It is this gravity which I will shake.

In body she is a girl still. Long, smooth legs and arms.
A tight, athletic bottom of a totally gratuitous degree of beau
ty. Understated but classically lovely breasts. Strong shoul
ders and an unusually striking long neck, with a very prideful
quality. Her head is graceful and wellset. A mane of long
sometimeslight and sometimesdark blond hair.

It is this wholesome prettiness which I will degrade.

The face? Unusual. The woman’s eyes, changeable as to shade and
hue, draw one in, over and over. The stormgrey eyes that you
smiled into yesterday may be dark umber tomorrow. There is also
a peculiar asymmetry, in that not only are her eyes not in hori
zontal plane (true of many people), the eyes are slightly differ
ent sizes. This is not discomfiting; rather enchanting, further
proof that THIS one is THE one, and not just another one.

This is the one whose eyes must be made to see into Hell, and
smile at what they see.

To kiss this woman is to draw close enough to get inside the
orbit of those eyes, to taste sweet lips and a lively tongue and
for a moment forget what one might have seen mirrored in the
eyes…

But today is not a day for kissing.

***

This woman feels that she has done wrong. Her great intelligence
wars with her sexuality, analyzing and measuring the very feel
ings that defy analysis and corrupt measurement. In order to be
taken away from her own constant scrutiny, she must be abused,
treated with rough disdain, as though enough humiliation and pain
trips a relay that not only allows her to come, but stills the
dry, pedantic voices in her head.

***

When I enter the room, she has been standing, roped to the top of
a door, almost on tiptoes, for about ten minutes. The strained
posture does artistic things to the dynamics of her trim, athlet
ic legs, and the raising and centering of her cuffed arms pushes
her small breasts together and out. She is wearing panties and a
cotton Tshirt; this I have allowed her.

I walk over and stand next to her. “Getting any taller?” I
ask, jokingly.

“No, sir.” She doesn’t like a lot of talk. _I_ like a lot of
talk, so a lot of talk is what she gets. She also doesn’t really
know what I can accomplish with talk. There have been those who
have been broken under my casual conversation more profoundly
than if I had used a branding iron.

But now the time for talking is passed.

I lean down and run the backs of my fingers up one calf. The
woman shivers slightly, a racing horse in tether.

***

I return to the room, dragging a simple wooden director’s chair.
What I am about to do was actually taught me by a teenage girl,
long ago; one of the legion of masturbatory exhibitionists and
generalpurpose kinks that seem to find me by means of some
sexual sonar.

I sit down in the chair and study the woman. Her face is in an
attractive grimace, eyes slitted, lips pulled back across her
large, healthy white teeth. She flicks a sideways glance at me
from under her knitted brows. There is still a good deal of
defiance in that look. I steeple my hands and ask, “Would you
like to be let down?”

The woman looks at me again, this time warily. “Yyes, Sir.
Please.”

“Oh, it pleases. I wouldn’t have suggested the possibility if
it didn’t please me.” I get up from the director’s chair and
slide it closer to her, so that the chair is almost under her,
but facing the wrong way. “Would you like to be let down into
this chair?” I say, smiling.

She studies the smile, and a blazing mix of emotions flash across
her face; fear, anticipation, lustand something else, perhaps
bewilderment. This woman is seldom bewildered, and it feels
strange and exciting. (Of course, she is relatively seldom hung
from a door, but this does not bewilder; this was requested.)
“Yes” she says, her voice somewhat strained from her lengthy
suspension.

I turn up the smile another notch. I have had 300pound bikers
walk away backward from _this_ smile. “Would you like?” I
continue, in a harsh whisper, “to be let down _onto_ this
chair?”

The woman’s differentsized eyes flare, and her mouth clamps
shut. She looks sideways at me, finally not seeing me but the
authority, the terrible punishment, the indignity, the pain that
her inner voices need. “Please…” she says, in a voice as
hoarse as mine. “Please…”

I step very close to the woman. I snap my fingers and a short,
bitterly sharp leafbladed knife jumps from my sleeve into my
hand. A mere trick, but impressive in the context. Before she
can react, I slice her panties in half, one vertical swipe down
the back that kisses the skin as lightly as a breeze. One more
pass and the wispy garment falls to the floor. I put the knife
away (did she show a flash of disappointment?) and run my hands
slowly, carefully over her buttocks. Not a sexual gesture; more
like an examination of the ground before some surgical operation.

With one hand I steadily but firmly pry her cheeks apart. I use
the middle finger of the other hand to first locate, then touch,
then penetrate her tight, dry anus. A gasp is born in the
woman’s body but she kills it before it can reach her lips.

Looking the woman in the eyes, I unsmilingly work my finger in
her body, gently but steadily maneuvering until the finger is in
up to the second joint. Her asshole is very tight, very dry,
very hot. I wiggle the embedded finger a few times. The woman’s
face tries to stay cool, but her eyelids flutter and her mouth
tics.

***

“Close your eyes,” I say softly. The woman is slow. She wants
somehow to see over her shoulders and back, to see my hand plun
dering her ass. “Close your eyes, I said!” I bark. I take my
free hand from her buttocks and slap her across one breast, fast
but not very hard. This is a richly symbolic “wrong” thing to
do to a woman; she likes it very much.

“Keep your fucking eyes closed” I warn. I remove the finger
from her asshole. The woman gasps. Her eyes are squeezed tight
ly shut. For some odd reason, the nipple of the unslapped breast
is now as hard as a gemstone and pokes impertinently at the thin
fabric of the Tshirt.

I pop the snap on the chair’s canvas seatcover and slide the top
back flap down. The upper end of the back leg of the chair now
stands free, a round pole of polished wood with a rounded end,
about one inch in diameter.

I walk to the side table, open the drawer, take out the metal
container, walk back to the hanging woman. I open the tin, scoop
out a healthy dollop of slippery substance with two fingers, find
her asshole, and start working the slimy fingers and the Crisco
into her anus. The woman makes a kind of slippedgear noise, but
keeps her eyes shut.

***

“What will you do if I let you down?”

“…Anything.”

“Oh, really? Anything?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Will you, oh, let’s see…will you masturbate to my
directions?”

“If you like, Sir.”

“Will you talk to me while you are doing it?”

“…talk about…?”

I slap the same breast again. Such a nice breast for hitting;
small, firm, delicately pointed. The woman gasps.

***

“You may open your eyes,” I say. “I am now going to let you
down onto the chair.” I can see her face, showing relief, then
trying to hide it. I slide the chair around until it is posi
tioned up against the backs of her legs, the polelike rear leg
sticking up at an angle. She looks over her shoulder at the
chair, and then at me.

I get another gob of Crisco, and slowly and thoroughly smear it
all over the chair leg, around the knobby top and a foot down the
rounded, polished shaft.

The woman looks at the chair leg, at my hand, and then at my
face. Her expression becomes…profound. A complex mixture of
terror and desire, one might almost say. She whispers, like dry
leaves rattling, “I…_can’t_.”

I smile. “You will.”

“It’ll hurt me. It could KILL me!”

“Well, you’ve got those nice long legs, and last night, I meas
ured you and the chair, dozens of times, and sawed four inches
off the bottoms of the chair legs.” I wipe my greasy hands on
her Tshirt, and reach for the ropes holding her wrists to the
top of the door frame. “As for hurt,” I continue, “I thought
that was the idea.”

The woman’s odd eyes now glance frantically about the room. She
licks her lips rapidly. Then she seems to briefly increase in
intensity, like an overloaded light bulb. Finally she nods.

***

“Are you comfortable?” I ask with a hint of a sneer. I had
tried it on myself, of course, previously, but there’s always a
difference in tolerance between things under ones’ own control
and things imposed from the outside.

The woman makes a low grunting noise. She is standing stock
still on her toes, slightly tipped forward, holding onto the back
of the chair with both hands in a whiteknuckled grip. She
certainly has that profoundly impaled look about her.

***

“Can you deal with it?” I ask, steadying her upper body with my
hands. I feel obscurely like some monstrous physical therapist,
assisting a patient in some painful but necessary treatment. At
that, I am not far wrong.

She squeezes out each word individually. “I…don’t…KNOW!”

***

The woman is touching herself. Things are beginning to happen.
She stirs lightly on her impalement, and the chair shifts and
creaks. She groans. “Hurt me…more!” she hisses.

I smile over her shoulder. “How?” I ask, as if asking a dining
patron if she wants freshground pepper.

“Tits!” she snarls, massaging faster between her legs. I am
further amused; this woman doesn’t say `tits’ when referring to
herself, not when she _is_ herself. Here, in the land of sweet
pain, we bark like dogs and grunt like pigs and use the MOST
disrespectful terminology.

I can only free one hand. I need to keep steady hold of the
woman, by a fist full of bunchedup Tshirt, to keep her upright.
She is just now beginning to give and lock at the knees, just a
very tiny bit. This brings her down a tiny bit onto the chair
leg, and then back up. I note this with some approval.

With my free hand, I reach around and once again begin slapping
her breasts. To do this almost makes me squeamish; I summon a
certain professional detachment that allows me to continue with
what is, after all, both required by the woman and vital to our
enterprise. Each delicate little breast rebounds from the flat
of my hand. The nipples seem to grow and then wane, grow and
subside, on individual impulses of their own. When my hand
begins to sting I seize a nipple and twist it, hard. The woman’s
fine head snaps back on her long, slender neck, and a lovely
grating noise escapes from her mouth.

***

I look down over the woman’s shoulder. One hand is digging in
the top of her vulva, the other is raking red nailmarks across
her smooth white belly. She is rocking on the chair leg, now,
with her feet flat on the floor. I hold her all the tighter with
one hand and arm, but there is one thing I must do before things
escalate to their determined conclusion. Without letting go, I
kneel, reach my right arm around and down until my hand reaches
the junction of the woman’s thighs. For once I am glad to be
tall and long of arm.

“Take your hand away for a little” I demand. The woman groans
but complies. I search with two fingers into her hot, twitching
center. It is as wet as it has ever been. “I just want to” I
say, soothingly, as I stick the two fingers up into her cunt,
“check on something” I feel with the backs of the fingers along
the rear wall of the vagina, “and see how it feels…”

I press the fingers up and backwards until I can feel the wooden
solidity of the chair leg through the intervening layers of
muscle and tissue. I press, lightly. The woman gives a terri
ble, startling moan and begins to contract around my hand. I
push very delicately at the back wall of her cunt, still holding
her firmly, as she writhes flatfooted on the chair leg. The
woman whips a hand down to rub her clit; this I allow. With the
other hand she captures one nipple through the Tshirt and sav
ages it far more violently than I am accustomed to doing. This I
allow.

The climax is lengthy, episodic, and serial. Toward the end I
remove my hand and take a fresh grip on the woman’s body; she
shows a tendency to slump after orgasm, and that would be danger
ous in the current configuration.

It is easy enough to hold up a woman this size and slide the
chair out of and out from under her. I let her fall, panting,
into the chair. I stand behind her, stroking her shoulders and
pushing her sweaty bangs away from her forehead.

Finally she speaks. “Sir?”

“Umm hmm…”

“Out of scene?”

“Oh, yes, indeed.”

She makes a whooshing exhalation, then turns and gives me one of
her `evil’ smiles; squinty eyes, knitted brows, mouth turned up.
I find it perfectly charming. “They warned me,” she says.

“Who warned you?”

“You know. They said you were absolutely 100% stone crazy and
dangerous.”

“Me? I’m a pussycat. I don’t make people do difficult things;
just think about a walnut fourposter bed, for example.”

She grimaced. “As soon as I can get up from here, I’m not
sitting down again for two weeks.”

I step away, rubbing my hands together. “You’ll be all right?”
I ask.

The woman halfturns to look at me. “You’re going?”

“Yes. I have other business…”

She nods, shivers slightly and then grimaces as some sore part is
disturbed.

I move toward the door. “I’ll call you,” I say. I open the
door to the hall, look back over my shoulder, and add “You can
keep the chair. The Crisco was, I believe, yours to begin
with.”

The woman’s last facial expression stays with me as I go whis
tling down the stairs and into the street.

The night air is so refreshing. I just have to sit back
and relax a bit. “Honeeeee?”, I hear from behind me, “what
about meee?” You’re right, of course. How can I resist such a
darling little temptress tied helpless and naked in the
moonlight.
I come over and sit on the floor between your legs,
taking in the sight of your pussy spread so wide. The hair is
nice and trim, so I don’t have to tussle with much to get at
your tasty pussy. You know how much I love to eat you. It just
that I take longer than you like to get around to it when
you’re the prisoner.
Caressing the soft skin of your calves relaxes us both at
first, but builds the tension again as I move up your legs.
Once I’m at your knees I push them apart farther. I wish I had
some more rope to tie them back. Maybe I’ll bring some more
next time. I continue massaging up, stroking the insides of
your thighs. The anticipation of touching your hot clit
increases your breathing as I massage your legs higher and
higher, closer and closer until I’m an inch away from it. But
I’m not going to touch you there. Not yet. I stop and stand
up.
The sight and smell, and the excitement have had their
effect on me. I unbutton my jeans, and pull them off revealing
a nice thick cock for you to enjoy. Who knows what plans I
have in store for it, how I’m going to use it to get you off.
How you are going to get me off. I think we’ll try the first
thing that pops up, Ok?
I lean down between your legs, aiming my prick for your
pussy. I take it in hand and direct it right for your box. I
rub it a bit on your thigh again, watching you squirm some
more. Then, out of compassion, I start rubbing your clitoris
with the head. Up & down, left & right, never penetrating you.
Just playing with you, waiting for your response. I watch as
you tilt your head back and let out a low moan. So, I stop and
get up. You almost got it, but I think it’s still to soon. Let
the tension build up in that hot pussy a bit longer. Let’s try
something else.
I get up and stand next to you. You gaze up at me with a
look in your eyes saying, “Uh oh.” You turn towards me
somewhat willingly as you’re now face-to-cock with me. Open
your mouth and give me a gentle lick down the underside of my
cock. That’s where I’m most sensitive. You know it. Lick me
from the balls up to the tip. Don’t miss a spot. Then, take
the head in your mouth, running laps around the shaft with
your tongue. Suck me in deeper as I begin to stroke one of
your breasts. Jerk me off with your mouth as best you can. If
you please me I might just let you loose early.
Your pace becomes faster and faster, speedy for your
restrained position. I can feel the tingle of my orgasm begin
deep in my groin. It grows into a sensation igniting along my
shaft and tickling through my balls. Suddenly, you pull back
and stop. Ooooo, you’re crafty! Even in your exposed position
you are not powerless. You’ve brought me to the brink, but
left me there with no choice.
I quickly come around to your pussy and without
hesitation, drive my cock inside. Your body shudders in
pleasure. Like a wind blowing a flame, I fan your fire,
pounding my meat deeper and deeper, just like you needed.
You’d love to wrap your arms and legs around me holding me in
until you reach orgasm but the ropes hold you back. So you
squeeze your muscles as snug as possible, increasing my lust
for your tight pussy.
I try to hold off as long as possible wanting to build
the final moment, but I can’t hold out forever. I again feel
the tingle building in my cock and I start thrusting wildly.
I can feel your pussy begin to constrict around me as you
start climaxing with me. Your moans tell me we’ve reached it
together, and I can hold back no longer. The cum starts to
dribble a little at first then uncontrollably as spurts of
white jism gush deep into you. Afterwards, I pull back reeling
from the intense pleasure you’ve just given me.
I sit back for a spell catching my breath. You’re sitting
there with a big smile across your face. You got what you
needed by tricking me into giving it to you. Sneaky little
girl!

As we gather ourselves, a gentle breeze blows across the
beach. A feather blows into the stand and lands in my open
hand. It’s a nice soft feather probably from a small tern.
You’re still sitting there with your smile as an idea quickly
forms. My smile slowly grows.
I come and sit beside you as your look wearily into my
eyes. Then, I hold up the feather for you to see. You glance
at it casually, thinking nothing much of it. If you only knew.
I lean over and give you a passionate kiss for our just
past orgasm and ask, “ready for more?” You nod an eager YES.
Sooooo, I take the feather and start tracing your nipple with
the tip. It is a harmless act to start with, but as you begin
to feel the light sensation, it slowly grows into an arousal.
I wish I had two feathers, one for both of your breasts. The
nipple becomes rock hard, and I lean over to suck on it while
I switch the feather to your other breast. The feather lightly
strokes your breast in a circle around the flesh, closing in
smaller circles as I target in on the other nipple. As soon as
it is hard, I lick and suck it warmly. The feather works very
nicely. I kiss you again, perhaps in forgiveness for what I’m
about to do.
I get up and then sit between your legs again, feather in
hand. Touching you with nothing but the feather, I commence to
glazing your inner thighs with it. Short soft strokes, up &
down the skin. Again slowly closing in on your pussy. I can’t
wait to dive in but I’ll hold back as long as possible. I dare
a quick touch of your pussy. It lightly teases the hair
between your legs and you twitch from the sensation. I pause,
then touch it again, and you quiver. Hmmm, this is fun.
Perhaps I can get even for that crafty trick of yours earlier.
I can see through your trimmed hair your clitoris
beginning to stand out again. A light brush of the feather
produces a nice spasm from your body. I touch it again ….
and again … and again … until I’m batting your clit up and
down with the feather. It’s barely enough to feel but you know
it’s there. I unexpectedly add to the sensation by blowing my
warm breath across your pussy. That was all you needed now.
You start to squirm in abandonment against your bindings. The
feather has driven you to the brink but wont get you off. You
need me to get you there. No little feather is going to do it.
You try and try to push your pussy closer to my face, hoping
for some REAL contact. Forget it. I know your game and I pull
back completely, resorting to stroking your thighs alone.
“Honeeee, please touch my clitoris! Please! Eat my pussy,
lick it all you want! Just help me get off PLEASE!!!!”. I love
it when my acts compel you to begging. *Sigh*, and I am a
merciful lover as you well know. I just like to see you
pleading for my touch.
I kiss the inner thigh as I always do before a meal. With
the feather tossed aside (for now), I kiss my way up to your
pussy, pause, and then lightly lick your clit. A moan of
relief pours from you as I take the clit between my lips and
suck on it a bit. Holding it there, I tug at the flesh with my
lips before continuing on to lick the lips. The feather has
gotten you sooo wet and tasty I can’t believe it. I’ll have to
save that little toy for later.
The taste of your pussy is like sweet jelly to me. I
can’t get enough of it. My tongue works all around, up & down,
and inside for more. Your moaning has become more lustful,
telling me your release may be soon. I focus my attention
solely to your clit and take it between my tongue and upper
lip, holding it tightly while my tongue is still inside of
you. My hands are holding your pussy lips spread wide so I
have complete access within. I begin to twitch them a bit just
to add to your sensation. But your clit is where I’m
concentrating. It is now being bombarded with my tongue,
rasping it across the sensitive tip, pulling on it, tugging it
from side to side. Your body shudders as I sense your orgasm
quickly building within your still bound body. A loud moan
prepares me for the gush of pleasure within you. I feel your
pussy constrict again, this time around my tongue. I love to
get you off this way. But I’m not done yet.
All of this teasing with the feather and the intense
cunnilingus have given me a new raging hard-on, and it is just
dying to cum out for seconds. I stand and grab you by the
waist with one hand, my cock in the other. I take aim and
plunge in to your still quivering pussy. “Aaahhhhng!” you moan
in delight, as you were so caught up in your orgasm you didn’t
see it coming. The timing was perfect to swell you over into
a completely new orgasmic sensation. “Keep it coming!” you
beg, as my thrusting begins. The juices flowing out of your
pussy feel so warm and slippery around my shaft. It won’t be
too long before I’m caught up with you and cumming myself.
I lean forward and untie your hands in turn from the roof
supports. You lean forward into my arms holding me close as
possible. You never want me to stop this time. You squeeze me
close and kiss me wildly, our tongues meshing together. Your
hands go down to my ass, squeezing my cheeks and pulling me
deeper into you. Each thrust is accented by your pulling me
from behind as if to split you apart. My balls begin to slap
against your ass, smacking the flesh as I again feel the
tingling build as a prelude to orgasm. I hold you by your
still tied and outstretched legs as I make these final strokes
count, until I can’t hold back any longer. My cock explodes
within you, shooting my load of cum deep within you again. I
can still feel you cumming from before, and I try to prolong
mine with yours. At last my orgasm subsides and I slow my
thrusts with yours until we ease back, exhausted from the
performance.
I lean over to each leg and untie you, your legs wrapping
themselves around me in gentle appreciation. A tender kiss
seals the memory before we gather our clothes to head back for
the restaurant.
But out of the corner of my eye, I notice you bending
down to casually pick up the feather before you tuck it away.

I’d better keep an eye out for that feather …

As the car started to move, somebody from the back seat asked Peter if he knew
where the Rusty Pelican was. “Yes, its really across the street,” he replied,
“But its really easier to drive than walk because of the traffic and the
street here.” “Actually, its about a block down the street but it will take a
few minutes because its next to the freeway and we have to wind around through
a back road or two,” he said. Garolynn leaned over to Peter and whispered
that she thought there was something funny going on near her room. “Why?”
Peter asked. “Well, I thought I heard someone screaming right next door and
then Janis came out of the room next door so it must have been somewhere else
on the floor,” she said. Peter looked over at Janis and saw she was beet red.
Garolynn looked at Janis too and Peter said jokingly, “You have something you
want to tell us about or is this a private matter?” Janis stammered something
to the effect that she had heard some weird sounds also but was not paying a
whole lot of attention. The three in the back seat were having their own
conversation and had not heard any of this.

As they got to the Rusty Pelican, they all got out of their cars. There were
16 total bodies to be fed. They entered the building and indicated they would
like seating for 16. “It will take just a minute,” the maitre de said. As
they waited, they made small talk, mostly about the meeting, the arrangements
and various people in attendance. “We have you table ready,” the maitre de
called to Peter. They filed to the rear of the building where a large, oval
table sat with sixteen chairs. Janis sat on Peter’s right with Garolynn on
his left. It was a tight fit, with Peter on one end of the oval table and the
rest crowded into the rest of the table. The waitress came and took the
orders and food soon arrived.

As they began eating, Peter noticed Garolynn’s leg began rubbing against his
with some regularity. Since he was doing the same thing with Janis, he found
this a little odd. During dinner, Garolynn put her hand on his leg a couple
of times. Feeling kind of brave, Peter let his hand find her leg as he leaned
over to ask her a question. Feeling no resistance, he moved his hand to her
crotch and noticed she slid a little closer to him. Since he needed both
hands, during various parts of the meal, he found himself rubbing both Janis
and Garolynn upper legs and lower stomach during different times of the meal.
Neither seemed to notice the other as he was casual about it, usually leaning
toward one or the other as they carried on casual dinner conversation. Both
were responding to his touch and Garolynn had actually placed her hand on his
cock, rubbing it for a short period.

They had a couple of after dinner drinks, white wine for Janis, Amaretto for
Peter and Kalua for Garolynn along with various drinks for some of the others.
It was getting close to 7pm when someone suggested that they go back to the
hotel. Garolynn and Janis were beginning to exhibit small signs of
intoxication, although nothing that would be noticed except by someone like
Peter who was sitting next to both of them and had been paying close attention
to them all during dinner.

As they got in the car, Janis made sure she sat next to Peter. “I’ll keep her
away from him,” she thought to herself. The car moved away from the
restaurant and it was just a short drive to the hotel. Peter stopped at the
entrance to the hotel and, as the people in the back seat began to depart, he
asked the girls if they wanted to see a movie. The back seat was emptied as
they both agreed and they decided to go to Janis’s room to look through the
paper to see what was playing at local theaters.

Peter sent Garolynn to the lobby to bring a paper to the room and he left to
drive Janis and himself to a parking place near the rooms. “What kind of a
movie are you interested in,” he asked Janis. “Whatever, a romantic one?” she
said. “I just wanted to spend the evening with you,” Janis said in a quiet
manner. “I’m sorry,” Peter said. “I was just going to ask you but Garolynn
was sitting right next to you and it would have looked funny if I didn’t
invite her.” “Yeah, I know,” replied Janis.

They met Garolynn at the room and Janis quickly let them in. Garolynn found
the movie page in the paper and they began to scan through the ads. They
talked about several movies but not agreeing on any. “Lets go to this adult
movie,” giggled Garolynn pointing to an ad in the paper. Janis giggled and
said, “One guy walking in with two girls – what will people think?” Who cares
- I’m game,” Peter smiled. They got the address and the map of Phoenix and
found their way on the street. They were giggling as they all started toward
the car. “Lets take my car,” Janis said as they found the exit. They
strolled over to the little white Chevrolet and all three got in the front
seat, Peter in the middle. It was getting dark as Janis nosed the car out of
the parking lot. “So who is the map reader?” Janis asked. “Lets just get on
the freeway south to Indian School Road and exit on that exit. Turn right and
then we’ll navigate from there,” replied Garolynn. Off they went, all three
feeling an air of anticipation in this adventure.

They arrived at the theater, a run down looking affair after driving by it
only once in their search. “I’m not sure I want to go in there,” Janis said
tensely. “Oh, come on – you can’t chicken out now,” dared Garolynn. They got
to the window and there was a sign that accompanied ladies were free. The
girls paid for Peter and they walked into the theater. It was darker than
usual and they stood in the entry for a minute as their eyes got accustomed to
the light. A woman was sucking on a giant cock and it came all over her face
just before Peter suggested that they sit three rows down from where they were
standing. As they sat down, two studs were feeling up a large breasted woman
on the screen. She took out one of their cocks and began to suck on it.
“Wish someone would do that for me,” Peter whispered to both the girls. They
giggled nervously as the second man removed the woman’s panties and began to
lick her pussy.

Peter moved his hands to both women’s legs and began moving them up until he
felt his hand in their crotches. He began to slowly massage his hand up and
down as the ladies both spread their legs a little to allow his hands access.
Soon, Garloynn’s hand was rubbing up and down on Peter’s cock. She could feel
it beginning to swell as they watched the three actors on the screen. The
woman was sucking on the cock of a man kneeling in front of her and she was
being fucked by the guy in the back. Janis’s hand slid over to Peter’s leg
and began to move up toward his cock. Peter knew it would just be a second
before both ladies discovered that they were playing with his body. There was
hesitation, as both ladies’ hands touched lightly. Movement stopped by both
ladies but they left their hands where they were. Peter increased the
pressure of his hands rubbing their pussy’s through their pants. He raised
his hand up to the button on Garolynn’s pants and loosened it. The zipped
almost unzipped itself as he barely had to help it. She began to rub his cock
again and he began to unbutton Janis’s pants.

Peter looked around, now, as his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness.
There were four other people in the theater, all men. They were all sitting
in front of he and the two girls. He slipped his hand inside Garolynn’s pants
and found her clit with this finger. She let out a slight moan and began to
rub his cock harder. He took his other hand and put it around Janis shoulder
and began to massage her breast, lightly pinching her nipple. Janis’s hand
began playing with Peter’s balls and the girls hands were touching at
intervals in this playing. Neither were hesitating now and both were having
slight quickness of breath. Garolynn’s pussy was wet with desire having Peter
playing with her clit was driving her crazy. Janis’s nipple was hard as a
rock. Garolynn began unzipping Peter’s fly and soon had his cock out in her
hand. She began slowly moving her hand up and down, jacking it off slowly.
Janis had turned and was watching Garolynn play with Peter’s hard dick. Peter
had pulled her blouse up and was cupping her breast in his hand, slowly
kneading it and rubbing her nipple with his fingers. As Janis watched
Garolynn play with Peter’s cock, one of the men in the movie began moaning
loudly and starting cumming all over the actresses ass as he pulled his dick
from her pussy. That done, the other began cumming on her face as she
alternately sucked and jacked him off. Slowly, Janis leaned over and began to
suck on Peter’s cock. It tasted so good. She had waited for this for a long
time and she could feel Garolynn continue to slowly jack him off. Garolynn
leaned over to watch Janis blow Peter. She had never participated in a
threesome and was intrigued to have seen two blow jobs on the screen and was
now witnessing a live one right here in the theater.

“Hungry?”
“Yes, very. I’d like something to eat, first, though…”

Off the freeway at the next exit ramp is a Roy Rogers. Perfect.
We are fourth in line at the drive thru.

“Don’t you want to get covered up?” I ask.
“Why? I have nothing to hide. In fact,” as you climb into the
front seat next to me, “this might be kind of fun.”

Uh-oh. A girl’s voice asking for our order. We proceed. Some
people around, but no one looks our way. My heart beats a tad
quicker. Your nipples rise to the occasion, too.

Third in line. Still time to get dressed. Nothing.

Second. A nervous glance to me. Still time. Nothing.

“That’ll be 6 dollars and…” the clerk pauses, staring at you
mostly. A large grin on your face. Then she stares at me. A
grin on my face as I hand her a ten. Food and change come back
to me as her gaze locks on your breasts.

“Like ‘em?” you ask.
“Yes, I hope mine are that big when I get older.”
“They are very nice…and sensitive, too. Watch.” For the next
minute, both hands lift and caress each lovely breast for our
junior partner. I glance at her, watching your every move.
A horn from behind derails our little scene.
“Thanks for stopping. Hope to see you again real soon.”
We drive off. Peals of laughter fill the van.
“Why did you do that?”
“I thought it would be fun. I was watching her mouth. It was
opening and closing…kind of when you got your first French kiss…
it looked like she wanted to suck on me for a moment there…
Jeez, that was dangerous…and FUN!”
“You’re becoming quite the exhibitionist today. Here’s your
lunch.”
“You can’t say you didn’t enjoy it. Look at your dick.” He has
risen to the occasion with quivering and a full head.

US331 into southern Alabama. Two lane road that turns a bit. No
one will bother us for a while.

“Ketchup for your fries?” I offer.
“Thanks. But mine are all gone. Can I have some of yours?”
“Sure. Help yourself.” A hand moves to the fries between my
thighs and drifts across the slumbering penis. An accident?
Perhaps. I think nothing of it. Still, the way your bosom sways
as you reach for more fries does waken him. I feel moisture there
as a ketchup pack pops, and I look down to see cold condiments
poured all over the head and shaft and bush.
“Gollee, that’s cold!”
“Here, let me clean that up for you. I don’t know _what_ happened
there. It _must_ have been an accident.” I hear the humor and
feel the flat of your tongue wrap around the side of my soft dick
from bush to head. Your breath warms the flesh and tickles my
brain with the promise of your moist mouth again.
“Got any more ketchup? This could be fun.”
I rummage for some more, trying to keep on the road with the effort
to locate packets and not pass out with the tongue lashing you are
giving me. Three more packets appear and disappear, coating my
quivering tool. Your tongue now slips down to probe my balls.
They squirm with the sensation. I groan with the feeling. My
free hand seeks again the pendulous breasts that brush my thigh.
Then they seek the globes of your rear. Middle finger in the
cleft and other fingers on either side. Your mouth leaves my
dick alone, and rolls to look forward, enjoying the attention.
I am inches away from your garden. I plan to stay away so as
to tease you. Now you do a half-roll and sit across both seats,
inviting my hands to sample your body front. What a feast. Would
that I could consume you all day and night.

Florida border. Now about an hour away. My hands have been busy
in their drifting from breast to nipple to nipple to breast to clit
to lips to thighs to stomach to deep inside and back to breast again.
It must feel like one large hand is touching you all over. I see you
push whatever part of your body is being touched, into my hand, wanting
the most in contact. I am eager to help but refuse to let my hands
caress you too hard. One of your hands has snaked around my hard dick
and is stroking slowly. Not to climax, but just to enjoy the sensation.
The familiar ache of balls ready to shoot builds as it has for the last
30 miles. It’s unbearable.

We both smell the ocean as we pull onto county road 30. Hands leave
genitals as you sit up and look at small waves rolling onto white
sand. Beaches are deserted but for a few snowbirds (older folk who
winter in FL).
“Here we are” as we pull into the condo’s driveway. This place is
REALLY deserted. Not a car for some time.
I marvel at your nude form as you walk brazenly into the carport and
open the door. Did you wink? I believe you did and a hand drifts to
your sex.
“Want to play?”
“Why do you think I’m warming myself up like this? Get inside here.”
I’m no fool. I chase you inside and wrap you in my arms, pulling all
of you into me. My tongue finds your mouth wanting mine, and they
touch. My hands grab both cheeks and weld your hips to my straining
member. I feel moisture on your bush. From me or you? I taste your
warm breath as the excitement builds.
You look around. “Where’s the bed? Over there?” as you lead me by
the dick, stroking me all the while. “Lie down, honey. I’m gonna
give you the ride of your life.” My pants and shirt are off in a flash,
and my dick is pressed between my hips and your wet sex. Your hand
goes between and erects my erection to part your lips. I look down.
With a dainty grip, my head is swallowed by two puffy, rosy lips, then
grasped by your opening. We are joined, but in the shortest way.

Now your hips roll in a small circle. I glance down and see your
garden slowly consume the stalk. It’s very slow and grueling work,
but a smile passes your lips. You look down for a progress report.
I take the opportunity to give your sensitive nipples a finger massage.
This pulls your head back, and both your hands cover mine and pull
them into your breasts, contacting all the flesh they can. Almost
all the way in…I feel the tips of your pubic hairs moving mine.
I rotate my hips from side to side as you start a front-to-back motion.
I can only guess what this does to your clit. I pull my hands from
beneath yours and replace your fingers to surround your turgid nipples.
My hands then resume their roaming, trying to touch all you at once.
My balls ache more with the release. Wetness covers my dick and sac
and starts to soak my bush. I feel a furnace around my twitching
dick.

“Wait. Butt cramp.” I freeze, as do you, as pain sears from my
rear end. You roll off with hands still tweaking two stiff nipples.
“Let me on top for a while” I ask. Thighs part wide for an answer.
My cock finds the bottom of you on the initial plunge. Now I can
give your clit the attention it deserves. I press both our bones
together slowly and trap your mound inbetween, rolling it with my
hips from side to side. Your hips rise and fall with the pleasure.
All thoughts of the cramp fade as my climax approaches. Now I slide
in and out with deep thrusts quicker and quicker enjoying the sensation
of wet and heat and squeezing and slickness and my balls move up and
my feet clench and my chest presses into yours and tension all through
my body and my dickhead swells up even more and two more thrusts and
I hold my cock deep in you and quiver as jet after jet of hot cum
shoot from me into your warm sex and now back to thrusting as the
initial onslaught brings still more cum from me and I slowly return
and remember that you haven’t come yet and I hold all my muscles tight
to stay hard for you and thrust some more against your mound ahhhhhh
that’s the right spot and you’re meeting all my thrusts and your hands
pull me into you and I press harder into you and is it possible that
I could come again yess yesssss I feel the welling up and the hardness
again and you feel it too with wide eyes staring into me the grasping
of your orgasm pulls cum from my dick again and goosebumps cover you
as we both collapse from the effort and sated sexual parts.

I lie on you with my flaccid penis halfway inside your palacial sex.
I’d like to stay hard enough to spend the day inside you. I reach down
and bring your breast to my lips and lick the softening nipple.
Sex with you is so good. I am jealous of your capacity. You probably
could go all night long
“That was a first for me…twice in rapid succession. You are a woman
of uncommon passion and love.”
“How did you do it? I mean, stay hard like that? It was wonderful
…you staying hard like that for me. THAT could come in handy
later on.”
I roll off and look at you. Warm brown skin. Bosom rising and falling
with each breath. Sparse bush covering a puffy pair of lips. Thighs
spread to receive the lover. Pink lips parted for a passionate kiss.
And the eyes, looking deep into mine with passion and contentment.
Lips press lips, and tongues gingerly touch ever so softly. Eyes close,
then open again to stare into mine. Your hand snakes down and closes
on my soft dick. It stays soft, despite your talented hand.

“No more for now for this guy. I need a little break. Let’s get dressed
and unpacked, and check out the beach. Think of this as a reconnaisance
run for later pleasures.”
“Deal” you say. It is going to be a fun week.

As Jim rode the Metro North train from the Connecticut
suburbs into New York’s Grand Central Station, he was
eagerly anticipating the coming hour’s event. The previous
night he had telephoned in a response to an ad in Screw
Magazine’s “Hells Belles” section. Along with the myriad
ads for mistresses and dungeons, promising to do all sort of
unspeakable things to one’s body, was one featuring “total
physical domination” and wrestling. Jim had long fantasized
about being physically dominated by a strong, attractive
woman, being forced to submit repeatedly to painful
submission holds. After talking to Carol, the placer of the
ad, Jim felt that he had just found the answer to his
fantasies. Carol promised that she could easily make him
beg to be released. She especially liked to work scissors
and choke holds, and really got off on totally dominating
her “victim.” Even more than her more “normal” trade,
dominating men by bondage and spanking, she really loved
using her body to punish them. After hearing all that, Jim
immediately made an appointment with Carol for the next
afternoon. Now his dream was about to be realized.
The walk from Grand Central to the 27th Street address
Carol had given Jim seemed to take forever, Jim was so
anxious for his match to begin. As he walked along, Jim
dreamed of being held by Carol in various holds, but failed
to understand how a girl who sounded so sexy on the phone
could manage to squeeze a submission out of him. He had
watched many videos of mixed matches where the women had the
men yelling out agonized submissions, but it was always
obvious that the holds were staged and the men were
submitting “for the camera.” Although Jim was slightly
built, at 5′8″ and 140 pounds, he felt he was strong enough
to take any woman. Carol’s promise to make him beg for
mercy seemed remote.
Finally he reached the address. He rang the doorbell,
and someone buzzed him in. He climbed the two flights of
stairs promised by Carol and knocked on her door. After a
minute the door was opened by a very tall pretty blonde
wearing an electric blue housecoat. “Hi, you must be Jim,”
she said pleasantly. “I’m Carol. Come on in.”
Jim walked in to a pleasant apartment, dominated by
several large wrestling mats placed on the floor. What
furniture there was was pushed to one side. “As you can
see, I have everything ready for our match. Do you have
something for me, Jim?” said Carol.
Jim fished in his pocket and found the $200 they had
agreed on. Carol took it into another room and quickly
returned. “While you strip down to your shorts, I’ll go
over the ground rules. Ok?”
Jim readily agreed and started to undress. Carol
slipped off her bathrobe. “Wow!” Jim thought. Carol was a
“10″ in anybody’s book. About six feet tall, she was
wearing a tightly-fitting one-piece shiny blue bathing suit.
Her breasts were were nice-sized, but not overly large. The
shiny fabric of the bathing suit was stretched so tightly
over her luscious body that he could see her erect nipples
outlined. Her legs were long and “ran all the way to her
ass.” They were very shapely, but Jim could tell that they
were well-muscled. Carol struck a biceps-flex, revealing
arm muscles that would make many guys proud. “This may not
be as easy as I thought!” raced through Jim’s mind.
Carol outlined the ground rules for their match.
“Number 1. No biting, scratching or hitting with closed
fists. Slapping and spanking are ok, but judo chops are
out. Number 2. You can only win a hold by a pin, but I can
win by either pin or submission. Number 3. None of this
silly three-second pin stuff. We declare a pin when the
loser agrees that he is helpless to get up. Number 4. After
a pin or submission we have a one minute rest break, then go
again. Number 5. The match goes for one hour or until one
of us gives up totally. Number 6. If we roll off the mat,
we break and start again. Agreed?”
Jim nodded his assent and told Carol he was ready
whenever she was. Carol set a wind-up timer for one hour
and started it. She stepped to the center of the mats and
motioned for him to follow. Taking a slight crouch, she
said “Let’s wrestle, sucker!”
The two circled warily, each looking for an opening.
Jim made a lunge for Carol’s head, but she deftly spun away,
twirling around so quickly Jim could scarcely believe his
eyes. He was still recovering his balance from this lunge
when Carol jumped him, taking him in a side headlock. She
locked her hands and quickly rolled him over her right hip
onto the mat. Pivoting around, Carol tightened the headlock
and spread her legs for stability. She was arranged at a
right angle to him, with most of her weight on his chest and
head, one beautiful fabric-clad breast thrust in his face.
Normally Jim would love to be under such a well-built
beautiful woman in such a position. However, it was quickly
apparent to Jim that her well-muscled arms were indeed
strong, for the headlock was painful! She worked the hold,
twisting and flexing her arms, sending spasms of pain
through Jim’s neck and head. She countered any move on his
part by pivoting to keep their 90-degree arrangement. Jim
was in real trouble, and the match was only seconds old!
Carol continued to work the hold, and before long Jim could
sense some dizziness creeping up.
Finally he managed to jam his right arm between his neck
and her arms. Forcing against her grip with all his
strength, he managed to break the hold. Rolling away from
Carol, Jim shook his head, trying to shake off the pain and
dizziness. He didn’t have long to think about it, though.
Carol jumped him from behind and quickly took him in a
sleeper. Her right arm was around his neck, her hand
nestled in her left elbow. With her left hand she pressed
firmly against the back of his head, driving his head deep
into the crushing vee of her right arm. “I’ve got you now,
sucker! Do you give?” she taunted.
“Never!” grunted Jim. “Ok,” she retorted. “Say good
night, little boy.” She increased the force with both arms,
and Jim quickly began to feel the pressure. His ears were
ringing and he was having real problems breathing. Carol
was pushing so hard against his head that he toppled
forward, enabling her to bring her weight into play.
The last thing he remembered was her legs sliding
against his sides and back. Then he was flat on his
stomach, trying to figure out where he was. As he tried to
get up, his muscles jerked spasmodically in a “chicken
walk.” Gradually he came to his senses and realized that
her sleeper hold had really “put him out.”
“That’s one for me,” boasted Carol. “You get one minute
before we go again!”
Jim tried to make the most of his minute’s rest, but he
still felt shaky when Carol said, “Let’s go.”
This time, as the two circled, Jim was careful not to
make such a rash lunge for Carol. He made several cautious
moves toward Carol, but she was always a split second ahead
of him, spinning out of the way ready to pounce a second
later. Finally Carol lost her concentration for an instant
and Jim was able to get his arm around her neck in a side
headlock. He wasn’t able to flip her smoothly onto the mat
as she had done him, however, and he two wrestlers fell down
together. Although he managed to keep his headlock, Carol
was able to snake her legs around his his left leg and lock
her ankles, scissoring his thigh. She immediately tightened
her leg grip and started working out of his headlock. A
sudden jolt from her legs made him flinch, giving Carol the
opening she needed. She pushed up on his arms and pulled
her head down, escaping his grip. Quickly she snared his
left arm in a half-Nelson. The pair grappled for several
minutes, as Carol gradually asserted more and more control
over Jim.
Finally, as he tired, Carol was able to pin his other
arm and mesh her fingers behind his neck, establishing a
full-Nelson. She tightened the leg scissors and the Nelson,
twisting him painfully. “How you doing, big boy? Wanna
give?” she taunted. Jim was determined to ride this
through, however. “Never!” he grunted once again.
Carol maintained the pair of painful holds for several
minutes more. His leg ached from the constrictive pressure
of her muscular thighs, and his neck hurt like hell from the
tight Nelson. Still he wouldn’t submit.
Eventually Carol decided that this attack wouldn’t be
successful. She released his leg, using the Nelson to keep
Jim sprawled on his stomach. Suddenly she let go of his
arms and spun around, keeping her full weight squarely on
the center of his back. She scooped up his feet and firmly
tucked each ankle under her armpits. Squatting, she pulled
down on his legs and leaned back, executing a perfect Boston
Crab. The pressure on his back and legs was instant and
excruciating. “Let me know when you’ve had enough.” she
chuckled.
Jim tried his best to press up with his arms to relieve
the pressure and to force his legs back, but it was to no
avail. Carol had the hold too well established and was now
increasing the pressure. It felt as if his back were
breaking. Suddenly he saw bright lights flash in front of
his eyes as his back muscles spasmed. At the same time an
intense pain shot from his spine. Instantly he screamed “I
submit! I submit! Just let me go!!”
Carol released his legs and sat down on his sore back.
Jim was totally out of breath, and her weight made it more
difficult to breathe, not to mention get up. “Gotcha again,
didn’t I!” she crowed, and spanked his bottom hard four or
five times.
She stood up and helped Jim to his feet. “You took a
lot of pain in that round, Jim. Let’s rest five minutes.”
Jim didn’t argue, just groaned in agreement and sprawled
on a nearby sofa. After a few minutes his breathing had
returned to normal, but his back still hurt fiercely. Carol
was back in the middle of the mats, motioning for Jim to
join her.
Finally Jim drug himself over to the mat and warily
approached Carol. Carol played with him, dancing away from
his clumsy attempts to engage her. Finally she took him in
a front neck grip, turned her back to him, and vigorously
threw him over her head. Jim landed roughly on the mat.
Carol was all over him. She slipped her shapely legs around
his waist, establishing a perfectly placed body scissors,
and took him in a side headlock. Carol’s legs were
beautifully shaped, but their muscles were deadly. She
tightened her grip around Jim’s waist, painfully
constricting him. He flailed at her legs but couldn’t
affect her python-like grip. After struggling against the
two constrictive holds for a few minutes, he collapsed,
offering no resistance.
“You’re mine now, buddy-boy,” Carol hissed into his ear.
She tightened her scissors grip rhythmically, driving the
air from his body. “Let me know when you’ve had enough.”
Jim was in absolute agony. Carol’s deadly legs were
painfully crushing his waist, just below his rib cage, and
made breathing nigh onto impossible. Just as soon as he
could manage to take in a small gasp of air she would
tighten her legs, expelling it for him. He finally tried to
gasp out a submission, but he had too little air to do more
than croak. “What’s that, Jim? I can’t hear you!” Carol
growled through gritted teeth, as she bore down on his waist
once again.
This routine continued for a few more minutes, Jim
growing steadily weaker. Finally he was no longer moving,
his face a reddish-purple. Carol released the headlock and
lifted his arm. When she let go, it flopped limply on the
mat. She had squeezed Jim totally unconscious. Carol
patted his cheek and disengaged her legs.
After two or three minutes Jim came around, looking like
something the cat had dragged in. “I’ve had enough,” he
coughed. “You’re just too much for me. Where did you learn
all that?”
“Jim, when you called,” Carol smiled, “I told you that
domination was my business, and wrestling was my favorite
part. I’ve been doing this for five years now, and seldom
lose a fall anymore. By the way, let me know when you want
to try again. I give a discount for losers! You haven’t
even tried some of my better holds yet. Ever been in a head
scissors or a camel clutch?”
It was another few minutes before Jim was able to get to
his feet and dress. He had certainly realized his fantasy,
in spades. Before he left, however, he made another
appointment to wrestle with Carol in a few weeks. Once a
fool…….

–

Even more thrilling for Amy was shopping for sexy toys. She would visit online stores and while she browsed, she couldn’t help slipping a hand down into her panties and fingering her wet clit. As she looked at all the pictures of dildos and lingerie and other erotic toys, she grew so excited that she thrust her own trusty rabbit vibe into her pussy and came so forcefully that her toes curled up in pleasure.

Amy was dreadfully afraid that her friends would find out about her obsession, and fortunately, they never did. She played with her toys every night, and spent thousands of dollars on batteries and vibrators, and no one who knew her ever found out.