocking
motion yourself, slipping ever deeper as we continued…

I could feel you getting even harder as you moved, fucking me
oh, so slowly, your excitement growing. I was on the brink of coming
again myself. Reaching back, underneath myself, I could just reach to
stroke behind your balls, pressing up with my fingers, feeling the
slickness of the lotion that had spread over the two of us, feeling you
stretching me wide and sinking so deep into me. Still not all of you
in, either, and I wanted you all… Feeling your orgasm building, and
your hands tightening their grip on my waist as you tried not to slam
those last few thrusts too hard, as you came, hard, inside of me. My
own small cries of pleasure sounded loud in my ears, echoing through the
mattress as I reached my own climax.

Your withdrawal left me feeling empty, and strangely both
finished and unfinished, twitching, and with my legs shaking, out of my
control. You got up, walking around the bed, to the bathroom to wash
up, and as the light flicked on, my nerves began to spiral down and my
thoughts were sifting in some semblance of order. I managed to get up,
and tottered on still-shaking legs to the door in time to meet you
coming out, and made my own clean-up efforts.

Coming back in, and slipping bed again, and lying down to hold
you close for a moment, felt good, and warm. But I wasn’t satisfied
yet, and you knew it, and when my twitches stopped, you were raising up
again, onto your own hands and knees, kissing me, moving to lick at me,
and send me into another series of orgasms before you moved up again, my
feet still draped over your shoulders. You were hard again – too soon,
really – and I was dripping wet now, and you slipped into me easily this
time, as you started to fuck me again. Hard this time, the way you knew
I wanted you, and I bucked and wriggled under you in my pleasure as I
came, and again, and again, until I couldn’t anymore, and still you
slammed into me, until, wrapping my legs around your hips, you stopped,
and let yourself down onto me, holding me close and me holding you,
biting and licking at each others’ necks.

“Are you okay?” I think that was your question.

“Mmmm. You? You haven’t come yet…?”

“No, that was for you… I’m fine. Have I told you recently
that you have a wonderful ass?”

‘Oh well,’ Karen thought as she whipped her torso around, cracking
her back and relieving some of the stress. Sometimes, she thought,
she really should hire a professional masseuse to give her backrubs on
days like this. Perhaps, at the same time, she should get one of those
massaging chairs to sit on — all this paperwork was really getting
to her, making her back sore. ‘Maybe it was just the lack of calcium
in her diet — milk certainly does the body good,’ she thought as she
fumbled to put on her sneakers. Walking to her apartment was surely
not going to be a trip that she was looking forward to.

“Hey Karen.” A familiar voice rang in the office. It was one of her
employees, a guy by the name of Scott. “You wanna’ go out with the
office and get some drinks? You really look beat, maybe a few beers
will relax you.”

‘What a nice boy,’ Karen thought. Scott was probably one of the nicest,
if not best looking employees in her firm. Though not the most handsome
of men, he was definitely someone who commanded respect with his calm,
cool presence and his excellent fashion sense. “Ahhhhh, sure Scott –
when are we goin’?”

Karen glanced over at the clock, it was already 6:37pm — she was hoping
to get a few minutes to dress and change before she went.

“How’about 7:30 at the Red Dragon?”

“Sure, that sounds great… I’ll meet you guys there, I’m just going to
go home, pop a quick shower and get dressed. Who else is going?”

“I don’t know. So far just you, me, Cathy and her boyfriend,” Scott said,
wincing a little bit because he was afraid that Karen would think that
he was hitting on her.

“No problem — I’d better get going then…” Karen quickly pulled on
her sneakers and packed her heels in her tote-bag not at all looking
forward to the walk home.

______________________________________________________________________________

‘What to wear? What to wear,’ Karen thought, throwing her clothes
around randomly from her closet. ‘Ahhhh, this’ll be nice.’ Pulling out
a black skirt to match her olive-green blouse and black-plaid jacket
Karen quickly pulled the skirt on…

‘Damn, it’s already 7:15!! I’m going to be late.’ Always punctual,
sometimes neurotically so, was a trait of hers that friends, business
associates and everyone appreciated about her. ‘What hose am I going
to wear?’ Quickly pulling out some black nylons was always a trick
especially when you aren’t sure which side is front and which is the back.

‘Damn, late… 7:20 already’ Panicking, Karen threw on a
coat and ran out the door, barely slipping on her heels.
______________________________________________________________________________

“Heyyyy Karen,” beamed Scott, he always had the cutest smile, “thought
you’d be late — probably the first in years eh?” He elbowed her lightly,
everyone knew that he was just jibbing her — digging in that little
knife, reminding her of how anal she really was.

“Yep.. but a hell of a lot better than the first interview you had!”
Two could play at that game — the very first time the two met was
Scott’s interview; apparently he had gone out drinking the night before
and, as such, woke up quite late, not late enough to miss the interview,
but late enough to leave some shaving cream on his lip. Everyone teased
him about it since the first day, people thought that he looked somewhat
like a mad-dog.

“Let’s play a game — how’about the name game?” Suggested Scott.
“I’m sorry — have I introduced you? This is John, Cathy’s boyfriend”
Always polite Scott pulled away Karen’s chair as she stood to shake
John’s hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.” A handshake firmer than any man’s was Karen’s
trademark. Along with the superior grip-position that she held made
her psychiatry professoor at Harvard tell her that she was entirely the
domineering personality-type — not that she doubted it.

“Okay… how do you play?” John asked, apparently he was unfamiliar
with the game.

“Easy, first you start by … … …”

. . . Drink-fest 1993 . . . Everyone get’s drunk and happy.
. . . “Hey, Karen, where are the briefs for tommorrow’s meeting?”
Scott was drunk, everyone could see that. Despite how big he was he
certainly was swaying back and forth. All night Scott was hitting on
her, touching her knees and stroking her thighs. At this point it was
definitively driving her up the wall and there was no question that Scott
was making her horny — not that she wasn’t playing the devil either,
rubbing her toes up and down his shins and sometimes even brushing past
his crotch.

“Whoa big guy, they’re at my place — you should probably pick them up.”
Karen suggested it. She was a little buzzed and felt the alcohol numb
her lips. It wasn’t a big deal though, even though she was light
in weight she had the liver of an Irishwoman. It wasn’t her liver,
however, that she was thinking of — Scott started putting his hand up
her skirt. Karen could feel that she was getting more and more excited
– her pulse quickened a little and this new stimulation was beginning
to make her breath come a little shorter.

“Oh, that’s right, I should go and get the briefs for tommorrow’s
meeting.” What a nice guy, Karen thought, Scott was definitely trying to
make it sound like business as usual for them… everyone of the guys,
she knew, wanted to ‘make it’ with the boss. It certainly wasn’t the
easiest thing being an attractive woman in charge of a large lawfirm:
when you’re commanding people call you a bitch, when you’re not they
think they can run all over you. But those times had passed and everyone
respected Karen’ s mind and personae greatly — Scott was just trying
to save her the embarrassment.

“Sure big boy, don’t fall down there… Party’s over!” Karen announced,
Scott had a little too much to drink and Cathy/John just seemed ready
to pass out. The name game had definitely taken its toll on everyone;
everyone, that is, except for her — when she was young she had taken
the time out to memorize the Who’s Who in America… obviously a boon
when playing the name-game with shots of hard-liquor.

“Uh, Miss, would you like the check?” It was the bartendar. Scott
quickly stroked his big toe against her crotch — it made Karen gasp
a little.

“Sure, drinks on me — time to go Scott.” She slapped down her credit
card and started putting her jacket on. Luckily Scott wasn’t all THAT
drunk, he got up obediently and slung his coat on. Boy, this was going
to be an interesting night — both she knew and Scott knew that no one
was going to sleep THIS evening…

It was almost time for Stephanie to get home and Alicia was getting warm
with excitement at the thought. She was finishing the vacuuming, the
last of the housework that she had told her to do that day. Nothing
thrilled her more than playing servant to the tall, imperious girl she
had married. She was so beautiful and she loved her so much – that
kneeling in submission before her was the supreme pleasure in her life.
She had a hard-on in her tight panties, beneath the frilly white apron
that covered them, truly a slave of love to that girl.

She heard the front door open and a tingle of titillation went through
her. Then she stepped into the living room : a gorgeous creature with
long dark hair. She stood with hands on hips, watching her finish her
tasks, clad in the white silk blouse and neat black skirt she had worn
that day to the office where she was a rising young executive. She had
a look of disapproval on her face as she stepped across the freshly
vacuumed carpet and dropped into an easy-chair.

“I’m tired, Alicia,” she sighed. “it’s been a hard day, one conference
after another. And some of my underlings are no better than you.
Inefficient. I have to do everything myself.” She nodded, shutting off
the vacuum cleaner as she motioned for her to set it aside and come
to her. “Remove my shoes,” she snapped, “and then massage my feet.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said, hurrying over and addressing her in the
form she most liked to hear. It thrilled her just to say those words,
the submissive words of a love slave, and she was soon on her knees at
her feet.

With a feeling of reverence mixed with growing passion, Alicia lifted
one of the feet Stephanie offered her and caressed the well-polished
shoe. She removed it,setting it aside, then took the stockinged foot
in the palm of her hands. This was the finest prize she could imagine
as she stroked the smooth foot, admired the perfect form, then bent to
bestow a worshipful kiss.

Stephanie moved forward in the chair, raising her black skirt as she
did so,then parting her legs. “Get your head between my thighs,
Slave,” she ordered her, “and eat my pussy.”

It was involuntary movement as Alicia nodded in submission, setting down
her foot to bend her body towards her wife. As she moved closer to the
edge of the chair she pressed her face between the smooth, white pillars
of her thighs, getting an incredibly strong whiff of her passion. Her
lips touched the soft succulent skin that covered the clefted little
mound of her pussy and the fragrance of her juices increased so strongly
that she suddenly thrust her tongue deep into her cunt and swallowed her
juices. The more Alicia licked her wifes pussy, the hotter it felt and
her
juices were flowing even more. She could hear her softly moaning above
her as she lapped away on her marvelous twat.

She felt her quiver with a mild orgasm, and when that had passed she
heard her speak. “Undress me, Alicia,” she commanded; and it was an order
that never failed to excite her further.

She came up from between her thighs with trembling fingers and reached
or the buttons that ran down the front of her white silk blouse. She
undid them carefully, seeing the bulging white curves of her breasts as
the garment parted. She stood, nearly kicking her aside as she did so,
and let the blouse fall over the soft curves of her shoulders. Her
large, shapely breasts jiggled enticingly as she stared up at them. She
put her moist fingers in the waistband of her black skirt, then pulled
it down over her slender ankles, and she stood before her nearly naked,
wearing only a black and red garter belt and the nylon stockings it
suspended.

“Get my red negligee, Slave, “Stephanie said.

“Yes, mistress,” she replied gladly, scrambling for the bedroom, her
cock a stiff stick in her panties, impeding her progress.

She returned with her finest negligee; and as she stood tall in the
middle of the living room she placed it reverently over her voluptuous
body. In her high heels she seemed to tower over her, her perfect
breasts bobbing beneath the see-through material of her negligee. The
rest they were able to do without speech, and soon Stephanie was seated
on their tan leather couch, legs and negligee parted, feet propped up
for comfort.

Alicia knew what to do without being told. As Stephanie leaned back,
relaxing after her hard days work, her husband knelt between her legs
and pressed her aching mouth to the split mound of her pussy. Her
tongue was like a flicking snake, caressing up and down the inner lips
of her pussy, then stimulating the pink nubbin of her clit. She had her
moaning with pleasure as she lapped the juices from deep inside her wet
pussy.

When they were done, she ordered her to stand; and that’s when she
noticed the stiffness of her rod. It tented out the front of her panties
poking up the white apron that covered her front.

“Drop you panties,” she ordered in a scolding tone of voice. “Look at
that lump in your panties, it’s disgraceful.”

Afire with lust and excitement, Alicia undid the buckle of her belt,
unzipped her panties and slowly lowered them to the floor. Her rod sprang
free, huge and stiff and wavering in front of the tall imperious woman.
Stripping for her always excited her, made her feel somehow like a little
girl dropping her drawers before a beautiful woman teacher.

Once her panties were off, Stephanie rose and stood over her in her high
heeled shoes. She knelt, looked up at the spread lips of her pussy and
quickly went to work. Her tongue was moving as rapidly as a piston in a
stock car as she licked her cunt lips up and down, then stimulated her
clit some more. When she had come, she ordered her to the couch, where
she sat with her rod sticking straight up from her naked lap.

She came to her and straddled her legs, parting her thighs widely as
she settled into her lap. Her huge cock poked apart the delicate lips of
her pussy, and as she lowered her body to her the entire shaft of her
cock slid up her sheath. She rode slowly up and down on her dick, fucking
her, arousing her madly. Her prick was so hard that her upstroke brought
her from her lap to nearly a standing position, and when she went back
down again to engulf her bone, she shuddered from the feeling.

She fucked her like that till she wanted some different stimulation on
the inside of her pussy, then carefully worked her way around till her
back was to her. Obediently she sat there letting her wife control the
movements of the fuck, her rod a stiff pole for her wifes pleasure.

When she was through using her in that manner she rose off her, her
huge cock drawing slowly out of the wet slit of her cunt. She perched
on the arm of the couch and ordered her to rise. Alicia got up, her rod
sticking straight out, and she swung around in front of her. Then, as she
sat with one foot propped up, she had her stand in between her thighs,
probe into her pussy with the long shaft of her cock, and then fuck
gently in and out of her pussy. She was moaning with pleasure, sighing
with another orgasm, as she stroked in and out of her hot, tight hole.

“Now I want you to really fuck me good, husband,” she said with a
pleased smile as she drew her rod from her pussy.

She got up and went to the couch, positioning herself on her hands
and knees. Alicia knew what to do. This was one of the most exciting ways
for them to fuck, a position that thrilled them both. She sat on the
couch behind her, her rod between her thighs and into the tight channel
of her pussy from the rear. Gripping her waist, she began to slide into
her. Her cock filled her hole tightly, the hotly lubricated channel of
her sweet young cunt.

She fucked her again and again, till she came loudly, then dropped flat
to the couch. Alicia pulled out shooting her load all over her tight ass
then
rubbed it in. She was on her stomach for a long while, and when she awoke
it was to order her into the bedroom.

Their bed chamber was a seductive room, with rust-hued walls and a
gorgeous bronze-like bedspread. They were quickly naked, except for
Stephanies garter belt and nylons, then lounged on the large bed. She
wanted some more of that doggie-style fucking that Alicia was giving her
on the couch, so she got on her hands and knees and ordered her to fuck
her. Gladly, her husband got in behind her on the bed on her knees and
stuck her rod up her cunt from behind. Then she shoved it in and out,
battering her shapely buttocks with her loins as she fucked her harder
and harder.

When she withdrew, Stephanie rolled over onto her back, pulling her on
top of her. Her body was coated with sweat, her forehead beaded with
dewy perspiration and her rod as stiff as it had ever been in her life
as she mounted her. She tossed her head, moaning softly as she felt her
dick penetrate the soft barrier of her pussy. She was over her like a
real man now, aroused again to a fever pitch of maddened lust. She was
pounding her cock into her tight hole, fucking into her as hard as she
could, pistoning her pole as rapidly as possible.

She knew she couldn’t hold her come much longer, and even though she
jerked her dick out of her pussy in an effort to control it, she shot
off all over her stomach and everywhere. Stephanie loved it as she
felt burst after hot burst of her sticky cum splatter on her belly
and tits.

They lay panting on the bed for some time, then rose and went to the
bathroom where they both washed themselves clean. They returned to the
bed chamber, as Stephanie threw on her negligee again. Together, they lay
in each others arms on the soft, bronzed bedspread, talking about the
lovemaking that had gone on before. They both agreed that it had been
good, at least as good as any time in the past. And the more they talked,
the more aroused they became again.

Alicia’s cock wasn’t hard enough for her to fuck her again, but there
was
another way she could please her wife, and she suggested it! (Major
accomplishment here, everyone give her a big hand). Soon she was on her
back on the bed, her negligee wide open, her thighs spread to bare her
pussy. Alicia got on her stomach between her legs and pressed her lips to
her cunt lips. Soon she was sucking gently, and it wasn’t long before she
was quaking from another orgasm. She continued her pleasant task, till
Stephanie laid back, still and satisfied.

Then Alicia turned over onto her back, her dick semi-hard, fairly
begging
to be sucked back to full length. When her wife roused from the wonderful
stupor induced by her cunt-lapping, she got over her cock and fiddled with
it. The more she played with it the harder it got, till finally she slid
her lips over the head. It swelled up in her mouth, hardening as she
sucked,and in time her lips were gliding up and down the length of her
raging hard-on. She sucked for a long time, because she was able to
control
herself for quite a while.

At last she came, shooting off and hitting the roof of her mouth with
her cum. She parted her lips, letting the stuff roll out. She loved the
taste of Alicia’s cum in her mouth, loved the sensation of the stuff
rolling
over her lower lip.

They fell asleep in each others arms.

LOVE
YOUR SLUT
ALICIA

–

(MF, 1st time, Medieval)

Christina, daughter of Landaus the woodsman, stood

staring with pride at her betters as they passed by

in splendid procession. She could see Lord Malinov

riding beside his lady’s litter and was hoping to see

the wondrous Lady Diana.

The people loved her not just for her beauty but for

her beneficent influence upon the Court. Ever since

she arrived at the castle their lord had been kind

and generous to his people.

Cheers went up as Lord Malinov threw the obligatory

coins to the crowd, his magnificent presence dazzling

all the girls – and many of the men too, if the truth

were told.

Christina’s heart swelled as his cortege of young

warriors faithfully trooped across the meadow road

bridge in the wake of their lord and lady. Their liege

lord was returning in triumph from the Holy Land, and

stories of his valor had flown like dragon’s fire

through the villages.

Christina had been moved to tears by the story of Sir

Andrew, the young knight who had saved his lord by

taking an arrow in the chest that had been aimed at

Lord Malinov. She could see the young man resting

comfortably on a cart, in a place of honor just behind

Lady Diana’s litter.

Christina’s tears began to flow again when she thought

of the bravery of this perfect young knight, and of his

terrible wound.

At last the procession passed into the Castle Malinov.

All the fine people would be making merry tonight. It

was Solstice, and a banquet would be held as usual.

Christina, along with many other peasant women living

in the forest surround, had been charged to help with

the festivities. Living so close to the castle meant

they were often required to serve their master at table

when a big feast was in the making. Christina had often

served in the kitchen as a child.

However, grown-up now, she had been instructed for the

first time to serve in the great hall. Lady Malinov

always required her serving wenches to ‘be of comely

nature and person.’ As a perfect hostess, it was only

natural that the Lady Diana would want to please her

guests’ visual, as well as culinary, tastes.

Christina thrilled at the thought of serving the nobles

that very evening; she could hardly wait. She happily

skipped homewards, day-dreaming of feasts, of gentle-

folk and handsome knights…

*

Several hours later, in the warm castle kitchens…

*

Christina’s Aunty Bessy shouted from her place in front

of the hearth: “Christina girl! Keep your mind on the

task at hand, will ye!”

Christina blushed when she realized that she’d been

standing and gazing at her reflection in the silver

tray she’d been instructed to polish. “Sorry, aunty.

I must have been daydreaming. It’s just that I’m so

excited to be serving gentlefolk; I’ve always longed

to do it. Oh, aunty! Isn’t it just wonderful to be so

close to so much glitter and fine trappings.”

Her aunty just grunted and turned back to the roasting

boar turning on the spit over the fire, while Christina

looked once more at her reflection in the gleaming

tray.

The boys in the village often commented on her good

looks. Christina just knew she could turn all heads,

even those of her betters, if she was properly washed

and groomed. She was proud of her looks, and had always

been careful with her body, not doing any of the

foolish things some of the local girls got up to. She

was sure she was meant to be something special, more

than just a farmer’s wife.

Hearing her aunty start to grumble again, Christina

quickly went back to work, preparing for that night’s

feast.

*

…Night is falling. The great hall is alive

with music and revelry…

*

Pageantry and gaiety had always been like a drug to

Christina. Tonight she’d been assigned to a position

at the head of the hall, which meant that she’d be

serving her lord and lady, and also the guests of

honor. She was so nervous at first that she thought

she was going to faint, and almost did when the

gracious Lady Diana turned towards her and smiled as

Christina was filling her glass.

Christina made sure to place herself close to handsome

young Sir Andrew, the bravest knight in the realm. Sir

Andrew was a mystery to the common folk in the forest

surround. He came from across the narrow sea, and spoke

with a strange accent. His parents were almost mythical

figures. Eli The Bearded was known by one and all as

a great war leader in his land, while the Lady Cyrrh,

his wife, was both feared and respected on both sides

of the water for her magical powers.

Christina made a special effort to please the young

knight with the illustrious pedigree, waiting on his

every whim, always at hand when he looked as if he

might want something.

The feasting and entertainment continued late into the

evening, by which time many of the guests were well

into their cups, and boisterous in their merry-making.

As she weaved between the guests conversing at the

table, Christina noticed Sir Andrew favoring her with

a smile, not to mention a wink of his eye! She was

ecstatically happy to have been noticed by such a

handsome and illustrious knight.

*

Later that evening, the embers were burning low…

*

As the night wore on, the serving girls had less and

less to do. Making one of her rounds, Christina was

both surprised and pleased when Sir Andrew reached out

and pulled her down on to the bench next to him.

“You’re a pretty wench!! What’s your name?”

She blushed with embarrassment and excitement,

answering in a small voice: “Christina, great sir.”

He laughed at her timid response and said, cheerfully:

“You sound shy, but you weren’t too shy to flirt with

me just now.”

Christina was taken aback. Had she been that obvious?

Oh well, at least he’d noticed her! She answered

softly: “I hope I did not offend the great lord. It

was not what I intended.” She gave him her most

appealing ‘innocent little girl’ look. She’d used that

look to great effect on the peasant boys in her

village, and wondered how a nobleman would react to

such a rustic device.

Sir Andrew saw before him a very pretty peasant girl,

with a very fetching look on her lovely face. Having

her so close to him was making him sexually aroused.

He was surprised to feel anything at all. His wound,

and the sea travel, combined with little opportunity

or inclination, had meant that he hadn’t shared a

woman’s bed for more than six months.

As, however, he looked into this girl’s lovely eyes,

a need grew within him. He smiled at her and, gently

pulling her towards him, kissed her soft lips.

Though she tried not to show it, Christina was beside

herself with excitement. A noble knight had actually

kissed her. She could die now, and life would have been

fair to her. Joy and love surfaced in her as she kissed

him back, pushing her supple young body against his in

sudden urgent need. One of her hands came to rest

comfortably on the young man’s crotch, hidden under

the table.

Christina didn’t really know what she was doing, but

Caroline, her older cousin, had told her that men liked

having that part touched by women.

Sir Andrew almost choked when he felt her hand between

his legs, and his eyes widened as she massaged his

growing erection through the material of his breeches.

Does she have any idea what she’s doing?, he wondered.

They sat together for hours, while the feasting

gradually died down and guests began making their way

into the darker recesses of the great hall, to sleep.

Sir Andrew, as befitting a knight, had his own area by

the north wall. His sleeping quarters were smallish,

but reasonably private, and his thoughts turned towards

using this privacy to bed this pretty wench. When the

great Lord Malinov and the beautiful Lady Diana rose

to toast Solstice, all who still could held their

goblets high and chanted their lords’ name the

prescribed amount of times.

With a flourish of his robes Lord Malinov turned and,

his lady at his side, dismounted from the dais. They

made their way past their guests, nodding to the

occasional friend; pausing here and there.

The royal couple halted at Sir Andrew’s side, and Lord

Malinov wished him the very best of fortune. To

Christina’s amazement, Lady Diana leaned forward and

kissed Sir Andrew on the cheek, whispering: “Thank you,

kind sir. Your service to the kingdom, and to me, has

created a debt I can never repay. I can never thank

you enough for taking my husband’s life into your

hands, and will always be grateful to you.”

She stood up, her back erect, her perfect body held

with dignity, and her eyes shining with tears of

gratitude.

Christina watched in a kind of ecstasy the noble

couple’s graceful exit from the great hall. Her recent

thoughts about having a good time, and relieving the

lust that had been building within her, had disappeared.

Admiration for her liege lord and his lady fair over-

whelmed her, bringing tears to her eyes.

Sir Andrew watched his little serving wench gaze at

the retreating figures of her lord and mistress, and

thought he was seeing the flush of innocent youth at

the moment of perfection. Though not more than 23

himself, he saw the innocent happiness radiating from

the young girl’s face as a light in darkness.

His need was growing again, and he thought to himself:

‘I will have her flower tonight. I’ll take her

virginity, and be whole again.’ The thought stirred his

loins, and he leant over and cupped one hand over one

of Christina’s soft, round breasts.

Christina started at the intimate contact, but then

accepted it gladly. Turning her clear blue eyes on the

young knight’s dark, smoldering ones, she kissed him

deeply, which in turn made him more urgent in his own

caresses.

Suddenly, without a word, he stood up and pulled

Christina to her feet. Taking her by the hand, he led

her into the dark recesses of the great hall, toward

his pallet. The young couple giggled together as they

stumbled over lesser knights and guests, forced to make

do with reed mats on the hall floor.

Christina was shocked to see couples copulating in

plain sight, some being watched as a kind of show by

their neighbors. She giggled nervously when she passed

them, her knight responding by passionately kissing her

neck and ear.

*

The great hall. A knight’s billet…

*

Sir Andrew lit a small taper before getting the young

servant girl to stand before him and beginning to

undress her. She wore simple clothing, without either

buttons or snaps, just peasant-style little ties that

were easy to undo.

While he removed her garments one by one, Christina

stood very still, her arms slightly out from her sides,

wondering what Sir Andrew was planning for her. She had

no experience in this sort of affair.

Her heart pounded as her body was lovingly uncovered

by her paramour. Deciding at last she ought to do

something herself, she started unbuttoning Sir Andrew’s

tunic while he was still engaged in removing her

garments. Soon the young couple were both standing

naked.

Sir Andrew was aware that he was hard again, and

marveled at it. There’d been a time when he thought

he’d never feel lust again, but now, standing before

this common, but beautiful little vixen, he was fully

erect, and horny as a goat. Her body promised him all

the physical delights that a woman could offer.

He reached out to fondle her delightful breasts, and

was pleased to see her dusky-pink nipples harden at

his touch.

Christina hadn’t realized how beautiful a man’s body

could be. She’d assumed that, under their clothing,

all men were like her Uncle George – hairy and rough.

She’d seen her uncle working in the fields without his

shirt, and saw little resemblance between that memory

and the almost hairless, well-muscled body of Sir

Andrew.

She noticed his terrible scar at the place where the

arrow had entered his body. She reached out to touch

the spot, at the same moment looking downward and

seeing the evidence of his maleness pointing at her.

Christina was fascinated by the sight of Sir Andrew’s

straining penis. She’d never thought before about a

man’s sexual organ. Of course, growing up as she had

in the fields of the forest surround, she’d seen

animals doing it, and naturally had seen her little

brother nude on many occasions. But they hadn’t looked

anything like the meaty pole that was standing erect

before her.

Unsure of what was expected of her, she shyly reached

out her hand and touched the aroused organ. It felt

hot, almost burning, to her cool hand. Intrigued, she

gripped the young knight’s erect penis and gently

squeezed.

Sir Andrew groaned, immensely enjoying the sensation.

He was, indeed, a little surprised that this young

beauty was acting in such a forward manner. He was used

to girls accepting his advances as if he were entitled

to make them, but this one was lively indeed.

Christina began pulling the smooth skin of her lover’s

penis up and down the shaft, revelling in the pleasure

she saw on Sir Andrew’s face. She was enjoying herself

too; the feel of his hot sex in her hand stirred

strange feelings inside her. She wanted this beautiful

man more than anything, and was more than willing do

anything he asked of her.

Her cool touch on his hot erection was all that was

needed to make Sir Andrew convinced he’d be able to

perform the sexual act. Indeed, he felt so aroused

that he started to worry that he might come too soon.

He began exploring the young girl’s body with his

hands, running them over her smooth skin; her

shoulders, soft breasts, thighs and flat stomach. She’s

truly a lovely wench, he thought, considering himself

fortunate that he could look forward to having her that

night.

As her hand smoothed his precum fluid over his shaft,

he felt himself begin to lose control and reached out

to stop her. Holding her lovely shoulders with his

battle-scarred hands, he gently pushed Christina down

onto his pallet, still marveling at the perfection he

saw by the dim light of the taper.

Nuzzling his swollen sex organ in between her legs, Sir

Andrew parted her sweet nether lips with his thumb and

forefinger, and pushed his bulging cockhead into her,

stretching the opening into her vagina.

Christina’s eyes opened wide when she felt him fumbling

at her crotch. She knew, in a general way, what he was

doing; she just didn’t know quite what would come next.

When his manhood opened her up she gasped in surprise,

amazed that something that big could possibly fit

inside her. She closed her eyes and tried to concen-

trate on what was being done to her.

It felt strange, and a little painful, but Christina

didn’t care about the pain. She was being taken by a

nobleman, and on Solstice. If she became pregnant, she

would be important and have high status in the village.

And to happen on Solstice would make it doubly lucky.

The thought of having Sir Andrew’s baby made her eager

and excited.

Meanwhile, the knight was having a little trouble

forcing himself into the young serving wench, because

her tunnel was exceptionally tight. He approved that

in principle, but it meant he would have to hurt her.

Might as well get it over with, he thought.

He thrust his hips downward, forcing his now-slick

shaft deep into Christina.

“Ooowwee! Gggod!” she moaned when the pain knifed

through her body.

Sir Andrew moved his lips to her ear and said quietly:

“Don’t worry. I’ve just taken your flower. You’ll feel

fine in just a minute, I promise. Trust me, will you?”

Christina lay quietly under her handsome knight, tears

welling up in her eyes, her legs spread for his plea-

sure. She nodded, waiting for him to do his will,

whatever that might be.

He placed his hands on either side of Christina’s

chest, and levered his upper body up and away from

hers so he could look into her eyes. “You trust me,

don’t you? I won’t hurt you unnecessarily. You do know

that, don’t you?”

He smiled encouragingly, and Christina almost forgot

the pain. Then he moved inside her again and the pain

momentarily returned, but not for long.

The knight was so overwhelmed by his desire after so

long abstinence that it took just a few strokes in and

out of Christina’s warm, velvety tunnel for him to

achieve orgasm. Thrusting himself against Christine’s

pelvic bone, he felt the once-familiar release he’d

missed for so long, his seed spurting copiously from

his body into hers. The resulting intense orgasmic

relief was a feeling he’d almost forgotten.

Christina now began enjoying herself. She joyed in

being rodded by this beautiful young man, and was

beginning to match his moves when he suddenly tensed,

simultaneously pushing his organ hard into her. His

body’s vigorous thrust, pressing against her pubic

mound, sent a thrill right through her, and at the

same time she felt Sir Andrew’s hot sperm jet into

her womb. It tickled, as spurt after spurt forced its

way deep inside.

She uttered an involuntary sigh of satisfaction, while

her lover grunted as he emptied his seed into her.

*

The great hall. Sounds of pleasure

fill the night…

*

After that first time there was no stopping Christina,

and she and her knight copulated time and again, all

the night through. There were some gruff rebukes from

neighbors, offended by the noise of their lovemaking,

but the young lovers took no notice.

Christina was in love. She’d never expected to find

anyone that could make her feel so happy. As far as she

was concerned, Sir Andrew was perfect in mind and body,

almost godlike, and, indeed, before the night was over

she was worshipping him like a god.

In the morning she awoke to find that her lover had

already left the hall. Most of the knights were

expected to perform in jousting and other manly arts

as the festival continued, and Sir Andrew had gone to

the jousting field.

She remained for a while in his bed, feeling warm and

sated. Stretching like a well-fed kitten, Christina

thought dreamily about the night that had just passed,

and wondered if Sir Andrew would want to try something

different tonight. She was prepared for anything, and

smiled at the thought.

*

Outside, in the forest surround, on the

jousting ground…

*

Sir Robert addressed his young friend with a tinge of

admiration in his voice. “So, young fellow, who was

that ravishing wench you bedded last night?”

Sir Andrew, who was watching some young bucks dueling

in the competition yard, answered in a distracted tone:

“Dunno. Can’t remember her name, but she was a great

fuck. Why don’t you try her out tonight?”

Sir Robert looked a little surprised. “You’re sure

about that, are you? Of course, if you really don’t

want her any more I’ll be happy to bed her.”

Sir Andrew said carelessly: “With my wound I couldn’t

take two nights like that in a row. Besides, I’ve got

my eye on another wench who served me breakfast a

little while ago. So feel free.”

–

Archive-name: 3plus/1stparty.txt
Archive-author:
Archive-title: First Party

Q: Why do men whistle when they’re sitting on the toilet?
A: Because it helps them remember which end they need to wipe.

Q: What is the difference between men and women?
A: A woman wants one man to satisfy her every need. A man wants every
woman to satisfy his one need.

Q: How does a man keep his youth?
A: By giving her money, furs and diamonds.

Q: How do you keep your husband from reading your e-mail?
A: Rename the mail folder to instruction manuals

doing; if she was having sex with the group captain again. If Darlene had been in

their room as she was supposed to be, the attack she had just been subjected to

probably would never have happened. Her thoughts were bitter, as she rocked back

and forth still sobbing, unable to control the feelings of lone- liness that

washed over her. She could still feel the pain and humiliation so recently caused

by the hands that had invaded her body.

Slowly her sobs quieted, and a determined look trans- formed her pretty face. Her

thoughts turned to home, to friends at school, a longing for friends and family

swept through her. She looked over at her roommates empty bed again and thought,

‘no I’d rather die than take the easy way out like Darleen has, I just have to

take it.’

She understood why her roommate had taken the captain as a lover. It had stopped

the other men on base from hitting on her, like the continued advances that she

still had to thwart. She thought bitterly, ‘all I want is to become a combat

pilot, not to date the whole damn squadron! Why couldn’t they give me a little

respect? What’s wrong with me, why don’t they like me?’

What had occurred only moments ago, was retaliation for her continual rejection

of her male classmates advances toward her. At first she had tried to explain why

she thought it wasn’t a good idea to become romantically involved with anyone.

Then when that didn’t seem to work, she became more abrupt any of the medical

services for her entire term. She wasn’t all that happy about doing so now, but

she had to talk to someone other than Darleen about her fears and anxieties.

Lt. Beal turned to be an old war horse with over 25 years in the Air Force.

Kriste was disappointed to find that she would get no sympathy there. Lt. Beal’s

solution was simple; “Girl, you sound to me like you’re just a little up tight.

When I was you’re age, I’d have paid to get a bunch of handsome cadets to feel me

up. I suggest that you consider giving some lucky young man a little gift of that

up tight virginity of yours. You just need a some good sex, and you’ll be right

as rain.”

As Kriste walked to Logistics class, the phrase “give some man a gift of that up

tight virginity of yours,” kept running through her head. At nineteen Kriste,

hadn’t had any kind of sex with another person. Could ’she’ be the problem. Was

’she’ the one who was strange, could she have brought on the events of the other

night because she was so up tight about sex? The problem prayed on Kriste’s mind

all day. She had re- mained a virgin because she didn’t want anything to get in

her way, she knew what she’d wanted, and boys just weren’t important enough to

jeopardize her dream.

She couldn’t believe it, here she was at the threshold of realizing everything

she had worked for, and it was turning out to be a disappointment. None of her

class- mates liked her, she was unable to make friends, maybe she had her

priorities wrong after all. . . .

At dinner that evening as Kriste sat alone eating, still with an distracted look

on her pretty face, a young cadet sat down beside her. “Mind if I sit here

sweety?”

Normally Kriste would have said something like, “Hey, don’t call me sweety, I

have a name!” But that evening she just looked at him and gave him a wan smile.

She noted that the man was John Davenport, the guy with the rich family from

Boston. Kriste had never really liked him, he was a loud-mouth as far as she was

con- cerned. And ever since they’d started actual flight training, she had done

much better than him, and he’d been less than gracious about it.

On an impulse, Kriste said, “Would you like to go out with me tonight?”

Johnny for once, didn’t have a smart comeback. He sat there with his mouth open

and stared at her for an awkward moment, then smiled and said, “Sure honey I’d

like that just fine. What made you change your mind about dates?”

Kriste took a deep breath, leveled a stare at the young man and said in a

determined voice, “I’ve decided to have sex with a man, and I’ve pick you; so how

about it?” She almost fainted she was so nervous. Making the decision to have sex

with one of her classmates had taken all her courage. She had ignored sex all her

life, now here she was trying to get a man to make love to her. She could almost

hear her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him to answer her.

For the second time in rich Johnny Davenport’s life he was left speechless. All

he could do for a moment was stutter, “. . .s. . .se. . .sex. . . with me? I

don’t get it?”

Kriste stood up with dinner tray in hand, and said in a voice that she hoped

sounded sexy, “You’ll ‘get it’ tonight, I promise you. But do me a favor and keep

this a secret will you?”

She stood staring at the young man until as if breaking a trance, he jumped to

life and said, “Ah. . . sure sweety, I promise. . . our little secret. . .”

Kriste stood a moment longer then turned to go, saying over her shoulder, “I’ll

meet you in town at the Blue Bird, why don’t you get a room for us.”

-=*=-

Kriste hurried back to her dorm room with a vicious case of butterflies beating

around in her stomach. As she entered their room she saw Darleen dressing for her

date that night. “So, Darleen, you gonna meet Ronald in town tonight?” Her

roommate was pulling on one of her short skirts that barely covered her bottom.

Kriste wondered how she could sit without showing everything, but then thought to

herself, ‘well that’s probably the idea.’ Bringing her mind back to the question

she needed to ask, Kriste said, “Could you drop me off in town on your way?”

Darleen shot her one of her ‘Darleen’ looks and said, “What, at the library?” She

was being sarcastic again, but Kriste didn’t mind, she was so nervous and

confused, that she actually said, “No I’m meeting Johnny at the Blue Bird, and I

just need a ride is all.”

Darleen stopped what she was doing and turned to look at her roommate. “You’re

what? You and Johnny? Oh man, now I’ve heard everything. Why’d you pick a jerk

like that?”

Kriste looked hurt for a moment, then trying to sound confident she said, “I just

need to lose my cherry, I don’t intend to marry the man. I think he’ll do.”

Her roommate must have found something funny about that because she just laughed

and said she’d be happy to drop her off at the motel.

-=*=-

It was after 8 by the time Darleen dropped Kriste off in the motel parking lot.

At the last moment, Darleen felt concern for her, and asked, “Do you want to ask

me anything? You want me to come back in an hour to see if you need a ride back

to base?”

Kriste had already steeled herself for the coming event. She just wanted to get

it over with, and her friends questions were distracting, the words demanded that

she think, and she didn’t want to think right then, so she just said, “No thanks

Dar, I’m OK, but thanks.” She squeezed her roommate’s hand as she exited the car.

Darleen watched the Levi clad woman walk toward the motel office. She thought to

herself, that ‘that bastard Johnny better appreciate what he’s getting to-

night.’ But then she knew that he probably wouldn’t.

-=*=-

After inquiring at the front desk, and getting a leer- ing once-over by the

clerk, Kriste headed for Johnny’s room. She was determined to go through with it.

Just like everything in her young life, once she had made up her mind, she went

through with her plans. . .to the end.

As Kriste knocked on the door she felt her heart pound- ing in her chest, and

could feel her pulse thumping in her throat. As the door opened, she looked into

the room and saw a messy bed with the covers thrown on the floor, and the TV

blaring. Johnny was standing in front of her in his underwear and nothing else.

Kriste knew that he was trying to shock her, to make her nervous, so as

nonchalantly as possible she said, “Embarrassed about size, is that why you’re

keeping your undies on?” She smiled at his blank look, then shoved past him to

the bathroom. Hearing the door close in the other room, Kriste leaned with both

hands on the small bathroom sink, looked at her reflection in the mirror, and for

a brief moment wondered what she was doing. Then out of the corner of her eye she

saw Johnny, now minus his underwear standing in the doorway.

She didn’t move, she just keep looking at her reflec- tion, then slowly moved her

eyes to the reflection of the man behind her. Although she had never seen an

erect penis before, she knew what was between a man’s legs, but she was still

surprised at the actual sight of it. He was fully hard and pointing out and up.

A moment of fear flashed through her ‘that he was too big to actually fit inside

her.’ She hadn’t realized that they got that big. Slowly Kriste turned putting on

a brave face she said, “Well lets get it done OK?”

The young man looked at Kriste, admiring her, thinking how pretty she was, her

straight blonde hair framing a pretty tan face. Her wide set blue eyes and full

lips had always attracted his attention. And now he was going to fuck this babe;

the thought sent a sexual thrill thought his body.

They stood in silence facing each other, Kriste’s eyes locked on Johnny’s pulsing

erection. After a minute or so he started to become a little self-conscious and

finally said, “Hey sweety, we can’t do it with your clothes on, now can we?”

She was startled for a moment then quickly began to strip her clothes off. She

looked like someone who was about to go skinny dipping in freezing water, and

just wanted to get the initial shock of diving into the cold water over with.

Johnny didn’t care that she looked nervous, he just wanted to plunder her body.

He still couldn’t under- stand why she’d put the moves on him. He’d tried so many

times he’d finally given up. That’s why he’d instigated the little nocturnal call

on her room the other night. And. . . ummm. . . her tight little pussy had felt

so good, that had been a little piece of heaven. He still remembered the feel of

her pussy lips around his fingers, and the smell of her. He’d fallen asleep in

his bunk with his fingers in his mouth. And speaking of heaven he thought; ‘man

look at that tight body, this is gonna be just too fine.’

Kriste had undone her pants first and stepped out of them. As she was pulling her

T-shirt over her head, Johnny decided that he couldn’t wait any longer. He

grabbed the surprised girl around the waist and shoved her onto the bed. Her arms

were still above her head, with the T-shirt obstructing her view, so she cried

out for him to wait. But Johnny didn’t care: he just wanted to fuck her, and he

was ready.

As Kriste struggled with her T-shirt, Johnny climbed between the young woman’s

thrashing legs and pushed his swollen cock into her exposed sex. He pulled out

then pushed back in, fast this time, fast and hard. He felt the impact of her

maidenhead and then it gave way all at once and he plunged in as deep as he

could. His head spun, the sensations that assailed him were momentarily

over-powering. She was so tight! It felt like a living glove surrounding his

straining cock. He could feel every beat of her heart pulsing through the warm

walls of her cunt, throbbing around his cock; like nothing he’d ever experienced

before. He was loving it.

Kriste stopped struggling with the tangled T-shirt as she felt Johnny begin to

enter her. Through the fabric of her shirt she could hear him on top of her

grunting in his effort to gain entrance. Then she felt herself being stretched. .

.more, and more, until it started to hurt, and still he pushed her open.

Lying there hands above her head, legs dangling over the edge of the bed, a man

hunched over her, thrusting into her exposed sex, Kriste didn’t know how to

react. She hadn’t known what to expect, but she had never imagined anything like

this. Then she cried out through gritted teeth as he pushed home all the way into

her. The pain was intense, but her cry didn’t bother Johnny; having reached his

goal he just started pumping away happily, bouncing the young woman’s body

underneath his own.

Kriste’s young body soon recovered from the initial shock, her strong well shaped

legs flexed with each thrust of the horny man on top of her. But it was

uncomfortable for her, the position was an awkward one.

But Johnny didn’t care, he was enjoying the feel of Kriste’s pussy wrapped around

his pumping shaft. He was enjoying it so much in fact, that shortly he began to

grunt with each thrust, until his body went rigid, trembling on top of Kriste’s

as he pushed hard and deep into her and emptied himself into her womb. The only

sound in the room was his gasps for breath as he slumped on top of the young

woman.

After a few moments Johnny pulled out of her and stood up with a big sigh, and

said, “Now that was fun, we’ll have to do that again next week. Or maybe tomorrow

night would be even better.” He was laughing to himself as he wiped his shrinking

manhood with a towel, and began to dress.

Kriste lay still for a moment after Johnny had pulled himself out of her. T-shirt

still wrapped around her face and arms. She wasn’t quite sure what had just

happened. She had lost her virginity, hadn’t she? The slight pain between her

legs confirmed it, his cooling sweat on her chest and stomach confirmed it,

didn’t it? Slowly she sat up on the bed, pulling her shirt back down to cover her

breasts. She watched as Johnny wiped himself and talked about their next time.

To describe the feeling of that unreal moment, all Kriste could think of was it

had been, well. . disap- pointing. She was kind of numb; everything had happened

so fast, and she’d received no pleasure from it. She remembered her girlfriends

talking so lovingly about their men, how good they made them feel. Kriste just

sat there with nothing on but her T-shirt and socks, watching her first and only

sex partner getting dressed to leave.

As Johnny buttoned his shirt, and was ready to depart, he turned to Kriste and

said with a happy smile on his face, “You can stay in the room as long as you

want, I paid for the whole night. And baby, I just want’a thank you for a great

fuck, I really enjoyed it. Maybe we’ll do it again tomorrow night huh?” With that

he pulled the door open and was gone.

Kriste looked at the closed door blankly, totally devoid of any feeling, except

the uncomfortable trickle of his sperm flowing from her used sex.

Not quite sure what to do, the young woman continued to sit where she’d been

thrown only a few minutes before. The thought started to form in her mind, ‘Is

this all there is to it?’ She couldn’t quite believe that that was all, but then

she’d just had sex with a man, and here she was sitting on a bed in a cheap

motel, leaking on the sheets.

A knock at the door startled Kriste out of her reverie. Almost as if in a dream

she got up from the bed, wondering why Johnny had come back, and what he wanted

now. She opened the door and was even more startled to see David, one of her

cadet classmates.