February 21, 2004

A Night of Debauchery & Desire 02

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, you are coming to release me from the shower wall and say, "I think an hour hanging there is more than enough." An hour? There is no way I could have been there an hour. It seems like only seconds ago that you left. Perhaps that is one of the side effects of the blindfold, too; a loss of time. Either way, as soon as you free my wrists, I feel immediate relief at the more relaxing position.

I feel you step behind me and gently guide me out of the shower, and to the next area you wish to use. Just as I step onto the carpeting of the living room, I hear you say "Stop." I do my best not to move another muscle. "Kneel," you command. I begin to sink to my knees and waiver a bit. You grab my arm and support me as I finish kneeling. I feel your hand leave my arm, and then I feel your cock at the lips of my mouth. "Open it," you say.

I open my mouth and feel your soft cock slid in. I suck it in so that my nose rests in the patch of pubic hair just above. Then I feel you bend over my body. You grab my right wrist, and I feel cold steel and hear the click of a handcuff. You pull my hand behind me, and bring the left hand up to join it. Bending my arms at the elbow, you stand up straight and command, "Make it hard."

I begin bobbing my head up and down your shaft, feeling it grow in length and hardness as I do. I continue to suck your cock as far down my throat as I can, trying to get my nose back into your pubic hair. I know how much you enjoy it when your cock hits the back of my throat; I can hear the pleasure in the groans that escape your body.

"Stop," you say. I am confused, knowing that I have been giving you pleasure, but do as I am told.

As soon as I stop, you pull your shaft out of my mouth, drop my hands, and walk behind me. I feel my hands being pulled behind me and hear another click. Suddenly the blindfold is gone, and I turn my head to see what is happening. What meets my eyes is something new. You have taken my handcuffed hands and attached them to an O-ring in the floor, so that my arms are pulled out behind me and locked there. Holding my arms in place is a chain that you silently wrapped around the links between the cuffs. This chain is attached to the O-ring by a padlock. I can see there is no way I will be touching you anytime soon.

While I was inspecting my bindings, you have walked around to stand in front of me again. I turn my head, and look up into your eyes with a question in mine. "There will be plenty of time for 'touchy-feely' later," you say. "For now, this is how I want things, and this is how they will be. Do you have a problem with that?" I shake my head.

"I can't hear your head rattle, bitch. Now, do you have a problem with my plans?"

"No, sir," I reply.

"No, who?"

Understanding now what you are looking for, I lower my eyes to look at the floor and answer, "No Master."

"Much better," you say. "Now, look at me, and put that cock all the way to the back of your throat."

I look up at you, locking my eyes with yours, and resume sliding my lips up and down your shaft. I must have been moving too slowly, because you grab the back of my head and begin moving it back and forth much faster. Once you feel that I have obtained the rhythm that you desire, you release my head and tilt your head back in order to just enjoy the sensations. I watch as many different expressions of pleasure pass over your face.

"Stop!" you bark. Due to the gruffness of your voice, I freeze as soon as the single word is out of your mouth. This means that I have stopped with my nose buried in your pubic hair, and your cock at the back of my throat. "The only thing I want you to do now is loosen the tension in your mouth." I do as I am told.

As you pull out of my mouth, I notice how your shaft glistens with saliva. It practically gleams, like a rare jewel. I am pulled away from my private thoughts, however, by a sharp pain across my breasts. I gasp at the suddenness of the sensation. I raise my eyes to look at you, and see you standing over me with your belt in your hands. A quick glance down at the bright red spot running across my breasts tells me your belt is what was used on my breasts.

I barely get my head out of the way as a second strike comes. Again, I gasp. My gasps are more from surprise than actual pain. The second strike is followed by a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. By the time the fifth strike has landed, I can feel my pussy juices running out onto my thighs, and I am sure you can see it.

The belt drops from your hands, and you step forward and force your cock into my mouth once again. Instead of relying on me, you grab my hair and move my head back and forth, sending your cock to the back of my throat on each and every in stroke. It doesn't take long, and you shoot a large load of cum into my mouth. Then you look down at me and say, "That's just the first of many loads that will be shot tonight."

Your flaccid cock slides out from between my lips and you move behind me and release my arms. I feel you unlock one of the handcuffs, and you bring the hand around in front of me and relock it in the cuff. "You now have permission to relax for a few minutes."

I settle on my bottom, cross my legs and rest with my hands in my lap.

February 14, 2004

Anita A Week Of Awakenings 02

Chapter 2

He walked over to me, and took my hand.

"Nita," he started, as he sat at my feet. "I want what you are offering so much, but I also know my limits. I want to tell you a story please. It might help you understand my problems, and maybe, if you are willing, you can help me. May I intrude?"

"Sure, Bob. I want you to tell me anything. I care very much for you, and I want you to trust me completely I hope I can help you, and . . . I promise not to laugh at you." I added, honestly.

"Phew," he said, "I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear my story, or not, and I never like to bother anyone, but I do think you could help me. I don't want to burden you though. Maybe it might be best to let it go, huh?"

"Tell me, Bob, tell me, please. I will listen and I will help you."

"My life is a fuck up. I'm 45 years old, and my life is a total fuck up." he started bluntly. "Oh, don't feel sorry for me. I made my bed, and I am prepared to lie in it, but some times I don't cope well. I never seek pity or help, I just make the most of it. You, know," he stared into space, "I know how bad my life is, and yet, I accept it, too. I know I told you some of this earlier, but may I tell it all, fully, now, please?"

Over the next three hours he talked at length about his problems, his past and his dreams. I sat quietly, not interjecting, listening encouragingly. He got distracted a few times, and talked about many different topics, but always returned to the story at hand. We laughed a little as he talked, and yes, we cried too. He had several beers as he talked, and I drank the second bottle of wine. Quiet music played in the background, and it was a relief to hear his full story finally. I had known, from little things he had hinted, that all was not well at home, and I was proud he trusted me enough to share this story.

He described how his wife had manipulated, and abused him for years. He told me about some of his earlier life, how free and fun he used to be. But since meeting his wife he had become more and more depressed. He spoke quietly, almost like reciting a monologue, and I sat silently listening.

He had been a healthy, sexual adventurous kid, having many girlfriends, but he admitted that in Australia, in the early 70's sex was not discussed, or even known about, as it is these days. He laughed quietly, but was earnest in admitting that he didn't even know what masturbation was, let alone how to do it, until he was 16. He confided that his (future) wife taught him. She taught him much more too, apparently. He admitted he had had several girlfriends before her, and it was always only touching and feeling, until her. Even oral sex was unknown in Australia. [It seems that Australia in those days didn't have the media exposure we all take for granted now, and kids only learned (slowly) from each other.]

His sex drive was normal for a kid (well, maybe a bit high, lol) and he was keen and eager to explore any sexuality offered. His future wife was initially far more experienced and, as she was two years older, she took control of sex quickly. She had had an older boyfriend (who was 21 to her 17), prior to Bob, and it was that boyfriend who had taught her well. Her only demand to Bob, which he accepted, was that she remain a "virgin" until marriage.

Bob acquiesced to her request, especially as she offered her body to him for any other pleasures. She taught him about masturbation, initially how to masturbate himself, then how to do her. She taught him about oral sex, and performed it on him regularly (although she never swallowed, lol). He also learned (from her) about her oral needs, and she willingly opened her legs at any time, anywhere. He learned how to tit fuck her generous tits, and how to finger her wet, and hairy cunt. It was during this time that she used to play with his nipples, and he played with hers. Both of them experiencing intense joy from tit action. She never complained, she never refused him, and at 18 to his 16, she was definitely the dominant one in the partnership, sexually.

He further told me that he had no reason to worry. Hell, she was more sexual than he, and they used to do it everyday they could. Sure, he admitted, there were times when wondered why she was so sexual, and still refused to fuck, but those times were few and far apart. He also mentioned that he had the occasional flirt on the side, and life was looking good as a teenager.

On more than one occasion his (future) wife's friends had invited them over, and while no couple swapping had occurred, these friends regularly stripped off and everyone sat around naked. Bob knew David was interested in his wife, because of her large tits, and he thought Jenny was keen too, but his wife never accepted the casual offers. His wife did however, flirt heavily with David, and on one occasion Bob sat and watched as David fingered his wife's cunt with his thumb, and she sat defiantly looking at Bob with a smile on her face. They were playing cards and were all naked sitting on the floor, when she dropped a card between her legs. She asked David to get the card, and as he picked up the card, he put his thumb up into her cunt, and fingered her. She sat there smiling, and then redropped the card, asking he again retrieve it, which he willingly did.

But, his (future) wife started changing a few months before they married. He said he couldn't put his finger on when, and how, the changes occurred, but he was very aware of her change the week before the wedding. They had bought a house several months earlier, and had then decided to marry. The week before the wedding she announced that they should "practice" fucking - it was close enough to the wedding now - she said!

He admitted to me, without hesitation, or shame, that he was less than gentle that first time. Not that he was rough, or abusive, but the excitement of finally doing it got his blood up, and he was poking and pushing furtively, lol. And, she was no help. She didn't try to encourage, or seduce. She didn't try to guide his cock, or even try to position herself properly - she abused his failings, and then blamed him. Right from that first time, she was critical of his performance.

He said that the next might she told him "to try again, and this time don't hurt me". Yes, he hurt her (so she said). No matter how gentle he was, it wasn't good enough. The third night he tried yet again, and was even gentler than before. Still she claimed he was hopeless. Her retort to him was basically, "look, you're the one that wants to do this, I couldn't care less, I don't even know what all the fuss is all about, I couldn't care less if we never fuck, and you expect me to put up with your uselessness? I don't think so! Just grow up! God, your sick! You pervert! I haven't got a problem, you're the one with the problem!"

Before the wedding had even taken place she had established a new and damaging rule.

We paused while he went to the bathroom, and I sat there in stunned silence. I didn't know what to say to him, and I was now beginning to understand some if his fears.

When he returned, he smiled softly, and quietly asked me if I wanted to hear more. He said he didn't want to just keep going if I didn't want to hear it

"Bob," I answered, truthfully. "Hon, I may not be an expert, but I think just you talking about this to someone, finally, might be a good thing, for you. I would be honored if you tell me more, please."

He settled back at my feet, and no, this time I wasn't being slutty, but I parted my legs so that my cunt was again in full view. This time I did it to show him trust. I wanted to show him I was totally trusting him, and by opening my legs I was demonstrating I had nothing to hide.

He resumed his story. He admitted that he was confused, hurt and totally bewildered. He said that prior to their marriage, his wife was very sexual, often, and at times aggressive in her demands. He told me how she would demand he finger her wet cunt as he licked her out. He was nearly in tears as he explained how he would often put one, two, and even three fingers into her cunt as she pushed her hips down to embrace his fingers. She did this regularly, he said, adding that he was literally fisting her and she was demanding more, and now she said his 6 inch cock "hurt her"???

From then, he said, his marriage just went further down hill. Initially, she would abuse him if he tried to fuck her, so he stopped trying, then she would abuse him if he didn't try! He was totally hurting by then, he said. Masturbation was his only relief, and he sought that relief discreetly. He was frightened to go to bed, not knowing whether his wife would demand sex, and abuse him, or refuse sex and then abuse him.

She also started to play mind games. Coming up with chores he had to perform in order to be granted sex. "Her majesty" (my sarcasm) would issue orders for him to carry out, but the closer the deadline appeared, the more ridiculous the demands would get. He said it was humiliating to think that he would have to "behave" for a total week, only to have his hopes dashed at the last minute because he forgot some small mundane matter, that she usually didn't even mention. He continued by adding that on the infrequent times he did do all of the chores she would only consent to permitting him to masturbate, as she pulled his tits sadistically. And, he was never allowed to cum on her, or near her. He was further humiliated by her abusing him for being "weak" and a "wanker" [Aust. Term for masturbation]. She spat her insults to him with a venom unmatched by any thing he could describe.

Life at home was hell, he said, and he knew no way out. In desperation, he consulted some friends at work, finally. He said his family was no help as they didn't want to know, and in desperation he turned to two work friends for some help. But the "help" didn't help, it further hurt him.

The first person he talked to was Sue, a BBW, but sexy lady. She was sympathetic and wanted to help him. Her help was to suck his cock, and then fuck him silly one night after the Christmas party. He loved it, he said, but it didn't really help. All it did was reinforce the fact that his wife was the problem. He knew he was never the problem, and everything he did with Sue was what he would do with the wife, anyway. Sue loved his care and gentle attention, his wife didn't! Not only was Sue a willing sex partner, but she came back for more, and he started a three month affair with her. He only stopped fucking Sue because life at home was so bad, he couldn't cope with Sue's caring ways, when he returned to home to his wife and her abuses.

His next foray into sexual freedom was different, and a bit extreme. He had a brief homosexual affair with a second work friend. Why? He asked, and then answered, because he was curious, and because he was so lonely for sexual comfort that a small matter of gender wasn't going to be a hindrance to his needs.

His name was Travis, and they only did oral, but in fact, only Bob sucked Travis. Travis refused to suck Bob because Bob had an uncircumcised cock. That added Bob, was a further worry, and the beginning of a new hang-up. Did all people dislike uncircumcised cock?

I asked him if he enjoyed cock sucking, and he answered, "Yes. Why not? It was a different type of sex, and I had been curious since I was a kid, so why not? I did like the way his cock grew from small to large as I sucked and licked it. And he was big, lol" he ended.

I admired his honesty, and I confess, I found the thought of watching two men suck each other's cocks very stimulating, but I didn't say anything to Bob just then, but my mind did start to form a thought for later on, lol.

Bob did admit that Travis had not cum in his mouth, but that they had planned another session, which never occurred. All in all, he said, he sucked Travis twice. The first was in a bathroom at work, when Bob watched Travis piss, then took Travis's cock into his mouth after the piss finished. He had sucked for several minutes but was worried about getting caught, so stopped. The second, and last time, was after Bob, his wife and Travis had gone for a swim in Bob's backyard pool. He went on to say that that was one of those nights his wife was particularly polite and nice, but with a barbed edge. She had asked Travis over for dinner and then suggested they go for a swim after. Travis had said he hadn't brought any swim suit, and his wife casually said that "nude was fine, but don't expect Bob to drop his shorts - he is too shy," she added.

So Bob was embarrassed into stripping and the two guys were soon naked as the wife sat dressed, watching Travis's cock grow. Travis had a large cock - over 8 inches, cut, and shaved. His wife was not bashful in looking straight at Travis, who had become semi-erect and was proudly displaying his cock. After they swam, Travis sat in the family room, still naked, still semi-erect and the wife then said she was off to bed. Bob said he waited about ten minutes then walked over, knelt and took Travis's cock into his mouth. No words were exchanged, and Travis became fully erect. But he hadn't cum, although he did ask to fuck Bob, or for Bob to fuck him. Bob declined both, due to his wife being so close.

So within three months Bob had seen life as it could be, and yet still returned to the hell his life was. He then admitted that rather than become sexually free, he retreated into his marriage, allowing his wife more domination, and control.

"Why?" I asked with concern.

Because, he answered, he didn't want to hurt her. He continued by saying that he took his marriage vows seriously, and at that age (23) was determined not to fail. He added that looking back with hindsight, it was also clear (now) that his family probably expected him to fail and he was determined not to give them that satisfaction. Here he went off on one of his many digressions and told how his family, who were from a simple working class background constantly made fun of Bob (especially his father) because he wasn't good with manual tasks, and was always making mistakes. His father (in disgust) told Bob one day close to his 15th birthday that the only hope for Bob was teaching, because he was useless with his hands. Bob admitted he had had self-esteem problems for some time.

He paused, drank a cold ale, paused again, then slowly continued. After about six years he knew his marriage was a mess, and that his dignity was under threat. Finally, after a disastrous vacation overseas, he finally left his wife. He walked out one morning, after a bad argument the night before. He had told his wife he was leaving in the morning. And in the morning he did . . . but . . . during the night his wife had risen, dead-locked the front door, and hidden the key. In the morning, short of violence, he lost the last of his dignity, and self-esteem, by walking out the back door . . . to freedom.

He started to cry, and pretty soon, the tears flowed from both of us, and I lowered my lips to his and kissed him, gently, softly. He hugged me strongly, and we sat holding each other for several minutes. Both naked, both totally relaxed with each other, and both crying.

I kissed his face again, and this time he kissed back. Soft kisses, but passionate too.

"Bob," I said gently, "you don't have to say anymore, please, don't. I understand."

"Nita, it's better to just get it finished please." He replied. "I have gone this far, the most of the hurt is behind me now."

He continued. His freedom was short lived. Within six weeks his wife was begging him to return to her. He had gone to stay with his mother, and she offered no sympathy, in fact telling him to grow up, and go back to his wife. His mother also asked him if there was anyone else he was seeing, and when he said no, she pressed him further. No, he insisted, and still she persisted. Finally, she outright asked him if he was gay!! No, he exclaimed, shocked. "Ok", she said, "it was just your father and I always thought you were a bit effeminate!" What a slap in the face!

He told me he returned to his wife, after she promised she would change, and after she admitted totally, that she was in error. Life, he said, was great for about six to ten weeks but slowly she returned back to her old self. Initially, she willingly, eagerly sucked his cock, and even swallowed. She welcomed his mouth back to her hairy cunt, and willingly started shaving her cunt for his pleasure. She took his cock in her cunt nightly, and bucked wildly, even riding on top. In fact, he said, he finally orgasmed in her cunt for the first time since they were married!

But he had made her a promise. He had promised her that he would never leave her again, and he further promised that he would care for her, and look after her. She had begged him to promise these things and, he admitted, he had.

Not long after he returned, things returned to normal - her normal, he said. And it was all back to the same as before. The torment, the pain, the humiliation. However, this time he had even less control (if he ever had any previous control, he wondered?). The change occurred, surely and immediately. He gave up.

Now, he was stuck, and felt obligated to stay. He was in a loveless marriage, sex had returned to being a nightmare. He was suicidal! Yet he was committed to be there. He said it was more than just a promise, he felt that he was honor-bound.

And, now he was seeing images on the internet, and he admitted, he liked what he saw, loved it all, and was intrigued and wanted to do it all. NOW. Nothing shocked or offended him, and the more he saw, the more he wanted. He wanted sexual freedom and wanted it now. But she had dragged him back to hell.

"Nita," he said, "the truth is I will stay in that loveless hell of a marriage, but I want my cock to explode into any hole. I want to touch and taste and feel every sexual need I have. But, I can't do it. Every time I try, I get nervous, and think I am going to have a heart attack. It isn't guilt, fuck that cunt whore wife of mine. It is more than that. It is the fear that I will like what I see, and do, and then want more. I feel like hell every day. I feel I am walking dead."

I took his hand, and he continued. "When you undressed for me, I wanted you so much. If there is one lady who can give me what I want, I think it is you. No, no, please, don't get me wrong. I don't think you are a slut or a whore. I think you might be the type of person I want to be. I think you have sexual freedom, and I also think you do experiment. Am I wrong?"

"No, Bob you aren't wrong," I replied to him. "You are very right. I love sex, and with a few different partners, I have done a lot of sexual play. I am kinda pleased how I am - so don't worry, you didn't offend me. I call a spade a spade when I am talking too, or a cunt a cunt, lol. Tell me what your needs or desires are, and if I can help you, I would love to try."

He didn't apologize when he told me his needs. He said he craved sex, and was becoming obsessed. He didn't care. Sucking, fucking, fisting, anal, BDSM and pain, humiliation, water-sports, female-female, male-male, group sex, even bestiality, etc. Fuck, you name it, he wanted it all, and more. He had tried some manual stimulation – played with his own ass, and a few more things. He was desperate.

"Nita, you probably think I am a sick fuck, I know, but I'm not. I am just me. I was told when I was younger that sex would be beautiful, and so far, I am still waiting."

Oh poor Bob, I thought, and my mind was beginning to come up with ideas for the next couple of days. I was forming a few ideas, but didn't want to say anything to him yet. I needed to get him through tonight first, and make a phone call or two in the morning. I knew a couple of good friends who would fly up for a night of fun. Very open minded friends.

"Bob, is there anything I could do now to please you? What could I do to excite you? Was there anything you wanted?" I asked.

"Nita," he looked at me. "There is so much I want. Where do I start? I was looking at that wine bottle a little while ago. I used to use bottles like that to fuck my own ass. I still do. I am my own sex partner." He added with shame.

"Bob, I can use that bottle for you. Would you like me to hold it while you fuck it?" I asked, not sure if he wanted that or not, but I was frantic to please him, and further show my trust. "Do you want me to fuck you with that bottle?"

"You don't mind?" he asked incredulous.

"Fuck, of course I don't mind." I answered. "If you need some help, without criticism, then I can do that for you, can't I? I would love to fuck your ass with anything. I want to see you smile."

"Do it too me please, Nita. Please" he asked very quietly.

"Will your ass take it?" I asked with concern. "Have we got any lubrication to use?"

"Shit, no." he said. "I do use a lube, but left it at home. Fuck, what can we use to lube my ass, and the bottle neck?"

I don't even know where the idea came from, or when I got it, but I reached for the bottle, and opened my legs, and just pushed it into my wet cunt. Slowly I pushed until about 4 inches of the tapered neck was deep in my fuck hole. Then I started to fuck myself with the bottle. Bob sat there in total surprise, and watched me do it. I was never bashful, or slow to enjoy my body, and in the most casual way I could think, I was now lubricating his fuck toy, lol.

"Oh wow, Nita," he exclaimed.

I nearly didn't hear him, I was lost in my own joy. I was now frigging the bottle in and out with increasing rhythm, feeling my cunt stretch, and tighten with each thrust. Bob sat, erect, watching me fuck the bottle. I did feel his hand reach for my tit and start to pull my nipple. Mmmm. "Bob," I said. "Bend over, hon. I am ready to fuck you now." And he did immediately.

He tuned onto all fours, and I sat forward, withdrawing the cunt covered bottle. Ah, my cunt felt so alive it tingled. What should I do? Be gentle? Be rough? Ease it in? I chose a combination, and eased it up to his butt hole, and pushed it slowly in, until I knew I could get it passed his ass hole. Then when I was satisfied it would go in, I pushed harder.

"Fuck, yes," he cried, as I started to push and pull the bottle in and out of his ass. I managed to get at least 3 maybe 4 inches in and he never flinched. He pushed his ass back to meet the bottle, and the faster I fucked him, the more he enjoyed it.

I could see his cock was hard and bulging, but I didn't want to take it, until he asked.

I saw him reach around and start to pull his cock. I didn't mind. I wanted him to be loose and relaxed. There was plenty of time for more. He was stroking his cock in rhythm to my thrusts.

"Bob," I said. "I want that cock seed in my mouth. Would you do that for me, seeing I lubed your fuck toy?"

He turned to me, and said "Sure, thanks, dear lady. Leave the bottle in my ass, as I turn around please."

He eased around and sat back so the bottle went deep into his ass, and started to pull his cock vigorously. I sat forward and stroked his tits as he self-fucked the bottle and pulled his cock to orgasm.

At the very moment he shuddered, I lowered my mouth until I was inches away. He shot his load into my mouth without spilling a drop. I am always greedy for cock juice and I licked his piss hole as he dribbled the last drops of cum from his knob. The bottle was still deep in his ass, and he was smiling. He slowly raised his ass till the bottle plopped out, and he turned and took the bottle of the carpet.

He stood slowly, kissed me, sucked the neck of the bottle once, and then took the bottle to the bathroom to clean.

I looked at the clock. Midnight. "Fuck, Bob, it's late," I called out.

We quickly jumped into bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

February 07, 2004

Act Out

There was that same avoidance after our second amazing night of perverse debauchery. By the time I woke up, stiff and sore, on the living room carpet, Helen had cleaned herself up and was her normal old self again and acted like nothing had happened.

To tell the truth, I was thankful. I'd done and said things to her I was deeply ashamed of. I'd treated a smart, beautiful woman I really loved like she was nothing more important than three holes made to be fucked. Sure, she'd loved every moment and every way I abused her, and had even suggested things for me to do, but that was no excuse for having done it.

That's not to say I regretted any of it. Maybe that sounds weird, but it's true. I didn't want to be reminded that it'd happened, but I wouldn't have taken any of it back, even if there'd been a way. After the first hour or two, the worst of our mutual embarrassment was over and we went about our Sunday chores - including church - like it was just another day. The only visible reminder of what we'd done was that Helen waddled a little when she walked. Her much abused asshole was raw, and her pussy wasn't in much better shape.

As before though, there were side-effects. We made passionate love at least once a day, sometimes more. We added a little more variety to our coupling, but nothing really outrageous. Helen liked to be on top sometimes, and we developed a habit of extended foreplay, including energetically eating one another's sex. And we privately fantasized, remembering the things we'd done, the wild lust we'd both experienced.

All the while, we went about planning our upcoming wedding. It was going to be the big church affair our families wanted and had pretty much given up on, since we were both in our mid twenties. Needless to say, we acted like the perfect couple. Not even our best friends had any idea that beneath our handsome, normal appearances there lurked dark secrets.

It was after the next-to-last wedding rehearsal, three days before the real thing, half-tanked on champagne, that Helen and I loosened up our lust again. It'd been almost four months since that wild Saturday night, and the pressure to get dirty had been building and building in both of us.

I'd secretly, shamefully indulged in more masturbatory fantasies inspired by that mind-blowing event than I could count. When I discovered the trashy makeup I'd bought her had vanished from her bathroom drawer, I slyly got more. In fact, about once a month I broke out into a sweat and whacked off and couldn't stop myself from making a trip to some cosmetic counter to pick up a little something for "next time." I knew there'd *be* a "next time," I just didn't know when.

The day of the practice wedding had been one of those times. I'd had to go to the men's room at the plant and jack of to mental pictures of Helen wearing her virginal white wedding gown and a complete whore's face, dominated by slick, fat red lips begging to be fucked. On the way to the rehearsal, I'd been compelled to stop at a huge drugstore and buy still more lewd fantasy cosmetics. I was worried and excited by the contents of the little shopping bag in the back seat of the car. I half-hoped Helen would notice it and discover what was inside, but I couldn't make myself say anything.

So, when we finally made it home after the Friday evening rehearsal party, and Helen glued herself to me before we even got the door closed and pushed her tongue down my throat, grinding her fantastic tits against my chest, the plastic bag in my hand felt very obvious. When the hot kiss finally ended, I guess I must have looked at it.

"What's that, Ron?" she asked, still rubbing me with her hips.

"Oh. Nothing."

"It's *got* to be something, hon." She lifted it from my limp fingers and peeked inside. Her "Oh!" was surprised, but not at all displeased. Her eyes sought mine, and the bump of her hips picked up a little more urgency. I saw her swallow a lump in her throat, try to say something, and decide she needed another kiss.

I only thought the first one was passionate. Compared to the way she attacked my mouth that time, it'd been a polite peck. Her fingers dug into my ass like she was trying to force my whole body between her legs. When she finally broke the embrace, she was gasping.

"Should I . . . do you want me to . . ."

I watched her try to get the words out and felt the lust expand to fill me. "Yeah. That's what I want."

She wrapped one long leg around my waist and dove in for another kiss. "Say it," she murmured hotly into my ear, nibbling my lobe. "Tell me what you want me to be."

I squeezed her ass, pulling her still closer. I made sure one finger was hard against her shit hole. "My nasty little slut," I told her. "My dirty little whore."

"Oh, yes," she breathed, the crotch of her jeans riding up my erection, her ass wiggling, trying to force my finger in her back door. "I want that. I want it so fucking bad, Ron. I want to do it like last time, with you fucking me while I paint my face."

"No, cunt. I want it to be *better* than last time."

"Oh, baby, it will be. I've got some surprises for you."

"I've got some for you, too, bitch."

"So take me upstairs, stud. Let's do it. I'm so fucking hot just thinking about it that I'm ready to cum right now."

"Un uh. First you put on the lipstick in the bag and get on your fucking knees right here and suck my cum down your slutty little throat."

I let her use the hall mirror to spread the deepest creamy red color I could find over her mouth while I unbuttoned her blouse and attacked her already long nipples. She hissed and purred and thrust her tight ass against my swollen prick until I was satisfied with her lips.

When she took my cock in her mouth it was with all the skill I imagined a professional hooker had, and a hell of a lot more real desire for what she was doing.

"Oh, fuck, baby," she groaned as she took a break and used her hands to stroke my rod. "Look what I'm doing! I'm smearing my nasty fucking lipstick all over your cock. I'm taking your lovely fuck-meat all the way down my throat." She shuddered wildly. "God, I love it!" She dove back onto me, sucking noisily.

I took her hair in my fists and held her head still and fucked myself in and out of her head. Through tightly gritted teeth, I told her what I had hidden away in the back of my closet. "I bought you tons of makeup, cunt, so you can look every bit the slut you are. I got you two real dildos that look just like cocks. They're long and fat and hard, ready for your holes, baby. Before the night's over, your cunt and ass are going to be so fucking stretched out you could fuck a telephone pole."

She was whining around my prick. She'd opened her jeans and her hand was digging noisily in her sloppy wet pussy while she bounced on the floor. She was trying to speak, but the way I was forcing my dick into her made it impossible. I tried to hold myself back, but the sight of her smeared lips and the color she left on my meat drove me over the edge. I pushed as far in as possible and stayed there. Her lips were buried in my public hair, nuzzling the base of my shaft, and I could see the end of my dick bulging her graceful neck. My cum erupted like lava. Helen choked and swallowed, swallowed and choked. The white goo oozed around her lips as I eased back out of her head a little, my knees turning to jelly.

When I turned loose of her hair, she grabbed my cock and jacked it, opening her mouth for air, showing me the pool of cum on her tongue. She aimed my spurting prick between her smeared lips and hungrily took every wad I gave her. When I was merely dribbling sperm, she cooed and rubbed my shrinking member over her cheeks, chin and eyes, never giving up her pumping grip, until I was totally limp. She bathed my soft flesh in tender kisses and loving licks, making sure she'd gotten every last trace of cum.

I helped her to her feet, make her kick the jeans and panties off her ankles. I told her to leave her blouse on and her bra open because it made her look so trashy. She smiled at herself in the mirror, admiring her blurred lips and the smears of cum shining on her fair skin.

I led her to the stairs and pushed her up, my thumb digging into her asshole and my first two fingers slipped into her saturated cunt. She had to lean on the bannister and slowly climb the steps with her legs parted. When my thumb popped past her ass-ring and plunged into her, she missed a step and nearly fell. She leaned back against me and came, wailing loudly.

I pushed her forward, made her walk and cum at the same time. She had to lean against the wall all the way down the hall, and I thought her legs were going to give out and dump her on the floor, but she made it somehow. Her cum was trickling down her thighs like she'd pissed all over herself.

When we got in the bedroom, I jerked my hand out of her. She looked stunned, gasped. She just stood there with a haunted expression while I got the overnight case from my closet shelf. I flipped it open and showed her what was inside. Her shock dissipated as her eyes danced over all the eyeshadow and lipsticks, foundations, powders, nail enamels and false fingernails I'd accumulated.

"Oh, Ron," she whimpered, taking the case from my hands. "Oh, fuck, honey. Can I use it now? I can't wait!"

"Not yet, slut. You said you had some surprises, too. Show me."

She dropped her eyes, looked embarrassed and hesitated. Her expression changed when I pinched her nipples. She grunted at the pain and pleasure pulsing through her and smiled. When I dropped my hands, she set the case on the bed and scurried to her much larger closet. She grabbed a black garment bag from the bar and laid it out on the bed like it was fragile. Her hands opened and closed near the zipper. Her eyes speared me with a pleading look.

I stroked her fine ass, played with her shit hole. "Open it, whore."

She bent forward from the waist, her tits hanging straight down and opened the bag. The first thing she took out, handling it like it was a baby, was what I thought at first was the black cocktail dress she'd borrowed from her friend Doreen that first time. I saw I was wrong as she spread it on the bedspread. The neckline was cut even deeper, the hem even shorter, and it buttoned up the front.

"Where'd you get it?" I asked, still toying with her asshole.

She thrust into my touch. "I bought it at the mall. I bought all this nasty shit with money from my savings."

"Show me the rest, cunt. Let me see it all."

She took out a garter belt and three pair of patterned hose. There was a wicked, lacy red teddy that had garter straps, too, and two sets of sexy bras and panties. The final items were two pairs of stiletto heels taller than anything I'd ever seen, one red, one black. She ran loving hands over everything until I pushed my teasing finger into her puckered, sweaty brown hole. It was slick with pussy juice and went in easily. She gasped and stiffened and wiggled her ass.

"Have you worn any of it?"

"No," she groaned. "I didn't even try it on when I bought it. I wanted to but I couldn't. I take it all out and look at it this way sometimes, but the first time had to be because you made me do it."

"Do you finger your slick pussy and play with your tits when you look at it?"

"Yes," she hissed, humping back at my hand as I poked her with it.

"How many times?"

"Three. But I wanted to do it more. I diddled my big, fat clit and pinched my nipples real hard and made myself cum like a bitch. Sometimes at work I have to go to the bathroom and finger myself, just dreaming about how slutty I'll look and feel. Make me do it now, honey. Make me be your fucking whore, right now."

Instead, I picked up one of the shiny red shoes. The sole wasn't even scuffed. I put the metal tipped heel between her legs and rubbed it up and down her weeping slit.

She jerked, whined. "It's cold."

"I'll warm it up for you." I pointed the tip at her asshole as slowly pushed it in. "I'll fuck you with your own fuck-me shoes, slut." I wanted to really pound her with it, but was afraid the sharp tip would injure her.

She put both hands on the bed and spread her legs wider. "Yes," she muttered. "Oh, yes. Fuck your cunty whore any way you want to. I love it all. I'll do anything you want."

I grabbed the other red shoe and slid the second heel in her ass above the first one. She shrieked and dropped her face onto the bed, on top of the black dress. Her hand scrabbled for a black shoe and she started licking it, then sucking on the six inch long spike like it was a cock. She was frenzied.

"So fucking nasty," she groaned around the high heel. "Sucking off a fucking shoe. Two more splitting my ass, all the way in my guts. Slut. What a fucking slut. I'll fuck anything. Anywhere. Make me cum, baby. Make me cum. Don't let me ever stop cumming. I'm your fuck toy, the nastiest whore there ever was."

I jerked the shoes out of her, slapped her ass hard. "Then make yourself look like one, cunt. Here. Put on the shoes I fucked you with and get your hot ass into the bathroom and paint your cheap fucking face."

Nodding drunkenly, she sat on the bed and strapped the heels on her ankles. She wobbled in them when she stood, leaned on me for support.

I straightened her and stepped away. "Strut for me, cunt. Wiggle your ass. I want to see the way your big tits bounce in your fuck-me shoes."

Her first few strides were awkward and ungainly in the stilt-like shoes.

"That sucks, bitch. Get your shit together. Make me want to fuck you."

Her second pass around the room was better. She kind of fucked the air as she walked. She stared at the way I rubbed my crotch. She wet her mouth and pulled her blouse and bra under her tits, lifting them for me. Her nipples were long and red from being pinched. She squeezed them like bread dough.

"Look at yourself in the mirror, you sleazy cunt. Look how high and hard your ass is in those shoes. Look at how you're playing with your fucking tits. Look how you're begging to be fucked."

She was fascinated by her reflection. "Yes. So fucking sleazy. Oh, God, baby, let me finger my pussy. I want to watch me finger-fuck myself. I want to watch myself cum. Please."

"No fucking way, bitch. You've got to earn it." I pushed her toward the bathroom and followed, carrying the little suitcase. She was already bent at the hips with her legs spread, looking expectantly at me. I set the case down beside her and rested a hand on her ass cheek, my fingers at the top of her thigh. "Do it."

She talked to herself under her breath while she attacked the makeup. I kept squeezing her ass and tickling her between the legs. She was amazingly wet, her pussy lips hanging open a little, her hair matted and soft and curly.

"You kept your cunt trimmed, slut. I bet every time you shaved your legs you remembered last time and got turned on. Right?"

"Umm," she purred, curling her long black eyebrows in a clamp. "I felt so dirty, honey. I touched myself every time, rolled my clit and fingered my pussy almost every time I took a bath."

"What a fucking cunt," I told her, going for her asshole with two wet fingers. "Did you ever put things in your ass, whore?"

"Noooo," she groaned, pushing against my hand with quick thrusts.

"But you will from now on, won't you, slut? When you feel nasty from now on, you'll want something in your ass, too, won't you?"

"Yesss. Oh, fuck yes."

"And you'll want to play with makeup. And you'll fuck your own ass and cunt in the mirror and watch your slutty red lips and cum until you scream."

"Slutty . . . red . . . lips . . ." she said around the silver tube as she ran it over her mouth. "Long . . . red . . fingernails . . . tight little dress . . . fuck-me shoes . . ."

The mental image made me wild. I stepped between her legs and took her. Her ass had been opened by the shoes and fingers but only the first inch or so was slick and wet. I reamed her anyway, forced myself down her unlubed guts.

She screamed in pain.

I slapped her ass with one hand and glued myself to her bucking as so she couldn't escape. I pushed deeper into her. "Open it up! Take it, whore!" I yelled and slapped her stinging ass again even harder.

She braced herself on her hands. "Go ahead, motherfucker!!" she sobbed. "Rape my slutty ass, you bastard!! Give it to me!!"

I gave up slapping her red cheeks and grabbed her hips and fucked her for all I was worth. She grunted with the pounding. Her eyes focused on her face in the mirror. I could have done it all night, but there were things I wanted even worse. I ripped out of her. Her legs gave out and she had to catch herself by the water faucets. I wiped my huge red hard-on on a towel and held it under her nose.

"Smell your shit, whore? We've got to do something about that."

She was still recovering from what we'd done. She blinked like she didn't understand while I filled up the enema bag with hot water.

"Get in the bathtub, cunt. Lift your legs up and grab your ankles."

She did, kind of sluggishly. I put the oversized nozzle up her ass. She watched numbly until I opened the clip and the water gushed into her. Her heavily painted eyes went wide and her slick red lips went round.

"Two quarts of hot water, cunt. Look at your belly swell up." I let the thing empty and pulled out the plug. Water drooled out of her. "Hold it until I tell you to shit, whore. Keep every drop in that fresh-fucked asshole."

In ten minutes, she was in agony. She was begging me to let her shit. She was crying, even after I warned her not to ruin her eye makeup. I reached down and petted her pussy, rolled her clit. She cried even louder, but her hips started moving and she started getting real wet again. I dipped a finger in and collected some of her honey and raised it to her mouth and spread it on her quaking, deep red lower lip.

"Taste yourself, whore. Lick your nasty cunt juice off your slutty mouth." My finger was still busy on her swollen button. Her hips were trying to catch my hand and get it in her flooded cunt. Brown water was starting to seep from her ass.

"Go ahead, slut. Cum for me. Cum and turn loose of your shit at the same time."

Her scream was pure, raw release. Cum literally shot out of her pussy while her asshole opened and everything she'd had up her ass gushed out like a geyser. It was hard to say which was convulsing more, her pussy or ass muscles. I kept going and going on her clit.

She begged me to quit, screamed at me she had to stop or she'd die.

She was cumming and couldn't stop. In spite of what she said, when I fed her more of her pussy juice she tried to suck my finger down her throat. When I pulled away from her mouth and clit at the same time, she slowly relaxed.

I stood up. "Clean yourself up. I'll be in the bedroom."

It took her a while to rinse off the shitty water she'd been laying in and redo her face, all the time I needed to get everything ready. When she finally came out, her face was done even better than before. I thought for a minute it was because I'd distracted her the first time. Then it dawned on me that she was *too* much better with the cosmetics.

"You've already been painting yourself like a slut when I'm not around, haven't you, cunt? That's what happened to the makeup that was in the drawer."

Her brazen strut faltered. She couldn't manage to look embarrassed under so much foundation and powder. She looked at the floor, wrung her hands anxiously. "Yes. I couldn't help it."

"How many times, cunt?"

Her voice was almost a whisper. She couldn't look at me. Watching her fat, slick red lips make such meek sounds made my steel-like cock even harder. "Four. Some Monday afternoons when I was supposed to be at aerobics since . . . since the other time. Are you mad at me?"

"You've got too many secrets, whore. I'm going to punish you. No more sneaking around. Or else."

"Punish me?" she whimpered.

"You'll see. But right now, get your cheap ass dressed. I want to see what a total whore you are."

I made her put on a show for me as she wiggled and stretched into her outfit, kind of a reverse strip. She was so excited that I think she had a couple of little orgasms while she did it. She regained her poise, kept glancing from me to the long mirror. My barked commands kept her from getting a good look at herself until she was finished with everything, including her inch long scarlet fingernails.

She looked unbelievably hot. The black dress was a size too small, so tight that it mashed her tits until they spilled over the top of the swooping neckline, leaving only her nipples inside. Her waist looked tiny. Her hips were rocked up like she was begging to be fucked, and the tops of her black mesh hose showed above the hem. Her ass was round and firm, and her legs looked a mile long. Her charcoal and silver eyelids sagged like the thick mascara was too heavy. Her screaming red mouth hung slightly open. Her barely restrained lust was as visible as her rock-like nipples.

She seemed hypnotized my her reflection in the mirror. Her voice was as thick as her makeup. "Cock hungry cunt. Look at me, baby. Fuck me with your eyes all night."

I fucked her with more than my eyes, and really did do it all night, too. Before dawn, I'd had Helen every way I could think of - including tied to the corners of the bed. I fed her the two latex dildos I'd bought, at one point keeping all three of her holes filled for about two hours while she orgasmed continuously until she passed out. When she came to, it was to discover that I was fucking her loose cunt with my *real* dick. She instantly started cumming again and fainted a second time when I loaded her sloppy pussy with my fifth load of cum.

Right around sunrise, I finally gave out. I didn't feel her crawl out from under me, but when I woke up in the early afternoon, she wasn't in bed with me. The blinds were pulled, making it look like twilight instead of broad daylight. I felt hung over and like I'd been beaten up.

I didn't notice the light under the closed bathroom door until I'd staggered halfway across the bedroom. I slowed down and heard faint sounds coming from the other side of the door, too. Helen was in there. The noise was water sloshing and her moaning. My cock was suddenly hard with more than piss. I eased the door open and peeked inside.

She was in the full, steaming tub with her eyes closed. She'd washed her face but left on the waterproof mascara and touched it up, by the looks of it. Her lips gleamed with one of the lipsticks we hadn't gotten around to using - a tremendously bright almost purple color. Her massive tits floated on the water, their nipples long and fat, still red from the slaps and pinches of the long night before. One red taloned hand was running a dildo in and out of her cunt. The other was opening the valve on the enema bottle. Her ass muscles were clamped tight around the oversized nozzle.

I watched her play with herself for at least five minutes, until I was sure she was right on the edge of a huge orgasm. She was breathing harshly through her whorish lips and slopping water on the tile floor with the energy of her grinding hips. I crept inside. She didn't know I was there until I was almost in position. She must have finally heard me. Her eyes jerked wide open and saw me, standing with one foot on either side of the tub, aiming my swollen cock straight at her face. I forced a stream of piss out. Mostly, it splashed in her wet hair, but some hit her gasping violet colored mouth.

She came so violently she was almost paralysed. The dildo was rammed in so far only its end stuck out of her. The nozzle shot out of her ass and she shit into her bathwater. My stream of piss was a jerky yellow jet on her slutty face. Instead of gagging and choking and trying to get away like I expected, her eyes got a crazy look before she closed them to keep my piss out, but her mouth opened even wider and she started swallowing.

That's the way our Saturday started. Neither of us was through. Despite the fact that we had to go to a huge family dinner that evening, for the rest of the afternoon I kept her fully painted and totally fucked. I was so out of control that it took a huge effort not to make her go to dinner in her sleazy whore's dress and makeup. I was positive she'd have done it. She was even further gone than I was.

I compromised with my lust. I screwed her loose, shit-free asshole while I made her clean her face and take off her slutty fingernails. But, after she sucked me off in the shower, I told her to shave her cunt.

She licked my cum off her pale lips and looked up at me in shock, but went right to work with her razor. The sight of her naked pussy hanging open and drooling her fluids was almost too much for both of us. I managed to keep my hands off her, and make her hands stay away from her hot slit, too.

I led her to the bedroom and told her to stand perfectly still. I stretched the sexiest of the new bra and panty sets, a lacy, tiny pair of scraps of red, on her. Her tits were almost totally naked. Her ass *was* bare, except for the thin string running up the deep crack between her cheeks. After wrapping the garter belt around her waist, I made her sit while I rolled seamed black hose up her legs. She was getting the bed wet, she was so excited.

Next, I spread a coat of the KY jelly I'd bought on her sagging, unpainted mouth. She watched me with haunted eyes and licked the ass-lube as I dropped the tube in her purse. The smallest of the dildos barely fit in her handbag beside it. I warned her again not to move and I went into the bathroom. I came back with the lipstick she seemed to like the best, a red so deep it was almost black. My hands shook when I blotted her exposed, irritated cunt lips dry and painted them. She had another orgasm before I was done, but somehow managed to sit pretty still. Unable to make myself stop with that, I stretched the bra enough so I could use the color on her bullet-like nipples, too. I slipped the lipstick into her purse, then ordered her to put on the long, plain, loose dress and her old pair of three inch heels.

"Hide yourself, whore. All night, you'll hide how slutty you really are under these ugly clothes."

She again tasted the grease on her still swollen, puffy lips. "What . . . why do you want me to carry these . . . things . . . in my purse?"

"Never mind. Come on, cunt. Let's go."

We both acted a little weird in the fancy restaurant, I guess. Our friends and family wrote it off as wedding jitters and kept reassuring us. I kept touching Helen's thigh under the table. Every time I did, she stared at her food, but swung her legs apart for me. While the waiter was taking our plates away, I whispered to her that I could smell her cunt juice.

"Lift your skirt, slut, and run a finger in that shaved hole. I want to watch you lick it off."

She blushed. She was scared. But she did it, and had a hell of a time controlling her expression.

"My cock's hard," I whispered. "But not hard enough. Before they bring dessert, go the ladies' room and lube the dildo and put it up your ass. Leave it inside and come back."

She turned to me, and I expected her to refuse. But her need was written all over her lovely, plain face. She whispered back, "Can I make myself cum? Please?"

I shook my head and smiled. I wondered, as I watched her excuse herself and hurry away, if she'd be able to resist her overwhelming urge. She managed, I guess, because she came back just a couple of minutes later. I could tell by her walk and her face that the fake dick was buried in her guts. She suddenly wasn't hungry for her dessert. Her hands were knotted into fists as she tried to listen to the table talk. Her thighs kept rubbing together in a slow rhythm.

The dinner went on and on. She begged me in faint whispers to help her. She pleaded with me to get her out of there, to take her home, that she was going crazy, that she was so hot she was going to forget where she was and explode, right in public. I refused every request, made her suffer horribly until after ten o'clock.

She bit her lip all the way to the car, whimpering about how her ass was on fire. Once we were on the road, I told her to lift the long dress out from under her and show me her whore's panties and the stub of the dildo. The little red triangle covering her shaven cunt was sopping wet and the end of the fake dick jumped a little with every heartbeat. Despite the darkness she was real scared that somebody'd see her exposing herself on the interstate.

"Turn on the interior light," I told her.

"Ron, please, no."

"Don't give me any shit! Turn it on and use the lipstick, whore! And I want to be able to see every bit of your legs, all the way to your sloppy cunt."

She obeyed, and I was pretty sure she wasn't as reluctant as she acted. The way she was bouncing a little, fucking her ass with the imbedded plastic prick, was a dead give away.

"Now take it out of your ass and use it in your cunt, slut."

I let her turn off the light first and made her count her orgasms out loud, all the way home. She made it to five, and forgot all about where she was. By the time we reached our apartment, she'd unbuttoned the top half of her loose dress and was openly fondling her tits, not giving a damn about being seen or anything but reaching number six.

"Stop, whore. Pull it out right now." I had to slap her face to get her attention, and she whined her frustration. "Now lick it clean. Then we can go inside and get you sleazy again."

The rest of Saturday night and all day Sunday was pretty much a replay of what we'd done Friday. No matter how far I pushed her, she never said no, and she never got enough. Late Sunday night, she cried for an hour when I made her clean herself up and put everything away in her biggest suitcase. Makeup, clothes, dildos - all of it I locked up in a storage room she didn't have a key to.

"From now on, there'll be no more secret fun, Helen. No more sneaking around and playing slut without me. Got it? No buying whore's clothes without permission. No painting yourself and masurbating - unless I tell you to. Understand?"

She wiped tears off her pale cheeks and nodded. "Yes, honey. I understand. But . . ."

"But what, love?"

"Can we . . . I mean . . . how long . . ."

"You'll never know until I tell you. It could be tomorrow or next week or never. You're *my* cunt, from now on."

She cuddled up beside me and sighed. "I love you, Ron. We're perfect for each other."

I had to agree.