“The Care Package” by Mucky Sod – MF


Myandra, or Andy as she liked to be called, was coming back today. I had an ear to ear grin when she called this morning. I was aching to tell her everything about him on the phone, but I chose to wait till she was home. There was so much to tell. Where to start? So much had happened during the past few days.

He showed up a few days ago at my coffee shop; The Café Marguerite! I was cleaning the counter when a pick-up truck pulled up across the street. A man got off from the back of the truck, waved at the driver as he drove off. He turned to look at my café from across the street, and headed toward me. He was a tall, muscular, man. He wore sunglasses, faded jeans and a torn T-shirt and carried an old back pack. A mane of un-kept hair whisked behind him as he walked toward me. I noticed the unshaved stubbles on his chin when he was closer. He looked a lot younger now too.

I was alone in the coffee shop at the time. The lunch crowd, consisting mostly of local folks around this sleepy town, had already left. This was a quiet afternoon for me.

“Hi, can I help you?” I asked when he came inside.

I stared at his blue eyes and his tanned skin. He was a handsome boy with chiseled features and the innocence of a semi-adult teenager. At first, I thought he might be a straggler, left over from the previous skiing season but I had never seen him before. So perhaps he was one of the early Ski bums who came to Vermont before the season, hoping for a head start. I knew this routine well. I came to Vermont the same exact way.

“Sorry to bother you Miss,” he said politely. “Do you know where I can find a Margo Preechard?”

He had an accent. It sounded South American. His blond hair threw me because he didn’t look like a Latino.

“It’s pronounced, Prichard,” I corrected him. “Yes, that would be me. How can I help you?”

“That’s what I meant, Preechard,” -again the accent, “I am Antoine, and I have a letter for you from a friend of yours.” He pulled out a wrinkled envelope from his back pack. “I would have been here sooner but it was tough hitching a ride all the way from the Cape.”

The envelope was from The Holiday Inn, Provincetown, Massachusetts. My name was written on the front. I recognized the hand writing right away.

“Wait. My friend, did you say?” I asked while I opened the letter.

“Yes, Myandra Bentley,” he said. “I believe she is your friend. She told me you would know what to do after you get this letter.”

“Where did you meet Myandra?” I asked. “This is strange. I just spoke to her on the phone, just this morning.”

“I met her on the Cape, Miss Preechard,” he replied politely. “At the Art show in Provincetown. I was leaving the Cape to head north, and she thought it might be a good idea if I come here and wait till she got here. She is on her way back in a few days, I think.”

He appeared a little nervous as he tried to sound convincing. Perhaps my stares were intimidating him. I opened the envelope. “Please, call me Margo,” I said, and read Andy’s letter.

Hey Hunny Bunny,
Guess what? I am sending you a care package named Antoine. Ha ha! I met him the other day at a gallery. He is an exchange student who is trying to make it to Canada and then write some sort of a book about his travels. He is a very nice kid, and I didn’t want him running into any trouble so I asked him to come and stay with us for a few days. He is quite handy, I am told. You wanted some work done around the Café and the garden, so may be he is your answer, Margo. All he needs is room and board. He could stay in the garage room. I’ll let you work it out. He is very reliable. So don’t worry about a thing, OK?


BTW, I sold some more nudes yesterday. I hated to part with the big canvas. It was my favorite. Some rich guy from New York is going to be staring at your sexy ass now. Are you thrilled? Ha ha.


I miss you, Margo!
Love and kisses


That’s all she wrote. Typical Andy. I stifled my anger. I didn’t want this kid to see how I was fuming inside. This was the 21st Century, for god sake. She couldn’t tell me about him on the phone? She had to write a fucking letter? How Bohemian was that!

I thought of some choice words for my next call to her. She sold a painting which I had modeled for, she spoke to me on the fucking phone every day and she couldn’t mention this when we spoke?

I put the letter back in the envelope and said, “So did you have anything to eat today? How about a sandwich while we figure out what to do about you?”

“Yes, please,” he said. “Thank you. That would be really nice.”

“Why don’t you sit anywhere you like and I will get you a sandwich. And while you are eating, let me call Myandra and see what she wanted you to do, OK?”

“OK, and please tell her I got here safe and sound. I know she was worried.” He said, and paused. Then he added, “And also? Please tell her I said hello.” There was a weird tone of camaraderie in that, “Please tell her I said hello.” How interesting, I thought!

“Will do,” I handed him a sandwich and went to the kitchen to call Andy.
“Hello, Honey!” She chuckled.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” I screamed at her. “Who is this Antoine? And, for that matter, why couldn’t you tell me this on the phone? You had to write a fucking letter? What the fuck?”

“Jesus, Margo, Calm down. Listen, he was hitch hiking. How would I know when he was going to show up? If show up at all, even?” I was livid as she continued to talk. “I didn’t want to worry you with all these details, my love. That’s why I didn’t tell you, OK?” She paused and in her usual sweet and concerned voice asked, “So he made it up there all safe and sound?”

Her voice could melt glaciers. I became calm hearing it too.

“Yes, he is fine. He just got here.” I replied. “But what’s he supposed to do here? I don’t understand. What were you thinking, Andy?”

“Oh use him, Margo. He told me he would help out around the place. Make him mow the fucking lawn, clean your tables, anything. What do I know? Figure something out till I get there. Use him, OK? He is such an innocent boy.”

“And he is not a freak or some sort of a serial killer or anything, right?” I asked. I wanted to be sure. “You know this for sure?”

“Yes, he is fine.” She brushed away my concerns very casually. “I spent time with him down here. He is cool, Margo. You will find him very amusing, once he opens up to you.” She giggled. “He will be good company. Trust me.”

I changed the subject with a pout.

“And you couldn’t tell me about the painting on the phone?”

“Oh yes, I totally forgot to mention this. Sorry? Please forgive me?” I could picture her in her naughty smile at the other end. “Ok so listen, I have to go. I’ll speak to you tonight or tomorrow morning. Oh hey Margo, before I go?”

“Yes, what?”

“Listen, the kid’s barely 18. So don’t get any ideas, OK? I know he is handsome and all, but just saying, OK?” And then she giggled uncontrollably.

“Fuck you, Andy,” I screamed. “Like you said, he is so young. So thank you but no thank you, you fucking freak!”

“Well, Margo, honey, you have this thing about corrupting the youth, remember?”

“I do, but I think I’ll pass on this one, babe. And, for the record, I am not that old, OK?” I chuckled with her.

I was smiling when I came back to Antoine.

“Miss Preechard….I mean, Margo,” he said, “I don’t want to be a hassle for you. I told Myandra that I would like to make myself useful while I am up here. So if there’s anything I can do around here, please let me know. OK?”

“Oh that can wait,” I said. “You must be tired. Why don’t I close shop for a little bit and take you over to the house? We can get you settled and sort out your sleeping arrangements. It’s just a little walk from here, OK?”

While we were walking to the house, I asked about his accent. “Where are you from exactly, Antoine? Andy said you were some sort of an exchange student.”

“Portugal,” he replied. “My parents are from Portugal and we live in Brazil now. I go to school in Miami.”

I led him to the house where Andy and I lived. It was an old Colonial, inherited from her grandparents several years ago. We had a detached garage with a large room on the second level. The futon bed made it into an extra guest room. We always had visitors, especially during the Skiing season. There was a WC but no facility for taking a shower. We had an extra bathroom on the ground level of the main house. I showed him where he could enter the house from the back door at any time. This was Vermont. No one locked their homes. So he would be free to come and go as he pleased.

During this quick tour, he asked about the paintings around the house. Most were nudes which Andy had painted over the past two years. Some oils, but there were lots and lots of sketches. Andy could draw nudes in her sleep. That’s how good she is. Antoine asked if I was the model. I told him the truth.

“I saw a lot of paintings at your café” He observed. “Myandra did those too?”

“Actually, the café used to be her art gallery,” I explained. “Now, it’s part gallery and part café. People can come in for coffee, walk around, enjoy the art, and perhaps buy too. Right now the back portion is closed. During the season, it becomes a full gallery. This is the reason she goes on the road during summers. You met her in Cape Cod, remember?”

“So you and Myandra own the café together?” He inquired innocently.

“Yes, in a way, you could say that.” I smiled. “We do lots of things together.”

I had hoped for a reaction, but none came. He only seemed interested in Andy’s work. Then he changed the conversation to something else. Antoine asked where we kept our lawn mower.

“Perhaps I could make myself useful, Margo,” he said politely. “Your grass looks like it’s ready for mowing. I don’t mind really.”

“Yes, but we have such a huge yard, Antoine,” I said. “It’s so hot today too.”

“I could use the exercise. I will have it done by the time you get back from work.” He seemed determined.

“OK, suit yourself.”

I showed him the lawnmower. “I have to get back to work now. My part-time crew will be coming in soon.”

The more we spoke the more I loved his accent. Words flowed out of him like honey. I could not stop staring at his muscular body as well but Andy’s words kept coming back to me. This boy was hot, but so damn young. Suddenly, even as a young woman of only thirty one, I felt like an old lady around him. Andy is older than me by a couple of years so I also understood her concerns.

Damn, these young studs, I thought to myself and walked back to the café. It was only a half block away, but tried as I did, I just couldn’t get his face and his body out of my head. If this was not enough torture, the weather didn’t help either. Today was one of the warmest days in June. The warmth inside my head made it feel even hotter. It was a long walk indeed.

Not much happens around this town during off-season. Before Antoine showed up, I had planned to stay at the Café till our normal closing time, but this boy made me restless. I decided to leave early that evening.

There are many houses across the street before reaching the long, secluded drive-way to our house. But after the drive-way, it becomes completely secluded. Thick forestry surrounding Andy’s property provides a lot of privacy. The sun was going down, but it was still very light and the air was thick with the muggy warmth of a typical New England Summer. I smelled the fragrance of freshly cut grass. Antoine had finished his chore, after all. I walked closer to the house and noticed the freshly mowed lawn. I walked further till I saw the garage. Then I saw him. I froze where I stood. Suddenly, my heart stopped beating by what I saw. Antoine was turned away from me and was completely naked. He was spraying water over his body from the garden hose. Obviously he didn’t expect anyone to walk in on him like I just did. My immediate reaction was to sneak behind a tree quickly. I was not prepared for this.

I remained hidden very quietly and stared. That’s all I could do at that moment; just stare! What lay before me was a prized specimen of a perfect male body. He was facing away from me. I could see his backside. It was simply magnificent. His smooth, muscular buttocks seem to glow deliberately from the falling water and the fading sunshine. He had strong legs, with thick hamstrings and calves. His broad shoulders and strong back reminded me of the Adonis youth in all his glory. He shook his wet hair a few times and water splashed out of his mane. He reminded me of a majestic lion taking a dip in a pond. I was in pure awe of this young Hercules. And when he turned around, I nearly died.

It was not so much his handsome face covered in water, nor was it his broad chest and the hard erect nipples, or his flat and well shaped muscled belly, or the tuft of the light golden hair on his pubic area that got to me. It was the size of his penis which made me go mushy. He was hung like a horse. I had never seen such a magnificent cock. It hung proudly between his legs over a large set of testicles which just added to the regality of his beautiful form. I was in plain awe of this youthful body.

I watched eagerly as he lifted his flaccid penis to spray the garden hose in between his crotch. Even though his hands and arms looked very strong, I could sense the obvious weight of his organ. He was huge. From where I stood, I could guess that in this flaccid state he must have been at least seven inches long. I creamed when I tried to visualize this monster in its full erected glory. I could feel the wetness between my legs. My juices were leaking out of me as I watched Antoine. He did something else which quickened my heart beat even more. He turned around again and spread his legs to spray some water in the crack of his buttocks. I saw his other hand parting open the cheeks as water rushed down from his lower back in between the crack of his muscular ass. My cunt was steaming hot now.

While he was still turned away from me, I decided to make a run for it. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to risk being caught, while he was still naked. I wanted to leave him to do what he was doing. As soon as I thought it was safe, I took one final glance. He was still turned away from me. I ran back to the street and headed straight toward the Pot Belly Pub. The happy hour was in full swing. I felt relieved to be in familiar surroundings. I thought I would have a drink here and give Antoine some time to get dressed. I could walk back home a little later and pretend as if nothing had happened.

“Hey Margo,” Craig the bartender shouted a greeting. I pulled up a bar stool. “How ya doing? What can I get you?”

“Give me a stiff….,” I started to say and paused. Images of Antoine’s huge penis crowded my head for a spilt second. I smiled to myself. “Give me a stiff something, Craig. I could use a strong drink. How about some Bourbon?”

“Sure! Coming right up,” he said and then asked out of concern, “Are you OK, Margo?”

“Yeah, I am fine, just a crazy day at work.” I settled down on the stool to recollect what just happened over at the house. I was wearing jeans today. I felt the wetness around my crotch. The dampness lingered. Thank god, I wore panties today.

After some idle chit chat with some of the locals and a few drinks later, I was relaxed enough to face Antoine again. For the life me, it was still impossible to get the image of his massive cock out of my head. I walked back to the house and when I passed the spot where I had been hiding while watching him, I recalled how he had turned around and I got to see his enormous member.

That evening, over dinner, I learned more about him and his family. His folks spent a lot of time in the Brazilian Rain forests because of his dad’s job. Perhaps this was the reason Antoine was so ‘out-door-ish.’ Throughout the evening, I stole glances and pictured him without clothes. It was hard to sit this close to someone, I was secretly drooling over. The image of his cock kept coming back; again and again. Andy’s warning echoed in my head too. He certainly had the body of a man, but still, he was only a boy.

“Margo, can I come with you tomorrow morning and help out at your café?” he asked as we were getting up to call it a night. “I don’t have anything else to do, so if I could keep busy and help you over there; it would be good, no?”

“Sure,” I said, “That would be wonderful. But listen, you don’t have to wake up so early for me. You know where the place is. Walk over whenever you wish.”

“I am an early riser,” he said quickly, “I will try not to disturb you when I come over to take a shower in the morning.”

There was that fucking word again. The shower! Suddenly my mind went back to hiding behind the tree, and how I watched him take that garden hose shower. I felt like telling him to take another outdoor shower in the morning, so I could drool over him from my bedroom window. But I didn’t say it, of course.

“Suit your-self,” I replied and we said our good nights.

From my bedroom I could see his room. His curtains were open. The room light was on as well. I stared out of my window for a while and then went to the bathroom to take a shower. My thoughts were filled with his naked body again. His presence was doing things to me. I felt so much older by his innocence, however. I doubted my own attractiveness suddenly.

I did a reality check in the bathroom. I undressed and stood in front of the full length mirror and stared at myself. I looked at my dark hair, my brown eyes, my nose, my puffy lips, my skin, my proud 34 C breasts and the taut nipples. I admired my flat belly and the thin strip of neatly trimmed pubic hair. It made me feel sexy all over. I looked at my shapely legs and finally accepted that I was not a bad looker, after all. Being a ski bum, eating properly, jogging and workouts at the gym were still paying off. If Antoine was hot, I was too. I slapped my own ass, and laughed at my vanity. This self serving exercise of admiring myself cheered me up actually. I showered and came back to the bedroom.

I turned off the lights but when I saw a glow of light coming from his room, I walked over to the window and there he was again. I could distinctly see that, once again, he was naked, and yes, I got another glimpse of his healthy cock as well. Suddenly, I was being tortured again. Doesn’t this guy like clothes? I thought to myself. He was a natural born exhibitionist and didn’t know it. Or perhaps he did.

That’s when it occurred to me that perhaps he was doing this on purpose. May be he caught me watching him earlier. May be in his young and naïve way, he was trying his “come-on” moves. He surely knew how beautiful he is. Perhaps he was putting the goods on display for me. Was I supposed to take the bait? I mulled over this as I watched him from my dark room. Once again, the voyeur in me got the better of me. My cunt became moist. I found myself drawn to the idea of ravaging his young body. It was very hard to remain, calm and in control, but I managed somehow.

When Antoine moved out of my view I drew the curtains and slid under the covers. I needed some relief of my own now, so I started to touch my own body. I closed my eyes and felt the sensitive strokes of my palm as it moved down from my naked breasts, my erect nipples, causing goose bumps over my skin. My hand moved downward to my belly button and then eventually down to the opening of my wet cunt. My clit was throbbing with excitement. It didn’t take very long for my frantic urge to take me to that coveted climax. It was intense when it came. I erupted in a silent orgasm. I spread my legs and let my juices flow out of me uncontrollably. My bed seemed to shake as I shuddered with the outpouring of my pleasure. Finally, I relaxed my body, closed my eyes and eventually fell asleep. I left Antoine behind, to his own night of nakedness. My last thought before nodding off had been, I wonder if Antoine masturbated tonight too.

The sun rises very early during summer in Vermont. I came awake at the break of dawn when I heard the distinct sounds of someone opening the back door to the house. I could not believe that Antoine was up already. My twisted mind brought about a very sexy image of Antoine’s hot body and his enormous cock. I imagined him striding confidently in the nude toward the house, with his majestic cock swinging proudly between his legs. I don’t know what made me think that but that was the first image that crossed my mind but that image lasted just for brief moment. Suddenly, the other questions came back. Was he, in a subtle way, trying to entice me? I waited in bed until I heard him enter the house. He was doing something in the kitchen. Perhaps drinking some juice or making some coffee. These sounds lasted a few minutes and gave me enough time to become fully awake. I got up very quietly and grabbed my bath robe. When I heard him enter the downstairs bathroom, I tip toed down the stairs to the foyer area of the guest bathroom. I needed the answers to my questions. So I spied on him.

Antoine had left the bathroom door slightly ajar. Son of a bitch, I thought to myself. Was this deliberate? I thought it was. But I still wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he didn’t lock the door because he thought I was still sleeping. More spying was in order. So I went down on my knees very quietly and slid over to the door. I heard the shower. It was safe to push in the door some more. Steam escaped out of the bathroom. I took more risks and pushed the door little further to peak inside. I remained on my toes as I went closer. What I saw on the other side of the see-through shower curtain made me skip a heart beat.

Antoine, in his naked glory, stood under the spray of steamy water, with his eyes closed. He held a bar of soap in one hand while stroking his massive cock with the other hand. He was masturbating in the shower. I am sure he didn’t see me because his eyes were tightly shut. He was applying soap and water to his cock and pleasuring himself. I stared for a brief moment and then I lost control. I had seen enough.

“That does it!” I said to myself and stood up. I threw my robe on the floor, pushed the door open, yanked the shower curtain and barged inside the tub with him.

Antoine opened his eyes in shock, “What…..” he started to say as he saw me in the shower.

“Shssssh,” I whispered to him and grabbed his cock from his hands. “We are not going to waste this beautiful thing anymore!”

I was overwhelmed by his size even more after holding him for the first time. He was hard as a rock. I could never have imagined the girth of his cock until I held it. This was a freak cock in my shaking hands. It throbbed with a life of its own. I felt the size of this monster and the velvety smooth feel of the foreskin. It stood erect in my hand. It was huge. And it had weight too. I stroked his cock with one hand and gently massaged his balls with the other.

I expected Antoine to protest when I took his cock in my hand and stroked him. I thought he would say something. I thought he might show some shock at my intrusion. After all, I was the older woman, so I expected some expression of disgust too. Nothing happened. He closed his eyes again. I watched him slip into an oblivious bliss.

I held him close to me and licked his ears and his chin as I stroked him. I took his hands and placed them behind me. He grabbed my ass and kneaded my cheeks. When he pinched my ass cheeks, my burning cunt gave way. My juices were building inside of me. I felt the first trickle seeping out of me. I felt very wet down there and wanted to have this monster inside of me immediately.

“I need you to fuck me, Antoine!” I hissed at him. There was urgency to my ferocious wanting now. “I need this inside me. Now!”

“Right here?” He asked politely while I stroked him.

“Yes, against the wall. Fuck me right here! Standing up!”

He turned around and pushed me back against the side wall. He lifted one of my legs in his arm and tried to push his massive cock inside my pussy. It was too big. I wanted him in me. My cunt was on fire, but this position wouldn’t allow him to penetrate me. He held me forcefully against the wall and parted my legs wider, but his cock kept sliding away.

“Oh fuck it,” I screamed and pulled away from him. I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the shower. I pushed him down on the floor mat. Water was everywhere and the mat became wet as well. I didn’t care. I was in hurry and wanted him inside me right away. I wanted to possess this cock. I wanted to feel it tear me apart. I knew it will hurt me, but I was looking forward to this pain as he would forcefully go inside me. The shower was still running behind us when I pushed him down on his back. I was on my knees in front of him, still holding his cock. I bent forward and took the bulbous head of this beautiful penis in my mouth and tasted him for the first time. I was very hungry for him now. There was no turning back. I managed a part of him in my mouth and felt him grow bigger. We are not wasting this beautiful thing anymore, I told my self No more! I screamed in my head.

I took him out of my mouth and straddled him. My legs were parted wide over his body. The opening of my cunt glistened with juices. I could not wait to have him inside of me. He was staring in amazement as I placed the head of his cock in between the folds of my moist pussy. I was determined to have what I was craving all this time. I was obsessed with having him, ever since I laid my eyes on this massive tool of pleasure. I took a deep breath and impaled myself on to him with all my weight. I felt his cock forcefully spreading me apart as I went down on his cock all the way. The excitement and the initial pain of having him inside turned me into a hungry bitch in heat. As soon as I hit the base of his cock with my clit; the first wave of orgasms came rushing in. That’s all it took. I screamed loudly and came hard. Just once stroke later, I was already there. My cunt tightened around his hardness. I placed my hands on his strong chest and shuddered with excitement. My screams subsided and I finally relaxed to see him staring up at me in and innocent but amazed expression. At that moment, I was so glad that he was legally an adult because I had damned near raped him just now.

I closed my eyes again and started to go up and down on him. I had experienced a fierce orgasm just now, but I was not done yet. I also wanted this to be a very special experience for Antoine. I felt him inside of me, still hard as before. My cunt was very well lubricated. Earlier pains of having something this big inside of me were gone too. I was relaxed enough to fuck him properly and give him some pleasure. He had been stroking himself before I got here, so he was readily excited. I knew that he would not be too long. I grabbed his hands and placed them over my breasts. I told him to squeeze my tits as I continued to work my pelvis and relished the length of his manhood. I saw him close his eyes and watched his intensity. I knew he was going to cum soon.

“That’s it, Antoine,” I cooed above him. “You can let go anytime you want now, honey!”

He pushed his hips upward to fuck me from below. His hands on my breasts became rougher. He pinched my nipples and I squirmed with painful pleasure. I felt another orgasm building inside of me. This time, I wanted him to cum with me. So I screwed his cock with long and slow strokes.

“Oh god, Margo,” he cried out. “You are so tight!”

“No, you are so fucking big, Antoine. So beautiful, and oh so fucking big!” I cried out. “I know you can do this, baby,” I encouraged him. “Cum inside me, Antoine. Come on, let yourself go. Explode inside me; I want to feel you, honey. Fill my pussy with your cum, baby. Just do it, Antoine!”

Talking to him like this made me hornier. I heard his grunts. I urged him on and then all of a sudden he arched up and grabbed my ass forcefully. He shoved me down on his cock hard. He held me down so that my pubic mound crushed into his crotch. I felt his cock pulsating inside my cunt. I was stretched to the maximum. I saw his facial expressions change suddenly. He was very intense. And abruptly, at that crucial moment, I felt him gushing inside of me. I tightened my vaginal muscles around him skillfully and bought myself to an earth shattering climax at the same time. Waves and waves of a second orgasm unleashed out of my inner core. He was strong and could hold himself up in an arch like position as he emptied all of his warm seed inside of me. I shook above him, totally out of control.

Eventually, he collapsed on the wet floor with a huge sigh. He was not a talker. When the orgasm was over, he closed his eyes, and rested his head on the floor. His hands released my ass and fell to his sides. I was still straddled over him. His cock was still inside of me. Even in this semi-flaccid state it filled me up snugly. I looked down and saw the first drops of his semen oozing out of my cunt, making our pubic hair wet.

While he was still on the floor below me, I stared at the bathroom mirror, I heard the shower still running, and I breathed a sigh. Wow, it finally happened, I whispered to myself.

After crossing this ‘barrier of modesty,’ I became addicted to Antoine. During next few days, before Andy got home, I grabbed every possible opportunity to have him inside me. He was either in my mouth or in my ever-ready pussy. My cunt creamed every time he was around me. I would have had him in my ass too, but he was just too damn big for my back door. I never wasted a single chance of enjoying his massive cock and his amazing body. We fucked in the shower, in my bed, on the futon in his room, we fucked in the café when no one was around; we even fucked on a hiking trail the once. I couldn’t get enough of him and his, larger than life, penis. For his part, Antoine was more than happy to oblige too. It was as if he discovered sex all over again when I was around. I was not always the aggressive one. For example one afternoon I was bent over the service counter at the café, he snuck up behind me, pulled down my panties and put his throbbing cock in my pussy from the back, fucked me forcefully and gave both of us a quick orgasm. The thought of him taking me like this, kept me creaming for him all the time. And yes, ever since that first time in the shower, I wore only skirts instead of my usual jeans. Just for such lusty moments. So in a way, Andy had been very right, when she wrote in her letter, that Antoine might be “amusing!” He kept me amused plenty during these past few days.

Andy and I spoke every day on the phone but still I could not bring myself up to tell her what Antoine and I had been up to. She would find out, of course.

[… continues on “The Care Package Ch. 2” by Mucky Sod – MFT]


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“Watching Him Masturbate” by Kim D – MF


She stared in through the bedroom window at his naked body and the huge erection between his legs.

It was long and hard as his hand stroked up and down in a slow rhythmic motion. He held a magazine in his other hand and was gazing at it intently.

Probably thinking of having one of the sluts in the magazine sucking his cock or fucking him doggie style, she thought.

She’d never seen such a big cock, and she’d never seen a man jack off before. She continued to stare… fixated on his cock as it became more swollen as he stroked faster. His balls were tight against his body and he was now stroking very fast.

He laid the magazine down on the bed and she could see the beautiful woman whose picture he had been staring at… She had big full breasts and long blonde hair… her butt was in the air in one pose and she was standing in the other.

He started to moan – and his stroking was furious now, up and down his hand went pulling the skin on his big dick and clear sticky fluid started to ooze from the end of it and wet his shaft and the palm of his hand.

Suddenly his cock seemed to jerk and spurts of thick gooey white sperm shot from him onto his stomach – the pictures where staring at the girl watching as if to say “see what we did to him?”

His big sticky cock continued to spurt for a few seconds more and then it flowed out down his hand…he got up and continued to jerk his cock to put a few splats of jizz onto the pictures. She didn’t know why he did that, probably making his territory, or some other kinda guy-thing, she supposed.

When his orgasm began to subside he let go of his enormous cock and it stood straight up…still moving and pulsating from the intense orgasm he had just had, she stared at it as fluid still oozed from its tip and onto the pictures …He turned away and went to shower.

She silently went around to the back of the house, she knew that the rest of his family was away at the time, and she came into his house through the slid- ing patio doors, and straight into his room where he’d left the magazine open…

It was soaked with pools of gooey white sperm. She touched it and it felt warm…She knelt down and licked it with her tongue…She liked its taste and she licked up more and swallowed some.

She heard the shower turn off so she ran out just in time. Out from his bedroom, out through the patio door, quietly closing it behind her.

He tossed the magazine in the trash and got dressed and left for his date with the most popular girl in the class, and why not, he was the most popular guy in class…

She went back in through the patio door and got the magazine out of the trash and took it home…it was dripping sperm out of its pages — as she pulled her panties off and she pulled her top and lay on her bed… She dripped the sticky fluid onto her pussy and began to rub it.

It felt so good to have his sperm in her… she soon began to think of his big cock and how it shot it’s hot fluid out, and she moved her hand faster and faster, over her sex and into her sex… faster until she felt that incredible orgasmic wave…

She moaned and sighed with pleasure — and lay there thinking of his big cock, and how she would like to suck it and fuck it… someday.

Finally she pulled her panties and shirt back on and tucked the magazine back in her secret place…’who says only guys look at dirty magazines…’ she thought.

Playboy MagazineSir Robert's Stories Home PageAnother sexy story in which voyeurism is involved and, furthermore, here it is the main theme. The young woman watches through the window as her cute neighbour masturbates to the gorgeous ladies depicted in a porn magazine. Naughty Milady! At the time this story was written, in 1997, young men did massively use porn magazines to get horny and fantasize about beautiful women. Nowadays the story would probably describe him as he browsed through Tumblr or other such Internet services out there, but magazines such as Playboy or Maxim do still rock!

Maxim MagazineFrom here…

  • If you are interested in subscribing to “Playboy” (on offer at the time this post is being published for $15,96 a year) click here to visit its page on Amazon.
  • Want to read more awesome sexy stories? You may proceed to my home page.
  • Or you may also go and visit my Tumblr page to enjoy the naughty pictures I publish there.

Photo: “Bay Window” by Allen McGregor published under a creative commons license.

“A Masterful Seduction by the Book” by Ms. Quote – MF


It had been forever since I had time to spend an afternoon wandering through a bookstore. I could have downloaded a book with a push of a button, but there was something I really missed about thumbing through pages and trying to decide what I was going to take home to read. Plus, I needed to get out of the house even if I didn’t have any intention of interacting with anyone except for the college kid doing his homework behind the checkout counter.

The bookstore was empty, or at least it felt empty. It gave me the courage to linger a little bit longer than I planned in the erotica section. I didn’t want anything that was patently smutty. I didn’t want anything about college girls gone wild or housewives in heat. I wanted a story about a strong, intelligent woman with a deep understanding of her sexual desires.

A collection of poetry by Sappho? No. Too challenging. Too encrypted. I wanted something that flowed much easier on the eyes and the brain.

Lady Chatterley’s Lover? Hmm … now this had some scandal about it for decades. And it involved a woman of privilege involved with a man not of her stature. The Story of O? Now this had a bit more of an edge but still involved a proper female protagonist who willingly gave herself up to high class sexual slavery.

I scanned through the prologues of each book and debated which one I would take back with me to spend the night. I got so wrapped up in trying to make my selection that I was taken aback by a low, gravely and velvety voice behind me say, “”Don’t turn around, but tell me what you’re reading.””

My casual lean went straight and rigid. I held my breath in fright. I should have been completely creeped out but there was something about this man’s presence that intrigued me, even though I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“”Lady Chatterley’s Lover and The Story of O,”” I said in a soft voice clipped with trepidation.

“”Both lovely reads,”” he said. “”Intelligent choices.””

“”Thank you,”” I said.

“”Lovely reads.”” “”Intelligent choices.”” Those were unusual combination of words to describe books of questionable morals meant to fulfill secret sexually savory appetites, and here I was being exposed and prodded by some man who was a stranger and wouldn’t let me see him.

“”You should read The Story of O first,”” he said.

Really? Who was he to decide what I should read? But there was something in his voice that was extremely confident, intelligent, and well-spoken.

“”I would love the chance to discuss the book with you some time,”” he said.

“”You’ve read this?”” I asked.

I was about to turn around to have a more in-depth face-to-face conversation with him until I heard him say, “”Don’t turn around.””

Woah. This was getting a bit scary. My breathing came to almost a complete halt until he put his hand to my side and gave it a few gentle calming strokes. I should have felt more scared to have a strange man I didn’t know and couldn’t see touch me like that, even for a brief moment , but there was something calming and reassuring about his touch.

“”To answer your question, yes, I’ve read the book,”” he said. “”It’s a favorite of mine. I’m getting the feeling it’s one you need to read.””

“”Why do you say that?”” I asked.

He hesitated for a good, long moment before he finally said, “”Do you trust me enough to hand over your phone to me?””

Did I trust him enough to hand over a $200 phone? Not really, but I was curious to find out what he was up to.

I dug into the black hole of my shoulder bag and pulled it out just by feeling for it so I could keep my eyes open and focused around the periphery to make sure my surroundings were safe. I handed my phone to him and I could hear him punch in some buttons.

He handed the phone back to me along with a twenty dollar bill, and said, “”I don’t want you to turn around or try to look for me for sixty seconds. I want you to buy this book with the money I gave you and call me as soon as you get to your car.””

I stood there probably longer than the 60 seconds partly because I felt strangely compelled to follow his direction and partly because I was too scared to move. I didn’t move until the gruff looking hipster kid from behind the counter came up to me and asked, “”Are you OK, miss?””

“”I’m fine,”” I said, not knowing how to really respond.

“”You weren’t hurt or bothered in any way, were you?”” he pressed. “”I have him on video if you need to file a police report.””

“”No,”” I said. “”It’s OK.””


I should have asked to see the video. I wanted to get a look at this guy. But part of me was intrigued with the mystery of what just happened. I’ve had men I didn’t know buy me drinks, but this man bought me a book. Hell, most men I met in random social situations didn’t even read books.

I paid for the book and walked out to my car to see what he typed into my phone. There was a new entry in my contacts: Sir George with a telephone number.

Sir George? I doubted he was some kind of British nobility; his accent was much more local and his voice sounded like a man closer to my age. Maybe he was just some arrogant prick who liked to toy around with people. Maybe he was just playing off his choice in my reading material.

I was curious enough to call but smart enough to block my number to see what this guy was all about. Hell, I had nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon. He picked up right away.

“”Hi, this is Patrice from the bookstore,”” I said.

“”It’s nice to have a name with the lovely woman I saw today,”” he said.

Lovely. There was that word again. How many men use that word these days? I found that strangely romantic considering how he approached me.

“”Are you normally in the habit of taking women by surprise like that?”” I had to ask.

“”Never like that,”” he said. “”It was the first time I ever did anything like that, but I am full of surprises.””

“”How so?”” I asked.

“”Would you like to find out?”” he asked.

Of course I wanted to find out. This man amped up my curiosity at least a hundred times since he left me at the bookstore the way he did.

“”Who are you? Why did you approach me like that? Why didn’t you want me to see you? You couldn’t possibly have approached me the way that you did if you weren’t some kind of sick and twisted fuck,”” I said.

“”You’re very direct,”” he said.

“”You’re not,”” I said. “”You’re avoiding my questions.””

“”I just paid you a compliment,”” he said.

“”Thank you, I think,”” I said.

He still didn’t answer my questions, but said, “”You’re an attractive woman in a rather cerebral way based on the particular shelves I saw you browsing through. You don’t seem to be the type of woman I’d see in a bar, but then again, I don’t hang out in bars looking to meet women. To be honest, I wasn’t looking to meet anyone, but you captured my attention.””

“”Thank you, but you left me at quite a disadvantage,”” I said. “”I have no idea what you look like. I have no idea what your game is. I don’t even know why I called you.””

“”Yet you did call me,”” he said.

He had a point, and I was playing into his hand. Willingly.

“”I’ll tell you what,”” he said to break my pause. “”I think we should continue this conversation in person in a public place. I’m pretty sure you won’t be disappointed. Are you free right now?””

“”Umm … yeah, I can be,”” I said.

“”How about the coffee shop on Main and Second?”” he suggested.”” Bring your book and take a seat on the sofa facing the rear wall. What would you like to drink?””

“”An iced tea would be fine,”” I said. “”With lemon.””

“”An iced tea with lemon it will be then,”” he said. “”I’ll see you in a few.””

I was five minutes from the coffee shop but it took me ten minutes to find an open parking spot. I walked into the shop and figured I’d see him sitting on the sofa where he told me to sit, but there wasn’t anyone there. The only other men in the shop were two guys playing chess at a table up front and the barista who looked a bit waifish to have a deep voice like Sir George.

Sir George? Did he really expect me to call him that?

After about ten minutes, I was beginning to wonder why I came out here. Maybe this guy was just taking me for a ride to see what kind of crazy nut would come out to meet him after the way he approached me. He was probably standing outside looking in the coffee shop and laughing his ass off. I figured I’d give him another five minutes. If he didn’t show up, it would be game over.

As soon as I opened my book, a hand holding an iced tea came from over my shoulder. I was just about to turn around, and he said, “”Don’t turn around.””

I was just about to turn around to tell him to tell him I didn’t appreciate his game until he said, “”I said I wanted to continue to continue our conversation in a public place. I didn’t say anything about revealing my physical identity.””

“”It would be nice if you did,”” I said.

“”Why?”” he asked. “”Are looks that important?””

I heard him pull up a chair behind me. I’d let this go for the time being, but there was no way I would let this go indefinitely.

“”Yes,”” I said. “”And don’t try to pull that double standard crap on me. You chose to approach me based on my looks. Besides, this is embarrassing and silly to carry on a conversation like this in public. I’m going to leave.””

I got up off of the sofa and caught a glimpse of him as I started to pass by.

Actually, I didn’t continue to pass by. I stopped in my tracks to check him out. He smiled back at me in both a smug and contented way.

He was attractive. Very attractive. Bald with glasses and a hefty, muscular build. Well dressed for a Saturday afternoon – a tribal print button-front short-sleeved shirt, a neat pair of cargo shorts, and a pair of leather sandals.

“”You’re embarrassed, huh?”” he asked. “”Uncomfortable?””

“”Before I leave, I want to know what the point of this whole exercise about being in control is about,”” I said.

He walked me back to the sofa and sat down next to me.

“”There are things I look for in a woman,”” he said. “”First of all, you’re gorgeous, a stunner. Secondly, I was intrigued with your book selections – cerebral and carnal. Third, you asked good questions and I was taken by your curiosity and by how far you came along with me on this. Fourth, you take direction well.””

“”Take direction?”” I asked. “”Really? I’m so out of here.””

I started to get up, but he grabbed my wrist that I was using to brace my weight on in order to get up off of the couch, and said, “”Please don’t take offense. I meant that in the nicest way. You won’t have to get far into the book to know what I mean.””

I settled back down into the sofa. Now I really wanted to know what I had gotten myself into.

“”Well, since I haven’t read the book, tell me what you mean,”” I said.

“”You obviously aren’t familiar with Dominance and submission,”” he said.

“”No, but I’m curious,”” I said.

“”Good,”” he said. “”All of those traits I tried to compliment you on, even the one about taking direction, well, are all what I find ideal in a submissive.””

“”But you’re forgetting about me being rather direct,”” I said.

“”I haven’t forgotten at all,”” he said. “”It will make it all that more interesting to challenge and get to know you and temper you. If you weren’t the way you are, I wouldn’t be able to be as creative as I’d like to be. Besides, I don’t want a doormat and I don’t want a woman who gives of herself too willingly.””

“”What you want?”” I asked. “”Never once did you ask me what I want.””

A devilish grin broke out on his face.

“”I know that you want to find out what this is all about,”” he said.

Damn. He was right, and he was intelligent, well-mannered, and gorgeous, too.

“”Tell you what,”” he said. “”Go home and start reading the book. Give me your email and I’ll send you a list of questions so I’ll know your sexual interests and turn-offs. I’ll call you later in the week to set up another time for us to meet.””

He handed me his phone so I could enter my email and phone number. He made it a point of telling me that I’d have to trust him with my phone number and not block it.

He got up, kissed me on the cheek, and said he was looking forward seeing me again.

“”By the way,”” I said as he started to step away, “”What made you think you could approach me the way that you did? I could have kneed you in the nuts, made a scene, or called the cops on you.””

“”Because, my dear, it’s all about taking risks,”” he said. “”Even for me.””

I went home and poured into the book until two in the morning and most of the next day. It was absolutely perverse and fascinating, especially considering it was written by a woman in the middle of the chokehold sexually repressive 1950’s.

I got Sir George’s email the next day. It was 10-page of questions about my BDSM likes, dislikes and “”Willing to trys”” along with room to write in specific experiences. Cuffs? Definitely yes. Rope bondage and restraints? I’d certainly be willing to try. Spanking? Sure. A little swat on the ass was hot every once in a while. Paddles, floggers, crops and canes? I’d give them a try but I wasn’t too sure about canes. Visions of cruel and unusual punishment came to mind when it came to canes. Exhibitionism? Definitely. My ex-boyfriend was totally into that, and it was hot – giving him a blow job in a coat room of a fancy restaurant, sneaking off to a bedroom at someone’s house during a party for a quickie, getting fucked from behind with my tits pressed against the window of a hotel that my ex and I stayed on vacation one time. Oh, yeah. Bisexual or homosexual sex? I always thought about what it might be like to have sex with a woman, but only as a one-time deal. I took a big leap of faith in marking the “”Willing to try”” button. Sex with multiple partners? I typed in an “”X”” between “”Yes”” and “”No”” and wrote the question: “”Does having sex in the same room with another couple count?”” Humiliation? No. Welts? Absolutely no. Scat play? Golden showers? Absolutely fuck no! I spent three hours filling out the form and sent it back to Sir George.

He called me Wednesday night and said he was pleased that I got the questionnaire back to him so quickly. I expressed some concern to him that I really wanted to get to know him better first. I didn’t even know his last name or if George was really his first name. I had no idea what he did for a living. He said his name really was George and said he’d email me the link to his bio on his company’s website. He asked me what I did for a living and told him I was a regional editor for a national online news service. He seemed impressed.

“”As for the other things you may want to know, I think that’s better left to time we can talk in person,”” he said. “”Are you free Friday night?””

I told him I was.

“”Good, I’ll give you two choices,”” he said. “”We can meet for a cocktail in a public place and talk or we can meet at my place. I have this outstanding bottle of Australian Shiraz I’ve been wanting to crack open and share with someone, but I want you to feel that you are absolutely safe. If you want to come over, you can call a friend and let him or her know where you are, but I assure you that you’ll be in safe hands.””

Going out for a cocktail would be nice, but I didn’t know how privately we could talk, especially if it got noisy.

Oh, what the hell. I decided to roll the dice and meet him at his house.

“”I was hoping that you’d say that,”” he said. “”For that matter, let’s make it dinner. I’ll cook. I’m pretty good. I promise that I have nothing untoward or dangerous planned, and I will not have sex with you.

“”Oh, and one more thing. I’d like you to wear a skirt. Something pretty and feminine.””

I showed up on Friday promptly at seven. He said to bring nothing but myself although I picked up a couple of wedges of cheese, crackers and some grapes. It was just the good guest thing in me that had been ingrained in me since I was a kid. And I actually managed to run out and get a girly-looking sundress. I rarely wore them and the few skirts and dresses that I had were quite tailored that I had were mostly reserved for the big wigs came in from corporate.

There was a Post-It Note on the front door that said, “”Come in!””

His house was gorgeous – an Arts and Crafts bungalow that was beautifully restored and was furnished in mix of period Shaker furniture with some arty and modern touches. The man certainly had good taste.

Sir George was pretty easy to find. He was in the kitchen from where all the good smells were coming.

Dinner was wonderful –- pork tenderloin in a dried cherry marinade, blue cheese scalloped potatoes, and haricot verts. As for that bottle of wine he was so eager to share, it was superb.

We talked about our lives, our families, our work. We found out that we had a few friends and acquaintances in common and that we both liked cooking, reading, and had the very similar views on politics and social issues. It was all like a very normal first date.

He showed me around the house and all of the work he had done, mostly himself, including the landscaping and the woodwork that had mostly been painted several times over the years that he stripped and refinished. He saved showing me his bedroom for last, but kept me at the door in an attempt to be a gentleman. I had to admit, the way things were going and for as charming as he was, I could have easily fallen into that bed with him.

We went out to the back screened-in porch to finish the wine and have some cheese. But before we sat down, he asked me to hold out my hands.

He picked up two plastic lock ties from a side table and put them around my wrists.

“”This isn’t normally what I consider bondage, but I just want to give you a very tame introduction to what you might expect,”” he said as he secured them.

He sat me down in a comfortable padded wicker rocker and fed me a sip of wine.

“”How do you feel?”” he asked.

“”Actually, pretty turned on,”” I said. “”This is sexy.””

“”Even though I haven’t touched you and said I would not have sex with you tonight?”” he asked.

I nodded.

“”Good,”” he said.

He pulled out a stack of papers and pulled out a photograph of a nude woman kneeling on the floor with leather cuffs secured around her wrists behind her back.

“”She looks beautiful, serene,”” I said.

“”Even though you can’t see her face?”” he asked.

“”It’s her body language,”” I said.

He rifled through the papers and came across my questionnaire.

“”You say that you’ve played with cuffs,”” he said. “”What happened?””

I felt awkward talking about my sex life with a former boyfriend, especially in explicit detail. It wasn’t a BDSM situation. It was just for kicks, but I had to admit that not being able to move or touch him while he went down on me and drilled me like an oil rig really intensified my orgasm.

“”There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,”” he said. “”It’s important for me to know where you’ve been and at what level I can start with you. And just to let you know, if I do restrain you, it won’t always be about giving you mind-blowing orgasms. It might be because I’ll just find you beautiful that way. Or because you’ll need to be taught a lesson.””

I was glad that I started reading The Story of O and some discussion boards online about what BDSM relationships are all about. Had I not, I would have said something like, “”Are you fucking nuts?”” Instead, I was extremely curious about his interest in restraints. He said he had quite an extensive collection of tools in his dungeon.

“”Dungeon?”” I asked. “”For real?””

“”Yes, and I’m quite proud of it,”” he said.

“”I’d like to see it,”” I said.

He looked as if he was completely unprepared for my response and my reaction. I thought perhaps I that I caught his bluff about being a Dom, especially when he said, “”I wasn’t prepared to show it to you tonight, especially since I’d really like for us to get to know each other better and I promised you that I would not have sex with you.””

“”I’d just like to see it, that’s all,”” I said.

He took me by the arm and guided me down the wooden steps since I couldn’t hold onto the handrail. His basement had never been finished. The cement walls and cinder block walls were painted dull and dingy shades of waterproof grays. Aged pipes and vents and bare light bulbs hung from the wood supports above. It felt cool and damp and creepy yet clean.

He led me into a separate room that looked very innocuous from the outside, like a storage room. Inside, there were ropes of different fibers, colors and lengths neatly hung from hooks on a pegboard wall. On another pegboard wall hung a collection of crops and floggers of different sizes and materials, as well as an assortment of cuffs and restraints that I had no idea how they were used. They certainly weren’t the kinds of things I saw in the sex toy shops that looked like, well, for lack of a better word, toys. Wooden beams with metal clasps were bolted to one of the cinder block walls. There was a workbench with plastic drawers that I had no idea what they contained. It was all so primeval looking. Scary, yet intriguing. Intriguing because of the contrast of his otherwise well-appointed and decorated house. Intriguing because of his rather proper and gentlemanly nature. It just didn’t seem to fit.

“”I would have preferred that you would have given me a chance to explain how deep I am into this before I brought you down here,”” he said. “”Believe me, I’ve brought women down here before who I thought were well prepared and had some experience as subs. Some of them got freaked out by all of this and headed for the hills. I could understand where they were coming from.””

I didn’t say a word. I just looked around the room in awe. I was drawn to the wall with the ropes. I took one of the longer ones in my and ran it through my hands. I was surprised with how soft it felt to my touch. I kept running my hand over it almost as if I were caressing it.

“”It’s meant to be soft,”” he said. “”It’s excellent for beginners who aren’t used to being tied for extensive periods of time or if there’s any kind of mobility involved so it doesn’t chafe the skin.””

I stayed silent. Instead of asking him what he did with these ropes, I imagined what it might be like to be tied up in them — how he would do it, how I would feel in them, what he would do if he were to bind me in them.

He came up from behind me and put one arm around my torso and whispered in my ear, “”You look lost in thought.””

“”I am,”” I said.

The words barely came out of my mouth in a tone much softer and different than what I was used to hearing. My words were short, but not terse. I felt lost, if not hypnotized. I continued running my hands over the rope.

“”I’d like to know what you’re thinking,”” he said.

“”I’d like to know what this feels like … to be tied … to know what would happen if …”” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

He turned me around, looked me straight in the eyes, and asked in a very calm voice, “”Would you trust me to show you? I promise to start you off slowly.””

I said, “”Yes.”” It was a very eager and excited “”yes,”” but it didn’t come out that way. That single word fell out of my very soft way without any thought.

He cut the plastic bands off my wrists and rubbed his thumbs across my skin. It felt like heaven, even though he said he just wanted to check to see if they hadn’t cut into my skin, which they hadn’t. He pulled a piece of the same kind of rope off the wall, made me hold out my wrists, and wrapped the rope firmly around them and attached them over my head to a drain pipe. I couldn’t concentrate on the ways he was wrapping the other ropes around me, but he took a great deal of time and care in doing so as if it were all part of an intricate task.

I was surprised he kept me dressed, even when he wound the rope around my tits and chest. I was beginning to wonder what the point was to all of this if he didn’t want me naked and exposed.

He didn’t say a word to me and never explained what he was up to all that time until I heard him say tersely, “”Spread your legs shoulder width apart.””

I did what he said, but my legs kept moving inward to find a sense of comfort while he continued wrapping and tying rope around me.

“”Keep your legs apart,”” he said. His tone was short, almost menacing.

I complied, quickly and without complaint. I didn’t know why I would follow orders like that except for my inane sense of never wanting to be corrected for doing something wrong a second time. It was a lot like the same way I learned to never make the same grammar, spelling or style mistakes in my first few years as a reporter.

I thought it was odd that he ran one piece of rope from the middle of my back, between my legs, and then up to my sternum. It was rather taut. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t as if I was truly bound and couldn’t move at all.

He walked away and sat back in a comfortable arm chair with his glass or wine. He lit a cigar and just stared at me. His face was expressionless.

Just how long did he expect me to stand here like this? I couldn’t do it all night. I wanted to pull my feet together just to get a little more comfortable, but I knew better. I could feel a little slack in the rope that he used to bind my wrists and attach to the pipe. I shifted slightly and figured out why he ran that rope the way he did between my legs.

In that tiny movement, the rope rubbed against my pussy lips and clit. I moved a little more to feel that sensation again. I was amazed how tingly it made me feel. I looked at him and a small, sly grin came upon his face.

I shifted my weight from the balls of my feet to my heels. That tingly sensation felt even more intense and I could feel the rope pull and dampen where it rubbed through my pussy. It was unlike any way I had ever pleasured myself or been touched by a man. It was definitely something in the twist and softness of the rope that created a feeling I had never felt before. There was no comparison.

A huge smile came across my face that lightened up George’s face when I looked at him. I rocked back and forth on my feet a few more times and let out a few of “”Ooohs”” and “”Ahhs.”” I had to have more of this until he said, “”I’m amazed at what a magnificent slut you can be. Do you always perform like this for men you hardly know?””

“”I’ve never been in a situation like this before!”” I said with an enthusiastic lilt in my voice.

I picked up the pace of shifting my feet back and forth bit by bit, and got lost in enthrallment. I had absolutely no sense of inhibition or propriety like I should have had. I was sure if I really went at it, I could come like a mad woman without being touched or fucked.

At that point George got out of his chair and walked out of the room. I heard his feet go up the stairs and walk around the floor above me for a bit.

Then I heard nothing. I had no frame of reference of where he was upstairs or what he was doing or when he would be back. My uncertainty stiffened my body. I didn’t dare move. This was not the frame I wanted to be in to pleasure myself all by myself. Not like this. Not being tied up and uncertain of his intentions.

My arms and shoulders started to get sore and I didn’t want to put my feet together in fear that he would come back in at any moment and see that I wasn’t following his directions. Why did that matter to me? I had no idea. I was just confused by his behavior and had no idea what he had in mind or what his expectations were of me. All I could do was stand there and wonder and wait.

I heard him walking around upstairs. I was sure he would be on his way down, but no. The sounds from upstairs went silent again. I heard him turn on some music – Stan Getz – and then nothing again. Really, was this the time to sit back and listen to music while I stood totally immobile with my muscles sore, achy and starting to burn?

I had no frame of time when I finally heard his steps come back down the stairs. Was it ten, fiften minutes? A half-hour? When he came back in the room he looked normal – pleasant, in fact. Not serious like he was when he was tying me up. Not mischievous when he sat in the chair watching me get off on a single strand of rope.

He came up to me, put his arm around me gently, and gave me a soft peck on the cheek before he started untying me.

“”Were you scared that I wouldn’t come back?”” he asked in a rather concerned way.

“”Not scared, but I had no idea what you were up to,”” I said.

“”Did you know I would come back?”” he asked as he let my arms down and shook them out.

“”I figured you would eventually,”” I said.

He told me I could pull my feet together, stand up straight, take in a deep breath, and relax as he continued untying me.

“”I’m surprised you felt that way,”” he said. “”That shows you have a great deal of trust in me.””

“”I guess I do,”” I said. “”At least I’d like to.””

“”I’d like that, and always know that I’ll never harm you or put you in danger, but I will challenge you and I will punish and reward you as I see fit,”” he said as he massaged my arms, shoulders and back until they felt loose and lithe.

As far as I was concerned he could have worked his hands like that on me all night. His touch felt wonderful. I wouldn’t have minded his hands on my skin all over my body until he said, “”It’s getting late. I have to send you home. I have things to do in the morning.””

I sighed and gave him a look that could have said, “”I wish this evening didn’t have to end.”” Actually, I was quite surprised that my typical smart ass side didn’t come out and say, “”I suppose this is your idea of punishment,”” but I wasn’t going to push that line. I could only imagine what he could do with some of those implements that hung on the walls.

He gave me a quick kiss on the lips, a warm hug, and said, “”You surprised me in the nicest way, but I need to prove myself to you, as well. This is about control and restraint for me, too.”””

Sir Robert's Stories Home Page"Story of O" by Pauline Reage - CoverThe awesome story that you have just read is one of the many delightful tales that Ms Quote has dedicated to Sir George and Patrice. She has published all of them on her blog “A Good Woman’s Dirty Mind” so if you wish to keep reading about these characters, you may find the rest of them there:

"Lady Chatterley's Lover" by D.H. Lawrence - coverOne of the reasons that led me to love this story was the reference to two erotic masterpieces such as The Story of O” and Lady Chatterley’s Lover. That appealed to the bibliophile in me and from the moment Patrice asks herself which one should she choose to buy and read first, I began wondering about an answer to that… Surely Sir George has his own reasons to recommend the first one and I understand his choice but, from my point of view, that election has only one clear answer: you need to read both classical novels and choose by yourself. To do so, you may find these lovely reads on Amazon if you follow these links:

Also, if you want to read more awesome sexy stories, you may proceed to my home page. And if you fancy sexy photos, you may have a look at my tumblr page.

Photo: “A Bookshelf” by Stewart Butterfield published under a creative commons license.