French Vanilla Summer

You remember when you first saw him, your older sister’s boyfriend. He was leaning on his dirtbike in the school parking lot, his white-blond hair looking a lot like vanilla frosting in the sunlight.

Your sister was dark and rounded in that womanly Latina way, even more than you were. Her ass drew a lot of stares when she went down the hallway. “That be a woman’s ass,” the black guys used to say wistfully. “Ain’t no little girl there.”  They liked your ass, but they liked hers better; it was rounder, stuck out further in the back, not so far on the sides, like yours, and her waist was smaller.

You thought it was some funny bullshit; your sister Dez was scared of black guys, even though she was older than you, and the black guys were your friends.

But Glen was opposite of black. His arms were tanned like a perfectly grilled hot dog and his hair was bleached, like French Vanilla ice cream.

That was the summer you first fell in love with food, and your body was just starting to show it a little. You had bigger boobs than most girls, including your older sister, and a pretty big butt, but it wasn’t the same round shape as hers.

A few weeks later, you were almost asleep in your room watching some nonsense on TV alone. Dez was out with Glen at some movie, their first official date. You knew that, but your parents didn’t. She’d told them she was staying over a friend’s house for the night. She was sixteen, so she shouldn’t have to do this kind of thing, but your parents were sort of old world; at least your father was. Your parents were off having a late dinner; if Dez and Glen had known that, they’d have come here and watched TV instead.

All of a sudden, you heard the parents’ car roar into the drive, and screech to a stop. Your father’s voice came to you like a gust of hot wind, and the things he was saying were shocking even when you didn’t know what most of them meant. Castilian Spanish words, and not nice ones, from the sound of it.

Your parents never fought. He never drove fast. You went to the window and saw him drag Dez out of the car. Oh shit. She’d been caught.

Your mother grabbed her hand and hauled her into the house, muttering all the time. “Kissing an Anglo boy in public??? Your father could have killed you.” Your father was still cussing in Spanish, at the top of his lungs. The neighbors knew something was going on, but they couldn’t say for sure he was cussing anymore than you could, because they didn’t speak  Spanish at all.

Then you heard the sound of a dirt bike out back. No one else had heard it over the commotion. It shut off by the edge of the woods.

You decided to avert disaster by telling him to stay away, assuring him your sister was alright. You slipped out, even though you were in your nightie; just threw on some sweatpants and out the window.

He stood by the edge of the woods, pacing and smoking. When he saw you, he jumped and started forward. “How’s D?” he said in a loud whisper. “We were just at a movie, and…” His voice shook. “He better not hurt her, or I’ll…”

You put your finger across his lips. “My dad is just mad because she lied,” you said. “He’d never hurt her.” You hoped that was true.

“You sure? He seemed like he was pretty rough with her,” he said. “Yanked her arm, and pushed her…”

“I am sure,” you said. “He’s already calmed down.”

He blew out his breath in a big gust of relief. “Ok.” He finally smiled.

“I should go back,” you said. “You should push your bike for awhile so he won’t hear it.”

You turned.

“Hey,” he called. “Stay a minute while I finish my smoke.” He sat on a log and you joined him.

He held out the butt to you. “I don’t smoke,” you said. “Dad would kill me.”

He smiled, and pulled a twig from your hair, flipped it back from your face. “You’re kind of cute,” he said. “How old are you? Have a boyfriend yet?”

You couldn’t help it. He was so close, and he’d said you were cute. You kissed him. Suddenly his hands were on your hips, his lips on yours, his tongue raking your teeth and probing your mouth. He touched your nipples experimentally through your shirt, making you gasp, and when you didn’t stop him he slid his hands inside and cupped the left one, your favorite. His cool fingers felt delicious on your new breasts, sending messages to your brain that it had never considered before. Way down in your sweats, under that thatch of black Spanish hair, you felt yourself get warm and start to moisten.

Then you saw, or rather felt, the bump in his pants, as it brushed against you, and you reached out and touched it with shaky fingers, and then he made a noise in his throat and pressed it against your hip, and one hand traveled down and inside your panties, touching the wet. It felt good when his finger slid inside you, and you sighed. Then he stood and took his jeans open and his penis out and somehow was in your face, and he was begging you please, Mariella, please just suck it a little bit, and you did it because he was so adorably cute, and it tasted funny but not bad. Then he started to move and he was going too deep in your throat and you were trying to keep up but you choked and he stopped.

Then he was urging you over to this fallen tree where he bent you over and pulled your sweatpants down and pressed his hard slick thing against you, sliding between your legs, smearing you with its juices. You felt it start to slip inside you, but it wasn’t supposed to go there, was it? In your ass? You started to pull away, but he was almost sobbing please, please, please, you’re so sexy, I’ll do whatever you want and you figured he was older and he knew what he was doing.

You pushed back, and he pushed again, and his wet slippery thing went into your ass all the way. He sobbed “Oh yeah,baby, Oh yeah!” began to thrust and pull. It hurt some, but you knew it might. They said it always did the first time. But as he went on, pressing his dick into your ass, you began to get some pleasure from it, and you started to moan, and he asked, “Do you like my cock, baby?” and you said “Oh yeah, Oh Glen, oh God,” and he started to thrust harder, his… cock got even harder and longer, deeper in you. Now you were really getting excited, when he suddenly made a long groaning noise and slammed inside you real hard and went rigid against you. You felt his cock twitch deep inside you and shoot hot stuff into you and it felt gooooood… Then he stopped and sighed, pulled out and sheepishly buttoned up his pants, and you were disappointed.

The next time he came to see Dez, after your dad calmed down, he met the parents and he and Dez would sit and watch TV with your parents on the couch in the living room. They introduced you to him formally, and you were very shy with him and everybody thought it was because you’d never seen Dez with a boy before.

So that’s how it started. For the next few years, he would come to see Dez, and after the evening was done, he would leave by the road and then after he left, you’d wait until your parents were asleep or busy, and you’d slip out.

Your knees shook with the need to have him bend you over and stuff his hard little cock into your naughty spot, to feel his hipbones pounding your butt cheeks hard, hard enough to leave odd bruises for your mother to puzzle over, to feel his cock swell thicker and then pulse hard, held deep inside you, and squirt the white stuff that would dribble out of you over the next few hours and make a disgusting mess of your underwear later. You learned to wear extra cloth inside your panties after he fucked you, or use a panty shield, after that time that your mother came to you and tactfully asked if you had had diarrhea one night.

Then he came over to your house one day when no one was home, when he knew because Dez told him, that just you and she would be home without the parents. It was a Sunday morning and your parents had gone to church, but you were sick, and she’d asked him to come over because she was going to pretend she had caught your cold. But your mom was no fool, and she’d taken Dez along anyway, her sickness vanished in a cloud of sulking because mom didn’t believe her.

When you heard his bike, your insides got all fluttery and you pulled yourself out of bed to answer his knock on Dez’s window. When he saw you, he seemed surprised, but not disappointed, you were pleased to note. You explained and invited him in through the basement. You sat with him on the couch for awhile but when he started kissing you, which he’d never done much after that first time, you took his hand and took him back to the bedroom. You bent over the bed, and started to pull down your pajamas but he stopped you and got undressed, then undressed you, climbed into bed and pulled you in beside him. It felt strange to be fully naked in front of him and in bed, and you were nervous, awkward. He kissed you hard and you felt his cock stiff against your thigh.

Then he slipped three fingers inside your vagina and pushed deep. You gasped, because it hurt.

He took it as excitement, and began to push in harder, then abruptly pushed you onto your back and climbed on top of you. You protested, thinking it wouldn’t work this way, he couldn’t reach your ass from the front, but then his hard cock was pressing its way into your vagina and you were moaning in pain, almost sobbing. Then he was in and moving, and you tried to move with him so he didn’t go so deep. Soon, there was some pleasure mixed in with the cramps that came when he went in too deep.

He soon came again, and you wondered if you would get to come, too, sometime.

He heaved off you after he’d caught his breath and went into the bath to wash up. He came back looking puzzled, holding up the bloody cloth. “How can you be bleeding? Are you on your period?” You shook your head.

He frowned, puzzled, and you didn’t like being a disappointment, so you crawled across the bed and took his cock in your mouth. It smelled and tasted like your fingers after you played with yourself, but you didn’t care. Soon, he was hard in your mouth again and rocking back and forth with your movements. His cock was seeping, tasting oily on your tongue, and you feeling queasy from the lingering cold, but you sucked harder anyway, taking his balls in your hand and squeezing softly.

Then he made a funny sound in his throat, something like a cough mixed with a sneeze, and then he was pushing his cock deep in your throat, his hands tangled in your hair and squirting his hot sticky stuff into your throat. You swallowed quickly, like it was bad medicine.

“Boy,” he said breathlessly. “I wish your sister was as much fun as you.”

It made you feel good, and guilty, to hear him say that.

Well, she had the tiny waist. So you hoped it all worked out even.

You were there a few weeks later when he tried to fuck Dez and you tried to save them from getting caught, but you weren’t fast enough. When you heard your dad’s steps on the stairs, you thumped on the wall. but they didn’t hear. When your  dad burst through the bedroom door, Dez’s top was off, her skirt bunched up around her thighs.

It was the last time any of you ever saw the boy with the French Vanilla hair.

The flesh is weak…very weak…

I find her disgusting. Teased, bleached, bloated, blemished, varicose, loud, and pushy, she’s the epitome of the word.

And irresistible.

My sister-in-law’s sunburned thighs, like ham-hocks protruding out of stressed blue cotton, draw me like a moth. As she walks by, masticating loudly, I step in behind her, and place my hands on her ample hips, and she stops. From behind, the sweep of her posterior is impressive, rounded, switching under yards of cloth at the slightest movement. I pull her by the hips, back to meet my erection, sliding my hands up under her hopelessly-dated cut-off midriff-baring T-shirt, past the double roll of flesh lapping out over the elastic waistband of her short-shorts, and apprehend the swaying, pendulous melons.

She whirls around to slap my face, a condiment-heavy hotdog clenched in her other fist. I catch her hand, and stare into the red-rimmed eyes for a moment, before seizing her poodle-permed, nappy head and turning it to face away from me again, panting with urgency, and administering a sound slap to her massive rump. She squirms, pinned against the door frame, as I yank the shorts to her knees. The rich stench of sweat and ripe, unwashed pussy floods my nostrils as I survey the bright white expanse of her naked butt, pantyless.

She grunts, as I press my groin against it, then, with my free hand, tug my shorts down, and free my prodigious hard-on to nestle between her slick, perspiring cheeks. Her hands clutch the doorframe for support, and the hotdog falls to the floor with a sodden thump as my hands yank her legs apart, and slide my fingers into her wet crotch, wrenching it open. Then, with no preliminaries, I’m in.

A cloud of noxious, fishy air, freed by my invading penis, wafts up to engulf my nostrils. Another grunt from her ketchup-laden, grimacing lips, but that’s all. With her family, my wife amongst them, visible through the window, clustered about the grill, oblivious, I clamp again onto her massive, swinging boulders, and begin to pole her in earnest. More grunts. Twisting her nipples, I look for a reaction.

She whistles.

Her cunt is tight, greasy, and blow-torch hot. Pumping in and out roughly and deeply, I’m soon spraying into her forcefully, while her groin thumps rhythmically against the doorframe.

“Hunnnhhh…!” And she comes, spasmodically, clenching, quivering flesh straining toward relief, her crooked teeth clamping tightly, grinding.  “Bastard.”

She hikes up her shorts, and totters shakily outside to refuel.

Over the summer, the scene repeats itself countless times, right down to the struggle, as if choreographed.

***

This time, she brings her voice with her, and her command of filth is impressive. I never knew the power of sex talk before. Her fat ass begins to give me erections from across the yard, a prospect that fills me with self-loathing so deep in almost obliterates the raging lust.

Almost.

“I want to know what my sister does for you, fuckhead,” she mutters in my ear, as I’m thrusting deep into her for the third time, she standing with her back to me, her head craning over her shoulder.

I ignore her, and concentrate on my cock, which is working overtime. But her words penetrate nonetheless, as does the fact that her family is once again an unconscious backdrop for this tête-à-tête. The combination works its strange magic, and I experience a surge of … something.

“What…?” I gasp, slowing to a stop.

“What’s she do? How do you fuck her?” She whispers gratingly.

“Well… we…” I start.

“More important, motherfucker, what doesn’t she do?” She turns and takes my cock in her hand. Sinking to her knees, she licks her juices from my sex-slimed organ. “Does she blow you?”

I tug her head into my crotch, and jam her mouth full of cock. “Wouldn’t ‘sisterfucker’ be more appropriate?” I ask. After a few thrusts, she pulls away, gagging.

“Does she?” she demands, doubtfully.

“Yeah. But she won’t do it like you are, after…” I pull her forward again, and she comes more willingly. “I like a blowjob after a good screw.”

She gives it a good try. Her enthusiasm is catching, and I begin to fuck her mouth. “Open your throat, bitch. You wanna show up your little sister? Suck like you mean it. That’s it. Take it way down. Deep throat me, you filthy slut. She doesn’t do that.”

She gags, hitches as I go deep. Deep throat, my ass. But her technique is no longer all that important. A wet soft mouth will do, and a throat. My hands in her hair, I’m driving.

“You know what else she won’t do?” I’m panting now, very close.

She makes a muffled sound of interrogation, or maybe it’s just a choking sound.

“She won’t swallow.” Now, I’m there. “Ummmmm.”

“But you will swallow, won’t ya, bitch?” Her neck convulses, as I slam in and out, and retching sounds issue around my spurting penis. “Hurry! Your mom’s headed this way! Swallow, slut!”

She retches, and gulps it back, as I thrust a few more times, then pull out, trailing sputum, a white cord flowing into her mouth. Frantically, she laps me, doglike, sneaking a look toward the window. Then, seeing no sign of Mom, she makes a sound of disbelief, before dashing toward the bathroom. Through the door, I see her kneeling, vomiting.

Presently, she looks at me and smiles. A runner of saliva hangs from her chin. “You really are a shit, you know.”

“I know.”

“Whatever she does, I always do better.”

I had to admit she was right, at least, in this case. “Little more practice, you’ll be a perfect cocksucker.”

She comes back over, and sinks to her knees. With a massive effort, she pulls my flaccid penis back into her throat, and washes it clean. Then, she rises and, more than likely reeking, she rejoins her family. I’m relieved. The thought of a quid-pro-quo request, even though I’d never feel obligated to fulfill it, makes me seriously nauseous.

* ** *

“So. You want to do what li’l sister won’t?”

Obviously, I’ve gotten into the game. She stands, her shorts around her ankles, breathing hard from the exertion of being quiet while I spank her, my cock hard and deep inside her. Through the window, the cookout backdrop is the same as always.

Grunting, she drops and blows. She’s gotten good, and I’m soon hard again. I pull her upright.

She comes hesitatingly, puzzled.

“You want to do what sister don’t?” She nods.

“Turn around, and bend over the bed.”

She complies eagerly, though she hasn’t made the connection, bending her wide body almost double. I press myself into her slick cunt, and she grunts with anticipation. I pull out and press my cock against her cheeks, slipping wetly up against her anus.

Finally, the reaction I am seeking. “Oh, no. Not that.” She starts to rise.

“Yeah, I knew you were too wussy to go through with it.” She stops in midrise, and I prod her butt with my erection again. “You and your ‘I can do anything better then she can.'” Another tremendous whack across her sore ass.

With a mighty sigh, she nods. “Okay.” Her head flops back down to the bed, and she pulls her cheeks apart obligingly. Pushing into her wet pussy again for lubrication, I decide it’s not enough.

“Wait.” I reach behind me and open the hall closet. The Vaseline is just where I expected. Why do people always put it in the same spot? Hmmm…

She waits, her white cheeks spread. I slide a grease-coated finger along the crease, and she tenses. Quickly, I thrust my penis into her anal cleft, and bore in. She grunts mightily, but holds determinedly still as I ride a cushion of petroleum jelly up into her rectum. It’s tight and slick, and begins to warm up as I begin thrusting. She moans, a long painful sound. “Ohhhh… uhhhhh.” I pick up the pace, and she trails off.

I’m slamming her buttcheeks now, harder, faster, with animal abandon, the bedsprings screaming as her knees bounce off the side of the mattress. Her moans have blended into one long unbroken vowel stream, but she does not ask me to stop.

Then I smell her foul arousal scent and realize that she enjoys being hurt. I oblige by reaching around and pinching her clitoris. Her response is electric, and that’s when I realize that she’s coming, has been for a while now. The discovery sends me over, and I blast into her, slipping mostly out to spray the foul stuff across her back. Her grunting takes on a mournful sound when she realizes the pain is over. Shakily, she drops face forward onto the bed, ejecting me from her completely.

I swab my sticky, smelly groin with a washcloth for several minutes, then walk past, unable to resist a loud smack across her massive cheeks, out into the yard. For the first time, I am the first to return to the cookout.

From the corner of my eye, I see her older sister watching me appraisingly.

Scratching the seven-year itch, pt. 1

As we got to the door, Kay caught my arm.

“I changed my mind. I don’t wanna do it after all.”

I sighed, and turned toward her. Just then the door opened, and Tom and Cherry stood there, smiling. “Well?” I asked softly. But she didn’t answer. Her eyes had gone to his groin, covered by a robe, but nonetheless enough so as to catch her attention.

She took my hands and walked into the house.

*

At an Italian restaurant in Bethany Beach a few weeks earlier, we had a met an older couple with whom we’d spent most of the evening. We were just coming from the dining room, our dinner having been perfect, and they were sitting at at the piano bar in our customary spots. One stool beside them was open, and I suggested she take it while I stood to order the bottle of wine. The pianist, Jim, had yet to begin his set.

Kay and I had discovered this place several years earlier, on a spur-of-the moment weekend trip in January, and it had become our ‘birthday spot’ ever since. We were the same sign, with birthdays a few days apart, and we had discovered, quite by accident that first time, the joys of this beach town in winter. All the top-notch hotels were priced within reach, and we could get a beachfront condo with a Jacuzzi, valet parking, all within walking distance of this best Italian restaurant with a piano bar, for about half what a fleabag would cost during the summer.

As I ordered, I caught the eye of the lady beside me, and she smiled as she checked her watch. “I hope it’s worth the wait!” she said.

“You don’t have a reservation?” I asked. “Oh, don’t worry; we got right in. Maybe you’ll get our table.”

“We have a reservation, and we’re still waiting. You had no reservation?” She asked incredulously.

“None.”

And so began a nice evening with the couple, Pat and Kay (yes, another Kay; We’ll call her K2). As they waited for their table, we shared our bottle of wine with them, a fairly good Merlot. Not exactly an after-dinner wine, but we never were overly observant of food etiquette; at the time, neither of us liked white wines, and would even shatter genteel tradition by drinking red with poultry and fish, which was almost as bad as wearing white after Labor Day, or wearing plaid with stripes, I think. Although now they say you should match your wine’s color to the entree’s sauce, not the meat. So what now about plaid; it’s only a sin if it doesn’t match your overcoat? Whoever ‘they’ are, they can kiss my peasant ass.

Ahem.

Pat, it seemed, was a photographer, and Kay, a decorator. They were from North Carolina, and touted that state’s vineyard tradition. We smiled politely, unconvinced that Muscat was going to take the world by storm. After questioning the maitre d’, we discovered the reason for their wait, and our speedy accommodation: They’d been assigned to nonsmoking, and we’d expressed no preference. We all found the irony amusing: They both smoked, and we did not.

Finally, their table was called, and they departed. Kay and I ordered another bottle. Jim, at the piano warming up, recognized us – ‘the birthday kids’ – and nodded, swinging into ‘It had to be you’. His singer, a young lady with classical training whose name we could never recall, showed eventually, and they sang our favorites as always, ‘Makin’ Whoopee’ and ‘Let’s Get Lost.’

Then someone touched my arm, and I looked up to see K2 smiling at me, Pat in tow. “Mind if we join you?” We moved over, and the four of us spent the rest of the evening at the piano bar. Once I danced with Kay, and saw them watching us. Later I danced with K2, and hoped to see my spouse and Pat follow suit. I watched, but Pat made no move toward Kay. Never one to be shy, she leaned forward and spoke to him. He smiled, shook his head, and they spoke for awhile.

Around that time, my attention was suddenly distracted by K2’s hands, on of which had lowered from my shoulder to my hip, pulling me closer, while the other was playing with my hair where it curled past my collar. I smiled into her eyes, feeling heat in my thighs – and not incidentally, in hers – and her soft breasts pressing my chest. She looked to be older than the two of us by close to ten years, and Pat appeared closer to fifteen. Her hand strayed aimlessly back to my neck, and she touched my cheek softly as the dance ended. I noticed then that she wore no ring.

As we sat back down, the Kays took a ladies room break, and Pat went out for a cigarette. My Kay returned first, and told me, giggling, that this older couple was unmarried, just living together  in sin, as we were. “I think she wants to know more about us. I wonder why?” An idea began to take hold in my mind, but before I could figure out how to ask her opinion, the other two returned.

We spent a very enjoyable evening, but no one danced anymore. My Kay confirmed that she’d asked Pat and been refused, as he was ‘an awful dancer,’ and she’d had no desire to embarrass him. When the bar closed, we exchanged addresses, because they had promised to send us a bottle of Carolina’s best red. K2’s hands pressed me closer and her lips touched my neck bit hard when I hugged her. Later, as Kay and I undressed for bed, I asked her what she’d have thought if I’d asked them to come with us. She paused to consider, then said she’d probably have liked it, if she could get past her discomfort at any sort of awkwardness. She confirmed that he was the type of older man she finds attractive. Another opportunity squandered. I wondered if I’d ever get the nerve to ask such a question of anyone.

As we had sex that night, I boozily suggested Kay call me Pat. She seized onto the idea, and played it to the hilt. I was amused by the thought that Pat and K2 could be in the suite next door,  for all we knew, hearing her call his name when I thrust hard. Whomever was there was certainly being spurred on by something. That couple outdid us in every way; enthusiasm, duration, and volume. I wish I’d walked over and asked them to keep it down, just to see if it was truly them.

Rewinding further:

A few years earlier, we’d gone to her company’s Christmas party, a company with whom I’d worked in the past, and we’d been seated with an older couple. The lady, Martha, was a woman we’d both worked with, an attractive, well-endowed brunette in her fifties, and her companion was a man named Ed, about ten years younger and blond. Later, when he asked Kay to dance, Martha and I followed.

Her pliant body aroused me, as it had when I worked with her, when her quick laugh and suggestive humor had always made me wonder if she were doing more than kidding. She carried on with all the guys, so I had no illusions on that score. But in her more sober moments, she would mourn her recently-ended 20-year marriage, and say she’d welcome more male attention.

Kay was glowing when she and Ed returned from the floor. I asked her discretely if he’d made a pass, and she said he hadn’t, but told me what he had said. ‘You have a very muscular body.’ I wondered if he knew just how happy that made her, after her ugly-duckling teens. At the time, I didn’t know her well enough to know her taste in men, (other than me, of course) but later she told me she did find him attractive, and expounded on what she liked. Receding hair, authority mixed with playfulness. No wonder she’s with me; I fit into the first category in spades.

But in spite of the fact that Martha and Ed would’ve been a good choice, the subject – as with Pat and K2 – was never broached until too late, and only then in joking manner: I asked Kay if she’d have sex with him, if I were in the next room with Martha. “Only if you were locked in the next room,” she smiled. I never knew if she was serious or not. And I never got close to discussing something like that with Martha, due to a shyness about her religious background.

Sex that night, as the night when we later met Pat and K2, was enhanced for both of us.

*

As Kay and I entered Tom and Cherry’s house, Cherry took Kay’s arm, and they went to the kitchen. I proceeded to lay down the ground rules to Tom. “Kay and I will start to have sex, and you guys do the same. When – If – Kay relaxes enough, then we’ll switch. What happens after that is up in the air, but be gentle and don’t force anything. Don’t be rough unless she asks you to.” Tom agreed. He, Cherry and I had all known that Kay was the ‘Big Unknown’; she was not totally adverse to this idea, but she was very nervous,  and the wrong approach could ruin it forever. We’d all had some question as to whether she’d do it at all. Only Kay and I knew that a big part of that was that she found Tom unattractive. In fact, that was the reason I’d not wanted to coax her when she hesitated at the door.

But, as she and I had decided, this was the only chance we’d yet had. Tom and Cherry approached me, alone, a few weeks earlier, saying that they suspected Kay wasn’t ‘into that sort of thing’, and that I could come alone or bring another woman if I wanted. I’d told them I’d think about it, and in the end, I asked Kay, deciding that, while my first time with more than one person could be fun, the big thrill for me would be to see Kay with another man.

Cherry was attractive enough, in a Wal Mart sense; big breasts, short, tanned legs, and a well-rounded butt. Her pixie-cut strawberry blond hair made her look quite young in spite of having borne three children, and in her slutty clothing, she appealed to me on a base, perverse level. Tonight she wore a black negligee tucked into skintight cutoff jeans with a zippered crotch which went all the way around. But what I found the most intriguing about her was her bisexuality. I knew that I couldn’t let her tell Kay, or she’d be out the door like a shot. Cherry had agreed to keep silent.

The girls came back in, bearing drinks, and we all sat down, the other couple on the recliner chair, and Kay and I on the sofa. We made small talk while Tom set up the VCR, and we watched an X-rated movie called ‘The Opening of Misty Beethoven’ which I knew Kay liked. She could get aroused by almost any moderately good pornography, whether printed or filmed, as could I. I supposed this could pass for moderately good, assuming one was being charitable.

Soon, her eyes began to get that glassy look that I recognized as lust. I began to massage her through her silk shorts-and-Tshirt set, which was all she’d worn under her winter coat. Her groin felt very warm, and I watched my crotch grow through the silk boxers I wore, as she idly touched my leg. Then I saw where her eyes looked: not at the screen, where Misty was getting a first lesson, but over on the recliner where Cherry was kneeling on the floor in front of Tom, her mouth engulfing his penis. With her eyes glued to the action across the room, Kay did not even seem to notice as I pulled her silk bottoms off, followed by my own shorts.

My hands found that she was indeed wet and willing. I knelt in front of her and began to manipulate her clitoris with my tongue. Her eyes fixed on Cherry’s bobbing head, she caught her breath as my finger entered her slowly followed by another. Soon her hips moved in rhythm, and her eyes closed as they always did when she was aroused this way.

I kept it up for about five minutes, my tongue steadily teasing her, my fingers dipping in and and out. I could hear sounds behind me on the chair, and realized that they’d probably be getting impatient. Then I felt a hand reach between my legs and grasp my penis, and could only hope it was Cherry. She began to move around until she’d positioned herself on her back, her mouth between my thighs, and began to fellate me. I noticed that her body was moving rhythmically beneath me, and soon gathered that Tom was screwing her at the same time although I could not see him. I decided to finish up so we could try something else.

I picked up the speed of my tongue strokes on Kay’s clit, while easing off the pressure. She responded, breathing harder, and I watched for the telltale motion of her eyes, moving wildly REM-like under closed lids. There it was. With Cherry’s inexpert but enthusiastic lips clamped around my cock, I suddenly thrust another finger into Kay’s vagina, shoving all three in hard, strumming madly with my tongue. Her hips bucked, and she groaned aloud, thrusting her hips forward and grinding herself onto my chin. Then she went rigid, her feet braced on the floor, and her breath came whooshing out.

I kept up the motions with my tongue for a short time longer until she stopped me with her hand, and opened her eyes. They widened as she saw Cherry’s head beneath me, and then drifted over to Tom, who knelt behind me, Cherry’s legs over his shoulders. Tom, watching Kay’s orgasm, had stopped thrusting, and froze, kneeling, his prick just touching Cherry’s vaginal lips. Cherry, as well, had stopped sucking, and lay smiling up at Kay from between my legs.

Tom rose, and came toward us, probably just to say something complimentary, maybe offer a drink. Kay cringed as he approached, cock pointed straight at her, so I spoke softly in her ear. “You know how you like my hard cock inside you just after you come?” She nodded, and reached for me. “There’s one bigger than mine. Probably feel even better. Go for it, my dear.” She caught her breath. After a bit, she nodded.

I took her hand and helped her up, bending her over the table. Motioned Tom over, and him stand behind her, his cock resting between her thighs. Slowly she reached back and took his cock in her shaking hands, rubbing it up and down along her wet lips. I watched as Tom fed it in a bit at a time. I turned my attention to Cherry for a minute, pulling her to her feet and guiding her to a new position on the floor, where we could watch the others. With her lying supine on the floor, I buried my eager head in her ample chest, worrying her nipples to hard red buds. Not a quiet lover, she moaned lustily, and I heard Kay answer. I looked up in time to see Tom thrust into her to the hilt for the first time. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, leaning further forward, her tiny breasts almost touching the coffee table, her eyes unfocussed. I noticed her head was only a few feet from Cherry’s. They moaned in unison as I thrust my tongue into Cherry’s pubic mound, assaulting her clit in a much more brutal manner than I was used to with Kay. She seemed to love it.

As I brutalized Cherry’s cunt, thrusting fingers in and lashing at her clit like a violin, I watched Kay beginning to enjoy the fucking she was getting from Tom. Every thrust would make her grimace, and I wondered at first if he was hurting her, as she had made it clear to me that penetration was much deeper from the rear, and had complained on occasion, if I thrust too deeply before she was sufficiently ready. This guy was much bigger, but she was much more excited than usual. I watched as he pulled almost all the way out, and then plunged back into her. Her eyes fluttered and her mouth twisted, gasping with the force and size of his entrance. Then I saw her hand go down between her legs to cup his testicles, or to play with her clit, and decided she was fine.

Cherry seemed about ready to come, so I punched all four fingers into her, and pressed my thumb onto her clit, and she exploded, wailing my name. Kay looked up, frightened, but Tom seemed oblivious. Clearly she always came loudly.

Kay had stopped moving, and soon Tom, still stuffing that big throbbing thing into her, soon wondered what was up. I rose and went into the bath, coming back with a wet wash cloth, which I handed to Kay. She looked at me a moment, then began to swab Tom’s cock clean. She refused to give head unless the dick was recently washed, and I’d never seen her suck one after it had been inside her. But then, I’d never seen her suck anyone’s except mine. I wanted to see if she could handle this big one.

At my instructions, Tom sat on the floor, and Kay got on all fours in front of him, settling down to suck him off. I put my head between her thighs, swabbed her clean with the washcloth, and began to eat her again. She balked at first; I’d never been able to get her to let me give her head twice in the same night, but it seemed like the thing to do, to get everybody involved. Tonight was a night for firsts apparently, because she relented, and I got a close-up view of my spouse as she deep-throated that big penis, or tried to, anyway. Her throat bulged as she pressed her mouth down upon it, and I saw her eyes widen as she realized there was more to go. Tom seemed to enjoy it.

Cherry settled down to deep-throat me as well, and I gave Kay another tongue lashing. This was a position that wasn’t that hard for me, as Kay and I often did sixty-nine, and we always did it with her on top, since she hated to be trapped underneath. I decided that if she was going to come this way again, I’d have to try something different. Thumbing her clit gently, I licked all the way up and down her crack, and was rewarded by a shiver. I blew on her lips, and she quivered some more. Her eyes closed. Pressing my nose deeply into her sex, I inhaled her scent, and she rubbed herself on my face like a cat, getting off a slow, shuddering orgasm. I heard her shaky breath around Tom’s cock. I continued licking her sex softly, while Cherry mauled my cock, and Kay did not ask me to stop. Her eyes stayed closed as she went down, screwing her mouth down over Tom’s meat; he showed no signs of finishing.

I got an idea, and pulled out from under her long enough to whisper to Cherry. She frowned, then got up and disappeared up the hallway. I slid my fingers slowly inside the folds of Kay’s cunt, massaging that rough spot inside her which always made her hot. She went rigid for minute, then began to move in rhythm with my strokes, her thighs tense, eyes closed. Tom’s cock got separated as he pulled back, and when he thrust again, he struck her in the chin. Without opening her eyes, she wrapped her hand around the shaft and reinserted it into her mouth, keeping her hand between his groin and her mouth, masturbating him as she sucked.

When I’d met her, she didn’t go down, but with me she’d gotten to be quite the accomplished cocksucker over the past few years, and it seemed as though he agreed. As I watched, a runner of saliva and pre-come dripped from her lips onto the floor.

Cherry returned with a large vibrator, and handed it to me, sitting down to watch. On sudden inspiration, I motioned her to lie beside me. Together we slid it inside Kay’s cunt, pressing it into that spot, then softly began fucking her with it. Her breathing picked up, and her body began to undulate with pleasure. Then, suddenly, Cherry’s hand moved to Kay’s clit.

I held my breath.

No reaction. Either she didn’t know it wasn’t mine, or didn’t care. With a mental shrug, I moved softly out from between Kay’s thighs and Cherry slid gently in, replacing her finger with her tongue. Her lips covered the tiny bud of the clitoris, and sucked on it. Kay groaned, but did not open her eyes. Wow. I know it’s as stupid a cliche as they come, but it was hot, watching my ‘wife’ get eaten by another chick.

Moving softly, I took Cherry’s legs in my hands and thrust myself into her cunt. She grunted, but it was muted by Kay’s cunt. She was incredibly tight, considering that she’d given birth three times.

After a few minutes of this, I decided to take a risk. It was not as though the rules had not already been broken; with Cherry going down on Kay; if she was upset by that, there was a good possibility we’d never get her to speak to them again, much less do this. What the hell.

I pulled Cherry’s torso higher, and draped her legs around my neck. Pressing my fingers into her pubic region, I wet my fingers in her juices, and then pressed my thumb into her upturned anus. She gasped and froze for a minute, then resumed half-heartedly licking my spouse’s cunt. Moving my thumb around inside her nether regions, I felt a new spasm in her tense lower body with every new inch of her anal crevice I explored, tracing my cock through the layers of skin and tissue. When my thumb popped out suddenly, she relaxed so suddenly, she actually sagged in my hands. I pulled out of her cunt, and thrust my cock into her bum.

She screamed, and Kay’s eyes flew open, just as she began to come. Seeing Cherry’s head between her legs, she tried to stop fellating Tom, but as he was approaching orgasm, his hands were planted firmly on her head, and he was moving in and out involuntarily. Her head continued to pump up and down, his cock coming to meet it harder and harder, though she was not exactly sucking anymore. In fact, muffled sounds were issuing around his penis, as it thumped its way to explosion in her mouth, aided by the unexpectedness of her teeth grazing his tender skin.

Tom yelled and burst his load in Kay’s mouth, and all over her chin, come squirting out the sides of her mouth, and down over her neck, up into her hair.

Kay’s third orgasm came violently even through the shock of seeing a woman giving her head and wielding that mammoth vibrator that plunged into her cunt. She groaned around Tom’s cock, and went rigid, her jaws straining, catching his cock and breaking the skin. Her groin thrust down, covering Cherry’s screaming face, mashing the back end of the vibrator into Cherry’s cheek.

My cock in her ass, Cherry’s orgasm seemed to surprise even her. I think it was more pain than anything, that orgasm, a spastic twitching affair. Her pussy clamped over my fingers, which I’d thrust into her as I fed my dick into her butt, and she screamed shrilly, though she could barely be heard, her face covered in straining cunt.

My penis, thrusting into the tightest hole I’d ever felt, was crunched even harder by her orgasm, and I came swiftly, hot, overlapping jets boiling out of me into her tight little hole, leaking out and covering her cheeks. Then my cock popped out and spent itself on her pubic mound, throwing sperm up her body, and splashing onto her breasts.

We heard a knock at the door.

On the beat

She smelled it. He could tell.

“Sir, would you step out of the car, please?” she said in her clipped, official-bitch voice.

He sighed. Anticipated the standard boilerplate that would appear in her report. ‘The officer detected a strong odor of marijuana.’

Jesus. It was a freakin’ minuscule roach, it was an hour ago, the windows were wide open, and he’d eaten since. But it was potent.

A few minutes later, he sat in the cruiser, cuffed, staring into the future in its all its bleakness. Ejection from the nice new boring government job. Probably foreclosure.

To distract himself, he shifted his gaze to the woman beside him, serenely prim, filling out the paperwork that would fuck up his life for good. The awkward cadences he knew by heart, pronounced by women who knew they were reaching beyond their education level in their quest to embody authority. He would, he knew, be ‘the individual,’ ’the suspect,’ or ‘subject,’ depending on her years of service and affinity for officialese.

Her body was nice under the dress blue, curved and voluptuous. He felt himself stir and made a soft noise in his throat.

“Sir.” She said it with quiet firmness, again. “Sir.”

“Yes?” he said finally, refusing to call her ma’am.

“You were just looking at me very strangely. In addition, you are very pale. Are you going to be ill?”

He envisioned faking sick to avoid the inevitable tests, a Technicolor yawn all over her crisp blue uniform, chunks of burrito and streams of sour cream, but even that seemed arousing in his present condition.

“No.” He knew that they could test him a month from now, and he’d still be fucked. It wasn’t like getting stinking drunk, and knowing the evidence would all be gone in a few hours.

“So why were you looking at me that way?” she persisted.

 He sighed. “Truth is, I was having that simple-minded male fantasy about being pulled over by a female cop. But that’s not illegal.” I’d love to see you naked. In fact, what I’d really love is to fuck you in the ass, he thought. I always think about sex when I am stoned. It’s all I ever want to do. I fuck like a machine.

 She gazed steadily at him, blinked. “Sir. Did you just admit to using a controlled substance, and propose anal sex to a police officer?”

He started. “Did I say that last part aloud?”

“Yes, sir. You did.”

”Oh boy.”

She watched him a long moment, and then shook her head. Started the car, pulled away from the curb. Thumbed the mike on her radio. “Dispatch, this is 1100-260.”

A garbled voice replied.

“Cancel that last call for state trooper, Nadine,” she said crisply. “Driver was having an asthma incident due to allergies. And take me off the grid for 30, unless it’s big. I have some personal business to attend to.”

“10-4,” came the reply.

She drove in silence. When she pulled off into the side road, he read the sign “Welcome to Riverside Park.” She unlocked the gate with her remote and then drove through, locked the gate after them, and shut off the lights. He realized that he probably about to be the recipient of an education in police brutality. She got out and took off her gun belt, then walked around and locked it into the trunk. Came around to his side of the car, took his arm and pulled him upright.

Then her eyes fixed on his, she grabbed the waistband of his sweats and pulled them to his ankles.

“Turn around,” she said, pulling out her billy club. He made a wordless protest, and she took his hair and turned him, bent him over the car’s fender. He felt her stroking the inside of his leg with the club. His penis leaped to frightened erection.

He felt her hands on his package, massaging it.

She touched the tip of her billy club to the back of his shorts, into the leg hole, pushed toward his anus, and he braced himself for the Abner Louima treatment.

She chuckled and tossed the club into the car.

He breathed in a full lung of air for the first time since the car ride.

 “Don’t get any ideas, Mister,” she said, her voice very close to his ear. She took his elbow and turned him around. “Even unarmed, I can still kick your ass pretty bad.”

 He held his cuffed hands up in surrender.

She smiled, reached inside his shorts and took his penis captive in her strong fingers, examined it. “Not too shabby, sir. Have you ever had sexual intercourse with a woman of color?”

“Romance is not dead,” he said.

 “Excuse me, sir?”

 “No, officer, I have not,” he lied.  “But I love the scent of musk, if that counts.”

She smiled again, shook her head, unbuttoned her starched blue shirt, and he caught a glimpse of one chocolate-colored breast spilling over the edge of a regulation bra.

 “Then tonight will be a first for both of us,” she said over her shoulder as she turned, leaned forward across the car. “I’ve never had a white man before, either. Often wondered about it.”

She unbuttoned her blue trousers and let them drop with a jangling thud to her shoes. He stared at her muscular rounded brown thighs, separated by a thin strip of pale silk. The woman was wearing a Victoria’s Secret thong under her reg blues.

He sank to his knees and thrust his nose to her groin, sniffed in the rich scent of her. She pulled the thong aside and he pressed his tongue into her.

She moaned in appreciation. “Lick me right, mister,” she said thickly. He approached her thick clitoris with slow wide swirls of his tongue and she relaxed against the car with a deep sigh. “That’s… a good start, sir.”

She turned, faced him and lowered her thong, sat on the car, pulled him forward again. He resumed enthusiastically, taking her to the edge and then retreating, alternating soft kissing touches of his lips with hard swipes across her clit with his bristly facial hair.

Minutes later she came with a soft exhalation –“hot damn!” — pressing her warm wet vulva against his face, soaking his chin with her hot, pungent juices and holding his head in her strong hands while she shuddered to a stop.

After a moment she caught her breath and turned her back to him. “I think I am going to let you fuck me in the ass now.”

He stared.

“Well, come on before I change my mind, and use my baton on your butt,” she said, laughing. He wasn’t sure if she was kidding.

He stood and peeled off his shorts with still-cuffed hands, his erection popping free and standing straight up, like a dog begging. He slid his fingers into her soaked cunt and rooted around as she made noises of encouragement.

His stiff cock found its way to her slit and in, as if of its own volition. She sighed and rocked back against him hard, her ample cheeks burying him quickly, and he began to move, pressing himself into her slick hot cunt a dozen times, two dozen, before stopping and aiming directly between the clenched black globes of her incredible, muscular ass.

“Go easy,” she warned mildly. He obeyed, rubbing his slippery cock into the deeply creased crack, slid it gently but firmly between the exquisitely curved twin mounds of her ass and across the puckered flesh in a circular pattern until he felt her relax and press back against him. He thrust, his cock parting her anus and nestling between her involuntarily clenched cheeks. She gasped, tensed.

He stopped, held still while she shifted herself, drew a deep, loud breath, adjusted and accommodated herself to his cock, then he resumed, began a slow, steady drive into her bowels. She grunted but did not flinch or pull away.

When she sneezed, the feeling was fantastic, her slick cheeks squeezed him hard, then relaxed again, holding him forcefully in their grip, slowing him and coaxing him forward at the same time. Then he was in, all the way, buried in her up to his bursting balls. “Ohhhh, my Lord,” she moaned. “Hold still a second, sir.”

He paused and felt her tissue adjust itself again, to rearrange and mold itself to him as her muscles relaxed and accepted him.

He pulled back after a bit and buried the last inch in her again, more forcefully. She gasped again, then moaned appreciatively and pushed back, so he picked up the pace, thrusting into her at will. Her grunts and groans signaled her clear aroused state. He thrust inside her snug cunt with his fingers. Juicy. She was definitely enjoying this. He pressed his fingers ever deeper inside her, touching his cock through several layers of her tissue, and began to pound her in earnest. She responded forcefully, pushing back into him, burying his cock with little grunts. Then he felt her clench him powerfully, and hold still, and a shower of hot liquid gushed from her, soaking her thighs and splashing his knees.

He fucked her with abandon, throwing himself against her ass as his swollen cock pressed into her depths, and exploded with force inside her.

“My sweet Lord,” she said softly. “So that’s how it is.”

“Word,” he agreed.

“Sir, did you just use a cliched racial term to address me?” she asked, enunciating slowly and carefully.

“You damn skippy,” he replied.

She rose slowly and walked over to him. He held up the cuffs.

“You have the right to remain silent,” she said, looking down at his shriveling penis. “Anything…absolutely anything…can, and will be held against you.”

A concubine’s tale

“Service me.” He spoke softly over his shoulder, for her ears alone.

She hesitated, her eyes casting about them.

“Here, Master?” she faltered. “But it’s so… open… and…anyone could…”

“Yes,” he agreed calmly, turning, his hazel eyes on her face. “Service me, my concubine.” His voice was mild, but firm. “Do not delay further lest you displease me.”

Hurriedly, she complied, scuttling around him and sinking to her knees on the wide path that bisected the marketplace. At this hour, the venue was nearly empty, populated only by merchants who had come to get an early start on the day; their shifting, shuffling sounds of setting up and unloading could be heard from the neighboring stalls along the midway, shops with their faces yet shuttered.

Opened his buttons with difficulty, she sought about for something to save her, but feeling his gaze upon her from above, she ceased to tarry and freed his heavy shaft from the fine cloth and took it into her mouth. Its warmth, as always, charmed her and she licked it long and lovingly, like a tasty treat.

“Obediance is all,” he said softly. “To your hands and knees, my concubine, and use your body, as you did last evening to such great effect.”

She did as she was bid, and felt him thicken, lengthen, the heavy flesh filling with hot blood and warming her mouth, the velvety glans pushing out from its hood. A silver drop of his pearly essence melted deliciously on her tongue. Despite her discomfiture she warmed quickly to the task, taking him deep in her throat and rocking her body to create the rhythm he desired. His juices seeped from him, gamy, salty, tasting of authority.

Then she sensed a presence behind her, a flitting shadow crossing her peripheral vision. Her eyes sought the master’s face anxiously. He gazed silently down at her, calmly taking her ministrations, registering the presence but making no move to change his activities.

She shivered. The master wanted her to be displayed. Humiliation leads to humility, she recalled his dictum from her training days. She dared not look over her shoulder without permission.

Then she felt the cool touch of air on her nether regions as the hem of her skirt was lifted and laid across the small of her back, baring her arse to the elements; Master had this morn bade her leave it uncovered by undergarments, as was his occasional wont. A cool finger then traced the swell of her buttocks caressingly, and then was withdrawn and dipped between her thighs, parting her suddenly, drawing an involuntary gasp from her. Her master’s eyebrows rose, and he cautioned her with his eyes; she was to remain silent.

The fingers, for there were now two, crept inside and were still, waiting for her heat to seep into their tissues. Their frigidity caused her to clench tightly about them even as she begged silently for their withdrawal, for the master’s words to command it so. The fingers, taking her heat, began to move again, coaxing the wetness from her, coating themselves with her slipperiness before being abruptly removed. Inwardly she sighed, her tongue and body never losing the rhythm. But the master seemed displeased nonetheless; his aura said so.

Her eyes sought his anxiously, but she dared not inquire how she had disappointed him.

“Concubine, I sense that your attentions lie elsewhere,” he said gently but firmly. “Please tell me what could interest you more than servicing your master?”

“Oh!  Nothing, Master. Nothing could be more important!” she shook her head for emphasis and renewed her efforts with alacrity, sucking him deep into her throat and milking him enthusiastically. His phallus lengthened and he smiled. “Please do not again let your attention wander, my child. What goes on about you is the master’s concern, yes?” She nodded eagerly, his cock buried again in her willing throat. He began to move slowly, pushing her body in a winsome fashion, like a swing.

Suddenly the fingers returned, parting her swiftly and holding her open to allow the head of a penis to be pressed just inside her opening. She did not dare to stop moving, to resist the rocking motion the master desired, even though moving backward drove the foreign phallus ever deeper inside, filling her achingly, though not seeming to reach the end of the massive shaft now cleaving her like an oak.

Her thighs quivered with fear and tension; would the master allow this invasion to continue even unto hurting her, injuring her with its massive brunt? Even as she had the thought, she felt the foreign member’s head brush her cervix, then nudge into the mouth of her womb. Around the girth of the master’s cock, she heard the sounds of her fear and pain escape, and was ashamed. But the master did not chastise her, immersing himself instead in his driving motions, which now seemed to coordinate with the stranger’s; she could feel them both begin to accelerate, growing harder and boring ever deeper into their respective orifices, playing her like an instrument between them, sending her back and forth like a bouncing ball until they both reached the summit at the same approximate moment, the master holding still for an instant before gushing forth with the nectar he had taught her to love. His essence slipped down her open throat and into her belly where it settled warmly; the other boiling into her womb with scalding fury, the new penis stretching her walls further than even the master’s, perish the thought, and yet she still felt not the thump of the appendages upon her straining arse. How large must he be, this unseen swordsman the master had allowed to have her from behind? She dared not even a glance over her shoulder.

Upon his deposit, the stranger abruptly ceased his assault and she heard him exclaim wordlessly as he held himself rigid inside her for a long moment, before withdrawing shakily. Then to her horror, he moved into view. A moor, no less, his phallus extending fully to his knee, shrinking not at all with completion.

“Thank you, my child,” he beamed and seemed about to say more when the master interrupted.

“There is no need to thank my concubine,” he said, his voice mild, he betrayed no anger, yet his words bared his displeasure. “She does naught for thee, but rather for me. You have not made of her a conquest; I have, and you would do well to remember that, young serf. It will stand thee well.”

The moor’s eyes flashed warning but he bowed his head and hid them quickly. “Yes, Sire,” he said softly. “My most deep and humble apologies…I did not mean to give offense, but merely to…”

The master held up his hand and the moor’s words left him.

“I think you would do well to show your humility,” he said, motioning her aside, and taking his still-thick penis in his hand. The moor’s face flushed even darker under his dusky skin, and he cast a sidelong glance at her, but he meekly sank to his knees and applied his long pink tongue to the master’s sword, washing it clean of the stickiness that had come from both herself and the master’s own core, taking it deeply in his mouth though it choke him. The master, ever in control of his body, began to harden and thrust, then, as the moor’s throat convulsed with the unaccustomed task, he seemed to take pity and crested quickly, heaving the first explosion into the moor’s mouth and down his throat, before allowing the second and succeeding rounds to spill down his lips and across his shining chest. Hitching, the young man sagged to the ground and lay at his feet gasping with the attempt to hold his gorge.

“You would do well to retain this lesson, Cletus,” the master  said, his voice mild even when breathless. “Should there be a next time that you displease me,  I shall use you as a woman,” he said mildly, grazing the young man’s raised buttock with his finger meaningfully.

“And recall, as well, this: She has not succumbed to you, nor will she ever. Should I deem fit to ever let you touch her again, it will be by my authority she submits and only for my pleasure. And were I ever to instruct her to pleasure anyone, whether I were present or not, it would be my approval she sought, and not yours.”

He spoke with the confidence that no one dare gainsay him, and she thrilled at his power, at her closeness to it, and to her value as his chattel.

And with that, he turned on his heel and moved away. The Moor’s eyes caught hers and through his humiliation, he sought her hungrily. She gave him the briefest smile before turning guiltily and hurrying after the master.

The 5:15 local

“You touched my thigh.” Her voice was incredulous.

“Yes. I was trying to rouse you, to tell you I need to get out.”

“It’s… not your stop.The train is not at a stop.”

I smiled. “Bathroom break.”

She still didn’t move. “You could have touched my arm.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

I didn’t answer. Truth is, her hand had been on her thigh until just before that, and I had assumed it still was. But the larger truth was…

“You’ve been looking at me, at my legs, especially, out of the corner of your eye ever since I got on the train.”

“I suppose I have. Sorry. I thought you were asleep. Should I stop?”

“What sort of answer is that?”

“An honest one, I think.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Yes, I think it is.”

“It was a pleasure looking. I hope you didn’t mind.”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes looked deep into mine and the silence stretched.

I put my hand back on her thigh, left it there.

She caught her breath sharply, looked at me searchingly, and then away.

After a moment. I moved my hand to the underside of her leg, lifted it, and rested it on my wrist. Her skirt covered my fingers touching her leg, just below the leg opening of her underwear. She caught her breath again, but her eyes didn’t move. In my peripheral vision, I saw her chest heave. After a moment, I slid my finger in under the cloth and touched her bush. She gasped, but looked ahead determinedly.

I pressed my finger in further, up through the slippery folds, slipped the tip of my index finger inside. It was hot, steamy, wet. She lifted her leg slightly, sliding down in her seat, her breath coming hard and fast. I touched her clitoris and her eyes closed, her chest heaving silently. A few dozen strokes and she came, squeezing my finger, her eyes as tightly clenched as her cunt.

After she’d collected herself, I withdrew my finger.

After a moment, she mumbled something.

“What?” I asked, moving slightly closer.  She took my chin in her hand, aimed it toward the side of her face.

“Say something dirty,” she said softly. “Right in my ear.”

I considered. “You have the tightest, hairiest cunt,” I said softly.

She stiffened.

“I love your hairy, wet snatch,” I continued. “I wanna bury my cock in it.”

She nodded. “Dirtier.”

“Right here on the damn train, with everyone around us.”

“Dirtier!” she insisted.

I took a breath. “But I really just want to fuck you in the ass.” She caught her breath, her eyes closed tightly. She squealed softly.

“Just jam my hard cock right into your cute, tight little bum,” I said. “Lube it up and bury it between your gorgeous cheeks.”

Abruptly, she came again, sobbing softly to a finish. I hadn’t had a finger on her.

I grabbed her bag.

“Come,” I said.

“A… again?”

I took her hand. Walked to the door.

“But… this isn’t my stop,” she said.

“It’s our stop,” I said.

After a moment, she nodded, eyes downcast.