A Farewell to Alms

I have to admit, at this point I was getting a hard-on in spite of how ridiculous the whole scene was. I thought for sure she’d chicken out at this point. “Proud Mary” faded out. Shit, I thought, this might bring her to her senses.

The familiar chord echo of Barry White’s, “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Babe” rang out in the room. Natalie smiled and began again. As she reached back and unsnapped the bra, I could feel my shoulders starting to shake. It was just hysterically funny.

I was scared to death she’d see me laughing, get pissed and stop. But the room was so dark, she couldn’t see me much at all. Besides, I think she was lost in a reverie, imagining a bunch of old guys out there beating off or something. Come to think of it, I guess that image might not have been too far off.

The bra straps slid from her shoulders down the smooth skin of her arms. My laughing stopped momentarily by the sight I took in. Man, she had fantastic tits. They were large and firm, but soft enough to move, bouncing with every dance step she performed.

My dick was struggling angrily in its confines at this point. It wanted out. I figured, what the hell, she was getting naked for me, why should I be shy?

I unzipped and pulled it out. She danced closer to see what I was doing. She liked it, and smiled to acknowledge it. She turned away from me and peeled the hose down over her naked ass. Again, the girl had a fine body. The ass was full, curved, but not at all fat.

Tiny Dancer stepped out of her hose and was completely naked for me now. She stepped back into her high-heels and danced seductively over to me. She straddled my hips, and ground the warm wetness—yes, she was definitely wet—down on the length of my aching dick.

I was struggling now not to cum. I palmed a large mammary and sucked it into my mouth. She moaned and cradled my head into her bosom.

“I like that,” she whispered.

I gently bit the nipple. She groaned just slightly and murmured:

“Why don’t we go into the bedroom.”

Natalie climbed off me and helped me to my feet. She looked down at my throbbing dick and stroked it gently, stopping at the knob of it. Then she used her fingers to tickle it and dab its mouth, pulling off a sticky string of precum. She brought the fingers up to her lips and smeared them with the shiny gloss of my secretions. First one, then both the sticky digits slipped into her mouth.

“You taste good,” she said matter-of-factly.

I brought her to me and kissed her. Her mouth was wide open and our tongues played together hungrily. I could taste myself on her lips.

Then she broke the kiss, took me by the hand, and led me to the bedroom.

****

Chapter 5: Zealots in the Bedroom

Leaving a trail of clothes that led from the living room to the bedroom, we finally entered Natalie’s chambers.

I was naked now and my dick was full, stiff, and wagging before me, like the masthead of a ship heading to port. I climbed on the bed and Natalie lay back and spread herself, as if she’d done this a hundred times before.

As I began to mount her, I could feel the head of my cock poking into her warm, swollen and sticky lips. In one lunge I was in her, nearly to the hilt.

Instantly our hips began working away to further lodge my organ into her depths. I pulled up from her and got under her thighs, pulling them up, and pinning her knees back nearly to her shoulders. I wanted to penetrate her as deeply as possible.

My hips began pounding into her. The sound of her grunts, as well as the loud slapping of our loins, made me hotter and hornier with each thrust into her.

As I looked down onto her beautiful face, it bore the mixed expression of lust and pain as I banged myself deeply into her. She looked up at me and seemed helpless under my assault. It just made me pound all the harder. She grew very wet. I could feel her fluids making my balls sticky as they slapped into the crack of her ass.

I kept thinking of her little speech a few weeks ago, about Christianity, her values and virginity. It just got me hotter. Then—suddenly—I felt like every bit of frustration, irritation, and lust burst from my loins into hers. I came, voluminously. I felt like it wouldn’t stop. I spewed more and more into her...then finally, I was done.

I dropped myself onto her. We both gasped for air, our lungs heaving heavily, struggling to regain the energy we had spent in our mating.

When we settled, I felt like I was going to fall into a deep sleep. I could feel myself deflating within her, and I tried to pull myself out and off of her.

She held me close:

“No, not yet,” she whispered in my ear, “I like you in me.”

Natalie wrapped her long legs around my hips, holding me firmly to her, in a leg-lock. I could feel her pussy lips sucking on my dick, trying to bring it back to life.

She wanted more.

I wasn’t sure that I did. I was tired, and I had vented all the pent up lust I had for her. I just felt peaceful now. But there was no doubt, she was still horny. It was as if I had fallen into the web of a very, very horny Spider Lady. It was now Natalie who wanted to make use of me.

Slowly it was dawning on me, why all the Christian crap. This girl had within her the soul of a raging nymphomaniac. Her religion was the brake pedal for her desires.

She sucked on my neck. I pulled away. The last thing I needed was to go to work, a forty-plus-year-old guy, with a hickey.

“Fuck me again,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Sure. But let’s take a rest for a few minutes. We got all night.”

I pulled away from her and rolled over on my back, looking up at the ceiling. I felt good. I was slaked in sweat and in Natalie’s juices.

If the other parishioners at her church only knew, I thought, male membership would be going up in droves—not to mention the male members themselves.

“You were good,” she offered in the dark.

“Thanks Ma’am,” I kidded her. “All in a night’s work.”

“You’re quite the worker,” she giggled.

“Well Ma’am, I’m just concerned I don’t become a workaholic, if you know what I mean.”

She was silent to the last remark for a good minute or two.

“I sometimesdo worry,” she whispered.

“About what?”

“You know, liking it too much.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I certainly wasn’t worried about her liking it too much, that’s for sure.

In the dark, I could see her knees silhouetted against the pale moonlight streaming in from the window beside the bed. They were spread. The bed was rocking gently. I realized she was playing with herself in the dark.

“You are a horny little thing, aren’t you?”

“God, yes...” she hissed.

I felt funny lying there while she was diddling herself. It was the kind of thing that was even too private for a lover to eavesdrop on. Also, I felt kind of like—hey, that’s my job.

In the dark, I heard her exhale heavily, then moan:

“Mmmmm...”

By this time, I was hard and horny again listening to her play with herself. But now she wanted to rest.

****

Chapter 6: For Whom the Belt Tolls

“Do you play with yourself a lot?” I asked.

“That’s none of your business.”

She was morphing back into Miss Jeckyll again. After masturbating next to me in the dark, I had asked a question that was much too personal for her sensibilities.

“Oh, I thought it became my business after that little performance you just put on.”

She remained silent. I’m sure she couldn’t think of anything to say. Plus, she knew her bed partner wasn’t taking her propriety too seriously.

I went into the bathroom, took a leak, and splashed some cold water in my face. When I re-entered the bedroom, she was lying propped up on the bed, having a cigarette. The moonlight was strong enough for us to barely make each other out.

I could tell the wheels were turning and thought she might be getting ready to tell me to leave until Miss Hyde was to appear again, sometime in the future.

“Have you ever tied a girl up?”

I sat there in silence. Just when I thought she couldn’t shock me again with her wackiness...she did.

.

“No.”

“Would you like to?” She dragged from her cigarette, seductively.

“Actually, no I wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s like role-playing, I’d feel like a fucking idiot doing it. It’s not sexy; it’s juvenile. Sorry, you don’t have a taker on that one.”

“Well, aren’t you the prissy one?” She tried to say it as a put down, but I could tell that she was the one who felt rejected.

“No. I just think it’s dopey. Sorry.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes while I poured some more whiskey into the coffee cup. I was feeling that maybe being a little drunk with this girl would help.

“Hey look, I’m sorry I won’t tie you up or pretend to be a gorilla or something.... Why don’t I just whip you with my belt? Has a guy ever done that to you?”

“I’m not into pain, ok? I’m not weird. I just like fantasy, that’s all.”

“Have you ever tried pain? Hey, give it a chance. You might like it.”

I was totally bull-shitting her now. Not that I wouldn’t whip her ass, but I really had no intention of doing it that night. And I didn’t think there was a chance she’d go for it after her last comments. I was just trying to get her going a little.

We left that subject and killed a few minutes with some small talk. Then out of the blue she slipped it into the conversation:

“Why would someone want that done to them?”

“What?”

“You know, having someone whip them?”

I could have picked up that signal a mile away.

“Well, you’d be surprised,” I said, with complete seriousness. “Most of the girls I’ve been with really got to loving it. Became like sexy, little alley cats after it.”

I could tell she was turning it over in the dark. Long drags from her cigarette were being exhaled in large puffs toward the ceiling. They almost appeared to be thought-bubbles that carried imponderable, conflicted urges that Miss Jeckyll was turning over and over again.

Throwing out something like being whipped, to Natalie, was like pouring the elixir that might transform her back to Miss Hyde. And I was playing the whole thing straight, sipping my Seagram’s in the dark, like I had forgotten the whole subject. It really brought out the worst in me.

“Would you stop if I didn’t like it?” the red-haired beauty asked softly.

“Stop what?” I bull-shitted.

“You know...whipping me.”

My dick was already getting hard by now—which I’m sure is what she was counting on. But, nonetheless, this was a game I was willing to play with her.

“Of course...” I lied.

“Ok, then...but let’s take it slow. Understand?”

“Sorry. The belt I wore tonight is too thin. It really needs to be one of those thick leather ones to work right.”

Now, I was kind of backing off. I was amused to see that I could get her to do it, but, in reality, I had never done this before in my life. I was just playing with her.

“That’s ok,” she said, as she entered her closet, “John, left one of his here, I think...”

“John...?”

“My fiancé. I told you I was seeing somebody seriously. Remember?”

Fiancé? My mind reeled. However, I managed to sit there in the dark, completely stunned—but not letting on to her—while the ‘bride-to-be’ rummaged through her closet for a belt that I could whip her with.

I thought any minute Allen Funt and the Candid Camera crew were going to run into the room with lights, action, and camera to catch my expression.

“How long have you been engaged,” I asked, with my best Bob Newhart deadpan.

“Ummm...oh, it’s been about half a year now. We’re getting married in June.”

Again, all I could think was any minute she’d break out in laughter, having put me on completely—revenge accomplished!

But no further comment came. I saw a picture on her dressing table. I picked it up and held it to the moonlight. It was a guy, and it wasn’t her brother.

How could I have missed that damn ring?

I didn’t know whether to laugh or run. She had been engaged to this sucker before the first time she and I ever went to dinner!

I replaced the picture and sat back down. There are times in life that you realize you’re participating in an incident that’s stranger than fiction. This was one of those times.

When Natalie re-entered the room with my weapon of choice, I struggled not to show my shocked expression, nor to break out laughing.

I noticed immediately that she wasn’t wearing any ring. Apparently, her family values prohibited her from screwing one guy while wearing the engagement ring of another. I thought to myself that somewhere in there ran an undeniable—though twisted—logic.

‘Venus in Furs’ handed me the belt and then climbed onto the bed on all fours. She positioned her exquisite ass in the air, gave it a little, inviting wiggle, and said:

“Ok. Try it soft first.”

I figured, I better look like I know what the hell I’m doing or I’ll definitely lose her confidence. I thought to myself that, like surgery, when performing S&M it’s likely the performee wants to feel the performer has done this before.

I cracked the belt against my thigh—I figured that was something people who are into this stuff might actually do—then I did it. I whacked the broad leather across Natalie’s impeccable ass.

“Owww...I said start soft,” she hissed, almost turning her ass away from me.

“If it doesn’t sting it won’t work right,” I told her, with a very bullshit, Dr. Kildare-type professionalism in my voice.

“Really?”

“Come on, would I make that up,” I said, totally making it up as I went along.

“Well...ok then...but not too hard,” she hissed in the darkness.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. It’s got to be pretty hard. But the reward is the orgasm of your life.”

From there on in, it was an all out whacking, leather to ass. I could hear her drawing in her breath with each strapping. Her breasts were perfect, shaking beneath her as she took it all.

For me the turn on was obvious. No, I wasn’t the Marquis de Sade or something. But after all the condescending bullshit about ‘family values’ and discussing my ‘behavior’ that I’d put up with for the last few weeks, whipping her ass was very hot and very satisfying. I was getting extremely hard watching Miss Holier-than-Thou writhing under the lash.

After just a couple of minutes, though, I realized her ass was getting really red. I stopped for a second and reached behind her, stroking her sore ass as gently as I could.

How in the hell is she going to explain these marks to John, I wondered...somewhat happily.

Then my fingers stroked down between her thighs. I was amazed to find that she was soaking wet.

Goddamn, I thought. This chick is the hottest slave girl in the harem.

“Ok,” I said, “Stay on all fours, but face your ass to me.”

She readily complied, kind of moaning and whimpering, while repositioning her ass toward my side of the bed.

With Natalie having assumed the position, I placed the head of my cock to the lips of her waiting pussy and drove it home.

“Uhhh...” she bellowed.

I just grabbed her hips and started driving it into her. The rhythmic slapping of my hips to her ass was loud. I wanted to fuck her as hard as I could.

In the mirror over her dresser, I could see her large breasts lurching forward with each buck my hips delivered to her ass. In short time, she was moaning and bucking back.

After several minutes, Natalie threw back her head and stopped suddenly, kind of shivering there. She reached back with one hand, trying to hold my hips still. I delivered one last deep thrust, then ground my hips to her up thrust rear.

I could feel her spasming, squeezing her hot, wet channel down on my dick. I came. As I did, I slapped her ass one more time for good measure and she yelped, loudly.

When the ritual was over she fell face-forward onto the bed and then rolled onto her side. I myself climbed onto the bed and crashed onto my back.

We drifted off, exhausted with our labors.

****

Chapter 7: The 12 Minutes of Sodom

I awoke with a startle. I could feel something warm and wet around my dick. When I tried to peer down at it in the dark, I could see the back of Natalie’s head bobbing towards me and then down again on my shaft.

Her hair was stroking and tickling my abdomen, while she worked away at bringing ‘Little Elvis’ back to life.

As she pleasured me, my arms stretched out on the bed. My hand bumped into something cylindrical and metallic. I grabbed it and held it up to the moonlight. It was a vibrator.

Amazing, I thought. This nympho woke up still horny, after the going-over I gave her, and needed even more.

I couldn’t believe her sex drive. At the rate we were going, we’d cover the entire Kinsey Report in one night. The only way to finally satisfy her, I figured, might be to end the night with a tribute to Catherine the Great and have a horse airlifted in onto trestles.

The sucking and slurping sounds that Natalie was making echoed in the room. She was working my dick like a pro. I felt she was wasting her time on the church-going; she ought to just set up shop and start charging $200 a night.

As she continued servicing me, she held the base of my organ with her hand and twirled her tongue around the knob. She tickled the pee slit of my dick, and then ran her lips along the barrel of it to its base.

From there she grew more creative. I could feel her lapping my balls and sucking each one into her mouth, alternately, a few times. Her lapping tongue began to stretch down below my balls tickling the perineum between my genitals and asshole.

I grunted. It felt good and I wanted to offer her encouragement.

My red haired angel-whore responded, stretching her tongue ever lower. My dick ached it was so hard. She seemed to enjoy teasing me with the age-old question: Would she, or wouldn’t she?

Then her tongue trailed into my ass crack and, after an agonizingly long pause, she began rimming the sensitive ring of my anus. She never ceased to amaze me. It felt great, but, in short order, I was ready to burst. After just a minute or so, she sensed my urgency and brought her mouth back to the head of my dick. She sucked and shucked away just a few times and I let go into her mouth.

She moaned hungrily and swallowed what little discharge I had left to offer her. When done, I was so sensitive I had to gently grab her hair and pull her working tongue off of me.

We lay along side each other in the dark. She grabbed a tissue to wipe her lips of my remains.

“Did you like that?” she asked.

“Who wouldn’t like the Virgin Natalie’s tongue up his ass,” I answered her, matter-of-factly.

“That was very crude,” she responded, testily.

All I could do was start laughing at this point:

“What do you mean? You were the one who did it!”

“Well, it won’t happen again...it...it was an accident anyway.”

Now, I really lost it. It was by far the funniest thing she’d said all evening:

“An accident! What did you get lost down there, make a wrong turn, and wind up with your tongue in my ass?”

She jumped out of bed, lit a cigarette, and stared out the window. I could see her outrage was building.

Suddenly, she spun toward me:

“Look, if your going to continue to be so vulgar, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

It had to be a line she remembered from some romance novel. It certainly didn’t sound like the girl who had asked me to tie her up earlier.

Obviously, she was pissed and embarrassed. And, she was right. I had just been given the blowjob of my life and I was humiliating her in return. But, just the same, her asking me to leave for talking vulgar, after what she’d just done...well, it all sounded pretty ridiculous.

She had no idea how ridiculous it all seemed, though. So, I told her to calm down, and then apologized.

I got up from the bed and thought I’d get dressed and leave. The party was over; the carnival had left town. I had enjoyed every minute of it—the whole sensual carnival that played out in Natalie’s bedroom—including every bizarre sideshow she’d taken me to, but it was time to go.