Bound to cum and cum again.
I was tied spread eagle on the bed; I had been allowed to cum, but only after three hours of being teased to near climax and then stopping just short of climax. I can't take it that long, but I did not have a choice. After I climaxed she did not stop, she kept trying to milk my limp penis.
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"Hello. I'm Mr. Devereux to see Ms. Hill," I said to the receptionist. My voice was clear and authoritative, but not overly aggressive. I was standing in front of her desk, which had the usual assortment of secretarial accoutrements; a large phone, pens, paper, rolodex and computer, which she was busily typing away at.
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Sitting at the gate reading my book, my name was called to the podium. Since I hadn't placed my name on any waitlists, I was more than a little mystified. I placed the book back in my workbag, and walked up to the podium.
"Ms Montgomery, there is a problem with your checked bag," the gate agent said. The poor girl was terrified, trying to maintain a seriousness about her.
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My gf (Brenda) was dating this guy Jeff who was a man whore but was jealous of Brenda ever checking out a guy or dreaming of even cheating on him. I often told Brenda to ditch his ass, but given how good looking he was, Brenda was putty in his hand. Jeff was 6'4", 200 pound chiseled body and what I was told a good 7 inch cock that he knew how to use real well. Often Brenda would talk about being fucked so hard it felt she was raped.
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Bradley slammed the door to her room and leaned back against it, gasping for air. Shit, shit, shit. She held out her hands -- they were shaking. She couldn't believe she'd just had a screaming match with her employer. For the past two months she and Parker MacKenzie had coexisted peacefully in the large, empty house. She cleaned and looked after the grounds, and he spent all his time in his office working.
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College life as I thought in the beginning was supposed to be fun. And for a while, it was.
I met Chris in a sociology class, a fiery redhead that had a bit of a temperament to go along with it, that...and an amazing pair of breasts that she didn't mind showing off to some degree.
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Somehow, over the period of a couple years, I developed this (Cyber-crush) on a man on the Internet whom I only knew through his words and text. He has a website where he posts erotica of all sorts, some of which he writes Himself. It was hard not to automatically take notice of Him. His words were like mind candy. The appeal of every word, every curse, every movement and every taboo called out to me.
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When I was 25, I lived alone in a one bedroom apartment in a rather large apartment complex with 1, 2, and 3 bedroom units. I had moved there after breaking up with a long-time girlfriend, and was enjoying being a single, independent adult for the first time in my life.
One Saturday night, I had decided to stay at home, mainly because I had just paid the rent, and my cash flow situation was not very good at the time.
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Rinsing the bubbles from my hair and turning off the steaming hot water, I step out of the shower into the chilly air of the bathroom. Towelling my body dry, I take extra time drying my sensitve nipples and running my hands over them, pinching them softly. I turn on the blow dryer, working my fingers through my tangled hair, working out the snarls and knots. I pick up my brush and begin to dry my hair in earnest when I think I hear a noise downstairs.
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Lisa Malone was a bitch. Everyone knew it. She had gotten a position of power in the office by being absolutely ruthless. She also used her sexy body to her advantage. Lisa Malone knew how to get what she wanted. She had large C cup breasts and her skirts were never below mid-thigh. She had perfect slim legs and washboard abs. Her face was almost angelic. It hid the devil inside.
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