A thick strand of drool glimmered in the light. It stretched from his cock to her hungry tongue as he playfully pulled it from her eager mouth. She was naked, lying flat on her back on the dining room table, each limb tied to a table leg. Her head was not allowed to rest on the table; instead, around her neck she wore a collar and he held the chain attached to it. At his whim, her head would drop away or rise to meet his cock. She was being fed cock and then denied it; she cried out and begged for it, her cunt, with its striking black pubic hair, was also desperate for attention that it infuriatingly and deliciously was not receiving. Her husband let her taste his cock, and then, because she begged again, he really let her have it, thrusting expertly and deeply, choking her and making it impossible for her to get anything but short, unsatisfying breaths.
In a spacious closet not too far from there, a woman was packing things in preparation for a move when she stumbled across a box of unlabelled DVDs. In a pair of red shorts and an aged Bruce Springsteen t-shirt, she placed the disc in the DVD player and sat down to find out what was on it. Her nipples began to push into the thin fabric of her shirt as the content of the first video became clear. It was her husband, naked in his office, getting his marvellous cock sucked by a supple Asian woman in black knee socks and impossibly clunky shoes. The girl was really going after it, taking it deeply into her mouth, rubbing the sloppy mess over her pretty face. All thirty two DVDs were the same; there were a number of different women, but that Asian bitch showed up in at least a third of them. The scenes were unquestionably hot. She was not mad, how could she be? She knew her husband, his gifts and talents and she could only savour these films that capture his grandeur so well. At the sight of her husband’s cock coming over and over again, she removed her red shorts and t-shirt and then, naked in the flickering light of the television, she spread her legs on the couch and started to furiously masturbate, giving her hot pussy whatever it wanted.
Across the river, a woman, naked except for her gorgeous stilettos and a pair of fabulous elbow high latex gloves, was disinfecting and putting away a series of dildos, whips, clamps, masks, balls, and other oddities whose use can only be guessed at. As she went about her work, she allowed her shoulders to slump slightly, returning her to the pose of an ordinary forty three year old woman, and not that of a dominant leather clad bitch. The work was still satisfying; it was just the posture that was a killer. The sybian machine in the corner caught her eye, still appetizingly wet from her last client, a woman who had certainly ridden it with distinction. “Why not,” she thought to herself. Lowering herself over the ungainly attachment, she revelled in the way it slipped right in, slick with someone else’s gratification. “All these climaxes,” she thought, “and here I am, left to fuck a machine.” The machine, however, proved to be an excellent lover, and her malaise was quickly swept away, as her cunt began to undulate with the movements of the cock. Rubbing her pussy with the sensual smoothness of the glove, delighting in her body, sh enjoyed the way her juices moistened her inner thighs and pooled in her ass crack.
The sun had long ago set; the night was darkly ripe. A young man, dressed in a dangerously tight pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt, which hugged the curves and shallows of his slender body, received a pitcher of beer, muttered a thank-you and pulled his Carolina Hurricanes cap lower over his eyes. He didn’t want to be seen. For him, the shame was the thrill, as much as the dancers at the Gloryhole were. He loved to permit his wild desires to take over, to force him out to this dirty club that had sat dishevelled at the edge of town since he was a child, beckoning him inside. At last he raised his eyes to the stage where he saw a beautiful black man, his face obscured by a Phantom of the Opera mask, thrusting his cock forward, then turning around and slowly dripping glittered oil down his open ass crack. As the oil rolled down his crack and over the smoothness of his dark ball sack, he moved his body expertly to the rhythm of a layered beat, which had been appropriated from more wholesome settings, but took on a whole new meaning here. The man in the Hurricanes cap found the body of this completely self-possessed and free man to be alluring in the way it seemed to be just a body, free of the strings of emotion—an object of gloriously rippling muscles and well-placed lines and dimples, available for consumption in a steamy bedroom somewhere.
Elsewhere, a young lawyer was still at his desk, dressed in a slightly wrinkled suit, trying to catch the attention of the firm’s partners. From somewhere in the distance, he heard the vacuum cleaner, powered by a young woman wearing black knee socks in comically clunky shoes and a shapeless grey smock handed out by the cleaning company. Like a dog trained to drool at a bell, the blonde lawyer looked up from his work and felt a familiar fullness rising in his pants. As she entered his office, she asked him if it would be alright to vacuum and he told her that it would only work for him if she did it naked. Laughing gleefully at their little game she unzipped the ungainly smock and let it fall to the ground, walked leisurely to his desk, pulled herself up in front of him and spread her legs. He loved the way her knee socks accented her skin and even somehow seemed to define her round ass; he loved her confident posture as she walked over to his desk, throwing her shoulders back and pushing out her small dark nipples. The shadows of the dimly lit office played off her body and her shoes began to scuff his oversized desk as he began to feast on her open cunt. She pinched her hardened nipples roughly, tossed her head back, and allowed a quiet gasp of pleasure to escape her lips. After he pushed his tongue expertly into all the right places, the dips and bulbs of her ecstasy, making her wet and ripe, she got down off the desk and with one fluid motion she released a truly divine cock. Before she could take it into her mouth, she paused to admire it, then to tickle the underside of his ball sack, and tease him tenderly. Quickly she pushed his cock to the back of her throat and then pulled it out; a shimmering stand of drool connected them as their late night madness developed intensity under the blue light of the office after hours.
This is Williamsburg, South Carolina, a town where madness reigns. Williamsburg was established in 1823 by John Williams, a shady hotelier from London who immigrated hastily, with his family of rogues and whores, to avoid some angry debt collectors. Even then it was a place where the politicians, artists, students and business men came to live out wild fantasies at the legendary Williams Inn, mixing with an unsavoury crowd of rough lumberjacks and farmers and even rougher, dirtier women. In Williamsburg, nothing was too unusual. That spirit has persisted, being passed down to generations, and Williamsburg has remained infamously untainted by the puritanical mood of the rest of the country. Sex is in the air here. It seems to be an all pervasive occupation, a remarkably subversive philosophy. For proof, just walk down the street and look through the foliage of the big leafy trees and into the picturesque bay windows. It is not uncommon to see tits mashed up against the window, faces contorted with the pleasure of some unusual and wonderfully unwholesome tryst, mouths salivating in the madness of the moment.
There is a legend that supposedly happened in Williamsburg. It is told by the curator of the local museum as if it is absolute fact. One hot day in May, a girl opened the top three buttons of her flannel nightgown, trying to get some relief from the stifling heat. She was immediately excited, just to be in her own room with her nightgown open, her tits barely covered, her nipples exposed. But, there was no relief from the heat. So, she opened the window. A summer breeze blew across her body, caressing her tits and making her feel better. She also noticed that she was aroused by the fact that she was now hanging out of her window, her tits exposed to the world. There was an intoxicating feeling: a mixture of the fear of falling and the shame of exposure as she thought of passer-bys who might see her nakedness. As the summer progressed and got as hot as any summer in South Carolina, the girl became more and more brazen: she unbuttoned more buttons on her nightgown and went all the way out her window, standing on a thin ledge outside her bedroom—as much as a cooling breeze, she was seeking that same intoxicating feeling of fear and shame that had so excited her a few weeks earlier. Each night she had to go further and further out on the ledge to find that feeling. One night in August, she was completely naked, seeking a shame that never really came, her tits thrust out into the world, just the backs of her heels were still on the ledge and she was only touching the wall of her house with the back of her wrist and her shoulder blades, but still it wasn’t enough. She took a step. To her surprise, she realized that she could walk on air. It was a bittersweet freedom. She would never feel the fear of falling no matter how far she went out. But, she could fly.
Theoretically, the town is too far inland to attract many tourists, but the tourists that come to Williamsburg don’t take many pictures. Williamsburg boasts the most strip clubs and swingers venues per capita in the United States; behind every window shade, there are ecstasies that would be kept secret in every other town, but in Williamsburg, they are as casual as an after dinner smoke. The town has grown into its reputation and profited from it. The rough and raunchy is buried a little further beneath the surface. These days, Williamsburg looks like many small towns in the United States. The lawns are large and green, the streets are wide and the pace is slow, contented and retiring. But in office buildings, on dining room tables, on couches and back rooms, there is a simmering, unchecked lust that is almost palpable.
Just after sleep had come to the restless souls of Williamsburg, the sun made its way onto the scene, drifting in through the blinds, sparkling in the dew on the big green lawns.
As the morning heated up, the men and women stepped out into the muggy air dressed for work. Mr. Ryan, with his young landscaping assistant, Doug, parked his maroon pickup in front of Ms. Dawson’s house. Mr. Ryan was dressed in a tight grey tank top and a stunning pair of exceedingly white jeans. A landscaper wearing white jeans is certainly a statement, but Mr. Ryan liked to make a statement; at the end of the week, he tossed all five pairs in bleach, and they are stunning again. Doug, dressed in a thin pair of blue sweats and a just-to-small t-shirt, looked down at Mr. Ryan’s hand resting on his upper thigh, his fingers dangerously close to Doug’s crotch.
“Well, Doug. I guess it’s time to get the day started,” he said, giving meaning to the hand resting on Doug’s leg by emphasizing his point with a soft slap of his thigh.
“Mmm. Fridays always seem to take so long,” said Doug, stretching and shifting so that his balls did rub against Mr. Ryan’s fingers, and so that his shirt rose up above his belly button. Both men got out of the truck and threw their sexual tension at their work. Doug loved the feeling of sweat running down his nose, down the indent in the middle of his back, into his ass crack. He loved noticing the way it darkened his shirt and gleamed on his thin, wiry arms. He saw his boss take off his tank top as he wrestled with the lawnmower. The beads of sweat formed on his boss in the humid morning, presenting in rivulets running down his body in the lines of his defined stomach muscles, glinting like diamonds against his black skin; Doug felt his cock rise slightly at the sight, swollen against his thin sweatpants. He never wore underwear and it was his daily test to watch Mr. Ryan in those stunning jeans without getting completely and obviously erect. He usually lost.
After throwing off his shirt, Mr. Ryan looked toward his young employee, and though he couldn’t see in the sun, he imagined that Doug might be arriving at his customary erection. He chuckled. It was only May, and this college student would be with him until he went back to school in September. There was time now for “accidental” rubs, for gazing, fantasizing, and wondering; a game that Doug seemed all too willing to play. Soon, Mr. Ryan was confident, they would be fucking.
On the street, Paige and Anthony were finishing their morning run. Paige was dressed in a pair of tight cotton shorts and a baby blue tank top, through which her erect nipples were clearly visible. Paige was nearly six feet tall with rich black hair, arresting eyebrows and full, strong features. Her olive skin wrapped smoothly around a pair of large full tits; her hips, ass, thighs and calves were a pleasant array of comfortable, womanly curves.
Her husband Anthony was dark and serious: he had beautiful dark brown eyes with long eyelashes. His dark hair was trimmed close to his head; his body was smooth and clean with a perfectly flat stomach, a strong round ass, and shapely thighs.
Paige ran strangely, her legs pumped up too high, her tits bounced helplessly, her hands were fists. She was not a natural athlete, but she pushed herself to be active and to keep in shape because she was very much in love with her body; she loved catching glimpses of herself in the mirror after a shower. Her body had sometimes been troubling to her, it was always so big and full and in grade eight, all the boys were a couple inches shorter than her. Now though, she found her dramatic bones, her full curves and her striking black pubic hair to be sexy and worth getting up early to maintain. Anthony, for his part, loved to watch his wife work out: her white shorts darkening somewhat as her ass started to sweat.
This morning, they had decided to finish their run at his mother’s house, which, although he loved his mother, was somewhat disappointing to him, since they usually finished these runs with a session of sweaty, utterly satisfying sex. It really was the sex that turned them both on, the feeling being dirty; the sex seemed more intimate, their bodies took on new tastes and smells that were strange and unusual, but unique and memorable. Anthony loved to have the smell of his wife’s asshole, moistened with sweat, in his nose all day long. On their honeymoon, they had agreed to not shower for their whole vacation. That ripe smell was something neither of them would ever forget.
In the town of Williamsburg, South Carolina, Ms. Meg Dawson ran a house of ill-repute. And yet, the activities that took place there were so discreetly managed, the house really only had a reputation in those circles where whatever happened there would bring the house a positive reputation. Anthony and his mother had shared a special, unspoken relationship ever since she had caught him giving a naked massage to his friend David one afternoon after soccer practice. Because he thought he might slip and speak the unspoken, he had always felt a little uncomfortable bringing his friends, and now his wife over to see his mother. To Ms. Dawson, bodies were bodies and sometimes in her dreams, all the bodies she had seen paraded naked in front of her, their faces obscured mysteriously; this dream was occasionally frightening, but mostly it was freeing to be a body in a parade of other faceless bodies. She had tried to make her son understand this philosophy—that when she sucked his cock it was just a body fucking a body—but for him, it was precisely the face attached to the body that made it so enthralling.
On this Monday morning, as Paige and Anthony came panting through the door, Ms. Dawson wore a pale, purple thong and a thin, semi-transparent purple robe that was more often open than closed. Paige really didn’t mind. Ms. Dawson was blonde and tall, with dark eyebrows and thick eyelashes; she was as tall as her daughter-in-law, but much finer in all her features, her legs and arms were muscular, but lean; her tits however, were full and heavy and barely seemed to have been affected by her age. Paige had been incredibly intrigued when Anthony told her about his mother’s profession. She had frequently imagined, and revised, a scene that involved a mercilessly wielded rubber cock.
The three said their good mornings. Ms. Dawson directed them to the couch and, as she served them tea, her robe fell completely open—Paige saw through her sheer thong that she had shaved her pussy since the last time they had seen her—Ms. Dawson didn’t apologize or flinch. Standing there with her robe open, she put her hands on her hips and asked if they need any cream or sugar. Before she was able to serve it, the doorbell rang.
Outside the door were Mr. Ryan, the landscaper and his assistant Doug. Both had their shirts off, and were glistening in the sun, their lower halves desperate to escape from the dampening constricting pants they both were wearing. Mr. Ryan noticed that Doug’s sweatpants were getting lower down his waist, as they did each day as he worked and sweat. Mr. Ryan noticed the line of Doug’s pelvis, sculpted and clearly visible on the young man’s tanned wet body. He unconsciously traced the curve of Doug’s back, the indent of his spine, up to the shoulders that rippled with new muscles formed in the heat and the various rigours of the job. At the same time, Doug looked at Mr. Ryan’s white jeans and thought he should get a pair like that, as they might be cooler. His eyes moved slowly up the jeans and noticed the bulge of Mr. Ryan’s cock, the logo on his belt-buckle, the way his stomach moved away from his pants in a perfect flat plane up to his belly button; he observed the way the sun shimmered off his black skin like the glitter the boys apply to their body at the clubs he attends when his new wife goes to her mother’s in St. Louis. He wanted to touch and taste that glitter, but like at the clubs, he only looked.
Ms. Dawson opened the door.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Ryan, how is the work coming?”
“We are finished for today. But, I’ve got to collect the money you owe me. It’s been two months and your tab is at two hundred dollars.”
“Well,” she said, her robe open, her hands on her hips, “do you offer any alternative payment plans?” And with that, she moved one finger over her pussy. Her other hand moved suggestively to his belt buckle. Mr. Ryan didn’t need much more of a signal.
“Absolutely,” he said, opening his pants. “We accept that sort of payment whenever we can. It’s tax free and that’s a bonus.” His large dark cock fell out of his pants hanging there waiting to be dealt with. Doug felt his own cock throb within his pants as Ms. Dawson knelt down, her blonde hair rustled slightly by the wind, looking redder in the sunlight. Her smooth ruby lips took to cock into her mouth deeply, and then she pulled back and sucked softly on the head. Doug noticed the way her thick eyelashes caught the sun and cast a shadow over her lightly freckled face; as she began to perspire slightly in the heat of the morning sun, her heavy mascara ran, almost imperceptibly, but enough to make her seem somewhat taken advantage of. Her knees rubbed against the cement as she began rocking her body to the rhythm of Mr. Ryan’s cock. For her, two months of free lawn care for a blow job now and again wasn’t such a bad deal. By now, she was holding Mr. Ryan’s cock out of the way as she went to work hungrily on his smooth balls. He groaned, and clenched and tried not to come right then. Ms. Dawson licked wetly up the entire shaft of his rock hard cock, tasting the sweat of the morning, feeling the heat of his lust. She paused to play briefly at the edge of his foreskin; turning her tongue to a point, she moved it just under his head, lubricating the sensitive, often neglected flesh; all the while she jacked him off with her experienced hand moving along his elongated shaft.
Unable to resist, Doug put his hand inside his pants and began to rub his fully hardened cock. Realizing that he was watching his boss get his cock sucked on the back porch, he decided that there was little reason to keep it in inside his pants. He pulled his sweatpants over his protrusion and let them fall to his tennis shoes. He stroked his cock cautiously, not wanting to come too quickly, enjoying the sight of his bosses clenched ass, powerful and manly, the woman’s swaying tits, vulnerable and exposed to the bright light of the morning, the gooey saliva hanging in thick strand from her chin.
Finally Doug got up the courage to say: “Do you mind if I get in on this, boss?”
“Go ahead,” said Mr. Ryan, becoming aware of the half naked youth pumping his own cock desperately.
Doug didn’t hesitate in thrusting his aching cock toward the responsive mouth. She preformed the same ball-sucking initiation on his cock before chocking it back the way she had Mr. Ryan’s. As she started to salivate and get messy over these two cocks, alternating her attention between the long fat dick of Mr. Ryan and the rock hard offering of the younger man, she felt her pussy start to get moist and slippery, her juices dampening her thong and rolling hotly down her inner thigh. She put both cocks into her mouth at once, letting them touch and move against each other, tasting their juices and letting them mingle, letting the excess saliva run unashamedly down her chin.
Both men watched their cocks together in Ms. Dawson’s mouth, feeling each other’s hardness. Mr. Ryan reached over and lightly touched Doug’s ass, caressing the thousands of blonde hairs that were all standing alert on his round and youthful ass cheeks. Slowly he moved his hand toward Doug’s crack; he pushed a finger down the crack, brushed back and forth against his sensitive hole, and then moved it toward the base of his scrotum. Ultimately, sharing the same mouth was too much for both of them: Doug, young and relatively inexperienced, came without warning, forcing his come down her throat, causing her to pull back quickly, the excess come mixed with spit, drooled out of her mouth.
Mr. Ryan pulled his juicy member out; Doug’s come dripping from its head, mingling in one long strand with whatever was sliding down Ms. Dawson’s chin and coming to rest at the top of her left freckled breast.
“Give me that cock,” she said hungrily before taking Doug’s cock deeply back into her mouth.
While Ms. Dawson sucked whatever come was left from the head of Doug’s cock, Mr. Ryan slowly pulled on his cock and waited for the right moment. Finally, she was ready and he shot his load all over her face and she moaned and blinked, her long eyelashes heavy with come.
Wiping her face she got up and said: “Now, I know that that doesn’t cover the full two hundred, but I will be sure to pay you in full if you return some evening later this week. Currently I have guests, so I’ll have to cut this short. Although Mr. Ryan felt very well compensated, he played along and promised that he would come back later to collect what was owed. Ms. Dawson returned inside and the two men dressed, each taking one final glance at the other’s cock. For a moment, Doug felt a twinge of guilt, thinking about his wife, Joanie, who was just now waking up naked in their first apartment together as a married couple. Certainly, he thought quickly, this indiscretion could not be held against him; who could have resisted?
Meanwhile, Paige and Anthony had gotten bored waiting for Ms. Dawson to return from her conversation with the landscapers. Paige was aroused. She always was after their jogs, but today, after catching sight of Ms. Dawson’s glorious tits, she felt herself getting that irresistible urge for satisfaction. She leaned over and casually unzipped Anthony’s shorts. Anthony always wore running shorts that were made of a thick spandex material, featuring a short zipper for extra tightness. His cock, surprised, stood slowly, still hanging over to the left. He asked her briefly to stop, but couldn’t really muster any serious objections. Paige began sucking his cock. One of her favourite things was sucking cock, she loved to spit huge gobs onto the head and watch it roll down, where it either nestled in well trimmed pubic hair or rolled all the way over her lover’s ball-sack. She was in the midst of taking Anthony’s cock deep within her mouth, on her knees now in front of him, her own hand sliding down the front of her white shorts, slipping in between her wet pussy lips, when Ms. Dawson returned.
“Oh God,” said Ms. Dawson. At that moment, both her son and she thought of the time when she walked in on him massaging his friend, both naked, his cock gently rubbing across his friend’s ass crack as he straddled the boy’s body, deeply working the muscles around the shoulders and neck. That incident had certainly started something wonderful between them, and this interruption could be the same. This time, Anthony barely moved. When Paige’s head snapped around at the sound of someone entering the room, Anthony continued to stroke his cock, a small smirk on his face.
“I’m sorry, Meg,” said Paige, her face shiny with spit.
“Don’t be sorry, honey. I’m glad to see that you’re taking such good care of my son. I hope you’re grateful Anthony. Most married men aren’t so lucky.”
“I am grateful.”
“Let me see you suck my son’s cock. Maybe I can give you a few pointers. Hey,” she said, pulling on the white shorts, “why don’t you get more comfortable.”
So, Paige took off her shorts and went to work on a cock that was thick and heavy on the end, like a clenched fist ready to pound. Ms. Dawson smelled the glorious aroma of her pussy, exaggerated by arousal and made more pungent from the drying sweat of the early morning run. Even as she sat, her legs spread, on the easy chair adjacent to the couch, she could smell the dark perfume of pussy emanating from the spread lips. Ms. Dawson, still aroused from the events on the patio, removed her thong and resumed the slow, deliberate stroking of her pussy.
Finally, she couldn’t resist any longer. She got down on her knees behind the girl and began to run her hand up the girl’s strong thigh and then slipped the side of her hand inside the spread pussy lips as she watched the girl put the rigid cock deep in the back of her throat.
“Good,” she encouraged softly. “Fuck that cock. Don’t forget about his balls. Yeah, that’s right.” Finally, her son’s cock became irresistible to her. She moved over and began to lick his balls while Paige continued to suck him hard and deep.
“Okay,” Ms. Dawson commanded. “Put your pussy in his face and make him prove that he’s grateful.” Without a word, Paige complied, standing on the couch, writhing against his face. She stood on her tip toes so that her cunt was fully over Anthony’s face, which was leaned back so that his chin was straight up in the air. Spreading her lips with her fingers, Paige slid her open pussy over his nose and his protruding tongue. Supporting herself against the wall, she slid back and forth over his face, giving him only seconds to get a breath before she was over him again.
Ms. Dawson was now swallowing the throbbing cock vacated by the convulsing girl. While she sucked his cock, she watched a single bead of pussy juice roll down the inside of her daughter-in-law’s leg. She slipped the index finger on her left hand into the darkness of Anthony’s ass crack and ran her right hand up Paige’s leg and pushed a finger into the puckered jewel of her asshole. Both adjusted slightly to allow the probing fingers to find their way home, and she was able to slide in easily up to the knuckle.
The girl, her huge tits bouncing, yelled: “Two, Two, Two!” In compliance, Ms. Dawson slipped two fingers into her daughter-in-law’s asshole. She rocked against the two fingers, feeling them hit a spot that seemed to be so deep inside her, so wonderfully mysterious. She bucked and moaned and covered Anthony’s face with her musky wetness. Suddenly, Paige shrieked and pushed the fingers deeper inside herself and slammed her cunt into Anthony’s face, coming explosively, shooting juice all over his face and down the inside of her legs.
Momentarily she paused to enjoy the moment and then joined Ms. Dawson in sucking Anthony’s cock. She licked around Ms. Dawson’s fingers, which were pressed knowingly up her son’s asshole. She tasted him and salivated uncontrollably. Her pussy was still wet and quivering as she ran her tongue along her lover’s balls, up the shaft, meeting Ms. Dawson at the head; the women paused from their work to kiss, and then Ms. Dawson fed Paige the fingers that had been up her ass. As the women kissed passionately, Anthony felt himself climax. He stood up to jack himself off into their waiting faces. He shot his come into Paige’s open mouth where it mixed with her saliva and ran down her chin. But, before it could drop from her face, Ms. Dawson captured it, taking the come into her mouth. Then, she grabbed Paige by the throat and forehead, causing her to open her mouth and tilt her head back. Carefully, slowly, she formed a gob and dropped it deeply into the open throat where it slid down the back. Anthony forced his dying erection deep into her throat as Ms. Dawson restrained the girl against her urge to retreat.
Finally, she let her go, “Good girl,” she cooed. “Anthony, you’ve got a good girl here.” She slapped the coughing girl’s ass.
“She is, mother,” said Anthony kissing his mother deeply.
After their kiss, Ms. Dawson said, “Oh dear, the coffee has gone cold. Should I make a new pot?”
“Well mom, we actually have to get going. We’re showing a house today and hopefully we can make a sale.”
“In that case, it was great to see you both, and I really mean it. That was fabulous.”
Just at that moment, Paige was coming to her senses. In the madness of fucking, she hadn’t even thought about the implications of what had just happened. They were delicious implications, but wild and deviant all the same.
Several hours later, Paige was dressed in a short grey skirt and a fashionable pink blouse; her heels might have been a little high for serious real estate, but she found that they gave her the confidence she needed when she is trying to make a sale. Having Anthony by her side, wearing khaki’s and a blue polo shirt, tight against his toned body, also added to her confidence. They met the prospective buyers in front of a well-priced, well-kept bungalow.
“Hello, Paige and Anthony. How are you this afternoon?” Jane spoke in a mysterious accent: it had some recognizable southern elements, but it seemed to be mixed with the speech of a fisherman off the coast of Maine. She was tall and thin; her red hair was cut neatly with cute bangs and straightened and carefully styled hair. She had long legs and small pointed tits; her erect nipples were prominently displayed from behind a thin white cotton tank top. Her pale skin was pleasantly dusted with freckles and even they seemed to be visible through her tank top. She wore mercilessly tight Capri cargos and a stylish pair of flip flops. Her husband Tom was even taller than she, blonde with a big chest, strong arms and well defined legs. He was dressed in running shorts that barely hid his large cock and a t-shirt that struggled to meet the waistline of his shorts. He wore a partially stunned expression, his mouth slightly open, his striking blue eyes looking off into the middle distance. As Paige introduced herself and Anthony, she noticed a rather large semen stain on the bottom right of Tom’s shirt.
“We’re doing very well,” said Paige, throwing a glance at her husband. “How are you?”
“We’re ready to buy.”
“Great. Well, this is the house. It fits perfectly into your budget and offers many of the items on your wish list, like a hot tub and a fireplace. It also has a very large garage, which is a pretty rare, but definitely an enviable addition to a property in this neighbourhood. Why don’t you go in and have a look. We’ll wait out here. Just give a shout through the bedroom window when you need us.”
“Great. We’ll see you in a bit. Thanks.”
As they left, Anthony and Paige continued the conversation they were having before the couple showed up.
“So, you’re really okay with the fact that my mom, you know, does that to me from time to time?”
“Anthony, I just wished you had told me sooner. Honestly, I can’t wait to go over there again. She really knew what she was doing.”
“Well, she’s had enough practice. God, you don’t know how good it is to be able to share this secret with someone. All through high school I couldn’t say anything. I thought we were freaks, but even still, I never wanted her to stop.”
“I can see why.”
“Wow. I always worried about what would happen when this all came out.”
“Anthony. With me, everything is permissible. Haven’t you noticed? I love Williamsburg.”
Meanwhile, Tom and Jane had checked out the house and they thought it looked pretty good. The place would be a bit of a step down for them. They had inherited a rather large house from his parents, but they had always found it a bit of an imposition to clean and maintain, and now that another year had passed without Tom making partner, they had decided to move into something a little more manageable. In some people’s eyes, Tom’s inability to make partner might have seemed like a failure, but neither Tom nor Jane seemed to think of it that way. The blank look on his face was often confused for stupidity, but he was smart enough to make at least an average lawyer; that look on his face may just have been the peace of a man who knew exactly why he was put on the earth, and it wasn’t to push pencils around a desk for some corporation.
In the living room they noticed a number of porn magazines on the coffee table. Tom couldn’t resist flipping through a few. Jane rolled her eyes and said, “Only in Williamsburg.” Their last stop was the master bedroom. When they got there, Jane exclaimed: “Oh Tom, this is the place. Look at the size of this bedroom. Look at the closet space.” She moved to the window to call to Paige and Anthony, but as she put her hands on the windowsill Tom came up behind her and took her tits in his giant hands and thrust his pelvis into her small firm ass.
“Maybe,” he whispered into her neck, “we should take a minute to test this room out.” He popped open the button on her pants and began to slide the zipper down. Realizing that she was not wearing any panties, he slipped his heavy finger into her shaved pussy. She moaned softly, giving him the signal of approval. He quickly dropped his shorts to the floor releasing a most amazing cock: long and thick, beautifully smooth and pink, arrow straight with a slight heaviness on the end. She wriggled out of her pants and bent at the waist to accommodate him, gripping the windowsill with both hands. He plunged into her waiting pussy, her tits stiffened further, her mouth opened in pleasure and pain, her red hair falling out of her tight ponytail and hanging in front of her eyes. He moved his one mammoth hand up her shirt, squeezing her hard tits; his other hand reached around her jutting hip bone, briefly tracing its outline, and then coming to rest over her pussy, his finger applying gentle pressure to her clit.
As Tom moved against her she helplessly began to call out: “Yes, yes, yes!” On the sidewalk, Anthony and Paige looked at each other and, thinking they had just made a sale to a couple of extremely enthusiastic buyers, rushed in to meet them in the master bedroom to seal the deal before they could change their minds.
Upon entering the room, Paige first saw Tom’s ass clenched and before she could fully compute what was going on, Anthony came in behind her, pushing her further into the room and negating any chance of a quiet exit. Surprised, the two lovers broke apart, not quickly, but more reluctantly. Paige and Anthony stood, speechless and frozen, both gazing at the most remarkable cock they had ever seen.
“We’ll take it,” said Jane, breaking the silence, the hand that had been covering her pussy involuntarily began rubbing it.
“God,” said Paige, “if you don’t mind me saying so, your husband has the most remarkable cock I have ever seen.”
‘It’s pretty fabulous isn’t it?” answered Jane, talking about Tom like he wasn’t really there, which seemed true, give his empty gaze. Then, referring to his collection of DVDs, she asked, “Tom likes it when strange people suck his cock. Do you want to suck it?” Jane asked. Tom, undoubtedly, did not get the reference.
“Oh fuck, yes!” said Paige, getting on her knees and tasting the juices of their two satisfied clients mingled on this giant rod. Jane now became actively involved in rubbing herself and said to Anthony, “Why don’t you come over here and help me out.”
Anthony felt like he should apologize as he took off his clothes, showing a cock that seemed so average in comparison. This was Anthony’s problem: he had always wanted to be like those confident men with their beautiful cocks—the men he had so often seen parading around his mother’s house—instead of just enjoying the beauty of his own dark rod.
Jane, keeping her legs straight, spread her legs so wide that she was supporting herself on the insides of her feet, and said: “I need my asshole licked clean.”
Anthony started licking her at her inner thigh and moved up slowly, pausing momentarily to taste her wet pussy, feeling the heat radiating on his face. He moved into her ass, tasting a pungent saltiness, an exotic sharpness and experiencing the deep and glorious mystery of a woman’s asshole. As she loosened, he drove his tongue deeper into her asshole, then circling his tongue around, tasting the overflow from her wet pussy. She moaned softly. She had positioned herself in such a way that she could watch Paige suck her husband’s cock and she noted how deeply she was taking him into her mouth, working his head with her throat, covering his gorgeous member with spit.
After several minutes of intense sucking, Paige sat back and said to Jane, “You know, I’ve got to ask, but would it be okay for Anthony to suck this cock. I know he likes it, and I would absolutely explode if I saw it.”
“Sure. He doesn’t care as long as he’s getting sucked by something. But I want to eat your pussy while you watch.”
Anthony eagerly moved over to take the massive cock, taking in the sweaty, gooey rod just like he had so many times in college, except this was a cock for the hall of fame, he wanted to savour it, to devour it, to feel it explode inside his mouth.
Meanwhile, Paige unzipped her skirt and let it fall to floor and Jane came over, now naked and started to unbutton Paige’s pink shirt exposing her fine, olive coloured tits, heavy and erect. Jane then directed the tall dark woman to get on all fours on the bed facing Tom and her frenzied husband. Jane laid flat on her back and directed the woman’s hips over her and pulled Paige’s spread pussy down onto her face, driving her tongue in and out of her slippery hole, moving quickly to her clit and then all the way down to her asshole. From the front, Tom watched Paige’s tits swaying, her black hair fallen over her face, her hands clenched on the bedspread.
Paige looked up and met Tom’s eyes, she said, “I want you to fuck my husband. I want you to fuck him right in front of me with that unbelievable cock.” She almost shrieked that last part. The men eagerly obeyed. Tom found lubricant in the bedside drawer and methodically, without changing his expression, began to put one finger, then two, then three into Anthony’s asshole as the submissive man braced himself against the footboard.
“Fuck him!” Paige called, pushing herself onto Jane’s face, squeezing her own tits roughly, running one hand through her hair so that she looked like she was riding a bull instead of a woman’s face. As the moment grew nearer, Paige began to convulse more vigorously, rubbing her pussy over Jane’s face, feeling it become more slippery. Tom grabbed Anthony’s ass cheeks and squeezed them around his cock and began fucking his cheeks. Anthony moaned at the pressure on his loosened asshole and particularly enjoyed the way Tom’s sack rubbed into his inner thigh.
“Fuck him!” Paige screamed. Tom now slowly inserted his cock into Anthony’s asshole. Anthony winced and then groaned as the giant pole slid inside. Tom brought his cock all the way back out and then slipped his head in, then out again and then plunged deep inside.
“No! Fuck him! I want to hear you fucking slamming into his ass. I want you to make him yell.” In response, Tom increased his intensity, moving back and forth rapidly, forcing his rock hard cock in deeply and vigorously.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” they all called out together, except for Jane who could barely breath, drowning in the potent juice of a woman Jane guessed had completely forgotten what she was rubbing her hairy cunt against.
Anthony yelled, “Oh God.” Paige came all over Jane’s face, showering her with salty juice, convulsing uncontrollably over the suffocating Jane who was finally freed and sat up coughing, but happy. Paige didn’t want to close her legs quite yet and kneeling above Jane, who was now furiously fingering her own pussy, she continued to rub herself, looking into the unfocused eyes of her husband, wanting to taste that bit of drool that was running down his chin.
Meanwhile, the owner of the house, Mr. Ryan came home from work and offered his assistant Doug a beer, which he accepted gladly. The two men went into the living room and sat down on the couch.
Doug noticed that Mr. Ryan had some pretty racy magazines lying casually on the coffee table. He was surprised to see that they were all of woman, but with a definite anal bent. Mr. Ryan leaned over Doug’s shoulder, “Do you like that?” he asked.
“Sure, but not as much as the real thing,” said Doug, hinting broadly.
“You’re telling me. You know, I noticed today that we’re really whipping you into shape. You got a little soft while you were in school.”
“Thanks,” said Doug, rolling up his shirt sleeve and showing off his muscles. When he brought it back down, it was on Mr. Ryan’s leg.
“You know, Doug, it wasn’t just your muscles I was impressed with today. It was the size and curve of your hard cock. I loved the way it felt, pulsing against mine. I’d love to see it again.”
In response, Doug shed his short blue t-shirt and Mr. Ryan was quick to follow. Soon the two men were passionately kissing on the couch, their cocks barely contained inside their pants. Mr. Ryan straddled Doug and began to rub himself over Doug’s cock. Then, Mr. Ryan stood up and pulled off his tight white jeans. Doug ran his hands up the strong thighs and firm buttocks, feeling the hot urgency of Mr. Ryan’s cock pressing into his chest.
Standing to continue kissing, Doug began to stroke the hard cock. Mr. Ryan started to kiss Doug’s body, moving over his chest and ending at the cock, aching to be released from his blue sweat pants. Finally, the cock was released, and the two rods moved against each other excitedly. Now it was Doug’s turn. He got on his knees and began to suck Mr. Ryan’s cock, moving his hand from the man’s strong inner thigh to his smooth ball sack.
Mr. Ryan threw Doug onto the couch and began to suck his surprisingly long rod, while he slowly pulled on his own. He showed the skill of someone who had been in this situation before, taking the cock deep into his mouth. Soon, the two men had altered positions, Doug straddled Mr. Ryan’s face, so that they could suck each other’s cocks simultaneously. Mr. Ryan continued to take Doug fully, and methodically into his mouth, while Doug preferred to suck hotly around the tip. Soon, both men began to finger the other man’s asshole, penetrating gently.
“Doug, it is time for me to fuck you. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” said Doug lying down on the couch and holding his legs in the air; though his voice was confident, he felt the instantaneous sweat of nervousness, or perhaps of anticipation.
Mr. Ryan grabbed some conveniently placed oil from the cabinet and began pouring it down the young man’s shaft, watching in run over his cock sack into his hungry asshole. He pressed his cock firmly against the puckered muscle, willing it to relax. Slowly, it spread and Doug gritted his teeth as Mr. Ryan moved his head inside. Soon, Doug’s socked feet were bouncing against Mr. Ryan’s broad chest as he rhythmically fucked him, pulling his cock almost out of the tight asshole before thrusting deeply into the warm hole. Mr. Ryan noticed Doug’s rock hard cock slapping softly against the flat stomach, he moved his large hand down Doug’s leg and grabbed his balls gently before taking the stiff rod firmly and pulling slowly, up and down. After several minutes, Mr. Ryan prepared to come and pulled out of Doug’s asshole. Doug begged him: “Come on my cock; come on my cock and then lick it off.”
Mr. Ryan obliged and then bent down to taste his come on the youthful eager cock. Suddenly, almost before he had taken the cock all the way into his mouth, Doug came hard, shivering and moaning. After a few minutes, they decided to head upstairs for a shower.
Upon entering the bedroom, they saw a wild and unexpected scene. Tom was fucking Anthony who was gripping the footboard while Jane was on her knees sucking his cock, and Paige lay on her back on the floor, her face buried in Jane’s pussy. The pace was ecstatic and no one saw them at first; the men stood there, their freshly used cocks still partially erect, staring at the black hair and glorious juicy flesh between Paige’s wide open legs.
Finally, Mr. Ryan gathered himself and said: “Excuse me?”
The party in his room were startled into stopping. Jane, saliva dripping down her face, freed herself from where she was wedged in a looked past the two men locked in their forbidden embrace and said: “We’ll take it. This is a great house.”
Paige, wriggled out of her position and stood naked in front of the men who were still frozen, said: “I’m so sorry Mr. Ryan. We were caught up in the enthusiasm of the sale. But,” she said, observing that Mr. Ryan was also naked, adopted a suggestive voice, “I’m sure I can make it up to you.” She went down on her knees and grabbed his cock at the base and then slowly, looking him in the eye, took it deep within her mouth. It tasted like Anthony’s cock after he had fucked her in the ass, and immediately she knew where this cock had just been. And yet, she was strangely compelled, finding pleasure in the humiliation, causing her to eat the dirty cock all the more messily, the stained drool rolling endlessly down her chin. She continually pulled the cock out of her mouth and rubbed it on her face and into her hair. She took it between her tits, and squealing and moaning, began to energetically fuck it between her large tits.
Jane came around and began sucking the younger man. Tom began fucking Anthony again, moving deeply inside him. Anthony whined, “Who’s going to suck my cock?” The two women stopped and Paige said, I guess I’ll have to take on these two gentlemen all by myself. You go ahead; I suck that cock every day.”
Jane agreed and wedged herself back in against the footboard. She allowed the thrust of Tom to force Anthony’s cock in and out of her mouth, banging her head softly against the footboard. Paige led the two men to the bed, she motioned Doug to lie down and then, bending over seductively, she used the juice of her unbelievably wet pussy to lubricate her asshole and then ever so slowly, she lowered her ass onto his erect cock. Then, spreading her legs, she motioned for Mr. Ryan to start fucking her pussy. She spread it for him and moaned softly as he put it inside her. From his position buried beneath the writhing woman, feeling the delicious thrusting of Mr. Ryan’s cock, he heard Paige ask to have her tits slapped. He obliged and reached up to smack playfully at the heavy tits. As the two hard cocks moved inside her, Doug’s rod repeatedly hit the sweet spot that Ms. Dawson’s fingers had found this morning and Mr. Ryan’s dirty cock fucked her furiously and quickly.
“Do you like that, bitch. This is what you get for fucking in my house,” said Mr. Ryan affably getting into the spirit.
“Oh,” she cried, “I deserve to be fucked like this. Fuck me! Fuck me! Make me pay. Slap my tits harder.”
With this in their view, Tom and Anthony quickly reached climax. Tom pulled out and he and Anthony began vigorously jacking off in front of Jane’s open mouth. The room was filled with grunting and moaning and then the two men showered Jane with thick gooey come, getting some of it in her mouth, but a large amount missed landing on her neck, nose, hair and her full beautiful eyelashes.
“Let me taste that cock,” she said. She took the two men into her mouth, sucking them clean.
Then, in what can only be described as a feat of extraordinary sexual athleticism and coordination, Jane stood on the bed and positioned herself so that Mr. Ryan could eat her pussy while Paige ate her asshole. She thrust back and forth, first ramming her pussy sloppily against Mr. Ryan’s face and then spreading her cheeks and burying Paige’s face between two creamy mounds of luscious flesh. Tom and Anthony watched blissfully, gently caressed their dying erections. Sweating now, muscles tight and glistening, the mass of flesh moved and moaned, crooning that age old anthem: bellybuttons, pussies, long blond hair sticky against an elegant neck, shoulder blades, calves, thighs slapping, hot dripping come, mouths wet with salvia and anticipation.
“OH GOD!” yelled Jane and Paige in unison. “I’m coming, coming,” they all said without variation, shuddering, and exhaling through clenched teeth. Doug came in Paige’s ass and Mr. Ryan, still eating the spread pussy, pulled out just in time to jack off all over her wet pussy, still throbbing with her recent orgasm.
“Well,” said Paige at last, “that was a great way to seal the deal.”
“Let’s get to that paperwork,” said Anthony, his ass still hot and steaming.
“Hey,” said Jane, “Tom and I want to throw a party at our house tomorrow night, a last hurrah, so to speak. Anyway, we would love it if all of you could join us.”
Everyone agreed happily; Doug thought about Joanie, he would have to leave her at home; although they always invited other men into their beds, things had remained strictly heterosexual simply because he wasn’t sure how his new wife would take to his predilection. He was sure she had seen him gazing lustily at the hard rods of those strangers, but she hadn’t said anything yet. Since he hoped to have an opportunity to fuck some of these other men without a long discussion, he thought he would go stag. He forgot, of course, where he was living: Williamsburg, South Carolina.
Later that evening, Doug returned home to his and Joanie’s cramped basement apartment, their first place together as a couple; it was ugly and cheap, but Joanie had lovingly and creatively decorated some of the more dismal corners. He was enthusiastic about his day at work and hoped that his wife, Joanie, would be up for a little sex, but alas, it was not to be. As he walked in the door, he met his wife dressed in her yoga outfit, which consisted of a pair of outrageously tight pants that accentuated her strong thighs and small, but perky round butt. Also added to the ensemble were was a pink cotton tank top that seemed to be barely holding together, stretching over her excitable girlish breasts. Her shiny black hair was tied up in a severe bun; her belly was exposed and Doug openly fawned over her olive skin, accented by a jewelled bellybutton ring.
“Sorry honey, I’m just heading out the door.” He loved the way she looked in those pants, each muscle and movement was announced sensually.
He gave her a slap on her firm ass, “Alright,” he said disappointedly, “I’ll wait for you.”
“Great, see you in about two hours.”
“Hey,” he said, even as she was standing on the landing outside the front door, “I’ve got something to do tomorrow. Mr. Ryan’s sold his house, so he’s treating me to a few beers.”
“He’s always treating you to a few beers. Doesn’t that man have any friends?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, we’ll talk when I get home. Anyway,” she said, playfully fingering the waistband of his sweatpants. “Keep your hands off this, you know what yoga does for me,” she intoned with a not-too-subtle subtext.
With the apartment to himself, Doug wandered around naked after showering, unable to get the scenes of the day out of his head. Meanwhile, on his way to the gym for his customary workout, Anthony was feeling the same way. At the very same time, Joanie was driving to her yoga class, feeling that sort of background sense of arousal she always mysteriously got whenever she put on her workout outfit and noticed her own body filling out her tight pants and thin tank top. She liked the way her pants rode up a little, offering a hint of camel toe and just the slightest shadow of a wedgie; she especially liked the way her pierced belly button showed just below her tank top. She felt a familiar moistness between her legs and couldn’t help but run an admiring hand across her breasts, down her stomach and over the inner part of her legs. Simultaneously, Paige was heading to her mother-in-law’s house wearing a black lacy bodysuit that ended just below her knees, at her wrists and went up to her elegant neck, ending in a thick lacy choker. Overtop, she was wearing a short trench coat. Where Joanie was lithe and lean and little, Paige was all curves and the body suit went miles to flatter her body, to deliver the ins and outs of her body in an almost irresistible package. She was going to Ms. Dawson’s house to finish the job they had started earlier that day. She had realized that Ms. Dawson had given, but had never received and she hoped to rectify that situation. Meanwhile, Tom was undressing in a bathroom, admiring the way the lighting fell on perfect shapes and planes of his body. At the same time, his wife, Jane, was driving in the orange glow in the dying evening sunlight, squinting all the way to the very same class that Joanie attended.
Doug, now dressed in a pair of jeans, had been watching a porn he watched frequently and had unbuttoned the top button of his tight pants and was on his way back to the couch with a new beer in hand when he caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror, lighted softly in the cool blue of the moon.
Anthony worked out ferociously, trying to get his mind to go elsewhere, to stop thinking about cocks and his mother, but in the change room, he noticed cocks hanging everywhere, tormenting him. He took off his sweaty workout clothes to shower and change; he lingered longer than usual in the locker room, drinking in the testosterone filled atmosphere, imagining that other men were stealing glances at his cock, all the while he was trying furtively to do the same himself.
The yoga class began at the recreational center downtown. Joanie and Jane contorted their bodies into the usual, but forever unusual positions, freeing their muscles from the stresses of the day, feeling their muscles loosen and relax, feeling that strange pleasure at being prompted by their gentle, leanly muscled instructor to do things that hurt and that put them in very vulnerable positions. Halfway through the lesson, in a pose that positioned her sideways, Jane noticed that the girl posing right next to her was that same Asian bitch that she had seen sucking her husband’s cock. What a delicious coincidence, she thought to herself. With delight she noticed the delicate curve of her spine and the way you could see just the top of her ass crack peeking out of her yoga pants. Because she had already seen the girl completely naked, she allowed her mind to pull down those pants, to move inside the folds and shadows of the girl.
On a wide street on the outskirts of town, Paige arrived at her mother-in-law’s house and knocked on the door. After rapping loudly, she opened her coat and waited. She was flabbergasted when a completely naked man opened the door, his spectacular cock partially hard, and his body smooth and alluringly powerful. Once she tore her eyes away from his body, she was equally astonished to see that it was Tom, the buyer from that afternoon, the man who had fucked her husband sinfully just a few hours ago. Her first reaction, despite his nakedness, was to slam her coat closed, but then reason got the better for her and she continued to hold it open.
“Ma’am?” said Tom, not letting on that he recognized her. He did, of course, but he was in character: Tom was a seemingly shallow man with enigmatic depths. His weekly retreat into the character “Smith” had become a ritual that gave him the opportunity to get away from the stresses and disappointments of his job. The fact that Paige was at the front door, a real estate agent that he and his wife had worked with for several months, only added to his pleasure; he was meat, at the whim of his mistress. Meat didn’t have a choice in what happened to it. Although he face didn’t register it, he allowed himself to take in the beautiful woman at the front door. Even more than this afternoon, he was struck by her curves. In her bodysuit, her calves, which were the only bare part of her body, looked absolutely stunning, undoubtedly the best pair of calves he had ever seen in real life. Against the black fabric of the suit, her neck seemed graceful and long and wonderfully feminine. Trapped beneath the tight lacy fabric of the suit, the curves of her breasts and hips and ass were highlighted, stretching the lacy pattern to expose more flesh; even the gentle rise of her pubic bone caused him to rejoice silently in the beauty of this woman and all women. God bless Williamsburg, South Carolina.
Ms. Dawson came up behind Tom and ran her hand slowly across his ass, allowing her fingers to dip into the softness and sensitivity of his ass crack as she moved from left to right. She was dressed in a pair of stiletto heels, thigh high nylons, a serious grey skirt, a lighter grey blouse with the top two buttons open, glasses, and a chin length black wig over her blonde hair. She looked like a repressed librarian ready to burst out of her clothing.
“Thank-you, Smith,” she purred, “Stroke your cock slowly; I want Paige to see you in all your glory.” Tom gleefully did as he was told, revelling in his nakedness while these two clothed women ate his body up with their eyes.
Paige said: “Oh, I’ve already seen it. I sold a house to him this afternoon.” She laughed, blushing slightly, at the memory of a few hours ago. She tried to catch Tom’s eye, but he was decidedly not participating in the conversation. He was only there to do what he was there to do.
“And you celebrate all your sales by fucking your clients?” she asked in a mockingly indignant tone. “I’m very proud,” said added wryly.
“In a perfect world, it would be that way. This just happened to be a perfect afternoon,” she said wistfully, again trying to catch his eye. When he denied her for a second time, she was unable to resist gently cupping his balls. He responded by moaning softly and pulling on his cock a little quicker.
After a moment, she pulled herself back to her original purpose, “Meg, I came here to finish what we started this afternoon. I want to do whatever you want me to. I want to repay the pleasure you gave me this afternoon.”
“What a lovely idea. It’s unnecessary, but lovely. Come on in. May I take your coat?” Paige took off her coat and did a little modelling turn in the foyer. Ms. Dawson cooed. Tom continued to stroke his cock silently.
Once inside, Ms. Dawson sent Tom to the kitchen for two glasses and a bottle of red wine. Paige whispered, “What is going on here?”
“Oh, you don’t have to whisper in front of Smith. Listen, about ten years ago, he had just dropped out of high school. He was painting my house, and I saw that he could do more. Literally. So, I took him under my wing, I guided his cock to greener pastures.”
“What? You pimped him out?” asked Paige, feigning indignation.
“Hey, that piece of meat paid his way through law school. The women of this neighbourhood grew very attached to him over the years. But, I’m the only one he still sees. Every Monday night he comes over to my house and does things for me. I guess he thinks he owes me.”
“Oh, I think he probably gets a little something out of it too.”
Tom returned with the wine and poured some in each glass. He stood, waiting for his next command. The women were sitting on the couch and Tom’s incomparable cock was hanging casually just inches from Ms. Dawson’s head. It was her painful pleasure not to turn suddenly and taste it.
Instead she said, “Tonight Smith, you are going to go into the backyard and weed the garden,” but she couldn’t resist gently stroking the soft underside of this ball sack, looking at Paige who was riveted by the scene. The women giggled together and Tom felt the tingling joy of being subservient. Ms. Dawson had the most wonderful laugh, low and smoky, as if she had see