"Yes, I'll gush for you, Paul." I said. "Tell me where you want me. I don't know how you will get pictures, but that camera also has a video setting if there is any memory left. Oh, and another thing. I've never been able to do this by myself so you'll have to help." I gave him a wicked grin.
Paul pulled over a chair, and had me sit on the very edge of it and spread my legs. He put the towels down on the floor under me. He took a few more pictures of me in this pose, kissed me, said thank you and sat down on the floor in front of me. He set the camera up and checked it to make sure it was at the right angle to pick up any action. And then he held my hips and leaned forward and started his licking and sucking again.
"I don't think I can survive this a second time." I moaned. Oh, but that did feel good, what he was doing to me. But this time he put one and then two fingers inside me and started stroking my g-spot. I started shaking and I knew it wouldn't take me long.
"I'm almost there, turn on the camera." I whispered. "Keep doing that with your fingers, yes, right there. That's the spot, oh yes, yes, yes!!!"
Paul gave my clit a few more flicks and the sat back working his fingers in me. I started dripping and moaning and then he had to hold me down because I was yelling, shaking and gushing like a waterfall. He leaned forward and got a good mouthful of my sweet cum before I was done. I collapsed back into the chair.
"God, Tanya, you are so sweet!! You know how much I've wanted to taste your cum. Wow, that was fantastic! I hope I got some good video!" Paul was effusive in his praise of my performance. Which was embarrassing, but kind of nice, too.
After I recovered, I went and took a shower and got dressed. Paul had gotten dressed and ordered room service. We had a nice late lunch in the room and looked over all the pictures and the video he had taken. We deleted the bad photos (there weren't too many of them), and picked out the ones that would work for my chat picture. Paul decided which ones he wanted and I agreed to send them to him when I had some alone time at home. Of course, he also wanted the video of me gushing. I took the memory card out of the camera and put it away in my purse so no one else would see it by accident.
"So, are you okay," Paul asked. "Do you regret anything we did? I know you have your boundaries, and I hope you are feeling okay about today."
"I'm okay, I think," I said. "I don't regret anything. I had a nice playful visit with a very good friend. It was more intense than I initially wanted, but not much more than I really expected. I guess I knew we couldn't just take pictures, have a hug and a kiss and go home. But I don't think I can see you for awhile. We can still chat everyday, but I need some time and distance to regain my equilibrium. Boy, you sure knocked my socks off!" I laughed.
Paul took me in his arms and gave me a wonderful hug and a bunch of deep kisses. "Until next time." he said and smiled his wonderful smile.
"Yeah," I smiled back. "Until next time."
The End.
The Red Dress
The red dress caught his eye immediately. Sleeveless, very low-cut, knee-length, with a slit at the front extending halfway up her thighs ...
The woman wearing it was not young by any means, but tall, fair-haired, and with a body and legs that the dress showed off to perfection. She was wearing matching high-heeled red shoes, sandals really, toenails, fingernails, lips, all painted the same shade of red. Her legs were bare, a knee and a stretch of thigh emerging provocatively from the slit whenever she moved, breasts swelling from the top of her dress, probably helped by an uplift bra, he thought.
'Do you know her? Is she a member here?' a breathless voice said by his side.
'Yes, she's a member,' he answered, his eyes still fixed on the woman in red.
'Is she -- available? Open to suggestion?'
He glanced at her. The contrast couldn't have been greater. Short, iron-grey hair, a severe black dress, sheer black stockings, but not unattractive. She seemed a little drunk.
He smiled. 'You'd have to ask her.'
'I think I might join the club. If only to find out if she'd -- like to do things ...'
'The club' was the local tennis club. The president, Tony Parker, was throwing a party to celebrate his birthday, and the evening was going well, a few couples dancing, a Beatles CD playing softly, and the bar doing a brisk trade.
The woman in red was listening to a short, bald, florid-faced man who couldn't take his eyes off her breasts, while she glanced around the room, idly twirling and empty wine glass, a polite smile fixed on her face, but obviously bored.
'Excuse me -- I think it's time for a little chivalry.'
He made his way round the dance floor and smiled at the woman.
'Your glass is empty. Need a refill?'
She smiled at him gratefully. 'That would be nice! Thank you!'
He lightly gripped her bare arm just above the elbow.
'You don't mind, do you?' he said to the bald man, and steered her towards the bar.
'And thank you for that, too! If he'd kept talking much longer, I'd have screamed!'
He looked at her glass, and raised his eyebrows.
'Dry white wine, please.'
He bought the wine and a pint of beer for himself, and they toasted other silently.
'The woman over there, in the black, she's taken a fancy to you -- she wondered if "you'd like to do things."'
She glanced at the woman quizzically, a half-smile on her lips. Perhaps, it said.
The woman smiled back demurely, running the tip of her tongue over her lips. I hope so ...
He took a long drink of beer, looking down at her breasts.
She had another sip of wine. 'My car's being serviced. It needs a part or something, and I came with Janet Watson in her car, but she had to leave early. Any chance of a lift?'
'No problem. Whenever you're ready.'
A man bumped into her, and her breasts brushed his arm, and he inhaled her perfume.
'When we've finished our drinks. My lady in black seems to have disappeared -- maybe you talking to me has frightened her off!'
'She said she might join the club, just to meet you, so I probably haven't spoiled the romance!'
She giggled, smiling at him over the rim of her glass, and he drank the last of his beer.
They said goodnight to their host, again wishing him a happy birthday. He'd obviously had quite a lot to drink -- he was a tall man, wearing an open-necked polo shirt and a blazer, and he beamed and kissed her on the cheek, holding her hand and squeezing her breast with his other hand, unsuccessfully trying to shield what he was doing with his body.
'Good night, goodnight, my lovely favourite mixed doubles partner!' he boomed, and kissed the woman's cheek again, narrowly missing her mouth.
They left the club, standing in the porch for a moment. It was dark, the wind picking up and rustling in the trees, and the first drops of rain started to splash down. He took his jacket off and slipped it round her bare shoulders, and their fingers touched as she adjusted it. The gravel crunched under their feet as they made their way to his car, and he opened to passenger door for his, being rewarded by an expansive glimpse of bare thighs, gleaming in the dim glow of the interior light.
He started the car, and they set off.
'From the way Tony Parker was behaving, it looked as though you two play more than doubles,' he observed. 'Has he had you?'
'What a question! But if you must know, yes, a few times.' She shrugged. 'He's nothing special -- he's a much better on the tennis court than in bed.'
He pulled up outside a large detached house, and she turned, leaning towards him.
He kissed her. Her lips were soft and cool, and his mouth started to work on hers. Her lips parted, and their tongues found each other, dancing lazily, and he cupped the breast recently vacated by Tony Parker's hand, squeezing it gently.
They kissed for several minutes, wetly, and then they broke apart.
Her breath was coming rapidly, and he continued to fondle her breast.
She hesitated
, then: 'A quick coffee?'
He nodded, and released her breast. Again he opened the car door for her, and again he was treated to the sight of her bare thighs as she placed first one foot and then the other on the ground as he stared down at her legs and the considerably amount of cleavage she revealed as she bent to climb out of the car.
She let them into the house, and he followed her into the kitchen.
She shrugged off his jacket and switched on the kettle, spooning coffee into a сafetiere -- he was standing behind her, and she leaned back against him as his hands slipped round her and fondled her breasts.
'Undo me,' she whispered, and he unzipped her dress and pushed it down, and unhooked her bra. She slipped her arms free of both of them, and stood naked to the waist as he crushed her bare breasts, pinching her nipples, tugging them, brushing his thumbs back and forth as he kneaded her breasts, kissing her neck while she pressed herself back against his hardening penis.
The kettle boiled, and she poured water into the сafetiere as he kissed her bare shoulders. She found two mugs, and they went into the living room, sitting on the sofa while the coffee brewed for a few minutes.
He started at her naked breasts, capped by large stippled aureoles and prominent nipples, already stiff from his ministrations, and they kissed wetly, open-mouthed, until the coffee was ready.
She poured it into the mugs, and then turned back to him. He slipped his arm round her half-naked body and pulled her to him as the kissed again. The kiss became more passionate, and he dropped his free hand to her bare thigh, slowly sliding it up through the slit until his fingers touched her panties.
She gasped, squirming against him as he pushed his fingers inside her panties. She was dripping wet, and he felt her hand grasping his penis through his trousers.
The coffee was forgotten as she hauled her dress up around her waist. Her panties were silk, peach coloured, and he admired them for a moment before she raised her hips to help him slide them down her legs and off her feet, as she fumbled to free his erect penis from his trousers.
She leaned back into the corner of the sofa, pulling him down to her, guiding his penis into her, and he started to fuck her slowly.
She closed her eyes, her teeth clamped on her bottom lip as he gripped her soft breast, feeling its nipple hard as a pebble in the palm of his hand. She pushed herself up to meet his strokes -- it seemed as though his penis was getting larger -- and even harder -- inside her, as it penetrated deeper and deeper into her warm, wet vagina.
She seemed to feel it growing, too -- her eyes opened, and she clutched his arms, arching her back to grind her naked breasts against his chest.
He kissed her wetly, open-mouthed, as once again their tongues found each other. He slid his hand up and down her bare thigh and gripped her soft bottom as her breath began to come faster and faster, until she was almost panting into his mouth.
He felt her tighten her muscles around his penis, and she threw her head back, her nails digging into his arms, and then she gave a little cry as her body stiffened, and she began to jerk spasmodically as her orgasm swept through her, and at the same moment his semen started to spurt into her, in fierce, uncontrollable jets.
She flung her arms round his neck, kissing him feverishly as he emptied himself into her, holding her to him until they both quieted, and their breathing returned to normal.
At last, she took a deep breath and smiled at him weakly.
'It's time for you to go, I think,' she whispered, and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'And I'd better get up to bed, in case your father wakes up and wonders where I am!'
The End.
The Interview
I had the process down to a fine art -- click print, run to the bathroom to dry my hair, zip the skirt, and finally put on a tiny bit of makeup. Step two - quickly grab my resume, stuff it into my messenger bag, slide on my black "interview" shoes and take a deep breath as I slip out the door - while marvelling at how I have my perfect routine down pat. Step three - cleverly fail to notice the turned up edge of the carpet in the hall, trip and tumble forward as my heel snaps and tear a huge hole in my pantyhose. Yes -- smooth like butter.
Cursing under my breath, I raced back through the door hunting for fresh pantyhose and new shoes. The only black shoes I can find both of are 5" stilettos ... more cursing as the only thing I can find for my legs are nude fishnet stockings. Out of options, I put on the stockings and shoes praying that the interviewer thinks I'm just being fashionable. This was about my seventeenth interview in about ten days -- I was seriously thinking of becoming a professional applicant, screw my administrative ambitions.
I run interview questions in my head, polishing my responses up knowing that this guy would be a tense interview to say the least. The pre-interview had been intense, he spent ten minutes shooting question after question at me barely pausing to hear my answers. The 'ask' for the in person interview was more of a command on his part -- and my mind had been spinning so fast I nearly forgot to fake contemplate my 'busy' schedule.
I couldn't believe I'd even made it to round two. The job itself was as an executive assistant to a "very busy senior executive" which my best friend and I had giggled at as an oxymoron. The pay was insanely high and I knew that I was barely qualified -- but it seemed fun that my temp agency had thrown my resume into the pot. Now here I was going to meet Mr. Busy himself.
As the elevator doors open, I take my final calming breath while walking confidently to reception area. The large open area is empty except for a single neat piece of paper with black type.
"4:45 Appointment: Third office on the left, knock twice then enter."
I snickered at the odd precision of the note, but made my way down the hallway, knocked the required two times and walked in. Mr. Busy was sat behind a large dark brown desk and rose to greet me. He was younger than I expected with short brown hair and intense brown eyes that had an odd sparkle that I couldn't quite figure out.
I pegged him at about 6 ft and the picture of "business casual" black jacket, pressed white dress shirt and dark grey khakis. If we'd been in a bar and not a job interview, I would have been flirting instead of giving my warm professional smile.
"Hello, you must be Robynn," Mr. Busy greeted. "You may call me Andrew for now, have a seat."
"Pleasure to meet you, Andrew," I returned.
"Thank you for asking me to come in. Here's a copy of my resume for you as well."
Andrew looked me up and down as I took my seat across from him. I smiled politely and tried not to blush -- his eyes seemed to be doing more than the customary 'once over' but for what this job was paying, I wasn't in the position to argue.
"As I mentioned on the phone, I am looking for someone very specific to serve as my assistant. You are somewhat less experienced than the other candidates I've interviewed -- however -- talking to you on the phone, I could sense a certain spark that might prove useful."
"Thank you for giving me this chance," I replied.
"I don't give 'chances', I'm either right or wrong. I haven't gotten where I am by being indecisive or emotional or even for that matter wrong more than I am right. You have potential and today we'll see just how much potential that is."
I mentally prepared for the standard tests I knew he was going to mention -- first typing, then spelling and finally Microsoft Office -- pretend to be surprised like he's the first exec on the planet to think of software tests.
"Andrew, I think you'll find my scores from the agency quite exceptional. I type on average 52 words per minute with a 99% accuracy. I also have my certification in all the standard 2007 MS Office products in addition to experience with Visio and MS Project."
"I appreciate you attempt to anticipate my evaluation of you, Robynn, however you are quite wrong. I saw your resume. I know you have the technical skills -- hell the other four girls vying for this job have your skills. What you need to do is show me how YOU are different from them. Do you want this job?"
"Yes
," I replied slightly embarrassed at my misstep and confused as to what he planned on evaluating. I made my own executive decision and decided just to go with the flow.
"Good answer. Are you wearing stockings?"
"Yes," I blushed.
"Why did you choose stockings? Fishnet stockings at that, hardly something most would choose to wear to an interview."
"I tripped on my way out the door and tore my stockings and these are all tha...."
He cut me off, "what if I told you to wear stockings every day."
"I would," I responded with barely a flicker of hesitation. I blushed.
"You would," he smiled slightly. "Good answer. Stand up."
I did. I started to get a nervous flutter in my stomach and my mind raced trying to figure out what would be next. I had no idea if this guy was for real, but part of me really wanted to find out.
"Come here and stand in front of me," he commanded. I did.
"Now, listen carefully," he said as his fingers graced my outer thighs. "I expect complete obedience. Unquestioning compliance and every move you make when you are with me is for my benefit. You will learn to anticipate things that I will like and enjoy; that is a sign of intelligence."
"Like the fishnets and those heels. They may have started as an accident on your part -- however -- if you prove useful to me...they will be part of your daily uniform. Would that bother you?"
"No, not at all," I said. My mind was racing with anticipation. My legs tingled as his fingers slid higher up my thighs. The electricity that seemed to flow from his finger tips was making me weak.
"Take off your shirt, bra and skirt."
I did and tossed my clothes over the chair I had been sitting in. He stared at my breasts, not surprising, they were a round, firm 40DDD complete with bright pink nipples standing at attention. I took a step forward as his left hand slid between my legs and his right started rubbing his cock through his pants. I could feel his fingers slipping past my panties and I could already tell I was soaking wet. My breath caught in my throat as he pinched my clit.
Dirty Forbidden Collection Page 17
