Turn About...

I hate parallel parking. If I have a fender bender dressed like this, if will not go well for me.

He wants the "horny housewife" skit today. So here I am. 8am. I've found the only spot available on the street, so I try. Up, and back, and swing... that's terrible. I pull completely out and try again.. Pull up, pull back, swing.. I'm still a good 3 feet from the curb. Then up ahead i see taillights come on! A reprieve? Yes! Plenty of room to maneuver there. I watch that car leave then I sidle out of my attempted parking job and move up the street to the larger, fortuitously available, new opening; pull out, pull up, and glide in. Its a good thirty yards closer to my destination too. Less sidewalk for me to cover in these heels. And skirt. SHORT skirt. Although friends say I'm P20 and Martin sure has no problem with my looks, I still get nervous passing people on sidewalks. I wait til there's no one near, then I hop out, adjust my skirt, and begin to stride purposefully toward Martin's small house.

Martin gave me a key to the side porch door. The house is dark and empty, but I know where the light switches are. By now, I'm quite comfortable letting myself in. I always come early to get situated, get relaxed, and to avoid the morning dogwalker crowd. Martin won't be back here to fuck me til "lunchtime". He works a factory job nearby. A labor job; pays good, also makes him firm and muscley  I like that..

Going down the hallway, I stop at the closet with the French doors. MY closet. I keep an enormous 'husband' pillow in there, as well as other toys and ties and gadgets that we use to play. I like the husband pillow because it gives soft structure under me as Martin presses into me from above. And its thick enough for me to wrap my whole arms around and hold on like a hug.

I set my things up. Time to kill now. I'm sad this is going to end. This is our last encounter, although he doesn't know it yet. I text my friends ("11:45 on the dot"). I lay on the couch and watch some stupid daytime TV. Pretty soon its after 11 o'clock and I need to prepare in earnest. I grab the lube bottle and head for the bathroom.

Caged in front and greased in back, in ready for the taking. I watch a little more TV. 11:25 comes and I take my position. 11:30 and I hear Martin's car pull in. I unlock the front door. I back up 4 or 5 steps. I go down to my knees. I wet my lips.

As he opens the front door, I'm there on my knees to greet him. He looks at me. Acts startled. Pretend surprise; this is all tightly scripted.

"I brought you a salad."

"I'd rather have your dick."

He carries the food to the kitchen counter. Looks back at me, still on my knees by the door, mouth open, licking my lips.

"I believe I can oblige you for a few moments." And he walks slowly back my way.

Once he's in range, I throw my arms tight around his hips and plant a hard kiss right on his crotch, a kiss he'll feel through the denim. I hold there, pressing. I feel the resistance of his firm rod, getting firmer. He has to forcefully pull my head away in order to unbutton and unzip. Once exposed, I get lips to the head sans hands. My hands move and squeeze around his strong thighs and firm butt, but not to his dick. The dick gets only lips, then tongue, then mouth, then throat. But no hands. This is my favorite part. And in no time, I've earned a small taste of precum.

After a bit, he pulls my head off himself, as I make a slurping, popping sound. He says, "Lunch can wait."

"Let's go fuck."  I say.

He lifts me to my feet, rubs and squeezes and lightly slaps my butt. I sachet wordlessly ahead of him into the bedroom.

I hop onto the bed, bouncing like a child on the mattress. My skirt flies up and down to show nothing beneath it. Then turning my back to him, I lower myself onto the husband. As I do this bit of playful entertaining, he is undressing.

I'm ready. I lower my head and close my eyes. I hear the 'pop' of the lube bottle lid. I hear the 'splort' as it blobs into his palm. The 'snap' reclosing the lid and the 'squish' as he greases his member. I wait. I always clench involuntarily at the first thumb penetration. Today is no different, and I coo a bit as he works his thumb about. I'm already slick inside, but more is never bad. He swirls his thumb about, wider and wider circles, to prepare me for expansion.. Not as much fingerings as I'd like, but he doesn't want to spoil his own pleasure at his first piercing thrust stretching me out. The mattress wobbles a little as he shifts his weight, I wrap my arms tight around my husband and prepare for penetration. As Martin moves into penetration position, I brace against his weight. There's the head. He slips in easily. Then a little more. He pauses there for a moment; I'm getting used to the fullness and expansion; he's preparing for a single dramatic thrust. Then it comes. We both groan audibly and in unison; him low and guttural, me sharp and abrupt. He holds pressure deep as I squirm to accommodate him better. Then he speaks. "Squirm, Sissy. Make room in that ass for me. I'm going to be in here for quite a while." I do squirm, to align and make his access easier. But I exaggerate it a bit and throw in a few breathless purrs.  He retracts, slaps my bottom, and stabs again. Pauses deep, slowly retracts, stabs again. Accelerating with each thrust, he pounds and pounds into my ass. I love the fullness I feel. And the eagerness Martin has for my hole. My hole involuntarily quivers with each retraction, like it wants its toy back. He pounds and pounds relentlessly.

Then unexpectedly he speaks. I can't see him, behind me, but there's a smile in his voice.

"If Daddy's seven inches make you this pliable, imagine how you'll feel when Daddy's friend climbs inside you."

I momentarily stiffen. He's asked about friends before, but I've told him no. I'm no whore; what I do, I only do for him. Because I like him. NO FRIENDS.

Now though, I say nothing; I relax again and continue to take my pounding.

"You can call him Uncle Nine-Inch. He says he's big... I guess you'll find out soon. He'll be here in an hour."

"You'll be back at work by then."

"Yes. I trust him not to break you completely. Better be prepared though." He tossed the lube bottle up near my face. All this, without him ever breaking stride.

"You will take care of him, won't you?" Then he pulls my hair so hard I gasp. "YOU WILL take care of him." All this, still, without breaking stride. He still pounds and pounds; deep and rapid. I sink down and spread more, to take it - it does feel amazingly good. I'll pause here to say, Martin has a fabulous dick. :) He is seven inches, thick and straight. Large spongy head and sleek shaft; no bulgy veins to spoil the aesthetics. But emotionally, I hate him right now. Friends. Good thing I planned ahead.

You see, Martin wasn't always like this. At the first he was tender, even gentlemanly, if that word makes any sense in this context. Slow, caressing hand play, letting me take initiative, relaxing sex, not rough porn sex. Now I have nothing against his pounding, Sex with Martin is GREAT. But I miss the days when pounding wasn't all he did. Porn - yes, I think that's the change. I think his friends have got him to watching porn, and that's corrupted his brain. No more easy-flowing sex. Just porn reenactments. 'Daddy' and 'Sissy', that's porn too. Why can't we just be Martin and Dani again.

Still pounding.

We met eight months ago, at a hotel swimming pool. I was fully made up and in a red one-piece. Tucked, but still obvious. The pool was empty as I entered the room (I made sure of that before daring to go in). I dropped my cover-up, and descended the steps into the warm water. It was 9:05pm. Turns out the reason the pool was empty was that it closed at 9:00. Martin was the employee dispatched to run me out.  "Excuse me, but the pool closed at 9:00."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. " I moved toward the steps but hesitated to rise out. Could he tell what I was? He was less than 6 feet from me, but I was still in the water below the waist. He was waiting.  And looking. I decided to be bold. I smiled my biggest smile and rose from the water, making myself rather obvious to his raking eyes. Up the steps I went, dripping water off everything. Yes, he could certainly tell now... and he was intrigued.  "But the restaurant is open til midnight. I'd be honored if you'd let me buy you dinner." I was stunned. His eyes completed a second survey of my body and returned to my eyes. "In an hour? 10:00?"

I smiled, nodded, and toweled off. He left, I donned my cover-up and left too.

We had a nice dinner. I won't go into all that, but it was genuinely nice. And afterward he saw me as far as the elevator. Very gentlemanly. "I hope to see you again before you check out."

"Come by in the morning. " I blurted out. "535."

"5:35?? I don't get off til 7:00."

"535 is my ROOM. Just... whenever you get off, come by and... get off". I had started that sentence brazenly but for some unfathomable reason I finished quite shyly. I felt like I was blushing. I quickly ducked into the arriving elevator as we each said good night. No contact. But man, I was hoping for some serious contact in the morning.

6:45am. I set the door slightly ajar and put a smiley sticker on the handle. I sat on the edge of the bed. I would meet Martin wearing nothing but deodorant.

Well, deodorant and a cage. I've seldom worn it and never during sex, but I want to be very clear with Martin about my role as strictly the receiver.

I wait. Eager. Not nervous, but eager. To grind. What will he be like in bed? Is he long or short, thick or thin? Will he be romantic or aggressive? Will he have stamina? Which hole will he want to shoot in? Is he OK with bareback? Because I am.

OK, actually, I am nervous. I've had sex with men before, of course, but its just been people in my circle of friends. I've never picked up a guy to fuck before. And I've known Martin less than 10 hours. Most of that, I was asleep. So really, one dinner, then here we go! I am definitely nervous.

I hear the elevator ding, and I glance at the clock. 6:55. Shouldn't be him yet, but you never know. I hear footsteps coming down my end of the hall. I tense, but stay put. I cross and uncross my legs nervously. The footsteps stop, and my door creaks. I break, and bolt for the bathroom.

He slips inside. Dawn is halfway here, so he can see well enough without turning on a light. He calls for me with little more than a whisper. I make a few noises in the bathroom before I reply. "Coming". I emerge wrapped on a towel. I go not to him but to the bed. I roll in and spread first the towel and then my legs, away from my body. I make sure he sees the cage.

"How was your shift?"

"Boring. Except from about 9 to 11. Everything after that, boring."

"I smiled. Let's see if I can find a way to top dinner."

I roll onto my tummy.

I murmur over shoulder "I've greased myself, and there's more lube on the nightstand."

In the absence of sight, sounds can be powerfully sexy. The hard thump of shoes dropping to the floor. The jingling of a belt buckle as it does the same. The swoosh of a shirt pulled over the head. The zip. After all this, I feel the mattress shift as he climbs aboard.

He straddles me. He rubs his erect cock into my crack, giving me some rough idea of his size. He repositions himself a little higher, and I raise my ass too, to give him the best angle. He squeezes my thighs, then rubs up to my hips, then inward toward my hole. His thumb presses, wiggles, then penetrates. It explores, then withdraws. Then adding more lube, it explores again. After withdrawing again I felt a new pressure from his cock head. He presses firmly and slips inside. Whoa! This guy is thick. He pauses a moment after entry. I've only got an inch of him, maybe two; he's not past my inner sphincter yet. But i feel greatly stretched. He pauses an inordinately long time. Then shifting his weight forward, he slowly presses deeper, then pauses, then presses, then pauses. Have I got all of him yet? No, he presses again, then pauses.  He's giving me an inch at a time, all forward motion, with no withdrawal. I can't help it, I let out a cry with every expansion. More pressing then pausing. Now I've apparently got him all. He holds position a long time, running his fingers through my hair, down my spine, about my hips, down my crack, til he finds himself. Then he rubs my rim firmly and spreads my cheeks.

I squirm beneath his weight, trying to accommodate him better. As my cries subside, Martin slowly withdraws. He makes another slow forward push, steady and direct and not relenting til he strikes bottom. Slow withdrawing, slow diving, on he goes, setting a rhythm; then accelerating, til the pushes become thrusts, vigorous and sudden. Still slow withdrawal.

After a couple minutes, he paused his thrusting, about half in. With his thumb he massaged my very stretched and bumpled rim. All around, every side. Pressing, so that I could feel his pressure across my thin flesh, his thumb on one side and his meat on the other side. WOW. The tautness of my stretched membrane was highlighted by Martin's girth. And by the caressing pressure of his thumb. He was massaging his own cock with his thumb, through me.

This lasted a minute or two, then the thrusting resumed. Hard forceful spearing coupled with slow tender withdrawal.

I could feel his whole body tensing. I wobbled as he shifted his weight again to get maximum depth. All the while I pushed back onto him as best I could. And then he came. He froze as the cum shot inside me. I froze too. The only movement was his cock throbbing and the warm flow I felt descending deeper into my bowels. We lingered that way a long time, even after the flow had stopped.

Finally settling down side by side, we rested. He slept - having worked all night then popping a huge load.

Likely 30 minutes later he roused. We chatted quietly. A sloppy fart slipped out of me. I didn't fight it. I figured the sound would make him feel gratified, with his successful plundering of my ass. "How long til you can do it again?" I questioned as my hand slipped under the covers and down his belly. His dick rose to meet my hand; he was functional already! I withdrew my hand and playfully shoved him toward the edge of the bed. "Go wash so I can suck you". He chuckled and rose from the bed. I snuggled down, but only for a mere moment, as Martin grabbed my heel and pulled me from the bed after him. Releasing my heel and taking my hair, he pulled me on into the bathroom and into the shower with him. This is when I gave my first shower blowjob.

Enough reminiscing  - nowadays its all porn stuff. And as great as it feels in the moment, I'm emotionally tired of it.

Still pounding. He does have quite a lot of stamina.

Its around this time that my four friends from "the block" file quietly in through the still-open side door. They're very quiet, but I hear them. But then again, I'm expecting them. Martin doesn't hear them; he seems to be preoccupied.

Still pounding.

I make some soft noises to keep his attention fully on me.

And that's when they surprise him. Click, click - his ankles are clasped to the bed posts. A few seconds more and his wrists are the same. I squirm out from under him like a snake from beneath a rock. I feel kinda like one too, but he's got to learn to understand my situation. With a bit more effort, we get the ball gag on.

Now - time for some role swapping - breeds understanding.

As my friends start some slow, mild, pegging on a bewildered and resistant Martin, I walk out toward the kitchen. I rummage through the bag for lunch. Cheeseburger and fries for Martin, salad for me. Getting a bottle of water from the fridge, I then pull back a chair and begin to eat the burger and fries. Martin won't mind. He's busy. Besides, he needs to watch his girlish figure.

I think about how the mission has changed. It was supposed to be just some pegging while I gather my things and clear out. But since he arranged for me to serve Uncle today, I think its only fair that I (we) prepare him for Uncle instead.

Pretty soon Jimmy reports that Martin is lubed, primed, and positioned. I look at the clock. Almost time. We gather our things.

Suddenly we hear Uncle Nine-Inch wrangle the front doorknob about; we scramble out the side door, and rightward along the side of the house. We huddle low, together, we wait and listen, scrunched down below the bedroom window.

He's found Daddy already. We've missed the beginnings of their conversations - one's words and the other's grunts.

"Martin... I don't know what to think here.

Grunts

"You told me you had the most pliant of sissies here, for me to use and abuse."

Abuse?!? Now I'm really mad.

"But you never said you ARE the sissy."

Vigorous grunts.

"I came ready. At least I thought i did. But I gotta say you surprised me."

We look at each other, pensive, wondering whether Uncle Nine-Inch will follow through. Then its all we can do to not laugh out loud when we hear the first work boot hit the floor.

Vigorous grunts.

"Use and abuse, you said! You've gone to all this trouble, I can't let you down."

Thump goes the other workboot.

Vigorous grunts.

"All this equipment... you didn't bind up yourself like this. You got a friend about to set you loose after? HELLO??"

Jimmy, the quick-witted one in my huddle, thrusts his hand into the air, lightly raps at the window, then gives thumbs up and a goodbye wave. Which he repeats until...

"Gotcha! OK, Sissy... (he slaps Daddy across the ass)... let's take this ass for a ride."

Creak, creak,...

"And, oh, you're already so slick. I'll slick myself now a little and then we'll be down to business." Overlapping a ceaseless series of Daddy's grunting, we hear now creak, creak, creak, pop, splort, snap, squish, creak, creak,...

What's this? :) The droning of groaning just got higher, sharper, and more urgent. The creaking is now continuous too. And soon, rhythmic.

We laugh to ourselves, on our safe side of the wall. And we listen.

Uncle Nine-Inch is still talking, but talking softly. We can't make out the words anymore.

I wonder what Daddy thinks of his Uncle Nine-Inch friend now? I bet they'll be Best Buds forever.

Its not so long before Daddy's high siren wails become low grunts, which in turn become passive rhythmic moans. OK. I think we're done here. I motion to the others to go, but they refuse and point to the street. Fairly crowded at the moment. Well, I for one am not waiting till Uncle is done and comes looking outside, so I offer to bring Lem's van closer for a quick evac.

And that's what we do. And inexplicably I'm less conscious of my P20 appearance this afternoon, than I was in the morning. I glide confidently down the sidewalk, smile as I pass an unknowing neighbor, (who upon passing, I twirl and catch checking out my legs and butt). I smile confidently. Maybe all I needed was a good lunch. And a good laugh. And freedom.