Alice sounded something like a washing machine: the squish-squish, the moan-grunt, moan-grunt of the agitator, over and over, as she felt the thick bludgeon of her lover's prick shoving in and out of her sopping pussy. Wet she certainly was, thanks to Maddy, whose memory and taste still lingered about her, even as her nose rubbed back and forth along the crevice of the passenger seat of her car.
She had been wet enough for him to take a dollop of her juices and smear it across her lips, wet enough that his broad tool slipped in like a stiff snake.
Still he hadn't spoken more than the once, when he'd said "Good. You're ready." And then he proceeded to thrust himself in her.
Much as he was thrusting into her now, smoothly, in a repetitive, unhurried motion of certain conclusion. Her bare ass rode high, pushing almost down onto him, as her tits rubbed against the elbowrest between the seats.
Her moaning came stronger now, faster, a lustlanguage mixed in with words: "Unh..nh...God...ohnhhhn, God, yes...sSss...Unhnn...Ohnn...Oh GOD god yes..."
She clenched her fists, held them to her head, hit the seat beneath her. Her voice was loud, and she didn't care, there was no longer a party where someone might hear. She was in her car, in an alley, where she could grunt and groan as loudly as she wanted. So her voice rose, the vibrations in her throat in rhythm with the pounding in and out of her pussy, each sound resonating with each thrust, amplifying it.
She raised up on her fists, on her knees, never losing him, never looking back. Though she'd never been told explicitly, still it was clear that she was not to look at him. This was to be a nameless fuck, someone else entirely, a fantasy, even though she could tell by the skill and confidence he showed that it was the same hard prick that sent her reeling the night before.
She rocked now with her whole body, up and back, her focus on the armrest on the passenger door. Her hip bumped against the cold steering wheel, and the chill shocked her, blended into the well of pleasure that was rising deep inside her.
Across from her, she realized was a doorway leading into whatever tenement building the alley cut past. In the window of that old, flecked-paint and iron-knobbed door was the face of a young man. From the height, and the face, Alice could see even in her orgasmic delirium that the young man was around 19 years old. His eyes gazing, clearly fascinated by what he was seeing.
After the first shock, Alice decided to not think about the man. She couldn't do anything to stop it; she certainly wasn't going to stop the thick sausage from continuing its slow, delicious pace. There was nothing to do but continue.
So continue she did, the pleasure something heightened by its exhibitionism. She almost wished she could give the man a close-up of her twat lips caressing the slick shaft sliding in between them, into that dark heated cavern awash with all the juices she could muster. She concentrated on tightening those lips, and the muscles inside her sheath, which sent a thrill into her thighs, up her intestines, into her lungs.
She began to come, slowly, as if ascending one of those Aztec pyramids comprised entirely of steps, one by one, rising in little chunks up, no single step, no single stroke, taking her over the top, but each step leading her higher than the one before it, still somehow rising upwards toward the clouds, each step up bringing her closer to the end.
Then her pussy clamped down solid; even his thick battering ram slowed its rhythm, but the friction was so much the greater that it pushed her up now two steps at a time, until finally she reached the top of the pyramid, the place of the sun, and revelled in the brightness and the heat.
Her pussy was afire with pleasure, and she cried out long and plaintively, a near howl of joy. Then he stopped, abruptly, like he had the night before, waiting for her to want it badly. "God, don't stop, give it to me, don't wait..."
And she could feel the fires dimming, as her peak passed, and she could feel her nipples humming, waiting for stimulation even still. Then suddenly his cock rocketed into her again, and this time the rhythm was a must faster tempo, and her body began to dance. She felt him gripping her hips, grabbing the nape of her neck, ramming her body back against his cock.
Now her groan were higher up in her throat, a high-pitched whimper of surprise. He continued the same motion, up, around, then out and down, but now much faster. Her thick clitoris was learning the new dance, and was ready for each grind.
Again she peaked, this time with shrieks ripping from her throat, timed for each invasion of her pussy with his cock.
And then once again, finally, abruptly, he stopped again. Alice desperately pleaded with him, "No, not yet, don't stop yet, yes, give me more, I need more," and she twisted and pushed her pussy and ass at him, trying to get a purchase on that prick, pulling him with her pussy.
But he kept just the head in, tantalizingly, waiting as if for some magic word to spill from her lips. "God dammit, I can't wait, I want it now, I want it now, please, fuck me with it, fuck me now...."
She could feel motion behind her, but only as if he had moved his arms. Then she discovered what he had been doing, for the door across the allley opened and the young man peeked out. She could hear muffled voices, and the man stayed put, the bulge in his dirty pants like a cucumber in his pocket.
Standing stock-still, the man unzipped his pants. Alice could pay no attention to the young man's face; she could look only at the slow striptease. For a brief moment she thought he was going to join them, but then realized that her man had told him otherwise, for the young man simply let loose his stiff cock and began stroking it.
Alice's man began fucking her in earnest now, a jackhammer pacing she hadn't thought possible for more than short bursts, but his continued on for ten seconds, twenty, a minute, three...
Alice became completely consumed in the act of fucking, for nothing existed except the cock behind her and the cock ten feet away, and her breasts knocking against the emergency brake, and the throbbing knob of clitoris that with every downstroke was rubbed by the thick base of his pole.
She saw milky seed jet out of the young man's handsome tool, arcing in the air, landing several feet from the car, and Alice herself began coming, pulsating as if in a heartbeat, pounding out a beat she scarcely knew but could play by heart; her body became once again like a marionnette's, this time held up not by her man's hand, but by his thick, ramming cock. She jerked and jumped as if crawling on marbles, and her screams she couldn't hear, for she was too far away.
When she came to, the young man was gone, the door shut, and her own man nowhere to be seen. The sun was bright in the alley; the garbage was well lit. Her pussy still oozed cum and juices like an overripe peach, throbbing with every motion.
She pulled down her skirt, then stepped into the underwear she retrieved from the glove box. From some open window above she could hear music playing, and realized that most anyone with an open window must surely have heard her moans and screams, and either ignored them or masturbated to them. She smiled; lots of people must have had a good time. With short squeal of her tires she began backing out of the alley.
The woman had led him up the sidewalk, hips undulating in figure eights from her stiletto heels. The leather creased like a second skin; Larry followed without really thinking, nearly mesmerized by her movements, imagining those hips writhing as she lowered herself onto his cock.
Where she was leading him he didn't know, but she was walking with purpose. Wordless, striding, she looked back not once, certain that he was following, or as if she didn't much care either way.
Past the sidewalk salesmen, past the Rooms for Rent, past the used furniture store, she led him swiftly. Larry was getting hot from the sun, and the sweat was making his suit stick to him. The woman's erotic appeal would soon wane, he knew, if he got miserable enough. She was still exciting at this point, and he knew himself well enough to know that she'd better hurry and find a destination.
She passed up the "Rooms for Rent--Nap Rates." It surprised him, disappointed him. What was he following her for? He wondered. For hot, illicit, nasty sex, he reminded himself, and knew that if he had to remind himself, then the need for hurry was even greater. His car was receding further and further, and he was parked in a no-parking zone. What if he got a ticket? What if he was towed? He could just imagine explaining it to Alice....
The woman stopped abruptly, and Larry almost careened into her. Above them hung a hand-painted sign: "Books Vids Mags All XXX."
She smiled at him. "You may leave now or follow me in." Then she turned toward the door and entered.
For a brief moment he even considered it; but then he thought better, and felt the cool air of the air-conditioned business wisp out from the closing door, and strode in with scarcely a thought at who might be seeing him enter.
The cool air struck him first, sending chills from his cheeks to his chest. He loosened his tie, surprised that he hadn't done it before, while following the woman toward the booths.
She seemed to nod hello to the proprietor; was that a smirk the man had? Did she do this often?
It didn't matter anymore; the charged sexual air of the place was entering his skin. Racks of magazines lined the walls: thick cocks deep-throated by big-titted women, pink pussys enveloping pricks, tongues and asses and breasts all in living color, all eyes looking right at him as he passed, inviting him to stop, to look, to open, to buy.
But he didn't need to buy; she was walking ahead of him, all the steamy sultry sluttiness of pussy wanting cock waited for him.
"Get some change," she said over her shoulder.
He stopped to get change from the man behind the counter. Then he walked to where she waited, in front of a booth whose display he didn't see, for she pulled him in and shut the door.
The coins still clinked in his hand, and she softly unbent his fingers and pulled three free, dropping them in one, two, three, and the film began.
A blonde with wide hips, big jugs, and white-blonde hair sat naked in a director's chair, surrounded by plants and a table, sipping white wine from a large goblet. Another woman entered, dressed as a maid, white frills, black bodice, white apron, black leather block-heeled shoes, and atop brunette hair, a white cornice. She carried a tray with wine and cheese upon it, and entered hesitantly.
Larry's cock was already out, pulled by the gentle fingers of the woman in black. She sat him down in the little stool, then crouched between his spread knees. The zipper snagged at the base of his stiffening prick, so he pulled his pants down to his ankles with her help.
The big-titted woman instructed the maid to bring the cheese to her and set it down beside her. The maid, almost cowering, did, and as she lowered the tray, bending at the waist, the sitting woman reached out a hand and patted the maid's ass approvingly. "Join me in some wine," she said, "but first take off the apron."
"Yes, miss," the brunette whispered, and with the faintest hint of a smile, untied the apron and let it drop to the floor, then brazenly stared the woman in the eye. "Is there anything else mistress would have me do?"
Larry gasped as the woman took his cock in both hands and squeezed hard. He could feel her hot breath on the head, and ached for the feel of a tongue, lips, anything soft. But the woman would have none of that; she backed away as he jutted his hips out to make contact. Her breath was still hot, though, and her hands held firm. It was as if she was letting her own heartbeat in her hands be the stimulation; he was sure he could feel it.
"Bend over," the mistress said. "and pull down your panties. Then put your hands behind your back." The brunette did, and the camera did a close-up on the woman's white ass, the pussylips peeking through crisp brown hairs. Then a close-up of her hands being bound by the strings of her apron. Crossed, behind her back, her fingers grasping in motions precisely what masturbation would look like without the pussy. The maid moaned breathily. "Oh, mistress..."
Larry, absorbed in the film, hadn't realized that his hands were being tied by some strip of leather, even as they played with the woman's tits. He was shocked, for he'd never in his life been bound. For a moment he resisted, and when he did, the woman took her hands away and stood back. "You must give yourself without argument if you want to come," she said.
The grunts and moans of lust pushed from the speaker, and the maid's pussy was being invaded first by two, then by three fingers, slick and juicier each stroke. Larry pulled his eyes away and looked at his mystery woman. She stood, arms crossed, weight on one hip, skirt already curled into its top, showing off her bare pussy bordered by the white garters. Her entire posture stated to him defiantly: "You want it. Work for it." He offered his wrists, still draped in loose coils of black leather, to her to be tied. She smiled almost cynically and resumed her tying. Larry's cock strained out at the empty air.
Now the blonde mistress was mashing her maid's mouth onto her pussy, whispering her on with demands: "Yes, suck my pussy, stick that tongue deep into my channel, ah, my little harlot, yes, stick it in, my slut, you do just as I ask, and you love it, don't you, my little wanton, yes, you love it, suck me harder, pull on my clit, there, yes, suck it..."
"Stand up," Larry's mistress commanded, and he did. She got behind him. "Put your hands to your chest."
She reached around and pulled the long loose ends around to his back, cinched them tight, and tied him off. He couldn't move his arms more than to flex his muscles, move his elbows a bit.
"Sit down," she commanded, and he sat. "On the floor," she said, and he did. Then she moved toward him, pussy first. His head was right at twat-level, and he knew what was coming. He opened his mouth.
Her legs covered his ears, and he could only mutely hear the sounds of the film; he couldn't tell what was the movie and what was the woman's voice. But her pussy swung like a circular pendulum upon his mouth, grinding down on his lips and teeth, forcing his nose into her thick black pubic hair. She smelled musky, with the faint hint of leather. Around and around she ground, until with a thigh-tightening shudder, came with a groan.
Then down she dropped, unerringly aimed at his stiff cock, but rubbing down his clenched fists, dragging her pussy along the leather straps, pushing against his elbow, until his erection was rewarded for its long wait by being swallowed in the warm heat of her pussy.
Above her head Larry could see the two women on the floor; the maid's hands were still tied behind her, and the blonde mistress had an immense double dong sliding back and forth in between their spread legs, plunging into the maid's pussy while sliding out of the blonde's, then sinking into the blonde's pussy and out of the moaning maid.
He let out his own moans, straining against the leather bonds, tightening muscles just to feel the straps cut into his arms. The woman slammed down on him like he was a piece of erotic furniture, like his cock was a phallic pole that he had heard the Pompeiians had: chairs for women guests which had a prong of marble sticking out, aimed right at the guest's pussy. Happy parties they must have had then.
And his prick at that moment felt hard as marble, like a thing apart from him, like a casing over his shaft. "I like my prick," she whispered in his ear. "Your prick is mine, and I like it very much. I fuck myself well with it. I'm fucking it now, now, and..." and her speed increased, she bucked on top of him and shook her tits within her blouse, throwing back her head and wrenching out a gutteral cry.
The sound resonated in his ear, and he felt the pressure inside him finding a release, as if a force had found a weakness in the body's defenses, and it wormed its way higher and higher in his burning prick, building up pressure as it snaked into his urethra like oil pushing up through that first well's piping, which lets out a gusher of thick come deep into the woman's clutching pussy.
The door went black as the money ran out, the last image one of the maid sucking the double-dong as it still filled the blonde's pussy. Larry's breath was ragged, and his cock was on fire.
The woman reached behind him and pulled the leather ends free, untying a bow. She stood. "Carry that thong with you always. I will use it next time. Until then," she said, and kissed him briefly on the lips.
Then she was out the door, and Larry sat still on the floor of the booth, looking at his still-dribbling cock. He let out a long, satisfied sigh, then proceeded to unravel the black thong from his wrists.
Alice was watching TV, sitting in her small, fully cushioned chair, when the phone rang. Larry answered it, and so Alice turned back to the show. Several moments later Larry appeared in the doorway to the room.
"It's a survey. Wants to talk with the lady of the house."
Alice laughed, heh-heh, at the non-humor. But things were so tense with Larry recently, worse than normal. She wondered if it were all in her head, that she was creating the tension, the vague insecurities.
Larry sometimes seemed so oblivious; perhaps he wasn't even picking up her stiffness. So often he seemed almost aloof, as if he was in a world of his own.
She picked up the receiver: "Hello?"
The voice still resonated, still sent chills into her sinews and joints. "Your husband was very helpful. Now comes the real message. Tomorrow as soon as you get off work you are to walk to the Gold Coin Hotel, down on 58th Ave. The desk man has your key. You will go to the room and strip naked. Lay across the brass frame at the foot, hips on the metal. Spread your arms out. Feel the cold metal on your stomach, think about what you will experience.
Do not turn on the light. Keep the shades drawn. Face away from the door. I will enter and ask you some questions. You will not be free to look at me, but will be free to leave at any time. If you fail to arrive..."
Alice nodded mutely to the phone. She knew what that meant. She caught Larry watching her out of the corner of her eye, and nodded again. "That's right, Ivory Liquid. And Cascade in the dishwasher. Yes." She paused, for effect. "That's right. Good- bye." As she hung up the receiver, Larry strolled through the living room as if on his way to the kitchen.
"Kitchen products, eh? He asked me about films I'd seen recently."
Alice smiled (could he feel her tension?) and laughed (did the laugh sound forced?), then said "Sounds like he's one efficient phone surveyor." Then she laughed again. "Remember when we were doing phone work for that candidate? What was his name?"
"Paxton," Larry said, and grinned. "I remember the lunches better than the work."
She smiled back. They had found a secluded nook between buildings where they would often spend twenty minutes of their half-hour lunch screwing themselves silly. "Those were some times, weren't they?"
Larry sat beside her. "That they were." There was a wistfulness in his words; a melancholy. Those days, they had been passionate. What had changed? Their own sex had become so mechanical, as if they'd done it all before, and were now practicing their form. The spirit had been lost.
They both knew it, but didn't speak it. They sat in silence for a time, holding hands. Alice thought about what the man had said on the phone. She really had little to remember, and she was glad she didn't have to write something down.
It was all so exciting, this illicit affair, though she knew that if it continued much longer she was bound to get caught. Imagine him, calling her at home! It meant to her that this affair was destined to be short-lived, and that was all right. What it was for her now was an exciting interlude so totally removed from her normal life that it took on rules of its own.
Larry sat with Alice's hand in his and wished he knew what had sapped the strength from their mutual loins. When they screwed it lasted only as long as it took for each of them to get off. Nothing lingered, nothing lasted. Nothing like the black-haired woman wringing him out like a washrag from the tub.
He remembered how she stroked him this afternoon, slowly, in gentle increments, designed not to make him come fast, but gradually warm to the heat of lust. He had been very satisfied. He still wasn't sure about the dominance stuff, but was willing to go along with it for awhile longer, since it was certainly unusual.
Behind the counter was a ferret-faced man who leered at Alice as she inquired about a reservation. Not knowing what her lover's name was, she had asked for a reservation in her name.
"Just a nap rate, eh? Well, look, lady, if you think you'll be doing this a lot, then lemme know, maybe we can work something out where like you don't have to pay as much for the rental. And look, sugar, if you're new at this, you usually get your trick to pay for the room."
"But I'm not..." she began, but he cut her off.
"Right, sure, you're going to have a little nap in the room. Unh-hunh. An I'm built like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Don't worry, sister, your secret's safe with me." His voice sounded disdainful.
"That'll be sixty bucks." He held out his hand.
Alice felt mortified. She was blushing, she was sure, from her eyebrows to her cleavage, and then some. To be mistaken for a prostitute, it seemed absurd.
But perhaps that was the appeal--the nameless, faceless sex of The Business. Except her profit in this was pleasure, not dollars. How different am I, Alice mused, as she walked toward the scratched doors of the elevator, from who I think I am? Am I just a pussy to him? Am I just a whore? Or something else....
He seemed to enjoy the game as much as the sex. He didn't seem to be playing just for his own pleasure, either. The man wanted her to come hard, as many times as he could make her. Her pussy tingled as she thought of what was to waiting.
The elevator doors opened, and Alice stepped in. As the doors closed, she thought she could see a man as tall as the man from the party entering the hotel. It was funny that she couldn't remember, really, what he looked like.
She knew he wasn't skinny, could remember that he was not overly tall, and swarthy, but that was about all. She couldn't remember his face, couldn't envision his eyes. Yet her pussy remembered him, as did her tits, and her mouth. She wondered when she would be allowed to see him.
The elevator stopped at her floor, and she got off, scanning the doors for numbers: 301, 303, 302, and she picked up her pace, knowing she would have to find 327. The place might be bigger than she imagined.
A scream brought her to an abrupt halt, ears perked to pick up the next sound. Adrenaline coursed through her--what was this place?
Then another scream, this one clearly not a scream of pain. Coming from the room off to her right. Almost on tiptoe, she approached, listening. Underneath, almost an oblagato to the rhythmic screams, was the coarse grunts of the man doing the fucking.
Alice imagined them thus: a short, squat man pumping a woman from behind. Her wrists were tied to the desk chair, and her white ass rose up so high on her long legs that the short man had to stand on his toes to get his short, fat cock into the dark-haired woman's slushy quim. He imagined his broad hands pinching the woman's nipples at just the right moments, causing the screams.
She became suddenly conscious that she was listening to another couple without their permission, and felt as embarrassed as she was aroused by the sounds; she moved on.
Finally she arrived at 327, and unlocked the door with the shiny key. It was a corner room, but the shades were drawn. Inside the air was no cooler than the hall; she had somehow expected that like the highway hotels she had stayed at, the rooms were individually air conditioned.
But no such luck. She could already feel the sweat building on the sides of her breasts, the roundness of her tummy, the flesh of her loins. This was going to be a sweaty fuck.
Alice wasted no time getting undressed. Beyond a moment's consideration, she felt no false modesty. I've paid for the ticket, she told herself, so let's go for a ride. The buttons on her blouse quickly came undone, and she slipped it off and laid it carefully on the blonde-wood desk gathering dust in the corner.
Next came her sensible shoes, then her skirt, beneath which she had secreted her gartered hose. Years ago Larry had bought them for her as almost a gag; she'd worn them once with him that birthday night, then put them away as being just a bit too contrived.
But now, as she slipped off the skirt and felt the cool air rushing around her bare thighs and exposed pubic hair, she was very glad she had them. Without underwear, she could see in the dresser mirror the black patch of hair covering her sopping pussy.
One hand snuck down to her crotch as the other loosened her braw straps. A quick dip with one finger confirmed what she already knew: her slit was juicy as an overripe peach.
Then, watching herself in the mirror, she unsnapped her braw and let her tits bounce as they were set free. In the garter belt, stockings, and nothing else, she looked like what she felt like: a wanton slut who just wanted to get laid.
Her breath was coming raggedly now, and she gazed at the bed, imagining what would happen there. The frame had bars like a prison cell on either end, brass rail arcing over the vertical bars, perhaps five inches above the mattress at the end, much more at the head.
He had instructed her to lay across the rail with her hips making the corner, head facing away from the door, arms out. She walked to the bed, imagination filling her mind with visions of thick cocks pushing toward her, strong hands directing her body toward whatever ends he wanted. She knew she was giving herself up to him, for this time, totally. For as long as she was in this room, she would do whatever he told her to do.
She could leave now if she wanted, she thought as she leaned over the bed, felt the cold metal against her soft hip-flesh. I could leave now and not worry about Larry finding out, about cheating at all. For one "no" would end it forever. But that, she admitted to herself as she spread her arms wide, face toward the window, was unthinkable. Her pussy throbbed, her clitoris ached with desire, and desire breaks down all thought.
She waited in that position for what seemed like half an hour, not daring to get up lest he enter at that moment, discover her not in the position he instructed, and turn around to leave. She envisioned the scenario then: begging for him to stay, pulling him back, going down on her knees both to beg and to suck his cock, to prove to him her desire.
Finally, though, she heard the door unlatch, and supressed the urge to turn and look at him. For a brief moment she was afraid it wasn't him, but was someone else who would know a good thing when he saw it.
But then she heard his voice: "Good girl," he said quietly. "Everything is as I instructed. Now you will listen to me. You will be free at any time to leave."
Alice could hear the clinking sound of his coin-filled pockets falling past his knees, the rustle of his shirt as it came off. She bit her lower lip, and pushed her breasts against the rough fabric of the bed cover.
A hand touched her bottom, stroking downward and inward, almost brushing some stray pussyhairs. Chills streaked through her, and she shuddered.
"I will first tie your legs to the legs of the bed. Spread them for me."
She swallowed, then did. His hand materialized on her pussy as if the act of spreading her legs had brought it up to those lips. His middle finger caressed her pussyal lips without entering. She could feel cool fabric looping around her ankle. Still she did not move, though the hand pulled back.
"I tie you so you will give yourself utterly to me. Without control of your limbs, you have no responsibilities. I will be fucking you. You will not touch my cock unless I let you. Nor will your tongue wrap itself around my shaft unless I let you." The first ankle was tied now, and his hand came back to her twat.
"I will not hurt you. Perhaps later, if you ask me, I will spank you; if not today, then perhaps next weekend, or next month, or whenever I choose to see you next. That will be your choice." Her left ankle was now tied down as well.
She experimented with trying to move her legs back together, but after half an inch apiece, she discovered that her legs were immobile. She let out a low whimper, and again ground her tits into the knobby bedcover.
"I will now blindfold you. Do not attempt to resist." A broad blue strip of silk was passed in front of her face, then wrapped tight around her eyes. In the knot behind her head, some strands of hair got caught, and the pulling brought tears to her eyes.
"I will now tie your wrists. Once that is done," he continued, as he looped the cool silk around her wrists, "you will be completely in my power. I will fuck you once in your hot, slick pussy, until we both come. Then I will have you suck me to another hard, and then I will fuck you in the ass. You will come at least once as I ream you there. Then I will either untie you or I will leave, and tell Alan downstairs that you need to be untied. How pleased I am will determine that decision."
It was a warning she couldn't ignore. Now that her wrists were bound to the bedframe, she was completely helpless, and she knew that he could very easily bring in the Green Bay Packers to take turns fucking her. But she trusted that he wouldn't do that, since she expected to please him. Would do whatever he wanted, to please him. Because she knew she would come harder than she'd ever come before.
Though she knew it was fruitless, she tried wrinkling her brow and nose to get a small crack of light through the blindfold. Nothing doing: she could see nothing but blackness, though she strained her eyes. Her fingers felt the bindings that she knew reached from her wrists to the bedframe's head. Smooth, cool, probably silk. They didn't hurt, surprisingly. Tight enough to hold her, but not so tight that she would need to worry about lack of circulation.
But she could not move her arms more than a few inches laterally. With an almost academic curiosity, she continued testing her bonds; never had she been bound. A week ago she would have told her closest friend that she had no interest in ever even trying it.
Today, this hot afternoon, knowing what awaited her, the bonds were electrically erotic. From her bound wrists she could almost feel juices seeping into her, juices that filled her up and needed a release. From her ankles, held fast by the ties beneath her, she felt the firm pressure almost as if they were hands clutching at her, demanding her complete abandonment of everything she would call civilized.
"Let go," they said to her, in tactile chants, like tribal songs of exotic bushmen, and darker: "Prepare, for you have no choice." Her legs shivered from the call, as her muscles heard the cries and prepared.
His fingertips maddeningly stroked the outsides of her legs, and the muscles twitched, attending to a different primal song. Running up like elven feet over thighs, hips, dipping down to stroke the ridge of her smashed breasts, circling on her armpits, then departing.
Like a red pen through a map, the path his fingertips had found tingled. Then, again: a slight touch, this time on the inner skin of her ass cheeks, just above her anus. No pressure, but still she could feel her sphincter subtly relaxing in preparation, involuntarily. Her body, she realized, was rapidly becoming not her own. She was just along for the ride.
Again, his touch disappeared. She strained her ears for a clue of what he was doing, but there was nothing but his slow, measured breaths. Then something touching the hairs around her pussy. What was that, his cock, please let it be something... she thought, and strained against the bindings, trying to push her pussy against whatever it was.
It stayed in exactly the same relationship to her pussy, tantalizingly close, but not quite touching her skin. She pulled on the restraints again, jerking back on them, saying "please, please, put something in, oh god, put something in my hot pussy, now, please..."
His hand covered her mouth, and she felt his warm body on her back. His hard prick was a hot force pressing against her right asscheek. He hissed in her ear.
"You must not make another sound, or I will gag you." His breath was hot in her ear. She bit her lip, mutely nodding. He pulled himself off her; the cold air rushed into where their bodies had touched. She shivered again, though not with cold.
Again something touched the hairs, and she tried to remain immobile, to be completely passive, a lump of flesh - but discovered she absolutely could not. Her body took over, aching for touch, for contact, for release. She felt bloated with lust.
She realized that what her body told her was right. He didn't want a slab of meat to fuck. He wanted a woman. But he wanted a woman completely. She could fuck back, she could do whatever she wanted, whatever she could. He told me he wanted to be pleased with me, she thought to herself, almost removed from the hunger that set her pussy on fire. It's okay to want it, she thought.
Then she could no longer ignore the gently increasing pressure on her pussy. Something was working its way in with a push so slow that her juices were soaking it with lubricant as it sank past her outer lips. I always have to hold them apart for Larry, she thought abstractly, and it would hurt if he wasn't going so slow... and she arched her back in an attempt to push it farther in.
She was sure it was a cock now, as the head slipped in. Well she remembered that thick head in her mouth; she licked the insides of her teeth, thinking about sucking him hard after he was through fucking her.
In his cock went, stretching out her pussywalls at an agonizing pace. Alice could feel the ridge of his cock-helmet springing past the ridges inside her own cunnie. He was so hard there was virtually no give to his prick.
She could feel his thighs as they contacted hers, then tried to push back as his pelvis finished the final shove of his invasion. Her cervix jumped as if goosed.
And she almost groaned, but held it back at the last moment. He was in fully now, and seemed to be letting his fat cock soak up the juices, pulling the power from the ties around her wrists and ankles, pulling the energy through them, using her body as a conduit. Down her arms, up her legs, meeting and focusing with her pussy as the nexus point.
He pulled out suddenly, and thrust his prick in fast. She jumped, and could not stop the groan. Then she felt hands around her head, and something on her lips; her tongue snaked out to touch it, and lapped silk.
"You will not stay quiet voluntarily. I am going to gag you. Now is your last chance to stop. If you refuse the gag, I will untie you and leave."
He waited. Alice felt herself; felt her body stretched out on the bed, bent over the brass, ass in the air; she felt the nubby texture of the bedcover on her tits; she felt her lashes fluttering against the inside of the blindfold. She gripped the straps holding her wrists; felt his stiff cock enfolded by her hungry pussy. Then she nodded.
The gag separated her lips, and she opened for it. The silk pulled the corners of her mouth against her teeth, and she adjusted, so the tightness was only on the corners. She bit down on the silk as he tied it behind her.
Once the gag was tied, it was as though he had been set completely free. Immediately he began pumping his cock in and out of her at frightening speed. The bed rocked, squeaking as loudly as she had groaned, as loud as she was trying to groan, with each thrust. The pressure built inside her, and she tried again, through the gag, to release some of it with sound, but the grunts were too muffled, too contained, so the pressure simply built, the songs joined voices, and the echoes began in earnest.
Her body rang like a forty-foot pipe organ fills a cathedral with sound, searching for an exit, seeking escape from the marble walls. The doors were shaking with the echoes, she could see them shaking, as if the music was pushing them out as a hurricane tried to push in, and her lithe body stiffened, legs straining against their ties, arms pulling against their restrictions, her body squeezing to help force open the doors, and the doors burst open, the rain and hail and dust from the hurricane rushed in as the pent-up echoes arced out through the opening, and she came screaming bluntedly into the gag, each breath a gutteral wrench, each thrust another explosion.
Writhing helplessly in her bonds, she shuddered and shook like a minnow on a dock. His hands dug into her ass cheeks, holding her pussy tight against his crotch as he came. She could feel the pulsations of his cock spewing jism deep into her pussy, and that pushed her up once more, a dripping come like rain after a long hot day.
But the rain did nothing to chill the heat of his spume. She could feel the driblets of cream seeping down her inner thighs, little gushes pushing out with each slow, after-cum pump he was giving her, and giving himself. Alice fought to catch her breath, still feeling the reverberations of lost echoes.
Alice shook her head, astounded at the power she was feeling. He was lying on top of her now, his prick gradually deflating, slipping out of her sloppy pussy as it did. His skin was warm, and his breaths quick. She still couldn't believe it: she had come with such gut-twisting convulsions that now she felt she'd been tackled. But she was equally ready to get up and join the next play.
He heaved himself up off her with a faint grunt, pulling free completely from her pussy. She listened closely, trying still to see through her blindfold. She could almost hear him moving beside the bed, then felt the vibration on her left arm's binding.
She felt almost disappointed; she was being untied so soon. But then she felt his weight on the bed. Her free arm was pulled up and over, turning her on her side, still tied at three corners. It hurt her hips just a bit to be twisted that way, but not a pain she couldn't put up with. He untied her gag, and Alice knew immediately why, and opened her mouth.
She lapped at the air, licking her lips around, moistening them to more easily slip around the cockhead that she knew awaited her. He teased her, touching her lips or her outstretched tongue with the very tip of his limp prick, still covered in their combined come.
Alice could smell him, then could almost touch him, but he held his prick tantalizingly close without allowing her the satisfaction of engulfing it in her warm mouth. She wanted to clean it, suck off those juices, tumble his cock around in her mouth like a tootsie pop.
Her free arm was up in the air, free not at all; he held the silk tightly above her, allowing her only a little head movement. She lunged toward his crotch, and caught the side of his prick between her lip-covered teeth; he groaned, and let her take it.
At this stage it was small enough to fit completely into her mouth while still allowing her tongue room to move. Alice loved it. Exploring the flesh of the man controlling her thrilled her. He pushed his pelvis closer to her, rubbing her nose into his pubic hair.
She could feel him thickening in her mouth, could feel the blood pulsing into his prick. Using her tongue, she pushed out all but his head, then sucked him back to her inner throat wall. Pushed him out, then pulled him back. Each suck brought back a beefier piece of meat. On the twelfth pull, he was firm enough to stay straight, and by the twentieth, his length began to gag her.
Breathing through her nose helped, but she was still short of breath, and on one release gasped for air, pulling it around the outside of his hard shaft. He hissed his pleasure, and so she did it again, pulling him deep into the warmth and silky smoothness of her mouth, then pulling back a bit and streaming cold air around his pecker.
"Now get it wet," he ordered her, and she stiffened up. Always, whenever Larry wanted to try anal intercourse, she got scared. She had gone along with it a couple of times, and though she was interested in what it made her feel, she couldn't help but stay tense all the way through. It hurt, and the pain was too distracting.
"I said get it wet, Pull up spit and coat my cock with your saliva. I intend to fuck you up the ass slowly and with great relish, and without as much lubricant as possible, it will get painful. Slather that tongue of yours on my cock. Make me wet enough to slip into your ass easy."
She pulled spit into the front of her mouth, then when his cockhead was presented to her, coated the helmet with as much saliva as she could leave. She felt a stray strand slap against her cheek as he pulled his cock away.
Relax, she told herself, he'll do it right, and he'll do it whether I want it or not. She smiled ruefully to herself: I'm just along for the ride.
He replaced the gag around her mouth, retied her left wrist to the bed. Then he moved behind her. She tried to loosen her sphincter, but couldn't get it receptive.
As if understanding her unspoken hesitation, he pushed one wet finger against the rim of the wrinkled brown hole. He massaged it gently, probing, sliding slowly more and more inside, reaming her out around and around, relaxing those ass walls.
She involuntarily let out a groan, muffled by the gag. Something in her seemed to wake up. As her ass loosened, the last vestiges of responsibility dissolved. It was somehow more private even then being fucked, having his finger exploring the inside of her ass. She was giving him the freedom to invade wherever he wanted, and she was happy to oblige.
The soft, bulbous head of his hard cock pushed beside his index finger, which was now in all the way to the knuckle. As he drew circles inside her intestines, she undulated on the bed, writhing under his directing finger.
As his finger receded, it was replaced by the irresistable pressure of his hard prong pushing against her ass. She let go even more of her sphincter, and the chunky plum slipped in. He stayed still for a moment, allowing her ass to accomodate. She felt his hand reaching around his prick, smearing his own saliva on his shaft. Then those fingers found her pussy, and her buzzing clit.
He began strumming her clit like a guitar, and as she grunted in response, pushed forward on his hard cock, forcing it another inch into her. Suddenly he jammed three fingers in her pussy, and the gag scarcely held back the shout she gave. Just after she reared up in response the three-finger thrust, he pumped his hard cock deeply into her ass.
Alice was overwhelmed. Never had she enjoyed being fucked in the ass like this. She'd put up with it before, but now understood why some women actually wanted it regularly. With each thrust another barrier inside her melted, another wall came down. She discovered herself grunting like an animal, spinning her ass in little arcs to better feel his prick.
She could feel him in ways her pussy couldn't; could feel the depth he was achieving with each thrust. Little screams escaped her every time he hit bottom. She thrust back as far as her binds would let her.
Gradually his pace quickened. Her asshole clutched at his prick, trying to draw him into her. His fingers left her pussy, and she barely noticed: all her attention was focused on the thorough reaming her ass was getting.
His thighs began making slapping noises as they struck her ass cheeks. Alice was nearly delirious. The thrusts had stopped feeling separated from one another; it was as if she was being continuously fucked by one long long prick going inch by inch into her, foot by foot, yard by yard. God, I'm so full, she thought, he's filling me up completely, and she felt like a balloon reaching the limits of its size.
The pressure kept building, rising higher and higher, and for Alice nothing in the world existed except her ass being fucked and the building pressure. With piston-like speed he slammed into her chute, fucking her straight-on, his hips almost like hands spanking her even as they caressed her deep inside.
Then with a gutteral yell he came, somehow thrusting into her even harder, deeper, and she began to come too, a rumbling like the sound the far side of a dirigible makes when it explodes, and she knew that as a passenger all she could do was wait for the explosion to reach where she waited.
In great crashing peals of light and sound it came, she came, shuddering like a roadway in a long earthquake, feeling the wrinkles in her ripples straighten, stretch, break apart, and she was screaming as loud as her gag would allow, as much as he would allow, for she was shouting with all her strength, held back by the silk ribbons binding her wrists and ankles.
Five more thrusts, while his prick was still hard, each more slow than the last, until finally he stopped. Then slowly pulled himself from her ass.
Even soft, she still loved the feel of his dangling rod rubbing against her thighs as he caught his breath.
Then suddenly he was off her. She could hear him putting on his clothes. Alice became frightened. Hadn't she pleased him? Was he going to tell Alan that there was a slut upstairs waiting to service him? In her charged state, she almost wanted that: a new, hard prick to fuck her some more sounded good right now. But then she caught herself, remembering what a ferrety, skinny man he was. She was relieved when she felt him untying her ankles.
"I will now leave," he said as he untied the second ankle. "You should have no trouble untying your wrist once the tension is off. You will carry those silk scarves with you at all times from now on, so that I can use them on you whenever I want." Alice felt a chill of excitement that for a moment overpowered the deep satisfaction settling on her body.
She nodded, still blindfolded, still bound. She heard his tread on the floor moving toward the door. She waited till he was out of the door before scooting herself up the bed so that her hands could reach her blindfold.
Her pussy ached, her ass ached, but her body sang. Hands still tied, she looked down at the faint bruises on the front of her hips; it had been worth every drop of makeup she used to cover them. She had learned enough to willingly pay for any inconvenience resulting from her interludes with the mysterious man.
She was clearly decided, now; he was a good man to be her master. She liked her role with him, even if it was politically incorrect. She liked being his slave, and tried to imagine what he would do with her next.
Alice couldn't wait to find out.