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Trances part 4- A
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.
TRANCES -- part 4-A
I went home for the summer after my third year of college with the
satisfaction of a 3.8 GPA and a notification letter in my pocket that I had
been awarded a full scholarship for my senior year, including room and
board. I wouldn't have to find a summer job that year, except perhaps for a
little extra pocket money. I made do with a moped instead of a car anyway,
and most of my spare cash went for books rather than fancy clothes or
expensive dates.
On the recommendation of my faculty advisor, I had put together an
extensive reading list that I had to try to get through before beginning my
senior thesis, so I was expecting to spend much of the ten weeks sprawled in
an easy chair with a good reading lamp nearby. But I wasn't going to ignore
my social life -- or my particular physical needs.
I'd been home about a week before I got around to calling my old high
school friend, Jeff. We weren't exactly blood brothers, but we had always
gotten together during vacations and we sent each other oddball Christmas
cards and such. It was his brother, Edward, who had gotten me started with
hypnosis. Edward was in med school now, on his way to full shrink-hood. I
had just about decided not to pursue an actual medical career -- or not an
M.D., anyway. The prospect of still being in school when I was thirty was
not appealing. But psychological counseling on the strength of a master's
degree was a real possibility.
Jeff was three years into a political science degree and was trolling
for a position in some congressman's office after graduation. We sat out
on his big, screened-in back porch, drinking cokes, comparing college
experiences, and laughing as we thought up insane career ideas. We were
joking about going into business together -- he could select political
candidates and I could brainwash them -- when I became aware that someone
was watching me.
I leaned back in my pine rocker and looked over my shoulder. A dim
shape, young and female, stood inside the screen door. I smiled and Sharon
gave up her attempt at concealment and opened the screen. She was barefoot
and long-legged in her cutoffs and French-style tee-shirt.
If I'd had any doubts about the efficacy of the long-term suggestions
I'd planted in this girl's mind last Christmas, all it took was one glance
at her face to know I'd been successful. Little Sharon's hot, smoky stare
made me begin to sweat.
"Hi, sis," Jeff said. "Listen, while you're up, would you mind getting
us a couple more cokes?" He was being perfectly friendly, not demanding,
but Sharon quietly replied "Get 'em yourself, man," ... and her eyes never
left my face.
I shot a quick glance at Jeff, who seemed nonplussed. I said, "Sharon,
would you mind very much getting us a couple of cold cokes?"
She broke into a brilliant smile. "Sure! Just a sec...!" And she was
headed for the kitchen. I turned back to Jeff and his dumbfounded stare.
His eyebrows were crowding his hairline.
"What was *that* all about?!" he exclaimed.
I smiled lazily. "I think your kid sister has a crush on me."
"On you? Why?"
"Why not?" I replied. "Maybe she's dazzled by my obvious sex appeal."
"Hell, she won't even be fifteen for another month!" he exploded. "How
would she even know you, anyway?"
"Well, she's known me as long as *you* have, actually. Just in the
background. Come to think of it -- how much older is your father than your
mother?"
"About seven years," he said. "But--"
"That's more than the difference between my age and Sharon's," I said
quietly. It was kind of fun watching ol' Jeff's blood pressure rise.
"But Mom was already out of college when she met Dad! It's completely
different!"
"Calm down, already. I didn't say I was going to take her to a motel,
did I?"
His eyebrows came down fast. "Hey, now -- She's my *sister*, man...."
"Jeff, don't you think some of the girls *you* try to get into bed have
older brothers who are just as protective as you are?"
"Well,...." He couldn't think of a retort and Sharon banged through the
screen door at that moment, a coke in either hand. Jeff looked in her
direction and shut up.
"Thanks very much, Sharon," I said as she handed me both bottles. I
passed one to Jeff, whose gaze was flicking from his sister's face to mine
and back.
"Well, just watch it," he muttered at me under his breath.
When I got up to leave a half-hour later, I'd mollified Jeff at least to
the point where he'd decided his sister's adolescent crush did not indicate
an imminent elopement. Sharon disappeared about that time, too. I figured
I'd have to wait until she called me, since calling her would only arouse
her brother's suspicions again. But she was way ahead of me.
As I pulled away from the curb in my father's borrowed car, I was
startled by a movement in the rear view mirror, followed immediately by a
breathy "Hi!" close to my ear. Sharon glanced out the back window and
clambered over into the front seat.
"A stowaway, huh?" I returned her conspiratorial grin.
"Yeah -- I didn't know when I'd get the chance to talk to you again."
"And what did you want to talk about, sweetheart?"
She hesitated, licked her lips, and took a deep breath. "I'm,... I'm in
love. With you." She looked a little apprehensive. I decided to continue
to play the game awhile longer.
"Why do you think that, Sharon?" I smiled at her encouragingly.
"Well,... I think about you all the time." Her hand touched my shoulder
and she scooted closer on the seat. "I imagine all kinds of things about
us. About--" She glanced at my lap. I very gently stroked her thigh and
her breath caught again. "About making out with you," she finished in a
rush. "And, uh, other things...." She blushed, just a little. "And it's
always you -- never any of the guys I know from school. Maybe they're
just too young for me."
Sharon was sitting sideways on the car seat, one leg folded neatly under
her. Her knee overlapped my thigh and I continued to stroke her silky tan.
Her hand had moved to the back of my neck and her slender fingers twined
nervously in my hair. She was putting out more heat than a barbecue pit.
I had slowed down as I reached the end of her block and now I turned the
corner and stopped at the curb, out of sight of her house. I set the brake
and turned to face her; she seemed a bit unsure of herself, probably worried I
was going to tell her to run along and grow up. But I took her other hand
and held it firmly; when I smiled back at her, she sighed happily and tried
to shift even closer.
"Sharon, could you get away to see me without your parents or your
brother knowing about it?"
"Yeah, I think so...!" She was all bouncy eagerness now. "My friend,
Marilyn? I told her I had a secret boyfriend--" (She shot me an apologetic
smile) "--who was older and had a car, and my parents wouldn't approve."
She sure had *that* right. "Marilyn thinks it's all too romantic! If I
tell my parents I'm sleeping over at her house, she'll cover for me. She
has her own phone," she added.
"Okay, then why don't you make arrangements with Marilyn for this Friday
night, sweetheart? And I'll organize us a place to go where we can be
alone, okay? Oh -- one other thing." I squeezed her hand and she gave me
her full attention. "Dive, Sharon, dive." It had been six months, but
she slipped effortlessly into a deep trance.
"Sharon, it's Wednesday now. Tonight and tomorrow night, you will think
about me when you go to bed -- even more than usual. Then you will
masturbate and imagine it's my hand instead of your own, and that thought
will make you even hornier. Over the next two days, your breasts --
especially your nipples -- and your cunt will become more and more
sensitive, they will tingle almost continually, and that will make you
think constantly about sex and about me. You will become more and more
aroused in anticipation of our date -- and you will enjoy those sensations
very much, won't you, Sharon?"
A light flush was already rising around her delicate collarbone.
Holding her hot gaze, I reached out and brushed her nipple through her
shirt with one finger. She twitched with pleasure and arched her back for
me.
"Sharon, when you come out of your trance, you will feel an enormous
desire to kiss me. You *need* to kiss me before you get out of the car,
don't you?"
"Oh, I want so much to kiss you," she replied breathlessly. I brought
her out of it and almost immediately she hopped up on her knees, above me
now, and set her elbows carefully on my shoulders. I leaned back, letting
my hands slide up and down the backs of her thighs. She hummed softly in
her throat as her mouth swooped down on mine. For fourteen years old,
little Sharon had a natural talent for lip-work. She twisted her fingers
in my hair and made exciting little sounds as she ground her mouth against
mine. Her tongue darted in and out and I found it hard to remember that
she was supposed to be an inexperienced kid.
When she relented a few minutes later, my ears were ringing and I knew I
had left finger marks on the backs of her thighs. I was looking forward to
Friday night almost as much as Sharon was. Then she was out of the car and
jogging barefoot toward the mouth of the alley that would take her back to
her house. We hadn't even firmed up the arrangements for our date.
On Thursday, when I got home from an afternoon workout at the pool, my
mother was muttering under her breath because some unknown person had
called twice and hung up when she answered. The next time the phone rang,
half an hour later, I grabbed it myself on the upstairs extension.
In response to my "Hello?" there was a breathy pause and then a
whispered "I just had to hear your voice. Please don't be mad at me...."
"I'm not mad at you, Sharon, but you might get in trouble if you keep
calling like this." I kept my voice low and one eye on the door; my mother
wouldn't understand this conversation. "Just think about what you and I
might be doing tomorrow night, okay? Tell me what you think is going to
happen, Sharon. Describe it to me."
I could hear her take a long breath. "I'm going to hold your penis in
my hand. Maybe I'll lick it and put it in my mouth -- and you'll put your
finger in my pussy and get me hot. Oh, God...." She was breathing faster.
"That's not all I'm going to put in your sweet pussy," I whispered back.
Little Sharon was doing things to me. And the only response I got was a
throaty murmur.
"I'll see you tomorrow night," I said.
"Yes, you sure will -- all of me, I'll bet!" She throttled a giggle.
"Pick me up at eight o'clock at the end of the alley where I got out." And
the receiver clicked.
When I pulled up to the curb at 8:02, Sharon was out of the shadows and
into the car with a pink gym bag before the wheels stopped rolling. She
was wearing dark jeans and a dark sweatshirt, and she sank down on the
floor, out of sight, though there wasn't much chance of her being seen.
If she wanted to make a romantic intrigue out of this, that was okay with
me. Then she got my attention by slipping her warm, slender hand up
inside the leg of my jeans. "Where are we going?" she asked.
I'd been working on that problem since Wednesday. I certainly couldn't
take her home. A nice hotel cost far too much and was much too public,
especially for an assignation with a girl as obviously underage as Sharon.
And a cheap motel, the kind of place that would ignore her age, was a good
place to get ripped off. But by calling around among a number of old
acquaintances, I'd finally found a solution.
A guy named John Alexander, one of "the gang" in high school and that
first year at the junior college, was still single and was now earning a
comfortable living selling some sort of electronic equipment to big
corporations. He was frequently on the road, either making a pitch or
working a sales show at some convention center. He'd been known to lend
his rented town house to friends, and this was one of those occasions.
He'd left that morning on an out-of-town weekend trip and I now had his
door key and his cheerful "Poke her one for me!"
John was an unusually trusting guy, especially for a salesman, but so
far no one had trashed his place, or annoyed the neighbors, or caused the
cops to visit. I intended to be as invisible as possible.
There was a spot in the complex's parking lot right in front of the town
house door, so I got out and unlocked the place -- and Sharon scuttled in as
though the police were right behind her. I looked around as I shot the
deadbolt and flicked on a lamp. It was a typical bachelor pad -- lots of
leather (well, naugahyde) and tweed upholstery, brass lamps on the oak end
tables, and a massive liquor cabinet in the place of honor opposite the
front door. I didn't really notice the stereo system at first because it
was spread all across one wall, woven in amongst the bookcases. Each of
John's speakers was the size of my dresser in the dorm. The small kitchen
was full of food processors and other high-tech appliances.
Sharon was already hurrying upstairs to check out the bedroom. I heard
a smothered squeal of delight and the exclamation "There's a waterbed!" I
followed her up the carpeted stairs, smiling at her enthusiasm.
She was lying spreadeagled in the master bedroom, pumping and flexing
her lithe body to make waves in the bed. Her face was an appealing mix of
fourteen-year-old shyness and very grown-up sexual hunger. But I wasn't in
any hurry -- yet.
"Sharon, why don't we go back downstairs and try out that fancy sound
system? This is supposed to be a real date and I'd like to find out what
kind of dancer you are." She thumped back down the treads ahead of me and
had pulled out some CDs by the time I caught up. I hadn't heard of any of
the groups but they didn't look like the sort of thing anyone could dance
to at under 40mph. Fortunately, John was also an 'oldies' fan and I found
a number of slow-dance tunes that I knew I could handle and that Sharon
might enjoy being romanced to.
She was a little hesitant, though. "I'm not very good at old-fashioned
dancing...."
Old-fashioned? "Come on, sweetheart, it's easy -- nice, too." I loaded
up The Belmonts and The Platters and slipped my arms around her slender
waist. She immediately crossed her wrists behind my neck and moved up as
close as she could without actually climbing inside my clothes. I gave
her a quick kiss and tucked her head on my shoulder; she hung on like we
were in free fall.
I had to admit, it was very nice moving slowly around the room with a
hot young thing like Sharon in my arms. I didn't delude myself about my
preference for young -- or young-looking -- girls. I liked them sweet and
slender, inexperienced and eager, fresh and filled with curiosity. Dancing
like this was delightful,... even if I hadn't had sex on my mind.
Her nose nuzzled my ear, giving me fleeting chills. When I was her age,
I had been only casually interested in girls. My first kiss had been
awkward and I hadn't known what to do with my nose. If someone like
little Sharon had turned her blowtorch on me back then, I probably would
have fainted. I had begun to understand why teenage girls often were
attracted to slightly older, more experienced guys. Perhaps I still
hadn't persuaded a hypnotic subject to do something against her nature;
perhaps this was what Sharon had subconsciously yearned for. But that
certainly wasn't going to keep me from enjoying myself tonight.
My hands slid across Sharon's firm little ass and she strained her hips
closer to me. A small whimper escaped her lips as I tucked my fingers in
her back pockets and she tried to burrow even closer. After a moment, she
moaned in frustration and clamped her mouth to mine. She clutched the
back of my head and her tongue assaulted my front teeth. I moved up under
the back of her sweatshirt and counted the knobs of her vertebrae.
Sharon pushed herself away with a gasp and feverishly hauled her shirt
off over her head. She fumbled with the front clasp of her bra and then
her small breasts sprang free, nipples pointing over my shoulders. When
my hands covered them, I loved their smooth surfaces and the silky down
under my fingers. Her nipples were as stiff and resilient as rubber and
when I pinched them lightly her hands grabbed hard at my forearms and she
inhaled sharply.
Then I had her jeans unbuttoned and unzipped and she moved back and
pushed them down, kicked off her loafers, and stepped out of them. She
reached for the elastic of her thin white cotton panties but I pushed her
hands away and knelt; I had been looking forward to doing this myself.
When I poked my tongue in her navel, her stomach muscles fluttered and
she choked down a nervous laugh. I eased the elastic slowly over her hips
and she seized my hair and moaned louder than before. The curls of her
wispy pubic hair rose into view and I combed them between my teeth. Then
her panties were down and as they fell to the floor she quickly stepped out
of them.
I stuck my tongue into her crevice as far as I could and she jittered
and pushed her crotch forward. Spreading her moist labia with my
fingertips, I was able to get my mouth as far as the top of her clit. Her
stomach muscles shuddered again and she tried to spread her thighs and
bend her knees without falling down.
Then I stood and swiftly clutched her buttocks, lifting her off her
feet. She squeaked and then giggled as she wrapped her long legs around my
hips and hung onto my neck. I walked the six feet to the couch and laid
Sharon out on it like a banquet. As I straightened and began unbuttoning my
shirt, she struck a seductive, sprawling pose -- shoulders back and tits
out- thrust, spine arched, toes together and pointed. She must have been
studying PENTHOUSE. Her tongue glided slowly across her upper lip.
"Go ahead and start without me, Sharon. I'll be able to catch up ...
and you already know I like to watch." She grinned and spread her knees so
I could observe her middle finger disappearing from view.
My shirt was off and my jeans pushed to the floor in a hurry. Sharon
stared hotly at my rising cock for a moment, then reached up and wrapped
her free hand around it. She squeezed a little and pulled it closer; I
had to move quickly to keep from tripping over my pants, but I finally
pushed my shoes off and worked my feet free.
Then I knelt again, grabbed Sharon's hips, and swiveled her around to
face me. She was still on her back, ass off the edge of the couch, and I
hunkered down between her legs and pushed her thighs back and farther apart.
Her pretty little cunt opened like a pink flower spreading its petals, and
as I buried my face in it she jerked her head back and grabbed the sides of
the cushions.
I had muff-dived on several girls and had thoroughly enjoyed it -- and
so had they. But this was different. For one thing, Sharon had almost no
"muff" to speak of; the soft strands bordering her cunt didn't conceal a
thing. For another,... well, it may simply have been her youth, but the
taste of her was exquisite -- sweet and light and fragrant, and definitely
heady.
So I continued to lap at her pussy, sucking on her clit and swishing my
tongue around inside until it became obvious, from her sobs and moans, that
she was on the edge of both orgasm and hysteria. I pushed my nose between
her labia, shook my head, and growled into her depths -- and she squealed
"Oh, Jesus!" and trembled like an aspen in the wind. When her spasms
passed, I straightened up to see tears running down her flushed cheeks as
she panted for breath.
Sharon let her legs drop loosely in temporary exhaustion and held her
arms out to me. I bent over her sweating body and slid my forearms under
her shoulders, lifting her up to me, and kissed her long and thoroughly.
"What did you do to me?" she asked hoarsely when we came up for air and
she put her cheek against mine. "I didn't know it was possible to feel
like that, especially without..." She continued to breath heavily.
"...without fucking?" I finished for her. Her grip tightened and I felt
her head nod. I put my hand between her legs and began sliding it along
her hot, wet crevice. Her response was to gasp in my ear and clutch
spastically at my ribs with her knees.
"Oh,... oh, yes,... please -- please do it.... God, fuck me!" she
moaned, and her body began to thrash about once more. My cock resembled a
heat-seeking missile aimed at the cross-hairs of little Sharon's crotch.
But I didn't want to waste this moment crawling around on a naugahyde
couch.
I stood and held out my hands. "C'mon, sweetheart -- this requires a
proper bed."
She sat up, which put her eye-to-eye with my anxious cock. She took
hold of it and stroked me slowly a few times, then swallowed and opened her
mouth. It was obvious she wanted to suck my cock -- or thought she should,
anyway -- but she had no idea how to go about it. I could have instructed
her, and on another occasion I just might, but it would take some time and
would certainly destroy the mood right now. Also, I found my patience had
vanished. I leaned over to where my jeans were heaped on the carpet and
rummaged in the pocket.
"Not this time," I said softly and pulled her to her feet. "I can't
wait to make love to you for real." She seemed to go boneless as I bent
and lifted her in my arms and climbed the stairs again with no effort.
Her arms were wrapped tightly around my neck and she was gnawing at my ear
lobe.
Then she was lying in the middle of that big bed, arms and legs writhing
restlessly. I sat on the edge of the frame and displayed the foil packet
in my hand. "You want to *always* use one of these, sweetheart. You
don't want to get pregnant and you don't want to pick up the results of
someone else's indiscretion." She nodded solemnly and watched as I
unrolled the condom over my almost painful erection.
As I crawled onto the mattress, Sharon spread herself like a starfish as
she had earlier, and this time I was ready. She curled her ass upward as I
pressed against her virginal opening and I was a little surprised at the
ease with which she accepted me.
She smiled at my expression. "The doctor said I broke my hymen a couple
years ago when I started my periods and began using Tampax. It doesn't
hurt at all, but it feels so wonderfully *big*...."
I pistoned in and out a few times slowly and carefully, spreading her
plentiful lubrication and settling myself. Then I hooked her trim ankles
over my shoulders and folded her neatly in half, knees pressed against her
collarbone. That gave me the deepest penetration and I strained to fill her
as full as possible. She worked her vaginal muscles, perhaps instinctively,
and the effect in that warm snugness was like a python swallowing a rabbit.
I leaned forward to get the maximum friction against her clit and
started drilling for oil. The surf we churned up in the waterbed helped.
Within a minute, Sharon's eyes were squeezed shut as her hands wandered
over the backs of her thighs and her own upturned ass. My pumping forced
a series of breathy moans from her. She was transported and she was
taking me along for the ride. Several times I felt myself approaching a
climax and backed away from the brink, willing myself to extend the
pleasurable assault.
All my senses were open and when I knew she was headed for her second
orgasm I speeded up and gave her a push. Her whole body tensed and
quivered as she fell over the edge, and I was only fifteen seconds behind
her. I had been several months since I'd screwed a girl in cold blood, so
to speak -- especially with the luxury of a real bed and private
surroundings.
As I finished emptying myself into her, Sharon began to relax. She
favored me with a sweet, dreamy smile and urged me down to kiss her. I
settled my full weight carefully on her, partly because my arms were
shaking and partly because I simply wanted to cover her with my body.
"Mmmm,... you feel hot to the touch -- like an electric blanket," she
murmured. "A *heavy* electric blanket." I pushed her legs together and
straddled them, taking some of my weight on my knees and elbows. That also
pushed my retreating cock out of her, but that was okay -- it felt like it
needed to step out for a smoke anyway. I gently kissed her eyelids and her
nose and her lips. I hadn't planned this feeling of affection toward
Sharon, though I liked her well enough. She was such a scrumptious little
thing, I couldn't help it.
Perhaps that emotion communicated itself to Sharon because she finally
took a deep breath and said, "I wasn't going to ask this -- I swear I
wasn't. But, do you-- well,... do you love me? Even a little?" She
immediately covered her face with her hands. "God, I'm sorry! Why can't
I keep my mouth shut?"
I slid off her and peeled off the condom. I propped my head up on my
fist while I stroked her succulent breasts and thought about her question.
Kathy had been physically and emotionally addicted to me because I had set
it up that way -- but she hadn't been "in love" with me, not exactly. She
was old enough to have had several crushes and been devoted to at least a
couple of boyfriends.
But I had deliberately played on Sharon's adolescent romanticism, her
need to be "in love," and she was responding *too* well. For whatever
reason (maybe even my conscience), I wanted to try to explain her own
feelings to her without resorting to hypnotism, if that was possible.
"Sweetheart," I wonder if you and I mean the same thing when we talk
about 'love'. Are you thinking about marriage and a family?" I smiled at
her blank expression. "I love you for what you are, Sharon -- a sweet,
beautiful fourteen-year-old girl. I imagine you'll fall in love at least
a couple of times before you find the guy you want to marry. If we were
to meet again in, say, eight or ten years,... well, who knows?" The way
she looked at me, she was steeling herself against an unbearable
rejection. Damn. I was going to have to fix this on a deeper level.
"Dive, Sharon, dive." Her face cleared and she smiled warmly. "Sharon,
you're no longer a virgin now -- you're a woman. You will come to realize,
over the next few weeks, that there is a difference between casual love
with sex-for-fun and the kind of deep, serious love you come to feel for
someone you want to spend the rest of your life with. You must not be
afraid of either kind of love, do you understand? It's natural to feel
loving and affectionate toward someone you're also physically attracted
to, but you know, don't you, that that's not the same as 'capital-L'
love?" She nodded with a calm, thoughtful look.
I was still caressing her and when my fingertips passed over her still-
rigid nipple, she twitched. "Sharon, tell me what you felt when we were
fucking -- and how do you feel right now? How do you feel about sex?"
"Oh, God,..." Her eyes glowed. "I could feel your penis moving in
there, way deep inside, and it felt so strange -- but it felt really great,
too! My clit felt as big as my thumb, and I wanted to come so badly,...
but at the same time, I *didn't* want to come. I just wanted to go on
feeling you rubbing me with your cock so I could get more and more
excited. I didn't want to come for *hours* yet -- but when I did, and
then you came inside me,... wow! It was like being shot full of
electricity!" She paused and I could see her mind replaying very recent
events.
"I think, when you pushed my legs back -- well, it left me wide open,
you know? Sort of helpless, I guess, like you could do whatever you wanted
to me. I mean, I could feel the sweat running down into,... into my
asshole." Her face was heating up again. "But I knew you wouldn't hurt me
so I didn't mind. In fact, it was really sexy and you went in really deep.
Jesus...."
"And how do you feel about sex now, Sharon?"
"I love it! I want to do it again, a lot more times!" She flashed me
the lustiest grin I'd ever seen on a girl her age. And I'd never actually
fucked a girl while she was in a trance....
"Okay, Sharon, let's do it again, shall we? You will stay in your
trance and you will react to everything I do in the freest, most
uninhibited way you can imagine, won't you? You feel even more adventurous
about sex than you did before, don't you? Let you hands, your whole body,
do whatever it wants, let yourself experiment, okay? You know I won't do
anything to hurt you, don't you? You feel a tingling in your cunt, Sharon,
you're beginning to feel really sexy again, really heated up. Just turn
yourself loose, sweetheart."
It was like I'd been ambushed by a jaguar. Sharon rose up, bright-eyed,
and three herself on me, grabbing my hand and urging it toward her crotch
as she flung one leg over my hip. The anxious mewing sounds she made as
she scatted hot kisses across my chest were certainly arousing. She
strained against me, digging her nipples into my flesh. She reached back
with her other hand, trying to skewer herself on my cock. It was a
delightful bit of wish-fulfillment, but Sharon was stronger than she
looked and I became concerned about love-bruises. Time to introduce
another factor.
I let my hand trail down her spine to her coccyx and she stuck her round
little bottom out for my convenience. I continued and when my finger
stopped over her anus and rubbed in little circles, she pushed back
against it and dug her nails into me. All her openings were still damp
and I had no difficulty sliding the first joint of my middle finger into
her rectum. She had moved upward against me to give me easier access, and
my mouth was perfectly positioned to reach her nipples, which I milked
attentively. But I wanted to explore that lovely ass more closely.
"Sharon," I said, "unwrap yourself, sweetheart, and get up on your hands
and knees. Wiggle that hot little butt for me." She giggled and did as I
instructed, back bent and ass in the air, squirming provocatively. When I
crawled around behind her, riding the waves in the waterbed, I was
especially drawn by her fragrance and by the symmetrical beauty of her
ass, including the wisps of silky hair framing her pussy. Just above that
was her small, star-shaped pucker.
I stroked her bottom, marveling at the smooth resilience, and kissed her
lingeringly on both cheeks. Then I scattered a series of wet kisses down
the crease of her cleft and her ass began to twitch in earnest. I put out
my tongue and licked the length of her cunt while she gyrated and balled
up the sheet in her fists. Two fingers eased into her depths, still hot
and juicy, while I made rings around her asshole with my tongue. She
tasted deliciously of dried, salty sweat. Sharon bucked and shook and
groaned in mounting passion.
"Oh, that feels lovely," she whispered hoarsely. "I wish you'd stick
your tongue right up my asshole, that's be so wild! And you could fuck me
from behind, too...." Her fingers were now between her legs, strumming her
clit with abandon. I followed her request -- and my own surprised
inclination -- and pushed my tongue through her sphincter; I could only
reach a few centimeters, but it was the attempt that turned her on.
I hurriedly tore open another foil packet and rolled the condom over my
resurgent cock. And, getting on my knees and moving up close behind her, I
brushed my cock head against the lips of her cunt. She vibrated, spreading
her knees farther apart and cocking her ass up even more. I slid into her
easily, as if she had been screwing for years. Holding her hips tightly, I
thrust into her so hard and fast I bumped her cervix. She went momentarily
rigid and gasped, "Oh, God! That's so great! It's like being raped or
something -- only I love it, I really do!"
After three or four minutes of pounding away, I said, "Let your knees
slide out from under you, Sharon -- slowly, so I don't lose you."
She let herself slide onto her stomach and I followed her down, keeping
my knees on the outside of her legs. The grip of her small, tight ass
allowed me to remain buried in her -- but now her clasp was even tighter
and it swallowed me whole. I pulled her arms down to her sides and held
her close, completing the vulnerability fantasy she had mentioned several
times. Her head moved restlessly and I could feel her slender body
undulating beneath me as I resumed thrusting into her.
"Oh, yes! Hold me down, don't let me move! Just keep fucking me, just
like that -- oh, that's so nice!"
"Sharon," I said between breaths, "it feels to you like my penis has
grown to twice its previous size. Your vagina is completely filled with
it, stretched and filled to overflowing, and you feel every movement it
makes with great intensity, don't you?"
Her reaction was instantaneous. "Oh! Christ! Oh,... oh, shit.... I
didn't know your cock could get so huge," she moaned as her ass shuddered
beneath my stomach. "God, you're going to split me open -- and I don't
care! Just keep doing it,... keep fucking me!"
The marvelous part of this was that Sharon wasn't parroting a set of
lines I had given her to repeat. What I had done was to establish the
circumstances; her reactions to that were her own. And her feedback was
sometimes more than I had expected -- as with this little rape-fantasy of
hers. Well, I thought, a game was a game.
"Sharon," I continued softly in her ear as I rammed myself into her,
"what would you think if I were to tie you down to the bed by your wrists
and ankles?"
[...Whadda cliffhanger! Better read TRANCES-4B immediately!...]
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