She came for another ride: easy ridin'.

The following morning, I slowly awoke to find that we were spooning, her back to my chest, under the thick covers. I nuzzled my face between her warm shoulderblades and, in a slow, sleepy caress, brought my hand from her taut stomach to her hips, thighs, and to cupping her firm heart-shaped behind. I smiled groggily to myself as I held her asscheek in my grip, and my cock stirred. Slowly, she began to wake and murmured with a slight smile. As I held her, my caresses shifted to gentle probing, and she parted her legs slightly and brought her right knee down to the bed and toward her chest to give me more access to her folds, her anus, her sleepy clit. For a few moments, I enjoyed gently touching and stroking her tenderness in the dark warmth that enveloped us. As I hardened, I enjoyed sliding the length of me along the small of her back and in the soft seam underneath.

I tugged some of the covers free to expose her beautiful ass to the morning light. Uncovering myself, I knelt above and behind her. She gasped quietly when I parted her thighs and dove my head between them to slide the length of my tongue down and between her smooth labia. Her body stiffened when I flicked it beside her clit and slowly gave her a wide, wet lick upward until I was teasing the outermost ring of her dark, crinkled rosebud while both hands grasped her asscheeks firmly and spread her open like a book.

But I was teasing. After gently holding her clit between my fingers and giving it a few slow swirls, I brought my hand back again to cup and caress her delightful bare butt some more as she whimpered quietly into the feather pillow. A firm pat or two later, I was smirking to myself as I strolled out of bed. I knew the Tomboy would want to slumber lazily some more, and I was wide alert and ready for a pot of tea. She grunted in playful annoyance but was soon asleep again.

Her black leather chaps were still carefully draped over the edge of the parlour futon as I relaxed with the newspaper. I sipped a mug of Russian Caravan and listened as she breathed deeply in the bedroom. My pad smelled like warm flesh and the previous night's filet mignon decadence.

Soon, she stumbled quietly into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes awake like some small child whose desire for breakfast won over the desire for more sleep. Like me, she was naked, and the cats swirled around her ankles. I poured her some tea. She reached for her jeans, which were also on the couch, and began to put them on. Damn, she looked good in those jeans.

As we chitchatted, I remembered that she'd be riding home later, but a naughtier part of my thinking knew that I'd want to have some more fun with her before she left. After all, it had been almost four years since we'd last fucked, and while I definitely got the sense from Tomboy that she'd want to see me again reasonably soon, God knew how long it would be until then.

And that's when, an hour or so later and after I'd dressed, we both were fully caffeinated and alert and making plans for the morning (while, incidentally, she remained topless), I smiled and impulsively pulled her close to me. Her warm tits felt fantastic against me as her kiss took me whole, grunting quietly under her breath as she feasted on me. Playfully, I gripped her long, dark hair and spun her toward the futon with her chaps draped over them and bent her over its edge.

I reached around her and began undoing her jeans. She got the idea and assumed the position, resting her hands on the wooden frame. I squatted behind her and tugged the denim low, totally enjoying the sight of her gradually exposed flesh as I did so. She was my toy, my plaything, and I intended to fuck her senseless before she had her morning OJ.

The denim held her ankles in a fallen swath as she parted her legs and bent completely over. Still squatting, I held her ass open and teased her holes again, soaking her, drenching her with my probing tongue before standing once more and aiming my wide, silky cockhead to her eager pussy. Tilting my hips just right, I slowly slid inside her tightness and my chest heaved as I indulged in her heat. She felt fucking fantastic, and I grunted aloud as I started thrusting smoothly and deeply inside her core. Under me, she panted and squealed, pushing herself back against me as she totally got into getting fucked this way in the morning light.

I love it when my partner's ass smacks gently against me as I fuck from behind. I love it when they thrust back to me. I love it when I watch them, from above and behind, yield and give in to being taken for my thick, hard cock inside them. And, in this case, fucking my ex-lover Tomboy again felt delicious and saucv and just plain fun.

Her ass slammed harder against me as I took her deeper and faster. I coiled her long hair into my fist, and she moaned aloud when I tugged her head high and back, her mouth open as she got taken.

Soon, I withdrew from her, and in a no-nonsense, shut-up-and-come-along move, I wrapped her hair around my fist and practically pulled her back into the bedroom, her head tilted to one side as she snapped to it. Using her hair like a leash, I pulled right right to the esge of the bed and yanked her to the mattress, hard and fast, and then gripped her hips to keep her ass raised high in the air and her head down against the crumpled covers.

Standing above her, I held her ass open again and thrusted my cock back into her drenched pussy. She cried aloud and I used her hips to pull her backwards and forwards while I fucked her. Her cunt was mine. Her ass was mine. She screamed aloud as she felt me batter her walls until I felt my balls tense, my cock thicken, her wetness coax me, her tightness milk me, and then burst after burst of me exploding in steady streams.

Soon, I slowed down, and she was a puddle on the bed. My cock glistened when I withdrew from her, and with a deep and appreciative laugh, went to shower. She giggled, rolled herself back into the covers, and snoozed contentedly.

We went to breakfast. True to form for her newfound passion for riding, we went to a terrific local bistro with a cool biker vibe before she took the saddle again and rode her way home.

It was good to see her again. It was definitely good to fuck her brains out again. I felt reconnected, not only to our friendship, but to elements of my own sexual senses after the disconnects of the past several months in my continuing post-Kara, essentially-monogamous year.

Tomboy has since invited me to a holiday dinner at her pad, when her Idiot Boyfriend will be away doing his own thing. I wouldn't be the only one of her extracurricular lovers whom would attend, and I'm undecided as yet if I'll go. But it's an interesting thought.

Sunday comics.

Sunday comics.

Daddy.

Hello, pet.

Do you see this bracelet? This collar? This attractively polished little lock? The key I hold between My fingers as they caress and tug you by the lobe of your ear?

Make no mistake, pet. When the candle has been struck, the bracelet applied, your obedience is Mine and shall remain so for as long and as enduring as I care to retain it. you are Mine. you will serve.

Because Daddy loves you.

When you feel the weight of the leather on My arm, smell its scent, hear its creaking as I draw you close to Me, you will just begin to know the weight of My love, My embrace, the protection I shall enshroud you with. My strength, My perseverance, My virtue, My word is as law to you. you are Mine. you will serve.

Because you love Daddy.

The raiment I deign to cover your body with, or none at all. The food I deign to fill your body with, or none at all. The drink I deign to moisten your mouth with, or none at all. The people I deign you to uncover yourself to, or none at all. The discipline I deign to administer unto your bare flesh, or none at all. The use of your body I deign to make of you, or none at all. The bedding I deign to reward you with, or none at all. you are Mine. you will serve.

you will serve and know wholeness in the servitude. you will serve and find satisfaction and joy and pleasure only in My satisfaction and joy and pleasure. If I deign to grant you orgasms, it shall be for My pleasure to do so. If I deign to bare your pert little ass in the public square for an attitude adjustment before the populace, it shall be for My pleasure to do so.

you are My possession, you are My pleasure, you are My greatest responsibility. Inside My arms you will find the security you crave, the very cover of My shadow in the candlelight will giving you both contentment and hunger to please and to serve Me. It will pleasure you to serve Me, but only because I permit it so. It will satisfy you to serve Me, but only because I permit it so.

your pleasure is only yours if and unless I grant it to you to be.



But you needn't be afraid, pet, for I am a just and fair Daddy. My care for you is without boundary or restraint, although you yourself will know both. you will give yourself to Me, you will yield yourself to Me, you will know happiness and ecstacy from the touch of My hand, My lash, My kissing lips, My chains, My thick cock which you will adore and satisfy at My whim. you will be taken at any moment. you will be pushed to your pathetic, parted knees. you will be blissfully tortured and torturingly embraced.

you will obey Me, and you will anticipate My desires effectively. you will know My Discipline should you waver. My Discipline may be as terrible as a look from My eye and as beautiful as your suspended body to be lashed with leather to the applause of collected guests. you will honour your position and My love when I deign to show you at an event. you are the vessel for My enjoyment. you will always maintain yourself in accord with My instructions, and My instructions shall always be in your best interests. you will be graceful, elegant, and wanton in accord with My wishes.

And if I should deem it appropriate and desirable to randomly hoist you over My knee, stand you nude and sniffling in a corner, bend you over a park bench for a thrashing, command you to polish the boots of My comrades, see you serve My associates and Myself as we enjoy a game of poker, fellate any or all of them as I instruct you so, you will comply in the joyful knowledge that you are pleasing Me.

you live to please me.

Daddy will change you forever. Change you like no other.

And sometimes, Daddy will tell you what you need to hear. But only because Daddy loves you.

Metamorphosis.

It was during one of our relaxed, dinner-and-a-DVD dates when, not long after we had smoked some excellent Jamaican herb, she started to pass by me in the hallway. I was coming out of the bedroom for some reason or other, and she was walking from the studio toward the kitchen. I have a long bookcase unit against the south wall of the hallway, filled with treasures about anthropology, history, mythology, sexuality, mysticism. An autographed, out-of-print hardcover from Stewart Farrar. The Egyptian Book of the Dead. Freemasonic texts published almost one hundred years ago.

It's very difficult for two people, when using the hall at the same time, to avoid coming against each other. Framed photographs, and an original work and personal gift from artist Cindy Sudano, on the opposing wall require some caution. What a fitting place to have serendipitously pulled Dean, who in both look and spirit always made me think of the ladies of some ancient, Mediterranean city, aside for some passionate kissing.

It could have been a simple peck. It could have been a light brush of my hand against the small of her back as she strode by. It began as a tender grasp of one another when our hips brushed together, my arm coiling around her small waist as I bowed my head between her neck and shoulderblade to kiss her there. We began facing opposite directions and holding one another as if in mid-tango. And then we stopped.

Passion is a power that I love to feel overwhelm me, and I worship that cascading, utterly carefree moment when all other consciousness is suddenly, irretrievably cast aside and all that matters is the yearning and the pursuit to satisfy the yearning.

Dean brought her arm to my back and pulled me closer while, at the same time, my right hand slid to her thigh and tugged it firmly against my leg. We conjoined in the hallway under the bright stares of the pot lighting, beacons that glared white and warmed our clothes and skin. Our lips met hungrily, our mouths parting with faint gasps as our heads moved in slow circles. The moistness of her lips inflamed me, and my grip to her thigh became more insistent, our bellies pressing against one another. She ran fingers throough my long locks and grunted sexily, quietly, as the energy began to shift and I became slightly more forceful, demanding.

We said nothing to each other. Her eyes pleaded to me. Gently but firmly, I grasped a fistful of her short and curly hair between my fingers, twisted her head to the side, and pulled her mouth hard against my own. She parted her mouth open with a stunned awareness, her eyes tightly shut, and my lips crushed against hers with possession. No gentle embracing, no coy maneovres, no subtle gestures would this be.

She was mine.

I stood my bearing, my heavy steeltoes firm against the floor as I prepared to manhandle her body weight. My left hand suddenly swung to her right leg as my right hand continued to hold her by her hair. I was grasping and squeezing her thigh over the thin camo pants she was wearing (we had matching pairs), and now my right fist changed intent from gentle tugging to an urgent pulling of her hair. With her small, auburn curls held tightly in my fist, I held her head in the same one one would command a cat by possessing the scruff of its neck in a moment of discipline. I tilted her head in the ways that pleased me best, moving her kissing mouth to where I desired it against my own lips, to my neck, to my chest. Dean began to go limp and pliant, unsteady on her feet, but my hand at her leg kept her weight in balance. She was panting. Beads of sweat started to seethe from her brow. Her mouth remained open like a salmon struggling for life.

My hand left her leg and coarsely ran up the length of her ribs and over to her black Tshirt. Her arms gripped my back and held my ass. There was no gentility here: I was pawing at her breasts now, holding and squeezing her tits through the cotton like a man who hadn't handled them in years. I felt her flesh meld between my strong fingers as my squeezes pulled her skin into my palms with heat. Cupping her left breast tightly, I tugged it upward as my other hand yanked her head back and exposed all of her neck. She cried out and opened her eyes, pupils dilating under the bright lights. I moved closer, bringing my covered but hard cock against her leg as I started to rub my girth against her.

Quickly, I reached behind myself with both hands and yanked hers away from my ass. Gripping her wrists, I placed her palms on the white pine shelf behind her, just under her hips, before resuming my naked possession of her heaving tits. Standing resolutely before her, now both of my hands were clutching, pawing, squeezing, cupping her breasts while my kisses continued to crush her. I started to pull her top off, yanking the black wifebeater over her shoulders.



But that fucking bra was in my way. Grunting in annoyance, I grabbed her by the back of her head and thudded her brow against my right shoulder, bending her over just slightly. Dean was shaking now, quivering, still panting, and she stayed perfectly still while my hands made quick work of the hooks at her back. Throwing the bra to the floor, I kept her exactly where she was while I started to undo the button of those camo pants, yanking the zipper down, and sliding my hands inside them to squeeze her little ass.

She raised her head to passionately kiss me, and I could taste the sweat on her upper lip. Her bare ass was in my grip, and I squeezed and caressed her asscheeks like the property they were to me at that moment. Cupping a cheek in each firm, hot hand, I met her kisses while our tongues darted, and I flicked the tip of my index finger against her winking backdoor. I pressed the fingertip against her there, feeling her anus open so very slightly, just enough to hold onto the smallest bit of my fingertip in a circular embrace.

I brought both hands up. I held her hair again as I kissed her. I started to tug her hair now, savagely, tightly, causing her to yelp and stare into the lights above us again. I held her head high as I bit and licked at her bared tits, the dark crinkled nipples hard and yearning up for attention. And then I pressed the full breadth of my right hand, palm against her chest and fingers spread, just under her neck and shoved her backward and into the wooden bookcase.

It shuddered with the force of my shove as her back thudded, small pieces of sculpture left shaken and spinning, volumes of books resettling, a framed picture knocked to the floor. She stood there now, topless and her pants in a wayward mass around her calves and ankles, shaking. Her back squarely met one of the support planks of the bookcase, her shoulderblades against copies of Ovid's Metamorphoses and Suetonius' The Twelve Caesars. How fitting.

I pulled her panties down.

Resting my hip against the bookcase, I leaned beside her now and returned to enjoying her breasts as she gasped for air. Holding her close to me as she wavered and swooned, my right hand began pawing, slapping, pinching her tits, her flat belly, her bare thighs. I smacked her thighs to urge her to part them more, and she was obedient. After enjoying the feel of her torso some more, I cupped my hand and slid it between her legs to completely cover her drenched and quivering cunt.

I looked into her eyes. I brought her mouth to mine again. I started to swirl my fingers, and soon I had her outer labia softly pinched between them and felt her urgent clit, hard as a stone, in the middle of her soaked flesh. I spun circles. I tugged upward. I smacked her cunny with broad, flat fingers. Dean's knees started to buckle, and I held her weight as she leaned between against me and the bookcase. I probed her with firm, spreading fingers, feeling her urgent need and her soaking sex. Holding her wet flesh between my fingers again, spinning my fingers in fast circles, it wasn't long before Dean's head arched back against the wood and she began screaming in long, loud, repeated, gasping bursts.

Her cries echoed throughout that narrow hall, and, upstairs, I both hear and feel the presence of someone wearing shoes slowly walking through their own hall above us and stopping not three feet away and over our heads. One of the Women Upstairs, or one of their boys, had heard us, came closer, and now was listening to Dean's screaming climax. I could picture her or his eyes blinking in amazement, because mine were as I smiled a Top's smile.

As my hand continued to possess her tight, soaking flesh, Dean started quaking when the first streams of her grrlcum began to gush from her. Her knees buckled again, and now she slid her back back down against the naked wood and crouched slightly as I supported her weight with my hips. My spinning fingers were unrelenting while stream after stream after long and pungent stream flooded from her and splashed against my boots, the floor, the opposite wall before she completely collapsed into my arms, panting, exhausted, her camos and panties in a crumpled heap around her boots.

Service while u wait.

She was getting ready for a weekend away with friends, and her car was in the shop. That afternoon, she was supposed to be grading papers, but instead she made a booty call. Such a hussy.

The Schoolteacher is one my newest friends, and while we really have precious little in common (she the condo-dwelling Catholic school soccer mom, me the artsy-neighborhood heretical leatherman), she really likes me and enjoys nurturing her latent bad-assness when I'm around.

And it's so hard for me to turn down a good opportunity to corrupt a woman of God.

I smiled to myself as I drove out to meet her at her mechanic's garage. The last time we were together, we talked about kink and basic bondage play, which she readily admitted having had fantasies about for years. It quickly became clear that I hadchainlengths worth of more experience there than she, and the possibilities seemed astronomical. So, naturally, I packed a little toybag before I left the house.

I arrived at the garage. She greeted me with a kiss. The car would only take a few short hours, Mechanic Guy said. Come back in a few.

The Schoolteacher, an extraordinarily buxom longhaired blonde, sashayed her denim-covered hips with a laugh as she looked at the clock on the dirty garage wall. I rolled my eyes with a smirk as we made our way to my car.

At her condo, there was only the briefest smalltalk before she reached for me as we lounged on the leather couch. Her kisses were deep and hungry, and once again I felt the incredible presence of her truly huge breasts upon my chest. After a while, she got up to pour me some wine, but took none for herself.

She had given it up for Lent.

But cock, I soon discovered, was perfectly fine.

I carried my wine in one hand, her wrist in the other, as I led her into the bedroom. We made out as we stood before the foot of her pillow-strewn bed, my hands caressing her back and tugging her long locks. I unbuttoned her top to reveal an elegant burgundy bra straining with round fullness. She lay herself down. I removed my shirt. She groaned at the sight of my broad chest and reached upward to caress my nipples and shoulders. Smiling, I placed a knee between her knees as I climbed atop of her, and as I planted a firm and searching kiss onto her open mouth, slowly pressed and circled that knee against her mound. Even through both of our jeans, I could feel the heat that seethed between her legs as I bit her lower lip and flicked a tongue along her jawline. She gasped and writhed deliciously underneath me.

"I love how you make me feel," she said to me in a whisper.

"You'll love this," I replied as I began undoing her jeans, tugging them down over her feet, and parting her legs.

Her panties were moist already, and when I swabbed the fullness of her sex with the wet flat of my tongue after tugging them aside, her hiss filled my ears. Her hips rode up and I kept pace with her squirms, never letting my tongue leave her folds or the thrumming button inside them until she eventually came in a long shuddering sigh.

I spun her over to reveal her ass to me. I yanked the panties down her legs. I gave her butt a few friendly swats before tugging my belt open and removing my jeans. I lay down beside her.

She tasted her sex on my mouth as she kissed me again, and gradually moved her way down my chest. Soon, I was right back where I was during my last visit to her bed: on my back, my head enveloped by huge pillows, the Schoolteacher'sblonde head bobbing slowly in my lap as she languidly sucked my dick.

But our time was short, and I had an agenda to fulfill. Inspired by an image I had posted here recently, and by her expressed desire for light bondage, I slowly pulled myself away from her teasingly. My wet cock wagged in her face for a moment as I did so, eliciting the nicest little whimper of disappointment from her throat.

She looked at me as she lay curled on the bed. I reached for my wineglass and savoured a long pull from it. Standing at the foot of the bed again, I placed mytoybag next to her feet and opened it, looking into her eyes and smiling.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Do you know what a safeword is?" I asked this beginner in return. Her eyes widened just a little as she nodded.

I already had her little wrist restraints handy, those same restraints she previously confessed to me as enjoying to wear "just for the feel of them." From my bag, I withdrew some steel clamps and my pair of ankle restraints.

I love these restraints. I don't remember how I acquired them or who gave them to me, but I remember being told that they are genuine patient restraints from a mental health facility. That salacious history and their supreme construction, thickness, hardiness, and comfort allow me to forgive the fact that they are brown leather.

"On your hands and knees," I instructed. She obeyed.

"Face down, all the way down," I instructed. She complied.

This left her ass high and round in the air, especially when I adjusted her so that her upper body weight was supported by her shoulders against the bed. I reached for her wrists, securing them in her restraints, and brought them under her massive tits and against her feet. I secured my asylum restraints to her ankles, smiling as their brass rings slid through their leather slots unforgivingly. Using a pair of double-ended steel hooks, I clikked ankle to wrist to wrist to ankle into a continuous line of leather and steel.

Her feet dangled over the edge of the bed. The side of her face and her shoulders were firmly planted onto the sheets. Her ass was fully available, raised saucily high, completely vulnerable for my use.

I admired her soccer mom's posterior as she got used to her position. I sipped the wine that she so obediently denied herself. I began spanking her broad, round, naughty ass as she cried out loud and pleaded. Ignoring her protestations, I didn't relent until each cheek was appropriately red and blushing, framed with the strokes of my nails along her thighs and back, dappled with the tiniest scarlet dots and faint handprints. Her face was flushed with embarrassment, but her quivering pussy was flushed with excitement. Her folds were almost purple and dripping when my hand began swatting her there also. I cleaned off my dampened fingers with swipes across her brutalized ass.

She squirmed in her restraints, undoubtedly experiencing some of her first stirrings of deeper submissiveness. Though by my standards I was being terribly gentle, this was still probably a little more than she bargained for... so I chose to give her what she was expecting, although in my own tawdry way.

I gave her a few more sound swats as I wrapped my cock. Stopping to caress her back, I held a hip as I pulled her closer to me, slowly sliding mycockhead into her drenched tunnel until every bit of me was deep inside her. Her gasps were different now, and when I held both hips firmly and started to use her pussy for my own pleasure, her cries stopped including pleas for mercy.

The steel clamps clackled against the D-rings as I fucked her, the bed squeaking as my thrusts urged the mattress forward. I took her deeply, firmly, feeling her tighten around me as I stood behind her and thrust. I pulled her ass against me as I pumped inside her, and my balls slapped noisily on her skin until she screamed and came, shuddering.

I slowed down and withdrew. I sipped my wine. I checked the circulation in her wrists. She was doing fine, fine, more than fine.

But I wasn't done. Still enjoying the sight of her ass so beautifully high in the air, and knowing that I was sparing her more interesting torments that I otherwise would have ushered her through, I decided that I deserved one particular treat.

I returned to my toybag and began lubing my fingers as I riveted my gaze to her oh so vulnerable, oh so available, oh so tender anus. Her hole was faded pink and surrounded with a sunburst of short, little seams. I teased her ring with my wet fingers as she closed her eyes and opened her mouth silently, her face still pressed down, down, down to the bed. Her hole clenched against my fingertip as I wiggled my wet index finger inside her, circling her, only slightly widening her up. Squeezing the bottle, I ran a line of lube down the length of my cock and then slowly stroked myself until I was covered with joyful goo. I tapped my cockhead against her rosebud, held her hip with my free hand again, and gradually pressed forward and watched the head of my cock slither and pop into her nethers. Eventually, I was gripping handfulls of her asscheeks as I tugged her against me, impaling her onto me, taking her.

The Schoolteacher squirmed. The Schoolteacher moaned. The Schoolteacher stayed on her shoulders and knees, locked in restraints by the wrists and ankles against each other, while I fucked her submitting, Lent-observing, should-really-be-grading-papers ass until her entire body was shaking and perspiring and cumming and red and squirming and utterly, completely fucked.

Her cellphone rang. Her car was ready. She blinked her eyes a lot after I released her and held her shaking body under the blankets before we each grabbed a shower. She was still weak in her knees, she said, by the time I was dropping her back to her mechanic's garage.

I smiled as I drove home, tapping my little toybag with my hand.

Shayne takes a bathroom break.

Shayne: I have ten minutes of lunch left. I'm going to rub my clit til i cum in the hotel bathroom next door. If you want to call me. Now. That'd be nice.

How could I possibly say no?

She's whispering when she answers. I can imagine her, cautiously checking the other stalls for occupants and then locking the small door behind her. I can picture her lowering her panties slightly as she bends foward to the metal support bar of the larger wheelchair-accessible stall. I can see her slightly splayed legs, one hand holding the phone to her head, the other beginning to explore her full and pillowy folds. Knowing Shayne, I am certain that she is already wet and musky with arousal.

I start to speak to her, telling her how I love to suck her, how I'd love to have her bent over in that stall and fuck her hard. Soon, it becomes clear that she'd rather I just shuttup and listen, enjoy the sounds of her jilling as she escorts herself through her own fantasy. In that fantasy, she later tells me, we've pre-arranged to play a little game.

I'm waiting in the hotel lobby. I'm looking for my prey, looking for her. She enters. She reaches the elevator. I will have her. I've chosen her.

Racing up the stairs, I catch the elevator as it makes the second floor. I've just missed her, but I know where she's going now. I take the elevator one more flight up. Once there, I see the door of the women's room just closing behind her pump. Now she'll be mine.

The light is bright in the restroom. She is alone, in the last stall, and she's foolishly left it unlocked. So trusting, so available.

"You entered the bathroom stall, she later shared. "I was there, facing the wall, holding the accessible-rail lightly and looking down deferentially. You shut and locked the door. My pants and panties were already around my ankles. I said nothing and neither did you."

Look at that ass, I said to myself. How demure she is, coming here and making herself available for me. For my cock. It's time to have some fun with this slut...

"You grabbed me, first taking my left ass cheek firmly in your grip, then biting me on the right side of my neck. The rough cotton of your denim against my bare ass and legs made me wetter. My cunt throbbed. You gripped both of my breasts from behind firmly and gave them a short but rough massaging, obviously for your own pleasure. You unzipped your jeans and the sound of it echoed in the silent bathroom. My wetness felt as though it would begin to run down my legs.

"You took your hard cock in hand, spread my legs a bit, and then slapped my cunt with it. You said nothing, but the intake of your breath showed me that you could feel my hot moisture. You teased me this way, slapping against my swollen lips for half a minute before sharply grabbing my hips, pulling me up and sliding your cock in. You did it smoothly but with a slowness that made me want to cry out."

Through the silence on the phone, I hear the faintest of gasps. It's followed shortly after with some quiet moans, and I faintly hear an echo. I'm sure her eyes are squeezed shut now, her body swaying a little, her fingertips speeding across her thrumming pebble, her back raising and lowering as she breathes deeply. I love listening to her cum, and I really enjoy these serendipitous moments of random play. It isn't long before she crests, and I'm listening to her moans and cries echo in a hotel women's room west of me.

"You built up steam and eventually were furiously fucking me this way in the hotel bathroom. Someone could walk in at any moment and we'd be trapped there - I liked the idea, but didn't want you to stop for anything. You fucked and fucked and fucked me, and I wanted to cry out at the top of my lungs with coming. I did not. I knew the consequences that might bring and wanted only your pleasure.

"Just before you came you then said the first words to me since walking in:

"'I'm going to come on your ass and I want you to rub it into your skin. Let it dry and wear it under your office clothes for the rest of the day, slut.'

"That made me come again."



I listen to her peak and relax. I can imagine the sparkle in her eyes. When she's finished and leaves the restroom, I listen to her giggle as she brushes through a crowd of conversing businessmen, then the sound of traffic around her as she heads back to her office. There's pep in her voice, and I have no doubt, a saucy smile on her rosy face.

She's such a lovely and fiery tart, this one.




images MerryToons, personal collection

Her dirty little secret. My weird little adventure.

Sometimes Aphrodite's gifts can be pretty interesting.

Last autumn, completely on a lark, I posted on Craigslist. I wrote seeking to exchange body massage and possible oral with a laid-back partner whose schedule was as crazy as my own. I wasn't really expecting a response. A long while later, I got a response from Stacy. We arranged to meet over coffee.

We never got to the coffee.

Stacy came to my place to see me three times during this past winter, and I quickly figured out that things were going to be a little weird. We would only meet when she contacted me first, and that could be on the spur of the moment. She didn't tell me her last name, or even her age, until our last meeting. She was very hush-hush about most of her life and world. Generally, I was encouraged to not call her, but textmessages and emails were fine. By our second meeting, I figured out that I was supposed to be her Dirty Little Secret. She agreed.

As it turned out, Stacy was a grad student with a very troubling life. She was living with the after-effects of beating a major illness. She lived with terribly ill parents, had a workday full of crisis and strain, and grad school. Stacy responded to my ad because she sought straightforward, no-strings-attached escape. She wanted to fuck, pure and simple.

At age 29, she was almost totally sexually inexperienced. She had never had an orgasm. I know she came close at least once when we were together, however. I would have enjoyed ushering her through that completely.

During our first time, she showed almost no interest in kissing. She enjoyed my oral, and I enjoyed the sweetness of her completely bare pussy. She eagerly sucked my cock, but her technique was mechanical and dispassionate with one very bizarre exception.

Apparently Stacy really wanted to learn how to deepthroat dick. However, her way of accustoming to the technique was by forcing herself to take as much as she could, reach the point of gagging, push a little further... and then suddenly leap off me and speed herself to a sink where she would spit and probably puke. And then she would come back for more. Over and over again.

Now, maybe with thanks to pornstars like Anastasia Blue and sites like Throat Gaggers, "forced blowjobs" seem to be a thing. (Shayne recently told me about an encounter she had with Don, a Top who did the whole fingers-in-mouth, gag-on-my-dick thing with her, and apparently she found it really hot.) Me, I appreciate how that kind of rough cocksucking fun could have a place in d/s play, but as far as being blown is concerned, the act of having one's cock sucked, the sensation isn't anything particularly special.

Give me wet, wanton slurping. Give me intense suction. Give me your moans and groans. Tell me how much you're liking it. Grasp my shaft and stroke me while you suck. Hold and caress my shaven, full balls. Caress my legs. Let me tap my cockhead on your face, making your face glow with your spit.

But have me actually try to gag you? Hrm. I'll experiment with Shayne (hear that, baby?) sometime. All in the interests of science, of course.

But when Stacy repeatedly forced herself and ran off to puke, it kept me from enjoying her sucking enough to cum. I just don't respond well to start-and-stop nonsense. Then she'd get frustrated because I hadn't filled her mouth with my load. I'd be frustrated too. This is all a big real shame, because she otherwise really enjoyed sucking my cock, and I love it when a woman really enjoys sucking my cock.

I gave Stacy her first anal fuck during our second time together. To my amazement, she took me in with much less preparation than I'm usually expecting to give an anal virgin, and she was both confused and thrilled that she liked it so much. Her ass was exquisite. She was full, very round, and while she was a little (and charmingly) self-conscious with how big it was, she was shaped in such a way that it was a beauty to behold. A real booty. Her anus was delightful to see: crinkled and pale, readily winking at the slightest touch. I'd really been looking forward to fucking her lovely ass again.

She opened up that she had rape and bondage fantasies. We touched on this during our last time together, with me hoisting her wrists far above her head in my grip as she stood against the wall, her toes barely on the floor.

"I've been watching you," I whispered huskily into her ear. "I see your comings and goings. And I know what you're really about. Everyone else thinks you're this prim and proper woman, this sweet grad student, the perfect daughter... but you and I know the truth about you... that you're really a dirty, whorish little slut who craves sucking thick cock and getting fucked in your tender little asshole. Isn't that right, you little skank?"

She would swoon and nod her head.

"I'm going to fuck you. There's nothing you can do about it. Do you fucking understand?"

She got very wet.

"You have only one decision to make, slut. Am I going to take you hard and rough, force you and leave you bruised and battered? Or are you going to be a good little cocksucker and yield to me? Either way, your fate is sealed: I will fuck you, no two ways about it. Or would you rather accept your fate and start sucking my dick like a good little whore?"

She dropped to her weak knees then and started sucking. But, again, something intangible was amiss.

I'd like to say that sex with Stacy was the hottest thing ever. It had all the hallmarks of a man's fantasy: a young, very attractive, very inexperienced but eager woman with a fantastic body seeking no-nonsense NSA sex. But the truth is: it was an effort, and sometimes my gentlemanly skills had to be called into play. Stacy approached sex like she had something to prove and had to do it this instant.

Maybe it would have been better if I were an uncaring, inconsiderate prick and just fucked her senseless without regard for her. Great fantasy and d/s play maybe, but you know, so sorry, just not my style.

I did everything I could to escort her through a rewarding experience, but somehow I just couldn't overcome the fact that her inexperience and lack of sensuality kept me from my orgasm. Part of the challenge was how our arrangement was so skewed, with me almost being expected to drop my world to be available for her, or how she always seemed to be in a huge hurry to fuck and leave. Positions happened staccato, rather than fluidly and with shared pleasure.

Sometimes sex with Stacy felt like what I'd imagine sex with a hooker would be like, dependent on my pleasure but also hurried and without sensuality, except that it was free.

In the end, the fact I hadn't had an orgasm with her distressed her so much that she would email me to cancel our occasional get-togethers. To her, that I hadn't cum indicated that something was wrong with her. In her mind, a man should be able to get it up and get it off in no time, no muss, no fuss.

Maybe when I was 18 that could happen, but that wasn't because I was more of a stud then than I might be one now. It's because I didn't know better, because I was less sophisticated about my sexuality, my cockwants, women's bodies.

While she definitely had some issues, I also think I could have nurtured her more, and certainly could have shown her more about what it takes for get a man to cum. (Like, stop hurrying. Like, have some fun yourself, dammit.) It's unfortunate because I had begun to plan something more no-holds-barred for her, but hey.

Sometimes I associate certain drinks with specific lovers. Shayne is dirty martinis and Wiser's whiskey. The Grrl was Frangelico. Diva was Bailey's. Stacy introduced me to frozen Limoncello, which I would later discover was even better with a fresh raspberry. It seems fitting to me that as I write this entry, I've taken the bottle of Lemoncello from my freezer and nursed it. I had saved it mostly for Stacy's visits, but now it's appropriate that as I conclude this, it, this post, and my fucking Stacy, is finished.