The Pleasure Principle Ch .01

Three weeks before Christmas and the regional managers had all arrived in Melbourne for our final meeting of the year with the National Manager. Alesha, who had been the National Manager's secretary for over three years, had organised the travel bookings for all.

Alesha and I had built quite a platonic friendship, harmlessly flirting with each other whilst 1100 kilometres apart. She'd even joined several of us for drinks a few times following previous national meetings. Although having just turned 47 compared with my 42 years, Alesha was still definitely young at heart. Since her divorce, she'd had a fantastic relationship with her two children, a boy 16 and a girl 18, who lived with their father. She had a Chinese father and Australian mother, and would realistically be described as solid, although stylish and cute. She was quite proud of her shapely legs and her boobs, which had dominated many telephone conversations.

We'd chatted before about me spending a weekend in her city. This weekend seemed perfect. Alesha even offered me the spare room at her villa for the weekend. I accepted, mainly for the several hundred dollars it would save me, especially as Melbourne was really getting into the Christmas spirit, calling itself the shopping capital of Australia.

She'd tentatively planned an outing or two, including taking me along to a regular Sunday lunch gathering with several of her friends. We made a pact we called 'The Pleasure Principle,' for which we agreed we both needed to relax and enjoy ourselves over the weekend. The main objective of this time was to have fun – no strings attached! This fantastic phrase was picked straight from some movie neither of us could remember!

With all the week's meetings completed, I finished some paperwork, returned a few outstanding calls and phoned to check in on my staff still at work 1100 kilometres away. Finally my working week was done. We were all scheduled to attend a XMAS function at the local tavern underneath the office building.

Alesha had to attend a last minute emergency change meeting with her boss. Alone, I cruised down to the bar where the party had already started. Shooting the breeze with several of my colleagues and acquaintances in a purely social situation was a pleasant relief, and several drinks slipped easily over the tonsils, helping me relax and unwind.

Having phoned ahead to ensure we were all still there, Alesha and the boss arrived just as I was setting the tray down on the table. She put on her reindeer ears and drained her glass in two big gulps and allowed me to fill it again from the bottle I'd just purchased at the bar, a nice, smooth, four-year old West Australian Verdelho.

The formalities of the evening were completed after another hour or so, and most of the locals begged off and left. A small core group from the office, who obviously drank together fairly often, remained and continued drinking at the same pace we'd set earlier. The bar staff brought trays of nibbles around during the evening, so at least a little of the alcohol was being soaked up. I was three quarters sloshed and still drinking. Ho, ho, ho!

Our group has shrunk to just three, and with closing time approaching we staggered to the nearby cab rank, collecting my luggage on the way. Dropping Billy off at his place we continued to Alesha's. She'd mentioned before that she sometimes got horny after a lot of wine, but now I experienced it, as she virtually jumped me as soon as Billy exited the cab. She stuck her tongue down my throat, climbed on top of me and thrust her not inconsiderable chest in my face. Christmas can release the inhibitions somewhat, don't you think?

It took me a few drunken seconds to realise what was happening, (a running commentary would have been a little quicker) but once I cottoned on, I decided that we'd see what developed, although at a slightly reduced pace.

An intoxicated, aroused woman cannot be denied. She was writhing around on me, grinding her crotch into mine, running her hands over my chest, and undoing my shirt (ripping two buttons off during her attempt). I was really just a passenger (if you'll pardon the pun) at this time, whilst Alesha was a wild woman. Grinding herself on my leg, she then grabbed my hand and slid it up her stockinged leg. Although unable to reach between her legs, I was able to massage her thighs and butt underneath her skirt. This brought on another round of gyrating and humping of my leg. She then pulled the hem of her blouse out of her skirt. Taking the hint, I ran my hand up over her slightly moist tummy and felt the swell of her breast through the taut material of her bra. I scraped my fingers around the base of the bra, another move which got a reaction. With my other hand I started to undo the bottom few buttons, until I was able to see the sheer material of her bra. My left hand started to caress the now visible breast. I noticed it had a front clasp, and after managing to unclip it, slid the cup of the bra off one magnificent breast.

Leaning forward, I took the nipple in my mouth and sucked gently. She went wild! She bucked again, dragged her crotch back and forth over my leg. I leaned back in the seat and took in the sight. It was easily a D cup or bigger, with a dark brown areola about 2½ inches across, topped with an almost pinkish nipple, which looked exactly like a pencil eraser. She pulled the back of my head forward and mashed my face into the breast. I tried not to disappoint; she clearly loved me kissing, licking and even lightly biting the nipple.

"Harder" was the instruction to me with a nipple in my mouth. I nipped harder.

"Ooh yeah, babe! Like that!" came the feedback.

She kept rubbing herself on my leg, even to the stage of mashing her groin on my knee, for that extra stimulation. She leant forward and started to nip my chest and shoulders, popping another button off my shirt as she pulled it out of the way.

Reaching down she ran her hand over my hardening prick, her eyes widening a little when she realised I seemed to have a reasonable package. She rearranged herself over both my legs, grabbed my hand again and placed in directly between her legs.

"See how wet I am," she grunted. "Help a girl out, will you?"

I reached both hands under and grasped the waistband of her pantyhose. (Bloody passion killers, I thought). I made sure I grabbed her panties as well and started to pull them down her thighs. The driver, by the way, must have had a great view, as Alesha's skirt had risen and was now bunched around her waist.

Anyway, she hissed "Touch me, now!" so I stopped trying to remove the clothes and cupped my hand over her mound, my fingers dancing briefly between her legs. Holding the elbow of this hand, she thrust her hips forward. The message was clear to me now, and I inserted my finger all the way.

"More, more, more!" she panted, as I placed two extra fingers inside her drenched pussy. She started to thrust more and more. Luckily for her, the skirt had fallen just a little, allowing the driver to better concentrate on the road. The aroma of arousal and sweat was nearly overpowering. I moved my fingers in and out, and pressed my thumb on her clit (or near it), finally causing an exclamation from Alesha.

"Ooohh, fuck!" and then she came, leaning forward again and clamping her teeth on my chest, not too hard, but it was definitely gonna leave a mark.

Fortunately, we arrived back at her place. I unloaded my luggage from the car. I then reached in for Alesha, underwear still around her thighs, and helped her out. The driver wasn't sure whether to wish me luck, or hope I could escape from this sexual predator. Anyway, I paid him and we staggered inside.

The alcohol and the orgasm had just about done her in. She pointed out the spare room, towel already on the bed, told me where the kitchen was and then raced into the bathroom, losing the intake of her evening, both ways.

I took a couple of Panadol from my bag and placed them with a big glass of water next to her bed. Taking a couple myself, I shut the door to the spare room, used the ensuite bathroom and fell into bed. I heard her shower run, so figured she was on the mend. I dropped off to sleep, wearing a pair of boxers and t-shirt.

I knew I slept pretty soundly, and especially after a few drinks, but I didn't realise just how deeply until this night. I started gradually coming round, noticing it was still dark with just a little light coming through the doorway. Next, I became aware that I'd lost all the blankets; then that my t-shirt was sitting bunched around my armpits. Finally, through the alcoholic fog, I realised I was getting a blowjob.

Alesha must have recovered following her purge and shower. She'd removed my boxers, and was now applying herself to my manhood, now pointing straight up and feeling pretty hard to me.

"Hi ya, gorgeous!" she murmured with her mouth full of me. "After the cab trip, I had to see my present."

Now, who's gonna say, "No!" to a woman with obvious experience and expertise in the art of blowjobs, who has over 5½" of you down her throat. Certainly not this little black duck, and certainly not when she's wearing a filmy baby-doll outfit, totally see through..

Now fully awake, the intensity grew quickly. Combined with the view of a woman's head bobbing up and down over your crotch, the action of her mouth and tongue had me close. She raked her fingers from the edge of my t-shirt down my chest and stopping with a graze to my scrotum. Three times this happened. Reapplying herself fully to my erection, I felt she was trying (and maybe successfully) to increase my length, pulling the skin down, whilst she sucked hard on the head.

Just when I thought it was time, she let go of everything and stared at my bobbing erection, just as it started to ooze a drop of two of pre-cum. Twisting her head sideways, she licked up and down the shaft, following the line of the dark vein on the bottom. Darting her moist pink tongue in and out of her mouth, she flicked it over the swollen head, licking off drops of fluid, as they appeared.

Once she appeared to have visually committed my manhood to memory, she wrapped her thumb and forefinger around the base and guided it back into her warm mouth. With my hips following the motion of her head, I was unable to contain myself any longer. She pulled her head away after the first spurt, and milked me until there was none left inside me, but lots pooled on my stomach and her hand.

"Mmmm, not bad," she said, referring to the taste as she grabbed some tissues and helped clean me up. She then leaned over me, gave me a quick kiss and pulled the covers up.

"Now we're even! I came; you came," and went back into her room. Apart from a couple of grunts, I'd said nothing.

I allowed my brain to spin for a while in the dark, but then drifted off to sleep, quietly letting my thoughts and plans for the weekend take shape.

The next day we awoke, dressed and headed down to St Kilda. Not a word was spoken about the night before. We ate a leisurely breakfast and walked around the pier, taking in a couple of rides, checking out some of the local history and doing some window-shopping. Walking back to the car we passed a "sex shop." You know the ones, plain opaque windows with a red X on them, a single door with a buzzing neon sign over it.

These shops sell x-rated magazines, sex aids such as blow-up dolls, dildos of all shapes and sizes and they even have a few rooms for watching movies. Joking about different toys and our experiences with them, we arrived back at her car. Although older and more sexually aggressive than I, she had no experience with shops like this and had never even walked inside one.

After a few taunts and dares, she finally relented. Watching her reaction as we walked inside was quite a turn-on for me, and her reaction to the explicit pictures on the magazines was somewhat amusing. But her main reaction was to the "toy" section for women. There were plain vibrators, basic dildos, dildos with knobs, dildos with clit-massagers, big dildos and huge dildos, and various other dildo's made of plastic, metal and rubber, all with varying textures and colours.

"Lots of women buy these things?" was her question.

"All the time" came the simultaneous answer from me and the fairly cute girl behind the counter.

"What sort of thing are you after, honey?" was the next question asked by this not unattractive girl in her mid-twenties. Alesha, surprisingly, appeared a little embarrassed.

"Can we just browse a little while, please?" I asked with a halfway wink. She nodded and returned to her magazine. I led her over to a corner counter and named most of the toys on display, to varying levels of surprise from Alesha. There were butt plugs, anal strings (up to 10 balls on a long string, about two inches apart, which are inserted into the anus and then removed one by one after a period of time), leather g-strings, leather g-strings with dildos attached and many other toys too numerous to mention. However, I pointed her towards something I'd actually had recent experience with, Ben-Wa balls.

These are two smooth balls about one inch in diameter each connected by a string or piece of silk. These balls are also hollow with a weight inside each one. A woman inserts them into the vagina and then goes about her business. Her vaginal muscles hold them in place. Every time she moves around, the inside ball touches the outside ball and provides a sensation. If both balls touch each other, the effect is multiplied. These aren't for a quick orgasm, but heighten the sexual feelings over a period of time.

I cajoled her and dared her, then took her over to the girl behind the counter and we discussed them there. Finally, I offered to buy them for XMAS, providing she "obeyed" my commands for the rest of the day. She looked a little concerned. The shop assistant overheard us and helped convince Alesha of the merits. The shop assistant then suggested she could use them straightaway, rather than waiting for Santa. They walked out the back to sterilise and insert. Five minutes later, they returned, both looking suspiciously flushed, she nodded that they were "on-board" and we left, after me promising that it would be a totally enjoyable day for both of us.

During the walk back to the car, she must have stopped ten times to catch her breath. She told me that the girl had insisted on staying there after washing the balls, and even helped insert them properly, making contact with Alesha's wet lips. She had been feeling randy ever since entering the shop, so the shop assistant's help, although short, was extremely exciting. I made a mental note to ring and thank the girl later.

"They're really pushing the right buttons," was her comment. Her mobile rang. Putting it to her ear, she said, "Sure baby, yeah, we're not far. We'll catch the tram and see you in ten minutes."

Turning to me she told me, "My daughter, Cherie wants me to meet her and her new boyfriend for lunch. We'll just catch the 522 tram and be there in 5 minutes."

We had to hurry to make the tram, which was crowded when we climbed aboard. She was trembling and starting to sweat.

"Geez! When you run," was all she said, clearly getting hot and bothered by the balls.

Her legs nearly buckled when we alighted a few minutes later after the bumping of the tram through the streets. Meeting her daughter and boyfriend required introductions all round. Cherie asked her mum if there was anything wrong.

"No, honey. I'm fine. We just had to rush for the tram," was Alesha's response. I knew better. We took our seats inside the high-backed booth.

I gave silent double thanks; firstly because the café used long tablecloths and secondly because Alesha was wearing a colourful, silk sarong. No one would be able to see. Whilst the others were busy staring at the menus, deciding what to order, I unwrapped the sarong under the table, giving me access to her legs. Surreptitiously running my hand over her legs, I allowed my fingers to brush her panties. She gasped. The waitress came and took our orders. Her daughter went to the bathroom, whilst her new boyfriend walked over to select music from the juke-box.

Alone again, I took the opportunity and moved my hand over her heated mound, rubbing fairly vigorously. Her hips developed a life of their own and her breathing changed. She feebly attempted to brush my hand away, but I increased pressure and pace. She tried to hide the shortness of breath, covering her mouth, but over the top she went. She then pretended to sneeze, masking her flush and the sounds she'd made, just as the waitress returned with our drinks. I'm sure the waitress was a little suspicious, because the sneeze sounded wrong, but she didn't say anything, just gave Alesha a curious glance.

I reached in again, put my hand back on her panties, leaned over and whispered, "Take them off," as I grabbed the waistband of her g-string, and started to pull one side down.

"No."

"Yes," and with a quick yank, I ripped the waistband, rendering the article useless. Her eyes went wide, and she squirmed as I pulled the remnants of her underwear off, slipping it in my pocket, just as our luncheon guests returned to the table.

During lunch I was able to place my hand between her thighs on three other occasions, ensuring each time that she remained highly charged and really wet. I think she was also starting to look at me in a different light.

"You should take it easy, Mum. You're quite flushed and I think you might be coming down with something," were the parting words from her daughter as we said our goodbyes later and walked to the tram for the return journey. On our own, Alesha tried to tear into me for what I'd done, but I could tell she was only half-hearted in her admonishing. Also, when standing on the tram, I once again reached in slyly and tapped between her legs, feeling the balls vibrate inside her. Her shiny eyes were betraying her feelings, as was the thin line of perspiration forming on her top lip.

All too soon, we reached the car and climbed in for the drive home. Now, I had almost free reign. At the first red light we reached, I instructed her to lift her butt, so I could raise her sarong, meaning she sat directly on the cool vinyl seat. This also meant easier access for whatever devious plans I might come up with.

Before we proceed, I should mention the benefits of driving an older car. Following a split with a man some two or three years before, she was left with a fully restored 1972 Holden Kingswood sedan, its original specifications included a handbrake between the driver and the door, a column-shift automatic, and a bench seat. Bench seats with a column-shift are fantastic for allowing the passenger to get close to the driver.

While waiting at the red light just prior to joining the freeway, I instructed her to slide the seat back as far as possible. These cars catered for drivers up to 6'7" tall. My instructions to a driver about 5'2" required her to sit on the very edge of the seat to reach the pedals. My plan was working perfectly, as only her cheeks were perched on the seat. I lifted the sarong back and stroked her thighs and legs as sensuously as I could. I reached in and tugged the string on the balls, warning her not to let them out. I stroked her lips gently, but insistently.

You've got the picture, right? She's stretched out with her naked butt cheeks on the edge of the bench seat, toes straining to maintain pressure on the accelerator. She's also trying to drive through the sensations being aroused by my stroking and also concentrating on keeping the balls inside her vagina. I'm almost surprised we didn't have an accident.

Not content to just sit there, I lifted the bottom of her knit top and undid the front clasp on her bra. With plenty of room to manoeuvre, I was able to slide the bra off one arm and then the other, finally removing it and having the top resting above her fully exposed breasts, which I proceeded to knead and pleasure, even leaning in to suckle at one stage.