Archive for July 2nd, 2006
Scar13’s been a busy girl, shooting tons of beautifully dark erotic sets for her awesome personal site. This is from a series she shot while smoking cloves in the corner of a cool nightclub. She sneaks flashes of her yummy pierced nipples and we get some great peeks under that unbelievably short skirt. We also LOVE her huge black leather fetish boots with the towering heels! Wow! Check out all the great stuff she’s got going on these days over on Scar13.com!
Hi Guys,
We went out last night and watched England get beat in over time for the world cup games. It was a good game but I think how they do the over time when their is a tie is the best part. I love watching the faces on all the guys when they have to make that kick just him against the goaly. It is pretty intense.
Our partying continued on till like 9 in the morning. so I slept most of the day today. lol Got up around 8 to get ready for my cam show. Had a great time chatting with you guys and getting laid. 
Hope all you Canadians enjoyed your celebrations. I suppose most Americans celebrated the 4th of July this past weekend too. Hope the weather was nice for all those cook out and fireworks.
This will be the joke for my fun day.
Hope you’ll enjoy it! 
Kisses, Eve.
Dr. Laura Schlessinger is a radio personality who dispenses advice to people who call in to her radio show. Recently, she said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22 and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following is an open letter to Dr. Laura penned by a east coast resident, which was posted on the Internet. It’s funny, as well as informative:
Dear Dr. Laura:
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God’s Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate. I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the other specific laws and how to follow them:
When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?
I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?
I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15:19- 24. The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.
Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify?
Why can’t I own Canadians?
I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?
A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don’t agree.
Can you settle this?
Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?
Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?
I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? - Lev.24:10-16. Couldn’t we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God’s word is eternal and
unchanging.
Your devoted fan,
Jim
”Three hundred bucks an hour? I gotta be out of my everlovin’ mind!” Yet here he was, sitting in the waiting room. Waiting. Vic had arrived twenty minutes early for his appointment. “Mr. Victor?” The middle-aged woman in a crisp nurse’s uniform ushered him into the dimly lit room. The only furniture was a low, vinyl-covered padded table. There were what looked like television screens mounted on two of the walls. “You are to undress while you await Mistress Domina,” she told him. The door shut with a barely audible click, and he was alone. This was his first visit to a real live dominatrix. He had heard crazy stories about what went on in their chambers (dungeons?) — stories of clients being subject to extremes of degradation and humiliation. Whippings, torture, insertion of unusual objects into various body orifices, and even worse. Much worse. There was a shabby terrycloth bathrobe hanging on a hook beside the table. He pulled it on.
Underneath he was naked. The door opened. Mistress Domina — “DOE-meen-ah,” she pronounced it — was wearing a tight black elastic bodysuit. Tall and classically voluptuous, she even verged on chubby. Wire-rimmed glasses incongruously gave her the look of an old-fashioned schoolmarm. She was leafing through various papers on a clipboard. “Your file lists your treatment plan as exploring extreme variations of anal sex, but with only a mild degree of humiliation, and minimizing pain where possible. Pity. One of our specialties is training and severe discipline, but we *always* cater to our clients’ needs. “Due to the nature of your particular program, you will require cleansing enemas in preparation for each session. In future visits, our medical staff will administer these. Today, however, I will handle this, as it will permit me to assess the physical health and capacity of the relevant parts of your anatomy — the lower colon, rectum, and anal sphincter.” Vic lay facedown on the padded table. Nylon straps locked his arms and legs rigidly in place. A rubber hose ran upward from the crevice of his buttocks to the large enema bottle dispensing a cloudy amber liquid into his lower intestine. “This is a mild Castile soap and mineral oil solution. You should not find it unduly irritating, but it *will* most effectively accomplish its purpose of thoroughly purging your large intestine. We will follow up with two rinsings of distilled water.
You are expected to retain the solution within your colon for ten minutes, at which time I will release the restraints and permit you to use the bathroom facilities.” What a relief it was to dump the liquid contents of his colon in a single, smelly, explosive burst! Perched on the toilet, Vic mulled over what awaited him for the remainder of the two-hour (six hundred dollar!) session. Preliminary dilation, Mistress Domina had called it. Now he was standing, bent forward over the padded table. His arms stretched out at an angle past his head. Straps buckled around the wrists held him firmly in place. His chin sank into the soft pillow under his chin. “If you will look upward and a bit toward your right, Mr. Victor, you will be able to follow our progress on the video monitor.” Mistress Domina was examining what appeared to be a rather large corkscrew device with a handle on its end.
“This is a Type IV Orifice Spreader. Practitioners in our field consider it superior to a medical speculum for stretching and expanding the anal orifice. From its small rounded insertion tip, it gradually tapers outward into a cone as we move toward the base. There is a wide spiraling screw thread running diagonally along its surface to engage the ring of muscle at the entrance of the anus. The crank on the end permits the operator to rotate the device, with the net result that it actually screws into the recipient. The net result is to gently but inexorably enlarge and loosen the anal sphincter. For our first session, we will content ourself with a modest gain in aperture.” “Screwed by a corkscrew,” Vic was thinking as Mistress Domina introduced the tip of the thing into him. It felt rather like a small dildo as it penetrated about an inch deep, just past the anal ring. “So far, so good,” he mumbled. He was starting to get an erection. Now there was slight sideward pressure, and he began to feel the stretch as Mistress twisted the crank. It was advancing deeper into his rectum, and widening him sideways.
There was little friction, due to the lube applied to the spiral threads. He watched on the video monitor, fascinated and disbelieving, as about a third of its length disappeared into him, and he stretched, stretched, and *stretched*. He felt as wide as a railway tunnel, and it was starting to get distinctly uncomfortable. “Seven inch depth and two inch width,” Mistress Domina announced, then she slapped him on the right butt cheek. “Now we disengage.” Vic could feel his sphincter relax and spring back as the corkscrew untwisted and unscrewed out of him. “Ten minute rest period before the final phase of this session,” Mistress said. The door clicked shut and Vic was alone, standing, bent forward over the table, still held in place by wrist restraints. He closed his eyes and dozed off. . . . . . . and awoke as he felt something inserting into him. Into his anus again. Looking at the video monitor, he saw Mistress Domina penetrating him with something protruding from a black harness she was wearing around her hips. A dildo. A very large dildo. The corkscrew treatment must have loosened him quite a bit. He didn’t feel any discomfort at full penetration. How deep? At least six inches. Now she was vigorously pumping in and out.
Mistress was fucking him. Fucking him in the ass. Half an hour later, Vic was driving home. He felt exhausted, utterly and completely drained. Well, why not? He had climaxed twice during the “final phase” of his first treatment. There was still a pleasurable throbbing in his bowels. Mistress knew what she was doing, all right. Painless extreme anal — that was right on the money. He *had* to continue the “treatment.” It was the fulfillment of lifelong fantasies. Being dominated and being penetrated . . . simultaneously. There was only one small problem, though. How to pay for it. Six hundred per session was quite a bit more than he could afford. So, what were his options? Get a second job? Take another mortgage on his condo apartment? Borrow money from the loan sharks? None of those alternatives particularly appealed to him. Inspiration! Vic had once been quite an accomplished computer hacker. What if . . . what if he could figure out a way to electronically recover the money he paid for Mistress Domina’s services. Say, if he could access the house bank account on-line and drain some funds from it. Now *this* idea rang his chimes. While she was fucking him in *his* most intimate place, he could be fucking her right back in *hers* — in the pocketbook. This waiting was making him nuts. Waiting for his second session with Mistress, Vic was busy chewing his fingernails down to ragged nubs. Damn. They really ought to have a better selection of magazines for the waiting room. “House Beautiful” and “Woodworking Hobbyist” didn’t quite do it for him. “Mr. Victor — ” A different nurse this time. Younger, prettier. The room she admitted him into was likewise different. In addition to the familiar padded examination table there was an elaborate mechanical chair that appeared to have various devices built into it. It also had a sort of cutout in the center of the seat, toward the back. “If you will please disrobe, we will administer the series of preliminary enemas. Starting with this session, their purpose is not just internal cleansing, but increasing intestinal volume.
You will receive a full four quarts, and retain the solution for twenty minutes.” Twenty minutes! He could never hold it in that long. As it turned out, he could. If he had to. After the attractive nurse had filled him to bursting, he felt something expanding just inside his anus. “This special-purpose enema nozzle contains an inflating bladder to block the exit from your rectum.” In the video monitor he watched the nurse pump a small rubber bulb in her hand. “You will find yourself unable to expel any liquid, and attempts to do so will be futile and only cause increased discomfort. Bye. See you later.” The door shut behind her. Those were the longest twenty minutes of his life. Several times he thought his belly and guts were going to burst. Then he surrendered and gave himself over to the feeling. Totally distended inside, blown up like an overinflated balloon. Transformed into a human water container.
Yet, in the midst of his discomfort, he felt the stirrings of . . . lust. On his stomach on the padded table, arms and legs in restraints, pumped up with a solution of chemicals . . . his penis began hardening beneath him. He hadn’t even noticed that the nurse had returned. She was regarding him with a faint smile as she unbuckled the straps. “Through the door and to the left. Empty yourself in the sanitary facilities and be back here within ten minutes.” The following two rinse enemas were no big deal. He didn’t have to hold them in very long, and he enjoyed the sweet feeling of inner purification they left him with. “Welcome back, Mr. Victor.” Mistress Domina had entered. She dismissed the nurse. “We will employ a special-purpose Dilation Chair for this next stage of your treatment. Please sit down, if you will.” The chair was form-fitting and surprisingly comfortable, but he was held firmly in place after Mistress had strapped down his arms and legs. Yes, there was, in fact, a slot in the seat beneath him, lengthwise along the crack of his buttocks as he was positioned.
“Beneath the chair are various cylindrical penetration devices. The control panel permits me to insert these directly into your posterior through the opening in the seat. There are a number of options for manipulating and moving them inside your rectum after penetration. To minimize discomfort, all insertion devices are ergonomically designed and adequately lubricated. “We will begin with stretching and widening. This first insertion will be a combination speculum and dildo, a cylinder that screws apart and expands sideways to widen the anal entrance and the lower rectum. Prepare yourself.” There was a mechanical hum and Vic felt something pushing between and through his buttocks from below. Now it was pressing against his anal opening (”It’s going in right up through my asshole,” he was thinking). “Your cooperation is expected, Mr. Victor. Push gently outward, as if you were having a bowel movement. This will unlock your sphincter ring and let the device into you.”
It was inside him now, and moving up higher inside. Higher still. It stopped. “Relax your thigh muscles. We will now commence the expansion. Speak up if it becomes too uncomfortable.” Vic saw her move a joystick on the control panel, and he felt the sides of his anal opening slowly forced apart in all directions. The stretching sensation was stronger and more uniform than the corkscrew device from the previous session. Wider, and wider still. Then it held steady. He could just barely tolerate it. “We will hold at this setting for five minutes, Mr. Victor. I must congratulate you. You have a three-inch aperture now. That is probably sufficient even for full-depth fisting, but that will have to await a future session.” This wasn’t bad at all. Extreme expansion, huh? All too soon, Mistress withdrew the expansion dildo from him. He felt an emptiness inside. “The next insertion will be for the purpose of depth measurement. Using a soft, flexible probe we will determine how far up into you we can penetrate. Get ready.” This one felt softer and gentler than any of the other mechanical dildos. But it kept moving up and up, and farther up into him. It wouldn’t stop. It just wouldn’t stop. “Mistress, I feel some discomfort inside now.” “We’re at eleven inches and probably impacting the bend in your lower colon. Let me unlock the flex joints of the probe. How does that feel now?” “Better, thanks.” “Let’s resume then.” “Twenty-six inches. You held out quite well. We’ll withdraw the probe and give you another ten-minute rest period before completing the session.” Homeward bound, Vic felt good all over.
Purified inside and thoroughly fucked out. Mistress had ass-fucked him with a dildo for twenty minutes at the close of the session. A *huge* dildo. She had let him measure it before penetrating him. It was ten inches long and two-and-a-half inches across. It had felt very satisfying as she plunged its full length into him. On the way out, Mistress had actually *smiled* and hinted at a special surprise for his next session. He had another reason to feel fine. His monthly bank statement had come in this morning’s mail. There was a canceled check made out to the House of Dominance. He now had Mistress Domina’s account number . . . and he had not the slightest doubt that he was every bit as good at plundering her electronic funds as she was at plundering his ass. It was his third session. Mistress had escorted him out of the waiting room. No nurse this time. She herself had given him his cleansing enemas. Special treatment, indeed. Now he was taking his ten-minute rest period, lying flat on the treatment table, waiting for her return. The door opened. Now this *was* special. Mistress stood before him in her full shining glory. Bare-ass naked. “Make yourself comfortable in the Dilation Chair, Mr. Victor. This time we will use a conical insertion device to stretch your entrance. Penetration depth will be minimal, but we will open you up to a four-inch width.”
Strapped down in the chair, Vic groaned as the conical dildo pushed against his anal sphincter, then into him. It was splitting him apart! Then the pressure relaxed and he let out all his breath in a single gasp. “Now, now. It couldn’t have been all that bad. Let’s check your progress.” She undid the straps and bent him forward over the table. “Quite a passageway you have there. Big enough to drive a truck through. More than adequate for purposes more dear to your heart.” There were pinpricks of cold metal on both sides of his anus. Mistress was measuring his sphincter width with calipers. “Just a hair short of four inches wide, but close enough for government work.” It was the first touch of humor she had ever shown. “Stay as you are Mr. Victor. You are about to experience something very startling.” She turned. “Come in, Barto. We are ready for you.” The door opened and a burly young man strode in. He bowed to Mistress, then to Vic. “This, Mr. Victor, is my associate, Bartolomeo. His specialty is testing expanded anal cavities. With your permission, we will commence.” Vic shrugged his shoulders. He had never been ass-fucked by a man. “Since everything else has been done to me, why not this, too?” he mumbled. “How’s that again, Mr. Victor?” “Yes. Yes! Go ahead. Get it over with.” It didn’t feel much different than when Mistress had used a dildo on him. In fact, the man’s cock felt distinctly *smaller* inside him. Must be the effect of the dilation part of the therapy. ‘Just think, I’ve got a wide enough asshole to be ass-fucked by a man, and hardly even noticing it.’ Vic did feel the faint throbbing, then the wet discharge inside him as the man came.
He heard, rather than felt, the withdrawal out of his ass. It was a distinctly *liquid* sound. “Congratulations, Mr. Victor. You have officially lost your anal virginity.” “My pleasure, Mistress.” “What next?” Victor was thinking as his ten-minute rest period came to an end. That question was answered as Mistress entered the room. She had on a short white lab coat, but was naked from the waist down. In her right hand was a skin-tight latex glove, which gleamed with an oily gel. “You are ready — more than ready — for fisting, Mr. Victor. Will you kindly bend over the table. Thank you. As usual, I will buckle the restraints on your arms and legs. You may observe what is being done to you on the wall monitor.” Mistress had tented together the fingers of her gloved hand and was gradually pushing it into his anus. Victor began feeling the stretch as the knuckles disappeared into him. She was stroking his forehead with her free hand and humming into his ear. “There. That wasn’t so bad. We’re past the hard part. I’m forming a fist now. Can you feel it?” “Indeed I can, Mistress. Do with me what you will.” “This is the most intimate act of power and possession. You are totally in my power and I am possessing you. I will hold your very life essence in my hand. “We are up to the wrist now. For the moment, we shall stop at this depth. Ah, yes. I have impaled you upon my fist. You are totally mine.”
Mistress began slowly pumping her fist in and out. Vic reached orgasm for the third time that session. As his body spasmed and convulsed, Mistress slowly withdrew out of him. His rectum seemed reluctant to release her hand. It felt as if his bowels were being pulled out. “Look at yourself,” she said. The monitor showed a large dark hole where his anus was. It reminded him somewhat of a tunnel entrance. A tunnel leading all the way up into the deepest heart of him. “Enough,” she said. Next session I may plunge into you all the way up to my elbow. But for now . . . we will terminate today’s activities by permitting you to interact with specially selected visitors. You will be privileged to accept whatever attentions they choose to endow upon you.” Mistress exited the room, leaving him bent over the table, still buckled up in the restraints. The door opened and a man came through. He was alone. He was fully clothed but masked. He unzipped his fly. He had a full erection. With no preliminaries he plunged his cock deep into Vic’s exposed receptacle. The man pulled the door shut behind him as he left. Moments later, a second man entered. He approached Vic from behind and took his pleasure. When he finished, he left. A total of twelve masked men had their way with Vic in the space of about an hour. He found it somewhat interesting, in a detached, clinical sort of way. Mistress Domina’s expansion treatments had so enlarged his passage that even being serially ass-fucked by a dozen men caused him not the slightest discomfort. One minor matter bothered him, though.
It had finally dawned on him that these men were *clients* of the establishment. It followed that Mistress Domina was peddling his body, his *ass*, to make money for the establishment. She was *prostituting* him. Not only that, but forcing him to pay for the privilege. He was beginning to feel exploited and deceived. Then he had an amusing insight. He chewed on the thought as he drove home. “I might just end up making a lot more money out of this affair than Mistress. In the middle of being ass-fucked by that gang, I had an inspiration. I’ve got a hunch how I can crack the passcode for her bank account.” Of course the bank’s ultra-secure Internet site had a back door . . . just as everything and everybody had a back door. Mistress herself had inadvertently given him a clue. “Dominance, in all its variations and permutations, holds the key to my heart,” she had said. The endorsement on the canceled check supplied the additional information Vic needed. It wasn’t terribly difficult. The very first thing he tried was the permutations of “dominance” — its anagrams.
The longest of these anagrams, “comedian,” turned to be the password for the account. From there, it was a straightforward technical exercise to jump one step up into the supervisory level. Vic now had access to *all* the bank’s client accounts. Interesting. Rooting through the allegedly sacrosanct financial records of the bank led to an even bigger plum than the House of Dominance — an outfit by the name of Pietro Associates. Now *that* account was worth *billions*. Digging deeper revealed some shadowy entities behind that company. There were Saudi oil interests involved. Pietro = Petro(leum). Fuck the House of Dominance! He had much bigger fish to fry. Real soon now, he’d be rolling in Pietrodollars. It was child’s play for an old-time hacker like Vic to subvert the bank’s accounting system. He inserted into the software a stealth-trojan that triggered whenever the final digit of a credit or debit from *any* bank customer ended in 7. That would initiate a cloaked fund transfer of *a single penny* from the Pietro account to his own. It would never be noticed by human auditors, and over a period of weeks would add up to millions of dollars. This meant the end of any lingering monetary problems for him.
Even before this latest escapade, Vic’s finances had improved dramatically. Having his special needs taken care of by Mistress had apparently unleashed his creative potential. He was constantly bubbling over with ideas. His problem solving abilities became legendary, and he scored off the scale on a couple of IQ tests. He had received a large performance bonus at work and was a candidate for promotion to regional manager. He had pulled off a nice little coup on the stock market by short-selling the Barbary Pirate Group, a sleazy little outfit that generated income primarily through extortion and lawsuits. He had written and sold eighteen erotic stories and was awaiting the checks in the mail. He had been selected as a quiz show host on a local radio station. All in all, fortune was smiling on him, and he attributed it all to Mistress Domina’s ministrations. Vic was forty-five minutes early this time. Anticipation was half the fun. Sitting and idly leafing through a magazine, he wondered if he were man enough to splurge and go for a double session this time? Once more Mistress personally greeted him in the waiting room. And why not? Not only was he a good client, he was also helping her make money from *other* clients. But he no longer harbored any resentment over that. After all, he benefited from it, too. Vic hardly noticed the three cleansing enemas, so preoccupied was he with what awaited him next. Mistress had promised to fist him *all the way up*. Imagine being totally impaled upon her strong arm, utterly in her power. “Mr. Victor.” Mistress interrupted his reverie.
“We have a special entertainment prepared for you. Rather than using the Dilation Chair for your ’stretching exercises,’ permit me to introduce you to the Impalement Stool.” It was an ordinary-looking armless chair, but with what looked like a thick, blunt-ended tapered shaft sticking straight up from the middle of the seat. “In answer to your unasked question, the dilation cone measures fully fifteen inches high. It is one inch in diameter at its rounded tip, and three and three-quarters inches at the base. With a bit of help from my assistants, you will be seated there, impaled directly upon it. Now kindly bend over and I will inject lubricant into your body cavity. Remember — total acceptance and relaxation are the keys to painless enlargement.” Three burly men had entered the room. While excess lubricant was still dripping from his anus, two of them bodily lifted him by the arms, while the third held him at the ankles. Slowly they lowered him in seated position onto the cone. His weight pulled him down, and it wedged him open and pushed up into him as he sank down upon it. His buttocks rested flat on the seat and his trembling legs barely reached the floor. The dilation cone was embedded high up within his rectum and it froze him in a rigid posture. Mistress smiled. “There are more embellishments.” The men fastened cuffs to his wrists. They linked cables to eyelets on each cuff, then looped the cables over a low-hanging beam overhead. The cable ends hooked to the back of the chair. The net effect was to hold his arms rigidly extended nearly vertically in the air. “That will hold you in place,” Mistress said. “To prevent you from ejaculating without our permission, we will employ an additional measure.” She held an elastic snap-lock ring in front of him.
“This clamps around the base of your testicles, Mr. Victor. It should be a most interesting experience.” It was. After sitting immobile and impaled for some minutes, Vic was starting to feel a moderate degree of discomfort. It was also just plain boring. How much longer would he have to endure it? The door opened. A masked woman entered. She walked over to Vic, and coolly appraised his naked body as if he were a piece of livestock. Apparently satisfied, she turned around, flipped up her skirt, flounced her bare ass at him . . . and, facing away from him, fastidiously lowered herself upon his involuntary erection. Vic admired the elaborate butterfly tattoo on her back as she leaned forward and braced her hands on his thighs. Bobbing up and down, she rode his cock until, with a gasp and a shudder, she received her full measure of release. She stood up, smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt, and planted a wet kiss on his sweaty forehead. The door closed behind her. The door opened. A masked woman entered. She repeated the performance of the first, but with considerably more vigor and accompanying groans, squeals, and a fart or two. The air in the room began to get stale. Woman Number Two tousled his hair and pinched his cheeks before leaving. What was going on was obvious.
These were more of Mistress Domina’s clients. He was still making money for the house, it seemed. The third woman was quite large and heavy. She had the biggest, roundest ass he had ever seen, and without preliminaries she plopped that ass squarely on his lap. Her hungry pussy engulfed him, and what must have been three hundred pounds of womanhood squashed him hard into the seat of the stool, driving the cone even deeper into his guts. Vic began wondering if death by ecstasy was all it was cracked up to be. Vic tried speaking to the fourth woman. She slapped his face, then laughed and sat down on him. She pulled a compact out of her purse, and, leaning backward against him, went through an elaborate ritual of applying lipstick and makeup. All the while, her pussy was rhythmically squeezing his cock. Somewhere along the way, one of the women had greased up her anal entrance and indulged herself in a little sodomy, courtesy of Vic’s helpless cock. After the fifth or sixth woman (Vic had by then lost count), the male assistants returned and released him from the stool. They removed the testicle clamp. He ached more down there than inside his gut. His shaft felt raw and abraded. Friction burns. With the men supporting him, he staggered over to the padded table and climbed up. He fell into a dreamless sleep almost immediately. And jerked awake as Mistress grasped his shoulder. She was holding the corkscrew Orifice Spreader in the other hand.
“This is the final time you will require spreading. We’ve almost achieved our objective in that respect. Now, hop down and bend over the table. Quickly now!” Deep into him Mistress screwed it. Then deeper. Vic had passed beyond discomfort, beyond all feelings of pain. His buttocks felt as if they were a foot apart. “Fifteen inches deep and four inches wide,” were the words Mistress spoke, with what sounded like a note of triumph. “Right on target.” She carefully unscrewed the gadget from within him. “Ten minute break,” Mistress said, then left. “This is an upright bondage frame,” Mistress explained. Taut cables anchored to the wooden sides of the frame attached to restraints that held Vic’s arms and legs immobile. He was in a standing position, with legs held wide apart, and arms pulled overhead at about the same angle. Spreadeagled upright and frozen in place. Naked and totally vulnerable. “We have invited guests. They will honor you with their presence and take their pleasure from you. And, yes, you will entertain two at a time.” Mistress left. The door opened. A man and a woman, both masked, walked into the room. The woman approached him from the front, inspected him at some length, then grasped his penis and began to fondle it. Meanwhile, the man was examining him from behind. Vic felt his buttocks being parted. The woman had bent over and flipped up her skirt backwards.
She had nothing on underneath. On all fours, she maneuvered herself awkwardly backwards onto Vic’s hard cock, and gradually swallowed it between her cunt lips. She was very wet inside. In back, Vic felt erect flesh push between his cheeks, against his anus, and slowly into him. As the woman thrust backwards onto his cock, the man thrust forwards higher into him. Vic was sandwiched, simultaneously double-fucked. Waves of heat and pressure buffeted him from both front and back. Vic would have immediately spasmed in violent orgasm if the testicle clamp hadn’t prevented it. The man and the woman came, within seconds of each other. Vic felt the pussy rhythmically clenching on his cock and the cock inside him throbbing and shooting fluid high up into his gut. The door closed behind the man and the woman. Minutes later, a second couple entered. All told, Vic entertained five sets of visitors. Thank heavens for the ten minute rest period! Mistress had her latex-gloved fist high inside him. “We’re up to the wrist once more,” she said. “Now we move into virgin territory.” It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as being mechanically spread open by the corkscrew. In fact, it felt pretty damn fine. It was releasing strange energies within him. He felt on the verge of something tremendous and life-changing. “Please, Mistress, deeper,” he said. “Halfway up the forearm,” Mistress said. “Cry out if you can’t take any more.” “Deeper, Mistress.” “Almost there. Just a bit more. Ah, yes, elbow depth. How does that feel, Mr. Victor?” “Mistress, I am a hand-puppet and you are my owner. You are my fate. Your strong arm fills and animates me. It infuses me with life force. I am ready for the pumping of your divine fist. Please, give me what I crave.” “We try to provide fulfillment for our clients,” she said. She was slowly pumping her fist forward and back inside him. The video monitor showed her latex-gloved forearm emerging, glistening with lube, then disappearing into him again.
He felt huge surges of power rippling through his guts. His mind ruptured the boundary between matter and spirit, and then he was floating free, part of the great Unity that lies beneath all illusions. His earthly flesh orgasmed, and again, and he was utterly empty. A scream shattered the silence. Ten minutes left in the session. Mistress emerged through the door.
She was wearing fishnet stockings, and nothing else. Her magnificently curved body was everything Vic had imagined it to be. “You have been such a well-behaved boy, Mister Victor, that you deserve a most special treat. If you like, you can have *me*.” She walked over to the table, and bent forward over it. Her pussy was velvety and butter-soft. It was somewhat of an anticlimax for Vic after all he had been through. “Thank you Mistress. You are fully as sweet inside as out.” “You are most gracious, Mr. Victor. Until next time, then.” Vic was chuckling softly to himself on the drive home. Mistress Domina didn’t know it yet, but he *owned* her. The House of Dominance was a privately owned corporation, with much of its stock in the hands of a family foundation. But even tightly-held firms can be taken over if the price is right. Forty-eight million it had cost him. It wasn’t as if the funds had come out of his own pocket. “Use other people’s money,” the adage went, and that’s exactly what Vic had done. He had used the money of a few assorted Arab oil billionaires. Pietro Associates would never miss it. It had disappeared from petty cash. All in all, embezzlement didn’t greatly appeal to him. Running a B&D empire was much more his style.
It’s a hundred dollars to use the sex machine in the public restroom. Insert a couple of fifty-dollar coins into the payment slot to remain anonymous, though of course it’s more convenient to just let the data terminal do a neural scan and auto-debit your account. A hundred bucks buys ten minutes. Upon payment approval, the mirror slides back, revealing an oval opening. Depending on the option chosen, the window gives access to either bare buttocks or an erect penis. That leaves the customer the choice of either penetrating or being penetrated. I’m pretty conventional in my preferences, so I usually choose BUTTOCKS-FEMALE, and, depending on my mood at the moment, insert my hard flesh either into the exposed pussy or asshole. Every once in a while, I get an itch deep inside my gut and touch the selector for PENIS-(LARGE). Then I give in to my deepest, darkest desires and scratch that damn itch by easing myself down on a hard cock.
There’s also the BUTTOCKS-MALE option for those preferring to fuck male ass. I’ve indulged in that often enough, but still find little difference between the sensation of being inside a male or a female ass. Real connoisseurs, though, claim that plundering a man’s ass is the caviar of sex. Active-penetrative sex, anyway. That’s probably somewhat of an exaggeration. I stepped onto the Mu-metal platform and fed the last of my carefully hoarded spare change into the slot. I prefer the anonymity that cold, hard cash gives, and anyhow my e-bucks account has been flatlining lately. Being jobless does have its disadvantages. The autosensing hydraulics adjusted my elevation to optimal height opposite the service window. This puts the customer’s groin (or ass) directly opposite the the opening. What would I choose this time? Well, why not? Since I was now flat broke, I might as well have caviar. I stroked the keypad and the window gave me access to a perfect ass. Slowly, reluctantly I withdrew out of that buttery-smooth, pleasure-giving orifice. Caviar indeed! I was still horny and ready for another go, but my time was up. And I had other concerns. Such as where my next meal would come from and where I was going to sleep tonight. I girded my loins, drew on my breathing mask, and steeled myself to step out into the cold, heartless night. I had to admit it — I was an addict. A sex addict. I was no damn good at all at relating to real people, so that pretty much left the sex machines for physical release. And an unfortunate side-effect of being such a boob in social situations was that I couldn’t hold down a job for very long. If there’s anything more pitiful than a sex addict, it’s got to be a friendless, jobless, *flat broke* sex addict. I was about to go cry in my beer — if I could scrounge together enough for a beer, that is — when I caught the flashing notice on the sex machine display screen.
NOW HIRING. Sex Machines, Inc. [SM, Inc.] has openings for Customer Service associates. Earn a good wage doing something you enjoy! Choose your own hours. No experience necessary. Just enter code SEXYY%543 to start an EXCITING and GLAMOROUS new career. Customer service? I guess you might call it that, since it *did* involve “servicing customers.” It had a much nicer ring to it than prostitution. Still, it was an intriguing notion, all the more so since I didn’t have a hell of a lot of options. I spent an hour filling out questionnaires on an ancient vintage input terminal in the potted-palm studded lobby of the SM, Inc. Tower. My employment history, references, general state of health, and sexuality index — all the usual stuff. Though why did they need to access my genetic and psychometric profiles? It wasn’t as if I were applying for a high-level security position, after all.
But since I was hardly in a position to play stubborn, I thumbprinted the waivers. The terminal printed out a visitor’s pass. I was to report to room 13703. Hoowhee, the one hundred thirty-seventh floor. Moving up in the world, I was. “Kindly step into the testing lounge, sir,” the receptionist said. She was a cute little package, a tiny blonde with curves in all the right places. Her eyes were icy steel marbles. The door clicked shut behind me. The only furniture in the room was a padded mechano-table with restraint devices at each corner. There was a very tall woman standing on the far side of it. She looked at me. Her eyes widened momentarily as if she knew me from somewhere, but I couldn’t tell for sure. “You are . . . Armin?” I nodded. “I am the regional SM staff supervisor and your examiner. You may address me as Galatea. Kindly undress. Completely.” Her voice was unyielding as granite. “Come here. Spread your legs.” She took my genitals in her hand and palpated them for what seemed like hours. Her touch was cold. “Turn around. Bend over with hands on knees, and spread your legs. Keep perfectly still.”
I felt her probing between my ass cheeks, then something cool and slippery was being inserted into me. “It’s only a finger. Stop squirming! Now get up on the table and lie down. Please. Flat on your stomach. Spread-eagle your arms and legs.” Galatea took my left arm by the wrist and began fastening a strap around it. “Hey, what’s going on?” I croaked. “I am securing your arms and legs for the next phase of the examination. So, how badly do you need this job?” “Badly, Staff Supervisor Galatea,” I said, and I extended my other arm for her to buckle. “This shouldn’t be too unpleasant,” she said. “It’s only a proctoscope. A colonoscopy is mandatory for all our candidates for customer service positions.” It didn’t hurt going in. I’ve probably had thicker cocks up my ass. But she just kept on pushing it in, higher and higher up into my gut. It must have been a couple of feet deep and it kept going in! “Excuse me, Supervisor. It feels like you’re a plumber trying to unclog a stopped-up drain. Geez, you’re using that thing like a Roto Rooter. Ahhh!” “Oh, hush. It’s not half as bad as that. We’re required to examine the bottom foot and a half of your rectum and lower colon. You’ll be pleased to know that your intestines pass muster. You’ll do just fine.” Now I could feel that monstrous metal snake snaking its way out of me. Good thing it was lubed up or it would have pulled my guts right back out of my asshole. Funny thing, though. I had sort of enjoyed the experience. In fact, I had a raging hardon.
“Uh, excuse me, but what exactly were you looking for inside me?” “Abnormalities and malformations, of course. But the purpose of the exam is to judge whether your rectum is suitable for intercourse . . . anal intercourse, that is. With a bit of conditioning, you’ll do just fine in that area.” “Conditioning, Supervisor?” “Yes. Shall we begin?” “Well . . . ” “Climb up on the table again, my good man. This time on your back. Now raise up your legs, one at a time, and place them into the stirrups.” Stirrups? Her voice-command had transformed the examination table into something that would have been right at home in a gynecologist’s office. Galatea buckled my legs with the restraints, then my arms. The bottom half of the table tilted upward, exposing my naked crotch and bottom. I felt totally vulnerable. “This won’t hurt a bit,” she said. She had pulled on a latex gloves and was reaching toward me. I felt an intense freezing shock as she sprayed something on my crotch area. “A local anesthetic,” she said. I’m going to insert a Sta-Hard implant beneath the skin of the scrotum. That will enhance your work performance.”
I’d heard of those things. The implants consist of a subminiaturized electronic module that controls blood flow and nerve impulse propagation to the penis. They make it possible to sustain an erection for hours at a time. I saw the flash of a excimer-laser scalpel, but didn’t feel a thing. I was beginning to get drowsy. I startled awake as she came back into the room. She had left me there, with my legs in the stirrups and my ass hanging out while the surgical adhesive set on the incision. “Now we’ll work on your anterior sex organ,” she said. She disrobed and I couldn’t help admiring her full breasts, the nicely rounded hips and upholstered posterior of a classically voluptuous woman, and . . . and . . . her majestic erect cock. An Androgyn, that’s what she was. Hermaphrodites had for ages been a medical curiosity, but only recently has the Ragosin Procedure made it possible to support fully functional sets of *both* genders’ sex organs in the same gen-mod body. I’d never seen a cock that big. Nine or ten inches long and a couple of inches wide, it must have been. Pale, almost platinum in color. Of course — it had been force-grown from a stem cell culture. And she was rubbing something glistening and creamy on it. Syntholube.
“The purpose of what comes next is to condition and train your sphincter and rectum for the requirements of a Sex Machine operative. Depending on the assignment, you may be required to have anal intercourse a dozen or more times in a single four-hour work session. Shall we begin?” “I’m ready if you are.” Of course, I was familiar with the techniques for relaxing the anal sphincter. Most everyone nowadays is bisexual if not outright reverse polarized, and anal sex between males is no big deal, unlike in the bad old days before the Anti-Reproduction Directives. I had already been sodomized more times than I could count, just not by a woman’s equipment. She slowly inserted herself into me, an inch at a time. With my legs strapped in the stirrups and my wrists pinioned by restraints, all I could do was let my abdominal and sphincter muscles go slack while I breathed in the prescribed rhythm and let her ass-fuck me. Her groin pressed tight against my upraised buttocks now.
She was all the way inside me and I felt no discomfort. She looked into my eyes and smiled. “Stage two,” she said. I felt myself gradually stretch open sideways. Damned if it didn’t feel like the cock inside me was getting thicker. “This is something newly out of our research labs,” she said. “It’s an expanding cock. I can widen it from its normally erect two-inch diameter to four inches. And lengthen it correspondingly.” I could feel the depth of penetration increase as the cock within me swelled up. Deeper and wider. That cock of hers was a damned sight better than my own equipment. One of these days I’d have to ask if I could be retrofitted with one of those. “Variable width and length — that creates some intriguing possibilities, wouldn’t you say?” She chuckled, and I felt her cock shrink down inside me. Then it ballooned up again. Then . . . she was rhythmically *pulsing* it — bigger, smaller, bigger . . . It was like a heartbeat down there, inside my ass. My gut was booming like an echo chamber. I would have come a dozen times by now, but the Sta-Hard implant wouldn’t let me. I was painfully hard and the pressure was building up inside me. I felt like screaming . . . And once more she smiled.
“I’ll have mercy on you. I can remotely trigger your implant to give you release, but first . . . ” I felt the throbbing inside me quicken as she swelled up to maximum size. There was a cold wetness deep in my gut. She was spurting into me. Her orgasm, or what? Then I felt the electricity. She was juicing me with an Electrovibe. It was shooting low-frequency AC current straight up my gut, and that tipped me over the edge. Now I was helplessly releasing my own ejaculate in gluey streams over my abdomen and chest. I moaned as we orgasmed together. As she pulled out of me, a thick milky fluid began seeping out of my ass. It smelled faintly of lavender and honey. “Yes,” she said. “My ejaculate is specially formulated to act as an antiseptic and anti-abrasive coating inside you. It prevents disease and soft-tissue injury, and also increases the elasticity of the intestinal lining.
It’s scented to neutralize the fecal smell that all too often hangs in the air after anal sex. In short, it makes your ass eminently fuckable.” I had also heard rumors that Androgen come had life-extending properties, but I was afraid to ask about that. “We’ll provide you with an applicator bottle of the solution to use on a daily basis. Think of it as an extra benefit of working for SM, Inc. Oh, you lucky fellow!” The first day on the job took a lot out of me. They had assigned me to the machine in the co-ed restroom in the municipal airport lounge. Encased in a Neuromesh bodysuit that reminded me of a wire-frame drawing of an Iron Maiden, I was ready for action. This metal lattice body-cage thing connected me both mechanically and electrically to the sex machine, and it would flex me into various postures and configurations, depending on the customer’s preferences. It would also monitor my nerve impulses, control and stabilize my emotions, and tend to my personal needs.
Shunts hooked up to the bloodstream, kidneys, and liver would remove waste and pump nutrients and stimulants into me. Plugged in and networked, I had become a peripheral node of the sex machine. Things got busy after the first half hour. I ended my four-hour shift having serviced three women and eleven men. One woman couldn’t get enough of riding my cock. Had to scratch the itch in her pussy and asshole both. Three consecutive sessions she bought. Then there was the guy with the inexhaustible cock. A typical day’s work, I was told. All in all I made sixteen hundred bucks that day for the company. My cut of that was one-third, less deductions, of course. The inside of my ass felt a teeny bit raw, but the squeeze bottle of anti-abrasive solution took care of it. No major problems in the front equipment, except that my balls ached mightily. Ached from unrequited lust. I hadn’t been able to orgasm because of the implant. Well, Supervisor Galatea had told me that if it became intolerable, to report back to the office for followup “treatment.” I thought it was time to find out what that meant. It meant being ass-fucked by her platinum pulsating cock and getting another jolt of electricity from the Electrovibe.
Well, that fixed me up quite nicely. I got that elusive physical release, and got my rectum reconditioned while I was at it. Had a thoroughly cleansing bowel movement afterwards. Got my ashes hauled and got cleaned out, too. Just one more little benefit of working for SM, Inc. I settled into the routine. Three days on, at four hours per, then two days off. My average take-home was about $1800 a week, considerably better than my old job as a welder on a construction site. And, I didn’t even need goggles. Isn’t it every guy’s dream to get paid for doing what you enjoy? I used to enjoy sex. I used to enjoy fucking and being fucked. Hell, I still do. Mostly. But after a couple of months of doing it fifty times a week, it became just one more boring job. It had been years since I was in anything resembling a relationship. I’m shy around people and opening myself up to them is like pulling the scab off a badly-healed wound. Anonymous sex was easier — and safer — and that’s probably why I got into the sex machine habit in the first place. But being an SM Inc. Customer Service Specialist — what they used to call a “whore” in the bad old days — was probably the ultimate in depersonalized sex.
I began realizing what was missing from my life. Touch. Simple human touch. And by that I don’t mean body parts mingling and interpenetrating. I mean *lives* mingling and interpenetrating. Talking. Hugging. Kissing. Sharing with a partner what happened to you at work. Experiencing laughter and tears together. Living through joys and hardships together. Maybe raising a couple of kids. Walking the dog. Barbecuing in the back yard. Having the neighbors over. Sure, sleeping together. But also waking up next to each other. What was wrong with me? I was staring to yearn for an old-fashioned marriage. Something like in the ancient sitcoms from the 1950’s that they sometimes show down at the Retro Visual-Media Museum. Sheesh! Manning that damned sex machine was demultiplexing my cognitive nodes. I had started confiding in Galatea. She was a patient listener, and her manner toward me had softened considerably. I think she was starting to actually loosen up toward me a bit, and she had even let slip a couple of times what a cute ass I had.
Sometimes she seemed to have trouble prying herself loose from that cute ass of mine. . . . Lately our sessions had been lasting considerably longer than the allotted 45 minutes. What was even more odd, she had begun showing signs of jealousy. *Jealousy*. She seemed to resent that, as an SM employee, my body was accessible to any stranger who could pay for it. Anyone with $100 to their name was entitled to stick their cock up my ass. *My ass*. The ass she was starting to get proprietary feelings toward. When I last time saw her — I no longer thought of it as being therapied and readjusted — I had been sure she’d been about to tell me something. When I left, there was extra warmth in the goodbye kiss she gave me, and there was something shiny in her eye that might just have been a tear. Now what could that have been all about? “Armin, I don’t know how . . . how to say this.” “Teeya, I think I know . . . ” “These feeling I’ve been having, I can’t . . . no, I don’t want to . . . I have to . . . “I care, Armin. I care for you more than I care for my own life. From the first time I saw your face, I somehow knew . . . knew that you were my destiny. “I’m betraying everything I once valued. My loyalty to my chosen profession, the oath I gave to SM and their bloody-minded Directorate, my friends and colleagues, my clan group . . . everything. I . . . I . . . let me say it. I love . . . I love you, Armin. I love you more than myself, more than life itself. Because by telling you this I’m killing . . . killing myself, committing professional suicide, condemning myself to death or worse. SM will destroy me for this. But I love. I love. You. I love you!” I took her in my arms and we cried together, and our tears mingled. And that put us on the road leading to damnation and ruin — or to salvation. “Our civilization is doomed, you know,” she told me. “Doomed has an ominous ring to it, Teeya.” “Doomed. I
t’s been years since you could breath the outside air without a filter, the oceans are poisoned, the only way to grow crops is under glass in a culture of artificial nutrients, and epidemics of antiexinic-resistant strains of bacteria kill hundreds of thousands every day. It’s only a matter of time before the entire social structure collapses. And there isn’t much time.” “If things have gotten to that point, then I don’t know that there’s much that anyone can do about it. Let’s love each other and make the most of the little time we have left, then.” “Sorry, Armin, no. I’m not the type of person to give up without a fight. I grew up in a shantytown wondering each day if I’d survive til nightfall, and I struggled and clawed myself up from poverty and somehow got an education and a decent profession and a secure place in society. And, you know, if I could manage that, I’m not about to surrender to fate now. And, damn it, I won’t let *you* give up and die either!” “So, what do you have in mind?” “You’ll think this is crazy, but . . . ” It turned out that SM had its own in-house R & D department, complete with resident “mad scientist,” a certain Dr. Bezumna Morozov.
Her brainchild, Project Blueskies, was investigating what happened to matter compressed to superdensity, beyond the theoretical limits allowed by the laws of physics. She had tried embedding a small capsule of isotope iron, Fe-57, inside a sphere of powerful shaped-charge explosive. The implosive force had been calculated to be sufficient to create a miniature black hole, a tear in the fabric of space. The iron capsule had disappeared in a violent burst of gamma rays. Vaporized? Or pushed into an entirely different physical dimension? Some intriguing evidence indicated that the object might have traveled backwards in time. The equations hinted at this possibility, and Dr. Morozov had, in fact, found something that looked like it could have been a small iron object, embedded in a nearby table top. Tests confirmed that it was the rare atomic weight 57 isotope of iron and it had about a month’s accumulation of rust on it. Had it traveled a month into the past?
Then there was the experiment by Dr. Morozov’s colleague, Professor Flatus. He had placed a pair of specially bred albino roaches within a hollow iron-57 sphere, then inserted that into the detonation chamber. The implosion had made sphere and roaches disappear. Those particular roaches had never been seen again, but there were 20-year-old records of a nasty infestation of white roaches in the building that had previously been on the site of the laboratory. Were these the offspring of time-traveling roaches? “And you say they’re asking for human volunteers now, Teeya? HUMANS? It’s *beyond* crazy! It’s a suicide mission.” “They’re desperate. The company Directorate has decided to cut off funding for the project. And there’s something else — ” “The more I hear, the wackier it gets. Well, go on, woman, tell me more.” “I’ve told you we’re living on borrowed time. What I haven’t mentioned is just how little time we have left.” “How much?” “Two months. That’s the best estimate that SM’s sociometrists can come up with. In just a couple of months this entire hemisphere will lie in ruins, destroyed and abandoned, and ninety percent of the population will be dead. For all practical purposes, it will be the end of the world.” It’s dark in here in this hollow iron-57 shell. Absolute, total, mind-shattering darkness.
But I can feel Teeya behind me, curled tightly around me, holding me in her embrace . . . and I can feel her cock deeply embedded in my cunt. Cunt? Oh, yes, I’m a woman now, and Teeya’s a man. Where we’re going, sexual polymorphism hasn’t been invented yet, so we had to make some adjustments. We both underwent radical gender reassignment surgery, the complete Ragosin Procedure, all the way down to the chromosomal level. Galatea — he wants to be called Galen now for reasons I’ll go into later — is now fully capable of fathering children, and I, Carmina, am fully capable of being impregnated and bearing them. In fact, at this very moment I’m carrying twin embryos in my uterus, a boy and a girl. Our children. Where *are* we going? As best as Dr. Morozov can determine, we’re aiming for the early Eisenhower era, traveling backwards about eighty years in time.
If everything goes as planned, Galen and I will end up at these exact spatial coordinates, where the sub-basement of the SM Tower exists in the here-and-now, but what used to be a residential town dotted with what were called “tract houses.” Levittown, New York, circa 1953. So here we are. In just a few moments, multiple shaped charges of mini-thermonukes will implode this iron sphere, with us in it, down to the diameter of a neutron. We’ll collapse into a black hole and hopefully pop out into another era. I would never have let Galen talk me into it, but . . . for that ring. Galen’s great-great-grandfather had passed down a golden ring as a family heirloom. The ring was sculpted in the shape of a snake biting its own tail — actually swallowing itself. It was the worm Ouroboros, the World Serpent, the leviathan with no beginning and no end. Engraved on the inside of the ring was: “The future lies in the past.” Galen’s great-great-grandfather happened to be named Galen, too. Hence Galatea’s choice of of a male name and identity to assume. I can’t help wondering, though, whether Galen is thinking of becoming his own ancestor and starting the whole cycle that led to us being here in this iron ball. Any minute now. I’m scared
An evening in the union Newcastle University was great, away from home, meeting new people and being able to do what I wanted without having to justify everything in front of my parents. I enrolled in Business Management and enjoyed both my fellow students and the course. Apart from studying hard, I spend most of the time hanging around with my friends at the student union or in one of the many bars in Town. Each Friday night most of the students went to the student union. It was always a hugh party with the large dance floor in the basement, the two bars on the ground floor and another dance floor on the top floor. Where as the basement was know for pop and house, the top floor offered a much more relaxing but also more exciting. The music was better, a much more interesting mix of various styles like industrial, dance and independent. I am not to much into music but I enjoyed it more upstairs, where the lightning wasn’t so flashy and the girls more grown-up. That particular Friday Dan, Mike and I walked first to the sports bar on the ground floor.
After a couple of pints in town we got another round of lager before we decided to check the union out. As usual most students got completely drunk in the basement and we walked upstairs. At 11:30 it was still quiet and we found a table to sit down, listening to the music, talking and checking out the girls arriving. Most of them looked average but even though, most of them had a nice body and dressed sexy, either in tops and tight jeans or short skirts. Some of them even turned up in nearly see through tops. As every Friday it was a good show and by 12 the place was crowed. Most of the girls danced in small groups, surrounded by fellow students watching them. I got up and walked to the bar, getting another round of lager when I saw Clair. Clair is a cute girl from our course, a bit smaller than I, about 5′5. Her body seemed to be perfect and her tight top covered some nicely shaped breasts.
She smiled at me when she saw me and I made my way through the crowed to meet her. “Hey Clair, how you’re doing?” “Fine Tom, and you?” “I am great, just thirsty. I am getting another round. You want to join us?” “Sure… I am waiting for Sandra, she should be here.” “Haven’t seen her, Clair.” I reply. “She’s late, as always.” She took my arm and we tried to get through to the bar. Pressing through the body’s was difficult. Just two bartenders to serve maybe 20 people waiting and as soon as one person was leaving, he was replaced by two new students. Clair guided us the way through to the bar since girls always got some space, where as I was pressed and pushed all the time. Clair turned around to me and I saw her smile… “We’re nearly there… what you get?” “Three pints of lager.” Clair turned around and took my hands and continued leading the way directly in front of the bar. I saw her great body in the tight beige jeans and the red tank-top, I saw the straps of the red bra, her neck, her short black hair. Something happened in the back of the students waiting at the bar. I got pushed against Clair violently, getting in contact with her body… but she just looked at me, took my arms around her waist, holding me and leaning against me. I was surprised but said nothing, instead enjoying the feeling of her body. T
han it was Clairs turn, she bend over the bar, talking to the Student who was working as a bartender. I have seen him a couple of times around the university but didn’t knew him. While Clair bend over to order the drinks, I felt her pushing her bottom even stronger against me, right against my hips. I felt something awakening between my legs. Clair got the drinks, turned around with two beers in her hands. “You gonna help me?” I was a bit lost, a moment ago enjoying a nice erotic pressure and now being pushed back into reality… “Sure…” was all I could say. She took the other two pints and this time she followed me to the place Dan and Mike were waiting. “It was about time, Tom, we already though of deploying a SAR-Team.” “Yeah… I am thirsty. What took you so long…?” And than they realized Clair was there as well. Both had a big grin and made some space so Clair could join us. Enjoying our beers we mainly talked about your courses and whether we liked our choices, the other students and profs. A bit later Sandra arrived with another guy we didn’t knew. Sandra didn’t stay long but headed of to dance not fare from us.
The guy had his eyes all over Sandra’s body. Sandra was a bit taller than Clair, about my size and had larger breasts. And judging how they bounced up and down while dancing Sandra didn’t wear a bra. “who’s that guy with Sandra” Mike asked Clair. “Some 3rd year. Studies Law, don’t know him much.” Sandra replied watching them closely. “Always the same…” Dan said. “What?” I asked him. “3rd and 2nd years always get the great girls.” Sadly I let my eyes stray from Dan to Clair and realized she was watching me… “Lets go dancing” she said, taking my hand and pushing me up. We moved on the dance floor and started dancing. Clair stayed very close, touching me occasionally, dancing very erotic. We moved closer to Sandra and that guy. It seemed to me that Clair was up to something but I didn’t knew what nor did I care… dancing with Clair was great and I just wanted to enjoy this experience. Clair didn’t only get us closer to Sandra but she also dance much closer to me, contact wasn’t occasionally anymore but constant and I felt how hard I got…
Clair started to embrace me, I felt her breath on my neck and the bulge in my jeans pressing against her body. While dancing even closer, while feeling my erection growing, her lips touched my ears… some air was blown over my skin, it felt like electricity. Soon she started bitting and moaning softly in my ear while I had the feeling that an orkan was storming through my body and that my manhood would rip the jeans apart. The lack of space was uncomfortable but this strong erotic feeling… I didn’t want to miss this, didn’t want to stop. The song stopped and Clair used to short break to look in my eyes. I felt electrified and had the urge to kiss her. However, the decision was taken from me…
Clair kissed me softly… I looked again in her eyes and this time it wasn’t a soft kiss but we looked our mouths, our tongues played with each other. ages passed… I don’t know how long we kissed but Clair broke the kiss and dragged me to the door. Seems like she wanted to leave and I was already looking forward… I followed Clair but she turned left into the first floor instead of continuing the way down to the basement where the cloakroom is… “Lets find a place…” “W…h..” I tried to say. “Shhht” Clair said, killing anything I tried to say with a wet kiss… She grabbed my jeans and dragged me to one of the conference rooms in the side wing of the student union. “Guess we won’t be disturbed here.” Clair sad, pushing me in this anonymous room and closing the door behind us. Apart from the streetlight which entered through the windows the room was empty apart from 4 large basic tables in the center and 12 chairs grouped around them. The walls were covered with some posters and a notice board. Nothing personal… “Tom…” Clair said, looking at me. Somehow her voice sounded shy, insecure… I walked up to her and took her in my arms.
I felt her arms around me, her soft kiss against my throat and than she broke contact. Chris moved backwards to the table and took of her top and let it fall to the floor. I saw her in her bra, even though it was to dark to see the color I knew it was red. I followed her, we kissed again while my hands moved softly over her back… Clair pushed my t-shirt up, we had to break our kiss so she could push it over my head. She pushed me a bit back and opened the buttons of my jeans, pushing them together with my boxer down. She dropped down on her knees and I felt the soft touch of her lips… it was so exiting, I though it was a dream and suddenly I will wake up alone in bed. But instead of waking up I felt Clair softly liking my hard shaft, I felt the tip of her tongue gliding over my hot flesh leaving a soft wet track. It was great, I just couldn’t believe it that she was giving me a blow job in the student union.
I felt so hot, so excited and the energy waves raced through my body, the soft pressure in my balls. I knew if she continued like that I would explode shortly. I took her shoulders and pushed her up. It was to dark to really look in her eyes. I felt like saying something but instead I kissed her on her lips, just to feel that her tongue tried to find a way between my lips to great me. I opened my mouth and our kiss was looked again. I was standing nude, the jeans around my ankle in front of Clair… but I didn’t care. I enjoyed her touches, her fingertips gliding over my back, her tongue playing with mine. I broke the Kiss and tried to step one step back but I fell over my own jeans hanging around my feet. Clair started to laugh loudly. “Shhht Clair, someone will hear us.” “That’s so funny Tom…” “What?” “You falling down…” “You’re making fun of me?” I said pretending to be insulted. Clair came next to me… I saw up her legs as she stood there…
Clair reached to her back and opened her bra, dropping it on my body. She slipped out of her shoes and started opening her jeans slowly… “You… you’re…?” Clair stepped out of her jeans and let it drop next to us. She got down and kissed me and if felt her hand reaching for my hard dick. She turned around and started softly sucking my head again. Her hot, wet and soft lips felt so good. I touched her and I was nearly able to kiss her legs. I turned and started licking and kissing her soft skin. Clair moved over my head, spreading her legs… she lowered herself and I could smell her sex, touch it with my nose, feel the heat… I pushed my head up… touched her with my tongue… I felt a shiver as my tongue made first contact with her sex… it was wet… I couldn’t believe it, we were here, nude, sucking and licking each other. If someone would enter… I did not care, this was better than the dirtiest dreams and sexiest fantasies I had so fare. She lowered her even more, pressing her sex on my mouth. I felt her soft hair, my nose touched her inner lips, it was wet…
I let my tongue explore her womanhood, feeling the lips, feeling her slit, touching the outer side of the deep tunnel… it was so hot, so wet, so good. Clair got up and turned around, she bend over and we kissed. Her hand was touching down her legs, taking my dick and placing the head softly between her wet lips. I felt her softness and slowly she pressed herself on my phallus. I was feeling this wet tight, hot passage which my flesh penetrated and it was feeling so good. I let out a soft moan… I touched her tits and started to play with her hard nipples. She was riding me softly crazy… “Ahhh…” Clair moaned softly… I was breathing loudly… I didn’t know how long we making love on the floor but I felt the pressure building up…
“I…. i’mmm….” Clair cut me of again with a deep kiss and her moves became faster as her tongue penetrated my mouth while she rocked faster and faster on my dick. I felt my balls tighten under her pumping, I felt my juices racing through my body while waves were pulsing from my head through the stomach into my hips. I was shacking when I felt my orgasm building up. Than I just exploded deep in her… letting out a load moan… while Clair still kissed me and continued riding me. She came slowly to a stop, we were just holding each other while I tried to recover. I felt my penis shrinking deep in her. She was so wet… “Lets go.” “Back?” “No…” Clair sad… “where ever you want.” We dressed and walked hand in hand back to the corridor. It was 1:30 and the people were still dancing. We walked down to the basement and got our jackets. Hand in Hand we walked slowly back to our halls of residence. We walked past Security to our Tower. Clair was living on the 7th floor where as my room was on the 3rd floor. “It’s up 4 more floors, mine or yours Tom…?” Clair asked me… “mine got a nice view in the morning, we can see the sun rising.” “Lets get up another 4 flours” I day with a smile. “If you can wait so long?” We kissed and I felt her hands on my jeans again. She pushed me down on the stairs and she opened the buttons, pushing down the jeans and slowly taking my soft dick in her mouth. She slowly sucked my, while I rested, softly stroking her hair. I felt my dick harden again, it was so good. Suddenly we heard a door, than steps, someone was walking up the stairs. ”
Clair?” I asked her… “hmmm” was all I heard… Clair continued sucking me but faster. I felt my head pressing against her throat. She was moving faster, taking me deeper, I felt her tongue under under my shaft, her hands playing with my balls… The person came closer.. but the steps weren’t fast… “Clair.. h… hurrry…” I moaned while feeling the pleasure of her mouth but being afraid of someone catching us. The steps came closer… soon that person would stand in front of us, seeing Clair in front of me, giving me a blow job. But this feeling made me even more excited, the feeling, the idea someone could walk into us… and I exploded. Clair was sucking my juices. I pushed her gentle away and got up. Clair helped me closing the buttons and we kissed deeply tasting my seed. When the person we heard all the time coming nearer, passed us, Clair jiggled like a small kid. It was a fellow student, completely drunk, dragging himself up the stairs. I looked at Clair and saw some of my creamy milk flowing down her cheeks. I kissed it away and we walked the stairs up to her room…
Closing the door behind us, we pulled of our clothes as fast as possible. Clair guided me to her bed and she spread her long legs wide. I moved down between her legs, kissing the inside, moving up slowly to her wide open lips, still wet of my cream I left there when we loved us the first time. I moved up to her fruit, touching it softly, parting her lips and searching her clit… finding it in the wet depths, hard… I touched it softly with the tip of my tongue. “Ahhhaaa” Clair moaned loudly… I touched her clit with the top of my tongue, licking it, feeling her shiffer even stronger… “Ouahhh… Toahhhh… hhhmmm…. Ahhh!” Clair pressed her sex against my face… I started sucking her clit. Placed my lips softly around it, sucked the small hard clit… “Ahhhaaa…” I sucked harder and than let my tongue glide down into the wet depths of her passion. Clair moaned louder… “Tomm…” I stop licking her, looking up in her eyes. “Fuuuck meee pleeease…” I moved up, turned her around and Clair kneed down on her knees in front of me. I moved behind her, inserting my hard phallus in her wet tunnel, thrusting in and out of her while she moaned loudly. She was so wet and I hardly felt any friction. I felt just her wetness, her hot fluids coating my hard dick deep in her.
It felt good and I enjoyed how she moved her hips against my body, how her buttocks rocked against me, pressing me even deeper in her… I hold her bottom in my hand, massaging her firm ass, letting my thumbs circle over the soft skin while I pumped her. Soon I felt my fluids rising again but Clair started to shiffer, to shout, to spasm while she thrusted her hard against me. I felt my juice shooting through my body when she was shaken by her climax. I pumped my cum in her while she collapsed on the bed and I fell on top of her… I woke up the next morning, I felt naked, I was naked… I saw a naked body next to me, the back of a woman with short brown hair. It wasn’t a dream… and I felt my dick coming to life. I moved a bit nearer and but my arms around Clair, pressing my body softly against her back. I felt my dick reacting to the contact of her warm skin. Getting harder it rubbed against Clairs buttocks. It felt good…
Clair seemed to enjoy it in her sleep, it seemed like her body reacted to my touches, to my rubbing. Her buttocks moved against my dick or did I press myself so hard against her? I don’t know but it seemed like she started rocking herself against my hardness and I got harder. I pressed her body harder against mine, I felt her back pressing against my chest and I felt my dick between her legs rubbing up her bottom. The heat seemed to increase, my pleasure was rising and I started to rub my hardness against between her valley between her buttocks.
I kissed softly her neck when I felt her hands gliding softly over my hips. Soft moans escaped her half closed lips when I pressed my shaft deeper… It felt so good, it happened like two pieces just fitted together. My head pressed against her rosette and Clair pressed softly against my dick. Slowly she pressed herself on my shaft, my helmet entered her first… “Ahhhaaa… ahhhaaa…” “Shooot… I… stooo… stop? I asked her moaning… “Nooo… juuust fuuuck… meee slooow… slooowlyyy…” I thrusted gently deeper and I was overwhelmed by the heat, by this tightness. it was so dry, so hot, so intense. “Ahhhaaa… haaa… haaa… ahhh! Clair pressed herself even harder against me… she seemed to shiffer, to bent, like a cat. Somehow I was gliding, thrusting deep in her and suddenly I was in, letting out a load moan.
Clair shouted her moan out load as well… pressing herself on my shaft, burying me deep in her ass. “Ahhhaaa…! Clair collapsed, pressed against me, in my arms, my cock in her anus… we both relaxed feeling my hardness deep in her. “Its so intense Tom…” she softly moaned… “So hot, so hard…” “Tom, take me…” Clair moaned… “cum in me” She twisted her body, our mouths meet and while we kissed we started rocking again. Slowly and than faster, each stroke increased the pace. Soon I was thrusting into Clair and she moved against my body, i felt the energy building up in me, so differently… instead of the silky, wet and hot portal a very tight and hot tunnel… it was too much for me and I exploded instantly…
