Tavo's Tales - Sandra

I am not a good man. I have a cruel streak which surfaces when I gain advantage, especially with women. It languors in the depths of my subconscious, patient but always ready for sport. And when it senses opportunity, it is creative in its response, a choreograph of manipulations intended to seduce and dominate.

I don't have a partner. I have relationships with several women. Most are fleeting victories, to be sure, but one or two have matured into exquisite rituals of sexual adventure.

Like many others, Sandra was married, and like so many women, was shocked to realize just how far her envelope could be stretched.

I saw her enter the hall, out-of-place in her business suit among the crowd dancing at the other end of the room. She stood there for a few moments, watching the band play, then her gaze panned the room and she moved in my direction, dragging a small, wheeled suitcase.

I studied her from behind the bar — unused tonight, as this was a private party and BYO — as she approached. Early thirties, I thought. Auburn hair cut to flatter. A figure that came from regular exercise. A sales rep, judging by the briefcase slung over a shoulder and the coat draped on her arm. A funny notion popped into my head. Competition?

Located at the rear of the hall, the bar allowed me the privacy to lay out a line while I waited to be paid. It beckoned from the marble counter.

She threaded her way between the tables looking for a place to sit, but there was none and she found herself standing on the other side of the bar, several feet away. She set briefcase and coat on top of the suitcase.

'Hi,' I said.

She smiled and turned to face the band.

Sometimes a smile is enough to rouse the beast. Like now. And just like that tonight's game blossomed in my mind.

I bent and inhaled, felt the rush of manic energy foster my desire and clarify my strategy.

One song ended and another began. The frontman danced across the low stage, gyrating against his guitar for a group of young women. She laughed at this and I took it as my cue.

'Looks like a giant cock when he moves like that," I said, louder than I needed to.

She looked at me. 'He really thinks it's that big.'

It was my turn to laugh.

'It's true. He's my husband.' I laughed harder. Victory assured.

She was the wife of a musician. I was fairly certain of her response to my next question.

'I'm Tavo,' I said. 'Care to do a line?' And I held up the rolled bill.

'What, here?' She looked about. No one was even facing us. 'Sure, why not?'

'Come through the door that says 'staff only' and hang a right.'

'I'm Sandra,' she said as I dragged the razor blade across the marble. 'Nice to meet you.'

'You too.' I passed over the rolled bill and she did the line like a pro.

'Wow,' she said a moment later. 'Thanks.'

'My pleasure. But aren't you overdressed for this party?'

'Ha ha. I was at a convention — I sell pharmaceuticals — and i decided to fly back early.' She watched her husband and his groupies. 'I probably should have gone home.'

'What? And leave me here alone? I don't think so.'

The band announced a break. 'I should let him know I'm here,' she said.

'Is that a good idea?' I replied, nodding at the stage. Her husband and his bandmates, surrounded by groupies, went out a side door.

'I'll kill him.'

'Over a blowjob? Besides, you'll wreck your buzz.'

'All he ever seems to want nowadays is a blowjob.'

'I cannot believe he would let such beauty go to waste,' I countered.

'You'd think, right? But I can't compete with a twenty year-old.'

'I have found quite the opposite to be true. Give me a woman with experience rather than naive enthusiasm.'

Setting out another set of lines, I let her go first. As she bent over, I watched the fabric of her skirt stretch over the curve of her beautiful ass. It took all of my self control not to slide my hand across her taught figure. Not yet.

'What do you do?' she asked.

Sniff. 'I'm the competition,' I replied.

'Oh.' I watched awareness flash in her eyes, a brief recognition of the fact she was already past her first boundary, followed by the firm squint of resolve. 'I definitely shouldn't do this, but it feels great.'

'What's the harm?' I said. 'I haven't even challenged you yet.'

'Challenged me? Challenge me how?' she said, her tone defiant.

I held the makeshift straw out to her, but pulled it away from her fingertips.

'Are you up for a challenge, Sandra? How firm are your boundaries?'

'I can't remember the last time I faced them.'

'Trade you,' I offered. 'A line for an article of clothing. Your choice.'

'No way.'

I did my line, lay the bill on the counter. 'As you wish.'

Just then the band returned from their break. One of the groupies kissed her husband's cheek before she rejoined her friends. Thank you, miss, I thought.

There was a rustle behind me and her suit jacket, folded precisely, slid on to the counter.

Once again, I savoured her lithe shape as she leaned over, saw how her breasts strained against the tailored blouse.

The band launched into their set and Sandra danced. We spoke of her being married to a musician and the degree of trust it demanded of her.

'Does it not bother you that he is probably often tempted by other women?'

'I guess it all comes down to the fact that he comes home to me.'

'You are a beautiful woman. He would be a fool not to.'

'Thank you,' she said.

'I take it you have never been tempted,' I said.

'Not really. In my job I deal with men, mostly, and lots come on to me,' she said, 'but most of the offers are half-hearted and the serious ones can be creepy.'

'Have you ever thought about it?' I enquired. I scraped two more lines from the little pile of powder.

Her features sharpened. 'How do you mean?'

I made her wait for my answer and snorted, then dropped the bill.

'Have you ever fantasized about a situation where your answer would be different?'

A moment's hesitation. 'I guess,' she said, reaching for the bill.

I placed my hand on her arm. 'A piece of your clothing first.'

This was it. Fight or flight. She chose to fight.

'Seriously? Do you really think you can get me to strip in a public place in front of a stranger with my husband in the room?'

'Not at all. I'm merely providing you with an opportunity to test your boundaries. You choose where they lie.'

A flush of colour bloomed on her cheeks. 'Turn around.'

A minute later, her pantyhose lay on top of her jacket. Two for two.

'What part of the fantasy do you find most exciting?' I continued. 'For myself, it is risk.'

'Risk is part of it,' she said, 'but like you said, it's stepping beyond expected boundaries.'

'Such as?'

'Talking to strangers about sex.'

'Yet thrilling also, is it not? Our unfamiliarity permits a degree of honesty often lacking in discussions with those we love,' I said. 'We can be more honest with ourselves.'

More lines.

I held the bill for her. 'This time,' I said, 'is a challenge. The next article you will remove is your panties.'

Perhaps she had expected me to say that; more likely, she had already decided they were the safest choice. She was wrong.

'Not so fast,' she countered. 'This is too one-sided. Where is your risk? You have to match me item for item.'

Ha. Interesting twist. I removed my jacket.

'And something else.'

I kicked off my loafers and peeled my socks from my feet.

She motioned me to look away.

'No,' I said.

She drew her hem upwards, revealing a sleek pair of thighs, reached under and with a little wriggle, pulled her panties down and stepped out of them. She left them where they lay.

'Excellent,' I told her. 'Do you find it exciting that I know you are naked beneath your skirt?'

She giggled nervously and nodded.

'I find it exciting also. It makes my imagination come alive.'

She blushed, but I could see my words were having effect. It had probably been some time since her husband had complimented her so intimately, and she liked it.

'Your turn,' she said.

I loosened my belt, unbuttoned my 501s and slid them to my feet.

I cut more lines and then ignored them, talking instead of how boundaries were self-imposed and the pleasure I took in pushing them, my own included.

I noticed her gaze kept returning to the counter while the rest of her face wrestled with decision.

'For instance,' I said, 'your next choice is an illusion. You really have no choice as to what you remove next.'

'Of course I have a choice.'

'Do you? You can't remove your blouse in case someone notices. The only option is your skirt.'

'I can't.'

'Of course you can,' I said. 'It's easy.' I pushed my boxers loose, let them fall; my cock twitched as it began to swell.

'Now you,' I said.

She said nothing, her gaze on my hairless cock and balls, but her hand moved to the skirt's waistband.

'You're bare.'

'Of course,' I replied. 'Always.'

'Allow me.' I stepped close to her, the tip of my cock rubbed the back of her hand as I released the clasp.

I lowered the zipper and then crouched beside her, tugging the slick fabric down her legs to reveal a neatly trimmed pussy. I caught the scent of her and my cock hardened further.

'Oh my God,' she said. 'What am I doing?'

'What you only ever fantasized about. Yet here you are, in public, with a stranger, naked from the waist down. Are you not aroused? I certainly am.'

She looked at my rigid cock, reached out and wrapped her hand around it.

'It's been more than ten years since I held a cock other than my husband's,' she murmured. 'It feels so different without pubic hair. Where do you go to be waxed?'

'Not waxed,' I replied. 'Sugared. It's easy enough to do it myself.'

I held out the rolled bill. As she leaned over to do her line, i ran my fingers up the inside of her thigh to gently cup her pussy, already warm and slick. She remained bent over, so I took that as invitation. I pressed my fingers against her flesh and slid between her folds.

'Ohhhhhh,' she whimpered, and widened her stance. Slowly, I worked my fingers in and out, spreading her juice over her labia. She began to moan, pushing herself against my thrusting fingers.

I moved behind her, withdrew my fingers and guided my cock between her swollen lips. With a gentle push, I entered her. She responded, rocking on her heels as I picked up the pace, then suddenly straightened.

'Not here.'

'My ride is just outside,' I said.

She reached for her skirt. 'No,' I told her. 'Stay as you are. In fact —'

I peeled off my shirt, picked up my other clothes and collected my shoes.

'I see how it is,' she said, unbuttoning her blouse. She took off her bra. 'I hope you're not lying.'

I wasn't. My truck was parked by the service door, but I took my time fishing the keys from my pants. Sandra hopped from one foot to the other, glancing from side to side and laughing.

'Wow,' she exclaimed as she shut her door. 'I've never been naked outside before.'

'Twist in your seat to face me,' I ordered. 'Left leg against the seat back, right foot on the dash.'

She obeyed eagerly, leaning against the door with her legs spread, her pussy open.

I leaned down and ran my tongue between her parted lips. She gasped and gave a little shudder. My tongue flicked across her clit and her breath caught. Her fingers grabbed my head and tugged my face closer, panting and squirming on the seat. I felt her tense.

'Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhhhhhh,' she cried, convulsing against my mouth. I drank surge after surge of her cum, scooping it with my tongue while she fought to catch her breath. Pushing me away, she asked,

'Where did you learn that?'

Chuckling, I sat up. 'It's just instinct.'

'Great instincts.'

I noticed a group of people watching us. 'Let's go for a drive.'

I knew where I wanted to take her. I drove well within the speed limit, one eye on the road, one eye on her as I fingered her to orgasm after orgasm.

As we approached my objective, the lights of a gas station lit up the night. I pulled in to the place and parked away from the door.

'Put your coat on,' I said. 'Don't do it up. Go in there and buy some white sugar and some lemon juice. Be sure to flash the clerk. Let him get a good look at you.'

With a smirk, she reached into the footwell and retrieved her knee-length coat. She held it closed as she approached the store. Once inside, however, she lowered her arms and let it open as she shopped. I watched as she walked up to the counter to pay. Then I watched her shrug the coat off and sling it over her shoulder before taking the bag of purchases.

She sauntered back to the truck, approached my side and motioned me to roll down the window, which I did. She handed over coat and bag, then stepped away and began to twirl across the lot.

An approaching car slowed down to turn into the station.

'You're going to have company,' I called.

She stopped, facing the newcomer for a moment, still as a deer in their headlights. Then she turned and sprinted for the truck.

'Go, go, go,' she laughed. 'That was awesome.'

'What made you take the coat off?' I asked, pulling back onto the road.

'The clerk asked me to. I think he came in his pants.'

We were here. I turned into the parkade, waved my card at the sensor and entered.

'Where are we?'

'My place.'

'Why?'

I lifted her purchases from the bag. 'Because you just bought the ingredients for sugar paste and I don't want to waste them.'

'But my husband —'

'Won't be able to keep his hands off you. Trust me.'

I pulled into my parking space and shut off the engine. 'Bring the bag,' I said. 'Leave your clothes,' and I climbed out. A moment later, she followed.

Naked, we entered the elevator and I pushed the button for my floor. A minute later, the doors opened and I stepped out. Sandra peered into the corridor, first one way then the other.

'This way,' I said, over my shoulder.

She ran to catch up with me, her head swivelling as she passed each door. I looked at her as I unlocked my door. Her eyes were bright, her breathing quick. She was smiling.

'Welcome.'

I rented this two-bedroom corner suite because it was high enough that I didn't need to worry about privacy and could leave the floor-to-ceiling windows unshuttered. The open plan allowed me a view from most any place in the apartment.

I poured us drinks and set out a few lines, then set about making the sugar paste. Easy as it is to make, it demands constant attention, but little intervention. While I stood at the stove, Sandra pressed herself against my back and reached her arms around me. One hand stroked my cock while the fingers of the other caressed my balls.

'You're a very sexy man, Tavo. Within an hour of meeting you, I was taking off my clothes — in public — and then I traveled naked to your kitchen where I am about to let you do whatever it is you're about to do.'

As I took the sugar solution off the stove and poured it into a pyrex container, the doorbell rang.

'It's us,' said the voice, and I buzzed them in.

'Hey,' said Sandra. 'Did you forget I'm standing here naked?'

'Not at all. You have nothing to fear, and I think you'll enjoy the attention. Excuse me a minute.'

I walked into my bedroom and put on my robe, returning as the door swung open. In stepped three men. Darius, my oldest friend and sparring partner, led his brother, Julius, into my home, followed by my trusted associate Henri.

'I hope we're interrupting,' quipped Henri as he took in my attire.

'Not at all,' I said and led them into the kitchen. Having nowhere really to hide, Sandra had not moved and to her credit, she did not try and cover up despite the deep blush on her cheeks.

'Wow,' exclaimed Julius. 'Nice.'

The other two were equally appreciative.

'See?' I told her. 'Another boundary overcome.' I introduced her as the guys made themselves at home.

Henri helped himself to a line, then handed the bill to Darius, who passed it to Sandra. She had to turn her back to us as she bent over the counter, but she took her time about it.

As the conversation flowed, I placed my hand on her waist and she pressed herself against me. Soon my fingers began to trace her taut curves in ever expanding circuits, until i brushed the underside of her breast. In response, she moved in front of me and I felt her fingers slide beneath my robe. I adjusted my stance to accommodate her and trailed my fingertips through her pubic hair.

The others continued to talk, but their eyes kept returning to Sandra and the path of my fingers from breast to navel. Her hand gently tugged my growing cock.

Reluctantly, I removed my hands from her. 'Excuse us a moment,' I told my guests and, taking her hand, said, 'Come with me.'

I led her to the bathroom. 'It's best when the skin is freshly clean and dry,' I said, 'and lightly powdered with talc.'

'You don't mean to still —.'

'Of course. Now be quick,' and walked out.

While we waited for her return, I cleared a space on the long island which separates the kitchen from the living room, then checked the temperature and texture of the sugar paste. Perfect.

She came out of the bathroom but halted at the end of the corridor, her features uncertain. I smiled and held out my hand. 'Come now.' And she did.

I positioned her next to the island and lifted her on to it, gesturing for her to slide backwards until her heels rested on the counter.

'Now lie back and spread your legs as wide as you can.'

Her gaze found each of us in turn, then she sighed and complied, revealing her most intimate features to four strangers.

I applied the first dab of paste and spread it over her skin, left it a moment to firm. They say to pull the sugar away quickly, but I prefer to lift an edge and roll it; it is less painful and more effective.

I worked quickly, from top to bottom, and as I reached her lips I had an idea.

'I need an assistant.'

Henri was closest.

'Put your fingers here,' I showed him, 'and stretch her skin like this. Just enough to make it taut, don't hurt her.'

He did as I asked and I applied a fresh dollop of paste. I noticed a glistening milky bead forming below her clit and smiled to myself.

Her hand moved to feel herself but I prevented it. 'Not yet.'

'Again, Henri. Put your fingers here and pull like this.'

'Hey,' said Julius. 'My turn.'

Henri stepped away. Sandra whimpered as Julius' fingers touched her and the bead of cum slipped into the folds of her labia.

By the time I was done, everyone had played a part in the process and her pussy was completely bare; it glistened with arousal.

'One last thing,' I told her, and I ran a cloth under a warm tap then wiped away the sticky residue left by the sugar.

'Okay. Now feel.'

Slid her hand down her stomach, slowing as it reached her now hairless mons; her fingers spread over her outer lips and slipped between her legs.

She shuddered and closed her eyes. 'Oh my God. It's so sensitive. Even the air tickles.' One finger traced along her inner lips and she moaned. Immediately, her eyes opened and her hand lifted.

I pushed it back down. 'Don't stop.' I moved her hand in slow circles over her pussy until I felt her take control. The four of us watched as she rubbed her clit and pushed one finger after another into her swelling sex.

Her pace quickened and she began to buck, her hips rising to meet her fingers, her other hand holding herself open. I glanced at her face; she was watching us watch her, feeding on the desire she read on our faces. Panting and groaning, she orgasmed, convulsing against hands slick with cum.

Her hands retreated to her stomach while she caught her breath, but I had other ideas.

I reached for her, judged the quality of my work. Two of my fingers slipped into her and were immediately drenched as I pumped them in and out; I pulled them out and sucked on them.