Fiction: Cell Phone Slave Part Seven

Some nights were more miserable than others. The heat in the dorm only abated slightly at nights. The flimsy shades did little to keep out the powerful orange floodlights outside. Amaya had brought her pillow from home but it didn’t make up for the hardness of her university issued bed. Sleeping was a constant struggle.

Then there was the complication of Amaya’s roommate, Helen. During the week, Helen would arrive late at night, waking Amaya up from whatever hard fought sleep she had managed to get. She always brought her boyfriend, and more times than not, they would fuck before settling down. These messy fucks in the not quite darkness always aroused Amaya and left her frustrated. She often cursed them under her breath for keeping her awake but she never gave voice to the anger she felt over not having a boyfriend of her own.

This is why Amaya was looking forward to Sunday night. Surely, not even Helen and her bar hopping could find a place to get drunk on Sunday night. Amaya looked forward to an entire night of sleep. No drunken fumbling with the door to scare her, no messy sex to make her feel lonely, just eight solid hours of sleep.

Helen found new ways to surprise her. At two forty-five, Helen banged on the door, yelling for Amaya to open up because she couldn’t get the key in the door. Rick had an off-campus friend who invited them to a Sunday party. The two were twice as wasted as usual and they couldn’t stop giggling when Amaya let them in. They smelled of smoke and something else twice as acrid. Rick thanked her for letting them in while Helen grabbed Rick’s ass.

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Amaya crawled into bed and tried to shut out the sounds of the couple across the room. Tonight they were far more vocal. Helen told Rick to give it to her while Rick called her a sexy girl. It took them nearly an hour to finish before they both collapsed into even louder snores.

In her bed, Amaya was near tears. She was exhausted and she felt so out of control. It was just like the cage earlier today when the janitor looked at her and she was helpless to stop him. There was nothing she could do about Helen and her damned boyfriend who was so fucking hot except for the fact that he fucked Helen. Why did she keep getting into these situations? When was she going to have control again?

Depressed and unhappy, Amaya went back to sleep.

She was awoken again but this time it was Helen yelling at her to answer her phone. Amaya squinted at her clock as she picked her phone up. It was a quarter after four. What was Wesley calling at this hour?

“Hello?” she whispered.

“Amaya, good. I was afraid you would miss the call and the game would have ended.” Wesley sounded disturbingly awake.

“Wait a second, let me get in the hall. My roommate and her boyfriend are sleeping.”

Amaya grabbed her glasses and stepped out into the hallway. The entire dorm was eerily quiet. It was easy to believe she was the only person awake in the world. Well, except for Wesley.

“Your roommate’s boyfriend is spending the night?” Wesley asked.

“Yes,” she answered after yawning. “He comes over every night. Usually drunk and loud.”

“I see,” Wesley said. “And I assume you don’t like this?”

“Course I do,” Amaya snapped. “I love waking up in the middle of the night. I love hearing them fuck. What the hell would I need a night’s sleep for?”

Amaya froze with fear. Fuck! She just mouthed off to Wesley!

Luckily, he chuckled. “Then why don’t you ask her not to?”

Amaya’s stomach twisted. “I should,” she admitted. “But Helen would just cal me jealous. Besides, they have no where else to fuck.”

“Amaya, listen to me,” Wesley said. “You have a remarkably submissive personality. You obey wonderfully but you don’t have to obey everyone. You’ll be a lot happier once you start being more selective to who you submit to.”

She swallowed. “I’m not submissive. I just like playing these games, you know? And I can use the money.”

“I have little interest in debate, Amaya,” Wesley said. “Besides, we’re wasting valuable time. I had a game in mind for you but now I think I would rather you took advantage of your situation. Tell me, does Rick sleep against the wall or near the edge of the bed?”

“The edge,” Amaya answered. Her heart was doing that familiar racing again. It was a mixture of fear and arousal and although she dreaded what Wesley was going to say next, she knew she would go along with it.

“Good. Quietly as you can, go back into your room and follow my instructions.”

She did as he asked. Wide-awake now, her hand trembled when she closed the door. Rick was right where she said he was, sleeping on the edge of the bed.

“Is he sleeping on his back?” Wesley asked.

“Yes,” Amaya answered as quietly as possible.

“Excellent. Now my non-submissive girl, I want you to very quietly pull up a chair to the bed so you can sit comfortably beside Rick. Place your chair by his hips please.”

Amaya bit her lip. She wasn’t submissive! The submissive girls in erotica were always these helpless girls who whined and craved abuse. Amaya wasn’t like that at all. It was Wesley she craved. It was the excitement of never knowing what was going to happen next that excited her. She was not some wimpy girl who rolled over and did whatever people asked.

She moved her desk chair next to Rick’s hips though she knew it was more accurate to call it his crotch. There was no doubt that’s why Wesley wanted her here. Helen kept snoring, her back to the rest of the world. Amaya felt an uprising of guilt build in her although she hadn’t done anything yet. That guilt was tempered with a desire to do something terribly naughty to pay Helen back for this late nights. Besides, it wasn’t Amaya doing this; she was just doing what she had to win tonight’s game.

“I’m here,” Amaya whispered on her phone.

“Now pull back the blankets so you can see his underwear. What’s the boy’s name again?”

Amaya gulped. “Rick,” she whispered. Answering his question was easy; doing as he asked was not. It was what she expected but to be this close to Helen and her boyfriend was very scary. She lifted the blanket very carefully, terrified that they would awake at any moment.

Underneath the blankets, Rick wore simple white briefs. There was a large wet spot visible even in the dim light. It was centered on the top of his bulge and Amaya wondered if it was semen or Helen that stained his underwear.

“Once you have the blankets pulled down, I want you to fish his cock out of his underwear. Let me know when you have it exposed.”

“Oh God,” Amaya thought. She looked at his tight underwear and tried to figure out how to do what he asked. It didn’t occur to her to refuse. Amaya tried to tug the waistband down but it was too tight. She swallowed hard and stared at his crotch. After a moment, she realized the side of his underwear was pretty loose. Amaya slid the underwear sideways to reveal Rick’s cock and balls. The smell of sex was stronger now and Amaya felt the heat rush to her own sex.

“It’s out,” Amaya whispered.

“Use your mouth and get your hand nice and slick,” Wesley instructed.

Here it comes. Amaya knew Helen would kill her if she woke up but Amaya couldn’t resist the chance. She stuck her tongue out and licked her hand in one long swipe. It tickled her palm and she wasn’t nearly wet enough. Amaya took a minute to really get her hand wet, licking and coating her hand with as much spit as possible. She knew that Wesley was listening to every wet sound; his low moans were very audible in the quiet dorm. Amaya smiled.

“My hand is wet,” Amaya whispered. She knew what he would ask her next but she wanted him to say it. She wanted to hear his request and have her excuse to do what she was dreaming about doing anyway.

“Now stroke Rick off. Get him hard and get him off.”

“Yes,” Amaya sighed. There was no question now. Amaya HAD to do it. For eight hundred dollars and another successful game, she had to stroke off her roommate’s boyfriend. The finality of his command erased all further doubt.

His cock was already wet when she touched him. Amaya realized it was still slick from being inside Helen. It made her smile. She lifted his limp cock and wrapped her fingers around his length. Even limp he was a little large. Amaya grinned wickedly in the darkness. There was more than enough to share.

She stroked him. Rick continued to snore and his snores mixed with Helen’s. His cock grew warmer in her hand and started to throb. Stroke by stroke, it grew harder in her hand. It took everything she had to just not squeeze him and truly enjoy his girth. Amaya sighed. She really needed to get laid by someone.

Wesley said nothing but Amaya knew he was there. Her attention was split between the hot cock in her hand and the sexy demanding man on the other end of the phone. As she stroked Rick, she wondered if Wesley was stroking himself. She hoped he was.

Her hand got dry and she had to get it slick again. This time when she licked her hand, it tasted like cock. She rolled that sweaty flavor in her mouth and sighed. It had been far too long since she had a real cock. Wesley groaned again while she licked her fingers and she enjoyed knowing he was groaning for her. Amaya hoped she teased him as much as his games teased her.

She returned to stroking Rick and she enjoyed the feeling of flesh back in her hand. Amaya could get used to this. Her old boyfriend used to ask for handjobs, but as they moved on to outright sex, there was little need for her hands. It was a shame. Amaya liked the way she held a man’s attention she had him by the cock. She also liked touching and feeling the cock, something you can’t do as minutely when it is being rammed inside you.

Amaya’s daydreams were interrupted by the sound of a moan. At first she thought it was Wesley but with dawning horror, she realized it was coming from Rick! He had stopped snoring and now his eyes were open. She froze in mid stroke, not sure what to do.

She must have gasped because Wesley asked her what was wrong.

“Rick’s awake,” she whispered. Her hand was still around his cock. It throbbed in her grip.

“Give the phone to Rick,” Wesley said.

Amaya did as he asked, passing the phone to Rick. The confused guy took the phone and listened to whatever Wesley had to say. After a minute, he passed the phone back to Amaya. He was grinning ear to ear.

“Keep jerking him off,” Wesley said. That was it.

Well, there was no point arguing. Amaya returned to stroking him. This time Rick moved with her, pushing and pulling with her grip. It was certainly more entertaining for Amaya. She could squeeze harder now and really enjoy the feel of his cock. He was thrusting his hips with her strokes now. They worked well together and Amaya couldn’t help imagining how nicely they would fuck.

Rick wasn’t content to just lay there. He reached up and pressed his hand against Amaya’s nightgown. She groaned as his hand cupped her breast and squeezed gently. His finger found her nipple and gave it a tiny pinch. She moaned in response and Wesley just chuckled.

“Give Rick long strokes,” Wesley instructed. “All the way down to the bottom of his cock and then back up to his tip. Cap your thumb over his cock head and let it slide down when your hand moves down.”

“Yes,” Amaya whispered. Whether in agreement or compliance, not even Amaya was sure.

She cried out when Rick squeezed hard on her breast. He quickly let go and Amaya was a little disappointed. She liked it but he misinterpreted her cry. Amaya wished he would do it again but what was she going to do, make requests?

His hand moved down to her legs and Amaya didn’t even think. She just parted her thighs and his hand slipped right under her gown. As she kept stroking him, Rick’s hand touched her thong. This time she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. He explored a little, touching here and touching there against the thin fabric of her thong. The heat between her thighs was incredible. Amaya felt her sex was in danger of burning Rick’s fingers. Why doesn’t he just pull the material aside and plunge in there?

As if reading her mind, Rick whispered, “Can I?”

Amaya swallowed. It was up to her. She almost said yes but she looked over at Helen. The blonde was still asleep but for how long? What if Amaya moaned too loudly and woke her up? What if Helen could somehow smell Amaya on Rick’s fingers? Then Amaya remembered what Wesley had said about being more selective. She shook her head ‘no’.

Rick sighed but then groaned as Amaya’s fist tightened around him. He clenched all over, from her bending knees to his retreating fingers between Amaya’s thighs. It was time.

Amaya watched as Rick’s cock ejaculated. It didn’t explode or send cum flying everywhere. It just spilled fluid from the tip. The cum flowed down over Amaya’s hand and she was struck by how hot it was. She had forgotten how warm it could be. The cum mixed with her spit into a big sticky mess. She kept stroking though while Rick gritted his teeth.

“He came,” Amaya whispered.

“Good, you have delighted me again,” Wesley said.

Amaya giggled. “I think I delighted Rick.”

Wesley groaned. “Some day soon, you’re going to do the exact same thing for me.”

She got a little light headed. “Okay” was all she could get out.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Amaya. Oh, and take the bus to the mall today and really spend some of your money, okay?”

“Umm, all right,” she said and then he hung up.

That was a strange request. But compared to sitting here with Rick’s wilting cock and her cum soaked-hand, it wasn’t that odd. Amaya put down her phone and looked at Rick. He was watching her intently. What had Wesley said to him?

“That was nice,” he said.

Amaya giggled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

She pulled her hand away and wasn’t sure what to do with it. Even in the dim light, Amaya could tell her hand was glistening. What was the etiquette in this situation? Was it rude to just wipe it off right away? Was she supposed to be happy with having a fist full of come?

“Here, use her bedsheet,” Rick said.

Amaya liked that idea. She grabbed the corner of Helen’s sheet and just rubbed her hand all over it. First she jerked off Helen’s boyfriend and now she’s leaving a mess on Helen’s bed. Amaya was feeling downright evil. She liked it.

“I guess I should get back into my bed,” Amaya said.

Rick nodded. “Maybe next time I can do something for you.”

Amaya blushed. “Maybe,” she said.

She put the chair back and crawled into bed. The clock depressed her, telling her she barely had a couple of hours before she needed to get up. Amaya sighed. She was already exhausted and now she was horny too. If she masturbated, would she get any sleep at all?

Amaya fell asleep before she could decide. The alarm woke her back up and when she turned it off, she noticed her hand still smelled like cum. Rick and Helen were still asleep. Was it Amaya's imagination or was Rick smiling in his sleep?

On her way to the showers, Amaya saw that another manila envelope had been slipped under the door. It was addressed to her. She snatched it up and took it with her to the shower stall. Amaya stripped out of her clothes before opening the envelope, although she wasn’t consciously aware of doing so.

Inside was eight hundred dollars in a large stack of twenties. The sheer volume of cash was overwhelming. She didn’t have a wallet big enough to hold that much cash. This amount alone could hold her over for food until the financial aid came in. Add it to the amount she already had, what couldn’t she do if she wanted it?

There was also a note.

“Dear Amaya,

This morning was not planned but we were both able to adapt. It was exciting to hear you masturbate a stranger, and it made me think of how it will be if you were masturbating me.

I will not call on you again till tomorrow. Once again, I suggest you take the local university bus to the mall. Spend some of that money and enjoy your victories.

Wesley.”

Amaya read the letter several times before stepping under the hot water. When she lathered up, she couldn’t help think about how creamy her hand felt after jerking Rick off. Rick suggested her wanted to do something with her; Amaya couldn’t believe he was willing to cheat on beautiful Helen. It made Amaya feel sexy and desirable on a very lustful level; like being with Chris.

Thoughts of Chris made her groan. He hadn’t called yesterday, well unless he was Wesley. But if he were Wesley, would he really have him masturbate his roommate’s boyfriend? For some reason, Amaya preferred to think of Chris keeping her to his self. She remembered the way he groped her breast and the way he kissed her. It was hard for her to imagine Chris sharing her tits with someone else but that might just be the romantic in her.

On the other hand, what if Chris wasn’t Wesley? If that was the case, why hadn’t he called? She gave him her dorm phone number but Helen’s answering machine didn’t have any messages from Chris. Did Amaya do something wrong? Maybe he didn’t like the way she kissed!

Amaya groaned as she stuck her head under the showerhead. This is what she liked about Wesley; there was no ambiguity with him. He liked to push her. He liked to see how far she would go. Wesley will call tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that as long as Amaya could keep up with him. That was comforting to know.

Rick and Helen were still asleep when she got back to her dorm. Now that she was a little more awake, Amaya had a sudden fear of Helen discovering what had happened. Scenarios where Helen confronted Amaya ran through the frightened girl’s mind. It was all too easy to imagine Helen finding out from Rick and then yelling at Amaya. She didn’t really know what Helen would do if she found out but she was in no hurry to find out. For this reason, Amaya gathered all the things she would need today. Her books, her purse and anything else that would let her avoid coming home all day long.

Classes went well that day though Amaya was having a harder and harder time concentrating. She found herself completely lost in Economics class far more often than what was usual. In Biology, she completely gave up on taking notes and wrote down a list of things she wanted to buy today. By the time World History rolled around, Amaya was looking up at the clock every two minutes. The money was obsessing her, which after her past week over obsessing about sex and guys, it was a nice change of pace.

She debated going by her room to drop off her books but Amaya chickened out. Helen could be there. Helen could know by now. Helen could be plotting something really really really mean any moment now.

Amaya carried her very heavy backpack onto the bus and into the mall. There, she managed to forget Helen as she explored the various stores. The clothing stores were useless as none of them catered to her size. She did manage to find a nice purse and a better wallet at Sears. Amaya also blew some money buying nice sneakers and some dress shoes. It was odd to buy shoes so expensive that her mother would freak, but that only made it more fun. Amaya never had much of a shoe fetish like other girls but she was starting to appreciate the possibilities. Maybe it was just the infusion of money that made it more fun.

She ate dinner at the mall food court; delighting in the ability to eat over priced food. As she ate, Amaya realized she could buy a few appliances if she needed to. She went right back to Sears and bought herself a small microwave. It was pretty heavy but Amaya liked the idea of being able to actually warm up a can of soup if she wanted. Now she just needed dishes . . .

By the time the mall closed, Amaya was lugging far too much to safely carry. Her arms were straining and her back was sore but she was smiling too much to care. She had a small microwave, some dishes, some silverware, new shoes, a new purse and a lot of other things she had needed but just lacked the money for it. A pair of gold earrings weren’t exactly needed, but Amaya bought them anyway just because she could. If Wesley were to ask something impossible tomorrow, Amaya had enough treats and left over money to stay happy till her financial aid came.

Amaya’s good mood disintegrated as she climbed the stairs back to her dorm room. In the pit of her stomach, she knew Helen was there. What could she say to the girl? Amaya hated her roommate enough to not feel guilty over her boyfriend but she still knew that it was a wrong thing to do. She braced herself as she unlocked her door and stepped inside.

Helen’s side of the room was gone. The bed and desk were still there, but they had been stripped. There were no sheets. There were no books or makeup. Helen had and all her stuff was gone.

There was a knock on the door. In a daze, Amaya answered the door. It was some brunette she didn’t recognize at first.

“Hello, Amaya is it? I’m Shelly, the Resident advisor for this floor?”

“Oh yeah,” Amaya said. “Uh, come in?”

Shelley smiled and came in but it was clear she was nervous about something. She fidgeted for a bit and sat on Helen’s now empty bed. Amaya sat on her bed and looked at her. Suddenly, Amaya realized what had happened. Helen had ratted her out!

“Am I in trouble?” Amaya said.

“What? No, no,” Shelley said. She took a deep breath and then explained.

“This morning, the Dean of Students received a letter about Helen and you. It explained that Helen was letting her boyfriend sleep over and that you were being threatened to keep quiet. It even included a picture of Helen and her boyfriend asleep in bed. The writer of the letter claimed to be a friend of yours that was concerned over how you were being treated. It then went on to explain that if this matter wasn’t taken care of, that you would be pulled from this school and that the local authorities would be asked to look into it.”

Amaya stopped breathing. Her heart felt like it was going to pop out of her chest. It must have been Wesley! Or maybe it was Chris!

“Obviously, the Dean was really upset,” Shelley continued. The R.A. grimaced and looked right at Amaya. “She complained to my adviser, who complained to me wanting to know why I didn’t know anything. We checked with some of the girls in the hall, and they all confirmed it. Not that we needed any confirmation. It smelled like sex in her this morning.”

Amaya bit down hard on her tongue. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. From the way Shelley was glaring at her, Amaya knew the best thing to do was keep quiet.

“Helen was kicked out of dorm housing and so was her boyfriend,” Shelley explained. “She was really pissed about it. We had to get security to escort her out. That doesn’t bother me, she seemed like a real bitch. What does bother me is that I am now on probation for something that could have been fixed if someone had come to me about it.”

Shelley could have fixed it? Amaya felt her stomach spiral. Could she have avoided all this if she just stood up for herself and reported it? Amaya wondered if Wesley was right, was she just submitting to any one who bossed her around?

“I’m sorry,” Amaya said. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Shelley shrugged. She didn’t seem convinced. “Well, for now you’re going to have to do without a roommate. If you have any other problems, and I mean ANY problems, then you contact me before you tell your friends or parents.”

What about my phone lover? Amaya thought. She banished that idea and solemnly nodded to Shelley. The R.A. left the room after giving her her phone number and Amaya tried to look contrite as she closed the door behind her.

As soon as the door closed, Amaya jumped up in the air. Helen was gone! She didn’t even have to face her! The bitch was gone and Amaya was finally by herself! Shelley had said she would ‘have to do without a roommate’ like it was some sort of punishment! Amaya laughed and flopped on her bed.

“I owe Wesley a really big thank you,” she said out loud. Amaya thought back to what Shelley had said and her laughter stopped cold.

The letter to the Dean had included a photo of Rick and Helen. That means who ever wrote it had come into the room. That person must have a key!

Amaya looked at the door and the lock that was no longer trustworthy. Being alone tonight didn’t seem like a great idea after all.

Cyber-Groupies

I’m a slut. I love sex with women and I am often not too picky about the woman. My wife jokes that most men have a list of the women they most want to have sex with and Shon has a list of the women he won't have sex with. It’s a small list.

Memorial Day wiped the last dregs of energy from me and my wife. Renn Fair on Saturday, dinner with her friends on Sunday and Monday we had the bright idea of walking to the grocery store under a Georgia sun. We came back so exhausted that we just stripped off our clothes, ate and vegetated on our computers for the next ten hours.

So I’m sitting there reading through Tess's archives while my wife sits four feet away, naked at her computer. This idyllic moment is interrupted by an instant message from a total stranger. A female total stranger according to her profile and as we all know, Internet profiles never lie.

We chit-chat and my wife cracks a joke about cyber-groupies. I’m defending the honor of this person, who has already mentioned she reads my stories and so I already think of her as a close personal friend when this exchange happens-

***Female Stranger: No, it's memorial day, I was reading parts 4 5 and 6 on asstr, and then looking for more, went to your blog and thought oh wow, he uses yahoo mail.. . I wonder

****Female Stranger: leading me to have this discussion with a man that I had just been fingering my self to for the past half hour with his writings

My wife laughed. Yep, cyber-groupie.

Now don’t get me wrong. I do not scorn cyber and those who do it. In fact, I spent the next hour and a half guiding the girl through a self administered spanking followed by begging, masturbation, more begging and finally a climax. I don’t masturbate during cyber because quite frankly I am too busy writing to put another hand to use. I don’t need to masturbate because I get a high just from the act of domination even if it’s far removed domination that happens through computers.

I was also just completely flattered. As a writer, having someone who reads your stories come seek you out in the hopes that some of the sensual magic the writer writes is inherent in the writer is just sexy. I am flattered that someone who knows so little about me finds me sexy enough to fantasize about. It all came from my writing and that goes straight to my ego.

I can understand now why people have one night stands. For two hours I forgot about Shon, the guy who was tired, sticky and completely blocked about what to do with a certain story I have in mind. I became a different Shon; a Shon created by a horny college girl who thinks Shon is filled with dark mystery and forbidding bondage games. It was a pleasant escape and the writer in me is fascinated by the projection she was creating. In a way I don’t feel like she was hot for me at all, but some Fictional version born of her own desires and my writing.

Afterwards, Possible Spanking Friend called and asked what I was doing. I told her and she laughed. Actually she said, “Oh great, another groupie.” Which is quite funny considering that technically we meet cause she sent me a fan mail and the first time we chatted we ended up spanking over the phone. She herself has a long distance boyfriend and an in-town fuck buddy, so there is no jealousy there. We talked for an hour about mundane things and I found it just as sexy because she was speaking to me, not my superior alter ego.

When night time rolled around, my wife and I crawled into bed. We were still exhausted. She groped me. I laughed and asked if she even had the energy. She said no and kept groping.

“Fuck it,” I said and grabbed some tissues.

“You’re taking yourself?” she said. She was trying to feign shock but I could hear the teasing delight in her voice.

“Damn right,” I said. “Between Tess’s archives, cyber-groupie, you being nude all day and Possible Spanking Friend, I’m hard as hell.”

I started stroking. My lovely wife found some remaining energy and cupped my balls. She nibbled on my ear, my neck and my nipple as I kept stroking. When my climax approached, she offered her large breast and I sucked her nipple hard.

I thought of cyber-groupie sucking my cock while my wife and I watched.

I thought of fucking a blindfolded Possible Spanking Friend while my wife spanked her.

I thought of Tess swallowing every drop while my wife pushes her head onto my cock.

I climaxed and it was good.

“Are you tired?” my wife asks. Oh, that is not what she really was asking.

I couldn't refuse my wife after being a fantasy to others today. I crawled between her legs. My hands were on her thighs I nibbled on her underwear in the dark. Feeling creative and alive I decided I was going to eat her through her panties and make it a teasing sexy experience.

Five minutes later, she asked, “Are you going to eat a hole through my panties or what?”

Sometimes, I need to remember that my wife would rather have my mouth than my attempts at being a Sex God.

She tasted of sex, pubic hair and sweat. I relished the feeling of her hair against my face. I licked and sucked and did all the things that make her hips move. It wasn’t long before her hands went to my head and in that act of total need and domination; she held my face onto her as she fucked my tongue.

My wife cried out once, twice, three times and then a long satisfied fourth moan of pleasure.

Gods I am such a slut.

Secret Geek Sunday Fiction:Rite of Manhood

Rite of Manhood. It means different things to different people. To the Knights of Qwin, it means going into the Bad Lands and slaying one of the dread monsters that lives there. To the Thieves of Stoneport, it means bringing back your first treasure all on your own from some fat merchant's well guarded house. No matter what profession a man chooses, we all have our tests and rites that tell the world we are ready to be counted as equals in the great battles that define our legends.

Since I was a Spirit-Mage, my test was to summon and bind one of the true great spirits that haunt our world. Bonding with these ancient spirits allows us to cast the great spells that change the world and everyone around us. While wizards toiled over dusty tomes, trying to memorize near infinite incantations for the simplest parlor tricks, Spirit-Mages can manipulate matter and energy as easily as drawing a breath. Effortless power lied within my reach but first I had to bind a spirit to my soul forever and ever.

If you bind yourself to a Fire spirit, the very heat of the sun is yours to command. Bind yourself to a wise Snake Spirit, and no plan or trick is too great for you to conceive. A Spirit-Mage is defined by the spirit he bonds with and I planned for no less a spirit than Erack, Spirit of Purity. He was a noble force of purity, and every Spirit-Mage who has successfully bonded with him has become a great hero and champion. I planned to be the next.

Great Gods, if I had succeeded my life would have been so fucking boring.

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Since it was my Rite of Manhood, I had to do it alone. The Spirit-Mage guild trained me since I was ten years old but now that I was eighteen, I had to go up Solace Tower alone and cast my binding on the roof under an open sky. For four hours I laid out the runes in Dragonbone chalk. I painted the sigils on the floor that has held the bindings of so many bindings before me. I wore the seven layers of Summoning Robes, designed to protect me from dangerous greedy ghosts. I chanted the name of Erack for an hour, calling through the Astral Plane for his spirit to come to me.

The plan was that Erack would come to me. My sigils would hold him till he looked deep within my soul and saw my conviction. Then his spirit would navigate the chalk runes, changing his very spirit so that he could bind with me and join our souls in a lifetime of Purity and Power. The runes and sigils bound me as well. If I left during the summoning or moved from my spot in the center, I would literally tear holes in my psyche. Many great tragedies have been written about the Spirit-Mage who lost his courage and tried to leave Solace Tower only to be reduced to a gibbering idiot. Once the runes are laid, they must be properly washed away just as carefully or else the runes that are hooked directly into a person's soul will leave their soul open for far less pleasant spirits to invade.

The sun was setting as I finished the ritual. My throat was hoarse from speaking Erack's name but I could feel a presence. It was warm and comforting; like a piece of me that had been missing was suddenly reunited. I chanted the name louder and faster. I so wanted to bind with Erack and begin my adventures!

"You don't need to yell," a female voice said in my ear. "You have called, and Racki is here."

Racki? Great Gods, had I summoned the wrong spirit?

My eyes popped open and confirmed the horrible mistake. Instead of Erack, shining Spirit of Purity, there was a dark curvy Spirit that was incredibly female. From her lush breasts to her wide hips and down her impossible long legs I knew that she could not in any definition of the word have anything to do with 'Purity'. I watched as flowing blonde hair sprouted from her head and floated down around her nude form. The hair kept moving, flashing me glimpses of black nipples and even darker regions around her sex.

"Identify yourself! What foul demon are you?"

Racki smiled. I had never seen lips so red and inviting.

"You called me, and you don't know who I am? I'm Racki, Spirit of a Thousand Pleasures."

"No, no, no," I groaned.

She pouted. I didn't believe Spirits were capable of such a pure human emotion but when she pouted, I actually came close to apologizing. I shook my head and regained my focus.

"Depart Spirit, I was calling for Erack, not you."

She drifted closer. I could smell spices and flowers so tempting I wanted to open my mouth and breathe it all in. My eyes were just as intoxicated by the voluptuous body that kept revealing itself under her long blonde hair.

"Erack? What could you want with him?" she said. "You want to fight endless wars in a quest for purity? Has Purity ever made your cock hard? Has Purity ever kept you warm at night?”

I didn’t answer her. I bent down and tried to ignore the vision of desire before me. All of my focus had to be on the sigils and runes before me. I had to untangle myself before this foul Spirit corrupted me forever.

It didn’t stop her from talking. She drifted behind me and somehow that seemed worse. Not being able to see her only made me want to look at her more. When she spoke, it felt like she was whispering directly into my ear.

“Oh don’t send me away,” she purred. “Do you have any idea what I can do for you? Do you know what pleasures I can give you?

“I bet you don’t,” she said. “A pure little Spirt-Mage like you has been studying. I have seen it before. You may have tumbled with a girl or two but you have saved your true attention for magic. You have chosen Spirits over flesh but let me tell you something little Mage . . .”

I couldn’t help it. “Yes?” I asked.

“With me, you can have both. You can have great power and you can have the joys of my body. Have you ever squeezed breasts so large your hands sink into them? Or do you prefer small tits, perfectly shaped and balanced for a gentle mouth? And my bottom? You can have it as large as you wish or as petite as you like. I can be blonde, a redhead or any color you can imagine. I’m the Spirit of a Thousand Pleasures; I can be any woman you want or all of them.”

“Have you ever had a mouth on your cock for hours on end? Have you ever been licked so much that spit drips from your balls? I can tell that you have not. You have no idea what it is like to feel a woman’s hair laid out on your lap as she sucks your manhood into her lips?”

“What about a woman’s ass? Have you ever fucked a woman in her tightest place? Sunk your cock into her buttocks till she screamed in pain but asked for more? Have you ever laid your seed deep in a place it was never meant to go? I think if you had, you would be fucking my ass now.”

I swallowed hard and tried to focus on the runes. I just couldn’t concentrate. All I could do was listen.

“The things I could do to you with my hands,” she whispered. “I could massage you till every worry was rubbed away. I could soothe you or I could excite you as you wish. Imagine how many cocks I have stroked and how good I would be at stroking yours. You would never masturbate again, that would be my job.”

I groaned. That only encouraged her. She drifted in front of me and instead of runes all I saw was her hungry lustful eyes. I was riveted because I knew that lust was for me.

“It’s not just the pleasures I can give you,” she said. “Imagine what powers you would command. You could seduce any woman with my help. You could be the most attractive man in the planet. Queens and Harlots alike would seek your cock and give themselves to you.”

“And with my powers, you would command sex itself. You could make any enemy climax over and over till he was a helpless mess of a man. You could curse a foe with impotence, blast an enemy with pure orgasmic pleasure or destroy an army with maddening lust. Men and women alike would either grovel before you or praise you for centuries depending on how you choose to use my power.”

Gods, that was so tempting. “It’s my choice?” I asked. “I don’t want to harm people.”

“You don’t now,” she said and oh how wise Racki turned out to be.

“If I bond with you, I must be the master,” I said. “I won’t be any Spirit’s slave.”

She moaned and reached for my hand. Racki guided my hand to her breast and I couldn’t help but squeeze. When I did, it was my turn to moan.

“Yes, Master,” she said. “It’s been too long since anyone summoned me. I want to live again and be one with the world again. I will make serving you my One Thousandth and One pleasure.”

That was all it took. I fell upon her and ravished Racki on the roof of Solace Tower. The spell had bonded her to me but we sealed our bond in spit and seed. Years of denying myself for some stupid ideal of Purity just made for an amazing three hours of fucking with my new ally. I took her in all the ways I could imagine which number so few compared to the thousand pleasures she has taught me since.

We left the Tower before the morning son rose. I couldn’t face my teachers and fellow students. I wasn’t ashamed of what I had become; I was ashamed of what I was. Now that Racki was my Spirit, the old life I led seemed small and naïve. I was a child then, and now I felt like a man.

And like any man, I now had a world to fuck and explore.

Hot and Sweaty

The first date with a couple and a third person is tricky. My wife and I don’t share, so when we run into a Possible Spanking Friend (PSF for short), we don’t work as a team to seduce them. What we do is try to get a feel for the person so the spouse is okay with the other spouse doing naughty things to PSF. We also have to convince them that we are okay with stuff and won’t wig out on them two months in. The first date is spent selling ourselves as normal likable people who just happen to have sex with people outside the marriage. And then of course we have to decide whether we even want to do anything with the PSF.

The short answer is we had a great time and PSF was as interesting and attractive as she was online. We got along and she was comfortable with me and my wife, and we were comfortable with her. That might not seem like much to accomplish on a first date, but when it comes to a group dynamic, it’s quite a big deal. I like her, my wife likes her and she’s certainly worth getting to know better

Man do I hope its mutual but time will tell.

Going to the Renn Fair might not have been the best way to get to know someone. We had our best moments when we were sitting down eating without the distractions of shopping or passing entertainers to derail the conversation. The three of us share a history of fucked up parents and dealing with mental illnesses in our family and friends. We got into that at meal times but the majority of the day was spent looking at crafts and commenting on the heat.

Oh my Goddess, it was freaking hot. Georgia summer hot. So hot that two dollars and fifty cents for a bottle of water seemed reasonable and a little generous. So hot that the most popular attraction was a mist walkway that people would not walk through cause they would stand and hog the space.

Some other random observations-

My wife tried on a gold tiara with a large fake red gemstone and it was like a Queen assuming her crown. She went from my wife to being a Queen of great beauty and possible great anger. I told her she finally found her Domme look. This is how she should dress when we go to the dungeons and let people know she is in charge with a capital ‘C’ and that she was not a black leather conformist. It was stunning.

I loved that so many body types dressed provocatively. Women who would never show belly in normal life were showing belly, boobs and hips in skimpy outfits. It was such a friendly environment where people found the sexy side in bodies not normally accepted. It reminded me of a day long Half Nekkid Thursday where people presented their best feature as opposed to erring on the side of caution.

Two years ago we went to Renn Fair and most people wore medieval costumes. This year it was forty percent pirates and forty percent belly dancers. It was such a brief of fresh air. I’m always in favor of creativity over authenticity and it was nice seeing people walking around as ideal fantasy versions. I have seen more hot female pirates yesterday than I have in my whole life.

Hack and Slash is in my mind the best live show you can go to. They’re hilarious and great entertainers. Some of the live acts that I will not name will beg for money every five minutes like you are at an evangelical tent revival. Hack and Slash keep the begging to an acceptable level and even make it part of the act. They are also amazing stunt men who will shock and amaze you. If you only attend one show, attend theirs.

It wasn’t the heat, or the walking or the six hours we spent there that was so exhausting. It was the lack of sidewalks that killed us. Wear shoes that can stand walking on gravel, mud and sharp rocks all day long. At one point I stepped on six rocks in six steps and I understood why people rode horses everywhere.

All in all it was a great time. My anxiety stayed low and I didn’t make an ass out of myself. As first dates go this was pretty good. Considering that all three of us ended up sweaty, exhausted and smiling has to be a good thing right?

Erotic Alert Level: Tense Scarlet

Picture this- Unexpected expenses have made this week really tight budget wise. My wife and I really can’t afford to do anything which sucks because we were psyched to see X-Men 3. She has a rare three day weekend and other than staying at home, nothing to do. I suggest three days of sex but she says she’s done that already. My wife is a little depressed about being broke right around a holiday.

Around 9:30 last night I was speaking to a woman that I had been chatting with all week and she mentioned that she got stood up to go to the Renn Fair tomorrow. Now this is a possible spanking friend who lives in town and we’ve been trying to figure out a good time to meet for the first time. My wife hears me say Renn Fair and she whines a little. We missed the Renn Fair completely last year and damn it, we’re going to miss it this year.

And that is when possible-spanking friend offered to take us to the Renn Fair instead. Or maybe I offered. I don’t remember anymore because my social anxiety is kicking into gear and I’m nervous as fuck. We really can’t afford to go but if tickets are taken care of, then we can swing one over priced lunch. It’s going to be humid and hot and not the best conditions for meeting someone for the first time. I have been getting along great with possible-spanking friend but we have been chatting for only over a week. What if my wife hates her? What if I hate her? What if possible-spanking friend hates me, my wife or both?

I wish I had gotten a haircut.

I wish I worked out more.

I wish I would calm the fuck down.

The only good thing I expect from all this is that it is Renn Fair, it’s the first threesome date my wife and I have done as a couple in a long time and it’s the fastest I have gone from meeting someone online to meeting them in person. So even if wide disaster strikes and makes this a day that will live in blog infamy, then at least I am sure to get some good story ideas out of it.

Fiction: No More Teasing

Francine was a tease. That's not to say she didn't go all the way. Francine was a sexy woman married to one of those husbands you hear about but never understand. Her sex drive had jumped and his had slowed down. She was masturbating three times a day and he thought once a week sex was his duty. No, Francine was not a tease in the usual sense of the word. If Francine had her way, she would have fucked me and my wife long ago. I mean both individually and together.

Francine was a tease because as much as she laments about her husband and how much she wants to fuck other people, she never really pursues it. She'll sigh over my wife's breasts and then giggle, letting us know that she REALLY didn't mean it. It's the same giggle she does when she runs her hand over my arm or when my wife is in her swimsuit. Francine wanted us so badly and I really did feel for her, but she disguises her need in flirting and deniable indecent proposals. We just wanted her to come out and say it.

One night we decided we had had enough.

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My wife was the one who asked her to come into the bedroom. Francine made a forgettable double entendre as she followed us. She expected us to show her a new bed sheet or maybe a new painting. When she saw the chair draped in leather and shackles, she knew that we had finally called her bluff. She became so flustered that not even she could come up with a joke. The looks on our faces told her we would not be cracking jokes either.

Francine said nothing as we undressed her. That's not quite true. She moaned a lot. We took her clothes off piece by piece. Her long curly hair came free, as well as her blouse, her shoes, her pants, her bra and her panties. We stripped her down without saying a word although my wife and I shared a smile when our glances crossed over Francine's nude body.

I doubt Francine had ever been bound before but she had an eager smile as we sat her down. Shackles went around her ankles and bound her to the heavy wooden chair. She squeaked when her ass met the cold wood but the squeak turned into a groan when my wife slipped a blindfold over Francine's eyes. The poor woman started to tremble a little but she calmed down as we slipped more and more leather over her. Her hands we bound to a belt around her waist which gave her plenty of freedom to move her hands as long as she didn't want to raise them higher than her belly button. That was comforting to her, even when I slipped a cold metal collar around her neck and secured it to the back of the chair.

There Francine was; naked and sitting in our bedroom. It was her fondest dream and yet she was blindfolded and bound to a chair able only to touch herself. I took one hand and my wife took Francine's other and we guided her to masturbate. She turned her head and tried to kiss us but we stayed out of reach. She still hadn't asked. We each guided a hand into her pussy and got her stroking. It didn't take long before she was doing it on her own.

Once she was stroking herself with passion, we stepped away. My wife and I got undressed. Francine could hear the zippers and unbuttoning of shirts. She moaned but still said nothing. Even when the sounds of our kissing filled the room, Francine just kept stroking.

Oh what a glorious hour or two it was. My wife and I fucked. I went down on her and she went down on me. I took her from behind and she rode me. We fucked on the bed and we fucked against the wall. We did things we hadn't done in years just to see if it would create a different sound and whether it would drive Francine to moan louder. There seemed to be no end to our imaginations as we fucked in ways Francine and her husband had not done in a decade if ever.

Francine came a few times. We could hear her every time. I wondered if she always screamed like that? When she was at home, masturbating on the couch with her legs in the air, did she cry out like she did when she was listening to us fuck? Did she soak her seat like she was doing now? Did her cunt make those lovely squishy sounds as she plunged her fingers in and out?

We were doing something complicated and perverse when Francine finally broke her silence. It was just in time too. Even teased people like me and my wife have our limits.

"Please, please, please let me join," she said.

I stopped in mid thrust. "Do you want to fuck us?" I asked.

"Yes," Francine said.

"And eat my cunt?" my wife asked.

"Oh yes!" Francine said.

"And do you promise to ask from now on when you want to get fucked?" I asked.

"Yes, yes, yes," Francine said. She was shaking. A dam had burst within her and she was in that half state of almost crying and sobbing. Francine had been teasing us but I had no idea how much she had been teasing herself. I could see her tears soaking through the blindfold.

"Give it to her," my wife said. I always loved her generous nature.

I pulled out of my wife and walked over to Francine. I released the catch on the chain holding her collar to the chair. I didn't have to tell her a thing. Francine opened her mouth and bent forward, looking blindly for my cock. I grabbed those lovely curls in both hands and guided her to my cock.

There is nothing hungrier than a woman who's been denied too long. My wife's spit and sex had been smeared over my cock but Francine took it all. She sucked me like no one else has in my life. It was a little frightening to have this needy sensual woman trying to drain me through her mouth; frightening and incredibly arousing.

Ejaculation took only moments. My seed sprayed into her mouth and down her throat while Francine kept masturbating. My hands kept her head pinned to my cock as I emptied every thing I had into her. After fucking my wife for so long, my own knees were shaking now from the release of tension.

I pulled my cock out and I had to pull Francine away by her hair so eager she was.

"Let me eat your wife's pussy," Francine said. "I want to taste her and make her cum. Please?" A drop of my semen dribbled from a lip.

"Much better," My wife said. She was on the bed with her thighs spread. Her sex, already well fucked and wet was waiting for Francine.

I unlocked Francine from the chair and led her to the bed by her hair. My wife took Francine's hair from my hand and guided the still blindfolded woman to her pussy. I couldn't see anything through all the hair but the sound of lapping told me what I needed to know. My cock was still hungry so I plunged it into Francine's very well lubricated pussy. Her cunt was like everything else about Francine, it wanted more.

After that night, Francine never had a problem asking for what she wanted again.

Erotic Origins: Clenches

Mad has been a friend of mine for a little over two years. We meet on a BDSM Talker which is like a role-playing game for kinky people. I don't hang out there any more but Mad was kind enough to come visit me in my little corner. Yesterday she accused me of having a kegel fetish. It never really occurred to me before but she's right. Here is the special not so secret origin of my interest in clenching.

When I was a teenager, my aunt came to live with us for a few months. I loved my Aunt because she was stubborn and not crazy about my step-father but she needed a place to stay. My aunt was fun and the only thing better than having her around, was the magazines she brought with her.

See, in my house, my Mom believed sex led to Evil. We didn't discuss it and the only hint I had seen that sex was a good thing was the dirty magazines I kept sneaking from my dad's stash. So imagine my poor young self when I sat down in my bathroom one day and sitting across from me on the shelf that usually held 'Reader's Digest' was a Cosmopolitan.

Oh My Goddess.

The first thing that struck me was the smell of the perfume sample. It was the most feminine thing I had ever encountered in that house. My mom used only deodorant but here between the pages of models was the smell of 'Charlie'. Even now that perfume causes an instant erection.

I read Cosmopolitan from cover to cover. I actually didn't like the thin anorexia models inside but I was enamored with the way the magazine treated sex. It talked about it. It discussed what women wanted, what men wanted and how they should both get it. It was mind blowing. When I read Playboy and Penthouse, in the back of my mind I always doubted that women really liked sex but here in Cosmopolitan I discovered that yes, yes there was a sex drive in women.

It blew my mind that I couldn't read Playboy which discussed women in a vague way but I could easily read Cosmopolitan and find out exactly what was a G-spot.

Anyway, Cosmopolitan became my new sex-education teacher. I took the quizzes. Yes, a 15 year old boy took the quizzes on what kind of a lover he wants, hush. Although I was still a virgin and had a haircut that would ensure virginity, I felt like sex could happen at any moment and I needed to be prepared. When my hot next door neighbor decided to finally fuck me while her husband was away, I wanted to be in top form.

So one of the things I read that was supposed to help make your erection last longer was a kind of clenching. It took me awhile to get it right and I don't know if it made me last longer but sure as hell turned me on. The instructions also said it would help women but I could care less about that. Clenching myself was very arousing and it felt like no hands masturbating. Well, masturbating that would never get you off, but it was very hot. I felt like I could masturbate in class and no one would know this way.

I remember doing like 100 clenches a day. And then I had to stop because I got very very sore one day. Hmmm, 'till I got sore' is how most of my teenage stories end. I gave up the clenches but I would still do them as a form of pre arousal before I started masturbating. Clenches went from exercise to foreplay.

I don't know when I started doing clenches in my BDSM play. I do recall reading a story about a vibrator inside a woman that would go off at random times. I remember reading it and thinking that you don't need a vibrator. You just need to be told what conditions to clench under. A submissive or heck, a vanilla woman who wants to be teased can be told when and she can do it herself all day long.

For example, because I am all about the examples.

Clench every time someone says 'Hello'

Clench every time the dogs bark.

Clench twice every hour on the hour and clench once on the half hour.

Clench every time you hit 'enter' when you're chatting with IM's.

Clench every time someone mentions the weather.

As you can see, it becomes an easy way to tease someone even if they are living across country. Considering how many long distance relationships I have had, it helps to have something that can stick with someone all day long and keep them in a constant state of arousal and thinking of me.

Half-Nekkid Thursday Masturbation Month

Since it is Masturbation Month . . .

In case it is not clear, this is a picture of my point of view in my bed while I am masturbating. That MASSIVE hill in the center is my hand around my cock pointing up. Blankets make everything look bigger.

I thought about doing an image of me without blanket but you know, I find this far more vulnerable. A man uses sheets to cover what he is doing yet one look at the large elevated area around his groin and the act of hiding just looks ridiculous. You’d be better off masturbating above the sheets.

Anyway, enjoy the view and imagine what activities could be going on under that comforter.

Masturbation Month Audio Climax

It is Masturbation Month. . .

I worry sometimes that recording me masturbating is more fun for me than it is for the listeners. See, when I masturbate, I need a story. I need to have some sort of scene in my head along with a rationale for why we are having sex. Sometimes the plot is as simple as hot Chicago's waitress drags me into the supply closet and other days the plot is something complicated and involes a Blogger convention and a great game of Dirty Scrabble. I just can't lie in bed and start stroking because my brain starts drifting and thinking about why the electric bill was so low this month.

Except when I record these. With phone in ear and realizing that people across the world are listening in and touching themselves as well, well I don't need a story. I'm in the freaking story. I'm stroking myself and my moans of climax is driving some poor lady somewhere crazy and she is reaching down between her thighs right as I feel my seed spurting forth.

So again, maybe these kinds of post are more for me than you. But if they are for you, I just want to leave a card or flowers by your phone stand because your listening was fantastic.

Fiction: Cell Phone Slave Part Six

Dreams were cruel sometimes. Amaya dreamed of fucking in a movie theater. Sometimes she was screwing Chris, gripping his short blonde hair as he thrust inside her and other times it was a mysterious masked man that she knew was Wesley. Both fucked her hard, both made her do nasty things but neither of them would let her cum.

Amaya awoke to the sound of her own moaning. It was Sunday morning, and she was hornier than she was when she went to bed. Across from her, Rick slept with the blankets pulled down to his waist. His broad chest was bare and Amaya could see how nicely defined he was in the early morning light. She put on her glasses and stared at Rick for a few minutes. Her hand went between her thighs before she realized what she was doing. The horny girl groaned and got out of bed. The only thing that would fix this would be a cold shower.

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As she rose out of bed, Rick stirred in his sleep. His head turned towards her and Amaya froze. It looked like he was asleep, but in the back of Amaya’s aroused mind, she was wondered if he was sneaking a peek at her. Amaya frowned. Her nightgown was pretty unattractive on her, and she had selected it because the thick material gave her some privacy in the small room. No, she wasn’t the kind of morning beauty that would attract a guy like Rick. She grabbed her towel and shampoo and headed for the showers.

The cold shower helped chill Amaya's physical needs, but emotionally, she was still distraught. She took an extra long time lathering her body as she thought the last few days through. It was maddening. First Wesley said that the tasks would get harder after she was spanked but yesterday he only asked her to clench when his phone rang. There was no proof, no way to know if she actually did them. Amaya wouldn’t consider cheating at this point, but she was concerned by his lack of concern. Was he getting bored? Did she do something wrong and now he’s giving her easy tasks?

Then there was the matter of Chris. If Chris was Wesley, then it was clear that he couldn’t demand anything more out of her than clenching if he was to keep the illusion. But if that was true, then why didn’t Chris take more liberties with her? Just a single kiss and a long breast grope during the movie. Amaya squirmed in the shower as she thought about his hand, his lips and those pretty eyes. After being ignored by her old boyfriend, it was heaven to be felt up in a dark room again. It made her feel wanted and alive.

She took her time washing her hair. It was amazing how fast her world had changed in so few days. When Wesley first started, Amaya had entered every game with hesitation. Now she found herself hoping they would never end. Amaya knew she was lonely and she knew that Wesley had come into her life at just the right time to capture her imagination. She realized that she was playing a dangerous game considering that he was a total stranger, but it was so much more exciting than being alone.

Of course, there was now Chris. As she washed out the shampoo, she realized that she had been assuming he was Wesley. What if he wasn’t? What if he was just a normal handsome guy and she was screwing up her first college romance by playing kinky games? The water was already chilling her body but Amaya had fresh shivers at the idea. Maybe she should stop now and take the money she had already won.

Amaya groaned and banged her head lightly against the shower wall. She knew she should stop with Wesley right now but she couldn’t deny how exciting he was. Chris was exciting too, but what she had with Wesley was unique. She didn’t want to give either up, but if they weren’t the same person, then how could she possibly keep them apart?

“Fuck it!” Amaya yelled in the empty showers. God, she was so damn confused! This mess was better than being alone but it was also ten times more stressful. Amaya just wanted to zone out and forget about her boy troubles for a day. She knew that Wesley wanted her to be near her dorm around noon but until then, she was claiming the rest of the day for herself.

She turned off the shower feeling really proud. It was a minor rebellion, but it made her feel in charge of her life. She wasn’t even going to think about Chris or Wesley today. Amaya was going to blow some of her earned money and have some fun for a change.

Amaya returned to her room and walked in to find Rick and Helen screwing. Rick was on top and Amaya got a perfect view of his muscular ass clenching and unclenching as he fucked the blonde underneath. Neither of them noticed her at first and Amaya was too hypnotized by the carnal sight to say anything.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Helen snapped. “Get out of here!”

Still in shock, Amaya started to leave before her indignation kicked in. “I just got out of the shower. And it’s my room too. Just wait till I get some clothes on. “

Rick turned his head at the mention of the shower and he outright leered at her in her nightgown. Helen slapped his arm and made him look at her. As a concession to modesty, Rick pulled the bed covers over them. Amaya returned the favor by opened her closet door and changing behind it.

Amaya’s cheeks burned as she heard the bedsprings creak behind her. They were still fucking! Her roommate had no respect for her at all! By the slow way the springs were creaking, Amaya could tell they were fucking slower than what they were doing before, but she was still offended. She quickly changed into some jeans and a t-shirt. When she was done, she could hear the Helen groaning from Rick’s thrusts. Amaya couldn’t help notice that Helen’s groans were much louder than what she did when she thought Amaya was asleep. She blushed even more as she realized that maybe being there was turning Helen on!

She grabbed her paints and the drawing board on her way out. Amaya slammed the door behind her. Several girls yelled at Amaya from their rooms but she didn’t care. This was her day and she was going to enjoy it no matter what.

The bad mood she was in was gone by the time she ate breakfast. She went down the street to Mcdonald’s and had a terribly unhealthy breakfast. It tasted great. Her weeks of starving had given her a new appreciation for breakfast and with a purse full of money, Amaya wasn’t going to hold back. She ate pancakes, scrambled eggs, some bacon, hash browns and even went back to get an extra egg muffin.

Amaya looked at her empty tray and worried briefly about her weight. Even without a scale Amaya knew she had to have lost a few pounds during her no-food stretch. She was still a little round in the middle and she wasn’t comfortable with the way her ass was so exposed by her thongs. Some of the weight had been lost though, and she wondered if she should cut back on her eating to keep those pounds off.

Fuck it. Not today.

After breakfast, Amaya walked back to the campus and stopped at the commons. It was a nice open space with plenty of park benches. She broke out her art supplies and noticed that it was already pretty warm today. It gave her plenty of sunlight but she worried about how the heat might affect her painting. Oh well. She wasn’t drawing to make something perfect; she was just drawing for fun.

It had been a while since she had painted and it was slow going at first. Amaya tried to paint the building that she had biology in, but she just couldn’t settle on a color to start with. On her third try, Amaya realized she was stalling. It wasn’t about picking the right color, it was about making that first stroke of the brush and having to live with it. There were no erasers in painting, and Amaya’s confidence had been worn away in the last few weeks by hunger, Helen and the uncertainty of her financial aid.

She took a deep breath and painted a line on the page. It wasn’t a great line but she kept painting. Amaya fleshed out the building and almost quit three more times. It wasn’t going to be perfect and it took everything she had to push past that. Life wasn’t perfect. Her love life certainly wasn’t. Her roommate wasn’t. Her damn late financial aid wasn’t perfect. The painting could stand to be imperfect and so could Amaya.

One crappy science building later, Amaya relaxed into her hobby. She painted a few more landscapes. As the sun climbed higher and Amaya got hotter, she switched out the paints and drew with the pencils. A few quick sketches of other students on the commons soothed her completely. There were a few students that she wouldn’t mind drawing more of, but she wasn’t about to approach strangers today. This was her day.

As much as she wanted to ignore everyone else in the world today, she was always aware of the clock. Noon was approaching and Amaya couldn’t help wondering what task Wesley would ask for today. He specified a location, which he only did once before when he had her masturbate in the theater. Course, the theater location was just another reason to suspect Chris. Amaya tried to not speculate as she drew, but it kept creeping back into her thoughts.

With thirty minutes to go before noon, Amaya sketched a nearby student as if he were nude. When she realized what she was doing, she blushed and turned the page over. The fact that he had the same blond hair as Chris only made her blush more.

At twenty minutes to noon, Amaya stared at a jogging female student and flashed back to that first day when Wesley made her run from one end of the campus to another. She watched the woman’s bouncy chest and wondered if she was wearing a bra, and if she wasn’t, did that mean Wesley had other girls he talked to? Amaya shook that paranoid fantasy out of her head. Good grief, she was getting jealous of a guy who made her masturbate over the phone.

When it was quarter to noon, Amaya checked her watch six times in two minutes. She realized it was pointless to draw any longer. The approaching deadline was obsessing her. Her body was beginning to tingle and her nipples were so very hard. Amaya was turned on and it was even time yet. She packed her supplies and headed back to her dorm.

It was a hot afternoon. Sweat had trickled into itchy places and Amaya wished she had returned sooner so she could have taken a shower. As she climbed the steps back to her room, she hoped that Wesley wasn’t planning on any personal appearances today. It would be just her to luck to meet her benefactor the day she was steaming in her own sweat.

Helen was in their room, talking on the phone. The blonde frowned at the sight of her roommate and tried to wave her out of the room. Amaya sighed and dropped off her stuff and walked back into the hall. Helen could be weirdly shy when it came to talking on the phone. Amaya knew she should have stayed and made a stand but she was too relaxed. Besides, let Helen have her call. Amaya was getting a call ten times as good in just a few minutes.

The cell phone rang while Amaya was at the water fountain. She took another swallow before answering it. The painting and sketching had done her some good, and she was very relaxed despite the undeniable excitement that was bubbling just beneath her surface. Amaya felt in control for the first time since this game began.

“Hello Amaya, did you not masturbate like I asked?”

Amaya shivered despite the heat. Just like that, he asked such an intimate question. His southern accent washed over her and tensed those places she thought were so relaxed. She swallowed and answered him.

“Yes, I didn’t do it,” she said. She was proud of herself but also shy from saying it in the hallway.

“Very good,” Wesley said. “You are to head towards the stairs at the north end. That’s the staircase closest to the bus stop. Go all the way to the top floor and tell me when you are there.”

“Okay,” Amaya answered. She stayed on the phone as she went to the staircase. Her heart was pounding and not just from the climbing. Wesley had something specific in mind and Amaya knew it was going to be good.

The top floor was a boy’s floor but the top of the stairs had a padlocked door with the words “Roof-Keep out” written on it. A guy came into the stairs and Amaya nearly jumped out of her skin. The boy ignored her and went downstairs.

“I’m there,” Amaya said.

“Good. The door should be chained with a padlock. If you check, the padlock is actually open.”

“It is,” Amaya whispered.

“Make sure no one is looking, and go through the door,” Wesley instructed.

Amaya didn’t even hesitate. Pausing only long enough to make sure she was alone, she opened the door and closed it quickly behind her. The heat outside was like an oven and the smell of tar was pretty strong. It was pretty unpleasant but not nearly as bad as the sight that was waiting for her.

Ten feet away from the door was a cage. It was about four feet high and just as wide. Next to it was a plastic crate. The cage bars were thin but she knew it would be solid. On the door of the cage was a strange device that she couldn’t guess the purpose of.

“I’m on the roof,” Amaya told Wesley.

“Excellent. Now strip off your clothes and put them in the bin I placed for you. There’s a heavy book in the crate to help weigh down your clothes.”

Amaya swallowed. “My clothes? All of them?”

“Certainly all of them,” Wesley said.

She swallowed again. Her shirt was first and she was actually relieved to remove that sweaty piece of clothing. She kicked off her shoes next and unzipped her pants. It felt innately wrong to strip in such bright sunlight but at the same time, it was freeing to be nearly naked where no one could see. It took more courage to remove her bra and panties, but Amaya stripped them off and dropped them in the crate. The book was a dictionary and it made an excellent weight.

“I’m done,” Amaya said. She couldn’t quite bring herself to say ‘naked.’

“You know what to do next, don’t you Amaya?” Wesley said. “I can picture you looking at the cage. I imagine you are a little worried.”

“I am,” Amaya said. “Do you want me to get into the cage?”

“Yes I do,” Wesley said. “Will you do it? Or will you gather your clothes and end the game now?”

“What happens when I get in the cage?” Amaya asked.

“Tsk, tsk,” Wesley corrected. “There are no negotiations or hints in this game. The only thing you need to know is that I want you to get into that cage. Now, will you crawl in, taking the phone with you?”

Amaya looked down on the cage. The bottom was a piece of plastic that covered the bottom. She touched the thin metal bars and they were very hot from the sun. There was a simple latch on the door but she couldn’t tell what the big metal box that was attached to the door was supposed to do. The cage scared her and every smart part of her mind knew it was foolish to willingly place herself somewhere she might not be able to escape.

“Fuck,” Amaya whispered and Wesley didn’t answer. Moving quickly before she changed her mind, Amaya swung open the door and crawled into the cage. The plastic was searing hot on her hands and knees. She closed the door behind her and tried to get comfortable. The warm bars and hot plastic seemed to touch her everywhere no matter how much she squirmed.

“I’m in it,” Amaya said.

“Now we can truly play,” Wesley said. “The rules are simple. For the rest of the hour, you will stay in this cage. You may have noticed the contraption on the door. It’s a light sensor and it will let me know if the door is opened. If the door opens, I will terminate our game. If you don’t want to hold on to the door the whole hour, I recommend you use the hook to latch it shut.”

Amaya saw that there was another hook on her side of the door. She didn’t want to do it, but Amaya rationalized that it would be easy to unlock again. The hook was tight but she slid it in.

“I locked it,” Amaya said.

“Good, now we wait.”

Amaya sighed. Part of her had hoped that this was just the start of something more intimate. Instead, it looked like he really intended to just keep her here. She sat her full weight down on the plastic and hissed as she adjusted to the heat.

“It is quite hot today, isn’t it?” Wesley asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “What’s the point of this? Is this some kind of endurance test like a sweatbox?”

Wesley laughed and Amaya hated how his sexy voice affected her right now. She wanted to hate him for this whole cage business.

“A sweatbox, now that’s an idea,” Wesley said. “No, I prefer cages. There’s something about the sight of a woman restrained on all four sides. There’s just enough freedom to move and mope, but not escape. It’s quite frustrating.”

Amaya groaned. It was. She was already antsy, wanting to stretch out her legs or stand up. Her whole body was sweaty and no matter where she moved or how she shifted, she just couldn’t escape the layer of sweat clinging to her body.

She looked at her surroundings and noticed that there was another dorm higher than hers. It was on the other side of the campus but she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe someone there could see her. What if some guy had binoculars? Worse, what if he had a camera?

When she explained these concerns to Wesley, he laughed.

“It’s possible,” he said. “You have to wonder what they would think at the sight of you. Especially if they saw you strip first. They would be wondering if you lost your mind.”

Amaya was wondering the same thing herself. The smell of the tar on the roof was making her nose itch. Her body was hot and sticky all over and she was feeling very vulnerable in the cage. The sweat was so bad, Amaya’s glasses kept slipping down her nose. She kept crossing her arms over her breasts to try to hide them but it seemed pointless since she was butt-naked.

“Why did you ask me to not masturbate?” Amaya asked.

“Oh, because I was curious if you would,” Wesley said. “Tell me Amaya, why didn’t you? You must have been terribly horny.”

Amaya blushed. “I was. But you asked me. I wanted to see why.”

“Ah, you were hoping I was setting you up for more pleasure.”

“Yes,” Amaya sighed. It seemed silly now. She was anything but turned on now. The cage was humiliating and being so hot was just making her cranky.

“When I asked you not to masturbate, I was asking you to disobey your body in favor of me. Right now, my cock is very hard because I am picturing you last night. You had clenched over a hundred times and your pussy was dying to be fucked. Instead of fucking yourself, instead of plunging that dildo into yourself, you decided to suffer. That turns me on.”

“Now, this is the question that I want you to think about, but not answer me today,” Wesley continued. “Does it make you happier to have a great orgasm that curls your toes, or does it make you happier to do something unpleasant that turns me on?”

Amaya didn’t have an answer. If he had asked yesterday, she would have picked making him happy. Right now, she wouldn’t say that. The sun was directly over her and there was next to no breeze even on the roof. She was sweating, naked in a cage like some sort of dog. Was it worth it to make Wesley happy? Why wasn’t he concerned about her happiness?

The door to the roof opened. Amaya sat in stark terror as one of the dorm janitors walked out onto the roof. She quickly pulled her knees up to her chest and pulled them tight against her. For a brief moment she considered running out of the cage but the idea of getting out of the cage butt-naked froze her in place.

“Hey now, what do we have here?” the janitor said. He was like all the school janitors; an older black man who spoke in a thick Southern drawl that was as difficult to interpret as some of Amaya’s overseas relatives. Grinning ear to ear, he walked towards her cage while lighting up a cigarette.

“Oh god, there’s someone here,” Amaya whispered into the phone. “It’s a janitor! What do I do?”

Wesley was painfully calm. “Sit up straight and hope he doesn’t open the cage door. If he does, it’s game over.”

Amaya couldn’t believe it. He wanted her to keep playing the game! She was more worried about being expelled. How the fuck was she going to explain why she was naked in a cage on a roof? What would she tell her parents when they found out?

She decided to ignore Wesley’s advice about sitting up straight and kept her knees pulled up. Amaya did offer a smile. The janitor smiled back as he smoked.

“Crazy kids,” he muttered. “This some kind of sorority thing?”

Amaya nodded with enthusiasm. Great! He created her alibi!

The guy laughed and shook his head. “Not exactly legal you know? You could get in a lot of trouble for being out here.”

He walked around to behind Amaya and she gritted her teeth. The old man was going to check out her ass! She debated moving to always face him, but that would mean not covering herself. Amaya wasn’t about to give him any more peeks than he was already getting!

A whistle behind her told Amaya that he liked what he saw. She blushed furiously and clung to her cell phone. Wesley wasn’t talking to her, but she could barely hear him talking to someone else. What? Did he have another call? Amaya needed him now.

“Don’t be shy,” the janitor, said when he walked back around to her front. “I ain’t telling anyone. You kids are always doing something silly. You’re just lucky I’m so understanding.”

Amaya could only nod. She couldn’t find her voice at all. Her chest felt like it was about to explode. Inexplicably, she was also getting wet. What the Hell did that say about her?

The old man took a drag on his cigarette and looked at her. “You’re a little bigger than what most sororities take in. Now don’t get offended, I like a little meat on a woman. Seeing how I’m being so understanding, why don’t you open up your legs a little bit and let me see you better?”

Amaya’s eyes widened and she shook her head emphatically.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” the older man said. “You’re safe and tucked in that cage. Not like I can touch you. Be a good girl and give an old man a look.”

Amaya’s stomach twisted with conflicting emotions. She was mortally terrified at the idea of exposing herself, but she just wanted this guy to go ahead and leave. He hadn’t threatened to tell anyone, but she could easily see him doing it if he got pissed off. Wesley was still talking to someone else and Amaya didn’t know if he heard the request or not.

Fuck it.

The caged girl parted her knees until she realized she was opening her pussy as well as her thighs. She quickly put her knees as far down as the cage would allow and tried to sit Indian style. Her arms were more difficult to place but in the end she just rested them on her knees.

The janitor’s eyes flicked between her tits and her sex. He grinned and whistled again. Amaya sat still as he moved from side to side, trying to admire her from all angles.

“You are really stacked,” he commented.

“Thank you,” was the only thing Amaya could think to say. On her phone, Wesley was quiet except for his soft breathing.

Just when Amaya was getting comfortable, the janitor started stroking himself. Her eyes snapped away from the sight of his hand massaging his pants and stared out into space. The man laughed at her.

“A shy one?” he asked. “You ain’t shy. You just don’t want to be naked for an old coot like me.”

Amaya didn’t say anything and the man laughed again.

“That’s all right, my break is nearly over. If your friends want to put any more naked pledges up here, go right ahead. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out!”

The caged girl let out a sigh of relief when she heard the roof door slam shut. Wesley chuckled at her sigh and Amaya felt a flash of anger within her. Did he have any idea how scary that was?

“I’m glad you found it funny,” she snapped. “I might have been expelled!”

Wesley’s chuckling stopped. “Not a chance. I had a man waiting outside the door, ready to offer a substantial bribe for his silence. If he refused, then you would have been instructed to leave immediately and the cage would have been disposed off. There was no danger except for a temporary embarrassment. I take care of those who play my games.”

“Oh,” Amaya said. She was really conflicted now. Her heart was pounding too hard to think clearly. Should she be mad or should she just trust this man she’s never met?

“Answer me this though,” Wesley said. “Are you wet?”

Amaya laughed at the absurdity of the question while she touched herself. Fuck! She was wet!

“Y-y-yes,” Amaya stuttered.

“I know this exercise is unpleasant for you, but I think you like the excitement. You were just looked at by a total stranger. You’re in a hot cage on top of a dorm filled with people who would love to see you right now. You’re hot, scared and a little frantic and right now, a good fuck would do you some good. Is that true?”

I don’t know,” Amaya said. She honestly didn’t. It was hot, and it was scary and she was turned on. Underneath all those emotions, Amaya couldn’t decide which ones to accept or reject. It was too much to process.

“Well, we have time to think about it,” Wesley said. “About thirty minutes worth I believe.”

She groaned. Thirty more minutes in this cage? The cage creaked as she shifted and moved around. It took her a moment to realize she was almost pacing the small cage on all fours.

“Or we could find out just by sliding one of your fingers in your pussy,” Wesley offered.

Amaya moaned. “Yes,” she said.

“Then do it,” Wesley said and this time his tone was so hard and unyielding that Amaya moaned again.

Her finger slipped right in, deep and so very hot. Amaya gripped the phone tightly as her other hand gave her pleasure. She was so wet, and she was so ashamed by how badly she wanted to come despite the harshness of this game.

“I take it you are wet?”

“Yes,” Amaya groaned.

“Then fuck yourself Amaya,” Wesley said. “Fuck yourself in my cage.”

There was no conflict or indecision for Amaya now. She plunged her finger into her sex and gave her herself the fucking she wanted. The hot bars of the cage stung her back but Amaya didn’t care. She spread her legs and braced her feet against the opposite side as she masturbated. The sound of her finger sliding in and out of her pussy was so loud to and lewd but she kept pumping.

Wesley was quiet but Amaya could hear her own ragged breathing on the phone. It was ridiculous but here she was, masturbating like mad, naked inside a cage. Images raced through her mind, each flashing and being replaced before she could register them. She pictured Wesley masturbating as he listened, she imagined Chris between her legs, and she even visualized the janitor, whacking off and his seed falling through the bars onto her.

“I’m coming!” Amaya shouted. It hit her so fast! Her feet kicked against the bars while her body shook all over. She was in such a state of bliss that even her sweat felt good. For one perfect second, her climax had transported her from all her troubles and ethical dilemmas.

That bliss faded all too quickly.

“Oh God, I came hard,” Amaya said.

“You did,” Wesley agreed.

I am so sticky all over.”

Wesley laughed. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Amaya giggled with him. “You’re the one who put me in a cage!”

“Yes I did,” Wesley said. “And it brought me great pleasure.”

Maybe it was the afterglow of the orgasm, but Amaya felt a tremendous amount of pride at bringing Wesley pleasure. It made the whole experience worth it. She knew she should have been upset a guy who put her in such a helpless situation, but she couldn’t find the anger. Amaya was just proud to have made him happy.

“I’ve enjoyed talking to you Amaya but I think you need to spend the rest of the hour to yourself,” Wesley said.

Amaya groaned. “Please don’t go.”

“Oh I won’t be far. There are many, many more games to play.”

The phone went dead and Amaya groaned louder. Now what? She shifted in the hot cage and tried to get comfortable. The smell of pussy was not mixed with the smell of the tar. There was no breeze and she had a sudden craving for a soda.

For the next twenty or so minutes, Amaya sulked. At one point she kicked the cage but then worried if it would upset the light sensor on the door. She debated every word Wesley said to her, and tried to figure out any hidden meanings. Of course she debated the Chris possibility and tried to mentally compare voices.

At some points, she was just bored, hot and annoyed.

Her phone rang but this time, it was just a text message telling her that her hour was up. It also told her to look inside the dictionary for her money. That was it.

Amaya wasted no time. She crawled out of the cage and ran towards her clothes. Her limbs were sore but she got dressed in record time. The dictionary had fifty-dollar bills taped on separate pages. She counted up the seven hundred dollars and whistled. Amaya blushed when she recognized the whistle as being the same as what the janitor said to her earlier.

There was no one in the stairwell and Amaya quickly headed downstairs. She was exhausted emotionally and it was a great relief to find her room empty of Helen. The tired girl opened the first of three cans of soda she had bought from the hallway vending machines and took a deep sip. That was when she noticed her fingers smelled of pussy.

“What the hey, I could do with another cold shower,” she grumbled.

To Do

1. Check Work Schedule to see what is expected to be done today.
1a. Scream at Heavens and Boss for cramming two days of work into 8 hours.

2. Find time to write story for Secret Geek Sunday

3. Find time to come up with an adventure for Role-playing Game on Saturday

4. Find time to gaze longingly at 'Three Musketeers' DVD with Oliver Reed that I don't have time to watch today.

5. Figure out what's for dinner tonight.

6. Scrub shower wall because I saw a tiny black dot of mildew this morning. Ick

7. Brainstorm for another Masturbation Month story.

8. Masturbate.

9. Get Part 6 of Cell Phone Slave ready to post.

10. Figure out what the Hell I am doing for HNT.

11. Pet Cats

12. Stomach crunches.
12a. Check weight
12b. Scream at Heavens that i didn't lose any weight after twenty minutes of work

13. Meditate.

14. More stomach crunches.

15. Come up with a better post for Tuesday than a to-do list.

Fiction: Rendezvous

Monday night was CSI Miami night. My wife would curl up on the couch and watch David Caruso be the coolest scientist who favored his gut over science. She watched every show and it didn't matter if it was a rerun. My wife would be there. For all I know, she masturbated whenever David took off his glasses in a dramatic fashion.

I wouldn't know because Monday nights at 10 was my masturbation time. It was the only time in the week I knew my wife would not come into the bedroom. At ten o'clock sharp I would slip under the sheets wearing only my boxers and pull four lotion infused tissues from the nightstand. My cock would already be hard and ready.

But I never masturbate alone.

To read more, click Whole Post

Across town, Stephanie is getting into bed as well. Her husband is playing some sort of game online and Monday nights is some sort of quest night. He'll stay up too late organizing raids and trying to get his virtual knight up another level. Meanwhile his wife is pulling out her purple dildo. I didn't buy it for her, but I did tell her how big it needed to be to match my size.

It may sound strange, but I clean up for our Monday night rendezvous. I don't use cologne because that would be suspicious but I do wash my face and clean my cock. I also always use a fresh pair of boxers. Even my hair gets a quick comb through. For me it's the closest I get to having a date night and I enjoy the little ounce of preparation.

I have never asked Stephanie, but I like to think she does the same thing. I hope she wears lingerie, switching it up from week to week. Maybe she trims her bush and maybe she puts on the tiniest hint of perfume between her thighs. Her own husband ignores her enough as it is, I hope she knows I would appreciate the little things.

The tissues seal around my cock and my hand pumps on. My cock never feels as hard or big as it does on Monday Nights. Just knowing that she is out there, thinking of me, makes me feel like a Sex God. I am Zeus, Thor, Shiva, Superman, Batman, James Bond, Clark Gable, Brad Pitt and Colin Ferrel. At 10 o'clock, I feel less like a husband in a rocky marriage and more like a lover.

The bed sheets lewdly cover my masturbating, appearing to emphasis the dirty act rather than hide it. I can hear the bed springs creak but I know that the springs could never be heard over the loud special science effects going on in the living room. The only light comes from the clock, safely telling me I have another 55 minutes. I know it's only my bedroom but I can't help feel as wonderfully dirty and sinful as if we were in a motel room rented by the hour.

I masturbate and I think of Stephanie. I have never seen her naked but I have so many sexy memories to chose from. I flip through them as I stroke. I picture her in that luscious green dress she wore for the Christmas party. I remember her in that blue t-shirt that she got so sweaty in last summer. I think of her wearing her that low cut red blouse that she wore only that once to my wife's birthday party. Hundreds of images I have filed in my mind, all stored away for Monday night.

Once we were at a restaurant and Stephanie bent over to pick up a fork. I saw down her shirt and caught a glimpse of a black lace bra. In my mind, she wears that bra every time. I imagine sucking her nipple through those lacy cups. I picture seeing them when she rips her shirt off. I imagine taking her bra off and keeping it as a memento for the dozens of nights our fingers have rendezvoused in late night masturbations.

I don't know what Stephanie imagines when she fingers herself. When we agreed to this once a week affair, we knew that too much knowledge would ruin it. Or maybe we felt that too much knowledge would be closer to a real affair than we were comfortable with. We don't talk about it. We don't tell each other our fantasies and we don't give details. There is no physical evidence and the only time we have ever discussed it was that beautiful time at the beach when she first suggested the idea.

I used to hate the lack of talking but now, I see the wisdom. On Monday nights, Stephanie does anything I want her to. She sucks my cock and swallows every drop. She rides me, I fuck her from behind and she never complains when I want her up against the wall. There is no end to the kinks we explore. I have tied her up, I have made her beg and I have spanked her till her ass was crimson. I have climaxed on her face, her breasts and ass and she always asks for me.

Tonight I take her from behind. I fuck her hard and we shake the bed. My hands hold her black lace bra like it was a bridle as I pound into her cunt from behind. She moans, groans and screams when she comes. I keep fucking. She's sensitive and overwhelmed but I keep fucking her from behind until I feel my climax come upon me.

The tissues absorb my semen as I climax on her face, her ass, her green Christmas dress, that black lace bra and again on her face. It's a powerful orgasm tonight and I relish the way my toes are curling. My heart is pounding and my grip tightens around my cock. I'm squeezing out the last of my seed and picturing Stephanie licking that last drop.

I drop the tissues in the bedside garbage can. My body is exhausted yet glowing. This is why people have affairs; for that brief intimate moment when you know that someone has just fucked you not because they feel obligated but because you wanted to fuck each other's brains out. I curl over on my side and close my eyes with a big smile on my face.

I know that Stephanie is smiling too.

Perverse Comic Book Memories

Way back when I was a young adolescent, one of my favorite comics was the Legion of Superheroes. Set in the 30th century, the Legion was a team of teenage superheroes from all over the universe. They dated each other, got married and fought bad guys. It was like superhero Soap Opera but in the FUTURE!

So I was going back through some back issues of this series rereading the stories of my youth when I came across this bad guy.



Ah, yes, Grimbor the Chainsman. He’s a super-genius that hates the Legion. His gimmick? He has a thousand different traps and umm, chains. He was my favorite super-villain from this comic because he was like an evil Batman. He was prepared for anything and always had a new trap, cage, chain or shackle for any hero.

Here I am at 33 looking at a comic I read when I was 13. My early interest in bondage is starting to make sense. This becomes especially true as I see this,



This,

Which results in this,

And my favorite, double chains for the gal who can duplicate herself,


And oh, did I mention that he chained the WHOLE FREAKING PLANET?


Man, they just don’t make BDSM super-villains like they used to. Thank you Legion #277 through #279. And a big thank you to Roy Thomas and Gerry Conway for giving young me an intro in Bondage.

I think in a very significant way, this villain made me think of bondage as something that can be imaginative and colorful as oppossed to the black leather and spikes I keep running into. Although I doubt I will ever find a gag attached to the end of an arrow, part of me thinks that it is a shame we don't have one yet. It's 2006 people, let's update our bondage technology and get me a duplicating rocket powered chain bola already.