The Educating of Joan Pt. 02

As we stepped out of the elevator she gave a last glance at the puddle of piss on the floor, and again there was that embarrassment in the look of her eyes. 'Who will clean this mess?' I heard her say.

'If you don't let my into your apartment right now', I ordered her, 'then you will be the one doing it, with your own tongue and lips!'

On the way out of the elevator I took her once more in my arms and kissed her there in the hall, to assure her that I did not really want her to do that. At least not for now. Bot who could have known how far we would get.

I suppose she more or less expected me to fall over her as soon as we entered her apartment. But I did no such thing. I only commanded her to keep her coat on, which she gladly did. Her leather garments were like a second skin to her. They protected her in a way, for I guessed rightly that she felt ashamed of her old body, with all those wrinkles. The coat she was wearing, the skirt - they felt to her like a skin that would not show all these signs of deterioration her own skin started to show. More than that, she had discovered that when she was wearing a long leather coat or a long leather skirt she regained the attention of men - and even women - which she thought had been lost forever, after those wrinkles, putting on weight and greying hair. Also she knew that one of the consequences of compulsory dying of her hair had desecrated her fresh and joyful splendid looks. Joan was a proud woman, though at the same time very, very insecure.

We went into the living room, which was stuffed with typical middle class furniture, paintings, pictures and lights. Something everybody would approve of - at least that must be what Joan thought. I ordered her to put on all the lights and leave the curtains open. The apartment was on the top floor of the building and the next housing building was about a hundred and fifty yards away. So somebody would need binoculars to have a good look at what was going to happen in the opposite apartment.

I told her to go and stand in the middle of the drawing room. I walked up to the lamps standing in the room and placed them in such a way that when I was finished, Joan was standing, basking in a kind of spotlight. I liked the effect the lights were having on her leather clad body. I could see how this made her even more insecure and I loved it. I sat myself comfortably down on the sofa and gave her a long and silent look.

'I am going to take my time with you,' I told her. 'I want to relish every moment I spent with you. And I will relish everything in exact the way I want it. And I am quite sure you want it in the same way. Now, put your hands in your pockets!'

She did as she was asked to do.

'Now, stand up right. Not so meekly. Come on, a little bit of self-assurance in your pose, your heavy tits deserve it to be seen. Hold your head high, push your shoulders back, come on, show me your full leather tits. Present them to me. Now, keep standing there. Just present them to me by pushing them forward so I can have a very good view them.'

Again she did as she was asked to do. And the effect was great. I now had a full view of her and that was what I had been longing for ever since I had seen her at the party. To have her showing of her leather clad body for me in such a way that would make my mouth water.

Her tits really did look marvelous now that she was pushing them forwards. The leather of her coat was catching the light, it made those jugs nearly gleam with joy and pleasure. They were simply begging to be groped at, be squeezed in, pinched, torn, slapped, licked, kissed and bitten, like a fox would tear at a just caught rabbit.

'Do you enjoy being watched like this?'

'I do not know!' she answered softly.

'What, you do not know? You love it when men are eyeing you up. Isn't that why you wear leather?'

She did not answer. Again there came that middle class embarrassment over her.

'Do not deny you are a slut? Begging for attention, begging to be taken. Do I have to remind you what we did in the elevator? And the way you came? The way you were not able to refrain from pissing yourself out of sheer lust? Admit it, you are a slut! Say: I am a slut!'

There came no sound from her lips. She only looked at me, her face torn in a grimace of pain. Her body had lost it's earlier pose, only her hands were still deep in the pockets of her coat.

'Well, I told her, 'it is your choice. I give you five seconds to say clear and loud that you are a slut craving for cock or cunt, - it does not matter, or else this will be the last you have seen of me. One - two - three...'

'I am a slut', she said, but it was more of whisper than a sentence spoken out loudly.

'Louder', I said.

'I am a slut!'

'And what do you want?'

'I..., I... want...'

'Goddamn, is that so hard to say? Just admit that you are a tart ready to do anything I will order you to do tonight. Say it!'

And then suddenly it came.

'I am an old tart that wants nothing more than your cock and everything you want me to do.'

'Great', I said. I stood up from the sofa and walked up to her.

'Keep your hands in your pockets', I said. 'I am going to kiss you now again. And you must let me feel how much you want me, just in the way you kiss me and in the way you present me your delicious body. You think you can do that?'

For a moment there came a gleam of self-assurance on her face, which I loved. She nodded and said yes, she thought she could do that, she would try.

So, I took her in my arms and started to kiss her again. Joan from her side acted as if a fire had been kindled inside her body. She started to suck on my tongue, let her own tongue twirl in my mouth like now it was her turn to explore every cavity in it and while doing this she started wriggling her body as if she was in need, in pain, in agony to be touched and squeezed by me.

'Oh, my love', she started whispering. 'O, my love.'

Nothing more she said, she only repeated it over and over again, while pressing and rubbing her body into mine, bumping her belly against mine, trying to feel some of that hard dick which was still hidden in my pants.

'Go on', I told her, while I let one hand wander to her crotch, opening some buttons of her coat, of her skirt and letting them find a way to her cunt because I wanted her to cum again, in my arms.

Joan made it easy for me to find my way to her soaking, still of pissing reaking pussy. As my fingers started to probe her belly, the pantyhose and nickers she willingly, even eagerly started to spread her legs, while retreating with her belly, so to give my hand the upmost space needed. The soft leather of her skirt made a beautiful creaking sound as she did this and the smell of her old leather clothes mixed with her piss was intoxicating.

In the meanwhile her tongue kept on flicking into my mouth and she gladly sucked up the saliva which I left a bit drooling from my lips. My fingers found her cunt which stood so wide open, that the smell of her moist pussy musk mixed with the piss that had soaked her underwear and pantyhose rose straight to my nostrils. And I suppose also to hers. I started with pinching her labia. She responded by rubbing her leather udders against my breast. She did this so achingly begging - without saying a word, only by heavy moaning, devouring my tongue with her greedy mouth and lips and pressings those heavenly old boobs into my breast that I could not resist the temptation to grab one of those udders and starting pulling on the nipple which by now because of her sexual agitation stood hard out through her bra, sweater and leather coat. So, with one hand on her crotch, fingering her clit and the other pulling at the nipple and now and then squeezing that enormous tit, she did not stand a chance to postpone her orgasm. Again she came, crying out loud, letting out some 'Fuck, fuck, OMG's and fuck, fuck. Fuck.' Now she was my dirty old leather slut, cumming on my fingers.'