Commodities

Saving Ourselves For Marriage: Part 1

SAVING OURSELVES FOR MARRIAGE: PART 1 TWO YOUNG CHRISTIANS EXPLORING LOVE AND PASSION. Based on a post by Architect 23 94 [https://www.literotica.com/authors/Architect2394/works], in 3 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast [https://archive.org/download/summer-2025_202506/SavingOurselvesForMarriage1.mp3] at Connected [https://feeds.feedburner.com/connected-podcast]. [https://archive.org/download/summer-2025_202506/SavingOurselvesForMarriage1.jpg] I sit naked in an overstuffed leather armchair absorbing my surreal surroundings. The remnant scents of crushed rose petals and last night's love making fill my nostrils while the gentle glow of dawn filters through leaded glass windows and sheer drapery. Gold-leaf picture frames and an antique clock face give off a slight radiance that contrast against the historic mansion's otherwise dark furnishings and wood paneling. Of everything in the room, the object most strikingly highlighted by the soft illumination is Emily's smooth alabaster leg extending from underneath the king size bed's dark duvet cover. The room is silent except for faint, deep breaths of slumber emanating from beneath the duvet. While my senses are filled by the early morning experience, treasured memories of the journey to this moment float through my head. MY CHILDHOOD. God has been good to me. I was raised in a very loving home by two wonderful parents, both faithful Believers who raised their two sons to be Godly young men. My mom worked as an elementary schoolteacher but spent most of her free time spearheading our church's county-wide food pantry ministry. Dad was a jack-of-all-trades who probably had 20 different jobs over his working career, not because he wasn't good at the jobs, but because he was a very inquisitive person and became quickly bored with each pursuit. We weren't monetarily wealthy by any definition, but we were a solid working-class family and our basic day-to-day needs were met. There were a few local main street businesses that were the economic and social hubs for our small Midwest farming community. Linda's Diner was the only restaurant in our one-flashing-light town, and was where the retired crowd started their morning with coffee and gossip. Following breakfast, the older men moved to the John Deere dealership where they spent the morning drinking more coffee and lamenting that "they don't make tractors like they used to." Meanwhile, the older women went to Clancy Drugs, which was actually more of a "five and dime" store that had a small pharmacy. The owner, Oscar Clancy, had set up an area with armchairs, a couple sofas, and a coffee table where the women would knit and crotchet while they gossiped. Two other local landmarks were the towering white steeple of the First Congregational Church, and the two-story brick Burkee Hardware building, owned by John and Bonnie Burkee. Both were welcome visual contrasts to flat horizons filled with endless cornfields, and both had transformational roles in my life. The Burkee's attended First Congregational Church, as did nearly everyone in town, and were long-time friends with my parents. Mrs. Burkee often helped my mom with the church food pantry and my dad was a frequently found at the hardware store 'shooting-the-breeze' with Mr. Burkee. Nearly every Friday night, the two couples could be found playing Euchre at their house or ours. Mr. Burkee knew money was always tight for my parents and, when I was a Freshman in high school, suggested I help out at the hardware store on Saturdays. I readily accepted and he put me to work with basic tasks like loading customers' cars, sweeping floors, and taking out trash. Since I was only 14 at the time, Mrs. Burkee would pay me in cash at the end of each Saturday and usually send me home with a plate of cookies or some other treat for my family. As a couple without children of their own, I felt a bit like the son they never had. The hardware store was a natural fit for me. My family didn't have money to buy new things or hire repair technicians when something broke, so dad always fixed everything himself. He had a mechanical mind and was innovative with cost efficient solutions and repairs. I was always eager to watch him as a young child, and to participate in the repairs as I grew older. As grew into a young adult, my mind began to work like his, inquisitive and mechanical, and that translated into a lot of practical knowledge that was helpful at the hardware store. After a few months, Mr. Burkee asked if I would want to help stock shelves on weekdays after school. He gave a stern warning that I needed to keep my schoolwork and grades in order. School was to be my number one priority and if I didn't abide by that, working afternoons at the hardware store would end. He had no reason to worry and I eagerly accepted his offer. School came easy to me and I carried straight A's without much effort. What didn't come easy to me was social ease. I was a very introverted person and found social interactions awkward at best. I had a couple good buddies and did marginally well holding conversations with adults, but would stumble epically when even saying "hi" to a teenage girl. When I turned 16, Mr. and Mrs. Burkee promoted me to be a legitimate, on-the-books employee at Burkee Hardware and had me start interacting more with customers. I helped them find items in the store, answered general questions, and sometimes helped brainstorm on their projects. Mrs. Burkee taught me how to use the cash register and record store credit purchases for customers that were billed monthly. I didn't recognize it until years later, but the trust Mr. and Mrs. Burkee gave me in those early years allowed me to find trust in myself. I was confident in my knowledge and that gave me courage in my interactions with customers. That also spread to other aspects of my life and I found it easier to have more meaningful conversations with friends or adults at church. Girls were still a different story. I had zero confidence in that area and remained painfully awkward to the point of social paralysis. It was as if I was on the outside of a glass bubble looking into the real world. There were a few girls at school and at church that I found attractive and interesting, but I lacked the ability to break through that glass wall. Accepting failure in that part of my life, I poured my energies into school, church activities, and the hardware store. I became more involved at church where I took on a bigger role in helping my mom with the food pantry, joined a Wednesday evening Bible Study group, and grew much deeper in my personal relationship with God. Those things certainly didn't solve my awkwardness with girls, but they at least kept my mind from constantly dwelling on the subject. BECOMING A MAN. By the time my Senior year arrived, I was a well engrained fixture at church and the hardware store. The Burkee's trusted me implicitly and often left me to run the store or lock up at night when they had other commitments. Over the Christmas and New Year's holidays, they even took their first vacation in 20-years, a 10-day Caribbean cruise, and left me to manage the store. During that year, I began to think about life after high school. The hardware store was very comfortable for me and I loved every minute of it, but I also knew it would be difficult to support myself, and hopefully a future family, on a store clerk's wages. My mechanical mind dreamed of an engineering degree and a career designing complex industrial innovations. The spiritual side of me dreamed of a life in ministry leading people to Jesus, though that wasn't exactly a high-paying appointment either. The problem with both options was money. My parents had managed to squirrel away a very small college fund over the years but, in reality, the vast majority of college expenses would need to be covered by scholarships and loans. Understanding the potential magnitude of college debt made a non-degreed life at the hardware store look more and more attractive. Mrs. Burkee had taken a keen interest in what I intended to do after graduation and there were occasional slow evenings at the hardware store when she would sit and listen to all the conflicting thoughts rattling around in my head. Every time she would give the same advice, to keep my options open, pursue all opportunities until a decision became clear, and keep praying for God's guidance. I took her advice to heart and explored various community colleges and universities, both those with engineering programs and those with ministry fields. I found a few Christian colleges that had well regarded engineering programs, which would give me the perfect opportunity to pursue both of my dreams simultaneously. However, the schools were private and their tuitions rates were astronomical. My "top-pick" school, Powell College, was located in a small town of the same name and was especially pricey. Mrs. Burkee continued her previous advice and insisted I apply to as many schools as possible to keep my options open. She backed up her determination by insisting that she and Mr. Burkee pay for all the application fees. How could I argue with that? Meanwhile, graduation was a couple months away and the entire town was abuzz about the upcoming Senior Prom. I had never attended a school dance and had no intention of attending Senior Prom. My mom disagreed, arguing it was a rite-of-passage and that I would regret it for the rest of my life. She wouldn't accept no for answer and said she would make arrangements for me to take her coworker's daughter, Bridget, to Prom. I continued protesting and told her that I could find my own date, but I didn't want to go to any high school dance, Prom or otherwise. However, mom was relentless and I eventually resigned myself to the fact I wasn't going to win the argument. My statement about finding my own date was a partial truth. Thanks to family genes, I was a fairly good-looking guy and occasionally drew the interest of girls around my age. Moving and lifting of heavy items at the hardware store had slowly evolved my body from that of a scrawny child into a muscular, well-defined 6'-3" young man with softly chiseled facial features. Unfortunately, any female attention I received because of my physical appearance was quickly repelled by my awkward and unconfident nature. Prom was an absolute disaster. Set-up dates are awkward under any circumstances, but Bridget was very shy and just as socially backward as me. We were simply a bad combination and spent the first part of the night standing off to the side of the dance floor fidgeting nervously and trying not to make eye contact with each other. Eventually, I worked up the courage to ask her to dance when the band began playing a slow ballad. She reluctantly accepted. We slowly shuffled around in circles, clumsily looking for appropriate hand placements and keeping plenty of distance between our bodies. Thankfully, our respective friends rescued us shortly after the song ended and we amicably parted ways. RECRUITED. Envelopes with college and university logos began appearing in the family mailbox about a month before graduation. I had a perfect GPA, so it wasn't a surprise that they were all letters of acceptance. However, what I didn't expect was that most of them also included offers of significant scholarships and financial aid. I was ecstatic to learn Powell College offered an 80% no-repayment scholarship, which made my "top-pick" school a realistic possibility. I excitedly told my parents then immediately raced over to the hardware store to tell Mrs. Burkee. A few days later, I closed the hardware store and went home to find the Burkee's and my parents playing their regular Friday night Euchre game at the kitchen table. They all greeted me as I walked in the house and, with a strange look on his face, my dad said somewhat ominously, "Sit down son, Mr. & Mrs. Burkee would like to talk to you about something." I nervously pulled up a chair and waited patiently while they finished the last couple tricks of the hand. Mom updated the score and dad started reshuffling the cards while Mr. Burkee spoke. "Mike, you did a great job managing the store while we were on the cruise last winter and, well, we really enjoyed the time away. I have a proposition for you." I listened intently as he continued, "We would like to go on an extended vacation this summer. Go out west to the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, Mt. Rushmore; maybe even try our luck in Vegas. We haven't planned it out yet so we're not sure how long we'll be gone, but I'm guessing 3 or 4 weeks for a road trip like that. So; We would like you to manage the store while we're away." I was more than happy to do so and started to respond, but Mrs. Burkee cut me off before I got any words out, "However, you won't receive your normal hourly wage while we're gone;” I looked at her quizzically and waited for her to continue after a faux dramatic pause, "Instead, John and I will pay the 20% of Powell's tuition that the scholarship doesn't cover, and also help you out with books and course fees." I was quickly doing calculations in my head. Their proposal was easily worth 4 times what I would earn at my normal gross hourly rate, not even considering taxes. I sat speechless with a stunned look on my face. Here was the answer to my prayers. God had provided. Mrs. Burkee excitedly continued, "I know you really want to go to Powell. You're an amazing young man and we want you to follow your dreams." Mr. Burkee echoed her thoughts and added, "You've worked your tail off for 4 years, more so than we could ask of any employee. This isn't a gift. You've earned it." I looked over at my parents. My mom was beaming and my dad had a 'gotcha' look on his face. Apparently, he thought it was funny to bait me at the beginning of the conversation. I slowly responded, "I; I don't know what to say. That's very generous." I think Mrs. Burkee was even more excited than me and blurted out, "Just say yes!" So, I did. CAP & GOWN. High school graduation and the following summer went by in a blur. Amid preparing to move away to Powell, I also managed to keep attending my weekly Bible study and maintain status quo at the hardware store while Mr. & Mrs. Burkee were on vacation. Before I knew it, I was loading up my car and saying heartfelt goodbyes to all my friends and family, and especially to the Burkee's for all they had done over the past years. After arriving at Powell, I quickly settled into my dorm room on the first day, then spent the second day on campus searching for a job. Despite my tuition being 100% covered, I still needed to pay for room & board and needed some spending money. Naturally, my first stop was the local downtown hardware store where I spoke briefly with the owner, a stern-looking man in his late 50s, Mr. Jacobs. He looked at me skeptically and gruffly asked if I had any experience. I modestly told him that I worked at the hardware store in my hometown. He asked for a contact person, which I gave, and he said he would get back to me. I spent the rest of the day applying for jobs anywhere that had a posting, though I needn't have. Mr. Jacobs called me first thing the next morning to say he talked to Mr. Burkee, and I was hired. HIGHER ED. I settled into a routine of classes and work over the next few weeks. My inquisitive mind yearned for new knowledge from both sources and I soaked it up like a sponge. The coursework was more challenging and took more effort than in high school, but was still manageable and left adequate time for about 20 hours a week at the hardware store. Between the hardware store paycheck, some help from my parents, and a moderate size student loan, I would be able to cover the cost of room & board and my general living expenses. Once again, God provided. During those first few weeks, I also began attending Faith Bible Church, which was located a couple blocks from the hardware store. It was a typical church in many ways, but also had a large college-age ministry given its proximity to Powell's campus. They had a worship service on Sunday morning and a variety of study and support groups throughout the week, including a 'young adult' (a.k.a. college student) study group on Wednesday evenings that they called Next Gen, just NG for short. Due to my schedule at the hardware store, it was a few weeks into school before I could attend my first Wednesday NG study. I followed signs through the church building into a large lounge area furnished like an oversized but cozy living room, complete with an artificial electric fireplace. I would guess there were about 40-50 students socializing in informal clusters around the room. I recognized a couple students from my engineering classes and decided they would be my safest point of entry into this new group. My eyes casually scanned the room looking for other familiar faces as I purposefully walked toward my engineering classmates, that is until I plowed into someone. My hands instinctively reached out to steady whoever I just clobbered and grasped the shoulders of an extremely petite girl. I looked down to see a bob of strawberry-blond hair face-planted into the lower portion of my chest. Socially horrified, I quickly stepped backward and squeaked out a timid, "Sorry. Are you ok?" The girl's head tilted upward to reveal pure beauty with amazing blue eyes and a welcoming smile. Ignoring my question and the clumsy circumstance, she cheerily thrust her hand out to shake mine, "I'm Emily! Emily Fulton. I haven't seen you here before so I was just coming to say hello." A pang of nervousness clenched my stomach as her delicate hand came to rest in my big mitt "Hi, I'm Michael; er; Mike." "Nice to meet you Michael," she said emphasizing my formal name, then warmly continued, "I saw you at worship service the last couple Sundays, but you left before I could catch you." I stood with Emily's soft hand in mine, frozen in an awkward conversational pause and unable to formulate an intelligent response. Again, she ignored my ineptness and continued, "I'm glad you came to NG tonight! I'm a Freshman at Powell, but I grew up in this church and already know most of the students here. Let me introduce you to some people." Her hand slipped from our handshake as she turned and began walking toward a group on the far side of the room. I followed behind, curiously observing Emily's petite form as her short legs took 2 energetic steps for every one of my lazy strides. While small, her 4'-11" body was perfectly proportioned, and her tastefully conservative attire gave an impression of style and elegance not exhibited by other students in the room. Tasteful white shorts highlighted subtly athletic legs and graceful hips, while a tailored pastel-blue sleeveless blouse accentuated her narrow waist and modest chest. Emily proceeded to introduce me to nearly everyone in the room before the study began, skillfully prompting conversation and filling awkward pauses in a way that made me feel at ease. That continued into the Bible study as we sat in adjacent armchairs and she effortlessly integrated me into the group discussions. As the study ended and people began to informally mingle again, Emily turned toward me in her chair with a genuine smile, "I'm really glad you came tonight. Will I see you Sunday morning?" The inquiry was rote social courtesy for most people, but Emily's smile and voice radiated true sincerity that meant much more than the face value of the words. The genuine kindness caught me a bit off guard and I stumbled a response, "Ye; yes, I'll be here Sunday." She enthusiastically replied, "Great! I'll see you then!" and moved to join a group of her friends across the room. SCHOOL WORK. Over the following weeks, I fell into a routine and became integrated into life at Powell, Faith Bible, and Jacobs Hardware. Classes were going well, and the hardware store atmosphere felt like a reunion with an old friend. Whatever tensions I had melted away when I entered through the old, creaky screen door on Main Street. At church, I began to build friendships with a few of the guys in NG and, on more Sundays and Wednesdays than not, Emily would initiate a few minutes of friendly conversation with me. Over the course of those brief chats, I learned she was an Early Childhood Education major, her dad was a tenured seminary professor at Powell, she was a cheerleader and president of the quiz bowl team in high school, and; she always dressed impeccably. In turn, I told her about my

How Chloe Finally Got Some: Part 2

HOW CHLOE FINALLY GOT SOME: PART 2 CHLOE GOES BAT-SHIT CRAZY, THEN RESORTS TO STALKING. Based on a post by oldtruckdriver [https://www.literotica.com/authors/oldtruckdriver/works/stories]. Listen to the ►Podcast [https://archive.org/download/spring-erotic-stories/HowChloeFinallyGotSome2.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/spring-erotic-stories/HowChloeFinallyGotSome2.jpg] Chloe hopped out of bed and went to grab the drinks. On the way to the kitchen she thought not only had she not had Dave use a condom but she had him in her apartment. Both of those were pretty high on her list of things not to do. Her well-fucked cunt was leaking a long stream of juice down past her knees, by the time she had refreshments dished up. When she came back with the beverages she also had a bowl full of red and green grapes. They sat cross legged on the bed and ate the grapes and re-hydrated. "When we first got in the apartment you said you were horny and would explain later. "I guess I did. Well, it started last night" Chloe took a good part of an hour detailing the long string of bad luck and fluke circumstances from her 2 days of cock trolling. By the time she was finished he was rolling on the bed laughing. "Wow!" he exclaimed; "and I thought I had a fucked up night." She was flat on her back, laughing right along with him and said, "The only reason I can laugh about it is because of your failed attempt at mugging me. The night has turned out so much better than I thought it was going to, that's for sure. My craving for a good cunt-pounding was driving me nuts, but it was so thoroughly rewarded by finding and seducing you, Sir David.” He got up on his knees next to her and looking down said, "And it doesn't look like it's over yet." Referring to the turgid flag pole extended over her lovely tit. "Well look who decided to join us.” She turned her head and kissed the red bulbous head. “Let's get him wrapped up shall we?" she asked reaching into her nightstand for a condom. The sex was very good. He was a considerate lover and induced her huge orgasm; and then brought her along for an even bigger one, when he climaxed. When he pulled out, she peeled off the condom and dropped in into the bedside wastebasket. He pulled her over until she was lying with an arm and a leg draped over him. "That was very nice," Dave said, "Do you mind if I take a little nap? When I wake up I'll slip out." "First of all," she said grabbing her phone, "put your number in this. I'll give you a few days to get a new phone and I'll call you." She looked at him for a moment and thought to herself, well I've broken two of my rules tonight, why not a third. "I wouldn't mind if you stayed the night. Tomorrow's Sunday, we could go for brunch somewhere." She found she was holding her breath waiting for his reply. This was her bravest and most insecure moment of taking initiative and risk. "Much as I would love that, I have to get home early, to get Sharon to church." Chloe reeled back from him, then put both her feet into his ribs and pushed. She couldn't knock him all the way out of bed but he got the hint and scrambled out the far side. "You miserable son of a bitch, get the hell out." "Let me explain," he begged. "Go choke your own chicken, bastard," she yelled pointing toward the door. He quickly dressed and left the bedroom. She followed him naked to the front door. He fumbled with the three locks on her door and she shoved him out of the way, got them unlocked and jerked the door open. He was half way through the door when he stopped. No; by god, once tonight was enough. He stepped back into her apartment and pulling the door out of her hand, gently closed and locked it. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm calling the police," she yelled. If anything her volume had increased. Very firm and reasonably he said, "No, no you're not. You are going to sit down while I explain a few things to you." "I am not interested in anything you might have to say." It was a classic Hallmark Movie scene of Chloe being the over-reacting dingbat chic, feeling insecure about giving her heart away, then impulsively assuming the worst in a decent guy. "Well Chloe," he began softly, "I think there are things you should be aware of so please sit down." Then he roared, "And shut the fuck up, for the love of God!" This startled Chloe so much she actually submitted to his strong male assertiveness. She shut up and looked at him. His face was a mask of anguish. She silently sank down onto her sofa. David disappeared down the hallway and soon reappeared with the comforter from her bed. He draped it around her and then sat down in the armchair. "I was already accused of a lot of things that weren't true, tonight. I gave up on that other bat-shit crazy chic, because she was not worth fighting for. You on the other hand, I think, are worth fighting for. So, from the top, I am not married and have no kids. My ex, Brittany, was compatible for a while, but eventually didn't like being married and feeling tied down. I met Brittany when we were in college. She was a foreign student, here on an academic visa. She was passionate about us and we married a week after completing our grad studies. That was 4 years ago. Two years ago she was granted citizenship. Three weeks later she took off. I haven't seen her since. A month after she left I got divorce papers. We had a prenup and she got nothing of mine. I work in the financial district, actually I'm in arbitrage, and make a ton of money. I just resumed dating a few months ago and tonight was the fourth date with bat shit crazy lady. Now, I don't owe you anything and you don't owe me anything. We just happened to meet each other and have the best night of my life. If I gave you a good time too, that's great. I repeat; I am not married and I am not in any type of relationship, with anyone. The only thing I can be rightly accused of is being a divorced man. I'm sorry, I didn't mention that as I was being dragged up here by my cock. I didn't think it was germane to the situation. The 'Sharon' I have to take to church is my German Shepard. The church is at the nursing home where my mom lived until she died. I used to take Sharon to see my mom, and the staff convinced me to keep bringing my dog in as pet therapy for the lonely residents who were my mother's last friends. Sunday is our day for that. Just after the residents have breakfast. Thank you for your time and patience." She sat there stunned while he got up and unlocked the door. He opened the door and have her a long sad look and was gone. She hung her head and started crying. She woke up the next morning in her bed, but did not remember moving from the sofa. She only left her bed that day to pee and toward evening heat a can of chicken noodle soup. She thought about David all day Monday. On Tuesday she started calling the number he had put in her phone. He had given her the right number but every time she called it went right to a full voicemail. On Friday she was still getting the same result. She spend the weekend outside the city, with her parents. She insisted they watch The Princess Bride and she cried through most of it. THE HUNT FOR HER DAVID. After trying a couple times Monday morning she had finally had enough. OK she thought to herself, you are in I T, you know how to run a search. So she started a search with the known facts. She had a first name, she knew he worked for a financial firm, he was in the arbitrage department. Her results showed 117 hits for Davids in arbitrage. How can that be she wondered. She had had to look up arbitrage to find out what it even dealt with. It sounded like a very tedious way to earn money. She started on her list and had phoned 30 Davids by the end of the day. Tuesday and Wednesday saw her at the end of her list with no hits. Then she thought maybe the firm David worked for didn't call that division arbitrage. She did a search of every financial institution in the area. This yielded 245 new Davids. It took her nearly two weeks to go through them all without finding her David. His phone now said the number was no longer in service. She gave up at this point and tried to forget him. She moped around at work until her boss finally called her in. He was a good guy and soon got her talking. He heard her out and then picked up his phone, searched for a number and dialed. "Hey Mike, Stu Cooke here, I need you to do a 50 mile radius search. White male, 25 to 30, brown and brown, 6 feet, medium build, first name David, probably find him in stocks, financial, banking. This is personal so quick like bunny, my friend. Thanks, see you at the Carlson's on Saturday, bye." Chloe said, "I already ran a similar search, I got nothing." "Yeah, but you don't have the resources Mike has. His company does FR searches. If this David has had his picture published anywhere, the facial recognition software will find him. Now get out of my office, I have work to do." She stood up and said, "Thanks Boss man, you're the best." The next afternoon she got an email from FR Database. There was an attachment with pics of 64 men. She slowly went through them and about halfway through, there he was: David Wheeler wearing a tux and smiling shyly. She clicked on his pic and the press release the photo was from came up. It was a charity ball to raise money for, naturally, Pet Therapy Project. He was there as a representative for a private banking company. She ran a search on David Wheeler and found he worked for a private investment bank. No wonder she hadn't found him. Then she searched divorce court records and got an address. If she remembered the building correctly each apartment went for 2-3 million bucks. Suddenly she wasn't so sure finding him was a good idea. She had a good job but he probably made twenty times what she did. Why would he be interested in her? Her next thought was, money does not buy happiness, and she had every right to look for that happiness. Then she thought to herself, a court of law would not call it looking for happiness, they would call it stalking. Chloe wondered how she could meet him in the right circumstances. She couldn't just show up on his doorstep. She probably couldn't get past the doorman. His work was out too, but she could wait outside his work and then follow him, er stalk him. What the hell was wrong with her? She had never acted this way with any other guy, not even crushes in high school. This guy is everything you Don't want in a man. He's probably a workaholic, he's rich, he lives in a penthouse, she would be just another trophy wife. Wife! Oh no, not wife, where did that come from? She didn't know if he would ever speak to her again let alone want to marry her. Marry! My God, I am going crazy, he's going to call me 'bat-shit crazy lady.' The biggest question was still why. Why was she obsessed with this guy? And that's all it was, right? an obsession? She had gone out with quite few guys, some of them she had even had short relationships with. Her list of guys she had fucked and forgotten was fairly long. Most people would indeed consider her a slut. So why, why this guy? The voice in her head, the one with the answers, was obstinately quiet. Now, here's the plan, she said to herself. I'm going to stand outside where he works and let him see me. If he wants to talk to me he will approach me. If he sees me and ignores me, I will walk away and never think of him again. She had gone in early the next morning so she could leave in time to be at David's workplace when he came out. She had dressed casually in jeans and tennis shoes. Who knew how long she would have to wait on hard concrete. No way she was going to do that in heels. She cabbed over and got out. For a moment she thought the cabby had made a mistake. The address she wanted didn't seem to exist. She walked to the end of the block and found a number on the building so she turned and walked past a high limestone block wall to the other end of the block. It was a nice restaurant with the address etched in the glass above the door. Apparently the address was also the name of the restaurant. It had to be here she thought, banks, even private ones had to have a way to get in, didn't they? Halfway down the block was a small door recessed into the limestone wall. It had no writing or numbers on it. Then she noticed a business card sized brass plate embedded in the wall. All it had was the name of the firm David worked for. Well, she thought, at least that part went right. Then she realized she could not just stand on the sidewalk for untold hours. She decided she would go back to the restaurant and ask for a seat by the window and watch for him. She had a 50 50 chance of his walking that way. Then she had another thought. What if the main entrance was actually in the back of the building. She crossed the street to see if she could see something behind the wall. From that perspective she could just see the roof line of what was maybe a three or four story building that looked more like a mansion than an office building. She turned and looked at the building on her side of the street. It was an office building that looked like it had windows that overlooked the street on every floor. She went in and found a tenant board. She picked a firm on the top floor just in case someone asked what she was doing wandering around. She rode the elevator to the eighth floor and turned left when she got off. Sure enough there was a large window in the foyer. She walked over and looked down on the target. She giggled out loud. Target indeed, here she was, a female Tom Cruise, gathering intelligence for her mission. Then she snorted and thought, well that's about as real a scenario as the rest of what she was doing. Her target was a Greek Revival style mansion in four stories with a three story wing on each side. It was set toward the rear of the property and there was a nice courtyard and garden covering the area all the way to the wall. It looked as if the front door only served as an entrance to the courtyard area. That must mean the main entrance is actually in the rear of the building. Having finished her surveillance she made her way back to the street. She turned right when she got to the street. She went to the corner and crossed and continued down to the alley. The alley had an ornate metal fence with a large gate that stood open. She walked through the gate and saw it was paved with cobblestones and in good repair. It was also very clean, much cleaner that the street outside the gate. It was somewhat narrow for perhaps 80 feet then opened up on the right. The rear of the mansion was on her left. In the opening on her right were spaces for about twenty cars. They were nose in against a brick wall. Names were painted on the wall above each space. And there, the fourth space, in was David Wheeler's name. She stopped and looked at the car and was not surprised that it was a gray Lexus GS 350. "Pardon me miss, may I help you?" a voice behind her asked. She turned and looked up at a nice looking man in a security uniform. He was smiling and polite but what he had really asked was, what the fuck do you think you're doing? She returned the smile and explained, "I was just using this as a shortcut, is that all right?" "Of course miss, it is a public thoroughfare. We do however, like to keep an eye on the personal property of our clients and associates. You understand I'm sure," he replied with the same get the hell out of here smile. "Naturally, I just had to stop and admire this gorgeous piece of machinery. It's a beauty isn't It." His smile was genuine this time, "That it is miss, that it is." She gave him another smile and continued on down the alley. Shit, now what are you going to Miss Cruise? There was no place on either end of the alley to wait. What was she going to do anyway, jump out in front of his car. Well, if he were going fast enough that might be a solution. She walked back to the main street and looked around. In the opposite direction from David's building was a coffee shop. A SIGHTING. She headed that way, a mocha latte couldn't hurt, it might even help. She sat at the counter that faced out onto the street. She wasn't really paying attention to what was happening around her. She just sipped at her latte feeling sorry for herself. She looked out the window and across the street saw a bistro, an office supply place, a gym and a bakery. Typical downtown fare, nothing worth noting. Even the people were typical. Women in business attire, shopkeepers, bicycle messengers in bike shorts with colorful shirts with helmets, men in suits. Some of them were sharper than others in their Armani or Brioni. David looked very sharp in his Brooks Brothers three piece. Wait, what? It was David! There he was striding down the street carrying a gym bag. When he reached the gym he produced a key card and went in. She dashed out and, not looking, was nearly run over by a cab. She blew off his honk and an insult in a language she did not understand. The door was long closed by the time she got there. No amount of tugging or banging with both fists produced any results. She gave up and went back to the coffee shop. The only thing that kept going through her head was, I saw my David, I saw my David. Then she shook her head violently. He's not your David, asshole. He's just a guy who will probably be terrified when you confront him. Well, she thought, my mom will probably bail me out of jail when he has me arrested. She sat clutching her purse so she could rush out when he exited the gym. She jumped every time the door opened. Finally it was him. He had changed to a polo shirt and khaki pants. He had his gym bag in one hand and his suit on a hanger over his other shoulder. She rushed out and stood at the curb and yelled his name. He turned in confusion then saw her. He stood there staring for what seemed like an hour to her, but was really only two seconds. His gym bag fell out of his hand and his expensive suit fluttered to the dirty sidewalk. He never took his eyes off her as he crossed the street. Cars in both direction slid to a halt. Somehow he made it unscathed to her side. He stopped in front of her and looked into her soul. REUNITED. "You," was the only thing he said before bringing her into his arms. They stood there crying on each other for a long time. Then he held her at arms length and just...looked. He snapped out of it and cried, "My suit!" He grabbed her hand and this time looked before leading her across the street. He picked up his things and looked around. "We need to talk and I need a drink. Maybe many drinks." They walked down a block to a bar called Harry's. He asked her, "Martini's?" "Dirty with two olives." He told the waiter, "A pitcher of martini's, dirty, and a bowl of olives, please." "How did you find me?" he started, "no wait, let me go first. The night I left your place I was devastated. I really liked you and had screwed it up completely. I just wandered around not paying attention to where I was. It started raining again and I didn't have a phone to call for a ride. I flagged down a cab and went home. I came back the next day to apologize and I couldn't find your house. Do you know how many brownstone's there are in that area? I knew it was within a block or so of bat shit crazy lady and I swear I knocked on every door and asked a lot of very suspicious and wary people if they knew where Corey lived." She interrupted him, "It's Chloe, C H L O E." "Oh," he said frowning, "I guess that would make a difference huh" "Anyway I had no last name, where you worked, nothing to help me find you." he took her hands and said, "I have been lost without you. I can't focus, I can't sleep, my boss calls me Zombie man. So how did you find me?" "Well, I had your phone number and I tried that for days. I couldn't get through and finally it went out of service." "Let me explain that. On Monday I went to my carrier to get a new phone. I asked if they would transfer everything to my new phone. She started to

How Chloe Finally Got Some: Part 1

HOW CHLOE FINALLY GOT SOME: PART 1 WHAT DOES A HOT GIRL HAVE TO DO, TO GET SOME LOVING? Based on a post by oldtruckdriver [https://www.literotica.com/authors/oldtruckdriver/works/stories]. Listen to the ►Podcast [https://archive.org/download/spring-erotic-stories/HowChloeFinallyGotSome1.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/spring-erotic-stories/HowChloeFinallyGotSome1.jpg] “Jesus Cats!” Chloe thought to herself as she slowly walked home on Saturday night, it shouldn't be this hard to get laid. At twenty four you would think she would have enough experience to be able to pick up a guy. It certainly wasn't from lack of trying. She was a reasonably good looking gal. An old boyfriend had once said she was 'girl next door cute'. Her blue eyes and highlighted natural black hair looked good on her thin face. She always thought her legs and firm little butt, were her best features. One of her work perks was a gym membership, she took full advantage and kept in good shape. In her teen years, she was a nerd and went to college on a full 'Stem Girls' scholarship. But her late-bloomer body opened even new opportunities and she was snatched up by a top sorority. Her social skills quickly developed and soon she was an assertive career girl with a very healthy sexual appetite. Too healthy, perhaps. It seems her assertive nature and latent Asperger's impatience was keeping her from bonding into a committed relationship. She had a good job as an I T troubleshooter. Which meant she was called in when the regular I T techs couldn't figure something out, mostly on servers. She made enough money to have her own small apartment in a brownstone, in the nice part of town. She had good fashion sense, thanks to her sorority immersion, and could dress up or down for any occasion. For example, last night she had gone a little slutty as she was going pub trawling, as she called it, for a cock. It was Friday night and she was ready for some action. It had been over a month since she had gotten laid. That's all she was looking for really. She liked being single, coming and going as she pleased, spending her money how she wanted, not having some guy demanding to know where she was and what she was doing every second. She was happy with her body and herself. She was as she thought of it, in her twenties horny. She masturbated almost every night and had a nice collection of toys to help her out. She enjoyed watching porn. Not entire movies, but compilations of people having sex. But every month or so she needed a real cock in her, to feel a guy fill a condom while he was inside her. FIRST ATTEMPT. Chloe had gone home Friday after work and had a bite to eat. A crashed server at 4:45 interrupted her first plans for that night. When she texted Ken to advise him of her delay, needing to stay late at work for perhaps an hour or two; He said he couldn't wait and went to the concert without her. Shit! So she put on a short black skirt paired with black lace top thigh highs and no panties. A black top that she tied up to show a little of her flat stomach with a red bra peeking out the top. A pair of come fuck me black pumps completed the outfit. After a last look in the mirror she nodded in approval at what she saw. She was a little short at 5 foot 2, but had some nice C cup tits, or large B, it depended on who made the bra. She grabbed her black leather jacket and set out to find a cock to satisfy her itch. SECOND ATTEMPT. She walked four blocks to an area that had many bars, restaurants, shops and boutiques. She picked an Irish pub and went in. It was fairly busy but she found a two person high top table and sat down. She ordered a black and tan and scanned the room. There were a few possibles in the crowd and she settled down to wait. After half an hour she noticed one guy in a group of four was giving her the eye. About eleven they all got up to leave. As they made their way out the guy who had been checking her out was last in line. Chloe made eye contact with him as he reached her table, then she glanced at the empty chair across from her then looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. He took the hint and told the other guys he would catch them later. They sized up the situation and gave them both a smile and continued out the door. He took his overcoat off and draped it over the back of his chair and held out his hand saying, "John, and the pleasure is all mine." "Chloe, John, have a seat." the waitress came by and John signaled her for a round of drinks. He turned to Chloe and stated "So you're looking for a hookup tonight." Chloe smiled and asked, "Why do you say that?" "Because you came in here alone and have been checking out all the guys. You don't seem annoyed, that means that no one stood you up. You don't look, or act like a working girl. You haven't been checking out the ladies so I don't think you run that way. What else does that leave?" The waitress set their drinks down and John handed her cash telling her to keep the change. Chloe said, "You're pretty good. You forgot that I looked horny sitting here." "And you certainly do, the question is, what are we going to do about it?" "Not my place, no offense, but I don't like people I've just met knowing where I live. It sometimes complicates things." "I understand completely. My place is out tonight. I have two roommates that use our place for band practice sometimes. That's why I'm out tonight. I can't believe they are almost thirty and still believe in death metal." "Wow, you must have understanding, or deaf, neighbors," she said laughing. "It's a row house over in Crack-town," he explained, "I inherited it from an aunt. No one will buy it, but until some druggie slits my throat, it's a cheap place to live." "Yeah well, even with no band practice I'm not going to that neighborhood at night, hell, not even during the day. So what do you suggest?" "I drive a Town Car during the day. I was going to turn it in now and head home. It's in the alley behind here and it has a huge backseat." "I got fucked in a lot of cars in high school, I always thought it was fun. Drink up and let's go," she ordered him. They went out the door and he led the way to the alley. Chloe noticed that it had rained while she was in the bar. The streets were wet and the air smelled a little fresher. As soon as they turned into the alley John stopped her and pulled her into an embrace. There was nothing gentle about their first kiss. Their tongues fought for dominance, each trying to outdo the other. As they continued kissing their hands roamed around, both were satisfied with what they found in their groping. John was especially pleased to find Chloe had no panties. He finally broke loose and pointed down the dark alley toward the car. He was walking backward and holding her hand. Suddenly he tripped over something and over he went. He landed hard and cried out in pain. Chloe was laughing as she got to him and bent over to help him up. She stopped laughing when she saw him holding an obviously broken wrist. She helped him to his feet and called 911. They moved out of the alley and back to the bar. The waitress saw him holding his wrist and called to the bartender for some ice and a towel. They got the ice and towel on him and got him settled in a booth by the door. The ambulance arrived and they loaded him up. Chloe asked if he wanted her to go to the hospital and he said no, but thanks. She stood on the sidewalk as the ambulance pulled away. She realized she had not gotten his number. Then she shrugged, these meetings were meant to be one offs anyway. The waitress stuck her head out the door and told her to come in for a shot, on the house. She had a couple of shots and walked home. THIRD ATTEMPT. Well that had been her Friday night. Now here it was Saturday night and she was walking home alone again. Amazingly she had tried three times to get laid that day. Work had called at 9:00am that morning with an emergency server problem at a client out in the suburbs. She was a little hungover but a cold shower woke her up. The place was not anywhere near a subway line so she had used a ride share service to get out there. The problem was unusual but she had figured it out fairly quickly and the client was ecstatic to get up and running so fast. She walked outside to call for a ride and realized there was a Walmart right next door. She didn't get to shop at the huge retailer very often and decided to take advantage of the situation. She had a cart about half full of things when she rounded a corner and smacked into another cart. It was a good looking, but very nervous, young man. He kept apologizing like it had been all his fault. After reassuring him ten times that she was OK he finally relaxed a little. He really was cute and while they talked Chloe got to thinking a little afternoon delight would be fun. After last nights fiasco she was hornier than ever. She led him over to the fitting rooms. She checked to make sure no one was looking and pulled him into an empty one. She asked him if he wanted to fool around with her and pulled him in for a hot kiss. He was enthusiastic and started getting into it when a passing clerk asked if he needed any assistance. The young man was so nervous he couldn't even answer. He pulled open the curtain and almost ran to his cart and started down an aisle. She retrieved her cart, and practically running, caught up with him. She got him calmed down and told him what a good kisser he was. She told him she was horny and just wanted to get fucked. She asked the guy if he had driven there and he told her he had. "Great," she said, "we can go to your place." He replied nervously, "W-we can't do that, I live with my folks. They are at home now." "Jesus Christ," she muttered under her breath. "Well how about we go out to your car. We can find a quiet place and do it in the car." "Um, well OK, I've never done it in a car in broad daylight but, um, yeah sure, I guess." "Fine," she said abandoning her cart. "pay for your stuff and let's go." She followed him out to an SUV. He started to put his bags in the back. Chloe stopped him saying "Put your stuff on the front seat. We can fold the seats down and have more room in the back. I'll ride in the back until we find a place." She looked around then and noticed that the parking lot was huge. Out close to the road, over in the corner, there were no cars at all. "Get in and drive down there," she said, pointing. He parked the car and hopped in the back with her. She said, "This isn't exactly private so we probably shouldn't take off any more clothes that we need to, just in case." This brought his nerves back into play again. She started kissing him aggressively and put her hand down his pants to get him in the proper state of mind. He had pushed her bra up and was nibbling her tits and rubbing her pussy through her pants when it happened. The store sat on a small hill and the parking lot sloped down to where they were parked. A careless customer had emptied their cart, left it beside their car and took off. The cart obeyed the law of gravity and started to very slowly roll down the slope of the blacktop. It slowly picked up speed and made a beeline for the back of the SUV. Chloe and the guy, she never did get his name, were so engrossed in what they were doing they didn't see or hear the cart. It crashed into the car with a sound like a bomb going off. The guy started screaming and reaching over Chloe, opened the door and pushed her out of the car. She landed on her ass with a thud. She looked up as the guy was climbing into the driver's seat. He fired it up and burned rubber taking off. The force of the takeoff slammed the rear door closed and Chloe was left on her butt, with her shirt and bra up to her neck and her bare tits on display. Son of a bitch, she thought. She slowly got up and brushed her hands over her butt, to get the dirt off. She got her bra back over her boobs and everything situated then pulled her shirt down. She looked around and started swearing, her purse was still in the guy's SUV, probably half way to Canada by now. Then she heard a car coming at high speed. She heard the squeal of brakes and turned. It was the SUV slowing down next to her, the window was open and as it passed close her purse was thrown at her. It accelerated and was soon out of sight. FOURTH ATTEMPT. She saw a Convenience store on the corner and figured that would be a good place to wait for a driver to pick her up. She went in the store and asked the clerk where the rest room was. He pointed in the back corner and returned to his conversation with a man standing at the end of the counter. She turned and headed to the back. She heard the man say to the clerk he wouldn't mind helping her get the dirt off that cute ass. She stopped and looked over her shoulder and wiggled her ass saying, "I wouldn't mind a bit of help myself." They just stared at her until she entered the rest room. She took off her pants and used a wad of wet paper towels to clean as much of the dirt off as she could. The door rattled two different times from people trying to get in. She hurried, finally deciding they were as good as she was going to get them. When she exited there were three people waiting. One of them was the man that had been talking to the clerk when she came in. As she walked by him he reached out and grabbed her ass. "Need any more help cleaning up honey," he smirked. "You are a pig," she told him, "but are you a fuck pig?" "Why, what are you talking about?" he asked confused. "I asked if you were a fuck pig. In other words, if I asked you to walk out that back door, bend me over and fuck me, what would you do?" she challenged him. He stared at her for a second and said, "If you want to get a cock up your cunt why are we standing here talking about it? Move your slut ass," he told her pointing to the back door. Oh damn, she thought to herself, this crude SOB was just what she needed right now. She smiled and walked down the short hallway and banged the back door open. She found herself in a space bounded by the building and tall cement block walls. One end was open to the side street. There were two dumpsters and two smaller recycle bins in the space. The smaller bins were just the right height to lean over and take a cock from behind. She pulled the man over by his jacket collar and said, "I don't want romance, I don't want a kiss, I don't even want to know your name, I just want your cock. With that she reached in her purse, pulled out a condom and handed it to him. She turned and pulled down her pants and panties and leaned her elbows on the bin. She felt one hand on her hip and the other guiding his hard on toward her pussy then- "Back away from the woman and get on your knees, now!" barked an amplified voice. They both looked toward the side street and saw a squad car with the doors open and two officers with their guns out. Oh shit! What do I do now? The guy had backed away from her and was trying to get his pants up. That seemed like a good idea so she pulled hers up also. The cops repeated the order to get on their knees. She was about to sink down when she realized the officers were both pointing their guns at the guy and not her. They told him for the third time to get on his knees. This time he yelled at them, "Fuck you, assholes, I ain't getting on my knees, it's all muddy here." One of the cops kept his weapon on him and the other circled around and used his nightstick on his leg. Instead of being on his knees he was face down with an officer putting cuffs on him. When the officer finished with the cuffs he approached Chloe, and very concerned, asked if she were all right. She told them she was fine, that nothing had happened. The guy by this time was on his feet screaming at the officers. About the nicest thing he called them was cock sucker. They got him in the back of the squad car and ran his I D. They asked her if she wanted to file a complaint. She said no, she had just met the guy and they had come outside to talk and maybe fool around a little. " "So, this was all consensual?" one of them asked. "Yes, of course," she said, "why are you asking that?" Apparently there had been three rapes in the last two weeks in the neighborhood and the police were on alert. They took her name and told her she was free to go but please, be more discreet in the future. She asked if they were going to let the guy go and they said no. They had run his license and he had two outstanding warrants and was going to jail. As the police car pulled away she gave him a little wave. She called for a ride, they told her 20 minutes so she went inside to get a soda and wait. Her ride showed up and they were halfway to her place when she realized she had not finished her shopping. It was nearly 5:00 pm when she got home. She took off her clothes and threw them in the washer then grabbed the hamper from the bathroom and tossed those clothes in too. She pulled on her fluffy robe, poured herself a glass of wine and picked up her book, intending to read while she washed and dried her clothes. When she woke up it was dark in the room. She fumbled around and found her phone. It was almost ten. She had decided on Italian food for supper and had to get going if she was going to get to the restaurant before they quit serving. That had been a disaster too. She had sat do; "Excuse me ma'am," the man said, rising from the stoop where he had been hidden. She nearly jumped out of her skin and let out a small, "Eek." The man took a step toward her and she held out her purse, "Take it, just don't hurt me." The man stepped back and held up his hands exclaiming, "Jesus lady, it's OK. I didn't mean to startle you, I'm not a mugger." "You scared the wits out of me. What's the matter with you. What do you want?" Still keeping his hands at shoulder height he chuckled and said, "I was going to ask you if I could borrow your phone for one call." "Why," she asked suspiciously, "where's your phone?" He pointed with a finger of one of his still upraised arms at the stoop where he had been sitting. Just then there was a flash of lightning and soon after the boom of thunder. The brief flash revealed a guy about her age with a kind face. "Oh put your arms down or someone will think I'm the one mugging you." "Thank you," he said gratefully, "my girlfriend, or I suppose I should say ex girlfriend, lives in that building. We were sitting on her couch when my phone went off. She picked it up and saw the caller ID said 'Rebecca'. She started screaming things like; who is this slut, are you fucking her too, how long have you been cheating on me. Then she threw my phone against the wall and started hitting me with a beer bottle until I made it out the door. So I would like to borrow your phone and call for an Uber. Please." "Well, I can see why she was upset but that seems a little harsh." Chloe said. "You mean bat shit crazy don't you?" he laughed. Chloe giggled and said, "Yeah that sounds a little closer to the truth. So who is Rebecca?" "Would you believe my sister?" She burst out laughing then tried to apologize. "I know," he laughed, "it's funny, but it's not funny. So how about it, can I use your phone? I'm David, by the way." "Sure," she said just as it started raining, "shit, come on, my place it just a block down around the corner." They made it into the foyer of her building before getting completely drenched and she handed him her phone saying, "Chloe, nice to meet you." While he was calling she returned to her musing about what had happened earlier at the restaurant. FIFTH ATTEMPT. She had sat down at a table by herself. She ordered the linguine with clam sauce and a bottle of wine. The uncle of the owner made it himself and you could buy a bottle cheaper than getting two glasses. It was 10:30 and not many people remained. There was a man at t

Scholarly Dames

SCHOLARLY DAMES TWO STORIES OF SCHOLARLY LASSES WITH HEALTHY LIBIDOS. style='margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;text-autospace:none'>Based on the posts by Select Redux [https://www.literotica.com/authors/SelectRedux/works]. Listen to the ► Podcast [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/ScholarlyDames.mp3] at Steamy Stories. [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories] [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/ScholarlyDames.jpg]   STIMULATING READING SEXUAL ADVENTURES AMID THE BOOKSHELVES. Unlocking the big oak doors, Emily glances up at the Spring sun filtering through the stained-glass windows of the 'Institute'. Originally endowed by a Victorian benefactor, now part of a modern university, this old building goes unnoticed by most people passing by on this bright 1993 morning. The research library within opens just three days a week with Emily, its part-time librarian, fitting the job around her PhD studies. Some colleagues consider it a fusty backwater; Emily rather enjoys the church-like surroundings, lofty ceilings and marble floors, and calm, quiet ambience. Starting the day as usual at 8.45am, Emily turns on the lights, picks up the post and then sits at the front desk waiting for students to arrive. The job isn't the most exacting; mainly helping undergraduates locate obscure books, its perk being plenty of time to write her thesis and, blush-making to admit, peruse the rather splendid erotica section. Something that's become a bit of a habit, leaving her distracted and almost perpetually aroused. This 'special collection' is kept locked; its key is supposedly secure in a safe; in fact on a chain around Emily's neck. Currently 'in between boyfriends' (no, not like that!) in truth modern men, mostly boys inhabiting adult bodies in her opinion, don't do it for Emily. Call her traditional, she wants someone old-fashioned. Emily's romantic, bookish outlook on life sometimes feels unsuited to modern times and is exemplified by today's attire: cardigan, blouse, and a string of pearls, the epitome of respectability; a typical librarian. A knee-length skirt, sensible shoes, minimal makeup and glasses habitually perched upon her head complete the academic look. However, underneath one (who? she reflects glumly) might be surprised to find some almost sinfully brief lingerie adorning her trim figure. Perhaps not so conservative; Later that afternoon, Emily looks at her watch, half an hour until closing, not likely to see anyone else today she thinks. Wrongly, because striding confidently through the rotating door and purposefully approaching her desk is a new customer. In contrast to the usual scruffy students (although arguably the lecturers are worse) he's smartly dressed. Wearing a tie in fact; Emily likes a chap in a suit and his fits very well. This tall man with silvery grey hair favors her with a confident smile and Emily melts inside, lust at first sight. Michael, they are quickly on first name terms, is a postgrad mature student working on the final dissertation of an English literature MA. He's taken a couple of weeks' leave from an unspecified (Emily suspects high-powered and well-remunerated) job to complete it. Meaning, she sends a silent prayer of thanks to whichever celestial deity might be responsible, he'll be making frequent trips to the library. Visits she soon begins to eagerly anticipate, feeling disproportionately disappointed on days when this charming, personable and undoubtedly assertive man doesn't appear. Get a grip girl, chides her inner voice, whatever your fantasies this is a purely professional relationship. "What did you do before studying," she enquires one morning. "Came from money, followed the family tradition into the City and made some more," he shrugs. "Clich d thing for a privileged person to say but it didn't make me happy." "What does?" "Good writing, which explains why I'm here in literary mode, how about you?" "A very bright kid from a feckless, under-achieving family; got a scholarship, got out of my dead-end town and got a higher education. Not having money means I have to take a series of dull jobs to pay my way." There's no need to make her point any more strongly, Michael gets the implication. "I detect a steely determination," he responds without rancor. "Academically, yes," she agrees, "in order to remain with my beloved books, but unfashionable though it is I'd happily be rescued by a knight in shining armor. Will you be my knight?" Christ, she thinks, where did that come from? Silly mare you've blown it now. "If you'll be my damsel in distress I'd be delighted," Michael answers lightly, but a die has been cast. "What are you working on today?" he enquires conversationally when next visiting. "These books were recently acquired for the special collections section. I'm trying to catalogue them," she explains, outwardly serene, but heart beating fast. "Ah the erotica," Michael raises a knowing eyebrow, "better leave you to it then." He turns to a nearby table with a couple of hefty tomes and commences making notes while covertly observing Emily, absently twirling a lock of hair with one hand, the other no longer on the table but underneath. Much later, abruptly jolted from a pleasurable reverie by his shadow, Emily becomes abruptly aware of Michael's looming presence. "You're spending a lot of time on books from that particular genre," he says, it isn't a question. "Well; " she stammers. "Perhaps that's why you've twice left the University's precious erotica shelves unlocked lately?" Her eyes widen in shock. "How did you know?" It's true, no point in denying the fact. "I notice things. An accident I'm sure, but rather careless, some might even say naughty. Are you naughty Emily?" Silence, the cat has got her tongue. "Do you deserve to be punished? Might that be a better solution than the matter being brought to the attention of the Vice-Chancellor?" Michael presses home his advantage. "Those rare editions are extremely valuable. Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson, bought to book one might say." Emily gets the joke, but it's no laughing matter. "Punished; lesson?" she stammers, "what do you mean?" "I think you know to what I'm referring, you've read enough about spanking, no doubt wondered what it might be like. I don't believe you're as innocent as you pretend Emily, I saw you slide a hand under your skirt just then. Most unprofessional, you deserve to have your bottom smacked." "Oh; " Overwhelmed by his quiet certainty that she'll obey, Ellie discovers in herself a complimentary willingness to defer; feels her pussy throbbing with desire at every word Michael utters. This is ridiculous, thinks her rational brain, I'm an independent woman, he's no right to demand my obedience. But you know you want to, responds her libidinous subconscious, you've so often dreamt of such a scenario, and how you'd willingly submit; She nods anxiously towards the door. With an unreadable expression, Michael walks purposefully towards the entrance, locks it and returns. "Bad girls require discipline," he whispers in her ear. "They do, sir," she meekly agrees. "Come here." Emily stands next to him, hands behind her back. "Turn around and lean forward against the desk." Deferentially, eyes downcast, Emily complies; wrapping his left arm around her slender waist Michael slowly, and deliberately raises her skirt. Emily wishes her boobs were just a little bigger; wishes her arse was just a little smaller but knows her lovely legs are just right. Now so does he. A grunt of male disapproval, "I don't like tights," he tugs her pantyhose down revealing flawless bottom cheeks, "next time I expect you to wear stockings." Next time, who said anything about next time? Despite her mounting panic, Emily has an epiphany of understanding; Michael's coercion is more implied than actual, less of a threat by him as a need within her. He runs his hands appreciatively over her pristine, unmarked bottom then tugs those unexpectedly racy, almost transparent black panties up hard into Emily's damp divide, the silken scrap disappearing between puffy pussy lips, chafing her swollen clit. "Turns you on doesn't it" he growls, holding her tightly. "Yes, but I'm scared," she whispers and it's true, the physical proximity and her helplessness in the hands of an alpha male are more exciting than anything Emily has ever before encountered. Emily tenses, holding her breath, awaiting the inevitable; yet the initial smack still catches her by surprise. At first, it's mainly about the ringing percussive sound, a numbing shock. Prudently Michael allows a pause, he can tell it's her first time. Gradually her skin pinkens and a sharp stinging sensation suffuses Emily's posterior. "Oh," she looks at him wide-eyed, "oh yes," amazed by her compliance with the punitive intentions of a man she scarcely knows. A second spank, slightly harder this time. "Feeling it now aren't you," Michael mutters, "rather different from in the stories you're so keen on?" True, the reality of what before was only fevered fiction is raw and immediate." I'll stop if you ask me to," he adds. "Surely not when I've been so wicked," Emily replies huskily. The scene is set, and his hard palm strikes her bottom repeatedly as Michael methodically and unhurriedly continues, Emily's body responding animatedly to the burning sensation gradually suffusing her derriere. "Keep still," he commands as she squirms in a futile attempt to dissipate the smart. Eventually, Emily has no idea how long, five minutes, or an eternity, Michael ceases her chastisement. Both are breathing heavily now, albeit for different reasons. He slides a hand up her inner thigh and under her knickers. "Good girl," Michael whispers, pushing an exploratory digit into Emily's sopping sex. She shuts her eyes and moves against his fingers, Emily is needy, alas, her evident excitement is unrequited. Taking her by the shoulders, Michael turns the shaken young woman to face the wall. "Make yourself respectable," he instructs in a tone countenancing no dissent, "don't move until I've left, no rubbing your bottom, or anywhere else. I'll let myself out," he kisses the top of her head, "and be back soon to do one final bit piece of research, don't miss me too much." And then he's gone; taken Emily to the edge and abandoned her unsatisfied. Which, thinks Emily, bottom glowing fiercely, is truly sadistic. Simmering with sexual awakening, she's no intention of being denied. Walking stiffly towards her chair Emily sits, wincing as her tender buttocks contact with the seat. Legs spread and eyes closed she pushes a hand down the front of her panties and addresses her pent-up frustration with flying fingers, and soon has a shattering orgasm. On Monday morning, after a weekend mentally replaying this momentous encounter, and multiple flouting of Michael's embargo on masturbation, Emily walks into work full of hope for what the new week may bring. Inwardly more confident, her outward appearance has also altered. She's taken more care with makeup, mascara and her favorite cherry red lipstick. Does her best not to tug down her hem at every step. Emily hasn't previously worn such a short skirt and worries people may notice she's wearing stockings. Once at work, it's business as usual, albeit with some appreciative glances from borrowers, being desired is an unfamiliar but welcome ego boost. Emboldened, Emily experiments with undoing the second button of her blouse. She can't conceal her unhappiness when Michael fails to arrive and becomes increasingly despondent when he doesn't turn up on Tuesday and Wednesday either. By Thursday she's almost lost hope. Turning to the erotica collection for comfort a photograph falls from between the pages of a book on 'Le Vice Anglaise'. Emily looks aghast, Michael! But it can't be, the date scribbled on the back is 1936, does her dom have a doppelganger? All too much of a conundrum to deal with in her overwrought state, Emily locks up early and heads disconsolately home. On Friday she settles onto her stool and re-opens the same book. Was Michael ever really here, she wonders? Could this have been some sort of hallucination, an epic instance of self-delusion? Of course not, get real, examine the facts, she inwardly chides. Consider the evidence of two days of sitting gingerly, the finger marks on your sore buttocks visible in the mirror. She was spanked alright, the pertinent question being whether she will see Michael again, let alone reach the sexual conclusion so ardently desired. Not being clairvoyant, Emily doesn't have a clue about either outcome, for now, she tells herself sternly, you'd better get on with some work. Mentally listing the day's mundane tasks Emily doesn't notice a familiar figure quietly enter the building until he's immediately adjacent. Caught unawares her incipient shout of shock is stifled by his hand. "I'll remove it from your mouth," his voice whispers, "if you promise not to scream, understood?" Emily remains frozen, struggling to get to grips with her predicament, then nods assent. "Where did you appear from?" she enquires in a small voice. "Not important right now," he shushes. "Your picture; " She points at the faded sepia print on the table. "My father," he laughs, "chip off the old block, aren't I? Long gone, of course, he put up the money to establish the erotica collection you've so much enjoyed." Helping the shaken young woman to her feet he moves Emily to face a bookcase. "Just relax," he says calmly, trailing a hand teasingly up and down the back of her thighs. "Relax," she tenses at the suggestion, "when I don't know what you intend to do." "I think you can hazard a pretty accurate prediction," he teases. "I'm quite sure you're planning to punish me again," says Emily shivering with anticipation at the thought, "what might occur afterwards is what's preoccupying me." "What do you hope happens?" he enquires, lips brushing the nape of her neck. "I think you can make a very good guess," Emily replies cheekily. Right now, she can't think of anything she wouldn't let him do, Emily has read many salacious books and has a vivid imagination. "I'm enjoying your new look," says Michael appreciatively, "let's explore beneath; " He unbuttons her blouse to the waist, frees her boobs and rolls each erect nipple in turn between finger and thumb. In response, Emily kisses him hard on the mouth, her acquiescence clearly in no doubt. His other hand slips between her thighs and encounters wetness between them. Emily moans at this touch, yearning to be penetrated by the hard cock she can feel bulging through his trousers and pressing against her thigh. "You'll endure a harsher correction this time," he murmurs, bending Emily across the desk while removing his belt. "The door", she gestures urgently. He shrugs off her concern. "We'll just have to take the chance; I find a little jeopardy adds a frisson of excitement." Wrestling up the short, tight skirt exposes the soft curves of Emily's hips and beautiful bottom; Michael monetarily enjoys the sight, and then pulls her knickers down and off. "Someone wants to be fucked pretty badly," he observes, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glimpses her damp, pouting slit. With no warning he straps Emily, hard and fast, leaving blazing bands of hurt across both cheeks and down to her stocking tops. She yelps, groans and stamps her feet, nevertheless thrusting out her buttocks to meet each of the worn leather's cruel kisses. A further dozen overlapping strokes sear across her fiery red behind until Emily thinks she can't possibly endure further chastisement. "Hurts," she whimpers, tears in her eyes, although the perfect pain only serves to stoke a fire of arousal down below. Aware of her limits Michael runs his hands along the insides of Emily's legs and pulls her knees apart, leaving her open and exposed. His tongue repeatedly explores the length of her labia, right up to the nub of her clit, building each caress into a rhythmic repetition. Emily feels an orgasm inexorably approaching, her breathing becomes fast and uneven. "Fuck you're tight," he observes crudely, sliding a finger into Emily's inviting pink cunny and then positioning his erection at her slick entrance. "Stop teasing and do it hard!" she screams, last vestiges of dignity and reserve surrendered. Lewdly Emily pushes back her hips, anxious to have him inside her. Equally caught up in the intensity of the moment, Michael fills the lusty librarian with the cock she craves. All inhibitions abandoned, Emily feels the rhythm of his thrusts increasing, her pussy spasms and takes them both to an inevitable sexual crescendo. They lay silent for a moment before Michael chivalrously passes Emily a large linen handkerchief to mop the come leaking onto her nylon-clad thighs. "I think my poor bottom has suffered quite enough for one day," she whispers sensually, "how about you take me home to your place and fuck me again, slowly and gently?" "How about we take one of the books from the special collection to provide us with inspiration?" he replies. "Oh, I think I've already done quite enough research," Emily responds with a giggle. "Then let's grab a bottle of wine and see if we can't put theory into practice," agrees Michael. Cut to a year later, doctorate earned; Emily has been promoted to take charge of the main university library. There's a new young woman librarian at the Institute, still on probation and requiring guidance. Emily considers herself a firm but fair manager and has kindly offered an after-hours tutorial on the special collection. A recently successful MA student, now a research fellow, somewhat older and vastly experienced, may join them; By Select Redux [https://www.literotica.com/authors/SelectRedux/works] for Literotica CLEVERNESS IS SEXY WINNING A QUIZ TRANSFORMED ALICE FROM SWOT TO HOT. By Select Redux [https://www.literotica.com/authors/SelectRedux/works] An exceptionally brainy young woman, Alice has pursued her academic interests to the exclusion of almost everything else in life. There will, she reasons, on the verge of her 23rd birthday, the M A she's strived so hard to attain nearly complete, be plenty of time to pursue other interests later. Travelling perhaps, a life outside the university library, even something so mundane as clothes shopping. Used to being an outsider, teacher's pet, bookworm and swot are familiar, uncomplimentary descriptions, Alice embraces her geek status with pride. Sure, she attends the occasional postgraduate party, more out of a sense of obligation than enthusiasm, but blokes her age don't do it for Alice. Seemingly either intimidated by her intellect or determined to brag to their mates they've 'scored a nerd'; it isn't worth the hassle. An invitation to join the university quiz team is an entirely different prospect, both a challenging intellectual test and, best of all, the chance to meet Giles Knighton, celebrity quizmaster ('QM'), of the TV series, 'Battle of the Brightest'. This popular program involves a collection of brains the size of Mars competing for, well, since you ask, an engraved glass bowl: no cash prize, no foreign holiday, simply a public endorsement of higher education. Alice secretly fancies Giles; she's minimal experience in such matters, but something about the way he solemnly utters the phrase, "five-point penalty," when an over-eager contestant answers too soon makes her damp with desire. In recent months she's had a bizarre recurring dream of being summoned to his office wherein the QM, dramatically stretching each syllable, insists Alice pay a pen-al-ty and spanks her across his knee. Where on earth did that idea come from? Never smacked by her impeccably liberal parents as a child and top of her class each year, she was a regular goody two shoes. Is spanking even a thing, Alice

Helping the Karlssons: Part 3.

HELPING THE KARLSSONS: PART 3. VARIATIONS, BEFORE THE CHURCH GIRLS RETURN TO FATHER. Based on a post by m jar 65 [https://www.literotica.com/authors/mjar65/works]. Listen to the ►Podcast [https://archive.org/download/spring-short-stories/HelpingTheKarlssons3.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/spring-short-stories/HelpingTheKarlsons3.jpg] "Do you like girls touching you?" asked Summer as she ran her fingertips over the shaft. Tim simply smiled in reply and she traced her fingers over his ridges and veins. "I've never really looked at a man's cock before," she murmured. "Yours looks gorgeous." That compliment caused Tim's cock to pulse and harden. Summer did not miss the effect her words and touch had on him. But her eyes were on a new prize. "Can I touch your balls? I don't want to hurt them;” Excited by the idea, knowing it was Summer's first time, Tim gently moved her hand lower. His girlfriend had rarely shown interest in touching his balls. Every male knew the pleasure of a soft touch on his scrotum. Summer followed his lead, gently running the tips of her fingers over the soft, hairy skin of his sack. It was her first time to touch a boy there and she was excited and, yet, still concerned. "Is this Okay?" she asked tentatively. Tim responded by curling her fingers, cupping her hand around the precious pouch. Summer carefully applied a little pressure, nervous that she not cause any pain. "Oh, wow! I can feel them," she gasped. "So hard;” Summer loved the way his balls felt, hard inside the soft skin, warm to the touch and, she knew, full of wonderful manly semen that attested to the power of the male. She was intoxicated by being permitted to touch Tim in such an intimate place. She wanted to do something more to please him. "Don't you want to cum now?" "What if I cum on your face?" feeling wicked and lucky at the same time. This was something of a test for them both. Tim had never dared ask this of a woman. Summer was a wild and sexy young woman who seemed open to trying anything. But perhaps he was going too far. Her look of shock made Tim far she was ready to flee. "That's so dirty," she giggled. "But if you want to do it;” "Let’s get you ready first," he said, trying to sound gallant. "Let me lick your cunt again." Summer had no reason to argue. She thought of Tim was a real man and his willingness to give pleasure with his mouth seemed to prove it. The chance to have more of his tongue on her sex was too great to pass up. "Oh, sweet Lord," she moaned as his tongue pierced her swollen lips to find the tip of her hardened clit. Tim was learning how much he enjoyed the taste of a woman's cunt. The fact she was his daughter's boss, a good church-going girl, only made it hotter to be thrusting his tongue into her soaking hole and sucking on her straining clit. "I can't take any more, Tim. You have to stop. I need you to cum." He relented then, leaving her gasping down breaths as she recovered from the exertions. It made her beautiful chest heave up and down and Tim wanted to suck on his nipples again. "I have to get home," she breathed. "Father will be upset. But first I want you to cum." Summer Karlsson had watched enough porn, secretly and even hidden from her sister, to know how men liked to cum on a girl's face. She had marveled at other women seemingly enjoying the experience of taking a load of semen on their faces. She'd never imagined it to be degrading, somehow it felt more like deference to a man who was special enough. Tim was a wonderful lover. Or so she thought. And, besides, he'd asked her to give this act to him. Still panting, Summer went to her knees beside his bed. She hoped that her sweet face and her sexy, curvy body would be enough for Tim. Surely he was more than horny enough? Tim could not believe his luck. No woman he'd fucked till now would ever have agreed to this. And Summer looked so sweet and ready, her cute smile and her blonde hair. Her juicy C-cups hung so nicely as she waited for him, kneeling and passive. He stood before Summer, like her imagining that his cock looked powerful as it hovered over her. "You have an impressive cock," she told him. Tim didn't ask permission again before he started stroking himself as the church girl watched closely. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, as if the young woman needed encouragement. Summer was right and he was super horny. And he was beside himself with the opportunity. Tim had watched a lot more porn that her. She was right that a facial was dirty. But in the best of ways. He loved the idea that a woman could be so hungry that she'd take his cum on her pretty face. And Summer really wanted it. She was kneeling in front of him, waiting with a smile and a wicked look in her eye. "I'm gonna cum," he groaned. "So much." At that instant, his cock spasmed and the first blast of his hot cum spewed out. Fortunately, Summer had just enough time to blink as that first missile was launched at her. A long rope of white cum flew through the air and over her, landing on her face and draping a lovely, thick line of cock juice over her blonde hair and down over one eye and one cheek. For some reason, she opened her mouth at the same time. Not that it mattered either way because in another instant a fresh blast of semen sprayed on her forehead and the side of her head. It was primal and Summer felt so wonderfully dirty. She was impressed by the power of Tim's orgasm. It shocked her a little to realize how much he was cumming, being covered by the healthy contents of his balls. She was thrilled when one blast half-landed in her mouth but it didn't stop there. Tim was almost oblivious to everything but the incredible sensation of his orgasm and the unbelievable sight of his own semen blasts splashing onto the face of a willing, sexy young woman. He had no real control of the direction of his blasts. But his pleasure was more intense than ever watching Summer's face being splattered with his own cock juice. As more and more semen landed on her, Summer knew it was a dirty and disgusting act. But the feeling of semen blasting onto her face was pure delight. She told herself it was the perfect facial. It was a thrill to submit to such an intimate experience. And all the better knowing that she'd made him cum so hard. She felt every blast and every drop, exulting in her first facial. It was so much better with a man like Tim and not one of those sheepish church boys. Tim thought that she looked even more pretty with a thick covering of semen. His heart was beating hard as he surveyed his work, sticky white cum splattered in thick lumps on Summer's face, her hair and even splashes on her body. The young man had just lived out one of his greatest sexual fantasies. The wait had been worth it. He also was impressed at how well Summer had taken his cum. Then again, the sweet and sexy Summer had been the perfect woman for it. She had not objected or even flinched as he'd emptied his balls all over her face. Now she was grinning at him, joyed by his performance. "Oh, my God. Tim, that is so much," she giggled. "Where did it all come from?" He had to admit it'd been a few days since he'd relieved himself. And the repeated visits from the two blonde sisters was probably making his balls work harder. "I'm such a mess. I'll have to sneak in to the shower before Father sees me." There was no regret from Summer, none at all. She felt pride at submitting to Tim like that, at giving him ultimate pleasure. Every man wanted a woman who could be a slut when needed. Even church girls could do it. Sex before marriage was a serious taboo in her family but she already knew her likely future husband would be too boring to give her a really enjoyable fuck. And it was a triumph to know that she had made Tim empty his balls completely. She caught a glance at her face, thickly coated with a load of sticky fluid slowly dripping down. More drops had landed on her shoulders, her tits and her thighs. Summer thought she looked just like those porn stars. It required a handful of wipes to make her face respectable enough to drive home. At least she got her eye open before putting her clothes on. She gave Tim a little kiss before leaving. It was fun to know she'd taken a facial at least once when April probably would never go so far. Tim was a sweet guy who didn't judge. And now she had a one-up on her girlfriends from church. It was the next Sunday when April took her turn. Tim still wondered if the sisters were working together, planning who fucked their father's assistant and when. He was shocked to answer a knock on the door that Sunday and see April, standing there in her finest but with a look that had lust written all over it.       "I was sitting in church and couldn't stop thinking about you," she said boldly. "It will be a sin to fuck you. But I told Father I'm visiting a sick friend." It took him a few moments to overcome his surprise at seeing April like that. Even in the furniture store she didn't dress so formally. Tim wondered if she'd really been thinking about fucking while sitting in church. But then he realized how many layers of clothing he'd have to remove if he was to have a Sunday fuck with the juicy April Karlsson. April had the same thought. She barely finished pressing her face to Tim's, for a long and wet kiss, before she was unbuttoning her dress as she led him to the bedroom. "I am so horny," she said with a naughty grin. "I brought the condoms. And some lube," she giggled. Tim tried to hide his shock. Was this going to be the day? Focusing his mind, he helped the young blonde undress. April was a sexy and juicy young woman. She carried a little more weight than her sister, more plump but a wonderful sight all the same. Her naked body was wonderfully curvy. And her skin was flawless. The exception was the stretch marks on her fabulous DD-sized tits. Tim knew he could never have enough of those big tits and they drew his eyes immediately she exposed them. "Fuck, April. It must be a sin. I thought your church would be against pre-marital sex." "That's what they teach us," she admitted. "But some girls don't want to be virgins when we marry. If we leave it to the boys then sex will never be good." "Then I am gonna fuck you good," he told her seriously. That was exactly what April wanted to hear. She cupped her big, blue-veined tits and jiggled them a little. She didn't notice as his cock throbbed at the sight but she heard his moan of delight. April had often thought her tits were too big. Tim's approval had changed her mind entirely. It felt good to know that a man like Tim could not resist them. Fresh from the ceremony of the church, she was feeling more naughty than usual. "Do you want to put your cock in here?" With that invitation, Tim bent forward to suck on the small, hard nipples. April moaned at the touch of his lips. Her tits were sensitive to touch but it was so incredibly better when a lovely man like Tim sucked on them. Hers were the biggest tits Tim had ever gotten his hands on. Or his cock between. He knew he was clumsy but he was excited to fuck them. Skinny women didn't have tits like April and why not take advantage? April was turned-on as he licked deep in her cleavage. She let Tim sit her on the bed in front of him. It was arousing to have her boobs used in such a way, so different to the ideas of the church about being held to the warmth of a bosom. April could not help but respond at the sight and the feel of Tim sliding his manly cock in there. Her eyes were fixed on his hard shaft thrusting between her soft orbs. "I love your big cock," she told him with a lewd grin. Tim responded by driving his cock more firmly through her soft cleavage. What a pair of tits she had! But then he thrust a little too hard and his cock sprung loose from the confines of her luscious flesh. April was quick-thinking, what was even better than a cock between her tits was to have it in her young mouth. In a flash, she wrapped her lips around him. "Are you sure sucking a cock isn't a sin?" he grunted to her. "Don't think the bible mentions oral sex anywhere," she replied with the barest pause to get the words out. Tim slowed his thrusting a little but April heard his gentle moans and felt the throbbing of his manly flesh as he greedily filled her mouth. She wanted to impress Tim, show that she was a better fuck than her older sister. And she wanted to give him something special that day. She wanted Tim so overcome with lust that he would not deny her. Tim was already thinking about something special. He hadn't told April that this would be his first ass-fuck as well. But, knowing she was super keen, he'd studied on the best technique. He removed his cock from her luscious mouth, eager to get started. "Roll over," he instructed the young, blonde woman. "On hands and knees." She complied without a word, nervous to display her holes but eager to give Tim whatever he wanted. April knew she was a little more chubby than she'd like. But she already was confident that her naked body was irresistible to any man. Tim's hands on her ass cheeks reminded her of his physical strength. She was ready to be fucked. The touch of his soft, warm tongue on her tight opening came as a shock. "What are you?" "Relax. Don't you want anal sex? This is to prepare you." April moaned with the sudden realization. It was not consent, so much, as the sound of pleasure. "I don't know if this is a sin or not," she gasped. Yes, she wanted anal sex. Tim must know how to do it. feared that he would detect an unpleasant odor. But it was deliciously naughty to have this older guy licking her ass hole. And there was no disputing the wonderful warm feeling he was sending through her nether regions. April had tried to imagine it but the sensation was so much better. It was pure delight as Tim gently pressed the tip of his tongue in that tight little place. "Tim, I want you to fuck my ass," she called out. "I really want it." April knew there was no hiding it, she was aching for the sin of taking a man in her ass. Tim felt the same way. "Roll over," he said softly. "Let’s finish getting you ready." The young woman flipped over, legs spread in anticipation. How lewd she had become. But even church girls had needs to be satisfied. And she wasn't disappointed since Tim was proud of the improvement in his oral skills. Firmly placing his mouth over her bare snatch, Tim took delight in the cries of pleasure he drew out from her. April was already soaking wet and the scent of her juices fired him up still more. He thrust his tongue into her hole and April cried out her delight. "Sweet Mary;” Tim also discovered, for the first time, that his tongue could reach the perineum of the young woman. He let his tongue wander down from her gushing hole to that smooth, soft skin. Unaware of the extra nerve endings he was stimulating, Tim gently flicked his tongue over the delightful patch that led to her warm, tight anus. The new sensations rocked April who was overcome by a series of orgasms from Tim's clever tongue. So distracted was she that April did not flinch when she felt a finger pressing against her asshole. After his eager licking, her hole was nicely softened and pliant. Tim pressed the tip of one finger into her passage and heard April's groans suddenly grow louder. He still didn't know for sure if she could take his cock in there. But slowly he worked more of his finger into her tight hole, gently thrusting back and forth while he ate her cunt. She was writhing and groaning and Tim knew the hot young slut would want still more. "Fuck me, Tim. Fuck me," she said, as if on cue. "Go on your hands and knees," he told her as he grabbed a condom. April felt a new surge of excitement. Bing fucked from behind. She had wanted that so much. Porn stars always seemed to delight in that position. She'd red that it allowed the man to thrust more of his cock into the woman. Most of all, April was keen because it seemed so primal. She wondered if her sister let boys have sex in this position. The first touch of his cock against her cunt hole was incredible. "Yes, Tim. Put it in me." She was so wet that Tim easily slipped the head of his cock into her cunt. Thrusting firmly, he encountered none of the barrier of that first time. The only resistance to his penetration was the natural tightness of her young hole. But her generous ass and shapely waist gave him the tools he needed. Her pale, rounded ass was spread to expose her backdoor. Tim watched it closely as he gripped April and with a few thrusts buried his cock fully inside the once innocent young woman. "Oh, Lord. I love your cock in me," she cried. Careful not to damage her, Tim started slowly as he fucked April. It was a delight to feel every single inch of his cock as it slid back and forth in her soaking hole. But her moans of delight soon urged him on. Taking a firmer grip, he began to increase the speed of his fucking, only to make April start to cum noisily. "Do it, Tim, Do it; fuck me," April had craved being filled by Tim's lovely cock. His thickness made her whole cunt throb with pleasure. But there was no substitute for a proper fucking she already knew. His cock moving in and out of her hole was the most exquisite experience. The repeated thrusting and stretching was making her cum with amazing intensity. She loved his withdrawal each time since she knew he was about to jam his cock deep inside her again.       She was convinced that the older girls had the right idea, sex before marriage was the only way to really be sure one could experience the pure pleasure of being fucked. April as alive to every sensation. It was an added delight to feel his balls slapping against her cunt lips as he thrust. In a frenzy of sinful lust, she started to cum freely. Tim got bolder, starting to thrust harder, trying to make those big tits really bounce. April almost screamed her delight at having a hard cock rammed into her cunt. And she loved the way her nipples grazed against the bed as he humped her harder. Tim held her tight, watching her ass ripple as each thrust into the cunt of the pretty, church-going girl. He was even grateful for the condom since it seemed to help in delaying his own climax. Not yet able to read April's young body, he kept on fucking her, taking all the pleasures of unadulterated fucking until he figured that April needed a rest. "Don't stop, Tim. Don't stop," she groaned at him. For Tim, this was the ultimate opportunity. Such a chance might never appear again. He grabbed the lube and made the final prep for his first ever anal fuck. Quickly he smeared a thick lump of clear gel over his sheathed cock. "Ready to try anal? You sure now?" "Sweet Mary, yes. Put it in there." "You should rub your clit while we do this," advised Tim, relying on his limited education. But April had no intention of touching her clit right then. Feeling Tim spreading her big round cheeks, she braced herself. It was the moment of no return she told herself as she felt the head of his cock against her tight opening. April was certain she was prepared for what came next. She knew, from her own experimentation, that anal could hurt, at first. But she'd learned that the discomfort soon turned to a deep, warm pleasure. "Do it, Tim. Fuck my ass." Tim was surprised at how easily the head disappeared between those fleshy cheeks. He had no idea what size toys April might have used back there. But she hadn't flinched. Being the older man, trying to show his prowess, he decided to insert the first inch of his rock-hard cock. He heard April gasp at the sudden pain and froze. "No, no," she gasped to him. "Don't stop. Just go slow for me." This was one hot bitch, Tim knew. His thick, hard cock would take some getting used to in that tight hole but April was still eager. He paused for a few moments, knowing he was not going to get less hard but waiting for the virgin anus to adjust to his penetration.