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Subject: {ASSM} The Journal 2/3
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Date: Fri, 12 Nov 1999 01:10:01 -0500
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The following story has sexually explicit
content. If you are too young, offended by such material, or in a
location where such material is illegal, you should not read this.
This story has three parts and will make sense
only if the parts are read in order.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
THE JOURNAL
PART 2/3
***************************************************************
It is interesting that Tom and I can continue
as if nothing has happened. My husband and I had Jessica and Tom over
for dinner last week and it was like old times. Not a single secret
look or smirk, and absolutely no touching other than the usual hugs of
greeting and farewell. I wonder if Jessica knows. I have said
nothing to my husband, we just go on as before. We've had sex
several times since I've started with Tom. It's still nice, still
loving, but it is to Tom that I've been looking forward. So when he
called me this morning and told me to come to his place and not to wear
any underwear, I obeyed and went, without any reluctance.
Driving over, I kept asking myself what I was
doing. My breasts were swaying freely in my dress, and my hem kept
sliding up over my knee. What if someone saw me? But it didn't matter.
He had told me to come without underwear so that is what I did.
I was completely taken aback when he let me in
and I discovered he wasn't alone. There was a strange man there, tall,
pleasant looking, with graying hair. The toughened skin on his face and
hands revealed his age to be perhaps ten years older than us.
.
Tom didn't introduce us. He simply said, as
casually as if offering me a cup of coffee, "This is a client of mine
who would like to see you masturbate. Take off your dress, sit on the
couch, and do it for him."
I stood there paralyzed. How could he ask me
to do that? This was not what I had been expecting. Both men looked at
me expectantly. There was no hint of a threat, no indication that I
couldn't turn around and leave, nothing other than watchful waiting.
Suddenly I felt like the star of a show. These
men were waiting to see me perform. I was the center of attention.
They wanted to see me! I almost strutted over to the couch.
My dress unbuttoned down the front. I took my
time opening it, one button at a time. When it was opened to my waist,
I slipped it off my shoulders, holding it over my otherwise bare
breasts, which I then slowly and gradually revealed. By the time my
nipples were visible to him, I could see the stranger's crotch bulge. I
smiled as I let the dress slip past my hips, revealing my bush to him.
I sat on the couch and spread my legs wide so
he would have a good view of my pussy. With two fingers, I spread my
labia apart, letting him look inside at the now glistening walls of
my cunt. Then I began playing with myself.
I was fascinated by the attention I was getting
to the simple motion of my fingers across my clit. Although I find
rubbing my clit to be the most effective stimulation, I took some time
to slide one finger in and out of my cunt, just to see his reaction.
Then I began some serious stroking. I was really getting off on this
whole scene. Here I was, playing with my pussy in front of two men, one
a perfect stranger, and I was having the time of my life.
I was getting ready to come when the stranger
opened his fly, pulled his cock out, and began stroking it. That put
me so far over the edge that I barely noticed his semen shooting out
onto the floor as I came.
I lay there shaking for a while. Then Tom, who
had only watched it all, picked up my dress and handed it to me. When I
was dressed, he led me to the door. The stranger, while putting his
now softened cock back in his pants, came up to me.
"Thank you. That was very nice. If we ever
meet again, and I hope we do, you must pretend we've never met."
Tom said nothing, he simply opened the door for
me to leave.
And now I'm home and I realize that, for
whatever mysterious reason, I will do whatever Tom tells me to do. And
I will love it.
*************************************************************
Last night, my husband made love to me. I was
sitting watching some inane sitcom on the TV when he came up behind me
and started nibbling on the side of my neck and on my shoulders.
It felt so nice, I just rolled my head around on my neck, enjoying his
kisses. He took the remote from my hand, turned off the TV, and began
to run his fingers softly up and down the side of my neck. I stood up,
turned to him, and buried my tongue in his mouth.
He took off my tee shirt and ran his finger
tips over the exposed skin, across my back, along my sides, and down
from my neck to the edge of my bra, his finger tips sliding just under
the edge, caressing the roundness of my breasts. I unbuttoned
his shirt and slipped it off so I could feel his bare skin against
mine. With our mouths locked together in a kiss, he struggled with my
jeans, finally getting them unbuttoned, unzipped, and pushed down past
my hips. I could feel the hardness of his penis as I rubbed it
through his pants. He helped me get his pants off. Then we were
standing there in nothing but our underwear.
We went into the bedroom and lay on the bed
together. He kissed my mouth, my neck, my shoulders, my cleavage, my
navel, and, as he pushed my panties down, my belly. Finally, having rid
me of my panties, he spread my legs and let his tongue explore my labia.
It slid along my outer lips, paused to work over my clitoris, and then
snaked its way into my vagina. I pulled his head into my crotch. I
wanted his tongue all the way in me. I wanted as much of him as
possible inside me.
When he saw me begin to thrash from side to
side, heard me breathing hard, felt my pelvis pushing in reaction to
his tonguing, he brought his head up and began licking his way up my
belly. He paused just long enough to remove my bra, and then continued
licking, taking my hard, pebbled nipples in his mouth. I wanted him in
me. I pulled at him, wanting him higher, so his penis would reach into
me.
He finally mounted me. His penis slowly
entered me. Then it began advancing deeper into me, a bit at a time,
further in with each stroke. When he was buried all the way, we rolled
over together so I was on top. I could now thrust my pelvis up and
down, rolling slightly from side to side, while he rose up to meet my
thrusts. My breasts swayed across his chest. He grasped my buttocks
with both hands, amplifying my grunting thrusts by pulling me closer to
him.
Then I was coming and screaming, "I love you!
I love you!" and he was thrusting up harder into me. "Yes," he cried,
"yes," and I could feel those last pulsing drives of his as he came too.
There had been nothing particularly different
about this from the sex that we'd been having for years, but it seemed
somehow now more exciting, more thrilling, more real. It was all
together a lovely experience, different from, but enhanced by, my
experiences with Tom.
Still, I wouldn't have bothered to write about it in
this journal were it not for what happened this morning.
It was after breakfast, my husband had left for
work, and I was loitering at the table, softly replaying last night's
events in my head, when Tom walked the front door without knocking. He
came up next to me, unzipped, and pulled his stiff prick out. What was
he thinking? We were in front of the kitchen window, in plain view.
What if someone walked by? What if the mailman came? It was insane.
Yet, with no hesitation, I turned my head and
licked the tip of that cock. Almost before I realized it, I had taken
his cock in my mouth and was sucking it, completely oblivious to how
visible we were from outside the window. I ran my tongue around the
head of his prick and then took as much as I could into my mouth,
feeling it pushing down into my throat. Up and down my head bobbed on
his cock while he stood there silently. I had never swallowed semen
before, but I knew without thinking that he was going to come in my
mouth and I would swallow it.
When I felt him tense and the warm liquid
spurted into my mouth, I had no trouble gobbling it down. I swallowed
it as if it were my reward for a job well done. When he finished
coming, I licked the drops that still oozed from the tip of his prick,
even as that prick began to soften. It was, as they say, good to the
last drop.
Then, still without a word, he zipped up his
pants and left, leaving me to savor for the first time the taste of
come.
It was, I realize now, like those long ago days
in college when I didn't know who I'd be fucking next. Where is this
all going? I have no more idea now than I did then, but I delight that
I am free not to care.
***********************************************************
I have truly and completely become Tom's whore.
I repeat those words to myself as I write this, "I am his whore."
There is something nice about the sound of that. The role of a whore is
not one I had ever imagined I'd play, but I think that deep down I
always felt I was missing something by not being able to play that role.
"I am his whore."
If there had been any doubt, it became patently
clear last night. My husband is away for a few days on a business
trip. Jessica called me and invited me to join her and Tom for a
fancy dinner with one of Tom's clients. The client was, evidently,
staying in one of the top hotels in town, one which was known to have
one of the most outstanding (and expensive) restaurants in town.
"He wants to celebrate the project's completion
with Tom by taking us out. It's all on his expense account. You
know it's no fun cooking for yourself. Come on, you'll have a good time
and get a great meal and with you there to back me up the conversation
is less likely to turn to business." I had nothing else to do and I
hadn't seen Jessica since Jamaica, so I agreed. I dressed in my best
evening dress and, as I don't like to drive downtown alone at night, I
took a taxi to meet them at the hotel.
When I got to the restaurant, Tom and Jessica
were already seated with the client, who turned out to be the
gray-haired man I had masturbated for. That paralyzed me for a moment,
but Tom quickly stood up and formally introduced me to "Mr. Edwards,"
who rose and graciously kissed my hand. "So pleased to meet you," he
said as he helped me into my chair. We all acted as if we were meeting
for the first time. At least this time, we knew each other's names.
Dinner was, indeed, marvelous. I had never
eaten in that restaurant before, and it was everything its reputation
would have claimed it to be. Mr Edwards turned out to be a
charming conversationalist and, what with the food, the wine,
and the talk, I had a delightful evening.
Eventually it was time to go. Tom had parked
in the back, but the taxi rank was in the front of the hotel. He told
Jessica to wait by the back door while he saw to getting me in a cab.
Tom and I headed toward the front, Mr. Edwards walking with us. When we
reached the elevators, out of Jessica's sight, we stopped to wait
for an elevator for Mr. Edwards. Mr. Edwards stepped into the elevator
when it came and Tom turned to me. "Go up to Mr. Edwards' room with
him," he said as he gently steered me into the elevator.
Suddenly, I was alone in the elevator with Mr.
Edwards. "Don't worry, I'll see that you get a taxi later," was all he
said until we got to his room.
The room was large and luxurious, with a
glorious view of the city lights from high up. He removed his jacket
and turned to me. "It was good of Tom to make you available for my
entertainment tonight. Kindly, take off your clothes and we can get
started."
Tom had left me with Mr. Edwards, confident
that I would do as requested even without Tom's presence. It was as if
I was obliged to reward that confidence, as if I owed it to Tom. It was
what I was supposed to do. Somehow it seemed so appropriate. So
I did as I was told, carefully folding my nice evening clothes over a
chair.
When I was naked, he asked me to undress him.
He stood there patiently and silently while I unbuttoned and untied
and unzipped everything. Then he was naked, too. His body was in
reasonable shape for a man his age, his chest and pubic hair were as
gray as his head, his prick hung limply between his legs, longer than I
had realized, in front of loosely sagging balls. "I'm afraid the wine
has kept me soft," he said, "but I'm sure that with your hands and your
mouth you can stiffen me up."
I knelt in front of him and took his cock in my
hand, stroking his soft skin. It lengthened slightly but remained
flaccid. I had never had a soft prick in my mouth, but didn't
hesitate. I licked the length of his cock and then began to nibble on
it with my lips. I held the head in my mouth and slowly sucked it in.
I felt the soft, spongy tissue and pressed on it with my tongue. By
now, he had a semi hard-on, stiff enough to stick out slightly, but
still too soft to do much good.
"Perhaps," he said as he went to his suitcase,
"it would help if you would play with this for me." He took what
appeared to be a prefect model of a prick out of his suitcase and handed
it to me. It was made of rubber and felt remarkably realistic, an
unattached cock, a lifelike dildo. I sat on the couch in front of him,
spread my legs wide, and brought my feet up on to the edge of the couch.
I ran the head of my artificial cock along my slit, letting the juices
that were flowing from me wet it's head. Then I spread my labia and
slipped the head of the dildo between them. As I began sliding it in
and out of me, advancing it just a little at a time with each stroke, I
looked up at him.
He had wrapped one thumb and forefinger around
the base of his ball sack, pulling the flesh tightly over his balls.
With his other hand, he was stroking his cock. His eyes were riveted
on the rubber prick slowly disappearing up my cunt, and his cock had
become quite stiff. I continued sliding the dildo in and out of my
twat, using my right hand to piston the dildo and my left to rub my
clit. I was ready to go all the way, but he stopped me.
He pulled the dildo out and made me get up on
my hands and knees. Then he pushed his now firm prick into my cunt
doggy style, from the rear. I was amazed at the vigor with which he
fucked me. The act seemed to rejuvenate him. I could feel the youthful
spring in his loins as he pumped in and out of me. Then, suddenly, and
much too soon, he began to mutter, "Oh, yes! Yes! Oh, come, yes! Fuck!"
and he came. "Ohhh!"
He seemed to stagger for a moment. I was
afraid he'd had a heart attack. But he regained his balance and groped
his way to sit down beside me on the couch. I hadn't come yet and
felt cheated. I watched his prick shrink, the last drops of come
seeping out the tip. I leaned over and licked it off and then picked up
the dildo.
This time it wasn't for his benefit, it was for
mine. His semen lubricated my cunt so the false cock slipped in easily.
I sat there on the couch next to him and fucked myself furiously with
the dildo, sliding it in and out and rubbing my clit with a
vengeance. Although the wine slowed me down, I was not going to be
denied. It took a little while, but I finally blew off a fantastic
orgasm as I realized what I had just done with this stranger.
By the time I had come, Mr. Edwards had
recuperated. He got up and slowly dressed and then very gallantly
escorted me to the bathroom to clean off. When I came out, he handed me
my clothing piece by piece and waited while I fixed my hair and my
makeup. Then he took me to the elevators and down to the taxi rank. As
I got into the cab, he handed me something. "That should cover your
taxi fare," he said as he closed the door. I looked in my hand at the
two one-hundred-dollar bills he had given me and smiled. So this is
what it felt like to be a whore.
END OF PART 2/3
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
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