Ultimate Sins

by Jean Roberta

  Sheila will place the tip of the blade at the edge of her panties and slowly inch its way down to the crutch. She’ll rip her panties off and with a quick slice into the centre of the bra the woman will stand before her naked.

  The woman’s body is beautiful. She has dark black hair that hangs over her face as she continues to struggle with the men. Her pubic hair is also dark and stands out against her pale white skin. She’ll have a perky arse and long muscular legs.

  If this fantasy was real I’d want to go in there and throw myself into the woman’s pussy. With all those other women in the room watching me I’d let them rip off my clothes and have their way with me. That scenario will be for another fantasy though.

  I’d be so hot watching that I’d carefully slip out of my panties and quickly stuff them into my bag. I’d run my hand over my mound and pussy before sliding a finger into my wet slit. That would feel so good. I’d throw my bag over my back to allow me the use of both hands as I pull back the hood of my clit, smearing some of my juices over it and begin to gently rub it.

  My attention will be drawn back to the activities at hand and while fingering myself I’d watch as they lashed her to something on the floor. A waitress is on her knees in front of a woman whose black robe is open, revealing her nakedness underneath. The woman slings one leg over the arm of the chair and the waitress will use a vibrator to stimulate her. Then she’ll lower her head; her tongue will flicker out to lick her. The woman will grab the back of her head and draw her in closer, before collapsing back on the chair to enjoy.

  While this is going on the two guys will hoist their capture up to what looks like a rack after they have already spread-eagled and tied her to it. They hook the pulley ropes to one of the pillars and then move away.

  Sheila will walk around her to admire her body, her fingers trailing over her skin. She’ll have a small whip in her hand, and she’ll stand in front of the girl, smacking it into the palm of her other hand as though to frighten her. Something is being said but I’ll have no idea what. Then she’ll lash at the girl’s breasts while she begs for her to stop.

  This is turning me on. I smear my juices over my clit and rub hard, enjoying the rawness of it all. I’d never been whipped or spanked, well not like that, and I’m finding it quite a turn on, imagining what it would feel like.

  Sheila will continue to whip the girl and I will see faint welts rising over her body before she falls to the floor in front of the girl and begins to lick her and I’ll be so turned on just by thinking how my mousy flat mate would be into this sort of thing as I balance precariously on the crate.

  Her tongue will roam over the girl’s body before she stands and retrieves the whip. She’ll take the handle and probe it into her pussy and I’ll watch, licking my lips, as she inches it in and then begins to fuck her with it. This will all be too much for me and my juices will run down the inside of my thigh.

  Now all the women in the black robes rise and come towards the girl on the rack. Their hands will be all over her, pawing at her breasts, fingers in her pussy and her hole, mouths licking every part of her. The men will not move from their position and from what I can see they certainly won’t have hard-ons. I’ll assume them to be gay! How could you not be turned on by that display?

  I can’t see much; their bodies will block my view. I’d be so turned on that I’d lean my back against the wall and rub my clit harder, bring on a powerful orgasm and secretively hope that someone is watching me. I’d be as horny as hell. I’d want to see my girlfriend Louise but would be hesitant to leave.

  An approaching car will make the decision for me. I’d jump from the crate and hide around the back. The car will drive past though, not even slow down. I’d be pretty sure that this is where Sheila has been going every Friday night and know I can always come back every Friday night to watch. I’d need some relief so I run back to my car to visit Louise.

  The desire to be fucked and the thought of Louise wearing her big black dildo has me driving like a maniac. I don’t tell her what I’ve witnessed but Louise is wondering why I’m so randy when I practically tear her clothes from her and demanded a good fucking.

  The thought of fucking Louise right now nearly has me putting a stop to this fantasy but I want to continue on, to play it out to the end.

  We’d spend the night and the next day locked in each other’s arms but I make sure I’ll be home early Saturday night so I’ll be fresh for Sunday morning. I’ll confront Sheila about her sexuality and I’ll definitely want to see her naked so I’ll have to come up with a plan.

  I’d be nervous. Butterflies would flutter around my stomach as I bathe and make myself up. I wouldn’t be quite sure how to go about it, and by the time Sheila does come home, the thought of ravishing her body will be the only thing in my mind.

  ‘Have a nice weekend?’ I’d ask, as she tries to sneak in.

  ‘Oh, you’re up,’ she’d say, stating the obvious.

  ‘Yeah. Thought I’d get up early and welcome you home,’ I’d say.

  ‘Why?’ she’d ask.

  I’d rise from the couch and walk towards her. Her eyes would be open wide; her tongue licking at her beautiful, full lips. I’d lift my hand and release the clasp from her hair. It would fall around her shoulders and I’d remove her glasses and place them on the table. Slowly I’d unbutton her coat, slip it down her arms to reveal her sexy teddy that she’d still be wearing.

  She’d stand there breathing hard as I soak in her beauty. I’d run my hand down the side of her face and grab the nape of her neck. I’d pull her back by the hair and kiss the hollow of her throat. She’d reward me with a low moan of pleasure.

  My tongue will seek out a nipple as I pull her hair back harder. I’d flicker my tongue around, draw it into my mouth to suck on as my fingers roam her abdomen; her mound, and then I’d cup her pussy.

  She’d grab at me, pull me into her body as her tongue kisses my mouth with such passion. My hands will be all over her, pulling at her stockings, tearing them in the process, while I try to undo her teddy. She’ll laugh, push me away from her, and wiggle her way out of it.

  She’ll stand there before me only in her ripped stockings and stilettos. I’ll lay her down on the white couch, her dark skin standing out beautifully against it. I’d run my hands over her body, cup her beautiful breasts, lick at her dark nipples, smother myself into her cleavage before my hands go down further, into her kinky pubic hair and down to her slit.

  I’d open her up like a flower, her outer lips will be like soft petals, her scent intoxicating as my nose nuzzles against her clit. Her hands will massage my scalp, pull me closer to her as the tip of my tongue runs over a stud that will be pierced through her clit.

  Her long legs will wrap themselves around my head, crushing me while I devour her. I’ll pull back to feast my eyes on her while I quickly slip out of my own clothes. I’d lie on top of her in the 69 position, my legs straddling her head.

  I quickly remove my clothing so I can touch myself, massage my breasts, finger myself while I think about what I’d do to her if she was really here in my bed with me.

  I’d be fascinated by the colour of her dark skin and hair against my own light complexion and blonde hair. My hair would fall over her mound and for a moment the contrast of our colours would hypnotize me. She would pull at my hips, try to drag me down. Her scent will waft up to me, awaken me and I will ground my face into her, allow her juices to smear over my cheeks, lips, chin and mouth.

  We’d ravish each other, pleasing, as only women know how. Later we’d lie on the couch locked in each other’s arms.

  ‘How did you know?’ she’d asked.

  ‘I didn’t,’ I’d lie.

  ‘I didn’t want you to know,’ she’d say.

  ‘Why?’ I’d ask.

  ‘Every time I live with a girl, their girlfriends always get jealous and I’m asked to leave. So I decided this time to play it cool, hide who I really was,’ she’d say.

  ‘I
can understand why people would get jealous of you. You’re beautiful,’ I’d whisper into her hair, as I’d hold her tight.

  ‘Come with me,’ she’d giggle. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’

  She’d lead me into her room and I’d watch her sexy arse sashaying provocatively before me. She’d lay me on her bed and retrieve a box from underneath.

  ‘See anything in there that you like?’ she’d ask.

  It would be full of dildos and sex toys. Some I’ve never seen before. I’d pull out a huge black one with a tickler attached. I’d lift my eyebrows indicating I’m interested. She’d laugh and strap it on.

  I’d lie back on her bed; my legs open and she’d kneel before me. She’d probe my outer lips, I’d reach up to pull her to me, kiss her hungrily on the mouth. I’d be able to taste myself on her lips and I’d grab her by the arse so the dildo could ram into me. She’d be amazing, having mastered the strokes so that in no time I’d be coming.

  Oh, the thought of her and the dildo had me rubbing my clit wildly, my back arching as an orgasm builds up.

  Then she’d roll me over, hoist up my hips and have me in the doggy position. This way the dildo would reach into the very depths of me, hitting my g-spot while the tickler tantalized my hole.

  She’d be an amazing lover and we’d spend the whole day in bed together. Later, while lying in the bath I’d want to broach the subject of her weekends away.

  ‘So does this mean your Friday nights will change?’ I’d ask.

  ‘I don’t see why,’ she’d say, allowing soapy bubbles to slide over my breasts as her hands caress me.

  ‘I just thought maybe we could spend more time together?’ I’d ask.

  ‘We have all week,’ she’d say evasively.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ I’d say. ‘But what if I want to take you out somewhere?’

  ‘We’ll talk about it when the time arises,’ she’d say. ‘What about Louise?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘You’ll still see her, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ the thought of a threesome would be uppermost in my mind.

  ‘Good,’ she’d say, ‘I don’t want to spoil what we’ve got either. Our living together has always been comfortable.’

  I’d wonder why she wouldn’t mention the warehouse and the group she is involved with. I wouldn’t care. I’d hope that one day she’d initiate me into their ways. The thought of being tied up and at her mercy would definitely appeal to me. It would appeal to Louise, too.

  Louise. Still sexually aroused I pull myself away from this fantastic fantasy and decided to ring Louise.

  ‘Hello,’ she said sleepily.

  ‘Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?’ I asked.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘Just wondering if you’d like some company. Thought we might pull out your box of toys and have some fun tonight.’

  ‘Do you know what time it is?’

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘It’s four in the morning,’ she said.

  ‘You’re kidding,’ I said, truly surprised.

  I didn’t realise my fantasy had gone on for so long.

  ‘I’m feeling horny,’ I said.

  ‘Obviously,’ she laughed. ‘Hurry up and get yourself over here then.’

  We had the best sex ever that night and from now on I intend to conjure up lots of fantasies, thought I might even write about them, see if I can get them published. Let other people enjoy them as much as I did inventing them.

  Maggie

  by Kay JayBee

  Maggie peered through the crack in the barn door, wondering if the whispered rumours were true. She was worried for them; the villagers could be a formidable force if they turned on you, and the reaction from the church would be truly terrifying. Maggie knew she was risking her own damnation by even thinking about it, but she couldn’t help it, the idea of them fascinated her.

  Creeping behind the back of the charcoal burners hut, the men disappeared into the woods. Previously Maggie had only known them as belonging to the huge category of people that made up ‘her betters,’ but now she’d heard them call each other Peter and John. Hesitating for a second, Maggie looked carefully around, wary in case others were watching, and then, slipping away from her work, she followed.

  Maggie had learnt to move through woodland without making a sound from an early age, an essential skill when bagging rabbits with her widowed father. She’d grown up a lot since those younger days, forced to act as a replacement for her mother as keeper of the house, whilst working on the farm, preparing meals, and ignoring the constant put-downs from her father. Maggie lived increasingly in fear of him and under the shadow of an unsympathetic church, which was constantly suspicious of any girl with a quick tongue and an enquiring mind.

  Maggie knew she was wicked. Nearly every night as she lay behind the makeshift curtain which separated her from her brothers, as they slept on the straw covered attic floor, she let her treacherous fingers stray between her parted legs, up towards her ripe brown nipples and back again, driving herself to a state of exquisite but silent delight with the lightest of touches, acquiring herself a one way ticket to hell. As she lay beneath her rough blanket night after night her mind filled with forbidden images as she longed for a husband to be found for her to supply her needs, to save her from herself, and to take her away from the constant demands of her family.

  She paused by the thick trunk of an oak tree and listened hard. They were out of sight now, but faint sounds ahead guided her forwards. The trees were thicker here, the woodland unmanaged. Maggie stiffened and her heart pounded in her chest as she heard a stifled groan. What were they doing? She crept forward, keeping her body low to the ground.

  Finally she caught sight of her quarry, almost hidden behind some as yet un-coppiced beech trees, just beyond a small clearing. Maggie stuffed her sleeve into her mouth to prevent herself crying out. Somehow she’d known it would be true.

  Years of conditioning had told Maggie she should be disgusted, outraged. She had imagined herself ready to pile in with advice, to beg them to stop and save their souls. Instead she felt her nipples harden and an unmistakable tingle spread between her legs. They were kissing as tenderly as any young lovers. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. Naked from the waist, hose pushed down to their shoes, each fondled the others stiff cock with one hand, whilst they, oblivious to her voyeuristic presence, murmured into each other’s mouths with insistent, probing tongues.

  Maggie slipped a hand inside her rough brown dress, and hastily rolled down the bindings that held her chest, partially freeing her breasts. ‘So,’ she thought with envy, caressing her hard nipples, her body responding to the sight before her, ‘that’s what it’s like to be in love’.

  The younger man, John, was kneeling down now, his mouth slipping over and around the tip of his partner’s dick. Licking, teasing and coaxing, as Peter wriggled his fingers through John’s hair to steady himself, his hips thrust as far forward as they would go. Maggie hardly dared even breathe in case she was spotted, but as Peter groaned his urgency increasing, she lost concentration and stepped back. A twig snapped beneath her flimsy leather shoes. John pulled back. He sat up, alert, pulling his partner down to the ground, covering his mouth to stifle his moan of loss. ‘There’s someone there’ he whispered. Both men looked panicked; terrified. They knew the price for what they did.

  Maggie saw their faces and immediately understood their horror as they grabbed at their discarded garments. Madly she rushed forward, babbling, unthinking, ‘No, it’s alright. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry I found you, but, oh, you looked so beautiful together. I know it’s wrong to watch, but don’t be afraid I won’t tell anyone, I promise I won’t.’

  The men looked at her in horror. ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’ John turned to Peter, he spoke bluntly, all trace of his previous gentility gone. ‘We will have to kill her.’ Peter nodded. It was so obvious, why hadn’t she thought
of that? Stupid girl. Perhaps her father was right after all, maybe she was useless.

  ‘No, please, Sirs. I’m Maggie, Sirs, I’m the farm labourer’s daughter’, she begged, rashly continuing, ‘it was so lovely. Please, I won’t tell anyone.’ Neither man moved; could they trust her? They seemed to notice her dishevelled clothes for the first time. ‘What were you doing while you were watching girl?’

  ‘Oh please, Sirs,’ cried Maggie, her face turned beseechingly from one to the other, before she became wary of her status, and humbly lowered her gaze and mumbled, ‘I know I’m bad, but I can’t help it, it feels so nice, and watching you I…’

  Peter cut in, ‘They say we are the wicked ones, Maggie. What do you think?’ John grabbed her chin and held it firmly, boring his own dark eyes into hers to evaluate her answer.

  ‘I just think you are in love, Sir.’ John let her go and carefully looked her up and down. Maggie felt as though he was analysing her very soul. He turned to his partner. ‘I think she may be just what we’ve been searching for.’ Peter was nodding slowly, as if considering something.

  ‘Is she wet? Have we really turned her on?’

  ‘I’ll see. Stand still, girl.’ John commanded her in a voice used to giving orders. Maggie began to shake, fear and uncertainty flooded through her. Were they going to kill her? How would they do it if they did? What use could she be to them? The man called John was going to touch her. It was wrong, she would go to hell. Yet, despite her terror, her whole body was urging his fingers on.

  Gripping a shoulder each, the men, grim faced, set to work on her body. John slipped his hand beneath the layers of her skirts, and recoiled slightly at her lack of undergarments. He nodded to his partner, ‘She is indeed wet. Sodden. The girl is obviously a harlot.’

  Peter frowned, but said nothing as he moved a hand down the top of her dress, causing Maggie to sigh beneath his hurried touch, her eyes wide at the effect of the illicit contact. In unspoken agreement, the men pulled the dress over her head and threw aside the bindings that remained crumpled beneath her tits.