Paganini's Tale, Chapter 1 Alice was already tired of it all, and she wasn't even drunk yet. Not that she drank all that much; she only drank when she was out, partying, or in, waiting for Larry to come home tired, irritable, and whiny. These damn office parties were all the same: mindless in-fighting, silly gossip, each one trying to impress the rest with their corporate loyalty. Larry leaned on the door jamb across the room, talking with some other man with his tie loosened just enough to be pretend-daring. As if his tie was a bit of armor. She decided that listening to the ninny beside her telling about her beautician wasn't interesting enough to make any difference, and so without apology she rose from the couch to get another gin and tonic from the kitchen. she thought, Her mind felt as unsteady as her feet. With a slight weave to her step she meandered to the kitchen, glass in hand. Past the woman in a paisley blouse laughing so loudly it seemed frightening. Past the stoop-shouldered accountant smiling nervously at the man telling him about this season's Colts. Past the thin-chinned youngster telling how he thought his boss was great. Alice had no use for any of them, and wished Larry would get done with his bootlicking so they could get away. Most of all she wished they had come in separate cars so she could go home now. The ice was nearly out. She placed the last few cubes in her tall glass, then tossed in a shot of gin. She thought a moment, then with a shrug of disgust tosssed another two gurgles atop the ice. "That bad, eh? I understand. Toss some my way." The voice was warm, strong, and when she turned to see his face, she saw a sturdy jaw, toughened skin, and grinwrinkles around bright eyes. No great beauty, but a certain strength... something in her understood. "Put two gurgles in my glass, and then follow me without being noticed." She stared up at him, wordless, confused. "Two gurgles," she repeated. "Two." He pushed his tall tumbler at her. She turned the gin bottle upside down over his glass. Two gurgles it was, and then he turned from her almost before she righted the bottle. She watched his back as he walked into the living room, toward the stairs. Strong muscls stretched beneath the light cotton shirt. He was someone who worked, it was clear. His command intrigued her, sent gentle tingles from the back of her skull down her back to pocket between her legs. She looked down at her glass. What he wanted was clear. She was married, and had been for four years, to Larry, who now was chortling merrily at someone else's joke. She swirled the ice in the glass, watched the ripples in the liquor for a moment, then half-shrugged and meandered unsteadily toward the doorway to the living room, past which was the stairs the man had taken. His words replayed in her mind: Larry was still talking; he hardly noticed her go by, but she noticed him: thin lips, sallow face, thin arms. A clerk's body. Her own body tingled, but not toward him: toward the stairs. Her cunt made her mind up, and she let it. she smiled to herself, . As if deciding to find a bathroom, she ascended the stairway. Her body waited: nipples prickled and became hard beneath her constricting brassiere. She wanted it off, so her nipples could be free. Her pants were confining, and she wanted a cock inside her. The hallway was dark in the old house. Rooms came off the landing, and around the corner toward the one lit room on the floor: the bathroom. Alice stopped, heart thudding. In one of these rooms a man awaited her. Somewhere up here was that shaft she wanted between her legs. Putting one foot in front of her, she made sure her walk sounded on the wood floor. A door opened on her left, opening into darkness. She hesitated a brief instant more, then started in. A hand snaked out of the darkness and grabbed her hand, pulling her in. Below, she could hear the party sounds of empty laugher, light music. the clink of glasses. In here, in this room, the only important sound was his deep, gutteral breath. "For the next twenty minutes you're mine. If that's not what you want, leave now." Alice felt something twist inside her, and then break open, letting loose a gush like warm honey between her legs. She didn't even think. She sensed where his face was and pressed her mouth against his. His hands came up under her blouse, forcing their way almost painfully under her brassiere. Jolts of energy flashed from her nipples inside her when he squeezed. His kiss was deep, fully tongued, and she sucked on that tongue like she could pull him through it. She wanted more of him, and she tried to get her hands between them to unbutton his shirt. He broke away from the kiss. "I said you were mine." He gave her nipples sharp, biting pinches, then broke away entirely. She stood in the darkness broken only by the curtained window's reflected streetlight, her body rocking from the sudden lack of stimulation. "Take off your blouse, and pull your pants down to your knees." Stifling her words, she began to unbutton her blouse. She could see him silhouetted against the faint light. He stood motionless. She kept facing him when, with a whispered whimper, she pulled down her pants, leaving her boots on. Her ankles felt bound. He took a fingerfull of pubic hair, using that to pull her toward him. With his other hand, he snatched up a fistfull of mane, pulling her face to his. Again the tonguing. But this time he had a hand on her cunt, just resting on her lips. She arched her back, trying to push her pubis onto his hand, but he pulled back just enough to keep contact without a finger sinking in. He broke away from the kiss. "You want it, don't you?" She groaned in response, but that wasn't enough for him. "Say it out loud," he ordered. "Oh, God, yes, I want it," she managed to say. She was astounded at how she was responding. Without embarassment, she was following his order. With Larry, she would have laughed. but this man was so certain. He knew what he was doing, and she loved it, and wanted him to continue. "Yes," she gasped, "something, anything." One finger sank between her vaginal lips, into the deep heat of her cunt. She moaned. As if he were telling a neighbor about some weeds he'd have to pull, he said, "Make any more noise and I'll have to gag you." Another finger slipped in. She tried to stifle her moan, using his tongue as a gag. She wanted to pull him to her, but somehow she knew he didn't want that; her hands hung in the air, lowering slowly as if she could take his prick as soon as it showed itself. "Pull my cock out," he said. "And then I want you to suck it. I want to feel your tongue sliding down that long muscle. I want to feel your nose in my hair. I want you to take it deep." She reached for his fly and quickly unzipped it, while working at his belt with her other hand. , she thought, Nobody had ever talked that way to her. she said to herself, knowing she had never taken any cock as deep as she could. His underwear was frustratingly in the way. Pulling the elastic band down deep, her hand felt the huge mass of cock jutting out from this man's crotch. She felt its thickness, its heat, and moaned again. She nearly lunged at its purple head, faintly shining in the dim light. It felt like a heated plum in her mouth, filling her from tongue to palate. Her hands were busy unfastening his belt. She wanted his cock free, his hair in front of her. She thought she could take him deep; he was thick, massively thick, but not particularly long. Her lips were stretched. Finally she had his pants loose, and she pulled underwear and pants down, pulling his cock toward her as she did. Suprising them both, her nose was instantly nestled in his dark pubic hair. She breathed in through her nose, nearly gagging, then pulling back. It had felt wonderful to feel him so deep inside. She lapped at the cock's thick trunk, down to his balls, then up, swirling about its head, feeling the wrinkles on its ridge, tickling the eye on the end. Then she pulled him into her again. He grabbed her hair and pulled her back. Her head was immobile, straining forward, mouth open, tongue resting on her lower lip. "Once more, and then you lean over," he told her, then pulled her head onto his cock, slowly, easing it, sliding it past her lips to her palate past her uvula and finally back, pushing back at the corner of her throat. Again he pulled her back. "Now stand up and lean over." She did as he said, placing her hands on the chair in front of the dresser. The mirror atop the dresser was nearly as tall as she; his reflection faced her, watching her. His cock stood out straight, white and purple, barely illuminated, as as her rump, the side of her curved waist and the outside roundness of her breast. Her blond hair hung around her head like a halo, but she felt nothing angelic. What she was feeling was primal. Her blue eyes were wide, her breath was ragged. Behind her she could see the dark hair on his broad chest, the assured smile on his face. She felt his hand touching the round globes of her buttocks. His fingers dipped between her legs, and she felt his index finger parting the soft inner lips of her labia. Exploring the rubbery ridges of her excited tissues, swirling deeper and deeper. She groaned, then cut it off. , she thought. <...or do I?> She could feel fingers plunging into her cunt. Pushing against her cervix, pushing down on the top of her moist walls. A third finger pushed in; was it his thumb? She watched him in the mirror, his broad cock bobbing with his arm's motions. His thumb pulled out of her juicy cunt and began circling the rim of her anus. Her sphincter tightened automatically; she'd never had anyone . His thumb increased its pressure slightly, while his other two fingers pushed into her twat and his ring finger punched at her clitoris. She grunted in whispers, fighting to hold back her voice. This was scream-out-loud in the empty woods sex. She wanted to holler out, but she knew she couldn't. Round and round his thumb went, gradually massaging her asshole into relaxing. The tip of his thumb dipped in slightly, moistened with cunt juice. Dipped in a little deeper, while his fingers played Chopin with her G-spot. Her body was shuddering now, her thighs clamped and opened involuntarily. Her ass was loose enough now, and so he increased the speed of his fingerfucking slightly. She bit her hand to keep from screaming, pushing back against his plunging hand. Suddenly he shoved his thumb deep into her ass in one plunge, and an earth-wrought groan came rumbling from Alice's throat. Her body jerked tight. she thought as the waves of pleasure washed off the words like sandscript on the beach. went the waves, and she lost control completely. Her body shuddered uncontrollably, and her knees sagged; he held her up by his handhold. Her legs, her arms, her back jerked like a marionnette, and she felt her brain melt down like wax upon a flame. she wondered, for she could remember the shrill, gutteral wrenching her mind had experienced. His hand was still in her, but motionless. "Did I scream?" she asked, breathlessly. "No. You did very well." With his free hand he patted her bottom. Then he moved behind her. "I will now fuck you and come. When I come, I will tell you that you are mine." He pulled his two fingers out, but left his thumb in her ass. With his left hand he guided his thick bludgeon of a cock toward her cuntal lips. He could see the faint glisten of juices on them. Her gasps filled the room. Slowly, he pushed the head until it was nestled within the folds of her vagina. Then he spit into his hand and moistened the shaft. Gradually the rest of his prick pushed into her. Her breathing was more ragged now. He pulled back, then pushed in faster. The next was a thrust, and the fourth a deepscream sexual punch. A clacking, delirious sound came from Alice's throat; she had lost all control of her senses. Each time he slammed into her, the abyss down which she'd fall got higher, and deeper. She realized her breath was hot in her ear. "Now you are mine," he whispered. "In seven days you will be completely mine, body and spirit." In between phrases, he jammed his cock deeply into her cunt. "You've never felt anything like this before, have you?" Again a deep, deep fuck. Alice shook her blonde head. "No," she gasped, "No, never, nothing..." "There's so much more for you to learn," he said quietly, pulling his cock out till just the tip remained in contact, then with a twist of his hips nearly spiraled his penis into her. "In seven days you will know. You must only do precisely what I say, without questions. You are mine, and for the next week you will learn just what that means. Now I will come inside you." He reared back and then grabbed her hair. He pushed his thumb deeper into her bottom, taking hold of her from both ends, and ramming her down onto his thick cock. She was wide open. In his cock went, and out, increasing his speed with every stroke, going in deep and wide, making her cunt a throat widening in a joyous scream, and then his voice in her ear, and deep whisper, and Alice reached the top of the growing abyss, and toppled over, falling, pushed by powerful winds, buffetted and swirled by rain and clouds, and it was a long time before she hit bottom. He had pulled her pants up, and pulled down her blouse. Her face was inches from hers, lying on the floor. "You must tell me your name." She tried to get her bearings. "Alice," she said, not succeeding. "Alice Parkinson." "Do you work?" 'Part time. Mornings." "Husband work?" "Yes." She felt she could hold nothing back. "Home phone number."She told it to him. "Address." She told it to him. "Work phone." She told it to him. "I will now go downstairs. It's been fifteen minutes. You may descend in four minutes, looking fresh." With that he stood, walked to the door, listened for a moment, then slipped out into the hall. Alice caught her breath. Nothing like this was within her experience. Never would she have thought she would be thrilled to be fucked by a stranger, much less completely controlled by a stranger. But she trusted him. He was too skillful, too aware to not know what he was doing. Never once had he hurt her more than she wanted. A few times she had been surprised she wanted it, but the point remained. She laughed, and adjusted her bra. Off to the left was the master bedroom's bath; she touched up her makeup and got herself arranged. The party suddenly wasn't a boring affair after all. Something was happening. She didn't know what it would be, but she knew her life was to be changed. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 2 The man across from Larry, the one with the half-loosened tie, seemed done talking. A surprise, that. "Excuse me," he said to the man (was his name O'Donnell? O'Daniel? Larry couldn't remember) "But I think I'd better fill myself up." He raised his glass. Rum and coke, light on the rum; tonight he was driving. Larry looked through the heads to try to find Alice's, but couldn't see the blond locks. He was considering just going home, and if she wasn't involved in a conversation he would suggest it to her. Usually at these work parties Alice found someone to talk with. Seemed to almost have made friends with a few of the women. Larry meandered back past O'Dougall with a smile, then into the living room. Still no blond locks, and there were a few of those women Alice talked with over in the corner without her. The front door was open, and since the night was warm and sultry, several of the partiers were standing, sitting, lounging on the porch. Larry stepped out, still not seeing her. He nodded jovially, as if on a particular course, and felt pulled past the steps. "Leaving, Larry?" "No, no, just, uh, just following Nature." He laughed, joined by a few chuckles. The night was dark, the sky clear and sparkled by stars. Clearly he wasn't going to find Alice out here, but the prospect of a few moment's quiet didn't seem bad at all. He turned the corner of the house and strolled toward the back yard. A three-quarter moon off toward the east smiled down at him. He could hear the slightly raucous sounds of the party through the walls, but still--out here it was quiet. Quiet enough to discern that what he at first thought were faint dog-barks were in fact hushed grunts, coming from around the back. Treading lightly, Larry crept toward the corner. Peeking around, he saw in the faint light, there on the lawn, the half-naked bodies of a brown-haired man straddled by a brunette. "" came the half-whispered gasp, "" His grunts became the backbeat of her verbal melody. "" she chanted, " Larry could hear the liquid sounds of lust counterpointing the backbeat, but it was a primal rhythm at its core. The music made him hard, and his pants made his cock hurt. Blocked from view by a large bush, Larry guaged the time it would take them to put their clothes back on, and decided he'd have enough; then he unzipped his fly and pulled out his semihard cock. The nerve endings were tingling, itching for stimulation. The sight of the illumined bodies and the brunette arching her back, jutting tits up toward the three-quarter moon, made him hot, and he slowly began pulling at his prick. The night air felt cool on his balls where it whisped into his fly. His whole cock was freed, and he felt good about it, though guilty for acting like such an adolescent. But he and Alice didn't screw all that much anymore, and he hardly ever beat off. And what was more, he justified, he like it. His hand felt good around his cock, and those bodies were so beautiful. He pulled on his cock, pushed back slowly, getting friction from his fingers strumming down the rim. Up and back, slowly increasing in speed. He felt his loins tighten, and he stiffened the muscles in his legs. Fuckjuice oozed out the tip, and he used that as a slippery lubricant for a moment, shifting the sensations. It felt delicious, and he was preparing to come with that feeling when he heard someone clear a throat behind him. He twirled, cock in hand, before he realized it. He quickly tried to shove his cock back into his pants when he heard her voice whisper "Leave it out." He stood motionless, dumbfounded. Then he looked up; pale skin, dark hair; almost vampirishly beautiful. Slim, slight. Postured with one hip jutting out. She took his cock in her hand; he practically convulsed at the touch. "You like whacking off, do you?" she breathed, pulling his prong toward her, till his face was inches from hers. "And I bet you were just getting ready to come. Poor little boy." She took his chin in her free hand. He felt helpless, embarassed, and intensely aroused. "See if you can hit the mark," she breathed, and then went down on her knees. She opened her mouth twelve inches from the tip of his cock, then took his cock in both hands. For a moment he thought she was going to take him into her mouth, but then he realized what she expected. Her hands began a milking motion, kneading his cock like a long teat. "Come on, spew, you bad boy. Shoot that jism into my mouth. Spray it through the air." She opened her mouth again, moving her lips in the most wanton version of Marilyn Monroe he'd ever seen, as if her lips were pulling the orgasm toward her without even touching. "Come on, lover boy," she began again, "that semen's mine, I want your come, give it to me, shoot it out," opening her mouth like a hungry bass taking the bait, but she wasn't getting satisfaction, even though the pressure was building up in Larry's crotch like he'd never felt. "Come , you motherfucker, where's that spume, where's that fucking come, give it to me, give it to me, come at me, fire at me, come on now, you bastard, " And he came in great gouts, pummeling her nose and lips and tongue with pearly spray. The top of his head came off like that three-quarter moon, and he could feel it bouncing against the wall and landing in the bushes. She milked him until every spout had erupted, then licked her lips and stood. She tucked his cock back into his pants. "That cock is mine when I want it. Do you understand?" Speechless, he could only nod. She lapped a stray dollop from her lower lip, then suddenly kissed him deeply. Her tongue was hot, agile, and tasted of his own come. Just as suddenly, she broke away, smiled wickedly, then turned and strode back toward the party. Larry stood silently for a moment, then heard the giggles of the lovers behind him as they gathered their clothes. He quietly, carefully, walked out into the next yard, so he could eventually come in the back door, once the lovers were gone. Besides that, he needed to think. It had all happened so fast he was just now reacting. Reacting even physically; as he thought about her ordering his cock to spew he felt his cock lurch, as if rolling awake. He wondered what she meant by "whenever I want it." It sounded like there might be a second time. If so, he certainly wouldn't tell her no. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 3 The night before, Larry had tried to get inside her, right after both of them had, as if by surprise, decided to take showers berfore going to bed. Alice had wanted more; wanted the touch of that nameless man from the night before, who grabbed her purposefully, with direction; who knew exactly what soft spots to touch, which hard spots to tickle, or pinch, or stroke. Larry was so tentative, he nearly waited for her to take charge; lying there, hesitantly touching her, waiting for her to respond, insead of her respond. Now, sitting at the desk with papers and a computer screen in front of her, composing letters, preparing that morning's outgoing mail, she thought of what the man had said: It made her wet between her legs; she felt the creamy lubricant steaming from beneath her short skirt. Slim legs rubbed together as she tried to scratch that cuntal itch. Stockinged leg against stockinged leg, making a sound like a tiny zipper opening and closing across the room. Up and down her legs worked, until finally she could stand it no longer, and snuck a hand down into the hole of the desk, pulled back her skirt, and pressed her middle fingertip against the nylon encasing her clit. Rhythmically she pushed down and in. Across the room another woman worked, at a similar desk. Madeline, her name was, and they were fast becoming friends. Over the last six weeks, ever since Maddy had started at the company, Alice had been constantly surprised by the ease she felt with Maddy. Now Maddy looked over at Alice and grinned. "Sounds like you had a hot one last night. Nice memories?" Alice flushed; her face felt as hot as her cunt. "I...." she stammared, pulling her hand up into the cold air, "Yeah, well, I guess...." "C'mon, Alice, you think I don't pull myself off back here on slow days? These desks are just for it." She laughed, and Alice couldn't help but join in. "This is the first time for me, and I've worked here for two years!" "Wow," Madeline cried, "He must really have been something! What's his name? Is he available?" She laughed again. "I don't know his name, Maddy. He's a.... a mysterious stranger." "Really?" "Yes, really." "Will it happen again?" "I don't... I hope so. But I can't know for sure." "Keeping you on a string, eh? That can kind of be fun." Alice's phone rang, and she let it ring most of a second time, watching the light flash, then answered: "Braxton and Smith Research, Division Two, this is Alice, may I help you?" There was silence on the other end. Alice could hear the faint sounds of what sounded like waves breaking. She strained to hear, but could not. She looked over at Maddy, who was going back to her computer screen. "May I help you?" she repeated. "Write this down," the deep, male voice commanded. Without thinking, Alice picked up a pen and pulled over the pad of paper. "At twelve thirty-seven you will be in your car, in the alley between Parker and Godwin, off 103rd street, back behind the double-dumpster. Park with the driver's side two and a half feet from the wall. "You will take off your pantyhose and pull up the short blue skirt you're wearing today around your armpits. Get on your hands and knees, nose in the crevice of the seat, with your ripe ass pointed toward the wall. Open the door with your heel, and don't look back. I will fuck you. You will come three times. Your juices will run like wine. You will squeeze your nipples till they hurt, feeling the waves of pain radiate from each tit. "You must be as juicy as you can be. I will not get you hot. You must do that for me. If you're not slick, I will fuck you anyway, hard, fast, and long, and it will hurt each stroke until your cunt starts flowing. "Twelve thirty-seven. Parker and Godwin, off 103rd. You will not get a second chance if you fail to arrive." Then the line went dead. Her cunt was throbbing, and she looked at the wall clock: 10:22. She had almost two hours to decide. Her hand, of its own accord, had gone between her legs again, this time with three fingers pushing up hard against her cuntal lips. Her panty hose frustrated her. Her eyes were glazed as she stared at the keyboard, focused entirely on the feelings of her hand on her cunt. Suddenly she became aware of a hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up was somehow not surprised to see Maddy smiling down at her. "I couldn't help hearing," she said, "You were repeating everything he said as you wrote it down. If you're not going to go, I'll go in your place, but if you going to go, I want to get you hot enough for it. If you want to be juicy, I'll make you juicy. Go lock the door." Her tone had become an order, and Alice, though confused at her acceptance, got up and locked the door. "Take your blouse off, and then those hose. You hate them, I can tell. Your cunt wants to breathe." Alice nodded, stunned at Maddy, and wanting more than anything to come any way she could. "I'll make you come myself," Maddy said, smiling wickedly. "I'll make you come three times before your mystery man even begins. How many times have you come in one day, Alice?" Alice swallowed. "Three times, once..." "Three is nothing. If your cunt can stand it, each come is easier, and stronger, than the last. You could have ten, twelve before this day is out. And you want to come more than anything, don't you?" Alice stood, barecheasted, her hose off, only the short skirt still around her hips. Her hands reached up, cupped each breast, and pinched between thumb and forefinger of each hand a firm, brown nipple. She squeezed hard, and tingling shards of pain/ pleasure shot through her intestines. "Yes," she groaned," I want to come more than anything." "That doesn't surprise me, though you're a hottor tart than I thought. Pull on those tits of yours again." Alice hesitated. "I said pull on those tits," Maddy ordered. "If I tell you to do something, you'd best do it, if you want me to make you come. And I'm going to make you come. Pull on those hard brown nipples of yours." Alice pulled, and again was wracked by sharp ripples. She groaned, surprising herself. For a brief moment she saw herself as she must look from the outside, nearly naked, pulling on her nips before a fully-clothed office mate. Depraved, it practically was. She felt mildly humiliated, but then thought better of it. Lust took priority over shame or guilt. Lust was what drove her during those minutes. She let lust have the wheel. She thrust three fingers immediately into her cunt, still pulling on one tit. Her fingers soaked in her drenched quim when she looked in Maddy's eyes. "Have you ever eaten a woman, Alice?" Alice waited for a moment, then shook her head. "No," she finally got out, more embarassed at her inexperience than she was at being pubes-in-the-air naked. "You'll learn. And judging from those gasps I can hear, you'll be a fast learner." Maddy smiled, then strode over on her high heels, her hips dancing figure eights of impending passion. Off came the thin leather belt wrapped thrice around her waist. She swung the middle of it over Alice's head and shoulders like a jumprope, then yanked Alice toward her, mashing their faces together. For the first time Alice tasted a woman's tongue. Thinner than a man's, more delicate, seeking out the soft, untouched places behind Alice's lips. Alice hungrily sucked on that tongue, interspersing the suckling with darts of her own thin, light tongue. She felt her hands being pulled behind her back, and suddenly her wrists were tied together with two loops. "What are you..." she spluttered, pulling away from Maddy's mouth, but was smothered immediately by her tongue again. For five seconds Alice struggled to get away, arching her back, trying to pull away from Mady's insistent body. Tits clothed rubbed against Alice's bare breasts; the rough fabric excited her. When she discovered she didn't want to resist, she leaned into Maddy; she was virtually imprisoned, and no choices were open, no decisions needed to be made. She could focus on the steam building within her, the lust let loose by submission to her body's desires. She groaned against Madeline's tongue, a deep groan that seemed to travel to her throat via her aching, empty cunt. She felt Maddy's hand running over the round globes beneath her bound hands, insinuating themselves between clenched butt and tight thighs. Gradually her legs loosened, and then Maddy's other hand began brushing Alice's outer lips, dewy with cuntjuice, drawing circles around her swollen clit. Then Alice understood why Maddy's hands were meeting between her legs: the long, dangling ends of the leather were being passed from behind to the front, using her cuntlips as a guide. Her breath cought in her throat. Madeline pulled away, and took one leather lead in each hand. Two feet long they were, reaching up almost to where they could be tied in circles around her big tits. The thin, supple leather pushed into her liquid channel, and then Maddy pulled her hands apart, pulling the lips open to let the air-conditioned office air send a brief chill inside her twat opening. "Feel good?" Maddy asked. Alice's legs were weak; imagining the leather cutting into her thick quimlips made her knees want to buckle, as they were threatening to do. "God, Oh, god, Maddy," Alice managed to gasp, "I don't know... is this..." She stopped, knowing that her objections were beyond being feeble. Nobody would ever believe them, as she stood there with black leather being pulled around between her cunt mouth, hands tied. Nobody would believe her protestations, even herself. Even in her delirium, Alice discovered that she could pull back on the thong by pulling up on her own bound wrists. "Oh, God," she repeated again. "Down on your knees, then down on your back," Maddy said. Slowly, so as not to put too much strain on the leather thong-belt, Alice sank to the floor, following Maddy's order. once on her back, Maddy instructed "Spread your legs. Show me that hot whore's cunt to me." The words embarassed her, but still she knew her blush was meaningless. She spread her legs. Maddy pulled the thong away from Alice's shiny lower lips. "That's a whore's cunt if ever I saw one. Look how red it is, it wants something bad. But not yet. I get mine first. Then she squatted over Alice's face, reversed, as if ready to go sixty-nine, holding on to the leather thong like reins on a sleigh. With gentle tugs she urged Alice on. Alice looked up at the moist gash above her. She smelled the heady aroma, redolent of dark, mysterious rituals in the marshes of the South, reeking of all the down-and-dirtyfucks, the soft sweet loves on moonlit nights, the quick inouts in cabs on the way to the theatre; her cunt smelled experienced. Alice felt nearly awed by the history confronting her, swathed in black curles, oozing love juice. Down near her chin, budding out like a bean from its pod, Maddy's clitoris gleamed. She stuck out her narrow tongue, arching it downward, the tip slowly wending its way toward that forbidden little bean. Once touched, Maddy's body reacted. Down came Maddy's cunt, pressing down in soft moist folds upon her mouth, her chin, her nose, suffocating her deliciously. Tart, tanngy, Maddy's cunt was as tasty as any Creole cooking. Around and around Maddy's pelvis spun, in circles, pressing Alice's nose first into her cunt, then sliding forward so her nose sank slightly into Maddy's loosened asshole. Maddy's moans grew louder, longer, deeper. Alice gasped breaths whenever she could, if only to stay alive long enough to lap once more, to stick her tongue deep into this commanding woman, this mistress' cunt. Madeline's body tensed, and her thighs crushed Alice's cheekbones together. The leather thong pulled against her cunt, and suddenly she was coming too, rushing headlong into a velvet brick wall, being swallowed by the delirium of her passion. She realized some time had passed, how much she didn't know, but now something cool and wide was being rolled over her own cunt. Maddy's twat still remained poised above her face, as if ready at any moment to once again assault her. Alice's cunt burned in opposition to the cool substance now being pressed harder against her cuntal lips, her clit, now her cunt again. And then it sank in, something half again as wide as a cock, but nearly as long, pushing in like a muzzle-loading gun. Pistoning in and out, packing the metaphoric gunpowder tighter and tighter, so the explosion would be all the more. Maddy plunged it in again, but this time slapped Alice's thigh, hard. The stinging pain reverberated like an echo in a cave. The thick phallus-shaped object kept plunging in, each time taking Alice higher, past any notion of honor or pride or humility. "Yes," she moaned, "God yes, fuck me with it, fuck me hard, oh Fuck me, stick it in me, yes, deep into my cunt, ram that fucker into me..." And she on the next plunge, spinning miraculously into nowhere she could name, but a place she wanted to visit again, where everything moved in a choreographed dance of violent motion. Maddy stopped completely, remaining utterly still. Alice's back arched, as she tried to ram that thing back into her. That dance seemed to break up, as if badly practiced, if well choreographed. The colors moved from brilliance to pastel, and Alice thought she was done. Until that thick protuberance was jammed again into her, out, and jammed again, and Alice, with the rhythm of the fucking like wings pushing her through the air, flew past the room of neverchanging dance out into starlit skies filed with comets aghast at their own light. When she finally came to, Maddy was sitting in her chair, looking down at limp Alice. "You're quite a lay," she said quietly, still smiling. Alice weakly smiled back. "I never knew what they meant by fireworks," she giggled, "Until now. Is that what a multiple orgasm is?" "That, hon, and more. By the time the day's over, you may never come back." When Maddy saw Alice's frightened expression, she softened. "No, hon, don't worry. You come back, and it's one hell of a trip." Paganini's Tale, Chapter 4 Larry waited for the light to change to "walk," watching a sixteen-year-old punkette diddle with her hair beside him. The thin cotton top she wore was almost translucent, torn in places, revealing the soft pink skin of a young girl's torso; behind the shirt he could see the outside of her aureoles, the slight out-dimple of little tits. Black leather pants coming down to mid-calf, black fishnet from ankle to spiked heel. A tough-looking kid. "So whattaya looking at, mister?" He was surprised by her voice: harsh, brassy. Surprised even that she spoke to anyone on the street. In the city, that just wasn't done. Larry tried to be casual. "Only you, my dear. You're beautiful in some indefinable way." "You wanna get your rocks off thinking about fucking a young thing like me, you go ahead, but leave me out if it." She spit on the ground and walked into the street, balancing out of the way of a passing taxi, then darting between oncoming cars, her little ass swinging as she ran. "Hey, I didn't mean..." he began to say, but stopped. She was gone, off into the thin crowd. "Walk," the sign said, and so walk he did. Across the street, feeling stupid. How did he get himself into those sorts of things? He couldn't figure it out. He hadn't for her to see him looking her over. Or had he? There had been a time when he'd looked at a girl that way and she'd turned to him and smiled. "Like what you see?" she had asked. He'd nodded. "You're very beautiful," he said, and within moments she was six inches from him. "I just saw my boyfriend fucking some little slut in his room," she said, "and if he can do it, then so can I. You wanna fuck me?" "Well, uh..." he'd stammared, and when he saw the disgusted look on her face he got up the gumption to unstick his mouth: "Absolutely. I haven't seen anybody as fuckable in a long time." He'd read once that compliments were good strategy for picking up girls. "Okay," she said with determination, "then let's go to it." She led him into a restaurant, back past the tables, the booths, the lunchers eating their Special #2, toward the bathrooms. "Wait a minute," he whispered to her as she shut the women's door, "what if someone comes in?" She looked him straight in the eye as she unzipped his fly. "Would you interrupt a couple fucking in the bathroom? No, you'd smile to yourself and go to wait until they were done. Then you'd pee. It's only sensible." She'd got his cock free; in the fluorescent glare it shined, its purple head tight as the head of a snare drum. She pretty; he could see her in the mirror unbuttoning her skirt. She peeled her pantyhose down, stepped out of them, then grabbed his cock again. "Good sized," she said to him. "Work it around, stretch my cunt out, so I can tell my boyfriend what a fucking ramrod I screwed. I don't mind exaggerating a little." Larry had been befuddled, standing in the women's tiled bathroom, by the girl's attitude to him. It didn't matter to this girl if he was short or thin, muscular or scrawny, handsome or disgusting. He was a cock to fuck, and that was all. A tool. A means to an end. He tried to think about whether that bothered him, but he was distracted by the girl's inner thighs as she hopped on the sink counter and spread her legs. Slight bulges just past her labia. Like fingers crooking, beckoning: come on in. His cock strained toward that cunt as if by its own accord. He advanced on her slowly, but her heels hooked his back and pulled him at her. She grabbed his prick like it was a doorknob and pushed it into her, letting out a low moan, forcing him into her with her heels. "Yeah," she had said, "that's good, that's real good, as good as that motherfucker's cock felt in that slut, yeah, fuck me, fuck me good, I'll get that motherfucker back, you're doing it to me, my cunt's my own, and I'll fuck whoever I please, whenever I want, if he's going to fuck his own little slut nymphos, yeah, push it in, yeah, fuck me..." Her pants got rapid, and his began spasmotically jerking into her; he let himself stop thinking about doing a good job. It was clear that her satisfaction wasn't coming from being well laid. The act of fucking was enough. So fuck he did, pushing his rod into her at angles that stimulated him best. He held onto her hips and pushed her twat onto his prong like he wished he could do with his wife, Alice, but didn't dare. He pinched her tits, made her gasp as he squeezed. Alice wouldn't like that, would tell him he was hurting her. But that coed, that day, had stopped being a threat. She had wanted to be just a body to him, since he was just a cock to her. And it changed the feeling of the orgasm. His jism spouted hard, into her alien cunt, filling crevices around a cervix he'd never felt and never would feel again, into a slippery quim existing for its own sake. To be fucked and receive whatever it wanted. He watched them both in the mirror, her back arched to receive him, his face reddened by the exertion. And then the door opened. A fat fifty-year old woman, clearly Bible Belt material, pushed open the door. She looked down at the joining of their two bodies, pubic hair entwined, two inches of Larry's shaft visible, the smell of musk and juices thick in the air, and the woman stared. Larry's come couldn't be stopped, and he spurted into her hard. The woman continued staring, as if mesmerized, her breathing shallow, her eyes wide. She held the door open with her hand one moment longer, before suddenly letting fly an ear- piercing scream. Instantly Larry and the girl's feet were on the floor, Larry's cock still dripping jism. Pantyhose and shoes quickly retrieved, the girl and Larry ran past the gasping woman, past aghast lunchers stopping in mid-bite as the two fled, Larry hitching up his pants as his legs pumped. They had split up at the door; he never saw her again. Now, walking toward the post office on the surprise errand, Larry smiled at the memory, and noticed his cock was semihard, amplified by needing to piss. He thought about finding a restaurant or something, but they'd become pretty sticky about non-customers using their bathrooms in most of the cafes in the city. And there were no McDonald's around. He passed an alley, and on an impulse turned into it. Off the alley, twenty feet back, he found a miniature alley between buildings, littered with MD 20-20 and beer bottles. He unzipped his pants to relieve himself. "Everytime I see you, you have your cock hanging out," the woman's voice said from behind him. This time, he didn't turn more than just his head. It was the vampirish woman from the night before, this time dressed in a black and nightblue jumpsuit. Larry's first reaction was one of irritation, but then he realized who was speaking. He had almost begun to piss, and stopping was painful. Yet the pain wasn't all that bad; he was already excited from his replay of his memory of the woman in the cafe, and now the memory of the night before superceded it. Seeing her in daylight let him realize just how darkly beautiful she was. Lips a dark magenta, eyes so brown as to seem black. Her hips were small, but well muscled. Thin waist, and pert little tits which had once been firm and nearly nonexistent, but had been womanized into breasts by experience. Her feet were encased in black half-boots with stilletto heels. "Didn't I tell you," she said, "that your cock was mine whenever I wanted it?" He smiled, nodded, and let loose his piss, amused at the irony. "" she commanded, and Larry was so surprised that he stopped. His urethra burned. "Good boy," she purred. "You may piss now." He didn't particularly care for being told when to piss, but he had to piss so badly he let loose, spraying the wall. "You can piss farther than you can come," she stated. "This time, though, we're going to put that little pisser of yours to good use." Paganini's Tale, Chapter 5 Alice sounded something like a washing machine: the squish- squish, the moan-grunt, moan-grunt of the agitator, over and over, as she felt the thick bludgeon of her lover's prick shoving in and out of her sopping cunt. Wet she certainly well, thanks to Maddy, whose memory and taste still lingered about her, even as her nose rubbed back and forth along the crevice of the passenger seat of her Ciera. She had been wet enough for him to take a dollop of her juices and smear it across her lips, wet enough that his broad tool slipped in like a stiff snake. Still he hadn't spoken more than the once, when he'd said "Good. You're ready." And then he proceeded to thrust himself in her. Much as he was thrusting into her now, smoothly, in a repetitive, unhurried motion of certain conclusion. Her bare ass rode high, pushing almost down onto him, as her tits rubbed against the elbowrest between the seats. Her moaning came stronger now, faster, a lustlanguage mixed in with words: "Unh..nh...God...ohnhhhn, God, yes...sSss...Unhnn...Ohnn...Oh GOD god yes..." She clenched her fists, held them to her head, hit the seat beneath her. Her voice was loud, and she didn't care, there was no longer a party where someone might hear. She was in her car, in an alley, where she could grunt and groan as loudly as she wanted. So her voice rose, the vibrations in her throat in rhythm with the pounding in and out of her cunt, each sound resonating with each thrust, amplifying it. She raised up on her fists, on her knees, never losing him, never looking back. Though she'd never been told explicitly, still it was clear that she was not to look at him. This was to be a nameless fuck, someone else entirely, a fantasy, even though she could tell by the skill and confidence he showed that it was the same hard prick that sent her reeling the night before. She rocked now with her whole body, up and back, her focus on the armrest on the passenger door. Her hip bumped against the cold steering wheel, and the chill shocked her, blended into the well of pleasure that was rising deep inside her. Across from her, she realized was a doodrway leading into whatever tenement building the alley cut past. In the window of that old, flecked-paint and iron-knobbed door was the face of a young boy. From the height, and the face, Alice could see even in her orgasmic delerium that the boy was no less than 15, no more than eighteen. His eyes were wide, clearly fascinated by what he was seeing. After the first shock, Alice decided to not think about the boy. She couldn't do anything to stop it; she wasn't going to stop the thick sausage from continuing its slow, delicious pace. There was nothing to do but continue. So continue she did, the pleasure something heightened by its exhibitionism. She almost wished she could give the boy a close-up of her twat lips caressing the slick shaft sliding in between them, into that dark heated cavern awash with all the juices she could muster. She concentrated on tightening those lips, and the muscles inside her sheath, which sent a thrill into her thighs, up her intestines, into her lungs. She began to come, slowly, as if ascending one of those Aztec pyramids comprised entirely of steps, one by one, rising in little chunks up, no single step, no single stroke, taking her over the top, but each step leading her higher than the one before it, still somehow rising upwards toward the clouds, each step up bringing her closer to the end. Then her cunt clamped down solid; even his thick battering ram slowed its rhythm, but the friction was so much the greater that it pushed her up now two steps at a time, until finally she reached the top of the pyramid, the place of the sun, and revelled in the brightness and the heat. Her cunt was afire with pleasure, and she cried out long and plaintively, a near howl of joy. Then he stopped, abruptly, like he had the night before, waiting for her to want it badly. "God, don't stop, give it to me, don't wait..." And she could feel the fires dimming, as her peak passed, and she could feel her nipples humming, waiting for stimulation even still. Then suddenly his cock rocketed into her again, and this time the rhythm was a must faster tempo, and her body began to dance. She felt him gripping her hips, grabbing the nape of her neck, ramming her body back against his cock. Now her groan were higher up in her throat, a high-pitched whimper of surprise. He continued the same motion, up, around, then out and down, but now much faster. Her thick clitoris was learning the new dance, and was ready for each grind. Again she peaked, this time with shrieks ripping from her throat, timed for each invasion of her cunt with his cock. And then once again, finally, abruptly, he stopped again. Alice desperately pleaded with him, "No, not yet, don't stop yet, yes, give me more, I need more," and she twisted and pushed her cunt and ass at him, trying to get a purchase on that prick, pulling hin with her cunt. But he kept just the head in, tantalizingly, waiting as if for some magic word to spill from her lips. "God dammit, I can't wait, I want it now, I want it now, please, fuck me with it, fuck me now...." She could feel motion behind her, but only as if he had moved his arms. Then she discovered what he had been doing, for the door across the allley opened and the boy (sixteen? she thought) peeked out. She could hear muffled voices, and the boy stayed put, the bulge in his dirty pants like a cucumber in his pocket. Standing stock-still, the boy unzipped his pants. Alice could pay no attention to the boy's face; she could look only at the slow striptease. For a brief moment she thought he was going to join them, but then realized that her man had told him otherwise, for the boy simply let loose his stiff cock and began stroking it. Alice's man began fucking her in earnest now, a jackhammer pacing she hadn't thought possible for more than short bursts, but his continued on for ten seconds, twenty, a minute, three... Alice became completely consumed in the act of fucking, for nothing existed except the cock behind her and the cock ten feet away, and her breasts knocking against the emergency brake, and the throbbing knob of clitoris that with every downstroke was rubbed by the thick base of his pole. She saw milky seed jet out of the boy's handsome tool, arcing in the air, landing several feet from the car, and Alice herself began coming, pulsating as if in a heartbeat, pounding out a beat she scarcely knew but could play by heart; her body became once again like a marionnette's, this time held up not by her man's hand, but by his thick, ramming cock. She jerked and jumped as if crawling on marbles, and her screams she couldn't hear, for she was too far away. Shen she came to, the boy was gone, the door shut, and her own man nowhere to be seen. The sun was bright in the alley; the garbage was well lit. Her cunt still oozed cum and juices like an overripe peach, throbbing with every motion. She pulled down her skirt, then stepped into the underwear she retrieved from the glove box. From some open window above she could hear music playing, and realized that most anyone with an open window must surely have heard her moans and screams, and either ignored them or masturbated to them. She smiled; lots of people must have had a good time. With short squeal of her tires she began backing out of the alley. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 6 The woman had led him up the sidewalk, hips undulating in figure eights from her stiletto heels. The leather creased like a second skin; Larry followed without really thinking, nearly mesmerized by her movements, imagining those hips writhing as she lowered herself onto his cock. Where she was leading him he didn't know, but she was walking with purpose. Wordless, striding, she looked back not once, certain that he was following, or as if she didn't much care either way. Past the sidewalk salesmen, past the Rooms for Rent, past the used furniture store, she led him swiftly. Larry was getting hot from the sun, and the sweat was making his suit stick to him. The woman's erotic appeal would soon wane, he knew, if he got miserable enough. She was still exciting at this point, and he knew himself well enough to know that she'd better hurry and find a destination. She passed up the "Rooms for Rent--Nap Rates." It surprised him, disappointed him. What was he following her for? he wondered. For hot, illicit, nasty sex, he reminded himself, and knew that if he had to remind himself, then the need for hurry was even greater. His car was receding further and further, and he was parked in a no-parking zone. What if he got a ticket? What if he was towed? He could just imagine explaining it to Alice.... The woman stopped abruptly, and Larry almost careened into her. Above them hung a hand-painted sign: "Books 8mm Vids Mags All XXX." She smiled at him. "You may leave now or follow me in." Then she turned toward the door and entered. For a brief moment he even considered it; but then he thought better, and felt the cool air of the air-conditioned business wisp out from the closing door, and strode in with scarcely a thought at who might be seeing him enter. The cool air struck him first, sending chills from his cheeks to his chest. He loosened his tie, surprised that he hadn't done it before, while following the woman toward the booths. She seemed to nod hello to the proprietor; was that a smirk the man had? Did she do this often? It didn't matter anymore; the charged sexual air of the place was entering his skin. Racks of magazines lined the walls: thick cocks deep-throated by big-titted women, pink cunts enveloping pricks, tongues and asses and breasts all in living color, all eyes looking right at him as he passed, inviting him to stop, to look, to open, to buy. But he didn't need to buy; she was walking ahead of him, all the steamy sultry sluttiness of cunt wanting cock waited for him. "Get some quarters," she said over her shoulder. He stopped to get change from the man behind the counter. Then he walked to where she waited, in front of a booth whose display he didn't see, for she pulled him in and shut the door. The coins still clinked in his hand, and she softly unbent his fingers and pulled three free, dropping them in one, two, three, and the film began to roll. A blonde with wide hips, big jugs, and white-blonde hair sat naked in a director's chair, surrounded by plants and a table, sipping white wine from a large goblet. Another woman entered, dressed as a maid, white frills, black bodice, white apron, black leather block-heeled shoes, and atop brunette hair, a white cornice. She carried a tray with wine and cheese upon it, and entered hesitantly. Larry's cock was already out, pulled by the gentle fingers of the woman in black. She sat him down in the little stool, then crouched between his spread knees. The zipper snagged at the base of his stiffening prick, so he pulled his pants down to his ankles with her help. The big-titted woman instructed the maid to bring the cheese to her and set it down beside her. The maid, almost cowering, did, and as she lowered the tray, bending at the waist, the sitting woman reached out a hand and patted the maid's ass approvingly. "Join me in some wine," she said, "but first take off the apron." "Yes, miss," the brunette whispered, and with the faintest hint of a smile, untied the apron and let it drop to the floor, then brazenly stared the woman in the eye. "Is there anything else mistress would have me do?" Larry gasped as the woman took his cock in both hands and squeezed hard. He could feel her hot breath on the head, and ached for the feel of a tongue, lips, anything soft. But the woman would have none of that; she backed away as he jutted his hips out to make contact. Her breath was still hot, though, and her hands held firm. It was as if she was letting her own heartbeat in her hands be the stimulation; he was sure he could feel it. "Bend over," the mistress said. "and pull down your panties. Then put your hands behind your back." The brunette did, and the camera did a close-up on the woman's white ass, the cuntlips peeking through crisp brown hairs. Then a close-up of her hands being bound by the strings of her apron. Crossed, behind her back, her fingers grasping in motions precisely what masturbation would look like without the cunt. The maid moaned breathily. "Oh, mistress..." Larry, absorbed in the film, hadn't realized that his hands were being tied by some strip of leather, even as they played with the woman's tits. He was shocked, for he'd never in his life been bound. For a moment he resisted, and when he did, the woman took her hands away and stood back. "You must give yourself without argument if you want to come," she said. The grunts and moans of lust pushed from the speaker, and the maid's cunt was being invaded first by two, then by three fingers, slick and juicier each stroke. Larry pulled his eyes away and looked at his mystery woman. She stood, arms crossed, weight on one hip, skirt already curled into its top, showing off her bare cunt bordered by the white garters. Her entire posture stated to him defiantly: "You want it. Work for it." He offered his wrists, still draped in loose coils of black leather, to her to be tied. She smiled almost cynically and resumed her tying. Larry's cock strained out at the empty air. Now the blonde mistress was mashing her maid's mouth onto her cunt, whispering her on with demands: "Yes, suck my cunt, stick that tongue deep into my channel, ah, my little harlot, yes, stick it in, my slut, you do just as I ask, and you love it, don't you, my little wanton, yes, you love it, suck me harder, pull on my clit, there, yes, suck it..." "Stand up," Larry's mistress commanded, and he did. She got behind him. "Put your hands to your chest." She reached around and pulled the long loose ends around to his back, cinched them tight, and tied him off. He couldn't move his arms more than to flex his muscles, move his elbows a bit. "Sit down," she commanded, and he sat. "On the floor," she said, and he did. Then she moved toward him, cunt first. His head was right at twat-level, and he knew what was coming. He opened his mouth. Her legs covered his ears, and he could only mutedly hear the sounds of the film; he couldn't tell what was the movie and what was the woman's voice. But her cunt swung like a circular pendulum upon his mouth, grinding down on his lips and teeth, forcing his nose into her thick black pubic hair. She smelled musky, with the faint hint of leather. Around and around she ground, until with a thigh-tightening shudder, came with a groan. Then down she dropped, unerringly aimed at his stiff cock, but rubbing down his clenched fists, dragging her cunt along the leather straps, pushing against his elbow, until his erection was rewarded for its long wait by being swallowed in the warm heat of her cunt. Above her head Larry could see the two women on the floor; the maid's hands were still tied behind her, and the blonde mistress had an immense double dong sliding back and forth in between their spread legs, plunging into the maid's cunt while sliding out of the blonde's, then sinking into the blonde's cunt and out of the moaning maid. He let out his own moans, straining against the leather bonds, tightening muscles just to feel the straps cut into his arms. The woman slammed down on him like he was a piece of erotic furniture, like his cock was a phallic pole that he had heard the Pompeiians had: chairs for women guests which had a prong of marble sticking out, aimed right at the guest's cunt. Happy parties they must have had then. And his prick at that moment felt hard as marble, like a thing apart from him, like a casing over his shaft. "I like my prick," she whispered in his ear. "Your prick is mine, and I like it very much. I fuck myself well with it. I'm fucking it now, now, and..." and her speed increased, she bucked on top of him and shook her tits within her blouse, throwing back her head and wrenching out a gutteral cry. The sound resonated in his ear, and he felt the pressure inside him finding a release, as if a force had found a weakness in the body's defenses, and it wormed its way higher and higher in his burning prick, building up pressure as it snaked into his urethra like oil pushing up through that first well's piping, which lets out a gusher of thick come deep into the woman's clutching cunt. The door went black as the three quarters ran out, the last image one of the maid sucking the double-dong as it still filled the blonde's pussy. Larry's breath was ragged, and his cock was on fire. The woman reached behind him and pulled the leather ends free, untying a bow. She stood. "Carry that thong with you always. I will use it next time. Until then," she said, and kissed him briefly on the lips. Then she was out the door, and Larry sat still on the floor of the booth, looking at his still-dribbling cock. He let out a long, satisfied sigh, then proceeded to unravel the black thong from his wrists. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 7 Alice was watching television, sitting in her small, fully cushioned chair, when the phone rang. Larry answered it, and so Alice turned back to the show. Several moments later Larry appeared in the doorway to the tv room. "It's a survey. Wants to talk with the lady of the house." Alice laughed, heh-heh, at the non-humor. But things were so tense with Larry recently, worse than normal. She wondered if it were all in her head, that she was creating the tension, the vague insecurities. Larry sometimes seemed so oblivious; perhaps he wasn't even picking up her stiffness. So often he seemed almost aloof, as if he was in a world of his own. She picked up the receiver: "Hello?" The voice still resonated, still sent chills into her sinews and joints. "Your husband was very helpful. Now comes the real message. Tomorrow as soon as you get off work you are to walk to the Gold Coin Hotel, down on 58th Ave. The desk man has your key. You will go to the room and strip naked. Lay across the brass frame at the foot, hips on the metal. Spread your arms out. Feel the cold metal on your stomach, think about what you will experience. Do not turn on the light. Keep the shades drawn. Face away from the door. I will enter and ask you some questions. You will not be free to look at me, but will be free to leave at any time. If you fail to arrive..." Alice nodded mutely to the phone. She knew what that meant. She caught Larry watching her out of the corner of her eye, and nodded again. "That's right, Ivory Liquid. And Cascade in the dishwasher. Yes." She paused, for effect. "That's right. Good- bye." As she hung up the receiver, Larry strolled through the living room as if on his way to the kitchen. "Kitchen products, eh? He asked me about films I'd seen recently." Alice smiled (could he feel her tension?) and laughed (did the laugh sound forced?), then said "Sounds like he's one efficient phone surveyor." Then she laughed again. "Remember when we were doing phone work for that candidate? What was his name?" "Paxton," Larry said, and grinned. "I remember the lunches better than the work." She smiled back. They had found a secluded nook between buildings where they would often spend twenty minutes of their half-hour lunch screwing themselves silly. "Those were some times, weren't they?" Larry sat beside her. "That they were." There was a wistfulness in his words; a melancholy. Those days, they had been passionate. What had changed? Their own sex had become so mechanical, as if they'd done it all before, and were now practicing their form. The spirit had been lost. They both knew it, but didn't speak it. They sat in silence for a time, holding hands. Alice thought about what the man had said on the phone. She really had little to remember, and she was glad she didn't have to write something down. It was all so exciting, this illicit affair, though she knew that if it continued much longer she was bound to get caught. Imagine him, calling her at home! It meant to her that this affair was destined to be short-lived, and that was all right. What it was for her now was an exciting interlude so totally removed from her normal life that it took on rules of its own. Larry sat with Alice's hand in his and wished he knew what had sapped the strength from their mutual loins. When they screwed it lasted only as long as it took for each of them to get off. Nothing lingered, nothing lasted. Nothing like the black-haired woman wringing him out like a washrag from the tub. He remembered how she stroked him this afternoon, slowly, in gentle increments, designed not to make him come fast, but gradually warm to the heat of lust. He had been very satisfied. He still wasn't sure about the dominance stuff, but was willing to go along with it for awhile longer, since it was certainly unusual. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 8 Behind the counter was a ferret-faced man who leered at Alice as she inquired about a reservation. Not knowing what her lover's name was, she had asked for a reservation in her name. "Just a nap rate, eh? Well, look, lady, if you think you'll be doing this a lot, then lemme know, maybe we can work something out where like you don't have to pay as much for the rental. And look, sugar, if you're new at this, you usually get your trick to pay for the room." "But I'm not..." she began, but he cut her off. "Right, sure, you're going to have a little nap in the room. Unh-hunh. An I'm built like Johnny Wadd. Don't worry, sister, your secret's safe with me." His voice sounded disdainful. "That'll be twenty bucks." He held out his hand. Alice felt mortified. She was blushing, she was sure, from her eyebrows to her cleavage, and then some. To be mistaken for a prostitute, it seemed absurd. But perhaps that was the appeal--the nameless, faceless sex of The Business. Except her profit in this was pleasure, not dollars. How different am I, Alice mused, as she walked toward the scratched doors of the elevator, from who I think I am? Am I just a cunt to him? Am I just a whore? Or something else.... He seemed to enjoy the game as much as the sex. He didn't seem to be playing just for his own pleasure, either. The man wanted her to come hard, as many times as he could make her. Her cunt tingled as she thought of what was to waiting. The elevator doors opened, and Alice stepped in. As the doors closed, she thought she could see a man as tall as the man from the party entering the hotel. It was funny that she couldn't remember, really, what he looked like. She knew he wasn't skinny, could remember that he was not overly tall, and swarthy, but that was about all. She couldn't remember his face, couldn't envision his eyes. Yet her cunt remembered him, as did her tits, and her mouth. She wondered when she would be allowed to see him. The elevator stopped at her floor, and she got off, scanning the doors for numbers: 301, 303, 302, and she picked up her pace, knowing she would have to find 327. The place might be bigger than she imagined. A scream brought her to an abrupt halt, ears perked to pick up the next sound. Adrenaline coursed through her--what was this place? Then another scream, this one clearly not a scream of pain. Coming from the room off to her right. Almost on tiptoe, she approached, listening. Underneath, almost an to the rhythmic screams, was the coarse grunts of the man doing the fucking. Alice imagined them thus: a short, squat man pumping a woman from behind. Her wrists were tied to the desk chair, and her white ass rose up so high on her long legs that the short man had to stand on his toes to get his short, fat cock into the dark-haired woman's slushy quim. He imagined his broad hands pinching the woman's nipples at just the right moments, causing the screams. She became suddenly conscious that she was listening to another couple without their permission, and felt as embarassed as she was aroused by the sounds; she moved on. Finally she arrived at 327, and unlocked the door with the shiny key. It was a corner room, but the shades were drawn. Inside the air was no cooler than the hall; she had somehow expected that like the highway hotels she had stayed at, the rooms were individually air conditioned. But no such luck. She could already feel the sweat building on the sides of her breasts, the roundness of her tummy, the flesh of her loins. This was going to be a sweaty fuck. Alice wasted no time getting undressed. Beyond a moment's consideration, she felt no false modesty. I've paid for the ticket, she told herself, so let's go for a ride. The buttons on her blouse quickly came undone, and she slipped it off and laid it carefully on the blonde-wood desk gathering dust in the corner. Next came her sensible shoes, then her skirt, beneath which she had secreted her gartered hose. Years ago Larry had bought them for her as almost a gag; she'd worn them once with him that birthday night, then put them away as being just a bit too contrived. But now, as she slipped off the skirt and felt the cool air rushing around her bare thighs and exposed pubic hair, she was very glad she had them. Without underwear, she could see in the dresser mirror the black patch of hair covering her sopping cunt. One hand snuck down to her crotch as the other loosened her braw straps. A quick dip with one finger confirmed what she already knew: her slit was juicy as an overripe peach. Then, watching herself in the mirror, she unsnapped her braw and let her tits bounce as they were set free. In the garter belt, stockings, and nothing else, she looked like what she felt like: a wanton slut who just wanted to get laid. Her breath was coming raggedly now, and she gazed at the bed, imagining what would happen there. The frame had bars like a prison cell on either end, brass rail arcing over the vertical bars, perhaps five inches above the mattress at the end, much more at the head. He had instructed her to lay across the rail with her hips making the corner, head facing away from the door, arms out. She walked to the bed, imagination filling her mind with visions of thick cocks pushing toward her, strong hands directing her body toward whatever ends he wanted. She knew she was giving herself up to him, for this time, totally. For as long as she was in this room, she would do whatever he told her to do. She could leave now if she wanted, she thought as she leaned over the bed, felt the cold metal against her soft hip-flesh. But that, she admitted to herself as she spread her arms wide, face toward the window, was unthinkable. Her cunt throbbed, her clitoris ached with desire, and desire breaks down all thought. She waited in that position for what seemed like half an hour, not daring to get up lest he enter at that moment, discover her not in the position he instructed, and turn around to leave. She envisioned the scenario then: begging for him to stay, pulling him back, going down on her knees both to beg and to suck his cock, to prove to him her desire. Finally, though, she heard the door unlatch, and supressed the urge to turn and look at him. For a brief moment she was afraid it wasn't him, but was someone else who would know a good thing when he saw it. But then she heard his voice: "Good girl," he said quietly. "Everything is as I instructed. Now you will listen to me. You will be free at any time to leave." Alice could hear the clinking sound of his coin-filled pockets falling past his knees, the rustle of his shirt as it came off. She bit her lower lip, and pushed her breasts against the rough fabric of the bed cover. A hand touched her bottom, stroking downward and inward, almost brushing some stray cunthairs. Chills streaked through her, and she shuddered. "I will first tie your legs to the legs of the bed. Spread them for me." She swallowed, then did. His hand materialized on her cunt as if the act of spreading her legs had brought it up to those lips. His middle finger caressed her cuntal lips without entering. She could feel cool fabric looping around her ankle. Still she did not move, though the hand pulled back. "I tie you so you will give yourself utterly to me. Without control of your limbs, you have no responsibilities. I will be fucking you. You will not touch my cock unless I let you. Nor will your tongue wrap itself around my shaft unless I let you." The first ankle was tied now, and his hand came back to her twat. "I will not hurt you. Perhaps later, if you ask me, I will spank you; if not today, then perhaps next weekend, or next month, or whenever I choose to see you next. That will be your choice." Her left ankle was now tied down as well. She experimented with trying to move her legs back together, but after half an inch apiece, she discovered that her legs were immobile. She let out a low whimper, and again ground her tits into the knobby bedcover. "I will now blindfold you. Do not attempt to resist." A broad blue strip of silk was passed in front of her face, then wrapped tight around her eyes. In the knot behind her head, some strands of hair got caught, and the pulling brought tears to her eyes. "I will now tie your wrists. Once that is done," he continued, as he looped the cool silk around her wrists, "you will be completely in my power. I will fuck you once in your hot, slick cunt, until we both come. Then I will have you suck me to another hard, and then I will fuck you in the ass. You will come at least once as I ream you there. Then I will either untie you or I will leave, and tell Alan downstairs that you need to be untied. How pleased I am will determine that decision." It was a warning she couldn't ignore. Now that her wrists were bound to the bedframe, she was completely helpless, and she knew that he could very easily bring in the Green Bay Packers to take turns fucking her. But she trusted that he wouldn't do that, since she expected to please him. Would do whatever he wanted, to please him. Because she knew she would come harder than she'd ever come before. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 9 Though she knew it was fruitless, she tried wrinkling her brow and nose to get a small crack of light through the blindfold. Nothing doing: she could see nothing but blackness, though she strained her eyes. Her fingers felt the bindings that she knew reached from her wrists to the bedframe's head. Smooth, cool, probably silk. They didn't hurt, surprisingly. Tight enough to hold her, but not so tight that she would need to worry about lack of circulation. But she could not move her arms more than a few inches laterally. With an almost academic curiosity, she continued testing her bonds; never had she been bound. A week ago she would have told her closest friend that she had no interest in ever even trying it. Today, this hot afternoon, knowing what awaited her, the bonds were electrically erotic. From her bound wrists she could almost feel juices seeping into her, juices that filled her up and needed a release. From her ankles, held fast by the ties beneath her, she felt the firm pressure almost as if they were hands clutching at her, demanding her complete abandonment of everything she would call civilized. "Let go," they said to her, in tactile chants, like tribal songs of exotic bushmen, and darker: "Prepare, for you have no choice." Her legs shivered from the call, as her muscles heard the cries and prepared. His fingertips maddeningly stroked the outsides of her legs, and the muscles twitched, attending to a different primal song. Running up like elven feet over thighs, hips, dipping down to stroke the ridge of her smashed breasts, circling on her armpits, then departing. Like a red pen through a map, the path his fingertips had found tingled. Then, again: a slight touch, this time on the inner skin of her ass cheeks, just above her anus. No pressure, but still she could feel her sphincter subtly relaxing in preparation, involuntarily. Her body, she realized, was rapidly becoming not her own. She was just along for the ride. Again, his touch disappeared. She strained her ears for a clue of what he was doing, but there was nothing but his slow, measured breaths. Then something touching the hairs around her cunt. she thought, and strained against the bindings, trying to push her cunt against whatever it was. It stayed in exactly the same relationship to her cunt, tantalizingly close, but not quite touching her skin. She pulled on the restraints again, jerking back on them, saying "please, please, put something in, oh god, put something in my hot cunt, now, please..." His hand covered her mouth, and she felt his warm body on her back. His hard prick was a hot force pressing against her right asscheek. He hissed in her ear. "You must not make another sound, or I will gag you." His breath was hot in her ear. She bit her lip, mutely nodding. He pulled himself off her; the cold air rushed into where their bodies had touched. She shivered again, though not with cold. Again something touched the hairs, and she tried to remain immobile, to be completely passive, a lump of flesh - but discovered she absolutely could not. Her body took over, aching for touch, for contact, for release. She felt bloated with lust. She realized that what her body told her was right. He didn't want a slab of meat to fuck. He wanted a woman. But he wanted a woman completely. She could fuck back, she could do whatever she wanted, whatever she could. she thought to herself, almost removed from the hunger that set her cunt on fire. she thought. Then she could no longer ignore the gently increasing pressure on her cunt. Something was working its way in with a push so slow that her juices were soaking it with lubricant as it sank past her outer lips. she thought abstractly, and she arched her back in an attempt to push it farther in. She was sure it was a cock now, as the head slipped in. Well she remembered that thick head in her mouth; she licked the insides of her teeth, thinking about sucking him hard after he was through fucking her. In his cock went, stretching out her cuntwalls at an agonizing pace. Alice could feel the ridge of his cock-helmet springing past the ridges inside her own cunnie. He was so hard there was virtually no give to his prick. She could feel his thighs as they contacted hers, then tried to push back as his pelvis finished the final shove of his invasion. Her cervix jumped as if goosed. And she almost groaned, but held it back at the last moment. He was in fully now, and seemed to be letting his fat cock soak up the juices, pulling the power from the ties around her wrists and ankles, pulling the energy through them, using her body as a conduit. Down her arms, up her legs, meeting and focusing with her cunt as the nexus point. He pulled out suddenly, and thrust his prick in fast. She jumped, and could not stop the groan. Then she felt hands around her head, and something on her lips; her tongue snaked out to touch it, and lapped silk. "You will not stay quiet voluntarily. I am going to gag you. Now is your last chance to stop. If you refuse the gag, I will untie you and leave." He waited. Alice felt herself; felt her body stretched out on the bed, bent over the brass, ass in the air; she felt the nubby texture of the bedcover on her tits; she felt her lashes fluttering against the inside of the blindfold. She gripped the straps holding her wrists; felt his stiff cock enfolded by her hungry cunt. Then she nodded. The gag separated her lips, and she opened for it. The silk pulled the corners of her mouth against her teeth, and she adjusted, so the tightness was only on the corners. She bit down on the silk as he tied it behind her. Once the gag was tied, it was as though he had been set completely free. Immediately he began pumping his cock in and out of her at frightening speed. The bed rocked, squeaking as loudly as she had groaned, as loud as she was trying to groan, with each thrust. The pressure built inside her, and she tried again, through the gag, to release some of it with sound, but the grunts were too muffled, too contained, so the pressure simply built, the songs joined voices, and the echoes began in earnest. Her body rang like a forty-foot pipe organ fills a cathedral with sound, searching for an exit, seeking escape from the marble walls. The doors were shaking with the echoes, she could see them shaking, as if the music was pushing them out as a hurricane tried to push in, and her lithe body stiffened, legs straining against their ties, arms pulling against their restrictions, her body squeezing to help force open the doors, and the doors burst open, the rain and hail and dust from the hurricane rushed in as the pent-up echoes arced out through the opening, and she came screaming bluntedly into the gag, each breath a gutteral wrench, each thrust another explosion. Writhing helplessly in her bonds, she shuddered and shook like a minnow on a dock. His hands dug into her ass cheeks, holding her cunt tight against his crotch as he came. She could feel the pulsations of his cock spewing jism deep into her cunt, and that pushed her up once more, a dripping come like rain after a long hot day. But the rain did nothing to chill the heat of his spume. She could feel the driblets of cream seeping down her inner thighs, little gushes pushing out with each slow, after-cum pump he was giving her, and giving himself. Alice fought to catch her breath, still feeling the reverberations of lost echoes. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 10 Alice shook her head, astounded at the power she was feeling. He was lying on top of her now, his prick gradually deflating, slipping out of her sloppy cunt as it did. His skin was warm, and his breaths quick. She still couldn't believe it: she had come with such gut-twisting convulsions that now she felt she'd been tackled. But she was equally ready to get up and join the next play. He heaved himself up off her with a faint grunt, pulling free completely from her pussy. She listened closely, trying still to see through her blindfold. She could almost hear him moving beside the bed, then felt the vibration on her left arm's binding. She felt almost disappointed; she was being untied so soon. But then she felt his weight on the bed. Her free arm was pulled up and over, turning her on her side, still tied at three corners. It hurt her hips just a bit to be twisted that way, but not a pain she couldn't put up with. He untied her gag, and Alice knew immediately why, and opened her mouth. She lapped at the air, licking her lips around, moistening them to more easily slip around the cockhead that she knew awaited her. He teased her, touching her lips or her outstretched tongue with the very tip of his limp prick, still covered in their combined come. Alice could smell him, then could almost touch him, but he held his prick tantalizingly close without allowing her the satisfaction of engulfing it in her warm mouth. She wanted to clean it, suck off those juices, tumble his cock around in her mouth like a tootsie pop. Her free arm was up in the air, free not at all; he held the silk tightly above her, allowing her only a little head movement. She lunged toward his crotch, and caught the side of his prick between her lip-covered teeth; he groaned, and let her take it. At this stage it was small enough to fit completely into her mouth while still allowing her tongue room to move. Alice loved it. Exploring the flesh of the man controlling her thrilled her. He pushed his pelvis closer to her, rubbing her nose into his pubic hair. She could feel him thickening in her mouth, could feel the blood pulsing into his prick. Using her tongue, she pushed out all but his head, then sucked him back to her inner throat wall. Pushed him out, then pulled him back. Each suck brought back a beefier piece of meat. On the twelfth pull, he was firm enough to stay straight, and by the twentieth, his length began to gag her. Breathing through her nose helped, but she was still short of breath, and on one release gasped for air, pulling it around the outside of his hard shaft. He hissed his pleasure, and so she did it again, pulling him deep into the warmth and silky smoothness of her mouth, then pulling back a bit and streaming cold air around his pecker. "Now get it wet," he ordered her, and she stiffened up. Always, whenever Larry wanted to try anal intercourse, she got scared. She had gone along with it a couple of times, and though she was interested in what it made her feel, she couldn't help but stay tense all the way through. It hurt, and the pain was too distracting. "I said get it wet, Pull up spit and coat my cock with your saliva. I intend to fuck you up the ass slowly and with great relish, and without as much lubricant as possible, it will get painful. Slather that tongue of yours on my cock. Make me wet enough to slip into your ass easy." She pulled spit into the front of her mouth, then when his cockhead was presented to her, coated the helmet with as much saliva as she could leave. She felt a stray strand slap against her cheek as he pulled his cock away. she told herself, She smiled ruefully to herself: He replaced the gag around her mouth, retied her left wrist to the bed. Then he moved behind her. She tried to loosen her sphincter, but couldn't get it receptive. As if understanding her unspoken hesitation, he pushed one wet finger against the rim of the wrinkled brown hole. He massaged it gently, probing, sliding slowly more and more inside, reaming her out around and around, relaxing those ass walls. She involuntarily let out a groan, muffled by the gag. Something in her seemed to wake up. As her ass loosened, the last vestiges of responsibility dissolved. It was somehow more private even then being fucked, having his finger exploring the inside of her ass. She was giving him the freedom to invade wherever he wanted, and she was happy to oblige. The soft, bulbous head of his hard cock pushed beside his index finger, which was now in all the way to the knuckle. As he drew circles inside her intestines, she undulated on the bed, writhing under his directing finger. As his finger receded, it was replaced by the irresistable pressure of his hard prong pushing against her ass. She let go even more of her sphincter, and the chunky plum slipped in. He stayed still for a moment, allowing her ass to accomodate. She felt his hand reaching around his prick, smearing his own saliva on his shaft. Then those fingers found her cunt, and her buzzing clit. He began strumming her clit like a guitar, and as she grunted in response, pushed forward on his hard cock, forcing it another inch into her. Suddenly he jammed three fingers in her cunt, and the gag scarcely held back the shout she gave. Just after she reared up in response the the three-finger thrust, he pumped his hard cock deeply into her ass. Alice was overwhelmed. Never had she being fucked in the ass like this. She'd put up with it before, but now under- stood why some women actually wanted it regularly. With each thrust another barrier inside her melted, another wall came down. She discovered herself grunting like an animal, spinning her ass in little arcs to better feel his prick. She could feel him in ways her cunt couldn't; could feel the depth he was achieving with each thrust. Little screams escaped her every time he hit bottom. She thrust back as far as her binds sould let her. Gradually his pace quickened. Her asshole clutched at his prick, trying to draw him into her. His fingers left her cunt, and she barely noticed: all her attention was focused on the thorough reaming her ass was getting. His thighs began making slapping noises as they struck her ass cheeks. Alice was nearly delirious. The thrusts had stopped feeling separated from one another; it was as if she was being continuously fucked by one long long prick going inch by inch into her, foot by foot, yard by yard. she thought, and she felt like a balloon reaching the limits of its size. The pressure kept building, rising higher and higher, and for Alice nothing in the world existed except her ass being fucked and the building pressure. With piston-like speed he slammed into her chute, fucking her straight-on, his hips almost like hands spanking her even as they caressed her deep inside. Then with a gutteral yell he came, somehow thrusting into her even harder, deeper, and she began to come too, a rumbling like the sound the far side of a dirigible makes when it explodes, and she knew that as a passenger all she could do was wait for the explosion to reach where she waited. In great crashing peals of light and sound it came, she came, shuddering like a roadway in a long earthquake, feeling the wrinkles in her ripples straighten, stretch, break apart, and she was screaming as loud as her gag would allow, as much as he would allow, for she was shouting with all her strength, held back by the silk ribbons binding her wrists and ankles. Five more thrusts, while his prick was still hard, each more slow than the last, until finally he stopped. Then slowly pulled himself from her ass. She couldn't help think that it felt like she was shitting him out. Even soft, even soiled with her own shit, she still loved the feel of his dangling rod rubbing against her thighs as he caught his breath. Then suddenly he was off her. She could hear him putting on his clothes. Alice became frightened. Hadn't she pleased him? Was he going to tell Alan that there was a slut upstairs waiting to service him? In her charged state, she almost wanted that: a new, hard prick to fuck her some more sounded good right now. But then she caught herself, remembering what a ferrety, skinny man he was. She was relieved when she felt him untying her ankles. "I will now leave," he said as he untied the second ankle. "You should have no trouble untying your wrist once the tension is off. You will carry those silk scarves with you at all times from now on, so that I can use them on you whenever I want." Alice felt a chill of excitement that for a moment overpowered the deep satisfaction settling on her body. She nodded, still blindfolded, still bound. She heard his tread on the floor moving toward the door. She waited till he was out of the door before scooting herself up the bed so that her hands could reach her blindfold. Her cunt ached, her ass ached, but her body sang. Hands still tied, she looked down at the faint bruises on the front of her hips; it had been worth every drop of makeup she used to cover them. She had learned enough to willingly pay for any inconvenience resulting from her interludes with the mysterious man. She was clearly decided, now; he was a good man to be her master. She liked her role with him, even if it was politically incorrect. She liked being his slave, and tried to imagine what he would do with her next. Alice couldn't wait to find out. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 11 Larry's office was hardly an office at all, really; it was a small cubicle separated from other small cubicles by plasterboard dividers painted get-active colors, reds and royal blues. His at least, was in the corner, so he got a little extra space. Still, it had no door, only a doorway. He had his desk catty-wampus, angled to the corner, so he had scoot-back room; his desk formed the base of a triangle. He liked it that way; it made him feel more spacious, as if he was master of all he surveyed, such as it was: a calendar on the wall, the bulletin board tacked full of notations to himself, a pastel print, some degree-like certificates, a file cabinet. Through most of the day Larry made telephone calls and filled out forms. Occasionally he was called in to personally meet clients, but that was at most once a week. The little cubicle was home to him, almost more than home itself was. Again: such as it was. He was on the phone with a client, assuring her that the she would get those supplies when the intent money arrived, and that was policy, he couldn't do anything about it, she had understood that and he was sure she could understand that now. Then his doorway was filled by a black and lovely presence. He looked up and saw her standing cant-hipped, one arm up on the top of the barrier. "Get off the phone," she mouthed. Larry mumbled a few more words to the woman on the other end and then hung up, all the while looking his vampiress woman up and down. Tits high and small, today tightly wrapped in thin burgundy silk, above a black knee-length skirt. Her dark hair was curled in a pert businesswoman's flair, and she carried a briefcase. She looked on the outside like a member-in-good-standing of some relatively huge conglomerate, paying a visit to a business associate. Her dark eyes smoldered a different story. When the phone hit the cradle, she spoke clearly: "Mr. Montgomery, how nice to see you, do you have a few moments?" Larry cleared his throat, then manufactured: "Ms.... Ms. Bartles, what are you doing in this neck of the woods?" Then she came toward him, her step that of a panther's. She put a ruby-nailed hand on his desk. "So this is your office," she purred. "Somehow I'd pictured something like this. How correct." Larry couldn't tell whether she meant him or her. He decided she meant him. "It suits me," he said stiffly. "That it does," she said, and drifted her hands toward her stomach, drawing long, slow circles around her navel. The red nails mesmerized Larry for a moment as he watched them circling, circling... then he watched her fingers move up to caress her budding nipples, just now poking out from beneath the silk. He glanced behind her; nobody in the corridor. The woman's other hand moved to the spot on her skirt that covered her cunt, Keeping her arm fixed, her fingers pushed in, creasing the fabric, pushing on her pussy lips. From behind, she would look like she was simply talking with Larry, since her briefcase was on his desk, not yet opened, but clearly being readied. He relaxed and enjoyed the show, enjoyed knowing that the risk of being noticed was slim, and that even if it was, most of the other people on the floor were men, and would simply be jealous of this exquisite woman touching herself in front of him. But then she got serious. She began to pull up the front of her skirt, inch by inch, gathering it in her hand just above desk level, pulling it up in such a way that her fingers pushed at her cunt with each fold. Her other hand was now busy at her tits, pinching her left nipple, rolling it through the fabric, pushing the firm flesh hither and yon. Even from behind, nobody could mistake what was happening. It was no longer something that Jack or Wayne would smirk at; they would have to talk about it. What if Mr. Higgins walked by? What could he possibly think that wouldn't damage his chances of promotion? Jesus, he thought, I could lose my job! "Look," he began to say, but she cut him off. "Shut up. Scoot back in your seat." "Now wait just a minute..." "If you don't I'll simply continue. There's nothing you can do to stop me that wouldn't cause more trouble than following my instructions." Larry was indignant. "Just because of what we did together," he whispered, "doesn't give you the right..." She was smiling wickedly. Her fingers began again pulling up her skirt, the bunch of folds clearly rubbing against her cunt lips. He was angry at his hardening cock. He could imagine the scenarios. What could he do? Call her crazy? Haul her out of here physically? certainly wouldn't go unnoticed. He could find no way out. His cock wished it could find way out of his constricting underwear. He readjusted his seating. "Just push back in your seat," she said in satin tones, and I'll take care of that cock of mine." She moved to the side of the desk. As Larry looked to the corridor, she slipped behind it. She got down to her knees. He scooted back. She moved into the knee-hole of the desk, backing in without taking her dark eyes off his. Grabbing his calves, she rolled his chair back toward her. She unzipped his pants gradually, stroking his bulge as she did. He took a deep breath, keeping his eye on the corridor. Then he realized that only a very sharp eye could possibly catch what was going on beneath his desk, which reached almost to the floor. And her skirt, which hid her legs, was black as shadow. As long as he kept his face impassive and looked like he was working, nobody would bother him. So as her delicate fingers wormed between the waistband of his underwear and his skin to haul out his erection, he picked up a pen and brought it to his lips, as if thinking about the report in front of him. His cock, cooled by the air, swelled even stiffer, almost poking up past the level of the desk. He leaned forward to angle it downward just as she hauled it down the to face her. Her hands slipped up and down its length, grabbing shortly, then releasing. He bit the pen with each grasp. Then her fingers seemed to begin to move independently. Each finger became a butterfly, fluttering its wings against the tight skin of his shaft and shiny cockhead. He look down for a moment, watching her hands move like an accomplished violinist's. It was incredibly erotic. His cock seemed more hard than ever, since his pulse was racing, expecting at any minute for Mr. Higgins to walk in just to chat, as he sometimes did. He could be in here for twenty minutes then, with her fingers playing arpeggios on his prick. Yet she wouldn't seem to use her mouth. He wanted her to take it in her mouth, to tongue it warmly, slickly, to swallow his weapon of pleasure, but she wouldn't. He tried edging forward on the wheels of his chair, but she wouldn't take it in her mouth. Hip thrusts did nothing, since he was sitting down. Her fingers were nearly as good as her mouth, delicately tracing patterns of swirly dimensions on his prick. Almost he knew she wouldn't suck him, it made him want it all the more, made him want all the more. The skin of his cock almost hurt, it was pulled so tight. The purple head ached with pressure so great that he almost winced whenever her fingers would stroke it. Knowing he couldn't pretend concentration forever, Larry picked up the phone, pretending to listen to a client. His cock ached with an exquisite pain, a yearning so intense that it became almost orgasmic. She was now stroking circles on that head, like the laps of a tongue tip, yet dry, vaguely abrasive. He closed his eyes tightly, wincing, gripping the phone tightly, focusing on the sharp pleasure building like crystals in the pit of his stomach. When he opened his eyes, Winston was standing in the doorway, Panic struck Larry. Winston looked bemused, as if in on the joke. But then Larry realized that Winston must be thinking he had an wince-able client on the phone, and that Larry was stuck. He put his hand over the receiver of the phone. "This will take a little while," he mouthed, "I'll buzz you when I'm done." Winston smiled, nodded, and waved as he left. The adrenaline rush from the panic was helping put him over the edge: her fingers still danced lightly on the drum-tight flesh. He wanted contact so badly he was trying to buck without moving, damn whoever came by, he needed that touch. Each stroke became more and more painful, when suddenly she grabbed his cock with both hands and pumped up and down hard, milking his shaft with firm practiced hands. He was helpless before her. He fought it back, trying to stave off the orgasm, but her hands pulled it out of him almost effortlessly. She hissed in a breath through her teeth, and kept milking for a few more strokes, then tightly squeezed, solidly, while the afterconvulsions of orgasm rocked his body. He pushed back on the wheels of his chair, not quite out of reach of her grasp. Her face was dotted with jism, sparkling now that her face was in the light. She was smiling again, still wickedly. "That cock of mine did well," she whispered. Keeping hold of his softening tool with one hand, she used the other to wipe his cream from off her face, into her mouth; she sucked her finger, lapped it, mouthed it just as he wanted her to do to his cock. "My come tastes good," she said, "taste it." She wiped off a gob from her temple, then held her hand out of the cubbyhole. He looked stricken. Someone could see her hand. Quickly, he moved down to her hand, mouth open. When her finger was in his mouth, she crooked it, taking his cheek between finger and thumb. She pulled him down to her. "I can have my cock any time I want it. I have taken possession of it." She looked straight at him with dark black eyes. "You merely carry it around for me. Do you understand?" He surprised himself. Usually after coming he didn't give a shit about sex either way. Now, he cared very much. He could feel the beginnings of another hard stirring his prick. He nodded. "Good," she said. "Now scoot back so I can get out." He did, and she stood, swiftly moving to the front of the desk. Again her back was to the doorway. She put her hand on the briefcase, ruby- tipped fingernails slipping between handle and case. She smiled her smile again. "Until the next time I want it," she said. "Until then." Then she turned and walked out of the doorway, After a few numb minutes, Winston walked back in, saw his stricken face, and shook his head. "That bad, eh?" Larry looked up at him. "Yes," he said, slowly, "Quite a call. But you know how some people are." "Lunch?" Winston asked. Larry realized that his cock was still hanging out of his pants, luckily hidden by the desk. "No, I, uh, I've got to get a little more finished on this report. I guess I'll take a raincheck." "Okay," Winston smiled. "Next time." Paganini's Tale, Chapter 12 Alice stood in front of the refrigerator, hair still wet from the shower, contemplating food. Her legs were spread, because her cunt and ass both burned with a delicious heat from the workout that afternoon. Larry would be home soon, and while she wasn't expected to fix him supper, it was a nice gesture when something was laid out for the microwave. And somehow she wanted to be nice. She thought perhaps it was a way to stroke her guilt over her affair, yet the feeling was more wholesome than that. She felt forgiving toward him, ready to be acceptant. She pulled out the container of chicken teriyaki, dished two servings onto the plates, spooned rice from another container, and then put hers into the 'wave. Three minutes later it was steaming, and she sat down to watch "Wheel of Fortune reruns." During the second round she heard Larry's car pull into the driveway. She rose to greet him at the door. "Hi, hon," she said to him as she leaned forward to kiss him. He met her kiss. Tongues tentatively reached out, then tangled. "Hello," he said finally. "What a nice greeting." "Mmmmm," she replied. "Chicken's waiting in the kitchen." "I thought I's shower before dinner. Too hot out there today." "I just got out from mine. Hope there's enough hot water," she said sincerely; she'd luxuriated in its spray, touching herself everywhere she could remember her lover's caress. It was all new to her, this covert behavior, the cloak of secrecy. She'd never really considered an affair, much less one of these dimensions... Well she'd considered them, she admitted to herself, but not seriously. Only in the abstract, as something exciting somebody else does. Reading Larry's books and magazines when he was away, she had the sense of reading a tale of a foreign land, nowhere she'd ever visit. Yet here she was in her own home after having been tied down and royally fucked by what amounted to a perfect stranger. It was so shocking she couldn't help but smile. So out of character, so unlike the cooly efficient woman she was. Who would think she'd get jelly-jointed at the memory of straining at her bonds while his thick cock plunged into her--who but perhaps Maddy. To everyone else she was staid, predictably competent Alice, who wouldn't dream of such things. Yet she found she had been dreaming about them. Confinement had taken on a new meaning to her, and the fuzzy definition kept trying to clarify itself in her unconscious. A butterfly darting in beautiful patterns within a glass enclosure, she was in one recent dream. A windless space where she could truly test her wings, test her ability without having to compensate for gusts of disruptive breezes. She heard the water running upstairs, and could imagine Larry undressing as he waited for the hot water to rise from the basement heater. She leaned against the stove, her right hand toying with the square fold in the crotch of her tight jeans, just below her clit, pushing that little fold inward and up, the hardness chafing deliciously against her pussy lips. She remembered the ridge of her lover's thick cockhead strumming the top of her cunt opening as he dipped the purple helmet just barely in. Her fingers pressed harder, beginning a circling motion. She closed her eyes, imagining her lover's hands touching her intimately, caressingly, and her left hand moved up to cup her breast. She squeezed, and gripped her hardening nipple between thumb and forefinger, through her shirt; she rolled it back and forth, twisting, feeling the nerves wincing in the wrinkles of the fabric. She opened her eyes; the house was quiet, except for the water running for the shower upstairs. Setting her mind to notice when Larry shut off the shower, she pulled out the tail of her shirt so she could slip her hand beneath it. Her flesh was cool beneath her warm hands; she stroked the soft skin, circling her nipple with a trailing finger. She began breathing rapidly. Her cunt was warming to the pressure even more now, and she unsnapped, then unzipped them with tantalizing slowness, imagining her lover's hands performing the undressing. Her fingers moved into the forest of her pubes, pulling the hairs in pinchfulls, until finally a finger slipped into her moist slit. Abstractly, she heard the shower running, and wondered if Larry was pulling himself off. They hadn't had a good bout in the sack for months now, but at that moment his wet, naked body seemed attractive to her, just as she imagined her body would be for him. She felt alluring, with one hand in her cunt and another beneath her shirt. Round and round her middle finger went, circling the opening of her cunt, rising up to stroke her love button, moving down to caress her cunt again. A gentle rhythm revealed itself, and she went with the beat. Around twice, then on the upstroke, a twang on her clitoris, then again into her hot twat to swirl around in her cuntal fluids twice again, in almost a spiral, moving deeper into her quim. "Honey, are we out of sham...." Larry's voice echoed, then stopped; Alice's eyes flew open, and she saw Larry, skin dewdropped with water, a white towel loosely around his waist, bulging at his crotch. She saw the bulge twitch, and took a chance. "Screw the shampoo," she said slowly in a voice that sounded almost like her lover's to her. "Drop that towel and come fuck me. I want your hard prick inside my cunt. I want to wrap it in my hands and stuff you into me." With each word the bulge in the towel had gotten bigger. By the end, his prick was making a tent of the white fabric. Larry had never heard his wife talk like this, though he was not surprised it excited him. Seeing her unabashedly masturbating, gazing at his hardening prick with undisguised hunger, he didn't think twice. He dropped his grip on the towel, which fell to the floor. His hard-on bounced for a moment, then continued its upward climb. "Oooh," Alice breathed. "Bring it here. Bring that hard cock to me." Something clicked in Larry's head, and he played right back to her. "First tear off your shirt. Don't unbutton it. Tear it off those tits of yours." Alice smiled, and pulled her juice-covered hand from her tunnel, pulled her other hand from around her tit, grabbed her open neck, and pulled. Buttons spun away as her shirt flew open. She was glad she wasn't wearing a brassier, for her mounds felt the breeze, and her nipples stiffened even further, standing out like thimbles. Alice pushed her tits together, pointing them like eyes at Larry. "Here they are," she said, "just waiting for you. Come suck on them, lick them, then fuck my hot cunt." They both looked at each other, thinking how strange all this was. Their sex life had always been the utmost in normalcy. Larry thought that Alice would be offended, insulted, if he talked dirty to her, or was too graphic with her. Alice was afraid he'd think her a slut if she expressed more than a mild interest in sex. Now, as they faced each other, there was a frightening moment when both could have destroyed the other, by laughing, or by acting like it was all a pretense, a joke that hit too close to home. They looked at each other, the eight years they'd known each other passing before their eyes in clear contradiction to this erotically charged moment, a married lifetime of sexual protection and fear, and both stood paralyzed, afraid the other would laugh. Would sneer. Would destroy the other. But there was too much lust in their eyes for either to ignore. Larry took a breath, as did Alice, and they lunged at each other like two panthers fighting over a prize. Alice gripped Larry's naked buns to pull his hard prick against her lower stomach. Larry had one hand on a bare breast, the other on her butt, pulling for the same reason. Their mouths locked, tongues battling each other, trying for more depth, more contact, more stimulation. Alice moaned, moving one hand up to pull Larry's face to hers even more tightly. His face was rough, but his lips were strong and soft, his tongue, molten. He thrust against her stomach with is pelvis, pushing his hardness at her, feeling her jeans against his thighs. He broke away from her: "Take off your pants. I want to see that cunt of yours open. Open your cunt to me, spread your lips, I want to see your finger inside your cunt, and then I'll shove this hard prick into you." Alice smiled, relaxing still further; this wasn't so difficult. She never would have thought it possible, but here they were talking the language of lust to each other. "Yes," she said to him, backing away, pulling down her tight jeans and bikini underwear slowly, rolling her hips lewdly, as if backing onto a prick behind her. Then she was down on the kitchen floor, only the ragged, torn shirt on her body, legs bare and wide, and she pushed first one, then two, then three fingers into her cunt right in front of Larry, moaning as she did. Her cunt was brimfull with juices, sloppy and wet and she wanted more than what her fingers could do. "Oh god, Larry, stick that cock into me, I want you now, push it in me." Her legs were up in the air, and her free hand beckoned toward her twat. He moved down to the floor and put the swollen head of his prick against her embedded fingers. "Pull me in," he said, and she grabbed his prick with slick fingers and pulled him down into her. As he sank into her, she reached back to hold onto something, and found the broiler pan handle on the bottom of the stove. She held on as he began to pump, and imagined that her hands were tied to the stove, that she was helpless and willing, then realized that she hardly needed the fantasy; she willing, and could choose helplessness to her desire. His hard rod pistoned into her love channel, and she made mewling sounds, driving Larry to greater efforts: he pumped into her, changing his angle with each thrust, rubbing the tight skin of his prick against her cuntal walls. Each thrust felt new, as if it was the first dip into her pool, and he could feel the pressure building beneath his balls. "Yes, I'm fucking you now, aren't I?" he asked, "Yes, fucking you, and you're loving it. You like having my cock in your hot cunt, you want me to fuck you hard...." "Yes, fuck me, keep fucking me, I love that cock, give me all of it, shove it in, yes, fuck me, keep fucking me, fuck me, keep fucking me...." And her thighs clamped against his sides and she began to shudder and shake in a way Larry hadn't seen in six years; she jerked and bucked and through gritted teeth as she came, pulling out the broiler drawer with a great clatter, shoving it back in, screaming again, thrusting back against that hard pole that was nailing her down, pushing her to the floor. "God! Oh! Yes! Shit, fuck me, yes, fuck me, fuck me," and her voice went down to a hiss, sibilants essing out with each of his thrusts. "You're so hot," Larry whispered in her ear, "your cunt is hot and slick, you're coming for me, coming with me, you love being fucked, don't you, yes, you're my whore, my cunt, yes, you love it, god, I'm fucking you hard, fucking you..." The pressure beneath his balls increased; he could feel his jism building up, and didn't want to hold it off any longer. "I'm going to come inside you soon, I'm going to come in that hot cunt of yours, wide open, yes, wide open cunt, I'm coming, I'm coming...." Alice fell over another edge, and her cunt wall clamped down on his pistoning prick like a velvet vice, milking it, uncontrollably, as she came with him. He hollered out <"Yes! God, yes! Oh, fuck, yes!"> as he came, and her words echoed with his: "Yes, fuck me! Fuck me! Aaaaah! Yes! Yes!" Then Larry collapsed limply on top of her, lungs heaving, prick throbbing, throbbing as it slowly shrank out of her quim. They quietly held each other, still amazed at what had happened. Yet how could they talk about it? Did they need to? Alice's questions were answered when Larry snorted a chuckle. "Wow," he said, "and all I wanted was shampoo." They both laughed, the kissed each other as they rolled apart. "Dinner will have to be nuked again," she said. "Another explosion took its place." Paganini's Tale, Chapter 13 "Mine's been waking up; he's losing the context that closes him down." "Good," he said. "So has mine. Such ripeness, such sweet lust waiting to be unleashed. Such an exciting game. A certain conclusion, but exciting nonetheless." "I was certain of it," a third voice murmurs in the darkness. A rustle: a body shifting, then a second moving in accomodation. "You were right," the first woman's voice answers. "Both were just waiting to awaken. Two, perhaps three more scenes and anything we want they will want as well." "Mine would do that right now," the second voice rumbles pleasantly. "But then, women are naturally more erotic than men, wouldn't you agree?" The third voice purrs in reply: "Let's try again, and see." Paganini's Tale, chapter 14 As soon as she saw the envelope on her desk, she knew it wasn't part of the morning's mail. Pale white, like all envelopes, but there was no window with the firm's name in it, nor any return address. Simply "Alice" on the front, in block letters indistinguishable from that anybody else would make. Impersonal, untraceable. She felt excitement burble in her stomach in anticipation. Maddy had already returned from her break, and was sitting engrossed in updating the computer records. Alice knew that Madeline would soon find out what was inside the letter. After their session of lovemaking days ago, the two were now secret- sharers. For Alice, some friends were chat-partners, others were philosophy-traders, and the last, rare category was that which Maddy now fell into. Oddly enough, she and Alice hadn't much altered their behavior from the aftereffects of intimacy. Perhaps a few more touches, but not anything illicit. They smiled more now, had more warmth in their voices, but neither, as far as Alice could see, expected an affair to develop from the interlude. It was as if the sex they shared had been time out of time, separate from the events of mundane reality. Something like what she felt with the man she was fucking--or being fucked by, she corrected herself. The was what surprised her. Before the last week, sex had been an extension of the everyday. Now, even with Larry, she was able to be sexual in some manner that had no necessary connection to any routine she could recognize, and so seemed to have no effect on her self-definition. And Maddy seemed the same way. They might make love again, and Alice thought she might start it next time; she longed to taste Maddy's honey again, to savor the sultry sweetness lingeringly, sucking on her slick clitoris, lapping at the folded interiors of her soft cunt. But wanting to eat her didn't mean that Alice had to touch her, or speak romantically to her. All Alice felt required to do was be herself. It was refreshing. Just a it was refreshing to know that with easy intimacy, when Alice had read the new instructions, she could show the letter to her and laugh with shared knowledge; even with shared anticipation, since Maddy would also hear the details as well. The last time Alice had been only slightly graphic, growing increasingly so as it became clear that Maddy was enjoying it. She had felt a bit excited by using words like "thick cock" and "tits" and "aching cunt," and looked forward to trying out many more when she regaled Maddy, like Scheherezade, with the juicy tale of her . With a steady hand she reached for her letter opened and slit the seam of the envelope. Inside was a typed note: "You will go to Sears at 3:00 today. Walk through the lingerie, touch the fine silk, stroke the sleek softness made to excite the skin's nerves. Imagine yourself in them, being watched by ten men, undressing slowly, sensuously, in a strip tease for their eyes alone, without embarassment, without fear, a striptease in each of those silks, ten times, and each time you imagine it in a particular garment, I want you to touch that garment to one private place on your body. Imagine the men invading that spot, with fingers, cock, and tongue. Then go to the men's department at 3:24. At the suit rack, go to the corner without the mirror. Investigate a suit in the corner. Do not turn around when I approach you. You will be directed from there." Alice dropped the note on her desk. She looked at the desk clock: another hour until she got off, at noon. "Maddy," she said, surprising herself. "Have lunch with me. I want to eat you." Madeline looked up expectantly, as if Alice would laugh at the Freudian slip. She didn't. When Madeline realized that, her full lips curled into a smile. "I'll get myself prepared," she said, licking her lips and bringing a hand from the keyboard up to her left breast. She gave it a squeeze. Then she saw the note open in front of Alice. "A hot letter?" "Another set of instructions from my mystery lover," Alice replied. "He's directing my fantasies now. I think he'll be watching." "Watching where? Doing what?" Then Maddy laughed. "Not to pry, or anything." "Just a moment, and I'll tell you." She pushed a button on her phone. "Jerry, this is Alice. Maddy and I will be taking an early lunch if that's all right. We're caught up on today's work, and I stayed late yesterday..." She nodded to the receiver. "Oh, and I'll be locking the door, since we're both out. Can't be too careful." She nodded again. Then she wrote a quick note saying "M and A are at lunch. Back 12:15. She took a slip of scotch tape and taped it to the door, glancing into the hall to see that nobody would see her, then locked the door from the inside. "Now we can eat in peace," Alice grinned. She could hardly believe they were her own words coming out of her mouth. But it felt right. "Take off your shirt. Let me see those pretty tits of yours." Maddy looked surprised, but began undoing her buttons. "My, but that man must have awakened a tigress." She pulled off the blouse, and arched her back to unsnap her bra; when the hooks came loose, her melons sprang free, and she slipped the straps down her long arms. Alice was topless now too, and as excited by her own bravado as by the eroticism of the scene. Brazen, she thought to herself. Outright whorishness. I love it. She felt lucky to have someone like Maddy to be whorish with, who she could trust not to mind, or laugh. Maddy had the same streak of detached sensualism that had indeed been awakened in Alice over the last week. It made her an almost perfect officemate. Alice pinched her nipples, pulling out, making her skin tight as a tent's. As if offering them to Maddy as she approached. She kicked off her shoes. "Stand up now," Alice said, and Maddy complied, smiling, clearly enjoying being told what to do. Her face spoke of both amusement and arousal. It was new to her, but that newness only made it more tittilating. "Move away from the desk," Alice told her. "Now take off that skirt, and unroll those nylons. I want to be able to get at your cunt while I tell the story." Madeline followed her instructions to the letter. She stood buck naked in the fluorescent light, legs slightly spread, arms to her side. The slight dew of nookfluids sparkled on her pubic hair. "Now take off my skirt for me. I am wearing no underwear. Once my skirt is removed, I want to you to breathe hotly on my cunt, without touching it, while I begin to tell you the fantasies I'll have." Slowly, sinuously, Maddy moved across the floor. Her hands reached out, shaking slightly, wending their way through the air toward the belt that held Alice's skirt to her hips. Still Alice massaged her own tits, and Maddy kept her eyes on them. Her breathing was already deep and quick. "Yes," Madeline murmured, "I want to smell your cunt, breathe on it, then when the sap is running, I want to lap at your twat, tell me how to tongue you, order my mouth around your creamy darkness." Maddy was on her knees now, talking directly to Alice's cunt. With all her fingers, like kneading bread dough, Alice massaged her breasts. "Yes, I will tell you. Stretch your tongue out, but don't touch. Lap the air like you would my folds. Show me your technique." While Maddy tongued her imaginary cunt not more than an inch from her real one, Alice began her tale: "My lover directs me to Sears, where I am to go immediately to Lingerie and begin my fantasies. Ten times I will pick up a negligee and imagine taking it off for a different man. The first is a black silky thing, frills around my collarbones, frills around my cunt, sheer around my tits." She reached down, put her fingers in Maddy's hair, and clenched her fingers together. "Now do the same to my hot cunt. I need a tongue flicking there." She leaned back against the desk, feeling the sharp corner against the flesh of her buttocks. Maddy inched forward, still on her knees. She looked up past Alice's tits. "Does mistress wish to tie her slave's hands?" Stifling her surprise, Alice smiled. "A good suggestion, my sweet slave. One moment." She retrieved Maddy's nylons. Maddy's hands were behind her back. With a few deft wraps, then one around the middle, and a neat bow, Maddy's hands were bound. Alice felt a surge of adrenaline as she saw Maddy's aroused submission. Naked knees on the carpeted floor, she was trying to push her cunt down onto the floor. Alice took her place again, leaning against the desk, spreading her legs even wider. Maddy hungrily lunged at Alice's crotch, her tongue slipping from hole to bud and back, slathering her nether lips with saliva. Alice continued: "Yes, my sweet slut, suck on me, yes, stick your tongue down deep, lap at it like a dripping ice cream cone. Oh, yessss... "When I find my first negligee, I begin my fantasy, knowing that my mystery lover's eyes are upon me from somewhere in the store, and imagine his eyes as looking through the man in my fantasy, a black pimp appraising a potential girl. "I shrug my shoulders out from the frilly straps, letting the black silk gradually slide down the mountains of my tits. He raises an eyebrow in healthy respect. These are tits that can work, he thinks. "I hold them out for him to see, showing off the creamy whiteness, the soft skin, the delicate wrinkles around my erect nipples. I can see beneath the zipper of his tight pants that even with all his experience with women, he is becoming aroused. "He is tall, this black pimp in my mind, tall and lean, the muscles well defined, smooth, his face is broad-cheeked, with deep hollows. In his left nostril is a tiny gold ring, almost invisible. "As the negligee moves lower, he thinks of running his tongue about the roundness of my belly, homing in on my navel. His prick is hardening, and I think it will be like he is, tall, thin, well defined. I know I am getting to him, the tough veneer is fading beneath his desire. He wants me, he wants this white chick, and I let the black silk finally fall to the floor. "My cunt is on fire, just like it is right now, my slave, your tongue is velvet, suck me, ah, ah yes, suck on my clit hard, yes, ah, yes, yes...." And she grabbed Maddy's hair and mashed her face against her own cunt, rubbing Madeline's lips hard against her lips. She could feel teeth; she could see lightening inside her lids, and she came with a wrenching groan. The smell of her juice was in the air, and strong on Maddy's face as Alice took it in her hands to kiss her. Their lips met, followed immediately by their narrow tongues, dancing, parrying, like joyous swords. She broke the kiss, looked into Maddy's eyes. "Now lean over, put your cheek on the carpet." Maddy closed her eyes, and nodded, angling over until her face touched the floor. Her butt was in the air, her big jugs rubbed against the rough carpeting, and her hands grasped at nothing behind her back. Alice sat comfortably beside her, enjoying the mastery completely. She didn't need to worry about positioning. Whatever she wanted was what happened. It felt wonderful. By doing exactly what she wanted, she knew Maddy would get exactly what she wanted as well. The feeling was one of liberation. "The pimp will be unable to keep his hands off me, though I make the time move slow. I prance around the chair he sits in like a throne," she said, and put a hand on Maddy's rear end. Maddy back up to it, pushing her ass against Alice's hand. Her fingertips began to trace the outlines of Maddy's cunt. "I wiggle my tight rear end toward him. He reaches out, but can't touch yet. His shaft is ready to burst his tight black pants, and I know it, and taunt him with it. "Take it out if you want, I say to him. Let me really show you how hot I am. And so he does take it out. Long it is, the veins like black rope curling around a dark flagpole. Stiff as steel. I see it, and know I want it deep in my cunt, but will make him want me even more. "I put a finger in my cunt in front of him," she continued, pushing a finger into Maddy's heat. Maddy responded with a whimpering moan. "I swirl it around, and tell him how much I want his cock. I tell him my mouth is watering for it, that my tongue will bathe it, smooth it, lick around the dark head until his spunk is ready to shoot, and then I will consume him with my tunnel. "In a rage of lust, the black pimp leaps from the chair and grabs me by the shoulders. He throws me down on the floor. His pants are around his thighs, he doesn't have the patience to take them off, he has to have me , and so he roughly spreads my legs and without waiting a minute more jams his black cock into my cunt Three of Alice's fingers thrust into the wet heat of Maddy's cunny. Maddy arched her back involuntarily, letting out groan. Alice's fingers pulled out, then shoved in, "and the black pimp fucks me, hard, fast, his speed building, and I feel him in my cunt deep, his black shaft is battering my cervix, punching the far wall, going deep, I can practically feel him in my throat, and faster he goes, and faster..." Her hand was a blur as her slick fingers machinegunned into Maddy's fuckhole. "God!" Maddy cried, "Oh, godyes, oh, fuck me you black motherfucker, stick it in, yes, you love it, you love it don't you, my white flesh, fuck me, god, oh shit fuck me harder you bastard, yes fuck me, fuck me now Aaah yess AAAaaargh!" Maddy flopped up and down on the carpet, trying to push herself into Alice's fingers even deeper, coming with a power that amazed even Alice. With one last shove, Alice buried her fourth finger in Maddy, and kept her hand there, still, tight, feeling Maddy's cunt walls convulsing on her fingers and knuckles. Maddy shuddered for what seemed like minutes, a ratcheting sound crackling from her throat. Then Maddy went completely limp. Her breaths came in heaves, and she toppled to the floor onto her side, knees brought up to her tits. Alice took her fingers out, and Maddy, though practically unconscious, let out a ragged sigh. After a moment of gentle strokes of Maddy's flanks, Alice untied the bow of nylon binding Maddy's wrists. Madeline smiled, and rolled on her back, one hand moving unconsciously to her twat. Finally she opened her eyes. Her smile was broad. "And you say you have nine more of these fantasies? I hope I can make it." They both laughed, and kissed gently. "I still haven't gotten lunch yet," Alice said. "Stay there, my sweet friend, and let me massage those battered lips of yours down below." As Alice's tongue began its wandering path down the inside of Maddy's thighs, she wondered how she could have been doing what was happening. Such a tale she had woven--if she hadn't said it all out loud, she never would have admitted that she could have such a fantasy. And to be able to keep it up while being eaten out by a beautiful woman! Something had happened to her that she couldn't name, something about her mind and her cunt, and about getting laid in general. No longer an eyes-closed affair, she thought to herself. It was now with open eyes, and open mouth, and open cunt that she welcomed sex. Her tongue finally encountered what it was drooling for: Maddy's come-sloppy cunt. Like the liquid center of a cherry cordial, it oozed with sultry sweetness. Things certainly were different. But she wouldn't have them any other way. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 15 She walked into Larry's office again, this time in lavender cotton top (clinging to her firm small tits) atop tight black pants. No longer looking the businesswoman like she had the last time, she seemed more a vision from a wet dream of an adolescent, standing there in her spike heels brazenly, a look of wanton pleasure already on her face. Larry for a moment panicked: what if someone saw? What would they say? Then he stopped that thought. It's just a job, he said to himself. Jobs can be found. Fucks like this can't always. I'll look back on this for the rest of my life. The risk is worth it. Just over the partition on either side were coworkers, so blatancy wasn't the ticket. Subtlety, double-phrasings were in order. "Sophia," he said, his pen still on the paper before him. "I was just thinking about you. How's Peter?" He smiled as much inside as out. He felt wicked in a delicious way. The woman, "Sophia," smiled back. "I imagine he's recovered by now. I'll be finding out how recovered soon." She strolled in, rolling her hips. Her thighs were tightly encased in black fabric, her pussy lips held apart separate by the seam. Larry watched unabashedly as she approached. "In fact," she continued, in lower tones, "I'm meeting him for lunch in an hour. Care to join us?" He thought about his rapidly-enlarging peter, which obviously wanted her to lunch on it. He grinned more broadly. "That sounds good. Where?" "Here, let me write the address down." She picked a pen from the jar on the desk, and jotted some words down on the paper she took from his desk top. From her tiny black purse dangling from the thin cord on her shoulder she took a black tie. "Here," she said, giving it to him. "Wear this. Peter will get a kick out of it." Larry draped it across two fingers as he took it from her. "Any particular style?" Sophia put her palms on the desk, and leaned over to him. Her breath was hot in his ear; he shivered. "You will wear it over your eyes. Once it's on, you must not take it off unless I take it off. Should you, then I will immediately leave. I will remove it when it's appropriate." She backed away from his ear, looked in his eyes: "Peter will be so surprised," she said out loud. "All right then, see you at twelve." She turned toward the door. Then, her tightly-clad and tightly-packed butt facing him, she reached down between her legs. Long fingers stroked her bulging cuntlips through the denim. She wiggled her ass, straightened, looked over her shoulder, winked, then was gone. Larry blinked, then looked down at the tie on his desk. With a quick motion, he swept it up and wadded it into his pocket. His stiff tool lurched as his fingers grazed it; he smiled, and almost murmured Soon, buster, soon you'll be getting some more. ***** On her tenth negligee, her fantasies had taken on a life of their own. Alice knew that the salesmen were curious about her, the way she'd hold up the fabric to her firm body, as if testing the fit around her breasts, between her legs, with slow strokes. Most of the action took place beneath eye level, so they weren't too curious, or so Alice hoped. She was in ancient Rome, letting Caeser bury his stiff prick into her virgin asshole. , she heard him say in her fantasy, as he came like a firehose deep in her bowels. His teeth sank into her shoulders, and she rubbed the silk against her drenched pussy. She'd been concentrating on the fantasies, just as she had been instructed to. When her mind would begin to wander, she forced it back to the topic at hand: sex. Men fucking her in all the places she could be fucked. Between her tits had been a biker, in black leather. In her mouth was a football player, his muscles shiny with sweat from practice. Under her arm, pointing up to her face, was a tribal chieftain, built like the man she'd seen in a poster once, whose limp cock was tied into a knot. she had wondered at the time; in her fantasy she had seen it, like a bartender's mini-bat, thrusting up toward her face. Now, as Caeser plumbed the depths of her ass, she pushed the silk against the lips of her sopping cunt. She was so wet it was embarassing: the crotch of her maroon pants was darkened with the ooze of her excitement. She glanced at her watch: 3:35. She was late! Imagining all the men fucking her, imagining her mystery lover watching, knowing what she was thinking, had been more consuming than she'd expected. With fear chasing her steps, she hurried to the men's department. she wondered as she reached the corner of the suitrack. Her hand came up, trembling, to touch the fabric of the suit in front of her, pretending to look at the buttons. Her heart beat fast, and it sounded in her ears like everyone could hear it. She was so sexually charged she would almost fuck anybody who asked. A pimply-faced warehouse stocker, were he to smell her need, could have had her juicy cunt for the asking. He'd have a cock, she thought, and that's all I want right now. A cock to fuck, a cock to fuck me. She put a hand in her pocket and fingered her cunt lips through the fabric. Her other hand stroked the long rough sleeve of the woolen jacket she was inspecting. Then she heard his voice in her ear: "You're hot right now, aren't you, my little whore. You want my prick inside you?" "Yes," she breathed, sinking back into him, feeling on one butt-cheek the firmness of his crotch. "Yes, that's what I want. I want you now, I want you badly." "Then go into the dressing rooms. Past the last one is a utility room. The door says "Janitor." You will enter it and pull your shirt over your head. Keep your arms within the fabric, feel the tightness holding you in. I will join you soon." Then he pulled away from her. She waited, feeling like Lot's wife, wanting to turn to see him walking away. She hadn't seen him since that very first time at the party, and could barely remember what he looked like. But she controlled herself. Getting fucked was too important right now to risk not having him just for satisfying her curiosity. She needed his hard shaft inside her, and that took precedence over everything else. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 16 He sat on the bed, blinded by the fabric he'd tied around his eyes, wondering what was next. Her note had only stated where to go, to ask for a room reserved in his name. No information about what to do once he got there, besides wait. So wait he did, considering taking off his clothes. Did she want him naked, or did she want to take his clothes off him? He didn't know; either possibility seemed to fit what little he knew about her preferences. His skin prickled in anticipation; the hairs in the wrinkles of his ball-sack felt like they were trying to pull each other out. Larry pushed with his thumb at his nuts, then clasped his hands on his lap again. It was miserable, this waiting. Not being able to see, he couldn't amuse himself by looking around. The bed became the only environment that mattered. Unclasping his hands, he felt the nubby texture of the bedspread. Did people ever really nap here? The leer on the mousy face of the man behind the desk told a different story. He certainly knew that something sexual would be going on here. Larry wondered if there were peep-holes. If so, then what an embarassing position to be seen in: blindfolded, waiting, passive. Somehow with "Sophia" it wasn't embarassing. As if they had made an agreement without saying the words: there can be no shyness here. Carnality is the goal; modesty has no place between us. Larry heard something--perhaps a door opening? Was that a footstep on the floor? His hand came up almost independently of will to pull up the blindfold. "Now, now," her voice sounded. "Don't make me turn around and leave." He smiled, his hand stopped in mid-gesture. "I was afraid you were that man behind the counter." There was a short silence. "Maybe he's here too," she said. "Maybe I brought other people with me. To watch. To watch your jism shoot out onto the floor." "I'd have heard them," Larry said. He heard a clunk. Then a click, and lazy funk jazz began playing. "Could you hear them now?" The mocking tone of voice was laced with a kind of glee, like he remembered he'd felt once, years ago, when Alice had worn a blindfold, and he'd gone to the freezer and carried back an ice cube. As it had neared her nipple, he had felt that shivery power. Now he felt it in himself, but from the other end. Still, a shivery power, but the power of being the one pleasured. "Why isn't my cock naked?" she demanded, almost in rhythm with the funky music. Her hand caressed his bulging crotch, then grasped at the roundness of his balls. "Take your clothes off." Then she moved away. Larry envisioned her undressing herself, snaking a hand down into her cunny, watching him as he did his striptease. So he lingered as he undressed. He was a little proud of how well his body had stood up to his thirty-five years. No Adonis here, or Charles Atlas. But he was still good- looking naked. "Oh, yeah," she said when his shirt was undone, his chest stretched out of it. "Yeah, that's pretty, keep it going, now. Make me hot. Come on, my stud, my cock, show me yourself slow." The music came in waves, based on a beat primal and pure. He couldn't resist almost dancing as he undressed. Leaned over, moving his ass, untying his shoes. Kicking them off on the beat; socks off in syncopation. Then the zipper, slowly, in little zips, as if tantalizing. "Come on now, show me that cock of mine, I want to see that prick, show it to me hard and oozing. Ohh, you wicked one-- you're making me wait," she said, when he pulled down his pants inch by inch, leaving his underwear on. His cock strained against the thin cotton fabric. Thighs bare, the hairs straightened, enhancing the tingling his nerves were all feeling. His prick ached. "I can't help myself, you fucking hunk, my hand's in my snatch, in my cooze, ah, god, two fingers inside. You'd love to taste my snatch, wouldn't you, but I won't until that prick is free, I want to see it bobbing in the cool air. Show me that purple head, I want you aching for my touch. I want your cock waiting, drooling, wanting into me." Her words washed over him like erotic waves. This was carnality incarnate. No mincing words there, no innuendo. No hesitation. She knew what she wanted, and said so: she wanted him, and wanted him to want her just as badly. As he stepped out of his slacks, crumpled at his ankles, he brought his hands up his ankles, his knees, his thighs, then caressingly brought them around his thick fucktool tenting out his shorts. "And what will you do to it if I let it out?" "I'll touch it with my fingernails, sharpened like razors: I'll shave that cock with my nails. Then I'll rub my tits with it, around and around like that cock was my dildo, and I'm at home, imagining cocks all around, rubbing me over tits and arms and ass and cunt and hands and feet, cocks all for me, just as that cock is all for me. Take it out. Show me my cock, you fucking bastard stud." Caught up, his hunger for her directing his hands, he pulled the waistband out, and then down, exposing his mass of meat to the air. The coolness made him even harder; with one hand he grabbed it, with the other pulled down his shorts as fast as he could. No longer was the stripping what he wanted. He wanted contact, his cock yearned for touch. "There it is, aaahhhh, yesss," she said, moving closer, "yes, that cock is a beauty, that cock is mine. Stroke my cock for me. Move that fist of yours down on my cock." He began stroking his boner, beating himself off slowly, feeling each callous on each finger rubbing past the head, down the hard shaft. "Yesss," she continued, her voice coming from below, as if she were kneeling in front of him. "Yesss. Oh, yes, I can feel your hand on my cock. It feels good, squeeze harder, oh, oh, yes, keep beating that meat, beat off, fuck yourself with your hand." Larry felt lewd, beating off in front of this woman. The other time, he'd hardly had time to think about what was going on; this time, he knew how it felt, and he liked it. Delightfully decadent, a wickedly aberrant perversion. He imagined her face, talking to his cock, her mouth in an "o" as if it was a target for the arrow of his prick. Electricity jolted him. Her hand was on his pelvis, inches from his cock and balls. Sexuality, like some powerful drug, was seeping from her fingertips into him. He arched his pelvis forward, trying to find her mouth with the tip of his prick. His fingers clutched at the nubby fabric of the bedcover. But only air was stabbed by his pole. He clutched again at his cock, leaning back onto the edge of the bed once more. "Suck me off," he said, "or fuck me, or do your tits, something, my cock wants you." He listened to his words after he'd spoken. He wasn't used to talking dirty, and the sounds felt alien. "A mouth will be there, but not yet. First you must eat me. Eat me now. Get on all fours. I'll put my cock under your mouth. You will suck on my clit, lap down deep." He heard scratching sounds, as if she still had her shoes on. Keeping one hand on the bed, he got down on the floor; his knees hurt at first on the wood. Then the sultry aroma of cooze ooze wafted into his nostrils. He pushed his face down, still blind, and bumped his nose on her pubic bone. He quickly adjusted, delving into her moist cleft, pushing the curly hairs aside with his nose, his lips. Today, she tasted a bit different than the last time he had tasted her, but still she was like ripe fruit. His tongue explored her slick folds of flesh, circling the numb of her button, then capturing it between lip-covered teeth. He mouthed her, chewing lightly on her thickening clitoris. He could hear her muffled moans. "Oh, yes," she said when the moans stopped. "Keep that up, my stud. Lick me, taste me, make my cunt want my cock. It's getting hot, slushy, slippery waiting for you. I want that cock, fuck the blowjob, I want that cock in my cunt Her hands pushed his head away and grabbed his prick, pulling him toward her. His cock throbbed in her hands, and then he felt his cock being twisted to the side; he shifted his body to accommodate it, and lost his balance. He fell on his side, and then was pushed to his back. "I want to do this," she ordered, "I know just where that cock should go, and I'm going to put it there." He smiled, and put his hands behind his head, while thrusting up his cock by tensing his buttmuscles. He wanted her hot cunt so badly it hurt. Suddenly his prick was engulfed by molten lava, and with one downward drop, she impaled herself on his fuckshaft. Both of them groaned loudly in unison. She was motionless. Her cuntal walls undulated over the taut flesh inside her, and it felt like butterflies were clustered around his prick, doing their mating dance. He writhed, but her weight kept his cock pinioned inside her, soaking. He pulsed his lovemuscle in response to her snatch-squeezes. Then she raised up. His cock cooled, and it pulsed now of its own accord. He moaned, tried to push up, and then she slammed down on him again. "Yess, my stud, my cock, oh, yes, you're so big, so hard, you're deep in my cunny, deep inside me." "Your cunt is grabbing me like a hand, what a cunt you have, and you're fucking me with it. Keep fucking me. Ah, shit, yes," Larry cried, pushing up into her. The words felt natural now, just as wicked as he felt. Fucking was all he wanted, to keep moving up into her, thrusting deep into that hot cunt. "My cock is drooling for you, inside you, my jism is waiting for you, I want to come inside you..." "Go ahead, then, you bastard stud, fuck me like I'm a bitch thrusting up my ass at you. Come inside me, give me that spume," she cried, jamming herself down on him over and over, like an oilwell's counterweight, a determined grind downward, as if squeezing the come out of him from above, sucking up from below. Her cunt wrung his cock out, twisting, inexorably rising and falling in spite of his nearly frenzied thrusts. His hands were fists outstretched, beating at the floor. "Shit, yes, I'm going to come," he cried, "I'm going to shoot, aahhg, shit, yes...." "Give it to me, shove it in, pour it in, give me that come, come on, you stud, shoot it in, shoot it in..." And with a wrenching twisting implosion, Larry came, pushing stream after stream of viscous come out into her liquid heat. He gasped, bucked, and let out a tortured yell, followed by the aftershock groans of his will-wilting orgasm. He reeled inside his mind, lost in wave after wave of sensation. "Ah, shit, god damn, fuck, oh, shit, god..." he murmured, as she pulled herself free of his cock, squeezing at each inch with her cunt. He lay on the hard floor, feeling the coldness for the first time on his back and butt. The music played on. Then her voice: "You may take off your blindfold now." Bringing his hands up to his eyes, he pulled the tie away. Sitting on the bed was Sophia, fully dressed. He sat up, and thought back: he never had felt her tits, or any part of her body, really, except her cunt. But when he looked at her legs, they were encased in a one-piece full-leg leotard, gleaming in the afternoon light. Her crotch was darkened with cuntjuice, but he could see no hole that he could have penetrated. he wondered. She got off the bed, and leaned over. She kissed him. her tongue a thin moist dart invading his lips. He kissed back, and then she pulled away. "Until next time," she said, smiling that wicked smile. She walked away; he turned to watch her leave. Her ass gleamed metallically in the leotard as she padded toward the door. He thought about calling out to her, stopping her, asking her how she'd managed to dress so quickly, but then thought better of it. There was no need. However she had done it, it had been one hell of a fuck. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 17 Her cunt was plundered, invaded, and she felt like an Amazon conquered by a hairy barbarian during the fall of the Tribe. The mophandle in the crook of her elbows, holding tight her shirt-bound hands in front of her while the wooden handle rubbed her vertebrae, that mophandle was a spearshaft, and the hand in her hair smelled of battle. Abruptly she came back to reality: the chemical fruit smells of cleaners and solvents mingled with the perfume of humans in rut. She couldn't help groan as her lover's iron fuckaxe plunged back into her. He rammed into her, in complete control of everything. Now he lifted her with the handle behind her back, lowering her onto his prong, the top of his thighs a cushion for the bottoms of hers. She was propelled into another fantasy: She and her lover have perfected a trapeze act--the fuck- pass in mid-air. Swooping down into the air, holding precariously to the bar, the two trapezes approach, she backwards, legs spread, him with his legs back and his stiff cock aiming like a dart toward her cunt. The crowd below falls into a hush of anticipation as the first thrust is attempted. They both release their holds, and in mid-air collide with inhuman precision, a perfection of impact and angle that spins them each to the other's trapeze, where they begin their swings for the next fuck. The crowd roars its approval, and in mid-swing she appraises the crowd below: all eyes up, open-mouthed at the awe- inspiring fucking going on above their heads. The swing through the air is a delerious rush, a controlled falling, her cunt aching for the next surge of manmeat into her cunt, and as she rushes toward in it in a swift arc, her legs splay in expectation. The crowd seems to take a simultaneous breath, and again they collide, the slapping sound resounding through the big top, getting groans of shared lust from the crowd below. Again they grip the other's trapeze, and the swing back is thrilled by the roar of the crowd, the moans, and now as she looks down she sees the cocks of half the men, out, some being beaten off by silent hands, others, in the mouths of wives, girlfriends, or women overcome by the erotic flying trapeze act above them. She swung in the practiced parabolic arc, her tits riding high on her rib cage. Her cunt rang like a huge bell. She could feel her cunt juice dripping off in the centrifugal force, running down her legs, baptizing the onlookers with the dew of her snatch. Their finale began, each of them changing their position on their trapeze, on the swoop downward to their meeting spot, high up, near the peak of the big top. She could see him now, the shaft of flesh standing out like a ship's mast from his crotch, and she spread her legs, and bent her knees, then when she let go, went into a backward somersault. He met her first with his hard prick sliding into her hot cunt, then his hands grabbed at her tits as her heels jammed in on his buttocks, pulling him deeper into her heat. They stopped in mid-air, brought to a halt by the cancelling of their momentum, and there was a moment when they both could look down on the vast orgy beneath them, seeing in still life the tangled naked bodies, the mouths on cocks, the cunts thrusting against cunts, the hands embedded, the roiling bodies writhing among the stands. Spinning slightly, she and her lover began to fall, with each spin pulling a stroke off, thrusting into each other, bucking in a descending ballet. The crowd paid them no heed, for they were too busy now, and so the two fell, fucking furiously, down through the air until they hit the safety net like a trampoline. Alice dug her heels in deeper, pulling him in again, afraid of losing him, losing his stiff cock, even as they bounced again on the mesh. Over and over they bounced, each time slightly less, but slightly more inside. Each time they landed one of them was on top, and the weight seemed to fuse their bodies together, welding them with the heat of lust. Finally, as they rolled toward the center of the webbing, she began to come, feeling like a top wobbling off center, spinning in crazy angles in a last desperate attempt to stay on its point. She came in oscillations, rising toward a high-pitched scream. Suddenly his hand covered her mouth. Her tongue could taste the salt on his palm. "You may have gone too far," his voice said into her ear. "We may be all right. If it's a man, I think I will offer him some of you. Will you accept?" She reeled, trying to get a grip on where she was, what he was asking, trying to see through the blindfold covering her eyes. . If is a man, she thought, and what did I do? Her cunt burned with his cock inside it, still hard, still waiting for its turn. But she wanted more, she realized. Another cock would be fine. "Yes," she said. "Yes, please, that's what I want." She could hear footsteps in the hallway: "Hello?" a deep voice said. "Anybody here?" The cock pulled out of her, making Alice gasp. Then a shaft of light entered the janitor's room for the first time since she'd entered. She heard whispered words. Then the door closed. She still was tied by the mop-handle, her elbows behind her back, with the handle sticking between biceps and back. "You sure about this?" she heard as the man came in. "Ask her." "You really want this, miss?" She hardly hesitated. "Yes. I want it." "Just tell me if you don't, cause if you don't, I'll just..." "I want your cock," Alice said in a low, throaty voice. "I want your stiff prick up inside me. Get hard, fast, I want you deep in me. Whoever you are, fuck me now." She could hear the sound of his belt coming off, the zip of his fly. "Say, she's a hot one, isn't she. Does she like being called a whore?" "Ask her." "Do you like being called names?" She paused. Did she? It all seemed so astounding anyway, she couldn't know, couldn't remember. She'd never really done that before, but the few times her new lover had used those terms, a small thrill had sung through her. "Go ahead," she said, "try me." "God, mister, what a hot slut you have here. And what an ass." She felt a hot firmness probe at her thighs. "But jeez, I kinda wish I could see her better. Can we have some light?" Alice cringed. she thought, that wouldn't work.... "No," her lover said. "That isn't part of the game. Fuck her, like she wants you to. Hard, fast, fuck her cunt deep, ream her out. Make her groan. Fuck this hot whore of mine. She wants two cocks. "Fuck her cunt good, and I'll be ramming my hard prick into her throat. She loves to be filled with meat. Isn't that right, Alice." Hearing her name, she almost rebelled, but just then the young salesman's thin cock found the lips of her cunt and slipped in. "Oh, God," he said, and Alice cried out "Yes!" as if in answer to his question. "Yeah," the salesman continued, "oh shit, she's tight, what a cunt, it's hot as a fucking machine gun, yeah, what a fuck she is, oh, man..." and he pistoned into her, trying to get in as deep as he could. Then she felt her lover's body before her, and in the faint light she could, see through the crack beneath the blindfold, his hard cock jutting out from the tangled darkness around his crotch. She opened her mouth, wetting her lips. "Yes," she whispered to that cock, "Come to me, fuck my mouth, I want you on my tongue. Yes, bring it in..." and then her words were smothered by his dense lovemuscle. Never before had she had two cocks in her simultaneously. It was almost too much to bear. As if the cocks carried electricity, her body jolted and jerked. Her front lover pulled back, as if concerned that he was choking her, but she lunged back at his meat with such a hunger that he laughed and plunged back in. Her throat felt open; like that first time she had let loose of her sphincter, suddenly it was easy to take him down her throat. Her mouth writhed around it like her cunt was writhing, and she felt herself become one long cunt, before and aft, a fucking receptacle, and she felt like she could taste the young boy's cock with her cunt. The boy began making ratcheting throat noises, his pumping took on a frenetic pace, and he gripped her hips more tightly. Her lover's pace increased too, and he took her head in his hands, caressing her ears while fucking deep into her mouth, using her cheekbones as a brace. In the small part of her mind untouched by the eroticism of the moment, she was amazed that she was taking anything as big as his shaft down her throat. She was astounded that she could be so aroused by a strange man's prick in her quim. And she was deliciously pleased that she could be so decadent. Hot jism jetted into her cunt, and she could feel it in her stomach, like hot caramel spattering her intestines. An instant later, she gulped as her lover's come spewed out. She pulled back just enough to feel the spume gushing out his cock on her tongue. She held both of them in as they softened. Then she pushed out the boy's prick with a cuntal squeeze, and with a sucking kiss allowed her lover's prick to slip out of her mouth. "Uh, gee, thanks, Mister," the boy's voice said, and she realized that he must have deepened his voice when he first came in, that he had been afraid. "That was great. You, uh, you two can come back anytime. Just ask for Danny, okay? Suh, see you." And he went out the door. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 18 Her breast hovers like a moon above, silhouetted by the faintly-lit window. Shadowed phallus approaches, glisten of juice glimmering on its tip, to touch her nipple. Slowly it draws away, the precome spinning a one-stranded web between them. Only one of the three can see it: "You're weaving a one- stranded web," he says, pointing; they both look, laugh. "Enough to snare," the man behind the cock says. "They're coming along so well. Alice is a natural. The way she came with Danny inside her, the way her lips undulated around my cock. She was randy indeed. "Keeps that cock hard just thinking about it, doesn't it?" Her voice is low, mellifluous. "Bring it here. I want it between my cheeks. I'll let you decide which ones." "Hmmmm..." The other one clears his throat. "Care for two?" "Wherever you want..."--her voice stays low--"just don't come too quickly." "Don't I always come on cue?" She smiles: her cheeks gleam white in the faint light. "You bet. Though sometimes the cue is yours...." and with that she takes the plump smooth sponge of his cockhead in her mouth, moaning low and slow. A groan pushes out of her as the man behind her pushes in to the juice of her cunt. Three strokes, and he pulls out again. Her mouth moves with the gyrations of her ass, seeking the hot spear behind her. He moves up a notch, pressing against her dark rosebud. She pulls her mouth away from the shaft in front of her, hissing "Yesss..." He pushes a bit more, and the cunt-slickened head of his cock slips in. She makes a hard "o" of her mouth, and pushes against the cockhead in front of her, letting its head pop into her mouth, and is rewarded with an appreciative groan. With her mouth she mimics the assfucking she gets. As he pushes deeper in, and deeper still, she lets in more and more of the cock into her mouth, her tongue dancing on the ridges and veins as it slides in. All three groan, in surprising unison. Their laugh is unstoppable, and it builds to hysteria as their laughter tickles the other: the mouth on the cock, the cock in the ass, the jiggles of body against body, and in their laughter they all roll different directions, disengaging, laughing/moaning, laughing some more. "Three " one of them cried, and laughter began anew. Then the woman's voice, finally catching her breath: "nothing's more empty than something recently filled. C'mon, you two, fill me back up!" And then their laughter took on a different tone, rapidly changing to sighs of pleasure. Paganini's Tale, Chapter 19 Larry took a sip of his beer, grinning through the glass at Winston, his friend from work. Lunch with him had become a habit on odd days when their schedules coincided. Though only with the company for three months, Winston had already demonstrated his ability, and Larry liked him personally. Warm, confident without arrogance, interesting... Larry was glad Winston had joined the company. This lunch, he'd risked bringing up sexuality, first obscurely, then gradually more directly. Since Winston seemed comfortable with it, Larry continued: "...and she's this sudden wildness in my life. Unpredictable. Out of the ordinary. Completely unexpected. I mean, I'm attractive enough, but not the sort of guy who girls get hot for just by looking at me. Nor am I the kind of guy who goes out looking for an affair and then blames it on being seduced. I seduced, and I hadn't even seen her before. I hadn't played up to her at all. It's just so wild..." "How erotic is it?" Larry stumbled on the question: "uh, how erotic, well..., uh..." "What I mean is, it sounds like the ideas about the sexuality is almost more arousing than the actual sex itself. Although you haven't told me how, shall we say, the sex is with this woman, I get the idea that it's pretty hot. Larry grinned again. "Hot it certainly is. Erotic it certainly is. That woman could light a match with her look. It's like she's way out of my league. Like dancing with Ginger Rogers or something. Or maybe like talking psychology with a mindreader. It's not so much that she's better in terms of skill. But the way she makes it happen, the lust she inspires...." Suddenly Larry realized what he was saying out loud, to someone he really didn't know all that well. For a moment he was embarassed at revealing so much, but then he heard Winston start to speak: "Yes, I've known a few women like that. One I remember best. Her desire, her lust was so powerful it was a drug for me. Such an altered state--I would come to my senses afterward amazed that the world wasn't changed. She said she was in touch with the Goddess, and I couldn't rightly say that she was wrong. Yet I know we all have that in us. I've tapped those nerves in women myself. Am I in touch with the God? Connected to something, anyway, in touch with some part of us that is magical." Then Winston, who had been looking up at the chandelier as he spoke, realized he'd begun to ramble, and brought himself short, laughing. "Listen to me! I hope I didn't embarass you. But it's good to talk about these things. You know." Larry nodded. "Yeah, and I think that this affair, this... this event I'm having with "Sophia" is making it easier for me to talk about it. I'm remembering things, sort of, sort of waking up to parts of me I hadn't realized were asleep.... if you know what I mean." "Absolutely," Winston said, and then looked at his watch. "Shit," he said, instantly animated, "It's 1:30! I've got to meet Evans down at the plant in ten minutes!" "Okay," Larry said, dismayed only that the conversation had to quit, "You go on, take off, I'll get the bill. You can get next time." Winston grinned, standing. "Thanks, buddy. See you later on." And he was off. Larry sipped the last of his beer, sitting alone at the cluttered table, enjoying a few rare moments to himself. He put money on the little tray that held the bill. Then he rose to go back to work. She met him as he was leaving the restaurant, wearing a laced white blouse beneath a jet-black jacket. "I watched you eat. I watched you talk. Your lips moved nicely. I have another assignation for you. Do you want it?" He didn't hesitate. "I want it." They continued to walk briskly. "What do you want." "I want my cock in your cunt." Larry smiled, thinking of the one-line eavesdroppers passing them. "You want cock in my cunt." "I want my cock to be your cock in your wet cunt." Her dagger heels struck the cement sharply, clacking with each step. "Then listen. Tonight at 6:30 you will arrive at Jackrabbit's, over on 87th. Come alone. Come with your cock hardened. We'll see what happens." He started to object: what would he tell Alice? But he could immediately think of half a dozen reasonable lies, and even the best truth: he'd be busy until mid-evening. And so he simply allowed the fluttering in his chest to continue. "Jackrabbit's. 6:30. It's a date." She turned to look up at him then, her dark eyes mascaraed and shadowed, her mouth in a smirk. "This will be a new one," she said, and then, reaching out with her hand, gave his cock a squeeze there in the middle of the sidewalk. "Tonight, then," she said, and turned to walk back the way they'd come. *** Jackrabbit's smelled of stale beer and too-loud catcalls settling like a layer of dust after every night, to coat the gelled lights above the lacquered-pine stage, dulling the sequins spangling the walls. Smoke masked the air, made it muggy and thick; the noise, the rhythmic disco-like music, the thrums of bass and bass drums, the raucous screams, the undercurrent of shouted conversations. A strip joint, where almost all the chairs faced the stage, and all the chairs filled by women. Mostly older women, fat women, bowling-club women, ladies' auxiliary women, office pool women. Women out for a good time, a time apart from their lives, women not looking to be picked up, since there were probably only a handful of men here. Women out to watch. And up there on the stage, making his silk-sacked privates swing around in circles, a well-built man danced. Fives and tens were pushed through and around the string around his hips holding the sack on; the bills clustered around his crotch, where the women's fingers got a touch of pubic hair, perhaps even some soft flesh. And as he watched, an overly-plump woman with flabby upper arms jiggling in her polyester knit top reached up with a twenty. The dancer began doing a limbo-like dance up to her spot by the stage, shimmying his ass, stroking his thighs as he scooted forward. Hoots and squeals resounded around: the woman was licking her lips, making the most of her twenty. The dancer got within a foot of her, his knees at the level of her shoulders, his crotch near her face. She stroked the silk sack with the twenty, in circular motions, and he played back at her, circling his pelvis toward her. And as Larry watched, he heard the shrill screams change their tenor, as well as their pitch, nearly drowning out the music. He squinted to see what the dancer was doing. Then he finally realized what it was: the dancer's silk pouch was starting to push up--the man was getting a hard-on, and the woman with the stroking twenty kept playing at it, licking her lips some more, raising her eyebrows in overplayed amazement, while the crowd cheered their pleasure. The stripper's prick got larger, changing the dimensions of the pouch till it was tight as a puptent, a black silk spearhead of magnum proportions. The dancer was grinning, humping the air, lapping at the lights as if they were the woman's cunt, and she, laughing, cackling, slips the twenty in at the top of that spear, her hand lingering, gripping the hard knob of his phallus. After letting her feel him for a few seconds, he backed away, shaking his finger at her, telling her she was a naughty girl. A voice behind him: "This is just decadence. The real show is in the back. Follow me." He turned and saw her glove-tight blackjeaned ass move away from him, and he followed, slipping between the women standing, drinking, appraising. More than one hand reached between his legs as he walked by to stroke his balls, grab his ass. Sophia reached the back wall. She ducked into the men's room; he followed. In the middle stall an "out of order" sign was stuck on the door, but she pushed in, and he saw as he came up behind her that the flusher was a latch, and the back wall a door. They entered a dark and narrow corridor, barely enough room for two people to pass if they hugged each other. Faintly lit. The sounds from the main room were muffled. And other sounds, more muffled still, came from up ahead. They squeezed ahead, Larry smelling the faint musky perfume that he associated so strongly with her; it smelled almost like her cunt tasted: deeply textured, a funk of desire. Over her shoulder, he could see light thrown into the corridor. And he began to be able to discriminate the sounds. Fucking sounds. Grunts, moans. Lusty anguish. Cries of delight. And then they arrived, and Larry looked over the tableau: A three-tiered circular arena. On the top tier, women lounged in various states of dress, one on the right naked but for the push-up bra, another in a teddy, but with her thumb stuffed deep into her cunt. Altogether, perhaps a dozen watchers reclining in a rough circle around the second circular tier, where five women lay with their legs spread, a five-pointed star inside of which stood two men, on the bottom tier, the circle around which the other two were built, each with his prong embedded in a woman, and both hands busy with the women next to the ones being fucked. They stood in the doorway, unnoticed. Larry watched as one of the men, an ebony black man with wiry muscles, pulled his cock slowly out of the 45-year old woman in front of him. After pulling out perhaps six inches of black prick, Larry expected the head to come out, but he kept pulling back, as inch after slick inch slid out of the wet cunt. Amazed, Larry focused, squinting, not believing the prodigious length of the cock below. At least a foot long, sticking out proud and rampant from a dark mass of curls. The woman losing it moaned in dismay, then cooed when his fingers replaced his dong. He moved his bat of a cock to the next woman, whose fat thighs opened for him, revealing a deep red gash sloppy and glistening from masturbation. He easily slid in, and there was a collective sigh around the room. Larry felt his cock hardening. Seventeen women, two men. Three, with him. Sophia looked at him, grinning. "I've brought you here to show my cock off. This is the Stud Room. You are my stud. Now strip. Show off my meat." She hadn't spoken loudly, but since nobody else was speaking, nearly all eyes but those delirious in the inner ring turned toward them. Lots of smiles, from women who for the most part were attractive. All of them were flushed with sexual excitement, all nipples that he could see were hard, and all that looked at him were looking with lustful approval. His cock lurched inside his pants, clearly having a mind of its own: it wanted out, and then in again. Sophia helped it out by unzipping and unbuckling his pants. "His name is Brett," she said loudly. "He is my cock. I put him at our disposal. He will do whatever he is called upon to do. Isn't that right, Brett?" Larry half-embarassedly grinned. "That's right," he said to her, then looked around the room, directly into the eyes of those who he might be fucking soon. Some murmured to each other, others licked their lips; he spoke again to the group at large, "We'll all have some fun tonight." He felt brazen. "You don't think we aren't already, cock?" a woman's harsh voice took the wind out of his sail. "But you look good enough to me. She brings you, you've got to be good. Bring that big cock of yours down into the circle." She was a slender fifty, breasts loose beneath a gauze top, naked from the waist down. Her legs weren't bad at all. She stood, and gracefully moved down toward the inner circle, taking the two-foot drops with ease. "I want you first. Come on in." Larry felt like a servent in the employ of royalty: this was like the debauches hinted at in some of the textbooks he'd read, the orgies of the nobility in the eighteenth century. The Duchess' mountain retreat, where gigolos were imported for an evening's entertainment for all her friends. As he made his way past the women, hands grabbed his hairy butt, his balls, his hard-on. Tweaks, yanks interspersed the caresses, but all of these women wanted him. He was an object for them, to gratify their desires. And it didn't feel that bad. His cock stuck out, a beefy rod that Larry felt proud of. It wasn't as long as the black man's, but it was dense, thick, and ready. With each step, it bobbed. The Duchess changed the pentangle to a hexagon of spread legs by squeezing between a blonde (whose wife was that? whose mother? he thought, they have no idea she is like this) and the woman who owned the snatch the black man's fingers were still buried in. The black man grinned at Larry as he approached. Head thrown back, the Duchess leaned back on straight arms, her kneees bent, her thighs spread. "Bring that randy cock to me. Stick it in my cunt. I'm ready for it. I've been watching for too long, and I want that prick in me. Bring it here, pretty boy, bring that thick hunk of meat over here." The last step was three feet down, a depth that allowed him to stand almost upright, his cock just above cunt-level. Standing between his legs, his cock lay pulsing atop her pubic hair. He tensed a muscle, and his cock jumped, then slapped back down against her. He repeated it, giving his cock the impression of independent life. The Duchess laughed with honest pleasure. "Oh, Irene," she called back at "Sophia," "great cock you found here. Looks like it'll burrow into me like a prairie dog!" He laughed along with the rest, and then, holding the Duchess' knees in each hand, guided his cock down toward her opening. His cockhead lodged into her notch. "Ready to be fucked?" Larry said with bravado. Their eyes met. "Sure, honey, I'm ready as hell. Now fuck me, you bastard cock. Fuck me deep and wide." Their eyes lingered, blazing into each other; he wanted some mastery here, and it was like she was daring him to please her. Go ahead and try. Just try to make me come. He took it as a challenge. Twisting his pelvis up, he kept pressure on the top of her cunt against her pubic bone as he entered her, scraping the top of her vagina with the ridges of his prick. Slowly, easily, moving slightly side to side, his cock forced itself into her furrow. Her eyes widened just a little once he was halfway in and she could feel the girth of his cock swollen inside her. Round and around he moved, rotating her thighs from her knees, now her ankles, and he held her ankles up high and pulled her entire body suddenly up and in to his cock. She groaned. From behind he could hear admiring commentary: "I haven't seen that move in ten years," a woman's voice said. Larry felt proud, and pressed on, and in, grinding pubis against pubis, yanking her pelvis in the direction that seemed right. The air itself was swollen with the smells of fucking, the odor of lust. Everyone had only one main theme in their minds: sex. Larry could only join in, and it seemed to make him more perceptive a lover. He could read her perfectly, gauging the everchanging desires of her cunt and modifying his technique accordingly. Pressing down to achieve the right angle. Canting his hips to rub the right side, at the right pace. The Duchess was beginning to writhe. The woman on his right watched from close up, a foot away, sighing, watching, breathing on the joinings of their bodies. The Duchess, whose tight clothes pushed hard against her skin, began gutteral thrums in her throat timed to her writhes. A low call to the reaches, the distance, the wilderness of orgasm. Larry listened and was amazed. He knew precisely what moves to make, felt in complete control because he'd mastered the connection. He rode in low, crushing the membrane between cunt and tube, aiming for atop the cervix with his tip. Bearing sideways to stroke the dark chamber behind her cervix, which exists just for man. Rising up as he drew out of her, to stretch out the labia tightly. And the Duchess was lost in the sensations. Beside him, between them, the woman breathed, and now began to lap at skin, paint shafts of cold evaporation up their flesh, touch and soothe and pinch. "Fuck, yes, oh fuck, you two fuck each other, slam in there, move around, yesss... yes you do it so well, keep on fucking, fucking, it is so beautiful, so good, fucking each other...." And around them, the audience, the other couples fucking, the hands in snatches and tongues in mouths. The sounds of group arousal. The scent of cooze and semen, sweat, and pants. Larry was amazed. "Fuck, yes, up now, up high in her snatch, and you, fuck him back, yes, twist those hips, writhe, baby, writhe..." and the Duchess' rumbles were turning to a roar, and the woman's voice was rising in pitch to breathless screams, "yes come, baby, come, come hard, go on over, let it go, come you bitch, come you slut, don't you love it, let it go, feel like that whore, let that harlot come out and fuck him back, fuck him back, take in, take it all in..." And his cock felt terrific. Incredibly tight, strong, sensitive, and in control. The pleasure was lasting. He could relish it without having to fight against coming. The pleasure just rolled on and on, and he felt free. Then he looked up, over the bucking woman beneath him, over the woman whispering diamonds from the gutter, over the large woman with her hand in her cunt, thumb and all, then over the pair of lovelies enwrapped in themselves, all lips and tits and legs; over them all, he matched eyes with Sophia. The wild woman. The dark woman. The vampiress, and he saw her eyes flashing blazing crashing down through him and he flashed the power right back at her, and then they understood somehow, made a pact, and then they were done. Larry reached under the Duchess' arched back and jammed his cock deep into her. She was just to the edge, and so he pulled back and rammed into her again, and then again, gradually accellerating, picking up speed and power, till his hammer was pounding as fast as he possibly could, and the Duchess began to shout with every other thrust, the tempo building to a tremendous gutteral roar.... then she went limp, her chest heaving, a smile of satisfied delight on her face. Her eyes fluttered, and then she smiled again. Larry's cock was still hard. He looked up to Sophia. "Hey, Isabella," the woman beneath him panted, "this cock of yours is choice. Do you rent him out?" Larry watched Sophia's face shift into a smile; their eyes lanced again. "No," she said, "He's an independent contractor. But you'll still have to talk to me. Brett, put that cock away. We have elsewhere to go." Paganini's Tale, Chapter 20 The lips of Alice's cunt throbbed. Her clit felt like a pencil eraser rubbed down to the nub. As she picked up socks, shirts, blouses, and the other dirty laundry littering their bedroom, Alice squeezed her legs together when she got the chance. In the background she could hear the bathwater running hot and steamy. Her body ached for the salve of a long bath. She couldn't get rid of the smile that kept creeping up to the corners of her mouth, whenever she thought back over the afternoon's encounter. In Sears, no less! And that stockboy, or whatever, Danny, with his strong lean cock, as much a surprise for him as for her. She remembered the feel of his cock slipping inside her and smiled again. The laundry was piled onto the basket; she turned off the bathwater and tested the temperature, stroking the rippled surface with the tips of her fingers. She felt luxurious: the bath oils smelled like a garden of soft ferns. The towel awaiting her was large and thick. And the water was... just a little too hot. she thought, and grinned at herself in the full-length mirror. Then she faced herself, legs spread as if braced against the center of the earth. First she unsnapped skirt fasteners and unwrapped her hips. She wore no underwear. Then she unbuttoned her white blouse in a slow striptease. Bits of lace began to show, and she pulled the tails of her blouse down, tightening the fabric against her soft-brassiered breasts. Nipples poked through enough to show. The white cloth slipped off her smooth shoulders, and gently, gently, she withdrew her hand from the sleeve, relishing the lines of her arms and torso. The other sleeve, and then a cross-armed pulling off of her bra, fast enough to set her jugs bouncing. She stared at herself, as she had before, appraising, criticizing. But this time she could see herself with a new eye. There was compaction there. She could see the sex lines to her body. Those curves that move toward tits and cunt like roads to Rome. Nature had sculpted her body for fucking--solid, wide-tipped tits, ample hips, slim waist, tight thighs. Full lips, still pouting slightly from the reaming of the afternoon. She pulled her hands up her belly to her chest, cupping each breast in a hand, offering them to herself in the mirror. She posed for herself: one round moon out, looking over her shoulder, one hand between her legs. Then a falsely demure Betty Grable pose. Then a raunchy movie pose, one hand on her snatch, one pinching her nipple hard, and her mouth a sensuous pout of lips wanting to taste cock. The temperature of the water was just right now, and so she stepped into it, wincing at the delicious heat. Then gradually lowered herself, feeling the searing of her buttocks, the sharp jab with the water reached her asshole, then her chafed cunt, and finally her sensitized clit... then on up her stomach and and back as she reclined against the gold back of the tub. The phone rang. She sighed, and let it ring. She already knew Larry was going to be late, and if was going to be later, that would be okay. So she didn't need to answer the phone. Anybody else would call back sooner or later.... She sank down even further into the water listening to the third ring: and then she remembered--it might be her lover calling with an assignation. She sat bolt upright, water streaming from her skin. Fourth ring. She stepped out of the bath, gathered the towel around her as she moved to the door. Fifth ring. She might make it by seven, and she might not--she rushed through the utility room, then through the living room, heading toward the bedroom, sixth ring, and she grabbed it just before the seventh ring would have rung. "Hello!" she nearly yelled into the receiver. "Six and a half rings," his voice purred. She had been right. "You shouldn't keep me waiting that long." "I'm... " she stopped herself. "I was in the bathtub." "Ah, so you're naked, then." "Well... yes. Yes," she repeated, "I'm naked." "Is your hand between your legs?" "It is now." "Push your middle finger in between those luscious cunt lips of yours. Move it around slowly." "I'm doing that now. Yes, it feels good. I wish it was your cock." "What would you be doing with my cock?" "I'd be riding it, feeling it split my cuntlips apart, rubbing my hot clit, fucking it hard...." "Now pinch one nipple with the other hand, hard. I have bound you over a chair, you are held fast, but your hands are free. I fuck your tight cunt while your squeeze and pull your tits. Your snatch quivers around my pulsing cock, and then you see a cock in front of you, manmeat waiting for you to suck. Your mouth opens, and you ensnare its head between your lips. Suck on it, babe, suck that cock. There are more waiting for you to suck, all shapes and sizes, all cocks for you to suck and fuck and stroke and squeeze. Suck that cock, my beautiful slut, and fuck back at me as I shove into you. Yes, fuck back, fuck me, you sweet bitch, ripple that cunt of yours." Alice was moaning in response to his commands, his fantasy, as her fingers shoved into her cunt, pinched her nipple and kneaded her tit. She imagined the parade of cocks lining up for her, as many to fuck as she could have, could want, could suck and fuck to complete satiety. She imagined their taste, their feel, and felt her own fingers stretching out her lips, and began groaning in earnest, finally oblivious to anything he was saying, just consumed by the fantasy she was creating, by the power of her arousal. She came with a wrenching sob, dropping the phone, dropping to her knees, pulling up against her pubic bone with her full hand, clutching at her jug like she was crushing an orange. She tipped over to lay her head on the bed. She caught her breath there, face on the bedcover, and then picked up the phone. "I'm back," she said. "Good. If you want three cocks in you, then wear your black pumps with the brass buckles tomorrow. If you want three cocks in you, then the next day, at noon, you will arrive at the Bill Bateman Dance Studio, 2400 S. 53rd, at noon. You will open the door and undress. Lay yourself over the small low bench which will be set up in the middle of one of the rooms. "Do not turn on any more lights than are on when you arrive. Once you have laid yourself over it, head and cunt hanging over the ends, you must tie the bonds I leave for you to your wrists. I will then enter behind you and tie your arms under the bench. I will ask you, before I tie you down, if that is what you want. If you tell me you want three cocks inside of you, then we will proceed. 2400 S. 53rd. Noon day after tomorrow. Have a pleasant bath. Treat that sweet cunt gently." With that he hung up the phone. Alice, still on her knees leaning against the bed, laughed at the dead receiver. Still tingling with her orgasm, chilled from the cold air on drop- dappled skin, and holding the phone while his words reverberated inside her. Alice returned to her bath and soaked in perfumed splendor for fifteen minutes, then arose and put the casserole in the oven to heat while she dressed. She had on her brassiere and panties when she heard Larry's car drive up. She put on her blue silk robe and loosely tighed it with the sash, then went to the door to greet him. "I didn't expect you home so soon," she said as she kissed him hello. "When you say late usually you mean late. But you're in luck. Dinner's almost ready. I wasn't hungry, so I haven't eaten either." Larry smiled a he tightened his arms around his wife. "Good. I'm sure hungry." Larry made drinks while they chatted about nothing: the same old things at the office, some minor updates on office gossip, and the like. Alice noticed while they talked that Larry's eyes were on the opening of her robe where her cleavage showed, and to the flash of thigh that the robe showed when she moved. Alice began to subtly chanage how she moved and sat to give him a better eyeful. A slight bulge began to appear in his pants. She smiled, pleased with the power of her body to arouse. Their conversation meandered, until she brought the undercurrent of sexuality out into the open. "I love watching your cock get full behind your zipper," she said, shocking even herself. Larry looked embarassed, and almost turned his hips away from her, but then checked himself and brought himself around to face her fully. He took a breath. "And I love watching your tits bounce under that silk. You're a babe, you know that?" He moved toward the sofa she was sitting on. "I also love the way we've been, lately, with each other. I mean...." The pause almost became awkward, but she saved it for him, afraid that if it got uncomfortable, they would get embarassed, and fall back on the old safe ways. And those safe ways looked too much like grey clouds for her to allow that. "I know what you mean," she said, "I'm glad too. It's so... so erotic to talk about it directly." He smiled. "Talk about directly?" She smiled back, seeing what he was doing, and playing right back to him. "Talking about fucking, and bodies, and cocks, and cunts." "Plural?" he asked, tauntingly. "How hot do you want me to be?" "As hot as you are." "I'm real hot. I have thoughts that are whorish and crude. I feel like a slut sometimes just for thinking them." He was close beside her, and he slid his hand beneath the blue silk; her skin was more smooth than the fabric, and her tit felt heavy in his hand. "You can't shock me," he murmured. "You have no idea how many crude thoughts I have. And I'll tell them to you if you tell me yours." She leaned back, taking a deep breath to push her breast into his hand. "I love it when you touch me like you want me. Like I'm a woman, rather than your wife. Pinch my nipples, just a little. Yes, like that, oooh, that sends hot flashes through me." Her hands caressed his shoulders, his chest; snuck between his buttons to play with his chest hair. Then her fingers moved down, and pushed behind his belt. Her nails made the soft flesh above his pubes shrink and shudder. His cock thrust painfully against his pants. "I'm going to suck you off," Alice said to him, moving down off the couch to kneel between his legs. "and I want you to tell me the dirty things you think about. Then I want you to suck me off and I'll do the same." She was unzipping him, and he nodded, amazed to see Alice, pretty, chaste Alice between his legs leering at the cock bulging beneath the white cotton underwear. "Yess... yes, I'll tell you, I'll tell you a few of the dirty things I think. But get those lips around my shaft before I chicken out. Suck on me, baby, mouth my cock." She pulled the manmeat out, gasping at the tautness of his lovemuscle. "Oh, Larry, you're so hard, I can see the veins pulsing. I love this cock. I've always loved it, but I could never tell you." She lapped up at it, her tongue broad and wet, from the root up to the purple tip. Suddenly Larry realized that he hadn't showered since screwing the Duchess at Jackrabbit's back room. His cock, no doubt, was coated with the dried cream of that fuck. Alice would taste it, could probably smell it even now, and there was nothing he could do about it. He certainly couldn't take a shower now. But he could take the moment and run with it. Show her that she didn't need to be threatened. Show her that she could do the same.... "That mouth of yours, god, you're (oohh) good, yes," he said, as her mouth enfolded his purple helmet, "yesss...." He cleared his throat. "Sometimes I think about you fucking. I remember what you can be like fucking, and wonder what it would be like to watch you fucking someone. Yes, suck it in, oh, Alice, that tongue.... "Someday I want to see you with some stud-stalk in your mouth while I fuck you from behind. That's something I think about. I think about hearing from your lips, those talented lips, about how it felt to have a cock in your cunt while mine was in your ass. Oh, god, Alice, that mouth..." Alice made her tongue a circular lathe smoothing the already smooth skin of his hard pecker. She could taste the other woman's juices on his cock, but oddly, she didn't even mind that much. At first, she had been aghast, but as soon as her tongue touched his shaft, she was just amused. she thought, and then, She could hear his throat sporadically tightening as he talked, whenever she would take his column down deep, and so she bagan to take him rhythmically, using the skills she'd recently learned from her mystery lover. Her throat opened more than it ever had with Larry before, and she was loving every touch of his thick hot cock in her mouth. She groaned, then lunged back at his cock, down, pubic hairs tickling the end of her nose, then back up, smacking her lips. The other woman's juices and scent gave the blowjob a decadent perversity which perfectly matched what was going on. Larry was losing track of his train of thought. Alice's burning tongue was nearly all he could think of. "God, Alice, god you're good, what a cocksucker, jesus, oh man, suck me, yes, oh, you whore, suck it deep now..." and thinking Alice's head began to bob, as her lips encircled the head at each rising, keeping her teeth from tearing his skin as he thrust up into her mouth. He began to buck as she grabbed the base of his wang and jacked him off with her fist as she rammed down with her mouth. The effect was just what she wanted. He felt encased, engulfed, as if his cock was being dissolved into her mouth. He took her face in both hands, feeling her cheeks sunken with sucking, and held her face as he shoved his ramrod into her mouth. With her fist at the base, he knew he couldn't hurt her, so he could thrust as hard as he liked. She was so obviously loving every minute of the suckjob that he knew whatever he wanted, she wanted too. So he rammed into her, his breath coming in gasps, pants, and he grunted out his words: "god, yes, suck it, fuck, yes, I'm fucking your face, you're sucking my cock, suck it, yeah, suck it, oh you whore, you sweet slut, suck me off, yess, oh god yes, I'm going to come, yes, oh god oh god o ga oh shit god yes, fuck oh fuck, yes...." His come was more of a gusher than she'd expected, especially if he got laid earlier in the day. But the sweet cream pumped out faster than she could swallow, and some dribbled past her lips and down his cock. She sucked more gently now, almost massaging his softening sausage with her lips. She smiled up at his face, his closed eyes, his splayed arms, the tie slightly askew, one forelock of hair falling in an unruly curl on his forehead. She smiled as she sucked the last droplets from the hole at the end of his tube. She getting to be a good cocksucker. Mostly because now she loved it. Such direct control. Sucking him, she had completely possessed his cock for that time. She liked that. Alice let him catch his breath for a few moments, then climbed up, knees on his thighs, then put her feet onto the couch. He looked up at her, with her legs on either side of his hips, towering over him. Still leaned back, his head on the back of the couch, he watched her untie the sash and let her blue robe come completely open. Her breasts jutted out, her belly was a soft roundness, and her sweet cunt lay open above him. She began to bend her knees, slowly, so that her snatch would lower inch by inch. "Now it's my turn," she said, "my turn to tell you my dirty thoughts. Suck on my clit, move your tongue within my lips. Eat me, Larry, here comes my cunt, moving down. Stick out that tongue of yours, get it slick, get it ready. "My thoughts are dirty, Larry, filthy and sluttish. I loved hearing you want strange cocks in me." She was two inches away from his open mouth, her cunt so hot she could almost imagine the drips of juice running down her thighs. Like her cunt was drooling for his tongue. She bent the final inches in a rush, grinding her gash against his tongue, lips and chin. She groaned "ohh, Larry, ohhh, yes...," then positioned one knee up atop the couch, giving him easy access to the inner walls of her tube. "Lick me, lick me deep. Ohh, yes, lap it around, up around my clit. Flick it, yes, oh god yes... "You're so good, god, yes, eat me out, you bastard, yes suck me. I imagine sucking someone's cock while you eat me out. A young man's cock, long and rock-hard. He groans and tells you what a great cocksucker you've got. You tell him you know, and that he should taste how good I am. Then, he lays down and pulls me over his face. `Sit on my face,' he says. And then you move behind my ass. "Beneath my cunt his mouth works like yours is, now, but then you begin to finger my ass, opening it, loosening my rosebud. Then you ease your cock slowly in to replace your finger. Just the tip at first. You feel your balls bounce on the forehead of the young man beneath you." Larry's hands, which had been squeezing her inner thighs, now moved up to squeeze her butthams. His index finger spiraled around, homing in on her brownie, while his tongue mimicked the motion around her clit. Tongue and fingertip found their mark at the same time, and Alice groaned as he began to press against her tight asshole. His amazement was only matched by his excitement at seeing his wife, hearing his wife act like a wanton whore. She was backing into his intruding finger. Even more amazingly, he could feel himself hardening again, not more than five minutes after coming like a geyser. He thrust his tonge deep into her cunt, then withdrew it to moisten his finger. With the lubrication, he began to enter the wrinkly button, rippling the folds of skin and muscle. Round and round his finger moved, into a dark pit that he'd never entered before. Alice gyrated her ass on his impaling finger, pushing his finger deeper into her chute. Her belly began to burn. "Your cockhead is inside now, and the pressure keeps increasing. The man's tongue is like a flickering flame, and then a hot iron, working my cock like a bear at a salt lick. But that cock in my ass starts to hurt, a good hurt, but I can't tell how much it's going to hurt. "I begin to struggle, and you grab my wrists and pull them behind my back." She brought her arms behind her. With his free left hand, he held her wrists. At best the hold he had on them was symbolic. He squeezed to help the fantasy along, as if her wrists were held fast. "And I try to pull away, but you won't let me, you whisper in my ear that it's all right, you know I'll like it, you know it won't hurt more than I can stand, and I trust you, and want your cock in my ass. Your hot breath in my ear saying how much you want me, what a great whore I am, that to be a good slut I have to take it up the ass, and you bastard, you begin to push in farther, slowly, tantalizingly, gaining an inch, then stopping, making me want it." His finger followed the instructions she was giving him by implication: he pushed another inch in, then stopped. "You say, `say it, you sweet slut, tell me what you want,' and so I tell you, I say I want you to fuck me in the ass, stick that cock up by chute, ream me out, fuck my ass hard, like you mean it, and so you begin pushing deeper. The pain is a rage of pleasure that keeps pushing me higher and higher. Fuck my ass! I shout, fuck me hard, suck me hard, oh shit, deeper, deeper...." His finger was in up to his knuckle, and he thrust it in and out, winding around her relaxing sphincter. He lapped as fast as he could, and she ground her cunt hard against his face. clit against nose and lips. "Deeper, oh god you two fuckers bring out the whore in me, I love fucking and being fucked, yes, shove it in, you fucker, ram me, ram me, god yes, , Yes, AAAggghhhh! Oh DAMN fuck me shit oh FUCK goddammit Oh fuck me hard harder oh motherfucking oh shove that asshole oh yes, oh... ohh..." and she wilted down his suited chest. His finger stayed in her asshole, and after a moment, he began to move it around again. Her moans gave him the go-ahead. She was oblivious to anything more than motion now, so he rolled her over, then over again, kneeling over with her tits on the couch, her ass in the air. On the second roll, his finger had stayed stationary while her ass rotated upon it; her gasp was full of passion. "I'm going to fuck you in the ass, sweet Alice, my sweet slut, and you're going to love it. Because you a whore, aren't you. Don't you want it. Don't you." He took a risk, carrying the fantasy into reality. But the risk was worth it. She responded completely. "Yes, anything, fuck me anywhere. I need your cock in me somewhere." He pushed his finger in deep again, feeling way up inside a few firm pellets of shit. , he thought to himself, So before moving his marble-hard cock to her ass opening, he leaned over and spit on her crack, a drooly stream that he caught with his middle finger and used as a lubricant to push in as a second finger. Index and middle fingers squirmed inside her, and she gasped. "Oh, fuck me, yes, god that's so good, oh, yes...." Then suddenly he withdrew both fingers and pulled back from her. Her ass involuntarily clutched at the open air. "Oh, god, put it back, my ass is hungry, jesus don't make me wait, fuck me..." And he spit in his hand to coat his cockhead. Then he put it against her brown bud. "This is my cock," he told her. "Now I'm going to fuck your ass for real. Are you ready?" "Yes, oh, yes, I'm ready for your thick cock in my ass. Oh yes I'm ready, don't make me wait, fuck me...." His cock popped in, almost being grabbed by her sphincter, her buttmuscles. Her moons lay creamy beneath his hands as he splayed them out, to see her asshole. The sight of his cock in Alice's forbidden tunnel astounded him, and almost made hime come, but he stilled and regained control. Then he pushed onward, into that darkness, the moist channel of her bowels. Bit by bit he shoved his way in, urged on by Alice's cries. Finally he was in almost to the root. He leaned over. "You like my cock in your ass, I can tell. You are a whore, aren't you, my whore, fucking my cock with your ass. Tell me that you like it, tell me how much you like my prick in your poopchute." "I love it, fuck me with that prick, fuck my ass, fuck me like a truck through a tunnel fuck up to my belly, god I can feel you in my stomach, fucking me, jesus, fuck me, back, in, back, yes, god, plow me, plow me you bastard, fuck my ass, fuck my ass, yes..." "I'm all the way inside you," he whispered hotly into her ear. Yes I'm deep, so deep, and you're going to find out what a real assfucking is. Are you ready to get assfucked, you sweet slut?" "Do it, plow me, ram me, fuck me hard, Ohhh, yes god fuck me is that all you can do you bastard c'mon fuck me you cocksucker, you Oh god I'm going to come from my ass oh shit yes fuck me fuck fuck me yes oh What a reaming he was giving her, and watching his cock sinking into her asshole, hearing her actually coming from getting it up the ass, was too much for him. His cock began to pulse, to tighten even further, and he could feel each ridge on his cock getting a massage from her ass muscles. The jism rose like a beaker boiling to overflow, and bubbled out first before pressurizing to a stream that felt like his intestines were being strained through his dick. He screamed with her, punching his rod into her ass like he was packing a muzzle-loader, and the explosion rocked them both, sent them reeling into a collapse neither realized till they both gradually awoke from the trance state. His pecker was now soft, though still held tight by her ass. He eased it out, and she squeezed the last spunk out as she expelled him. Then he rolled her over. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dilated, her smile infectious. He leaned down and kissed her deeply. He could still taste a little of his come in her mouth. The kiss was tender. From both sides, an appreciation, a joy. Both felt more loving and more loved than they had for years. Their arms came around each other and the embraced, their tongues dancing a slow gavotte, while their pulses gradually wound down, and their breathing became even. The kiss was sweet. And then they both smelled the casserole burning in the oven.