KAYLEY AND SAM FLIRT AND DISCUSS THE EXPERIENCE, ONE OF ONE
SAM
POV
The next morning, we went down for the STD test. And it turned out, we had to wait about a week. And then, even afterwards, we'd have to
SAM
The next morning, we went down for the STD test. And it turned out, we had to wait about a week. And then, even afterwards, we'd have to wait at least a week for results.
"Pooh!" Kayley complained, as we drove home.
"Makes you almost not want to have dirty bathroom sex with complete strangers, if we have to go through all this trouble afterwards," I commented.
Kayley turned to me and stuck out her tongue. She kicked off one of her runners and twisted around in her seat until her back was against the passenger door and lifted one leg over my stick shift to work the heel of her bare foot into my crotch.
I'm always impressed by just how flexible she is.
My body reacted, as it always did, to anything Kayley did. She could make me hard by saying 'Hello.'
"Well," I said, not looking down. She moved her heel back and forth across my crotch, and I could feel the weight of it on my rapidly growing erection, awkwardly trapped in the folds of my boxers. "Have I ever mentioned, I'm not a foot fetishist?"
"Really?" she teased, her voice almost sing song. "I bet I could make you suck my toes!"
"I bet you could, but not while I'm driving. That could be embarrassing if we get stopped."
"Pooh," she said again. "I wouldn't make you. I just said that to get your attention."
"I guarantee," I said, "You have it. What do you want it for?"
"I need to tell you something important."
"Yes."
"I'm not wearing panties."
"No?"
"It's true. I didn't put any on, because we were going for the test, so I thought that was the safe thing to do. And now here we are, and my skirt has ridden right up while sitting in the car, and you can see everything."
"Everything?"
"Oh everything!" she said. "I'm trying to be modest and cover myself with my hand, but it's no use, my fingers keep slipping."
"Like it's wet?"
"That must be it. Every time I try, my fingers slip and they end up inside or sliding around. It's awful. Anyway, you can see everything, my smooth bare creamy thighs, my flat belly, my pubic mound. My pussy lips. Oh this is so awkward, it's like my pussy lips are pulled apart, and you can see my pink. You can even see my clit. It's soooo explicit."
"I'm driving," I smiled. "I can't look."
"I know, that's why I'm describing it for you, in juicy wet detail. So you know exactly what you're missing."
"You're so caring," I said.
"I am," she agreed. There was a brief pause. "I don't know what's wrong with my clit, I keep stroking and stroking it, but it's just so hard and swollen, like a little bump. Do you think it needs medical attention?"
"A careful examination is indicated."
"Oral exam."
"I was thinking that."
"Really? That's a wonderful idea," she said, digging her heel into my crotch, I was fully rigid now, but somehow, she'd worked my throbbing member loose from the folds of my boxer, and it was moving more loosely in there. She moved her foot up and down, the heel dragging from one side to the other.
"You know," she said, "this is awful. I mean, if someone in an SUV or a truck or something pulled up beside you and looked down into your window at just the right angle, it would seem like I was showing you my pussy."
"I suppose that they might make that mistake," I conceded.
"Why," she said, "I would just die of embarrassment. I mean, what would they think. They'd think I was a slut. A cheap exhibitionist. A woman of loose morals."
"The sort of girl who has unprotected sex in public men's rooms with complete strangers?"
"Exactly! I would totally die. We both know, I'm a good girl!"
"I've always thought so."
"It's not my fault I am without panties," she sighed.
"I guess you'll have to go commando," I replied.
"What a male thing to say!" she replied, all mock horror. "I thought you were a feminist."
"Sorry."
"The problem," she said, "is I'm short of panties."
"That is a problem," I agreed.
"It is," she said. "It's a missing panties problem. Once, I had all the panties I needed. Now, I don't. I have a panty shortage!"
"A panty deficit!"
"A panty famine."
"Panty deprivation! I'm deprived. Forlorn. Without panties, anyone, why everyone, can gaze upon my glistening smooth vagina, my exquisite pussy lips, this perfect little clit."
"If they happen to be looking through the right window, from the right angle, and the right time," I agreed.
"Exactly," she said. "EVERYONE!!!"
"Well," I told her, "if it's any consolation, I won't look."
"Because you're a gentleman!"
"Because I'm driving. If I wasn't driving, I'd definitely be looking. I'd be looking so carefully, I'd get up close so I could see perfectly. I'd have my face in there so close, you'd feel me. I'd be totally staring. I'd be memorizing that pussy."
"Really?"
"Totally, I'd want a very close up view. I wouldn't want to overlook a single detail."
"Well now I'm disappointed," she said. "You're not the gentleman I thought you were."
"Sorry."
"You should be!" She accused, "I see you now for the insatiable rampaging horndog with a nonstop erection and a libido that just won't quit, a beast of pure lust, who isn't even a little bit deterred by the fact that a complete stranger soiled my pure body and used me like kleenex, as a repository for both his massive thrusting cock and his copious load of semen. You're nothing but creature of pure lust, a walking erection. Why, my virtue is imperiled just by being near you!"
"Yes," I agreed. "That's me!"
"Good," she said.
We drove for a moment. She hummed. The heel of her foot slid back and forth across my pants, stroking my erection.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Noooooooothing," she lilted.
"Are you sure."
"Well..." she teased. "I might be trying to get this little button of a clit to go down, and deal with some of this wetness that seems to be all over down there."
"Any luck."
"No," she said. "It's just getting worse. I think maybe some of it is his semen. He left so much cum in me, it was like a firehose. It was just dripping out, running down my thighs. Some of it might still be up there in my newly stretched out pussy, leaking out, and that's why I'm so wet."
"I doubt it."
"Oh."
"It's probably mine," I said, "I left a lot of semen in you."
"You do, you do that a lot I notice. You're always putting it there."
"Nowhere else to put it."
"I should buy you a mason jar," she said. "A set. Maybe get you a subscription, a new box of mason jars delivered weekly."
"I'd just fill them up."
"You would!" she agreed. "It would be terrible, the house would be overflowing with all the mason jars full of your semen. After a while, we wouldn't even be able to move around. Anyway, I was just thinking, all this wetness, it could be his though, because his cock was so fucking big."
"Big?"
"Huge."
"You said last night it wasn't that big?"
"Did I?"
"You said he was hung like a weasel."
"Oh no," she corrected. "I said his cock was as big as a weasel."
"Are weasels the standard of measurement for cocks now?" I asked.
"Haven't you ever heard the song: Pop goes the weasel!"
"Suddenly, I understand the Mulberry Bush better now."
"I have a sweet little mulberry," she said, "it feels so good when I make little circles around it, like I'm doing now. Do you like my little mulberry?"
"Love it," I said. "I notice, it's a very smooth bush."
"You looked!!!"
"I might have snuck a peek."
"It's autumn, all the leaves have fallen off my mulberry bush, so it's cold and requires constant warming."
I chuckled.
"Anyway," she said, "he was huge. Gynormous. Like, walrus sized."
"Uh huh," I said.
Her foot dug in trying to toe my zipper, and she blew me a raspberry. I helped her by unzipping a little, just to get it started, and adjusting so my hard cock was a little more comfortable.
"Don't waste that tongue," I warned her. "I plan to use it later."
"Promises, promises," she pouted. "All you do is drive around and you don't even stare at a pulsing, wet smooth shaven vagina in desperate need of attention."
"You were saying, weasel or walrus?"
"Pooh," she complained. "You didn't even see it. So I can make it any size I want. Anyway," she said, "you weren't bothered by my fucking Leroy yesterday?"
"You're on a first name basis?" I asked. "Should I get out my wedding planner?"
Another raspberry.
"You're horrid," she told me.
And then her voice went sober.
"Seriously though, does it bother you at all that I had sex with man I literally just met, like literally, literally right away. Just some random person. Does it bother you at all?"
"It wasn't right away," I said. "You talked to him for twenty minutes. Fifteen at least."
"Was it that long?" she said thoughtfully. "I guess time flies when you're sizzling. It felt instant. Like I just sat down and he said hello, and the next thing I know we're off to the bathroom. Does it bother you? Seriously."
"I guess you never know how you'll feel until you're in the situation. But no, it didn't bother me. It was hot, I was really excited and amazed. Sexually excited, but also excited for you, like you were going skydiving or mountain climbing, like taking a big step. And I felt honoured, that I was your safety, your reassurance, that I could be there if needed, and that maybe somehow, I gave you permission and confidence to take a chance."
There was no answer.
"Thank you," she said, her voice quiet. "I think maybe it bothered me. That wasn't my image of myself, to just let a stranger have me like that, to get bent over in a men's room. We all have this idea of who we are, and of the things we'll do and we won't do. And I love you, and I keep thinking I didn't just do this, I did this to you, I did this to our relationship."
There was a long pause.
"I'm worried that I fucked up. That I fucked it up with us."
Her foot in my crotch stilled.
"I love you," I told her, "and nothing at all will ever change that. This didn't change us. This was you being bold and amazing and fearless."
"And slutty and horny."
Her toe worked its way into the small gap I'd unzipped and pushed the zipper all the way down.
"Definitely, slutty and horny. I love you slutty and horny," I paused. "How are you able to do that?"
The girl was definitely flexible.
"Even if another man is boning me?" she asked. "Even if my vagina is gaping from his big cock and his semen is leaking out in copious amounts."
"I'm hard now," I said.
"Yes, I know!" she said, trying to work her foot into my pants. Her heel slid across the fabric of my pants, working my cock. "It's totally disgusting! Seriously, what's wrong with you? It's like you're hard allllllll the time! Here I am trying to have a serious conversation about my mulberry and all this guy's semen which is still dripping from my well used vag from random casual sex with a perfect stranger... And all you care about is your boner? What about me? What about my needs? I have a life, aspirations, needs... It's been ten minutes and you haven't fucked me once."
"We've been driving for twenty minutes."
"Multitasking dammit!!!"
"The thought of your mulberry and all my semen oozing from you making me harder."
"You were already hard,"
"I'm harder."
"What if it was men, plural?"
"You mean a gangbang?"
She stuck her tongue out.
"Don't be gross," she said. "I'm talking serial promiscuity."
"How many are we talking?"
"The number matters?"
"The way you said it..."
"Let's say two or three, or you know... a dozen or so? Less than a hundred, probably. Definitely less than the male population of an urban metropolitan area... unless I'm really horny."
"Love you no matter what."
"What if one or more of them was black?"
"You want to have sex with a black man?"
"This is all hypothetical. But I could so do it. I'm not racist. I could do black. Or hispanic. Or Arab. Pakistani. Polynesian. Asian. Chinese, Japanese, Javanese, all the 'ese's."
"Not at all. Wouldn't matter to me. Love you."
"Would it turn you on?" she teased.
"The thought of you having sex with anyone turns me on. But yes, a black cock in you would be hot. Or Thai."
"Why Thai?"
"I figured you love the food, so you'd love the cocks."
'Are you making fun of me?" Her heel moved back and forth across my cock.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I said. I took my right hand off the wheel, felt down along her calf. For a moment, I thought of taking her foot off my cock and getting some relieve. But instead, I slid my hand slowly up the inside of her calf, past her knee up, up the inside of her thigh.
"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously, her foot was still, resting in my crotch.
"Nothing," I said calmly, keeping my eyes on the road. My hand was on her upper thigh, moving in, finding her by touch. I felt soft lips and rotated my wrist, stiffening two fingers into a curving spear. I slid up, feeling tight wetness enfolding them.
Kayley gasped.
"You'll cause an accident!" she cried.
"Nope," I said, "eyes on the road."
"Another kind of accident!"
"I have no idea what you mean," I told her, flexing my wrist, fingertips sinking in and out. "Some other kind of accident? A wet accident? A squirting accident? I don't know how that could happen?"
As my fingers slipped deep, my thumb found her clitoris. I swept across it with each flex of my wrist.
"You're touching my mulberry!" she cried. "You shouldn't be touching my mulberry! You stop that. I'll tell! I'll call mom!"
"You'll tell your mom I'm touching your mulberry?" I asked.
"Oh you bet." She gaped. "I'll call her write now!" Gasp. "I'll call up and say..." Gasp. 'Mom, I'm trying to bake'" Gasp. "'... a mulberry pie, and Sam..." Gasp. "...keeps touching my mulberry!'" Gasp. "Tell him to stop!'" Gasp. "Then you'll be in trouble!" Gasp.
I laughed.
"I dare you," I replied. "I double dare you."
She moaned deeply squirming on my fingers.
"I will!" She writhed and gasped. "In a little while."
Her foot dug down into my crotch, grinding along the length of my cock. I struggled to keep my eyes on the road and my hand steady on the wheel.
"How many traffic laws are we breaking?" she gasped.
"I'd say... All of them."
"Maybe we should stop."
"Yes."
"Not just yet though." I could hear the arousal tightening her throat.
Her foot pushed, against my cock, but in a stiffening way.
"What about a fat guy?" she gasped. I could feel her hips rocking her pussy onto my fingers. Her hand closed down on my thumb, pressing it against her clit. "Like really fat? And hairy, I mean, like hairy all over, hairy back. Would it turn you on if I spread my legs for a fat, hairy guy with moles and a pug nose and missing teeth, one eyebow and receding hair, with three chins, and sausage fingers, and a thick slimy slab of a tongue, and balding."
"That's oddly specific," I said. "I'm starting to wonder about your fantasy life."
"Oh fuck," she moaned as my fingers flexed in her. She took a breath. "And sweaty, really sweaty, I mean sweat just dripping off him as he fucks me with his big fat cock, his rolls of fat all over me just dripping sweat, like slimy raindrops, while he licks my face with his slab of a tongue. Oh fuck, my pussy is just dripping."
I really hoped it was my fingers, and not the visualization of her dream date.
"Too much," I said.
"Yeah," she said breathily, "that teetered over into gross. Sorry. What about non-sweaty, ugly, hairy, balding fat guys. I think they're so hot."
"Ron Jeremy has a lot to answer for," I said. "Yeah, it would turn me on."
"The Jeremy?" she grunted.
"A Jeremy-type fucking you. I'm fine. It's still hot, in a weird beauty and the beast way."
"What about a really filthy, nasty, smelly, drunk homeless derelict..."
She moaned and squirmed against my fingers.
"I'd still love you, but I think I'd make you take a shower first."
She laughed. "I'm almost..."
I slid my fingers from her, returned to both hands on the steering wheel.
"You bastard!!!" she cried.
I smirked.
"I was so close!" she complained.
"You had it coming," I said. "Relax, the first parkade or underground parking I see, we're pulling in. You're going to suck my cock, you insane little mink. Then I'll finish you."
Her foot left my crotch, she twisted, trying to pull herself upright in the seat belt. She laughed.
"I love it. This is what comes of panty deprivation," she said. "Like a PSA."
"I will give generously," I told her.
We drove calmly for a few minutes. I wasn't fooled.
"If I looked," I said, "would I find you playing with your pussy."
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmaybe."
We both laughed.
"Okay, okay. Seriously, no bullshit, no playing," she told me. "Don't tell me what I want to hear. This is from you, this is truth. How would you feel if I did it again?"
Her voice had gone sober again.
"Same guy or different guy?" I asked.
"Doesn't matter. Truth," she demanded.
I almost glanced at her, I could feel how serious she was. I thought about it. Would I be jealous? I hadn't been so far. Instead...
"It would be hot. It would be fucking hot. My cock would be as hard as a steel bar. Seeing it, or listening in, or just imagining it, it would be mind blowing. The thought of you enjoying. The thought of wanting you in that moment. Of having you after. It would make me crazy. But it wouldn't change anything between us."
"It really gets you off? Huh?"
"Your turn," I said. "Would you do it again? With him? With someone else?"
She paused, thoughtfully.
"It's hard to explain," she said. "The actual sex was crap. I mean, the cock in me felt good, but five fucking minutes, its over before we started. I didn't come or anything. And he came in me - euhhh! But... the lead up, the flirting, committing, oh god that was so hot! The excitement, the spontaneity, the aggression. Just the idea of this impulsive sex."
"I was so ready," she went on. "Really, I have no idea how he didn't manage to give me an orgasm. I was practically there."
"But when you boil it all down, it was exciting, it was like jumping without a net. And knowing, you were there, keeping it safe for me, and my hoping you were getting off on it. Part of it for me, was the idea of you getting off."
There was a longer pause.
"I sort of want to do it again," she said quietly.
2025-04-05 21:14:48 +0000 UTC
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KAYLEY'S FIRST MEN'S ROOM ENCOUNTER, PART TWO OF TWO
SAM POV
"Kayley," I ordered. "I want you to take off your panties." There was an audible gasp, and a moment later, quietly. "Yes, Sam."
SAM'S STORY
"Kayley," I ordered. "I want you to take off your panties."
There was an audible gasp, and a moment later, quietly.
"Yes, Sam."
There was silence, I heard faint rustling, a squeak of plastic. I imagined her standing to raise her skirt, pulling the panties down, the thin scraps of fabric at her thighs, her knees, pooling at her ankles. I imagined her sitting on the toilet seat, reaching down to collect them as she lifted one foot and then the other.
"Put your panties in your purse, right at the top. But don't zip your purse."
"All right," she said.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
"My heart is pounding."
"How's your pussy?"
"Very wet," she paused. "Are we really going to do this?"
"Nervous?" I asked.
"Very."
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me.
"Okay, Kayley, when you go back out, I want you to leave your phone on, on silent, so that I can hear everything. I'll be listening in, okay. If anything goes wrong, I'll bust down that door in a flash. Whatever happens, you're completely safe. He won't hurt you. Nothing will hurt you; I won't allow it."
"Okay." She paused. "That's a good idea."
"All right," I said. "Now, I want you to know, it's completely up to you. You don't owe him anything. You don't have to do anything. This is all you. This is your choice, whatever you want to do, whatever you choose. I'm there for you. We can walk right out, right now. Or whatever you want."
She gave a small laugh.
"You're sending me out there bare pussy, with my panties hanging out of my purse."
"Were those panties wet?" I asked.
No answer.
"Okay," I said. "When I told you to take them off did your pussy get more or less wet?"
Pause.
"More," came quietly. "A lot more."
"I am so hard right now," I told her. "But it's your choice. And even when you make it, you can change your mind right up to the end."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"I don't know yet," she confessed.
"That's all right. We can quit right now. We can go home right now. We can quit any time."
"I understand."
"What are you going to do?"
She sighed heavily.
"I'm going to go out there and sit with him... and then I'll decide."
Another heavy sigh.
"I got your back," but there was no answer. Instead, the sound of rustling told me that she'd deposited the phone in the open purse. Probably covered with the panties. More rustling, and the sound of a toilet flushing. Footsteps.
Kayley walked past me without so much as a glance.
"Hey Leroy," Kayley's voice came through the phone. "I'm back."
"I thought you might have fallen in," he said. "I was going to organize a search party."
"You just wanted to follow me into the bathroom," she lilted. I recognized her flirty voice.
He laughed.
"True enough." He paused. "So have you decided."
"I'm still thinking about it," Kayley said. A pause. I glanced over; she was taking a sip from her drink. I had a momentary worry that he might have put something in it while she was gone. But the bartender had been right there. And anyway, why would he need to, if she was probably going to say yes?
I noticed that Leroy was glancing at her purse. He'd noticed the panties. I could imagine the wheels turning into his head, thinking about the panties peeking out of her purse. Thinking about how she'd left the purse unzipped so he could notice them. As long as he didn't poke around in that purse.
"Anything I can do to persuade you?" he teased.
"You're persuasive enough that I'm thinking of it," she whispered.
He leaned forward, and slid his hand along her hip.
"It'll be worth it," he promised.
"You're very confident," she teased.
As he straightened, his hand moved from her hip down the outside of her thigh to her knee.
Then he leaned forward, slowly thrusting his hand smoothly up between her legs, half way up her thighs. She stiffened and squeaked, clamping her thighs together. He'd done that before, and she'd allowed it. But now the play was on a different level, and distracted, she'd been surprised.
For a second, it seemed he's blown it. She'd been on the fence, and he'd pushed her off.
"You know what I just noticed," he said smoothly.
"What?" her voice was tremulous, a little breathless.
His hand between her legs moved slightly, just enough that I could tell her thighs weren't clamped together. She'd relaxed to his touch. He didn't intrude though, he knew he was on the knife's edge, the wrong move and it was over.
"You're not wearing panties," he told her. He didn't wait for a response. "Now, I'm wondering about that. Were you wearing panties when you walked into this bar? Yes or no."
"Yes," she said, her voice steadier but still quavering.
"I see. So if you came in with them, you must have taken them off. When did you take your panties off, Kayley?"
I felt a ripple of excitement and unease; this was the first time I'd heard him call her by her name. it sounded possessive in his voice. It made things more viscerally real. I had a flash of him saying her name, Kayley, as he fucked her.
"In... when I went to the bathroom."
"I see," Leroy said, his voice honey smooth. "You know what I think, Kayley. I think the decision's already made, and you're just nervous that's all."
"Uhm..." she said, "you think that, do you?"
"We're going to go to the men's room now, Kayley."
There was a long pause.
She licked her lips.
"All right."
Involuntarily, I exhaled, realizing only now that I'd been holding my breath. So it was as simple as that. It wasn't her decision at all. He decided for her, and she simply accepted it. It had been his choice, and he'd made it for her.
Or had it been my decision, when I'd told her to take off her panties? Told or ordered? My command to return with her panties visible in her unzipped purse, had sealed her fate. Had signaled acceptance to him.
But regardless it was decided: The love of my life was about to be fucked in a sleazy dive bar men's room, by some complete stranger that had sat next to her twenty minutes ago. I was insanely excited, my cock so swollen and hard I could feel it pulsing. My heart was pounding, my mouth was so dry I couldn't speak. I felt buoyant, and overwrought, fight and flight reflexes kicking in. It was as if I was the one about to be fucked in the bathroom and not her. I took a deep swallow of my beer.
Now that the decision was made, Leroy seemed to assume command. He took her by the wrist and lead her off the stool. She came along without resistance, her legs wobbling. She barely had the presence of mind to grab her purse.
Leroy was so focused on dragging her to the men's room, he didn't even glance as they passed me. I looked up, and Kayley and I had a moment where we looked directly at her. I searched her expression - excitement, embarrassment, nervousness, anticipation, even arousal?
I looked for fear, for reluctance, but I couldn't find it. Was it there, and my own lust fooling me. Did she really want this.
She gave me the slightest nod, as if reading my mind. I nodded back. And then Leroy dragged her along. They disappeared behind the men's room door. I swiveled in my chair to face the way they'd gone, ready to rush up and crash through the door, and pressed the phone to my ear.
At first, I didn't hear anything. Sound of footsteps, a creak of door.
"Gross," Kayley said.
"It's not that bad," Leroy replied.
"So..." Kayley began, "how do we do this?"
Then she gasped loudly.
"Fuck you're wet!" Leroy said. "I fucking love a smooth wet pussy."
I imagined him putting his hand up her skirt, feeling her. The gasp of surprise as she did that, the expression on her face. Lust? Nervousness? They must be right on top of each other. I imagined him pressing up against her, her skirt hiked up, his arm between her leg. Did she embrace him? Was she pushed back against a wall?
She moaned deep in her throat. I knew that sound, it was the noise she made when I kissed her hard, when our lips pushed, and mouths tasted each other. He was kissing her, and she moaned for it. I imagined his lips against hers, his tongue.
I could hear heavy breathing now, little smacks and gasps. A rustle of clothing. Was that the sound of a zipper? A creak of a wooden stall. Panting. A soft grunt. My mind filled in the rest, them making out, clothes unfastened. In my mind he was kissing her urgently, leaving her to moan into each kiss, gasp for air between them. He must have her pressed up against a wall, her legs spread, one hand between her thighs. Was he pawing her breasts with a free hand? Holding her?
She sighed, and I knew he'd licked her neck around her collarbone. He grunted heavily.
"That's good," he mumbled, slightly muffled. Was his face buried in her neck. "Feel that."
"It's big," she breathed.
"It's for you," he said. "You're wet for it."
"Fuck," she whispered, "I can't believe I'm doing this."
She moaned deeply, a rippling moan that rose and fell, and I imagined him fingering her, the fingers setting tempo for her gasps.
"Just go with it," he said.
"I'm..." A moan thrust up. "I'm not stopping."
"Good girl."
"How do we do this?" she asked.
"Here," he said.
"Wait," she said. "Do you have a condom?"
"Do we need one."
"Yes," she said. "I have a boyfriend; I'm not bringing anything home."
"He won't know."
"I don't care, put it on."
"All right."
There was a moment of silence, punctuated by breathing.
"Do you want me to help," she asked.
"I got it," Leroy said.
A moment later.
"Feel that?" he asked.
"Oh yeah," she said. "You feel so hard. I can't wait. I want it."
Again, there was that deep moan in her throat. The sound of smacking. I imagined him kissing her hard, hungrily, their tongues sliding against each other. I visualized her up against a wall, her skirt up around her waist, his cock covered in rubber, sliding against her smooth belly as they pawed each other.
The moan was followed by a series of gasps.
"Okay," he grunted, and then grunted again.
"Hold on," she said. "It's not right. I can feel--"
"Here," he broke in. "Just... Okay, close."
"This way?"
'Okay, lift your leg.... All right."
"You have it?"
There was a deeper grunt, a creek, sounds of movement.
"Uh huh!" Kayley's voice was loud.
A loud creak.
"Oh yeah."
"Uh huh," Kayley moaned again. "Ah Ah, it's not."
"A little more," Leroy demanded.
"It's not--"
"Try something else---"
"How about?"
"There."
"Okay this?" Kayley asked, her voice tight with lust, and then she gasped.
"Oh there we go," Leroy exulted. "You feel that? Do you feel that? You're fucking tight."
Instead of an answer, Kayley gave a long moan. I imagined the whole length of him sliding into her, their bodies grinding together hard.
"Oh you're big," she gasped loudly.
"That's what the girls like," he said proudly.
He grunted then, and immediately Kayley grunted in return, their voices see sawing. I imagined him thrusting, their bodies rocking.
"Thick," she almost whined. "Oh shit, you're really opening me up, spreading me apart. You're so thick."
"You like that?" he asked.
But she could only gasp rhythmically.
"You like this big cock?" he demanded.
"Oh yes," she grunted. "Oh fuck, it's deep, you're fucking so deep, I can feel it."
"You have a boyfriend?"
"Yes."
"I bet he's not as big as me," Leroy said. "He's not as thick, not as deep. My cock feels better, fills you."
"Oh yes," she grunted. "Fuck you're big. You fill me."
"You like it."
She was gasping rhythmically. I could see him thrusting in my mind's eye, his big hard cock pounding into her, her body rocking with every thrust, her breasts surging, her back bending, he knees lifting each time he bottomed out. I imagined the pleasurer on her face, the ecstasy in her body, the way her toes curled in her boots as his shaft slid deep.
"You like it," he repeated.
"Yes!" she said. "I love it."
"Does he come in you?" he asked. "Or do you make him use a condom."
But her only answer was a rhythmic grunting.
There was a slap, and then a gasp. He'd spanked her?
"I asked, does he come in you?"
"Yes," Kayley said. "He does."
"You're on the pill, or something?"
"Yes."
"Do you like feeling him raw?"
"Oh yes."
More grunting.
"Can I come in you?"
"No!" the answer was harsh and definitive.
"Okay," he said, "just asking."
Kayley's next moan was a load grunt, mingled with the slap of flesh on flesh. Followed by a succession of gasps.
"Here it comes," he grunted.
"Oh god," Kayley moaned, her voice pitching higher.
The grunts and gasps came faster and faster, accompanied by the sound of flesh slapping, as their bodies smashed together again and again.
"Oh! Oh!"
"Take it!"
"Oh!
"Take it."
"Take it!
"Oh!"
"TAKE IT!"
"Uh!"
"TAKE IT! TAKE IT!"
"TAKE IT ALL. TAKE IT NOW. OH, TAKE IT! YES! YES! NOW!
"Ah."
"Oh, take it."
"Ah."
"Feel it. Feel it deep. You got it. You took it"
"Ah ah."
"That's a girl, you got it."
For a moment there wasn't anything but the sound of the two of them panting. The sound off her, the sound of her labored breathing was as familiar to me as my own heartbeat. I'd listened to her pant away like that a hundred times after our lovemaking. But his was alien, almost unearthly, it had an almost rasping quality. It was the strangest thing, the familiar sound of her, panting alongside of a complete stranger, her sweet femininity, counterpoint for a foreign male breathing.
I imagined him laying on top of her. Over her back, if he'd taken her from behind. Or between her legs. Was she undressed, how naked was she, or he. I imagined their bodies coated with sweat, heaving together as they recovered. Clinging together.
"That was good," he said. "I knew you were a hot piece of ass the minute I saw you."
She didn't respond. I imagined him pulling off her, his softening cock loose in the condom. He sounded pleased, energetic.
"Girls," he said. "They like the big ones."
No response, just the soft breathing.
"How was it for you?" he asked.
"Good," she said, her breathing was slowing. I thought I could hear the rustle of clothing, small random sounds, putting herself together. "It was good."
"Yeah."
"You felt different at the end..."
"Yeah. Fuck. Look..." he said. "The condom broke."
"You came in me?" her voice rose in pitch slightly, I heard concern, trepidation, the beginnings of anger.
"Yeah, sorry," he said. "It broke right at the end; I was coming so hard."
"You should have pulled out?"
"Yeah, you're right. But when I felt it, I was already coming, it was already in you, so I couldn't do anything. I wasn't even sure it was broken, I didn't know till I pulled out and saw. And you felt so good, I didn't want to pull out if it wasn't broken. You were just so hot..."
"You should have told me," she accused.
"I just did, the minute I saw. I wasn't sure."
There was a long sigh.
"Okay," she said, "fine."
Not happy about it. But moving on.
"Listen, I guarantee you, I'm clean. Clean as a whistle. And you're on the pill. Nothing to worry about."
"I guess," she said.
"Anyway," his voice came, "you've got a boyfriend. If you get knocked up, you can tell him its his. No worries."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
"I told you," he said, "totally clean, no worries. You can get a test, they're fast now. A few days, a week tops. Just be careful around him."
Pause.
"Lots of blow jobs," he said. "I guarantee you: He won't mind."
"I guess," she said again. There was something off about her voice. She sounded deflated. Perhaps disappointed.
"All right," he said. "You going to be okay? We shouldn't go out together, you want to go out first?"
"I think you can go," she said. I could tell she was tired of his company. "I want to clean up a little."
"Fine," he said. "Hey, now that you've had what I'm packing... Let's do this again. I mean, sure, you got a boyfriend, but you made it pretty clear he doesn't have what I want. It would be fun, no strings attached."
"Okay."
"Got a pen? Paper?" he said. "I'll write down. Is it in your purse."
"Here," Kayley said quickly. "I've got it. Let me. I'll write it down."
I visualized Leroy grabbing for her purse, with the phone live in it, and Kayley scrambling to take it from him.
"Sure," he said, "no problem." He recited a number.
There was the sound of water running. Taps. Paper towels shuffling.
"Hey," he said. "It was a good fuck."
"Yeah," she said, flatly, perhaps a hint that it wasn't so great.
"I'll see you around, call me when you're ready."
The door swung. I turned to look at the sports screen. But Leroy didn't even glance at me as he sauntered past.
I checked my phone. Less than ten minutes. They'd fucked for maybe five minutes. My heart was still racing. It astounded me that so much had happened in five minutes. In five minutes the world had changed. In five minutes, the love of my life had fucked another man while I'd listened, his cock had been in her, he'd come in her. Had the world changed? Was this some kind of threshold, where everything after was different.
My cock was still violently hard.
"Are you there?" Kayley's voice on my phone.
"Yes," I said quickly. I guessed the mute was off. "Are you okay."
"Oh yes," she said. "I guess. It was an experience. I'm still processing. Is he still out there?"
"Yes," I replied, glancing out at the Bar. He was chatting up the bartender, pulling out his wallet. "I think he's settling up. I think he's going to leave."
"Good," she said. "Tell me when he's gone."
"Are you okay?" I asked. "Do you want me to come back there?"
"No," she said. "I'm fine. I just need to clean up a little. He came in me. And I need to wipe a little more. I don't want to come back out when he's there."
I could understand that. What's the etiquette for having just fucked in a dive bar men's room with a broken condom. Do you just nod at each other? Ignore each other? What sort of conversation do you make? What would he do if he saw her sitting with me?
"Hey! I think the fucker stole my panties!"
The surprise and outrage came through so clearly, I laughed involuntarily.
"This isn't funny!" Kayley said, her voice filled with what I hoped was mock outrage.
"No it's not," I agreed. And it wasn't, but it sort of was.
"I think he stole them. They're not in my purse."
"They didn't fall out?"
"I'm looking, they're not anywhere. They couldn't have fallen out," she said. "I think he took them."
"Is anything else missing?"
There was a moment's silence.
"No. Everything else is fine." She paused. "He must have grabbed them when my back was turned. Fucker! I didn't even notice!"
"He's still here," I said. "Do you want me to go and get them from him."
"NO!" she almost shouted. "NO! Absolutely not! Don't do anything."
"He's leaving," I said. A moment later, "and he's gone."
"Okay, I'll be right out."
A moment or two later, she was sitting beside me, my Kayley. I looked her over. She'd fixed her make up and lipstick, straightened her clothing and brushed her hair. But there were a few stray hairs out of place, the clothing didn't fit quite the same, there was something loose limbed and swivel hipped about the way she sat. I was crazily aware that she wasn't wearing panties, was Leroy's semen oozing out right this moment, would it leave a smear on the chair seat. I couldn't get the thought out of my mind. She'd just been fucked. That was such an exotic thought. The idea of it, knowing that it had happened, was so exotic, so powerful, I was rock hard. At the same time, I was worried about her, about what this meant for us
"So," Kayley asked, "what does this mean for us?"
I took a drink of my beer, to avoid answering right away.
"I don't know."
"I just had unprotected sex with a complete stranger, practically in front of you," she said. "How do you feel about that? About me? About us?"
"I feel okay," I said.
"Okay?"
"We're good?" she demanded.
"Yeah."
"You're sure," she said. "it doesn't change how you feel about me?"
"Kayley," I said, "I love you."
"I'm going to have to get an STD test," she said.
"I know."
"You're going to have to wear condoms, until we're sure."
I nodded.
She licked her lips, staring off into the distance.
"That was weird," she said finally.
"And hot," I offered.
"Very hot!" she agreed.
There wasn't much point in sitting around in the bar. We decided to cut out and go home. As we drove, it kept coming up off and on, awkwardly. Was he really big? Not that much, it was just talk for him, he was really proud of his junk. The Men's room? It was filthy, but kind of sexy filthy, the nastiness added.
Then, stopped at a red light, Kayley finally broke. She started laughing.
"Oh my God!" she giggled. "He was soooo sleazy. He was like a cartoon. Like the minute he saw me, I could tell, he was in lust. It was just one cheap pick-up line after the other, they were ridiculous. When we talked, I could tell he didn't give a damn. I could have said I was a brain surgeon, that I was just here to pick up my Nobel prize. It was all in one ear and out the other, all he wanted was to get me to fuck him. It was comical. Part of me just wanted to laugh in his face."
I waited, listening.
"At the same time," she said, "there was something about that kind of naked lust. Something, I don't know, honest? Transparent about it? Every word, every look, every time he touched me, it was about wanting me, about getting into my pussy. There were all these touches. If he could have dry humped me at the bar..."
"It's thrilling to be lusted after so nakedly," I said. "Ego boost."
Light turned green.
"Oh yes," she said. "Definitely. And it's funny, like when it's out there so nakedly, when the only signal you're receiving is pure 'I want to fuck you' when he's looking at you, and he's just seeing you naked even though you're dressed... when you're getting that kind of raw interest... you think about it."
"I can understand that," I said.
"I guess I'm trying to explain why I did it," she said.
"You don't have to explain it to me."
"I think maybe I'm trying to explain it to myself," Kayley said. "Like, normally, a guy like that, you'd whip out the pepper spray, not go into the bathroom with him. But this time, I wanted. I don't know. Maybe see what it was like. I guess you'd have to be there."
"I was," I said.
"What was it like for you?" she asked. "I kept wondering. What's he thinking."
"I don't know," I said thoughtfully. "I guess we've been playing with it for a while. This flirting game. It's hot watching men hit on you, and its not just because I know you're coming home with me. When they do it, you sparkle, it's flattering, it's affirming and I can tell you enjoy. Attention is nice."
"Spicy," she said.
"Yes," I agreed. "So, you know, I can't help wondering sometimes, what if it went further. What would it be like if she walked out the door with another man. Could I handle it? Would I be jealous? Would it be hot? So, yes, I thought about it. And, I admit, it's kind of exciting to think about. I guess I was half expecting it, sooner or later. That it might happen."
"It happened," she said.
"Yes," I replied. "And it was so fucking hot. I think I almost came in my pants. Like if I'd moved too much, or stood up suddenly, I would have blown. It was bizarre and amazing and not like I imagined. But it was so hot. And it wasn't about him. It was you, like, you were fearless, and amazing and bold."
"I was so fucking nervous."
"You were... heroic," I said. "Just going for it, barreling through. It's like all the time, we see things everywhere, people skydiving, or having car chases, or doing these big impossible things. And suddenly, there you are, and you're doing it, one of these things we only hear or read about or see on movies. You were amazing."
"We're good."
"You're my hero!"
She laughed effortlessly.
"You're my hero," she said. "You were just there, exactly the way I needed you. I wouldn't have been able to do it, if not for you. You didn't tell me to do it, or not to do it. You just supported, gave me strength."
"I told you to take your panties off," I pointed out.
She giggled.
"I was shocked by that," she admitted. "I was going 'Whaaaat?' but kind of thrilled, and weirdly reassured, I can't explain it. You did the right thing."
"Sorry you lost them," I said.
"I'm not surprised. A guy that sleazy, yeah, of course he'd steal my panties."
"He probably collects them. Trophies and stuff."
"Huh," she said thoughtfully. "What do you suppose he does with them. Like does he just keep them in a drawer? Or does he have a special photo album."
The image flitted through my mind - a photo album, filled with women's panties, preserved under the flat sheets.
"I don't know," I said. "He probably sniffs them. Or masturbates with them."
"Oh yuck," she said "Jesus Christ! You men! What's wrong with you! Too much information. I don't need that in my head. Maybe I should have made you go get them back."
"Too late now."
She reached over, laying her hand on my crotch. My erection was back instantly.
"So we're good?" she said. Her fingers kneaded, the fabric of my pants. I had to shift my hips as I drove, allow the erection to smooth in the trousers. Thank god they were loose.
"More than good."
"I didn't come, you know," she said thoughtfully.
"I noticed," I said. "I didn't want to say anything though."
"A couple of times, it felt like I could. But he was so fucking fast, it was all so rushed. It was like it was a race, and he was determined to get to the finish line first."
"The five minute mile." We both laughed.
"I really need to come," she said. "Lots. It was like a really good handshake, but now I want real sex. I want to fuck your brains out. I want to fuck and fuck and fuck."
Her hand was on my erection, I could feel her fingertips pulling on my zipper. My mind flew back to her panting and moaning as some complete stranger fucked her, as she willingly spread her legs in some sleazy bathroom for some sleazy nobody, had surrendered her body.
"Oh we're going," I said.
"Stop for condoms."
As it turned out, I used four condoms in a row, but we did so many things so urgently, we realized it made no difference. In the end, we forget them and just fucked, and my semen joined Leroy's in her body. We slept together entwined like sweaty naked babies, in pure bliss and happiness, more one person than two.
2025-04-05 21:00:44 +0000 UTC
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KAYLEY'S FIRST MEN'S ROOM ENCOUNTER, PART ONE OF TWO
SAM POV
We continued to fuck like bunnies. We’d call each other from work and talk dirty, and then race home. One day I took a long lunch hour; to sneak over to her workplace and I ate her out in the copy room. Another time, she jerked me off at the back of a crowded Starbucks with a newspaper on my lap.
There was something though, about the encounter with Roger. It liberated her, it freed her from any subliminal concern about jealousy. One day, I caught her checking out a hot guy, and then she noticed me watching her. I just smiled and nodded, and she beamed happily. Without ever speaking, we gave each other guy to appreciate hot guys and girls. Suddenly, we were pointing out abs, breasts and ass, long hair, or luscious features.
One day at a park, we were sprawled out on a blanket, and a frisbee player ran past in a tank top.
“I’d hit that!” she whispered, and we both broke into laughter.
Roger slipped back into conversation. One night, as I fucked her, my cock ramming in and out of her drenched, tight pussy, I whispered in her ear.
“Aren’t you sorry you didn’t go home with Roger?”
Her gale of laughter tightened her body so much her pussy clamped like a vise and she squirted me out like toothpaste. I rammed back in, we wrestled and rolled around, giggling and laughing.
Another evening after finishing making love, she turned and whispered lovingly in my ear, “I’m not finished yet, do you think Roger is available.”
We both howled.
We had a private joke, sometimes, walking into a bar or a venue or any new place, one of us would say “Do you think Roger’s here?”
But also, in my mind, sometimes I imagined him fucking her, his cock in place of mine, her legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust deep. I imagined her kneeling in front of him, taking his cock in her mouth. His semen dripping from her pussy. It wasn’t an obsession by any means, just a daydream, a might have been from some other silly universe.
%%%
“Do you think Roger’s here,” Kayley asked me, as we head into this neighborhood tavern. There was a bar band playing covers we liked, so we decided to try it out.
“Probably not,” I replied. “But you know, there’s other fish in the sea. Maybe there’s another hot guy I could watch you flirt with.”
“You’d watch me flirt?”
“Fuck yes! You’re so hot when you flirt!”
“When I flirt with you, you mean?”
“When you flirt with anyone, you are a goddess!”
“You’d watch that?”
“I’d love it.”
She slowed and stopped in front of the bar; her expression mischievous.
“You’d be able to handle it?”
“I’d have a raging boner,” I said. “You flirt with anyone you want, as long as you come home with me.”
“I like the sound of that,” she mused. “Yes.”
“Yes?” I said, I was intrigued.
“Tell you what,” she said. “Let me go in first. You come in after, find a spot to watch me. We’ll see if someone hits on me. I’ll flirt. When you’re ready, just come over, and I go home with you.”
I smiled.
“I’ll warn you though,” I said. “I might be so fucking hard.”
She laughed.
“I guarantee I’ll be so fucking wet.”
Just like that, I was rigid.
&&&
Kayley was already sitting at the bar on a stool when I walked in. The bar was less than half full. Kayley was still sitting alone. Her gaze passed over me as I wandered in, we exchanged the barest nods. I took a seat at the table where I could have a good view.
God, she was gorgeous. She was wearing a short dress that showed off her legs, white boots and a push-up bra really accentuated her bosom.
A moment later, a blowsy blonde sat next to me, cleavage spilling out of her tight top.
“Anyone sitting here?” She asked, not waiting for an answer. Her hand slid onto my knee. “I’m Amy,” she announced, “come here often.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Kayley giggling.
Eventually, about ten minutes later, an older bearded guy, Colin, approached Kayley to offer to buy her a drink. Kayley smiled and accepted, inviting him to join her. She shifted in her seat, her long legs scissoring.
Amy turned out to be far more handsy than Colin, which Kayley thoroughly enjoyed. The only downside was our companions made it a little difficult to watch the show. At one point, Colin spotted Kayley watching Amy thrust her breasts in my face.
After an hour, we both excused ourselves, our companions too sweet to let down harshly. We made our way home, and spent the night laughing and having wild sex.
&&&
This was our new game. We’d pick a bar and Kayley would troll for admirers. We’d go in separately, I’d find someplace with a good vantage point, Kayley would dress up sexy – tight jeans, short skirts, tank tops, dresses, she was always magnetic, with red hair, red lips and high heels completing the ensemble.
She was never alone for long. Before too long, a suitor would appear, offering a drink, asking to sit, or just moving in.
She’d sparkle.
It was always someone different. Someone old, or young, tall or short. Some heavy, morbidly overweight businessman, or some sleazy hustler. She always smiled, radiant, engaging. Unfailingly polite. Some moved on, dismissed. Others hung in.
I loved watching her, and the thing I loved most was her enjoying herself. When she seemed bored or annoyed, I’d move in, without waiting for a signal.
Other times, she’d seem charmed, and I’d hang back, enjoying her glow. Watching her flashing smile, or her laugh. The way she’d lean forward to give a view of cleavage, or blush at some compliment or proposition, or touch a hand or arm if she was particularly into it.
I liked watching the men as well, some of them careful and polite, others eager and bold, stealing glimpses of her cleavage or legs when they thought she wasn’t looking, pretending to laugh when she did.
I learned to spot the ones who genuinely enjoyed her company when she was on, and the ones who were merely desperate to get laid.
In the end, I’d always collect her, and we’d usually head home, for hot sex, tearing clothes off, climbing each other. Sometimes we wouldn’t make it home, pulling into some alley or quiet spot where we’d climb into the back seats for some wild consummation.
We’d talk about them, sometimes on the ride back, sometimes after sex. Kayley was always wonderful, discussing almost every man who flirted with her with warmth and compassion, enjoying their company, and seeing something worthwhile in most of them. Even the ones that hadn’t been sexually interesting.
As to the ones that did, she often surprised me.
“Maybe I should have gone home with him,” she mused, talking about a tall skinny artist type, who’d turned out to be a comic book collector.
“Him?” I teased. “Should I have let you?”
“Maybe,” she said. “He was passionate, you know. Just loved his thing, I think he was over the moon that a woman was interested. And he was kind, you could see it in him, and gentle. Like a poet.”
Another time.
“Oh just raw muscle,” she said. “Not a brain in his head. You look at him and wonder what it would be like to ride that pony.”
Some were suave, some were sleazy, I guess they pressed different buttons in different ways.
“I really enjoyed talking to him,” she said, “because he was enjoying it so much. I mean, a fat, lonely old salesman, puffing his way through life, stuck overnight in a strange city. And suddenly, he’s having this really great conversation with this hottie.”
“He was just happy,” she finished. “And happy is infectious.”
“You should have gone back to his hotel with him,” I said. “I would have waited.”
She laughed and hit me with a pillow, and we rolled around the bed.
One of the things I loved about it, is that it made her sexier. It made her feel sexier. Two people can be in love and have crazy sex all the time, but you’re seeing each other constantly, you’re seeing each other at breakfast and tired from work. Sometimes it takes the edge off your special sexiness together.
But when we played with this, she’d blossom. She just let her sexiness out, and she let herself feel it. She indulged it. She wore lingerie and jewelry, make up and bright lipstick, heels. We bought her fishnet, stockings and tops. Tight skirts, push up bras, demi-cups, see through tops, transparent panels in fabric, or strategically placed cuts. She’d model for me, as we experimented with looks, sometimes classy, sometimes goth or punk, sometimes sleazy and sometimes so cheap that men made offers.
I loved seeing her like this, sometimes I’d go in first, and wait and watch as she made her entrance and half the men in the room would check her out. She’d take her seat, pretending not to notice, but I could feel her pleasure, I could literally feel her sparkle.
We tried different places, enjoying the effect.
But in the end, no matter who she flirted with or smiled at, I’d always appear, and she’d always gracefully excuse herself and come home with me.
I suppose we should have known it wouldn’t stop there, and that sooner or later, she’d be claimed.
%%%
This bar was nothing special. I wouldn’t call it a dive bar, but if it wasn’t it just barely missed that mark. It hovered on the edges of the seedy side of town, its exterior nondescript.
We really only decided to try it because we’d driven past it a dozen times of the preceding months.
‘Have we been in there?” Kayley asked, as we passed by. The sign said ‘Paddy’s” in old fashioned neon.
She was wearing a satin dress with neck line plunging to her navel, opera gloves and costume jewelry. We’d just come from this retro place, all red velvet, leather and brass, where an older gentleman had spent half an hour talking about Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr, who it had turned out, were both bisexual, all the while staring at her hard nipples and managing to cop a feel.
Oh yes, we’d progressed to the part where she enjoyed being felt up. The right men, sufficiently charming or arousing, if they were bold enough, might be rewarded with an intimate kiss, perhaps fingertips along an erection, a furtive hand beneath folds of fabric to cup bare breast or tease a nipple, even a hand along the inside of her thigh, never quite reaching, but exciting.
I watched it all, and together after, we’d tease and laugh and relive it, recreating certain moments, pressing to completion.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “It doesn’t look like anything much. Seems like a neighborhood bar, probably regular patrons, local.”
She shrugged.
“Might be fun,” she said. “Let’s check it out.”
I nodded.
That night, she straddled me, riding slowly, while telling me insane stories about Sammy Davis Jr. deep throating Marilyn Chamber’s boyfriend, while I pulled her nipples so hard they were distended. When she came, she squirted all over me.
###
“What do you think? Leather skirt?” She held it up.
She was wearing fishnet stockings, a favorite of mine, with a black garter belt, and red lace panties. An open cup bra, lifted her breasts and pushed her nipples forward.
“Or maybe the miniskirt?”
Fuck, I loved it when she dressed up. I was hard already.
“The leather skirt, definitely, it works with the stockings. The miniskirt is too short for them.”
She nodded, shimmying into them. Nonchalantly, she selected a lace tank top that didn’t show much cleavage but bared her midriff and clung like a second skin, and a mesh pullover that covered her but didn’t hide much of anything.
Kayley turned to sit at the mirror with her make-up.
“Dangly earrings or hoops?”
“Dangly,” said. “Hoops is a little too close to hooker with that look.”
She nodded, doing her make-up. Not too heavy, an eyeliner, shiny red lipstick. She snapped her lips.
“Showtime.”
I stepped up and nuzzled, her neck until she purred.
“We can just stay in tonight,” I said. “We could role play?”
She giggled.
“But I’m all dressed up,” Kayley said. She kissed my cheek; I could feel the lipstick. “Wait until tonight.”
I grabbed a trench coat for her, so she wasn’t too provocative, and we drove over. I pulled into the parking lot. Judging by the lot, it was probably pretty empty. Maybe, I thought, we should try a busier night? But then again, strange place, maybe empty was better.
“How do you want to do this?”
She gazed at the neon.
“I think I’ll go in first,” she shivered. “These don’t look like safe streets.”
“It is kind of the scuzzy edge,” I agreed. “I’ll watch you go in, then follow.”
She nodded.
“Ten or fifteen minutes?”
“About right,” I said.
She flashed me a sparkling smile, red lips shining from the streetlight reflecting off the car windows.
“Showtime,” she said. “I do it for you, you know.”
“Liar,” I teased. “You get off on it.”
“We both do!”
She stepped out of the car and I watched her sashay across the street into the bar, putting a little extra wiggle into her hips just for me.
I took out my phone, contorting my hips to allow my erection to breath. Ten minutes should be time enough for it to subside a little and for me to get out and walk without everyone noticing how happy I am.
When I arrived at the bar, Kayley had already drawn her suitor. Her eyes didn’t so much as flicker towards me when I walked in. But as I passed, she gave the tiniest nod, smiling brilliantly and maintaining eye contact with the gentleman she was chatting with.
I got a fleeting impression of an older man, thirties, sallow skin, stubble, roughly groomed hair.
The bar was fairly empty, most of the patrons hung towards the back, or in booths. There were plenty of empty tables, I took one, ensuring a clear view. The server came up, and we made small talk while I ordered a beer. After she left, I took out my smart phone and pretended to study it.
I wasn’t close enough to listen in. That was disappointing. Sometimes, if it was crowded enough, I could be close enough to hear her laughter. Once, I sat right next to her companion at the bar, listening to every word they said, catching Kayley’s eye as she’d look past his shoulder, exchanging wicked grins. That was a hot night.
She was enjoying herself, smile flashing, occasionally giggling. She leaned forward as he spoke, and he didn’t hide the fact that he looked directly at her breasts. She took a sip of her drink, leaned back, squaring her shoulders and crossed and recrossed her legs. A very good sign, she was definitely sparkling and enjoying herself.
Her companion wasn’t that impressive. Thirties? At least that, and with some hard living. He had a full head of hair, prematurely graying at the temples, swept back in a style that used to be fashionable. He’d probably considered himself pretty hot stuff back in his day. Tight jeans, a bit too tight, work boots, and a faded bomber jacket completed his look.
Cheap, a bit sleazy, he had the look of a hustler. The sort of guy that hung around bars, always a smile and a line of bull. Hot stuff in his twenties, but after a while, life would start to pass him by as everyone else grew up and moved on. I’d bet his pick-up lines were ten years old.
As I watched Kayley laugh, and lean forward again, her foot swung out casually, brushing against his leg. He pretended not to notice, but when he leaned forward to whisper, he touched her arm and when she turned her head to listen, he looked directly down her cleavage.
I put down my phone for a minute to drink my beer, looking directly at them. Oh yes, she was enjoying herself.
He must have been a charmer.
Kayley laughed at something he said, her smile flashing. The bartender came by. They spoke briefly. He poured another glass of wine. Her second?
He leaned forward, his hand sliding forward between her thighs, under her leather skirt. Kayley gave a squeak and clamped her legs together. Without breaking eye contact, without losing a watt from her smile, she reached down casually and guided his hand back, and they continued their conversation.
A moment later, Kayley shifted in her chair, taking a deep drink of wine. Her back arched, shoulders set, thrusting her breasts out. Even from where I was sitting, even through the mesh top, I could see the shape of her breasts and make out her hard nipples. She was putting on a show for him, definitely.
As Kayley lowered the glass and turned back to him, her legs swung and her knees touched his. He stroked her arm, and surreptitiously, his other hand slipped back down, dancing along her knee. She didn’t react, simply listening and smiling at whatever story he was telling.
His hand slid further, along the inside of her knee. His arm moved forward. Her legs didn’t clamp together this time. He leaned up, to whisper in her ear, and made his move, fingertips creeping up between her thighs, under her skirt. From the angle, I judged that it was only a few inches, not even near the tops of her stockings.
Kayley held up a finger, shook her head a little. He grinned at her. But her legs didn’t clamp and he didn’t withdraw right away.
She was definitely into him, there were very few men she’d allowed to slip their hand under her skirt.
A moment later, his palm was on her knee, painfully casual. She shifted position on her stool, her knee swinging outward gently guided by his palm, and then she’d swing back in, as they teased each other with the subtle parting of her thighs. But her knees never quite closed, she was enjoying the game.
I wondered if he was as hard as I was.
They leaned in towards each other, her lips pursed for a kiss. His hand slid up her skirt, this time all the way to her stocking’s band, and her thighs parted to allow it. Her lips brushed his, but instead of engaging, he whispered in her ear.
Her eye widened a little, not repulsed, but slightly surprised. Her head drew back. The hand between her thighs withdrew, the fingertips just under the edge of the skirt.
This was interesting. I’d expected a full kiss, or more kisses. A special that Kayley bestowed only on men she really enjoyed. She’d been willing, but it had gone differently. Kayley whispered something. He whispered back, hand moving slowly up under her skirt. She casually reached down to hold his wrist, but didn’t close her legs, as she looked towards the back of the bar past me.
They exchanged whispers. Kayley drew back, thoughtfully, swinging on the bar stool. His hand fell back, but came to rest on her knee. She took a drink of wine, this time not squaring her shoulders, clearly buying time. A moment later, he picked up his beer to drink. They put their glasses down at the same time.
I wished I could hear what they were saying, but I was too far away. Sometimes, we’d be connected with her phone on mute, so that I could hear the conversation if background was quiet enough. But mostly we’d found that with the phone in the purse, in a noisy bar, it was impossible.
He said something, whispering, but not in her ear. He grinned wildly, nodding. Kayley looked over his shoulder, expression thoughtful, her head moved, half nod, half shake. There was a soft exchange, again him smiling, cajoling, her uncertain, reflective.
Then she whispered something, kissed him directly on the lips, and slid off the chair, walking to the back of the room. Her hips swung slightly, it was impossible not to in those heels, but she didn’t show off like she had in the parking lot. I kept my eyes locked on my phone as she passed. But I could see him on his stool admiring the view.
Something had happened. I wasn’t sure what though. Kayley was beyond my frame of vision, and I couldn’t turn to see where she went. I’d only seen her pass from the corner of my eye. Was she upset? Angry? I didn’t have any sense of that. I risked a direct look back at the man. He was smiling, completely relaxed. He turned to finish his drink and ordered another beer, waiting patiently.
Very odd.
A moment or two later, Kayley’s name lit up my phone. I pressed connect, and held it to my ear.
“I’m calling from the women’s bathroom,” Kayley hissed, trying to muffle her voice. “I don’t know what to do!”
“What’s going on?” I asked, suddenly alert, my heart was pounding. I glanced at the man; he was still sitting nonchalantly at the bar. Had something gone wrong? Was there danger? Had he threatened her? Did he have a concealed weapon? Was there danger? Did I need to go after him? After her?
“He wants to have sex with me,” she whispered.
I was momentarily confused.
“But...” I hesitated. That was the point, every man wanted to take her home, or go home with her. “They all do. Did he do something…”
“Right now,” she said. “He wants me to go into the men’s room with him and have sex.”
“In the bathroom,” I said, astonished.
“Yes,” she said. “Right here.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I needed to pee, and I’d think about it,” she said. “Now I’m sitting in here talking to you.”
My first instinct was to tell her to wait, and I’d go get her and we’d get the hell out of there. But I caught myself. She could have told him no, right out at the bar, right in public. He wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Or she could have given me a signal, and I’d have come over and end it. Unless…
“Is he dangerous?” I asked. “Armed. Unstable.”
“What?” she was genuinely surprised. “No.”
All right, no worries about that then.
“Okay,” I was thinking fast. She could have shut it down any of a half dozen ways. Instead, she’d called me.
“Kayley,” I said. “How do you feel?”
“I ... I… don’t know,” she said. “It was going fine. Is he still there?”
He was still visible in the corner of my eye. I wanted to take a closer look at him, but dared not. He’d been flirting seriously with Kayley, plenty of mutual touches, whispers and smiles. She’d leaned in once or twice, giving him a view of her cleavage. At one point, I’d caught her letting his hand creep up her short skirt.
“Yes,” I said. “He’s still waiting.”
“Okay,” she said. “I just… he caught me by surprise. I wasn’t sure what to do.”
I was rock hard; I could feel my cock pounding in my pants. My heart was racing. Suddenly, we were both facing the prospect of a complete stranger fucking my girl. Kayley spreading her legs, another man’s cock, in her pussy. It seemed unreal, and yet too altogether real, a prospect that had moved from vague half acknowledged fantasies to imminent reality. It was alluring, and scary.
“Kayley,” I said, “were you enjoying yourself?”
A long pause.
“Yes.”
“Were you turned on?”
“I’m always turned on when we play this game, you know—”
I cut her off, she was defensive, instinctively evading the question, and we both knew it.
“Kayley,” I let my gaze swivel across the room, passing over him. Assessing him again: Older than us, mid-thirties at least, his clothes a little unkempt, a little ragged. Not doing as well financially, probably a shitty job, just scraping buy. A low class grifter. But there was a sleazy charm. “Was it hot?”
There was a long pause.
“Yeah,” she said, “it was. He was flirting really hard, but not desperate. It was like he was playing. And he was bold. He put his hand up my skirt.”
I’d seen that.
“Do you want to do it?”
Another long pause.
“I don’t know.”
Except, of course, she knew. We both knew. If she hadn’t wanted to, it would have stopped, anywhere along the path, right up to now. She wanted it. It was her fear stopping her. And me.
“Kayley,” I said. “Listen very carefully to me.”
“Yes.”
“Kayley,” I ordered. “I want you to take off your panties.”
2025-02-22 23:52:07 +0000 UTC
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INTRO - A series about an innocent, young couple, living life and having sex, who don't quite realize there are bad people in the world, and what happens when one of them insinuates himself into their life. A tale of seduction, submission, depravity... and eventually, a happy ending.
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PROLOGUE
SAM
I suppose I should start at the beginning, how we got into this mess.
I met my wife Kayley when we were both a few years out from University. I was a couple of years older, I’d finished my degree, found a job, and was a rising star, making good money in Systems Design. Kayley had done the admin route, but found a solid firm that appreciated her. I don’t even remember now, how we bumped into one another. It just felt like one day we were at the same party, saw each other across the room, smiled and that was it.
I was tall, rangy and hung, with short dark hair. Kayley was a redhead, bottle unfortunately, so the carpet didn’t match the drapes, so we kept the floor polished, if you know what I mean. She had this willowy build, not the biggest breasts but perky and a dancer’s grace. There was something about the way she moved, I loved watching her. She had this sensual grace.
Neither of us were virgins, we’d both racked up our body counts, Kayley had started in high school, me in University. It was the usual thing, random opportunistic oral sex, drunk one-night stands and shameful misjudgments, some dating things that went all the way quickly but petered out, and a few semi-long-term things. Neither of us got emotionally involved, neither of us got too wild.
In hindsight, we missed a bunch of opportunities. I almost ended up with a Domme. Kayley turned down a chance to go to an orgy. Things like that. The thing is, that as wild and enticing as possibilities are, if you’re on your own, it’s a bit intimidating. If you don’t have the right person as your wing man, or wing woman… you don’t. You heard about people disappearing, or waking up in a bathtub of ice cubes with one kidney, or date rapes, assaults, or just awful things.
But when we finally hooked up, it was magic. Our first night together, we made love, we laughed, we climbed each other like monkey bars. We were sweat drenched, hot, hard, wet, we couldn’t get enough. We tasted, touched, licked, we couldn't get enough of each other, and we took full advantage.
Those were the first months; we couldn't stay away from each other. We watched porn. We danced. We laughed. We licked every part of each other, in every location indoors. We couldn’t get enough. She dressed to make me excited, and all I had to do to make her aroused was look at her. There was a sense of excitement, of wild possibility, of everything being open and available.
So of course, we’d fuck it up.
One night, we were out at a bar. Not a usual haunt, we were exploring different venues. I had to go to the can, there was a line up. It took a while.
When I finally did my business and got back out, I spied Kayley, sitting at the bar, a man chatting her up.
Intrigued, I stopped, waiting back, near the hall leading to the bathrooms, up against the wall. It wasn’t a big place; I had a clear view. Neither of them noticed me.
Kayley was wearing her red dress, one with a modest slit up the side, that showed off her curves. It was just the casual side of sexy. She sat with her legs crossed, swinging her upper calf. She was smiling and nodding at her new suitor, some suit with a hundred-dollar haircut and capped teeth. As he moved, he was careful to let his cuff slide up to expose his Apple Watch. She glanced at it, but didn’t remark. He leaned in to say something, she leaned toward him, and then she laughed. He stroked her arm.
She sparkled. In that moment, she just sparkled, like she was radiant. I was enthralled, she was so beautiful, so vivacious, so full of life. I was hard, watching her flirt with a complete stranger, but then she made me hard constantly. Mainly, it was exciting.
Is this what we look like when we’re together, I wondered? Just smiling and laughing, leaning into each other. This is seeing her sparkle from the outside. It was amazing.
I started forward.
Kayley looked up and almost jumped when she saw me coming, but the smile she gave me was pure love. Her companion turned to look.
“Sam,” she said, “this is Roger, he was keeping me company while I waited.”
Roger turned around and looked me up and down. He wasn’t particularly pleased to see me, but he was smart enough not to let it show. I could practically read his mind. His chance of scoring with this hottie evaporated the minute I showed up.
I had this fleeting thought; I wondered how good he thought his chances had been. In some hypothetical world where Kayley and I weren’t together, did he really think he’d go home with her?
“That’s really nice of him,” I said. “I didn’t realize I was that long.”
She smiled brilliantly; the room seemed to light up.
“You weren’t, but Roger was such a gentleman, he volunteered.”
Definitely an operator, I thought. Hustling, on the make. She told him she had a boyfriend, and he figured it was just a bluff and moved in.
“That’s nice of him,” I smiled. “Keeping my seat for me.”
Roger got the message.
“It was great,” he grinned. “But I got to get moving.”
We watched him cruise away, on the alert for any other single woman. He spotted a middle-aged woman further down the bar and zeroed in.
Slipping into his seat, I leaned in and our lips locked, our tongues flicking against each other. I laid my hand on her knee as she uncrossed her legs and casually slid my fingers half way up her thigh under her dress. She rested her hand on my thigh.
“Happy to see me?” she teased.
“Definitely.”
“It’s mutual.”
I nodded.
“So, Roger?”
“He just appeared and started talking to me,” she said.
“Hitting on you?”
“He was working up to it, but not there yet,” she replied. “Don’t worry, I would have shot him down.”
“Hopefully,” I joked, “not on my account.”
“I only get excited for you,” she said.
A flicker of nervousness crossed her face.
“You’re not annoyed, are you? Jealous?”
My eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“No!” I said. “Not at all. You can talk to anyone you like. Friends. Girlfriends. Random guys that flirt. No, it’s cool!”
“Are you sure… that last?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I love you too much to be jealous.”
“I went out with a guy one time in college,” she said. “Jealous type. He got worse and worse.”
I shrugged.
“That’s not me.” I assured her. I didn’t want her ever to worry. “You know, I watched you guys for a minute, once I came out of the bathroom. And you know what? You looked so beautiful, so radiant, with that guy flirting with you. You were glowing, he was smiling. It just looked … nice. You know what I thought, as I was watching you?”
Whatever flicker of caution and nervousness I’d seen in her faded away, and that made me glad. I always wanted her happy and unconstrained, absolutely free. She was breathtaking that way.
“What?”
“I looked at you, relaxed, smiling, flirting, and it was like I was seeing us from the outside. I was just blown away by how amazing you were, just watching it from outside, not being part of it. You’re wonderful.”
She laughed and blushed.
“Were you excited?”
Where had that come from?
“I’m always excited for you,” I said. “But yes, I found it arousing to watch you flirt.”
“Not even a little jealous that it wasn’t you?”
“Not even a bit. It was exciting.”
Of course, we both knew absolutely that nothing could have ever happened with Roger. That made it safe, and it made it safe for us to talk again.
“Can I tell you a little secret?” she whispered. Her eyes sparkled.
I leaned in so she could whisper in my ear over the bar noise, taking the opportunity to slip my hand up her dress.
“Of course.”
“it was a little exciting… Maybe not exciting… fun? I kind of enjoyed Roger sitting down and just hitting on me.”
“Cool.”
She wasn’t finished.
“It was weird,” she whispered. “Normally, it’s creepy. You’re alone in the bar, some rando puts the moves on you. It always put me off. Some of my girlfriends, right into it. But not me. There was always something… just unnerving.”
“Yeah.”
“But I knew you were here, and you’d be out shortly. I knew I was safe, so I could just relax… and it was fun.”
She giggled.
“Were you aroused?” I whispered.
“Silly boy,” she said and licked my ear, “I was already aroused.”
Suddenly, I was uncontrollable. I took her wrist.
“Let’s go someplace!”
Kayley squealed in pure delight. Like giggling children, we scurried from the bar back to my car. We only made it halfway home, before we pulled into a parkade and made out like teenagers in the back seat, rocking the car wildly and steaming up the windows.
And that was how it all began. Passion and love and giddy excitement at being bad.
The beginning of our fall.
2025-02-20 02:37:50 +0000 UTC
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