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Archive for December, 2015

GETTING OFF ON THE WEEKEND

Thursday, December 3rd, 2015

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Ellen is five-foot-eight and quite thin. Her light brown hair is medium length and simply styled. At twenty-four, Ellen is the mother of two baby girls, ages one and two. In addition, she works part-time as a legal secretary. The combination probably accounts for the lines around her blue eyes and the tired expression that she usually wears. Her husband, Chuck, makes deliveries for an over night courier service and attends classes in the evenings in hopes of earning a bachelor’s degree. Ellen says that she and Chuck have their best sex every few months, when they treat themselves to an erotic weekend.

It isn’t easy having two babies so very close in age. Being a working mother makes it even harder. But these days, it’s impossible for a family to live on just one in.come, so I really have no choice. Chuck helps out as much as he can, but between work and school he’s hardly ever home. When he is, he has to study. I’m sure things will get better when he finishes school. Until then, this schedule is hell on our sex life. Chuck and I started going out together when we were in high school. Everybody thought we made a perfect couple and assumed that we would get married after graduation. I guess I assumed it, too. That’s why I didn’t feel any guilt when we started having sex in our senior year. The first time we did it was on the couch at Chuck’s house. We were studying together when his parents said that they were going out for the evening. As soon as they left, we started hugging and kissing. As usual, I let Chuck open my blouse and bra so that he could play with my breasts. Before long, I was completely undressed and Chuck’s hands were all over my naked body. It felt so good that I wanted to touch him the same way.

With frantic fingers, I plucked at the front of his pants in an effort to get them open. Ch:uck was surprised, because although he had frequently undressed me, his clothes always stayed on. This time it was dllferent. I got his dick out and began stroking it exuberantly. Within minutes, he too was naked. We grabbed at each other roughly, excited to be going so far at last. Artlessly, we rolled around until he was on top of me, his erect cock poised at the opening of my pussy. Hesitating for the briefest possible instant, we simultaneously lunged toward each other. I felt his erection tear into me, filling my loins with pain. I started to scream, but his mouth was pressed so tightly to mine that nothing came out but a muffed cry.

Chuck, oblivious to my suffering, humped away until he was buried to the hilt inside me. Just as the pain of his entry was beginning to subside, he moaned and started his climax. Seconds later, he was lying by my side panting in an effort to catch his breath. When I saw streaks of bloody semen on my legs, I cried. My virginity was a thing of the past. We agreed that it had been a mistake that we wouldn’t repeat until we were older and more settled. But two hours later, we did it again. This time it didn’t hurt, and the fuck lasted a lot longer, although I didn’t have an orgasm. Since I didn’t know what to expect anyway, I wasn’t disappointed, and it did feel good. After that we did it every chance we got, learning more about each other’s desires and needs as we went along. We got better and better at it, and it felt more and more wonderful. By the seventh or eighth time, I was getting close enough to orgasm to realize that it was supposed to happen. A week or so after that, I climaxed with him. I couldn’t wait for graduation so that we could be married.

When school ended, Chuck started acting strange. I realize now that he wasn’t ready for marriage. The prospect frightened him. Every time I brought it up, our discussion would end in an argument. After a while, he seemed to be looking for excuses not to see me. A few months after we graduated, Chuck said that he needed a break from our relationship. He said he thought it would be best if we tried dating other people. My mother always told me that a girl shouldn’t have sex until marriage because if she did the guy would have no reason to marry her. “Why should he buy the cow,” she had said, “if he can get the milk for free?” It was beginning to look like she was right. Chuck and I stopped seeing each other.

It wasn’t until a year and a half later at a. party that we ran into each other. In the meantime, I had dated a few other guys, but never even came close to having sex with them. When I saw Chuck at the party, my heart started to flutter. I stayed as far away from him as I could because I was sure he no longer had any interest in me. He came over to where I was standing, though, and asked me to dance. While we were dancing, he said that he had been missing me a lot and wanted to call me but just didn’t know what to say. We danced every dance. After the party, we went out for a soda. We started dating again, and within six months, we were married.

At first our life together was like a vacation. Chuck drove the delivery truck and I worked as a secretary. At the end of each workday, we rushed home to our tiny apartment to have sex; and then to have dinner, and then to have sex again. We didn’t have much money, but that didn’t matter. We _made beautiful love, and that was enough for us. Most of our friends were still single and lived with their parents. As a result, they had money to spend on shows and ·entertainments. We didn’t need that, because Chuck and I made our own entertainment. Sex was our pastime. We elevated it to a high art by making up games that indulged our fantasies.

One night, for example, I came home from work to find the apartment dark and unusually quiet. When I turned on the light, I was startled to see Chuck with a toy pistol in his hand; his face completely hidden by a ski mask. Before I had a chance to say anything, he leaped behind me and put his hand over my mouth. Holding the toy pistol to my head, he said, “Behave yourself or I’ll kill you.” Falling right into it, I acted scared. “Please don’t hurt me,” I begged. “I’ll do anything you say.” At gun point, he ordered me to lift my skirt. and pull the crotch of my panties to one side. Then, forcing me to lie on the kitchen table, he opened his pants and stuck his cock into me. He fucked me without removing a single article of clothing from either of us, keeping the pistol pointed at my head the entire time. After he came, he pulled out of me, zipped his fly, and left the apartment. When he returned half an hour later, he acted as if nothing had happened.

Another time, I borrowed some clothes from a girlfriend who was smaller than I was. I changed into them before leaving work. When I arrived at our apartment, I was wearing black fish-net stockings and a short black leather skirt that was so tight I could barely walk. I had removed my bra and wore a tight, low-cut red sweater, which showed my tits practically down to the nipples.

Instead of letting myself in with a key, I knocked. I heard Chuck call, “Who’s there?” I answered, “Escort service.” When Chuck opened the door, the puzzled look on his face changed slowly into a grin of understanding. “You called Ellen’s Escorts?” I asked, wriggling my shoulders to move my breasts from side to side. “I’m here to serve you. Pay in advance, please.” I took the ten-dollar bill that Chuck extracted from his pocket, slipping it into my cleavage. Then, stepping inside, I said, “Drop your pants, please. I don’t have much time.” Obediently, Chuck undid his belt and let his pants slip down to his ankles. His cock was already erect and straining at the taut fabric of his white briefs. Abruptly, I pulled down his underwear to free it. Without another word, I dropped to my knees and took his prick in my hand.

I rubbed it up and down roughly, trying to simulate the callous movements of a paid hooker. When I felt it bulge with excitement, I gently licked its head with the tip of my tongue. I nibbled up and down the shaft until Chuck’s breath was coming in labored pants. Then, without any further ceremony, I took the length of it into my mouth and started sucking voraciously. I bobbed my head back_ and forth in a fucking motion, trying to brlng him off as quickly as possible. When I felt him swelling in preparation for ejaculation, I pulled my mouth away and finished him by stroking him to climax. Before his cock was completely soft, I stood up and said, “Thank you. Call again.”

As the apartment door closed behind me, I could hear him saying, “Hey, where are you going?” I returned about twenty minutes later carrying a pizza. I bought it with the ten dollars that he paid me for the blowjob. Just when I was beginning to think that we would share these moments of erotic bliss forever, I discovered I was pregnant. We were both thrilled, of course. But I don’t think either of us realized the change that a baby would bring to our lives.

For the first few months of the pregnancy, we were more active sexually than ever. Chuck said that my rounded belly and enlarged breasts turned him on. That turned me on. Chuck bought a plastic vibrator, which brought us many pleasures. We spent hours playing with it and fucking almost every night. We invented new sex games, tailoring them to fit my blossoming condition. As the time for my delivery came closer, I found myself feeling clumsy and ungainly. After I stopped. working, our sexual activity decreased drastically. Then Helen was born, and sex went out the window. At first, it was because I lost interest. But even when I started wanting it again, we just didn’t have time.

The baby seemed to require all my energy and attention. She never slept and was always demanding to be fed, held, or changed. It was all we could do to steal a quick fuck before going to sleep at night. Neither of us ever really felt satisfied. All too soon, I became pregnant again. Shortly after Charlene was born, we realized that we wouldn’t be able to survive financially unless I ·returned to work. When I went back to my old job on a part-time basis, it began to look like we would have to give up sex completely. The girls were so close in age, and little babies are so needful, that it was all I could do to keep up with them.

Chuck started going to school at night. With school, our jobs, delivering the babies to and from day care, and taking care of them when we were home, neither of us had the strength or the time for sex. Not that we stopped wanting it. Not by a long shot. I remember sitting at my typewriter at work staring into space and thinking about the days when Chuck and I used to make love all weekend long. I imagined complex erotic scenarios, remembering games we had played and inventing new ones in my head. One evening, when he had a break between classes, Chuck called me to see how the kids were. I had been having a sex fantasy. It involved handcuffs. I was so horny that I asked Chuck to cut school and come home to fuck me. “Sorry, love,” he said. “You know I can’t do that. I’ve got to run or I’ll be late for class.”

“Wait,” I implored. “I’ve got a real hot idea.” I tried to tell him about my fantasy, but he cut me off. “No time now,” he said. “Write it down or something. I’ll read it when I get home.” I was frustrated, but I couldn’t blame him. Life was just as hard for Chuck as it was for me. Remembering his suggestion, I got a sheet of paper and began describing a bondage fantasy, complete with manacles, shackles, whips, and chains. Later, when Chuck got home, he was too tired to read it. “Drop it in there,” he said, gesturing to a glass vase on the nightstand. “I’ll read it in the morning.” By then I was so tired that it didn’t make any difference anyway.

The next morning when Chuck did get around to reading it, his face took on a wistful look of excitement. “This is great stuff,” he said. “Too bad there’s never time anymore. But let’s save the idea.” Suddenly his face lit up. “Why don’t we store our fantasies in this little vase? That way we’ll be ready whenever opportunity knocks.” That was the beginning of our new sex game. I wrote my desires down on slips of pink paper and Chuck wrote his on blue. Most of the time, we put them directly into the vase without showing them to each other. After a few months, the vase was filled to the brim. Sometimes we speculated about whether there were more pink slips or blue ones.

One night, Chuck tapped the vase and said, “I think it’s time we did something about this collection.” “I think so, too,” I said. “But what?” He told me that he had arranged for his mother to take the girls the following weekend. “We’ll take turns drawing slips of paper out of the vase,” he said. “I’ll pick the pink ones and you’ll pick the blue. We’ll have to do whatever the fantasy requires.” It seemed like the weekend would never arrive. When it finally did, I was all worked up. I waved as Chuck’s mother drove off with our children in her car. As soon as she was out of sight, I turned to look at Chuck. He was grinning lewdly, the glass vase in his hand.

“Let’s go into the bedroom,” he suggested in a whisper. “I’ll do one of yours.” He shook the vase and reached in to draw out a folded slip of pink paper. As he read it, a slow smile spread over his face. Passing it to me, he went to the closet. I glanced at the words I had written, probably six weeks before. “Tie me to the bed and don’t untie me until I’ve had three orgasms.” When I looked up, Chuck was standing in front of me with four neckties in his hand. I quickly undressed and lay back on the bed, spreading my arms and legs so that he could bind my wrists and ankles to the four comers of the bed frame. When he was done, I pulled at the ties to see whether they would really restrain me. I was truly a prisoner in my own bed.

Lying naked and helplessly pinioned, I felt totally vulnerable. Chuck could do anything he wanted to make me come. There was nothing for me to do but lie there and take it. I tingled all over with excitement. Wide-eyed, I watched him remove his clothes to stand by the side of the bed looking down at me. His cock was stiff and swollen, sticking straight out in front of him. I could see a vein in its shank throbbing rhythmically. Slowly, he stroked its length as his eyes roamed over my bound body. I could tell that he was considering all the things he would do to me. Sitting beside me on the mattress, he placed his hands gently on my shoulders. He cupped them before trailing his fingers softly over my arms all the way to my wrists. The lightness of his touch was tantalizing. I could feel my nipples stirring, the dark disks that surround them crinkling with excitement.

He leaned over and, without touching them, breathed warmly on my erect pink buds. At the same time, his fingers explored my armpits and strayed down my sides, caressing the ridges of my ribs and meandering over the prominences of my hips. His hands traveled over my nude body in a random pattern, one tickling the crease under my breast while the other traced the contours of my calf or thigh. I felt my pussy becoming damp as his strokes aroused my desire. His hands mounted my breasts and circled closer to my nipples. I wanted him to grasp and squeeze them, to twist and rub them, but he continued to tease me. I heard myself sigh . as he cupped one breast. I moaned as his hand traveled on. His fingers were tracing figure-eights across the plane of my belly, making little designs around my sensitive navel and dipping to a point just above the line of my pubic mound. He began moving the fingers of one hand in spirals aroud my pussy, driving me. frantic with longing. Arching my back, I tried to press myself upward against his tormenting hand. I wanted to feel his ·fingers inside of me. I wanted it desperately. He was teasing me with both hands now. One was toying gently with the curls of my pubic hair, venturing to twirl a few strands around his fingers before retreating to the softness of my abdomen. The other hand was stroking the insides of my thighs, reaching under me to swab a probing fingertip against my puckered anus.

His touch came closer all the time to my heated center of desire, but still he held back. If I hadn,t been tied down, I would have thrown myself at him, wrapping my arms and legs tightly around him, forcing him to satisfy my needs. But I was helpless. My pussy dripped moisture, the fluids of my excitement dampening the pink folds of flesh that guarded my opening. I was possessed by an insatiable need for fulfillment. My clit was swollen and erect, hard as a ruby and begging for attention. I knew instinctively that it was peeking out from under its protective hood, all red and glistening.

His fingers passed lightly over the lips of my pussy, bringing their heat to the nerve endings of my pleasure center. His fingers came closer. Closer. Maybe he was making contact. Maybe he was touching me; I wasn’t sure. Yes. His fingers were sliding alongside my clit, pressing my own flesh against it. I felt the erect little nubbin grow thicker, harder. Then the tip of his finger grazed its head and I felt myself explode. I wailed as my body gained release from the sexual tension that had been building for so long. Was it minutes? Or was it months? My eyes closed tightly. I rolled my head from side to side, rocking under the flashes of heated exhilaration that ran through my body. I gasped for breath, sobbing and whining with pleasure. As my climax reached its zenith, I slipped over the edge, drifting back to earth as though suspended from a huge satin parachute.

A long time later, I opened my eyes to Chuck’s smile of satisfaction. ”That’s one,” he said. ”You still have two to go. This time, I’ll get right to the point.” Reaching into the night table drawer, he brought out the white plastic vibrator, which we had almost forgotten. He held it in front of my face for a moment to. give me a preview of my next pleasure. Then he flipped the switch to start it humming. In contrast to the teasing slowness with which he first aroused me, he placed the vibrator’s tip against my clit immediately. Although it had been at rest, the little organ sprang to life at once, reaching instant erection. Chuck held the vibrator directly on it, moving the device in small circles, keeping it always in contact With my pulsating button.

I didn’t believe it could happen so fast the second time, but it did. Clouds of orgasm started forming within moments. Once they broke, there was no stopping the torrent. I seemed to be coming forever, my consciousness buffeted by the storm of erotic ecstasy. When it was over, I issued a satisfied sigh. Chuck turned the vibrator off and began stroking the outer lips of my pussy with its silent tip. “No, Chuck,” I begged. “Not yet. It’s too soon.” I wanted to snap my legs together to gain a moment’s rest before he started on me again. But the ties that bound me to the four comers of the bed made it impossible. There was nothing for me to do but take all the stimulation he offered.

I felt him slip the plastic cylinder between the lips of my pussy, fucking me slowly with it. Involuntarily, I rocked my pelvis up to open myself for it. Incredibly, I wanted more. I wanted to feel it all the way in me. Sensing my need, Chuck moved it steadily deeper, filling me with the thickness of the sex toy. When it was buried as far as it would go, he stroked it in and out as if it were his cock. I clenched the muscles of my groin, tightening the walls of my pussy around it, increasing . the friction. I watched as he bent lower until, at last, his lips were pressed to my clitoris, already erect again. Just as he sucked the throbbing button into his mouth, he turned on the vibrator.

I was overwhelmed by the flood of sensations that filled my rocking pelvis. I felt myself being fucked and licked at the same time, every nerve of my sex tingling with stimulation. Loudly, I filled the air with my passionate cries. Another orgasm was building in my humping loins. The flowing juices of my arousal bathed my clit as Chuck ran his tongue tip over its head again and again. The combination of his licking and the persistent vibrations inside my womb brought my climax rupturing forth. Tearing through the wall of resistance, it filled my body with shuddering spasms of sexual fulfillment. When my third orgasm ended, I fell back against the pillows and breathed deeply. I was completely satisfied, and yet I felt ready for more sex. Now I wanted to please Chuck the way he had pleased me. I wanted to bring him to the urgency of explosion by fulfilling one of his dearest fantasies.

After a short rest, my husband untied me, and I reached into the vase for one of his blue papers. Following its instructions, I smacked his ass repeatedly until it glowed bright red and then sucked him until he soared. After that, he drew another pink paper. And after that I drew another blue. When the weekend was over, the vase was half empty. Waiting for Chuck’s mother to arrive with the babies, we agreed to have another erotic fantasy weekend as soon as possible. Since then, we’ve managed to spice up our life by devoting every seventh or eighth weekend to sex games. For us, these erotic holidays lead to the best sex ever. They give us something to look forward to as we write our fantasies down on slips of paper and refill the vase with them.

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    WEEKEND SLAVE

    Thursday, December 3rd, 2015

    Standing five and a half feet tall, with a trim and shapely body, Gina makes a striking appearance. Her long hair is straight and brown. Her green eyes are shaped like a cat’s. Gina is an assistant editor for a young women’s fashion magazine. She was divorced a little more than a year ago at the age of thirty-two. For the past several months, she has been seeing Frank, a radio disk jockey, on a steady basis.

    My ex … husband and I were married when we were in our early twenties and hung together for almost ten years. It was awful. Thank God we didn’t have any children; that would have made the divorce even messier than it was. There were lots of problems in our marriage, but sex was probably the worst of them. Lovemaking was never high on my ex’ s list of priorities. If I learned anything from my marriage, it was that life held no hope for sexual fulfillment. The closest I ever came to satisfaction was when I masturbated, which I did occasionally, but always with a great sense of shame and guilt. Actually, until I met Frank, I didn’t discover that my sexual appetites could be nourished. Frank is four years older than I am and went through a divorce just about the same time I did. When we met, I guess we were both hungry for companionship. Frank was mentioned in a story I was editing about radio personalities. When I called him to verify some facts, he invited me to lunch. I was sexually attracted to him as soon as he sat down across the table from me. He was dark and mysterious-looking, with a compact body and very muscular hands. There was something in his voice that made it soothing and exciting at the same time.

    Apparently, he was attracted to me too, ·because before lunch was over, he invited me to have dinner with him that same evening. Cautiously, I accepted. I was lonely, but after the horrible experience I had recently been through, I was unwilling to get involved in anything like a relationship. We dined at a nice restaurant and shared a bottle of Beaujolais. I found Frank witty and entertaining. But when he suggested a nightcap at his apartment, I made up an excuse about having to get home early. Frank laughed. “Let’s face it,” he said. “I’m trying to get you into bed, and you’re turning me down.” I was flustered, but he laughed again. “I’m just being Frank,” he said. “How about dinner tomorrow?”

    We went out twice more that first week and three times the next. Each time we did, Frank invited me to his bed, and I repeated my refusal. It may sound strange in this day and age, but I had slept with only one man. I was curious about how it would be with Frank, but I was convinced that all men were like my ex-husband, incapable of understanding a woman’s sexual needs. After our tenth or eleventh date, my curiosity got the better of me. I agreed to accompany Frank to his place, but deep down I was expecting disappointment.

    Frank surprised me. He was considerate and thorough. He kissed and caressed me until I was completely aroused. Then, slowly and artfully, he undressed me. Postponing the fulfillment of his own needs, he attended to mine. His fingers found my most sensitive spots. His lips nibbled at all the right places. By the time he entered me, I was only a moment away from orgasm. After I came, he continued thrusting inside me until I was ready again. This time, he climaxed with me. When it was over, we lay together in silence, our arms and legs intertwined. I never knew that sex could be so good. After that night, Frank and I saw each other regularly. Neither of us was ready to get involved in any kind of deep commitment, but I didn’t go out with anyone else, and neither did he. We had dinner together almost every night. Afterward we made love, either in his place or mine. We occasionally spent the whole night together, but most of the time we parted, sleeping separately in our own apartments.

    Frank was a wonderful lover. Sex wasn’t just the ending to an evening out. He made it part of everything we did. Sometimes he would call me at work and whisper hoarsely about some fantasy that he was having. Other times he would describe things we did the night before, using that frenetic radio voice he usually reserved for announcing hits on his show. He even found a way to turn sporting events into sex games. We’re both ardent fans and we spend lots of evenings together watching sports on Frank’s big-screen TV. Sometimes we make bets with erotic payoffs. If the shooter makes the basket, I have to give Frank a blowjob. If the batter strikes out, Frank has to go down on me for fifteen minutes without stopping. That sort of thing. Usually, we wait till the game is over before the winner gets to collect. By then the anticipation builds to heat up the session that follows. In fact, one of those bets led to the best sex I ever had.

    It was a boxing match-a ·championship bout. The challenger was about fifteen years older than the champ, and I predicted that the champ would knock him out within the first three rounds. Frank insisted that the fight would go the limit and that the challenger would win it by a decision. I was so sure he was wrong that I was prepared to bet the farm. In a flash of inspiration, Frank proposed the heaviest stakes ever. “A weekend,” he said. “The loser has tq be the winner’s sex slave for an entire weekend.” “Okay,” I said smugly. “You’ll have to do everything I say from the time work ends Friday until midnight Sunday night.” Frank laughed. “It’s going to be the other way around, I assure you,” he said. “But let’s make sure we have this straight. You’re betting on the champ, and I’m picking the challenger. The winner will be master for the whole weekend. The loser is the slave and has to do everything the winner says.” ”Agreed,” I answered, certain of victory.

    The match ended just as Frank said it would. He sat there grinning, his mind obviously working on the things he was planning to make me do. The idea of being his sex slave rather appealed to me. I found myself becoming aroused anticipating the erotic weekend that lay ahead. We didn’t see each other on Thursday because Frank had to work late at the station. On Friday, he called me at least fifteen times to remind me of my enslavement. The last call came just a couple of minutes before five as I was preparing to leave my office. He phoned to say authoritatively that I was to be at his apartment by six, ready to serve him. In a seductive voice, I told him that I was looking forward to it. I was imagining a sort of romantic submission in which he put little silver chains on my ankles and made me wear a studded collar while I served him dinner in bed. Then he would make passionate love to me, forcing me to have one orgasm after another.

    Frank had a different kind of slavery in mind. When I entered his apartment, he was sitting in an easy chair like a king on a throne. I started toward him for a hello kiss when, with a curt gesture of his hand, he commanded me to stop. “Right there, slave,” he said. “Strip!” I felt myself tingling all over. His voice was so harsh, his tone so dominant. He sounded so impersonal, ordering me to remove my clothes while he just sat and watched. I trembled with excitement and reached back to unzip my dress. “Do it slowly,” he commanded. “Tum around so I can watch the zipper come down.” The idea that he would enjoy something as simple as that aroused me tremendously. It made me feel sexy and desirable. I knew that I was in for an evening of erotic bliss. Facing away from him, I obeyed, unzipping as gradually as I could. I tried to picture the black lace of my bra and panties coming slowly into view. When I was ready to step out of the dress, he barked, “Now face me, slave girl. I want to see your tits.”

    The brutal tone of his command inflamed me. As I turned, I lowered the dress from my shoulders. When I looked at him, I saw that his pants were open. He had his cock in his hand and was stroking it slowly while he stared at me. Stepping out of the dress, I tossed it aside and awaited his pleasure. “Take off the bra,” he said. “And rub your nipples.” Every word excited me. Watching me wriggle out of my bra, he continued fondling his hard .. on. My nipples, usually pink, were turning bright rosy red in my excitement. I had never performed this way before, not even in fantasy. Jolts of pleasure passed through me as I petted my breasts and twisted my nipples for his amusement. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter under his hungry gaze. . “Now the panties,” he commanded. “Take them off so I can see your pussy.”

    I found myself feeling a strange kind of delicious embarrassment. He had seen me naked many times, but this was different. I felt like a slave standing on· the auction block for inspection by my master. Frank licked his lips greedily as I reached for the waistband to draw the delicate lace over my thighs. Stepping out of it, I stood before him totally nude. ”Now rub your pussy,” he instructed. ”Put your fingers in it and hold yourself open so I can see.” He leaned forward, staring intently at my slit. “Move closer, slave girl,” he added. “I want a good look.” I took two steps toward him and began rubbing my juices all over the pouting lips of my sex. I was feeling totally stimulated, absorbed in my erotic performance and in his erotic ·commands. My love button was hard and swollen. I hoped that he could see it peeking through. I pictured his tongue on it. I couldn’t wait. “Now rub your clit for me,” he said. “And rub it good.” I started to comply, running my fingertips lightly in little circles around the sensitive nubbin. I hadn’t masturbated since Frank and I got together; it didn’t seem legitimate. But letting him watch me do it was different. It felt wonderful. I loved having his eyes on me while my fingers found my centers of pleasure.

    “That will have to be enough,” he said suddenly. “And I’m afraid it’s all you’re going to get until the weekend’s over, my slave.” I was shocked. “You’re kidding,” I said. “Aren’t you?” He reached out to hand me something. “Not kidding at all,” he answered. “Now put this on.” I never· knew such a thing existed. It was a kind of corset made of black leather. The crotch was closed by a thick leather flap sewn onto the back and fastened in the front with a stout-looking brass lock. “What is this?” I asked, incredulous. “A chastity belt?” “Exactly,” he answered. “To make sure the slave girl’s pussy isn’t touched all weekend. Now put it on and come here.”

    I struggled into the medieval garment and stood in front of him. He inspected it carefully, yanking on the lock to make sure it was properly closed. Leaning back in his chair he said, “Now, give me a handjob.” His cock was standing straight up through his open fly. I waited a moment, thinking that he would. want to remove his clothes, but he sat there regally. Realizing that he expected me to service him just the way he was, I dropped to my knees before him. Taking his erect penis in my hand, I felt a thrill run through my body. I know it sounds weird, but the idea of being his sex object and doing whatever I was told was marvelously arousing. I stroked him obediently, feeling his sex muscle swell against my fingers. Within moments, his come was spurting into the air. It was exciting to see him get off so fast. “Very good,” he said. “Now suck me till I get hard again.” Leaning over his lap, I felt the leather crotch-flap pull tight against my vagina. Every movement of my body caused it to constrict, erotically stimulating my sensitive membranes. I mouthed his flaccid penis while the heat built up inside me. The salty taste turned me on even more.

    I licked him hungrily, certain that he would reward me with intercourse when I got him fully erect. It didn’t take long for his cock to become turgid within the warmth of my mouth. When I felt it throbbing to full capacity, I drew back and touched the head lightly with the tip of my tongue. · “Don’t you want to unlock this now?” I whispered. “I’d love to feel you in me.” “No way,” he said. “You’re my slave. Finish me with your mouth.” Still believing that the evening would end with his hardness inside me, I tongued him to climax. “I think I’ll have you draw my bath now,” he said when his orgasm ended. “Then you can bathe me, and maybe I’ll even let you get me off again, in the tub.”

    I was beginning to think he was serious about not touching my pussy all weekend. By the time his bath was finished, I knew it was so. He made me lather his cock and balls with hot water and soap and rub him with slippery foam until he came again. Throughout the weekend, I gave him orgasm after orgasm. I used every possible way that he or I could imagine, so long as my pussy wasn’t involved. I played with his ass and sucked his cock. I stroked him with my fingers and with the soles of my feet. I held his hard-0n between my tits and moved up and down until his hot sperm shot into my cleavage. I tickled his entire body with my long hair and blew hot breath on his genitals. I kissed his lips· and his nipples while I jerked him off. He never so much as touched me. I was his slave entirely. He made me wear the chastity belt all the time, even when we were sleeping. He unlocked it when I needed to use the bathroom, only to refasten it as soon as I was finished. The leather flap across my pussy stimulated me almost to the point of orgasm and kept me hanging there interminably. My arousal peaked and remained at the summit for hours at a time.

    The sight of his swollen cock spurting into the air or onto my breasts and thighs brought me trembling to the brink of the abyss. The things I did to his body made my insides tingle with erotic hunger. Each moment took me higher, each sub.missive act further inflaming my passions. Sometimes he let me think that he might be merciful and permit me to have a climax. Just a little ·one to tide me over. Once he even put the key in the lock on my chastity belt, sadistically changing his mind at the last minute. He teased and tantalized me, asking if I’d like to get fucked. I wanted to scream, “Yes, yes, yes. Please fuck me. Please oh please oh please.” But I soon learned that he was immovable.

    By Sunday evening, I was watching the clock and counting the hours. Although my erotic appetite was overwhelming, I actually enjoyed my role as obedient slave. I had never been in so intense a state of sexual excitement for so long a period of time. For the past forty-eight hours, I’d been having sex in one form or another almost continuously. If I had been free to climax, it would have been over a long time ago. Instead, the sustained excitement was like an endless orgasm. Frank seemed to understand this and had a way of increasing my stimulation each time he came. At ten P.M., Frank said, “You’ve been such a good slave that I think I’m going to reward you.” When he fitted the key into the lock on my chastity belt, I thought he was taunting me again. But this time, he turned it and opened the lock. Pulling the flap open, he freed my hungry sex from its constricting prison. The fresh air bathed my moist membranes, caressing me like a lover’s kiss. Uttering a strangled groan, Frank fell on me, pressing his face against the damp cushion of hair that surrounded my pussy. He began kissing and licking me, his lips and tongue moving furiously up and down the length of my slit. He had been as hungry for my sex as I was for his. The moment the tip of his tongue found the button of my clit, I started to come. The sexual energy that had been building in me demanded release. My erotic hunger cried out as I gorged myself on the movements of his mouth.

    My first orgasm was still bursting from my womb when I felt him carrying me toward my second. The waves of bliss were so potent that I tangled my fingers in his hair, trying to pull his face away so I could regain my strength. Heedless, he licked on, lifting my spirit to a plane of shuddering ecstasy. My passionate screams filled the air as climax followed climax, the second barely ending before the third began to build. The muscles of my abdomen went tense, my back arching to lift my body off the mattress. I pressed my thighs to the sides of his head and bucked wildly against his nibbling lips and his thrusting tongue. Only after my fourth orgasm was spent did he let me fall back against the bed to rest for a moment before mounting me.

    How could I take more after all those thundering climaxes? How could I possibly be ready to feel his cock inside me? How could I endure more stimulation so soon? Somehow I did! As he. slid slowly into my palpitating vagina, my excitement soared again. I was acutely conscious of the membranes of my sex parting before the onslaught of his plundering penis. He was filling me, stuffing me with the thick heft of his manhood. All the waiting was worthwhile. Nothing had ever felt this explosively pleasurable before. I clawed at his back as he drove rhythmically in and out of me, each stroke taking me up another notch on the perilous climb to total release. I tottered at the edge, frightened of the final plunge. I felt my consciousness slipping away. I was merging with the cosmic flow, my juices floating me to nirvana. For one aching moment, I clung desperately to the earth. Then Frank’s thrusting cock tore me loose, casting me spinning through the vastness of erotic space. I thought my orgasm would go on forever. Totally unaware, I sang my pleasure to the heavens. Frank joined me, adding his manly groans to the harmony of our fulfillment.

    Later, Frank carried me gently to the bath, tenderly lowering me into the hot water. Lovingly, he bathed me, soothing the sex muscles that had strained with pleasure until they were fatigued. Then, after drying me with a soft thick towel, he carried me to bed and held me in his arms until I fell into a smiling satisfied sleep. We’ve had lots of good sex since then, and I’m sure there’s lots more of it ahead of us. I’ll never forget that weekend though. I starved for two and a half days in a state of excruciating excitement before feasting on the best sex I ever had.

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