S/M stories : Dominating thrills
The fantasies flashed through his brain in little lightning shocks. Lips caressing the backs of upper thighs, licking softly, a white leg rising up an inch or two with each wet kiss... the aroma of untapped moisture from a steaming body, a hot fragrance. His testicles filled to bursting... plunging for the blessed snarl and gulp of the sticky mouth bath... spreading and splitting those thighs apart, burying his face against the drenched and turgid cavity... his tongue wet-sliding, dipping into the naked throb itself, toying there with the fire-hot vulva heart, licking and encircling the clit in a feathery rage... the candy taste and the swallowing of the creamed pussy.
He blinked, and tried to bring his mind back to the business at hand, but for another thick second he went on with it, dwelling on frenzied convulsions of lovely, soft legs and white pelvis, still tongue sipping in a clinging whirlpool and half-suffocating in soaked pubic hair and the buttery trickles of girl juice, a flood in the back of his throat, and his tongue still locked and pledged to the pussy flavors.
Patience! You've taught yourself to have patience, you dumb asshole!
He rubbed the back of his hand across his brow. Put your shit together, dammit, you've got the floor. Act like you know what you're doing!
Rome could barely wait for the cunt lapping to begin. His eyes were on the lesbians, and his mind was conjuring up images of tongue against labia, teeth on clit. "I have the floor," he said, trying to return his attention to the business at hand. "If you people don't shut your fucking mouths the meeting is going to be postponed." He pounded on the bookcase next to him for emphasis. "Order, Goddamn it, I have the fucking floor."
The group quieted down, their mutterings ceasing as they realized that their leader meant business. Rome, a wiry, tough-faced man of thirty, smiled grimly and scratched his balls through his jeans before going on.
"We were talking about the vaginal orgasm," he said, nodding toward an attractive, well-dressed blonde sitting in an easy chair at the far end of the living room. The girl unconsciously reached up to adjust her horn-rimmed sunglasses, which were oversized and had lavender lenses. Oversized, Rome thought, oversized like her cunt.
"Thank you," the girl said quietly. She cleared her throat, delicately covering her mouth as she did so, and she smiled without self-consciousness as her audience turned around and gave her their full attention.
"The vaginal orgasm is a myth," she said. "A product of male chauvinism. The vaginal orgasm was introduced by Freud and preached by a host of his disciples -- all of them male disciples, I might add, except for a few women who accepted penis envy as an important factor in their own lives. A value judgment -- indeed, a moral judgment -- is implicit in the concept of the vaginal orgasm. Freud, in conceiving the vaginal climax, was saying in effect that any female orgasm that was not vaginally induced was inferior and perhaps immoral. The clitoral orgasm was an unsatisfactory by-product of self-abuse; the vaginal orgasm, on the other hand, was an artistic masterpiece created by a penile 'brush', with every nuance of pleasure being provided compliments of the male sexual palette." The blonde gave a little nod to indicate that she was finished with her statement, and a hubbub ensued as the members of her audience tried to squeeze their two cents' worth in.
"Quiet," Rome said sternly. "Thank you, Jan. You, Felsen..." He pointed to a stocky, dark-haired fellow who sported a heavy moustache. "What was it that you were about to say?"
Felsen got to his feet and grinned drunkenly. A half-empty pint bottle of V.O. was clutched tightly in his right hand.
"Booze," someone muttered. "Bourgeois dream juice."
"I beg your pardon." Felsen thumbed his nose at the man who had interrupted him, then extended his arm in the direction of Jan. "And I beg your pardon, too. Your trouble, Jan, is that you're a Goddamn dyke. You wouldn't know what to do with a cock if someone offered it to you. You'd think it was just a clit with elephantiasis, or..." Felsen suddenly laughed for no apparent reason and made a grab for his fly. He had just opened it and yanked his flaccid four inches of prick through the zipper when a girl grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him off-balance. Felsen cursed as he hit the floor. His bottle broke in the fall, and the sharp odor of Canadian whiskey waited throughout the room.
Rome was shaking his head, more in disappointment than in anger. "That's the end of the discussion for tonight," he said. His voice carried the ring of authority. "We'll move on to the demonstration. Jan? Lisa? In your places, please."
Rome retreated to a folding chair several feet from where he had been standing, and the blonde who had spoken only a few moments before rose from her chair and moved to the center of the room. She was joined by a tiny, almost childlike brunette who had a thin, slitlike mouth and enormous brown eyes. "Lisa," Jan said softly. "I love you. It's been so long."
The blonde undressed first, unfastening the button front of her midi-length dress and slowly working the garment off her shoulders. She let the dress hang at hip-level for a moment, then loosened her fingers so that it fell to the floor. She was left standing in a tiny taffeta sip, a white confection that seemed incongruously small in comparison with the heavy woolen dress that she had been wearing only a moment before.
Every eye in the room was focused on Jan's body. Her thighs were perfectly formed, neither too muscular nor too soft. Perfect... there was no other word to describe them. Their proportions were somehow so lovely that they would have suited fashion designer and Playboy reader alike.
"Where have you been keeping yourself?" Jan asked, her face flushing with warmth as she stared at the tiny brunette. "I tried to call you last week, and the week before, but..."
"I was in Italy. Making films."
"Oh." Jan pulled the slip over her head, revealing a magnificent navel. Her medium-sized tits were barely concealed by the flesh-colored brassiere that she wore, and the briefest of briefs clung to her mons veneris in a way that suggested an absence of pubic hair.
"Your brassiere," Lisa said quietly but with firmness. "Take it off. Now."
"Lisa, darling, take it off for me," the blonde said with a seductive smile.
Lisa shook her head. "No, you will take it off, now." There was a threatening quality to her tone, and this seemed to make Jan all the more excited.
"Yes!" Jan said breathlessly. "Now, Lisa! I'll take it off..." She reached behind her back and undid the fastener, then shrugged the bra off her shoulders and let it drop away from her breasts. "Here! I give you my tits, Lisa!" She closed her eyes and dropped the brassiere to the floor, then moved her hands to her breasts and cupped each hillock of flesh with trembling fingers, squeezing the white-skinned tissue, making the delicate network of pale blue veins stand out, causing the soft pink nipples to change their shape and texture until they stood out bumpy and red and hard.
"Your pants," Lisa commanded. "Remove them, please."
"Touch my breasts first," Jan whimpered. "You don't have to suck them, or even to kiss them. Just touch them, please. Remember the time I let you touch them for the first time? No other woman had touched them, Lisa. Not ever. You were the first. The first to touch my breasts, to..." Jan swallowed hard, then shook her head as if to bring her thoughts back to the present. "My panties. Of course. I'm sorry." She inserted a pair of fingers on either side of the waistband, and pushed. The briefs slid past the hipbones, over the lower belly, past the stark white surface of her recently shaven mons. "I shaved for you," she breathed. "So you could see me better," she stepped out of the right leg opening, then the left. She parted her thighs, rose on tiptoe, and reached between her thighs, using her fingers to part the thick outer lips. "Look at my pussy," she managed to say. "I shaved it for you, Lisa. So you could see it, and taste it, and..." Jan suddenly remembered where she was. She blushed furiously, the pink of her face turning to a raspberry shade. She let go of her twat and let her hands dangle at her sides.
"You should have asked me before shaving yourself," Lisa said in a flat, expressionless tone. "Suppose I had wanted to shave you myself."
"But Lisa, I merely wanted to..."
"To make me happy. Of course." The brunette smiled warmly and stepped toward Jan, unbuttoning her man's shirt as she went. "And you have made me happy. I shall make you happy. And then you will make me happy again, in a different way. But for now I am going to stand here, just stand here, and permit you to help me get undressed. I have unfastened three buttons of my shirt. You will do the rest. You will remove the shirt and then my jeans. And then... you will remove everything. Jan." Lisa reached out and let a finger touch the very tip of Jan's right nipple. "Why will you remove my clothing for me, Jan?"
"Because I love you," Jan said, the words coming out as a sigh.
Lisa smiled. "Yes, you love me. And I love you."
Jan hesitated for a second, then, trembling, reached for the fourth button of Lisa's shirt. The brunette rested a hand on Jan's right hip as Jan nervously undid the fourth button, then the fifth, then the sixth.
"Take the shirt off," Lisa said when the garment was completely unfastened. "Don't just stand there. Take it off."
Jan uttered a tiny cry of excitement as she pushed the shirt off Lisa's shoulders. The smaller girl was tan underneath the shirt, and the shirt came off to reveal delicately hewn muscles on her upper and lower arms. The biceps were like the sinews of frogs' legs, the forearms were powerful yet somehow feminine at the same time. "Your pants now?" Jan asked shyly. Lisa nodded, and Jan reached for the brunette's heavy leather belt.
The audience, all of them eager to see the exhibition which was about to take place, abandoned their chairs and sofas and tiptoed into a circle around the two girls. One by one the group fell into cross-legged positions on the floor, staring upward as Jan unfastened the belt, then the snap of the jeans, then the zipper. One girl let out a soft "Ah!" as the jeans fell to the carpet and Jan dropped to her knees to lift Lisa's feet out of the pants legs, one at a time.
Rome, who sat where he could see both girls in profile, began a narration. "Lesbianism," he said quietly. "A perversion, some would say. A corruption of God's plan. An unnatural, defiant form of love. Yet there's nothing unnatural about the way these two girls are going at each other. Look at Jan -- at those hard nipples, those swelling tits, at the inner lips going from virgin pink to flaming red between her thighs. Cunts were made for fucking... or were they? Perhaps they were, once; but today there is room for so much more. For fingers, lips, tongues, teeth, dildoes..." Rome chuckled. "Bananas. Cucumbers. For whatever man or woman chooser to insert in the name of lust and love."
Rome paused as Jan tremblingly pressed her body against Lisa's and reached around the brunette's trunk to unhook the bra. The brassiere went loose; Jan stepped back. "Remove it," Lisa commanded. "Now. Without delay."
Jan hesitated for the briefest of moments, then moved to obey. Her quivering fingers grasped the cups, dug into the soft cotton material, pulled the cups away from the tits. The bra fell away, came down off Lisa's shoulders to the forearms and then to the wrists, dropped over the brunette's hands and then to the floor as Jan stared at the tits. And what tits! Small, but delicious in their olive complexion and glorious in their firmness. It was as if they had been sculpted from some rare wood brought to life. "Oh, Lisa...!" Jan moaned, throwing her arms around her friend's trunk and plunging her face between the petite yet cuddlesome tits. She grasped Lisa tightly, pulling the smaller girl against her face. Then, as if by instinct, she drew one hand back and placed it gently on the brunette's right breast, at the same lime moving her face a foot or so away from the bosom and contemplating the oversized nipple of the hand-held tit.
"It's brown," Lisa said softly. "Not pink like yours. Opposites attract, don't they?" She chuckled, and her voice was beginning to sound harsh. "Let go of my tit, Jan. There'll be time for that soon enough."
Rome interrupted, his voice quiet and low. "Remove her panties, Jan. Hurry, now -- you don't want to keep us waiting." He laughed. "Or Lisa waiting, for that matter."
Jan took a deep breath and dropped to her knees, her hands clawing at Lisa's hips, trying to stop the trembling long enough to grasp the black satin boxer shorts that hung sensuously over Lisa's firm hipbones and buttocks. She pulled downward, as hard as she could; the weak elastic of the waistband gave way and the shorts fell to Lisa's knees in a single jerking movement. Jan gasped, groaned, and plunged her face into the muff, the black mass of thick wiry curls that extended from Lisa's crotch almost to the navel.
The thatch grew in a diamond pattern, more like a man's than a woman's. Jan sank her teeth into the curls, spread the fiat of her tongue against the pussy hair, whimpered joyfully as her fingers gripped Lisa's thighs, then her knees, then her buttocks. Jan's fingernails left little red marks where they dug into the olive flesh.
Rome, still sitting cross-legged only a few feet away, grinned and sniffed loudly. "Someone is eager," he said.
"Who isn't?" The redhead who had tossed off that comment was breathing heavily and had forced her fist between her lightly clasped thighs. She rocked rhythmically to and fro as she watched the pair of naked women. "Stop playing around," she called to Jan and Lisa. "If I come before you do, it'll be..." She hesitated, then giggled and went on. "Hurry up, or it'll be for shit."
"I shaved for you!" Jan had pulled her face away from Lisa's mons and was bending backward, her calves and shins still tucked beneath her thighs. "Look at me!" she begged. "Look at my naked twat..." She closed her eyes, inhaled sharply, and managed to spread her knees wide apart without moving her feet from their place beneath her buttocks. She now lay spread-eagled on the floor except for her lower legs; her knees were parted so wide that it looked as though another inch of spread would spilt her glistening cunt. And what a cunt it was, with its pink-tan outer lips, its slick red labia minora, its tiny, summit-like clit almost hidden in the valley of juicy, literally quivering flesh.
"Open it wider," Rome instructed softly. "Hold the lips with your fingers. The inner flaps, Jan -- there, that's right. Pull them apart, now. Yes, just like that. Pull them wider apart so that Lisa can see inside, so she can stare all the way up to your womb..."
Lisa, too, was excited now. Her eyes were fixed on Jan's shaven pussy, and her nipples stood up brown and hard. Her cunt exuded a heavy odor, and as she dropped to her knees between Jan's parted thighs her asshole let loose with an involuntary fart. "You little bitch," she said softly, with a chuckle, as she let her fingers run up and down the inner surfaces of Jan's thighs. "You little blond whore."
Jan bit her lip. Her eyes were closed, her forehead was furrowed, her lips were twisted in a grimace of pleasure and path. She needed it, of course. It. The tongue. Lisa's tongue, the tongue for which she so of ten longed.
"Kiss me," Jan begged. "Right there, right now. Like... like you used to do before!" The sentence ended in a sob as Lisa's middle finger stabbed into the ragged opening of her cunt. Jan twitched, lifted her buttocks off the carpet, kicked one leg out straight and cried out with need as the foot fell back on the floor. She writhed to one side, drawing the other leg from its place under her thighs and stretching it out, extending the toes; almost going into a spasm as Lisa's finger probed her moist inner depths. "Suck me!" she whimpered. "Lisa, I need you now..."
"No." It was Rome speaking, his voice firm and loud. "You will wait your turn, Jan. Lisa has been, away from us for a while. She must be allowed to receive her pleasure first." Rome nodded to Lisa, who had half-turned toward him. "Squat over Jan's face, Lisa. Hurry -- that's right, duck-waddle forward until -- ah, right there. Perfect." Rome took a deep breath, then continued in a softer but equally commanding tone. "Squat lower. Lift your heels off the carpet; there, that will increase the tension. By increasing the tension, you heighten the pleasure. Balance there, no hands. Place your hands on the back of your head, Lisa. On the back of your head! I want to see your tits standing out straight and firm. Ah, lovely. Hold your hands there, Lisa -- don't move them! Balance on the balls of your feet. It isn't hard once you get the hang of it. Jan? Are you licking her yet, Jan? Stop fucking around, you lesbian bitch!" Rome's voice had become a snarl. "Lick her. Yes, lick her! With your tongue, not just the tip of it but the whole surface, the whole tongue flattened against her cunt. Lick her till the hair is as wet as..." He laughed. "But I guess it's pretty wet already. I'll tell you what, Jan. Bring your fingers up to the vulva. Start by probing the vestibule, gently, gently, gently -- gently, I said! -- while your tongue licks the clit." Rome leaned forward, squinting in an effort to get a better look.
"Not bad, keep it up, Jan. Get that arm back behind your head, Goddamn it!" he shouted to Lisa. "There. Perfect. Rock back and forth if you wish, Lisa. Only don't lose your balance. Remember -- weight on the balls of your feet. Try not to wiggle your toes too much; you'll end up shifting your center of gravity. Calves tight, thighs stiffened and well apart. Use your ankles to control movement. Forward, backward... Try lowering your ass a little; move your feet apart. Nice, nice. Jan, I want you to slick two fingers in her twat. Two, I said, not one or three. One is too little for a cunt like that one; three will make her come too soon. Two fingers, that's the way. And your thumb on the inner surface of the buttocks; keep it away from the asshole for now."
Rome paused, watching as Jan did as she was told. He glanced around at the rest of the group; all eyes were focused on Jan's head and the black bush above Lisa's twat. "Lovely," he said. "Remove your fingers now, Jan. Pull your tongue away..." He grinned as Jan obeyed him; he knew how Lisa would respond, and he was correct. Lisa cried, "No!" and forced her pussy against Jan's face; Jan hesitated for a moment, her nose sunk deep into Lisa's cunt, but then, obediently, she followed Rome's instructions and forced her face free of the brunette's hairy crotch.
"Don't!" Lisa whimpered. "Rome, you bastard, you..."
Rome laughed. "All right. Resume licking, Jan. But just the clit for now. Try a circular pattern, the tip of your tongue going from the shaft along the right edge of the clit to the bud, then back down the left side to the base... more of an ellipse than a circle, really, but you get the idea. Do you like that, Lisa?" He paused. "Answer me, Lisa. Do you like it? If you don't tell me, I'll make Jan withdraw her tongue from your twat."
"Shit, yes!" Lisa croaked. "Yes!"
"How much do you like it?" Rome persisted.
"Enough to..." Lisa exhaled heavily, simultaneously rotating her ass and cunt above Jan's probing tongue.
"Enough to let me fuck you?" Rome asked with a grin.
"You bastard." Lisa was gasping, but she too was grinning. "You bastard, you no good..."
"Answer with one word. Yes or no."
"Yes!" Lisa closed her eyes, savoring the sensations emanating from her clitoris, and shuddered from shoulders to ankles for everyone to see.
"Very well. Place your finger against her asshole, Jan. Gently, for now. Just tickle it lightly, touch it just enough for her to get the idea." Rome watched closely as Jan followed orders. He nodded his approval as she scraped her fingernail loosely over the dimpled asshole, as she picked off stray bits of lint and dried shit.
"Perfect," Rome told her. "Now, then. Finger forward, upward, very hard. Stick it in there, Goddamn it! That's right, Lisa, wince if you want to. Scream, curse, anything as long as you don't let those heels touch the floor. Up on the balls of your feet, Goddamn your dark dyke hide! Ah, yes. Try working the finger deeper into Lisa's ass, Jan. Twist it a little; that usually helps. Is it working? Fine. Now I want you to hook the finger slightly, bend it into a modified 'L' shape, with the first two joints at a fifty to sixty degree angle. Hmmm. Heels off the floor, Lisa! Jan, I'm proud of you. You're doing very well..."
Rome shut up, leaving the girls to their own devices. He watched approvingly, his own body starting to respond as the reclining Jan began to shove her ass forward and backward on the carpet, her knees clasped tightly together and her cunt seeking to find pleasure through the squeezing pressure of her thighs. He watched as Lisa opened her mouth, let her jaw go slack, drooled saliva out of one corner of her lips and along the side of her chin and down onto Jan, whose hair was spread out, fanlike, on the floor. He smiled happily and reached for his zipper as Lisa whimpered something unintelligible and strained to keep her hands where they belonged, behind her head. He licked his lips and drew his semirigid cock from his trousers as Jan reached up with her free hand and grasped Lisa's left tit. He closed his eyes for a second, then reopened them and glanced briefly at his seven inches of hardening meat before returning his gaze to Lisa, who was literally panting as she reached her peak of desire.
Now, as Lisa's voice suddenly filled the room with a garbled stream of love words and obscenities, Rome found himself jerking hard on his organ, pulling on the thick veined shaft with his calloused fingers sliding over the sensitive glans as the uncircumcised foreskin came back to reveal the red-purple head of his masculinity. It was a good cock, an eager cock, a cock that would have crammed its way into Lisa's pussy by now had it not been for the act which was, taking place in the midst of this panting, staring group of voyeurs.
Come, Lisa! he wanted to cry. Spill your juices on her face, fart on her finger, shit on her bosom, spray her with menstrual fluid, punch and kick her into insensibility, show the violence of your pleasure in a violent, passionate deed...
Rome couldn't help laughing at himself. Such fantasies, he thought. He stared at Jan, who had taken the hand that had been fondling Lisa's tit and placed it on her own twat. The fingers were parting the shaven labes, fingering the clitoris, spreading juice over the love flesh, finally poking inside.
"I'M... COMING!" Lisa suddenly shouted, and indeed she was on the verge of spilling all. She rose high on her toes, her hands falling from their place behind her head and seizing her own tits, the right hand pausing there for but an instant prior to dropping to the thatch, to the silt, to the clitoris where it settled and kneaded the shaft of the organ even as the bud was being slobbered upon by Jan's eager tongue. She closed her eyes, inhaled sharply, then released the vast quantity of air in a long, shuddering groan.
When it was over, Lisa staggered to her feet and grinned. Then, turning her face toward Rome, she thrust her hips forward and opened the floodgates, letting her piss spray down on the sputtering Jan like a warm tropical rain.
To Rome, Lisa's act was a command. He closed his eyes and let go of his cock; the stiff prick stood quivering for a second or so, then shot rope after rope of epoxylike fluid into the air, onto the carpet, onto the clothes of the masturbating folk around him, and onto Lisa's muscular calves and thighs.
Two hours later. The group had dressed and departed. There had been the usual debate on whether or not the evening should turn into a fuck fest and, as always, half the group had gone away mad, Rome grinned. Ah, the perils of being a master! He understood how Charles Manson must have felt at the height of his alleged hypnotic career.
Rome yawned. It was late, and he needed sleep rather badly. He had been staying up past his bedtime far too often in the past few weeks. Group activities, routine pickups, even reading... there always was something to keep him awake when he should be asleep. Rome glanced at his watch. It was two-thirty A.M.. Time for all decent folk to be in bed. Well, be wasn't decent folk. He remembered that, thinking back over the past few years.
How long had it been now? A year and a half? Two years? The lime had gone by so quickly. In those brief twenty-one or twenty-two months -- it was closer to twenty-three months, now that he thought about it -- Rome had progressed from impoverished ex-con to... to what? To something better, that was for certain. Good money, good sex. He could fuck more or less at will. He didn't have a steady girl friend, and he would have been at a loss for partners were there a sudden dissolution of the group, but the group had become so well established that it seemed as if it had always been an integral part of his life. For an ex-con, an ex-con who had been imprisoned on a sex charge, no less, he was doing all right.
Nine A.M.. The doorbell rang, waking Rome up. "Just a minute!" he called out, not caring that he couldn't be heard through the soundproofed door. Every door in the apartment was soundproofed, as were the ceiling, floor and walls. It seemed a sensible precaution against nosey neighbors and curious cops. People were likely to call the police if they woke up at four A.M. to the sounds of a full-scale sex orgy.
Rome hurried into the bathroom, emptied his bladder, flushed the toilet and headed for the front door without washing his hands. He unfastened the three bolts and opened the door a notch, using the heavy guard chain for security. "Lisa!" he said, surprised to find himself facing the dark-haired, fiery-eyed girl.
"You said I was supposed to be here by nine-thirty," she told him, appearing to be hurt by his failure to remember their appointment.
"Oh?" He furrowed his brow, trying to get everything straight in his head.
"Last night. Before everyone left. Remember?"
"Well, I don't, I..." He thought again. "Oh, sure. Look, why don't you come in?" He closed the door partway to release the chain, then opened it again and gestured for Lisa to step inside. She crossed the threshold quickly, looking somewhat nervous as she glanced down at his large, flaccid cock.
"You're naked, you know," she reminded him.
Rome blinked, then grinned. "You're right, I am."
"It makes me uneasy."
Rome chuckled. "That's just fine."
Lisa, dressed in velvet bellbottoms and a purple knit top, took up a position on the sofa while she waited for Rome to tell her what to do. He raised his finger as if to silence her, walked quickly to the bedroom, and returned to the living room wearing a black satin robe patterned on a karate expert's coat.
"Last night was fun, wasn't it?" Rome said with a grin.
Lisa shrugged, but her lips were slightly curled in a wry smile. "You humiliated me, Rome."
"That was the general idea."
"In front of everyone, no less. You always do that -- humiliate a person in front of the group. You're sick, did you know that?"
Rome shrugged, his shoulders moving more forcefully than Lisa's had done a moment before.
"Why did you ask me to come here?" Lisa asked.
Rome rubbed his chin, thinking it over. "I don't remember, to tell you the truth."
"To humiliate me some more?"
"Perhaps." He laughed.
"You humiliated me enough last night."
"I know. You said that," he pointed out.
"I love Jan, you know."
"I know."
"And she loves me." Lisa said it almost violently, as if challenging him to an argument.
"I'll go along with that," Rome agreed.
"It cheapens our love when you humiliate us that way."
Rome laughed, long and hard. When he had finished, he got to his feet and went to the stereo, where he put on a John Philip Souza record. "Our Director," he said, holding up the record jacket. "Written in honor of me."
"You cheapen us, Rome."
He shrugged. "I know. That's the general idea."
Lisa pursed her lips in anger but stood up and began to undress.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Undressing, of course."
"For heaven's sake, why?" He affected ignorance.
"You bastard."
"First you come in here saying we had an appointment of some kind, now you start to take off your clothes..." He chuckled, an odd tone in his laugh.
"For God's sake, Rome..."
"I don't know what you expect me to do," he said.
"You're going to humiliate me, of course."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Just like you did last night."
Hp smiled. "I see."
"How are you going to humiliate me?" she asked.
"I'm going to fuck you." He said it quietly, matter-of-factly.
"The regular way, or..."
He shook his head. "In the ass, baby. In the ass." Rome laughed as Lisa finished stripping and reluctantly, fearfully, angrily fell onto all fours.
CHAPTER TWO
This was the sort of thing that had characterized his fantasy life when he had organized the group two years earlier. Those first few months in New York had been hard though -- scraping for a living, failing in a succession of pointless and boring job surviving only by paring expenses very, very close to the bone and giving a fag a blow job now and then. Rome winced as he thought back to those whore-mongering days, to the times when he had posed as a pimp and then, when the johns asked to meet their partner, said, "You're looking at him -- hands, asshole and mouth."
Yes, times had been tough, but only because Rome wasn't about to settle for less than he had laid out for himself before coming to New York. He had come to the big city with a single goal: to make good money having a lot of fun. He would organize a group of would-be swingers who had never managed to satisfy their fancies and fantasies with the sort of people they could pick up in Democratic clubs and singles bars. A fellow would be interested in, say urolagnia but wouldn't know where to turn. Rome, by advertising in the various underground publications and carefully screening the replies, would act as a match-maker and scout leader. Once be had someone who liked to piss, he would locate someone else who enjoyed being pissed an. At that point all he had to do was tell each of the other's existence and invite both to join the Group for Sensual Involvement which -- like a corporate bigwig -- he often shortened to GSI. Dues were high -- fifty to a hundred dollars per month, depending on the individual member's financial status and the oddness of his hangup -- but once the group had been established for a while and its existence had become widely known through word-of-mouth advertising, Rome found himself making a great deal of money indeed. He had no overhead to speak of (just a large apartment, a phone bill, and a miniscule advertising budget), and the group now had close to a hundred active members. His current gross receipts were in the neighborhood of seven thousand dollars a month. Yes, Rome was doing all right from a long green point of view.
He was doing all right sexually, too. Few of the new female members -- the heterosexuals, anyway were able to resist the chance to get laid by the founder and President of GSI. They no doubt figured that he must have a certain hypnotic appeal, and to a certain extent they were right. Rome was a magnetic sort of fellow; it took guts and drive to create something like the Group for Sensual Involvement, after all. His erotic technique had become a bit rusty thanks to hose eight years in prison, but he had acquired ejaculatory self-control through careful masturbation and made up in energy what he temporarily lacked in technique.
"Well?" Lisa looked up at him crossly. She was still crouched on the floor, her knees parted wide enough so that Rome could see her cunt through the lower cheeks of her ass.
"I was thinking." And he still was, though his thoughts were now returning to her crotch and to what he intended to do with it. Should he eat her out first; should he simply fuck her in the ass and dispense with trying to bring her sexual pleasure; or should he fuck her in the ass but simultaneously to provide maximum manual stimulation to her cunt?
"Is this part of your humiliation of me?" she asked wearily. "Making me kneel here like this without knowing when you're going to suddenly drop to your to knees and fuck my guts to kingdom come?"
Rome laughed. "I'm sorry, my dear." He leaned over and stroked her ass lightly, marveling at the lovely olive flesh. "You've got fantastic skin," be told her.
"Thank you," she said dryly.
"You'd look great covered with baby oil. Or olive oil." He beamed, proud of his sudden inspiration. "Olive oil. Christ, that's perfect. Olive oil for olive skin. I think I've got some in the kitchen. Hang on a minute and..."
"Rome! Please don't do that." She was begging, but in a calm and almost matter-of-fact tone. Rome wondered if she were purposely avoiding a whimper or a whine; could it be that she knew such a plea would only increase his desire to humiliate her completely?
"Wait a minute," he told her firmly. "I'm going to get the olive oil."
Lisa muttered something obscene, but Rome ignored her. He strode to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a half-gallon can of olive oil dangling from his right hand. "Great stuff," he said. "Imported from Italy. There's all kinds of Italian shit written on the can. You can pretend you're back in Wopland making films."
Rome removed his bathrobe, not wanting to stain it with the oil. He unscrewed the can's tin cap and knelt beside Lisa. Chuckling softly, he poured a small quantity of the golden oil into the palm of his hand and clenched his fist, working the oil over his fingers. Next he opened the hand and rested it on Lisa's buttocks, letting it glide over the curved buns and leaving a shiny, slimy trail in its path.
Slowly, delightedly, Rome smeared the oil over the girl's calves and thighs. Then he thought of something. "We're going to soil the rug. Crawl over to that patch of tile." He pointed to the sun porch. "There, next to the glass doors." Lisa reluctantly obeyed, and the oily surfaces of her ass and legs glistened in the sunlight that poured in through the sliding glass doors leading off the sun porch to the balcony outside.
Ah, yes. This was going to be nice. Rome carried the can to Lisa, whose nose was only inches away from the glass.
"What if the neighbors see?" she asked.
"They won't. Mine won't, anyway. The only building with a view of this sun porch is a half-block away, so I don't have to worry about anyone reporting me to the super or beating on my door. No, if someone sees us, we'll simply give him a good show."
Rome grinned and began to slather the olive oil onto Lisa's back, eventually working the stuff over her shoulders and under her armpits and finally to her small, delicately formed breasts.
"Your nipples." Rome coated the buds with oil. "Hmm. Getting hard, aren't they?" he said with a chuckle.
Lisa's reply was cool. "It's the draft, that's all."
"What draft? I sure don't have any goose bumps. Hell, the thermostat is set at eighty degrees. It's a good temperature for nudity, don't you think?" Rome smeared the oil into her cleavage, returned his hand to the can, and filled his palm with another generous dollop of oil. Soon he was slathering the stuff on her belly, into her navel, onto the magnificent briar patch of her pubic hair.
"I'm going to fuck you, Lisa," he sighed, trying to sound apologetic. "I know you aren't going to like it, but what the hell. Women were created to serve men. Oh, I know an assertion like that isn't going to win me any plaudits from Women's Lib, but those dames are just a bunch of dykes anyway. Women are man-servers, Lisa," he said, rubbing the oil into the crevice of her ass. "Look at their basic design. The cunt is a passive instrument, basically, a receptacle for man's desires. Anything a woman does with it merely enhances the male's pleasure. The male, on the other hand, can fuck a woman without bringing her any satisfaction at all. He can introduce fantastic variation into the sex act, all for his own orgasmic well-being. I'd hate to be a woman, Lisa. It must be a tremendous pain in the ass."
Lisa stiffened, perhaps because Rome's fingers were sliding closer to her asshole as he finished his last sentence, and Rome laughed. "Sorry," he said, "didn't mean to make you nervous about what we're going to be doing a few minutes from now."
And what an asshole it was, too! He could tell simply by pushing against the anus from the outside that this was going to be a hell of a rectal fuck. There was a swollen quality to the asshole, a taut and firm swollenness, that told him there was a powerful set of muscles under there. A sphincter with spirit, a ring of muscle tissue that was going to squeeze God knew how many ounces of jism out of his angry, aching cock.
He wondered how she had become a lesbian. What the hell was wrong with a healthy man-woman fuck? Licking and sucking were well and good, but there were inherent limitations on the lesbian repertoire. That was the nice thing about heterosexuality -- you could use your mouth until you were slobbering all over the bed, and then you could perform sexual calisthenics for hours on end. Man on top, woman on top, side-by-side, dog style, in the pussy, in the ass... no, you couldn't beat man-woman sex. Not in Rome's book. Though he wasn't about to put down bisexuality, since occasional queer acts added even greater scope to one's total sex life.
Rome had smeared olive oil all over Lisa's body by now, and he was adding a second coat, to her rectal crack.
"It feels greasy," she said.
"Not greasy. Slippery," he corrected. "Olive oil has a smooth, anti-frictional texture while Vaseline and other lubricants tend to be sticky. Let's put a little more oil on your ass..." Rome pushed against her asshole, attempting to force his slippery fingers into the opening, and Lisa pulled away.
"Damn you..." she started to protest, then stopped.
"And your cunt. We mustn't forget your cunt." He removed his hand from her ass, poured more oil onto the fingers, and plunged the hand into her fur-lined furrow. Lisa jerked away as three fingers forced their way into the opening; Rome simply laughed and pushed deeper inside. "A little finger fucking is good for you," he told her. "Maybe we can drive away some of those dyke tendencies. Pretend that you're sixteen and I'm sixteen, and that I'm finger fucking you in a drive-in theater..." He thrust his fingers in and out of her twat, relishing the splat-splat sound made by each stroke of knuckles against moist love flesh. He let his thumb creep around until it found her clitoris, whereupon he began to stroke the bud slowly.
Nail scraping lightly along the clit head, whorled ball of the thumb caressing the surrounding tissue, thumb shifting position so it could work itself, with the cunt alongside the fingers, hooking itself around the inner ring of the vaginal sphincter and becoming slick with the gathering juices of Lisa's growing desire.
"So you want to get fucked, huh?" Rome said with a grin. "Well, you're going to have to beg for it."
Lisa's laugh sounded more like a retch. "Fat chance," she told him.
"Ah, but you're jumping to conclusions, my dear. You're assuming an inability to achieve heterosexual orgasm before you've given it a fair try."
"I've been fucked before," she said angrily.
"Not by me, you haven't. Which reminds me -- have you had it in the ass before?"
She shook her head. "No." Her reply was quiet, with a hint of fear.
"Be happy, then! You're about to embark on a new adventure!" He pulled his thumb from her twat and pressed it against the clit again, pressing hard and steadily for a moment before rolling the tiny knob to and fro with growing enthusiasm. He could feel her crotch stiffen, then relax beneath his hand. He smiled. She was getting there, willing or not. "The ass," he said, "is the perfect sexual receptacle. It will accommodate a prick of any length and diameter; it will accept any quantity of semen without doing anything stupid like getting pregnant. One needn't worry about its being too loose or wet; it has no natural lubricants, and if it were lacking in muscle tone it wouldn't be able to ride herd on the turds." Rome could feel the girl's cunt begin to quiver; he smiled, pleased at the response. "Think of the power of the asshole -- the power to take in, to clasp, to expel! And think of the affirmative nature of anal intercourse. At last, after a lifetime of forcing stuff out of your ass-hole, you'll be taking something in!"
Lisa said nothing, but her growing excitement was obvious to Rome, whose fingers had worked their way to the very rear of the girl's cunt, where they were kneading the meaty knob of her cervix. With his spare hand he reached under her body and grabbed her left tit, which he stroked gently, then with increasing vigor until at last he grasped the nipple in his fingers and rolled it to and fro, twisting and pinching it in the process. Lisa whimpered something unintelligible, then groaned.
Ass-fucking time, Rome told himself silently. He pulled his right hand from Lisa's cunt and reached for his cock; the organ was hard. He stared down at it. Its tan sheath wag stretched over the swollen structural tissue, and the purple-red glans peered out of the taut foreskin; Rome pinched the upper portion of the prepuce in two fingers and pulled it to the rear. It came back reluctantly; he had to stretch it like a too small condom being drawn over an oversized cock. When the glans stood free in all its glory, Rome took the cock in his fingers just below the rim. Carefully, unhurriedly, he guided the stiff penis to Lisa's cunt where he let it wallow in the puddlelike vestibule, its knob being coated by her pungent and slippery vaginal juices. And the oil, he thought, grinning. Yes, the oil.
She wanted to take his cock into her pussy. She was shoving the cunt back toward the prong, balancing all of her weight on her parted knees as she held her hands between her thighs and spread the vaginal lips with trembling fingers. He would humor her, Rome decided, but only partway. He would let her think he was going to screw her in the conventional manner, albeit from the rear, and then... He chuckled as he thought of how surprised she was going to be when she felt his cock forcing its way into her ass after all.
"Hurry," Lisa was moaning, her trunk arched toward the floor now and her head pressed against the floor, scalp and forehead on the carpet, to preserve her body's balance. She was still pulling on the cunt lips with quivering fingers, and once she let go of the right inner flap to run several fingertips over the juice-slathered underside of Rome's cock. "What is it you want me to do, Lisa?" Rome said calmly.
"Hurry, hurry! ..."
"I know this is going to sound old hat, but I want you to tell me what I'm supposed to do to you. I'm sorry, Lisa, but you'll have to explain your desires."
"God oh God! ..."
"Pretend that you're a character in a classic porno-graphic novel. Say 'Fuck me,' Lisa."
The girl whimpered, then gasped out the words. "Fuck me," she said.
"How do you want me to fuck you, Lisa?" He was grinning, oblivious to the spittle oozing out of one corner of his mouth. "How do I fuck thee? Let me count the ways..."
"Hard," she pleaded. "Now!"
"In the vagina, or in the..."
"Just fuck me!" she groaned.
"In the ass, Lisa. I want you to say, 'Fuck me in the ass.'"
Lisa hesitated for a moment, but when Rome pinched her clit between two fingers she was unable to resist. "Fuck me in the... the ass," she whispered. Then, shouting, "Oh, God, fuck me now!"
It was the signal that Rome had been waiting for. Quickly, before the girl could object, he pulled his cock from her pussy's foyer and guided it back toward her asshole, pushing forward when he felt the glans come in contact with the pulsating anal sphincter. The asshole tightened; he could also feel her buttocks stiffening as he pressed against the ass with the lower part of his belly.
"Open up, Goddamn it!" he snarled.
"No, no..."
"Shout 'Fuck me in the ass!'" he warned.
"No, I..."
"Fuck me in the ass!"
"No, I..." She hesitated briefly, then gave in once more. "Fuck me in the ass!" she cried. Then, even louder, "Fuck me any way you want to, you selfish pig!"
Rome laughed, long and hard, evil and sadistic. He slammed forward, caught her anal reflexes off guard, forced the thick knob of his prick past the sphincter and into the shithole. He kept shoving, thankful for the thin coating of olive oil and love juice that eased his entrance into her ass.
"Good God!" she moaned.
"Never mind God. Think of my cock in your ass." Rome took a deep breath and exhaled it in an explosion of air as he pumped the prick another four inches into the bunghole. One more breath, one more lightening of the dunghole. One more constriction of his own anal sphincter for intensity's sake, and.
"GOD!" Lisa cried, writhing in pain as the full, seven-plus inches of his masculinity filled her tight, virgin ass. He could feel the fecal leakage adhering to his pubic hair; he could also feel her asshole twitching around his cock's shaft, trying to expel it as it would have pushed out a rock-hard turd.
"How do I fuck thee? Let me count the ways." He said it aloud this time, chuckling before continuing. "I fuck thee in the asshole, I fuck thee in the cunt. I fuck thee while you whimper, I fuck thee and I grunt. I fuck thee with my cock head, I fuck thee with my dong. I fuck thee till I feel your asshole tighten round my prong..."
The pain, the humiliation, the obscenity of his poetry, the mocking quality of his vocal tone... all combined to make Lisa react more powerfully than ever, and Rome felt his own guts begin to gurgle as Lisa forgot her fear and literally threw herself into the act. Thrashing, writhing female flesh... what could be nicer?
"I fuck thee with my penis, I fuck thee hard like this... and when, at last, it's over, upon thee I will piss." He was laughing now, a hysterical quality to the guffaws which emanated from his chest even as he fucked progressively harder in Lisa's quivering, hurting ass. He felt her sphincter tighten even more, and then there was a moment's suspension of all movement on her part as she tried to stay at the point before orgasm, at the delightful quivering stage just before all hell was to break loose...
"OH GOD!" Rome almost jerked his cock from her ass when she cried out and thrust her anus backward, catching him completely by surprise. He restrained himself just in time, forcing his cock forward into the asshole and closing his eyes to relish the powerful spasms that had taken hold of her sphincter. One, two, three... he lost count. He held his breath, stiffened his back and his buff and his thighs, tightened his asshole and clenched his jaw as he tried to catch up with her, tried to match her rhythm.
One, two, three... "Motherfuck!" The thrusts had given away to spurts, the semen was coming up out of his balls and prostate to squirt through his penis and into Lisa's asshole, where it lined the cavity like Pepto-Bismol, acting like an enema in the impacted shit. Rome felt like screaming, such was the intensity of his pleasure. But then he felt Lisa's body relaxing, her asshole loosening its grip, and his own orgasm faded away as her rectum slowly slid off his prick and her body slumped to the floor.
"Lisa?" He was flopped on the floor beside her, his right hand resting on her ass.
"Hunnh..." She couldn't say anything; she was too tired to do anything but gasp.
"Show me a dyke who can fuck yon like that, baby."
"Hunnh."
There was a sudden gurgling in Lisa's intestines, and Rome couldn't help laughing when she jumped up and ran for the john.
It was in his role as counselor that Rome truly found emotional satisfaction. One of the nicest things about being President of the Group for Sensual Involvement was that the members, both male and female, had a compelling need to confess their problems to their leader and mentor. Rome was a combination sexologist, psychiatrist and priest. Girls would come to him to confess their frigidity, to inform him that they wanted to join the group in the hope that the total abandonment of moral principles would lead to the disappearance of their inhibitions: men would confess the need to beat women, or to humiliate them through coprophilia or urolagnia, and Rome would often became excited as he listened to it all.
Of course, there were problems in paradise. Rome was making a great deal of money, and he was enjoying his work, but he knew that his group could only grow so far. When it reached a certain point, it would be difficult for him to provide the personal touch that his members demanded. Furthermore, he suspected that he would soon become satiated with all this sex. He was a participant at one moment and a voyeur the next. Sex had become the driving force -- indeed, almost the only force -- in his life. He thought back to his youth, to dreams of trips abroad and a hitch in the navy or the merchant marine and expensive cars. He didn't have time for the cars, let alone the merchant marine or foreign travel. He barely had time to read the Sunday papers. Rome was working a seven-day week, playing Christ figure to a flock of disciples. He knew that he couldn't keep it up forever. The whole scene was beginning to wear him out already and he had occasional spells of depression moments when he almost wished he'd never conceived the idea of the group at all.
And the legal risks -- Christ, he almost puked every time he thought of the law. What he was doing certainly wasn't legal in a sense he was little better than a pimp. He was taking money to provide people the chance to fuck and to commit the strangest, most despicable perversions. He'd been providing his members with almost everything short of necrophilia. And he suspected he'd have to provide that before long.
Rome didn't know how many years he could get for this sort of activity, but he did know that he was bound to get caught if he kept this game up forever. The cops weren't stupid; slow, maybe, but not stupid. The larger his group became, the more likely it was that some cop might infiltrate it or that some disgruntled member might bring GSI to the attention of the police. The whole thing was depressing to think about, and it would be even more depressing if it came to pass.
"Rome?" Lisa was addressing him, her voice so low as to be almost inaudible.
"Talk louder. I can't hear you."
"I don't know how to say this, Rome, but..." she hesitated. "I did enjoy that, you know."
"I figured as much," he said with tongue firmly planted in cheek.
"I'd been fucked before, but not in the ass."
"Uh-huh."
"I never liked being fucked the regular way. It made me feel... well, used. Like I'm in Women's Lib, you know? Some of the girls use the word cunt to describe a woman who sells out to a man. You know, the kind of girl who marries some lawyer and lives unhappily ever after tending to the dirty diapers of a bunch of snot-nosed kids."
Rome nodded as she looked him in the eye.
"So I have this emotional thing about being a cunt. Which probably has something to do with the fact that I'm uptight about using my cunt. Even when I'm with another girl, making it with a lez like Jan, I don't find myself particularly turned on by having a bunch of fingers crammed up my twat. It's the clitoris that counts, and maybe the love lips. My asshole, too, when someone's thoughtful enough to give it a digital cleaning job. And today..." She closed her eyes and I shuddered. "Well, Rome, it was nice."
Rome picked at his nose for a moment, then spoke a quiet, almost fatherly tone. "What are you going to do now?" he asked.
"Huh?" She frowned. "How do you mean?"
"I mean are you going to stick to dykes, or are you going to open yourself up to other men?"
She glared at him. "I let you fuck my ass, didn't I?"
"Yes. But we have a rather special relationship. I'm your leader, your sexual advisor. Your procurer, for that matter. You come to me when you want to learn something about yourself or when you need to have the shame reamed out of you via a nice session of humiliating sex -- like today."
Lisa said nothing; she merely stared at her knees. Rome reached out and touched her breast. Both them were still naked and were sitting side by side the living room sofa, the velvet one near the wood burning fireplace. "Well, what's the story?" Rome asked.
"I don't know if I'm ready to make it with another man," she confessed in a choked voice. She seemed most on the verge of tears.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm -- God, I'm just too uptight." She bent her body forward, pressed her face into her hands and curled into a sort of sitting fetal position on the couch.
"Take it easy, for Christ's sake."
"I'm trying tooooooo!" she sobbed.
"I want you to fuck another guy," he told her.
"Nooo."
"Yes."
"I'll set it up for you," he said. "Tomorrow. The day after, maybe. Hell, if you want me to I can arrange things for tonight."
"I don't want it, Rome!" she cried sharply, sitting up and staring at him with wild eyes.
"Good Lord," He put a finger to his lips, grabbing her wrist with his free hand and giving her a sharp squeeze. "Calm down. I was merely trying to help you, damn it."
"I don't want to be helped," she sniffed.
"Sure you do. You're not a dyke. Not really. Oh; you enjoy the lez stuff enough -- I don't blame you; if I a were a girl I'd like it too -- but you're not a hard-core dyke the way Jan is."
Lisa stiffened. "I love Jan."
"Sure, sure. A crush, that's all it is. An unusually powerful relationship. Jan satisfies your sexual needs while providing you with a target for your nervous tensions. You can play the dominant role with Jan. She'll take whatever kind of shit you can dish out. And when you've dished out all the shit you can give, you come to me and whimper for another heap. You can't humiliate until you've been humiliated. You know, what you need is a schedule. A fucking schedule, with someone slipping it to you about four times a week. You need to be fucked just often enough to remember that you're a woman, a receptacle and not someone who's supposed to dish it out."
"Male chauvinism again," she said sarcastically.
"I was being facetious." Half-facetious, he corrected himself silently.
"I still don't see how you can say I'm not a dyke," she told him. "I had my first lesbian experience when I was fifteen, in convent school where I..."
"The old Catholic boarding school bit, huh? Sounds like you stole it from a dirty navel. Little girls getting their hymens popped by nuns holding crucifixes, the same old corny bullshit..."
"Let me finish!" she said sharply. "It wasn't anything like that. I was sharing a room with another girl, a French girl named Marcelle. She was pretty, very pretty, far more delicate in her features than me. She spoke French beautifully -- which made sense, was from Lyon -- and she had lovely manners, what with being the daughter of a second secretary to the French Embassy and all."
"Anyway, a lot of us girls were shy about undressing in front of one another and the like -- the nuns' influence, you know, don't look at your tits in the mirror when you brush your teeth -- all that stuff -- but Marcelle was different. Instead taking her nightgown to the showers with her and putting it on in the stall like the rest of the girls, she come back to our room in her bathrobe and put it in front of me."
"I was embarrassed at first, and I'd ways try and time my tooth brushing to coincide with her arrival from the shower. I'd lean over the sink a brush my teeth for about five minutes while she slowly put on her nightie and crawled into bed. I was almost afraid to look at her nightgowns, in fact, some of them were almost transparent. A couple them were even confiscated by the Mother Superior who thought they violated the school's rules."
"Anyhow, I started to think about the way Marcelle pranced around naked in the room. Though it wasn't really prancing; she was far too delicate and mannerly for that."
"One night I held up my head higher thin usual while brushing my teeth so I could catch a few glimpses of her in the mirror. I saw her remove the soft flannel bathrobe and put it on the bed. She stood there for a moment or so, staring at her tits in the mirror on the dresser. They were nice ones, too -- a little bigger than mine, but more pointed with big nipples that always looked pink and stiff. She balanced her tits in her hands for a moment, and I found myself on the verge of giggling as I thought how she looked like some housewife hefting rutabagas in the supermarket."
"Then I got another glimpse of her in the mirror as she did a little ballet exercise while holding her hands behind her head. She seemed to be doing it for no particular reason, unless she knew I was watching. It was as if she were in love with her body, so in love with her sensuality and grace that she had to touch herself and look at herself before going to shed each night. I looked at her pubic hair, which was a lot skimpier than mine, and I saw how her legs looked like they were about three inches apart from the top. You could see the light coming through from behind her, and it was like the entrance to a cave as seen from inside. A real gap, you know?"
"She must have trimmed the hair, because I could see the outline of her sex lips. The outer lips, that is. Very delicate, like all of her, but also very distinct. There was this little cleft in the middle of that space between her thighs, and I found myself transfixed by it. Suddenly she looked up and saw my eyes in the mirror."
"Her mouth turned up in a little smile, and she said something to me, something so soft and low that I couldn't hear. Stupid me, I said 'What?' making it obvious that I'd been watching her. Naturally, I wouldn't have known she had said anything if I hadn't seen her mouth moving in the mirror."
"So she did another little turn for me, lifted her right leg delicately as if she wanted me to see more of that lovely crotch. Then she smiled again, blushed prettily, and put her nightgown on. Then we went to bed. And that was all."
Rome had been listening carefully and was stroking Lisa's right knee. "You're sure that was all?" he asked quietly.
"It was all for that night," Lisa explained. "But the next night... well, she did it again. But this time she made sure I saw her naked before I could start brushing my teeth. As soon as she came into the room she took off her bathrobe and hung it over a peg on the door. She smiled at me again, the same enticing smile, and she began her exercise routine."
"I couldn't start my tooth brushing routine; I had to watch. I knew she wanted me to watch, and I also knew I couldn't help watching. I stood there, feeling a sort of fluttering sensation in my stomach, and then -- for no real reason -- I found myself wanting to follow her example."
"I bit my lip, blushed like a radish, and pulled off my pajama tops. Then, before I could let my better judgment say no, I yanked off the bottoms and tossed them onto my bed, I began to pirouette with her, to lift my right leg while curling my left arm and all the rest of the ballet things that I didn't know anything about but could imitate without too much trouble. She did a split, and I did a split. I felt my cunt lips spread open as they almost touched the floor, and I heard a little farting noise as my twat filled up with air."
"Marcelle giggled at that, and so did I. I was blushing a mile a minute, but I was giggling too, and when I got to my feet I couldn't do anything but stand there and laugh. It was like a barrier had been broken. Marcelle came over to me and put her arms around me lightly, at the same time leaning forward and kissing me on the lips. Nothing dykey about it -- just a light, sisterly kiss. But what it did to me!"
"I could actually smell the juices that started oozing from my crotch. I was embarrassed as hell. 'What if she notices?' I asked myself. And I guess she did notice, because the next moment she was embracing me a little more lightly, mattering something in French. I couldn't understand what she was saying; I never did get anything higher than a 'D' in French. But I got the idea quickly enough when she started to caress my back with her fingertips."
"I felt ashamed of myself, and a little afraid, but I couldn't think of doing anything but to do the same thing to her as she was doing to me. That is, I put my arms around her and I started to rub her back. The shoulder blades first, then the line or fissure or whatever you call it that goes down the back, then the little depression at the base of the spine. She started to rub the top of my ass, right between the buns, and I shuddered. It wasn't just a shiver; it was a shudder. I felt those fingers in there, parting the cheeks at the top and rubbing the bones of my spine, and I shuddered."
"Marcelle seemed to notice my reaction, because she moved the hands lower and continued to probe around in the crack of my ass. I shuddered a few more times, then tried, to pull away. I was becoming afraid; what if she tried to stick a finger in my rectum or something?"
"Well, Marcelle didn't want me to pull away, obviously, so she took her fingers out of the crack and started to rub the cheeks, pressing just hard enough to force my hips against hers."
"We stood there for a long time, kissing and rubbing each other's buns and resting our heads on each other's shoulders. I was excited as hell, really juicing up. I could feel the moisture coming out of my cunt; there was a sort of cool sensation where the juice was evaporating from the hair of my twat."
"Some of the juice started to run down my leg, and I pressed my knees together to catch it. Marcelle must have misunderstood me, because she kissed me harder, really hard, and took her hand off my ass so she could grab one of my tits, I tried again to pull away; I was becoming too afraid, too confused. But she seemed to become even more insistent, and I melted completely when she momentarily let a hand dart between my thighs."
"It was like 400 volts of electricity suddenly shot through my body, all of it coming from a point right there at the top of my pussy. She had touched my clit, the clit I had been afraid to touch myself because of what the sisters had said about masturbation. She touched me again, and I let out a little cry. She kept it up, kept stroking me there and sticking a finger into the outer part of my twat every now and then, and I was so excited I could almost scream."
"She started to strum the clit, and to sort of flip the inner lips from side to side with her fingers, and I started to clench her so tightly that I damn near broke her back. I thought I was going to come, I could feel all kinds of wonderful things that I'd read about in the forbidden books, and it seemed even lovelier than I'd ever imagined. I was seeing stars in front of my eyes -- really, it was like I received a good sock in the jaw -- and my body was shaking all over. I started to rock my hips back and forth, I tried to wrap my legs around one of hers, and then, just as I was about to let it all go in a wild burst of nervous tension, she pulled her hand away. Just pulled it away and laughed. Then she said it was time to go to bed."
"I didn't know what to say, of course -- I was stunned, but I couldn't very well ask her to finish jerking me off -- so I just mumbled good night and went to bed. I didn't even brush my teeth."
Lisa laughed; Rome thought there was a bitter quality to her laugh, but it seemed tempered with nostalgia. "Go on," he said.
"The next night, Marcelle came from the shower and hung her robe up again. This time she didn't play around. She went to her dresser, removed a tiny bottle of perfume that she'd apparently hidden in a box of sanitary napkins, and put it on at the usual strategic points, plus a few others -- her wrists, her temples, behind her ears, between heir tits, at her pulse point -- at the bottom of her neck, you know -- and finally between her legs. Right there where her cunt was."
"Then she told me to lie on her bed. I obeyed. She told me to open my legs so she could see me better. I did that, too, feeling like I was going to be damned to hell at any moment but past the point of caring. I was juicing up just thinking about what we had done the night before, and I was even more excited by lying there with her eyes staring at my virgin little twat."
"She said something about how much hair I had, and about how it was a sign of maturity. I must have blushed, because she told me not to worry. She was being as kind and gentle as ever, but she was completely in charge. She sat on the edge of the bed with one of my legs next to he
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As I walked to the counter to return some library books I was brought up short, the girl…well, woman waiting to service me took my breath away; and I have no idea why. I like my ladies tall, slender and dark complexioned with black hair. This lady
..continue reading THE WIFE DOES DOGS
"You'll have to keep Rex here in the cabin, darling," Carson Smith said to his wife. "If the white stag gets the scent of a dog, I'll never get close enough to photograph him."
Catherine turned from the primitive iron stove, where she was making cof
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Sex on Fire
I was jarred awake abruptly by the ringing of my phone. I grabbed it from my nightstand, “Who in the fuck would call me at 3:42 am. Hello…”
“Bobby?” the somewhat familiar muffled voice asked.
“Yes, is that you Becky?”
“Bobby, can y
..continue reading I venture into bestiality
My husband Barry and I (Stella) were a boring couple for the first couple of years of our marriage. We started to experiment after one drunken night at a party which turned into a fuck fest. We found that we enjoyed playing around and it certainly br
..continue reading No pretender to group sex
I put a picture of my butt on my Yahoo profile and from time to time I get instant messages from women commenting and most of the time asking to see more.
For a 40-something male, I have a better than average body, 6-1, 190, 34 inch waist (same size
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