Honing The Talent
B Pascal
Chapter 27
It was about twenty minutes, by my watch, then he turned onto another unmarked road which turned out to be a driveway. No gates, but also no indication that there was a house here, either. I wondered how they got their mail delivered.
Turning a corner found us approaching a paved area in front of a large garage, next to a good-sized house, lights blazing. Larry parked and turned off the engine.
“I don’t know who’s gonna be here, because Amelia tends to invite people at whim, as the thought strikes her. It could just be us and her friends, or the entire lacrosse team. But it’ll be fun. Follow me.”
He rang the bell and in moments the door flew open. The girl standing there threw her arms open and enveloped him. “Krugs! I’m glad you’re here. C’mon in.”
“Muffy, this is my friend Tom Carter. We’re roommates at college. Tom, this is Bethany, but everyone calls her Muffy.”
We exchanged hellos, and Larry asked, “Who else is coming? I haven’t seen you folks in so long.”
“I’m not sure who’s going to show up. Bree’s here, and Amelia, of course. We asked Cynthia, but she has to do some family thing with her parents, said maybe she could come later. Amelia asked Thad and Bryan, but she never got an answer from them. So your guess is as good as mine. Let’s go in.”
She led us to a room off the entryway, where two other girls were sitting and working hard at mixed drinks. “Oh, Christ,” said one, “there goes the neighborhood.”
“We’re here to bring a little class to this no-class operation. Nice to see you, Bree.” They did cheek kisses without actually touching lip to cheek.
“Ladies, for your amusement and edification, allow me to present the esteemed Tom Carter, master of languages and higher mathematics, lover extraordinaire, and all-around nice guy. You met Muffy, Tom, and this is Bree, and over there, looking glamorous, is the mistress of the house, Amelia.”
Bree, apparently well through her second or third drink, said, “Hi. Prove that you’re who he says you are. Say something in higher mathematics.”
“Okay, but there’ll be a quiz later. Bernstein’s theorem says that every real-valued function on the positive half-line that is totally monotone is a mixture of exponential functions. Was that what you were looking for?”
“It’s true,” she said to no one in particular, “he’s for real. What’s an exceptional function?”
“Maybe time for a refill, Bree,” said Larry. “Okay, fill me in, what’s been happening?”
Then they started chattering, the four of them, about common friends, and schools, and gossip about people they knew. I felt a bit out of place, with nothing in common to talk about. I found an open bottle of white wine and poured a little into a glass, just to have something to do.
Amelia got up and went into the kitchen, bringing out a bowl of chips and dip. Okay, snacks, I like snacks. So I ate potato chips and dip, though I wasn’t particularly hungry, and watched the back-and-forth, like a tennis match.
Muffy, the one who’d let us in, was athletic without being muscular, firm muscles, blond, possibly from a bottle, nice legs. Amelia, the hostess, was taller, also blond, but I thought hers was her own. Nice butt, round, with prominent butt cheeks, and a decent sized chest. Bree, who was looking just a bit inebriated, was a brunette, nice smile, green eyes, good legs and an impressive set of boobs. I couldn’t tell her height, because she hadn’t yet ventured out of the chair.
I had parked myself on a couch, with ready access to the chips and dip. Amelia got up again to get a drink refill, and when she came back sat on the couch next to me. She pulled her knees up under her so she could turn and look at me. “They’ll be gossiping for a while, trading dirt. What’s your story, Tom? Where are you from?”
I gave her a little background, mentioning Cleveland, and she interjected, “Oh, do you know the Campbells? They’re big in Cleveland, we summer together sometimes.”
I told her no, we probably belonged to different clubs and hadn’t run into each other, and that seemed to satisfy her. Bree and Muffy and Larry were getting a little loud now, as they laughed about things that had happened in their common past, and Amelia squirmed a little closer so she could hear me.
“They sometimes get a little tipsy and that makes them noisy. They’ll be fine. Is that wine you’re drinking? Can I make you a real drink?”
I said I was good, and asked her what school she was attending, what she was interested in, the usual questions you ask. She was a student at Barnard, Columbia’s “sister” school, and was an English major, the fallback for everyone who doesn’t know what they want to study. I commented that Barnard/Columbia was a competitive school, and she said, “Overrated. I don’t think a lot of the folks there are that bright. It doesn’t seem that hard to me. I’m getting by.”
“You must be smarter than me, then. I had to sweat at —————————, and sometimes I feel like I’m just faking my way through.”
“Ah, don’t take it so seriously,” she advised me. “You’ll do okay, if you were smart enough to get in. Have a good time while you’re there, that’s what I do.”
I must have raised an eyebrow, because she felt the need to explain, in case I didn’t know how to have a good time. “Look, do your work, pass in your assignments, cram for your tests if you have to, but party on the weekend. Or whenever the opportunity presents itself.”
“We have a bunch of people with that philosophy at ———, but I’m not sure I could maintain the pace. They work at it pretty hard.”
“You have to experiment a little, find the pace that works for you, the kinds of things that relax you. Like Bree, she likes to drink, it mellows her right out. Muffy, well, a little booze, an occasional pill, a little sex, and she’s good for another week.”
“And you? What’s your prescription?”
She smiled. “Tom, I don’t think we know each other well enough. I’ve got things that work for me, found through trial and error. That’s what I recommend.”
“Thank you, doctor, I shall return to my studies with renewed vigor now that I know the secret to success.”
“Glad I could help.”
Across the room, Muffy had moved from her chair to sit in Larry’s lap, one arm around his shoulders. Bree leaned closer so she could rest a hand on his arm. I thought, wait, is this the Larry who was trying so desperately to get laid from the moment he arrived on campus? He seemed to be a different guy here.
She must have seen me looking, because she said, “They were an item, off and on, all through senior year. It was more like friends with benefits than true love, and Bree was sometimes there when Muffy wasn’t. Sorta share and share alike, no hard feelings anywhere.”
“I don’t remember high school being anything like that, not at all.”
“Well, the school we were at, Mount Mackey, has a reputation for being progressive like that.
Not something they put in the brochure they use to try to sell the place to the parents, but the word gets around among students and prospective students. Everyone comes in knowing what to expect and what the unwritten rules are.”
“Sometimes I feel like my education has been shortchanged.”
“There, there, don’t feel bad, there’s lots of time to catch up. I’m a bit bored now that they’re wrapped up in each other again, like high school. You want to see the rest of the house, get the tour?”
“Sure, why not? Impress me.”
“Well, I’m not sure about impressive, but we’re comfortable here, I like it. Let’s go.”
She took my hand and pulled me off the couch and into the kitchen. Way larger than mine at home, but I suspected nowhere near as large as Larry’s. Still, lots of space, nice professional range, double-door fridge, and so on. If I ever cooked anything more serious than eggs, I’d look into getting one. Right after I win the lottery.
A large-ish dining room and a comfortable den for Dad finished the first floor. I noticed that Amelia was brushing against me as we walked, putting her hand on my shoulder to direct my attention to some feature.
Upstairs looked like every upstairs in every house, just a little larger. A couple of bathrooms, two guest rooms and a master bedroom for her parents. The last room on the floor at the end of the hall was hers. “I spent way too many hours in here in school. I didn’t get along with my parents for most of high school, but we’re okay with each other now. Either I’ve grown up or they have.”
It was a pretty big room. Perhaps a little “girl-y”, but I suppose that’s what you like when you’re in high school. I noticed some trophies on a bookcase. When I got closer I saw that they were horse jumping trophies, puissance and six-bar. I knew just enough to recognize the names.
“Impressive. There’s a lot of firsts here.”
“It was my thing when I was in middle school and part of high school. I really like horses. We have a couple, but I haven’t been able to ride since I’ve been away at school and we may have to rethink horse ownership for the time being.”
She chattered on about horses and school, what it was like to go to school in a city like New York, and I contributed the occasional comment.
I heard voices in the hallway, I recognized Larry’s, and a couple of female voices, probably Bree and Muffy.
Amelia heard it, too. “That’ll be the three of them. I wondered how long it would take.”
I must have looked puzzled, because she added, “They’re taking over one of the guest rooms. They’re going to have their own party. I told you that Muffy likes a little sex to mellow her out, and Bree wants to make sure she isn’t left out, so threesome.”
“I’m having a hard time reconciling the Larry I’m seeing here with the one I know at school. He’s quite the operator.”
“Here’s the thing. To certain women, money is an aphrodisiac. Larry’s family has money. Muffy and Bree are turned on.”
“That seems a bit... callous,” I said.
“Fact of life. Not all women, of course, just some. It doesn’t do much for me, for example. Larry’s a nice guy, but I don’t get all wet and turned on when I’m near him just because I can smell money. Like Muffy.”
I thought these girls were close friends. Amelia didn’t seem to averse to a little backbiting if the opportunity presented itself.
“Okay. As long as they’re happy. But I don’t think Larry’s ready to settle down yet, if she’s looking to stake a claim.”
“No, it’s not that, she’s just reminding him that she’s around and that they’re compatible, so that when the time does come, she’ll have an edge over the competition when she makes her move.”
I shook my head and Amelia laughed and slapped my arm. “I knew it! We’ve shocked you!”
“I feel like the country hick on his first sojourn to the big city. Lots of things I didn’t expect.”
“Poor baby. I’ll protect you.” She moved closer and put an arm around me.
I’m not an idiot, I could sense she had an agenda, but she was being a little cryptic, unlike Bree and Muffy. Instead of looking into her epicenter, I decided to just ask her.
“So you implied that you had things that mellow you out, help relax you, but you were a bit evasive. Do you think you’ll shock me?”
She got a bit wary now, and took her arm down, careful to frame her answer in a particular way.
“Well, I wasn’t deliberately trying to be evasive, it’s only that we’ve just met, and there are things we’re not all comfortable sharing with strangers. I might really shock you. That would make the rest of the evening somewhat awkward, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so, if I were some hothouse flower, experiencing the world for the first time. But I’ve seen things, done things, that might surprise you, so I think I wouldn’t be easily shocked.”
She looked doubtful, so whatever it is that gets her engine running she must think is pretty embarrassing, almost shameful.
She stayed quiet, until I finally said, “Okay, you don’t believe me. Suppose I tell you some of the weirdest things I’ve done, so you’ll believe I’m telling the truth.”
She looked at me with the beginning of a smile. “Ooo, shared secrets so early in the relationship? Now I’m turned on. Okay, let’s hear it.”
Oops, I may have just been snared in my own trap. All right, what can she do? Refuse to speak to me for the rest of the evening?
“Let me preface this by saying that even if I’ve done some of these things, it doesn’t mean that I get a rush from them. I’m a big believer in people trying to work together, to compromise, so they can satisfy their partners. There’s only a few things that I really won’t do.”
“Like what?”
“Later. Okay, where to start? Well, I’ve had a couple of threesomes, I don’t know if that’s a run-of-the-mill thing in your circles, but there you are. One was with two women, another was me and another guy DP-ing a woman who happened to get turned on by the idea.
“Let’s see... Oh, I’ve had a couple of women who got seriously turned on by bondage, being restrained and fucked without having a say in how it was done. Another woman got her jollies from being ordered around and spanked. I think she actually came when I did it.”
“I think I’m going to need some explicit details,” said Amelia. “Just to make sure you really did it.”
“I think there’s got to be some give and take here, Amelia, it’s not a one-way street, detail-wise.”
She looked panicked again. She said, “Wait,” and stepped into her walk-in closet. She came out holding a pint bottle.
“I think I need another drink first.” She unscrewed the cap and took a swallow from the bottle.
She offered the open bottle to me, but I shook my head. She capped it and put it on an end table. She looked at me, waiting for me to continue, but I had asked her a question and she had yet to respond. Her eyes started darting around when she saw that I wasn’t going to continue.
“Damn it, Tom, I’m really not comfortable with this.”
“If you’re not, you’re not. I won’t force you. So what are we gonna do? It looks like Larry and the rest of the party are going to be occupied for the next couple of hours. So, what? Scrabble?
Bake some oatmeal cookies together? Strip Monopoly?”
That got a chuckle and eased the tension slightly. She thought a little more, then said, “Wait.”
I could hear some alcohol-fueled laughter coming from the guest room, where things seemed to be heating up. She walked over and closed the bedroom door.
I thought this was taking an interesting turn. So far I hadn’t channeled or linkcast anything to her, I hadn’t looked into her epicenter, I hadn’t used any of my normal tricks. This was just conversation between two people, trying to break through the social and personal barriers. This was what psychologists and psychiatrists do.
But maybe there was something else going on. She had been really reluctant to expose her secrets, had erected a barrier when it first came up. Was it just my honest, trustworthy face that had convinced her to push past her reluctance and confess? I doubted it. So what had convinced her to let me in on her embarrassing secret?
What if my desire to have her tell me had somehow been linkcast unconsciously? How the hell would I even go about proving that hypothesis? I wouldn’t even know how to do that if I wanted to. As far as I’d been able to learn, I couldn’t convince someone to do something they didn’t want to do or which was against their principles
Nothing’s ever easy. I’ll put that in the back of my mind and think about it later.
She sat on the edge of the bed and for a moment looked like a little girl who had done something wrong and had been caught.
“How do I know if I can trust you?” she asked.
“I suppose you don’t. You have to make a decision, as in any other social situation, whether you think the other person is trustworthy, based on your intuition, your feelings. For what it’s worth, I’ll promise that whatever you tell me will go no further, unless you tell me otherwise. I guess in the worst case, if I break my word, you could have Larry write me out of his will. That’d hurt.”
That made her smile. Eventually, she made her decision. She patted the bed next to her, and I sat.
“The girls and I joke about our likes and dislikes, our proclivities, the things that get us horny. But I haven’t told them everything because, even though we’ve known each other forever, there are things, personal things, that I wouldn’t trust them with. Because they talk. Especially with a couple of drinks in them. So they don’t know.”
I waited for her to continue. She seemed to have hit a roadblock and was trying to figure out how to move on.
“So we all like pretty much the same things, sex-wise, y’know, fucking and getting eaten out, and we’re okay with blowjobs—Bree can actually deepthroat a guy like it’s no big deal—and we sometimes like getting a dick in the ass. But...”
Here she stopped, and I thought she was just going to say no, I can’t, and walk out. I waited for her, trying to look completely neutral.
“But... while those things are fun and I like them, what really gets me right to the edge, about ready to cum is... oh, fuck, this is hard.” She took a deep breath. “What really gets me off is being treated like a slut.”
She stopped and gasped for air. I think this was the first time she’d ever said it out loud.
“When I think about some guy treating me like some cheap whore, telling me I’m a worthless cunt who’d fuck some unwashed bum for fifty cents, I feel ashamed, humiliated. It also makes me so wet and I can feel my clit throbbing, and it takes almost nothing to make me cum. I don’t know why I’m like this. No one has ever treated me like that, it only happens when I watch a certain kind of porn. Then it’s like one orgasm after another, till I can hardly move.”
She stopped abruptly and breathed heavily, carefully inspecting the baseboards so she wouldn’t have to look at me.
I asked her, “So, you’ve never done this in real life, is that what you’re saying?”
She nodded.
“But it happens when you’re watching these... special videos where someone is abused and humiliated. You imagine yourself in their position and you get off, is that it?”
Again, she nodded.
“Well, that’s a little out of the ordinary, but not completely unknown. Have you ever thought about why this turns you on so much?”
“I don’t understand it. I’m not at all like that in real life, subservient, seeking abuse. If anyone heard about it, I’d... well, I don’t know, I’d have to leave school, forget my friends, move to Uganda or something. I don’t know where it comes from.”
“I can see this really upsets you, Amelia. Look, you’re probably right, some people wouldn’t understand this urge, but you’re not the first to have it. I’ve certainly heard of it before. But it doesn’t harm anyone. Someday it’d be worth your while to figure out where it comes from, mostly because it’s better to know about the things that drive us than not to know. Some shrink could probably get to the bottom of it pretty quick.
“But in the meantime, it’s not hurting anyone, unless you happen to run into some guy who gets off on abusing women, then it could get physical. But you’ve got good instincts.”
She was quiet again. Then she said, “So, pretty weird, huh?”
“Not that weird. There’s lots weirder people out there than you and me. I don’t remember if I mentioned it to you, but my firm belief is that anything two people do with each other, as long as they both agree and as long as neither one gets hurt, physically or emotionally, is okay. No one’s business but their own.”
“I think most people aren’t as open-minded as you are.”
“You might be right.”
She was quiet again, rubbing one palm along her other wrist.
“Umm... thanks for listening. And for not judging. I don’t think I could have talked about this without a few drinks in me.”
“Okay. You don’t have to bring it up again. We can talk about something else. You can show me your vacation pictures. We could play Strip Monopoly.”
“Hmmm, you keep bringing that up. Is this a secret fetish of yours?”
“Doesn’t everyone have that one?”
“Must be a Cleveland thing, I can’t recall anyone doing that around here. Anyway, I don’t think I have a Monopoly set. How about if we just fool around instead. Why should Muffy and Bree have all the fun?”
Well, she’s pretty direct, isn’t she? Must be a prep school thing.
“It’s a good suggestion. I can’t come up with a sound argument against it.”
“Well, that’s settled, then. Why don’t I start?”
Even through the walls and the closed door, I could hear the party in the guest room. She stood up and watched me while she unbuttoned her shirt. At the last button, she shrugged it off of her shoulders, her eyes never leaving mine. She was showing off, I thought, assessing how she’d play what followed based on my response.
She was well toned, probably did some sport now that she didn’t ride anymore. Her boobs looked like a B cup, not large but well defined. The bra she wore looked like part of a matched set, and expensive, lacy with finely-stitched seams.
She’d moved on to her slacks, unbuttoning the little strap at the side, and sliding the zipper down slowly, drawing it out. I thought this was an act that she performed for every new partner, seeing how they reacted. So far she’d played it well.
She let the pants fall to the floor. I was right, the panties matched the bra. I guessed that it cost what my clothing budget was for an entire month.
She reached behind her to unhook her bra, and I stopped her. “Do you mind if I do that? I need the practice.”
She gave a short laugh. “I doubt that, but sure, have at it.”
I linkcast her the Foundation image to sensitize her, though I thought she might not need it.
But better to have it and not need it than... well, you get the idea.
I stood up and stepped in front of her, so I could look her in the eye. I reached behind her and got the bra open in one try. I pulled it over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
“Oh, hell, yeah,” I said. I reached up and squeezed her tits, massaging them. When her breathing picked up, I got her nipples between my thumbs and index fingers and rolled and pinched them.
“That’s nice. Do some more of that,” she instructed me. So I did. And I also leaned in and nibbled from under her ear down to where her neck met her shoulder. After a couple of minutes, I moved southward and got one nipple into my mouth and sucked and tongued it.
She put her hand on the back of my head to encourage me, but I had other plans. I dropped my hands to her waist and slipped her panties over her hips and they fell to the ground. She stepped out of them awkwardly.
She looked like she didn’t know what to do next, which I found surprising. I took a quick peek into her epicenter. There was some anticipation there, she liked fucking, but also a little resignation and disappointment because she had been hoping that the discussion of her secret fantasies would get me playing the part she’d been looking for, someone dominant.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. Some part of me found this demanding, domineering and abusive persona really uncomfortable, even if she wanted it, needed it. It clashed with the part of me that liked women and disliked people who demeaned them. Was there a middle ground I could find with her?
I put my hands firmly on her hips and turned her around, so she was standing where I had been, back toward the side of the bed. I took two small steps forward and her legs pressed against the bed. With my hands on her shoulders, I pushed and she fell backwards on the bed, with a surprised “Oh!”
“Pull your legs up, back toward your chest,” I told her in an authoritative tone. She did, a little puzzled. Once done, I grabbed her behind her bent thighs near her hips and pulled her roughly forward so her butt was at the edge of the bed.
Her pussy and labia were shaved, completely bare, but she had a nearly full mound of pubic hair above her slit. It was thick, but neatly trimmed, with defined edges.
“Hold that position till I say differently.” Now she was really confused. This was the dominance she was looking for, but not the humiliation, the degradation.
While she gnawed at that puzzle, I sat on the bed and took off my shoes, then stood up and stripped, watching her watching me. I already had a half stiffy from looking at her presenting her pussy to me. I stroked my dick a couple of times and I could see that she thought I was going to get right to it, no foreplay.
Instead, I dropped to my knees in front of her. “Spread your legs a little wider apart, yeah, like that. Hold them there.” I leaned in and licked from her cunt all the way up her slit, avoiding her clit, then back down again. I heard her catch her breath. I did it again.
The third time, I went lower and flicked my tongue back and forth on her perineum. She was breathing in short gasps now, trying to find air. I put my right thumb where my tongue had been and rubbed it back and forth, and moved my tongue higher, doing my damnedest to push it into her cunt.
Right now I was just going through the motions, because I knew that most women liked this, loved this. Then I thought, y’know, I keep talking about refining these images and I never do anything about it. Why not now? If I get it wrong, I can always fall back on the tried and true.
So I imagined, not a wave, but instead an ocean swell, perhaps the harbinger of an approaching storm, which moves a ship relentlessly higher, then drops slowly into a trough, where the swells towered above it. The swell doesn’t break on a beach, it just rises and falls.
You should know how this works now: I create this image, with the instruction that it is a metaphor for rising pleasure and release, the target’s mind interprets it as they understand it.
That’s what I tried with her. I linkcast this slow, heavy ocean swell to her while I tongue-fucked her and rubbed her perineum. And over an extended few seconds I could feel her tighten, her muscles tense, then she moaned quietly, “Oh, fuck, oh, nice.” Then she relaxed.
My tongue was getting a little tired from all this pushing. It wasn’t used to it. So instead I put my thumbs next to her labia and spread them apart. I flicked my tongue back and forth, moving higher. I linkcast the image of the swell again, and again she tensed for some seconds, and finally released her breath slowly, relaxing into the bed.
Okay, working out fine so far. What happens if I make the storm more imminent, closer, the swells higher and more frequent? I linkcast that, my tongue still moving.
Her hips arched upward while she emitted a strange, high-pitched thin wail, ending with “Oh, my God!” She settled back into the bed. I couldn’t tell if she wanted me to stop or continue. I decided to keep going.
I hadn’t touched her clit yet. She’d been doing just fine with other things, but perhaps now was the time. I moved higher until I got to her clit but I didn’t tongue it, I grabbed it with my lips, pulled at it, nibbled it, while I took two fingers of my right hand and slipped them into her pussy.
She gave a series of grunts telling me that that was the right thing to do.
While I finger-fucked her and pulled at her clit, I linkcast a small wave breaking on a beach.
Yeah, I know, borrrr-ring. But not to her. She cried out, “Yesyesyes, right there, don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Her body trembled and her hands grabbed the back of my head, pushing me in, until she finally pushed me away.
“Oh, fuck me. Wow! Where did that come from?”
“Well, just a wild guess, but I think it might be connected to my tongue on your clit and my fingers in your pussy.”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean I don’t usually cum that hard. That was really nice. I could get used to that very easily.”
“Are you saying you’ve never had a guy eat you out? ’Cause that’s just criminal.”
“Of course they have. They just don’t do it as well as you, and I don’t know what’s different.
Do you think you could put together a short Cliff’s Notes handout on how that’s supposed to be done? It would be your good deed for the day.”
“I’ll see what I can do. So it was okay? I’m kinda trying to figure out what you like here, so there was some guesswork involved.”
“I liked that just fine. You have any more tricks up your sleeve?”
“Just the usual. Y’know, pulling colored scarves out of my butt, making my dick disappear, finding a live rabbit in your pussy, usual stuff.
“Wait, let me get my camera. That’s something I’ll want to remember. Come up here for a bit, will you?”
We slithered up onto the bed and she threw an arm around me. “That was really nice, and looking to get better. You have some skills.”
She got a little quiet and buried her face in my chest. “Look, Tom, I’m not quite sure how to approach this. I mean... Y’know what we were talking about earlier? The slut thing? Oh, shit, this is so embarrassing. I told you I’d never done it before in real life, just watched it in porn and pretended. I’m... I need to know if this is something that would work for me.
“I mean, you’re the first person I’ve ever talked about it with, and I don’t know why I chose you. Maybe the alcohol gave me the courage, but I probably wouldn’t be able to talk about it again. It took so much out of me. But I still feel like it might be something that could get me really hot. I...”
She swallowed.
“Do you think you might try it with me? Treat me like a slut, call me names, tell me how bad I am? I don’t know why I trust you, but I don’t think I could do this with anyone else. I haven’t known you for more than two hours, but I trust you. Could you do that for me?”
Oh, boy. I know a lot of guys who would be jumping up and down for the chance to act out their domination dreams with a sexy woman like her. But I thought those impulses came from a dark place. I mentioned before that I didn’t like doing those things because it was the diametrical opposite of how I looked at women, and I didn’t like people who behave like that.
“Amelia, when we were talking earlier, I said there were only a few things that I wouldn’t do, because I find them really uncomfortable. Things like scat and pissing on someone, well, most people are put off by that. The things that are really turnoffs for me are physically abusing people for sexual gratification, sex with pain. Same with verbal abuse.
“I also said that if two people agree to do something with each other, about anything is okay.
But we’ve all got limits of one kind or another. So I’m not sure how to reconcile what you think might turn you on with the things I’m really uncomfortable doing. Is there any compromise we could agree on that might get you close to where you want to be? ’Cause I’d feel awful about myself if I had to degrade you in the way I think you want.”
“That’s actually a nice thing to believe. I don’t think I’ve ever heard other guys articulate that as if it were something they believed. Mostly, if it comes up, they just nod and say, “Yeah, sure, whatever you say, baby” and move on. But it’s just for pretend, Tom, it’s not like you really believe that. I don’t either, it’s just me playing a role of a slut. It’s not how I see myself, and if someone called me that to my face I’d probably slug ’em.”
I laughed, because I could see her doing just that.
She went on, “Haven’t you ever been in a school play? We did Guys And Dolls junior year.
I got to play one of the cheap bar girls, but it was just acting, and the lines I had to speak were the character talking, not me. Right now, right here, you’re just playing a character, and you can interpret it in a way that fits your world view. Imagine a play where you’re a character who doesn’t know any other way to treat women except like whores, ’cause they’re the only women he interacts with. Can you do that?”
She was sounding a little desperate. She really wanted this. I had an aversion to this view of women, it rankled me. But she had a point. It was role play, in a way. It might not be a role I wanted to play, but I had made a big deal about compromising so each partner could get what they needed. It didn’t really involve physical abuse, though I wasn’t sure if emotional abuse was any less painful. She made a good point: it wasn’t real abuse, she didn’t believe it, nor did I, it was a kind of game.
“Amelia, I’ve never done this before, and I’m not sure how I feel about it, even if I’m only playing a character. But I understand this is something you need to experiment with, so I’d be willing to at least give it a try. The caveat is, if I reach a point where I’m feeling truly uncomfortable I’ll call a halt. I’d ask you to promise the same thing. Will you?”
She nodded. “I couldn’t ask for anything more. Thanks for being willing to try.”
“Okay, then. If I’m going to get into character, could you give me a little more detail about the kinds of things you want to happen to you? So I know what to do.”
“Um, I really don’t have a scenario worked out. It’s different in each of the scenes I’ve watched.
The common theme is a strong guy treating his girl like a slut, like she’s not worth the effort, like she’s fucked every guy who’s looked her way because... well, because she’s a slut, she can’t help herself.”
“So, is it just the slut-shaming that’s the turn-on, or other stuff, too?”
“Yeah, there’s other stuff, there’s some abuse, like spanking and slapping, sometimes there’s a whip, he makes her do slutty things. I think it’s the totality of it that’s the turn-on.”
“I dunno, Amelia, I feel like I should go do some research or something so I know how this character’s supposed to behave. I’m not sure I’m going to get it right.”
“It’s never the same from one scene to another, so almost anything should work, as long as there’s the element of dominance.”
The more I thought about this, the less sure I was of it. But I’d committed, so I’d have to come up with something.
I sighed. “All right. I’ll try. Do you have a safe word?”
“Hadn’t really thought about it. How about ’Nathan Detroit’? From Guys and Dolls.“
“Okay, ’Nathan Detroit’ it is. Then, here we go. Into character.”
I stood up, feeling totally unprepared for this performance. The last time I’d been in a play, it was fourth grade and I think I played one of the talking bunnies. I wondered what that audience would think of this play.
“What the fuck, you little cunt? You’re lying around on the bed with your legs spread open again? Did the last guy just leave? Get off the bed!”
She had gotten into her character pretty quickly. Perhaps she practiced while she watched her porn. She stood up by the bed, a little reluctantly.
“What a fucking slut you are! Why don’t you just put a sign out front, ’free blowjobs’? Turn around, put your hands on the bed and bend over! Spread your legs!”
She spread her legs wide, exposing her pussy. I looked into her epicenter to see how she was responding. Damn if she wasn’t getting a rush from this. I wouldn’t know for sure until I went looking for her pleasure meter, but from the other signs I could tell she was aroused, getting a thrill from it.
“Are you still leaking cum from your twat, or did you clean up? Tell me, you little whore!” I slapped her ass, harder than I normally would. It would sting.
“I haven’t been with anyone. Really, I haven’t.” There was an element of pleading in her tone.
“And there’s a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, you fucking tramp. I’m gonna check, you know, bitch. Reach back and spread your cheeks. Do it!”
Still bent over, she reached around and pulled her butt cheeks apart.
“We’ll see. If I find any cum in there I’m gonna wipe it all over your face. That’s where you normally wear it.”
I stuck three fingers into her pussy and twisted them around. I was a little rough and she grunted.
I made a show of pulling them out and inspecting them, sniffing my fingers. “Nothing there.
So they came in your ass or your mouth, I’ll bet. Let’s see.”
I pushed two fingers at her asshole and she cried out, “Oh, not there, wait!” The character would never stop, so I pushed until they slipped in to the second knuckle, and twisted. “Oh, please, don’t.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s not like you haven’t had half the dicks in town up your ass. Stop whining.”
“Oh, I didn’t, I didn’t do anyone!”
“Yeah, and the moon’s made of green cheese. You cleaned up before I got here. You’re a sneaky little slut, but I’ve got your number. Turn around. Get on your knees.”
And now she did look like she was afraid. I thought perhaps I’d gone too far, so I looked inside again. No, I could see she was acting some part she’d created in her mind, getting into the character and enjoying the hell out of it. Her arousal had gone way up. I could see that without even checking her pleasure meter.
On her knees, she looked up at me expectantly. She wasn’t expecting it, so when I slapped her cheek she was really startled. I slapped the other one, too.
“You cheap, little whore. That’s a familiar position, isn’t it? Bet you’ve spent a lot of time on your knees. Have you?”
She was silent, and I slapped her again. “Answer me, you pathetic harlot. Have you sucked a lot of cocks?”
She nodded quickly.
“You like swallowing dick? You’re good at it, aren’t you?” She nodded again.
“Well, let’s see. Show me. Suck my dick.”
Oops, alarm bell went off in my head. Set ejaculation filter. There, done, just in the nick of time.
Using no hands she worked her head around until she could get her lips onto the head of my cock and worked her way up the shaft. It felt pretty damn good, but I couldn’t tell her that.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what’re you, twelve? Have you never done this before? You’re pathetic. Put some effort into it, use some tongue.”
Now she went at it with a purpose. She got her tongue moving and the shaft wet, bobbing up and down. I let her get into a rhythm and, tell the truth, I was getting into this. But I had a part to play.
“You’re not even a very good slut, are you? Even basic slut tasks seem to be beyond you. I’ve had better head from women who were passed out, unconscious. Here’s how this works, you little tramp. The cock goes in your mouth, the tongue goes back and forth, and you push the dick into your throat. Got it? Good. Do it. Into the throat.”
I saw some panic in her epicenter. She was okay with giving head, but throating was a problem.
I saw that she envied Bree a little, for her ability to get a dick all the way in. Amelia had always struggled with it. But now the role forced her to do what she was told.
She took a breath and opened her mouth and went down as far as she could. It wasn’t that far. I could sympathize with her. Fortunately, I had a quick solution, Boner Bliss and Spitshine. I linkcast those to her.
“Jesus, Amelia, it’s like talking to a child. Dick in mouth, close lips, push. Easy. Again.”
This time, when she got to the point where she’d felt herself start to choke, the gag reflex didn’t happen. She got a rising sense of pleasure. It felt good.
“Better. Again, do it again. Do it like you mean it.”
She pushed, a little further this time, and the pulse hit her and she moaned.
“Oh, screw this, bitch, I’ll show you how it’s done. Pay attention.”
I put my hands on the back of her head and pushed my dick in. Not all the way, just a little further than last time. In and out, in and out. And each time, she got a rush when the dick pushed in. In her epicenter, I could see she was this close to an orgasm. Not from Spitshine, from the idea of being a slut, of being forced.
“See how this works, you little twat, dick in as far as it can go. That’s how sluts please their guy. Again.”
She was at the point where my dick was pushing at her throat, and it felt like a bridge too far to her. She was saying, “Oh, I can’t, I can’t.”
I still had my hands on her head, and this time when it got to that point I tightened my hands on her head and I pushed, slowly, in, all the way, until her lips were against my pubis. I held her there and watched her cum in her epicenter. It washed over her and she trembled.
I pulled slowly out, and when my dick popped out she gasped for air.
“You’re still alive, cunt? Still breathing?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“Was that so hard? Sucking dick is easy. Show me you know how to do it.”
She nodded and took my dick in her mouth again. Looking up at me she opened her mouth wide and pushed it in, and when it reached her throat kept going until it was all in. Then she wrapped her lips around it and sucked in her cheeks. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Just perfect. She pulled out, because she needed air.
“A definite improvement. That felt pretty good. Some more intensive practice and you’ll have that down pat. Good job, slut.”
I had her do that a little more because, damn, it felt good. “Okay, babe, that’s enough for now, we’ve got other things to do. Look at me, up here. Right, do you have any sex toys? Show me.”
She got up obediently and went into her closet. I heard her rummaging around. She came out with an armful of dildos, butt plugs, and strap-ons, dropping them on the blanket chest at the foot of the bed. I stared at them, thinking, ’Well, everybody’s gotta have a hobby.’ Then I realized she’d gone back into the closet, and when I turned around she had another armful, which she deposited with the others.
“Damn, girl,” I said, “I’ll give you credit, you work hard at being a slut.” The dildos were different shapes, sizes and colors. Some of them were engineering marvels, designed to move in four or five different directions at once, with extensions to touch the clit or penetrate the asshole.
Buried in among them I saw a small whip and a bottle of lube.
“I’ll look these over, see which will make you squirm the most. In the meantime, show me your sluttiest underwear. Bring it out.”
I peeked into her epicenter as I said it, wanting to see how she was feeling because, to be honest, I was feeling a bit uncomfortable, even if I was just playing a part and we were both aware of it.
I was surprised by how turned on she was. There was a steady undercurrent of arousal putting her right on the edge. Just like when she was watching her special porn, she was almost ready to cum. And the idea of dressing up like a slut was even better. I really hope she learned how to fit this into her life without putting her in danger.
Again in her closet I heard her rummaging through drawers. When she came out, she had several outfits in her hands. She laid them on the bed.
One of them was something that looked like it came straight out of a Fredrick’s of Hollywood lingerie catalog, pink see-through shorty with puffy pink fake fur around the bodice, and matching panties. It looked cheap, but I agreed it was slutty. But the last one was the one I chose. Black lace bra with cutouts for the nipples, a garter belt, and crotch-less panties.
“Do you have black stockings to go with that one?” I said, pointing.
She nodded, and went to fetch them.
When she returned I ordered her to put on the outfit. “Once it’s on, we’ll get down to your real slut training. I hope you won’t disappoint me, Amelia.” I looked inside her as I said it, and she got a rush that almost made her cum.
She dressed in her closet. It must be bigger than it looks from outside. While she did that, I put the other slut outfits on a chair. I looked at the dildos and mentally selected a couple, plus a butt plug.
When I looked up, she was standing in front of her closet and damn if she didn’t look like a porn star. Her nipples were poking out of the bra, hard and stiff. Her legs were slightly spread and her labia showed through the slit in her panties. The black stockings came halfway up her thighs. I wanted to bend her over the bed and fuck both holes until I came. But there were things to do first.
“Good choice, Amelia, it makes you look like the slut you are. There’s no question in anyone’s mind who you are while you’re wearing that. Come closer and let me see.”
She walked shyly over to me and stood in front of me, hands at her side and legs slightly apart.
I reached up and twisted an exposed nipple and she caught her breath. I looked her in the eye and reached between her legs, running my fingers along her slit. It was damp and slick. She closed her eyes, and I stuck two fingers an inch into her wet cunt. She moaned.
“Turn around and bend over, you little whore. Spread your legs.”
She looked apprehensive, a bit unsure, but she did it. Her pussy was on full display, now damp and I could see it glisten in the light.
“That’s a good look, slut, with your pussy pouting like that. I’ll bet the guys like it. Come over here and choose your favorite dildo for your pussy, maybe one you use when you’re alone.”
Now she was a little embarrassed. She was being asked to make public something that had previously been private. But she reached down and pulled one from the pile. It had a thick main shaft with some mechanism inside it that looked like it pulsed. There was an additional shaft that hooked off from the main one, and various buttons.
“That one? Okay, looks like a serious machine able to get you where you want to go. Lube it up, then lie back on the bed and fuck yourself with it. Take off your panties first.”
She lay on the bed, but was taking her time inserting it. Finally I swore at her. “C’mon, you little cunt, this isn’t the first time you’ve played with yourself. Stick that thing in your twat and fuck yourself. Do it, or I’ll do it for you, and I won’t be gentle!”
She pushed a couple of buttons and pressed it slowly into her pussy. She closed her eyes when the tip of the extra shaft touched her clit. She slid it out again, and then in, twisting it when it hit bottom. “Oh, fuck,” she said.
“Now that’s what a slut should look like, her legs spread and something pumping her twat. But wait... there’s something missing. What is it? I can’t... Oh, of course, I know what it is! Pull your knees back.”
With the dildo still humming in her pussy, she raised her knees and put her hands behind her thighs. The black stockings pointed straight down to where the dildo was throbbing. I found the lube and a butt plug and brought them around. She couldn’t see what I had because her legs were in the way.
The first inkling she had was when I squirted some lube on her asshole. She sucked in her breath. I didn’t give her a chance to say anything, but pushed two fingers into her ass and twisted them around. “Oh, wait, too much, please...”
Nope. I pulled them out, squirted some lube on the butt plug then poised it at the opening to her ass. Then I pushed, slowly but insistently. “No, no, oh, wait, too big!”
“It’s your own butt plug, you cheap slut, it’s not too big, it’s just the right size. Stop fighting me, let it in.”
But she was fighting, so I pushed a bit harder with a twisting motion, like a drill. Above me I heard her mantra, “No, no, no...” but I kept pushing until it popped in. I made sure it was seated by twisting it, then noticed the tiny black button at the end of the butt plug. I flicked the switch and it started humming.
“Oh, fuck, ohmigod. Oh. Oh.” I twisted the butt plug. It had little nubs on the shaft and I knew she’d feel it. I peeked into her epicenter and watched. She was having an orgasm. It was long and slow, nothing that would make her body shake, but a long, slow wave of pleasure that she luxuriated in.
“Put your legs down and fuck yourself with that dildo. Work it.” She lowered her legs and this time she went at it with a vengeance, pumping the dildo in and out. I watched for a while, fascinated. She was much rougher with it than I would have been, but she knew her own body.
I climbed up onto the bed to watch her, sitting on my knees. She was fully invested now in playing the character of slut, letting it take her over. At some point, I got closer and swung my leg over her face, working myself higher until my balls were suspended over her mouth.
I stroked my dick while I told her, “Now, you dirty little tramp, suck my balls. Suck ’em into your mouth and use your tongue. This is where you show me how good a slut you are.”
I looked in her head again and as soon as she sucked one ball into her mouth she was cumming, again not huge orgasms, but slow waves that washed over her. The tongue on my balls felt wonderful. She moved her head to the other one and sucked it in, darting the tongue against it. If I hadn’t set that filter, I’d be shooting a fountain of cum high in the air to fall all over her face.
“Ah, that’s the way, bitch, just like that, really nice.” She did another thirty seconds until I pulled off. I swung my leg off and saw that she was still pistoning the dildo into her cunt, her eyes closed.
I found where I had dropped my pants and found a condom and slipped it on. It looked like I was almost irrelevant now, she had her machines working and she had a nice buzz going.
I grasped the end of the butt plug and pulled it out slowly. Her eyes shot open as I flicked the button to Off. “Oh, wait, not yet.”
“Not your call, slut. I’ll tell you what to do. Keep pumping, but pull your legs back.” She did as she was told, and it pulled her hips back, too. Her asshole was still gaping.
I knee-walked in and positioned my dick at her ass. She knew what was coming, but she didn’t dare object. I pushed, and the dick slid in easily, it took almost no effort. In and out, my dick pumping her asshole.
In her epicenter, again there was that feeling of the slut being told what to do, being degraded for acting like a slut. It got her so hot she was cumming again. “I’m such a slut and it feels so good,” she was thinking.
This felt seriously good and I toyed with the idea of just cumming in her ass but, perversely, I found that I was getting off a bit on being the bad guy in this play, which embarrassed me. I’d never gotten any thrill from abasing women, even when they asked me before. Was I changing, becoming a person I didn’t much care for?
I would have to give that some serious thought when I had time. In the meantime, I wanted to keep this going a bit longer. I pulled out of her ass.
“Take that dildo out of your twat and turn it off.”
She looked like she was going to pout, but she did it. I climbed off the bed, grabbed her legs and pulled her ass to the edge of the bed. I took my dick in one hand, pointed it at her pussy, and slid it in, hard. She grunted.
“Now we get down to the nitty-gritty, bitch. You’re a trailer-park slut and you’re going to fuck me like one. Do it like I’m the one who’s gonna give you your next six-pack and you’ve gotta earn it. Wrap your legs around me and fuck. Let’s see what you’ve learned.”
I must say that she threw herself into the role. Her hips were pushing into me while her cunt grabbed my dick and squeezed. It felt fabulous. She was fucking like a slut, no finesse, just pedal-to-the-metal screwing. Again I peeked in her epicenter. She was wrapped up in this slut role like a blanket as the pleasure rolled over her. The role felt safe, comfortable, and she was saying—well, thinking—to herself, ’I get to cum like a slut, it feels so good, nice girls don’t get to cum like this.’
Whoa, hold on, what? ’Nice girls don’t get to cum like this’? What does that mean? Is she saying...
I looked around where I could. The thoughts were erratic, of course, scattered, because she was getting fucked and the sensations were getting in the way of rational thought. All I could pick up were snippets. The sense was that this was the only way she could get off, either with someone playing that dominant role and degrading her, or when she watched her slut-shaming videos and masturbated.
I got a flash of her fucking someone, maybe a boyfriend, and feigning an orgasm. It had felt good, being fucked, but she didn’t get off. Was that why she had taken to this, because she thought it was the only way for her to cum?
If that were true, it explained a lot. Damn, what a way to go through life. She’d be constantly frustrated. I made a decision.
“Amelia.”
She turned her head and looked, her hips still thrusting.
“I think we’ve milked the roles for everything they contained. I’m done, back to real life. I want to just fuck you because it feels good, not because I’m playing a part. So let’s just enjoy each other.”
I really thought she was going to object, to make me continue, but some part of her felt that she couldn’t push this any further, that I might just walk away, so she nodded. But she wasn’t happy. She saw what she thought was her last orgasm in the rear-view mirror and waved it goodbye.
But she had a few surprises in store. One of them was coming up soon. I linkcast her Glow and watched her. It was fun seeing it play out on her face, the feeling that my dick had gotten bigger (or her pussy smaller) and the fucking was raising some serious pulses of pleasure in her pussy. She liked it.
Another minute of that and I linkcast Mineral Spring to her and, though she didn’t say it aloud, her face said, “Oh, wow!” She closed her eyes and smiled, feeling contentment. She wrapped her legs tighter around me.
Two minutes more and I sent her Summer Breeze. She threw her head back and this time said it out loud. “Oh, fuck, yes! Like that. More.”
But the truth was that I was feeling some lower back pain from these awkward positions. “I’ve got to change positions, Amelia. Why don’t you get on top?”
It didn’t take long. At some point in the process, she kicked the butt plug onto the floor and it rolled around. She got herself aligned over me, held my dick, and settled down onto it. She still had Glow active, so it felt like some huge cock stretching her cunt. She grimaced as she slid it in, and looked relieved when she got all of it in. She started grinding on it and it still felt great.
We worked at it for another minute and I sent another Summer Breeze. She squeezed my dick tight and said urgently, “Yesyesyes, right there, don’t stop.”
When that one passed, she put two arms down on the bed, leaned over me, her face close to mine, and milked my dick with her pussy. That’s what it felt like, someone milking my cock, like peristalsis, from base to tip. I started pushing into her, hard, pounding her pussy until she looked desperate.
Time for something different. This time, it was the old standby, the breaking wave. I chose a medium sized one, because if I had read her correctly, all of her orgasms had been small-ish. So I set it up far off the beach, but visible. She could watch it approach, see it getting larger, closer, about to break and take her with it.
I loved watching their faces, seeing it play out. I could almost tell how far away it was, how close her orgasm was, by the look on her face. She knew this one was going to be bigger, more memorable, and she was afraid she’d do something to break the spell, to abort it.
So I slammed my dick into her as she made tight, little sounds in her throat, until she held her breath, then let it out with a loud cry. “Oh, FUCK, yes! Jesus, I’m cumming, oh, yes!” She ground into me like a machine until she stopped suddenly and fell slowly forward onto my chest.
Because I was curious, I looked in her epicenter again. There wasn’t much there, like the quiet after a storm, almost asleep, just a feeling of satiation, of completeness, and a voice murmuring,
“That’s it, right there.”
My dick was still hard, still buried deep in her pussy, but I couldn’t move anywhere, so I just lay there. Occasionally I’d hear a sound or a voice from the next room, where the other party was going on.
After five or six minutes, I felt her stir, until she pushed herself up onto her extended arms and looked at me. “Well, that was a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Are they that few and far between?”
“Um, I’m not sure. I mean, I feel something nice when I fuck, and when I cum, it’s like a little rush, a gust of wind that’s here and gone. This was more like a windstorm. It tossed me around, blew me over and picked me up again. I can’t recall the last time I felt one like that.”
“Well, that’s a shame. Orgasms are like every American’s constitutional right. I’d contact my Congressman and complain, if I were you.”
“Yeah, if I thought my orgasms were messed up now, just let Congress get their hands on it if you want to see a real screw-up. Anyway, really nice.”
She shifted position. “Wait,” she said, “you didn’t get off?”
“Not yet. I was having fun watching you.”
“That’s no good. I’ll have to fix you up.”
“That’s a plan I could get behind.”
“You already had my behind. Let’s continue what we were doing just now. Maybe I’ll find another orgasm.”
She started moving her hips again, a little in-and-out along with some round-and-round. I was at half-mast due to that period of inaction, but this was getting me hard again. We’d been at this for an hour or more, what with one thing and another, and I needed some rest, so I’d look to finish this pretty soon.
Amelia was leaning on her arms, her eyes closed and a look of concentration on her face. This was a woman on a mission. She’d had an unexpectedly large orgasm and was looking for another, just to prove it was possible.
I started some pushback of my own when her hips hit bottom. making our pubic bones push into each other. She’d grunt when I did that. After a while I could hear her murmuring to herself,
“Uh-huh, good, a little faster.” It was more instructions to herself than to me. To give her some incentive I linkcast a Summer Breeze her way and her face lit up. “Oh! Yes, baby, there it is!”
It rolled over her and was gone, and she doubled down to find another. I liked what her pussy was doing to my dick. It would grab it and squeeze it at the bottom of the stroke, and hold onto it as she rose up. Seriously arousing. While she did that, I thought about her slut affinity. I thought it was fine if she wanted to do that, a form of sex play, but not so much if it was the only way she could get off. It would be a strange relationship to be in, where your partner had to abuse you, mistreat you, in order for you to get off.
That led me to ponder what she thought a slut would act like. I wondered if sluts had to be slapped or spanked or whipped. Wasn’t that more like BDSM? The distinctions seemed to be fuzzy. But maybe she liked getting her ass slapped. I don’t think we’d talked about it at all.
So I peeked into her epicenter, and while she rode my dick I reached out and slapped the cheek of her ass. Her eyes shot open. What I saw in her head was a rush, an erotic sensation connected to the pain. I did it again on the other cheek. She stared at me, and finally said, “You bastard. It hurts. Do it again.”
A mixed message if ever I heard one, but I did what she said, and she pumped faster. I reached up and twisted one of her nipples, pulling it and letting it snap out of my fingers. I slapped her other tit. She had her eyes closed now and her mouth open, looking like she was close to finding that orgasm she’d been looking for.
Maybe now’s the time. We’ve been at this for a long time. I prepped a couple of images, Fireworks for her and Aftershock for me, hers tied to the onset of mine. Before I sent it, I modified hers so it wouldn’t be as, well, powerful as it usually is, because from what I had seen, her orgasms tended to be on the small size and something so large so soon might overwhelm her. Once I did that, I released my ejaculation filter and waited.
It was like the sensations that would bring about my orgasm were hidden from my perception, like a yellow filter on a camera lens blocks that part of the spectrum. As soon as it’s removed the yellows show up in the image, and as soon as the ejaculation filter is removed, the mind becomes aware of those sensations and responds accordingly.
Which was what happened now. Those sensations pushed my orgasm up from my balls, slowly, gathering strength, until suddenly it was unstoppable.
“Oh, shit, baby, here it is, I’m cumming, help me get there!” More for herself, because she could feel something approaching, too, she ground her pussy onto my dick, trying to pull out her release. And then the first volley went off and her face lit up and she cried out, “Ohhh, oh, yes, I’m cumming, too, oh, FUCK!”
Fireworks is fun, because it’s like a whole bunch of mini-orgasms strung together, making it into something bigger, like those strings of firecrackers that are always set off at the Chinese New Year. Each firecracker makes a small explosion, but all of them together, in sequence is an assault on the ears.
Of course, I was involved in my own release, the ground shaking under me, tossing me about, until I was gasping. When I wound down, I opened my eyes and saw her poised above me as if captured in a snapshot in the middle of a motion, frozen in time. She had a look on her face that was joyous, delighted, and as I watched, she deflated, collapsing in slow motion onto my chest.
I closed my eyes, just feeling her warmth. I probably dozed off. At some point she rolled off me onto her side, my dick pulling wetly out of her, the condom mostly still attached. Now what do I do with this? I can’t just drop it on the floor. Maybe I could find a bag or something to put it in until I could dispose of it.
I got up and looked around the room, but no bags. Then I looked in the mirror on the dressing table and mentally slapped my forehead. In the mirror I saw, next to the walk-in closet, a bathroom on the side near the wall. Duh. A room that has a walk-in closet will of course have its own bathroom. I think it’s a rule in architecture school. So I walked into the bathroom that was hidden on the other side of the walk-in closet and flushed the condom and washed my hands.
I lay on the bed beside her. She was still out, but looking remarkably sexy in the slut lingerie.
My mind was thinking about things we hadn’t done, but of course my dick was saying, “Yeah, right, in your dreams. Gimme an hour or two.” So to hasten matters along, I linkcast to myself that arousal image which would jumpstart my dick. Not immediately, but maybe in twenty minutes.
I’d never done it more than once, and wondered if it would work a second time just as quickly.
Of course, by that time I would probably be in a state of advanced exhaustion and in no shape to fuck somebody a third time. Still, science is always searching for answers. Someday I’d try it for science.