Drool

"Turn to the side, on your tip toes, now bend at the knees into a half sit. Good. Now, arch your back and throw your head back. Fantastic. Hold that position," Jane said as she rapidly moved her fingers up and down her pussy. She gazed at the young Asian beauty, her small body straining in the difficult pose, strands of her black hair sticking to her elegant neck, her dark nipples pushed into the air.

"Now, face the wall, bend at the waist, keeping your legs straight. Get on your tip toes again and spread your legs a little more. Oh, that's good. Hold that."

"Okay good. Now, face me. Squat down with your legs as far apart as you can get them and your ass as close to the ground as you can go. Wow. Yoga has really worked on your flexibility. Okay, now hold that pose. Arch your back a little more." Joanie was sweating, her muscles tensed against the strain of these awkward poses, her toes worked fiercely to maintain balance. She liked having Jane look at her; she liked seeing that Jane was thrusting her hips and masturbating as if Joanie was a model in a porn magazine. She pictured her body as if she were looking in a mirror, her smooth calves, the muscles in her thighs, the ripples in her abdomen.

For the next thirty minutes, Joanie was put through multiple poses, forced to bend and twist, to get down on all fours, to do everything on tip toes with her back arched. She was sweating profusely, her muscles feeling the agony, her pussy now tingling with the excitement of submission. Finally, in her last pose—on her knees, feet tucked under her ass, legs shoulder width apart, body thrown all the way backward so that her shoulders touched the ground, her arms spread to either side, palms down—she heard Jane say, "Oh no, oh no, oh no. YES!" as she furiously moved two fingers in and out of her pussy, squeezing her tits hard with the other hand.

After recovering momentarily, she now turned to Joanie and instructed her to get on the bench, lie on her back and hold her legs behind her head. Joanie did as she was told. Jane, after pausing to take in the view, flexed her tongue into a sharp point and forced it into Joanie's asshole over and over again until the muscle loosened and she could thrust it in deeply. Joanie began to whimper softly. Jane then moved up to her pussy, pulling the exposed clit into her mouth like an oyster, then licking up and down the inside of her lips, slowly, quickly, slowly and then sharpening her tongue again, she began to fuck her pussy rapidly, both women moaning in ecstasy. Jane's jaw ached, but the girl tasted dark and musky, like a sweaty armpit and Jane found it intoxicatingly dirty; but also, she was aroused by the feeling that she was learning the most intimate secrets of this total stranger.

Her tongue was buried, her nose rubbing against her clit. The girl strained and whimpered, but held her legs steady as Jane ate her hot wet pussy, tasting the same juices her husband had tasted. Then, wanting to reveal all of her secrets, Jane moved quickly, straddling Joanie's face in the sixty-nine position, letting Joanie taste her salty asshole before putting her cunt over Joanie's face and pushing down hard. Joanie, already struggling with the suffocating air of the sauna, now struggled against the wet flesh, but with every desperate attempt to escape, she stimulated the swollen pussy. Meanwhile, Jane continued to eat Joanie's clit and then, grabbing a nearby water bottle, she shoved in slowly into the loosened asshole, which caused Joanie's hips to wriggle to accommodate the square end. From there, toes were curled, flesh was gripped and squeezed as the women moved in rhythm, eating and drinking salty, sweet pussy.

In the final movement of this erotic symphony, Jane moved Joanie so that their pussies could rub together and the two women slammed their pubic bones together, their backs arched, heads back, hair thickened with sweat and humidity swished against their opened shoulder blades, their asses hot against the wooden bench. The softness of their pussy lips moved wetly against each other's, opening with each stroke. They moved together, kissing indulgently and fully, getting their tongues deep inside, pausing only to pant in the hot suffocating room, or to moan loudly. The last notes were screams, literal screams, that shook their bodies and shattered the silence of the big empty house.

As the girls dried themselves, their hair thick with sweat, stuck in strands to their faces, Jane invited Joanie to a party they were having at her house the next evening. Joanie was excited: a whole new experience had been opened up to her. She thought briefly of Doug and tried to call him. There was no answer. He must have gone out, she guessed. Then, she thought, since he was already out, there was no need to rush home. She promised herself that she would let him fuck her later to repay him for coming home late.

SIX

Having come mightily, relieving the various stresses of his day, Tom had left mother and daughter-in-law alone on the patio where they continued to chat idly, now both showered and dressed in soft velvet bathrobes.

"God," said Paige, "I just love that kind of fucking. The dirtier, the better." As the words escaped her mouth, Paige was a little embarrassed: it sounded a little cliché.

Her mother-in-law only smiled graciously, "I know what you mean. It's nice to lose control every once in a while. Hey, come to think of it, that's how I make a living. People come to me and I make sex the absolute only thing they can possibly think of."

"That's true."

"I mean, there's no way you can be thinking of what your boss said that afternoon when you're tied up and getting a spanking."

"That's right. But, there's more to it still. You lose everything that makes you human. It's just so raw."

"Mmm," said Ms. Dawson, suddenly feeling as if she and her daughter-in-law were on exactly the same wave length. The women went silent for a moment and Paige thought all about the pleasures of becoming pure instinct while Ms. Dawson admired her long, strong legs, her beautiful calves, and her sensual feet, with toes painted blood red.

After thinking philosophically for a few moments, Paige's thoughts turned to the realistic application of those thoughts. Finally, after debating with herself, she decided to bring up a subject that had always intrigued her, something Anthony had told her about once, but that she had never tried: enemas.

"Meg," she said, suddenly changing her tone from idle chatter to something more serious, "I was wondering if you would give me an enema tonight."

"Oh my," said Ms. Dawson, "so few people ask me for those these days. I would love to."

Ms. Dawson didn't give her any time to recant.

As she was being directed to a certain room in the house, Paige suddenly realized that this was happening; she didn't know what she had expected. It was all so immediate. She was led into a small tiled room that she had never been in before. She didn't even know it was a part of the house. Ms. Dawson asked her to take off her robe, while she did the same.

"Lay on the bench," Ms. Dawson commanded, now taking the stern tone of an expert in her field. Paige lay on the bench while Ms. Dawson got her things together behind her. She heard running water and the movement of beakers and tubes and she felt the sweat of anticipation creep into her asshole and spread out over her naked tits. She felt the strange feeling of going for a physical at the doctor's office, of sitting naked on that bit of paper, waiting and wondering what was about to happen to her. Her heart was beating in her ears.

"Okay," said Ms. Dawson, now holding a giant syringe full of a creamy liquid, "Please lay back and spread your legs as wide as you can." Paige did as she was told, and Ms. Dawson inserted the syringe into her asshole and slowly squeezed the liquid into the girl who moaned softly and whimpered a little. Paige felt the rushing of warmth into her ass; she began to feel an immediate pressure, which was strangely pleasurable, but caused her to sweat all over. Ms. Dawson pulled out the syringe, but held a finger firmly over the darkened asshole. A rivulet of creamy liquid ran down her crack.

The process was repeated again. Ms. Dawson began to move her fingers over Paige's pussy, burying her fingers in her thick black swatch of hair. She moved her hand up the girl's abdomen, increasing the pressure and the strange pleasure. She grabbed her tits and squeezed them hard. Paige cried out and released a little of the strange juice from her asshole.

"Keep it in," Ms. Dawson scolded. "Now I'll have to fill you again."

"Oh," Paige moaned, "but barely any came out."

"Don't whine. I know what I'm doing."

She filled another syringe and slowly squeezed its contents into Paige's asshole. She felt so full and immediately so had the uncomfortable feeling of pressure, which was magnified as Ms. Dawson pushed her fingers into her pussy, feeling the heat and moving against the girl's clenched muscles.

After a few moments, Ms. Dawson walked around to the back of the bench and, without much warning, positioned her pussy over Paige's face so that the girl could not breathe at all. Paige began to struggle, but Ms. Dawson was extremely strong and she couldn't get away. Paige had a feeling of intense discomfort: she broke into a cold sweat, explosively voided her bowels, spraying white creamy liquid all over the small room, she pissed uncontrollably and then came unexpectedly, all while slowly feeling the blackness and the wildness of death by suffocation creep into the edges of her consciousness.

When she recovered, choking and spitting and feeling completely debased, she demanded that Ms. Dawson take her to her bedroom and fuck her any way she wanted. She had never felt so exhilarated, so completely, and unbelievably in the moment. She wanted all sorts of things to happen to her, things that she wouldn't expect, things that would shock her if she even thought about them on a normal day; she wanted to worship this woman, to do anything she commanded.

SEVEN

Ms. Dawson agreed to Paige's demands. Soon the women were in her inner sanctum, her bedroom, with an array of dildos laid out in front of them.

Ms. Dawson said, "Did you know that your ass can come all by itself, without even touching your pussy. In fact," she lectured, "do you know the secret to anal sex? Relaxation. I think I should help you to relax." With that, she began rubbing her daughter-in-law's big heavy tits, pinching her nipples, continuing her whispered notes on the secrets to anal sex as her daughter-in-law began to moan and sway, getting into it. Ms. Dawson spit on her tits and rubbed the wad around as Paige began to finger her pussy.

"Can you spit in that too?" Paige asked. Ms. Dawson complied and both women watched the gob slide down her lips onto the bed. As Ms. Dawson moved to eat her pussy, Paige began rocking and moaning loudly, reaching back and holding the cast iron headboard.

Inspired by the girl's enthusiasm, Ms. Dawson inserted a finger into Paige's wet, waiting pussy. Paige continued to roll her hips, gyrating madly, moving that startling black thatch of pubic hair by thrusting her hips desperately forward before clenching disappointed back down onto the bed, mimicking the tidal throbs of her building orgasm. Ms. Dawson added more fingers to the mix: two, then three, then four. The girl rocked joyfully, almost ecstatically against her hand, seeking friction, moaning with abandon. Completing the pleasure, Ms. Dawson leaned over and carefully applied the pressure of her skilled tongue to her swelling clit, to the pools and crevices at the top of her pussy, which were rarely attended to.

Ms. Dawson adjusted her daughter-in-law so that all her weight was resting on her upper back and her body was folded over itself, her knees resting on the bed on either side of her ears. The position made the gawky girl look all the more vulnerable and open: her pussy lips spread unashamedly, even her asshole was revealed, forced out from its shadows into the harsh light, looked at directly, challenged to stay and resist the urge to be enfolded again.

Paige felt exposed and naked, as she had when Ms. Dawson was giving her an enema. It was that feeling that excited her, which she craved: to have everything stripped away, to be seen, to be smelt, to be tasted, to be judged, and then hopefully, to be fucked.

Ms. Dawson began to run her tongue flatly and wetly from the girl's pussy, along the outer rim of her ass crack, tasting and teasing the soft, delicate flesh, then dipping sharply into the quivering asshole, feeling it budge slightly. Soon, as Paige's asshole started to loosen more, Ms. Dawson was thoroughly applying her wet tongue in and out of her asshole, pushing it deeply, tasting the warm, unbelievably soft texture that exists inside a girl.

Without missing a beat, Ms. Dawson grabbed a thick pink butt plug and softly pushed it in to Paige's asshole. The girl moaned loudly, calling out and cursing happily. But, after it was in, Ms. Dawson suddenly got up and began to put on her robe.

"Hey," said Paige, still lying with her legs behind her ears on the bed. "Where are you going? Why don't you fuck me?"

"Oh, in a minute dear. I'll be back. In the meantime, just let that plug stretch you out. Remember, relaxation. Close your eyes and focus on the pressure and the intrusion."

Paige did as she was told and buried her fingers into her pussy for good measure.

In the kitchen, Ms. Dawson poured two glasses of red wine. From the drawer in the kitchen she grabbed a rubber cock and strapped it on under her robe.

When she returned with the wine, Paige was still in the same position, her fingers diving in and out of her pussy, the butt plug still stuck deep inside of her.

"Good girl," said Ms. Dawson. "This wine is for after. Trust me, you'll need it."

"Bring it on, mother," she said lustily.

Ms. Dawson took a position over Paige that would have challenged the muscles and balance of far younger women. Almost crouching over her daughter-in-law, she replaced the plug with the rubber of the strap-on, forcing her way into the well prepared asshole. There was little time for Paige to gasp and moan. Quickly, Ms. Dawson began to fuck the girl vigorously, loving the way the leather of the strap-on rubbed at her pussy, loving the way Paige's heavy tits bounced and the surprised look on her face, coupled with the physical concentration of trying to remain in her position despite the jostling from above.

The cock connected with that gorgeous spot inside her. She took her hands away from her pussy completely, grabbing the headboard again with both hands. She pushed and braced against the pounding cock, she yelled out and cursed for all she was worth, she squeezed her big tits, wringing them and pinching them, she begged for more, she begged for mercy, she started to sweat behind her knees, she wanted the world to know that she was being fucked and it was the greatest goddamn thing that have ever fucking happened. She came. Though she had wished it would never end, Ms. Dawson pulled the rubber from her newly navigated asshole and forced it quickly into her throat, surprising her again. But, she ate it with absolute relish, treasuring the taste, being overpowered in all her senses, vowing to remember that taste for a lifetime.

"Wine?" said Ms. Dawson at last.

"That would be great. Do you have any cigarettes?"

"I'll get them. Drink up," she said, giving her glass of fine red wine.

EIGHT

After zipping up, regaining his composure, and putting his baseball cap back on low over his eyes, Anthony exited the booth and took off down the hallway at a brisk pace. He felt somewhat satisfied, at least temporarily quenched, but the events of the night had done as much to reawaken as they had to satiate. As he stepped from the dark shadows of the back hallway into the strange pulsing red of the main room, all the while looking at the floor, he ran straight into a man coming the other way. This man was dressed in women's soccer shorts, flip flops and a thin tank top; it was Doug. The two were going about muttering their apologies without making eye contact when Doug remembered his mission for coming here in the first place was to be seen. He said boldly, "Excuse me, sir. I'm sorry."

Anthony recognized the voice from the afternoon and looked up startled. "Oh, good God," he said. Being seen at the Gloryhole was absolutely not what Anthony had in mind.

Realizing this was not the place one stands around to chat about sports or the weather, Doug jumped in. "Listen," he said leaning closer, "we never really got a chance to get to know each other this afternoon." Brushing Anthony's forearm he added, "Maybe we can change all that."

In the throbbing red of the club, Anthony's mind twirled, but not too far. An opportunity was an opportunity and they didn't come up as often as they used to, now that he was a married professional a long way from his university days.

"Is there somewhere we could go?"

"A friend and I are getting a room at the motel around the corner."

"A friend?"

"Yes," said Doug smiling. Then looking over Anthony's shoulder into the hallway behind him, he added, "I think you know him, too."

Mr. Ryan appeared, still adjusting the buckle on his white jeans. He smiled as he saw Doug with Anthony. "Doug," he said, "I got here early, so I thought I'd use the amenities in the back." He winked at Anthony. "So, are we on?"

"We are," said Doug. "The three of us."

The three men entered the dingy hotel room, excited and erect. The room was an orange spectacle: the bedspread, the curtains, the velvet chair in the corner, even the lampshades.

Looking around the room as if it were the Ritz, he said: "Welcome to the Centerfold, boys." He sat on the orange chair in the corner. Anthony took a seat on the bench, but Doug remained in the middle of the room, feeling both men watching him. He started to rub his hard cock through his shorts, moving his hips, pulling teasingly at his waistband, moving his hands over his chest, pulling his tank top up over his belly button. The men hungrily ate up the show, rubbing themselves through their pants.

Doug loved the feeling of control, the wild adrenaline of being the center of attention. He loved the wild dizzying feeling of being out on the ledge, the shame of being seen in a compromising position, the anxious anticipation of what was about happen. These feelings caused him to break out in a cold sweat, the electric tentacles of arousal coursing through his naked flesh. He pulled his shorts low, revealing the well defined lines on the inside of his hips, and just the very hint of his cock and the shadow of his neatly trimmed pubic hair.

To continue the rush of feelings created by dancing in front of these two men and to push it further, he moved dramatically over to Anthony and then kneeling between his legs, he unbuttoned the top button of his jeans, releasing the dark, hard cock into the orange light.

With much melodrama, he took the cock into his mouth, moving slowly over the head at first, pushing his tongue into the grooves of the thick cock. After several moments of working up a mouthful of saliva over the head, he took the cock deeply into his throat, moving it rapidly in and out, moving his fingers along the uppermost part of Anthony's thigh, seeking out the sweaty shadows where his ball sack hung against his leg.

Anthony was enjoying himself. He took off his shirt and leaned further back on the bed. He began to moan softly and he pushed his fingers through Doug's sun bleached hair. Gently, he urged Doug forward, begging him to take him in deeper. With his other hand he rubbed his own body, tenderly caressing the ripples of his own body, appreciating the way the light made him look, feeling completely absorbed in the moment; his cock, dark and brooding, was well taken care of by the soft, sensual lips of this boy between his legs.