In the last chapter, my sub Peter helped me live out my medical fantasy. So wanted to help him live out one of his.
If you've read my other stories (and you should), you know that he loved all things anal, including strap-on sex. His fantasy was to blindfolded and fucked in the ass by a stranger. Eventually, he'd want to see the stranger's face, but not until she'd cum.
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I've been at this gig for about three years now in a Northeast city. It isn't what I expected to be doing, career-wise, at my age, but I can't gripe about the pay. This is for a private apartment complex (not a hotel, mind you), so it's rightly what Europeans define as being a Concierge (attending to high-end residents' needs).
I'm in my mid-twenties, tall and reasonably fit, outfitted in a blazer, gray slacks and dress shoes, and I sport a genuine-enough smile that's kept fresh every day.
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When she contacted me via here, she explained that she'd read my story and it had turned her on. My shameful story. The one about my desire to act as human toilet paper.
In the exchange of emails that followed, Sarah told me she thought she wasn't anything special, just an ordinary lady of a certain age, a divorcee who worked in the City and right this minute was single and fancy free.
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We were five satiated, sleek bitches filing into the bathroom, drunk on orgasms and a little weak at the knees. And it was all my doing. See, there's nothing I like as much as arranging little dyke orgies for a gaggle of foxy babes like myself, good-lookers who know how to turn on a slut and make her pussy steam and her clit swell!
Here we all were in the bathroom now, five ultra-feminine lipstick lesbians who had just spent the last couple of hours getting each other off with hot lips, wet tongues, eager fingers, and plenty of nasty toys.
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His fingers were in her pussy, tracing patterns on the sensitive and soaked flesh of her inner passages and lazy curly q's on her clitoris. His lips were on hers, roving tongue and all, giving her long kisses that sucked the breath from her. All in all, she was completely lost in the sensations of his lovemaking and would probably have done anything he wanted. Her mind was a mixture of numb to the rest of the world and alive with him. Her heart throbbed and the blood in her veins had turned into a molten river of arousal. Everything was perfect.
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It was supposed to be her night.
It was her birthday on Friday, and it was a long hard week at work for Rose. All she asked for was a nice dinner, some dancing, and then to be brought home and tended to. She even made arrangement for the kids to go to her sisters, so he could take the entire weekend to please her.
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Another typical day of golf.
I hit some good shots, some bad shots. Didn't score as well as I wanted to, but am not totally unhappy with my game.
It's a hot day and I've been drinking water all day on the course. So much so, I swear I had to stop behind a tree on 4 of the last 5 holes.
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I squinted into bush and idly my hand rubbed my neck, feeling the dampness there. Gosh hard to believe winter is scarcely over here in the bush. It sure was a hot day, I thought as I looked up at a blue sky with a few wispy white clouds in it. Still hot as it was I had been glad to be in the field rather than the classroom today~! I watched the students as they walked through the bush. They had come a long way. One of the few female rangers had learned the hard way that the bush is tough stuff.
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Rebecca was excited. Today was going to be one of her special days. She'd been building up to it or a couple of weeks now, and no matter how she struggled against her perverted desires no matter how much she tried to suppress the depravity of her craving, Rebecca knew that eventually she would weaken and give in. Her sexual urges appalled her in the immediate aftermath of one of her soirees and Rebecca would analyse her actions constantly in the days that followed, but inevitably that analysis would leave Rebecca in a fugue of self loathing and disgust at her own conduct.
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"Do you remember me?"
Peter Dovzhenko turned from his seat in the sand, where he'd spent the last hour watching the waves rolling onto the beach, when he heard the smoky, Slavic-accented voice of a young woman behind him. He found her standing 5'3", with dirty blonde, shoulder-length hair, her body lithe and fit like a gymnast's, her tiny, turquoise bikini covering pert little A-cup breasts just big enough to hold.
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