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Fun with an Air Tank
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Fun With An Airtank
by Xerxes
The slap brought a cry of pain to Iris' lips. On her white buttocks the
handprint lingered.
"Be still," said Emir. "I've got one more bond to secure..."
The rope snaked through one hole on the side of the particle board and
about her right ankle. Then through the other... around... and through
another hole, then around the ankle again and under. Emir pushed the
end of the rope through another hole, this one by the heel and sole
of Iris' high heel. As with the ankle, the rope was wrapped about the
shoe twice... then Emir secured the loose end by running the cord to
a peg at the top of the board and tying a hitch to it. He then stepped
back to examine his work.
Iris was bound to a pegboard in a compromising position. She was no
stranger to pegboards... the walls of the workshed in which she was
bound were covered with it, each board sparkling with steel pegs and
hooks that kept Emir's tools neatly organized. But this was a new
twist. Several layers of board were cemented together, then framed and
mounted on an easel stand... of sorts. Only this easel stand was built
to support her weight. And judging by the handscrews on the sides of
the easel, it was also built to let Emir flip Iris over.
And to think Iris was originally reluctant about letting Emir start a
workshop.
Her legs were fastened to the board securely at the ankles and knees,
and forced upwards until her toes were nearly level with her generous
nipples. Years of elementary-school gymnastics and college yoga left
her body amazingly supple, to Emir's and Iris' delight. Together they
tried a wide variety of poses which always led to a long night of
passion.
Emir began by stroking her body, working his way from the tips of her
leather-wrapped fingers down to her pelvis, pausing at the nipples and
navel, and then through her pubic hair to gingerly touch her pouty
cuntlips, then to tease her exposed asshole, and finally massaging her
stockinged legs to the ankles. Iris moaned with each touch... a small
fire smoldered deep within her mons. She was ready for Emir to use her.
With a quick push, Iris was turned upside down, hair dangling over
her arms. Blood flooded her brain as she recovered her wits. She was
now hanging mainly from the ropes about her waist, with support from
the binds about her knees and about her bound breasts. From this
position she could see what Emir was planning.
Emir was standing, nude, next to his air-powered tool set. He had a pair
of earplugs in his hands. He kneeled in front of Iris and put the plugs
in her ears.
"Just a little protection... it's going to be a bit loud."
"What?" Iris said. But she couldn't hear his answer through the rubber
plugs in her ears. Emir then walked over to the air compressor and
switched it on. It was controlled by a pressure switch and would not
pump air until the air tank's pressure had dropped below a certain
level. Emir then turned on the airflow valve that led to the tool
connector.
Emir snapped a lever-controlled nozzle onto the hose. Iris watched in
confusion as Emir lowered the nozzle to her breasts. He pressed down
the lever. A burst of air rushed out, pushing in her nipple. The
pressure did not hurt, and yet Iris could see the flesh yield a good
half-inch to the stream of air. The cool air also aroused her nipple,
and it fought against the spray with its erectness.
Emir moved the nozzle slowly upwards. The dent in Iris' flesh moved
with it... across her breast to her tummy, inching towards her mound.
Her pubic hairs were parted by the blast of air creeping towards her
pussy.
The nozzle reached Iris' clit, and she let out an excited gasp. The
cold air, pressing and kneading her clit, drove her mad with lust. Fiery
sensations rushed about her groin, complementing the numb pressure on
her brain. She began to make quiet yelps of joy as Emir brushed her with
the nozzle.
Emir silenced Iris with his cock. Her tongue searched for the sensitive
areas of her lover's dick... areas she was well familiar with. A brief
moan left Emir's lips as the moist friction made his cock glow a shade
of orgone purple. He let go of the lever for a second and stroked Iris'
cheek with his left hand, then let another blast of cool air ravage
her clit.
The airflow stopped. Iris opened her eyes in time to see the world spin
about. She was now laying prone on the easel as Emir turned her around.
Her dripping cunt was now facing the tank. The blood poured out of her
head, leaving her dizzy. She nearly blacked out, and would have if the
tingling inside let her.
Emir removed the nozzle and attached the rotary tool on the hose. It
was topped with a wire brush. Such a brush could strip paint from a
car with only a few seconds' pressure. Iris' eyes were wide with
fear... the idea of that brush on her flesh! Surely Emir was not
becoming a sadist?
To Iris' relief, Emir removed the brush. He replaced it with a rod,
about four inches long and two inches thick. While looking into her
eyes, Emir stretched a french tickler over the rod. Iris was still
confused... that thing? Spinning inside her?
Emir produced a bowl filled with mineral oil. He sensually and liberally
poured the thick oil onto Iris' clit. The oil flowed down her cuntlips
and ass, sending shivers through her. He stopped to dip the rod into
the bowl. The tickler gleamed as he pulled it out, dripping lubricant.
Slowly, he inserted the rod inside Iris.
He paused, looking into Iris' uncertain stare. Then, with a smile on
his lips, he pressed the lever that turned the rotor on.
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