Another Evening

Disclaimer: If you are under 18 or otherwise legally restricted from viewing material of an erotic nature GO AWAY! If you are offended by sexually explicit material why are you here in the first place?

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Another evening, I await her pleasure, knowing as always the torture that stalks my night. She swirls in, pendulous breasts swaying freely under her long night gown, her belly and hips stretching the folds from the fabric of her gown, jiggling with every foot fall.

From my position kneeling on the floor I see each ripple as it courses up the stippled bulk of her thighs, the dark patch of her pussy hidden between the mass of her upper thighs and the overhang of her belly. With an audible sigh she settles herself into the chair across from where I kneel, legs uncrossed, though it is not easy for her to cross them anyway.

In the extended moments as she settles my mind drifts through idle thoughts, how once I would've considered her massive body repulsive, how even now her physicality is not at all a turn on for me, but still I serve. I know she has finished working a twelve hour shift, calling me and telling me to be at her home before she arrives. She will be sweaty, with the particular sharp and sour odour that only comes from trapped moisture and rubbing skin.

Even as I think of it, the smell, the salty taste, the feel of the soft billowy flesh against my face, my erection begins to grow. A complete conundrum, I don't want to use my mouth for her demands, but cannot resist it. No magic, no mind control, just the way she demands service as though there was never an option to refuse, and my sense of degradation as I perform for her.

It started very differently, a drunken night and a bar pickup. On my own and pretty ruined this fat woman with non-descript brown hair and eyes started a conversation with me. No Romeo myself, and weighing in at more than my fair share of beef, I don't get a lot of chances, and so I went along with it.

What the hell, any port in a storm you might say. Needless to say we went back to her place, and I fucked her. There are many euphemisms for having sexual intercourse, but slamming your cock into someone for your own pleasure, without regards for them in any way doesn't match any of them.

When I finished I rolled out of her arms, went to the bathroom, pissed, returned and began to gather my clothes. She looked at me leaving without a word, a silent accusation hanging in the air.

About a week later, hornier than hell, I went back to the bar. Consciously, I had no real intention of looking for her, but I guess in the back of my mind I hoped she was there so I could do her again. Naturally, sitting alone in a bar, no one to talk to you drink a little more than you might otherwise, so by the time she walked in I was somewhat worse for wear.

She nodded as she saw me, and then went to sit down the bar some distance away. She wasn't coming to me it seemed, and I was damned if I was going to her. Or that was the plan for the next two drinks. Eventually it seemed to me that I should just go over and say hi, maybe make some small talk and test the winds. I saw her half smile as I got up to walk over, but she didn't have one as I sat down.

We chatted idly, me making charming (or so it seemed to my drunken self), her somewhat cold and stony. In the end she said I had treated her badly, and she wasn't that interested in carrying on a conversation with me.

I explained that I had been drunk, and after "making love" to her (if your going to be a liar you might as well lie BIG), I didn't feel good and had to get home before I was sick. Obviously, in retrospect and from a sober perspective, this was probably not the ideal tact to take, but it seemed brilliant and believable a dozen or so beers into the evening. Still she gave me another of those half smiles and said she understood, but that she felt the whole thing had been purely for me, and that no one enjoys being used.

Seeing an opportunity to maybe get what I was looking for I said I'd like the chance to make it up to her, any way she wanted. She looked at me speculatively, before nodding. "OK, we'll see how you stack up."

We got into her car, me not able to drive anyway, and went back to her home. The drive there was quiet, every time I tried to move or speak I was shut down, "Sit still," she'd bark, or "Be quiet, I'm concentrating." By the time we reached her place I was pretty much sulking, beer and effrontery making me morose.

Getting out of the car I snapped something to the extent of "about time". She whirled around on me face hard, voice like glacial runoff "You've got your cell phone, call a cab and get the fuck out of here!" I stopped, opened my mouth to answer her only to choke on my own words as she stepped towards me, her voice lowering menacingly "Not a fucking word, not one. You have one chance, you can either nod yes or shake your head no. Do you understand me?" she continued moving towards me, I stepped back from her and nodded, a strange cold sensation rippling down my back. "Good," she smiled, a feral grin with nothing of mirth in it, "Now, are you here to make it up to me or are you leaving?"

I was stunned, the snap of her voice the way she looked at me, the whole situation seeming unreal. Under her sharp gaze I felt almost like a rabbit going tharn, pinned by the oncoming headlights unable to move. "Make it up to you." I said, dropping my eyes and feeling a warm flush creep up my cheeks. She turned without a word and walked to her door, keys rattling as she went. I followed, quietly, an odd sort of anticipation churning my insides. This was not what I was expecting from the evening, something was going on here I wasn't sure I understood, but it was having an impact on me.

As we went inside I removed my shoes on the doormat, and turning, almost ran into her. She looked at me, then down, and said, "Well?" as she lifted her foot about six inches off the ground. I looked at her, not sure what she was expecting, then it dawned on me. She was waiting for me to remove her shoes for her. "Well...", she said again, sharper.

I leaned down, reaching for her shoe, but the angle wasn't easy. I squatted, and took hold of the heel of her shoe, slowly pulling it towards me. Perhaps it was just for balance, though in retrospect I doubt it, which had her put her hand on my shoulder leaning in until I was pushed to my knees.

Even as I went down, kneeling with her foot in my hand, a strange shock ran through my stomach, and my cock began to stiffen in my pants. Pulling the first shoe off, I remained on my knees as she lifted the other to me. "They're pretty feet aren't they?" she asked as I slipped the other shoe off, the nylon encased toes and the faint sweaty smell serving to further excite me.

I nodded my agreement as I began to rise. "Stop!!!" she snapped, "Were you told to move?" the hand she had on my shoulder moving to my head and pushing me back down. "Sorry," I mumbled resuming my previous position, even as a small part of me asked why I was apologizing.

"I think you should start this evening properly," she continued, ignoring my apology, "Kiss my foot, and take your time doing it." She smirked down at me, waiting for me to comply, somehow knowing/sensing the erotic charge that surged through me when she said it. Her hand rose from my head, waiting for me to bend to her foot of my own accord. Slowly, I did just that, my lips pressing down onto her nylon covered toes as the smell of her sweaty foot filled my world.

I moved gradually, covering her foot with kisses, each act of submission an electric shock from my lips right though to the end of my cock. I could feel the pressure of my erection pushing at the material of my pants, my underwear spotting with the droplets of precum oozing from the tip.

A few minutes and a change of feet later she stopped me, laughing that she needed to save my mouth for other activities as well. Telling me to follow her, we moved from her foyer into the livingroom where she sprawled out on a chair, legs parted. She motioned me closer, a nod indicating she wanted me to kneel again.

As I moved closed and dropped to my knees, a soft smile played across her lips. "Oh, how sweet, you kneel before me," she smiled that mirthless smile again, "I can see I was right about you, you want this badly don't you."

Every word knifed through me, my conscious mind struggling to come to grips with the urges I didn't understand. I nodded though, agreeing completely. This was what I wanted, her control, her demands, my acquiesce all tied into this huge erotic charge coursing through me.

"Good," she cooed as though speaking to herself. "Move your face up between my thighs, I want you to sniff and lick the crotch of my pantyhose." She lifted her skirt, out not up, so my head slid under and tented underneath. Sniffing, I could smell her excitement, mingled with the sharp scent I was to learn to identify with sweat trapped in folds of flesh, the scent of long hot days and no showers. The heat under her skirt was stifling, her pussy seeming to radiate like a furnace, my rapid panting breath heating it up more. With the sensual caress of the pantyhose and her soft billowy thighs clasping my face I began to lick the crotch, the smoothness of the nylon feeling rough across my tongue, a taste of salt and muskiness coming away with each stroke.

Her hand pressed down on the back of my head, hips beginning to move rhythmically with the faintly felt pressure of my tongue. As her thighs began to quiver slightly she pulled her skirt up, wanting to watch as I continued. As her breathing increased I could tell she was approaching an orgasm, spurring me to push my tongue harder against her pantyhose with each stroke.

Suddenly, with a grunted "No" she pushed my head back. "I want you to drink me when I cum," she snapped, "I want to see your face slick and shiny with my juices. Take off my nylons and panties, and hurry up, I don't want to wait!"

Lifting her ass up off the chair I reached around and pulled the nylons and panties down together, never rising from my kneeling position between her thighs. Even as I got them down to her ankles, she was already pushing my face back between her legs. I had never seen a pussy so wet and sloppy, the puffy swollen out labia slick with the gleam of her cream. I could see a trail already running down the base of her pussy to the crack of her ass. I was simultaneously repulsed and excited, even as she pushed my mouth against her pussy I was opening it and extending my tongue.

The contact, when it happened, sent a cold shiver down my back, the bitter taste of a full day and strong marine scent overwhelming my senses. As I licked, cleaning the accumulated sweat and secretions from her the taste began to change, becoming less bitter as my tongue washed her. The hand on the back of my head pushed harder as she approached orgasm, pressing my nose into her pelvis, crushing it with the rhythmic thrusts of her hips.

Her first orgasm swept through her, her body rigid and quivering, my face pressed so tightly into her sopping pussy that I was unable to breathe. "Drink me," she yelled, her voice muffled by the thighs clamping my head, "Drink every drop!" The cum streamed out of her, bathing my face and pouring across my tongue as I continued to lick her as she came.

Moving my head down I licked at the cream that had leaked into the crack of her ass, once more the taste of sweat and old secretions filled my mouth, this time with a sharp taste of something else, something I didn't want to identify. "Mmmm, that's good," she murmured, "Lick my ass for me, get it nice and clean like you did my pussy. Get your tongue right in there..."

Stretching my tongue out I was able to push it against the ring of her asshole, pressing against it, circling it, it. Finally she pushed my head back and stood up. "Stay right there," she ordered, standing over me, "Don't move from that position." She strode from the room, I heard a door open, and then the sound of a toilet flushing. She strolled back into the room, and resumed standing in front of me. Her pussy at eye level, I could see dewlike drops clinging to the damp pubic hairs. As she moved closer, the smell of urine filled my nose.

"I think you know what to do here," she said, a slow smile playing across her lips. I did nothing, revolted by the thought, but unable/unwilling to rise from my kneeling position. "Do it," she snapped, "You ARE going to be my toilet paper, now start licking my cunt."

Without any further urging, my resistance caved, my desire to degrade myself overwhelming any revulsion I had to performing this disgusting act for her. I heard her laugh as I leaned forward, my mouth opening to caress and clean the salty piss from her pussy. Only then did her hands move to my head, as she moved my face around, making sure I did precisely what she liked.

With that act I sealed my own fate, condemned myself to servitude and degradation, and God help me I crave it more each time. I'm hers to use, which she is happy to take advantage of, and I wouldn't have it any other way. And so I kneel, awaiting her demands, trapped by my own needs.