|
Nine Long Months (1/2)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE-----
Nine Long Months (1/2)
My wife is pretty strange, I suppose. When she got
pregnant with our first child, she craved sex like never
before. Most women swear off sex altogether when they get
pregnant, especially when they get close to delivery time,
but my wife is an exception to the rule. The bigger her
belly got, the hornier she became -- at first, I thought it
was a passing phase, but I soon learned otherwise.
Her cravings started out simple; when we were out at
the mall one night early in the pregnancy, she told me she
wanted to take the elevator instead of the stairs. I kidded
her about it, complaining that being three weeks pregnant
hardly meant that she couldn't walk any more, but we stepped
into the elevator. The second the doors closed, she shoved
me against the wall of the elevator and grasped my crotch,
panting, "I want you -- I want you NOW!"
This was nothing unusual for us; over the last few
years, we've probably had sex in every elevator in that
mall. Her sudden interest surprised me, however; I always
thought pregnant women lost interest in sex. At any rate, we
went into a clinch into the elevator on the way up to the
third floor. She squeezed me rhythmically with one hand and
guided my fingers between her legs with the other. I had
just worked past her panties and thrust my middle finger up
her throbbing pussy when the bell rang for the third floor.
She backed away, smiling; as I pulled my hand back out from
between her legs, she pulled my wet finger to her mouth and
licked her juices off me.
I was thoroughly distracted as we walked from store to
store. I had developed a raging hard-on in the elevator, and
I shuffled along with my hands in my pockets to disguise the
lump in my Levi's. As we passed the food court, she headed
for the rest rooms while I bought a Coke. I sat down at a
table to wait, and she returned momentarily. As she sat, she
flipped something across the table to me -- her panties! She
spread her skirt and sat down smiling, the very picture of
feminine propriety, while I stuffed the damp panties in my
pocket. I thought about her pussy lips, spread on the wire
mesh seat of her chair.
"Do you feel a draft, baby? That metal mesh must be
cold!" I leered at her, speaking under my breath. In reply,
she wiggled her hips to spread her crotch even wider. "Hmmm
... Well, I've got to do *something* to cool off, don't I?
The breeze feels good!"
"Just try not to drip through the mesh, dear -- you'll
leave a slick spot for someone to fall on." I sipped my Coke
and shook my head, wondering what had come over her. She
leaned across the table and took my hand, glancing coyly at
her cleavage to point out that she had taken off her bra as
well. When I dragged my gaze back to her face, she
whispered, "The elevator is right over there -- going down?"
Our escapades got more daring as the weeks turned to
months; I kept expecting this white-hot flame of sexual
desire to cool, but it only seemed to increase as time
passed. I was surprised and excited by the experiences we
shared, however, and I found myself hoping that the fun
would continue. By the time she was three months pregnant,
she had stopped wearing underclothes altogether -- no bra,
no panties, no pantyhose. Her breasts are naturally high and
firm and so the only times she really gave herself away were
when her nipples hardened into rosy knots. When that
happened, of course, everyone within a hundred feet of her
knew that she was braless. Normally, she would be mortally
embarrassed by something like that, but her swelling belly
made her fearless. Many times, I'd catch her gliding
fingertips across her nipples when we were out in public --
she was very discreet about it, but the occasional caresses
kept her nipples rock-hard and erect almost constantly. We
started carrying a bath towel in the car, because her pussy
oozed constantly and we were screwing like bunnies whenever
we had the chance. Driving down the road, she'd knead her
breasts while I stroked and teased her pussy -- daylight or
dark, it made no difference. Finally, I stopped wearing
underwear whenever we were together; after strangling on an
erection a few dozen times, I gave up and left my jockey
shorts at home. She loved to suck my cock, especially when I
gave up on the shorts and she could whip down my zipper and
get to the meat quickly. At the post office (after hours,
when we picked up the mail), in elevators, in the backyard -
- - she was so crazed for sex that she virtually panted for me
when we were together. One night, we needed cash from an
automated teller machine -- as we drove up, she chuckled and
stroked herself.
"Oh, no -- those things have security cameras! Besides,
the whole little building is blazing with light and the
walls are glass!" I tried to talk her into staying in the
car, but there was no arguing with her. We went in together,
and as I started punching the buttons she dropped to her
knees before me. "Not now! Not here!" I hissed, but she
already had my cock in her mouth. I tried to appear
nonchalant for the camera, but I knew that anyone crossing
the parking lot could see the show. As I gritted my teeth
and tried to concentrate on the business at hand, she
expertly brought me to a pounding erection. Finally, I could
stand it no more and I shuddered, spraying my load down her
throat.
We collected our cash, card, and receipt and went back
to the car. As we settled in, I turned to shake my head at
her, unbelieving. "Do you realize that we could be seen from
every direction in there? That thing's like a lighted stage,
baby -- not to mention the cameras!" As I said the word
"stage," I knew immediately that I had made a mistake. In a
flash, she was out of the car and back in the teller booth.
As I rounded the back of the car and started toward her, she
flung off her dress in one smooth motion and started
gyrating, facing outward toward the office buildings across
the parking lot. By the time I got the door open and grabbed
her arm, she had three fingers buried in her pussy and was
teasing up her nipples with the other hand.
"Hey! Come on, now -- we've got to get out of here!" I
was frantic, looking in all directions. She jerked back when
I pulled on her arm, and I gaped at her.
"Lick my pussy before we go." I just stood and blinked
at her. She pulled away from me and resumed her slow bump
and grind, and I could hear wet sucking sounds as she worked
her hand up and down, kneading her pussy. "I *said*, lick my
pussy!" She sat down suddenly and turned to face the
security camera, then rolled back and lay on the floor,
spreading her slick pussy with both hands for the camera. I
dropped to my knees and lapped at her dripping cunt, trying
to watch out for unwanted visitors. As my tongue touched her
clitoris, she shuddered -- three of four more thrusts of the
tongue, and she went over the edge. She screamed and
shuddered, then let me lead her naked out into the parking
lot away from the lights. I threw her in the car, threw the
dress in after her, and we burned rubber leaving the scene.
She giggled nonstop throughout our escape, wiping the juice
from her crotch with the towel. I gripped the steering wheel
with both hands, trying to calm myself.
"Baby, we're going to have to be a little more
careful," I began.
"What's the matter? Don't you like a little spice in
our sex life?" She grabbed at my crotch and laughed, and I
frowned. "Baby -- I love our sex life, and I'm all for
`spice' -- it's just that an adventure like that one is too
dangerous. If a street gang had passed by at the wrong time,
I'd be dead by now and you'd be worse off than that. Taking
chances is one thing, but putting yourself in that kind of
danger is something else. Besides, we're on videotape
somewhere!" She frowned, thinking.
"Yes, I guess so -- I really didn't think too far
ahead. I get so horny sometimes -- especially now, with the
baby -- anyway, we made our escape, didn't we? And the video
will just freak out some security guard somewhere, right?"
"If they match up my withdrawal from the checking
account with that piece of videotape, dear, we'll have the
police knocking on our door." Her eyes widened, and she fell
silent for a minute.
"Damn! I'm sorry -- you're right, we'll have to be more
careful."
After the teller booth episode, I took an active
interest in setting up scenes for her -- if she craved
excitement, the least I could do was think ahead and keep us
both out of trouble. We tried different roles and techniques
until I worked out what she really wanted, and then I was
able to fine-tune our adventures to give her the maximum
pleasure with a minimum of real danger. She got into
bondage, humiliation, and a little S&M action; when I put on
my leather motorcycle gloves, I could almost hear her pulse
speed racing. We turned the spare bedroom in the basement
into a `torture chamber,' complete with oil lamps and
chains, and spent many long evenings down there. When we
went out, I carried a fanny pack stuffed with various
`toys,' watching for opportunities to get her crotch soaked
and her heart pounding. Of all the toys we bought, we used a
soft rubber gag the most. After filling her mouth with the
gag and tightening the straps, she could scream her lungs
out without making too much noise. She liked that; she loved
to be tied down, humiliated, and aroused to the point of
screaming, thrashing orgasm.
One evening, before we went out, I had her strip naked
and go find a dress with a high collar; when she returned, I
dug several lengths of thin chain and clips from my bag.
"What have you got in mind?" She watched, lips parted,
as I sorted through the chains. Her hand strayed to her
nipples as she dropped the dress on the floor. I wrapped a
chain around her neck, secured it with a clip, and trailed
the end down her back. Then, I wrapped a chain around her
waist, secured it in front, and dropped the end down between
her legs. "Spread your pussy for me," I commanded, and she
grabbed the moist lips with both hands to spread her pink
cunt. I drew the front chain back between her knees, pulled
it tight between her lips, and then pulled it up across her
pink rectum to join it to the chain hanging from her
`necklace.' Before I clipped the two chains together, I told
her, "Your posture has been slipping lately -- maybe this
will help." I pulled the chains sharply, digging into her
crotch and pulling her shoulders back. "That's much better,"
I said, clipping the chains together. She turned around to
face me, shoulders thrown back, and I frowned at her breasts
as they jutted out toward my face. "We'll have to do
something about that cleavage, too -- I've got just the
ticket." I hooked a length of chain to the front of the
necklace, passed it down and under both breasts, and then
lifted them as I pulled the chain tight. "Yes, that's much
more attractive," I declared, watching the nipples harden.
"Now, you may get dressed." She gasped as she bent over to
pick up the dress, and I laughed. I picked up the dress and
handed it to her. She pulled her pussy lips wider and
adjusted the chain, then clung to me, panting.
"I don't want to go out any more -- take me
downstairs!" I licked her lips, then smiled. She leaned into
me, panting, but I pulled back, grasping her hips to mine
and leaning backward from the waist. She followed my lips
with hers, gasping as the chain dug into her crotch and
pulled against her throat. "No, my dear, we're going out
tonight -- stand still, and I'll help you get your dress
on."
Walking through the mall that night was quite an
experience for her. I kept my hand on the small of her back,
tweaking the tight chain through her dress every now and
then when I thought she'd least expect it. Outwardly, she
gave no sign of her feelings other than a faint gasp every
time my hand brushed across the chain; she walked beside me,
ramrod-straight, breasts bobbing high and nipples rock-hard
against the dress. We wandered past the food court, and she
headed for the rest room. As she turned to go, she
whispered, "Don't worry -- I don't need to go. I'll leave it
on. Problem is, I've got pussy juice running down both legs
and it has almost reached my knees." Winking, she marched
off to wipe her thighs clean. When she returned, she flipped
her skirts out and sat across from me. I head the scrape of
metal on metal, and her eyes widened. "Take me home, please
- -- I can't stand it any more. My knees are shaking, and I
can't hold out much longer." She ran her tongue across her
lips, panting across the table at me. I leaned across and
put my hands alongside her throat, kissing her; then, I
jerked the chain around her breasts tighter and reattached
it to her collar in one quick motion. She gasped and jumped,
and I stood up and offered her my hand. "Shall we go?" She
stood up and we walked on, and my tugs at the chain became
stronger and more numerous. Finally, on the way out, we
stopped and looked over the railing at the lower levels of
the mall. I stepped close behind her, wrapping my hand
around the chain and shielding it with my body. I leaned
close to whisper in her ear.
"Just think, dear -- all those people down there. I
wonder what they would think if they knew about this?" I
twisted the chain in my fist slightly and held it there,
drawing a gasp from her. "What would they say?" Another
twist -- now, her back bowed slightly and her belly stuck
out to brush the railing in front of us. I put my free hand
on her shoulder and nibbled her earlobe, listening to her
quick breaths. Her hand strayed behind her, toward my
crotch. "No, no, no -- that's not allowed," I murmured,
twisting the chain still tighter.
"Take me home NOW, or I swear I'll scream!" she rasped
hoarsely. I gave the chain a savage jerk and felt her
shudder, then draw a deep breath. I stepped around in front
of her, covered her mouth with mine, and jerked the chain
away from her back like a bowstring before letting it snap
back against her. She clung to me, trembling violently, her
animal howl muffled by my kisses. I offered her my elbow as
she staggered out to the car, knees wobbling. When we got in
the car, she was all over me, groaning and panting -- I
chained her wrists and ankles to the bottom of her bucket
seat and chained her neck to the headrest. After I got the
car started and moved out to the freeway, I started
unbuttoning her dress, slowly moving from one button to the
next. She thrashed against the chains, but could not get
free -- in the glare of passing headlights, she looked like
any other passenger, but her panting moans told me
otherwise. As I worked my way down the line of buttons, I
spread the two sides of the dress apart to reveal as much
cleavage as possible. Finally, I got down to the outer curve
of her breasts; another button, and she'd bounce out of the
dress altogether. So, I started working from the other end,
opening the dress and spreading it to each side to expose
her thighs. When I had worked up to her navel, I started
looking for an exit and a fast-food place with a drive-
through window. As I started changing lanes, she looked
around, bewildered.
"Where are we going? This is the wrong exit!" She tried
to twist sideways to face me, but accomplished nothing but
another jerk on her chain and a magnificent display of
cleavage. "Careful," I warned, "keep that up and you'll fall
out of your dress! That would certainly blow the minds of
the folks at the drive-through, wouldn't it?"
"Drive-through? What? Like THIS?" She looked down at
her bobbing breasts and spread legs, dress unbuttoned to the
waist and spread out beside her. I pulled off the freeway
and stopped at a light, and she shivered as the streetlights
highlighted her bare flesh. She glanced quickly out her
window at the car next to us, then closed her eyes,
trembling. When the light changed, she sighed with relief.
"Do you realize that I'm nearly naked over here?" she asked.
"Of course! Now, I'm going to undo three more buttons
before I drive through and get myself a cup of coffee. You
get to choose whether I undo three more buttons from the
top, exposing your breasts, or whether I do three from the
bottom, opening your crotch. Think fast; we've only got a
few more blocks to go." There was a shocked silence for
several seconds, and then she spluttered, "You WHAT?"
"Decide, baby -- if you don't, I'll open three buttons
on top AND bottom." She thrashed for several seconds, then
spoke.
"On the bottom, then." I undid the three buttons in a
flash and spread the dress wide open, chuckling as I looked
at the long sweep of her thighs and the pink warmth split by
the chain. As we pulled into the parking lot, she shuddered
and moaned. I swept my hand along her pussy lips, soaked and
quivering. At the window, I asked for a cup of coffee, and
the teenager on duty leaned out to speak to my wife.
"Anything for you, ma'am?" he asked, and then I saw his
eyes stray to her thighs and go wide.
"No, thanks," she stammered, and he ducked back inside
to get my coffee. She shivered violently, moaning. "Well,
now you've put my pussy on public display. Are we going home
now? I swear, when I get out of these chains, I'm going to
fuck you non-stop for the next week!" I stroked her pussy
idly as she spoke, words spilling out unevenly as she
trembled at the touch and the bright lights streaming into
the car.
"May as well go the whole route, then," I said as I
noticed the kid returning with my coffee. Before he reached
the window, I slipped the top few buttons free and grinned
as the dress fell open. The kid almost dropped the coffee as
I handed him a dollar; he was still gaping out the window
when I eased out of the parking lot and back toward the
country. She was speechless for a full minute; we were back
out of the city and headed home before she said a word.
"Are you going to strip me completely naked and drive
all over town tonight?" she whispered, stunned at the
expression on the boy's face. In response, I rapidly
unbuttoned her dress all the way and spread it apart,
drawing it down along her arms until it lay in a puddle
around her seat. Then, I rolled her window down all the way
- -- her nipples sprang erect at the cool night breeze. She
moaned and bucked, twisting her body and thrashing against
her chains as I fingered her crotch and stroked her breasts
with my slippery fingers.
"Go ahead and scream if you want, baby -- you'll still
be helpless before me!" She howled, she wailed as we shot
down the deserted back roads. I stroked her constantly,
bringing her to one shattering climax after another.
Finally, I turned for home. Inside the garage with the door
closed, I released her, unclipping all the chains and
dropping them to the floor. She stood there in the harsh
light of the garage and just shook all over, hands
fluttering here and there as she stared at me, trembling.
"My god -- I've never been that wound up in my entire
life! I honestly thought I was going to pass out, start
screaming, or have a heart attack! What am I going to DO
with you?" I smiled. She took a couple of steps toward me,
then attacked like a mountain lion -- in seconds, we were on
the floor, howling and screwing like big cats in heat. We
staggered into bed at three AM, utterly exhausted.
At five months, my wife looked every inch the pregnant
woman. Her belly swelled out in front, she gave up high
heels altogether, and she finally had to give up her normal
wardrobe for maternity clothes. I kept expecting her to
settle down a bit, at least until after the baby was born; I
figured that there was no way we could keep up our frantic
pace much longer. We fine-tuned our games in the basement to
accommodate her swelling stomach, and we cut back on our
long walks through the parks and malls in town. Our sex was
no longer the frenzied gymnastics of the pre-baby days --
now, she preferred intensity of pleasure (and pain) to a lot
of sweaty aerobics. I'd tie her down in the basement and
place alligator clips on her nipples, lips, earlobes, and
pussy lips. Then, I'd reduce her to a panting, quivering
mass of sensation, sending her screaming into orgasm with
one last flick of the tongue (or the whip, depending on her
mood).
One evening, as we were walking downtown after dinner,
she took my arm and started leading me down an unfamiliar
street. When I asked her where we were going, she just
smiled enigmatically and remarked that she wanted to check
out a shop she'd heard about from one of her friends. We
walked quite a distance and finally wound up outside an
upscale beauty salon.
"Baby, this place is bound to be closed at this time of
night," I said. "It's after nine o'clock!"
"I made an appointment. Don't worry, it won't kill you
to set foot in a salon." She knocked at the door, spoke
briefly to the woman that answered, and then ushered me
inside. The woman that met us at the door was a tall,
striking brunette named Marie; she introduced herself, then
led us to the back of the salon. Puzzlement must have shown
on my face; Marie turned to my wife, asking, "Is this a
surprise?"
"Yes, it is. Dear," she turned to me, "Marie was
recommended highly by several of my friends as someone who
could do something very special for us." My eyebrows shot
up. "I think our games at home would be more interesting if
I -- ah -- made a few minor changes."
I was completely baffled. "You're going to have to
spell it out, baby -- all this has gone right over my head."
As I spoke, I was startled to see my wife unbuttoning her
dress; as I watched, she stripped naked and sat down in a
reclining chair and spread her legs wide. Marie had left the
room earlier, but now returned with a bottle of wine, three
glasses, and a covered tray.
"I'm going to get myself pierced! Trust me -- you'll
love the result." I blinked.
"Have a glass of wine?" Marie held out a glass, and I
took it, stupefied. She poured it full, and I knocked it
back in one gulp as she poured herself and my wife full
glasses. She looked back at me, chuckled, and refilled my
glass quietly. Finally, I regained my voice.
"Uh, well, OK. Is it safe?"
"Perfectly safe. I've done this hundreds of times, and
never had any problems. You'll have to be a little careful
for a week or so until they heal, but after that everything
will be fine. She can take the jewelry out at any time after
the pierces heal, and no one will be able to tell she's
pierced without a magnifying glass." I should have guessed
that Marie had answered my question many times before; she
took no offense. As she spoke, she delicately parted the
folds of my wife's pussy with her fingertips, wiping the
juices from the warm flesh with gauze. My wife stared down
into her crotch, breathing faster and sipping her wine.
"All right, honey, let me get a good look at your
clitoris -- we want to pull the hood up and pierce near the
base of the clit without touching the hood. Ah, good -- you
have a nice big clitty, and this should go quite well."
I stepped to one side and then kneeled beside Marie to
get a good view of the process. Marie swabbed the whole clit
with disinfectant, then showed my wife how to hold the hood
of her clit back out of the way. Marie selected a ring from
the tray at her side and wiped it down with disinfectant.
Looking closely at it, I saw that it had a threaded bead
attached, allowing the wearer to thread the ring through a
body pierce and then close the ring by screwing the bead in
place. In a moment, Marie was ready to make the pierce; she
picked up the ring and needle, then looked up at my wife.
She nodded, and Marie gripped the clit with her fingernails,
pulling it toward her as she ran the steel needle through
the base. As my wife stiffened and gasped, Marie quickly
followed the needle with the ring and spun the bead closed.
A pair of tears squeezed out of her eyes, but otherwise my
wife made no sound, staring down at the bright silver ring
in her most private flesh. After a moment, her ragged
breathing steadied.
"Are you all right, honey?" Marie asked my wife,
refilling both our wine glasses. My wife nodded, sipped her
wine, and smiled at me. I shook my head in amazement,
grinning. Marie placed a small square of gauze on the clit,
then took my wife's finger and guided her to the spot. "Hold
that down firmly for a minute or so, and it will stop
bleeding. Then, we'll do the other two." I looked over at
her sharply. "Other two what?" Marie and my wife smiled, and
my wife answered.
"I want my nipples pierced too -- while we're here, we
may as well do all three at once!" I drank some more wine.
The nipple pierces took a little longer, since my wife
planned to nurse the baby and Marie had to take special care
to place the pierces in just the right spot. She guided my
hands to my wife's breasts to hold them steady as she
tweaked the nipples erect, kneading the hard knots of flesh
to decide where to insert the needle. When she found the
right spot, she gave the nipple a firm pinch and ran the
needle through it, wringing a gasp and a squeak from my
wife. Then, she slipped in the ring and secured it as I
kneaded the warm breast in my hand. After all three pierces
were done and had stopped bleeding, Marie went over them
once again with disinfectant. She gave my wife a sheet of
instructions and a bottle of the disinfectant solution to
take home. As my wife got dressed, I paid Marie for the
evening's work, tipping her well. My wife and I stepped back
out into the street a few minutes later, a little tipsy from
the wine and still excited by the scene in the salon.
"Had enough excitement for one night?"
"I'm ready to go home now, if that's what you mean,"
she answered. We walked in silence, hand in hand. "Do they
hurt?" I asked.
"Not too bad, really -- the piercing itself hurt, but
afterwards it settled down a lot. The wine helps, and I'll
take some aspirin when we get home." We walked back to the
car and drove home, then got ready for bed. I kept my hands
to myself, figuring she'd take my head off at the shoulders
if I disturbed the pierces so soon after they were made.
Heading out of the bathroom into the bedroom, I stopped
short as I saw my wife standing before the full-length
mirror on the closet door -- she was staring at herself,
transfixed. I eased up behind her and looked over her
shoulder at her reflection, staring at the bright bits of
metal piercing her tender flesh. She took my hands and
wrapped my arms around her chest, under the breasts, and I
felt her rapid breathing. In spite of myself, I felt an
erection beginning as she pulled me closer to her, trapping
my cock between her buttocks.
"Now, baby -- don't get yourself wound up right now.
Give those a chance to heal before we start playing with
them." She looked at me in the mirror, and I could see the
flush of excitement along her throat and the tops of her
breasts. "Yes," she breathed, "we'll have to leave them
alone for a few days, I guess. Bring me the hand lotion from
the dresser, will you?" She released my hands, and I brought
her the lotion. "You're not going to put that stuff on them,
are you?" I asked.
"No, not at all," she replied, squirting a glob of hand
lotion into her palm. "This is for something entirely
different." As I watched, she reached around between her
buttocks and smeared the hand cream in her crack. As she
stroked a finger around her pink hole, she looked over her
shoulder at me.
"Come here, dear, and stand like you were before." I
pressed myself to her back again, erection pounding as my
cock slid between her slippery cheeks. She grabbed my hands
and pulled me tight against her, grinding her ass against my
cock and watching us both in the mirror.
"Just because we can't play in the front doesn't mean I
can't have you inside me," she purred, arching her back and
thrusting against me. "Run your hot rod up me... I want to
feel you come inside me, even if we have to do it this way."
I was astonished; she had never shown any interest in anal
sex before, and I had never brought it up. We both learned a
lot about each other during these few months. As she leaned
forward slightly and spread her crack for me, I worked one
hand loose from her grasp and guided the tip of my cock to
her twitching hole. As I eased it in, she moaned and writhed
like an animal; I took it slowly, not wanting to hurt her.
The sensation of her grasping asshole working along the head
of my cock was indescribable. When I had the head all the
way in, I stopped for a moment, savoring the rhythmic
clutching of her tight hole around my glans. When she urged
me on, I eased on in until my balls were against her pussy
lips. Her knees were trembling so badly that she could
barely stand, but she started rocking back and forth,
impaled on my stiff cock. She moaned, listening to the
sucking sounds her asshole made on my manhood and looking at
herself in the mirror. After a few strokes, I was beside
myself -- I slammed myself into her, gripping her hips, and
roared out my orgasm in a blinding instant of ecstasy.
We kept the hand cream close by for several days,
exploring these new sensations; even now, there's always a
bottle of lotion in our `toy box.'
After the pierces healed, we found all sorts of ways to
use them in our games. Sometimes, I'd lay her on her back
and lift her legs, wrapping her arms around her knees and
chaining her wrists to her nipples. Then, I'd chain her
ankles together and pull them back toward her crotch,
clipping their chain to her clit. While she was thus unable
to move without dragging at the rings buried in her most
tender spots, I'd lick her pussy until she screamed for
release. She shuddered into orgasm writhing and twitching
from the intense pleasure and sharp pulls from her chains.
Other times, I'd hang small, heavy bells from nipples and
clitoris and fuck her from behind, listening to the jingling
as we bucked against each other. She liked to wear a bell
dangling from her crotch when we went out, enjoying the tug
on her clit as the bell swung between her thighs and
watching the people around her try to figure out where the
tinkling sounds were coming from. When she wore a dress
thick enough to disguise her nipples, she hooked a Y-shaped
chain between nipples and crotch, dangling loosely down
inside her dress. At unexpected moments I wound my fingers
in the chain through a gap between buttons, dragging her to
me for a kiss. We `worked on her posture' some more, using a
longer Y-shaped chain that ran from her nipples up and over
her shoulders and down her back around to the clit. I found
a tiny padlock at the hardware store and she wore it through
her clit for several days. It was fun to play with for a
week or so, and then we lost the key! Back to the hardware
store for a pair of bolt cutters, and then we had a couple
of tense moments while I maneuvered the bolt cutters along
her pussy and cut the lock.
At seven months, she picked up a definite waddle; every
time I looked at her, I was amazed that she could carry that
much weight that far forward without falling down. I went to
the doctor with her for a checkup -- I wanted to ask the
doctor privately whether we should stop having sex for the
baby's sake. She, of course, showed no signs of slowing
down; we had to refine our techniques a little, but she
still carried a towel everywhere to sop up the juices
running down her legs. Just outside the doctor's office, she
gripped my arm suddenly.
"I left my rings in!" she hissed in my ear.
"Well, baby, just step in the ladies' room and take
them out -- what's the problem?"
"We're late as it is; just stand still, right here."
She ducked into an alcove with a potted plant, and I stood
in front of her, trying to look nonchalant as I scanned the
hallway in both directions. Ten seconds later, she tapped me
on the shoulder. As we stepped out into the hall, she
dropped three warm rings in my hands. Smiling, she licked
her slippery fingers as I opened the door.
"That was quick," I remarked, holding the door for her.
"It only took about half that long to take off my
rings," she smiled. "The other few seconds were, well --
personal." I shook my head as we went inside.
"Everything's coming along just fine, dear," the doctor
told her as she lay sprawled in the stirrups. "Get a little
exercise if you can, and keep eating right, and you should
do quite well." I cleared my throat, trying to figure out
how to state my question.
"Doctor, should we -- ah, that is -- " I stammered.
"What?"
"He wants to know if we should stop having sex until
after the baby comes," my wife stated in a matter-of-fact
tone, winking at me over the doctor's shoulder as he turned
to face me.
"No, unless some problems develop later on, there's no
reason to stop now. Besides, it's good exercise." The doctor
pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled at me. "Don't
worry about it." As I nodded and smiled back, I caught a
glimpse of my wife burying two fingers in her pussy while
the doctor wasn't looking. He turned back toward her, and
she whipped her hand out and smiled at him, all innocence.
As we left, she asked me whether I knew of any place that
sold examination tables with stirrups; I promised to look
into it. In the elevator on the way down to the lobby, she
put on her rings.
Our sex got a bit complicated at that point; she got
winded easily, and she was making trips to the bathroom
every five minutes. Finally, one evening, I got impatient --
we had spent quite a while setting up a scene and had just
finished up her restraints when she said she had to go to
the john. I frowned for a moment, then had an idea. Tickling
her spread pussy as she lay helpless before me, I gave her
my best evil chuckle.
"You're not going anywhere, bitch." She looked up at me
in surprise.
"What? You know my bladder is the size of a grape these
days; let me up!" She struggled against her bonds, and I
watched her breasts and belly jiggle. As I folded my arms
across my chest and shook my head, her eyes went wide.
"Please?"
"Maybe... if you beg well enough. If not, well, I'll
just mop up the mess and continue on. That's one advantage
of having tile floors in the basement, I guess." She bit her
lip. "You'd really keep me tied up here until I piss all
over myself?"
"Definitely." I started stroking her again, watching
her nipples harden.
"You know, it's really hard to concentrate on sex when
you've got to take a piss," she said, and I chuckled. "You
don't have to concentrate on anything, bitch," I growled,
"You're here for my entertainment, not yours." We played
these dominance games often, but never for these stakes; she
really did have to take a leak, and I watched her clench her
jaw and try to hold it back. I kept on teasing her, dragging
gasps of pleasure and pain from her in spite of her intense
concentration on her bladder. Finally, she could stand it no
longer.
"Please! I'm begging you -- let me up NOW!" She
thrashed in her chains, tears leaking out from under her
closed eyelids. I backed away and folded my arms.
"NO!"
She sobbed convulsively and lost control; her crotch
unclenched and a stream of hot urine shot out across the
room toward me, spraying from her spread pussy. She shook
her head and bit her lip, trembling as her bladder emptied
itself. When she had finished, she looked up at me, lower
lip trembling.
"I'm so ashamed... I haven't wet myself since I was a
child... Please let me up so I can go clean up the mess."
She was quiet in her chains now.
"No, I don't think so. I'll clean it up." She watched
as I grabbed a cloth and mopped the piss up off the floor.
When I had it all soaked up in the towel, she jerked her
head toward the door. "Just throw it in the bathroom sink;
I'll wash it later." I stopped short and looked at her.
"What makes you think I'm through with it?" She looked
puzzled.
"If you think pissing on the floor is degrading, you
ain't seen nothing yet." I advanced with the soaked towel.
Her eyes flew wide. I spread the dripping towel over her
breasts and belly, laughing as she recoiled from the clammy
cloth. While she tried to wriggle out from under the towel,
I entered her suddenly. She looked up at me as I stroked in
and out of her pussy, speechless. I stoked her fires until
she was trembling, heedless of the piss-soaked towel lying
on her, and as she shuddered toward orgasm I picked up the
towel and started to twist it into a rope. It took her a
second to notice what I was doing; then, she looked up at
the towel in alarm. The sensation was delicious; her body
was grasping and clutching at me in the final stages of
desire, and her mind was trying to throw on the brakes -- to
no avail.
"Don't wring that thing out over here! You'll drip it
all over me!" She gasped in sudden realization. "Oh, no --
no, you don't -- if you do, I'll --" I started wringing out
the towel slowly, dripping her own urine across her breasts.
"You'll COME, that's what you'll do," I growled,
increasing my tempo. Her cunt shuddered once, twice -- lust
and fear chased each other across her face. I dripped the
piss on her nipples, then moved up to her neck. She opened
her mouth in a silent scream; as I pushed her over the edge
into thundering orgasm, I gave the towel a firm twist and
showered her face with yellow rain. She choked and
spluttered as I streamed her piss into her mouth, then
swallowed convulsively and screamed like a trapped animal as
her orgasm spiraled into a mind-shattering climax.
Afterward, she lay there twitching for several minutes while
I released her restraints. I waited nervously -- had I gone
too far? Finally, she wiped her face with a fresh towel. She
looked at me for a long moment.
"Oh, do you ever know how to fuck with my mind. I can't
believe you just did that." For the next few seconds, my
pulse thundered in my ears as I waited for her to continue.
"I can't decide whether I have just had the best fuck
ever, or whether I dreamed the whole thing. Is there
something wrong with me, to be degraded and humiliated like
that and then have the biggest orgasm of my life?" I relaxed
and went to her.
"Don't worry about it. Between two adults, nothing is
out of bounds. If that was a little too heavy, though, I
won't ever do it again." She looked up at me, eyes shining.
"It was heavy, all right, but I wouldn't go so far as
to avoid it altogether. Just don't warn me when you're about
to do it; most of the thrill comes from the fear and the
helplessness, not knowing what's going to happen next." She
looked at the wet towels and the dried piss on her breasts.
"Join me for a shower?" As she turned away, I had a
sudden thought. "I'll give you a shower," I muttered.
"What was that? I didn't hear you." I smiled. Next
time.
"Nothing, baby -- I'm coming."
-----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE-----
Version: 2.6.1
iQCVAwUBLoBNrouDr2SWh2JVAQEHpAP+Nf2wO5yOo+IU1a7DRiRrfSTr9o2S260O
LY3CyHuLIdCttgnmqpOCNuGSXPLKswAyatUb5dKzDg2fYaWYL0Yy/nGOkuEbLWKW
yG+bDIbqW1P9nGVz7s9O1Q5btmn1Ve/q3ZLP5Dk6RjqdYbyLMb372oPweunqn3vE
kuael9Qcu2g=
=HPxW
-----END PGP SIGNATURE-----
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
To find out more about the anon service, send mail to [email protected].
Due to the double-blind, any mail replies to this message will be anonymized,
and an anonymous id will be allocated automatically. You have been warned.
Please report any problems, inappropriate use etc. to [email protected].
|
|
