Adventures of Dirk: the Lady Farmer

Dirk has a sensual encounter with a robust lady farmer.

By Original Aramis. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

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The sun was lying low on the horizon, full dark not more than an hour off, when Dirk pulled his Harley into a parking space in front of the small general store in the center of town. He’d been on the road for two days and was halfway through a four-day trip, and this was just one of a dozen small Midwestern towns he’d passed through in the past 24 hours. They all looked the same after a while, like something out of “The Andy Griffith Show,” but he figured that wasn’t really so bad after all. This town was smaller than most with no more than a dozen buildings lining each side of what he thought was Main Street, and as he looked around he didn’t see what he was looking for.

As he looked up and down both sides of the street he noticed that he was the center of attention, and he certainly understood why - there wasn’t another bike in sight, much less another biker, and he knew that the locals certainly weren’t used to long-haired strangers in old jeans, t-shirts, and leather vests festooned with club patches riding into town on a bike that sounded like thunder on two wheels. He took off his helmet, hung it on the mirror, and then walked towards the wooden door to the general store, stripping off his black leather fingerless gloves as he went.

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The air inside the store was cool, and it was a welcome relief from the heat of the late August afternoon. A bell over the door jingled as he walked in, and a man who must have been the owner looked up at him from behind the counter to Dirk’s left. There was a woman standing on this side of the counter as well, but Dirk didn’t pay much attention to her at first.

“Howdy, stranger,” the man said, sounding like something out of an old Western movie. Dirk smiled a bit as he replied.

“Hey, how are ya,” he said, pulling a red paisley bandana out of his back pocket and wiping his face. “Where are your drink coolers?” he asked, stuffing the bandana back in his pocket.

“Rear of the store to your right,” the man said, pointing in that direction.

“Thanks,” Dirk said, walking towards the coolers, his motorcycle boots clumping on the wooden floor. A few moments later he walked up to the counter and placed two big bottles of Gatorade on the counter. He nodded at the woman next to the counter and gave her a polite smile, and she smiled back. He was considerably taller than her; he stood six feet even, and she was five foot nothing at the most.

“That do it for ya?” the man behind the counter asked. Dirk nodded as he replied.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said as the man rang up the drinks.

“That’ll be three dollars and ten cents,” he said, reaching for a paper bag as Dirk pulled his leather wallet out of his other back pocket, the chain attached to it swinging.

“That’s okay, I don’t need a bag,” Dirk said, pulling a five out of his wallet and handing it to the man. Then he picked up one of the bottles, twisted the cap off, and took a long drink out of it. It was cold and good, and it gave him chills as it went down. He took his change from the man and stuffed it in one of the side pockets of his vest, then took another smaller drink from the bottle before speaking again.

“Is there a motel around here somewhere?” he asked the man behind the counter. “I didn’t see one on the main drag out front.”

“You didn’t see one because they’re ain’t one,” the man replied, smiling at Dirk. “And the closest motel from here is in Junction City, about eighty miles thataway,” the man said, pointing down the road in the direction that Dirk was travelling.

“Great, just freakin’ great,” Dirk muttered. “Another hour and a half on the road…just what I need!”

“You need a place to stay, cowboy?” the woman said, and Dirk turned and looked at her, really seeing her for the first time.

She was short, about five feet tall, with sparkling blue eyes and short red hair worn in a “pageboy” style. She had a slightly round face, small pert nose and nice lips that were spread in a smile showing her white teeth. She was a solid woman, a little more stout than Dirk normally preferred, clad in a loose-fitting cotton long sleeve plaid shirt tucked into jeans that were tight enough to show off the considerable curves of her full, rounded ass and equally full thighs. The shirt was unbuttoned to the second button which showed enough cleavage to give Dirk a good indication of the mountanous breasts that tented out the front of the shirt. Dirk wondered when was the last time this woman saw her feet. It was an effort to tear his eyes away from the huge mounds of her breasts pushing out the front of her shirt, especially with all of the cleavage she was showing, but he managed it.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, nodding at her and giving her a small smile. She smiled back at him even bigger in return. “A barn would be just fine if you got one,” he continued.

“My mother would roll over in her grave at my lack of hospitality if I made a house guest sleep in the barn!” the woman said, laughing. Her huge breasts jiggled in her shirt as she laughed, drawing Dirk’s attention again. “I got a spare room in the back of the house that’s yours if you want it, and you can keep your iron horse out in the barn,” she said, nodding to the bike parked in front of the store.

“I sure appreciate that, ma'am,” Dirk replied, his smile a bit bigger as he spoke. “But don’t you think you’d better check with your husband first? You coming home with a biker for an overnight house guest might not go over too well with him, ya know,” he said. The woman broke out in laughter at this, and the man behind the counter chuckled as well. Dirk gave them both a puzzled look, and then the woman spoke again.

“Well, for starters, cowboy, my name is Pat,” she said, grinning hugely at him and sticking out her hand. He took her hand and shook it; and was surprised to find her grip firm and sure. “If you’re gonna be sleeping under my roof tonight, I think it only right that we know each other’s names, don’t you?”

“Fair enough; my name’s Dirk,” he replied.

“Pleased to meet you, Dirk!” Pat said, her blue eyes sparkling. “And as for the husband, well, there isn’t one, so don’t you worry about that! I threw his ass out years ago, the lazy good-for-nothing bastard! Now it’s just me and Max, my Bassett Hound. I love him to death but he isn’t much on conversation, so it’ll be good to have someone to talk to over dinner tonight,” she said.

“I appreciate your hospitality, Pat, I really do,” Dirk said, relaxing a bit and letting his smile get a little bigger. “But you have to let me pay you for the night or at least buy the food, something to return the favor.” Pat smiled up at him when he said this, and he saw a new, brighter sparkle in her blue eyes as she replied.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll come up with something!” she said. She paused and looked up at him for a moment, grinning at him, then broke eye contact as she walked past him toward the door. “Sun’s going down, so we’d better get a move on,” she said, opening the wooden door to the store. She turned and looked at him as he picked up the second bottle of Gatorade from the counter and turned to follow her. “You can follow me out to the farm; it’s about ten miles south of here so we’ll be there in about fifteen minutes or so.” Then she walked out of the store and over to an old but very well-kept customized Chevy S-10 pickup truck, getting in and starting the engine. Dirk quickly put the other bottle of Gatorade in his saddlebag, threw on his helmet and gloves, then got on the bike and fired it up. She drove out of town with him following behind her, the thunder of his pipes bouncing off of the few buildings there were in the center of town.

Fifteen minutes later Pat turned off of the two-lane county blacktop road onto a dirt driveway that must have been at least a quarter of a mile long. The land on either side of the road was green with soybeans, and sitting at the end of the driveway right in the center of the huge expanse of farmland was a typical midwestern-style wooden white farmhouse with a green roof, green shutters on the windows and a wraparound porch. The house had several large, old oak trees around it, effectively putting the house in the shade for most of the day. Dirk could see the barn rising up behind the house, and he pulled his bike up to the barn as Pat parked the truck in front of the house. He got his bag of belongings out of the left saddlebag and walked around to the front of the house where Pat was waiting for him on the porch. She smiled at him as he walked up the wooden steps to the porch.

“Welcome to ‘Shady Oaks,’ my farm,” Pat said proudly. “I grow the best soybeans in the state here, and am damn proud of it!”

“You work all this land all on your own, Pat?” Dirk asked, looking around at the vast expanse of farmland that surrounded the house. Pat laughed briefly before replying.

“Hell, no! I let the hired help take care of that,” she explained, opening the front door and walking inside with Dirk following her. The inside of the house was dark and cool, just as Dirk imagined it would be. “I just keep the books, write the paychecks for the help, and put the rest of the money in the bank,” Pat said as she walked down the short hallway to the sitting room. Max the Bassett Hound was lying on the couch sleeping, and he slowly lifted his head to look at them as they came in the room. Pat scratched him on the top of his head as she walked past, and then Max dropped his head again and went back to sleep. She stopped in the center of the room and turned to Dirk as she continued. “The spare room is through that door and down the hall, the last room on the right,” she said, pointing down the hallway. “Why don’t you go ahead and drop your gear, maybe wash the road grime from your face while I get started on dinner? The bathroom’s right across the hall from your room,” she said.

“Thanks, Pat, I appreciate that,” Dirk said, smiling at her. “I sure could use a shower; do I have time for that before dinner’s ready?”

“I’ll make sure you do,” Pat said, smiling back. “Now you go on and take care of yourself while I get started on dinner!” Then she turned and walked out of the sitting room, heading for the kitchen. Dirk watched her go, admiring the swinging of her full, rounded ass as she walked. There was something about this woman that both intrigued and excited him, and even though his type was usually the slender blonde with big tits and no brains that could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch, there was something about this short, stout redheaded woman with big tits that he couldn’t deny. He shook his head slightly and then headed for his room to drop his gear and then shower.

When Pat heard the sound of his boots moving down the hallway, she stuck her head around the corner and watched him walk away. She wasn’t sure if it was the long hair, the faded jeans, the muscled build glimpsed beneath his t-shirt, the leather vest with the biker club patches on it, the bike he rode or a combination of all of the above, but Pat knew that there was something about this man that both attracted and excited her. She felt a stirring in her loins whenever she looked at him, and she was feeling it now as she watched his tight ass walking down the hallway. She sighed as he opened the door to his room and went inside, smiling to herself as she started working on dinner.

“I have a feeling this is gonna be a very interesting and exciting evening!” she said to herself, her smile growing bigger.

The shower felt wonderful, and when Dirk was finished he put his jeans back on and got a clean t-shirt out of his bag, putting that on as well. He thought about putting his boots back on but decided not to; he had a feeling that Pat wouldn’t mind the informality of it all. He also had a feeling he’d only be taking them off again later anyway, and not to go to bed. He walked out of the room barefoot, the aroma of dinner cooking on the stove filling the hallway and the rest of the house.

“Smells great, Pat,” he said, walking into the kitchen.

“And it tastes just as good!” she replied, smiling up at him. “Everything’s ready, so have a seat at the table and let’s eat,” she said.

An hour later the meal was finished, the table cleared of dishes and the two of them were sitting at the table with a bottle of beer each. Dirk had suggested coffee but Pat had suggested beer instead, and Dirk readily agreed. He wasn’t really much of a coffee drinker anyhow, and after the long, hot day he spent in the saddle he could use a beer or two. He took a drink from the long necked bottle, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Pat was watching him intently. She’d been eyeing him all through the meal, and he had to admit that he’d been eyeing her as well. Then he set the bottle down on the table in front of him and spoke.

“That was one hell of a meal, Pat,” he said, and Pat smiled as she took a pull from her own bottle. “Best I’ve had in a long time, and I sure do appreciate you cooking it for me and giving me a place to stay for the night.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Dirk, I’m glad you enjoyed it!” she replied, smiling at him. “It’s been a long time since I had the chance to cook for a good-looking man like yourself, so believe me when I tell you that the pleasure was all mine,” she said.

“So how can I repay you for your hospitality?” Dirk asked, sitting forward and resting his elbows on the table. “You’ve got to let me do something for you, you know.” Pat leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table as well, creating about a mile of cleavage for Dirk to admire.

“Like I said before, I’m sure you can come up with something,” Pat said in a quiet voice, her blue eyes looking deep into his as she smiled a slightly seductive, slightly wicked smile at him. Her choice of words was not lost on Dirk, and he felt a smile creep across his face.

“Are you flirting with me, Pat?” he asked.

“Yep,” she replied, still smiling that smile at him, and he could have sworn that she pushed her arms together slightly to create more cleavage for him to admire. “Is it working?” she asked.

“Yep,” he replied, looking intently at her across the table. Her smile got bigger and more wicked.

“Then why are we sitting here wasting time, when we could be in my room fucking our brains out?” she said, still smiling at Dirk who was more than a little surprised at her candor. Surprised and aroused, that is; he felt his cock twitch at her words.

“Good question,” Dirk replied, feeling his cock begin to grow in his jeans.

“Then let’s go!” Pat said, getting up from her chair, grinning broader than ever. Dirk put his beer on the table and started to get up, but before he could Pat walked over to him and leaned over to kiss him, taking his head in her hands and planting her soft lips on his. The kiss was hot and intense, and it was apparent from the way Pat invaded his mouth with her tongue that this woman was more than ready to get down to some serious business. Dirk felt his cock begin to harden in his jeans, and it grew even more when Pat’s hand dropped to his lap and squeezed his shaft.

“imm, nice!” Pat said in a low voice, breaking the kiss and smiling at him. “I can’t wait to suck on this and then smother it with my big tits!”

“Speaking of which,” Dirk said, glancing down at her huge tits beneath the shirt and then looking back up at her. Pat got the hint and quickly pulled her shirt out of her jeans and began unbuttoning it. She opened the shirt to reveal her massive mounds encased in a semi-sheer bra, and Dirk wondered how it was strong enough to contain her obviously heavy breasts. The bra clasped in the front, and Pat quickly unhooked the clasp and pulled the two cups away from her tits, revealing them to Dirk. They were huge, round and full, swinging with their weight, the nipples hard as two pencil erasers and surrounded by large, pale pink areolas. Pat grabbed them in her hands and squeezed them together, then leaned forward and pushed them against Dirk’s face.

Dirk slid his arms around her waist as he latched on to one of her nipples, and Pat moaned as he sucked hard on the nub. She could feel her pussy getting wetter by the moment as Dirk sucked on first one and then the other nipple, and when he reached up to grasp her mounds in his hands she let them go and dropped her hand back down to his cock, rubbing and squeezing the big lump there. Dirk squeezed her huge tits hard, pressing them together as he sucked on her nipples and making Pat moan loudly.

“Let’s go, cowboy,” Pat said, breathing a bit faster as she pulled her tits away from Dirk’s grasp and face. “If we don’t get to my room right now I’m liable to fuck you right here on the kitchen table!” She grabbed his hand and nearly yanked him out of his chair, leading him down the hallway to her room.

Once in her room she led him over to the big four poster bed, then turned to face him as she stripped off her shirt and bra that were both just hanging from her shoulders. She looked at Dirk with obvious lust in her eyes, and her eyes widened a bit when Dirk slipped off his shirt and she saw his muscled torso for the first time. She quickly unfastened her jeans and stepped out of them, her huge, heavy breasts swinging with her movements. She tossed the jeans aside and stood naked before Dirk, breathing heavy with excitement. She watched as he unfastened his own jeans and pushed them down over his hips and down his legs, her smile growing bigger when she saw his hard cock for the first time.

“Nice cock, Dirk!” she said, smiling up at him. Then she walked over and dropped to her knees in front of him, reaching out and grasping his cock in her hand and gripping it tightly. She cupped his balls with her other hand as she pumped his cock once or twice, then opened her mouth and slid her lips over the head. It was obvious that she was in no mood for formalities and was eager to get right down to business as she slid her mouth all the way down the hard shaft, her soft, wet tongue sliding along the underside of his cock as she quickly deep-throated his entire length and sucked on it. She squeezed and massaged his balls as she sucked on his cock, her head bobbing up and down the length as she worked the shaft in and out of her mouth.

“Damn, and she deep-throats, too!” Dirk said as he watched her working on his cock. She looked up at him and smiled as she continued sucking his cock, then released it from her mouth after a few more strokes.

“And I swallow, too!” she said, pumping his cock as she spoke, “But that’s for later; right now I want you to tif-fuck me before I fuck you!” She stood up and turned, walking the few steps over to the bed and climbing onto the big mattress. She lay on her back, her head on the pillows, then grabbed her huge mounds and pushed them together as she looked at Dirk.

“Now bring that cock over here and let me wrap my big tits around it!” she said, and Dirk obliged. He climbed onto the bed and then straddled Pat’s body, moving into position with his cock hovering over her mammoth tits. She held them apart as Dirk pressed his cock down, then clapped them together around his shaft. His cock disappeared from view between her huge tits, and she held them together tightly around his shaft. Dirk could feel the precum flowing from the tip of his cock, and he started moving his cock up and down between the massive globes to spread the slippery fluid around and make fucking her tits easier.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it,” Pat said, looking down at the head of his cock as it appeared at the top of her tits with each thrust. “Fuck my tits, baby, fuck my big tits!” Then she lowered her head down and licked the head of his cock as it appeared with each thrust, the valley between her tits now slippery with his precum. His cock was sliding easily between her huge tits as she squeezed them around his cock, her tongue licking the head with each thrust. Dirk pushed harder and forced his cock further out of her cleavage, and she immediately clamped her lips around the head and sucked hard. Dirk held his cock still for a moment to let her work on his cock with her lips and tongue, then resumed stroking her big tits.

“Yeah, baby, just like that!” Pat said in a husky voice, looking up at him as he tit-fucked her. “You like fucking my big tits, Dirk?” she asked. “You like the way that feels, my big tits wrapped around your hard cock?”

“Absolutely,” Dirk replied as he continued thrusting, reaching down to pull and tug on her hard nipples as he moved. “But I bet your pussy feels better,” he said.

“So why don’t you find out?” she said, and Dirk did just that. He slid his cock from between her huge tits and moved down her body as she opened her stout thighs for him. He could see that her closely-trimmed pussy was already wet, the outer lips glistening as she spread her legs wide for him. She gripped her big tits hard in her hands, pulling and tugging on the nipples as he placed the head of his cock against her opening. He slid the head inside, feeling the hot, silky wetness of her tunnel gripping him, and then she threw her legs around his waist and drove her heels into his ass, driving his cock into her pussy. She moaned loudly as his cock penetrated her hot, slick, tight pussy, and Dirk pushed harder to drive his cock balls-deep into her clutching pussy.

“Ahhh, God yes!” Pat cried out, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as his cock impaled her. “That feels so good!” she said, lowering her head after a moment and opening her eyes to look at Dirk who was supporting himself over her with his hands on either side of her. “You like the way my pussy feels around your cock, Dirk?” she asked, squeezing his shaft with her inner muscles.

“Your pussy feels fantastic!” Dirk replied. “Very hot, very wet, and very tight!”

“The benefits of not having gone through childbirth,” Pat said, smiling up at him as she settled her legs tightly around his waist. “My pussy is just as tight now as it was when I was a teenager,” she said, “and now I want you to fuck me, cowboy, hard and fast!”

“I can do that,” Dirk replied, grinning back at her.

He began thrusting then, sliding his hard cock in and out of her tight pussy in long, hard, deep strokes. He knew that she wanted to be fucked hard, no formalities, just some good old-fashioned fucking, and he was just the man for the job. She squeezed her big tits together as he pounded his cock in and out of her, his hips banging against hers and his balls slapping against her ample ass as he fucked her. He lowered his head down to her massive chest and she held a big breast up for him, then gasped as he sucked the nipple into his mouth without stopping or slowing his thrusts. When he released the hard nub from his mouth she lowered her head and brought the hard nub up to her lips, clamping her own lips around it and sucking on it as Dirk continued to thrust in and out of her pussy. They took turns sucking on each nipple one at a time, and Dirk could feel her legs tightening around his waist and her pussy tightening around his cock. He knew she was getting ready to cum, and he knew that once she did that would set him off as well.

“You keep that up, Pat, and you’re gonna make me cum,” he said, continuing his thrusts.

“That’s the idea, cowboy,” she said breathlessly, “Besides, we have the whole night ahead of us, you know, so why don’t you go ahead and fill me up with your cum and make me cum, too?”

“I can do that,” Dirk said again, both of them grinning. Dirk let himself go then, shoving his cock harder and faster in and out of Pat’s tight, wet pussy, and her mouth fell open slightly as he fucked her harder and faster. She tightened her legs around his waist and squeezed hard, clamping down on his cock with her pussy just as hard, and it had the desired effect.

A few moments later she heard Dirk cry out as his cock exploded inside her pussy, pumping and throbbing as stream after stream of hot, thick cum blasted out of the tip of his cock and filled her pussy to overflowing. She came immediately after he did, crying out loudly as her orgasm exploded deep inside her pussy. She gripped her big tits hard, the fingers digging into the soft flesh as the waves of pleasure rocked her body from head to toe, and she squeezed her legs tight around Dirk’s waist as she continued to cum. She could feel his cock still pumping and throbbing inside her as he continued to cum, still thrusting through his orgasm.

Dirk drove in deep and hard, holding his cock deep inside Pat’s clutching pussy as the final streams of cum shot out of his cock, and he looked down at her face as her own orgasm ran its course. When it was finally all over they were both left gasping and panting for breath, Dirk covered in a fine layer of sweat. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, a very satisfied look on her face as she slowly relaxed her legs around his waist. She kept them locked around him to hold him in place, gently pushing her heels against his ass to push his slowly softening cock deeper inside her as the final sensations of her orgasm faded away.

“Oh my God, I needed that!” she said, smiling up at him. “You have no idea just how bad I needed that!”

“How long has it been, Pat?” he asked, holding himself still between her legs.

“Too long,” she said, “longer than I care to think about.”

“I’m glad I came along, then,” Dirk said, grinning down at her. She grinned back as she replied.

“Not as glad as I am, cowboy,” she said, “and you’re gonna be a lot more glad by the time morning rolls around, too! Like I said, we got all night ahead of us, and I’m gonna wear you out!”

“You are, huh?” Dirk said, smiling down at her.

“Damn right I am,” she said, reaching up and grabbing Dirk’s head to pull his mouth down to hers. She kissed him hard and deep, her tongue snaking into his mouth as she squeezed his semi-hard cock with her pussy muscles. He could feel his cock start to harden again, and a few moments later he was lying on his back with Pat on top of him, her huge tits bouncing as she rode his cock hard on her way to another orgasm for the both of them.

It was a very long and very enjoyable night for the both of them, and Pat made good on her promise to wear him out. Dirk couldn’t remember when he’d been fucked that hard, that long, and that many times in one night. When Dirk rode away from Shady Oaks the next morning he did so with a smile on his face and a promise to stop by on his way home.

He’d be a fool not to.

By Original Aramis for Literotica

https://archive.org/download/summer-poolboy-benefits-4/Summer-Poolboy-Benefits-3.mp3

Summer Poolboy Benefits: Part 3

Creative Workplace Morale Boosting

By Tx Tall Tales – Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I got the pressure washer out and cleaned the area around the lip of the pool, then worked on the tile rim. I spent a good bit of the time watching her reading a book while she got some more sun. Naked looked good on Amy.

The ping of her phone getting text messages, and her constant responses had me wondering who she was communicating with, and if I was part of that conversation. "Poolboy, could you come over here a second?"

I walked over and was surprised to see her hold up her phone, back pointed toward me. "That was all, thanks. And let me know if you need my help with anything."

I was putting away the pressure washer when she came over to help me. "Looks like you could use some attention," she told me, with a meaningful glance below my waist.

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"Lotion first?"

"Sure, but make it quick. No fooling around, Ok? And take your shorts off first."

"Got it." It only took me a couple of minutes to get her nice and slippery again. I still spent more time on her ass and tits than was absolutely necessary, but she didn't give me too hard a time over it.

This time she had me sit on a chair, and pulled one of the cushions off so she could kneel on it, at my feet. I had only been semi-hard, but the act of rubbing her all over, and her sexy positioning had its expected effect.

"Sorry about that last one, you were driving me crazy," she explained, taking my cock in her hand and stroking me slowly.

"I wasn't complaining."

"No. I guess not. Still, I thought we could be a little more playful this time. Not be in such a rush."

"Sounds good to me."

"There's something I was thinking about. I thought maybe you'd like it."

"I imagine you're right, whatever it is."

"Good." She reached out for the tanning lotion and squirted a lot at the top of her cleavage. She rubbed it around, then leaned forward, wrapping her tits around my cock. She pushed them together and moved them up and down, sometimes together, sometimes separately. "What do you think?"

I groaned, holding her shoulders and thrusting between her soft mounds. "I think you are amazing," I groaned.

"You like it?" she whispered shyly.

"Incredible."

She watched me, smiling sweetly, while her pillowy breasts pleasured me. I had never done anything like it before, but I swore by all that was Holy, I'd be doing it again.

"Is it exciting you? Can you come for me like this?"

"Definitely."

"Do you want to hold them? Fuck my tits with your big fat cock? Tell me what you want."

I couldn't even get any words out. I grabbed her soft tits, squeezing them together, and thrusting up between them. I spread my legs as wide as possible, allowing her to get closer. She giggled when she applied a new layer of lotion to her smooth channel. It was different, oily and slippery as hell.

"That stuff is good," I gasped.

"Fuck my tits, Alex. Use me," she whispered huskily.

It only took me a minute or so longer to reach the point of no return. "Where?" I gasped.

"Right there. Come for me Alex. Come on my tits."

With a groan, I acceded to her command.

She giggled, and rubbed my cock all over the mess I'd made of her, spreading my cum around her skin. "I like to feel it on me, feel it harden under the sun, tightening, clinging to my skin." She blushed. "When you told me you came 5 times thinking about me, all I could imagine was laying out in the sun, while you covered me with your spunk over and over again, my skin tingling wherever you coated me."

I laughed. "That's a fantasy I think I wouldn't mind working on. I could save up for a few days, and see how many times I could come for you, back to back to back, marking you as mine."

Her hands moved up to her chest, fingers rubbing at my sticky cum. "You do that for me, and I promise I'll find something equally as wild to do for you."

After our break I went around the inside of the pool removing each of the water outlets, which took some doing, and re-seating each one after cleaning them. I aimed them upward just enough so that the water would break the surface. I inspected the entire surface, brushing away any last remnants of embedded algae, and working on the calcium deposits where the tile met the gunnite. I took my brush to the outside of each of the pool lights, then decided to test them.

Dead. Both of them.

"Whatcha doing?"

I looked around and Amy was watching me. "Your pool lights are out."

"Oh. Yeah, they haven't worked in a while."

"Anything else not working I should know about?" I may have said it a little more abruptly than I intended.

"Not really. I mean, nothing I can think of."

"It would help if you told me about everything. It would save a few trips to the store."

She pouted. "You're not mad at me are you?"

"Not mad. But you do need to start paying some attention to the pool if you want to enjoy it."

"I know. I'm sorry, but at least I'll have you to help me all summer, won't I?"

"Of course. But if I find out anything else is wrong, I may put you over my knee and give you a reminder."

She giggled. "Would you like to do that? Paddle my bottom? I deserve it."

"Maybe I should."

"As long as you promise to kiss it better after," she said softly.

With her bent over my lap, both of us naked, it only took me about a dozen smacks to have her buns nice and pink. I held her firmly in my lap, and administered a couple more for good measure.

"Ow, please Alex, that's enough, it stings," she whined.

"Its supposed to, naughty girl. How else will you remember to do what you're supposed to. Bad girls need guidance."

She was squirming and fighting me, but I could hear the excitement in her voice. Each new smack earned a small gasp, as she turned and twisted to escape the worst of each new blow. "Please! I'll be good, I promise. Let me be good for you."

I slid my hand between her legs and patted her pussy, short firm little slaps that turned out to be surprisingly wet. "I'm sorry!" she cried, squirming deliciously. I slid my fingers into her soaked pussy, making her cry out. She opened her legs, and I hammered at her pussy, two fingers pounding away inside of her.

"Please, Alex. Not like this. Don't make me come like this, it's embarrassing," she moaned.

I reached my opposite hand across her body, and started pushing my finger tip against her little brown rose bud. "No, Alex, that's dirty, stop, please."

"Who was the naughty little girl?" I asked, my fingertip slowly working inside of her.

"I was."

"And what happens to naughty little girls?"

"They're punished."

"That's right. They're spanked, and man-handled, and they come when they're told."

She couldn't hold still, and moaned sweetly when my finger slid into her ass to the second knuckle. With my other hand, I added a third finger and pumped her pussy hard.

"You're very wet, aren't you? What kind of a nasty girl gets this wet from playing with her bottom? You're a dirty little girl, aren't you?"

She moaned. "Yes. I'm a dirty, nasty, filthy girl."

"What do I need to do to make my dirty girl come for me?"

"Just don't stop," she whimpered, writhing under my touch.

I pushed my finger deeper into her ass, pumping it in and out, while my other hand was pushing, pumping, twisting inside of her pussy. I felt the trembling start, then uncontrollable quivering. Her legs were stretched out, muscles rock hard. She cried out, ass cheeks clenching, coming hard for me. I eased my fingers out of her, and rubbed her pink cheeks gently.

She climbed slowly off of my lap, then crawled over to the lounge. She knelt down on it, raising her bottom up, and lowering her head to the cushion. "Kiss it better?" she asked piteously.

I knelt behind her, bestowing kisses all over her soft cheeks, before I opened her up. I stuck out my tongue and slowly licked around her tight rear hole, probing it gently.

She gave me a soft little moan.

"Dirty girl."

"Dirty," she whispered.

I spread her cheeks wider, stretching them painfully outward, while my daring tongue probed deeper, feeling her tight hole slowly stretch open for me. "Sweet Jesus," she gasped, when I pushed it in hard, moving it around.

I eased back, kissing her softly. "We're going to have to play here some more," I teased her. She shuddered, and I saw her ass-hole twitch and dilate. "Naughty little girl."

I moved lower and kissed her abused pussy, licking her gently, kissing her. I gently massaged her ass cheeks while my tongue apologized to her profusely for the punishment she'd had to endure. She trembled sweetly, her legs shaking, while I worked at her, determined to provide her one more release. She was practically crying, when I felt the weak little shudder run through her. I gave her pussy a last few kisses, before fondling those sweet ass cheeks.

She sighed, "Thank you."

"All better?"

"Much."

She moved away from me, turning around. "That. Was. Intense."

"Not too much?"

"Oh my God! I don't know when I've ever come that hard. Please tell me that you're hard."

"As carbon steel."

"Lay down."

I did, watching her kneel between my legs. She started stroking me, then brought her face closer and closer. I watched in amazement as she started rubbing my cock against her face, across her lips, even up to her eyes. I groaned when she opened her eyes and extended her tongue, licking my entire length.

"I want to make you come with my tongue."

I groaned as she started licking me all over, her hand stroking me when she began licking the head. She licked all around the crown, her tongue gentle one moment, then flicking out against me the next. She'd kiss the crown a couple of times, then run her tongue all around me, her hand slowly stroking. She was driving me crazy.

"God that's good."

She sat up looking at me, her hand stroking me sweetly. "You like? Making me a slave to your beautiful cock? Making me lick it and kiss it, fighting the slut inside of me who wants to devour you and make you shoot your nasty load down my throat. Do you wonder how much longer I'll be able to resist these desires? I do. It's so hard holding back. I want to surrender totally, become your total sex slave. Would you still want me, if you knew what a total filthy slut I am deep inside?"

She went back to my cock, her tongue working at me fiercely, twisting, turning, licking, teasing. She was absolutely amazing, and it was killing me. I could feel the tell-tale pressure building at the base of my balls, and my body tensed in anticipation.

"Are you going to come for me, baby? Come all over my pretty face? If you do I'll lick you clean."

I pulled away from her and got up on my knees just in time. She leaned her head back, holding her tongue out for me. It only took a couple of strokes for me to erupt over her beautiful forehead, nose and cheeks. She reached out and took my cock in her hand, licking me, squeezing the last few drops out onto her tongue. Then she took my cock and rubbed it all over her face, coating it in my cum, before she licked me clean again.

"I'm not too dirty for you, am I Alex?" she asked softly.

"You are a dream come true, Amy. Literally."

She smiled, giving me one last long lick before lowering her mouth over the head of my cock and sucking on it. She pulled back pouting, "All empty."

She sat up abruptly. "So, poolboy. Don't you have an errand to run?"

I stood up on shaky legs, and looked for my shorts. She laid back on the lounge, grinning at me. "Hurry back, baby. It's after four. If you're quick, we might be able to get in one last playtime before the Lord and Master gets home."

It only took me about 5 minutes to open the light fixtures, and pull out the old bulbs. I was back in less than an hour, two new pool lights in hand.

I entered the backyard, looking for my pool Goddess. I was about to call out for her, when she opened the back door. She was dressed in her bikini, with a sheer cover over it. She opened her eyes wide upon seeing me, and shook her head quickly. Right behind her Mrs. Thomas came out into the backyard, holding a drink in her hand. She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt.

"You're sure I'm not interrupting anything?" the newcomer asked, looking over at me.

"You know Alex - Marcy's boy. He's cleaning the pool for Saturday's barbecue." Amy turned to me. "How'd the errand go?"

"Great. They had the lights in stock. I'm going to install them now."

"You know Jenna, right?" she asked.

"Of course. Nice to see you Mrs. Thomas."

"Please, call me Jenna. I didn't know you did pool work, Alex. I may have to have you over. Our hot-tub isn't working. Do you work on hot-tubs?"

"Sure. If you'd like I could check into it on Monday."

"That would be wonderful. Don't let us get in your way, pretend like we're not even here." While she said that, she put her drink down and peeled off her shirt, exposing an almost non-existent bikini top. "You have the best yard, Amy. The west exposure is perfect. And so private."

I tried to ignore them as politely as possible. I took off my shoes and shirt and climbed into the pool. The new water was still only knee high in the deep end. I carefully inserted the new bulb using a rag, and closed up the housing, carefully aligning the lens, gasket and housing. Didn't want to have to do it over. Two more screws and it was firmly reattached to the pool wall.

Going to the shallow end of the pool, I peeked up over the ledge, where I could see the ladies were laying out, their legs pointed toward me, both open enough to give me a nice view. I could hear them talking. I sat down to work on the light, while listening.

"You've been holding out on me," Jenna said teasingly.

"How?"

"You've got yourself a nice bit of eye candy, a hunky young pool boy. Is he full service?"

"Shh! Behave yourself," Amy whispered.

"Come on. I know I couldn't keep my hands off that. Please tell me you're getting something off of him. A little afternoon delight?"

"God! He's just a boy, Jenna," Amy said softly.

"Hardly. Did you see that package on him? I'd like to invite that thing to come out and play. Say, do you think he'd do my back?"

Amy giggled. "He does do lotion, if you ask nicely."

Apparently that was all she had to hear. "Alex? You almost done with those lights?"

I moved away from the wall back toward the deep end, to hide my eavesdropping. "Just a couple of more minutes."

"When you're done, could you be a darling and put lotion on my back? I wouldn't want to burn."

"Of course. Gimme a minute to make sure everything's working." I went back and finished the install of the second light, returned to the breakers and turned on the fuse, then gave each light a brief test. Working like a charm. Things really were going smoothly.

Jenna was trouble. No doubt about it. When I turned to the ladies, I saw that she was topless. Big round fake boobs, sitting like ripe melons on her chest. Not that I had problems with soft, yummy melons.

She had sunglasses on, but her head turned toward me as I approached. She stretched, making damned sure I got an eye-full, then rolled over. "Thank you so much, Alex."

She had a bottle of bronzing lotion next to her. I picked it up and squirted it into my hands. "You have a great tan for so early in the season."

"Tanning booth. It gave me a head start. I've been trying to talk Amy into going."

Amy's tan, though not as dark, I thought was much better. A nice smooth golden tone, bikini lines showing the sharp contract of her hidden white skin.

I started on Jenna's shoulders and smoothed the oil into her skin, giving her a nice little massage at the same time, squeezing and kneading her muscles. I continued down her arms and started rubbing her back.

"Make sure you get the sides, sweetie. The tanning beds are lousy for the sides, and I'd hate to get burned."

I added some more oil, and let my hands slowly drift down her sides. Her breasts were pushed out from the pressure of lying on them, and I slid my fingers down and around them, feeling their softness.

"That's perfect, sugar, be as thorough as you can."

I reached further, rubbing her tits from the sides, up across the top, and on the bottoms. She raised her body up a bit, inviting more. I slid my hands underneath them, feeling the roughness of her nipples against my fingers. "Mmm, you're good at this," she sighed.

I gave her a couple of more good squeezes, even pinching her nipples between my fingers, before I returned to her back. She settled back down as I covered her lower back. When I reached the swell of her hips I rolled her bottoms halfway down her ass, before rubbing the oil in. She sighed contentedly. I let my hands wander under the material, giving her tight little ass a thorough massage. My motions pushed the material even lower, and she lifted her hips letting them slide downward. With her firm little ass completely exposed, I sat on the lounge beside her, and played to my heart's content, while she cooed contentedly.

Rolling the material back into place I started on her upper thighs. She reached back and pulled her bottoms up tight into her crack. I took the hint and massaged her ass some more, even reaching into her crack and teasing her a bit.

"Remind me to wear a thong next time I'm over," Jenna giggled.

"Jenna!" Amy tried to act shocked.

Jenna opened her legs and I oiled both of them from top to bottom and then back up again, working along the inside of her legs on the return. When I reached the top I pulled the material on her ass back in place, then reached between her legs and tugged the material aside so I could rub the oil over her bald pussy. She cocked one knee open wide, and I slid my fingers along her moist opening, easing my middle finger into her. "God, Amy. This one's a keeper."

I probed her for a few seconds, until I was afraid that Amy could hear the squishy sounds of her wet pussy, with two fingers working her diligently. I started to pull out.

"Just a little more, please, baby?" she pleaded.

I moved up on her body, my fingers still playing inside of her, taking a few moments out now and then to tease her swollen clit, while my other hand rested on her upper back and shoulders, softly caressing her.

"Oh," she gasped softly, and I felt the spasming of her pussy around my wet digits. I felt her relax totally, and I carefully adjusted her bottom.

I leaned over her and pressed my lips against her neck. "Let me know if I can do anything else for you, Jenna."

"Monday," she said softly. "Promise me you'll come over Monday."

"Of course," I told her, giving her bottom a soft pat. "How about you, Amy? Can I do your back for you?"

"Would you?"

"I'd love to." I moved over beside her, getting the lotion and starting in on her shoulders. I took my time carefully covering her back, rubbing the sides of her breasts, making sure to take good care of her nice round bubble ass, and doing a thorough job on her legs. I did take a few liberties between her legs as well, but she was much better at hiding it.

I leaned over and whispered in her ear, "God, I want you right now."

She whimpered slightly, while I pushed my fingers deep inside of her. "Later, I promise," she breathed into my ear.

I only wanted to get her worked up, not give her any release. When I had her squirming, I pulled out of her, and adjusted her suit as well.

"Better get back to work," I finally explained, wiping my hands clean. "The boss here is a real hard-ass."

That got a giggle out of both of them.

I had barely started in taking the automatic cleaner apart when I heard the car pull into the driveway. "Asshole's home," Jenna griped.

"Jenna, don't."

"Whatever." She stood up and put on her top, watching me watch her. Afterward she pulled on her shorts and shirt, then stopped by the table I was working at. "Don't forget me, sugar. Stop by Monday, there's so much I've got for you to do." She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the O," she whispered.

Amy was back in her cover-up, and came over to get her friend. "Let's go, trouble."

"Who, moi?"

"Yes, you."

They disappeared into the house, leaving me alone to work on the cleaner, and trying to ignore the painful hardon in my shorts.

I was left by myself for a good while. I disassembled the cleaner and hit the store for $60 in replacement parts. I finished cleaning the parts, lubed and reassembled the bottom vacuum. I wouldn't know if it worked until tomorrow, but had a pretty good feeling about it. It had been gummed up pretty bad on the inside, but everything seemed in good shape.

Dale showed up as I was just putting in the last screws. He walked over to the pool and looked in. "I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it for myself. It looks practically new."

"It's coming along. Tomorrow we'll add the chemicals, adjust the skimmers and cleaner, and finish labeling all the filter lines. I think it'll be fine for you party."

"Damn, you're a hard worker, Alex. Amy didn't get in your way much, did she?"

"Not at all. She even helped with the acid wash, spraying down the sides for me."

"Good for you, putting her to work. I should have had you take pictures. Nice to see her doing something other than shopping and laying about. I saw that Jenna was over. Not too much trouble from her?"

"No sir. She wasn't here that long, and I was out getting supplies when she came over."

"Watch out for her. She'll eat you alive. But not a bad way to go, especially if you can reign her in. Stay away if she's drinking, or you'll end up with a lot of explaining to do, trust me on that one."

"Thanks for the warning. I'm going to be working on her hot-tub next week."

"Good for you. Just remember, she's lousy at keeping secrets." He put his hand on my shoulder again, giving it a squeeze. "She might be tempting, but you're a whole lot better off sticking with the freshmen." He laughed at his own joke, before disappearing back indoors.

I think Jenna had it right. Asshole.

My work done for the day, I was putting away the tools, when Amy came out. "How's it going?" she asked.

"Done for the day. You'll need to let the pool fill all night. You might want to turn off one of the hoses before you go to bed, and check the level first thing in the morning."

"Got it. Before you go, can you show me how to turn the lights on in the pool?"

I figured she knew, but she probably wanted to get away from the house and any prying ears. "Sure, it's at the pool panel."

The pool equipment was behind a privacy wall at the end of the yard. As soon as we were around the corner, she was dropping to her knees, tugging at my shorts. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I had no idea she was going to drop in." Her hand was already around my cock, stroking me to hardness.

"She's a bit wild, isn't she?" I asked.

Amy gave my cock a long lick. "A little out of control. Careful with her. And if you fuck her, use protection. No telling where she's been. You should know that anything you do with her will probably be known to half the neighborhood before the week is out."

"So your husband told me."

"Don't remind me. I can't believe I'm still friends with her; she's screwed him at least twice that I know of."

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.

"Don't be. Jenna's right, he is an asshole. Even she wouldn't fuck him unless she was three sheets to the wind."

She had me hard, and was pumping me like there was no tomorrow. "Can you come for me, Alex? I don't have much time."

"Lick me again?"

"I think I can do better than that." She moved her mouth over my cock and slid the head between her lips.

I hated the fact that it was almost pitch black where we were. I wanted to see that beautiful face full of my cock. I held her head and eased my cock in and out of her mouth, while her tongue did wonders inside that sexy mouth.

She held me in her hand, stroking me while she bobbed her head up and down on my cock, taking most of my length, bouncing me off the back of her throat. I groaned my enjoyment.

She pulled back for a moment. "Jesus, you got hard fast, Alex. You like my mouth, I take it."

"Don't stop," I groaned, pulling her face back to my aching cock.

She sucked me with abandon, her hand stroking me, her mouth driving me crazy. I thought I'd shoot immediately after she first took me in, but the first urge had subsided, and I was enjoying this unimaginable first blow job. I leaned back against the privacy wall thrusting my hips out so she could continue her brazen act.

She found a rhythm I responded too, and worked me steadily. I felt like one of those carnival games, where you squirted water into the clowns face, making a bar raise until you popped a balloon. She had found the target and the bar was rising quickly. I was going to pop any minute.

"I'm almost there," I warned her.

She stroked me faster, holding the head in her mouth, her tongue working my sensitive crown over. I couldn't hold back even if I'd wanted to. I stifled a groan and let loose, filling her devilish mouth. She continued sucking on me, swallowing my seed, and keeping at it until I softened in her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she said, standing up and brushing off her knees. "I was going to save that for the end, but I couldn't stand the idea of I lifted her chin and kissed her. "Best day of my life, Amy. Without compare."

"Good. Let's see if we can't make tomorrow even better."

I turned to walk away, but she pulled me back. "Touch me? Just a little."

She was wearing shorts, but they had big open legs. I reached up inside of them and found out she wasn't wearing panties. I held her in my arm, while I slid two fingers inside of her. "God, I love your tight little pussy."

"If I let you have your way, I don't imagine I'd be tight for long."

"I guess we'll have to see about that," I told her, thrusting deep inside.

"I guess we will," she said softly, pulling my head down for a long hard kiss.

Dad and Mom were in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. "How's the project going?" Mom asked.

"Like a charm. The pool looks almost brand new, and we're refilling it as we speak."

"Did you get a chance to eat?"

Only one of your best friends. "I had a sandwich at lunch, but I'm starving."

"You'd figure she'd at least feed you, with all you're doing for her. Oh well. There's plenty of spaghetti in the fridge. There's meat sauce and meatballs. Leave some of the meatballs for Dad's lunch."

Looked like Dad was in a talkative mood. "Make sure you do a good job. Even if the pay isn't the greatest, you still give it your best. You never know where your next referral will come from."

"I don't think we'll hear any complaints from them. They seem ecstatic so far."

"That's good. Finish strong though. Anybody can start strong. Finishing strong makes winners."

That's my Dad for you. A never ending source of inspiration work ethic mumbo-jumbo.

He'd shot his wad with that last one, and parked his ass in front of the TV. Baseball time.

Mom hovered over me while I ate. "You're sure everything's going well? I haven't heard from Amy since she called. I thought I would have heard something by now."

"I guess she's been busy with the party. She's been in and out running errands. And Mrs. Thomas was over this afternoon."

"Still, it's surprising. We talk almost every day."

I shrugged. "What do I know? I'm just the underpaid hired help."

Mom sighed. "Don't get an attitude. We need to get you a cell-phone. We had a couple of calls about work, but I didn't want to call you on their phone. The Beales over on Hickory want to replace their fence. They want an estimate."

I sighed, pushing away the empty plate which Mom rushed over to the sink for a quick rinse before putting it in the dishwasher. Heaven forbid we have a dirty dish in her kitchen for more than 30 seconds.

"Tell them I can stop by Sunday and take measurements. I'm going upstairs and take a shower. I feel grubby."

"Alright. And thanks for doing this one for me. I appreciate it, and I'm sure Amy does."

"No problem, Mom. I'm glad I could help."

I was exhausted. Physically, mentally and sexually. After my shower I hit the bed. I thought about what tomorrow might bring, but when I started to get hard, I pushed the thoughts aside. Not tonight. I was saving up for the real thing. I had high hopes for Friday.

To be continued.

By Tx Tall Tales for Literotica

Sexual Equity: Orientation

An orientation to the obligations of Sexual Equity.

by oolonroosevelt. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

image

Forward: About New Dorset.

New Dorset is an island, and nation-state, in the northeast Pacific. Located 450 km southwest of the Baja California peninsula, it is the largest territory (other than Antarctica) to have no native population when first discovered by Europeans. It was first discovered in 1533 by Spanish explorers, but no Spanish presence was ever established, and it was disputed between Spain and Britain until Spain withdrew its claim in 1815. It was colonized by the British beginning in the early 1800s, and given its independence along with other British dominions in 1931.

New Dorset is a constitutional monarchy with a parliamentary government, with a constitution in broad terms similar to that of the United Kingdom and many former British colonies, but governed under the unique principles of Sexual Equity.

[[MORE]]

New Dorset has 8,671,074 inhabitants. and the capitol is Dorchester.

The Duchies, or provinces are:

Bathurst, whose capitol is also Dorchester, has 832,092.
Wilmot-Horton, whose capitol is Portsmouth, has 2.046,189.
Goderich, whose capitol is Poole, has 1,100,280.
Deltaland, whose capitol is Stafford, has 1,195,146.
Alicia, whose capitol is Taylorville, has 1,024,764.
Helenia, whose capitol is Jenkins, has 1,040,141.
Louisia, whose capitol is Kibblewhite, has 537,428.
Beatricia, whose capitol is Packman, has 895,034.

Orientation begins:

Twelve women in the their twenties and thirties, dressed in pantsuits or blazers and skirts, file in to the conference room and sit around the table. At first, they talk of their journeys here to the capital; soon he discussion turns to constituency office staffing and committee assignments. Finally an older woman, about fifty, comes in, wearing a “State Service Office” badge on a lanyard.

“Hello. Welcome to State Service Orientation. I’m Rebecca Upston, the Parliamentary Commissioner for State Service. Angela, who usually does new officeholder orientation, is off today, so you get me; I’m the head of the program. Thanks for coming on time. I know this seems uncomfortable and frightful for some of you, but don’t worry, for almost everyone orientation, and service generally, turns out to be a good experience. Can you introduce yourselves? Just first names here. You can call me Rebecca.”

They go around the room, and each says her name. Rebecca makes a point of repeating them back. “Georgia.” “Eva.” “Lucy.” “Holly.” “Bella.” “Brooke.” “Samantha.” “Jasmine.” “Sophie.” “Madison.” “Summer.” “Elizabeth.”

Rebecca says, “Great. And most of you are new members of the Legislative Assembly from; which province was it, Deltaland, right? Except Sophie, who won the federal by election in MacVicar, and Lucy, who is the newest city council member in Poole. Her election was just two days ago. Thanks for coming down so quickly.

“Congratulations to all of you on running for and winning office, on being chosen to represent and lead your people. What we are here for today may not seem like it has much to do with what you do in the legislature, but you’ll see that it does.

“I was an MP for twelve years and on my city council for four years before that, so even before this job, I did my share of state service. A lot of women come in with ideas about service that are pretty far off, so even though we provide you with written materials, we have everyone do an in-person orientation. You’ve all read the ‘Your Service Obligation’ booklet, right?” A series of nods.

“All right. Let’s begin he orientation by letting me show you through your part of the selection process. Servitrixes , that’s what we call women who have a service obligation, go online each month and sign up for service room assignments. By the way, in real life nobody ever calls them ‘service rooms,’ they’re always called ‘cribs,’ except in the paperwork. Anyway, the Service Office will send you the date each month when you’re eligible to select times and places. You get a different date depending on whether you’re a minister, an MP, an MLA, or what. If it’s available, you’re allowed to choose any crib, anywhere. Usually, you’ll want to pick one near where you work, but it’s up to you.”

She calls the web site up on the projector and goes through a sample assignment selection process. “You pick the number of appointments you need each month for your obligation. Each appointment time lasts an hour. Ten minutes at the beginning is for preparation and fifteen at the end is for clean-up, so if you have two crib assignments in a row, you’ll have a twenty-five minute break in between.”

“What if we forget to sign up?” asks Georgia.

“Well, you can always sign up late, and be limited to whatever crib spaces are available. We’ll try to accommodate you if we can. Ultimately, it’s your responsibility to make sure you can fulfil your service obligation. If you don’t, you can end up before the Joint Disciplinary Committee, and ultimately lose your seat. So don’t do that. Sign up early, get convenient crib assignments, do your service, and then go back and run the country. That’s how service is supposed to work. All the details are on the help pages online.”

“OK, so that’s how you’ll sign up. I want to give you a a general idea about how patrons (men who receive service) sign up too. Patrons sign up on a weekly basis instead of a monthly basis, and select their preferences from the service room assignments you’ve chosen. They select their preferred times and servitrixes, and the system matches them up. There are a lot more men who want to receive service than servitrixes to provide it, so there’s a complicated system for building the waiting list. Patrons get priority firstly on how long they’ve been waiting, then on whether they live in the constituency of the woman in question, and last on whether they’ve received any honors – lords, knights and members of the various orders of merit all have their own priority levels.”

“I thought earls and lords could get service anytime they wanted,” asked Lucy.

“No, just the duke of each province and the king. Nobles get some preference, but if a regular man with no honors has been waiting longer than an earl, he will get service even if the earl has to wait. Where the honors make a difference is in whether they get their first choice of servitrix.

Samantha asks, "Why do we sign up monthly when men sign up weekly?”

“It just works out better that way; it allows women to establish their schedules in advance, which is especially important for women like the foreign minister, who has to make sure she squeezes in her service obligation in between foreign trips. For men, it’s easier to pick appointment times closer to when they’ll actually go, and weekly signups allow the waiting lists to shuffle more often, which gives a sense of progress, even if the wait isn’t really any different in the long run. As long as you sign up on time for your assignments, the difference won’t affect you.

"Oh, one other thing you should know: if a crib isn’t being used, servitrixes can sign up to use it for whatever they want; either take a friend down there, or just use the lounge to take a nap or something. Perk bookings open up at the beginning of the week, after any late assignments.

"Any other questions? OK, they should be ready for us in the cribs now.”

Rebecca leads the women out of the conference room and into the hall. They pause in the Grand Hall on the way to the stairs. “Parliament House is a beautiful place to work. State service reminds us of our responsibility to the citizens, but the building reminds us how glorious our country is and what a privilege it is to lead it. We who work here are fortunate, especially the MPs. State service might seem like an heavy burden at times, but it’s a small price to pay. I don’t regret a day of it.”

They descend a stairway and travel down another hall, and come to an alcove marked Service Rooms; East, where two athletic men in their twenties are standing.

“Hello, Ms. Upston.”

“Hello, gentlemen,” says Rebecca. “These are two of our instructors. We don’t use names for our patrons, so for now we’ll just call them Mr. M and Mr. V.” They exchange a round of greetings.

Rebecca addresses a woman in a security uniform sitting behind a glass window in the back of the alcove.

“Hi, Harper,” says Rebecca. “Harper here is our first line of security. We know you are in a vulnerable position with you don’t know, so we take security very seriously at the Service Office, especially here at Parliament House. We show you this side during orientation so you can feel confident in your safety. You’ve all gone through body scanners to get into Parliament House. Security’s even tighter down here. No man can get into the cribs until the guard gives them a key and buzzes them in. Harper, can you check in Mr. M and Mr. V?”

Harper checks their IDs and then passes two plastic rings through the window, and the two men each take one. Mr. M puts the ring on a finger, then presses the ring to a badge reader next to a door; Harper presses a button and the door opens. A short hallway is visible, with another door at the other end. Rebecca says, “The door opens only when guard buzzes the doors at the same time the key is used. Every entrance and exit to the cribs is protected by a set of double doors, which can’t open at the same time, so nobody can sneak through.”

Mr. M leads the others through the hallway, and they find themselves in a room with a bench, a row of lockers, and a stack of what look like towels on a shelf above a hamper. There are doors marked To Exit and Washroom/Showers, and a hallway marked To Service Rooms.

Rebecca says “There are twenty cribs in Parliament House: seven in the south wing, ten in the west wing, and this the smallest set, with just three. Usually all the Parliament House cribs are pretty busy. Backbench MPs usually do service in Parliament House, as do ministers of the major departments like the Foreign Ministry and Defense, since those offices don’t have their own cribs. Ministers whose offices are in the North and South Executive Buildings generally use the cribs there.

"This is the locker room for the east cribs. Men can’t take anything into the cribs with them from the outside, anything at all. No clothes, no jewelry, nothing except their ring key. They have to take off everything and leave it here. Gentlemen, will you demonstrate?”

The instructors remove their shoes, pants, and shirts and put them in lockers. Mr. V removes a gold chain from around his neck; Mr. M removes a piercing from his ear, a gold ring from his finger, and a wristwatch. All go in the lockers. Finally, they remove their underwear, and turn around, facing the officeholders totally nude except for the plastic ring keys on their fingers. Rebecca says, “Please, take a good look,” and the two instructors pause as the women examine them..

A few titters escape the women’s mouths. Rebecca says, “We always get a few gigglers here at orientation. But you’ll have to get used to seeing men like this. We’ll talk more about that later. First, let’s finish seeing security.

Meanwhile, Mr. M takes one of the cloths that look like towels. "These wraps are all patrons are allowed to wear,” he says. “It’s not much, but having something makes most of us more comfortable while we wait.” He puts it around his lower torso and presses it closed. “There’s no pockets or anything, so you can see why the keys are made like rings; we don’t have to worry about losing them. We need the ring to open our locker and get our clothes after service.” Mr. V also takes a wrap and puts it on.

They continue on into the hallway marked To Waiting Room. In the hallway is another security checkpoint with a fullbody scanner, with entry and exit doors; a male security officer stands behind a glass wall.

Rebecca says, “We’re always extra careful. We know you’re in the public eye and we don’t want anything to happen to any of you. So we have another checkpoint here. Lucas here does a visual inspection, and then the scanner verifies that the man has left absolutely everything in the locker room.”

The scanner door opens, Mr. M steps inside, and the door closes behind him. Lucas says, “Please remove your wrap, sir.” Mr. M does, and the guard makes a point of examining him thoroughly. “You may put it back now, sir,” says Lucas. Mr. M does so, and then Lucas operates the scanner, which is silent. “Thank you, sir,” says Lucas, and the rear scanner door opens. Mr. M goes through the door, and it closes behind him.

Lucas goes through the same procedure with Mr. V. Rebecca says, “Only patrons are allowed in the waiting room, so we will be heading out now.”

Bella says, “Is there something special in the waiting room that we can’t see?”

“Yes, actually. Official portraits. At one point, it was decided that the old practice of displaying portraits of past and present ministers and officers of Parliament was one of the honors women would renounce. Instead, it was decided that official portraits would be made in the act of giving service, and they would be displayed in the waiting rooms to help patrons get in the proper mood.”

Lucy is alarmed. “But they said service was private, that nobody got to see us.”

“Well, nobody gets to see except the patrons. This is why you’re not allowed in there. The waiting room is highly restricted. Nobody is ever allowed in except men waiting for service. Even I’ve never seen any of the official portraits except my own.”

Sophie says, “I’d like to know about that.”

Rebecca laughs. “Maybe later. Anyway, don’t worry, only ministers and a few others are required to have their portraits posted, and in any case only the men actually waiting for service can see them. We can have no expectation of privacy from our patrons. And the portraits do an important job, of helping patrons get themselves ready for what is about to happen. It’s just another kind of service.”

“Anyway, when the woman in the crib signals that she’s ready to begin, there will be an announcement in the waiting room. The man then uses his key to access the hallway that leads to the crib, and then the crib itself. The main security office has a door to the hall, to come if you call, and the hall is also used by housekeeping staff who wipe up and change the linens after every appointment.

"For now, our instructors will stay in the waiting room while we go around to the women’s entrance.”

Rebecca leads the women out through the locker room and a series of hallways with doors back to the service room entrance alcove. She counts the women, and says “Harper, we’re all clear.”

Rebeca leads the women back to the stairwell. “We actually have to go up and over to get to the women’s entrances. We don’t want any mistakes.”

Lucy asks, “Are all cribs this secure?”

“Well, mostly. No matter what, we always have separate men’s and women’s entrances, and there’s always a guard on the men’s side who makes sure patrons can’t bring anything inside, monitors who enters the cribs, and who is there to help if called. But all security is stronger for our national leaders. The truth is that we’ve never had a problem where somebody who wasn’t supposed to be in a crib tried to get in to hurt someone, not even here in the capital.”

Rebecca leads them up the stairs, back through a set of hallways, and down another stairway. At the bottom, a woman in a security uniform sits at a counter, behind another glass window with a locked door. Rebecca says, “Matilda here will check your IDs and buzz you in.”

Matilda checks each ID before allowing the group through another set of double doors into another hallway, this one with doors labeled E1 through E3.

Rebecca says, “We’re going to do most of the rest of orientation in E1, but that’s an extra-large crib we use for orientations and other special occasions. Before we go there, I want to show you E2, which is a regular crib. The first room is your lounge, where you can freshen up. There’s a small washroom with a toilet and shower, and an area where you can rest and change clothes. Then after that is the crib itself, which has a bed, a chair, and a stool. I’ll explain that in a bit, but go on into E2 and see what it’s like.” Rebecca opens the door with her badge.

Each goes into E2 and looks around. The lounge has an area rug covering most of the floor, a daybed and a small clothes closet with a mirror on the door. The washroom is small but well stocked with toiletries. Next to the door to the crib is wall decoration reading “Happiness / Gratitude / Humility” and a small whiteboard marked “Today’s code: 2701”.

Inside the crib is a full-size bed, made up with just a fitted sheet. It’s pressed up against the wall on one side, and on the other side there’s a low chest of drawers. Across from it there’s also a chair with a seat raised off the ground, and a very low stool in front of it. This room has a rug on the floor also. On the far wall is a door marked Men’s Exit. Next to the door back to the lounge there are some pushbuttons and a keypad.

After each has a look, Rebecca reaches into the E2 lounge, presses a button on the wall marked Finished, and exits the room, closing the E2 door behind her. Then she shows the officeholders into E1. The lounge here is similar, but much larger, with two couches and a large closet, and mirrors lining the walls; the washroom has a toilet and shower but also a whirlpool bath. It has the same decoration and whiteboard next to the crib door.

Rebecca says, “This is the biggest crib we have, which is why we use it for orientation: there’s no way this many women could fit in E2. At the same time, E2 is much more like the cribs you’ll be using. This room is booked up quickly.

"Now is when you will be first introduced to what State Service is really like. The first step is to change your clothes. You should remove everything: clothes, jewelry, hair bands, whatever you have on, and put on a service robe. Let me know if your robe is too long; it shouldn’t go down to your knees.” She opens the closet and hands each woman a garment bag and a thighlength, very sheer robe.

Eva looks at the robe and asks, “What’s the point of wearing this thing? There’s not even any lace. They can see everything anyway, we might as well just be naked.”

Rebecca says, “Yes, Eva, it doesn’t hide anything, but that’s not the point of wearing this. We provide service not only in what we do but in how we look, and not only in how we look to the men but how we look to ourselves. Nudity isn’t necessarily sexy; it can be pretty ordinary. We’re all nude when we take baths, or change our clothes. These robes are a reminder, partially to the men but mostly to ourselves, that we are here in their service. In here, we reveal ourselves in every way, even If we wear a robe, even if we do what usually conceals. So we’re more nude than nude in these. And before you ask, yes I’ll be wearing one too. Out there, I’m a Parliamentary Commissioner; when I come in here, I’m a woman providing service, like any of you. Counselors and managers in the Service Office are the only women other than elected officials who have a citizen service obligation.

"So, please place your clothes in the garment bags; we’ll put them in the closet.”

Each of the women begins to remove her clothes and place them in the garment bag. As they do, Rebecca says, “Don’t be shy about looking at each other. Servitrixes need to get used to being looked at.” Each woman puts on her very thin and sheer robe, and hangs the bag in the closet. “Sophie, your robe is a little long; can you exchange with Bella? You don’t want it to get caught on your knees.” They exchange robes.

Rebecca says, “We’re going to do an exercise to help get in the proper mindset. This room is just large enough for you all to stand in a circle, facing each other. Please do that, and hold hands.” The twelve women stand in a circle, arms spread so they can hold hands, wearing nothing but the sheer robes, bodies completely visible; Rebecca wears the same but stands outside the circle.

“OK, now I want you to close your eyes,” says Rebecca. “OK? Good. I want you to think about the path you took to get here. You were victorious in your election campaign. You won! And now you can begin the great work you set out to do when you decided to run. Be happy in your victory, and in the opportunity you have to do good. But remember the many other people who worked to get you here, who gave you their time, money, and resources, and who cheered you up when thinks looked bad and were there to celebrate with you at the end. Remember also the many people who raised you from a child and taught you what you needed to know. Be grateful to them. Also, remember that the reason you are here is because the voters chose you to be here. For all you did to get here, it was they, not you, who made the decision. And they have put their faith in you, entrusted you with power over their lives, with the responsibility to represent them to the greater commonwealth. Be humble when facing the great challenges before you and when thinking of the great trust placed in you.

"Before opening your eyes, concentrate on feeling happy, grateful, and humble.

"Now open your eyes. Look at the other women in the circle. Those are the other women who won their elections, who succeeded, just like you. They are happy: smile at them and see them smile back at you. And they are also grateful to those who supported them and humble before the great work in front of them. That is what women who are entrusted with leadership look like. And you are one of them.

"These women are in this room, revealing themselves, baring all, more nude than nude. Look closely at them – at their heads, faces, necks, arms, breasts, nipples, bellies, hips, mounds, pussies, thighs, legs, feet. These women show all of themselves, and will hold nothing of themselves back, because that will keep faith with the people who supported and chose them. And you are one of them.

"Each woman you’re looking at will use her body to serve men by offering herself for their pleasure. And all are happy to do it. Smile again, and see them smile again in return. They are happy for the opportunity to prove their loyalty, grateful to the men they serve for that opportunity, and humble before the men who symbolize all those who have trusted them with leadership. And you are one of them.”

Rebecca steps into the center of the circle. “For just a moment, I want you to look directly at me. You can see I’m not a young woman. Even though I take pretty good care of myself, still, my breasts sag and my belly droops. But I also am humble, and grateful, and happy to keep faith with those who entrusted me with my duties. And so I serve men. And I promise you, when I go in to give service, men aren’t focused on any imperfections in my body. What men see is a woman who is prepared to give completely of herself to them, to serve them, for their pleasure.

"Now I want you to let go of each other’s hands, and turn to face one of the mirrors with your hands at your sides Take a good look at yourself. Some of you may be hard on yourselves, thinking you don’t look as good as the others. Others of you may take pride in your appearance. But your appearance really is not important. What matters is your ability to open yourself, reveal yourself, humbly give of yourself to service.

"Think about what you are when you’re here. Outside this room you may be a professional, a scholar, a leader, a powerful person ready to govern the country. But in here, when you reveal yourself, uncover yourself, you’re a woman, humbly serving a man by using your body to give him the pleasure he desires, in order to keep faith with your people. Remember that. Take a good look at the woman who will be serving that man. You won’t ever know who the men are who come to you for pleasure, who will find fulfillment in your body: your mouth, your breasts, your ass, your pussy… It doesn’t matter. He’s a man, and you’re a woman, and you’re here to serve him, whoever he is. You are humble to have been chosen by those who sent you here, and you are grateful to have the opportunity to show that their trust is justified, and happy to be able to do that by serving that man, giving all of yourself to give him pleasure. Look at that humble, grateful, happy woman.”

After a few more seconds of staring, Rebecca says “Thank you. In a minute we’ll go into the crib. See the code by the door? You’ll need to remember it. You type that code on the keypad inside the crib to open the door to come back here again. If you type anything else security comes.”

“Ok, follow me into the crib.”

To be continued in ‘The Crib.’

by oolonroosevelt for Literotica

Western Fertility Clinic: Part 5

Fertility Clinic nurse assistant studies female anatomy.

By thomas_dean. Subscribe & listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chapter 7: Pillow Talk

I may have spoken of the much about my romantic interludes, sex play with my husband Jerry during my internship at the Fertility Clinic in my last year in college. I sighed ‘husband’ and 'wife’ had become archaic words officially, but everyone in heterosexual relations still used those words in lieu of the official term `partner.’ In a reflective moment cuddling, “Partners,” Jerry had dismissed much modern parlance, “Sounds like something cowhands said to other guys in the old Western Movies.”

We All Have Needs

steamystorytime:

We All Have Needs

Brick and mortar shopping has more options, for those who take a chance. (erotic coupling)

By Dj mac1031. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

As he browed the display racks filled with silicone vaginas, prostate stimulators and cock rings, he couldn’t shake his feelings of shame and embarrassment.

But it had been over a year since his divorce, longer still since the last time he’d gotten laid, and he was getting pretty bored with standard masturbation.

image

This Adult Store was classier than the others he’d visited in the past; clean, well lit, and located in a nicer part of the city than most. The clientele was certainly better; a smattering of well-dressed businessmen and women as opposed to the bald, overweight, sweaty looking slobs who usually frequented some of these establishments.

Keep reading

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 2

Lady Lovecome’s Diary: Part 2

A restored kingdom, & carnal acts of royal gratitude. (erotic coupling)

By ABigCat. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

image

We continue from part one, where Lady Lovecome resumes reading to the gardener, from her diary.

The king seemed excited about Belle looking after him while Charlotte was away. A fact that relieved the queen rather than made her jealous. She even suggested, as they left her dazed husband sagged in his bath, that she might delegate her “morning duties” from now on. “I’ll be honest with you sweet Belle,” she whispered. “I love my husband, but I do wish he was a woman. HIs manhood is just so; bothersome.”

“In which case, Your Majesty.” Belle sucked yet another royal splash from the back of her wrist. “Perhaps I need a bed closer to you and the king?”

[[MORE]]

Queen Charlotte patted her bottom. “We don’t deserve you, darling.”

That’s how Belle ended up with her own chamber, albeit the royal dressing room, nestled between their private bathrooms. Her bed was a pile of fur coats, and she had a little window with a view of the village. However, Madame Couteau’s pride in giving the queen such a beloved gift soured when the housekeeper was asked to fit a private bell for her pot girl.

When Madame Couteau left with the carpenter who’d installed a repurposed doorbell into the royal wardrobe, she deliberately, slowly stepped on Belle’s foot. “Do not get too comfortable, girl.” She grasped her pendulous bunch of keys and hefted them like a man displaying his cock and balls. “This is the real royal power. And it belongs to me.”

Belle smiled, pretending not to notice the cruel foot. As far as she could see, the only evil in the castle surrounded the royal couple. The king and queen were surprisingly gentle, guileless even, not the maniacal despots Belle expected. They were adult children, utterly unaware of the real world, as much to blame for how they were raised as Belle was responsible for her big eyes and rosebud lips.

Belle wondered what treasure chests those keys opened. She vowed to find out.

After draining the king in his bath that morning, Belle was so sure she wouldn’t be required for a while that when the bell rang three times in the middle of the night she was fast asleep, naked as a babe wrapped in her furs.

Her first thought was, “Already?” quickly followed by a surge of pride. Her performance that morning had set out her stall for this man, showed him what she was prepared to do. No, what she liked to do. That he couldn’t wait wasn’t just an ego-trip, it was kind of a turn-on.

It rang again. Belle hopped up and darted into the king’s bathroom. Finding it empty, she carried on through into his bed chamber.

The room was big as a train station, and the king’s bed set between two triple-height windows, both open to the night and a moon that seemed twice the size of a commoner’s moon. Silver light sliced across the bed and the swathed the king’s naked torso but left his face dark.

He was so silent, she wondered if she’d dreamt the bell and he’d wake to find her rudely stood naked in his bedchamber watching him sleep. Then she adjusted to the dim and found the glint in his eye. His erection flexed as if to beckon her. She approached his bedside and stroked him from chest down to hips. He was warm and smelled still of his sandalwood bath, but also of smoke, leather and musk. She grasped his thick rod. He made a sound like boulders in a bag and she couldn’t tell if this was a growl or a chuckle.

Trying to recall the queen’s advice, she stroked him slowly with two hands but needy hips pushed back quicker. She kissed his tip and found it wet already. It seemed like he’d done half her job for her. She plucked her lips over his hot cock and balls, then followed with her lapping tongue. No complaints about moving too quick now. A draught from the window chilled a wet patch her between her legs. Something about this relative stranger and his proud phallus got to her. Having her mouth pressed to the very epicentre of the kingdom made her feel woozy, but there was also a physical scale and power to him that pulled her insides. Even his silence was magnetic.

She licked him and tugged his length quickly. His breathing hitched. She took what she could of his shaft into her mouth, and the profound plug of him already seemed familiar, almost comforting. She’d treated this man just a few hours ago, but still found herself relishing the chance to do so again.

She hummed. No, moaned. It wasn’t even contrived, it just came out of her. Like the arousal tracing down her inner thigh. The primal bluntness of walking into a room and wordlessly sucking a man off, the kingdom’s most powerful man, turned her liquid. Or maybe it was the anticipation. She’d always fantasised pleasing a man so thoroughly it left him empty but infatuated and irrepressibly hard, but she’d never had the nerve to try. Yes. she intended to leave this man very pleased indeed. Then she might please herself with him.

She nodded on his cock and rubbed him into her, trying to express eagerness with every dip and tug. Large hands rested on her head. She tensed, thinking he might force her down, but his pressure was light, almost adoring. Sure enough, he stroked her like a favoured pet, down her hair, her back, over her bottom. She planted her feet wider, encouraging his caresses between her legs. Her knees trembled.

She sucked and rubbed briskly but was unprepared for what happened when the king discovered the slickness of her inner thighs. His cock quivered on her tongue and stiffened. He made a strangled grunt and tapped her head three times, just as he had for Charlotte. He arched. Tapped again, almost desperately.

Belle giggled, sucked on.

A stifled roar, and thick, hot jets filled her mouth so frantically she couldn’t swallow quickly enough. So she let him spill, men loved that anyway. She angled into the moonbeam so he might see, caught his eye, and blinked with all the dirty innocence she could muster. He glowed, all-powerful, but with each jerk and each pump of his essence, with each salty, silky gulp of it, she felt his power move from him, into her. How much would he crave her now? And more importantly, what would he give for it? She laughed again, drunk on him, no, drunk on herself. Her hips warmed, her clit tingled.

The king spasmed under her like a dying pigeon in the jaws of a cat. She sucked him past his over-sensitised twitching, until he flagged, then didn’t stop until he swelled against her palate once more. It was actually happening. She was sucking his spent cock hard again. Having her deepest fantasy manifested, especially with such a fantasy man, made her feel lost in a dream. Still, the very second he moaned and rocked needily at her mouth, she reigned herself in. She kissed his taut bulb and, even as her hole clamoured for satisfaction, turned to leave.

He grabbed her hand. “Thank you, Belle.”

She curtseyed.

He still had her hand. “You’re very wet.”

She sucked cum off her bottom lip and relished the flick of his eye, watching her. She shrugged. “I love my job.”

The boulders-in-a-bag-noise. So that was a laugh, then. “None of my staff ever say that.”

“Then you have the wrong staff.”

No response. She’d gone too far. She cleared her throat, still thick with his taste. “And I can’t help it, Your Majesty is very sexy. I’m only human.”

His phallus bobbed graciously at the compliment. “Is there; something else I might do for you?”

She might have thought this a dismissal, but the king squeezed her hand. His gaze latched to her hips, his cock bucked. The rumours about this man were true. He was insatiable. She’d push her luck again, see where it led.

Belle stepped close to where his movie-star head lay on the pillow, as if his gaze reeled her sex toward him, when it was the reverse. She’d use her dripping cunt to lure and net this glamorous leviathan.

She set her hips so close to his reclined face, his sigh heated her folds. She placed a foot on his bedside table, or rather on the large, leather book there: his bible. Her bare toes looked debauched on the embossed gold cross. “I think you’d like to lick me, sire.”

His eyes widened, yet softened. Puppy dog eyes. He swallowed. Belle bit down on the urge to laugh omnipotently. She opened her pussy lips to him instead, one slavering beast to another.

He leant toward her. She swung her hips away from him. He flicked a scowl.

“You’ve made me very horny, sire. I’ll burst quickly. Would you like me to come on your mouth?”

Rumble.

“I’d like to.” Belle dug a finger into her sopping hole, slid out and stirred at her clit. She shivered showily. Chuckled.

The king leant toward her again, and she dodged again. He grumbled. She surveyed his muscular, animal form laid below her. Naked, he was more carthorse than king. She gathered her juices and slid slippery fingers over his cock until it glistened in the moonlight. “I’d love to come on this. Would you like to sire me, sire?”

The king seemed to collapse into a lascivious silence. His wife had made them promise to: “eat each other senseless, but neither kiss nor fuck.” His dick nodded at her fingertips, secretly answering for him.

He slid his face closer to her cunt. She rubbed herself quickly over him.

He glowered. “You want me or not, woman?”

Belle sighed. “Very much, Your Majesty.” She dug two fingers in and out of herself in a way that always pleased the viewer more than her hole. She pretended to take herself to the brink, took a deep breath and withdrew her fingers. “Yet I resist.” She wiped her wetness across the king’s lips. His bassy hum vibrated the room.

“I bet you’d like all your staff to enjoy working for you as much as I.” She watched his tongue slide over her fingers, suckle on them. Good boy. “Hmm?”

“Mum-humm.”

“If I was your housekeeper, I would; ” She dragged her hand from his mouth, stirred her bud. “fix it for you.”

He grabbed her hips. “Enough, woman. Give me your cunt.” He tried to nuzzle past her busy hands, but she was in full flow, her sex caged by self-pleasuring fingers. She whimpered, tremored.

“Okay, Okay” he blustered. “I’ll consider it.”

Belle grasped his head, yanked it to her mound.

“Good.” He covered her sex in hot kisses. “When I’m done, you may receive, my seed, again.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, I would love that.” Which, of course was not an actual agreement.

“Really?” He buried his face in her wet cunt. “Oh God thank you. Thank, Yumm.”

Belle let the king finish her, then left him alone in his bed even more rigid than when he’d called her. She deferred the offer to “receive” him one more time. Not because she didn’t want to, but because he wanted it much more than she and that suited her better. Instead, she suggested he take the air with her the next day, and that, if he brought Madame Couteau’s palace keys, she would grant his heart’s desire. She even sealed it with a promise. “I would empty a man who trusted me. Drain him twice. Three times. Even that might not be enough to satisfy me. I’d make a king feel like a god. Your Majesty will need his rest tonight.”

Belle woke to a commotion amongst the palace staff. It looked like the king had kept his word. From her little window on the village she watched Madame Couteau stride away, alone and bagless. She looked pitiful and small and that made Belle want to cheer. The woman left a curious energy in the household. A few trudged about as if preparing a funeral, but for most it was Christmas. When Belle left to meet the king for their picnic, cook gave her a basket of sandwiches and a bottle of wine, and then kissed Belle’s cheek.

As the king sauntered into the rose garden to meet her, he looked dressed for a date: a pristine white shirt, mirror polished shoes, and linen trousers much distorted at the crotch. But his Brando smoulder, cracked by a hopeful smirk, was what weakened Belle’s knees.

“My Lady.” He produced the hoop of keys from behind him, bowed and presented them like the heart of a dragon he’d slayed in her honour. “I hope you won’t be too busy to answer my call from now on?”

Belle grabbed the keys as if they were to heaven itself. Which they were. She dropped them into the picnic basket. “My mother and I will share duties, sire. She’ll be at your service during the day, and I will service you at night.”

The king clapped, laughed. “And what if the queen or I have need of you in the daytime?”

Belle took his arm. “Then that’s my lucky day.”

Silently, they sauntered away from the castle toward the woods, their footsteps guided only by an instinct for privacy. Belle was glad she’d dressed lightly in one of the wardrobe’s many slip dresses, a shoulder-fastening grey silk number, because the spring afternoon was hot, and the king’s leonine presence even hotter.

She squeezed his hard bicep. “Well you’ve granted me my wish, have you considered yours, Your Majesty?”

The king smirked. “I’ve considered little else. But now you have the keys to the kingdom, I fear you’ll deny me again.”

“Sir, if I deny you, it’s only to whet your appetite. I always keep my, no.” Belle stopped walking, feigning irritation. “I won’t have you doubting me.” She looked about. They were still well within sight of the castle, and the windows busy with passing staff.

Oh let them see. Let them know her efforts.

She reached up her skirt, hooked thumbs in the lacy waist of her panties and wriggled them down. She stepped out of them, presenting him the cream silk just as he had the keys. “A token of my commitment to your wish.”

He nodded, took the garment, and put it in his pocket. “Let me show you a secret place.”

The air under her skirt felt wild and deliciously rude. As they carried on walking, he put his arm around her and rested his hand lightly on her bottom. She felt conscious of every unfettered wobble against his fingers.

The walked for some time deep into the cool dim of the pine-carpeted forest. Then a single cherry tree seemed to pop out of nowhere, heavy with blossom and lit stark white against the black and green by a single shaft of sunlight.

“This is the Love Tree. My forebearers planted it. They say five generations of kings were conceived in its shade. Even I.” The king patted the trunk. “Come. Feel.”

Belle stroked the satiny bark stretched taut over the trunk. It made her think of the king’s erection. The light in his eye suggested he knew this.

“My wish is simple.” He rummaged in his pocket, pulled out her underwear. “I want you to hold onto the Love Tree. No matter what happens.”

She slid her hands up and down it. “Like this?”

He snorted, walking around her, putting the tree between them. “I fear you may still deny me my wish.” He looped the underwear over her hands, and with a quick flourish tied them in a knot. She might’ve resisted but chose not to. The silk felt excitingly out of place on her wrists and being restrained, at the king’s mercy, made her stomach flip.

He sauntered behind her, raised her skirt, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her knee wobbled. The breeze fanned the skin of her exposed rear, while his eyes seemed to heat it. She’d only appeared naked for him in the dark. This would be his first clear sight of her. A long moment passed and she fought the urge to cross her legs.

“You have a damn fine rump.” He stroked her, slapped her lightly. Then again. He squeezed her as if testing fruit.

“Thank you, sir.”

He rumbled, pressed his front to her back. His trousers sported a bludgeon.

The king chortled. “Since I didn’t call you with our bell today, because we meet at your convenience, I decided I should, instead, ring you, Belle. Three times.”

“This sounds more my wish than yours, sir.” She wriggled her bottom at his lump. “What of your pleasure?”

“This afternoon, your pleasure is mine.” He reached his hand up the front of her skirt, and gripped her lightly between the legs. She felt cupped in a warm, leather saddle. He squeezed her like a sponge. “Christ almighty, woman, are you always wet?”

“Only in your presence, sir. And your queen’s.” She wound her hips at the thick digits skating around her sex. He lacked his wife’s accuracy but the blunt manliness of his grip compensated for grace. She melted over him. Her eyes drooped.

He pressed lips to her ear. “Look at me.”

She cast her best glassy stare over her shoulder.

He cursed, shoved his hips at her bottom. “Damn those eyes.”

The man seemed on a hair trigger, how would he “ring” her even once without exploding in his trousers, let alone three times? She prepared to fake some orgasms. It was very important he feel rewarded today.

Then he set his jaw, coiled his free arm around her waist, and got organised. Gone was his male fumbling, now he did what his wife must’ve taught him. He worked her clit with his palm and thumb while a finger explored deep inside. She’d had cocks smaller than his middle digit, and was glad for his grip on her waist as his fingers unhooked her joints. She was weightless as a doll, draped over his arm.

A fever came over her, a wave of dizziness from the cool, pine breeze, his pale grey eyes, from his woody scent and his woody limbs, from the invisible plunge and wriggle between her legs. She dug her hips at his digging and his bulge. Her eyelids were iron shutters, too heavy to hold open. When she turned imploring glances up at him, his outline fizzled. A smile tugged the corner of his lips. A fireball flared in her hips. She was too hot. Her cunt was on fire and she couldn’t cover it or fan it.

All she could do was burst.

Her cry scattered crows from the trees. She grunted and ground on the king’s deft, insistent fingers, her weight entirely, easily, held in his one arm while he drew more and more pleasure from her like a magician tugging trick scarves from his hat.

Dimly she became aware of her feet dangling. She found this hilarious. She laughed as he put her down and removed his hand. She settled into his solid, but tender embrace.

He offered her his fingers. “One, my lady.”

She sucked her familiar taste from him. He licked his fingers with her, causing illicit, electric clashes of their tongues, and a pull to their lips. She inhaled his sigh, and he inhaled hers, the ghosts of forbidden kisses floating from mouth to mouth. Her lips nibbled at his. He pulled back.

His breath billowed hot on her neck and she was glad she’d tied her hair up this morning. He unfastened the bows on her shoulders and her dress slipped to her feet. He removed it, stepped away, and outside his embrace, her vulnerability was complete. Every millimetre of her body was exposed to the sun and air and the king’s scrutiny.

He hung her dress on a branch like a battle banner, and prowled about her naked form. His features were implacable, eyes slits. She was familiar with the serious, almost cruel, expressions of aroused men. Their eyes darkened and retreated as they ate the sight of her. Usually she relished the supremacy she felt, teasing their hunger with intimate glimpses, and she’d felt all-powerful in the moonlight the night before, but here in the stark sun and the cool breeze, tied to a tree in front of a king, her confidence waned.

A life of one meal a day had left her limbs thinner than the queen’s creamy form. Next to Charlotte’s kittenish curves, Belle was a gazelle. When the king unabashedly took in her tight little breasts, it was as if he compared them to Charlotte’s bouncing abundancy. The queen’s ribs didn’t protrude, and Belle’s belly was used to emptiness and flat as a board, not sensually soft. Then his wandering eye snagged at the pubic hair atop her pronounced mound and Belle wanted to hide. He tilted his head and stared at it. She kept her curls neat, and lips bare, but now Belle worried he preferred his waxed-bald queen. The king cleared his throat, mesmerized by her lower half, and suddenly her wet thighs were shameful. She rested one foot on the other, drew her knees tight and curled her hips back to tuck her sex away. She slid her hands down the tree trunk to settle in front of her and fought the urge to slip from the shackles’ silky hold and cover herself properly.

He bit the inside of his cheek. Was he enjoying intimidating her? This would not do.

Fortified by irritation, she regarded him back, coolly, from his smirk to his ridiculously tented trousers. She bit her lip and pictured his erection bursting free of its cage, plundering her salivating mouth and hole. Her dirty thoughts were so vivid she must have projected them. He shifted awkwardly.

“See what you do to me, woman?” He approached the tree until his bulge rested against her wrists. “I’ve known many, many lovers. None make me this hard.” She fanned her hands to cup him. Jesus, he was like a length of scaffold. She squeezed. His eyes widened and he jerked back.

Belle shrugged. “No more gawping, your majesty. Ring me again.” She smiled. “With that hammer, ”

He puffed out a long, growly breath, folded his arms.

“Please.” Swallowing all her inhibitions, she willed one leg to wrap around the satiny-rough bark. She rocked her hips at the tree trunk like some kind of wood nymph pole dancer. It felt quite nice, but not as nice as her faked sigh made it seem.

The king blinked slowly. She could almost hear him screaming inside, “Calm!”

He strolled behind her, but his torment made her brave. She had nothing to hide. She stood proud under his inspection, sensing now that her lithe nakedness, her blushed skin, her tight nipples and dripping sex made him dizzy with lust. This man worshipped her, and she could burst him without even touching him, without even looking at him. She joggled her bottom. He groaned. She chuckled even though her skin tingled, every hair on end, straining for the touch that was sure to come.

His kiss hit her neck like a soft explosion.

However it was his whisper, “Perfection!” that threatened to undo her on the spot. Everyone should have this said to them once or twice, preferably while naked and tied to a tree.

He kissed along the dip of her spine and she found herself gripping the trunk for support. His mouth moved down her body and she placed her feet wider. She was wet to her knees and didn’t even know that was possible. Far from shame, now this brought expectancy, and then even more liquid. The king’s shadow knelt behind her. She stood on tip-toes, tipped up her hips, displaying her need.

“My God,” he burst. He gripped her bottom, pulled it to his face.

He nibbled and kissed her buttocks. She bent lower, to show him where that mouth was needed, but he avoided her buzzing clit. Annoyingly, he seemed most fascinated with her juices, slipping his fingers up and down the tracks on her legs. She guessed Charlotte was never this aroused by him. Perhaps none of his concubines were. This suited her plan well, so she indulged him, and tried to sigh off the jangling little alarm bell between her legs. However, when he ran a rough tongue up her inner thigh, she groaned.

“Steady, woman.” His voice was all grin. “You cleaned me, remember? A gentleman always returns a favour.”

She sagged against the tree, wedged her shoulder to it, and opened her legs as wide as she could. This elicited a bouldery snigger, then a bristly chin shoved between her thighs to press his lips to her vulva.

Damn the silk shackles. She wanted to spread to him, see to her itchy spot herself. The man was in no hurry. He played with her lips, stroking, kissing, holding back his tongue, nipping at her labia and clit hood. She bent over deeper, and he nuzzled under, hunching his massive form to fit beneath her. She felt her cunt lips slip open around his tongue as he probed and tasted, but only his bottom lip grazed her clit, leaving it to hum for now.

“Please, your majesty.” Goodness, she sounded like a bleating lamb. “Eat me.”

Another tectonic chortle. The heat of his mouth disappeared, and he opened her lips like a book. Studied her. Unfortunately, it seemed she was a riveting read. He opened and closed her, rubbed her labia together, it seemed to persuade more juice from her judging by his occasional hot snorts of approval.

She wriggled her hips and cursed, her tied wrists around the tree’s roots. Perhaps the king deliberately mistook her body language, because instead of giving her what she wanted, he parted her bottom cheeks. A slippery fairy danced circles around her anus. She yelped, wriggled a hand loose from her shackles to cover herself, then paused. The dirty, wet tickle seemed to unhook something in her. Some last tension or inhibition, released. She melted, groaned, and gave over to him, to her body, completely.

As if someone had finally found the right key for the right lock, at long last her clit was bathed in warmth. He lapped at her without his wife’s skill, but with a firm, steady rhythm. She bent double, folded to manoeuvre her clit into his mouth, but he was still too big to fit between her thighs. He turned over to sit, leaning back on his hands between her feet. She could see him now. He sparkled up at her, eating like she was a juice-laden monster cherry he’d plucked from the tree, his cheeks and chin a mess, lapping and sucking her clit with his single-speed incessant lick. She wound on his face, as if eating him, not vice versa.

She enjoyed this notion of consuming him. She bore down, crouching lower, until he was completely on his back and she was indecently spread on him, queening his face.

That was better. Now she could control where his tireless tongue stimulated. She shut her eyes and relaxed, squatting on his warm mouth, possessed with the image of some silky sea creature slipping about her hyper-sensitive nooks and crannies.

He groaned first.

She sighed off her swelling bliss and opened her eyes to find his shut below her, lost in his own animal pleasure. He groaned again, louder. It thrummed her like a violin. She looked over her shoulder to check his trousers, which looked comically like a woodland creature had got in there. She wished she could release it. As if reading her mind, he unzipped his fly and hauled his hard meat into the fresh air.

His excitement doubled hers. A gorgeous tension flared in her core, sucked bigger and wider by the king’s hungry mouth. His cock rocked, dripped, and his hips thrust at the air. He rumbled under her. Would he spurt there and then, just like that, just from licking her?

The image tore through her: his lovely spunk shooting all over his elegant, laundered shirt, splattering hot up her back, uncontrollable in his desire for her. Her hips spasmed and she was glad of the tree to hang onto. He sucked her clit, tugging it deeper into wet heat, and even the king’s big, dumb tongue worked with a fluidity nothing else could match. It felt like a flickering, wet flame. She juddered again, then suddenly that’s all she was, a bloom of fire, petalling inside out and inside out and inside out again. A vixen screeched somewhere deep in the woods, or perhaps that was her, primally splayed and shaking on the king’s mouth, on his deep, bone shaking, hums of pleasure.

She wiped herself around his slimy chin, puffing tremoring breaths, then stubbed out the last of her orgasm, splodging his face while they giggled.

He winked. “Two, my lady.”

There was only one thing she needed now. She heaved to her feet, slid her tied-up tree hug along the trunk, and tipped up her bottom. “Fuck me, your majesty.”

He wiped his wrist across his face, but lay where he was, between her feet, his cock dancing and his brow wrinkled. “Belle, ”

“You promised me three orgasms. Fuck me.”

“No. You will come sucking me.”

“I’ll come with you in me, but this end.” She jiggled. “And you won’t come until I say.”

“Woman! I am your king, ”

“You are a beautiful cock. Fuck me.” She stamped her foot. “Now.”

He rolled to his feet. His shadow loomed over her, departed, returned. He grumbled. Something like a hot lemon wedged against her slot, rested there. She pushed back against it, lodged the tip at her entrance. It didn’t retreat. She eased onto it with a lascivious shock at how much she needed to stretch, and keep stretching, to accommodate him.

Once she had a grip on his hard bell, she smiled over her shoulder. “I’ll tap you three times, then you can come.” She took more of him in, glad she was wet and loose from her last two orgasms, he filled her so completely it forced her breath out.

The king stood to attention, neither pushing nor pulling away, and Belle understood. Let the betrayal be hers. She rocked back at him until she was stuffed to the brink and, mercifully, his hips met her bottom. They moaned together. So this was how a man was supposed to feel. She felt more worn than penetrated, stretched over him like a perfectly fitting dress. She writhed, relishing every cell of her softness gloved to every cell of his hardness. The king cursed and could stay still no longer. He gripped her hips and slid out, and for a sinking moment she thought he would leave, but he plunged back in, forcing a squeak from her. Then again, and again and she braced and each powerful thrust pumped more joy into her. His perfect dick lit her up brighter with each stroke, fizzing along her skin to her fingertips and toes, then back again to be doubled up by the next thrust.

She turned to him, grinned through tousled hair, but could hardly form a smile for panting. His face was stoic. Serious. She grunted, shuddered to a halt. He moved her hips for her, his power and control jamming hard and deep but never too deep. And even though she was too full of him, she still cried out, “Yes, yes, yes, ” He pumped her lungs, her heart, to bursting and then crammed more joy in, and more and it doubled and redoubled and she yelped, thrust back greedily, a feeding frenzy, even though it was too much, too delicious, and she was tight as a drum and still more came and more and more,

She lifted onto her toes, squealed.

And burst into a billion tiny stars.

But her juggernaut king drove on, rammed her off her feet, shoved gasp after gasp from her. He tossed her from her own skin, like there was no room for her ghost now. Too much. Too good. Too,

Oblivion.

She roused bouncing, cackling, every joint slack, every muscle warm and floppy as the king rammed her up and down on his cock. His movements grew spasmodic. His hips slapped her bottom and for a delirious, dreamy blink she wanted him to come in her, but her instinct intervened. She slipped her hands from her shackles, and slipped off his cock. He carried on shoving, unable to stop. She swivelled, dropped to her knees, stuffed his slippery meat into her mouth.

He stiffened, gnashed his teeth. Placed his hands on her head.

A wickedness tickled her. She unsuckered from him. “No. Wait.”

He snarled, screwed his eyes shut.

“Wait, ” She said as if to a dog. While his perineum fluttered like a bird’s heart, and he made strangled noises, she calmly licked her drooling juices from his balls, running a flat, cleaning tongue up his quivering rod. She sniggered, lapped under his bulb, fluttered her eyelashes. “What do you say?”

He juddered. His fists clenched, every muscle, every vein on his body flexed to bursting point. “Please. My Lady. Please.”

She tipped her mouth over his end, and slapped his arse three times.

Then braced for the gorgeous flood of power.

The queen returned to a new kingdom. When her Rolls Royce rolled through the streets, people gathered to throw petals over her, a band played, and children sang songs.

Queen Charlotte stepped from the car and into her king’s arms looking visibly shaken. The new palace staff formed a circle about them and cheered.

He explained Belle’s discovery. Madame Couteau’s keys revealed many secret rooms, including storerooms crammed with produce, filing cabinets crammed with orders and a safe crammed with gold. Madame Couteau and her cohort had been increasing the taxes behind their backs. If the taxes were paid, Couteau paid the monarchs what they expected and pocketed the difference. When the taxes increasingly couldn’t be paid, Couteau took the villagers’ produce and sold it on to the kingdom’s old buyers.

By royal decree (Though the queen guessed it was more likely Belle’s decree) the stockpiled produce and stolen profits were divided amongst the townspeople, who were re-united with their old buyers. The king was happy with the same royal taxes he always received, as none of Madame Couteau’s profit every reached the royals anyway.

Queen Charlotte hugged Belle hard, clasped her face and covered her cheeks in kisses. The king wrapped them both in his big arms and Belle felt like the filling in a very expensive sandwich.

To be continued.

By  ABigCat for Literotica

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