Under the Desk

  By admin | April 19, 2012 - 12:44 am | Brandy Cross Comments Off

Under The Desk
Hannah raised one carefully plucked eyebrow, “I’m sorry sir, I can’t help you, you will have to go back and file your report again.”
She glanced down as her phone buzzed, her boss, again.
Her blonde ponytail brushed against her neck as the man in a suit made another protest before walking away. It was his fault he hadn’t filed the claim properly, he had probably set the building on fire himself.
Hannah worked at an insurance agency; he desk proclaiming “Hannah Benetrio, Secretary,”
She wore a white button down blouse; the first three buttons were undone, against company policy but the air conditioning was broken and she was hot.
Hannah glanced down at her text as she called “Next,”
It read, “My office; lunch?”
She smiled, her pearly white teeth flashing against her soft pink lipstick, before looking up at the next in line. “How can I help you sir?” she asked, her soft, pretty voice almost caressing the words.
The man leaned forward, placing a stack of papers on her desk.
“Hannah Benetrio, Mr. Pullman would like to see you in his office.” Hannah looked up at the clock, three minutes to twelve; the hours had dragged by since she had gotten his text.
She stood to her feet, the black twill of her secretary length skirt pulling tight against her shapely rear. Hannah walked towards Pullmans’ office, her ass swaying as she sashayed in her three inch heels.
Her blonde ponytail swayed over her back as she carefully placed one stocking covered leg in front of the other.
Pullman’s door was open, Hannah walked in, closing the door behind her and sitting down on the chair in front of the desk. She crossed one shapely leg over the other and leaned forward, suggestively pushing her cleavage into view, “Mr. Pullman, have I done anything wrong?” she pouted at him, widening her eyes in innocence.
“Indecent exposure,” Ben Pullman said, “This is your third offense, I would fire you but you are too valuable to the company, I’m going to have to find some other way to punish you.”
He stood to his feet, straightening the collar of his shirt and walked over to her, the pants of his suit pulled tight around his erect penis.
“Bend over the desk,” Ben told the shapely blonde; she complied as he checked to be sure the shutters over his windows were completely closed.
He carefully pulled up her skirt, the fabric catching at her hips before lifting to reveal her firm ass. She wore garter beneath, it pulled tight against her thighs and ran down into the stockings that covered her legs.
Ben drew his arm back, slapping his hand hard against her ass. The sound reverberated through the room, he wasn’t worried anyone else would hear it; they had soundproofed his office for meetings.
He slapped her again, raising a red welt across the creamy skin of her ass, again, she grunted in pain as she bent over the desk.
“Sir,” the intercom buzzed, “There is a gentleman here who would like to see you for just a second,”
He stopped and looked at the clock, 11:59; he wasn’t on lunch break for another minute. “Give me just a second,” Ben said as he pushed the reply button.
“Under the desk,” Ben told Hannah, she complied, crawling around the desk on her hands and knees. Ben settled into his chair, leaning back and pulling his chair forwards.
Hannah pushed herself against the back of the desk, if it was Pullmans boss, she could be fired for being here. She watched as Ben pulled himself forward, his torso leaning against his desk.
She smiled, crawling forward as she heard the office door open. “Good afternoon, sir,” it was one of the sales associates.
Her hand carefully slipped over Ben’s crotch as she gently massaged it with her fingers, pulling his hard dick through the soft fabric of his suit. Hannah carefully unbuttoned his trousers, slipping her hand inside and pulling his penis out.
She wrapped her fingers around it, tightening them as she ran her hand over his cock; it hardened further, stiffening between her fingers.
The soft pink of her lips parted as she opened her mouth, leaning forward and slipping his cock into the wetness of her mouth. She pushed him into her throat, listening as he struggled to talk normally to his visitor.
“What do you… uhh… want,” Pullman asked, beads of sweat visibly running down his face.
“Do you feel OK?” the associate asked, looking concerned.
“Yeah, just one of those days you know…” Pullman said as Hannah ran her lips and tongue over the length of his cock.
He almost gasped with pleasure as her teeth caught at the tip, dragging slowly across his flesh, pulling at the soft skin of his penis. She ran her tongue after her teeth, softly soothing the small pain she had caused.
She pulled back, nearly letting all of his dick out of her mouth before slowly sliding back in, letting him slide down the back of her throat so that she held all of him inside her mouth.
“I was wondering if I could have a copy of my time management slips,” the associate was telling Ben, “I wanted them for personal reference and I figured now was the only chance I had to catch you when you weren’t busy.”
Ben nodded, hardly hearing a word he had said, “Ask Tracy,” he said, “I’m going to lunch, you can tell her I said give you whatever you want.”
“Thank you!” The associate said cheerfully, pulling the chair back and rising to his feet. “Enjoy your lunch sir!” He closed the door behind him as he left.
Hannah pushed his cock into her mouth one more time before he pulled his chair back, “You’re a very naughty girl,” he admonished her.
She cocked her head upwards, giving him a smile from her hands and knees. “You’ll have to punish me more than…” her voice was light, teasing.
Ben frowned and stepped forward, around the chair. He put his hand around the back of her head, pushing her towards his cock. She swallowed it, all of it, sucking at it with her full lips. He pushed her head back and forth, dragging her along the length of his penis.
He pushed her harder, rocking her head back, she choked against him and he slowly pulled her back. Hannah wrapped her lips around his cock, sliding slowly down its length before drawing her head back again; she wasn’t bothered by a little bit of choking.
“Stand up,” Ben told her; he leaned over, opening the drawer of his desk and pulling out a condom. He ripped it open; dropping the wrapper in his paper bin as he carefully slid it over his erect penis.
She leaned over the desk, moving his papers and pens to do so; Hannah’s round ass sticking firmly into the air, the soft pink lips of her pussy wet and slightly parted. He slid his penis slowly between her pulsating lips, sinking himself into her soft wet flesh. She moaned as he did, her fingers gripping against the edge of the desk.
Ben gripped her hips with his hands, pulling himself forward, into her, pushing himself back so he could go in again. He glanced at the clock; he only had fifteen minutes of his lunch break left. He moved faster, pushing into her, listening to her as she gasped as screamed in pleasure.
“Harder,” she moaned at him,
He rocked his hips, slamming his body into hers; she slid forward, against the desk as he pounded into her, each movement sending waves of pleasure through his body.
“Yes, yes,” she cried, ecstatic, “Harder,”
Ben slid into her, her wet pussy caressing his cock as he slid it inside of her, pushing against the soft pliant walls of flesh inside of her. She screamed again, her back arched against the desk as he plunged into her, rocking his hips so that his cock slid into her again and again.
“Penetrate me,” she moaned at him, she was starting to talk dirty, Ben licked his lips; he loved that.
“Penetrate me,” she said again, “I’m a dirty little slut and you need to put your cock in me, harder,”
Ben moved faster, more excited than ever by her words,
“Fuck me, I want to feel your cock inside of me, I want you to cum, can you cum for me? “ Her voice was low, sexy.
He was going crazy now, but she kept going,
“I’m nothing but a little whore, do you like fucking your little whore?” She moved her hips, sliding the rounded curves of her ass against him as he plunged himself into her, pushing into the hot, wet flesh of her pussy.
Hannah screamed again, the sound was loud, Ben grunted as he pushed into her, sweat running down his arms and his chest inside of his suit.
“Fuck me, yes, yes,” she cried, her breath coming out in small pants, her hair sweaty against the nape of her neck.
She panted, moaning into the desk, “Call me a fucking whore,”
“You’re a fucking whore,” Ben told her, reaching one hand forward, grabbing at her ponytail and pulling her head back, ”You’re a dirty little whore and you deserve to be fucked,” He pounded into her, the desk was creaking now, his pens vibrating across the desk. One of them skittered and fell to the floor as he pushed into her again.
Her body shook against him, her hot cum squirting against his penis, her pussy clenched tight around his dick. Ben gasped, his head tilting back, he pushed into her again, pulling himself forward, rocking his body ready to cum.
He stiffened against her, his load shooting out to fill the soft rubber of the condom. Ben slid his penis back and forth, slowly, rocking himself until the last of his cum shot out.
Ben pulled out of her slowly, slipping the wet condom from his dick and dropping it into the trash. He gave her ass another slap, “You should get dressed,” he told her, out of breath, as he sat down, “You only have three minutes to get back to your desk.”
Hannah gave him a smile as she straightened her garter and pulled her skirt down, “Same time tomorrow?”

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Burning on the Dance Floor

  By admin | April 1, 2012 - 12:27 am | Lira Comments Off

The popularity of a club is a fickle thing. Some days you’re the hottest thing in town, and the next thing you know, you have a rival club setting up just a few blocks away and all you have left of your patrons are the drunkards that order cases of cheap beer and have to be shoved into taxis by closing time.
The Inferno is not one of those places. Its founder was a shrewd man who had taken note of the popularity of such clubs on his business trips and cleverly set up the place a fair distance from the local universities – far enough not to cause complaints about ruining the study lives of the students, but close enough to be accessible to the young adult population of the city. Ever since its initial set-up, The Inferno has been booming with customers, even more so when the founder retired and ceded ownership to his son who renovated the place in order to suit the changed tastes of the new crowds.
Certainly, with a club as popular as The Inferno, one would question the secrets of its success; the source being the brains behind the actual establishment. However, part of the appeal of The Inferno is the mysterious identity of its owner. Everyone knows him by name: Damien Brenton, the business prodigy and heir to The Inferno. His credentials are for the world to see: consistent honor student, graduating from one of the top business schools in the upper percentile of his class, interning at quite a few big name companies before coming back to claim his heritage.
The reports, however, stop there. All his former colleagues in school and office have nothing but good words to say about him, except perhaps that he is too taciturn. Very few people actually know him personally, and of that small inner circle, not a single one is willing to sacrifice Damien’s privacy, no matter what the offer.
Rumors do say that while he mostly keeps to himself in his office, he comes down on occasion to mingle with the club-goers to determine what hot trends (pardon the pun) he should be taking advantage of to keep The Inferno on top. It is this that attracts the attention of quite a few patrons, and if the number of the club’s female attendees (along with the occasional male) rises slightly every so often— well, that’s just a little more work for everyone, but it’s all good for business.
And if the bartender laughs at the all-too-eager questions of bright-eyed college students and the bouncers just raise their brows at stammered inquiries and a girl with red streaks in her hair only hides her smile with a clever turn, well… that’s just the usual at The Inferno.
Tonight seems to be another good night. The DJ’s gotten the entire floor bouncing to the beat, and somewhere in the midst of all the people, the girl loses herself to the music. Her friends laugh as she spins playfully in their small circle, mouthing along to the words of the song. Her white arms rise above the crowd, reaching up to the strobe lights pulsing from the ceiling.
The hands reaching up to the strobe lights are suddenly grasped. A particular strong pulse of music covers the horrified gasps of the other girls as their friend is pulled from the circle and spun into the arms of three men, the scent of liquor heavy on their breath. One of the girls pulls away from the scene, heading straight to the bartender.
“Hey, baby, why don’t you come and grind with me for a while, eh?” coos the one holding her hands, laughing at how she squirms away from his face.
“Let me get you a drink. You must be thirsty after all that dancing,” drawls another, his hand fisting into the curtain of dark hair falling down her back.
“Let me go,” she demands in a firm voice, glancing back to her friends who are trying to get back to her. The men drag her farther away from them, pushing through the crowd towards the exit.
“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” the last laughs, his hand smoothing down the curve of her back to rest firmly on her rear. “You gotta loosen up a little. I wanna see you dancing like you did out there, only on my—“
The man’s dialogue is cut off as he is punched squarely in the jaw, colliding into other club-goers. The one holding her hair relinquishes his grip to pull his friend back, ignoring the scandalized stares of the couple bumped into to glare daggers at the new arrival.
“Ya tryin’ ta pick a fight, eh?” the last man demands, a hand held to his jaw where a bruise is now blossoming. “Come on, get it up, tough guy. Get—“
The two of them crash to the floor, causing a minor panic as they take down quite a few people with them. The few screams that result, however, are quickly drowned out by the start of a new song. The stage lights burst to life, and five girls emerge from behind the stage curtain, clad in skintight outfits and winking at the audience.
“Hey, I didn’t know Paradise was gonna perform tonight!” someone in the crowd exclaims. In the midst of the confusion, the mysterious man pulls the girl away from the hold of the last man just as two bouncers come to collect the troublemakers. They duck into a private hallway meant only for club staff, thundering down the corridor with the sound of cat calls and wolf whistles fading behind them.
It isn’t until they climb up five flights of stairs and enter a luxurious office-cum-private den that they finally relax. The girl throws herself on the large bed stashed in the corner of the room while the man heads straight for an armchair, elbows on his knees as he stares down at the carpet and waits for his breath to calm.
“The girls are going to kill you for that, you know,” she mumbles from where her face is pressed into the comforter. “They were supposed to have the rest of the week off.”
“You were almost raped,” he mutters, face pressed into his hands.
She sits up on the bed to frown at him. “Now, Damien, that’s an exaggera—“
In the next few seconds, he has somehow crossed the length of the room to stand in front of her, taking every advantage of his height and position to tower over her. “They were drunk, Elena,” he practically growls out. “As much as we try to keep people like them out, they wouldn’t be the first to try to drag a pretty girl out with them.”
Elena lifts her chin almost defiantly. “I could have handled myself just fine,” she argues. “It’s not like Firo and Leon were a mile away, and the girls were with me!”
“It’s a Friday night. You know full well that the boys have their hands full with the crowd, and Nina had to run to fetch help!” he retorts, brows furrowing into a scowl.
“You risked your identity!” Elena’s voice rises in pitch as she stands up to better meet his furious gaze. “You went out into the crowd and drew attention to yourself after all this time you’ve spent hiding from the press!”
A low noise rumbles in his throat, and Elena finds herself pressed back against the bed with Damien on all fours above her. “To hell with my private life! Those men could have done something to you and fuck if I just let myself stand by and watch them do it!”
Elena prepares to snap back at him, angry response on the tip of her tongue, but something in his eyes bids her to hold her tongue. She forces herself to take a few deep breaths, and her temper winds down as she recognizes the worry veiled behind the anger. Elena closes her eyes, mentally berating herself for being a fool before opening her arms to him.
“Come here.”
And he does as she asks, the earlier rage seeping out of him as her arms wrap around him. Her hands smooth over the tenseness in his back and he whines lightly in response, pressing his face into the crook of her neck and mouthing at the sensitive skin there. His hands tug at the hem of her dress and she wriggles obligingly to help him pull it off. Her own fingers work to pull at the fastenings of his shirt and pants, high heels dropping off her toes to follow his discarded shoes and socks.
A soft nudge with her thighs and they roll over so that she is now on top. He sits up with her, hands trailing behind her to unclasp her bra and leading her to arch into the heat of his mouth as he leans down to nip at her breasts. Elena throws her head back, revelling in the exquisite pull of his lips at her aching peaks. He presses kisses over her entire chest, sometimes trailing up to her collarbones and the smooth column of her throat to leave small bruises with his tongue and teeth. Dimly, she recognizes that those will be a pain to cover up for the next few days, but for now she slides her hand into the gap between their pelvises to find the hardness pressed against her thigh.
Damien grunts at the touch, hips rising to meet her curious fingers before he bucks them off completely. All subsequent attempts are similarly discouraged much to her confusion; it seems as though he is determined to give pleasure only to her without accepting any in return. The thought is reinforced when one of his hands slip into her panties, rubbing briefly over her nub before two fingers plunge straight into the core of her wetness.
Elena gasps, her hands flying up to his shoulders as she scrabbles for control. Much to her dismay, her legs are far too wobbly to do more than to close a little; if anything, the action only serves to heighten her pleasure, and she presses her hand against her mouth to muffle her scream as she reaches a fast climax.
Her body is still trembling from pleasure when he rips her hand from her face, pressing his lips firmly against hers and engaging her in a fierce kiss. She allows him to dominate the contact, his tongue plundering her mouth and tracing the lines of her teeth and tongue.
His fingers withdraw from her, still sticky from her earlier release, and she sinks thankfully against the bed in a brief respite as he crawls over to the bedside table to retrieve a condom. Elena throws an arm across her face, trying to catch her breath while she watches him roll the latex onto himself.
The breather does not last very long at all, for no sooner has he fit the condom onto himself does he drag her to him by the legs. He braces himself against her entrance, dragging the head of his cock across the sodden fabric before merely pushing the crotch of her panties aside to push into her. Elena’s earlier release has left her wet and relaxed enough not to meet much resistance, and it does not take him long to be seated fully inside her.
Damien wastes no time at all, starting off with deep thrusts that send shudders to the very core of her. Elena’s hands fly up to his upper arms, squeezing at the muscle as she attempts to match his movements against her. He drops his head to her chest, capturing a distended tip into his mouth and nibbling lightly, which elicits a hiss of pleasure.
Wanting to do more than just lie there and take his thrusts, Elena urges herself up, forcing him into a seated position while she settles in his lap. She continues their rhythm without missing a beat in the expertise of experienced lovers, wrapping her thighs around his torso and flexing her passage around him. He responds by thrusting up into her roughly, bouncing her up and down on his lap to hear her choke back her moans.
Although she tries to keep up her rhythm, the burn of her thighs becomes too much to ignore and she settles for leaning against him and simply rocking her hips into his pushes. Her head drops heavily against his shoulders, nails scratching red lines down his back; in turn, his hands grip her hips tightly to move her along his length that she can almost feel the bruises.
He is whispering now, huffing something into her hair, and she tips her head back to hear it.
“Mine, you’re mine,” he breathes. “I’d never let anyone else take you.”
And miraculously, it is those words that lead Elena to her peak. Her walls spasm around him as she digs her nails into his flesh, barely drawing blood. She can still feel him moving in her even as she cries out against him until he, too, finds his release, pulling her down firmly against him as he shudders against her.
She lays against him in the afterglow, his body stretched across the bed as her head settles into his lap and his fingers stroke through her damp hair.
“You’ve still gotta say sorry to the girls,” Elena yawns, pressing her cheek into his thigh.
“I’ll give them an extra vacation day,” Damien murmurs.
“We should change the sheets before we sleep,” she mumbles, eyes slowly slipping close.
“We should,” he agrees, but makes no move to strip the bed of its covers.
“I won’t ever leave you, you know,” she whispers right before she falls asleep. “I love you too much to.”
He stays silent, watching her chest rise and fall until it settles into the steady pattern of sleep. He then gathers her close to him and throws the sheets over the both of them until only her red-streaked hair is visible over the covers.
When he had first returned to this town, he had decided not to associate himself with too many people. His experiences in the big city had taught him the danger of too many acquaintances, and he was determined not to commit the same mistake.
He’d been doing a good job of it, too, until one day that a girl slid into his club, barely over the legal age with red streaks in her hair. He’d fallen hard and fast and he’s been forced to make a lot of compromises, but he hasn’t looked back ever since. Their tempers often collide, his need for privacy often battling with her insistence on freedom, but at the end of the day she always comes back to him and his arms are always open to her.
And that’s just the way they like it.

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Fun in the Sun

  By admin | March 16, 2012 - 12:43 am | Brandy Cross Comments Off

Tracy laughed as she ran down the beach, her bare feet kicking up sand as she moved. Her pink polka dot bikini bounced as she went. She was running for the snack bar on the other side of the beach, the sand was too hot to walk on, and she had forgotten her sandals.
She didn’t mind though, she was having fun, she pushed herself faster, sweat running down her darkly tanned sides. The stand and the cold drink she would buy there was only a few minutes away.
Then it happened; she bumped into him. He was tall, carrying a surfboard. His knee length trousers were wet; apparently he had actually been surfing.
Tracy looked up at him, a little dazed from her fall, she smiled; he was cute. His short brown hair was flattened to his skull, wet; and water dripped from his bare shoulders and muscular chest. “Hi,” Tracy waved one perfectly manicured hand up at him.
Bruce looked down at the blonde who had just bumped into him, she wore a white bikini with pink dots, it was cute; but not as cute as she was. Her hair fell to her shoulders, her skin was darkly tanned; she had probably spent half the summer out here on the beach. How he had missed that he didn’t know.
“Can I help you up?” he asked, offering her a hand.
Tracy took his hand, it was strong and firm, “I’m Tracy,” she said, her pink tipped fingers settling into his.
He pulled her up; she was incredibly light, he figured he could probably pick her up with only one arm. “I’m Bruce, where are you going in such a hurry?”
She giggled and looked down at her pink painted toes, “Sand is hot, and I want a drink!”
After a quick glance at the food stand, Bruce shrugged his shoulders, “Well, since I interrupted you, how about it’s on me?”
They walked to the food stand, Bruce ordered himself a coke and after a quick glance at Tracy, a strawberry milkshake. He paid without a word, before handing Tracy her drink. She tossed her blond hair over her shoulder as she accepted the milkshake, taking a delicate sip from the straw before she thanked him.
“This is good,” Tracy said as they walked back down the beach together, “Do you want to come and hang out with me? I have a towel over there!” She pointed a little up the beach; there were hundreds of people there, her towel impossible to see.
Tracy took another sip from her milkshake, smiling impishly over it, the smile aimed at him. Bruce groaned as he felt his penis harden in his pants, she was too cute for her own good.
“Come on!” She told him, “I’ll lead the way,”
Tracy walked in front of him, going quickly on just the tips of her feet. Her ass moved under the thin fabric of her bikini, and sand from her fall still clung to her back and legs. Bruce stopped for a second, adjusting his crotch so that his erection would be harder to notice.
He followed her down the beach, watching her ass as she walked. She was tight; she had to spend time exercising. Bruce looked around the beach, they were slightly further up than he usually stayed; the currents for surfing were better further back.
“Tracy!” a woman called, “Who’s the hunk?”
Bruce flushed, she was talking about him.
“Some guy…” Tracy let her voice trail off, “His name is Bruce, want to meet him?”
“Nah, I’m good, going home actually, you two have fun,” the woman was packing her towel, rolling it into a bag.
She only walked about ten more feet before flopping down on a pink towel; it had a white playboy bunny logo in the center and her pink nail polish stood open in the sun. Bruce smiled, thinking that perhaps she wasn’t the brightest; but damn was she hot.
He sat next to her, sipping his coke, “You come here often?” he asked.
Tracy nodded, “I work nights at a bar, serve drinks, so I spend all day here; I love it!”
Bruce nodded, “Sounds nice, I’m on vacation, have the next three weeks off, maybe we could hang out sometime.”
She smiled, “Yeah; that would be great!”
One of her slender hands reached for a bag lying next to the towel, it was dark green and he hadn’t thought it was hers before. She pulled out tanning lotion, Australian Gold, it was expensive.
Tracy poured a generous handful into her left palm and rubbed it into her dark skin. His mouth went dry as he watched her, gently massaging first her shoulders, than her belly, before dropping her hands down to rub the soft lotion into her thighs.
“Can you do my back?” she asked him, a soft note of teasing in her voice. Bruce started, taking a sip of his coke and saying, “Yeah, sure, why not.”
He poured the lotion into the palm of his hand as she rolled over; it was soft against his skin. He lowered his hands to her long supple back. Her skin was hot from the sun but damp from the tanning lotion she had put on before.
Bruce rubbed it into her back, slowly, luxuriating in the feel of her soft skin against his hands. He carefully untied the delicate strings of her bikini. He moved his hands slowly down her back, rubbing the cream into her flesh with slow circular motions. His hands reached the downward curve near the small of her back and he reached for more lotion.
His hands were getting dangerously close the soft curves of her well rounded ass. He massaged around her bikini bottom before lowering his hands and rubbing lotion into the back of her legs.
She sighed in pleasure, “That feels sooo good,”
Bruce smiled; maybe she wasn’t quite as innocent as she pretended to be. He oiled the top of her firm legs, running his fingers along the inside of her thighs. She moaned in pleasure as he reached up and tied her bikini back together.
“Do you want to come with me?” she asked him, rolling over
“Where?” he asked, slightly puzzled for a second,
She gave him a smile, “You’ll see; it’s our little secret though…”
Tracy pushed herself to her feet, “Are you coming or not?” and walked through the maze of bodies tanning themselves in the hot sun.
He stood, walking after her, the cork of his flip flops picking up occasional bursts of sand that clung to his toes.
Tracy walked past the people; there was a small line of palm trees separating this beach from the boats that were harbored nearby. Bruce followed her through them, looking at the boats.
There was a large boat, or well, a yacht, moored against one of the first pylons; it blocked his view from the rest of the harbor. Bruce smiled as he realized it also blocked them from view; trees on one side, ship on the other.
She turned to face him, smiling as she did, her hands reached behind her back, “So, are you still interested in me?” She asked.
His face showed shock for a second and she laughed, “Come on, you’ve been hiding an erection in your pants since I bumped into you, and I think you’re cute…”
She tugged at the tie on her bikini, undoing it with one motion and dropping it to the sand. Her breasts were white against her dark skin, the contrast somehow causing them to be more arousing.
Bruce stepped towards her, fondling her breasts with his hands, he squeezed, gently at first and then harder, she moaned, “That feels so good,” he voice was thick, husky and sexy.
His left hand moved to her ass, squeezing the firm flesh through her bikini. He brushed sand away as he rubbed his hand over her ass.
Her hands dropped down to the zipper on his pants, unbuttoning it, and reaching inside to wrap her long fingers around his stiff member.
She squeezed and he gasped, her fingers flexing firmly around his throbbing cock, “You like that?” she asked, baring her teeth a little as she did. Her fingers pulling up at his flesh, running to the tip of his cock and then back down.
He nodded, unable to talk, his mind encompassed by the pleasure shooting up from his groin. She moved closer to him, rubbing the warm tips of her bare breasts against his still damp chest.
The hard edges of her nipples caught at the hairs in his chest, Bruce felt goose bumps begin to rise on his skin as she ran her breasts over his chest. His arms rose to her shoulders, pushing her down to the sand.
He was on top of her now, her small body beneath his; her fingers still ran up and down his cock, hardening him, teasing him.
Bruce pulled back for a second, “Wait, I have protection,” he reached down his leg, reaching for one of the buttoned pockets on his cargo shorts. He fumbled at it, unbuttoning it and reaching inside.
The condom wrapper was damp from his trip into the ocean, but it was waterproof, Bruce wasn’t worried that it was no longer usable.
“Why do you have that?” Tracy asked, “Expecting to get lucky?”
“I was going to meet my girlfriend, in a few hours,” Bruce explained.
Tracy smiled, “She won’t notice?”
A small nod, no, “I’ll just tell her I forgot to bring one…”
Another smile, “Alrighty then, works for me,” She leaned back into the sand, her soft blonde hair spread around her shoulders.
Bruce swallowed as he ripped open the damp wrapper, casting it into the sand before wrapping the rubber around his hard cock. It was a Trojan, Her Pleasure, Tracy would like it.
He pushed at her bikini bottom, roughly moving it aside to display her smooth shaven pussy. He ran his fingers over her clit and she moaned with pleasure. Bruce moved one hand to his dick, fondling it through the rubber, hardening it even more.
A quick thrust of his hips plunged his penis into her, he didn’t bother to remove her bikini, the way it had pushed over her hips excited him.
He kept his weight off of her thin frame, pushing himself up with his arms; as he rocked his hips; sliding his dick in and out of her wet pussy. She moaned, softly against him, raising her hips to meet his each time he came towards her.
She pushed her hips up; feeling him slide into her, his dick was hard against her, pushing at her soft flesh. The soft lubricated condom slid inside of her, it felt good to. Tracy moaned, pursing her lips and closing her eyes.
Her fingers gripped at his strong muscular shoulders before sliding down his back, he was sexy; Tracy bucked her hips up again, pushing him into her. She gasped again as he slid into her, he started moving faster, his hips swinging in rhythmic motions over her.
Tracy’s nails dragged along his back in time with the rhythm of his hips, Bruce hardly felt it, noticing only how her hot pussy squeezed around his dick, how the pleasure shot up through his body, stiffening his muscles and leaving him gasping.
He grunted, swinging his hips faster, still keeping his weight off of her. Bruce dropped his eyes from her face, towards her breasts. They swung gently up and down with each motion; her body was slowly sinking deeper into the sand as he pounded himself into her.
Her nails drug along his back, clenching against him each time he entered her, he moved faster, she was scratching at his back now, caught up in the pleasure and not noticing the blood under her nails.
His dick throbbed in near agony and he slowed down for a second, she wasn’t ready yet, he pushed himself into her, slowly, going all the way in before pulling out again.
Tracy gasped each time he entered her, her breath coming in short, fast gasps. He was going slowly now, the tip of his dick tickling against the back of her pussy, drawing back out and plunging into her again.
He started going faster as she began to gasp more, she moaned, lowly, each breath coming out high pitched as though she struggled to contain herself. Bruce moved his hips, she was going to cum soon; he went faster, his hips swinging above hers as his penis slid in and out of her pussy. She was wet, his dick made a soft sucking sound each time he pulled out of her before sliding back in.
She started to shake beneath him, she gasped, small quick sounds full of passion. Bruce pushed himself harder, feeling her pussy tighten around his cock as she came, he felt himself near the edge, he moved faster, her body still hot and shaking, he came quickly, moving himself inside of her as his hot cum shot out to fill the condom. He rolled off of her; giving her a smile as he did. She lay on the sand, still panting and breathless as he pulled the condom off, burying it in the sand.

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Masquerade

  By admin | February 27, 2012 - 12:25 am | Lira Comments Off

movements gradually becoming less coordinated as the spiked punch begins to take effect.
Unfortunately, she does not come out of the ordeal completely unscathed: quite a few masked men sidle their way up to her and offer her everything from a drink to a dance to a not-so-very-subtle “tour of the house.” Most of them she manages to turn down politely, but the last is posed by a particularly persistent young man who seems to take her “no” as a “convince me more in that dark corner.”
“No, I really do not need a tour of the house,” she reiterates firmly, the politeness having seeped out of her tone early on. “I’ve been here several times before, and I don’t think—“
“But I’m sure I could show you a much better time.” The man’s grin coupled with the olive green mask he has chosen for the night gives her the impression of a crocodile. “Let me show you a whole new world.”
She isn’t sure what repels her more: the horrendous pun or the way he tries to pull her along to the aforementioned nook. Thankfully, the timely intervention of a man in a clean white mask prevents her from having to make a scene; he cuts in neatly between them, dipping into a respectful bow and offering his hand to her in a wordless invitation to dance.
Although the bow might be a little overkill, Julia does not think twice and accepts the proffered hand. In moments, she is whisked off to the dance floor, the image of the seething crocodile-masked man being the last she would see of him the whole night. She sighs in relief and turns her attention to her unlikely rescuer.
“You’re alright now?” he asks in a low voice, blue eyes peering out at her with concern through the gaps in the mask as he leads her in step.
“Yes, thank you,” she nods in gratitude, ducking her face a little in embarrassment. “It was really good that you cut in when you did. I didn’t want to cause a fuss, but if it had gotten any further…”
“Ah, yes, I— I saw you earlier, turning all those guys down,” he stumbles over his words a little before laughing sheepishly, and she finds the slight awkwardness somewhat charming, “so I figured you wanted to be left alone for the night. And— well, you have to forgive Ethan. Took a few too many cups from the punch.”
“I see,” she hums, turning obligingly as he spins her along to the final notes of the song. The next dance starts up, and she finds that he has moved them to the edge of the dance floor. He withdraws his hand from her waist, although he keeps a hesitant grip on her hand.
“I guess this is your stop,” he chuckles, although there is a note of reluctance in his tone.
Julia looks out to the seat she had occupied earlier, still empty save for her discarded plate of food, and thinks of the adrenaline rush when he had pulled her to the dance floor.
“I think we can go for a few more rounds,” she smiles, pleased when his grin mirrors hers.
The boy—Nicolas, he eventually introduces himself as—turns out to be quite good company. He leads her through a few more dances, not once stepping on her foot, and even goes around to introduce her to some of his own friends who are equally pleasant to be with (although they do make a few light jabs at Nicolas).
At her agreement, he retrieves two glasses of punch for them to sip on while they take a break. She finds that the slightly heady flavour does not bother her so much, and she feels pleasantly warm and tingly as she sits on the sidelines with Nicolas, conversing about anything and everything. At one point, Rose and Tristan find her again; Rose enfolds her in another hug with a mysterious quirk to her smile, and Tristan pats Nicolas’ back before they resume making their rounds among the party-goers.
She isn’t sure at which point she finds herself pulling Nicolas along to the main building, weaving her way along the rooms and corridors by sheer memory of the place to one of the lesser-known guest rooms. Her lips finds Nicolas’ as the door seals shut behind his back, only to pull away with a muffled groan of pain as their masks collide into each other.
She’s halfway through tugging at the ties of her mask when his hands come up behind her head, fingers closing over hers but pausing in silent request. The inaction brings her to a moment of clarity, and she finds herself suddenly hyper-aware of her surroundings – the glow of party lights outside the room, her chest rising and falling rapidly in the small space between them, his steady blue eyes seeking her consent.
Just what is she doing here, perilously close to intimacy with a boy she’s only met? The alcohol must have addled her brains, and she finds herself incredibly lucky that Nicolas is even asking her permission to proceed. Most boys, such as the ones that had initially propositioned her, would have taken without asking given the chance. And yet even as she thinks past the foggy haze that the alcohol has clouded her mind with, she cannot find a reason to disagree. She is twenty-one, fully capable of making her own choices.
Just once, she would like to let herself go, and she makes her decision known to Nicolas by withdrawing her hands and pressing her head into his touch. His eyes seem to flicker in satisfaction, and there is nothing to stop him from undoing the ties of her mask as well as the lacing of her dress.
Julia refuses to simply stand there the entire time and reaches up to take off his mask. She pauses, drinking in the sight of the smooth contours of his full face sans the cover that had been hiding it the whole night. He smiles at her, a little sheepish under her clear scrutiny, and she snaps out of her momentary daze to get to work on the rest of his clothes.
The next time their lips meet, they are both fully bare and lying on the large double bed. She traces the reflections of the party lights across his skin, delighting in the small hitches of breath whenever her fingers pass over a particularly sensitive spot, and he returns the favour by exploring her body with his own hands, paying extra attention to her erogenous zones. She arches into his touch, barely muffling her sobs as he caresses her breasts, belly, and the wetness between her legs.
Her hands fumble desperately for her bag, searching through its contents before withdrawing a foil packet – a constant companion at her parents’ insistence, and something she had always been faintly embarrassed about but is unspeakably thankful for now. Nicolas makes no complaint as he unwraps the condom and rolls it over himself before moving to cover her body with his.
The initial breach is not too uncomfortable due to his earlier efforts, but they both wait until she has adjusted to his girth before he begins moving. Her thighs part wider to allow him deeper access, and she meets all of his thrusts with timed lifts of her hips. Nicolas’ lips brush against her sweaty temple, nosing past her damp bangs to moan into her skin.
In response, she clenches her muscles around him, ripping a harsh groan from his throat before his thrusts turn more powerful, more desperate. The hand that isn’t bracing him from crushing her moves down to the place where they meet, thumbing determinedly at the nub above her entrance.
Julia comes to her release with a choked gasp, rearing up to throw her arms around him in a frantic attempt to keep her anchored to something even as her body trembles from her climax. He follows her into climax shortly, holding himself sharply inside her as her name tumbles off his lips.
The next moment she is aware of herself, he has already moved off her, depositing of the used condom. She feels like tensing up when he returns to the bed in the awkward aftermath of a one night stand, but her body is far too languid to allow her to – the most that she can do is to turn her head in his direction, blinking wearily when he sinks down beside her.
He chuckles at her expression and leads down to press an affectionate kiss to her forehead; oddly enough, the gesture seems just as intimate as the act they had finished with.
“Sorry, Julia. I kind of lied to you,” Nicolas murmurs, resting his chin on folded arms. “I’ve actually been watching you from the start. Or before the start.”
“Hm? What do you mean?” Julia forcibly draws herself from the languor of the afterglow, pushing herself up on her forearms to regard him more closely.
He reverts to that awkward look from earlier, a far cry from the passion-filled expression he had been wearing only minutes ago. “I’m a friend of Tristan’s, and I’ve seen you around campus, but we’ve never really moved in the same circles. So when I heard that you were friends with Rose… I actually bugged Tristan to heck about whether or not you were coming,” he breaks off with a self-conscious laugh.
“I was… really excited to see you earlier, but you kept turning all those guys down that I wondered if I even had the chance. I was about to slink off for the night, maybe mull over my chances of getting to know you somewhere else, when Ethan came along and I just had to step in. And after that I knew I couldn’t just let you go.”
Nicolas’ face hardens slightly in determination. “I know it’s a little odd to ask now after we just—“ he breaks off into a small cough, but otherwise retains his composure, “—but I just want to ask if you would possibly consider going out with me properly after this.”
Julia stares at him, stunned into silence. Surely this isn’t just a joke, right? One-night stands are supposed to be just that, and here he is, asking her for more. The thought of this being a prank briefly crosses her mind, but Nicolas just doesn’t seem to be that kind of person. If he were, he would have left her after this, would have led her straight into a spare room without thinking to ask for her consent.
His eyes seem so incredibly blue, warm and familiar in a way that she cannot explain.
She’s already taken one risk tonight – why not take another leap of faith?
“Alright,” she acquiesces, and it is beautiful to see the happiness blossom over his unadorned face. Her finger runs down the line of his nose before tapping at his lips. “But no masks this time.”

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Goodbye Baby

  By admin | February 3, 2012 - 12:24 am | Lira Comments Off

The room seems so much bigger with half of its contents neatly stored away in a set of suitcases that are now lined up by the half-open cabinet doors. He never realized how large this room could be, not when it had always felt fit to bursting with her presence: little things like the rows of framed photographs scattered on all available surfaces; her textbooks, haphazardly discarded remnants from an era of desperate morning rushes; the multitude of pens, most of which don’t really work anymore but she insisted on keeping around because they had sentimental value.
The photographs are now all packed away in a box that had been sent off a few days earlier. The textbooks had been given away to younger cousins struggling in the same field. The pens were all discarded for good – the garbage truck would probably come by to pick them up tomorrow.
She emerges from the adjoining bathroom almost distractedly, her eyes drifting over to the suitcases as she murmurs something about how they would fit in the car tomorrow. Once upon a time, those suitcases would be the last thing she would look at; the only thing that would fill her vision would be him, him, only him.
After giving the room a last cursory glance, she finally turns her gaze to him. Sometimes she has this particular sort of stare, one that makes you feel as though she were sifting through your visage to look at the very heart of you. It had unnerved him before, being scrutinized so intensely, but now he wants to bare his soul to her, strip himself entirely of his skin to show her his heart and everything it holds for her.
Instead, he swallows and asks, “Are you ready?”
She blinks, as if pulled out of some distant train of thought, refocuses and settles into a slight smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says quietly.
Five heartbeats pass them by before he stretches out his hand to her. Two heartbeats more and she takes it, settling down beside him on the double bed. He’ll probably have to sell this off some time in the future – it’s far too large for just one person.
His hand rests on her cheek, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, and rubs his thumb over the soft curve of her jaw. The way she shivers at his touch is bittersweet. “Are you ready?” he asks again, only this time he whispers it into her other ear, lips tracing over the shell as they had done countless times before.
She chooses not to answer verbally, but responds by capturing his mouth in hers. A soft groan is muffled in the space between their lips, hands rising to cup each other’s head as tongues entangle together. His head spins at every little sensory detail: the flutter of her lashes on his cheeks, the soft scrape of her nail against his scalp, the growing heat between them that is all too familiar. He burns all of these into his memory, filing them away for recall on days that he will search out her presence and find it completely gone.
Their clothes are discarded on the floor, heedless of the need for neatness and care on this last night together. His hands cup her breasts reverently, thumbing over the rose-tipped peaks to draw out sounds of sweet pleasure from her mouth as he has long learned to do. His lips find the curve of her neck, laving over the lines and dips of her throat before settling gently at her collarbone. In response, her body arches up against his, fingers tracing over the definitions of his back and moving around to caress the steady contours of his chest.
Each movement is achingly familiar, and with each stroke and kiss to her skin comes the impending knowledge that all of this, all of her will be gone from him by the morrow. Desperation rises within him and he moves down quickly along her body, brushing briefly over her belly before settling himself between her legs and pressing straight into her centre with his fingers. She gives a strangled cry at the sudden entrance, and his movements grow all the more frantic. His tongue joins in by flicking at her nub, and the combined assault drives her straight into a wide-eyed orgasm.
Even as her thighs tremble around him, he does not let up, and it takes a few gentle tugs at his hair for him to look up at her. His view of her is oddly blurry, and it is only when her thumb brushes at the corner of his eye and comes away wet that he realizes he is crying.
“Shh,” she soothes, urging him to sit up and taking him into her arms. “Shh,” she whispers, and he begins to sob into the warm crook of her neck. The light scent of vanilla surrounds him—her favourite body wash—and he buries his nose into her skin, trying to soak up every bit of her while he can.
It takes a while for his body to stop shuddering, and by then his ardour has cooled. He lifts his head from her shoulder, staring at her with bloodshot eyes and feeling like an utter fool for ruining their last night together. And yet she’s still smiling at him, a sad sort of smile that sends another rush of pain coursing through him.
“Let me take care of you,” she murmurs, and pushes at his shoulders gently to make him lie down. She settles herself over him, keeping her gaze locked firmly on his as she curls her hand around his half-hard length, stroking it back into fullness. He bucks into her touch, wanting to caress her, wanting to give her the same pleasure, but she shakes her head and continues her ministrations until he is completely hard and panting.
She reaches over to the nightstand, withdrawing a foil package from the drawer and ripping it open to withdraw the condom. The latex slides smoothly over him, and she soon settles herself onto his length soon afterwards.
Her inner walls cup him sweetly with slick warmth, and he takes that as his cue to thrust up into her. She meets each of his movements stroke for stroke, hands scrabbling across his chest to find purchase as she tries to find a rhythm for the two of them.
She is utterly glorious like this, every curve of her highlighted by the soft lamplight, gazing down at him with a mixed look of passion and tenderness, that his heart aches at the very thought of missing all of this. At what point had they changed so much that they had come to this mutual decision to separate? What had happened to lead them into this final night together?
He rocks his body up, rolling their bodies over so that she now lies underneath him. He brushes sweat-soaked strands of hair away from her forehead, taking in her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes struggle to keep themselves open even as they close tightly with each hard surge of him into her.
He gives one final thrust, burying himself to the base and drawing her into a kiss as he tumbled over the edge of climax. She tilts her head up to return the kiss, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes even as her body convulses around him in the throes of her own release.
He withdraws from her, panting, and makes quick work of the condom before settling himself over her. The sweat on his back starts to cool, but he can’t really bring himself to care, burying his face into the darkness of her hair and trying to take in every single moment.
“I love you,” he whispers, voice tight with emotion.
Her arms come up to draw him close, and he feels her sigh against him.
“Loved,” she corrects softly, and there are no more words to be said.

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  By admin | January 27, 2012 - 12:23 am | Lira Comments Off

He isn’t sure as to how he came to be in this situation. The last thing he remembers is being dragged from his barstool at someone’s birthday party, his coat throw haphazardly around him before being shoved into the freezing cold. Thank God it didn’t last long, for soon after he was bundled into a car, sprawled out across the backseat as someone closes the car door behind him.
If his number recognition is still working properly, the blaring red numbers on the alarm clock indicate that barely an hour has passed since he was dragged unceremoniously out of the bar.
What he does not understand are why his limbs refuse to move according to his bidding, and why his body feels so cold.
The sudden flicker of a light next to him has him wincing away from the source. The provided illumination, however, allows him to gain a better sense of his surroundings: his gaze travels up along his right arm, all the way to what appears to be the post of a bed… and a silk ribbon tying it to his wrist.
A quick glance over to his left arm and both legs reveal similar predicaments, explaining why his limbs are not following his given directions. The answer to his second question is also revealed: the sensation of coldness is due to the fact that his clothes have mysteriously disappeared.
Something moves out of the corner of his right eye, and he turns his head to try to identify the perpetrator. His gaze lands on a lingerie-clad body, thin contraptions of lace and ribbons attempting to cover the curves of their wearer.
He forces his gaze away from her alluringly displayed cleavage to look at her face. Sadly, it seems as if she has planned for this as well – a masquerade mask covers the upper half of her face, rendering her almost impossible to identify. Her lips, however, remain exposed, and he swears that there is something annoyingly familiar about that ruby smile.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” she purrs.
“I’m a little tied up, as you can see,” he replies dryly, although he is straining to recognize her voice. Nothing comes immediately to mind, and he shakes his hands and legs against his bonds. “I don’t suppose you could help me out?”
Like her smile, there is something familiar about the laugh that escapes her lips. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, darling,” she replies, and all of a sudden she is moving towards him, perching herself at the edge of the bed closest to his head. “I can’t have you running out on me right when we’re about to have an important tête-à-tête now, can I?”
There is something in her hand—a length of ribbon, perhaps?—but he does not have enough time to figure out what it is before she is covering his eyes with it. The material is soft against his skin, and he identifies it as part of the same cloth that binds him to the bedposts.
“Ah, and you’ll have to forgive me for this one,” she continues nonchalantly, although he can feel her shifting around on the bed. “I said tête-à-tête, but I think I’m going to be holding up most of this conversation.”
And something is shoved against his mouth. Taken by surprise, his lips immediately part to accommodate the intrusion, and a ball of rubber is thrust into his mouth.
Now the blindfold, he feels he can go along with, but the introduction of a gag has him writhing against his bonds, struggling furiously to be freed. She remedies this quickly by straddling his body, and he starts at the sudden warm weight across his stomach, dangerously close to where he knows his blood is pooling.
Deprived of his sight and speech, along with having his movements limited, he cannot do much more than to feel. A fingertip slides along his nose and past his lips, trailing down his chin and throat until it dances along his collar. He swallows reflexively against the sensation, but saliva continues to pool in his mouth.
“What a good boy you are like this,” she hums as if she were addressing a particularly favoured pet. “A shame that you can’t be as good as this all the time, but I’ll humour you for now. Does the good boy want a treat?”
Of course he could not respond for the ball gag in his mouth, but the treat comes along soon enough. Her nail lifts from where it is scratching lightly at the hollow of his throat, only to be replaced by the soft brush of something over his chest. Immediately, he shivers at the sensation, eliciting a titter from the woman.
“And so sensitive, too! What a good boy you are. I should keep you like this for a while longer.” The tip of the feather continues sweeping over his chest in slow strokes, teasing his nipples into hardness. It’s a sensual experience to have a feather run over your torso, moving over all of the planes and dips with the same intimacy as a lover’s fingertip or tongue. In some ways, it is worse – the loss of sight has heightened the sensitivity of his nerves, and he can already feel himself straining nakedly against the soft curve of the woman’s bottom.
Evidently, she can feel it, too, if the way she scoots back to grind herself lightly against the evidence of his arousal is any indicator. The feather also makes its way down his body; his hips start to buck when it dips lightly into his bellybutton before continuing down, unsure whether to dislodge or encourage the contact.
“Patience, darling,” her voice is soothing as she moves off him, “you must learn patience. After all, good things come—“ and here the feather runs slowly up the length of his cock, eliciting a strangled gasp from his throat, “—to those who wait.”
Minx, he thinks he hears himself call her through the gag. Little tease, but they all come out garbled and choked. He thinks she understands anyway, considering the way she barks out laughter at the futile rocking of his hips.
“Poor baby! Alright, since you’ve been so good.” There is a thick note of amusement in her voice, only now he is not sure whether he minds so much that she is toying with him like this. Panic flares up within him when the feather disappears from his skin, only to be assuaged somewhat when a soft, small hand curls around his cock.
He yells clearly this time, a muffled exclamation in the face of the hand stroking his length to further hardness. Her hand grips him just right: tight enough to pleasure, loose enough to allow him to surge his pelvis up into the contact. He thinks he can hear her giggle, but the blood is rushing through his ears loudly enough that he can’t be sure.
By now, his cock is fully erect, straining entirely against her palm. Whatever will he had to escape is almost completely drowned out by the need to find release within her hand. She moves her hand along his cock, finding just the right rhythm to build up the pleasure. Her other hand cups his balls softly; a digit presses down the sensitive spot behind them and his hips fly up in response.
She moves again, and he thrusts blindly into the air before he feels her body settle down between his legs. Her hair brushes against his helplessly open thighs; she giggles, and he feels the soft puff of warm breath against his cock. Then nothing, before he feels the latex and oil of a condom sliding onto his cock. before it is engulfed in impossibly wet warmth. His yell is dampened by the gag, and he throws his head back against the pillow as she begins to suck him off.
Her mouth provides amazing suction, her tongue curling out to line the underside of his cock, and his head spins at the incredible sensation of it. His hips long to thrust further into the warm cavern of her mouth but somehow he finds the strength to keep himself from losing it. Instead, his hands and feet curl desperately against their bonds, wanting more, wanting to touch her and take her and please her in all the ways he could.
“Let me go,” he begs around the rubber gag. “Please let me go.”
Her only response is a muffled giggle and a particularly strong suck at the head of his erection. He cannot hold back the answering thrust at that, and he winces at the sound of her surprise when his length shoves further into her mouth.
She releases him quickly after that, and it is all he can do to keep from begging her to return.
“That was very inconsiderate of you, darling,” she reprimands him. He feels like curling up on himself, into a pathetic whimpering ball of man begging for her forgiveness. “And here I thought you’d continue on being such a good boy for me. I guess there’s no helping it – a punishment is in order.”
Her body disappears from between his legs. Immediately, his mind flies into a panic: is she going to leave him here, blindfolded and tied to the bed with his cock embarrassingly wet and still straining for release? He strains against his bonds again, but his efforts are as futile as his initial attempts.
The sound of her walking back towards him is almost heaven-sent. He straightens up in attention, prepared to beg for his forgiveness and release. Her hand curls around his cock again, and he nearly cries out with joy.
The feeling is gone soon after, when the same material that had covered his eyes and bound his limbs suddenly wraps itself around the base of his erection.
“Bad boys need to be punished,” she explains simply, and he can feel her crawl back onto the bed. The tearing of a wrapper is heard, quickly followed by something else being rolled onto his cock. “But don’t get me wrong, sweetheart. I don’t want all of this to be a bad experience for you.”
Her weight shifts above him, and suddenly the blindfold is removed from his eyes. The room is dim enough not to hurt his eyes, but he still blinks furiously up at her, although the action is in vain as she still wears the mask. Notably, however, the lacy garments from earlier are gone; she holds herself above him, red lips lifted into a smirk.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she coos, and sinks herself down on his length.
Immediately, he is wrapped in an even tighter suction than before. Her inner walls grip tightly at him, and even she gasps as her body struggles to stretch itself around his girth. It is agony not to buck up into her warmth, but he has learned from his earlier lesson. He trembles with the effort of keeping himself from moving, praying desperately that she will make the first move soon.
After what seems like an eternity, she exhales softly and starts to lift herself along his length. She starts out slow, her heat moving around him at a gentle pace, but it soon escalates to a steadier, faster rhythm. Her breasts bounce with each of her movements, and he longs to touch her, to mold her mounds in his hands and capture the flushed tips with his mouth. The bonds still keep him from doing as he wishes, but he allows himself the luxury of thrusting up into her warmth.
His efforts are met with an unexpected moan, followed by a pleased laugh. “You pick up quick, darling,” she giggles, tweaking his nipple in reward and moving her hips faster. He takes it as a sign to keep from holding himself back; using the posts as leverage, he braces his feet against them and surges up to meet each of her downward strokes, allowing him to thrust into her harder and deeper.
She encourages him with delighted moans and praises. Somehow, she must have conditioned him, for all he thinks of now is satisfying her and coaxing more of those wonderful groans from her lips. Their breathing becomes more frantic as their pace increases; the sounds of their skin slapping against each other resound obscenely through the room.
“So— so good, darling! Keep going, keep going!” she urges him on. Her hands run all over his chest, scrabbling across the sweaty skin to find purchase. He, in turns, thrusts himself harder into her warmth, his eyes focused on her face even through the mask.
Her hand snakes down between their legs. To his surprise, she pauses momentarily in her movement so that only the head of his cock is encapsulated within her. The ribbon comes off with a single tug, and she leans down to whisper in his ear.
“Come for me, my good boy.”
She slams herself down on him, and that is all that it takes to have him tumbling off the edge in a screaming orgasm. Her walls clamp around him tightly, and an answering rush of wetness around him reassures that she, too, has reached her climax.
Her body slumps across him in the aftermath, the both of them struggling to catch their breaths. Eventually, she lifts her head to meet his gaze and reaches over to unfasten the gag from his mouth. He works his jaw gratefully, clenching it shut to savour the feeling of his mouth being closed for the first time within the past hour.
As he enjoys his freedom from the gag, she sits up a little and reaches back to loosen the ties of her mask. Despite himself, his jaw drops open as the cover across her face is removed.
“Katie?” he gasps out, gaping at the sight of his girlfriend smiling shyly down at him, a far cry from the purring minx that had rode him only minutes ago. “What are you— Huh?!”
She reaches over, poking his forehead playfully. “I hope you weren’t thinking of any other woman,” Katie mock-pouts, although there is an unspoken degree of uncertainty within her eyes.
“It’s why I struggled,” he replies dryly. “Though I had hoped it was you.”
“Well, now you have me,” she giggles, reaching over to unfasten the rest of his ties. “I figured I’d bring you around from your drinking binge in a different way than the usual.”
Her lips lift up into a hint of her earlier smirk as she drops the lengths of material over the side of the bed. “Did you like it?”
The moment his legs and hands are free, he pulls her down and rolls the both of them so that their positions are reversed. “Let me show you how much I enjoyed it,” he growls into his ear.
Her response is to thrust up against him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. “I look forward to it, darling.”

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One Night Stand

  By admin | November 2, 2011 - 9:28 pm | Brandy Cross 1 Comment

“You’re going to do what!?” Alicia giggled over the table.

Betty calmly filed her nails, speaking slowly but with excitement in her soft voice, “I’m going to go out, find a guy, and sleep with him.”

“But why” Alicia asked

Betty raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow, “Because I can, come on, you should join me; it will be fun!”

“You mean…together?”

“No, just… you know, we could both do it together, I mean, I want to know what it’s like, having a one night stand.” Betty tossed her shoulder length blonde hair over her shoulder and went back to filing her nails.

“No, I don’t think I’d feel right,” Alicia said, “But you can tell me all about it later right!” She giggled again.

Betty smiled, “Of course! That’s what best friends are for.”

Betty stepped out of the cab, she hadn’t taken her car; she wouldn’t be driving home. Her slim figure was accented by her tight jeans; she wore a sparkling blue halter top that plunged down to reveal her breasts and left half of her back bare.

She had pulled her hair up into a bun and was wearing her red lipstick and blue eye shadow with her four inch heels thrown in for good measure.

She walked to the club door and paid the $2.50 to get inside, she had only brought $15 for drinks, tucked safely into her small blue purse; Betty didn’t expect to have to buy many herself.

Inside was filled with people, music played loudly and almost everyone was dancing. Betty smiled and made her way to the bar, she was going to have fun tonight whether Alicia was here or not.

“I’d like a Cranberry Martini please,” Betty told the bartender as she pushed herself up onto a stool. She leaned onto the counter, dangling her long legs towards the floor.

“That’ll be $7.50” the bartender told her as he pushed her drink across the bar. Betty smiled and handed him the cash, “I’ll have another in about thirty minutes.”

The bartender nodded and Betty sipped her martini. She watched the dance crowd and the men who weren’t with girls. She sighed suddenly a bit intimidated; maybe this had been a bad decision.

“Do you want to dance?” He was tall, dark black skin, brown eyes; he was wearing cargo shorts and a T-Shirt that said “Watch my moves”.

Betty smiled, “Yeah, but I just got a drink, if you want to wait till I’m done…”

He smiled at her, flashing strong white teeth, “Yeah, sure, in fact, I’ll have a drink with you, “

He sat on the stool next to her, ordering a beer. Betty watched him, noticing he was sweaty from dancing, and his muscles stood out under the white cotton of the t-shirt.

“You dance a lot?” Betty asked conversationally as she sipped her martini.

“Yeah, it’s my job,” he gave her a smile, “I’m a professional dancer, just here for fun though, how about you?”

Betty smiled shyly, “Not a professional dancer, no, I’m in sales.”

“Sale’s hmm,” he took a drink of his beer and held out his hand, “I’m Dave,”

“Betty,” she took his hand, smiling back at him.

A few minutes later they were on the dance floor, “How well can you dance?” Dave asked her, taking her hand.

“Not as well as you I’m sure,” Betty told him.

She swung her hips, moving her feet with the rhythm; letting go of one of Dave’s hands. She spun around, giving him a full view of her figure.

The crowd pressed to close to move too much so Betty danced in place, Dave joining her. He was a good dancer, his body moving in perfect time to the music.

They danced together for two songs before Dave suggested he buy her a drink. Betty ordered another cranberry martini.

“I have to go home in a bit,” he told her over their drinks, it was 11 pm. “Have to be at rehearsal at six AM, do you have a ride home?”

Betty shook her head, “My cars in the shop, I’d have to take a cab.”

“Would you like a ride?” he asked,

“Yeah, I would,” Betty said, “My room-mate has company over though, so… maybe we can go to your place and have a few more drinks first…”

Dave smiled, “That would be great, would you mind leaving after you finish your drink or do you want to go for another dance?”

“Now is good,” Betty downed her drink, setting it onto the bar and standing in one motion. Her heels clicked against the floor.

“Well then,” Dave smiled, “I’d guess we’d better go then.”

She sat in the passenger seat of his car, it was blue, “My favorite color,” he smiled at her. Betty laughed; she was dressed all in blue.

His house was a fifteen minute drive away; Dave parked perfectly against the curb before walking around and opening the car door for her, “This one’s mine,” he said, pointing towards a small suburban house, “With the glass door.”

Betty stepped out of the car and walked towards the house, Dave walked next to her. He unlocked the door and Betty stepped inside.

“This is nice,” she told him as he turned on the lights. The room had been done tastefully in black and white, a large couch sat against one wall and a widescreen TV against the other.

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Dave told her, “You make yourself at home.”

Betty leaned forward, wrapping her long fingers around Dave’s neck, she kissed him, passionately. His lips were rough against hers as she thrust her tongue into his mouth, exploring him.

He pulled back for a second before pulling her to him, his hands roughly caressing her denim clad rear. Betty kissed him, fumbling at the buttons of his cargo shorts.

He squeezed her ass as she pulled the fly open, reaching her fingers inside and wrapping them around his hard dick.

She squeezed her fingers gently, teasing his cock with her hands. She rubbed the smooth skin, he had shaven and the skin was soft. Dave grunted, tilting his head upwards in pleasure as she stroked him. She used her free hand to pull his shorts down before gripping his balls with her hands. HE gasped, “You like that?” she asked.

Dave nodded, not saying anything but still squeezing her ass, Betty stroked faster, her fingers running over his long dick.

She flexed her fingers, squeezing tighter, Dave gasped again. Betty knelt, bringing her head level with Dave’s cock, she gently licked the tip; he was stiff, ready for her.

She pushed his cock into her mouth, letting the end slide down her throat, she swallowed it all, then back out again. Dave grunted, gripping at her shoulders with his left hand, running his right through her soft blonde hair.

Betty sucked at his dick, her right hand rose to grasp his hip, her pale white skin a sharp contrast to his dark. She moved faster, Dave gasped again, before pushing her back with his hands.

He untied the strings of her halter top, letting the blouse slowly fall down. She wasn’t wearing a bra beneath and the nipples on her small but perky breasts were hard. Dave slid his hands over them as she rose to her feet, pinching at the nipples and squeezing her entire breast.

His left hand slid to her jeans, undoing the button and then the zipper. He pulled her pants down with one hand, “Can you take them off?” he asked. Betty pulled off her heels, one at a time and slid her jeans the rest of the way off.

“Can you put the shoes back on?” Dave asked, “I think they’re sexy.” Betty smiled, complying with his request. Dave had pulled his shirt off, and was sliding his cargo pants off, his shoes sat next to the couch.

They were both naked, he was muscular beneath his clothes, Betty was thin, her belly stretched taught across her abdomen.

“Do you have a…”Betty asked, but stopped when Dave walked over to a cabinet against the wall. He pulled out a condom, silently opening it and slipping it on.

She stepped closer to him, their bodies touching; his hard dick rubbing at her legs. She kissed him, passionately.

Dave wrapped his hands around her buttocks, lifting her up to his waist. Betty shrieked, her arms wrapping around his neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist just for good measure.

He lifted her higher, sliding her onto his dick. He slid inside her, her hot, wet flesh caressing at his cock. He lifted her, slowly raising her body, sliding himself into her each time he lowered her again.

Betty gasped each time he entered her, his rough hands pushing into the rounded flesh of her ass; she moaned into his ear as her heels brushed against his arms. Dave rocked his arms upward, moving her body faster onto his, her nipples brushed against the hairs of his chest as he pushed her upwards before letting her body slide back down onto his.

They stood in the center of the room, Betty’s pale legs hooked around his body, her hands gripping his shoulders as he swung her up and down, sliding her body into his.

He entered her quickly moving her body over his; she slid against him, his hard cock sliding in and out of her wet pussy. Her breasts brushed against him and she moaned into his ear.

Dave was gasping now, sweat running off his body as he worked his arms, pushing her thin body up and down, plunging himself into her again and again. She cried out, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as she came, Dave didn’t slow down, gasping as he moved her faster.

Betty cried out again, loudly, not caring if anyone heard. He rocked his hips as he moved her, as she screamed with pleasure into his ear, her hands wrapped into the coils of his hair, pulling his head back.

His eyes were closed as he moved her faster, grunting with each motion, his body jerked as he came, his hands stiffening around Bettys rear. He lowered her gently, sliding her body away from his, off of his cock and to the floor.

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Snow White and the Seven Fetishes (Part 2)

  By admin | October 26, 2011 - 9:23 pm | Ruby Goodnight Comments Off

Hunter spoke with one of the men, and ushered Snow White into a small bedroom. The room was quite small, and consisted of a bed, a closet, a dresser with mirror, and a television. He gave her the key, and advised Snow White to lock the door if she didn’t want any night-time visitors. Although she hardly thought she would mind it, she was still a bit dizzy from the chloroform that Hunter used to “kidnap” her, and she at least needed the night to recover. She settled into her new room, and got some much needed sleep.

Monday’s morning light flooded her room when she opened the door. She walked to the kitchen, and met the first of the group of men who had taken her in. He called himself “Spanky”, and politely asked Snow White how she slept. After a bit more small talk back and forth, he explained how the arrangement would work.

“You’ve got a couple of options for your stay here. You can either earn your keep as part of the brothel staff, service the clients that frequent our establishment or you can be our personal slut to share among the seven of us. I certainly know what I would choose, but what are your thoughts?”

“The clientele you have – what exactly do they come here looking for?”

“Sex. Dirty, kinky, painful, embarrassing sex. Our whores are quite skilled in the art of dominance and submission, as well as some of the more unusual fetishes.”

“I think I’ll go with the second option, then.”

“Well, I do need to make it clear that there is quite a sexual element for being our girl. In addition, you will be required to do the cooking for all seven of us, cleaning our rooms, doing the laundry for the entire house, and other types of housekeeping duties.”

“I think I can handle that.” Snow White was particularly excited about the first portion of that arrangement. She was quite used to keeping a house, since her stepmother barely lifted a finger in her father’s home.

“We’ll start straight away, then. Shower yourself, shave everything below your shoulders, and meet me in my room in two hours exactly. I’ll introduce you to a couple other members of the house then, and we will get some…uh…work done.”

Snow White wondered the halls of this vast, gorgeous house, and found the showers. It reminded her of the bathrooms in a dorm, with long lines of shower stalls, but this one was a bit different. Each shower stall was made of clear glass. There were also a number of tubs – some large enough for several people. She took a long steaming shower, and followed the instructions as she was given. She soaped up her pussy, and carefully shaved every single hair off of her mound. She had already attended to her legs and armpits, but she needed to remove the short tuft of hair she kept above her pussy. Years of waxing left her with a virgin look.

A couple of hours later, Snow White walked along the hallway where the owners of the brothel had their personal bedrooms. She found Spanky’s, knocked on the door, and waited to be called in. With Spanky was another gentleman who he referred to as “Clamps”. On the other side of the room was a third man, named “Mute”.

“Have you cleaned and shaved yourself as I directed?” asked Spanky.

“Yes, Sir”, responded Snow White.

Spanky and Clamps started to take off Snow White’s clothing. Mute sat back in his chair and watched as the men stripped her down. With slow kisses and moving hands, Snow White started to relax and become quite aroused at the anticipation. The men moved her over to one side of the room, along a wall, where there were two chains hanging from the ceiling, and two chains laying on the floor. A shackle was welded to the ends of the chains. They were carefully wrapped and belted around Snow White’s wrists and ankles. She grew both nervous and excited at the same time. As Clamps kissed her back and breasts, Spanky moved behind her and rubbed her round butt. He placed a cold leather paddle against her young ass. As he pulled back to smack her, Clamps plunged his fingers into her dripping pussy. She cried out, both in pain and pleasure.

Mute clicked his fingers to get Spanky and Clamps’s attention.

“You cannot make a sound”, spoke Clamps into Snow White’s ear.

Snow White shook her head in acknowledgement, but wondered how she was going to manage not reacting to getting spanked and fingered at the same time.

Another smack, another finger fuck. As Snow White grew more and more aroused, the pain threshold was increased. Spanky’s smacks were getting more forceful, and Snow White started having difficulty standing on her own feet. Clamps had gone off to another part of the room to get some tools, and returned back to her with a two pairs of metal clamps. They were cold and black, and looked almost medieval. Snow White’s stomach dropped as she was faced with this new sexual toy. Clamps placed them over her erect nipples and onto her dripping pussy lips.

Snow White whimpered again. The pain was like nothing she had felt before, but the sensation turned her on that much more. Mute clicked his fingers again.

Spanky put down his paddle and walked off to where Clamps had gotten the clips. He returned with a ball gag. This was fastened around Snow White’s mouth, and she received a harder spanking for her disobedience. Mute was excited by this, and took his hard cock out of his pants. He jerked himself off while watching the actions of the three across the room.

Snow White continued to receive her punishment and pleasure for the next few hours, orgasming several times over. Spanky had used a variety of tools, including a thick leather flogger to smack against her calves, a riding crop that left a particularly red mark against her breasts, and a wooden paddle against her already tender ass. Clamps continued to use his favorite devices, adding weights to those already on her body, and adding more around her breasts, over her stomach, and along her arms.

While tied and full of clamps, Spanky and Clamps started to strip down themselves. Naked, save for a pair of black army boots and a condom on their erect cocks, they stood themselves on either side of Snow White. Clamps was in front of her, and grabbed her hips to keep her steady. Spanky was behind her, and grabbed a handful of Snow White’s ponytail.

Simultaneously, they plunged their dicks into Snow White’s wet and tight body. Clamps fucked her pussy, and Spanky her ass. She was full and fulfilled, and spotted Mute’s self-pleasuring take on a more fevered pace. They shared Snow White, fucking her in rhythm so that she would not be pushed in either direction. They pounded her for what seemed like hours, taking turns fucking Snow White, spanking her ass, pulling her hair, and slapping her breasts. Snow White was cumming over and over again, her ass and pussy filled to the brim and her clit screaming for more.

When it came time for Clamps and Spanky (and Mute) to cum, they all arrived together. All of the men screamed and shouted to announce their orgasm, and Snow White finished as well. She was sure that the other members of the house could hear what was going on, but in an establishment such as this, she didn’t see that as an unusual experience. When the men pulled out, she set herself to clean up. She carefully removed the condoms from Clamps and Spanky, cleaned up the area around Mute, and wiped the sweat and pussy juice from the floor around the shackles.

She left the room a short time later and headed back to her room, spent yet satisfied. After a night like that, she couldn’t see that being topped. How wrong she would prove to be.

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Trois

  By admin | October 18, 2011 - 9:29 pm | Brandy Cross Comments Off

He stepped through the door, setting his guitar in the hallway, “Girls I’m home,” he called as he closed the door behind him.

His stage name was Daemon, and that’s what the girls called him, he had met them when he was with the band after all, “Ladies?” he called with a smile, they were probably going to ambush him, they thought it was funny.

As if on cue, the bedroom door burst open, the two hot blondes spilling through; armed with pillows. They attacked him, the soft fabric of the pillows hitting against his upturned arms.

“Stop” Daemon cried, laughing, “You two are being naughty; I shall have to punish you.”

Brittany pouted, holding her pillow against her chest. She was wearing a pair of pink panties and a tank top and nothing else that Daemon could see. Kelly was dressed similarly, except her panties were red, and she wore a bra beneath the thin fabric of her shirt.

“You know what to do,” Daemon told the girls, smiling in anticipation; he could feel his loins tightening already at the thought.

Brittany leaned towards Kelly and gave her a small peck on the cheek, “Better?”

Daemon shook his head, no.

Kelly grabbed Brittany’s head, twisting her around and kissing her, their tongues intertwining as Daemon watched. She dropped one hand down to her girlfriend’s ass; caressing it and turning Brittany’s body to give Daemon a better view.

She slid her hands down under the pink fabric of Brittany’s panty, caressing at her firm, rounded ass. Daemon felt his cock, hard inside the denim of his jeans. He would have to wait though; the girls wouldn’t be ready for him for quite some time.

Kelly pulled away from Brittany, walking towards the door that led to the living room; she grabbed ahold of Brittany’s hand, tugging her after.

Daemon followed, slowly unbuttoning the top button of his jeans. The girls sat on the couch as Daemon walked over to the TV stand. There was a small camcorder aimed at the couch, a condom lay on the stand next to it. He clicked it on, recording, he recorded them every time.

Brittany slowly kissed Kelly’s lips, inserting her tongue through her girlfriend’s full mouth, sliding her hands down her back and over her round rear. Damon stood, watching, gently rubbing his penis through the jeans. He would have to go slow, the girls didn’t satisfy easily.

He watched as Kelly pulled back, Brittany’s lip between her teeth, she let it snap back into place. Raising her hands along the thin blonde’s flat stomach and caressing at the gentle curves of her breasts.

She reached her hands under Brittany’s tank top, pulling it up, over her head. Her breasts were bare beneath, small and perky with large dark nipples that stood out against her skin.

Kelly caressed Brittany’s breasts with her hands, leaning forward and kissing the girl again. She pinched at the nipples, squeezing them between her thumb and forefinger. Daemon rubbed harder, he was excited; he wanted to take them, now.

He walked over, hurriedly, but was pushed away when he reached the couch. “Not yet,” Brittany told him firmly, smacking his ass as he turned back to the other side of the room.

Brittany stood, helping Kelly after her, she pulled Kelly’s panty down to her knees and knelt in front of her. Her long blonde hair swung down her back as she knelt to the floor, the round curves of her pink clad ass nearly touching the hard wood.

She upturned her head, running her tongue slowly over Kelly’s exposed clit. The skin was shaven, smooth and hairless. Brittany pushed her tongue into the soft wet opening of Kelly’s pussy, running inside, licking at Kelly’s most intimate place.

Kelly moaned, her head upturned in pleasure, Daemon watched, spellbound, licking his lips, his hand was inside of his jeans now, working back and forth over his hard cock. It never failed to excite him to see them making out.

The blonde pulled her head back, running her fingers over Brittany’s clit, massaging it with her hands before slipping her fingers inside the girl’s pussy. She pushed them in and out, Kelly moaned, Brittany’s fingers were wet from the girls’ pussy. She pulled her fingers out, slowly sticking her fingers in her mouth, sucking them clean.

She tilted her head up, smiling at Kelly, “Want to do me? “ She asked playfully, “We should let him; she tilted her head towards Daemon, “In eventually,”

Brittany stood and walked to the couch, she pulled off her panties, pulling them over her bare feet and onto the floor. She bent over the couch, and Kelly stepped up behind her, bending down over the other girl. She ran her tongue over Brittany’s exposed clit; it was dark against her skin, the lips of her pussy tinged pink.

Daemon stepped forward, he knew what this was, his favorite position. One of them would play with the other, bending over, letting him fuck her as she pleasured the other.

He pulled his jeans off, stopping momentarily to grab the condom from the TV stand. He un-wrapped it hastily, pulling it securely over his throbbing penis.

Kelly’s rear stood firmly in the air, her hands placed on the couch, legs spread apart as she ran her tongue inside Brittany’s hot pussy, the warm juices running down her lips.

Daemon thrust his hard penis inside Kelly’s pussy; she was hot, tight against him, her wetness lubricating his rubber clad dick. He pushed himself harder into her, his cock sliding against her flesh, his thighs impacting against her rounded ass.

Kelly braced herself against the couch, gasping small sharp sounds each time he plunged into her, her tongue working into Brittany’s pussy.

Brittany moaned as Kelly’s tongue moved inside of her, caressing her flesh and sucking the warm juices from her pussy.

Daemon moved faster, reaching his hands forward to cup Kelly’s breasts, her thin form was bent over, he watched as her head moved between Brittany’s legs. He gasped in pleasure as Kelly tilted her head up, thrusting two of her fingers into the wetness between Brittany’s slim thighs. She moved her fingers quickly, thrusting hard against the girl’s pussy.

Daemon plunged himself into her hot pussy, the lips of her clit were swollen, soft against his dick. He moved one hand from her breast, moved along her firm belly and touched her clit. He ran his fingers in circles over her as he moved faster, sinking his penis into the soft warm flesh of her vagina.

He heard Brittany screaming now, she gasped loudly; Daemon moved faster, he knew what was coming. Kelly pulled her face back, thrusting her fingers harder into Brittany’s pussy, rubbing her free hand over the girls’ swollen clit.

She screamed again, louder, her hips bucking up as she squirted, hot cum landing on the couch and Brittany’s hands. Daemon gasped, moving his body faster into Kelly’s. She moaned against him, her pussy tightening; she was going to cum. Daemon felt his body crying for release, he pulled himself back, Kelly first.

The hard length of his penis slid quickly into her hot pussy, the motion rocking Kelly’s body as he pushed into her. She moaned louder, her body shaking as she came, she relaxed around his penis. Daemon moved faster, pushing himself against her; ready for it.

He gasped as he came, his body stiffening against Kelly’s firm ass, the rubber of the condom filling with his hot cum. Daemon pushed himself into Kelly’s pussy, slowly moving himself in and out until the last of his cum had filled the rubber.

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Snow White and the Seven Fetishes (Part 1)

  By admin | October 12, 2011 - 9:21 pm | Ruby Goodnight Comments Off

Once upon a time, there was a pretty young lady called Snow White. Named for her pale skin and ebony hair, she was the envy of all of the women in town – especially her bitch of a step mother, who fancied herself as the sexiest woman in her small village. Her full breasts and round hips got the attention of the majority of men in town – as well as a few of the open-minded women. Her full pink lips were in sharp contrast to her pale blue eyes.

While spending the evening at her local bar, Snow White noticed that a large man was watching her every move. As she made her way back to her car to get home that evening, this man approached her, and covered her face with a cloth. She passed out, and came to in the back of a darkened vehicle, driving quickly through the pitch black streets.

Crying and screaming, Snow White caught the attention of the large man sat behind the wheel the vehicle.

“Shhhh. I’m supposed to kill you, but you’re too damn hot to murder.”

“Huh? Who wants me killed?” said Snow White in her delirious state.

“Your step mother. Baby, you got to run away. If I don’t kill you, she’ll find some other sucker to do the job. Look, give me your purse so I can prove to her I’ve taken care of you. You need to find somewhere to go. Do you have anyone you can stay with that won’t tell your stepmother?”

“No”, Snow White said through her tears.

“Alright. I got some friends you can stay with until you figure things out. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Snow White sat back in her seat and tried to understand what was going on. Her heart was pounding in her chest. For a few minutes, she was scared. But after some moments of thought, she realized she was free. Her natural mother died years ago from a bit too much partying. Her father didn’t pay much attention to what was going on in the house, and her step mother made her life miserable. Snow White could start over, find a job, set up her own home, and not have her bitch of a step mother breathing down her neck on a daily basis. Things were certainly looking up.

Hunter, as she learned the large man was called, pulled up to a large house on an even larger estate. She looked up and couldn’t get over the size of the place. She looked over at her failed kidnapper. He was a big man – not necessarily tall, but full and muscular. He had short red hair and freckled skin. He was certainly the type of guy Snow White could go for.

“How can I repay you?”, asked Snow White in quite the suggestive tone.

“I think you’ve got a bit of a clue. Come on over into the front with me, baby.”

Snow White felt wet as she slid out the back seat and climbed over into the front. She pushed herself onto her hands and knees and unbuckled Hunter’s leather belt. His stiff ginger cock popped out of the pants, and Snow White looked up at him with eager eyes.

“What you got in mind, baby?” asked Hunter.

Snow White reached into her handbag which was laying on the floor near Hunter. She pulled out a condom, and unwrapped it. She rolled it down Hunter’s dick, and climbed between him and the steering wheel. She rolled her skirt up above her hips, and moved her thong off to one side. Slowly, carefully, she lowered her hot pussy onto Hunter’s dick. She felt his cock fill her completely, and she leaned back against the wheel in pleasure.

Hunter grabbed each side of her shirt, and ripped apart the buttons holding it together. He pushed her breasts out of the bra and sucked it with his eager mouth. As Hunter licked Snow White’s nipples, she pushed herself up and down on his dick. They were both quite loud, and Snow White was sure that whoever lived in that house would surely hear the animalistic sounds that came out of their mouths.

With his hips pounding up and down against Snow White’s open legs, his moans started turning into grunts. He wrapped his hands around her hips and threw her up and down, taking his dick almost out of her body, only to thrust her back onto it with each pump.

Feeling his hard dick pulsing, Snow White knew he was cumming. She held on tight for the ride as Hunter cussed and swore through his orgasm. He pushed his hips upward, and locked them. Snow White could still feel him pulsing, but watched as he moved his fingers to her clit.

Using the pussy juices that were pouring out of Snow White, he rubbed her swollen clit until she started to orgasm. A few moments later, Snow White was throwing her head back and cumming hard. With each wave of pleasure, her tight pussy clenched down on Hunter’s dick, and she realized that this was exactly what he was looking for. They both came hard and loud. By the time that they were done, the windows were steamed up, and they were both drenched in sweat.

Snow White moved off his dick, slid off the condom, and placed it in the car’s ash tray. She slid her skirt down, and used the rear view mirror to fix her hair. She looked down at her top – the buttons had popped off and landed on the floor of the car.

“Who lives here?” questioned Snow White. She knew she would be making a certain kind of impression if she walked into the place with a ripped shirt.

“A few of my friends. Actually its seven guys I went to school with. They all pooled their money and got this mansion. They have girls going in and out of this place all the time, so I don’t figure that they’d mind one more – especially one like you. They’re rich as God, so you’ll be well taken care of.”

They made their way up the long driveway and walked the path to the front door. After Hunter opened the door, she got a full picture of what this place really was. Rooms of half-naked men and women, S&M equipment scattered around the walls, men getting whipped and serviced by ladies in leather. Along one side she saw a young man in just a g-string blowing another man. This was a brothel, but one that specialized in kink. Rather than being scared, Snow White grew wet and excited. This type of activity was legal in the county she lived, but she had never set eyes on a brothel quite like this before. She was looking forward to meeting the men who ran this establishment – and seeing how she would fit into this house of kinky sex.

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