You watch as he enters, sheepishly, as if embarrassed by the knowledge that both of you know his secret, embarrassed by what he’s agreed to, by what he’s said he wants. Already, you are curious – not just about his body, although that will be nice to see, at last – but about his reaction, how he’ll be, when you have him at his weakest. He’s strong, but there’s a latent weakness there, something interesting something – you can’t wait to find out about.

She – the other girl – looks him up and down; the first meeting, you see approval in her eyes, but the same curiosity as yours, the curiosity of what happens now, of who does what first, of how does it start?

There’s a moment’s pause, and for a long second, it’s the three of you, in the room with its couch, and its windows with the blinds drawn but the midday sun shining through, and the TV still blaring, although it seems quieter now in the silence before.

And then you laugh, almost giggling, and you reach down under your skirt and pull your underwear from your hips, shimmying your legs so it falls down along them, past your knees and onto the floor. And you look up, with a newfound confidence, having taken control of the situation, and smile.

“Your turn.” You say, and nod at the boy expectantly.

“My underwear?” He asks, his voice still half-swallowed, and you smile again. “No, you idiot.” You say. “Fucking all of it.”

I stand in the room in front of the two women, grateful that the silence has been broken, but all the same my arms feel like lead and my heart is pounding in my ears. I want this, I remind myself, I drove myself here, forty minutes on paper but more like seventy with traffic, and every inch of every mile I wanted this. And then the other woman laughs, and shakes her head.

“Hurry up.” She said. “I’ve seen this part.”

My hands shake just a little as I hook my fingers under the band of my shorts and boxers, and then my thumbs slide down, along my skin, pulling off my shorts and boxers, all the way to the floor. I step out of them without meeting her eyes or yours, feeling my cock grow so damn hard, sticking straight out ponderously in front of me.

I kick off my shoes and slip off my socks and then, the hard part over, I throw my shirt carelessly over my head, dropping it on the floor. And finally, naked from head to toe, I look up at the two of you, and find you looking me over carefully, and only grow harder, and more excited.

And then I turn, with a slight flourish, brazenly mocking your gazes, shaking my ass before your eyes.

“What now?” I ask. “What do you want from me?”

He’s a cocky fuck, she thinks, I’ll give him that. Not too bad on that cock either. But this – showing off – that’s no good. That’s not going to fly.

“Shut up.” She says, pointedly, and steps forward, confidently, towards him. “You need us more than we need you.” She reaches out to his chest with one finger, trailing it down his stomach, down, down, just avoiding his cock, keeping her eyes fixed on his. “I can see a cock anytime I feel like it. So if you want something to happen, you better do exactly as I – ” She glances at you with a quick, apologetic look – “as we say. You understand?”

“Yes.” She pinches him pointedly, sharply, without a hint of flirtation. “No, fuck that. For today, you can say yes ma’am, while you’re at it.”

“Yes ma’am.” He answers, and you’re amazed at how quickly she’s taken command.

“Better.” She answers, and smiles, stepping behind him, still eyeing him, looking his body up and down. “Now your friend and I want to know just what a man is good for. And you – you’re going to show us.”

“Yes ma’am.” He answers, again, with more confidence, a grin building on his face.

“Excellent. Susan?” She says, and turns to you.

You stay where you are, the thrill of power now in your throat. The boy will do what you ask, anything you ask, and you know it.

“Here, boy.” You say, and step backwards, sitting down on the couch, letting your skirt play up along your thighs. He steps towards you readily, towering over you as he stands. “Not there.” You say, reaching out to his waist and pulling down. “There. On your knees.”

He obeys, falling to his knees so that his eyes are level with your heaving tits. And you smile again. “Now.” You say, and you open your legs, feeling the thrill go through you as the air rushes along your skin. “Watch.”

And you begin, your finger trailing up your thigh, flitting over your lips and clit, and you watch his eyes as he watches you. He moves forward instinctively, staring obediently as your hand speeds up.

“No,” You say, changing your mind. “Closer.”

And you pull him closer with your free hand, closer and closer, until he’s barely a hand’s breadth away. “And touch yourself.” You command. And you start again, with your free hand…

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“Wow,” she said, opening her eyes and looking up into mine, “How long have you wanted to do that?”

“A while.” I said, honestly, my voice deep and husky. I closed my eyes and kissed her again.

Her body lifted to meet mine, humming against me with the nervous energy of a live wire. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, could feel hers beating against my chest. I had held her delicately at first, afraid of breaking the tension in the room by moving too brashly or brazenly, but now she pulled herself into me of her own accord, as if trying to bridge even the tiniest gap between us.

My hand brushed her skin, and she sighed against my cheek, and then I, emboldened, placed he whole of my hand against the small of her back, cradling her there, and taking possession.

I had wanted this, to tell the truth, ever since I’d met her. And now that she was here, in my arms, I was going to savour every second, every inch of her body.

She arched as my hand moved against her back, and her hips brushed against mine. My hand slid against her back, dipping below her waistband, feeling the cool of her skin beneath, smooth and tensed as my fingers caressed it.

She kissed me with a restrained abandon, unable to stop but careful, as if playing for the first time with a new toy, stopping at times to place her head in the crook of my neck. It was a slow, steady reconnaissance she was employing, and I was willing to let her, just feel us breathe together, to feel her skin against mine.

Her boots caught against my belt as she lay back against the couch, the leather sounding harsh as it slid against my buckle. Embarrassed, she mumbled an apology, but I laughed easily, and starting just below the knee, unzipped her until the boots were open all the way, and pulled them off.

It shouldn’t have, but the simple act of undressing even that much were enough to change her entirely. Before the second boot had reached the floor, she arched up and unbuttoned her jeans, crumpling them in her haste to pull them off. The soft grey underwear she wore underneath were bunched, revealing as much as they hid, and the smooth white softness of her thighs was beyond inviting.

I bent down and ran my tongue along her leg, letting it trace over the fabric, over the folds of her pussy. She moaned softly, then blushed a deep red as I looked up, biting her lip and looking away.

“Don’t stop.” she said, and put a hand against my head, bringing me back down against her.

I didn’t, bringing first my tongue, then my lips against her, holding her thighs open with my hands as she writhed against my tongue. I heard her breathing go deep, listened as her strangled ground grew higher and higher pitched, felt the tension in her stomach and her legs, and knew that she was close, but still she would not quite let go.

I raised myself to my knees, and took one look down at her face, her lip still between her teeth, frozen in anguish and more than a little frustration.

I put out a hand to her cheek, letting it trace down it softly.

“Not long now.” I said, and brought my hands to my belt.

She laughed nervously, and watched as I brought my jeans first to my knees, then kicked them off completely.

My shirt went over my head, and then, naked but for my boxers, I leaned back down over her, put out my tongue to meet her through the soaking cotton, and pulled her panties off completely.

She caught her breath and closed her eyes, her lips parting as she rocked back, shrugging off he underwear as they slid down her calves.

I ran my hand up the outside of her bare legs, letting my fingers trail underneath her, touching her ass. She parted her legs for me, keeping her eyes shut tightly, and I stepped out of my underwear and brought my cock up towards her.

She gasped just slightly as the warm skin first touched hers, and let her legs open wider as I trailed towards her, inch by inch, moving slower as I approached.

And then I was above her, just outside, parting her wet lips with my cock.

“Don’t tease -” She started, but never finished, because I pushed in slowly then, and felt her shudder against me even as I entered, finally finding her release.

She wrapped her legs and arms around me tightly, angling her neck just above my shoulder, and slid her hips forward, taking my whole cock inside her.

She came again before I did, her breath ragged and warm against my ear, her legs tensing and going slack as she crested and fell.

Afterwards, she made no attempt to put on clothing, but rolled on her stomach, showing off her nice, toned ass.

I put a hand out to grasp it, claiming that, too, as mine, and smiled.

“Again?” she said, hardly more than a murmur against the pillows, but to my ears it sounded hopeful.

I would not let her down.

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“I like you when you’re like this.” She said quietly, trailing a finger down my chest and stomach. “Quiet and…waiting.”

She tickled me slightly, and I pulled away, but she smiled and ran her nails across my skin.

“Hold still.” She said, and then ran her fingers down the length of my leg, trailing off just below the knee and lifting away.  She brought it back quickly, feeling around towards the inside of my leg, working her way up slowly, holding her breath as she watched my reaction.  “Hold veerrrry still.”

She was teasing, of course, and I could hear the smile in her voice. I closed my eyes and tensed, trying to humor her, waiting to see how far she would go.

She stopped halfway up my thigh and retraced her way down the other side of my leg.  I sighed in disappointment, and she laughed in response.

“Patience…” She mouthed, and bent down to kiss my skin at the top of my rib cage, working her way down slowly with steady, warm breaths even as her hand worked its way back up.

She lifted up again even has her hand brushed across the side of my knee, tickling me and making me flinch.  She sighed her amusement and gripped my thighs tightly with both hands.

“Hold…Still.” She said, emphatically, and forced my knees apart.

And then she bent down again, frustratingly slowly, raising her ass towards my face inch by inch as her head dropped towards my lap.

I felt her breath long before she reached it, playing warmly against my tensed legs and stomach.  Her tongue darted out, circling just beyond my cock, teasing insistently and devilishly as my thighs strained against her hands.

She paused for a second, letting me feel the full warmth of her mouth just above and around my cock, letting me know just how close she really was.

And then I could hold it no longer, and reached for her waist, and pulled her ass back towards me, reaching for her pussy with my tongue, aching for any distraction from the waiting.

She plunged on my cock even as my tongue found her.  She moaned immediately and rocked back against my mouth, alternating plunging down onto me and grinding against my tongue and lips with her pussy.

Neither of us took very long; her moans grew deeper as she shuddered against me.  Her hands clenched around my thighs, and then let go entirely as I came, gasping, into her mouth, still tasting her against my lips.

So much for holding still.

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There are times when you meet someone and know instantly that you will see them naked, and soon, and fuck the hell out of them.  It’s not love at first sight, nor is it lust.  It’s just an immediate physical connection, like a spark of static leaping from your finger to theirs.

She was that girl for me.

It was in London, halfway through a lazy Indian summer, when the nation of tweed jackets and warm beer was gasping for breath in 80-degree heat.  She was American, and a distance runner, and it could have been 100, she wouldn’t have cared.  The long days were perfect for her running, as were the deserted parks.  Nothing could slow her down.

We met in early July, and somehow, soon, without my knowing it or planning it, my friends in the city were her friends, and hers mine.  Sometimes I would run with her, trying not to let on how badly I was hurting as I ached to keep up.  Others I would wait with my friends in the pub, watching her run by and into the park before returning, later, fresh from the shower, cheeks glowing and eyes shining brightly under her wispy black hair.

It was one of those times, three short weeks after we had met.  She came into the bar blowing the hair hanging over her eyes back up, smiling easily as she met my eyes.  I hadn’t felt the sudden, happy lurch in my stomach that I got from seeing her in years, but there, in the hot, thin air of the pub I was oddly comfortable with it.

I made room for her next to me as she greeted the others and settled into the booth. I honestly don’t know what we talked about, and I don’t see those friends much these days, but that moment on always seems golden in my memories.  The beer was stronger, the sun softer, and that short hour sweeter than any I have spent in that city, and I loved my time there.

I was in form, I remember that, laughing boldly, sure of my place and of my friends, and glad to have her by my side.  I was about to stand, to order another glass, when I felt the hand on my thigh.  It pushed firmly, with clear intent, holding me in place.  It started just above my knee, its slim fingers reaching inwards, and I sat back quietly, with a frozen smile on my face.

I had expected to make the first move, maybe even that night, if I could work up the courage for it.  I had not expected her to jump the gun.

One of my friends had asked me a question, and I turned to him brightly, maybe a little too quickly, and responded, trying to keep a calm face as I felt her fingers reaching, one at a time, towards my crotch.

I played it coy, or so I thought, but I had already decided firmly against a third drink. She rarely drank, begging off due to her training regimen, and if I could come up with an excuse, we could be away, and behind closed doors where we belonged, in ten minutes.  Maybe less.

“A Stella, please…” She was saying next to me, and I couldn’t resist turning to look at her with a disbelieving smile.  She smiled back sweetly and batted her eyelashes at me.  “Did you want anything?”

“Boddington’s.” I answered, smiling to keep the frustration out of my voice.  She trailed a nail along the inside of my thigh.  My jeans were becoming uncomfortably tight as her hand inched upwards towards my cock.

I looked around the table quickly, making sure my friends had not noticed.  If they had, they weren’t letting on.

Feeling my dry mouth, I raised my pint to my lips even as her fingers brushed my cock.  I took a deep gulp of the beer and closed my eyes momentarily, trying not to give the game away.

She didn’t stop, just slowly let her fingers caress the full length of the shape now prominently pushing against the seam of my pants, occasionally sipping from her glass and laughing along with conversation. Nor did she miss a beat when another friend came across the pub to join us, forcing us to make room and pushing me all the closer to her.

And then, as one of the others got up to use the bathroom, I let my hand slide along the inside of her leg, slowly extending my fingers upwards. A friendly squeeze on my leg was her response, and then her hand lifted from my leg – mercifully, I thought – and took my hand in hers.

That moment was one of the happiest of the summer, the final confirmation of what I had felt since meeting her, and it was passed only by the one, twenty minutes later, when the door closed behind us, and she devoured me greedily, stripping off her clothes and throwing her arms around me, naked and graceful and hungry all at once.

And then my hands were on her, covering her small breasts, reaching for her ass, feeling the smoothness of her legs as they wrapped themselves around my waist.

“Keep up.” She said, and bit my ear, and I smiled.

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“Don’t you think this is taking it a bit far?” I ask, as she ties the black scarf around my eyes.

“No.” She answers petulantly. “I don’t think it’s taking it too far at all.  You owe me.” She says this last bit with a touch of anger, accenting it with a quick tug as she pulls the knot home.

She’s right, of course, and I fall silent.  The room feels very large, all of a sudden, the sound of the air conditioner, and the birds outside, suddenly very loud.

I’m here to make amends with an ex-girlfriend, full of good intentions and good humor, but I’m starting to doubt the wisdom of either as I stand, stark naked and blindfolded, in her bedroom.  As usual, of course, I can’t be around her and not be aroused; we have too much history for that.  And even that feels heavy now, awkward and clumsy in its erect state.  I try not to move for fear of swinging it and inviting derision.

“What do you want?” I ask quietly, waiting for a response, but I get none.  The room is quiet, and for an instant, I feel like I’m alone.  I tentatively bring a hand up to the blindfold, starting to peel it back.

“Don’t.” Her voice comes from the silence, harsh and unamused, but slightly mocking.  “You owe me.”

I nod, and swallow, waiting in the silence, feeling my nakedness very keenly.  I feel an itch on my lower back, but try to ignore it.

“Touch it.” The voice comes at last, and I’m sluggish with my response.  A heavy sigh comes from the darkness.  “Touch your cock.”

I do, bringing my hand to it, moving it slightly, feeling it through  my stomach and legs.  The tip is wet with readiness, but I stop, unsure of how much she wants from me.

“Keep going.” She says sternly.

But I stop, abruptly, obstinate for some reason, unwilling to continue.

“Keep going.” She says again, demanding this time, angry at my hesitance, but I don’t move at all. My hands stay at my sides.

She sighs heavily in the silence, and I hear her rise from her bed.  Her hands grab at my sides and pull me forwards, through the room, until my thighs touch the rough cloth of the blanket cover.

“Why won’t you do what I want?” Her voice asks from beside me, tinged heavily with disappointment. “I knew you wouldn’t keep your word.” I don’t answer, just shrug my shoulders.

She sighs again, exasperated, and then I feel myself pulled forwards, down towards the bed, over her bare lap, and I realize what’s about to happen.  And then I hear it – a chuckle, low and muffled, from the other side of the room.  And I realize, for the first time, that we are not alone.  I fight, push against her arms, try to rise to my feet, but at this point it’s already too late.  The first smack lands even as I squirm, and any dignity I have left is gone in the struggle. The chuckle turns into a full-blooded laugh, feminine and amused, and I can feel my face burning with embarrassment as I take my punishment in sullen silence.

The spanking is swift, but stinging, enough to provoke a few grunts of pain, and then I’m thrust back onto my feet.

“Now.” She says, not without a tinge of triumph.  “Let’s see what you can do.”

She presses her arm against my thighs, pushing me down onto the carpet in front of her.  I feel her take my head in her hand, feel her legs open before me, and know what’s expected of me.  I dive in hungrily, flicking my tongue up and down her pussy until I find her clit, and hear her sigh in pleasure.

“That’s better.” She says.  “That’s more like it.” Her hand cups my head, and she starts to ride against me.

Dimly, I hear someone rise behind me, hear the chair scraping on the floor.  I feel the floorboards creak, but I’m too focused on what I’m doing to her to care.  The floor creaks again, approaching quickly until the footsteps are directly behind me, and I turn to move, but she closes your thighs, keeping me in place, and someone sinks to their knees behind me.  A hand reaches forwards through my legs, finding my cock, and starts moving, slowly but surely.  I am tensed, still, waiting for the other shoe to drop, worrying about who else she has brought into the room and what they’re going to do, but a sharp slap to my ass brings me back to business.  Her thighs open again, and the hand on my cock speeds up. And then it’s a race, my tongue against the hand on my cock, trying to beat the other one finish.

I’m winning.

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At the Altar.

“Come here.” I say, my voice heavy in my own ears.  The room is suddenly very, very quiet, and her eyes meet mine uncertainly.  She hesitates, as if making up her mind, trying to read my intentions in my eyes.

“Come.” I say, and hold out my hand.  And she nods slowly, and steps towards me, and takes it.

I rise to meet her, pulling her towards me by the hand, letting my arms drape around her back.  She feels frail and blade-like against me, her skin warm and tender against mine. And then I trace down her back with my fingers, feeling for the skin beneath her shirt, and bend down to kiss her as I reach it, feeling her draw a breath as our lips touch.

I have waited for this moment, I know, and the world moves slowly as I savor it, feeling her lips move questioningly against mine, feeling her hips rise up to meet me.  Her breath is warm against my neck as she pulls away, and she opens her eyes shyly, like a swimmer taking a first look at an underwater world.

“Wow.”  She says, and I have to force myself not to smile at her shyness.

“And that’s just the beginning.” I say, pulling her back towards me.  She comes willingly this time, without hesitation, folding into me and letting me kiss her.  And then my hand brushes her thigh, and she trembles, but does not pull away.  And I feel her skin there, warm and soft and smooth, and groan.

And then I wrap my arms around her and lift her, just slightly, onto the arm of the couch, my hand pulling her skirt up around her waist.  And I sink to my knees before her, my fingers sliding up towards her pussy.

“What are you – ?” She gasps, as my fingers find her wet through her underwear, but she doesn’t finish the thought.  I pull aside the cotton and let my tongue flick over her lips, my breath warm against her skin.  And then I lick, letting my tongue slip through her folds, finding her clit beneath them, and she shudders above me.  Her hand finds its way into my hair and makes a fist, holding on to steady herself as she trembles against my mouth.  I know my way here, and soon she is gasping, giving little sighs that build into a short, breathless moan.

She comes, and I rise to my feet, and kiss her.

“Thank you.” She whispers, and then slides past me, slipping out of her underwear as she stands.

And then she turns to me, and pushes me back towards the couch, and falls to her knees in turn.  My jeans unzip, and she pulls my cock free, and plunges down onto it with her mouth.  She’s new to this, I know, but enthusiastic, and I’m not complaining.  I look down at her and groan again, watching her at work, remembering how many times I’ve imagined this.  And then I close my eyes and let it wash over me, praying it won’t be the last time.

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She barely looked at me as she pushed through the door, stripping off her coat despite the cold.  I hard barely closed the door before she turned to face me with a smirk, strangely superior despite the goosebumps standing out against her skin.  She shivered as she stripped off her shirt and parted her teeth, leering at me hungrily.

“I’m ahead.” She said, and unsnapped her bra, letting it fall to the floor.  Her nipples pushed out, swollen and high on her chest, a deep pink-red against her white skin. They were small, barely handfuls in her own hands, but she was proud of them.  Like everything else, staunchly, defiantly proud.

She unbuckled her belt, and still I didn’t move, waiting and watching her, tight-lipped and angry.  I did not want her here, not now, and not like this.  I stood still, feeling only the slightest tremor running through my legs and up into my shoulders, but she didn’t hesitate.  Her jeans gathered around her knees, and she stood tall and stared at me.

“You’re going to let me have this?” She asked, certain of her goal.  Even more certain of her reward.

“Go ahead.” I answered, at last, through clenched teeth.

She kicked off her jeans flippantly, taking pains to look carefree as they flew across the arm of the couch.  Wordless, she stood before me, wearing only her underwear, black with a small red ribbon just below her navel.  The goosebumps had receded, but her nipples had not, and she stood with one arm against her side, pouting her hips forwards and to the side, expectant and suggestive.

She waited and smiled, sliding her hands down the sides of her legs, pushing the underwear down ahead of her.  A tuft of hair showed beneath, glistening even from here.  I tried to stare at her eyes, ignoring the swelling against my leg, determined not to break now.  Not this easily.  Not when she was expecting it.

She paused, watching my eyes closely, waiting for the reaction.

“You really think that’s going to work?” She asked, but her voice broke at the end, and the question hung in the air.

She stepped towards me uncertainly, as if afraid that I would, skittish, from the room.  But I did not move.  And she came closer.

She stepped forwards, into my chest, pushing her breasts against me through my shirt, shrugging her shoulders as if anticipating the hug.  And I sighed, refusing even now to give in.

“Is there…anything I can do?” She said, at last, hesitating in earnest, and looking up at me with sad eyes.  I looked down at her and shook my head slowly, putting a hand softly against her cheek.  She bit her lip and looked away.

Her hand brushed against the leg of my jeans, anything but accidentally, and I sighed deeply, trying to keep my thighs from responding to her touch.

Not that it mattered.  With a groan of exultant discovery, her hand wrapped around my cock through the material.  Fingers flew on buttons, and she sank to her knees, pulling me free and into her mouth all in one motion.  She moaned dutifully as she took me in her mouth, and rolled her tongue over the tip of my cock.

My shoulders sagged and I leaned back against the door, letting her continue with my hand in her hair.  She moved quickly, brushing aside my defenses, and anyway there was little I could do to stop her.

Finally, still gritting my teeth in a forlorn attempt to resist as her groans deepened, I looked down and saw her fingers buried deep inside her cunt, and I gathered myself.  If she was going to come tonight, I was going to make to her.

I pulled myself free in a stupor, and brought her to her feet.  Unbidden, she turned and draped herself over the couch, following the path of her jeans.  I spread her legs clumsily, found her cunt with my fingers, and then pushed in with my cock as hard as I could.

She pushed back until I was fully in, arching her back and grinding her hips against mine as she closed her eyes.  I gripped her sides and fucked her, as I’d wanted to all along, bending low across her back to hear her breath grow short as she lost control.

“I knew you couldn’t resist…” She said through gritted teeth, and groaned heavily as the first wave took her, claiming victory even as she surrendered.

And in that moment, for the life of me, I didn’t care.


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