We are in the bathroom before she really begins to get nervous. We are in a small bathroom together with poor lighting in the back of a bar before she realizes how much this moment was unanticipated, and inspired by her drinking and her need to prove that she was sexual.
"Take down your pants and panties." I tell her.
She hesitates. We have simply come for a drink, to reminisce, and catch up on all the general life which we haven't been present for in the last six months. She is still seeing her boyfriend, but received a promotion at work. I have begun my second year of grad school and am about to begin my thesis.
"You're either in or you're out, take your pants down."
She nods and begins to undo her belt. Her hands tremble as she pulls open her belt, sliding it out of the loops one by one. The slower she goes, the more she is afraid, so I like that she is driving herself mad over her own actions.
"Are you nervous?" She immediately nods slightly, and tries to follow it with a laugh.
I do not change the faint smile on my lips. I'm sure this makes her no less than queasy.
I simply wait until the task is done. I wait as she unbuttons her jeans, brushing a single lock of light brown hair out of her face. I watch as she lowers the zipper. Her jeans and orange briefs come down in a slow sweep, brushing down her thighs to her knees.
She stands, waiting, getting embarrassed and then annoyed with my patience.
I see her start to fret and I look her in the eye, silent and steely.
"Rub your clit."
She is startled and stares at me, frozen in place.
"What's the problem? Do you not know where it is?"
She opens her mouth and pauses again.
"Rub your fucking clit."
She hesitates, looking down, but nods and places her hand tentatively between her legs.
It's not as if she had questions on what would happen in here. After a few drinks, the conversation had descended into the details of her sex life. The details were murky at first, but not hard to disentangle. She was dissatisfied by sex and lived with a notable lack of masturbation. I, on the other hand, cum constantly. I think if I came half as much as I did I could be fluent in another language in six months. But alas, I would rather fuck an Italian than speak to him.
Her fingers find her clit and begin to rub. She is painfully shy, her hand covering her pussy as she began to rub. I watch her. She watches me watch her. And I smile, looking again into her eyes before letting my eyes find her cunt again.
"Good girl. Now use two fingers to rub your clit. Up and down." She runs her fingers up and down her clit. "Slower." She nods. I wait for her eyes to shut but they never do. Her mouth simply opens just enough for me to begin hearing her breath. She is exposing herself for me in this tiny, bar bathroom, standing directly in front of the toilet, pants down around her knees.
"Now rub it in circles. Keep it slow." She nods, remaining focused on my face as I watch her hand start to circle, and her hips start to move. Her other hand clenches slightly into a tighter fist and relaxes.
Her hips move against her fingers as she begins to grind. I watch her fingers start to rub a little harder, a little faster.
"No. Slower. Press as hard as you like but keep it slow."
She nods, her fingers pressing harder and harder onto her poor clit.
"Ease off of it." She looks up at me, frustrated, but lets her fingers relax slightly. "Put two fingers into your pussy, slide them in slowly."
"Two?" She looks hesitant, but I nod, encouraging her with only the slightest movements.
With a breath she closes her eyes and slides in her fingers. Her mouth cracks open and she breaths in heavily as she starts to thrust. It is slow, but she can't angle herself well enough to get them in deep. Her other hand keeps moving on her clit.
"Harder. You're allowed to go as fast as you like."
She nods, taking the opportunity and pushing into her clit. Her eyes open and she pauses as she recognizes the stare I have on her. She tenses slightly, but then immediately begins working her fingers in rough circles over and over. She has never been watched before.
Her eyes do not waver as she fucks herself harder.
I step closer, slowly, shark-walking her in slow motion. I step within inches of her. Her eyes are rigid but her fingers keep moving faster and faster. When I am close enough to feel her heated breath, I slowly squat down, lowering myself until my face is right at her cunt. She is staring, waiting to see if I will do anything but I simply watch, coldly. Her breath catches a little more easily.
I watch her fingers slide in and out of her cunt. I watch her grow wetter. I watch her pump harder. I hear her juices squeezing her fingers, making those tell tale signs of a sloppy wet cunt.
I stand, watching her eyes move and her ignoring her fingers.
"Turn, face the wall."
She hobbled a bit, pants controlling the movement in her legs and making her less graceful than she wants. I am amazed that her only noises have been panting and a deep, uncareful breath.
As she faces the wall her push her into it and she makes the first vocal "ugh" noise as I do. I waste no time and take two fingers, shoving them in her cunt right along side her own. She is stretched and lets out a pained cry which dissolves into a whimper. I slide them in once, twice, three times to get them nice and damp before pulling them out and sliding one long finger into her ass, slowly.
She gasps, freezes, and it takes a breath in her ear of "keep going" to get her to relax, and let me fuck her where her boyfriend never will. Her ass tenses around my finger as she struggles to get used to the new feeling. Well, all of the new feelings.
"Fuck harder." I tell her, my tits pressed against her back, hers pressed into the wall.
She nods.
"Have you ever been fucked by a girl before?"
She shakes her head, eyes closed.
"Are you going to cum for me?"
She nods again, beginning to push her ass back into my finger, in time with her own thrusting. I can tell she's dripping into her pants. Juices are running down her thigh, pooling in her panties and soaking the folds of her jeans.
"Then make me proud."
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
It's 3AM. Do you know where your children are?
When I am asleep, I still belong to him. My body is still in service, though my mind has been put to rest. The gift of sleep he gives me is only at his whim, and I accept this fact, and appreciate his generosity.
I sleep with my head on his chest, curled around the right side of his body. I sleep tucked between his arm and his torso, with my lips slightly open and my breath cascading out over his collarbones. I sleep with my leg hitched up and thrown over his. I sleep with his arm curling around me, his fingers gracing my hip and lower back. I sleep in scant panties - I don't know why, to be perfectly honest. I think it's just safer not to have my cunt directly on his thigh.
I have been asleep for what feels like days - so lost in a REM cycle that if I never return, I would simply hope people ransacked my house and took what they wanted.
And in that sleep I nuzzle closer.
Rousing just slightly, I turn over and he moves to spoon me. I tuck back into the space he has created with the curl of his body, and we fit spectacularly well. His chest and arms fit around me and melt, and my ass sides into the crux of his hips. Sleep finds me again.
I am lost so deeply that I barely feel his cock stir. I almost don't register its twitch against my ass.
My body does, though, and I push back against him, feeling more of his cock hardening against my ass, feeling it tease the split. It twitches again, growing harder as I push back and he pulls me closer.
He actively starts to run his cock up and down over my ass. I rouse slightly more, and my pussy starts to drip. When in his bed, I remain wet. It is a mixed of sheer will power, positive association, and the feeling of his skin against mine that keeps me in this state perpetually. I wake up each morning with my own dried cum on my thighs, often with fingers unconsciously buried in my slit.
He pushes again, sliding down a bit to slide his cock against the ridge where my thighs meet my ass. I stir slightly more, pushing closer to him and pulling him arm further around me.
I barely notice his cock stiffen and rise. The sounds of him pulling out a condom barely rouse me. I don't notice him sliding it on and pulling back and before I can adjust to pull his arm around me again, his hand is on my hip and he is sliding into my cunt from behind.
I gasp, pushing back. He grabs my hip, steadying my waking body and forces his cock all the way inside. My pussy spasms to adjust.
By the second full thrust I am startled. By the third I am awake. By the fourth I am fucking him back, pushing against his cock, shifting my hips to make it easier for him. Neither he nor I know it yet, but I will cum to this feeling for several days.
I can barely remember the dream I had or where I am, but I do know for all certainty that my cunt belongs to him. He continues to fuck me, pushing my hips down, pounding my aching cunt.
I squirm back against him, trying to get more of his cock inside me, trying to get my soaked pussy filled by his cock, but this isn't about me.
This hand slides under my body, finding my wet clit swollen and pulsing. He fucks me harder. He fucks me to his liking.
His fingers move up and down, side to side of my clit. It is so rough that I am assured that this is not for me, but simply enough to keep me wet, to keep my pussy pulsing around his cock.
I groan loudly, my first noise.
"Shut up" he mumbles, his hips unrelenting.
I moan again, louder.
"Shut up." He is louder, and his free hand covers me mouth and nose, pressing hard. I struggle to breathe but his hand is tight over my mouth.
I try and relax, try and take smaller breaths, but this fails quickly. When I begin to struggle, he moved one of his fingers, and I fill my lungs. He continued to thrust and I continue to push back harder against him.
He moves the finger back into place and I fight to breath again, his cock working my tightening cunt. His other fingers continue to move over my clit, pushing in painfully, and then teasing my sensitive clit. I fight to get more and more of him inside of me. I fight to ache from the force of his cock.
I sleep with my head on his chest, curled around the right side of his body. I sleep tucked between his arm and his torso, with my lips slightly open and my breath cascading out over his collarbones. I sleep with my leg hitched up and thrown over his. I sleep with his arm curling around me, his fingers gracing my hip and lower back. I sleep in scant panties - I don't know why, to be perfectly honest. I think it's just safer not to have my cunt directly on his thigh.
I have been asleep for what feels like days - so lost in a REM cycle that if I never return, I would simply hope people ransacked my house and took what they wanted.
And in that sleep I nuzzle closer.
Rousing just slightly, I turn over and he moves to spoon me. I tuck back into the space he has created with the curl of his body, and we fit spectacularly well. His chest and arms fit around me and melt, and my ass sides into the crux of his hips. Sleep finds me again.
I am lost so deeply that I barely feel his cock stir. I almost don't register its twitch against my ass.
My body does, though, and I push back against him, feeling more of his cock hardening against my ass, feeling it tease the split. It twitches again, growing harder as I push back and he pulls me closer.
He actively starts to run his cock up and down over my ass. I rouse slightly more, and my pussy starts to drip. When in his bed, I remain wet. It is a mixed of sheer will power, positive association, and the feeling of his skin against mine that keeps me in this state perpetually. I wake up each morning with my own dried cum on my thighs, often with fingers unconsciously buried in my slit.
He pushes again, sliding down a bit to slide his cock against the ridge where my thighs meet my ass. I stir slightly more, pushing closer to him and pulling him arm further around me.
I barely notice his cock stiffen and rise. The sounds of him pulling out a condom barely rouse me. I don't notice him sliding it on and pulling back and before I can adjust to pull his arm around me again, his hand is on my hip and he is sliding into my cunt from behind.
I gasp, pushing back. He grabs my hip, steadying my waking body and forces his cock all the way inside. My pussy spasms to adjust.
By the second full thrust I am startled. By the third I am awake. By the fourth I am fucking him back, pushing against his cock, shifting my hips to make it easier for him. Neither he nor I know it yet, but I will cum to this feeling for several days.
I can barely remember the dream I had or where I am, but I do know for all certainty that my cunt belongs to him. He continues to fuck me, pushing my hips down, pounding my aching cunt.
I squirm back against him, trying to get more of his cock inside me, trying to get my soaked pussy filled by his cock, but this isn't about me.
This hand slides under my body, finding my wet clit swollen and pulsing. He fucks me harder. He fucks me to his liking.
His fingers move up and down, side to side of my clit. It is so rough that I am assured that this is not for me, but simply enough to keep me wet, to keep my pussy pulsing around his cock.
I groan loudly, my first noise.
"Shut up" he mumbles, his hips unrelenting.
I moan again, louder.
"Shut up." He is louder, and his free hand covers me mouth and nose, pressing hard. I struggle to breathe but his hand is tight over my mouth.
I try and relax, try and take smaller breaths, but this fails quickly. When I begin to struggle, he moved one of his fingers, and I fill my lungs. He continued to thrust and I continue to push back harder against him.
He moves the finger back into place and I fight to breath again, his cock working my tightening cunt. His other fingers continue to move over my clit, pushing in painfully, and then teasing my sensitive clit. I fight to get more and more of him inside of me. I fight to ache from the force of his cock.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Flight 868 to LGA
One of my favorite things in the world is making men hard. I love a hard, swollen, red cock. I love when I sit on a guy's lap and his cock presses against his pants, and into my soft ass. When he presses against me, makes me breathe harder as his cock runs pushes into the small of my back. It gets me wet, makes my clit swell. It makes me want to fuck immediately.
The other day when I was flying back from California there was a guy sitting across the aisle from me. He was slight with glasses, and a face which just blared out "submissive" to anyone who would read it.
I love tease and denial. I love the power of making someone want something so singularly that they can't focus, and then refusing to allow them to return to their lives. Making them strain without release, to want without receiving.
We had hours on the plane just feet apart, but he noticed me before I even got on the plane. When I see someone struggling so hard not to notice me, I make sure to entertain them. I make sure that I'm the only thing they will see.
I was wearing a short green dress, soft material which fell well with buttons up the front. She hem line, long neck line. And, of course, boots. When I saw him sitting there, nervous and excited as I approached, I was practically gleeful. I knew exactly how I was going to pass the time.
Getting to my seat I bent and twisted to stow my bag. I bent over, my ass just barely grazing his arm. I apologized for bumping him, and he nodded in warm reception.
When seated, I undid the top button of my dress, letting the pink and white of my bra skim over the top of my dress. I leaned over, fore arm pressing the soft flesh of my tits up, to get a better view out of his side of the plane.
I watched as he shifted in his seat, and imagined his cock starting to swell. I imagined it pushing against the zipper in his khakis - pants which are never so kind as to hide a cock. I imagined his shifting to hide it from me, feeling his humiliation swell right along with the head.
I sat back to give him a break, and when I put my head back against the seat, out of the corner of my eye I saw the tell-tale sign of his excitement. He reached down and grabbed the crotch of his pants, moving it back and forth into a comfortable position.
I smiled.
I nodded off for a time, letting him be, letting his cock relax and soften once again. It isn't much fun to just turn someone on and be done. It takes patience, and we had the next five hours to play, whether he liked it or not.
When I awoke I noticed my dress had slipped down a bit further, a full inch or so of the bright cotton pink cup exposed, and then shoulder having slipped down just enough to reveal a strap.
I shifted as I woke, clearing my throat, and rustling enough for him to know I was up. He immediately perked to attention, and openly turned his head to look.
I caught his eye just as I was shifting my clothes back into place, giving him another flash of cleavage and bra along with a long, full smile.
He notices, and immediately turns a soft shade of warm pink. I adjust my dress, and watch him shift again, sensing his frustration with his own body.
As he shifts in his seat, so do I, in slow serpentine rolls and subtle stretches. When someone asks to get by me and use the bathroom, I stand impossibly close to him, my ass right at eye level. When she leaves, I adjust the bag which is under the seat in front of me and bend over, letting him stare at my ass, letting him imagine grabbing it in his hands and fucking me right there on the plane. Pulling my dress up, panties down, and shoving his swollen cock into my pussy and ass.
But instead, I sit back down, unfucked.
I watch him shift his cock again, and place a tell-tale magazine over the bulge. He keeps shifting in his seat, and I take the opportunity to move more, to lean towards him to reach for something, to squirm in my seat, to smile at him more. He is blushing every now and then - I imagine when it twitches. He shifts more often, when it strains.
I finally make the move which I hope will move to him to action. I pull my foot up to my ass, leaning it against the arm rest and opening my legs. It's incredibly comfortable, and lets my dress slide back further and further so he can see my tanned thighs all the way to my ass. The inside of my thighs is, despite years of slaps and paddles, tender and vulnerable.
He's watching. I can feel his eyes caress my skin. I can sense his gaze as it moves over my inner thighs, and opens them further. His sight pulls back my dress and explores the inner folds of my panties, my cunt.
I watch it all happen in slow motion, as does he. He does not hide his erection any longer and shifts, lacking in both subtlety and dignity. I finally smile at him, a knowing smile which says "Thanks, you made my day."
He blushes red to purple, and adjusts one more time. He stares straight ahead, and I lose myself in a book, counting the long minutes before I get exactly what I want.
It takes three and a half minutes of internal debating and turning to see the bathroom line before he can't wait any longer.
He stands abruptly, taking advantage of the lack of line, and the long since absence of a drink cart to move to the bathroom, and I know exactly what happens once inside.
I imagine him pulling out his cock, and stroking it once, hard, just to relieve some of the built up pain and tension. From then it is a slower experience. He can take his time once his balls no longer squeeze themselves in want. He strokes his shaft slowly, teasingly, knowing that it can't go on for very long.
His other hand lowers to tighten around his balls, and he grunts he slightly in the back of his throat. He tugs them, rolling them just slightly in a flexing palm as his other hand squeezes the head of his swollen cock. Precum oozes out over his fingers as he squeezes. He pulls the shaft slowly, finishing with a final squeeze on the head. He can feel his own cock pulse in time with the heartbeat which rings on in his ears.
He continues to pump, remembering my thighs opening, blossoming like a flower shrouded in green cotton. He remembers girls he fucked in college, in high school, girls he wanted to fuck in middle school as he draws out his orgasm. It is a long flight, he has time to kill. He leans back against the sink and starts to stroke faster.
The seat belt sign pings on, and the captain gives mumbled announcements about possible turbulence ahead. I smile, knowing he is in there. I look back, making sure he is not returning, but he has time.
He thinks about pulling that green dress up farther, imagines the black lace panties I have underneath coming down, down to reveal a moist slit and wanton hole. He imagines plunging into that hole, and strokes faster, his precum spilling out to lacquer his hard cock, shiny and swollen in his hand.
He pumps harder as the plane trembles. As his feet become unsteady, he struggles to pump harder. He fights his own patience and jerks harder. He imagines fucking faster, slipping his cock into a dripping cunt. He fist grips and cum begins to swell higher in his balls.
He pumps faster as the plane jerks and he jerks forward with it, pulsing into his hand. He groans louder, pumping it faster. His cock gets harder in his hard, straining upward as he strokes faster. He strokes with the veracity he hasn't remembered having since his teen years. There is the urgency he hasn't needed since there were time limits to jerking off alone.
The seat belt sign rings again, and the turbulence gets more aggressive. He pumps harder, feeling himself swelling, growing warmer, harder, needing to cum all over this little fucking bathroom.
He groans again, louder, biting his lip as to not make anymore noise and arouse the suspicions of the flight attendants. He jerks forward again.
He steadiest himself one more time, biting his lip and drags his hand long and hard over his shaft, once, twice, three more time before he finally explodes, shooting him cum in jerks and waves over the wall of the tiny bathroom. It spills over his hand. It runs down, dripping slow and fast.
He zips up, breathing heavy, adjusting his glasses one more time before exiting the bathroom. He rejoins me in the seat across the aisle. I smile at him as he returns and the plane shakes once more, violently.
"Just in time."
He grunts in response.
The other day when I was flying back from California there was a guy sitting across the aisle from me. He was slight with glasses, and a face which just blared out "submissive" to anyone who would read it.
I love tease and denial. I love the power of making someone want something so singularly that they can't focus, and then refusing to allow them to return to their lives. Making them strain without release, to want without receiving.
We had hours on the plane just feet apart, but he noticed me before I even got on the plane. When I see someone struggling so hard not to notice me, I make sure to entertain them. I make sure that I'm the only thing they will see.
I was wearing a short green dress, soft material which fell well with buttons up the front. She hem line, long neck line. And, of course, boots. When I saw him sitting there, nervous and excited as I approached, I was practically gleeful. I knew exactly how I was going to pass the time.
Getting to my seat I bent and twisted to stow my bag. I bent over, my ass just barely grazing his arm. I apologized for bumping him, and he nodded in warm reception.
When seated, I undid the top button of my dress, letting the pink and white of my bra skim over the top of my dress. I leaned over, fore arm pressing the soft flesh of my tits up, to get a better view out of his side of the plane.
I watched as he shifted in his seat, and imagined his cock starting to swell. I imagined it pushing against the zipper in his khakis - pants which are never so kind as to hide a cock. I imagined his shifting to hide it from me, feeling his humiliation swell right along with the head.
I sat back to give him a break, and when I put my head back against the seat, out of the corner of my eye I saw the tell-tale sign of his excitement. He reached down and grabbed the crotch of his pants, moving it back and forth into a comfortable position.
I smiled.
I nodded off for a time, letting him be, letting his cock relax and soften once again. It isn't much fun to just turn someone on and be done. It takes patience, and we had the next five hours to play, whether he liked it or not.
When I awoke I noticed my dress had slipped down a bit further, a full inch or so of the bright cotton pink cup exposed, and then shoulder having slipped down just enough to reveal a strap.
I shifted as I woke, clearing my throat, and rustling enough for him to know I was up. He immediately perked to attention, and openly turned his head to look.
I caught his eye just as I was shifting my clothes back into place, giving him another flash of cleavage and bra along with a long, full smile.
He notices, and immediately turns a soft shade of warm pink. I adjust my dress, and watch him shift again, sensing his frustration with his own body.
As he shifts in his seat, so do I, in slow serpentine rolls and subtle stretches. When someone asks to get by me and use the bathroom, I stand impossibly close to him, my ass right at eye level. When she leaves, I adjust the bag which is under the seat in front of me and bend over, letting him stare at my ass, letting him imagine grabbing it in his hands and fucking me right there on the plane. Pulling my dress up, panties down, and shoving his swollen cock into my pussy and ass.
But instead, I sit back down, unfucked.
I watch him shift his cock again, and place a tell-tale magazine over the bulge. He keeps shifting in his seat, and I take the opportunity to move more, to lean towards him to reach for something, to squirm in my seat, to smile at him more. He is blushing every now and then - I imagine when it twitches. He shifts more often, when it strains.
I finally make the move which I hope will move to him to action. I pull my foot up to my ass, leaning it against the arm rest and opening my legs. It's incredibly comfortable, and lets my dress slide back further and further so he can see my tanned thighs all the way to my ass. The inside of my thighs is, despite years of slaps and paddles, tender and vulnerable.
He's watching. I can feel his eyes caress my skin. I can sense his gaze as it moves over my inner thighs, and opens them further. His sight pulls back my dress and explores the inner folds of my panties, my cunt.
I watch it all happen in slow motion, as does he. He does not hide his erection any longer and shifts, lacking in both subtlety and dignity. I finally smile at him, a knowing smile which says "Thanks, you made my day."
He blushes red to purple, and adjusts one more time. He stares straight ahead, and I lose myself in a book, counting the long minutes before I get exactly what I want.
It takes three and a half minutes of internal debating and turning to see the bathroom line before he can't wait any longer.
He stands abruptly, taking advantage of the lack of line, and the long since absence of a drink cart to move to the bathroom, and I know exactly what happens once inside.
I imagine him pulling out his cock, and stroking it once, hard, just to relieve some of the built up pain and tension. From then it is a slower experience. He can take his time once his balls no longer squeeze themselves in want. He strokes his shaft slowly, teasingly, knowing that it can't go on for very long.
His other hand lowers to tighten around his balls, and he grunts he slightly in the back of his throat. He tugs them, rolling them just slightly in a flexing palm as his other hand squeezes the head of his swollen cock. Precum oozes out over his fingers as he squeezes. He pulls the shaft slowly, finishing with a final squeeze on the head. He can feel his own cock pulse in time with the heartbeat which rings on in his ears.
He continues to pump, remembering my thighs opening, blossoming like a flower shrouded in green cotton. He remembers girls he fucked in college, in high school, girls he wanted to fuck in middle school as he draws out his orgasm. It is a long flight, he has time to kill. He leans back against the sink and starts to stroke faster.
The seat belt sign pings on, and the captain gives mumbled announcements about possible turbulence ahead. I smile, knowing he is in there. I look back, making sure he is not returning, but he has time.
He thinks about pulling that green dress up farther, imagines the black lace panties I have underneath coming down, down to reveal a moist slit and wanton hole. He imagines plunging into that hole, and strokes faster, his precum spilling out to lacquer his hard cock, shiny and swollen in his hand.
He pumps harder as the plane trembles. As his feet become unsteady, he struggles to pump harder. He fights his own patience and jerks harder. He imagines fucking faster, slipping his cock into a dripping cunt. He fist grips and cum begins to swell higher in his balls.
He pumps faster as the plane jerks and he jerks forward with it, pulsing into his hand. He groans louder, pumping it faster. His cock gets harder in his hard, straining upward as he strokes faster. He strokes with the veracity he hasn't remembered having since his teen years. There is the urgency he hasn't needed since there were time limits to jerking off alone.
The seat belt sign rings again, and the turbulence gets more aggressive. He pumps harder, feeling himself swelling, growing warmer, harder, needing to cum all over this little fucking bathroom.
He groans again, louder, biting his lip as to not make anymore noise and arouse the suspicions of the flight attendants. He jerks forward again.
He steadiest himself one more time, biting his lip and drags his hand long and hard over his shaft, once, twice, three more time before he finally explodes, shooting him cum in jerks and waves over the wall of the tiny bathroom. It spills over his hand. It runs down, dripping slow and fast.
He zips up, breathing heavy, adjusting his glasses one more time before exiting the bathroom. He rejoins me in the seat across the aisle. I smile at him as he returns and the plane shakes once more, violently.
"Just in time."
He grunts in response.
Monday, August 15, 2011
The New Girls Fucks Up
I sit in his car, coat on and ready. I wait in the passenger seat as the time ticks by, and the cars slowly pull away. A few people have noticed me, alone in a car in the parking garage, in the passenger seat, staring forward.
I arrived at 5:12, long enough to put on my coat at 5 sharp, walk to the elevator, wait, stand, and then remember where he parked this morning. I wait.
I wait as the car beside me pulls away and the woman tries to smile, recognizing me from my time in the office but not knowing enough to know that I will not turn and smile back.
I wait as I begin to get tired, minutes ticking on in a slow haul. I wait as it becomes 15 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour, two hours, and then two hours and thirty-four minutes that I have been waiting.
I begin to get bored. I play with the lighter, running my finger over the ridges that make up the circle. I run those fingers over my lips, dry from a day of lipstick and careless biting and nibbling.
Everything I touch in the car makes me think of his hands, stroking and touching them as he needs to. I run my hand over the steering wheel, thinking of how he carelessly and casually maneuvers around curves. I squeeze the top of the gearshift, imagining him revving an engine. While my fingers lay over the leather, his hand is large and consumes it.
I think of his hand cupping my pussy, how his long fingers curl all the way down and his palm presses against me. Even over my jeans it makes me feel possessed by him. I can feel myself getting wet just by the thought of it. And when his fingers enter me, I could be mindless I am so taken.
I begin to squirm in my seat after two hours and thirty-four minutes of being such a good girl. I press my legs together to ease some of the pressure.
I sit in the car and look around, trying my best to not look conspicuous. I want to find anything that will take my mind off of what is slowing becoming a throb between my legs. I am so, so wet, and my clit is achingly swollen.
I am not proud but I simply wait, sit for him in the car, silent and attentive.
And then it happens. I look around. there is no one in the garage, save a few cars. I look again at the time and only a few minutes have ticked by. It will be hours before I find any relief, and even then I will never be sated. I am an aching cunt - desperate and constantly in need of fingers, a tongue, a vibrator, a hairbrush handle, a fist, a swollen, stunning, thick cock.
I have already crossed a divide between good and absolutely fucking useless. I have already come too far. I have checked around to see if there was anyone and when I saw that I was blissfully alone, I let my hand find itself underneath my skirt in the front seat of the car.
But of course this cannot end here. This simply cannot be the end of my relief, and I rub myself. My underwear still sit in his office, so it is immediately skin on skin. Immediately, I feel my fingers rubbing my clit to the point of pain - matching ache for ache the need I have to touch myself, to cum, to find relief.
I am so wet, I have already begun to pool between my legs and drip onto the back of my skirt. Before my hand even came close to my hem, I was already a foregone conclusion.
As soon as they are there, I have been lost entirely. I begin to rub my clit, hard and then soft to lengthen my enjoyment. I rub in circles, dainty circles which roll my clit back and forth. I slide them up and down, one finger on either side of my clit, feeling how much it begs to be touched and loved and kissed.
And then they are inside me. I slide my hand down and push them inside my cunt. My entire hand is slicked with my juices, and as soon as two fingers are all the way inside me, I pull them out and lick my hand clean. Once every drop has been tasted, I slide my hand back down and push those two fingers back inside, shoving them deep into my cunt. I curl them inside me and push my hips forward, watching more. I am greedy.
I spread my legs, feeling more and more reckless. I pull my skirt back and open my legs wide, leaning back a little. My other hand fingers my clit and proceeds to rub slowly, and then furiously, as I meet my own hips thrust for thrust. Each time I bury them deeper I begin to whimper. There seems nothing I won't do to let myself explode right now.
My fingers scrape back and forth over my clit - finger pad to one side and nail as it moves back. I have no problem scraping myself raw right now. I continue to rub as I fuck myself faster. I angle downward and plant one heeled foot onto the dashboard, spreading myself wider for another finger.
My eyes slide shut as I push harder against my cunt. I can want nothing but more and more and more. As I squeeze my eyes shut I scream, cumming against my own hand. I feel buckets of cum pour out of me, onto my hands, fingers, and the seat below me. I am spent. I am exhausted.
I struggle to clean myself up - to calm down, pull my skirt back down, and furtively look around against to see what I most fear. He is walking towards the car. I breathe faster, hating myself for my own debauchery. I pull everything back into place, and try and calm my heart slowly.
He opens the car door and I startle just slightly. He sits down, pulling his briefcase in the back seat. He pauses, and I know he knows. He looks at me very slowly, his blue eyes steeled.
"Were you a good girl for me?"
My bottom lip trembles and I open my mouth to answer.
It is only those brief seconds of the heaviest pause before I begin to cry, and shake my head.
"Give me your hand, baby."
I do and he slowly, patiently licks my fingers. His tongue rolls over the pads, the nail, the knuckle and I stir again, and am all the more angry at myself for it.
"Did you think I would be mean and not let you cum again?"
"No, Sir, I just couldn't help myself."
He sighs, his disappointment is potent. I am nothing short of terrified. I am terrified that he will inflict irreparable damage on my flesh and ego. I fear more that he will simply tell me to get out of the car, and never look back as he finds a more suitable candidate for his tutelage.
He silently steps from the car and my breath catches, holding painfully in my tightened chest. I feel as if I am falling. He walks around the car and opens my door, extending a hand which I take. I step from the car as well and he removes my jacket, placing it on the passenger seat before closing the door.
He guides me to the back of the car and leans me over the trunk. I tremble. I notice droplets of water falling in soft springs onto the trunk and it is only then that I realize that I am crying.
He pulls my skirt up, leaning on the small of my back, his arm pulling my hips against his chest. And then I feel his hand. He is showing ruthless pleasure in his lack of mercy. His hand, fist, full arm crash down over and over and over on my ass. He strikes me ten times solidly, and I am thankful for the car to hold me up.
He pauses and I weep, arms folded underneath my wet face. He steps back and I know it will only get worse before it gets better. I hear fabric barely breaking behind my own gasps and whimpers.
I feel it, breaking over my ass, and curling around my hip in a tight line which burns my flesh. He has taken off his belt. I stiffen after the first one, trying to lock my knees. It hit so firmly, cracked over my flesh so loudly, that it now echoes through the parking garage. Only a few cars remain, and there is no one to come with concern.
"Take off your skirt and blouse."
I nod, removing them slowly, precisely. I stand in only heels and bend, once again, over the back of the car. He comes down again, hard, his belt licking my lower back and making my cry out. He comes down again, right on the crest of my ass, and again even lower.
Every time he strikes me, it feels as if I've been cut, sliced apart. My legs become shakier and my cries before more and more drowned in my tears. I shift my head to the side and see that he is working himself out of breath he is beating me so hard. I have forgotten bruises, and simply wish to be able to stand again.
And yet, every time he strikes me, I feel myself growing more and more into his good girl. I will not forget such a beating.
My legs begin to move from trembling to shaking. Every slap sends me squirming. I have lost count at how many have come down and am only in my own fog.
"Sir..." I choke out quietly. He does not stop. "Please, Sir..." He continues, leaving my skin raised in red welts and cracking in places where it can no longer hold together. "Please, Daddy, no more." I finally say loud enough for him to hear and he stops. He does not freeze, but calmly regains his posture and walks over to his broken, remorseful girl.
He leans over my crippled body, and it is the only thing preventing me from crumpling on the ground. "You're not going to fuck yourself when you know I don't allow it anymore, are you?"
I shake my head and sniffle.
"You're my good girl, aren't you?"
I nod and begin to collapse a bit, my legs finally giving out. He catches me.
He opens the back door and I lay inside, caked in blood and sweat, wet with tears. He covers me with his suit jacket, softly stroking the skin of my ankle with his long fingers. "You're a good girl. You made me proud today."
I touch the lashes as we drive, feeling where I am bleeding, learning where I will bruise, and each spike of pain sends a shiver down my spine.
I arrived at 5:12, long enough to put on my coat at 5 sharp, walk to the elevator, wait, stand, and then remember where he parked this morning. I wait.
I wait as the car beside me pulls away and the woman tries to smile, recognizing me from my time in the office but not knowing enough to know that I will not turn and smile back.
I wait as I begin to get tired, minutes ticking on in a slow haul. I wait as it becomes 15 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour, two hours, and then two hours and thirty-four minutes that I have been waiting.
I begin to get bored. I play with the lighter, running my finger over the ridges that make up the circle. I run those fingers over my lips, dry from a day of lipstick and careless biting and nibbling.
Everything I touch in the car makes me think of his hands, stroking and touching them as he needs to. I run my hand over the steering wheel, thinking of how he carelessly and casually maneuvers around curves. I squeeze the top of the gearshift, imagining him revving an engine. While my fingers lay over the leather, his hand is large and consumes it.
I think of his hand cupping my pussy, how his long fingers curl all the way down and his palm presses against me. Even over my jeans it makes me feel possessed by him. I can feel myself getting wet just by the thought of it. And when his fingers enter me, I could be mindless I am so taken.
I begin to squirm in my seat after two hours and thirty-four minutes of being such a good girl. I press my legs together to ease some of the pressure.
I sit in the car and look around, trying my best to not look conspicuous. I want to find anything that will take my mind off of what is slowing becoming a throb between my legs. I am so, so wet, and my clit is achingly swollen.
I am not proud but I simply wait, sit for him in the car, silent and attentive.
And then it happens. I look around. there is no one in the garage, save a few cars. I look again at the time and only a few minutes have ticked by. It will be hours before I find any relief, and even then I will never be sated. I am an aching cunt - desperate and constantly in need of fingers, a tongue, a vibrator, a hairbrush handle, a fist, a swollen, stunning, thick cock.
I have already crossed a divide between good and absolutely fucking useless. I have already come too far. I have checked around to see if there was anyone and when I saw that I was blissfully alone, I let my hand find itself underneath my skirt in the front seat of the car.
But of course this cannot end here. This simply cannot be the end of my relief, and I rub myself. My underwear still sit in his office, so it is immediately skin on skin. Immediately, I feel my fingers rubbing my clit to the point of pain - matching ache for ache the need I have to touch myself, to cum, to find relief.
I am so wet, I have already begun to pool between my legs and drip onto the back of my skirt. Before my hand even came close to my hem, I was already a foregone conclusion.
As soon as they are there, I have been lost entirely. I begin to rub my clit, hard and then soft to lengthen my enjoyment. I rub in circles, dainty circles which roll my clit back and forth. I slide them up and down, one finger on either side of my clit, feeling how much it begs to be touched and loved and kissed.
And then they are inside me. I slide my hand down and push them inside my cunt. My entire hand is slicked with my juices, and as soon as two fingers are all the way inside me, I pull them out and lick my hand clean. Once every drop has been tasted, I slide my hand back down and push those two fingers back inside, shoving them deep into my cunt. I curl them inside me and push my hips forward, watching more. I am greedy.
I spread my legs, feeling more and more reckless. I pull my skirt back and open my legs wide, leaning back a little. My other hand fingers my clit and proceeds to rub slowly, and then furiously, as I meet my own hips thrust for thrust. Each time I bury them deeper I begin to whimper. There seems nothing I won't do to let myself explode right now.
My fingers scrape back and forth over my clit - finger pad to one side and nail as it moves back. I have no problem scraping myself raw right now. I continue to rub as I fuck myself faster. I angle downward and plant one heeled foot onto the dashboard, spreading myself wider for another finger.
My eyes slide shut as I push harder against my cunt. I can want nothing but more and more and more. As I squeeze my eyes shut I scream, cumming against my own hand. I feel buckets of cum pour out of me, onto my hands, fingers, and the seat below me. I am spent. I am exhausted.
I struggle to clean myself up - to calm down, pull my skirt back down, and furtively look around against to see what I most fear. He is walking towards the car. I breathe faster, hating myself for my own debauchery. I pull everything back into place, and try and calm my heart slowly.
He opens the car door and I startle just slightly. He sits down, pulling his briefcase in the back seat. He pauses, and I know he knows. He looks at me very slowly, his blue eyes steeled.
"Were you a good girl for me?"
My bottom lip trembles and I open my mouth to answer.
It is only those brief seconds of the heaviest pause before I begin to cry, and shake my head.
"Give me your hand, baby."
I do and he slowly, patiently licks my fingers. His tongue rolls over the pads, the nail, the knuckle and I stir again, and am all the more angry at myself for it.
"Did you think I would be mean and not let you cum again?"
"No, Sir, I just couldn't help myself."
He sighs, his disappointment is potent. I am nothing short of terrified. I am terrified that he will inflict irreparable damage on my flesh and ego. I fear more that he will simply tell me to get out of the car, and never look back as he finds a more suitable candidate for his tutelage.
He silently steps from the car and my breath catches, holding painfully in my tightened chest. I feel as if I am falling. He walks around the car and opens my door, extending a hand which I take. I step from the car as well and he removes my jacket, placing it on the passenger seat before closing the door.
He guides me to the back of the car and leans me over the trunk. I tremble. I notice droplets of water falling in soft springs onto the trunk and it is only then that I realize that I am crying.
He pulls my skirt up, leaning on the small of my back, his arm pulling my hips against his chest. And then I feel his hand. He is showing ruthless pleasure in his lack of mercy. His hand, fist, full arm crash down over and over and over on my ass. He strikes me ten times solidly, and I am thankful for the car to hold me up.
He pauses and I weep, arms folded underneath my wet face. He steps back and I know it will only get worse before it gets better. I hear fabric barely breaking behind my own gasps and whimpers.
I feel it, breaking over my ass, and curling around my hip in a tight line which burns my flesh. He has taken off his belt. I stiffen after the first one, trying to lock my knees. It hit so firmly, cracked over my flesh so loudly, that it now echoes through the parking garage. Only a few cars remain, and there is no one to come with concern.
"Take off your skirt and blouse."
I nod, removing them slowly, precisely. I stand in only heels and bend, once again, over the back of the car. He comes down again, hard, his belt licking my lower back and making my cry out. He comes down again, right on the crest of my ass, and again even lower.
Every time he strikes me, it feels as if I've been cut, sliced apart. My legs become shakier and my cries before more and more drowned in my tears. I shift my head to the side and see that he is working himself out of breath he is beating me so hard. I have forgotten bruises, and simply wish to be able to stand again.
And yet, every time he strikes me, I feel myself growing more and more into his good girl. I will not forget such a beating.
My legs begin to move from trembling to shaking. Every slap sends me squirming. I have lost count at how many have come down and am only in my own fog.
"Sir..." I choke out quietly. He does not stop. "Please, Sir..." He continues, leaving my skin raised in red welts and cracking in places where it can no longer hold together. "Please, Daddy, no more." I finally say loud enough for him to hear and he stops. He does not freeze, but calmly regains his posture and walks over to his broken, remorseful girl.
He leans over my crippled body, and it is the only thing preventing me from crumpling on the ground. "You're not going to fuck yourself when you know I don't allow it anymore, are you?"
I shake my head and sniffle.
"You're my good girl, aren't you?"
I nod and begin to collapse a bit, my legs finally giving out. He catches me.
He opens the back door and I lay inside, caked in blood and sweat, wet with tears. He covers me with his suit jacket, softly stroking the skin of my ankle with his long fingers. "You're a good girl. You made me proud today."
I touch the lashes as we drive, feeling where I am bleeding, learning where I will bruise, and each spike of pain sends a shiver down my spine.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The New Girl at Work
I wait all day for him to beckon me over. He instructed me not to move, for my feet to remain flat on the floor and my hands under the desk, but not on my cunt. I sit just outside his office, waiting. Papers are stacked neatly before me. The only movements I have made were to shift when my ass was becoming numb, and to lean forward only to realize I had no interest in the papers before me. At noon he ordered me a pasta salad and himself a sandwich. I offered to order lunch but he looked at me and smirked.
When the food came he sat beside me, lifting forkfuls into my mouth until I nodded that I was full. I thanked him for such kindness and went back to simply sitting and waiting.
My mind began to run tracks. It spiraled in circles to keep me busy. Thinking, guessing, getting distracted over nothing, counting angles, cracks, corners, and divots.
I wear a tight blouse. When I came in that morning, I stood in his office. He had me lift my skirt to my waist and take off my panties in the center of his office. I placed them on his desk. I was embarrassed that they were purple with little silver stars, but he only smiled, almost affectionately. I pulled my skirt back down and he had me remove my blouse. I took off my bra, placing it on top of my underwear on the corner of his desk.
For the first time since I entered, he stood, erection clearly outlined in his pants. He strokes it casually as he walks towards me and places the longest of kisses on my throat.
That kiss will burn for the rest of the day.
I put my blouse back on, nipples clearly erect through the thin purple cotton of the shirt. There is no hiding my arousal. I can smell my cunt simply standing there.
He gives me his rigid instructions and I simply sit just outside his office, listening to him make deals and take phone calls.
Every time he walks out I look up at him and smile. At first, my smiles betrayed me with their expectation. He would look down at me each time and smile back, sometimes even letting his fingers slide across my desk, but he never stopped. He would give his other employees instructions, orders, commands, but I only received those brief smiles.
The other women in the office glare at me with disdain. They watch as I remain motionless, save head turns and slight leans. They are displeased with my ease at his directions. Whereas his commands to them are cold and professional, our smiles are soft, and less than furtive. I swell at being his favorite girl and it is the only thought I need to cum at night or grow damp right there in the office.
I would watch him as he gave orders, the grey trousers tenting slightly, the gleam off of his cufflinks making me stir in my seat.
By 11, though, my smiles were simply to let him know that if this was his order, I was pleased to fulfill it. Itches remain ignored, coughs uncovered. I fight with a lock of hair which has fallen callously into my eyes.
From my desk, I could lean my head slightly and watch him, but he never took notice of me. At 11:54 he winked at me and I felt my whole body flush and my cunt grow wet. At 1:28 he saw me watching him. I licked my lips and he smiled before turning away.
And at 4:27 he came out of his office and stood next to me. He took my hand and lifted it front the desk, helping me to a stand.
He leads me into his office and closes the door, not letting go of my hand as he silently walks me around to his desk. I stand, hips just barely grazing the edge, and he returns to sit in his chair, hands resting on my hips. He lifts my skirt slowly, and I feel his breath on my ass. There are still bruises from where I displeased him yesterday.
"You've tried to be a good girl for me all day, haven't you?"
"Yes, Sir." My arms rest at my sides, but my fingers tremble with the electricity which has no other escape.
"You learned your lesson from yesterday, haven't you?"
I nod quickly, almost over zealously. Yesterday I came in after a long day dream about nothing, and was not wet to his satisfaction. My ass paid the price.
"Do you remember my instructions this morning?"
I nod, curling my fingers into my hands. "Yes, Sir."
"Tell me, baby."
"Keep my hands on the desk and my feet on the floor."
His hand comes down in a sharp pain on my ass. "And?"
I gasp, swallow, and tremble all the more. "And stay wet for you, Sir."
"Good girl." He slowly pushes me down until my chest meets the desk. He opens my legs slowly, and I step them out inch by inch.
I try and keep my breath steady as my heart starts to pound. I have tried to be such a good girl for him - I have tried to make him so proud of his girl.
When my legs are spread I hear him smile. He can see my cunt glisten. His fingers trail my thighs, delicately, softly, lovingly. I have made him proud, and it means the world to me.
He leans forward and begins to lick my wet clit. I immediately moan louder than I anticipated, pushing back against him. He lets me as he begins to lap at my soaked cunt, his tongue running up and down over my lips, sliding between them to my clit.
I push back hard against his face, begging over and over again for more and more. I ache against his tongue I am so wet. He begins to tease, the more I grind, pulling his tongue back and holding my thighs in place.
I struggle a little and he sits back.
"I thought you were my good little girl?"
"I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to, it was a stupid reaction."
"I don't believe you're sorry, baby."
His hand lands on my ass so hard I slam against his desk. I know there will be bruises. I will wear them with competing pride and shame.
"Please, Sir. Please forgive me for being such a greedy little cunt." He hits me again. "I beg you, Sir, please forgive me for being such a wanton whore in front of your face, trying to get more of your tongue. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."
He spreads my thighs more with his hands and goes back to sucking on my clit. I cry out in a noise indistinguishable from when he hit me. I have, once again, learned my lesson and refuse to move. His hands pulls back and only graze my thighs in a test of my will and want. I want him more. I want to be a good girl.
He is drowning in my cum as it drips down his tongue. He licks only hard enough to make me desperate. And though I am aching for more of his tongue, he knows it will only make me long for his cock.
It takes everything inside me not to move backwards and he rewards me with more of his tongue. I know his chin, his lips are covered with my juices. I boldly know how much he loves to taste me by the way he devours me. He leans back and I gasp, but refuse to whimper. I don't want to disappoint him with my greed.
He slides two fingers into my cunt, juices dripping down my thighs. I moan again, trying not to buck against him as his thick, longer fingers begin to pound my cunt without mercy.
"You like being my good little girl, right?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You like how much attention I pay to you and your pretty pussy, right?"
I scream a little louder as I affirm, "Yes, Sir."
I want more - tears begin to well in my eyes as he stretches my eager slit. "You want to make me proud, right baby?"
"Yes, please, Sir, please." I beg, my face down on the desk, my knees buckling and my nails digging into the papers on his desk.
"Then come for me, baby. Be a good girl for me and cum."
I scream, not caring who can hear. I cum on his fingers, my pussy squeezing and pulsing around them, cum dripping down his forearm to his beautiful French cuffs and sparkling cufflinks.
His fingers stay inside me as my body twitches with tiny aftershocks. His other hand rubs the small of my back softly. My breathing is shallow and ineffective, and I continue to tremble.
"Good girl. You've been a good girl." I nod, laying my head down on the desk. His hand slides from my cunt. "Turn around, baby." I slowly stand and turn, my knees almost buckling underneath me. I lean back against the desk, skirt still up around my waist. He holds his fingers to my lips and I lick them clean for him.
"Baby, I want you to go sit at your desk until 5:00. Put on your coat and sit in my car until I get there."
He may be hours before he comes, but I will wait. I will be his good girl.
When the food came he sat beside me, lifting forkfuls into my mouth until I nodded that I was full. I thanked him for such kindness and went back to simply sitting and waiting.
My mind began to run tracks. It spiraled in circles to keep me busy. Thinking, guessing, getting distracted over nothing, counting angles, cracks, corners, and divots.
I wear a tight blouse. When I came in that morning, I stood in his office. He had me lift my skirt to my waist and take off my panties in the center of his office. I placed them on his desk. I was embarrassed that they were purple with little silver stars, but he only smiled, almost affectionately. I pulled my skirt back down and he had me remove my blouse. I took off my bra, placing it on top of my underwear on the corner of his desk.
For the first time since I entered, he stood, erection clearly outlined in his pants. He strokes it casually as he walks towards me and places the longest of kisses on my throat.
That kiss will burn for the rest of the day.
I put my blouse back on, nipples clearly erect through the thin purple cotton of the shirt. There is no hiding my arousal. I can smell my cunt simply standing there.
He gives me his rigid instructions and I simply sit just outside his office, listening to him make deals and take phone calls.
Every time he walks out I look up at him and smile. At first, my smiles betrayed me with their expectation. He would look down at me each time and smile back, sometimes even letting his fingers slide across my desk, but he never stopped. He would give his other employees instructions, orders, commands, but I only received those brief smiles.
The other women in the office glare at me with disdain. They watch as I remain motionless, save head turns and slight leans. They are displeased with my ease at his directions. Whereas his commands to them are cold and professional, our smiles are soft, and less than furtive. I swell at being his favorite girl and it is the only thought I need to cum at night or grow damp right there in the office.
I would watch him as he gave orders, the grey trousers tenting slightly, the gleam off of his cufflinks making me stir in my seat.
By 11, though, my smiles were simply to let him know that if this was his order, I was pleased to fulfill it. Itches remain ignored, coughs uncovered. I fight with a lock of hair which has fallen callously into my eyes.
From my desk, I could lean my head slightly and watch him, but he never took notice of me. At 11:54 he winked at me and I felt my whole body flush and my cunt grow wet. At 1:28 he saw me watching him. I licked my lips and he smiled before turning away.
And at 4:27 he came out of his office and stood next to me. He took my hand and lifted it front the desk, helping me to a stand.
He leads me into his office and closes the door, not letting go of my hand as he silently walks me around to his desk. I stand, hips just barely grazing the edge, and he returns to sit in his chair, hands resting on my hips. He lifts my skirt slowly, and I feel his breath on my ass. There are still bruises from where I displeased him yesterday.
"You've tried to be a good girl for me all day, haven't you?"
"Yes, Sir." My arms rest at my sides, but my fingers tremble with the electricity which has no other escape.
"You learned your lesson from yesterday, haven't you?"
I nod quickly, almost over zealously. Yesterday I came in after a long day dream about nothing, and was not wet to his satisfaction. My ass paid the price.
"Do you remember my instructions this morning?"
I nod, curling my fingers into my hands. "Yes, Sir."
"Tell me, baby."
"Keep my hands on the desk and my feet on the floor."
His hand comes down in a sharp pain on my ass. "And?"
I gasp, swallow, and tremble all the more. "And stay wet for you, Sir."
"Good girl." He slowly pushes me down until my chest meets the desk. He opens my legs slowly, and I step them out inch by inch.
I try and keep my breath steady as my heart starts to pound. I have tried to be such a good girl for him - I have tried to make him so proud of his girl.
When my legs are spread I hear him smile. He can see my cunt glisten. His fingers trail my thighs, delicately, softly, lovingly. I have made him proud, and it means the world to me.
He leans forward and begins to lick my wet clit. I immediately moan louder than I anticipated, pushing back against him. He lets me as he begins to lap at my soaked cunt, his tongue running up and down over my lips, sliding between them to my clit.
I push back hard against his face, begging over and over again for more and more. I ache against his tongue I am so wet. He begins to tease, the more I grind, pulling his tongue back and holding my thighs in place.
I struggle a little and he sits back.
"I thought you were my good little girl?"
"I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to, it was a stupid reaction."
"I don't believe you're sorry, baby."
His hand lands on my ass so hard I slam against his desk. I know there will be bruises. I will wear them with competing pride and shame.
"Please, Sir. Please forgive me for being such a greedy little cunt." He hits me again. "I beg you, Sir, please forgive me for being such a wanton whore in front of your face, trying to get more of your tongue. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."
He spreads my thighs more with his hands and goes back to sucking on my clit. I cry out in a noise indistinguishable from when he hit me. I have, once again, learned my lesson and refuse to move. His hands pulls back and only graze my thighs in a test of my will and want. I want him more. I want to be a good girl.
He is drowning in my cum as it drips down his tongue. He licks only hard enough to make me desperate. And though I am aching for more of his tongue, he knows it will only make me long for his cock.
It takes everything inside me not to move backwards and he rewards me with more of his tongue. I know his chin, his lips are covered with my juices. I boldly know how much he loves to taste me by the way he devours me. He leans back and I gasp, but refuse to whimper. I don't want to disappoint him with my greed.
He slides two fingers into my cunt, juices dripping down my thighs. I moan again, trying not to buck against him as his thick, longer fingers begin to pound my cunt without mercy.
"You like being my good little girl, right?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You like how much attention I pay to you and your pretty pussy, right?"
I scream a little louder as I affirm, "Yes, Sir."
I want more - tears begin to well in my eyes as he stretches my eager slit. "You want to make me proud, right baby?"
"Yes, please, Sir, please." I beg, my face down on the desk, my knees buckling and my nails digging into the papers on his desk.
"Then come for me, baby. Be a good girl for me and cum."
I scream, not caring who can hear. I cum on his fingers, my pussy squeezing and pulsing around them, cum dripping down his forearm to his beautiful French cuffs and sparkling cufflinks.
His fingers stay inside me as my body twitches with tiny aftershocks. His other hand rubs the small of my back softly. My breathing is shallow and ineffective, and I continue to tremble.
"Good girl. You've been a good girl." I nod, laying my head down on the desk. His hand slides from my cunt. "Turn around, baby." I slowly stand and turn, my knees almost buckling underneath me. I lean back against the desk, skirt still up around my waist. He holds his fingers to my lips and I lick them clean for him.
"Baby, I want you to go sit at your desk until 5:00. Put on your coat and sit in my car until I get there."
He may be hours before he comes, but I will wait. I will be his good girl.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Smells Like Team Spirit
I'm the new girl on the team. Squad. I don't even know what to call it yet. I've heard things about these girls, and when they walk by me in the locker room I can believe every single thing.
I'm on the bench in my uniform, lacing my sneakers like I've been told. I'm trying to hold it together while they all walk in and surround me. Four seniors and I'm the new prey. As I stare into the tongue of my shoe so intensely you would expect it to begin wagging, they cross their arms. One by one they interlace their tight, muscled arms and drop them onto their chest. I can't breathe.
I heard with one girl they took her shoes and tied them to the top of the flag pole. Then they made her climb up the pole to get them.
They've been doing this every year since they were sophomores on the team. They would destroy the freshmen girls on the team, without shame or pity or regret. The girl last year had naked pictures of herself which she had sent to her boyfriend plastered all over the school. I knew what I was getting into when I joined.
"You're taking your time with that shoe. Are you stupid or something?"
I shook my head and placed my foot square on the floor, keeping my gaze lowered.
"You know why we're here, don't you?"
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes, my lashes damming them up only for so long.
"And you're afraid, aren't you, Princess?"
I nodded again. Better to just be honest with them, and realistic about my fate.
"You're a pathetic little cunt, aren't you?"
I nodded yet again. I could hear their perfect pink lips sliding over their capped teeth as they all smiled. The other girls had been work in previous years, trying to break something that refused to crack. This was just going to be pure fun.
No work, all icing.
"Get on your knees." I lowered myself swiftly onto the floor, never lifting my gaze. The thick polyester of the uniform itched. It felt claustrophobic to wear, tight on my chest in a way that made me want to stop breathing for comfort.
I can hear them talking, debating in hushed tones. I hear lockers open and laughter begin and I wonder what I'm in for.
The oldest one grabs me by the throat and pulls me to my feet, her fingers pressing tightly, cutting off my air and blood. I cough a little, sputtering onto her arm, which she barely notices. If I didn't think she was a bitch before...
I look up into her eyes and she lets go of my throat only to slap me across the face, her nails curling a bit to leave red claw marks behind. I gasp a little, not even reach up to feel if I'm bleeding. I will simply see the red droplets on my crisp white uniform later and have to explain them away.
"Don't fucking look at me. You don't deserve it. Eyes down, brat."
My eyes hit the floor and another one grabs my arms, pulling them behind. She has full tits and long hair in a ponytail which is perched on the back of her head in a purple ribbon. My arms are pressing into her tits, and I can feel her hips press into my ass, which is pushing back, away from the older blond one.
Then they begin. Each one comes up and one by one they begin to slap, spit, and pull my hair. As the one with soft tits holds me back, they tell me to open my mouth and spit. They pull my hair to the side and bite my neck so hard I scream. They pull up my shirt and slap my tits back and forth, pinching the nipples until they're red and swollen. And finally when they've gone through the line-up, the blond one comes back and reaches underneath my skirt. Her hand slides up between my legs and pushes my panties out of the way in the most delicate move she's made yet. And just as delicate as she was in that moment, she is just as rough in the next. She shoves her fingers into my cunt roughly, nails scraping as she enters me. I whimper.
"Aww, the little bitch is fucking wet. What a fucking brat, she's actually enjoying this."
They all smile. I can feel it.
"Lets put her to good use, ladies."
The one behind me lets go of my arms and I collapse a bit, blood rushing back to where there was numbness. they push me onto all fours on the bench and the blond sits in front of me, shoving two fingers into my mouth. "Suck" she says firmly, without a hint of inhibition. I do as she says, licking and sucking those fingers as if it were going to get me out of this, but I know better.
I feel a hand on my forehead lifting up my head and I can only glance down and see someone put a thick purple strap-on in the blonde's outstretched hand. The blonde's fingers hold down my jaw and she slowly slides it into my mouth. "Suck it, Princess." Her voice is firm and I do, with all my effort and energy.
"Good girl. You're such a good girl for me, aren't you?" I nod, eagerly showing her how deep I can take it, how much I can lap, as wetness pools at the corner of my mouth and begins to run down my chin.
I feel my skirt being pushed up. Someone pushes open my knees, which can barely balance on the hard, wooden bench already. I struggle to focus on the cock in my mouth while they push and pull me from behind. She sees me waiver and my eyes falter.
"Stay with me, Princess."
I stare at her and then look down again, focusing on the hard rubber in my mouth. I suck it, lips running up and down over the purple sparkles.
And then I feel it. They pull down my panties and one of the other girls, thick strap on tied between her legs, begins to fuck me. Hard. She pushes in without hesitation, and I gasp. She holds onto my hips to steady both of us, her fingers gripping and squeezing and holding tightly. She is fucking me ruthlessly, pounding my tight, virgin cunt. The blond keeps telling me to stay with her, to ignore the wetness, the searing, tearing of my slit. I want to call them cunts and bitches and fucking pieces of shit, but I know they would only fuck harder, so I simply choke on the cock in my mouth.
The blond grabs my hair in one hand and pulls my head back. "If you can cum for me, I'll let you go, Princess." I nod, focusing on the cock in my pussy. She pulls the one from my mouth and I only now realize how little I've been breathing. I gasp for full breaths, desperate to expand my lungs.
She stands in front of my, pulling up her skirt and pulling down her panties and shoves her cunt in my face. I lick, covering my face with her wetness. I ache to lick her better, harder, more. I run my tongue up and down her clit, sucking with everything I have left as I am pounded from behind.
I strain against both of them, pushing more, twisting and bobbing back and fourth as I whimper into her pussy. I ache and strain and pull and push. The blond puts a hand on the back of my head and pulls me into her cunt harder. I lick as she pushes against my face. I can feel her cum dripping down my chin as I tighten my pussy. The blond makes a gesture and another girl comes over and begins to rub my clit.
This is enough for me. I buck wildly, my head held tight by the blond, and cum in front of them, a cock shoved all the way inside me. I side it wildly, bucking and screaming and panting and begging.
When I am finished I remain on all fours, breathing heavily. The blond roughs up my hair a little, smiling and pulling her skirt back down. She lifts my chin up and I look up at her. My mouth is covered in her cum, and I breathe heavily in her hand.
"Good girl. You're going to be fine."
I'm on the bench in my uniform, lacing my sneakers like I've been told. I'm trying to hold it together while they all walk in and surround me. Four seniors and I'm the new prey. As I stare into the tongue of my shoe so intensely you would expect it to begin wagging, they cross their arms. One by one they interlace their tight, muscled arms and drop them onto their chest. I can't breathe.
I heard with one girl they took her shoes and tied them to the top of the flag pole. Then they made her climb up the pole to get them.
They've been doing this every year since they were sophomores on the team. They would destroy the freshmen girls on the team, without shame or pity or regret. The girl last year had naked pictures of herself which she had sent to her boyfriend plastered all over the school. I knew what I was getting into when I joined.
"You're taking your time with that shoe. Are you stupid or something?"
I shook my head and placed my foot square on the floor, keeping my gaze lowered.
"You know why we're here, don't you?"
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes, my lashes damming them up only for so long.
"And you're afraid, aren't you, Princess?"
I nodded again. Better to just be honest with them, and realistic about my fate.
"You're a pathetic little cunt, aren't you?"
I nodded yet again. I could hear their perfect pink lips sliding over their capped teeth as they all smiled. The other girls had been work in previous years, trying to break something that refused to crack. This was just going to be pure fun.
No work, all icing.
"Get on your knees." I lowered myself swiftly onto the floor, never lifting my gaze. The thick polyester of the uniform itched. It felt claustrophobic to wear, tight on my chest in a way that made me want to stop breathing for comfort.
I can hear them talking, debating in hushed tones. I hear lockers open and laughter begin and I wonder what I'm in for.
The oldest one grabs me by the throat and pulls me to my feet, her fingers pressing tightly, cutting off my air and blood. I cough a little, sputtering onto her arm, which she barely notices. If I didn't think she was a bitch before...
I look up into her eyes and she lets go of my throat only to slap me across the face, her nails curling a bit to leave red claw marks behind. I gasp a little, not even reach up to feel if I'm bleeding. I will simply see the red droplets on my crisp white uniform later and have to explain them away.
"Don't fucking look at me. You don't deserve it. Eyes down, brat."
My eyes hit the floor and another one grabs my arms, pulling them behind. She has full tits and long hair in a ponytail which is perched on the back of her head in a purple ribbon. My arms are pressing into her tits, and I can feel her hips press into my ass, which is pushing back, away from the older blond one.
Then they begin. Each one comes up and one by one they begin to slap, spit, and pull my hair. As the one with soft tits holds me back, they tell me to open my mouth and spit. They pull my hair to the side and bite my neck so hard I scream. They pull up my shirt and slap my tits back and forth, pinching the nipples until they're red and swollen. And finally when they've gone through the line-up, the blond one comes back and reaches underneath my skirt. Her hand slides up between my legs and pushes my panties out of the way in the most delicate move she's made yet. And just as delicate as she was in that moment, she is just as rough in the next. She shoves her fingers into my cunt roughly, nails scraping as she enters me. I whimper.
"Aww, the little bitch is fucking wet. What a fucking brat, she's actually enjoying this."
They all smile. I can feel it.
"Lets put her to good use, ladies."
The one behind me lets go of my arms and I collapse a bit, blood rushing back to where there was numbness. they push me onto all fours on the bench and the blond sits in front of me, shoving two fingers into my mouth. "Suck" she says firmly, without a hint of inhibition. I do as she says, licking and sucking those fingers as if it were going to get me out of this, but I know better.
I feel a hand on my forehead lifting up my head and I can only glance down and see someone put a thick purple strap-on in the blonde's outstretched hand. The blonde's fingers hold down my jaw and she slowly slides it into my mouth. "Suck it, Princess." Her voice is firm and I do, with all my effort and energy.
"Good girl. You're such a good girl for me, aren't you?" I nod, eagerly showing her how deep I can take it, how much I can lap, as wetness pools at the corner of my mouth and begins to run down my chin.
I feel my skirt being pushed up. Someone pushes open my knees, which can barely balance on the hard, wooden bench already. I struggle to focus on the cock in my mouth while they push and pull me from behind. She sees me waiver and my eyes falter.
"Stay with me, Princess."
I stare at her and then look down again, focusing on the hard rubber in my mouth. I suck it, lips running up and down over the purple sparkles.
And then I feel it. They pull down my panties and one of the other girls, thick strap on tied between her legs, begins to fuck me. Hard. She pushes in without hesitation, and I gasp. She holds onto my hips to steady both of us, her fingers gripping and squeezing and holding tightly. She is fucking me ruthlessly, pounding my tight, virgin cunt. The blond keeps telling me to stay with her, to ignore the wetness, the searing, tearing of my slit. I want to call them cunts and bitches and fucking pieces of shit, but I know they would only fuck harder, so I simply choke on the cock in my mouth.
The blond grabs my hair in one hand and pulls my head back. "If you can cum for me, I'll let you go, Princess." I nod, focusing on the cock in my pussy. She pulls the one from my mouth and I only now realize how little I've been breathing. I gasp for full breaths, desperate to expand my lungs.
She stands in front of my, pulling up her skirt and pulling down her panties and shoves her cunt in my face. I lick, covering my face with her wetness. I ache to lick her better, harder, more. I run my tongue up and down her clit, sucking with everything I have left as I am pounded from behind.
I strain against both of them, pushing more, twisting and bobbing back and fourth as I whimper into her pussy. I ache and strain and pull and push. The blond puts a hand on the back of my head and pulls me into her cunt harder. I lick as she pushes against my face. I can feel her cum dripping down my chin as I tighten my pussy. The blond makes a gesture and another girl comes over and begins to rub my clit.
This is enough for me. I buck wildly, my head held tight by the blond, and cum in front of them, a cock shoved all the way inside me. I side it wildly, bucking and screaming and panting and begging.
When I am finished I remain on all fours, breathing heavily. The blond roughs up my hair a little, smiling and pulling her skirt back down. She lifts my chin up and I look up at her. My mouth is covered in her cum, and I breathe heavily in her hand.
"Good girl. You're going to be fine."
Thursday, June 9, 2011
I think she likes me
I think I have a gorgeous cunt. I really do. I think it's beautiful. My clit is larger than most, and is far too often swollen even larger, making sure I can feel it when I walk. I get sopping wet sometimes, and love the pressure on my clit to the point that I'm perfectly comfortable squeezing my legs together.
One thing I love to do, and do quite often, is settle in to fuck myself. I use it as a treat, I use it as a punishment, I use it as a distraction. Long story short: I love pleasure as much as everyone else. And I don't express much self-control over it.
I also love fucking myself in front of people. I like to show off, what can I say?
My favorite is to fuck myself in front of a long haired femme top. Mostly because she's never stunned like a lot of men or butches. She licks her lips, she shifts in her chair, which is the only way I know she likes what she sees.
She has my ankles tied back, legs spread, knees in the air. She starts with my arms tied down as well, leaning in to blow on my clit softly. I whimper, but she is relentless. Her eyes scan over me. She smiles as I whimper a little harder, starting to whine. I could fight harder to keep my mouth shut, but she's not going to give me even the relief of a slap across my pussy. She's just going to smile, laugh at me a little.
She leans in, shifting her glasses snugly on her nose, and leans over, and I think she's going to blow on my swollen, over ripe clit but she doesn't. She simply waits. Slowly, her fingers work the knots on the rope around my wrist. I have one hand free, but I'm too nervous to move my hand.
She leans back, lighting a cigarette. "Touch yourself, pretty girl."
I nod, immediately putting two fingers on my clit, rubbing it back and forth up and down. I am wet. I can feel it dripping down, over my ass. I am too wet and am having trouble getting the rough friction I want desperately right now. I put my hand to my tongue, licking my fingers clean, and immediately put them to my clit.
She nods approvingly as my fingers move roughly over my clit. I moan louder, breathing faster, harder. My hips move against my fingers, grinding, circling. She takes my hand, pulling it to my side and tying it back down where it was. I cry out, and I almost feel tears start to well. I struggle not to call her names.
"Please, please, please" I whisper over and over. She runs her hands over my inner thighs and goosebumps perk up where her hands have been. My pussy aches. I am desperate for her fingers.
"I want to see how wet you are, pretty girl." I fight back a gleeful smile. Her fingers slide inside me with ease and she begins to fuck. I gasp, I writhe, I arch against her as she slides in a third finger and eventually a fourth. My cunt hurts, stretched wide open. I feel like her fingers are ripping me apart and I beg her not to stop.
"You're such a good girl for me." I nod, whimpering out a thank you. "You want me to stop?" I shake my head, crying out in amorphous sobs. "You're going to take it for me, then."
I nod and she lets my hand go again. Immediately it is on my clit, raking nails over my cunt, trying desperately to get enough friction to cum. My hips push against her fingers, pushing harder and harder, feeling her deeper inside me. Her fingers are stretching me. I ache.
I tense around her and cry out, cumming hard over her fingers and hand. With my arm and legs still tied back I can't tense and simply cry out louder, tense my cunt harder. I cum with everything I have, until I almost can't breathe.
I tremble as she unties me, curling onto her lap and stroking my hair.
One thing I love to do, and do quite often, is settle in to fuck myself. I use it as a treat, I use it as a punishment, I use it as a distraction. Long story short: I love pleasure as much as everyone else. And I don't express much self-control over it.
I also love fucking myself in front of people. I like to show off, what can I say?
My favorite is to fuck myself in front of a long haired femme top. Mostly because she's never stunned like a lot of men or butches. She licks her lips, she shifts in her chair, which is the only way I know she likes what she sees.
She has my ankles tied back, legs spread, knees in the air. She starts with my arms tied down as well, leaning in to blow on my clit softly. I whimper, but she is relentless. Her eyes scan over me. She smiles as I whimper a little harder, starting to whine. I could fight harder to keep my mouth shut, but she's not going to give me even the relief of a slap across my pussy. She's just going to smile, laugh at me a little.
She leans in, shifting her glasses snugly on her nose, and leans over, and I think she's going to blow on my swollen, over ripe clit but she doesn't. She simply waits. Slowly, her fingers work the knots on the rope around my wrist. I have one hand free, but I'm too nervous to move my hand.
She leans back, lighting a cigarette. "Touch yourself, pretty girl."
I nod, immediately putting two fingers on my clit, rubbing it back and forth up and down. I am wet. I can feel it dripping down, over my ass. I am too wet and am having trouble getting the rough friction I want desperately right now. I put my hand to my tongue, licking my fingers clean, and immediately put them to my clit.
She nods approvingly as my fingers move roughly over my clit. I moan louder, breathing faster, harder. My hips move against my fingers, grinding, circling. She takes my hand, pulling it to my side and tying it back down where it was. I cry out, and I almost feel tears start to well. I struggle not to call her names.
"Please, please, please" I whisper over and over. She runs her hands over my inner thighs and goosebumps perk up where her hands have been. My pussy aches. I am desperate for her fingers.
"I want to see how wet you are, pretty girl." I fight back a gleeful smile. Her fingers slide inside me with ease and she begins to fuck. I gasp, I writhe, I arch against her as she slides in a third finger and eventually a fourth. My cunt hurts, stretched wide open. I feel like her fingers are ripping me apart and I beg her not to stop.
"You're such a good girl for me." I nod, whimpering out a thank you. "You want me to stop?" I shake my head, crying out in amorphous sobs. "You're going to take it for me, then."
I nod and she lets my hand go again. Immediately it is on my clit, raking nails over my cunt, trying desperately to get enough friction to cum. My hips push against her fingers, pushing harder and harder, feeling her deeper inside me. Her fingers are stretching me. I ache.
I tense around her and cry out, cumming hard over her fingers and hand. With my arm and legs still tied back I can't tense and simply cry out louder, tense my cunt harder. I cum with everything I have, until I almost can't breathe.
I tremble as she unties me, curling onto her lap and stroking my hair.
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