Friday November 16, 2001

I was awake ridiculously early that morning. In addition to the fact that my body tends to wake up at the same time no matter what time I went to bed the night before, I was fretting about moving my car. I had noted the parking restriction started at 10AM, but I was now paranoid that I'd remembered wrong. Howard had taken the day off, so I knew he wouldn't be stirring any time soon. I managed to get back to sleep, but it was a spotty, disturbed, unrestful sleep.

I woke back up again for good about 10 minutes before my watch alarm went off to tell me it was time to move the car. Howard was still asleep. I threw on some clothes, grabbed his spare set of apartment keys, and headed out.

After I got the car fired up I searched the radio stations for Howard Stern. I thought it would be fun to listen to him considering it was all happening live only a few miles away. Eventually I found it and headed out. I did a semi-logical search pattern, remaining in the same general area.

Scrutinizing the parking signs intently, I realized at one point that I was on a street where the no parking period was just coming to an end. The curb was already full of cars. That clued me into the fact that I had to be back early if I wanted to get my old spot back.

After a little more searching I found a spot on the South-East corner of Tompkins Square Park, only a couple blocks from Howard's. As soon as I started walking away, however, I realized I needed a special faculty permit to park there. I got back in and kept driving.

Two things kept vexing me in my search. One was fire hydrant zones. You can't see the hydrant until you were right up on it, so you'd think you'd found a space only to discover that it was no good. The other was metered parking. I kept seeing empty spots, but when I got close I realized that they had parking meters on them. Finally I realized that I could put it in metered parking for the time that my old spot was off limits, and bring it back early enough to get my old spot back. It was a great plan. I pulled into the next metered spot I saw and dropped $2 in quarters into the meter.

As I walked back to Howard's very proud of myself, I realized that I could have found metered parking only a block away from my old spot, instead of the half-dozen blocks I now had to walk. Oh well. Live and learn.

On the way back to Howard's place I grabbed a bagel from the local bodega, as my stomach was already rumbling and I knew it would be quite a while before we sat down to a proper breakfast.

When I got back to the apartment Howard was already ambling about. I ate a couple bites from my bagel, lay on the futon for a while, and eventually got back up and took a shower. Taking a shower in Howard's place is kind of like standing under a drippy faucet.

By the time we were both dressed and ready to leave it was about time to get my car anyway. We walked up to where I left it and drove directly back to where I had it before. I was early enough that there were lots and lots of spaces available. I parked it in almost exactly the same spot, except a tad closer even to the corner. I was so early, in fact, that I decided to wait around a bit and make sure that some meter maid didn't come by and slap a ticket on me. But a lot of other people had already parked.

When a guy in an old VW camper parked in the spot behind me, I decided to get out and compliment him on his cool vehicle. He was perhaps in his late 40's, but handsome and in pretty good shape.

"Nice camper," I said as he climbed out and locked the door.

"Uhhh, thanks..." he said hesitantly.

"That's a pretty old one, isn't it?" I continued innocently.

"Yeah, '69," he said as he scurried away.

Howard had to explain to me that I wasn't upstate any more, and that people in the city don't generally chat with people they don't know. I thought our VW simpatico would overcome that, but apparently I was wrong.

Howard and I wandered off to get some breakfast. I was back in the mode where I just follow the knowledgeable person around like a puppy dog. I wasn't sure which diner we went into, but it had pretty decent food and cute waiters.

We had a light agenda for the day. I had heard on Fresh Air™ a few weeks back about a photo exhibit in a SoHo gallery. Photographer Joel Meyerowitz had a studio with a stunning view of downtown, and over the course of twenty years he had taken numerous pictures of the skyline, which prominently featured the twin towers. He had been planning to exhibit many of these photos long before September 11th. He decided to go ahead with the exhibit, and it would be in progress while I was in town. I really wanted to see it.

I won't go into my feelings of the events of September 11th, except to say that despite the tragic loss of life, I really lamented the loss of the buildings themselves. I have been interested in architecture all my life. People come and go, but buildings persist. The step pyramid of Sakkra was the first example of monumental architecture, and millennia after the death of Zoser and Imhotep, the pyramid lives on. The monumental Gothic cathedrals of the middle ages took hundreds of years to construct. Those who designed such buildings knew from the start that they would not live to see their completion. Whenever I'm in the presence of such architecture, I'm filled with awe, and a sense of pride that our species has the ingenuity and sheer will to achieve such greatness.

While the World Trade Center was in practice a pragmatic office building, it's sheer scale was monumental, and it had long been a favorite of mine. The presence of the twin towers on the skyline as a whole was striking and significant in that they counter-balanced the jungle of sky-scrapers clustered around mid-town, but their true beauty was better appreciated from a closer vantage point. They were so incredibly tall that they could be seen from virtually any spot in lower Manhattan. Since I spent most of my time in the village, I grew accustomed to seeing them wherever I went. They became permanent objects in the sky, providing a point of reference and a sense of comfort and security, like a man-made North Star.

The Empire State Building, by contrast, was juxtaposed against the Chrysler Building, the Pan Am Building, and a forest of other mid-town behemoths. The twin towers so overtopped every other building in the area that they had the sky to themselves. Yet their peerless domination was tempered by the fact that there were two of them. Rather than an individual titan dominating all that surrounded it, the twin towers shared the sky between them. They were celestial sisters, posed side be side -- an eternal monument to symmetry and balance.

The architectural critics who praised the buildings after their demise were largely the same ones who bitterly criticized them when they were new. The twin towers were almost universally panned as being nothing more than simple rectangular boxes. I never shared this view. I thought that they were perfect examples of understated grace. The Sears Tower in Chicago, in my opinion, is a plain glass box (and I mean "plain" in the pejorative sense). As far as I'm concerned, its flagrant disregard of the basic sensibilities of symmetry broaches on the ugly. It looks like a stack of Leggo blocks created by a kid who didn't have enough to complete the job. Beyond that, the exterior surfaces had no texture or ornamentation of any kind. It was simply covered in vast monolithic sheets of glass. While the twin towers were admittedly simple rectangular forms, they were so much more than that. Each face was covered in regularly spaced, delicate white flutes that stretched uninterrupted the entire height of the structure. At the base of the tower, trinities of flutes gathered together, naturally forming Gothic arches to top the wider spaces that bore the many entrances to the building. While this design was indeed very simple, I thought it was uncompromisingly beautiful. To enhance the already considerable state of grace these towers created, they were not placed side-by-side, but offset corner to corner. This small design element had a major impact on those standing at the base, those gazing out the windows from within, and those seeing the towers from a distance at any angle. To me, they were the epitome of uncluttered beauty.

I had done a web search and found the Ariel-Meyerowitz gallery to be only a few blocks from the festival venue. Howard explained that it was a little farther than it looked like on the map, but it was still within walking distance. After we finished breakfast we hiked to Broadway. After initially walking directly past the appropriate building, we figured out which one it was. We took the elevator to the top floor and walked in.

The space was smaller than I expected, but the photographs were huge. Meyerowitz had shot them all on an old-fashioned "view camera" which exposes an 8" by 10" negative (as opposed to a 35mm negative). This creates photographs that have incredible vibrancy and clarity, even when enlarged to great proportions. It was quite amazing to see such photographic prints close up.

I found the photographs to be more about the sky than the twin towers. The latter was actually used more as a frame for the former. The sky-scapes that Meyerowitz captured were really quite amazing, though. There were sunsets, cloud formations, and massive storms. We hung out for a while and then moved on.

Our next stop was the nearby Leslie-Lohman Gay Art Foundation to see the 10th Gay & Lesbian Photo Annual, subtitled "Body Language: Explicit/Implicit." It was pretty interesting, and more than a little erotic. It was enough to give me a little wood in my jeans. At first I wanted to hide it, but I decided I totally didn't care. I wound up walking around with a huge bulge in my pants the rest of the time. After a while we left and hiked back to Howard's where we both took naps.

I set the alarm on my watch to get me up in time to get to the Stonewall to meet Angel and Robert. They were a couple of guys who had found me on the web a while back. Angel had done a Lycose image search for "BEACH+BOY" and found a picture of me naked and erect on a San Francisco nude beach. After delving into my site he emailed me. Long story short I told him I'd be in NYC in a couple weeks and we made plans to meet at the Stonewall.

I hiked up to 9th Street and took that all the way across town. On my way I was seeing signs to Route 9A, which I remembered as being the official designation for the Henry Hudson Expressway. I now knew what my escape route would be Monday morning.

I got to the Stonewall a little early, so I milled about in a nearby souvenir shop for a while. I wound up buying a postcard to send home to my folks. It was an aerial view of the Greenwich Village area. It was pretty cool, actually.

I headed back up to the Stonewall. I had been by it many times but had never gone in, until now. Despite it's legendary status, it was just a bar. It was a little too dark and the music was a little too loud. I got a $3.00 glass of Coke. Angel and Robert wouldn't send me a pic of themselves. They said they didn't have one to send. In this day and age I find it hard to believe that no one has even one digitized photo to send around. I usually suspect that excuse to be a euphemism for, "I don't want you to know what I look like." Either way, the onus was off me from peering around the bar trying to identify the guys I was supposed to meet. I got a table and sat down.

It didn't take a minute before a guy came over and introduced himself. It was Angel. He was about two tables over from me. I picked up my drink and moved over to his table. In a minute his boyfriend Robert came over. My theory about them not sending a pic seemed to be out the window. They weren't movie stars, but they looked quite nice to me. They were maybe in their early to mid 40's. For some reason I had pictured them as being in their 50's. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was residual suspicion from them not sending a pic.

We went through that initial uncomfortable stage where no one really knew what to talk about. We made some pointless chit chat for a while until Robert kind of hunkered down and asked if he could ask me some more personal questions.

"You can ask me anything you want," I said.

He then tried to formulate his question. Actually it was more one of those, let-me-tell-you-a-question questions. Actually it didn't turn out to really be a question at all, but rather a semi-inquisitive observation. He said something like, "You have all these pictures of yourself, right down to childhood and Halloween costumes, and you have all these stories about your life and your interests, even down to the level of detail of James Bond and Planet of the Apes."

I was like, "Yeah?"

He said, "Well... what's up with that?"

I took a breath to respond, but Robert went on some more.

"I mean, like, it's so universal. I like Planet of the Apes too. I think we all do." He went on to tell the story of the first time he saw the original Planet of the Apes movie. Every time he paused I took a breath to reply, but every time I was about to utter a sound he'd continue on again. Eventually I just folded my hands in my lap and waited for him to actually stop and give me a chance to say something.

When he finally did hand me the conch I told the story about how back in Jr. High School I got an assignment to write an autobiography, and I was inexplicably driven to write intensely personal things. Later on in college I took a writing course and also found a compulsion to write profoundly from the heart about myself, my feelings, and my experiences. I went on to explain that as far as my web site went, the autobiographical essays started as something to counter-balance the pictures, so that the site wasn't so entirely vain as to simply be picture after picture of myself.

We continued talking for a while. Although it had been Angel who originally contacted me, Robert seemed to be the more talkative. Or, more accurately, he was more aggressive in taking control of the conversation. I was enjoying myself, but it was just too loud in the Stonewall. I asked them if the wanted to grab a bite to eat. We wound up going around the corner to the Garage.

We went upstairs and had a nice meal. I started asking them more about themselves, like how them met and stuff. We settled into pretty normal dinner conversation. They hazed me for ordering a glass of milk with dinner. Everyone does. As the meal wound down I got to talking about the festival, my video that was playing, and other videos and other festivals.

Robert and Angel at dinner

I was to meet Howard and Keith for the 8:00 screening, so I began to make overtures towards leaving. I got the impression that Angel and Robert were about ready to head home anyway. They had each come directly from work to meet me at the Stonewall. I made a token effort to chip in on the bill, but Angel graciously picked it up. They invited me to come over to their place for dinner the following night. I said that it wasn't likely, as my schedule was pretty full, but that I'd call them and let them know for sure.

We said goodbye as we parted outside the restaurant and I headed East. I realized I hadn't taken a cab or a subway train since I'd been in town. I decided to keep my record clean and hike the whole way. I had plenty of time, but I was a little bored. I walked past a fenced-in basketball court across from a MacDonalds. It reminded me of the time years ago when my then boyfriend Darnell took me to NYC. We sat in that very MacDonalds and watched buys playing in that very basketball court. Back then I was considerably metrophobic, and was in truth a bit of a basket case while we were there.

Realizing I had my cell phone in my pocket, I figured I'd give Darnell a call to keep me company while I walked. I rang him up, and much to my surprise he was actually home. It was great talking to him again. He had just taken a job as the assistant registrar at a law school. Having thoroughly enjoyed working in higher education for over ten years, I asked him how he was liking it himself. He said it was good, but he had to get used to the lower standards of professionalism. I had accurately predicted that this would be a considerable adjustment for him. For the first two weeks he wore a suit and tie to work, until he got sick of people asking him if he had an interview or something.

We were still talking away when I got back to the venue. We talked just a bit more, but I did have to get in to make the screening. I said goodbye and went inside. Ioannis was hobnobbing in the lobby. He came up to me and asked how I was liking the festival. He asked what screenings I'd been to.

"Well," I said sheepishly. "I have to confess that I've only been to the Gong Show so far. But I'm very excited about the ten o'clock screening!"

I wasn't just being polite. The film was called "The Law Of Enclosures" and it was a John Greyson adaptation of the Dale Peck novel. I hadn't actually seen any of John Greyson's work, but I knew a little bit about "Zero Patience." It was a lively and light-hearted romp about the advent of the AIDS epidemic. I was impressed that he could take a subject that heavy and infuse it with such levity. I was very anxious to see his latest film.

I caught up with Howard and Keith. There was still some time before the screening, but there was no sign of the jag, so I stepped outside to call him. He said that going into work that day was a big mistake. It was hours before he could get back out again. He was running way behind in his preparations for his performance at the Lusty Loft party that night. He had to skip the 8:00 screening and said he'd meet us at the party no later than 11:30.

Howard and Keith and I went in and sat down for the screening. There was a brief introduction where Ioannis stated that John Greyson couldn't be there, but they were honored to have the author Dale Peck in attendance. There was a round of applause, but when I looked around the theater, Mr. Peck wasn't standing or otherwise identifying himself.

The lights went down and the film began. It opened by setting a rather stark, dour mood. It wasn't at all what I was expecting. There was one unbelievably cute boy in it (Howard later recognized him as the guy who played the younger, more aggressive thug in MTVs portrayal of the Matthew Shepheard story). The film proved to be well done technically, and essentially well executed from a thematical standpoint, but I found it to be the opposite of uplifting. It was about a couple who married too young and essentially hated each other the rest of their lives. Frankly it was a little on the depressing side. And just when it looked like things were going to turn around, there was a tragic surprise ending.

After the film Howard and Keith wanted to get a bite to eat. I was still pretty full from the dinner I'd had only a couple hours before. I was actually very excited to get to the Lusty Loft party. It was in an area of Brooklyn called DUMBO, which I had learned as being acronymous for Down Under Manhatan Bridge Overpass. There was an artist's collective that lived in the area who called themselves Dumba. There were two stories regarding their name. One was that it was a feminized version of the masculine DUMBO, and the other was that the "A" stood for "anarchist." Frankly it was all moot to me. All I cared about was the fact that it was going to be a sex party. The jag had spoken of it briefly. It was a mixed crowd: gay, straight, male, female. There was one "sex room" that was being web-cast around the space and around the world. The actual amount of sexual activity was largely dependent on the party mood and group dynamic. I was entirely ready to do my part to make the mood a lusty one.

After a while Keith and Howard were ready to go. By this time it was already past 11:00. We swung by Howard's apartment so I could get my video equipment to tape the jag's performance. We got on the F train and took it all the way into Brooklyn. That was a first for me. I'd been in the Bronx once or twice, and even in Queens many years ago. But never Brooklyn. Until that night. Our destination was only the second stop across the river, so it was not a very long ride. We came up to the street, and the view was about what I expected. It was a rather depressing mélange of warehouses and other run-down buildings, with a gargantuan bridge overpass looming up in the night sky. I would have been a little bugged-out if the streets weren't entirely deserted.

We had the street address of the party, and we could see the number of the building we came up next to, but we didn't know in which direction the numbers went up and in which they went down. Howard led us off in one direction. After about a block and a half we came upon a building with a small crowd out in front and music blaring from within. It looked like the place. It was $10 to get in.

Immediately inside I was surprised to find the space much more cramped and limited than what I had expected for a "loft." I'm not sure why I was surprised. By now you'd think I'd have learned that there are no expansive spaces anywhere in NYC. We inched in a little further and found the jag right away. He was in his leather shorts and not much else. He said that there was no clothes check. I wasn't too comfortable with that. I'd come in a white unitard under my street clothes, but I wasn't too keen on leaving my stuff lying around. For the time being I took off my motorcycle jacket and walked around with it in my hand. I squeezed my way past the dance room and into the back part of the space where the sex room was. There were two webcams inside the sex room that were broadcasting images to the computer just outside (where I was standing), and around the world. The problem was that the picture quality was really terrible. I was staring at it trying to determine what it was I was seeing. Finally I said fuck it and just pulled the curtain back and peeked in the room itself. There were some people in there, but it didn't look like there was any sex going on. At least not yet.

I squeezed back up to the dance room and stood around in there. They were projecting films onto the wall. I was feeling a little pent up and short-tempered. I was rather anxious about my potential participation in any public sexual activity, I was also a bit stressed about the responsibility to tape the jag's performance, and the dense crowd and loud music exacerbated my already fading mood. Suddenly, however, I had an inexplicable change of heart. I literally told myself to get over it and start enjoying myself. That's usually utterly ineffective, but in this instance it seemed to work. I made my way to the side of the dance room where there was a little stage set up. I stripped down to my unitard and combat boots. I pulled my video camera out of my backpack and stuffed my clothes in. I then put my leather jacket around the backpack as if it was a mannequin torso. I put the whole assemblage under one of the projector stands. I then walked back out to the dance floor and danced a little bit. Over the past couple years I've slowly been losing my aversion to dancing. What happened was I finally stopped giving a fuck if I looked like I knew how to dance or not. So I just stood on the crowded dance floor and bopped to the music a bit. I started watching the people a little closer. It was an interesting crowd. Most people were in regular clothes, but there were some interesting outfits. One kid was running around stark naked.

It actually wasn't long before the jag came through saying he was going to get set up for his performance. He had two assistants with him whom I'd met once before. I wasn't even sure what his performance was going to be, except that it involved bondage. His assistants began securing his arms to a pole that hung horizontally overhead above the little stage on the side of the dance room. They then started tying him up with rope. It all looked pretty cool, but it took a long time to do. Finally they ran out of rope. But then they reached in their bag and pulled out more rope. When that ran out of that they pulled out even more rope. The rope work was actually quite intricate, and they re-did certain sections. Frankly it was taking a pretty long time to do. It wasn't that I minded waiting, but my mood had been totally transformed by the fact that I was now in nothing but a sheer unitard, and I wanted to start enjoying the party. More people were running around in sexy outfits, and it looked like some action was starting up in the sex room.

On a couple of occasions an assistant asked me to go get the jag some water. I went to the kitchen area, and one of the Dumba insiders poured me a little coffee cup of tap water. Getting back across the dance floor wasn't as challenging as doing so without spilling any of the water. The assistants were still in the process of tying up the jag, so I wondered off into the back area for a bit. There was now some sex going on in the sex room. There was some oral and some jerking off. Nothing major, but it was still hot. I went back to the dance area to see how the jag was coming.

By the time I got back they had a hood over the jag's head and they were putting the finishing touches on the ropes. I got the camera ready. In a few minutes they were ready to start. One of the assistants got off the stage and the other one took control. The performance consisted mostly of smacking the jag on his balls and cock with a riding crop and/or flogging him with a leather whip. I was all over the place with the camera. The projectionist came over and asked if he could suck the jag's dick. "As far as I'm concerned..." I said. He started sucking away and I got it on tape.

This all went on for some time. When the jag's body language indicated that his cock and balls had been tortured enough, the assistant would tug on the tit clamps. Then he'd go back to torturing the cock and balls again. I wasn't sure how much footage the jag wanted, but after waiting all that time I decided to just let it roll for about as long as the performance lasted. I played around with some picture effects, but mostly just got the action from as many angles as I could.

After a while the assistant asked me if I wanted to tape a come shot. "Works for me," I said. He got some lube on the jag's dick and started stroking it hard. But after a while he stopped. Then I heard the jag say something like, "Actually I think that's about it." The assistant pulled the hood off. When he removed the tit clamps I saw a serious expression of pain on the jag's face. When the crowd realized the performance was effectively over they gave him a round of applause. I carefully put the camera back in my bag and bundled the leather jacket back up around it again. By the time I'd done that they had the jag pretty much untied. I got up in front of the whole dance floor and made out with him and stroked his dick, which got totally hard again.

After a little bit of that I got back down off the stage and walked into the back to peek into the sex room. There was more sex going on now. One guy was totally hard and was stroking himself. The stark naked boy was near me. Some people were putting their hands on him and even stroking his dick a little. Somehow he remained soft. I realized that I was getting a bit of a boner myself. In the sheer unitard I was wearing there was no way to hide it. I was actually a little hesitant about it. One reason was that this was a mixed crowd. My exhibitionism occurred exclusively in places frequented strictly by gay men. This was a little new for me. The other thing was that the only boners I'd seen that night had been in the designated sex rooms or on stage. I wasn't sure how my vulgar display would be received while strolling about amongst the general population. I decided to just let it go and be seen with a hardon no matter what. It was actually very exciting. Exhibitionism had become rather routine and had lost it's edge with me. This moment brought back the kind of dangerous exhilaration that it used to hold for me. That very excitement made me totally stiff.

I turned and walked back to the dance area. My boner was totally pushing out the front of my sheer unitard. It was entirely obscene. I got back on the dance floor and danced around a little. I saw a couple of young men I hadn't noticed before. They looked like they might even be High School age, and they were totally cute. I knew I couldn't make any assumptions about anyone's sexuality at this event, and figured they were probably straight. If that was so, however, they didn't seem to mind dancing with each other. One of them had some really good moves, too. I continued mingling around a bit. My boner had deflated to the state of merely being "chubby" at this point. I made my way over to the kitchen and scarfed some cookies. I was kind of hungry.

I went over to the bottleneck that connected the kitchen area, the dance room, and the hallway to the back area. I saw the cute High School boys. There was a larger group of them than I had originally noticed. And they were definitely gay. They were interracting in a most randy manner, actually. I was simultaneously totally turned on and endeared to the fact that in this day and age gay High School boys had places like this they could go. When I was that age the only gay scenes I knew about were rehearsals for the community theater musical productions. I positioned myself in the bottleneck so that when anyone went by they'd have to brush past me and my protruding bulge.

After a bit of this I decided to return to the back area and get myself back up to raging boner status again. The action really wasn't all that hot, but seeing a stiff dick inside the sex room was still enough to get me hard again. This time I got a bit of a precum stain on my unitard.

I walked back up to the dance area. I instantly saw a guy who totally caught my attention. He was naked except for a pair of white briefs. He had good proportions, a very nice build, and a Mohawk haircut. I'm a total sucker for Mohawks. But what was even more interesting was that his hair color was strawberry blonde. I'm also a total sucker for strawberry blonde. In fact that's my 100% absolute favorite hair color. This was the first time I'd ever seen the two combined. He was talking with some girl. Once again, I knew that I couldn't make any assumptions about anyone's sexual orientation. I figured that with my luck he was probably straight. I milled about a bit, and as I moved by him I saw that he was now talking with the jag. The jag introduced us. The guy's name was Tigger. We exchanged pleasantries and I continued moving past.

There was some breathing room in back at one end of the little stage where the DJ table was set up, so I went back and hung out there. In a moment or two Tigger was back there very near me. He definitely seemed to be cruising me. I'm always really pathetic in those situations. I don't know what it is with me, but I always regress back to being a timid little 17-year-old. I just started dancing a little bit. Tigger did the same. We caught each other's gaze from time to time, but I was too shy to commit. But when I noticed that his dick was now pretty much hard, it brought me out of my shell (so to speak). I changed the orientation of my dick so that it was pointing straight up, and stroked it a bit through my unitard to get it harder. We danced ever closer, inch by inch.

Finally we both gave in and just started kissing each other. It was way hot. Our hands were everywhere. I totally ran my fingers through his strawberry blonde Mohawk. We were touching each other's nipples and rubbing our dicks against eachother. All the while we were in total view of the entire dance floor. As far as I know we were the only action outside of the sex rooms.

The one problem with my unitard was that it made access all but impossible. I pulled my arms out of the shoulder straps and pulled the garment down to my waist. I wanted to just rip it off, but also wanted to preserve the tease factor. Tigger stuck his hand inside. I stuck my hand inside his shorts. We stroked each other as we continued to kiss madly. It wasn't long before he yanked the unitard down and started sucking me off. Man did it feel good. I kept playing with his Mohawk hair as his head was in my groin. He came back up and planted another one on my mouth. I really love kissing guys immediately after they've been sucking my dick. Pretty quickly I pulled down his shorts and was down there sucking him. His dick wasn't as big as mine, but was a good, straight cock that was nicely shaped, very decent in size, and totally hard. I was really getting off sucking him. Some dicks I like to suck and some I don't. This one I liked. I liked it a lot.

We went back and forth, kissing, touching, and sucking. It went on for some time in total view of the whole party. Some hot guys had gotten up on the stage and were using the jag's equipment to do their own Goth/S&M show. Tigger and I were right at their feet. When I wasn't kissing or sucking Tigger, he was sucking me, and I'd look back up at this sexy show that was going on right in front of us. My mind and body were swirling with Tigger's wet mouth on my stiff cock and strong fingers clenching my butt. My own fingers were pinching hard on my tender nipples, and the sight of these totally hot guys grinding and whipping each other was before my very eyes. All the while I was being watched by an entire dance floor full of horny, half-naked people. In this time of sobriety, my only mind-altering opportunities were hot, wet, stiff, steamy, drippy experiences like this one. And frankly, this scene had me in a higher state of euphoria than any drug could have.

It wasn't long at all before I was totally ready to come. I was a little unsure about that, though. I mean, when I come it tends to get all over the place. I was concerned about hitting an innocent bystander, getting it in someone's food or drink, or generally just leaving a huge oil slick on the dance floor. I leaned over and asked Tigger, "What's the policy on coming here?"

He looked back at me a bit perplexed. "I think it's perfectly fine," he said.

"Well then I'm about ready," I said.

He stepped up his efforts. He sucked me good to get my dick all wet and slippery, and then started pounding me hard with his hand. That's exactly what I require to get off. I big tool like mine doesn't respond to gentle stroking. You need to pump it like a pit crew jacking up a race car. I gave my nipples another hard pinch and instantly started coming all over the place. I don't think Tigger was prepared for the cascade of come I produced. About 15 or 20 seconds later I was done.

I immediately turned my attention to Tigger. I sucked him good and started stroking him like crazy. I had been facing out towards the dance floor, but he was aiming right for the DJ table. Within a minute or two he started coming. I had planned on blocking it with my body, but one spurt got through. I think it landed in someone's drink. The next spurt hit me right in the stomach, and the rest dribbled onto the floor.

That was hot. It was one of the hottest sessions I'd had in a long time. We kissed a little more and then pulled our "clothes" back on. I left my unitard at my waist to reamain bare-chested. We walked around a bit arm-in-arm. I had the jag snap a picture of us.

Tigger 'n' Toaph

At this point I was totally drained. It was very late at night, and I was on borrowed time to begin with. Now that I had ejaculated, I just wanted to lie down on the spot. The jag was basically ready to leave, but the Goth boys were still using his equipment. Howard was pretty much ready to go, but he had to find Keith and see if he was staying or not. Tigger wanted to play more. I wanted to sleep. All I wanted to do was sleep.

Finally the jag got his equipment back and Howard found Keith. I got my stuff from under the projector and got properly dressed. I told Tigger that I'd like to see him again while I was still in town. I wasn't sure about the following day, but at the very least I wanted him to accompany me to my screening on Sunday as my guest. He said that sounded great. I got a black marker out of my bag and wrote Tigger's number on my arm. He then wrote my number on his arm. It was oddly sexy. Tigger stayed behind, but the rest of us bundled up and headed out. The jag's assistants left with us.

It was a quick walk to the subway station but a long wait for a train. I got out the camcorder, rewound it, and played the video for the jag and his assistants on the LCD panel while we waited. They found it way cool to be able to watch the very scene they'd just performed.

Finally a train came. As we rode along I was fake smoking an unlit cigarette. Some sketchy black guy saw me and asked if he could have one. I think he was drunk. I didn't really mind giving him one. I still had all twenty. But when I gave the guy the cigarette he actually lit it on the subway! I couldn't believe it.

Soon we were back on Manhattan Island. Howard and I got off in the village and everyone else continued up-town. We dragged our asses back up to the apartment and collapsed in bed. It was a little before 4:30AM.

done | next


What exactly Mail Order Bride?

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What exactly Mail Order Bride?

There are many reasons why a person may be thinking of becoming a member of the mail order brides sector. They may possess a friend or family member who's trying to find anyone to marry all of them, they may try to be interested in the chance that it brings them, plus they may even currently have heard of these types of products and services before although were delay by their lack of experience with all of them.

A email order new bride does not need any special skills to join the industry. Provided that they are in least eighteen years old, offer an address and phone number, they will join.

The majority of people who commence as a deliver order new bride do not get deeply into it with any sort of goals about how very much money they are going to produce or even how long it will take for the coffee lover to build enough money to support themselves on their own. It's not like the typical task where they get to operate during their break break or perhaps during their weekend. They have a certain start and end time for when they will be making money, which is set by the companies they are working for.

The main factor a ship order bride-to-be has to keep in mind when looking for a business to work with is certainly that they need to find one that includes a good standing and is trustworthy. The companies that they will be working with should be ones that can prove to own a good reputation and that they are capable of delivering on their assurances. They also have to get one that is certainly willing to let them have a fair cost on what exactly they are paying.

Because of this, it is not really difficult for a snail mail order star of the event to find firms that they feel comfortable with and this are legitimate. It really is dependent upon them concerning which ones they will choose to work together with because some folk like to stick to just one business because they know that they will be qualified to work with the other companies that they use as well.

Just what exactly is a submit order new bride? They are ladies who are able to consider their time choosing the right provider for them to work together with because they know that they are making the right choice.

A mail order bride has to end up being one who is mature enough to wait one or two months before taking on one other man. Many people might be able to cope with men slightly quicker than others, and so they might not want as long to decide because they might be one of those women who can handle a man right away. They should be somebody who is certainly responsible enough to take care of the things which they have to care for and then they will likely work hard in whatever is within front of those.

There are many benefits that come plus its a all mail order bride but you have to understand that they come and also a couple of drawbacks http://mail-order-brides-guide.com too. You might not manage to sleep in your own bedroom quite simply house. when you wake up everyday.

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In Mumbai, there are numerous providers of couple sex toys that cater to the diverse needs and preferences of individuals and couples looking to enhance their intimate experiences. These providers offer a wide range of products specially designed for couples. Including vibrators, dildos, bondage gear, role-playing accessories, lubricants, and more. These providers can be found through online platforms, discreet adult stores, and specialty boutiques. Those who prioritize privacy and confidentiality. They make sure. Customers have access to high-quality and body-safe products from reputed brands. Many providers offer discreet packaging and delivery services to protect their customers’ privacy.

Where can I find Fun and Exciting Sex Toys in Mumbai?

Online Retailers: Numerous online platforms specialize in selling adult toys and accessories. These websites provide a wide selection of products, discreet packaging, and convenient home delivery.

Adult Stores: Mumbai has adult stores where you can physically browse and purchase sex toys. These stores offer a range of products, from basic to advanced, catering to different tastes and preferences. Erotic Expos and Events: Keep an eye out for adult-themed expos and events that take place in Mumbai. These events often feature vendors showcasing a variety of exciting sex toys Online, providing an opportunity to explore and purchase products in a lively and interactive setting.

Where Can I Find Sex Toys in Mumbai or Online?

Boutique Hotels and Resorts: Some boutique hotels and Escorts in Mumbai may provide discreet access to adult toy selections. These establishments often prioritize privacy and cater to couples looking to enhance their intimate experiences.

It is important to note that the sale and purchase of adult products in India are subject to legal regulations, so it is advisable to ensure that the chosen provider operates within the legal framework. Additionally, it is crucial to prioritize personal safety, consent, and open communication when incorporating sex toys into your intimate experiences.

What is the safest website to buy Sex toys online in India?

Sex sales and online stores are breeding grounds for it, but what if you’re not sure which platform is best for your purchase? We’ll help you decide so that we can all feel comfortable buying our sex toy here in India. As a start, we’ll also tell you where not to buy your toys – at any of the more than 5 sites everyone mentions selling them.

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The Duke

$54


Layers of Lucy

Posy Churchgate
14 mins read
Published almost 2 years ago

Lucy kicked the front door shut and placed the parcel on the counter to tackle it with scissors. Nestled amongst paper and polystyrene chips was the camera for the photography class she’d enrolled in. Lucy flicked the switch on the kettle, her kitchen clean, with everything put away. As it boiled she thought fondly of the years her sons lived at home, leaving counters crummy, and dirty plates abandoned. The house was too quiet since they’d left for university. Recently Lucy was rattling around in empty rooms, her free time felt heavy on her hands.

Two nights later, Lucy reviewed herself critically in the mirror. Twisting and turning, admiring that her jeans clung snugly, her stomach was still toned. Smoothing her t-shirt down she shrugged on a hoodie. By the front door she grabbed trainers, her new camera bag and keys. The photography class was guy-heavy, several had seemingly elected it as a retirement hobby, Lucy was unaware of their eyes on her as she entered the room. Even casually dressed, her poise drew glances, the swing of her curvy rear as she strode to a front seat caused a couple of gents to adjust their slacks.

That weekend, Lucy parked on weed-strewn concrete in front of an abandoned warehouse. Before reaching into the boot for her camera and tripod, she stood and surveyed her subject, whose dark, paneless windows were broken teeth in a desolate grin. “Great!" she thought. The moodier the better. She roamed the deserted lot assessing locations, gauging the lighting as her tutor had instructed.

She selected a large, arched doorway then set up the tripod to take some test shots. Critiquing them she realised they lacked impact, the scale of the doors hadn’t translated to film. In a flash of inspiration, she set the camera’s timer and raced to the arch. Arranging herself casually, silky hair draped to hide her face, she leaned back against the door jamb, ankles crossed.

Withdrawing to the car, Lucy sipped her sweet black coffee and reviewed the pictures. Their composition was pleasing; she looked surprisingly good. A genuinely attractive woman against the backdrop of a deserted commercial building struck a much more dramatic contrast.

Lucy had always taken good care of herself, but since the boys left for university she’d begun visiting the gym, where she also swam lengths in the pool. Gradually her fitness and tone had re-established, but not her confidence. That had diminished during her years of parenting. During that time her focus had been on bringing up her boys to be well-rounded men, polite, intelligent but unashamed to show their emotions. They kissed and hugged her in front of their friends. Toby in particular always told her how beautiful she was. As she continued to study the photograph, admiring the lean lines of her figure caused Lucy to consider that Toby had a point.

Her positivity and creativity revving, it occurred to her that less clothes would give the photograph more contrast. But did she dare? She hadn’t displayed herself that way for years, not since beach holidays with the twins, when she’d helped them build sand castles. Back then she’d even preferred to wear a tankini or sarong, shyly covering her torso with its childbearing induced stretch marks.

This was a new phase, surely?

Before she could talk herself out of it, Lucy stripped down to her underwear (white, but pretty satin and lace) then slipped her boots back on. Bending over the tripod, the satin strained across her curves, her breasts pressed forward invitingly, barely contained by lace cups. Her rear, encased in the sheened fabric, was reminiscent of a ripe peach, succulent and firm. With the camera focused and the timer set, Lucy returned to the arched doorway, hips swinging, both thrilled and terrified by her audacity.

Her initial poses were coy, using her curtain of chestnut hair to hide her face, but they couldn’t suppress her sexual allure. She experimented by squeezing her arms together or bending at the waist, poses to plump her tits to create cavernous cleavage. Lucy tried turning away from the camera to give a sexy arch to her back while, hands pressed to the wall, she cast smouldering looks over her shoulder into the lens of the camera.

Lucy selected one of her earlier pictures (clothes on) to submit for her assignment, which proved very popular among her class. However, Lucy chose an uber sexy one (glance over shoulder pose) to post in a sexy internet photo meme she’d discovered. This image got 100+ views that first weekend, along with a flood of positive comments, which really stroked her ego.

Gradually Lucy began to take more care of herself. Becoming mindful of what she wore, from lingerie outwards, she learned that, for her, taking care at foundation level led to feeling desirable, powerful. For the first time in years she felt visible, an attractive woman whose body broadcast her more confident attitude. Lucy began to see herself the way others saw her.

Lucy experimented, taking candid photos using varying lights, exposure and locations. She was delighted as she viewed her sexuality through the ‘eye’ of the camera. More powerful still, was the positive affirmation her ‘online’ identity gained. Not only angle and composition remarks of praise were posted. Lucy’s pictures elicited lusty, appreciative celebration from all genders which freed her inner goddess.

At her fourth photography lesson, Lucy wore a figure-hugging dress. Arriving late and hovering at the door, Lucy was beckoned in by her tutor. The class devoured her catwalk to a seat at the front. High heels had structured Lucy’s bum while tilting her spine to showcase her tits. When she sat and crossed her legs, silky stockings chafed with a delicious whisper. Lucy could feel her power. She had a secret, she was admired, a world of possibilities spread out at her feet.

Taking sexy photos in addition to her college assignments, Lucy continued to participate regularly in the weekly photographic meme, continuing to earn herself a barrage of appreciative feedback. The first Sunday of every month the meme had a prompt, but the latest challenged Lucy: “With a Little Help from Your Friends”. Lucy wasn’t ready to get anyone else involved in her erotic photography. Whilst she found it incredibly freeing and empowering, she was reluctant to share with friends what she did.

At the end of the next class, Lucy took Jeff, her tutor, aside for advice. How could she create an image which showed the subject twice, preferably in different positions? Jeff explained it was called double exposure, showing her how to open one image on top of another using an editing icon of the same name.

Feeling inspired to experiment, Lucy took shots of herself lying at the centre of her bed, others in various positions seated and standing around the bed, hands and arms extended towards the midpoint of the mattress. Lucy was able to layer several shots, creating an image which looked as if additional ‘Lucys’ were stroking and touching the prone Lucy - it was very sensuous and proved a hit with her online fan base.

Reviewing the other entries for the same prompt, Lucy noticed several had included sex toys in their pictures, a totally different take on the concept of ‘help’. It got her wondering if she was missing out. Lucy was by no means a prude, but sex with her ex-husband hadn’t been very adventurous; satisfying but not exciting. Since living alone, she’d occasionally masturbated, but it was usually something done furtively under the running water of the shower.

Browsing this week’s photos got Lucy curious, so she opened a new tab in her browser to search for sex toys, picking a fairly generic brand aimed at the vanilla market. Over an hour later she was both elucidated and aroused! She’d opened an account and placed an order. Looking forward to its delivery she hoped the site’s claims of discrete packaging were true.

That weekend Lucy found herself in the kitchen, tackling the tape of another parcel with scissors. Inside was the small, discreet bullet vibrator she’d ordered. The old Lucy had never used a sex toy. New Lucy, enlightened and more confident, had decided to re-awaken her libido by finding out what she liked and providing it for herself.

Her internet searches had taken her down all sorts of rabbit holes. Lucy found dildos that were anatomically correct and others of more fantastical proportions or ‘nonhuman’ design. The vibrators varied in length and girth, some had arms to stimulate the clitoris simultaneously. Other vibes were designed to focus sucking or licking motions specifically on the powerhouse of nerve endings of the clit.

Another fact Lucy discovered was that a female’s clitoris grows as a female gets older. In ‘mid-life’ she was apparently more receptive to stimulation than she’d been as a young woman. This partly explained women taking toy-boys for lovers, a concept she’d found faintly ridiculous while her own sex-drive still lay dormant.

She went upstairs to try out the shiny, metallic vibe, which was small enough to fit in her hand. Lucy had deliberately chosen one which was pretty and looked non-threatening. There’d be plenty of time to try out more complex and sophisticated models if this early experiment proved pleasurable.

Feeling some trepidation, and a little foolish ‘getting her sexy on’ in broad daylight, Lucy drew the bedroom curtains and took a shower. Under the water she let her mind wander through arousing memories, a montage of images from fantasies and happy intimate encounters with her earlier boyfriends. Thoughts of stolen moments seemed to get her particularly turned on. Hands sneaking under her skirt to slip inside her knickers while her date was driving got her hot. Remembering steamy explorations under blouses and inside unzipped jeans in the anonymous dark of the cinema caused throbs in her pussy which surprised her.

Patting and rubbing herself dry, Lucy tried to imagine hands other than hers travelling the undulating geography of her curves. As she rubbed a moisturising lotion into her stomach, breasts and legs Lucy bit her lip, losing herself in a vision of butterfly kisses, nibbles and nips being delivered to these expanses of skin.

Wrapped in a towel Lucy set up her camera, positioning the tripod so that it viewed where she planned to sit on her bed. She positioned a mirror between her legs, before pressing a button on the vibrator to activate it. Scrolling through its vibration patterns she discovered it had constant speeds and patterns. It seemed sensible to start at the lowest speed, so Lucy selected that before tentatively running the device over her labia.

Lucy gazed with fascination in the mirror at her plump curtains of flesh, slightly darker in colour than the skin of her legs. The sensation was pleasant, tingling, almost warming. As Lucy continued to trace her lips, she noticed them draw apart slightly and, if she wasn’t imagining it, they looked fuller. She could check when she watched the film back later.

Passing the vibe over her mons, near her clit, Lucy felt so much more sensation, a greater response of thrill ran through her. Gradually she increased the pressure, massaged more firmly, focussing the vibrations on her clitoris. The internet had taught her its structure consisted of much more than the visible nub. Lucy discovered that pressing and rubbing the upper area with the tapered tip of the vibe had her squirming with delight. She closed her eyes as endorphins surged pleasurably around her body.

Next time Lucy looked in the mirror she viewed a vivid slash of pink, moist looking skin. Her labia had parted and her clit looked engorged. Lucy licked a finger to circle it around the tiny stiff stalk. She groaned aloud, lust cranking up slowly but steadily, like an elevator while the camera lens silently captured the mounting erotic action.

With one hand she pressed down on her pussy lips, parting them as she did until her clit was isolated, standing proud. Lucy teased it mercilessly with the vibrator, causing her hips to buck and her bottom to writhe against the mattress. A flush bathed her, warmth and awareness crept up her body. It radiated out from her core, till Lucy imagined she glowed like hot coals with arousal and desire, gasping out loud.

Looking down at herself Lucy observed hard nipples. Her teasing touches confirmed they were hypersensitive. Strings of clear juice drooled from her hole, coating her pussy lips and pooling on the towel beneath her. Wanton, Lucy dipped her fingers inside, she felt her pussy walls, throbbing and glossy.

A strong yearning to have something fill her, pounding into her with deep thrusts, took Lucy by surprise, but she listened to her body and sank two fingers inside herself. Enjoying the sensations, she thrust slowly. She watched in the mirror, fascinated by them sliding in and out, slippery with juices.

Simultaneously Lucy kept rubbing and teasing the straining bud of her clit with the vibe. At this point, she dialled the device to its highest constant speed. Lucy didn’t stop, couldn’t if she’d wanted to. The throb, rub and plunder needed to be constant to take her there.

Lucy’s imagination went into overdrive as she thrummed herself, filling with images of muscled men with pumping buttocks who pistoned in and out of her hungry pussy. She visualised herself lying on an altar, putting on a show for devoted, lusty pagan worshippers who writhed, naked but for their robes. They fisted and stroked themselves into a sexual frenzy while watching Lucy fuck herself hard with a sacred phallic symbol.

As starbursts of climactic pleasure washed over her, making her body twitch, Lucy’s mind spiralled out in fragments of release. She could almost feel ropes and squirts of opaque come landing on her naked body, decorating her breasts, stomach and thighs; trophies of the disciples’ devotion to their lusty deity.

“Where had that come from?” Lucy wondered happily as her breathing steadied and she drifted back to herself. Her body was still experiencing delightful orgasmic aftershocks so she touched herself experimentally. Her clitoris was tender and engorged, almost overwhelmed with sensation while her juices ran free, dampening her perineum.

Lucy reached for tissues to clean up, smiling with satisfaction. It truly was like riding a bike, you never forgot how, but self-induced pleasure was better than she remembered! She hid the vibe in a balled up sock before placing it in her bedside cabinet, making a plan to use it again that night, while watching what she’d filmed.

Her body felt wrapped in a soft robe of relaxed, pleasurable sensations. She was curious whether the throbs she’d felt at climax, which had been strong, were visible externally or were an internal flex of muscles. Using the camera to film her self-pleasuring session would surely educate Lucy about her body’s responses. Lucy was enjoying discovering her sexual depths while the idea of exploring further was both exciting and empowering. Perhaps reading some erotica should be next on her agenda of self-discovery.

The self-assurance she’d had pre-motherhood was resurfacing in all areas of her life, and confidence is sexy. At work, Lucy’s colleagues paid her more attention. In meetings or walking the corridors, her allure wafted like incense from a thurible. Lucy’s confidence went through the roof and she was assigned a special project to tackle which led to a pay rise.

Even Frank from Accounting, a silver fox divorcee who Lucy had long admired, wasn’t immune to the thrall of her new self-assurance. It seemed he began to time his lunch break to coincide with hers. One day he enquired if the seat opposite was free. Lucy smiled, welcoming him to join her. As they talked Frank forgot to eat, seemingly distracted by her full lips, playful gestures and the delicious orbs pressing against her blouse.

Lucy was flattered by his attentiveness and drawn to his lively conversation. He enquired about her project and listened, offering intelligent questions until they moved away from work chat.

“I love the theatre. I travel to London see a show a few times a year.”

Lucy laughed. “I have to confess, the last show I saw was Stomp! I couldn’t have dragged my boys to a musical, but that was raucous and rhythmic and it grabbed their attention.”

Lucy experienced a throb of desire when Frank smiled. She wanted to make it happen again. Looking at the curve of his lip she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Emboldened by their apparent connection, new Lucy threw caution to the wind.

“Frank, would you like to go out?”

“I’m sorry Lucy, Frank stumbled over his words. “Say that again?”

Without hesitation, she said again, “Would you like to go out one evening?”

When his eyes widened in surprise, Lucy wondered if she’d gone too far, misread the signs. Her pulse pounded in her ears, unused to being so forthright. Then Frank’s face broke into a smile.

“I’d love that Lucy, when were you thinking?” He pulled out his phone to check his calendar, and she flushed with elation. A date and time was selected. Lucy and Frank agreed to go for a drink and a bite to eat.

Lucy and Frank headed in separate directions back to their workstations, Lucy silently congratulated herself for seizing the moment. She was determined, going forward, to enjoy the layers of herself that she had uncovered.

She smirked as she sat at her desk.

Maybe now I’m ready to get a little help from a friend.

Feel like going on an erotic self-portraiture adventure yourself but don't know where to start?

Check out Sinful Sunday, an actual sexy internet photo meme hosted by Molly of Molly's Daily Kiss that you can participate in any time, just like Lucy.

Written by
Posy Churchgate

Posy Churchgate started writing erotica in 2016, and is now expanding into different genres and styles of erotic writing. Happily married and heterosexual, Posy embraces experimentation within her relationship. She includes something she's experienced in every scenario she creates; “libido is like a muscle, use it or lose it!” When she’s not reading or writing, Posy spends time with her family and dogs, binge-watching shows on Netflix or horror films from behind a cushion.


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She was sitting on the floor next to him, legs tucked neatly under her, her head on his lap, where he occasionally brought a hand down to stroke or play with her silky hair. They had been idly chatting for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. He leaned down and spoke to her softly

“Go into the other room and strip, I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Yes sir” she replied, untucking her legs and standing up, stretching her legs slightly before padding into the other room.

She slowly removed her pants, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric as it slid down her legs. Her shirt and bra followed, joining her pants neatly folded on the chair. She wasn’t wearing any panties, since that was a standing rule whenever she saw him. She enjoyed it, since it was a simple way of reminding her of her place at these times. He walked in and she stood there waiting to see what he wanted her to do. He looked her over, and then stepped closer to her.

“Lock your hands behind your neck, spread your legs” he still spoke softly as he didn’t need to raise his voice.

They both knew who was in control.

She did as he asked, lowering her eyes respectively also.

“No, did I tell you to lower your eyes?”

“No, sir”

“Well, then raise them again”

She did so, looking him in the eyes, and seeing a combination or respect, caring, and dominance that never failed to get her wet.

“I’m in a good mood, so I’m not going to punish you, but don’t try to assume what I want or take advantage of my mood. Understand?”

“Yes sir, I’m sorry”

She wanted him to touch her so badly, but she knew she would just have to wait until he felt like it. He walked around her, trailing his hand across her stomach softly, sending shivers through her. Standing behind her now, he ran his hands lightly down her chest, purposefully ignoring her nipples, which now were hard nubs, waiting for attention, instead tracings his fingers around the sensitive underside of her breast, and then down her stomach to her pussy, just playing and rubbing slightly, right above her clit. It drove her nuts, and her hips began to move of their own volition. Seeing this, he quickly brought his other hand up to her hair, grasping a handful and pulling, just hard enough to get her to stop and pay attention. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered

“Do not move, and don’t make me tell you again”

She heard the undertone to that comment, and doubled her efforts not to react to his teasing.

He returned his attentions to her pussy, teasing her for another moment or so before bringing his hand up again, this time just barely grazing over her nipples. She had to fight to keep from arching herself into his touch. He saw that she was trying and rewarded her efforts by grasping her hair again, turning her head back towards him and kissing her. She moaned softly, and tried to make the kiss last, but he broke it off.

“Turn around”

She turned slowly around, making sure she kept her hands behind her neck. He sat down on the edge of the bed and admired her slim but shapely body again and the way that her position made her arch her back, forcing her breasts out as if begging for attention.

“I want you to play with yourself. Of course you won’t forget to ask permission to cum, will you?”

She blushed at his reminder and bit her lip a little

“No sir”.

At that she reached down with one hand and began to lightly circle her clit, while with the other, she began to circle her nipples. She slowly increased the pace, beginning to pinch and twist her nipples more sharply, and rubbing her clit harder and inserting a finger into her pussy to play with her g-spot.

It didn’t take long before she was getting close, and he could see that by the flush on her face and chest, her heavy breathing, and her moans and whimpers, as she got closer.

“Please sir, let your slut cum” she asked as she tried to hold off from cumming.

It was hard though as he had instructed her not to masturbate for a few days before he saw her. He stayed silent for a moment before replying

Unfortunately, she hadn’t slowed down enough and by time he answered, she was so close, she came anyway. She shuddered and tried desperately to keep her balance, while yelling out loudly. Before she had even fully calmed down, she realized what she had done. Trying to stave of the punishment she knew was coming, she began apologizing profusely, begging him to forgive her.

“Please sir, I didn’t mean to, I was so close. Please, I’m sorry sir”

As she finished he stood up and slapped her across the face, just enough to stun her and get her to be quiet.

“I don’t want to hear a word out of you. You’ve learned a lot, but somehow you control in this aspect is sorely lacking. I told you not to take advantage of my good mood, and yet you did. Perhaps not on purpose, but now I cant really let it go. Stand at the edge of the bed, hands down on the bed.”

She hesitated

“Now” he said, raising his voice slightly.

She looked down, and tried not to show that she was a little upset. She had disappointed him, and she hated to do that. She knew she was bad about controlling her orgasms, but it was so rare for hi to deny her it, that she never really had needed to be good at it. She should have believed him when he told her she would learn. She took the position he had told her to and waited. What seemed like an eternity was actually only a moment or two, while he retrieved two things from a closet. A blindfold and a cane. She knew enough not to look while he was getting things.

“You’ve really disappointed me slut. However, I think you’ll remember the punishment this time. Can you guess what I’m going to use to punish you?”

“No sir”

“A cane”

He almost heard her gulp when he said that. The cane was the one thing she didn’t have much experience with, and was still slightly scared of. She trusted him totally, but couldn’t help whimpering softly when he said it. Seeing that she slightly scared, he put the things down and walked over next to her. Grasping her chin, he turned her head towards him and looked her in the eye. She was slightly reassured seeing that he wasn’t truly angry with her, and he leaned down and kissed her briefly before returning to his position behind her. Picking up the blindfold he put it on her, knowing that losing that sense heightened all her other ones, and he wanted her a little on edge.

“Now, I want you to count, out loud, after each one. If you lose track, I will repeat that one. Understand?”

“Yes sir” she replied almost in a whisper.

With that, he picked up the cane and looked at her for a second. The next thing she heard was the slice of the cane through the air seconds before it hit her. She gasped loudly and almost jerked away when it hit. It was a sharp pain that didn’t fade immediately away like the flogger did.

“One sir.”

Each time she heard that sound right before it hit. By the fourth hit, she was almost crying, and her count on the fifth one was almost inaudible. He stayed on her ass, and never hit the sensitive spot where her thighs met her ass, and she was grateful for that. However, she forgot to count on the sixth hit.

“It seems you forgot to count. I guess I’ll have to repeat that one”

He waited a second, for what he knew, and hoped was coming.

“No, please sir, I promise I wont come again without permission, please, I’m begging you. I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

He heard the honesty in her voice, and decided he would stop there, but decided to let her wait a moment, wondering, before he responded.

“Very well, I think you learned you’re lesson. Good girl.”

As he said that, he walked closer and softly stroked her hair and down her back. She let out an audible sigh at his touch.

“Thank you sir” she said, and he knew she meant it.

She truly wanted to please him, and he knew it bothered her when she disappointed him. Reaching up and removing the blindfold, he stepped away again putting the cane and blindfold away. Turning back towards her, he saw the faint red stripes on her ass, and knew she’d be thinking about it for a day or two.

“I want you to lie down and play with yourself again, remember the rules”

She crawled onto the bed, wincing when her sore ass hit the sheets. Lying back, she began to play with herself again. He pulled a chair up in front of the bed and watched.

“Look at me, don’t look away from my face” he told her. She opened her eyes and looked him in the eye. As she got closer, it became harder to do so, but she managed.

“Please sir, let your slut cum”

He laughed, knowing she couldn’t really expect him to let her come so easily after her disobedience before.

“No, and for the rest of today, anytime you ask permission to cum, you are to refer to yourself as my cunt.”

She whimpered and eased up on herself, trying desperately not to cum, she managed though it was very hard. It was becoming harder and harder not to cum, so she asked again

“Please sir, let your cunt cum” she hesitated on the word cunt, but managed to get it out.

“No, keep playing with your pussy. But you know what? It’s my pussy isn’t it?”

She didn’t reply

“Isn’t it?” he asked again.

“Yes sir” she replied as she squirmed and tried not to look him in the eye.

“Look at me, in the eye, and tell me whose pussy that is cunt”

She struggled and finally looked him in the eye again

“Yours sir”

“Say it, I want to hear you admit it. No more pretending like you have power in these situations.”

“Ugh, please sir” she asked, needing to cum so badly she was afraid she'd fail him again.

“No! You will not cum until you say it”

She finally realized that he was right, when she was with him this way she didn’t have the power, and for this man she truly was his slut, his submissive, and his sex toy.

“Yes sir, it’s your pussy,” she finally said.

He stayed quiet for a moment then said

“Yes it is. Now cum for me cunt, feel my pussy around your fingers. How wet it gets for me.”

She came hard, and felt her pussy clench around her fingers, as she yelled and thanked him at the same time.

As she came down, she looked at him again. He smiled slightly

“Good girl”

He stood up and quickly took off his clothing, or what was left (he had removed his shirt a little bit ago). Getting onto the bed, he moved over her and grasped her hair, pulling hard. Kissing her fiercely, he simultaneously brought one hand down to her now very sensitive pussy and coated two fingers with her juices. Bringing them back to her mouth, she readily accepted them and cleaned them off.

“You’re learning,” he said with a little bit of humor.

She smiled and reached up to kiss him again. He let her, enjoying her need for him. After a minute of that, he moved down and began to nibble and bite her nipple. Bringing another moan out of her. He moved between both her nipples, getting them both rather sore, enjoying her moans and whimpers all the while.

Leaning back, he spoke again

“Get up on your hands and knees”

She readily moved into that position, putting her head down on her arms on the bed, her ass in the air. He ran his hand over her ass lightly, causing her to draw in a sharp breath.

“What do you want?” he asked her, while playing lightly with her clit.

“You sir”

“Nope, that wont do it, I want specific”

She tried moving her hips back towards his hand, but he simply moved so that he maintained just enough contact to drive her crazy.

“Please sir, I want you in me”

“No, that’s not it, and you know it, don’t try to play games slut”

He emphasized his statement with a sharp pinch to her clit, causing her to jerk. She hated it when he made her get specific, he knew she had trouble saying things, and that was exactly why he pushed her. She gave in though, because she didn’t want o disappoint him twice in one day, and she wanted him in her so badly it almost didn’t matter at that point. In the meantime, he was enjoying the site of her, worked up, whimpering and moaning, her marked ass up in the air waiting for his cock to fill her pussy, and a slight sheen of sweat on her back. He knew how much she wanted to please him, and enjoyed watching the internal fight between the side of her that wanted to be dominated sexually by him totally, to be his slut, and the part that still had trouble accepting it.

“Please sir, fuck me.”

“Ah, does my pussy want to be fucked?”

He knew he was tormenting her, but also knew she got off on it.

“Yes sir, please, your pussy wants to be fucked”

She emphasized this with another thrust of her ass back towards him, to which he laughed.

With that, he thrust into her pussy sharply, causing her to gasp and her pussy to clench around him. He didn’t bother teasing her, and simply began fucking her hard. At one point, her reached down and put a hand on her throat, lifting her up a little so his hand there supported her. Letting her go, grabbed her hair again and pulled back, using it like a leash to pull against as he thrust. He loved the tight heat of her pussy and he could feel that she was getting close to cumming again, by just his fucking her.

“Please sir, let your cunt cum.”

“Yes, cum hard. I want you to cum all over my cock. You’re such a slut you cum just from having a cock in you.”

With his words, she came again, her pussy clenching hard around his cock. He got close to cumming soon after, and just for the hell of it, slapped her ass lightly, drawing another gasp form her, and causing her pussy to reflexively clench again. As it did, he came, gripping her hips hard.

Leaning over her a little as they both came down, he kissed her head lightly. He lay back on the bed as she got up and brought him a towel to clean himself off with. Once he finished, he handed it to her and let her clean herself off a bit too. Motioning her with his hand to come onto the bed, she climbed up and cuddled against him after kissing him again. He smiled and ran his hand down her back lightly, letting it rest on her waist.

“Thank you sir” she said quietly.

He smiled again and thought about how she had come from an uppity, mouthy, in denial sub, to his largely well behaved, eager to please, slut. As he did so, he playfully tickled her side, hearing her giggle, enjoying her.

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