Paganini's Tale - Part 1

Chapter 1

Alice was already tired of it all, and she wasn't even drunk yet. Not that she drank all that much; she only drank when she was out, partying, or in, waiting for Larry to come home tired, irritable, and whiny. These damn office parties were all the same: mindless in-fighting, silly gossip, each one trying to impress the rest with their corporate loyalty. Larry leaned on the door jamb across the room, talking with some other man with his tie loosened just enough to be pretend-daring. As if his tie was a bit of armor.

She decided that listening to the ninny beside her telling about her beautician wasn't interesting enough to make any difference, and so without apology she rose from the couch to get another gin and tonic from the kitchen. It's always the same, she thought, never anything exciting, never anyone interesting. Her mind felt as unsteady as her feet.

With a slight weave to her step she meandered to the kitchen, glass in hand. Past the woman in a paisley blouse laughing so loudly it seemed frightening. Past the stoop-shouldered accountant smiling nervously at the man telling him about this season's Colts. Past the thin-chinned youngster telling how he thought his boss was great. Alice had no use for any of them, and wished Larry would get done with his bootlicking so they could get away. Most of all she wished they had come in separate cars so she could go home now.

The ice was nearly out. She placed the last few cubes in her tall glass, then tossed in a shot of gin. She thought a moment, then with a shrug of disgust tosssed another two gurgles atop the ice.

"That bad, eh? I understand. Toss some my way."

The voice was warm, strong, and when she turned to see his face, she saw a sturdy jaw, toughened skin, and grinwrinkles around bright eyes. No great beauty, but a certain strength... something in her understood.

"Put two gurgles in my glass, and then follow me without being noticed."

She stared up at him, wordless, confused. "Two gurgles," she repeated.

"Two." He pushed his tall tumbler at her.

She turned the gin bottle upside down over his glass. Two gurgles it was, and then he turned from her almost before she righted the bottle.

She watched his back as he walked into the living room, toward the stairs. Strong muscles stretched beneath the light cotton shirt. He was someone who worked, it was clear. His command intrigued her, sent gentle tingles from the back of her skull down her back to pocket between her legs. She looked down at her glass.

What he wanted was clear. She was married, and had been for four years, to Larry, who now was chortling merrily at someone else's joke. She swirled the ice in the glass, watched the ripples in the liquor for a moment, then half-shrugged and meandered unsteadily toward the doorway to the living room, past which was the stairs the man had taken.

His words replayed in her mind: follow me without being noticed. Larry was still talking; he hardly noticed her go by, but she noticed him: thin lips, sallow face, thin arms. A clerk's body. Her own body tingled, but not toward him: toward the stairs. Her pussy made her mind up, and she let it. Lead on, she smiled to herself, let's have an adventure.

As if deciding to find a bathroom, she ascended the stairway. Her body waited: nipples prickled and became hard beneath her constricting brassiere. She wanted it off, so her nipples could be free. Her pants were confining, and she wanted a cock inside her.

The hallway was dark in the old house. Rooms came off the landing, and around the corner toward the one lit room on the floor: the bathroom.

Alice stopped, heart thudding. In one of these rooms a man awaited her. Somewhere up here was that shaft she wanted between her legs.

Putting one foot in front of her, she made sure her walk sounded on the wood floor. A door opened on her left, opening into darkness. She hesitated a brief instant more, then started in.

A hand snaked out of the darkness and grabbed her hand, pulling her in. Below, she could hear the party sounds of empty laugher, light music. The clink of glasses. In here, in this room, the only important sound was his deep, gutteral breath.

"For the next twenty minutes you're mine. If that's not what you want, leave now."

Alice felt something twist inside her, and then break open, letting loose a gush like warm honey between her legs. She didn't even think. She sensed where his face was and pressed her mouth against his.

His hands came up under her blouse, forcing their way almost painfully under her brassiere. Jolts of energy flashed from her nipples inside her when he squeezed. His kiss was deep, fully tongued, and she sucked on that tongue like she could pull him through it. She wanted more of him, and she tried to get her hands between them to unbutton his shirt.

He broke away from the kiss. "I said you were mine." He gave her nipples sharp, biting pinches, then broke away entirely. She stood in the darkness broken only by the curtained window's reflected streetlight, her body rocking from the sudden lack of stimulation.

"Take off your blouse, and pull your pants down to your knees."

Stifling her words, she began to unbutton her blouse. She could see him silhouetted against the faint light. He stood motionless. She kept facing him when, with a whispered whimper, she pulled down her pants, leaving her boots on. Her ankles felt bound.

He took a fingerfull of pubic hair, using that to pull her toward him. With his other hand, he snatched up a fistfull of mane, pulling her face to his. Again the tonguing. But this time he had a hand on her pussy, just resting on her lips. She arched her back, trying to push her pubis onto his hand, but he pulled back just enough to keep contact without a finger sinking in. He broke away from the kiss.

"You want it, don't you?"

She groaned in response, but that wasn't enough for him. "Say it out loud," he ordered.

"Oh, God, yes, I want it," she managed to say.

She was astounded at how she was responding. Without embarrassment, she was following his order. With Larry, she would have laughed. but this man was so certain. He knew what he was doing, and she loved it, and wanted him to continue.

"Yes," she gasped, "something, anything."

One finger sank between her vaginal lips, into the deep heat of her pussy. She moaned.

As if he were telling a neighbor about some weeds he'd have to pull, he said, "Make any more noise and I'll have to gag you."

Another finger slipped in. She tried to stifle her moan, using his tongue as a gag. She wanted to pull him to her, but somehow she knew he didn't want that; her hands hung in the air, lowering slowly as if she could take his prick as soon as it showed itself.

"Pull my cock out," he said. "And then I want you to suck it. I want to feel your tongue sliding down that long muscle. I want to feel your nose in my hair. I want you to take it deep."

She reached for his fly and quickly unzipped it, while working at his belt with her other hand. God I want this cock now, she thought, and I shouldn't. Nobody had ever talked that way to her. Take it deep, she said to herself, knowing she had never taken any cock as deep as she could.

His underwear was frustratingly in the way. Pulling the elastic band down deep, her hand felt the huge mass of cock jutting out from this man's crotch. She felt its thickness, its heat, and moaned again.

She nearly lunged at its purple head, faintly shining in the dim light. It felt like a heated plum in her mouth, filling her from tongue to palate. Her hands were busy unfastening his belt. She wanted his cock free, his hair in front of her. She thought she could take him deep; he was thick, massively thick, but not particularly long. Her lips were stretched.

Finally she had his pants loose, and she pulled underwear and pants down, pulling his cock toward her as she did. Surprising them both, her nose was instantly nestled in his dark pubic hair. She breathed in through her nose, nearly gagging, then pulling back. It had felt wonderful to feel him so deep inside. She lapped at the cock's thick trunk, down to his balls, then up, swirling about its head, feeling the wrinkles on its ridge, tickling the eye on the end. Then she pulled him into her again.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her back. Her head was immobile, straining forward, mouth open, tongue resting on her lower lip.

"Once more, and then you lean over," he told her, then pulled her head onto his cock, slowly, easing it, sliding it past her lips to her palate past her uvula and finally back, pushing back at the corner of her throat.

Again he pulled her back. "Now stand up and lean over."

She did as he said, placing her hands on the chair in front of the dresser. The mirror atop the dresser was nearly as tall as she; his reflection faced her, watching her. His cock stood out straight, white and purple, barely illuminated, as as her rump, the side of her curved waist and the outside roundness of her breast.

Her blond hair hung around her head like a halo, but she felt nothing angelic. What she was feeling was primal. Her blue eyes were wide, her breath was ragged. Behind her she could see the dark hair on his broad chest, the assured smile on his face.

She felt his hand touching the round globes of her buttocks. His fingers dipped between her legs, and she felt his index finger parting the soft inner lips of her labia. Exploring the rubbery ridges of her excited tissues, swirling deeper and deeper. She groaned, then cut it off. I don't want to be gagged, she thought. ...or do I?

She could feel fingers plunging into her pussy. Pushing against her cervix, pushing down on the top of her moist walls. A third finger pushed in; was it his thumb? She watched him in the mirror, his broad cock bobbing with his arm's motions.

His thumb pulled out of her juicy pussy and began circling the rim of her anus. Her sphincter tightened automatically; she'd never had anyone there. His thumb increased its pressure slightly, while his other two fingers pushed into her twat and his ring finger punched at her clitoris. She grunted in whispers, fighting to hold back her voice. This was scream-out-loud in the empty woods sex. She wanted to holler out, but she knew she couldn't.

Round and round his thumb went, gradually massaging her asshole into relaxing. The tip of his thumb dipped in slightly, moistened with pussy juice. Dipped in a little deeper, while his fingers played Chopin with her G-spot. Her body was shuddering now, her thighs clamped and opened involuntarily.

Her ass was loose enough now, and so he increased the speed of his fingerfucking slightly. She bit her hand to keep from screaming, pushing back against his plunging hand. Suddenly he shoved his thumb deep into her ass in one plunge, and an earth-wrought groan came rumbling from Alice's throat.

Her body jerked tight. God I can't believe this is happening, she thought as the waves of pleasure washed off the words like sandscript on the beach. Crash went the waves, and she lost control completely. Her body shuddered uncontrollably, and her knees sagged; he held her up by his handhold. Her legs, her arms, her back jerked like a marionnette, and she felt her brain melt down like wax upon a flame. Did I scream? she wondered, for she could remember the shrill, gutteral wrenching her mind had experienced.

His hand was still in her, but motionless.

"Did I scream?" she asked, breathlessly.

"No. You did very well." With his free hand he patted her bottom. Then he moved behind her. "I will now fuck you and come. When I come, I will tell you that you are mine." He pulled his two fingers out, but left his thumb in her ass.

With his left hand he guided his thick bludgeon of a cock toward her pussyal lips. He could see the faint glisten of juices on them. Her gasps filled the room. Slowly, he pushed the head until it was nestled within the folds of her vagina. Then he spit into his hand and moistened the shaft. Gradually the rest of his prick pushed into her. Her breathing was more ragged now.

He pulled back, then pushed in faster. The next was a thrust, and the fourth a deepscream sexual punch. A clacking, delirious sound came from Alice's throat; she had lost all control of her senses. Each time he slammed into her, the abyss down which she'd fall got higher, and deeper.

She realized her breath was hot in her ear. "Now you are mine," he whispered. "In seven days you will be completely mine, body and spirit." In between phrases, he jammed his cock deeply into her pussy. "You've never felt anything like this before, have you?" Again a deep, deep fuck.

Alice shook her blonde head. "No," she gasped, "No, never, nothing..."

"There's so much more for you to learn," he said quietly, pulling his cock out till just the tip remained in contact, then with a twist of his hips nearly spiraled his penis into her. "In seven days you will know. You must only do precisely what I say, without questions. You are mine, and for the next week you will learn just what that means. Now I will come inside you."

He reared back and then grabbed her hair. He pushed his thumb deeper into her bottom, taking hold of her from both ends, and ramming her down onto his thick cock. She was wide open. In his cock went, and out, increasing his speed with every stroke, going in deep and wide, making her pussy a throat widening in a joyous scream, and then his voice in her ear, and deep whisper, Aaaah, here it comes, you are mine now, yes, you are mine, and Alice reached the top of the growing abyss, and toppled over, falling, pushed by powerful winds, buffetted and swirled by rain and clouds, and it was a long time before she hit bottom.

"You must tell me your name."

She tried to get her bearings. "Alice," she said, not succeeding. "Alice Parker."

"Do you work?"

'Part time. Mornings."

"Husband work?"

"Yes." She felt she could hold nothing back.

"Home phone number."She told it to him. "Address." She told it to him. "Work phone." She told it to him.

"I will now go downstairs. It's been fifteen minutes. You may descend in four minutes, looking fresh."

With that he stood, walked to the door, listened for a moment, then slipped out into the hall.

Alice caught her breath. Nothing like this was within her experience. Never would she have thought she would be thrilled to be fucked by a stranger, much less completely controlled by a stranger. But she trusted him. He was too skillful, too aware to not know what he was doing. Never once had he hurt her more than she wanted. A few times she had been surprised she wanted it, but the point remained.

She laughed, and adjusted her bra. Off to the left was the master bedroom's bath; she touched up her makeup and got herself arranged. The party suddenly wasn't a boring affair after all. Something was happening. She didn't know what it would be, but she knew her life was to be changed.

Chapter 2

The man across from Larry, the one with the half-loosened tie, seemed done talking. A surprise, that. "Excuse me," he said to the man (was his name O'Donnell? O'Daniel? Larry couldn't remember) "But I think I'd better fill myself up." He raised his glass.

Rum and coke, light on the rum; tonight he was driving. Larry looked through the heads to try to find Alice's, but couldn't see the blond locks. He was considering just going home, and if she wasn't involved in a conversation he would suggest it to her.

Usually at these work parties Alice found someone to talk with. Seemed to almost have made friends with a few of the women.

Larry meandered back past O'Dougall with a smile, then into the living room. Still no blond locks, and there were a few of those women Alice talked with over in the corner without her. The front door was open, and since the night was warm and sultry, several of the partiers were standing, sitting, lounging on the porch.

Larry stepped out, still not seeing her. He nodded jovially, as if on a particular course, and felt pulled past the steps.

"Leaving, Larry?"

"No, no, just, uh, just following Nature." He laughed, joined by a few chuckles.

The night was dark, the sky clear and sparkled by stars. Clearly he wasn't going to find Alice out here, but the prospect of a few moment's quiet didn't seem bad at all. He turned the corner of the house and strolled toward the back yard. A three-quarter moon off toward the east smiled down at him. He could hear the slightly raucous sounds of the party through the walls, but still--out here it was quiet.

Quiet enough to discern that what he at first thought were faint dog-barks were in fact hushed grunts, coming from around the back.

Treading lightly, Larry crept toward the corner. Peeking around, he saw in the faint light, there on the lawn, the half-naked bodies of a brown-haired man straddled by a brunette.

"God, yes," came the half-whispered gasp, "Oh, yes, stick it in me, put it in deep, ah, yes, there, there..." His grunts became the backbeat of her verbal melody. "Yes, fuck me, I'm sitting deep on your cock," she chanted, "sitting down on top, I'm fucking you fucking me, god you're deep, and you're so big, god it's in there, it's in there deep, stick it in, oh god...."

Larry could hear the liquid sounds of lust counterpointing the backbeat, but it was a primal rhythm at its core. The music made him hard, and his pants made his cock hurt. Blocked from view by a large bush, Larry guaged the time it would take them to put their clothes back on, and decided he'd have enough; then he unzipped his fly and pulled out his semihard cock. The nerve endings were tingling, itching for stimulation. The sight of the illumined bodies and the brunette arching her back, jutting tits up toward the three-quarter moon, made him hot, and he slowly began pulling at his prick.

The night air felt cool on his balls where it whisped into his fly. His whole cock was freed, and he felt good about it, though guilty for acting like such an adolescent. But he and Alice didn't screw all that much anymore, and he hardly ever beat off. And what was more, he justified, he felt like it. His hand felt good around his cock, and those bodies were so beautiful. He pulled on his cock, pushed back slowly, getting friction from his fingers strumming down the rim. Up and back, slowly increasing in speed. He felt his loins tighten, and he stiffened the muscles in his legs.

Fuckjuice oozed out the tip, and he used that as a slippery lubricant for a moment, shifting the sensations. It felt delicious, and he was preparing to come with that feeling when he heard someone clear a throat behind him.

He twirled, cock in hand, before he realized it. He quickly tried to shove his cock back into his pants when he heard her voice whisper "Leave it out."

He stood motionless, dumbfounded. Then he looked up; pale skin, dark hair; almost vampirishly beautiful. Slim, slight. Postured with one hip jutting out.

She took his cock in her hand; he practically convulsed at the touch. "You like whacking off, do you?" she breathed, pulling his prong toward her, till his face was inches from hers. "And I bet you were just getting ready to come. Poor little boy." She took his chin in her free hand. He felt helpless, embarrassed, and intensely aroused.

"See if you can hit the mark," she breathed, and then went down on her knees. She opened her mouth twelve inches from the tip of his cock, then took his cock in both hands. For a moment he thought she was going to take him into her mouth, but then he realized what she expected. Her hands began a milking motion, kneading his cock like a long teat. "Come on, spew, you bad boy. Shoot that jism into my mouth. Spray it through the air." She opened her mouth again, moving her lips in the most wanton version of Marilyn Monroe he'd ever seen, as if her lips were pulling the orgasm toward her without even touching.

"Come on, lover boy," she began again, "that semen's mine, I want your come, give it to me, shoot it out," opening her mouth like a hungry bass taking the bait, but she wasn't getting satisfaction, even though the pressure was building up in Larry's crotch like he'd never felt. "Come on, you motherfucker, where's that spume, where's that fucking come, give it to me, give it to me, come at me, fire at me, come on now, you bastard, come!"

And he came in great gouts, pummeling her nose and lips and tongue with pearly spray. The top of his head came off like that three-quarter moon, and he could feel it bouncing against the wall and landing in the bushes. She milked him until every spout had erupted, then licked her lips and stood. She tucked his cock back into his pants.

"That cock is mine when I want it. Do you understand?"

Speechless, he could only nod. She lapped a stray dollop from her lower lip, then suddenly kissed him deeply. Her tongue was hot, agile, and tasted of his own come. Just as suddenly, she broke away, smiled wickedly, then turned and strode back toward the party.

Larry stood silently for a moment, then heard the giggles of the lovers behind him as they gathered their clothes. He quietly, carefully, walked out into the next yard, so he could eventually come in the back door, once the lovers were gone. Besides that, he needed to think. It had all happened so fast he was just now reacting. Reacting even physically; as he thought about her ordering his cock to spew he felt his cock lurch, as if rolling awake.

He wondered what she meant by "whenever I want it." It sounded like there might be a second time. If so, he certainly wouldn't tell her no.

Chapter 3

The night before, Larry had tried to get inside her, right after both of them had, as if by surprise, decided to take showers before going to bed. Alice had wanted more; wanted the touch of that nameless man from the night before, who grabbed her purposefully, with direction; who knew exactly what soft spots to touch, which hard spots to tickle, or pinch, or stroke. Larry was so tentative, he nearly waited for her to take charge; lying there, hesitantly touching her, waiting for her to respond, insead of making her respond.

Now, sitting at the desk with papers and a computer screen in front of her, composing letters, preparing that morning's outgoing mail, she thought of what the man had said: in seven days you will be mine.

It made her wet between her legs; she felt the creamy lubricant steaming from beneath her short skirt. Slim legs rubbed together as she tried to scratch that pussyal itch. Stockinged leg against stockinged leg, making a sound like a tiny zipper opening and closing across the room. Up and down her legs worked, until finally she could stand it no longer, and snuck a hand down into the hole of the desk, pulled back her skirt, and pressed her middle fingertip against the nylon encasing her clit. Rhythmically she pushed down and in.

Across the room another woman worked, at a similar desk. Madeline, her name was, and they were fast becoming friends. Over the last six weeks, ever since Maddy had started at the company, Alice had been constantly surprised by the ease she felt with Maddy.

Now Maddy looked over at Alice and grinned. "Sounds like you had a hot one last night. Nice memories?"

Alice flushed; her face felt as hot as her pussy. "I...." she stammered, pulling her hand up into the cold air, "Yeah, well, I guess...."

"C'mon, Alice, you think I don't pull myself off back here on slow days? These desks are just made for it." She laughed, and Alice couldn't help but join in.

"This is the first time for me, and I've worked here for two years!"

"Wow," Madeline cried, "He must really have been something! What's his name? Is he available?" She laughed again.

"I don't know his name, Maddy. He's a.... a mysterious stranger."


"Yes, really."

"Will it happen again?"

"I don't... I hope so. But I can't know for sure."

"Keeping you on a string, eh? That can kind of be fun."

Alice's phone rang, and she let it ring most of a second time, watching the light flash, then answered: "Braxton and Smith Research, Division Two, this is Alice, may I help you?"

There was silence on the other end. Alice could hear the faint sounds of what sounded like waves breaking. She strained to hear, but could not. She looked over at Maddy, who was going back to her computer screen. "May I help you?" she repeated.

"Write this down," the deep, male voice commanded. Without thinking, Alice picked up a pen and pulled over the pad of paper. "At twelve thirty-seven you will be in your car, in the alley between Parker and Godwin, off 103rd street, back behind the double-dumpster. Park with the driver's side two and a half feet from the wall.

"You will take off your pantyhose and pull up the short blue skirt you're wearing today around your armpits. Get on your hands and knees, nose in the crevice of the seat, with your ripe ass pointed toward the wall. Open the door with your heel, and don't look back. I will fuck you. You will come three times. Your juices will run like wine. You will squeeze your nipples till they hurt, feeling the waves of pain radiate from each tit.

"You must be as juicy as you can be. I will not get you hot. You must do that for me. If you're not slick, I will fuck you anyway, hard, fast, and long, and it will hurt each stroke until your pussy starts flowing.

"Twelve thirty-seven. Parker and Godwin, off 103rd. You will not get a second chance if you fail to arrive."

Then the line went dead. Her pussy was throbbing, and she looked at the wall clock: 10:22. She had almost two hours to decide.

Her hand, of its own accord, had gone between her legs again, this time with three fingers pushing up hard against her pussyal lips. Her panty hose frustrated her. Her eyes were glazed as she stared at the keyboard, focused entirely on the feelings of her hand on her pussy.

Suddenly she became aware of a hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up was somehow not surprised to see Maddy smiling down at her.

"I couldn't help hearing," she said, "You were repeating everything he said as you wrote it down. If you're not going to go, I'll go in your place, but if you are going to go, I want to get you hot enough for it. If you want to be juicy, I'll make you juicy. Go lock the door."

Her tone had become an order, and Alice, though confused at her acceptance, got up and locked the door.

"Take your blouse off, and then those hose. You hate them, I can tell. Your pussy wants to breathe."

Alice nodded, stunned at Maddy, and wanting more than anything to come any way she could.

"I'll make you come myself," Maddy said, smiling wickedly. "I'll make you come three times before your mystery man even begins. How many times have you come in one day, Alice?"

Alice swallowed. "Three times, once..."

"Three is nothing. If your pussy can stand it, each come is easier, and stronger, than the last. You could have ten, twelve before this day is out. And you want to come more than anything, don't you?"

Alice stood, barechested, her hose off, only the short skirt still around her hips. Her hands reached up, cupped each breast, and pinched between thumb and forefinger of each hand a firm, brown nipple. She squeezed hard, and tingling shards of pain/ pleasure shot through her intestines. "Yes," she groaned," I want to come more than anything."

"That doesn't surprise me, though you're a hotter tart than I thought. Pull on those tits of yours again." Alice hesitated. "I said pull on those tits," Maddy ordered. "If I tell you to do something, you'd best do it, if you want me to make you come. And I'm going to make you come. Pull on those hard brown nipples of yours."

Alice pulled, and again was wracked by sharp ripples. She groaned, surprising herself. For a brief moment she saw herself as she must look from the outside, nearly naked, pulling on her nips before a fully-clothed office mate. Depraved, it practically was. She felt mildly humiliated, but then thought better of it. Lust took priority over shame or guilt. Lust was what drove her during those minutes. She let lust have the wheel.

She thrust three fingers immediately into her pussy, still pulling on one tit. Her fingers soaked in her drenched quim when she looked in Maddy's eyes.

"Have you ever eaten a woman, Alice?"

Alice waited for a moment, then shook her head. "No," she finally got out, more embarrassed at her inexperience than she was at being pubes-in-the-air naked.

"You'll learn. And judging from those gasps I can hear, you'll be a fast learner." Maddy smiled, then strode over on her high heels, her hips dancing figure eights of impending passion. Off came the thin leather belt wrapped thrice around her waist. She swung the middle of it over Alice's head and shoulders like a jumprope, then yanked Alice toward her, mashing their faces together.

For the first time Alice tasted a woman's tongue. Thinner than a man's, more delicate, seeking out the soft, untouched places behind Alice's lips. Alice hungrily sucked on that tongue, interspersing the suckling with darts of her own thin, light tongue. She felt her hands being pulled behind her back, and suddenly her wrists were tied together with two loops. "What are you..." she spluttered, pulling away from Maddy's mouth, but was smothered immediately by her tongue again.

For five seconds Alice struggled to get away, arching her back, trying to pull away from Maddy's insistent body. Tits clothed rubbed against Alice's bare breasts; the rough fabric excited her. When she discovered she didn't want to resist, she leaned into Maddy; she was virtually imprisoned, and no choices were open, no decisions needed to be made. She could focus on the steam building within her, the lust let loose by submission to her body's desires. She groaned against Madeline's tongue, a deep groan that seemed to travel to her throat via her aching, empty pussy.

She felt Maddy's hand running over the round globes beneath her bound hands, insinuating themselves between clenched butt and tight thighs. Gradually her legs loosened, and then Maddy's other hand began brushing Alice's outer lips, dewy with pussyjuice, drawing circles around her swollen clit. Then Alice understood why Maddy's hands were meeting between her legs: the long, dangling ends of the leather were being passed from behind to the front, using her pussylips as a guide. Her breath caught in her throat.

Madeline pulled away, and took one leather lead in each hand. Two feet long they were, reaching up almost to where they could be tied in circles around her big tits. The thin, supple leather pushed into her liquid channel, and then Maddy pulled her hands apart, pulling the lips open to let the air-conditioned office air send a brief chill inside her twat opening.

"Feel good?" Maddy asked.

Alice's legs were weak; imagining the leather cutting into her thick quimlips made her knees want to buckle, as they were threatening to do. "God, Oh, god, Maddy," Alice managed to gasp, "I don't know... is this..." She stopped, knowing that her objections were beyond being feeble. Nobody would ever believe them, as she stood there with black leather being pulled around between her pussy mouth, hands tied. Nobody would believe her protestations, even herself.

Even in her delirium, Alice discovered that she could pull back on the thong by pulling up on her own bound wrists. "Oh, God," she repeated again.

"Down on your knees, then down on your back," Maddy said. Slowly, so as not to put too much strain on the leather thong-belt, Alice sank to the floor, following Maddy's order. Once on her back, Maddy instructed "Spread your legs. Show me that hot whore's pussy to me."

The words embarrassed her, but still she knew her blush was meaningless. She spread her legs.

Maddy pulled the thong away from Alice's shiny lower lips. "That's a whore's pussy if ever I saw one. Look how red it is, it wants something bad. But not yet. I get mine first.

Then she squatted over Alice's face, reversed, as if ready to go sixty-nine, holding on to the leather thong like reins on a sleigh. With gentle tugs she urged Alice on.

Alice looked up at the moist gash above her. She smelled the heady aroma, redolent of dark, mysterious rituals in the marshes of the South, reeking of all the down-and-dirtyfucks, the soft sweet loves on moonlit nights, the quick inouts in cabs on the way to the theatre; her pussy smelled experienced. Alice felt nearly awed by the history confronting her, swathed in black curles, oozing love juice. Down near her chin, budding out like a bean from its pod, Maddy's clitoris gleamed.

She stuck out her narrow tongue, arching it downward, the tip slowly wending its way toward that forbidden little bean. Once touched, Maddy's body reacted. Down came Maddy's pussy, pressing down in soft moist folds upon her mouth, her chin, her nose, suffocating her deliciously. Tart, tanngy, Maddy's pussy was as tasty as any Creole cooking.

Around and around Maddy's pelvis spun, in circles, pressing Alice's nose first into her pussy, then sliding forward so her nose sank slightly into Maddy's loosened asshole. Maddy's moans grew louder, longer, deeper. Alice gasped breaths whenever she could, if only to stay alive long enough to lap once more, to stick her tongue deep into this commanding woman, this mistress' pussy.

Madeline's body tensed, and her thighs crushed Alice's cheekbones together. The leather thong pulled hard against her pussy, and suddenly she was coming too, rushing headlong into a velvet brick wall, being swallowed by the delirium of her passion.

She realized some time had passed, how much she didn't know, but now something cool and wide was being rolled over her own pussy. Maddy's twat still remained poised above her face, as if ready at any moment to once again assault her.

Alice's pussy burned in opposition to the cool substance now being pressed harder against her pussyal lips, her clit, now her pussy again.

And then it sank in, something half again as wide as a cock, but nearly as long, pushing in like a muzzle-loading gun. Pistoning in and out, packing the metaphoric gunpowder tighter and tighter, so the explosion would be all the more. Maddy plunged it in again, but this time slapped Alice's thigh, hard. The stinging pain reverberated like an echo in a cave.

The thick phallus-shaped object kept plunging in, each time taking Alice higher, past any notion of honor or pride or humility. "Yes," she moaned, "God yes, fuck me with it, fuck me hard, oh God Fuck me, stick it in me, yes, deep into my pussy, ram that fucker into me..."

And she came on the next plunge, spinning miraculously into nowhere she could name, but a place she wanted to visit again, where everything moved in a choreographed dance of violent motion.

Maddy stopped completely, remaining utterly still. Alice's back arched, as she tried to ram that thing back into her. That dance seemed to break up, as if badly practiced, if well choreographed. The colors moved from brilliance to pastel, and Alice thought she was done. Until that thick protuberance was jammed again into her, out, and jammed in again, and Alice, with the rhythm of the fucking like wings pushing her through the air, flew past the room of never changing dance out into starlit skies filed with comets aghast at their own light.

When she finally came to, Maddy was sitting in her chair, looking down at limp Alice. "You're quite a lay," she said quietly, still smiling.

Alice weakly smiled back. "I never knew what they meant by fireworks," she giggled, "Until now. Is that what a multiple orgasm is?"

"That, hon, and more. By the time the day's over, you may never come back." When Maddy saw Alice's frightened expression, she softened. "No, hon, don't worry. You always come back, and it's one hell of a trip."

Chapter 4

Larry waited for the light to change to "walk," watching a eightteen-year-old punkette diddle with her hair beside him. The thin cotton top she wore was almost translucent, torn in places, revealing the soft pink skin of a young girl's torso; behind the shirt he could see the outside of her aureoles, the slight out-dimple of little tits. Black leather pants coming down to mid-calf, black fishnet from ankle to spiked heel.

A tough-looking kid. "So whattaya looking at, mister?"

He was surprised by her voice: harsh, brassy. Surprised even that she spoke to anyone on the street. In the city, that just wasn't done.

Larry tried to be casual. "Only you, my dear. You're beautiful in some indefinable way."

"You wanna get your rocks off thinking about fucking a young thing like me, you go ahead, but leave me out if it." She spit on the ground and walked into the street, balancing out of the way of a passing taxi, then darting between oncoming cars, her little ass swinging as she ran.

"Hey, I didn't mean..." he began to say, but stopped. She was gone, off into the thin crowd.

"Walk," the sign said, and so walk he did. Across the street, feeling stupid. How did he get himself into those sorts of things? He couldn't figure it out. He hadn't meant for her to see him looking her over. Or had he? There had been a time when he'd looked at a girl that way and she'd turned to him and smiled. "Like what you see?" she had asked.

He'd nodded. "You're very beautiful," he said, and within moments she was six inches from him. "I just saw my boyfriend fucking some little slut in his room," she said, "and if he can do it, then so can I. You wanna fuck me?"

"Well, uh..." he'd stammered, and when he saw the disgusted look on her face he got up the gumption to unstick his mouth: "Absolutely. I haven't seen anybody as fuckable in a long time."

He'd read once that compliments were good strategy for picking up girls.

"Okay," she said with determination, "then let's go to it." She led him into a restaurant, back past the tables, the booths, the lunchers eating their Special #2, toward the bathrooms.

"Wait a minute," he whispered to her as she shut the women's door, "what if someone comes in?"

She looked him straight in the eye as she unzipped his fly. "Would you interrupt a couple fucking in the bathroom? No, you'd smile to yourself and go to wait until they were done. Then you'd pee. It's only sensible."

She'd got his cock free; in the fluorescent glare it shined, its purple head tight as the head of a snare drum. She was pretty; he could see her in the mirror unbuttoning her skirt. She peeled her pantyhose down, stepped out of them, then grabbed his cock again. "Good sized," she said to him. "Work it around, stretch my pussy out, so I can tell my boyfriend what a fucking ramrod I screwed. I don't mind exaggerating a little."

Larry had been befuddled, standing in the women's tiled bathroom, by the girl's attitude to him. It didn't matter to this girl if he was short or thin, muscular or scrawny, handsome or disgusting. He was a cock to fuck, and that was all. A tool. A means to an end.

He tried to think about whether that bothered him, but he was distracted by the girl's inner thighs as she hopped on the sink counter and spread her legs. Slight bulges just past her labia. Like fingers crooking, beckoning: come on in.

His cock strained toward that pussy as if by its own accord. He advanced on her slowly, but her heels hooked his back and pulled him at her. She grabbed his prick like it was a doorknob and pushed it into her, letting out a low moan, forcing him into her with her heels.

"Yeah," she had said, "that's good, that's real good, as good as that motherfucker's cock felt in that slut, yeah, fuck me, fuck me good, I'll get that motherfucker back, you're doing it to me, my pussy's my own, and I'll fuck whoever I please, whenever I want, if he's going to fuck his own little slut nymphos, yeah, push it in, yeah, fuck me..."

Her pants got rapid, and his began spasmotically jerking into her; he let himself stop thinking about doing a good job. It was clear that her satisfaction wasn't coming from being well laid. The act of fucking was enough. So fuck he did, pushing his rod into her at angles that stimulated him best. He held onto her hips and pushed her twat onto his prong like he wished he could do with his wife, Alice, but didn't dare. He pinched her tits, made her gasp as he squeezed. Alice wouldn't like that, would tell him he was hurting her.

But that coed, that day, had stopped being a threat. She had wanted to be just a body to him, since he was just a cock to her. And it changed the feeling of the orgasm. His jism spouted hard, into her alien pussy, filling crevices around a cervix he'd never felt and never would feel again, into a slippery quim existing for its own sake. To be fucked and receive whatever it wanted. He watched them both in the mirror, her back arched to receive him, his face reddened by the exertion.

And then the door opened. A fat fifty-year old woman, clearly Bible Belt material, pushed open the door. She looked down at the joining of their two bodies, pubic hair entwined, two inches of Larry's shaft visible, the smell of musk and juices thick in the air, and the woman stared.

Larry's come couldn't be stopped, and he spurted into her hard. The woman continued staring, as if mesmerized, her breathing shallow, her eyes wide. She held the door open with her hand one moment longer, before suddenly letting fly an ear- piercing scream.

Instantly Larry and the girl's feet were on the floor, Larry's cock still dripping jism. Pantyhose and shoes quickly retrieved, the girl and Larry ran past the gasping woman, past aghast lunchers stopping in mid-bite as the two fled, Larry hitching up his pants as his legs pumped. They had split up at the door; he never saw her again.

Now, walking toward the post office on the surprise errand, Larry smiled at the memory, and noticed his cock was semihard, amplified by needing to piss.

He thought about finding a restaurant or something, but they'd become pretty sticky about non-customers using their bathrooms in most of the cafes in the city.

He passed an alley, and on an impulse turned into it. Off the alley, twenty feet back, he found a miniature alley between buildings, littered with beer bottles. He unzipped his pants to relieve himself.

"Everytime I see you, you have your cock hanging out," the woman's voice said from behind him. This time, he didn't turn more than just his head. It was the vampirish woman from the night before, this time dressed in a black and nightblue jumpsuit.

Larry's first reaction was one of irritation, but then he realized who was speaking. He had almost begun to piss, and stopping was painful. Yet the pain wasn't all that bad; he was already excited from his replay of his memory of the woman in the cafe, and now the memory of the night before superceded it.

Seeing her in daylight let him realize just how darkly beautiful she was. Lips a dark magenta, eyes so brown as to seem black. Her hips were small, but well muscled. Thin waist, and pert little tits which had once been firm and nearly nonexistent, but had been womanized into breasts by experience. Her feet were encased in black half-boots with stilletto heels.

"Didn't I tell you," she said, "that your cock was mine whenever I wanted it?"

He smiled, nodded, and let loose his piss, amused at the irony.

"Stop that this instant!" she commanded, and Larry was so surprised that he stopped. His urethra burned.

"Good boy," she purred. "You may piss now." He didn't particularly care for being told when to piss, but he had to piss so badly he let loose, spraying the wall.

"You can piss farther than you can come," she stated. "This time, though, we're going to put that little pisser of yours to good use."