Drool

DROOL

CHAPTER ONE

ONE

A thick strand of drool glimmered in the light. It stretched from his cock to her hungry tongue as he playfully pulled it from her eager mouth. She was naked, lying flat on her back on the dining room table, each limb tied to a table leg. Her head was not allowed to rest on the table; instead, around her neck she wore a collar and he held the chain attached to it. At his whim, her head would drop away or rise to meet his cock. She was being fed cock and then denied it; she cried out and begged for it, her cunt, with its striking black pubic hair, was also desperate for attention that it infuriatingly and deliciously was not receiving. Her husband let her taste his cock, and then, because she begged again, he really let her have it, thrusting expertly and deeply, choking her and making it impossible for her to get anything but short, unsatisfying breaths.

In a spacious closet not too far from there, a woman was packing things in preparation for a move when she stumbled across a box of unlabelled DVDs. In a pair of red shorts and an aged Bruce Springsteen t-shirt, she placed the disc in the DVD player and sat down to find out what was on it. Her nipples began to push into the thin fabric of her shirt as the content of the first video became clear. It was her husband, naked in his office, getting his marvellous cock sucked by a supple Asian woman in black knee socks and impossibly clunky shoes. The girl was really going after it, taking it deeply into her mouth, rubbing the sloppy mess over her pretty face. All thirty two DVDs were the same; there were a number of different women, but that Asian bitch showed up in at least a third of them. The scenes were unquestionably hot. She was not mad, how could she be? She knew her husband, his gifts and talents and she could only savour these films that capture his grandeur so well. At the sight of her husband's cock coming over and over again, she removed her red shorts and t-shirt and then, naked in the flickering light of the television, she spread her legs on the couch and started to furiously masturbate, giving her hot pussy whatever it wanted.

Across the river, a woman, naked except for her gorgeous stilettos and a pair of fabulous elbow high latex gloves, was disinfecting and putting away a series of dildos, whips, clamps, masks, balls, and other oddities whose use can only be guessed at. As she went about her work, she allowed her shoulders to slump slightly, returning her to the pose of an ordinary forty three year old woman, and not that of a dominant leather clad bitch. The work was still satisfying; it was just the posture that was a killer. The sybian machine in the corner caught her eye, still appetizingly wet from her last client, a woman who had certainly ridden it with distinction. "Why not," she thought to herself. Lowering herself over the ungainly attachment, she revelled in the way it slipped right in, slick with someone else's gratification. "All these climaxes," she thought, "and here I am, left to fuck a machine." The machine, however, proved to be an excellent lover, and her malaise was quickly swept away, as her cunt began to undulate with the movements of the cock. Rubbing her pussy with the sensual smoothness of the glove, delighting in her body, sh enjoyed the way her juices moistened her inner thighs and pooled in her ass crack.

The sun had long ago set; the night was darkly ripe. A young man, dressed in a dangerously tight pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt, which hugged the curves and shallows of his slender body, received a pitcher of beer, muttered a thank-you and pulled his Carolina Hurricanes cap lower over his eyes. He didn't want to be seen. For him, the shame was the thrill, as much as the dancers at the Gloryhole were. He loved to permit his wild desires to take over, to force him out to this dirty club that had sat dishevelled at the edge of town since he was a child, beckoning him inside. At last he raised his eyes to the stage where he saw a beautiful black man, his face obscured by a Phantom of the Opera mask, thrusting his cock forward, then turning around and slowly dripping glittered oil down his open ass crack. As the oil rolled down his crack and over the smoothness of his dark ball sack, he moved his body expertly to the rhythm of a layered beat, which had been appropriated from more wholesome settings, but took on a whole new meaning here. The man in the Hurricanes cap found the body of this completely self-possessed and free man to be alluring in the way it seemed to be just a body, free of the strings of emotion--an object of gloriously rippling muscles and well-placed lines and dimples, available for consumption in a steamy bedroom somewhere.

Elsewhere, a young lawyer was still at his desk, dressed in a slightly wrinkled suit, trying to catch the attention of the firm's partners. From somewhere in the distance, he heard the vacuum cleaner, powered by a young woman wearing black knee socks in comically clunky shoes and a shapeless grey smock handed out by the cleaning company. Like a dog trained to drool at a bell, the blonde lawyer looked up from his work and felt a familiar fullness rising in his pants. As she entered his office, she asked him if it would be alright to vacuum and he told her that it would only work for him if she did it naked. Laughing gleefully at their little game she unzipped the ungainly smock and let it fall to the ground, walked leisurely to his desk, pulled herself up in front of him and spread her legs. He loved the way her knee socks accented her skin and even somehow seemed to define her round ass; he loved her confident posture as she walked over to his desk, throwing her shoulders back and pushing out her small dark nipples. The shadows of the dimly lit office played off her body and her shoes began to scuff his oversized desk as he began to feast on her open cunt. She pinched her hardened nipples roughly, tossed her head back, and allowed a quiet gasp of pleasure to escape her lips. After he pushed his tongue expertly into all the right places, the dips and bulbs of her ecstasy, making her wet and ripe, she got down off the desk and with one fluid motion she released a truly divine cock. Before she could take it into her mouth, she paused to admire it, then to tickle the underside of his ball sack, and tease him tenderly. Quickly she pushed his cock to the back of her throat and then pulled it out; a shimmering stand of drool connected them as their late night madness developed intensity under the blue light of the office after hours.

This is Williamsburg, South Carolina, a town where madness reigns. Williamsburg was established in 1823 by John Williams, a shady hotelier from London who immigrated hastily, with his family of rogues and whores, to avoid some angry debt collectors. Even then it was a place where the politicians, artists, students and business men came to live out wild fantasies at the legendary Williams Inn, mixing with an unsavoury crowd of rough lumberjacks and farmers and even rougher, dirtier women. In Williamsburg, nothing was too unusual. That spirit has persisted, being passed down to generations, and Williamsburg has remained infamously untainted by the puritanical mood of the rest of the country. Sex is in the air here. It seems to be an all pervasive occupation, a remarkably subversive philosophy. For proof, just walk down the street and look through the foliage of the big leafy trees and into the picturesque bay windows. It is not uncommon to see tits mashed up against the window, faces contorted with the pleasure of some unusual and wonderfully unwholesome tryst, mouths salivating in the madness of the moment.

There is a legend that supposedly happened in Williamsburg. It is told by the curator of the local museum as if it is absolute fact. One hot day in May, a girl opened the top three buttons of her flannel nightgown, trying to get some relief from the stifling heat. She was immediately excited, just to be in her own room with her nightgown open, her tits barely covered, her nipples exposed. But, there was no relief from the heat. So, she opened the window. A summer breeze blew across her body, caressing her tits and making her feel better. She also noticed that she was aroused by the fact that she was now hanging out of her window, her tits exposed to the world. There was an intoxicating feeling: a mixture of the fear of falling and the shame of exposure as she thought of passer-bys who might see her nakedness. As the summer progressed and got as hot as any summer in South Carolina, the girl became more and more brazen: she unbuttoned more buttons on her nightgown and went all the way out her window, standing on a thin ledge outside her bedroom--as much as a cooling breeze, she was seeking that same intoxicating feeling of fear and shame that had so excited her a few weeks earlier. Each night she had to go further and further out on the ledge to find that feeling. One night in August, she was completely naked, seeking a shame that never really came, her tits thrust out into the world, just the backs of her heels were still on the ledge and she was only touching the wall of her house with the back of her wrist and her shoulder blades, but still it wasn't enough. She took a step. To her surprise, she realized that she could walk on air. It was a bittersweet freedom. She would never feel the fear of falling no matter how far she went out. But, she could fly.

Theoretically, the town is too far inland to attract many tourists, but the tourists that come to Williamsburg don't take many pictures. Williamsburg boasts the most strip clubs and swingers venues per capita in the United States; behind every window shade, there are ecstasies that would be kept secret in every other town, but in Williamsburg, they are as casual as an after dinner smoke. The town has grown into its reputation and profited from it. The rough and raunchy is buried a little further beneath the surface. These days, Williamsburg looks like many small towns in the United States. The lawns are large and green, the streets are wide and the pace is slow, contented and retiring. But in office buildings, on dining room tables, on couches and back rooms, there is a simmering, unchecked lust that is almost palpable.

TWO

Just after sleep had come to the restless souls of Williamsburg, the sun made its way onto the scene, drifting in through the blinds, sparkling in the dew on the big green lawns.

As the morning heated up, the men and women stepped out into the muggy air dressed for work. Mr. Ryan, with his young landscaping assistant, Doug, parked his maroon pickup in front of Ms. Dawson's house. Mr. Ryan was dressed in a tight grey tank top and a stunning pair of exceedingly white jeans. A landscaper wearing white jeans is certainly a statement, but Mr. Ryan liked to make a statement; at the end of the week, he tossed all five pairs in bleach, and they are stunning again. Doug, dressed in a thin pair of blue sweats and a just-to-small t-shirt, looked down at Mr. Ryan's hand resting on his upper thigh, his fingers dangerously close to Doug's crotch.

"Well, Doug. I guess it's time to get the day started," he said, giving meaning to the hand resting on Doug's leg by emphasizing his point with a soft slap of his thigh.

"Mmm. Fridays always seem to take so long," said Doug, stretching and shifting so that his balls did rub against Mr. Ryan's fingers, and so that his shirt rose up above his belly button. Both men got out of the truck and threw their sexual tension at their work. Doug loved the feeling of sweat running down his nose, down the indent in the middle of his back, into his ass crack. He loved noticing the way it darkened his shirt and gleamed on his thin, wiry arms. He saw his boss take off his tank top as he wrestled with the lawnmower. The beads of sweat formed on his boss in the humid morning, presenting in rivulets running down his body in the lines of his defined stomach muscles, glinting like diamonds against his black skin; Doug felt his cock rise slightly at the sight, swollen against his thin sweatpants. He never wore underwear and it was his daily test to watch Mr. Ryan in those stunning jeans without getting completely and obviously erect. He usually lost.

After throwing off his shirt, Mr. Ryan looked toward his young employee, and though he couldn't see in the sun, he imagined that Doug might be arriving at his customary erection. He chuckled. It was only May, and this college student would be with him until he went back to school in September. There was time now for "accidental" rubs, for gazing, fantasizing, and wondering; a game that Doug seemed all too willing to play. Soon, Mr. Ryan was confident, they would be fucking.

On the street, Paige and Anthony were finishing their morning run. Paige was dressed in a pair of tight cotton shorts and a baby blue tank top, through which her erect nipples were clearly visible. Paige was nearly six feet tall with rich black hair, arresting eyebrows and full, strong features. Her olive skin wrapped smoothly around a pair of large full tits; her hips, ass, thighs and calves were a pleasant array of comfortable, womanly curves.

Her husband Anthony was dark and serious: he had beautiful dark brown eyes with long eyelashes. His dark hair was trimmed close to his head; his body was smooth and clean with a perfectly flat stomach, a strong round ass, and shapely thighs.

Paige ran strangely, her legs pumped up too high, her tits bounced helplessly, her hands were fists. She was not a natural athlete, but she pushed herself to be active and to keep in shape because she was very much in love with her body; she loved catching glimpses of herself in the mirror after a shower. Her body had sometimes been troubling to her, it was always so big and full and in grade eight, all the boys were a couple inches shorter than her. Now though, she found her dramatic bones, her full curves and her striking black pubic hair to be sexy and worth getting up early to maintain. Anthony, for his part, loved to watch his wife work out: her white shorts darkening somewhat as her ass started to sweat.

This morning, they had decided to finish their run at his mother's house, which, although he loved his mother, was somewhat disappointing to him, since they usually finished these runs with a session of sweaty, utterly satisfying sex. It really was the sex that turned them both on, the feeling being dirty; the sex seemed more intimate, their bodies took on new tastes and smells that were strange and unusual, but unique and memorable. Anthony loved to have the smell of his wife's asshole, moistened with sweat, in his nose all day long. On their honeymoon, they had agreed to not shower for their whole vacation. That ripe smell was something neither of them would ever forget.

In the town of Williamsburg, South Carolina, Ms. Meg Dawson ran a house of ill-repute. And yet, the activities that took place there were so discreetly managed, the house really only had a reputation in those circles where whatever happened there would bring the house a positive reputation. Anthony and his mother had shared a special, unspoken relationship ever since she had caught him giving a naked massage to his friend David one afternoon after soccer practice. Because he thought he might slip and speak the unspoken, he had always felt a little uncomfortable bringing his friends, and now his wife over to see his mother. To Ms. Dawson, bodies were bodies and sometimes in her dreams, all the bodies she had seen paraded naked in front of her, their faces obscured mysteriously; this dream was occasionally frightening, but mostly it was freeing to be a body in a parade of other faceless bodies. She had tried to make her son understand this philosophy--that when she sucked his cock it was just a body fucking a body--but for him, it was precisely the face attached to the body that made it so enthralling.

On this Monday morning, as Paige and Anthony came panting through the door, Ms. Dawson wore a pale, purple thong and a thin, semi-transparent purple robe that was more often open than closed. Paige really didn't mind. Ms. Dawson was blonde and tall, with dark eyebrows and thick eyelashes; she was as tall as her daughter-in-law, but much finer in all her features, her legs and arms were muscular, but lean; her tits however, were full and heavy and barely seemed to have been affected by her age. Paige had been incredibly intrigued when Anthony told her about his mother's profession. She had frequently imagined, and revised, a scene that involved a mercilessly wielded rubber cock.

The three said their good mornings. Ms. Dawson directed them to the couch and, as she served them tea, her robe fell completely open--Paige saw through her sheer thong that she had shaved her pussy since the last time they had seen her--Ms. Dawson didn't apologize or flinch. Standing there with her robe open, she put her hands on her hips and asked if they need any cream or sugar. Before she was able to serve it, the doorbell rang.

Outside the door were Mr. Ryan, the landscaper and his assistant Doug. Both had their shirts off, and were glistening in the sun, their lower halves desperate to escape from the dampening constricting pants they both were wearing. Mr. Ryan noticed that Doug's sweatpants were getting lower down his waist, as they did each day as he worked and sweat. Mr. Ryan noticed the line of Doug's pelvis, sculpted and clearly visible on the young man's tanned wet body. He unconsciously traced the curve of Doug's back, the indent of his spine, up to the shoulders that rippled with new muscles formed in the heat and the various rigours of the job. At the same time, Doug looked at Mr. Ryan's white jeans and thought he should get a pair like that, as they might be cooler. His eyes moved slowly up the jeans and noticed the bulge of Mr. Ryan's cock, the logo on his belt-buckle, the way his stomach moved away from his pants in a perfect flat plane up to his belly button; he observed the way the sun shimmered off his black skin like the glitter the boys apply to their body at the clubs he attends when his new wife goes to her mother's in St. Louis. He wanted to touch and taste that glitter, but like at the clubs, he only looked.

Ms. Dawson opened the door.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Ryan, how is the work coming?"

"We are finished for today. But, I've got to collect the money you owe me. It's been two months and your tab is at two hundred dollars."

"Well," she said, her robe open, her hands on her hips, "do you offer any alternative payment plans?" And with that, she moved one finger over her pussy. Her other hand moved suggestively to his belt buckle. Mr. Ryan didn't need much more of a signal.

"Absolutely," he said, opening his pants. "We accept that sort of payment whenever we can. It's tax free and that's a bonus." His large dark cock fell out of his pants hanging there waiting to be dealt with. Doug felt his own cock throb within his pants as Ms. Dawson knelt down, her blonde hair rustled slightly by the wind, looking redder in the sunlight. Her smooth ruby lips took to cock into her mouth deeply, and then she pulled back and sucked softly on the head. Doug noticed the way her thick eyelashes caught the sun and cast a shadow over her lightly freckled face; as she began to perspire slightly in the heat of the morning sun, her heavy mascara ran, almost imperceptibly, but enough to make her seem somewhat taken advantage of. Her knees rubbed against the cement as she began rocking her body to the rhythm of Mr. Ryan's cock. For her, two months of free lawn care for a blow job now and again wasn't such a bad deal. By now, she was holding Mr. Ryan's cock out of the way as she went to work hungrily on his smooth balls. He groaned, and clenched and tried not to come right then. Ms. Dawson licked wetly up the entire shaft of his rock hard cock, tasting the sweat of the morning, feeling the heat of his lust. She paused to play briefly at the edge of his foreskin; turning her tongue to a point, she moved it just under his head, lubricating the sensitive, often neglected flesh; all the while she jacked him off with her experienced hand moving along his elongated shaft.

Unable to resist, Doug put his hand inside his pants and began to rub his fully hardened cock. Realizing that he was watching his boss get his cock sucked on the back porch, he decided that there was little reason to keep it in inside his pants. He pulled his sweatpants over his protrusion and let them fall to his tennis shoes. He stroked his cock cautiously, not wanting to come too quickly, enjoying the sight of his bosses clenched ass, powerful and manly, the woman's swaying tits, vulnerable and exposed to the bright light of the morning, the gooey saliva hanging in thick strand from her chin.

Finally Doug got up the courage to say: "Do you mind if I get in on this, boss?"

"Go ahead," said Mr. Ryan, becoming aware of the half naked youth pumping his own cock desperately.

Doug didn't hesitate in thrusting his aching cock toward the responsive mouth. She preformed the same ball-sucking initiation on his cock before chocking it back the way she had Mr. Ryan's. As she started to salivate and get messy over these two cocks, alternating her attention between the long fat dick of Mr. Ryan and the rock hard offering of the younger man, she felt her pussy start to get moist and slippery, her juices dampening her thong and rolling hotly down her inner thigh. She put both cocks into her mouth at once, letting them touch and move against each other, tasting their juices and letting them mingle, letting the excess saliva run unashamedly down her chin.

Both men watched their cocks together in Ms. Dawson's mouth, feeling each other's hardness. Mr. Ryan reached over and lightly touched Doug's ass, caressing the thousands of blonde hairs that were all standing alert on his round and youthful ass cheeks. Slowly he moved his hand toward Doug's crack; he pushed a finger down the crack, brushed back and forth against his sensitive hole, and then moved it toward the base of his scrotum. Ultimately, sharing the same mouth was too much for both of them: Doug, young and relatively inexperienced, came without warning, forcing his come down her throat, causing her to pull back quickly, the excess come mixed with spit, drooled out of her mouth.

Mr. Ryan pulled his juicy member out; Doug's come dripping from its head, mingling in one long strand with whatever was sliding down Ms. Dawson's chin and coming to rest at the top of her left freckled breast.

"Give me that cock," she said hungrily before taking Doug's cock deeply back into her mouth.

While Ms. Dawson sucked whatever come was left from the head of Doug's cock, Mr. Ryan slowly pulled on his cock and waited for the right moment. Finally, she was ready and he shot his load all over her face and she moaned and blinked, her long eyelashes heavy with come.

Wiping her face she got up and said: "Now, I know that that doesn't cover the full two hundred, but I will be sure to pay you in full if you return some evening later this week. Currently I have guests, so I'll have to cut this short. Although Mr. Ryan felt very well compensated, he played along and promised that he would come back later to collect what was owed. Ms. Dawson returned inside and the two men dressed, each taking one final glance at the other's cock. For a moment, Doug felt a twinge of guilt, thinking about his wife, Joanie, who was just now waking up naked in their first apartment together as a married couple. Certainly, he thought quickly, this indiscretion could not be held against him; who could have resisted?

THREE

Meanwhile, Paige and Anthony had gotten bored waiting for Ms. Dawson to return from her conversation with the landscapers. Paige was aroused. She always was after their jogs, but today, after catching sight of Ms. Dawson's glorious tits, she felt herself getting that irresistible urge for satisfaction. She leaned over and casually unzipped Anthony's shorts. Anthony always wore running shorts that were made of a thick spandex material, featuring a short zipper for extra tightness. His cock, surprised, stood slowly, still hanging over to the left. He asked her briefly to stop, but couldn't really muster any serious objections. Paige began sucking his cock. One of her favourite things was sucking cock, she loved to spit huge gobs onto the head and watch it roll down, where it either nestled in well trimmed pubic hair or rolled all the way over her lover's ball-sack. She was in the midst of taking Anthony's cock deep within her mouth, on her knees now in front of him, her own hand sliding down the front of her white shorts, slipping in between her wet pussy lips, when Ms. Dawson returned.

"Oh God," said Ms. Dawson. At that moment, both her son and she thought of the time when she walked in on him massaging his friend, both naked, his cock gently rubbing across his friend's ass crack as he straddled the boy's body, deeply working the muscles around the shoulders and neck. That incident had certainly started something wonderful between them, and this interruption could be the same. This time, Anthony barely moved. When Paige's head snapped around at the sound of someone entering the room, Anthony continued to stroke his cock, a small smirk on his face.

"I'm sorry, Meg," said Paige, her face shiny with spit.

"Don't be sorry, honey. I'm glad to see that you're taking such good care of my son. I hope you're grateful Anthony. Most married men aren't so lucky."

"I am grateful."

"Let me see you suck my son's cock. Maybe I can give you a few pointers. Hey," she said, pulling on the white shorts, "why don't you get more comfortable."

So, Paige took off her shorts and went to work on a cock that was thick and heavy on the end, like a clenched fist ready to pound. Ms. Dawson smelled the glorious aroma of her pussy, exaggerated by arousal and made more pungent from the drying sweat of the early morning run. Even as she sat, her legs spread, on the easy chair adjacent to the couch, she could smell the dark perfume of pussy emanating from the spread lips. Ms. Dawson, still aroused from the events on the patio, removed her thong and resumed the slow, deliberate stroking of her pussy.

Finally, she couldn't resist any longer. She got down on her knees behind the girl and began to run her hand up the girl's strong thigh and then slipped the side of her hand inside the spread pussy lips as she watched the girl put the rigid cock deep in the back of her throat.

"Good," she encouraged softly. "Fuck that cock. Don't forget about his balls. Yeah, that's right." Finally, her son's cock became irresistible to her. She moved over and began to lick his balls while Paige continued to suck him hard and deep.

"Okay," Ms. Dawson commanded. "Put your pussy in his face and make him prove that he's grateful." Without a word, Paige complied, standing on the couch, writhing against his face. She stood on her tip toes so that her cunt was fully over Anthony's face, which was leaned back so that his chin was straight up in the air. Spreading her lips with her fingers, Paige slid her open pussy over his nose and his protruding tongue. Supporting herself against the wall, she slid back and forth over his face, giving him only seconds to get a breath before she was over him again.

Ms. Dawson was now swallowing the throbbing cock vacated by the convulsing girl. While she sucked his cock, she watched a single bead of pussy juice roll down the inside of her daughter-in-law's leg. She slipped the index finger on her left hand into the darkness of Anthony's ass crack and ran her right hand up Paige's leg and pushed a finger into the puckered jewel of her asshole. Both adjusted slightly to allow the probing fingers to find their way home, and she was able to slide in easily up to the knuckle.

The girl, her huge tits bouncing, yelled: "Two, Two, Two!" In compliance, Ms. Dawson slipped two fingers into her daughter-in-law's asshole. She rocked against the two fingers, feeling them hit a spot that seemed to be so deep inside her, so wonderfully mysterious. She bucked and moaned and covered Anthony's face with her musky wetness. Suddenly, Paige shrieked and pushed the fingers deeper inside herself and slammed her cunt into Anthony's face, coming explosively, shooting juice all over his face and down the inside of her legs.

Momentarily she paused to enjoy the moment and then joined Ms. Dawson in sucking Anthony's cock. She licked around Ms. Dawson's fingers, which were pressed knowingly up her son's asshole. She tasted him and salivated uncontrollably. Her pussy was still wet and quivering as she ran her tongue along her lover's balls, up the shaft, meeting Ms. Dawson at the head; the women paused from their work to kiss, and then Ms. Dawson fed Paige the fingers that had been up her ass. As the women kissed passionately, Anthony felt himself climax. He stood up to jack himself off into their waiting faces. He shot his come into Paige's open mouth where it mixed with her saliva and ran down her chin. But, before it could drop from her face, Ms. Dawson captured it, taking the come into her mouth. Then, she grabbed Paige by the throat and forehead, causing her to open her mouth and tilt her head back. Carefully, slowly, she formed a gob and dropped it deeply into the open throat where it slid down the back. Anthony forced his dying erection deep into her throat as Ms. Dawson restrained the girl against her urge to retreat.

Finally, she let her go, "Good girl," she cooed. "Anthony, you've got a good girl here." She slapped the coughing girl's ass.

"She is, mother," said Anthony kissing his mother deeply.

After their kiss, Ms. Dawson said, "Oh dear, the coffee has gone cold. Should I make a new pot?"

"Well mom, we actually have to get going. We're showing a house today and hopefully we can make a sale."

"In that case, it was great to see you both, and I really mean it. That was fabulous."

Just at that moment, Paige was coming to her senses. In the madness of fucking, she hadn't even thought about the implications of what had just happened. They were delicious implications, but wild and deviant all the same.

CHAPTER TWO

ONE

Several hours later, Paige was dressed in a short grey skirt and a fashionable pink blouse; her heels might have been a little high for serious real estate, but she found that they gave her the confidence she needed when she is trying to make a sale. Having Anthony by her side, wearing khaki's and a blue polo shirt, tight against his toned body, also added to her confidence. They met the prospective buyers in front of a well-priced, well-kept bungalow.

"Hello, Paige and Anthony. How are you this afternoon?" Jane spoke in a mysterious accent: it had some recognizable southern elements, but it seemed to be mixed with the speech of a fisherman off the coast of Maine. She was tall and thin; her red hair was cut neatly with cute bangs and straightened and carefully styled hair. She had long legs and small pointed tits; her erect nipples were prominently displayed from behind a thin white cotton tank top. Her pale skin was pleasantly dusted with freckles and even they seemed to be visible through her tank top. She wore mercilessly tight Capri cargos and a stylish pair of flip flops. Her husband Tom was even taller than she, blonde with a big chest, strong arms and well defined legs. He was dressed in running shorts that barely hid his large cock and a t-shirt that struggled to meet the waistline of his shorts. He wore a partially stunned expression, his mouth slightly open, his striking blue eyes looking off into the middle distance. As Paige introduced herself and Anthony, she noticed a rather large semen stain on the bottom right of Tom's shirt.

"We're doing very well," said Paige, throwing a glance at her husband. "How are you?"

"We're ready to buy."

"Great. Well, this is the house. It fits perfectly into your budget and offers many of the items on your wish list, like a hot tub and a fireplace. It also has a very large garage, which is a pretty rare, but definitely an enviable addition to a property in this neighbourhood. Why don't you go in and have a look. We'll wait out here. Just give a shout through the bedroom window when you need us."

"Great. We'll see you in a bit. Thanks."

As they left, Anthony and Paige continued the conversation they were having before the couple showed up.

"So, you're really okay with the fact that my mom, you know, does that to me from time to time?"

"Anthony, I just wished you had told me sooner. Honestly, I can't wait to go over there again. She really knew what she was doing."

"Well, she's had enough practice. God, you don't know how good it is to be able to share this secret with someone. All through high school I couldn't say anything. I thought we were freaks, but even still, I never wanted her to stop."

"I can see why."

"Wow. I always worried about what would happen when this all came out."

"Anthony. With me, everything is permissible. Haven't you noticed? I love Williamsburg."

Meanwhile, Tom and Jane had checked out the house and they thought it looked pretty good. The place would be a bit of a step down for them. They had inherited a rather large house from his parents, but they had always found it a bit of an imposition to clean and maintain, and now that another year had passed without Tom making partner, they had decided to move into something a little more manageable. In some people's eyes, Tom's inability to make partner might have seemed like a failure, but neither Tom nor Jane seemed to think of it that way. The blank look on his face was often confused for stupidity, but he was smart enough to make at least an average lawyer; that look on his face may just have been the peace of a man who knew exactly why he was put on the earth, and it wasn't to push pencils around a desk for some corporation.

In the living room they noticed a number of porn magazines on the coffee table. Tom couldn't resist flipping through a few. Jane rolled her eyes and said, "Only in Williamsburg." Their last stop was the master bedroom. When they got there, Jane exclaimed: "Oh Tom, this is the place. Look at the size of this bedroom. Look at the closet space." She moved to the window to call to Paige and Anthony, but as she put her hands on the windowsill Tom came up behind her and took her tits in his giant hands and thrust his pelvis into her small firm ass.

"Maybe," he whispered into her neck, "we should take a minute to test this room out." He popped open the button on her pants and began to slide the zipper down. Realizing that she was not wearing any panties, he slipped his heavy finger into her shaved pussy. She moaned softly, giving him the signal of approval. He quickly dropped his shorts to the floor releasing a most amazing cock: long and thick, beautifully smooth and pink, arrow straight with a slight heaviness on the end. She wriggled out of her pants and bent at the waist to accommodate him, gripping the windowsill with both hands. He plunged into her waiting pussy, her tits stiffened further, her mouth opened in pleasure and pain, her red hair falling out of her tight ponytail and hanging in front of her eyes. He moved his one mammoth hand up her shirt, squeezing her hard tits; his other hand reached around her jutting hip bone, briefly tracing its outline, and then coming to rest over her pussy, his finger applying gentle pressure to her clit.

As Tom moved against her she helplessly began to call out: "Yes, yes, yes!" On the sidewalk, Anthony and Paige looked at each other and, thinking they had just made a sale to a couple of extremely enthusiastic buyers, rushed in to meet them in the master bedroom to seal the deal before they could change their minds.

Upon entering the room, Paige first saw Tom's ass clenched and before she could fully compute what was going on, Anthony came in behind her, pushing her further into the room and negating any chance of a quiet exit. Surprised, the two lovers broke apart, not quickly, but more reluctantly. Paige and Anthony stood, speechless and frozen, both gazing at the most remarkable cock they had ever seen.

"We'll take it," said Jane, breaking the silence, the hand that had been covering her pussy involuntarily began rubbing it.

"God," said Paige, "if you don't mind me saying so, your husband has the most remarkable cock I have ever seen."

`It's pretty fabulous isn't it?" answered Jane, talking about Tom like he wasn't really there, which seemed true, give his empty gaze. Then, referring to his collection of DVDs, she asked, "Tom likes it when strange people suck his cock. Do you want to suck it?" Jane asked. Tom, undoubtedly, did not get the reference.

"Oh fuck, yes!" said Paige, getting on her knees and tasting the juices of their two satisfied clients mingled on this giant rod. Jane now became actively involved in rubbing herself and said to Anthony, "Why don't you come over here and help me out."

Anthony felt like he should apologize as he took off his clothes, showing a cock that seemed so average in comparison. This was Anthony's problem: he had always wanted to be like those confident men with their beautiful cocks--the men he had so often seen parading around his mother's house--instead of just enjoying the beauty of his own dark rod.

Jane, keeping her legs straight, spread her legs so wide that she was supporting herself on the insides of her feet, and said: "I need my asshole licked clean."

Anthony started licking her at her inner thigh and moved up slowly, pausing momentarily to taste her wet pussy, feeling the heat radiating on his face. He moved into her ass, tasting a pungent saltiness, an exotic sharpness and experiencing the deep and glorious mystery of a woman's asshole. As she loosened, he drove his tongue deeper into her asshole, then circling his tongue around, tasting the overflow from her wet pussy. She moaned softly. She had positioned herself in such a way that she could watch Paige suck her husband's cock and she noted how deeply she was taking him into her mouth, working his head with her throat, covering his gorgeous member with spit.

After several minutes of intense sucking, Paige sat back and said to Jane, "You know, I've got to ask, but would it be okay for Anthony to suck this cock. I know he likes it, and I would absolutely explode if I saw it."

"Sure. He doesn't care as long as he's getting sucked by something. But I want to eat your pussy while you watch."

Anthony eagerly moved over to take the massive cock, taking in the sweaty, gooey rod just like he had so many times in college, except this was a cock for the hall of fame, he wanted to savour it, to devour it, to feel it explode inside his mouth.

Meanwhile, Paige unzipped her skirt and let it fall to floor and Jane came over, now naked and started to unbutton Paige's pink shirt exposing her fine, olive coloured tits, heavy and erect. Jane then directed the tall dark woman to get on all fours on the bed facing Tom and her frenzied husband. Jane laid flat on her back and directed the woman's hips over her and pulled Paige's spread pussy down onto her face, driving her tongue in and out of her slippery hole, moving quickly to her clit and then all the way down to her asshole. From the front, Tom watched Paige's tits swaying, her black hair fallen over her face, her hands clenched on the bedspread.

Paige looked up and met Tom's eyes, she said, "I want you to fuck my husband. I want you to fuck him right in front of me with that unbelievable cock." She almost shrieked that last part. The men eagerly obeyed. Tom found lubricant in the bedside drawer and methodically, without changing his expression, began to put one finger, then two, then three into Anthony's asshole as the submissive man braced himself against the footboard.

"Fuck him!" Paige called, pushing herself onto Jane's face, squeezing her own tits roughly, running one hand through her hair so that she looked like she was riding a bull instead of a woman's face. As the moment grew nearer, Paige began to convulse more vigorously, rubbing her pussy over Jane's face, feeling it become more slippery. Tom grabbed Anthony's ass cheeks and squeezed them around his cock and began fucking his cheeks. Anthony moaned at the pressure on his loosened asshole and particularly enjoyed the way Tom's sack rubbed into his inner thigh.

"Fuck him!" Paige screamed. Tom now slowly inserted his cock into Anthony's asshole. Anthony winced and then groaned as the giant pole slid inside. Tom brought his cock all the way back out and then slipped his head in, then out again and then plunged deep inside.

"No! Fuck him! I want to hear you fucking slamming into his ass. I want you to make him yell." In response, Tom increased his intensity, moving back and forth rapidly, forcing his rock hard cock in deeply and vigorously.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" they all called out together, except for Jane who could barely breath, drowning in the potent juice of a woman Jane guessed had completely forgotten what she was rubbing her hairy cunt against.

Anthony yelled, "Oh God." Paige came all over Jane's face, showering her with salty juice, convulsing uncontrollably over the suffocating Jane who was finally freed and sat up coughing, but happy. Paige didn't want to close her legs quite yet and kneeling above Jane, who was now furiously fingering her own pussy, she continued to rub herself, looking into the unfocused eyes of her husband, wanting to taste that bit of drool that was running down his chin.

TWO

Meanwhile, the owner of the house, Mr. Ryan came home from work and offered his assistant Doug a beer, which he accepted gladly. The two men went into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Doug noticed that Mr. Ryan had some pretty racy magazines lying casually on the coffee table. He was surprised to see that they were all of woman, but with a definite anal bent. Mr. Ryan leaned over Doug's shoulder, "Do you like that?" he asked.

"Sure, but not as much as the real thing," said Doug, hinting broadly.

"You're telling me. You know, I noticed today that we're really whipping you into shape. You got a little soft while you were in school."

"Thanks," said Doug, rolling up his shirt sleeve and showing off his muscles. When he brought it back down, it was on Mr. Ryan's leg.

"You know, Doug, it wasn't just your muscles I was impressed with today. It was the size and curve of your hard cock. I loved the way it felt, pulsing against mine. I'd love to see it again."

In response, Doug shed his short blue t-shirt and Mr. Ryan was quick to follow. Soon the two men were passionately kissing on the couch, their cocks barely contained inside their pants. Mr. Ryan straddled Doug and began to rub himself over Doug's cock. Then, Mr. Ryan stood up and pulled off his tight white jeans. Doug ran his hands up the strong thighs and firm buttocks, feeling the hot urgency of Mr. Ryan's cock pressing into his chest.

Standing to continue kissing, Doug began to stroke the hard cock. Mr. Ryan started to kiss Doug's body, moving over his chest and ending at the cock, aching to be released from his blue sweat pants. Finally, the cock was released, and the two rods moved against each other excitedly. Now it was Doug's turn. He got on his knees and began to suck Mr. Ryan's cock, moving his hand from the man's strong inner thigh to his smooth ball sack.

Mr. Ryan threw Doug onto the couch and began to suck his surprisingly long rod, while he slowly pulled on his own. He showed the skill of someone who had been in this situation before, taking the cock deep into his mouth. Soon, the two men had altered positions, Doug straddled Mr. Ryan's face, so that they could suck each other's cocks simultaneously. Mr. Ryan continued to take Doug fully, and methodically into his mouth, while Doug preferred to suck hotly around the tip. Soon, both men began to finger the other man's asshole, penetrating gently.

"Doug, it is time for me to fuck you. Are you ready?"

"Yes," said Doug lying down on the couch and holding his legs in the air; though his voice was confident, he felt the instantaneous sweat of nervousness, or perhaps of anticipation.

Mr. Ryan grabbed some conveniently placed oil from the cabinet and began pouring it down the young man's shaft, watching in run over his cock sack into his hungry asshole. He pressed his cock firmly against the puckered muscle, willing it to relax. Slowly, it spread and Doug gritted his teeth as Mr. Ryan moved his head inside. Soon, Doug's socked feet were bouncing against Mr. Ryan's broad chest as he rhythmically fucked him, pulling his cock almost out of the tight asshole before thrusting deeply into the warm hole. Mr. Ryan noticed Doug's rock hard cock slapping softly against the flat stomach, he moved his large hand down Doug's leg and grabbed his balls gently before taking the stiff rod firmly and pulling slowly, up and down. After several minutes, Mr. Ryan prepared to come and pulled out of Doug's asshole. Doug begged him: "Come on my cock; come on my cock and then lick it off."

Mr. Ryan obliged and then bent down to taste his come on the youthful eager cock. Suddenly, almost before he had taken the cock all the way into his mouth, Doug came hard, shivering and moaning. After a few minutes, they decided to head upstairs for a shower.

THREE

Upon entering the bedroom, they saw a wild and unexpected scene. Tom was fucking Anthony who was gripping the footboard while Jane was on her knees sucking his cock, and Paige lay on her back on the floor, her face buried in Jane's pussy. The pace was ecstatic and no one saw them at first; the men stood there, their freshly used cocks still partially erect, staring at the black hair and glorious juicy flesh between Paige's wide open legs.

Finally, Mr. Ryan gathered himself and said: "Excuse me?"

The party in his room were startled into stopping. Jane, saliva dripping down her face, freed herself from where she was wedged in a looked past the two men locked in their forbidden embrace and said: "We'll take it. This is a great house."

Paige, wriggled out of her position and stood naked in front of the men who were still frozen, said: "I'm so sorry Mr. Ryan. We were caught up in the enthusiasm of the sale. But," she said, observing that Mr. Ryan was also naked, adopted a suggestive voice, "I'm sure I can make it up to you." She went down on her knees and grabbed his cock at the base and then slowly, looking him in the eye, took it deep within her mouth. It tasted like Anthony's cock after he had fucked her in the ass, and immediately she knew where this cock had just been. And yet, she was strangely compelled, finding pleasure in the humiliation, causing her to eat the dirty cock all the more messily, the stained drool rolling endlessly down her chin. She continually pulled the cock out of her mouth and rubbed it on her face and into her hair. She took it between her tits, and squealing and moaning, began to energetically fuck it between her large tits.

Jane came around and began sucking the younger man. Tom began fucking Anthony again, moving deeply inside him. Anthony whined, "Who's going to suck my cock?" The two women stopped and Paige said, I guess I'll have to take on these two gentlemen all by myself. You go ahead; I suck that cock every day."

Jane agreed and wedged herself back in against the footboard. She allowed the thrust of Tom to force Anthony's cock in and out of her mouth, banging her head softly against the footboard. Paige led the two men to the bed, she motioned Doug to lie down and then, bending over seductively, she used the juice of her unbelievably wet pussy to lubricate her asshole and then ever so slowly, she lowered her ass onto his erect cock. Then, spreading her legs, she motioned for Mr. Ryan to start fucking her pussy. She spread it for him and moaned softly as he put it inside her. From his position buried beneath the writhing woman, feeling the delicious thrusting of Mr. Ryan's cock, he heard Paige ask to have her tits slapped. He obliged and reached up to smack playfully at the heavy tits. As the two hard cocks moved inside her, Doug's rod repeatedly hit the sweet spot that Ms. Dawson's fingers had found this morning and Mr. Ryan's dirty cock fucked her furiously and quickly.

"Do you like that, bitch. This is what you get for fucking in my house," said Mr. Ryan affably getting into the spirit.

"Oh," she cried, "I deserve to be fucked like this. Fuck me! Fuck me! Make me pay. Slap my tits harder."

With this in their view, Tom and Anthony quickly reached climax. Tom pulled out and he and Anthony began vigorously jacking off in front of Jane's open mouth. The room was filled with grunting and moaning and then the two men showered Jane with thick gooey come, getting some of it in her mouth, but a large amount missed landing on her neck, nose, hair and her full beautiful eyelashes.

"Let me taste that cock," she said. She took the two men into her mouth, sucking them clean.

Then, in what can only be described as a feat of extraordinary sexual athleticism and coordination, Jane stood on the bed and positioned herself so that Mr. Ryan could eat her pussy while Paige ate her asshole. She thrust back and forth, first ramming her pussy sloppily against Mr. Ryan's face and then spreading her cheeks and burying Paige's face between two creamy mounds of luscious flesh. Tom and Anthony watched blissfully, gently caressed their dying erections. Sweating now, muscles tight and glistening, the mass of flesh moved and moaned, crooning that age old anthem: bellybuttons, pussies, long blond hair sticky against an elegant neck, shoulder blades, calves, thighs slapping, hot dripping come, mouths wet with salvia and anticipation.

"OH GOD!" yelled Jane and Paige in unison. "I'm coming, coming," they all said without variation, shuddering, and exhaling through clenched teeth. Doug came in Paige's ass and Mr. Ryan, still eating the spread pussy, pulled out just in time to jack off all over her wet pussy, still throbbing with her recent orgasm.

"Well," said Paige at last, "that was a great way to seal the deal."

"Let's get to that paperwork," said Anthony, his ass still hot and steaming.

"Hey," said Jane, "Tom and I want to throw a party at our house tomorrow night, a last hurrah, so to speak. Anyway, we would love it if all of you could join us."

Everyone agreed happily; Doug thought about Joanie, he would have to leave her at home; although they always invited other men into their beds, things had remained strictly heterosexual simply because he wasn't sure how his new wife would take to his predilection. He was sure she had seen him gazing lustily at the hard rods of those strangers, but she hadn't said anything yet. Since he hoped to have an opportunity to fuck some of these other men without a long discussion, he thought he would go stag. He forgot, of course, where he was living: Williamsburg, South Carolina.

CHAPTER THREE

ONE

Later that evening, Doug returned home to his and Joanie's cramped basement apartment, their first place together as a couple; it was ugly and cheap, but Joanie had lovingly and creatively decorated some of the more dismal corners. He was enthusiastic about his day at work and hoped that his wife, Joanie, would be up for a little sex, but alas, it was not to be. As he walked in the door, he met his wife dressed in her yoga outfit, which consisted of a pair of outrageously tight pants that accentuated her strong thighs and small, but perky round butt. Also added to the ensemble were was a pink cotton tank top that seemed to be barely holding together, stretching over her excitable girlish breasts. Her shiny black hair was tied up in a severe bun; her belly was exposed and Doug openly fawned over her olive skin, accented by a jewelled bellybutton ring.

"Sorry honey, I'm just heading out the door." He loved the way she looked in those pants, each muscle and movement was announced sensually.

He gave her a slap on her firm ass, "Alright," he said disappointedly, "I'll wait for you."

"Great, see you in about two hours."

"Hey," he said, even as she was standing on the landing outside the front door, "I've got something to do tomorrow. Mr. Ryan's sold his house, so he's treating me to a few beers."

"He's always treating you to a few beers. Doesn't that man have any friends?"

"I don't know."

"Well, we'll talk when I get home. Anyway," she said, playfully fingering the waistband of his sweatpants. "Keep your hands off this, you know what yoga does for me," she intoned with a not-too-subtle subtext.

With the apartment to himself, Doug wandered around naked after showering, unable to get the scenes of the day out of his head. Meanwhile, on his way to the gym for his customary workout, Anthony was feeling the same way. At the very same time, Joanie was driving to her yoga class, feeling that sort of background sense of arousal she always mysteriously got whenever she put on her workout outfit and noticed her own body filling out her tight pants and thin tank top. She liked the way her pants rode up a little, offering a hint of camel toe and just the slightest shadow of a wedgie; she especially liked the way her pierced belly button showed just below her tank top. She felt a familiar moistness between her legs and couldn't help but run an admiring hand across her breasts, down her stomach and over the inner part of her legs. Simultaneously, Paige was heading to her mother-in-law's house wearing a black lacy bodysuit that ended just below her knees, at her wrists and went up to her elegant neck, ending in a thick lacy choker. Overtop, she was wearing a short trench coat. Where Joanie was lithe and lean and little, Paige was all curves and the body suit went miles to flatter her body, to deliver the ins and outs of her body in an almost irresistible package. She was going to Ms. Dawson's house to finish the job they had started earlier that day. She had realized that Ms. Dawson had given, but had never received and she hoped to rectify that situation. Meanwhile, Tom was undressing in a bathroom, admiring the way the lighting fell on perfect shapes and planes of his body. At the same time, his wife, Jane, was driving in the orange glow in the dying evening sunlight, squinting all the way to the very same class that Joanie attended.

Doug, now dressed in a pair of jeans, had been watching a porn he watched frequently and had unbuttoned the top button of his tight pants and was on his way back to the couch with a new beer in hand when he caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror, lighted softly in the cool blue of the moon.

Anthony worked out ferociously, trying to get his mind to go elsewhere, to stop thinking about cocks and his mother, but in the change room, he noticed cocks hanging everywhere, tormenting him. He took off his sweaty workout clothes to shower and change; he lingered longer than usual in the locker room, drinking in the testosterone filled atmosphere, imagining that other men were stealing glances at his cock, all the while he was trying furtively to do the same himself.

The yoga class began at the recreational center downtown. Joanie and Jane contorted their bodies into the usual, but forever unusual positions, freeing their muscles from the stresses of the day, feeling their muscles loosen and relax, feeling that strange pleasure at being prompted by their gentle, leanly muscled instructor to do things that hurt and that put them in very vulnerable positions. Halfway through the lesson, in a pose that positioned her sideways, Jane noticed that the girl posing right next to her was that same Asian bitch that she had seen sucking her husband's cock. What a delicious coincidence, she thought to herself. With delight she noticed the delicate curve of her spine and the way you could see just the top of her ass crack peeking out of her yoga pants. Because she had already seen the girl completely naked, she allowed her mind to pull down those pants, to move inside the folds and shadows of the girl.

TWO

On a wide street on the outskirts of town, Paige arrived at her mother-in-law's house and knocked on the door. After rapping loudly, she opened her coat and waited. She was flabbergasted when a completely naked man opened the door, his spectacular cock partially hard, and his body smooth and alluringly powerful. Once she tore her eyes away from his body, she was equally astonished to see that it was Tom, the buyer from that afternoon, the man who had fucked her husband sinfully just a few hours ago. Her first reaction, despite his nakedness, was to slam her coat closed, but then reason got the better for her and she continued to hold it open.

"Ma'am?" said Tom, not letting on that he recognized her. He did, of course, but he was in character: Tom was a seemingly shallow man with enigmatic depths. His weekly retreat into the character "Smith" had become a ritual that gave him the opportunity to get away from the stresses and disappointments of his job. The fact that Paige was at the front door, a real estate agent that he and his wife had worked with for several months, only added to his pleasure; he was meat, at the whim of his mistress. Meat didn't have a choice in what happened to it. Although he face didn't register it, he allowed himself to take in the beautiful woman at the front door. Even more than this afternoon, he was struck by her curves. In her bodysuit, her calves, which were the only bare part of her body, looked absolutely stunning, undoubtedly the best pair of calves he had ever seen in real life. Against the black fabric of the suit, her neck seemed graceful and long and wonderfully feminine. Trapped beneath the tight lacy fabric of the suit, the curves of her breasts and hips and ass were highlighted, stretching the lacy pattern to expose more flesh; even the gentle rise of her pubic bone caused him to rejoice silently in the beauty of this woman and all women. God bless Williamsburg, South Carolina.

Ms. Dawson came up behind Tom and ran her hand slowly across his ass, allowing her fingers to dip into the softness and sensitivity of his ass crack as she moved from left to right. She was dressed in a pair of stiletto heels, thigh high nylons, a serious grey skirt, a lighter grey blouse with the top two buttons open, glasses, and a chin length black wig over her blonde hair. She looked like a repressed librarian ready to burst out of her clothing.

"Thank-you, Smith," she purred, "Stroke your cock slowly; I want Paige to see you in all your glory." Tom gleefully did as he was told, revelling in his nakedness while these two clothed women ate his body up with their eyes.

Paige said: "Oh, I've already seen it. I sold a house to him this afternoon." She laughed, blushing slightly, at the memory of a few hours ago. She tried to catch Tom's eye, but he was decidedly not participating in the conversation. He was only there to do what he was there to do.

"And you celebrate all your sales by fucking your clients?" she asked in a mockingly indignant tone. "I'm very proud," said added wryly.

"In a perfect world, it would be that way. This just happened to be a perfect afternoon," she said wistfully, again trying to catch his eye. When he denied her for a second time, she was unable to resist gently cupping his balls. He responded by moaning softly and pulling on his cock a little quicker.

After a moment, she pulled herself back to her original purpose, "Meg, I came here to finish what we started this afternoon. I want to do whatever you want me to. I want to repay the pleasure you gave me this afternoon."

"What a lovely idea. It's unnecessary, but lovely. Come on in. May I take your coat?" Paige took off her coat and did a little modelling turn in the foyer. Ms. Dawson cooed. Tom continued to stroke his cock silently.

Once inside, Ms. Dawson sent Tom to the kitchen for two glasses and a bottle of red wine. Paige whispered, "What is going on here?"

"Oh, you don't have to whisper in front of Smith. Listen, about ten years ago, he had just dropped out of high school. He was painting my house, and I saw that he could do more. Literally. So, I took him under my wing, I guided his cock to greener pastures."

"What? You pimped him out?" asked Paige, feigning indignation.

"Hey, that piece of meat paid his way through law school. The women of this neighbourhood grew very attached to him over the years. But, I'm the only one he still sees. Every Monday night he comes over to my house and does things for me. I guess he thinks he owes me."

"Oh, I think he probably gets a little something out of it too."

Tom returned with the wine and poured some in each glass. He stood, waiting for his next command. The women were sitting on the couch and Tom's incomparable cock was hanging casually just inches from Ms. Dawson's head. It was her painful pleasure not to turn suddenly and taste it.

Instead she said, "Tonight Smith, you are going to go into the backyard and weed the garden," but she couldn't resist gently stroking the soft underside of this ball sack, looking at Paige who was riveted by the scene. The women giggled together and Tom felt the tingling joy of being subservient. Ms. Dawson had the most wonderful laugh, low and smoky, as if she had seen the world and every surprise it had to offer, and yet in wisdom, she could still find things to delight in.

It had rained late that afternoon, and the garden was still muddy. The women took their wine out to the patio and watched his round butt as Tom trudged naked across the backyard with a bucket and a few tools for weeding, his cock swinging like a pendulum as he moved. Ms. Dawson, when she wasn't selling her varied services to her equally varied clientele, was something of a dabbler in the art of horticulture; she found the whole process to be sensual in a sort of earthy way. The garden was large, it was muddy and it hadn't been weeded in a while. There were rows of herbs, thorny and twisted bushes, strange smelling flowers, and a half a dozen very healthy tomato plants.

As he sought out the weeds, Tom crouched and bent, showing his body in unusual positions that probably wouldn't be flattering on very many other bodies, but Tom's was certainly special. Even in the cooling evening air, Tom was sweaty; he was deeply focussed on his task, yet he allowed himself to feel the erotic pleasure of being naked outdoors, of being stared at by two ravenous women, of picturing the lines and indents of his strong muscles rippling and flexing as he went about his physical task.

On the patio, the girls were talking about the types of things Tom did at Ms. Dawson's house. "I don't know," she said. "Sometimes I have him clean the toilet, sometimes he moves the furniture around, and sometimes he even mows the lawn."

Paige laughed, "Don't you have a maid, and a landscaper?"

"Well," Ms. Dawson laughed too. "Usually by the time we're done, things are messier than when he got here. With Tom, I like to get really, really dirty."

"Oh, I want to be a part of that. I want to get really dirty with you."

Ms. Dawson looked at her daughter-in-law: her eyes were wide and her hand was grasping the arm of her lawn chair. She thought of her riding her finger this morning, begging for one more digit up her ass. Smiling softly to herself, she was suddenly filled with fondness for this raven haired woman her son had found out there in the big bad world. For a while, when he left home for college, he was dating a few prudes from Raleigh, enamoured and intrigued by how different they were from everything he had known as a youngster growing up in Williamsburg. They espoused a strange morality of chastity, of diligence and discipline; they did not want to be bodies writhing against each other, they wanted to be faces, unique faces, people who made a difference in the world, people who were special. It was not disappointment or disillusionment that led Ms. Dawson to think this was a flawed morality. It was an understanding that to be a body, just a body moving in a world of other bodies, was a huge relief, an ultimate freedom. After a few years of experimentation with those fat-bottomed Raleigh girls, Anthony had returned to Williamsburg, to Paige, and to his true roots.

If there was anyone who understood the pleasure of being a body, it was Tom. His job seemed to take him away from that: he was constantly trying to distinguish himself, to compete against his colleagues, to do more, to be special. Vigorously he worked the garden, embracing his weekly role of "Smith."

The girls watched him for a little longer, and then they decided to bring him some refreshments.

"I'll tell you what," said Ms. Dawson as they went into the kitchen to get a snack, "I challenge you to keep up with me. Let's get messy," she said holding a plate of cookies and a glass of iced tea.

Crossing the yard, Ms. Dawson called out, "Oh Smith, we've brought some refreshments for you."

He was covered in mud all the way up his calves, smeared across his chest and forehead where he had wiped the sweat away from his brow. He smiled seriously as he took the glass of iced tea; his body tightened further as he tilted himself back to drink the cooling liquid. He was still hungrily eating the cookie when Ms. Dawson began to rub his cock with her flat hand, moving it against his smooth belly. He said nothing, but moaned deep inside his throat.

"Oh, you don't waste any time," said Paige, running her hands deftly over his erect nipples, pushing herself into his side, grinding her tits into his round shoulders. Meanwhile, Ms. Dawson got down in the mud in her repressed librarian outfit and began to suck his cock, first licking it sloppily up the shaft, stroking his balls with an open hand, then at last, taking his cock deeply into her mouth. Her nylons were quickly heavy with mud, and had run significantly from her big toe, and one of her shoes had fallen off. Paige quickly joined her in the mud and both women sucked his amazing cock deeply into their throats, causing them to salivate madly. They seemed to be competing with each other, grabbing it and sucking it hungrily, like a pair of starving lionesses after their prey. Looking each other in the eyes, they seemed to be daring one another to take it deeper, to test their skills, to push it to the very edge. Smiling and laughing, they occasionally paused to kiss each other deeply. While one was sucking, the other was encouraging her partner with dirty words and curses. At last, opening their mouths, the women took either side of Tom's cock and he moved his hard rod in and out of their wet mouths.

His cock still buried in her throat, Ms. Dawson ripped her shirt open freeing her tits: natural, round, with a perfect pink nipple perched precariously on top of the curve. The librarian was repressed no longer; she rubbed her own tits, running her hands along their soft, warm underside, pinching her full nipples. Paige quickly followed suit, undoing the zipper on the back of her body suit and wriggling out of it while Tom knelt behind Ms. Dawson in the dirt and rubbed her tits from behind, first gently placing his hands over hers, then as the intensity grew, slapping them roughly. Now naked, Paige knelt in front of Ms. Dawson and rubbed her ass into the older woman; Tom greeted her with a few slaps on her strong, but beautifully feminine ass.

After enjoying the rubbing and grinding of bodies moving together, and feeling the warmth of eagerness emanating from the crack of her ass and out from her thick, darkened pussy lips, Ms. Dawson got out of the way and invited Tom to start fucking Paige's spread, dripping pussy. He quickly agreed, but first, coming in from behind, he put his cock head at the top of her dark pubic thatch and then applying a delightful pleasure, he pulled it back, stimulating her clit and spreading her lips before plunging into her totally and without hesitation. She moaned with glee as he began moving in and out of her.

Ms. Dawson lay in the dirt and sucked Tom's balls, her eyes glued to the cock ramming her daughter-in-law's dark pussy. While lying there, Ms. Dawson pulled off her skirt and because her dark nylons ended in stark contrast to her creamy upper thigh, her pussy was exposed and open. She slid her hand down her belly, her fingers spread and her sweaty palm pressing into her flesh; reaching her pussy, she pushed in firmly, moving her fingers over her slickened flesh.

Suddenly, Tom pulled himself out and put his cock into Ms. Dawson's mouth, who ate it all the way down its shaft. She tasted Paige's musky juices, and smelt the rich, almost fruity taste of flesh all over his long, unrelenting cock. Straddling her body, he moved his cock wetly down her entire body: tracing the outline of her neck, in between her full tits, over her flat stomach, pausing briefly at her belly button, pressing himself over her pubic bone, spreading her lips and then entering into her slippery, wet cunt. She cried out ecstatically, but only briefly as Paige moved quickly into a crouch so that was squatting over Ms. Dawson. She allowed her mother-in-law to take in the extreme close-up of her engorged pussy before lowering her thick, hairy cunt over her face, rocking and demanding to be tasted, which Ms. Dawson did happily and gluttonously. Covered in mud, Tom fucked Ms. Dawson as he watched the gentle sway of Paige's back, the womanly charms of her supple ass, which from this angle looked like an especially juicy apple, lowered over the body of a woman gyrating unashamedly in the dirt.

After some time of rolling around in the mud, the trio altered positions. The mud was fresh and wet on Ms. Dawson's body, and seeing this great woman of constant poise fucking like a pig in the mud gave Paige an almost orgasmic feeling rushing through her entire body: just because of the mud, now drying in the cool evening air. As much as it was wonderful just to be bodies, it was also a part of the experience to see the face that exists in real-life becoming an animal, a victim of instinct, and helpless in the stirring storm of everything that belongs to the body. There is something delicious about the dirtiness and sordidness of sex. This is where Paige found her bliss, in plumbing the dark, dangerous corners where few people dare to tread, in pushing her body as far away from the routines and rituals of civilized life, in being covered in mud or worse, in drooling madly over a big, fat cock.

Ms. Dawson put a long, sinewy leg up on a table in the garden; Paige sat spread legged in front of her on a cast iron chair. Tom pushed his cock into Ms. Dawson's asshole, which seemed to invite him in, as if it were expecting an intruder. Ms. Dawson began to eat the younger woman furiously. She started in her asshole, jamming her tongue in and brushing each of the sensitive nerve endings before beginning the trip across the perineum, applying steady pressure to the vulnerable, opened flesh and then flicking playfully, almost maddeningly, at the exposed clit.

Ms. Dawson thoroughly enjoyed the raw, ecstatic pleasure in her asshole: the gradual loosening, his cock finding and repeatedly connecting with a special spot that shot joy down her legs and up her back, which curled her toes and seemed to explode in her ears. Her body rocked against the vigorous movements of her man, her tits swinging, now covered in goose-bumps with rock hard nipples.

Paige watched Tom's face, which was stern, focused and clenched with activity and concentration. She admired his strong neck and the muscles on his shoulders; she noticed his muddy hand smearing steamily on Ms. Dawson's hips. Taking in the scene, the glorious richness of the entire situation, she came under the expert tongue of Ms. Dawson, which, as the moment neared, was driven deeply into her pussy over and over, then lapped over her lips and pressed insistently up against her clit, then pushed again sharply into her hole. The formerly quiet, idyllic backyard was filled with the dangerously sinful sounds of hard bodies slapping into one another, moans, curses and squeals.

Sensing the end was near, Ms. Dawson pulled herself away from Tom and pushed him down in the muddy ground. Then, sitting with her back to his face, lowering her asshole down over his cock, she spread her legs and demanded that Paige eat her pussy. Grabbing the younger woman by the back of the head, she forced her face deep into her pussy and bucked and rocked against the glorious cock buried in her asshole; she rubbed her cunt up and down Paige's face. Ms. Dawson, tits bouncing, one shoe on, nylons torn, hair in her eyes, mascara down her face, mud everywhere, rolled against her partners until finally, from deep inside herself, she felt the electricity of orgasm building in the arches of her feet, the top of her head, and the tips of her nipples. She cried out uncontrollably, took one last deep, tearing buck, and felt the electricity arc down her spine and explode from her pussy. She came, she came, she came and most of the neighbours knew it.

The instant he pulled out, Paige was sucking on Tom's cock, sucking it clean, tasting her mother-in-law's mysterious asshole, the dark and enigmatic scents of a woman. Recovering, Ms. Dawson moved in for her taste of cock and then, responding to his grunts, the girls sat back, mouths open and were greeted by a warm, thick, gooey spray of come, shot onto Ms. Dawson's tits and hanging momentarily from Paige's nose.

THREE

At the very same moment, Anthony had decided to satiate his craving for cock. He was glad that even as his mouth had been watering in the change room, he had not done anything foolish, but he was feeling beaten by the fact that he was again going through the door of the Gloryhole, a club he had sworn off several months ago. The Gloryhole was a dirty, shadowy club where men moved in the darkness, satisfying dark desires. Anthony, baseball cap pulled tightly over his eyes, moved directly to the booths in the back that gave the Gloryhole its name. He bypassed the gyrating dancers in the front room and went through a door in the back, down a few steps into a room few people knew about. He walked down a hallway with a number of small rooms to the left and the right, looking for one that wasn't occupied. Finding one at the end of the row he sat down on the come covered bench, opened his fly, pulled out his cock and began to masturbate. Almost immediately, an eager big black cock poked through the hole cut into the graffiti covered wall. Anthony took the cock hungrily, thinking, not unpleasantly, about how many times this cock had been sucked tonight; the other desperate men who had tread this mysterious path. He pumped himself hard as he moved his mouth over the fat cock, taking it all the way into his throat. Anthony threw himself into his work, eating the cock deeply, his eyes watering as it pounded against the back of his throat. Suddenly, the cock shot its heavy load into Anthony's mouth. He choked slightly and then came himself, spilling onto the zipper of his khaki's.

FOUR

Meanwhile, Doug had taken a more traditional route. Now, completely naked, he stroked his cock rapidly, enjoying the view in the mirror: the way his muscles twitched and flexed, his lines, his shadows. Gazing at himself, he found the whole picture to be quite arousing. He imagined that someone was watching him jack off in the cool light of the moon and suddenly, thinking with the addled brain of someone just before an orgasm, he decided he wanted someone to actually watch him. He stopped before he came; the evening breeze caressed his body and convinced him to take things a bit further tonight.

Joanie was supposed to have finished her yoga class over an hour ago. She was still not home, and had not even made a phone call. If she had been here, this never would be happening. Inspired by the evening air, and justified by everything Joanie had done wrong, he pulled on a pair of Joanie's soccer shorts, a tank top and a pair of flip flops. Tonight he was going to the Gloryhole and he wanted to be seen. He would be leaving his Hurricances cap at home.

Just as he pulled out of his driveway, the phone rang. But in that state on mind he probably wouldn't have answered it anyway. He didn't want to be tamed by the intrusion of reality

FIVE

Elsewhere in the city, yoga was ending. It was Joanie's usual habit to take a sauna after yoga, but they were informed that the sauna was closed this week for repairs. Jane overheard Joanie voicing her displeasure, and seizing her opportunity, said: "Hey, I have a sauna at my house. Would you like to come over and use it?"

Joanie didn't know what to say. She had never spoken to this woman before, and now she was invited over for a sauna. Well, she didn't look like a killer; in fact, dressed in a pair of white yoga pants and a very tight blue tank top, she looked fantastic. Intrigued, she accepted.

"Great," said Jane. "I've noticed you at yoga and I always thought you were someone I should get to know. I'm Jane; it's nice to meet you."

Again, Joanie was surprised. There could be no doubt that the tenor of this encounter was decidedly sexual; she would have to be very naive to have missed that. Still, Joanie thought to herself, what have I done to invite this sort of attention? Do I want this type of attention? She thought in response to the first question that it must be her fine looking yoga outfit. In response to the second question, again, she was intrigued and realized that in a way, she did want this time of attention: soft, slow and gentle attention, kisses, tongues and tits.

Arriving at the house, Joanie was amazed by its architecture, and its size. Its high ceilings, opulently tiled floors, big windows, large original paintings, and foreign color palette made the home impressive indeed. Jane explained that they had inherited it. "Actually, we're selling. We just bought another house today. We're looking to free up a bit of cash until my husband makes partner at his law firm. This might be the last time the sauna gets used."

"Oh, your husband works at a law firm. He must put in long hours. I clean an office downtown and some of those lawyers are still working, even at ten. I feel sorry for them."

I bet you do, thought Jane wryly.

After giving her a bit of a tour, Jane directed Joanie to the sauna and told her to get undressed. She would get some white wine and join her in a few minutes. There were towels hanging nearby, but Joanie guessed that this was a test of sorts and decided that she would be completely naked when Jane returned with the wine. So, she undressed and paused a moment to rub a hand softly over her stomach, brushing against the bottom of her tits, circling around, moving over her upper thigh and across her pussy. Joanie was ready for whatever came her way.

Jane entered the sauna several minutes later, carrying wine in ice, two glasses and wrapped in a white towel. She took in the naked girl sitting casually in the sauna and smiled slightly to herself. Without saying a word, she poured the wine and sat down on the bench behind Joanie.

"Sorry," muttered Joanie, wondering if she had mistaken all the signals. "I didn't see the towels there."

"Oh, no problem," said Jane, removing her towel, but pretending that she was just doing it to be polite. "Being naked is always better," she allowed.

After some wine, some small talk and some giggling, Jane decided to make her move. She said: "Why don't we pretend I'm the yoga instructor, and I'll tell you what to do." Then she added in a low, throaty voice, "I'll force you into strange and vulnerable positions."

Joanie had limited experience with women. There had only been her cousin one summer at the cottage, their tan slick bodies moving together on the empty beach. But she wanted it now. Usually, when she and Doug had swung, they had always invited other men. She loved to have multiple cocks demanding her attention, forcing her to move, to twist, to choke, to cry, to take them deeply, again and again, even when she thought she was too tired to do anymore. And now, this woman was offering her an opportunity to submit to her, to be controlled, forced and vulnerable. She couldn't resist the chance. She got up and stood with her hands at her side, her olive skin glistening with sweat, her tits small, firm and erect, and her black eyes focused on the slim red-headed woman now masturbating on the bench. "Teach me the positions."

"Turn to the side, on your tip toes, now bend at the knees into a half sit. Good. Now, arch your back and throw your head back. Fantastic. Hold that position," Jane said as she rapidly moved her fingers up and down her pussy. She gazed at the young Asian beauty, her small body straining in the difficult pose, strands of her black hair sticking to her elegant neck, her dark nipples pushed into the air.

"Now, face the wall, bend at the waist, keeping your legs straight. Get on your tip toes again and spread your legs a little more. Oh, that's good. Hold that."

"Okay good. Now, face me. Squat down with your legs as far apart as you can get them and your ass as close to the ground as you can go. Wow. Yoga has really worked on your flexibility. Okay, now hold that pose. Arch your back a little more." Joanie was sweating, her muscles tensed against the strain of these awkward poses, her toes worked fiercely to maintain balance. She liked having Jane look at her; she liked seeing that Jane was thrusting her hips and masturbating as if Joanie was a model in a porn magazine. She pictured her body as if she were looking in a mirror, her smooth calves, the muscles in her thighs, the ripples in her abdomen.

For the next thirty minutes, Joanie was put through multiple poses, forced to bend and twist, to get down on all fours, to do everything on tip toes with her back arched. She was sweating profusely, her muscles feeling the agony, her pussy now tingling with the excitement of submission. Finally, in her last pose--on her knees, feet tucked under her ass, legs shoulder width apart, body thrown all the way backward so that her shoulders touched the ground, her arms spread to either side, palms down--she heard Jane say, "Oh no, oh no, oh no. YES!" as she furiously moved two fingers in and out of her pussy, squeezing her tits hard with the other hand.

After recovering momentarily, she now turned to Joanie and instructed her to get on the bench, lie on her back and hold her legs behind her head. Joanie did as she was told. Jane, after pausing to take in the view, flexed her tongue into a sharp point and forced it into Joanie's asshole over and over again until the muscle loosened and she could thrust it in deeply. Joanie began to whimper softly. Jane then moved up to her pussy, pulling the exposed clit into her mouth like an oyster, then licking up and down the inside of her lips, slowly, quickly, slowly and then sharpening her tongue again, she began to fuck her pussy rapidly, both women moaning in ecstasy. Jane's jaw ached, but the girl tasted dark and musky, like a sweaty armpit and Jane found it intoxicatingly dirty; but also, she was aroused by the feeling that she was learning the most intimate secrets of this total stranger.

Her tongue was buried, her nose rubbing against her clit. The girl strained and whimpered, but held her legs steady as Jane ate her hot wet pussy, tasting the same juices her husband had tasted. Then, wanting to reveal all of her secrets, Jane moved quickly, straddling Joanie's face in the sixty-nine position, letting Joanie taste her salty asshole before putting her cunt over Joanie's face and pushing down hard. Joanie, already struggling with the suffocating air of the sauna, now struggled against the wet flesh, but with every desperate attempt to escape, she stimulated the swollen pussy. Meanwhile, Jane continued to eat Joanie's clit and then, grabbing a nearby water bottle, she shoved in slowly into the loosened asshole, which caused Joanie's hips to wriggle to accommodate the square end. From there, toes were curled, flesh was gripped and squeezed as the women moved in rhythm, eating and drinking salty, sweet pussy.

In the final movement of this erotic symphony, Jane moved Joanie so that their pussies could rub together and the two women slammed their pubic bones together, their backs arched, heads back, hair thickened with sweat and humidity swished against their opened shoulder blades, their asses hot against the wooden bench. The softness of their pussy lips moved wetly against each other's, opening with each stroke. They moved together, kissing indulgently and fully, getting their tongues deep inside, pausing only to pant in the hot suffocating room, or to moan loudly. The last notes were screams, literal screams, that shook their bodies and shattered the silence of the big empty house.

As the girls dried themselves, their hair thick with sweat, stuck in strands to their faces, Jane invited Joanie to a party they were having at her house the next evening. Joanie was excited: a whole new experience had been opened up to her. She thought briefly of Doug and tried to call him. There was no answer. He must have gone out, she guessed. Then, she thought, since he was already out, there was no need to rush home. She promised herself that she would let him fuck her later to repay him for coming home late.

SIX

Having come mightily, relieving the various stresses of his day, Tom had left mother and daughter-in-law alone on the patio where they continued to chat idly, now both showered and dressed in soft velvet bathrobes.

"God," said Paige, "I just love that kind of fucking. The dirtier, the better." As the words escaped her mouth, Paige was a little embarrassed: it sounded a little cliché.

Her mother-in-law only smiled graciously, "I know what you mean. It's nice to lose control every once in a while. Hey, come to think of it, that's how I make a living. People come to me and I make sex the absolute only thing they can possibly think of."

"That's true."

"I mean, there's no way you can be thinking of what your boss said that afternoon when you're tied up and getting a spanking."

"That's right. But, there's more to it still. You lose everything that makes you human. It's just so raw."

"Mmm," said Ms. Dawson, suddenly feeling as if she and her daughter-in-law were on exactly the same wave length. The women went silent for a moment and Paige thought all about the pleasures of becoming pure instinct while Ms. Dawson admired her long, strong legs, her beautiful calves, and her sensual feet, with toes painted blood red.

After thinking philosophically for a few moments, Paige's thoughts turned to the realistic application of those thoughts. Finally, after debating with herself, she decided to bring up a subject that had always intrigued her, something Anthony had told her about once, but that she had never tried: enemas.

"Meg," she said, suddenly changing her tone from idle chatter to something more serious, "I was wondering if you would give me an enema tonight."

"Oh my," said Ms. Dawson, "so few people ask me for those these days. I would love to."

Ms. Dawson didn't give her any time to recant.

As she was being directed to a certain room in the house, Paige suddenly realized that this was happening; she didn't know what she had expected. It was all so immediate. She was led into a small tiled room that she had never been in before. She didn't even know it was a part of the house. Ms. Dawson asked her to take off her robe, while she did the same.

"Lay on the bench," Ms. Dawson commanded, now taking the stern tone of an expert in her field. Paige lay on the bench while Ms. Dawson got her things together behind her. She heard running water and the movement of beakers and tubes and she felt the sweat of anticipation creep into her asshole and spread out over her naked tits. She felt the strange feeling of going for a physical at the doctor's office, of sitting naked on that bit of paper, waiting and wondering what was about to happen to her. Her heart was beating in her ears.

"Okay," said Ms. Dawson, now holding a giant syringe full of a creamy liquid, "Please lay back and spread your legs as wide as you can." Paige did as she was told, and Ms. Dawson inserted the syringe into her asshole and slowly squeezed the liquid into the girl who moaned softly and whimpered a little. Paige felt the rushing of warmth into her ass; she began to feel an immediate pressure, which was strangely pleasurable, but caused her to sweat all over. Ms. Dawson pulled out the syringe, but held a finger firmly over the darkened asshole. A rivulet of creamy liquid ran down her crack.

The process was repeated again. Ms. Dawson began to move her fingers over Paige's pussy, burying her fingers in her thick black swatch of hair. She moved her hand up the girl's abdomen, increasing the pressure and the strange pleasure. She grabbed her tits and squeezed them hard. Paige cried out and released a little of the strange juice from her asshole.

"Keep it in," Ms. Dawson scolded. "Now I'll have to fill you again."

"Oh," Paige moaned, "but barely any came out."

"Don't whine. I know what I'm doing."

She filled another syringe and slowly squeezed its contents into Paige's asshole. She felt so full and immediately so had the uncomfortable feeling of pressure, which was magnified as Ms. Dawson pushed her fingers into her pussy, feeling the heat and moving against the girl's clenched muscles.

After a few moments, Ms. Dawson walked around to the back of the bench and, without much warning, positioned her pussy over Paige's face so that the girl could not breathe at all. Paige began to struggle, but Ms. Dawson was extremely strong and she couldn't get away. Paige had a feeling of intense discomfort: she broke into a cold sweat, explosively voided her bowels, spraying white creamy liquid all over the small room, she pissed uncontrollably and then came unexpectedly, all while slowly feeling the blackness and the wildness of death by suffocation creep into the edges of her consciousness.

When she recovered, choking and spitting and feeling completely debased, she demanded that Ms. Dawson take her to her bedroom and fuck her any way she wanted. She had never felt so exhilarated, so completely, and unbelievably in the moment. She wanted all sorts of things to happen to her, things that she wouldn't expect, things that would shock her if she even thought about them on a normal day; she wanted to worship this woman, to do anything she commanded.

SEVEN

Ms. Dawson agreed to Paige's demands. Soon the women were in her inner sanctum, her bedroom, with an array of dildos laid out in front of them.

Ms. Dawson said, "Did you know that your ass can come all by itself, without even touching your pussy. In fact," she lectured, "do you know the secret to anal sex? Relaxation. I think I should help you to relax." With that, she began rubbing her daughter-in-law's big heavy tits, pinching her nipples, continuing her whispered notes on the secrets to anal sex as her daughter-in-law began to moan and sway, getting into it. Ms. Dawson spit on her tits and rubbed the wad around as Paige began to finger her pussy.

"Can you spit in that too?" Paige asked. Ms. Dawson complied and both women watched the gob slide down her lips onto the bed. As Ms. Dawson moved to eat her pussy, Paige began rocking and moaning loudly, reaching back and holding the cast iron headboard.

Inspired by the girl's enthusiasm, Ms. Dawson inserted a finger into Paige's wet, waiting pussy. Paige continued to roll her hips, gyrating madly, moving that startling black thatch of pubic hair by thrusting her hips desperately forward before clenching disappointed back down onto the bed, mimicking the tidal throbs of her building orgasm. Ms. Dawson added more fingers to the mix: two, then three, then four. The girl rocked joyfully, almost ecstatically against her hand, seeking friction, moaning with abandon. Completing the pleasure, Ms. Dawson leaned over and carefully applied the pressure of her skilled tongue to her swelling clit, to the pools and crevices at the top of her pussy, which were rarely attended to.

Ms. Dawson adjusted her daughter-in-law so that all her weight was resting on her upper back and her body was folded over itself, her knees resting on the bed on either side of her ears. The position made the gawky girl look all the more vulnerable and open: her pussy lips spread unashamedly, even her asshole was revealed, forced out from its shadows into the harsh light, looked at directly, challenged to stay and resist the urge to be enfolded again.

Paige felt exposed and naked, as she had when Ms. Dawson was giving her an enema. It was that feeling that excited her, which she craved: to have everything stripped away, to be seen, to be smelt, to be tasted, to be judged, and then hopefully, to be fucked.

Ms. Dawson began to run her tongue flatly and wetly from the girl's pussy, along the outer rim of her ass crack, tasting and teasing the soft, delicate flesh, then dipping sharply into the quivering asshole, feeling it budge slightly. Soon, as Paige's asshole started to loosen more, Ms. Dawson was thoroughly applying her wet tongue in and out of her asshole, pushing it deeply, tasting the warm, unbelievably soft texture that exists inside a girl.

Without missing a beat, Ms. Dawson grabbed a thick pink butt plug and softly pushed it in to Paige's asshole. The girl moaned loudly, calling out and cursing happily. But, after it was in, Ms. Dawson suddenly got up and began to put on her robe.

"Hey," said Paige, still lying with her legs behind her ears on the bed. "Where are you going? Why don't you fuck me?"

"Oh, in a minute dear. I'll be back. In the meantime, just let that plug stretch you out. Remember, relaxation. Close your eyes and focus on the pressure and the intrusion."

Paige did as she was told and buried her fingers into her pussy for good measure.

In the kitchen, Ms. Dawson poured two glasses of red wine. From the drawer in the kitchen she grabbed a rubber cock and strapped it on under her robe.

When she returned with the wine, Paige was still in the same position, her fingers diving in and out of her pussy, the butt plug still stuck deep inside of her.

"Good girl," said Ms. Dawson. "This wine is for after. Trust me, you'll need it."

"Bring it on, mother," she said lustily.

Ms. Dawson took a position over Paige that would have challenged the muscles and balance of far younger women. Almost crouching over her daughter-in-law, she replaced the plug with the rubber of the strap-on, forcing her way into the well prepared asshole. There was little time for Paige to gasp and moan. Quickly, Ms. Dawson began to fuck the girl vigorously, loving the way the leather of the strap-on rubbed at her pussy, loving the way Paige's heavy tits bounced and the surprised look on her face, coupled with the physical concentration of trying to remain in her position despite the jostling from above.

The cock connected with that gorgeous spot inside her. She took her hands away from her pussy completely, grabbing the headboard again with both hands. She pushed and braced against the pounding cock, she yelled out and cursed for all she was worth, she squeezed her big tits, wringing them and pinching them, she begged for more, she begged for mercy, she started to sweat behind her knees, she wanted the world to know that she was being fucked and it was the greatest goddamn thing that have ever fucking happened. She came. Though she had wished it would never end, Ms. Dawson pulled the rubber from her newly navigated asshole and forced it quickly into her throat, surprising her again. But, she ate it with absolute relish, treasuring the taste, being overpowered in all her senses, vowing to remember that taste for a lifetime.

"Wine?" said Ms. Dawson at last.

"That would be great. Do you have any cigarettes?"

"I'll get them. Drink up," she said, giving her glass of fine red wine.

EIGHT

After zipping up, regaining his composure, and putting his baseball cap back on low over his eyes, Anthony exited the booth and took off down the hallway at a brisk pace. He felt somewhat satisfied, at least temporarily quenched, but the events of the night had done as much to reawaken as they had to satiate. As he stepped from the dark shadows of the back hallway into the strange pulsing red of the main room, all the while looking at the floor, he ran straight into a man coming the other way. This man was dressed in women's soccer shorts, flip flops and a thin tank top; it was Doug. The two were going about muttering their apologies without making eye contact when Doug remembered his mission for coming here in the first place was to be seen. He said boldly, "Excuse me, sir. I'm sorry."

Anthony recognized the voice from the afternoon and looked up startled. "Oh, good God," he said. Being seen at the Gloryhole was absolutely not what Anthony had in mind.

Realizing this was not the place one stands around to chat about sports or the weather, Doug jumped in. "Listen," he said leaning closer, "we never really got a chance to get to know each other this afternoon." Brushing Anthony's forearm he added, "Maybe we can change all that."

In the throbbing red of the club, Anthony's mind twirled, but not too far. An opportunity was an opportunity and they didn't come up as often as they used to, now that he was a married professional a long way from his university days.

"Is there somewhere we could go?"

"A friend and I are getting a room at the motel around the corner."

"A friend?"

"Yes," said Doug smiling. Then looking over Anthony's shoulder into the hallway behind him, he added, "I think you know him, too."

Mr. Ryan appeared, still adjusting the buckle on his white jeans. He smiled as he saw Doug with Anthony. "Doug," he said, "I got here early, so I thought I'd use the amenities in the back." He winked at Anthony. "So, are we on?"

"We are," said Doug. "The three of us."

The three men entered the dingy hotel room, excited and erect. The room was an orange spectacle: the bedspread, the curtains, the velvet chair in the corner, even the lampshades.

Looking around the room as if it were the Ritz, he said: "Welcome to the Centerfold, boys." He sat on the orange chair in the corner. Anthony took a seat on the bench, but Doug remained in the middle of the room, feeling both men watching him. He started to rub his hard cock through his shorts, moving his hips, pulling teasingly at his waistband, moving his hands over his chest, pulling his tank top up over his belly button. The men hungrily ate up the show, rubbing themselves through their pants.

Doug loved the feeling of control, the wild adrenaline of being the center of attention. He loved the wild dizzying feeling of being out on the ledge, the shame of being seen in a compromising position, the anxious anticipation of what was about happen. These feelings caused him to break out in a cold sweat, the electric tentacles of arousal coursing through his naked flesh. He pulled his shorts low, revealing the well defined lines on the inside of his hips, and just the very hint of his cock and the shadow of his neatly trimmed pubic hair.

To continue the rush of feelings created by dancing in front of these two men and to push it further, he moved dramatically over to Anthony and then kneeling between his legs, he unbuttoned the top button of his jeans, releasing the dark, hard cock into the orange light.

With much melodrama, he took the cock into his mouth, moving slowly over the head at first, pushing his tongue into the grooves of the thick cock. After several moments of working up a mouthful of saliva over the head, he took the cock deeply into his throat, moving it rapidly in and out, moving his fingers along the uppermost part of Anthony's thigh, seeking out the sweaty shadows where his ball sack hung against his leg.

Anthony was enjoying himself. He took off his shirt and leaned further back on the bed. He began to moan softly and he pushed his fingers through Doug's sun bleached hair. Gently, he urged Doug forward, begging him to take him in deeper. With his other hand he rubbed his own body, tenderly caressing the ripples of his own body, appreciating the way the light made him look, feeling completely absorbed in the moment; his cock, dark and brooding, was well taken care of by the soft, sensual lips of this boy between his legs.

Not wanting to lose his audience, Doug decided to include Mr. Ryan in the event. He backed away from Anthony and then standing again in the center of the room, he pulled his shorts all the way down, bending at the waist and guiding them extra carefully all the way down to his ankles. He held that pose so that Mr. Ryan could see his eager asshole and the smooth backside of his ball sack. After taking off his shorts, he got onto the chair straddling Mr. Ryan and began to thrust himself against him, dry fucking against those splendid white jeans. The sight of his hard cock moving recklessly in the dim light of the room sent the two men into fits of erotic delight. It was one of those pictures that can be recalled many years later when lying in bed feeling the cool summer breeze across the body.

Now naked, Anthony got up and stood behind Doug, rubbing his ass crack, pressing against his hole, and then putting his cock between the boy's cheeks and joining the fray. He bent down and began licking the smooth part at the top of his ass crack where it meets his back. The orange light played off their bodies, smoothing the flat stretches of skin, emphasizing the muscles, the rib bones, hip bones, lines and indents. It was motion, strain, passion and desire.

"Okay boys," said Mr. Ryan finally, speaking as if his mouth was unwilling to form words, filled as it was with the thick saliva of intense pleasure. "I think we'd better fuck or it'll be over before I even have a chance to get these jeans off."

Several minutes later, the three were naked. Doug was on his back on the table; Anthony was standing next to him feeding him his cock, and Mr. Ryan was lubricating his cock in preparation the traffic of the next half an hour. As Mr. Ryan moved to push his cock into Anthony's asshole, Doug leaned his head way back to adjust for Anthony who now grabbed the table and spread his legs further. As Anthony bowed and braced to let Mr. Ryan in, he watched Doug's body lying flat on the table, the line down the center to his body, dipping into his bellybutton. Doug was slowly masturbating his cock, his legs spread, and his feet together.

Suddenly, Mr. Ryan pushed himself past the resistant muscle, almost coming right then as he penetrated the tight asshole. He grabbed Anthony's well sculpted hips for leverage and started moving in earnest. Doug reached one hand back, moving it over Mr. Ryan's round, strong ass. Of course, he kept one hand on his own cock, which he was now working rapidly. His mouth was busy containing and responding to Anthony's cock, which was being shoved down his throat by the enthusiastic thrusting of Mr. Ryan from behind. A string of drool made its way from the corner of his mouth, and because his face was upside down to accommodate Anthony's position, it rolled over his hot cheek and got tangled up in a strand of his luxurious hair.

Unexpectedly, Anthony pulled his cock out of Doug's mouth. He rubbed his tightened, slobbered-on ball sack over his face, but only incidental to the fact that he was jacking off, that he was getting ready to shoot his come all over the beautiful boy, who was awash in a seedy, yet sensual orange light. Bucking one last time against Mr. Ryan who responded in kind, he came thickly, first shooting a distance, his warm liquid landing across Doug's toned chest, then falling creamily over his face.

"Now it's your turn, Doug. Open up," said Mr. Ryan, coming to the other end of the table, lining up his cock and waiting, somewhat impatiently, for Doug to prepare himself. Pulling his legs back to expose his asshole, Doug invited the man in. As Mr. Ryan slipped inside, Anthony gently, warmly, thankfully, licked his come from Doug's face, pausing frequently to kiss the cocksucker tenderly, to whisper dirty thoughts into his ear.

It was an absolute revelation for Doug. He loved to be fucked up the ass. He loved the feeling of a powerful, desperate man moving inside him, trying to get at an itch that only he could scratch. He loved the full feeling, the hot meat that nothing could replicate. He loved the way it felt so dangerous, so wrong, so purely about fucking.

It was not long, however, before Mr. Ryan announced, "I'm coming." The other two quickly responded, getting on the floor in front of him, waiting for his come. And then, when he did, they both ate gleefully, tasting the taste of fucking, of their own asshole mingled with another's, of engorged steaming flesh.

Leaving Anthony and Mr. Ryan, Doug threw open the orange curtains. He could see the street below, the gaudy neon of this part of town, the signs that beckoned and the hurrying people that answered their call. Bathed once more in the moonlight, just one story up from the street, he began to masturbate once more. Closing his eyes, he recalled everything about the day, the bodies moving in harmony, the delicious feeling of being exposed, the dangerous shame of having each fantasy revealed, the throbbing cocks, the bouncing breasts, the straining muscles, the screams, the moans, the whimpers. All of that, and then his two lovers came up behind him and ran their hands over his body, touching his everywhere he needed to be touched and finally he was able to have an orgasm that shook him, that had been a long time coming, that made him collapse happily into the orange chair in the corner.

Soon after, from his jeans strewn near the bed, Anthony's phone rang.

"I've got Paige tied to the bed right now; she's a little drunk and she wants you to come over," said his mother when he answered the phone.

"I'm not sure if I can right now. I'm hanging out with a few guys."

"Oh, are you," said Ms. Dawson knowingly.

"Yes. Exactly, so I'm a bit busy."

"Bring them a long, they can have some too." Anthony knew all about Paige and how she sometimes got into these moods where she wanted to push her body to the very brink. The fact that she was tied up at his mother's house did not surprise him, though it did give him a slight twinge of jealousy, his mother would certainly be the ideal place to mortify herself in some way, to taste mortality in the sweat, the shit, the piss, the come of her body.

NINE

Jane and Joanie were naked in the living room; having consumed the required amount of wine, they were warm, red-faced and giggly. They had talked about all sorts of things and Jane had really grown to like the younger woman, even though she planned to maintain her nefarious plans. For Joanie it felt great to be sitting completely naked in a strange living room; the conversation went in all sorts of directions, all the while their bodies remained decidedly conspicuous, like an elephant standing in the corner.

Jane's plans were put into action when her husband Tom arrived at home. Jane was sitting on the couch facing him, posed in a particularly opened position; Joanie had her back to him so he didn't recognize her until he was beckoned into the sitting room. As the women stood, Jane saw recognition flash across both of their faces. It was delightful, she thought, that Joanie was naked. She was so vulnerable and Jane could see her flush across her entire body.

Joanie felt a strange tingling in her pussy and ass crack: it was something that she always used to feel as a child whenever she was getting into trouble or encountering conflict. The feeling was exaggerated with her nakedness, and for some reason, it was not an unpleasant feeling.

It was one of those precious moments as Joanie and Tom came face to face. Both of their expressions were completely beyond their control, though they both tried desperately to maintain composure. In that moment that seemed much longer, Joanie looked around the room with new eyes and saw a half a dozen pictures of Tom on display in the room she had just been sitting in, and suddenly everything was very clear.

"Tom," said Jane, "I found your little DVD stash."

Even though the moment was awkward, Tom couldn't help but look at Joanie's naked body: her calves, her pussy stated plainly between strong thighs, the mysterious and wonderful flesh stretched tightly from her belly button to her pubic bone.

"Oh, brother," said Tom. He started to try and explain, but Jane interrupted.

"Tom," she said, "There is no need to apologize. This girl is delightful and quite a wild one when it comes to fucking. I just want to be included in the fun. I think we should make a little movie of our own tonight. Tom, why don't you set up the camera and tri-pod and Joanie and I will get dressed."

Tom was tired. It had been a full day. But, seeing these two beautiful naked women, the familiar adrenaline began to flow, and the blood found its way to all the important muscles. By the time the two women emerged from the bedroom, he was naked and masturbating slowly in front of the recording camera.

Jane had put on a pair of very high heels, and that was all. Joanie, however, was dressed in a leather harness that tied tightly around her mid-section and chaffed at the underside of her tits and forced her nipples to remain constantly hard. To a ring on the back of the harness, Jane had attached a steel bar, which she was holding as a leash of sorts. In this way, Joanie could be dragged along, but she could also be forced to the floor if necessary. While they were together in the bedroom, Joanie had been in a state of stammered apologies and hadn't dared to argue or question what she was putting on. These types of complaints only entered her brain as she was being pulled a little more harshly than she had expected.

Jane was also carrying a bottle of real maple syrup.

Jane dragged Joanie across the cold tile floor to Tom, who was still masturbating, a little quicker now. Then, yanking her up on her knees, wrenching hard against her already sore tits, Jane said: "Okay, bitch, you're going to drink this bottle of maple syrup. And, you're going to like it."

Opening the bottle, she shoved it between the girl's lips and poured it down her throat in a way that made her sputter and cough. The intense sweetness of the syrup already turned her stomach somewhat, just with the first sip.

"Now," said Jane, "let's make it a little more interesting." She moved to her husband and poured a splash into his bellybutton; it rolled lazily down his body toward his magnificent cock. "Drink it, bitch." Unwillingly and willingly, Joanie started to lick up the nauseating syrup, starting near his cock, catching the drips from his ball sack, and then energetically going after the liquid that was now covering his cock, taking it deeply into her mouth, trying to find a contrasting flavour to the unrelenting sweetness of the syrup.

Jane continued to drip syrup over her husband's firm body--onto his nipples, down his ass crack, between his toes--all the while dragging Joanie roughly to a new location of humiliation, pulling her up to lick his earlobe and then forcing her down to catch a bit behind his knee caps.

"Have you had enough, you Asian bitch? Do you like making movies now?"

"Yes. No," she whimpered in response, maple syrup matting her hair and crusting around her nose and lips.

"Okay," said Jane, forcing her on to her knees and then pushing her face down against the tiles, "Spread those legs and open your ass cheeks." Joanie did as what she was told. Jane poured the syrup down her ass crack. Joanie loved the way it felt running over all of her most sensitive nerve endings, dripping off her pussy. But, she had little time to enjoy that slow and sensual sensation. Tom was quickly pushing himself inside her, moving her face uncomfortably against the cold floor.

Kneeling in front of her, Jane poured syrup over her small erect tits; she kept pouring until her body was covered, until it was running down into her pussy, over her inner thighs and pooling between her legs. Pulling up on the steel bar, she demanded that Joanie lick the syrup off her body, which she tried valiantly to do, though her body was largely out of her control because of the vigorous thrusting of the inexhaustible Tom. She was trying to keep her tongue connected with Jane's smooth stomach when Jane grabbed the back of her head, and forced the girl between her legs; as Joanie began to get into it, Jane reeled back and exposed her sweetened pussy.

For several moments, the group rocked enthusiastically, until finally Jane decided that she needed to have her husband's great cock ramming her to ecstasy, and she needed it to happen right at that very moment. Throwing her sticky body dramatically against the bay window, she demanded that Tom come over a fuck her right now. Jane felt the hard cock move into her all the way, and then Tom seemed to be trying to push it in still further. His girth seemed to fill her, to spread her, to find her most enigmatic places; his depth seemed to hold her in place, to press her into the window, to touch things she didn't think should be touched. It only took this one mighty stroke and she came, sliding messily down the window, sinking uselessly to her knees.

With Jane satisfied, Tom went back to Joanie, moving pleasurably against the sticky friction of the syrup. It was not long before the girl arched her back, pressed herself into Tom, forced his cock deeper into her, and came with a loud, elongated unidentifiable noise.

Tom's orgasm was not far behind. With unusual skill, he carefully dropped it into Joanie's mouth. She shared it with Jane who, now somewhat recovered, was begging for a taste.

At last, their mental faculties recovered, Jane looked around the room then turned to Joanie and smiled: "So, I hear you're a maid?"

TEN

Paige was lying face down on the bed, her arms tied to the headboard. Her legs were not tied, but she had positioned herself willingly so that her legs were underneath her and her ass was thrust into the air. A large pink butt plug filled her asshole, keeping her open, putting pressure on her hidden spots. Over top of the plug, Ms. Dawson had put on a pair of thin cotton panties, which she had stretched so that they were riding deeply into her pussy. By now, they were soaked with her juices. Although she couldn't see her, Paige was aware that Ms. Dawson was sitting behind her, watching her.

She had been tied up for a while before she heard Anthony arrive. Immediately her gyrating and wriggling was renewed and increased.

She called out, "Come in here Anthony. I want you to fuck me."

"Louder," said Ms. Dawson from the shadows.

"Anthony, I want you to fuck me," she screamed.

"Where?"

"Anthony, I want you to put your big dirty cock in my asshole."

"Remember, he's with friends."

"I want all of you motherfuckers to put your cocks into my ass right now."

As the men entered the room they took in the scene and said their polite hellos to Ms. Dawson. She was pleasantly surprised to see the landscapers saying, "Oh wow, Paige. You're lucky. You are getting some fine pieces of meat tonight." She winked and smiled at the landscapers as she said it. Doug and Mr. Ryan were equally happy when Anthony had filled them in about where they were going. Ms. Dawson did not disappoint.

From the shadows, where she was naked and calmly masturbating, she said, "Anthony, take off her panties and give them to me." Anthony did as he was told. She smelled the panties, drinking in the indescribable scent of pussy before rolling them into a ball and stuffing them in her mouth.

Anthony knelt down beside his wife's face. Her eyes were wide. "Honey," she said, "I want you to fuck me in the ass as hard as you can. I want your friends and you to take turns fucking me until you all blow your fucking loads in my asshole."

There were times during the next unknowable period of time when Paige wondered if she would make it through. The three men pushed relentlessly, rhythmically, constantly, forcefully. While one cock was working energetically at her asshole, the other two were eagerly demanding to be sucked, rubbing themselves wetly against her face, pushing deeply into her panting mouth. Eventually, she was moving helplessly with every stroke, unable to offer any resistance. Soon, she was covered in sweat, the flesh of her ass cheeks and tits flapping uncontrollably in the vigour of the men's activity. All the while, Ms. Dawson sat on a chair, casually stimulating herself, her mouth stuffed with a pair of wet, fragrant panties.

After an hour of careful sharing, the men all inserted one last time, jamming themselves inside her with all the force they could muster, filling her completely. With this one stroke each man came one after another, filling her asshole with come, just as she had demanded of them.

Anthony, her dearly beloved husband was the last man inside her and with his final powerful stroke, Paige came again, without ever touching her pussy at all. It seemed deeper, longer; it shook her whole body and made her muscles weak. From somewhere, seemingly far in the distance, Paige heard Ms. Dawson scream through clenched teeth.

With extreme cool, even as the sweating men were breathing hard, looking for a place to sit, Ms. Dawson got up, took the panties out of her mouth and rubbed them against her swollen pussy. Bending over the quivering girl, she started low on her inner thigh, where the come had already began to trickle down to, then she moved up to the fold where her ass met her leg and found some come pooling there. Finally, she moved into her ass crack and ate every drop of come from the girl, going deep inside to get each tasty globule.

The night ended there; with the darkness already fading into light, the tired souls showered steamily and collapsed happily into bed. Joanie and Doug both looked at each other guiltily and said as little as possible about their evenings. Anthony and Paige barely spoke at all during the car ride home, but Paige put her hand lovingly on Anthony's as it rested on gear stick. Tom and Jane showered together, joking softly as they cleaned off syrup. Ms. Dawson and Mr. Ryan had had many days like this before--they sat in their separate houses drinking a hot cup of tea, relishing the joy of being alive in Williamsburg, South Carolina.

CHAPTER FOUR

ONE

The next morning, Saturday, the lovers woke up with the tastes of the day before in their mouths.

In the basement apartment, all was forgiven and they were ready to have at one another again. Joanie raced into Doug's arms. "I want you to fuck me right now." They began tearing off each other's clothes. She ate his cock so deeply she gagged, letting a string of drool run down her chin, then she pushed his cock down her throat again and again, gagging and drooling and spitting. "Spit in my mouth," she demanded. He dropped a big gob onto her waiting tongue. Then, getting on all fours, she told him to fuck her hard. He did, she moaned and yelled and then went on with the mantra, "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop."

At home, Paige and Anthony united in a softer embrace, both still feeling beaten and ashamed. Naked, they laid on the bed, each one with their face in the other's crotch, licking softly, intimately, almost romantically until each was comforted. Paige said softly, "Make me come. I need you to make me come." Anthony lay behind her and she lifted her leg in the air while he pushed his cock into her pussy and soon they were moving in rhythm, both with their eyes tightly closed, easing toward orgasm.

After breakfast, Jane found Tom floating naked in the pool. She said, "Hi baby." She undressed and sat on the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water, her pussy over the edge of the tiles. "Why don't you come over here and work your magical tongue on this," she said, splashing some water over her cunt. Tom obliged, eating her softly at first and then getting into it and burying his face in her pussy, the water of the pool adding a new sensual dimension to their sex.

At home, Joanie was begging for it up the ass and Doug was giving it to her when suddenly, he exploded in what would be his first orgasm of the day. Joanie immediately crouched low over the tile floor, letting the thick come drip from her gaping asshole. She then bent low, her ass pushed proudly into the air, her small tits brushing against the cold tile floor and began to lick up the cum, saying, "Taste this baby, it's divine." Doug got down and helped her eat his cum and they kissed passionately, the way lovers do. There was something about licking up the come that had dripped from her asshole and then sloshing it between this mouths that gave them a strange pleasure; it was about submitting to the will of passion, whatever it asked for.

At home, Tom was fucking Jane as they stood in the shallow end; she grasped the edge of the pool as he moved into her. These two gorgeous people, slick with pool water, hair wet, shuddered against each other, the world and all the coming traffic of the day was far away. They were pussy and cock and the rest didn't matter. She loved to be fucked from behind, she loved the way her breasts moved, the way her belly felt tight, the way her back arched, her neck strained, her legs braced, her toes spread; she loved the way his cock drove into her, hitting her clit, rubbing it, in and out, speeding up as she called out. Ending, exhausted, that feeling like a drug, making every limb heavy.

At home, Paige forced herself against Anthony's cock, trying to get it all in, to make it hurt a bit. He moved tenderly inside her, and as she focused on his pulsing cock, his masculine smell, his hands spread strongly across her chest, his breath in her ear, she came like a capitulation, in ultimate surrender. After coming, she switched him to her asshole and as she shoved herself into him, pain exploded in her head, she cried out, burying her fingers in her pussy, screaming like a warrior successful in battle. Helpless against this show, Anthony came inside his wife's asshole and she, revved up with adrenaline demanded that he clean her with his tongue. He did, and they kissed wholesomely, a small droplet of come running down her cheek.

TWO

Although it was Saturday, some people still had to work. Jane, now dressed in the scrubs of a massage therapist, went to her first appointment of the day. She knocked on the door. Mr. Dawson answered it, dressed in a towel.

"Hi, dear," said Ms. Dawson, "Come on in."

"Okay, just give me a few minutes to get set up."

"Sure, do you want some coffee?"

"Yes, please. I really need it this morning."

Soon, the massage was underway. Ms. Dawson was completely naked on the table, Jane rubbing her tired muscles with her strong hands. Jane and Ms. Dawson had a special deal, which began to play out as Jane began massaging the woman's ass cheeks, slowly and expertly moving her oiled hands deeper into the spread crack. She moved one finger into her asshole pushing it slowly in and out; then, as the asshole loosened, she inserted two, three, then, cautiously, four fingers in and out.

Ms. Dawson's body was remarkable for a woman her age. Her skin was smooth and tight, her body was long and lean and her ass was gently rounded, showing no signs of sagging down her firmly toned legs. She always seemed so perfectly in control, so powerful and sure of herself. Jane loved the opportunity to rub her fingers deeply into her body. There was never any tension, but it was a pleasant exercise for both.

"Okay, let's have you flip onto you front." Jane began massaging her at the neck, and slowly moved down her body, stimulating her large nipples, massaging her hips and then moving her hands over her pussy and onto her inner thighs, feeling the muscles loosen and relax and her touch. As the melodic sounds of new age music played in the background, Jane moved her fingers into her client's pussy, feeling the woman squeeze and thrust with each perfectly trained movement. As the hour was ending, Ms. Dawson came softly onto her therapist's hand.

"Okay," said Jane, "how do you feel?"

"Great, very relaxed. Thank you. So, now it's time for your appointment. Why don't you go into that room, get undressed, and all be right with you."

Jane went into the room Ms. Dawson had directed her to, undressed and waited. Soon, Ms. Dawson entered now dressed in a pair of latex shorts, stiletto heels, and a bowler hat. Ms. Dawson had picked out new clothes for her slave. She gave Jane a pair of red thigh high stockings and a lacy garter belt that extended about six inches down her thigh. She also brought lots of rope. Soon, Jane was dressed and standing in the center of the room, a hard, leather collar dug into the underside of her chin. Ms. Dawson had strung a rope from the ceiling, and attached it to a pre-made harness, designed to chafe against her hard nipples.

Ms. Dawson held a riding crop and slipped it through Jane's legs, slapping at her inner thighs. She said, "You're going to be a good little slut for me. And, if you are, I might just let you come." She slapped her pussy emphatically, to send home the point. Then she began to slap her tits, Jane was surprised by how much it hurt.

"What do you say?"

"Thank-you, Mistress," Jane yelped.

"Now, you're here to be my little sex toy, do you understand?'

"Yes."

"Spread your legs," said Ms. Dawson, now slapping the girl's pussy again. "What are you?" she demanded.

"Your sex toy?" said Jane uncertainly. Ms. Dawson slapped her tits again, and then pulled on them violently.

"Stick your tongue out," demanded Ms. Dawson. She kissed the now frightened girl. From the table she grabbed a rubber dildo that had flogging cords attached to the end. She began spanking the girl across the ass and the back. Every time Jane moved in pain, the collar dug deeply into the soft flesh under her chin and the ropes rubbed raw against her nipples. Ms. Dawson took out a bit gag and moved it between Jane's teeth tying it behind her head. Then, mercilessly, she flogged the girl, pausing briefly to contrast her beating with gentle rubbing. Getting down on her knees, Ms. Dawson licked the girl's asshole, but Jane did not relax, even her tongue seemed violent.

"Do you want me to let you come?" Ms. Dawson asked teasingly.

"Yes, Mistress."

"No!" she slapped her across the ass. We have more games to play."

Taking her down from the ceiling, she put a blindfold and kept the bit gag in. She tied her up so that her knees were drawn back over her tits and spread apart widely. She began to stimulate Jane's pussy and asshole with a large, vibrating dildo.

Meanwhile, Joanie, who also had to work, arrived at her first appointment of the day. Dressed in her usual shapeless grey smock, her only personal touches were the black knee socks and the very comfortable, but somewhat ironic, clunky shoes. Joanie wrestled the vacuum cleaner from her hatchback. She had been instructed not to knock, just to enter the house and start cleaning. This was a new client, so she didn't know what to expect, but she hoped the house wasn't a total disaster, since she wasn't really feeling like work. She was still feeling horny from last night and this morning.

No one seemed to be home. This was the way she liked it. Now, she could go about her business in private and get out of there without having to talk to anyone. As she set about vacuuming, she had the urge to put the handle against her pussy. She resisted for a while, but then, in the hallway, she let it brush against her, then she put it up under her skirt so that it was vibrating against her thin cotton panties. Unable to control herself any longer, she took off her panties and pushed the vacuum handle into her wet pussy. She put it in only a little, just inside her lips, and then moved against it, her free hand running down her ass crack and finding her asshole. Just then, a door opened, but, because the vacuum cleaner was still running, Joanie didn't hear it until it was too late. She was in a headlock before she even reacted.

"You little bitch," said a woman's voice, "This is not what I expected from you. Come with me, and don't struggle or I'll report you to your company."

Joanie had been cleaning Ms. Dawson's house and had stumbled into Ms. Dawson's lair and was about to be entangled in her web of nylon ropes and humiliation. Joanie's grey smock was forcibly removed, leaving her in her black knee socks and big shoes, her hands were tied together and then attached to a hook in the ceiling, the very same hook that Jane had recently been held by. Joanie saw a blindfolded woman lying exposed on the bed and she began to sweat. What was going on here?

Ms. Dawson said: "You have been a very bad girl. Now, I'm going to give you a spanking and if you want this spanking to stop, you must pee on this woman."

"What?"

"You heard me, bitch. I want you to pee on this woman." The spanking began. Joanie tried to concentrate. She had never peed on anyone before; she tried to will it to happen, but every time that whip came down across her ass, she lost focus. She lasted only ten strokes before she was crying.

"Okay, little girl: now because you couldn't pee, I'm going to drip hot wax onto this woman's tits and it's all your fault."

"No, I'm trying."

"Shut up."

Ms. Dawson went over to the helpless woman, her pussy red and bare, her asshole pulled open by the tight ropes forcing her legs back and open. Taking the maroon candle off the shelf, which had been burning all through the massage, she dripped it slowly over Jane's shin. As the hot wax rolled down her leg and dripped off the bottom of her shapely calf onto her body. Jane screamed, somewhat delightedly, forcing out the sound out around the bit gag, drooling down the side of her face as she did. Ms. Dawson then leisurely poured some wax into Jane's bellybutton where it pooled and caused her eyes to water and her whole body to spasm and strain against the ties that were binding her. The nylon ropes cut back into her as she struggled; they would certainly leave a mark. Jane was sweating profusely, while Joanie whimpered, naked, and strung up from the ceiling.

Turning back to her, Ms. Dawson asked, "You'd better piss on her right now. The next thing I'm going to do is pour this candle on her pussy."

"I can't. I can't," she moaned.

Ms. Dawson slapped her tits hard. "Do it, bitch." She grabbed Joanie's vacuum cleaner and began to apply some thick greasy lubricant. "This is going in your ass."

Moving it into position, she slowly lowered Joanie's asshole over the vacuum cleaner handle. The pain was sharp and seemed to fill her whole head, and then, just as suddenly, the pain started to subside. When Ms. Dawson started to spank her again, the force moved the vacuum cleaner in and out of her asshole and produced something next to pleasure.

Joanie's eyes were clouded with tears and sweat, but she could hear Jane's screams of agony as Ms. Dawson poured the candle wax over her inner thigh; it ran, slightly cooled, into her pussy and down slowly touching the pucker of her asshole.

Suddenly, Joanie felt the familiar feelings, she tried to block out everything and concentrate. She contorted her body and was finally able to let a stream go. It started slowly, running down her own leg, but as it developed, the hot stream began to splash Jane's face, getting into her nose and in around the bit gag, causing her to choke violently.

"Good girl," cooed Ms. Dawson.

Joanie felt relieved, and again became conscious of the vacuum cleaner, which seemed to have made its way deeper into her ass. Ms. Dawson took off her latex shorts and began strapping on a fantastically large dildo. She walked around with it for a minute or two, letting Joanie see it. She slowly walked around behind Jane's head and took out the bit gag. Jane licked her lips and was driven mad by her desire to wipe her face, to stop the drool from running down into her ear. Though she couldn't see it, she could feel the rubber cock as Ms. Dawson began to rub it against her forehead. Suddenly, without warning, she quickly moved over the woman's face and began to force it into her throat. Immediately, Jane was choking and salivating ferociously over the giant cock. Ms. Dawson told Joanie, as she struggled against the bonds that held her to the ceiling, and against the vacuum cleaner, which forced her onto her tiptoes whenever she needed relief from its deep penetration, that it would soon be her taking on the big rubber cock.

Several minutes later, the cock dripping with gobs of saliva, Ms. Dawson came over to Joanie, allowing the cock to rest wetly against her thigh and untied the poor girl from the ceiling. Joanie almost forgot about the vacuum cleaner and had to quickly return to an erect posture, dependent on Ms. Dawson to help her off the machine.

"Do not struggle, bitch," commanded Ms. Dawson as she attached a similar strap-on around Joanie's waist, pulling the strap tight in between her legs so that the leather parted her pussy lips and moved against them whenever she moved.

"Now," said Ms. Dawson, "We are going to make a bitch sandwich. I'm going to fuck you in the ass, and you will fuck my client in the pussy."

Joanie was directed into position against the much abused pussy; Ms. Dawson bent her over so that she supported herself by clutching the edges of the little table on which Jane lay tied. The two were face to face, Joanie's tits swung gently, nipples softly caressing nipples. When Ms. Dawson commanded her to, Joanie slowly and wetly began to lick Jane's face, tasting the strange erotic mixture of piss, sweat and saliva. Unconsciously, both women began to moan softly. Meanwhile, Ms. Dawson directed Joanie's strap-on into Jane's pussy and then spread the young girl's legs and re-lubricated her already loosened asshole.

The moaning picked up intensity as Joanie began to rock against Ms. Dawson's probing fingers, moving her rubber extension inside Jane's pussy. Then, without hesitation, Ms. Dawson thrust herself deeply into the younger woman's asshole, causing her to cry out sharply, to throw her head back and bite her lip. Soon the small table was rocking dangerously under the sweaty, slapping intensity of the so-called "bitch sandwich." Joanie struggled to support herself, again on her tip toes, her arm muscles straining against her own weight and the force with which Ms. Dawson was rhythmically thrusting into her asshole. The leather of the strap-on was rubbing against the inside of her pussy lips, chaffing her madly. She longed to rub herself, but both of her hands were occupied.

By this time, Jane was drained: her mouth was dry, her muscles ached from being bound in the same position for so long, and her skin felt raw against the ropes. She focused on the tight belly slapping hotly against hers, the soft breasts gently rubbing against hers, the low moan whispered in her ear. She longed to see again, she had been in darkness inside her blindfold for almost an hour. All of a sudden she was overwhelmed by a feeling close to panic, to claustrophobia, to outrage, to hopelessness, to the unbearable desire to be free. A moment later, this feeling localized, concentrating itself in her pussy, it caused an explosion of pleasure, and a relief of everything hostile. In response, Ms. Dawson slowed her hips and she and Joanie eased away; Jane lay there, limp, breathing heavily.

"You have served your purpose, young woman. If you want to come in my house, make an appointment. Otherwise, please get back to your vacuuming."

Joanie, suddenly feeling naked, dressed quickly and cast a final look over the room where the surreal events of the afternoon had taken place. Smiling wryly and looking quickly back at the floor, she took her vacuum cleaner and went back to work. She couldn't concentrate though and locked herself in the bathroom, lifted her skirt, spread her legs wide, supported herself with one hand against the vanity, and began to masturbate ferociously, pushing her fingers deeply, deeply into her pussy. At last, a whimper let out through her nose, revealed that it was finished.

In the room, Jane, now showered and dressed, feeling relieved, released and happy, decided to invite Ms. Dawson to a party she was having that evening.

CHAPTER FIVE

ONE

That evening, Jane and Tom were preparing for the party to celebrate the fact that they had purchased a new home. In a way, their step down in the real estate world may not have been something to celebrate, but Tom and Paige had never really needed much more than what they had come into the world with.

They had spent the afternoon cooking, and, as was often the case, it was hard for them to stay focused on any task. As they answered the door to their first guests, Anthony and Paige, Tom was once again wearing a semen stained polo shirt and Jane, was dressed in a yellow tank top and red shorts. She could feel the ice cream that Tom had melted in her asshole dripping down her leg and she was certain it was creating a small stain on the seat of her polyester shorts.

"Come in, come in," she said to Paige and Anthony. Paige was dressed in a flowing, flowery summer dress, her beautiful tanned cleavage caught everyone's eye, and her long legs were given their full run in the short dress. Anthony wore shorts and a Hawaiian shirt with the first few buttons unbuttoned. Although they had arrived early, hoping to resume the activities of the past day, their arrival was followed quickly by Doug who showed up in a brand new pair of white jeans. He said his hellos and then moved himself over to the cheese platter.

The bell rang and Doug was surprised to see his wife Joanie, who was dressed in a pair of leggings that came down just below her knee and a baggy tank top, which covered her ass partially, but exposed her breasts through the arm holes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying not to sound anything but happy to see her.

"Jane and I go to yoga together," she said, understating the point. "What are you doing here?"

"Jane and Tom bought Mr. Ryan's house."

"So?"

"So, I was there when the sale was made," he said, understating the point.

"Okay. Well great! We've got the evening together."

The same sort of thing happened soon after, when Ms. Dawson arrived. Anthony and Paige couldn't believe it. Their mother was at the same party as them; and she was looking unbelievably sexy. Joanie also recognized her and felt repelled and completely intoxicated. Ms. Dawson, dressed a light green blouse, opened dramatically, and a short leather skirt over black nylons, completed by a gorgeous pair of high heels, was surprised in so many ways: to see Joanie, to see her son and daughter-in-law, to see one of the landscapers from the day before.

She only said, "Wow, and I thought I wouldn't know anyone. Williamsburg must be a small town."

Finally Mr. Ryan arrived wearing a pair of tight purple pants and a low cut purple tank top, leaving no doubt about what he hoped to recreate at this party.

"This is your boss?" asked Joanie in a whisper. Doug, unable to look away from the obvious bulge in the man's pants, told her yes, but that he had never seen him dressed like this.

Despite the initial awkwardness, the party began to go the way most dinner parties do. The men retreated into the den, while the women congregated in the kitchen.

"Well, boys," said Mr. Ryan, unzipping the purple pants and allowing his heavy cock to fall out, "I say we get back to where we were."

"Hey," said Doug, "my wife doesn't know." But even as he was protesting, Anthony had moved between Mr. Ryan's legs and was now taking the stiffening rod into his mouth. Soon, he was gagging and choking it back. Horrified, Doug saw that Tom had taken out his cock, and was slowly stroking it, perhaps thinking of the experiences of the past week, or perhaps he was not thinking of anything. Doug went to the door; he could hear the women giggling in the kitchen and so he decided it would be safe to get a few licks in on that glorious cock. Kneeling, he rubbed the dripping cock all over his face before plunging in down his throat and then sucking, tasting its juices, then pulling out, allowing it to rub against his face and into his hair as he took the balls into his mouth.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the women were indeed giggling. But, it was because the connections had finally become clear.

"So that was you in the blindfold?" said Joanie to Jane incredulously.

Jane nodded.

"Wow," laughed Joanie, "I really got you back for all that stuff with the syrup."

The women laughed together and now that everything had become more comfortable, they were completely naked, tasting food off each other's pussies.

It had started innocently enough. Jane had asked Ms. Dawson, whom she respected in every way, to taste one of the meatballs and give her advice. Ms. Dawson said matter-of-factly, "I'd rather taste it off your pussy."

Taking the challenge, Jane immediately removed her shorts, which were stained anyway, took a meatball, sat spread eagle on the kitchen table and pushed the meatball, with a little sauce, halfway into her spread pussy. Joanie and Paige gaped. But, Ms. Dawson, without hesitation, bent down and lovingly tasted the meatball. "Mmm," she said, "tastes great. Girls, maybe you can give another opinion."

"Sure," said Paige, "but I wouldn't want to get any on my dress." With that flimsy excuse, she cast off her dress, and with the moves of a dancer, bent down to taste the meatball. "Wow," she said, "spicy. But, I'd love to know how the watermelon cubes taste in my ass." So, it was Joanie's turn. She pressed the watermelon against Paige's asshole, causing it to drip and run down into her pussy. The cold juice made Paige shiver, and Joanie licked up the juice, starting at the floor and moving slowly up Paige's inner thigh, taking in the heavy moisture of her pussy and finally reaching her waiting asshole. After that, it was unilaterally decided that watermelon would be taken off the menu as the girls, giggling, covered themselves and the kitchen floor with the sticky, delicious juices.

In the den, Mr. Ryan was now parading naked in front of the men, stroking the cock that Anthony had salivated over. He watched Tom's face, which was sweating as Doug worked furiously on his magnificent member. He bent down and pulled at the elastic waist band of Doug's shorts. "C'mon, show us your asshole." Completely enthralled with his task, Doug complied, reaching back and pulling his shorts down and spreading his legs a bit further so they could see the blossom of his asshole.

In the kitchen, Paige was looking out the window, both hands clutching the edge of the sink, her back arched, her ass proudly displayed for Jane to rub her pussy against. And rub she did, holding the bigger woman's hips, forcing their bodies together, exhaling like they were involved in a tennis match. Slap, slap, slap. Meanwhile, Joanie was kneeling over Ms. Dawson's face, watermelon juice dripping down her crack into Ms. Dawson's mouth. The younger girl was slowly moving watermelon cubes down Ms. Dawson's long inner thighs, running them softly over the sensitive area around her pussy.

Anthony got down on all fours, his mouth inches away from Doug's asshole, his legs spread wide as he prepared to be sodomized. Never taking his eyes off the scene in front of him, Mr. Ryan got on his knees and began rubbing his cock up and down Anthony's ass crack. Just then, Tom exploded in orgasmic pleasure, calling out loudly, coming indiscriminately, but mostly into Doug's face. And though they all tried to quiet him, it was too late. The girls, sticky with watermelon juice, had heard the unmistakable sounds of an orgasm. They dressed hastily and went to go check it out. By the time they got there, the boys had all dressed again and were trying to look natural, even though Doug had a wad of come in his hair.

This did not pass the girl's inspection, but neither did the fact that Jane's shorts were on backwards making the unusual stain all the more evident, and Joanie wasn't wearing the leggings she came in with, and Ms. Dawson's nylons had mysteriously disappeared. Both parties decided not to say anything and instead they all sat down to dinner.

TWO

Surprisingly, the meal was uneventful: the party did not spontaneously combust into the fires of sexual fury. Instead they talked about their paths that had coincidentally intertwined, bringing them all here.

"Life is certainly a strange thing. It blows you in all sorts of directions," said Paige thoughtfully.

"`Blows' is an apt choice of word," said Mr. Ryan laughing.

Paige blushed, but only slightly, "No, it's true. Life really is all about coincidences. It's only when they're so tightly woven that you really notice them."

"So, it's a complete coincidence that we got married?" said Anthony, playfully challenging her theory.

"Maybe it is."

The group began to list off all of the different events and coincidences that had led up to this particular dinner party. The stories were told and whenever a lavish detail was missed, the other party jumped in to fill in the gaps.

"Dude," said Tom, after hearing a juicy story from last night, "you do that with your mother?"

"Could it be any other way?" Anthony responded lustily gazing at the curve of his mother's breast, readily available in the opening of her green blouse.

"You're right. Having been there, I can completely understand."

"Besides," added Paige, "this is Williamsburg, after all."

"Here, here!" they all cheered.

The tales kept the group hot, but it was the meatballs that satisfied their hunger during the meal. During the telling of some parts of the story, Doug was trying to make eye contact with his wife. It was the first time she had heard about his cock loving ways.

"God, Doug," she said at last, "you really love to take it up the ass."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," he said.

"For your sake, I am too. Think of all those men we've had in our bed. We could have been having twice the fun."

"That's the spirit," Mr. Ryan said enthusiastically. "Maybe I'll join you next time."

"That's the spirit of Williamsburg," said Ms. Dawson looking happily at her own son and daughter-in-law. She was glad they could all be so honest with each other.

"God, Joanie," said Doug happily, "you're really an unbelievable woman. Then referencing Paige's idea, he added: "I'm so glad the winds have blown you my way."

When it was time for desert, Tom and Jane disappeared into the kitchen, promising to return momentarily with some Crème Brule. It had always been their tradition, whenever they had dinner parties, for Tom to come all over the deserts.

At the table, Joanie was excited by the image of her husband on all fours ecstatically taking a hard cock all the way up his ass. With that thought in mind she was pushing her husband's fingers inside her pussy. The other guests became suspicious when she threw her head back, clenching her teeth.

"Hey, what are you guys doing?"

Joanie, delighted at the question, stood up and lifted her tank top, showing everyone her cunt. "Doug is putting his fingers in my pussy. Would anyone else like to?"

Anthony, who was sitting next to the young couple, stood and wrapped a strong forearm around her. With the other hand he started to run his fingers down her slit feeling the lubricated wetness of the horny girl. In response, she pressed her ass into him and pulled her tank top over her head. She began to moan and then, as the intensity increased, to whine, "Fuck me. Bend me over right here in front of Doug."

Without a word, Anthony dropped his shorts, released his cock, bent her over the table, and began to fuck her wildly. Her head, pressed into a dirty plate, turned toward Doug, smiling. Doug, for his part, couldn't help himself, he immediately undressed completely and starting masturbating over the scene. He bent his knees slightly and arched his back so that he could pull his hard cock parallel to the floor. It was his favourite position as he seemed to get the most traction on his cock.

Getting onto all fours on the table, pulling her dress up around her shoulders, Paige thrust her ass into her mother-in-law's face. "Fuck me, mommy," she whined. She gyrated, her heavy tits rubbing in the excess sauce left on someone's plate. Paige really had a beautiful cunt. Her son was very lucky. Her lips were full and swollen, dark and smooth; her asshole perched above it, winking as her daughter-in-law writhed pathetically on the table. Ms. Dawson noticed that there was a fork stuck under Paige's shin. For whatever reason, that made her hotter. Ms. Dawson slowly slid her wet tongue along the arch of her bare foot before forming her hand into the shape of a duck's bill and inserting all five fingers into the dark, wet hole. Paige cried softly, overwhelmed by pleasure and anticipation. Then suddenly, without too much trouble, Ms. Dawson was buried up to her wrist. Paige rocked against her mother-in-law's arm, barely feeling the fork, loving the sight of her husband pounding Joanie, who was exhaling sharply through clenched teeth, his forearm now pressed against her back, holding her on the table. Not wanting to be left out, Mr. Ryan, pulled off his ridiculous purple pants and began rubbing his cock in Doug's crack. He reached around and took over stroking the younger man's cock.

In the kitchen, Jane had Tom's cock deep in her mouth and she was looking up at him seductively, wanting him to watch as she consumed what she loved so much. Finally, after some sucking, Tom came over all the deserts and so they brought them back into the dining room, but found their group in the throes of passion. Putting the Crème Brule on the sideboard, they quickly inserted themselves into the mess.

Tom went to Ms. Dawson, who stood and spread to help him. He pulled up her skirt and inserted his cock into her tight pussy. As he pushed and thrust into her, she grabbed the table with one hand, but the other hand helplessly plunged itself into Paige's pussy. Removing her stained red shorts, Jane bent down in front of Doug, supporting herself on the back of a chair, arching her back so that her pussy would be at the right angle; Mr. Ryan guided Doug's cock into her waiting pussy. Doug, wild at the sight of his wife being fucked hard against the table, her smile turned to tears, began to move inside of Jane, matching Anthony's movements. Mr. Ryan loosened Doug's asshole by inserting a thumb and gently pushing down. Bending down, he spit a wad down his assistant's crack and watched with pleasure as it slid toward its destination. Then, greasing his own cock with table butter, he pushed himself into Doug, watching as his cockhead was swallowed by the hungry asshole. Soon, he was deep inside of Doug, who took him with a grunt and then a moan of pleasure.

And so it was. The room was awash was the rhythmic creaking of the old table, the clinking of dishes, the slapping of flesh, the moaning of pleasure and pain. Soon, there were explosions of delight everywhere, amid the sweaty air, people fucked until they were satisfied. Then, in various states of disarray, they sat down and happily ate the desert, which, unbeknownst to them, had been seasoned with a little of Tom's delicious seed.

After eating the come flavoured desert, Mr. Ryan said, "You know, Ms. Dawson, you still owe me the other half of my payment. Last night was only accidental, and besides, it has to be you getting fucked."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. I do owe you," she said calmly.

"I want you to undress," he said in a voice that caused a tingling in Ms. Dawson's pussy; she longed to be commanded. So, in front of all the guests, some of whom were getting at the last bits of custard with their fingers, she got completely naked and Mr. Ryan just let her stand there for a moment, allowing everyone to get a good look at the full tits, long legs and firm ass of Ms. Dawson.

"Boys, get your cocks out. This bitch is going to fuck us." All the men stood up, surrounding her, even Anthony, their cocks hanging eagerly at half mast. Without much more prompting, Ms. Dawson began to perform that most humiliating blowjob most of the guests had ever seen. She opened her mouth and allowed the men to thrust their cocks in out of her mouth until she gagged. She spit huge wads onto each cock and then licked it back up again. She rubbed to gooey cocks all over her face until she was covered with her own juices, until her stomach ached from gagging, until her skin was covered with a cold and uncomfortable sweat. She had been a slave too, once upon a time, when she was much younger. She loved the feeling of having to do whatever was asked, however unthinkable it was, however much it hurt; she loved the way that when her mind told her to stop, she was driven by a powerful force, made to go to places she would never go willingly.

But, as she sucked, as she took each man between her tits and fucked their cocks up and down, she realized that Mr. Ryan had not thought of anything beyond this, and for her there had to be more; she had to be taken further. So, she wrote the script she would force herself to fulfill. She began commanding the scene; she couldn't help it; the woman were all just watching, mouths open, hands rubbing their pussies, the men still had not even tried to mount her--she had to tell them what to do.

She directed Mr. Ryan onto the ground and then, fearlessly, pushed her ass onto his rod; Tom was called to fuck her pussy. He knelt down, his knees outside of Mr. Ryan's strangely disembodied legs, their cocks almost rubbing. Inside, it felt like they were trying to touch each other, to tear at her soft interior to get at the other. Doug and Anthony continued to feed their cocks into her mouth, holding her head and moving it back and forth over their cocks. The girls gathered around and began masturbating, as they had been directed. Paige and Joanie knelt to the side and began sucking her toes, getting their tongues into the space between her big toes, which were difficult to catch because they were flailing wildly, controlled only by the relentless thrusting of the two machines she had selected to pump her. Jane laid on her back on the floor, tilting her head all the way back and licking Mr. Ryan's and Tom's ball sacks as they fucked the degraded woman.

Then, after some time, Ms. Dawson shouted, her throat thick with saliva, "Everyone out. I want everyone to come on me, girls too. You can do it."

She was on her knees on the ground, everyone masturbating in front of her, waiting, begging for it. Putting her fingers into her pussy and treating her cunt roughly. She shouted, cried, "Fuck! Come on me! Come on me!" Finally, Anthony stepped forward and blew his thick white load all over his mother's face. Jane came next, leaning back and squirting her juices into Ms. Dawson's mouth. Then, one by one, the people sprayed their come onto Ms. Dawson, until she was drenched. Seeking out Mr. Ryan's cock, she tasted her ass, her dirty, pungent asshole and with that, she came finally, completely, in a way that shattered the silence of the wide streets of Williamsburg, South Carolina.

The evening had settled completely as the eight tired people smoked cigarettes on the front porch. Elsewhere, a shy young man was dressed in his mother's lingerie and was wondering what to do next. He wanted to be made a slave; that was his fantasy. Nearby, a fleshy girl was contorted awkwardly while a smooth talking grey haired man made a peanut butter and honey sandwich using her ass crack as bread. That was her fantasy. Somewhere, not too far away, a girl open the window of her bedroom, feeling stifled by the hot summer night. The breeze blew through her thin night gown, hardened her nipples and whispered something she had never thought of into her ear.

"Go out onto the ledge," it said. "Drool. Let the winds of madness blow you."