Freelancing: A Fantasy

Code, Upload, Refresh, Edit, Code, Upload, Refresh, Edit... and so it goes. That's the life of web developer. The good thing is that this can be done anywhere with an internet connection. Today I was out of the office and at a little web cafe downtown. It was nice to be in a more relaxed atmosphere, sipping my chai latte and making some lovely web pages.

You know that feeling on the back of your neck when you know someone's watching you? It took me a while to realize that it was nagging at me since I was so in the 'zone' working. I wished that I had one of those geeky rear view mirrors on my laptop so I could see who was spying on me without turning my head. Instead, I played it 'cool' and went back to the counter for a refill. Glancing around casually as I could, I noticed a stunning woman.

She had incredibly long legs and I wondered how tall she was naturally. I knew that her height would be boosted by the thick heels of her black boots. Black seemed to be her main wardrobe choice as it comprised her stockings, her skirt, her blouse, and the elbow-length gloves. It was also the color of her wild hairdo that stood out in fronds like an electrified palm tree. The black set off how pale her skin was, as did the blood red slash of her lipstick.

She was reading a Joyce Carol Oates book but I caught her eye when she looked up. Great. Now I looked like the person staring at her, rather than vice versa. I smiled and looked away.

Back at my laptop, she waited a few minutes before striding over and asking if the seat next to me was taken. Indeed, she was very tall. Her voice was higher than I imagined, almost childlike. She had a slight lisp that came from her big smile. I nodded and she took a chair.

She began asking me about web development and asked if I freelanced. She had a site that she needed building. I suppressed a sigh. Web development is typically viewed by the general public as either being hardcore voodoo or so simplistically simple that anyone can do it. I prefer the people that think it's voodoo as they don't start throwing out phrases like, "I build my whole site in FrontPage." However, the voodoo people often think that making a website can be done by some ritual sacrifice and waving a magic wand. It's difficult to the layman but a walk in the park for the high priests and priestesses of the web.

That said, I tend to not freelance much. It's the rare person who appreciates that the lion's share of web development is getting all of the information possible up front in order to create specifications and stick to those. Too many people want to say, "Oh, and I want a page that does this..." when the build is 90% done. And, too many think that web development is all about attention-grabbing. "Can you make that animate?" is the question so many of us dread to hear.

I started giving this attractive lady my spiel about needing to define her business objectives and writing out an outline of all the things her site would need before we even proceeded. To my surprise she took a notebook out of her oversized purse and asked, "Like this?" She laid out an entire site map along with pages of copy that had been heavily edited. I was amazed. And I was more than a little baffled as I started to read what her site was about.

"Yes... something exactly like that."

"I've been working on this site it my head for the last few months but haven't taken the plunge to get it built. Would you be willing to help me? What are your rates?"

I usually work with clients whose product I like and try to work out a favorable agreement in trade. I told her that and added, "But I don't know what you do, yet."

She gave a hearty belly laugh, doubling over and covering her mouth with her hands to try to stifle it. Finally, her laughter subsided and she wiped her eyes of tears. She opened her notebook to another page and told me to look it over and that she'd be back after getting some more coffee.

The page was filled with a lot of terms and acronyms I couldn't get my head around. There were mentions of "Greek," "French," "Russian," and other things that didn't seem like salad dressing though much of the page seemed like a menu. "GFE," "PSE," "BDSM" were listed in one column with numbers in another. Meanwhile, terms like "DATY," "DFK," and "MSOG," were listed in another area. It might as well have been written in Sanskrit for as much sense as I made out of it and, upon her return, I told her as much.

"I know you don't know me yet but if you trust me, I can assure you that you'll figure it all out and will love the way I pay you," she said with a large smile. I don't know why I did it but I shook her hand and introduced her to her new web developer.

---

Her name is Zoe. She's got a lot of tattoos under those black clothes. I found that out the next day as she sat next to me in her living room. I tend to insist on working with the client around in order to have immediate answers and feedback. I found out about the tattoos from the photos on Zoe's computer that she was sending to me via email. They were of her in various states of undress.

Things finally started to clear up for me when I began populating pages and came across this statement: "Money exchanged is for companionship and modeling services only. Anything else that may occur is a matter of personal choice between two or more consenting adults of legal age, and is not contracted for, nor is it requested to be contracted for or compensated for in any manner. This is not an offer for prostitution."

I read those words and lifted my head to see Zoe already looking at me, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. I said, "You're...."

Seeing me struggling for words she finished my sentence, "An escort. No moral objections, I hope?"

"No, none at all. I find that rather admirable and, well, rather intriguing."

"Go ahead and ask me anything. I'm going to take notes and see if there's anything I can use for my Frequently Asked Questions page," she chuckled.

I spent the next hour or more haranguing her with questions; everything from safe sex to protocol to troublesome clients. Zoe answered everything with candor. The last question I had for her was the toughest of them all.

"So, when you said that you were... how did you... we talked a bit about payment?" I asked, fumbling over the words, afraid of being gauche.

Zoe smiled. She took the gum out of her mouth and put it on the rim of her coffee cup. She stood up--looming over me, even without her heels on--and came over to my chair. She swiveled me to face her before dropping to her knees. She looked into my eyes as her hands worked my belt, pants button, and zipper. By the time she took my penis out of my underwear it was already completely hard. She kept her eyes locked with mine as she started to stroke me.

"Do you want the nice French or can you take more?"

Not exactly sure what she meant by that I volunteered a fact that I hadn't shared with anyone else before, "I... I don't mind some teeth."

Her eyebrows raised and she smiled widely. "Okay, you tell me if it gets too intense. And, before you ask, you're allowed to cum in my mouth if you want."

She lowered her mouth to my cock and took it all into her mouth. She began getting it as wet as she could, taking it out and spitting on it before licking it up one side and down the other. I'd never been spit on but I found it vaguely erotic to watch as she lubricated me this way. Normally I felt self-conscious watching as I received oral sex but I knew that Zoe not only wanted me to watch but that she enjoyed being looked at as she worked my cock like a pro.

She stuffed so much of my cock into her mouth that she also put my balls inside. She breathed through her nose as I felt her tongue slipping under my balls and back over them. She slurped and gagged a bit before taking it out again. She looked up at me as she slipped just the head into her mouth. I felt the slight bite from her teeth. I nodded and she bit down harder. I nodded again and she slid her teeth down the length of my cock, scratching and biting all the way. It felt painful but, oddly, pleasing at the same time. Down at the base of my cock, Zoe bit hard and sucked harder, creating a vacuum around me that caused her cheeks to sink in.

I never usually do this, but I put my hands in her dyed black hair and held her in that position. She began to gag and I loosened my grip. She reached up quickly and pushed one of my hands against her head, letting me know that I was okay. I held her down as she gurgled and bit harder, I knew that she was telling me that she was still in charge of the scenario even though my cock was down her throat. She nodded her head a bit and I let go of her hair as she came up for air. She winked at me and we did it all again; the only difference was that I held onto her hair tighter and pushed harder, getting even more of me down her throat.

I could feel myself getting closer to the brink of orgasm. I remembered her words about it being okay to cum in her mouth. I was so glad that she gave me this permission as it relieved the stress--not knowing, holding back, wondering. I also knew that she didn't expect reciprocation. I'd never had a blowjob that didn't require some kind of "payback." This time, however, I knew that I was paying her back by building her website. With that, I leaned back and groaned, allowing myself to enjoy every sensation as she coaxed an orgasm out of me.

I held her down as I came inside of her mouth while she sucked every last drop of it out of my spent cock. She kept her head in my lap, licking at the oversensitive head of my cock for a few minutes, lapping up the last few drops. I stroked her hair and smiled. She went to her bathroom and came back with a warm washcloth that she wiped me off with before saying, "Thats the kind of payment I'm willing to give. At least one of those per page of my site. Does that sound fair?"

"Was that just the home page?"

"No, that was just to see how you reacted. We'll talk about the homepage more tomorrow.

Working for Zoe ended up being the best job I ever had. She gave me a whole new perspective on freelancing. After her site was done, Zoe gave me a discount for her services for life and passed my contact information along to a number of her friends who were looking for a similar deal. Needless to say, I was grateful for the work.

A Line of Thigh

There's just something so sexy about a woman's thigh when it's "out of context." The naked thigh surrounded by material. I think that's why I love stockings so much -- there's that bare area between the top of the stocking and the bottom of the underwear. This picture sent my mind reeling when I first saw it. Not only is it Parker Posey, looking like she's about to kick some butt, but her bare thigh is the center of the picture -- at least it is for me as my eye can't help but focus on that first.

Just for good measure, here's another nice photo of Ms. Posey.

Sexy Never Goes Out of Style

The Houseguest: A Fantasy

I was going through a rather awful divorce and had to move in with my sister and her family. Coming from the big city to this suburban shithole was quite a change for me but the quiet did me good. It gave me some distance from the turmoil of my former home and soon-to-be-former husband.

I spent a few hours every day pounding the pavement in search of new employment; hoping to find a job that wouldn't insult me in terms of pay or duties. Plying my masters of psychology was a bit easier in the city where therapists grew on trees.

I also "paid my rent" by helping my sister keep her house clean. I don't want to say that she lived in a pig sty but it was a far cry from my austere apartment.

Things really got interesting for me approximately six weeks after I moved in. I was running a vacuum through my nephew's room when I made a fascinating discovery--I discovered his porn stash.

Every young man keeps a supply of pornographic material on hand and Michael was no exception. However, what he kept was truly exceptional. I expected Playboy, Penthouse, or even a Hustler. What I found was Nugget, DominaExpress, and Prometheus. My nephew was a fetishist! And, judging from the extensive markings in DominaExpress, he was actively seeking a partner to explore his desires.

I couldn't resist. I started going through this magazine; seeing which ads he had circled, which words he underlined, which ads he had replied to and what responses he got (he kept the letters with their respective ads--he was pretty darned efficient for an eighteen year-old). The words flooded over me, awakening feelings that I had long since thought dead--desires I had allowed to go dormant while married to my vanilla husband. Though I felt so right I also knew what I was thinking was wrong. I stuffed the magazine back in its proper place and tried to go on with housework like Molly Fucking Maid to no avail. It was less than five minutes later that I was in my bedroom, door locked, with my vibrator imagining some pretty outrageous things as I came hard.

That night at dinner it was difficult to wipe the smile off my face as I sat next to my nephew, knowing secrets about him that he'd probably rather die than admit out loud. I had been in the position he was twenty years before and knew the confusion of bearing such "unusual" desires. I nearly choked on my meal when the thought popped into my head, "I wonder if he's wearing panties tonight."

An idea came to me that night that I was determined to carry out. If anyone was going to initiate this poor boy to the ins and outs of BDSM then it was going to be me. Damn the consequences and the implications. That night I sat down with pen and paper and started crafting the perfect lure.

---

I thought I was going to go mad as I watched the progress from afar. I saw the new issue of DominaExpress appear in his stash. Saw the markings on my ad and couldn't wait for my mail forwarding service to deliver a letter from my nephew. When it arrived I was truly impressed by his candor, his penmanship, and his use of language. Having written a number of these "cover letters," he seemed to be reluctant to pour out too much of his heart as most of the responses he had gotten were simple form letters asking for money.

I wrote back, making sure to write my response and not type it. I wanted to show him that I would give him the time of day. This already would set me apart from most of the responses. And, knowing more of his hot buttons than he admitted to me gave me some perfect fodder to guarantee our continued correspondence.

How strange it was to see my own letter show up in his stash a few days later. He had gone through it and underlined certain key phrases that I knew would set his loins on fire. They worked. From the tissue in his wastebasket I knew that my next missive would contain a schedule for his masturbation. Perhaps I'd see how well he stuck to it by walking in on him during a scheduled self-abuse session. I grinned slyly to myself and knew I'd have to play it smart and make me the only Domme he wrote, though it was too early to demand exclusivity. I'd have to prove that I was going to be worth pursuing.

At dinner I could barely contain myself. Soon I knew for sure if he was wearing panties to the table. I had ordered him to and found them tucked away in his underwear drawer when he was out. I watched as my letters stacked up. When the next DominaExpress came out the new issue didn't find its way into his stash. I knew he was mine.

This possession came none too soon as I had managed to find a well-paying job and knew it was time to move out of my sister's place. This took away my conduit to checking on Michael but I knew he wouldn't stray from his newfound Mistress, Lady Jessica. My new employment also helped as I hired a photographer to build Lady Jessica a portfolio with which I could tease my hapless submissive. Keeping my face hidden, I would include a new picture every second or third letter. He was always begging for more.

---

I had Michael in panties seven days a week. I had him admitting fantasies to me that undoubtedly shocked him. I pulled information out of him that he hadn't admitted to anyone, including himself. I pushed and pushed until I knew that a meeting was required to go any further.

I borrowed a friend's van and picked Michael up in a rather remote parking lot. He was instructed to get into the back of the van, lay down on the floor and put on a blindfold. I knew he had to be incredibly nervous but he did very well. He even fared well as I led him up to my apartment, blindfold still on. Thank goodness for early evenings in Autumn, otherwise leading around a blindfolded teenager might arouse suspicion in my new neighbors.

I wanted to make him as vulnerable as possible. I had him strip down to his panties and left him in my "dungeon room" while I went to change and don a Harlequin mask.

I had worked on my voice for months previous, working up a husky tone that I knew would appeal to Michael's latent bisexuality. I didn't want him recognizing me... at least not yet.

I put him at ease, removing his blindfold, talking to him gently, barely above a whisper. He knelt on a rug and I could see him shiver--not from cold but from anticipation.

"I know why you're here. You're here to serve. You're here because every waking moment for as long as you can remember you've felt like a nail, waiting to be hammered. You're part of an incomplete equation... I'm the other part of that equation. I am here to complete you. I am here to help you fulfill your purpose. I will control your body and, eventually, your mind. You long for this."

He nodded. Rather than tolerate bad behavior, I hit him on the flank with my crop.

"You don't have a gag in your mouth. You may speak... with permission.

"Yes, Lady Jessica.

"Much better." I had him lean down and kiss my feet. I swear I almost orgasmed right then. It had been ages since I had had a man at my feet, his soft lips and snakey tongue dancing between my toes. It was heavenly. I sat down on an ottoman and allowed him to worship my feet completely. I knew that this was the first time he had ever had his mouth on a woman's feet and he performed wonderfully. He truly was a natural. As he sucked on my big toe I thought I'd give him a thrill and said, "That's right. Suck it like a cock."

His cock jumped in his panties.

I allowed him to pleasure my feet for a while longer--perhaps longer than I should have but it was so pleasant--before having him stand before me for inspection. "You look so pretty in your panties, dear. I'm going to have to have you buy a matching bra and high heels." Again, his cock jumped. I had him remove his panties to show me his engorged cock.

I used the end of my riding crop to manipulate it. lifting it, smacking it, running along his balls. He moaned slightly. I began rubbing the soft leather end along the underside of his cock. He swayed a bit on his feet.

"I know all of your secrets," I told him. "Even those things you wouldn't admit to me in your letters. I'll introduce you to your own desires. I bet you never thought you'd be dreaming about sucking a woman's foot but you'll be dreaming of mine tonight. You'll also be dreaming of my ass."

I stood up and turned around. I kept my skirt down, despite wanting to left it up and feel his hot breath of my rosebud. "Kiss it, boy. Kiss your Lady's ass."

He got down on his knees again and kisses me on both cheeks; one and then the other. Had my skirt been up I would have felt his hot lips on my flesh. I knew that he was beyond turned-on. Despite wanting to see him cum all over my feet and feel him licking it up I thought it'd be better to wait on that for now.

I wanted to see his tolerance for pain. I led him to a table where I tied him down, face down, and went through a wide array of implements to redden his behind. If only his mother could see him now, I thought, as I made him whine out. Still, he wouldn't use his safe word and that made me so proud.

I let him cool down while I went to get my digital camera to take some snapshots of my handiwork. It had been at least a decade since I had beat a submissive and found it to be just like riding a bicycle.

Knowing that this was his first time out and that I'd have to drive him back to our "neutral ground" and that this was a school night, I decided that he'd had enough. I hoped, in future, that I could provide my sister and brother-in-law with excuses for Michael's evening absences but I wasn't ready to break it to the boy that his Aunt was now his owner.

I had him roll over on the table and told him to jerk his cock for me. Oh, how delicious it is to see someone who's only ever masturbated in private do it in front of another person. He kept his eyes locked on my masked face as he reached down and began stroking himself. His eyes became heavy-lidded but he refused to close them, as if he was afraid that I'd disappear. No way in hell. I was having too much fun watching my nephew abuse himself before me. I had only ever listened to him do it before. That helped give me cues when he was getting ready to cum. I reached out and pinched his closest nipple. This set him off. He exploded, four weeks of pent-up sexual frustration (per my orders) coming out in a torrent of milky jism. I scooped up a handful and fed it to him. "Get used to it," I thought.

He licked my fingers clean, like a good boy, and I gave him a wet rag to clean himself up with. I gave him ten minutes to get dressed and put his blindfold back on. Before we left I had him slide down his pants and panties to place a greased plug up his ass. It was small, about the size of my index finger, and I told him that he was taking his first step into a much larger world.

When Michael got home he wrote me a long letter describing all of his feelings and sensations that he experienced during our first time together. I literally laughed out loud when he wrote, "I feel like you've known me all my life."

I wonder how he'll handle it when he finds out who I am but don't really care. By then I'll have quite a photo album that I can use to blackmail him, if need be.

My Place of Worship

Connection Slut

More than any aspect of D/s that I love -- the humiliation, the role play, the bondage, the anal play, places that I've put my tongue, etc. -- I tend to get off the most on having a connection with someone. Feeling that the person I'm with understands me and that I understand them. That we're sharing the same headspace and playing on the same field. That's what I crave the most and why I tend to go back to the well. When I make that connection, I try to get a tight grip and not let go of that person. When I think of some of my failed D/s relationships I realize that the connection just wasn't there.

Too often in my life I feel like I'm feeling around in the dark. When the light from another person comes around and gives me that illumination, I want to keep them near and I want to keep their light. It's a rarity to have any light at all in my dark corner of the world.

Download Link

Tie Up Your Dog

When I was a kid I wasn't exposed to a whole lot of pornography. My neighbors down the street had a dad with a massive Playboy collection that I was allowed sneak-peeks of on the rare occasion. Otherwise, I lived in a relatively clean environment... or so I thought. My first real exposure had to be the Vanessa Williams Penthouse of my step-dad's. More than the pictures of the squeaky clean Miss America going down on another woman, I was fascinated by the Penthouse Forum letters. That was my first exposure to the idea of a man being opened up and taken anally by a woman. The letter I remember best had a guy whose girlfriend loved anal sex. She talked him into allowing her to open him up -- building off a large collection of dildos that ranged from small to massive. That really opened my eyes to diversity a bit.

Years later I was rifling through that same underwear drawer and came across another treasure trove. Super 8mm films! Being the A/V Geek that I am, I immediately broke out the projector and threaded up one of the two Swedish Erotica films. They were silent (of course) short films that consisted of a "set up" and a sex scene. One was a two girls/one guy and the other was two guys/one girl and both starred the large and in charge John Holmes!

I had to share. This was high school and I invited a few of my closest friends over to partake of the booty. More than the sex--which we found both compelling and disturbing--we found great joy in the set ups. There was little dialog in either film and, what there was, was subtitled. The two guys/one girl piece quickly found a better name from its one line. As one of the guys sucked and bit on the girl's nipples he was said to say, "Damn, what rosebuds!"

The other film had a stronger opening scene as two women walked out onto their balcony to see Mr. Holmes walking his faithful canine companion. The girls wave to him and instruct him, "Tie up your dog!" It doesn't take much more convincing for Holmes to tie his pooch's leash to their railing and to fuck the living hell out of them in the subsequent scene.

One day both "Damn What Rosebuds" and "Tie Up Your Dog" disappeared from the underwear drawer. It was a sad day, indeed, but we had a lot of fun working those phrases into everyday conversation. And imagine the hoot I got when I finally saw CITIZEN KANE!

I Love Bad Girls

Great Question / Lousy Answer

I had a great question today. "What were you like in high school?" Wow. That kind of blew my mind. It might be simple for some folks to recall their youthful days but, for me, I tend to block out unpleasantness; not being able to recall much since a week from last Tuesday.

In all seriousness, I have a tenuous hold on a mental image of myself from those formative years. Awkwardly shy, painfully lonesome, visciously sarcastic, ceaselessly horny; yes, some of those may be completely contradictary but that's what I was or, at least, how I saw myself.

It was an eye-opener a few years back when I had dinner with an old high school acquaintance. I was absolutely obsessed with her so I was curious how I came off. Turns out, she thought I was incredibly mean. I tore down people mercilessly. Not a good way to get girls, eh? No wonder I had a three-times-a-day masturbation habit.

In case you're wondering, I didn't fantasize about boys or men when I was a teen. I still don't, usually. I fantasized about the women in my neighborhood, the girls at school, and the women on TV or movies that I found attractive. I always loved the idea of powerful women, be they Cat Woman (Julie Newmar), the Amazons of Venus (ABBOTT & COSTELLO GO TO MARS), or the Winter Witch (THE LION, THE WITCH & THE WARDROBE). My first memory of masturbation was over the images of a man in a cage from some cheesey softcore film (perhaps STEWARDESS SCHOOL). The way I say it is that I was always submissive, I just didn't know the name for it or that anyone else felt the same way until I was 18 and got my hands on my first fetish magazine. Thank goodness for Nugget!

Well-Fucked

My Daddy and I: A Fantasy

Note: As with everything on this site, the following story is a fantasy. The main character is 18 years old and involved with an older man who is not related to him. The employment of "Daddy" is a term of affection. See this link for more information.

---

Daddy told me that we were going to have some very special fun this weekend.

On Friday night we took a long drive when he got home from work. He drove quite a while before we stopped at a little windowless building next to a factory. When we got out of the car I could hear loud music coming through the walls of the place. As Daddy opened the door, escorting me in, the music hit me in the face. That was followed quickly by a billow of cigarette smoke and roar of voices. Inside was a crowd of men, mostly older than Daddy, watching girls who walked down a runway and spun around poles. All of the girls were naked!

Daddy found us an empty table near the back of the place. The waitresses were beautiful. Daddy got me a "special drink" and one for himself. I was watching him while he watched the girls dance on stage. It was like I wasn't even there. I thought he had forgotten about me until he looked over and smiled, sipping his drink. He reached over and took my hand in his. He rubbed his thumb against the back of my hand and I blushed. I love how gentle he can be with me.

He pulled me closer to him and put my hand on his jeans. I could feel the hard lump of his cock under my palm. So warm and so hard. Instinctively I started rubbing him. He kept his eyes locked on the pretty girl shaking her butt on stage and I felt him get harder under my fingers. When the waitress came by to ask if we needed refills she took an extra hard look at us and smiled. "Is this your son?" she asked over the noise.

Daddy nodded and the waitress smiled at us and winked. When she left Daddy reached down and undid his fly and slid down his zipper. He fished his cock out and I gasped at the sight of it. I was always so happy to see Daddy so hard. His cock brings me so much pleasure and I try to treat it right. I licked the palm of my hand before putting it back under the table and grasping him gently. I felt his body shift as I slowly traced the length of his cock, feeling its breadth under my fingers. Oh, it felt so nice. So powerful.

There we were, Daddy looking at the girls, me looking from him to the stage, feeling him grow. Stroking him under the table, everyone else (except maybe that waitress) not knowing that I was making him feel so good.

I kept my hand moving at a slow pace, wanting Daddy to enjoy it for a long time. I knew that if he wanted it faster he'd tell me. Daddy doesn't let me second guess. He's scooted to the edge of his seat, spreading his legs wide. If I were between them I'd have my mouth on his balls. As it was, I kept my arm moving faithfully until he put his hand over mine and stopped me. I frowned and pouted. If I had my way, I'd have Daddy's cock all the time; in my hand, in my mouth, in my bottom, even just resting against me.

I looked up and saw the possible reason why Daddy had stopped me. There was a very attractive young lady clad in a bra and g-string at our table now. It was the same girl he had been eyeing when we first sat down. She said something in Daddy's ear that I couldn't hear over the crowd. He nodded and slipped her some cash from his front pocket. He pulled his shirt over his exposed cock as she slid our table away from us a bit.

As the next song started, she crawled up to Daddy and put her knees on either side of his waist. She pulled his head down between her breasts with one hand and pushed them upwards with the other. She bounced and gyrated in time with the music, feeling his cock under her. I was just inches from her in the booth, watching her and watching Daddy.

She got up, her crotch in his face. She bent over and turned around, grabbing onto the table and bending in half so that her bottom was right in his face. He inhaled her cheap perfume deeply and licked his lips. I was at once turned on by Daddy having such a nice time but also envious of this girl. I could see the lust in his eyes. He rubbed his nose down the crack of her ass and I saw him reach down and grasp his cock quickly. She pushed back, encouraging him. I could see his tongue skirting around the G-string and licking her asshole. She turned to look at me and smiled before closing her eyes in ecstacy. The song ended but she kept on "dancing", her asshole getting sloppy wet from Daddy's tongue. I've felt what his tongue can do in my mouth and felt that stab of jealousy again.

Daddy reached over and put his hand in my lap as he continued to tongue the girl. He found me as I should be; hard. My cock ring always assured him that I would be. He grasped my cock through my pants and squeezed me. His strong hand made me melt. One slut in front of him, one to his side. Daddy told me later that he felt like he was the meat in a "slut sandwich."

The girl's knees started shaking. Soon it was her whole body vibrating. She shuddered for what seemed like forever. I could tell that she was cumming even without seeing the liquid on her thighs. Daddy eased his head back and she slowly got down off of the seat. She grabbed the table and, in one motion, pulled it back and sat down next to Daddy. Her legs were splayed and she leaned her head back to catch her breath. Her long hair cascading over the back of the booth.

Daddy kept his hand on my cock, squeezing. He leaned over and talked to the girl while he massaged me. She got up, still a bit shakey on her feet, and left us. Daddy put his cock away and zipped up his pants. He told me to finish my drink and I did so, obediently.

Daddy got up from the table and I quickly followed him out of the club. Waiting for us by the door was the girl. She looked really different with clothes on. She was about five foot two and lucky if she tipped the scales at 100 pounds. She had long dirty blonde hair and a dreamy smile on her face. She had just lit a cigarette. Daddy took it out of her hand, threw it before him and put it out under his heel. "No smoking," he said, his voice too loud from the club. He started walking and we fell behind; the girl and then me.

When we got home -- the girl riding up front the whole way, her head gently bobbing on Daddy's cock -- Daddy had me strip in front of the girl while we stood in the living room. I felt a little funny, taking my clothes off in front of a stranger, especially when she saw my hard cock and the cockring that said "Daddy's Boy" written in silver letters around it. He told her to also remove her clothes. "All the way, this time."

We stood there, nervous and naked, while Daddy went to the kitchen to fix a drink. We just smiled at one another. She seemed confident for being at a stranger's house completely naked next to another stranger.

I heard the ice from Daddy's drink before I saw him coming back into the room. He sat down on the couch and smiled broadly at the two of us. The girl shifted her weight from foot to foot, her only sign of being nervous. I felt that I should kneel as is custom when Daddy enters a room but didn't do so as this was definitely an unusual situation.

Daddy undid his jeans and unzipped his fly again. He pulled out his cock and started stroking it. I licked my lips, as did the girl. He smiled again and took another sip from his drink with his free hand. He put his drink down and then, palm open, fingers out, hand forward, lowered his arm. This was my sign to kneel. The girl looked from his hand to me and followed suit. He made another signal and I leaned down, my forehead touching the floor. She also did the same. "Boy, kneel up." I did so.

"Get behind her," he said. I crawled over to behind the girl. Her bottom was open from her position and I saw her tight rosebud. The same one Daddy licked until she came not a half hour ago. "Fuck her," he said. I crawled up to her and began to put my hard little cock inside of her pussy. "Fuck her ass," he corrected. She gasped. I obeyed.

I pushed into her tight asshole. It opened with the pressure from my hips. I could feel my cock being lubricated from the remains of Daddy's saliva. I plunged too deep too fast and she screamed out in pain and fright. Daddy hushed her. She whimpered and I carried on, fucking her hard. I was punishing her for having her mouth on Daddy's cock while I hadn't done so all evening. I was punishing her for cumming from Daddy's tongue. I fucked her harder and smacked her ass while I did.

Daddy told me to stop and I did so immediately. I didn't want to face his wrath. I pulled my cock out of the girl's ass. Daddy tsked and lifted the girl's face by her chin. He wiped her cheeks clean of tears. "I know," he said, "it hurt. But it's okay." From behind him he produced a large strap on cock. He laid it next to her. "Put this on," he growled.

She stood, wiping her cheeks and sniffling. She put her legs through the two straps and tightened the strap around the waist. It looked like she had done this before. She had her back to me, my eyes level with her ass. Daddy reached out and stroked her rubber cock as I wish he would do to me.

"Go on, dear," he said. "Fuck him. Fuck him hard."

She went around me. She looked down at me and smiled maliciously. Once she was behind me I looked to Daddy pleadingly. He didn't say anything. He just gave me the signal to lean down as she had been.

I felt the pressure from the rubber cock against my asshole. There was no hesitation as she slammed herself into me, visciously. I cried out, unable to control myself as she plunged deep. I could feel myself spasming against her. Even though Daddy has taken me like this countless times, he gives me a moment to adjust to his girth. She gave me no moment. She didn't let me catch by breath. She was now punishing me. Getting me back, justifiably, for hurting her. It was my turn to cry.

As I gasped for breath between sobs I felt my face being pulled up by my chin. Daddy looked down at me, smiling. He was on the couch and I was close enough to smell his manly scent and feel the warmth from his flesh. He had shucked his clothes and his cock stood straight out. He held onto my head and took aim, pushing his cock into my mouth.

Tasting him, feeling his hardness fill my mouth was almost as wonderful as the ass-fucking was awful. I closed my eyes and sucked on Daddy's cock as thoroughly as I could while the girl pummelled my ass. Daddy must have given her the signal to slow it down a bit as she moved into a steady rhythm. I matched it with my head, bobbing up and down on Daddy's cock. His hard, hot manhood was like a pacifier to me. I sucked it, my tongue lolling on the underside of his bulbous head, and I felt not a care in the world now. I was in heaven with Daddy in me.

The girl pulled out and I heard the distant jingle as she stepped out of her strap-on. Daddy tapped me on the head as my signal to stop. He got up and sat back down on the couch and signalled to she and I to come near. We both crawled to him. He signalled that we should kneel on either side of him. He moved our heads together; one on either side of his cock. We began to lick and suck Daddy's pole, our tongue meeting and twirling around him. I began sucking his balls as she took his head into her mouth.

We both wrapped our lips around either side of his cock and began moving our heads up and down. Daddy began to moan and I knew that he was close. I felt his hand on the back of my head, holding me in place while my tongue swirled up and down under the head of his cock.

I heard Daddy moan loudly and felt the warm torrent of cum begin to fall on the side of my face. I tasted a few drops of his nectar both directly from him and also on the tongue of the girl. I could feel Daddy's cum pumping out of him under my tongue. Finally, he took his hand off of my head and pulled the girl and I apart. I looked at her, seeing the cum plastered on the side of her face and knowing that I must look much the same. "Clean each other off," Daddy commanded.

She and I leaned close again and began to lick each others' faces like fastidious cats. Her tongue felt wonderful on me and Daddy's cum was a taste treat. I didn't want this to end. Daddy gave us his approval and I knew it was time to stop. Daddy rustled our hair as he got up and walked between us, stepping out of the room again.

The girl's face got very serious for a second before she whispered, "I forgive you." She put her hand over mine, perilously close to my still-hard penis. She smiled and I smiled back.

When Daddy came back into the room, now wearing a robe, he went to the wall and pulled out the Murphy bed that he always called "the crib." He started putting up the side-rails to make it look more crib-like and told the girl and I to get inside before locking the last rail in place. Daddy put an extra blanket and pillow inside. He had me stick my cock out between the rails and removed my cockring. "Don't stay up too late, babies," he said before turning out the lights and going to bed.

I crawled up next to the girl. I know how disconcerting the crib can be when you first get inside and wanted to comfort her. I also forgave her for everything and was happy that we seemed to be friends. She really wanted to show me that there were no hard feelings as she slid down between my legs and took my engorged penis into her mouth. It didn't take long before she was sucking up my cum as I emptied my balls into her mouth. She crawled back up and let me taste myself on her lips before she turned around and we spooned our way to sleep. I liked my new sister and knew she and I were going to have lots of fun with Daddy.

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