“What?” The word exploded from Dale’s mouth.
“You’ll pay it, won’t you?” He leered. “Of course you will.”
“But everything else was so cheap.”
The smile on Mr. Dearly’s face was almost evil. “It’s always the same. Men have no idea what irresistibility will do. And when they want it reversed, well, that’s how I keep my little shop going. That’s why my name is Pay Dearly.” His laugh was almost maniacal, but Dale paid.
The new potion worked as Pay Dearly had promised. Now Dale had a lot to think about.
Friday Night Games: The Awakening
SCOTT AND I LOVE TO PLAY GAMES. SEXY GAMES. WE’VE been married for almost three years, no kids, and at first we had a plain vanilla sex life. The change started about a year ago when Scott was surfing the ’Net and came across a website devoted to off-center sex activities. Although back then we were both pretty naive about the games people play, we were very open about discussing sex.
“Uh, Lynn, come in here and take a look at this,” he called that first Friday evening, a slight hesitation in his voice. Curious, I wandered into the den where our computer was set up. And I looked. Some of the pictures he flipped through took my breath away—and tightened my nipples and made my pussy twitch.
“Real people don’t do stuff like that,” I said. The stuff on the screen at that moment was a picture of an ordinary-looking woman, leaning over the back of a sofa, naked ass already reddened by the hand of the man poised over her. “Do they?”
Scott raised his eyebrows. “This site claims to feature amateurs.”
“Riiight,” I said, not believing a word of it, but also slightly breathless. “Amateurs who get paid to do this stuff.”
“Who cares whether they’re really professionals or not?” he said, still staring at the screen. “It’s still really hot.” He paged forward to another photo, showing a different couple, a man, fully clothed, sitting on a straight chair with a woman draped over his knees. While she was dressed from the waist up, her butt was naked, positioned for spanking. His hand was raised and, if you looked closely (and I did), her rear was red as was his palm. Boy, have I been living in a sheltered environment, I thought. Whether these people were “just folks” or paid, obviously viewers enjoyed seeing photos like this. I was speechless, shocked both at the photos and my innocence.
Scott moved his mouse and clicked to another photo, one that showed a naked woman positioned over a bench, wrists and ankles tied to its legs, a man standing menacingly over her, a Ping-Pong paddle in his hand. This man was naked and his arousal was all too obvious. It was probably posed, but I had to admit that it was exciting me.
“You really think it’s hot?” I said, a little tentatively. Does he want me to participate in something like these photos show?
“Sure.” He reached up and tweaked one of my erect nipples. “And obviously you do, too.” He all but dragged me to the bedroom, stripped me bare, and, with no preamble, fucked me hard and fast. As I was about to come, Scott slapped my ass. Once. It wasn’t a hard slap, but I both heard and felt it, and I came really quickly—amazingly quickly. God, I’d been so aroused. And the little bit of pain, and the surprise of it, threw me over the edge.
It was quite a while before I could speak a coherent sentence. “That was—quite something,” I said, trying to catch my breath and not exactly sure what to say.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, panting. “Quite something, indeed.” He lifted himself on one elbow and looked down at me. “And there’s so much more, if you want to try some stuff.”
Enlightenment dawned. “I would guess,” I said, now calmer, “that this isn’t the first time you visited that site.”
His long sigh was my answer. “No, it isn’t. I was intrigued by something one of the guys at work said a while ago, and so I searched the web. I’ve been looking at sites like that one for a few weeks, and I’ve been really excited by some of the photos I’ve seen.” He gazed at me seriously. “I just didn’t know how to broach the subject with you.”
I swallowed, still unsure how I should react. “I can imagine.”
“You seemed to enjoy, uhh, things.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Okay, I told myself, knee-jerk would be to deny. Be a good girl. None of that kinky stuff for Mommy’s little girl. And yet . . . “I guess I did,” I said tentatively.
Scott’s slow release of breath was the sound of his relief. “I’ve wanted to play the occasional game with you but—even talking about this is a little scary. I was afraid you’d think I was some kind of a freak.”
I cupped his cheek with my hand and took the plunge. I’ve been grateful ever since that I did. “It is scary, but isn’t that some of the fun of it?”
His grin said it all. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“I don’t know whether I’m into anything as heavy as what was in those pictures, but maybe we’ve let things get a little”—I searched for a word that wouldn’t hurt his feelings, or mine—“predictable.”
“Maybe it’s time we added a few different things,” he said. “Games, maybe. You know . . .”
I saw a whole bunch of new opportunities. “I don’t know yet, but let’s see what we can think of.”
We talked a few times that weekend and decided to begin slowly. The swat on my ass had been erotic, but I didn’t know whether I could deal with it when I had time to consider. We worried briefly about the slight stress of trying to fulfill each other’s desires and vowed not to do anything “for the other guy,” but only play games we thought we’d enjoy ourselves. And we promised that we’d call anything off at any time.
We decided to play on Friday nights, trying to start the weekend off with a bang. Literally. At first we kept it simple.
“How about playing hooker and customer?” I suggested a few days later. “That way, if you pay me, you can ask for anything.”
Scott’s expression of pleasure and his slow nodding as he digested what I said was my answer. Then he got serious. “And you can refuse, right?”
I nodded. “Right.”
“Please, Lynn, you have to be able to say no. Otherwise I can’t ask for anything we haven’t discussed in advance.”
He was right. I was going to be an unusual hooker who would easily refuse a “customer’s” wishes. “You’re right. I promise that I will say no if I don’t want to play.”
I bought what I thought would be a sexy, hooker-type outfit from a website, and the following Friday evening, I dressed in the bedroom while he waited in the living room. We’d agreed only on the basics. He had some funny money with which to pay me but that was about all we knew. So, as I walked into the living room we had only the beginning of the scene choreographed. “Madam Carrie said you wanted some company.”
Scott’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw me. I was wearing a tiny pair of lacy black panties with little red knots around the top and a black bra with matching red ribbons, tied in a bow at the front of each cup. I had combined the pair with a black garter belt and long, black fishnet stockings, and black shoes with four-inch heels. I had put on more makeup that I usually wear, with heavy mascara, shadow, and eyeliner, as well as bright red lipstick. “My name’s Tina, but you can call me whatever you like.” I struck what I hoped would be a hooker-like pose with one foot on the coffee table, one hand on my hip, pelvis and breasts thrust forward. I was a little embarrassed at first but the wonderful look on Scott’s face made me feel stronger.
I watched my husband blink convulsively then swallow hard. “Hello, Tina.”
“Hi, Scott.” I gathered my courage and walked close to him. “Will I do for company tonight?”
“God, yes,” he said, already gasping for air. “Definitely.”
I reached down and pressed the heel of my hand against the front of his jeans. “I guess so.” I straddled his thighs and sat on his lap, facing him, rubbing my pubic bone against his thighs. Not too fast, I told myself. I was in no hurry and I hoped h
e wasn’t either.
I leaned over and brushed my fingertip over his lips, my breasts spilling over the top of the one-cup-size-too-small bra. I watched his eyes flick to my tits, then back to my face. The bra had a push-’em-up-and-together feature so it created lots more cleavage than I really have. I cupped my breasts and rubbed them lightly against his shirt front.
While I slid my lips over his, I unbuttoned his shirt and exposed his bare chest, then I brushed my lace-and-satin-covered tits against his bare skin. He reached one hand behind me to pull my body more tightly against him and the other cupped the back of my head while he kissed me deeply.
Long moments of sexual playing had us both eager so I leaned back. “Did you pay Madam Carrie for any—extra services? She didn’t tell me the details.”
“Extra services?”
“Everything here costs extra. The basic rate is just for a little of this, then into the bedroom and, well, doing it.”
Scott pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. “This ought to cover whatever we decide to do.”
We. I liked that. “This should get you whatever you want.” I took all the money and tucked it into the top of one stocking.
“Let’s see what these bows do,” he said, fondling my breasts. He untied the red knots and discovered that small openings at the front of each cup exposed my already firm nipples. He leaned over and flicked the tips lightly, then he bit me.
I jumped. It hurt, but felt really exciting, too. Juice flowed freely from my now sopping crotch. God, it was electric. When he bit the other, I let my head fall back and thrust out my chest. Now he was tugging at one and pinching the other. I thought I’d come right then.
“Now,” he said, moving me slightly so he could unzip the fly of his jeans. His steel-hard cock stuck out from the opening. “I don’t want to wait.” Quickly he pulled the minuscule crotch of my panties aside, lifted me by the hips, and dropped me on his dick. I was so wet that I could hear a squishy sound as he fucked me.
I squeezed my vaginal muscles to try to give him more pleasure, but he was too far gone to care. “Shit, shit, shit,” he cried as his hips bucked and he came inside me.
Almost immediately he flipped me over onto my back on the sofa, pulled off the panties, and fastened his mouth on my dripping pussy. As he sucked my clit, his fingers found my hole. He sucked and rammed his fingers in and out until I came, screaming.
It was a long time before I could catch my breath. “Holy cow,” I said.
“Oh yeah,” Scott sighed. “Holy cow, indeed.”
Since then . . . Well, I’ll write more later. For now, just telling the story of that first Friday night has made me so hot that I think I’ll go inside and jump Scott’s bones, even though it’s only Tuesday.
Friday Night Games: Learning More
AS I TOLD YOU LAST TIME, SCOTT AND I HAD GOTTEN into game playing. We began with hooker and customer and played that scenario in one form or another for about a month. The first time we were so excited that we fucked almost immediately, but gradually we were able to stretch out the foreplay so we could get adventurous. Oral sex had always formed a wonderful part of our lovemaking and, since I was being “paid” for my services, he asked me to play with his balls or stroke the area between his balls and anus. I learned a lot from the requests he made of his hooker.
Anyway, one Friday evening he made an unusual request. I had increased my wardrobe, and that evening I was wearing a red bustier that laced up the front and left my pussy bare, with red thigh-high hose and red hooker heels, all of which I’d ordered from my favorite adults-only website. “Tina,” he said, calling me by my hooker name, “I’d like to do something a little different tonight.”
Fine with me. I’d looked around on the web and dispelled much of my earlier naïveté. There was so much out there to play with and I was always interested in expanding our horizons, finding out what we would enjoy. “If you’ve got the money, I’m game.”
He said, softly, “I’d like to spank your bottom.”
Our adventures had begun with photos of spanking and he occasionally swatted my bottom when we climaxed, but it had gone no further than that. Was I up for this? “As long as either of us can call it off,” I said, not as Tina but as myself.
“I insist on that,” he said.
“Good,” I said, extending my hand, palm up. “Let’s see the cash.”
He reached into his pocket and handed me a wad of phony money. As always I tucked it into the top of one stocking. “Is that enough?”
“For anything you want,” I responded.
“Good. Come over here,” he said, settling on a living room chair. As I stood beside him he groped my pussy. “You know, it’s really evil for you to go around tempting nice men like me.” He tugged on my pubic hair. “Leaving your snatch bare is an invitation.”
I giggled but remained silent.
He grabbed my wrist. “I’m going to punish you for everything you’ve been doing.” He pulled me and, off balance, I fell over his lap, ass in the air. He reached into the top of my teddy and scooped out my breasts so they hung against his calf. Holding me down with his other arm, he tugged rhythmically at my nipples. Then he ran his fingers through my snatch. “I knew you were a very bad girl. This all makes you very wet.”
He was right about everything. I was trembling with excitement. “You need to cool off a bit.” He brought the palm of his hand down onto one cheek with a smack.
I jumped. It hurt only a little, but the pain seemed to extend tendrils of heat to my clit. He rubbed my ass then smacked me again. It quickly became an odd combination of pain and extreme pleasure, which wound around each other as he alternately slapped me and played with my breasts and pussy.
As happened the first time we played hooker and customer, our patience was limited. After only a few smacks, he tossed me onto the floor, pulled off his jeans, and pounded into me. The feel of the carpet on my sore bottom only added to my arousal.
With only a few thrusts we came almost simultaneously.
Friday Night Games: Growing
THE FRIDAY AFTER MY HUSBAND, SCOTT, AND I, IN MY PERSONA as Tina the hooker, made love on the living room floor after he spanked me the first time, our playing began in a similar way. I arrived in the living room, and Scott paid me my fee. I wore the same red teddy with the bare crotch and he again told me what a bad girl I was for tempting nice men like him. It was all I could do not to laugh. Nice, indeed. He had a most deliciously evil mind and I appreciated every deviant thought.
I played along, waiting for him to sit then position me over his lap. Instead he guided me to the coffee table. “Tonight I’ve prepared for you, Tina,” he said. “You don’t seem to have learned from last week’s lesson, so I’ve decided you need to be taught in a different way.” He moved me until I stood at one narrow end of the wooden table.
Scott had obviously been thinking about this for a while and there was a grin in his voice.
“I want to get serious for a moment,” he said to his wife. “This isn’t for Tina, but for Lynn.”
“Okay,” I said, now wary.
“I want to play games tonight. I’ve been touring a lot of websites and lots of activities I saw there turned me on. I think many will turn you on, too. However.” He cupped my chin and raised my gaze until I looked directly into his eyes. “However, we both need to promise to call it off at any time if we’re uncomfortable.”
“I thought we’d already agreed to that.”
“We did, but I want to reinforce it. I want to be free to try things. Some you might not enjoy. Please, tell me.”
“Sure,” I said readily agreeing.
“If you promise to say something, I promise to stop. Deal?”
He was taking this all so seriously, and that was one of the many reasons I loved him. “Deal,” I said.
“In much of my reading, couples had words they could use to stop anything and everything.” When I looked puzzled, he continued, “If you want to say ‘Oh, plea
se don’t,’ for effect, then you can say it. If you really want to stop, though, how about—” He looked around the room. “How about coffeepot? If you say that, I’ll stop. Agreed?”
I took a deep breath. “Sounds like you’ve got some pretty kinky stuff in mind.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe I do. Coffeepot. Yes?”
“Coffeepot it is.” We shook on it.
“Okay. Now lie down. I want you for my plaything.”
I remembered a photo we’d seen on a website and realized that Scott recalled it, too. I squeaked as I settled on my back on the cold wood. “It’s freezing.”
“We’ll warm it up soon enough.” He took a small box from behind the sofa and put it on the floor beside him. “I’ve been doing a little shopping.”
“I see.” But I didn’t; I couldn’t see inside the box.
“I went to an adult website and bought a few things. Hold out your arms, and remember our word.”
I nodded and held out my arms. From the box, Scott took two plastic- and cardboard-wrapped packages and, using a pair of scissors, removed the packaging. He brandished two pairs of black, fur-lined handcuffs. “Okay?”
I was game so again I nodded. It was sweet that he needed constant reassurance. I guess I would, too, if the roles were reversed. He quickly fastened one cuff to each wrist, leaving the other end dangling. From the box he removed two more larger ones, and efficiently clasped them onto my ankles.
“One more thing,” he said, pulling out a pair of black wooden clothespin-looking things I assumed were nipple clamps, connected with a metal chain. I’d seen them in many of the pictures Scott had shown me on the web. “Ready?”
I sighed, willing to try. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I knew how erotic I found the spankings I’d been given and I hoped the clamps would increase the sensations.
He clipped them on. “If they are too tight there’s an adjustment.”
Hot Stories for Cold Nights Page 13
