I stepped from the shower and looked at myself in the full length mirror. Like most women, I think that my butt is too big, and my breasts too small. My hair is a pleasing shade of brown, thanks to the skills of my hairdresser. The triangle of hair between my legs has telltale streaks of gray. “Fast chance anyone will be seeing THAT anytime soon,” I thought to myself. “I guess I could be a hell of a lot worse at 58.”
I’m a member of a women’s service club in my city, and since the death of my husband I’ve been increasingly active in its activities. This evening we were having our biggest yearly event, a benefit for the scholarship fund, and we were hosting a special honoree.
Several months before, three men responsible for a string of bank robberies had entered a suburban bank and announced yet another robbery. It proved to be their last. A bank surveillance video showed a man standing calmly at a teller’s window that suddenly turned, and with a handgun in each hand shot down all three robbers in a matter of seconds. The rescuer approached the men and kicked away their guns. He then holstered his own weapons and made a cell phone call. He was then seen to stand calmly, his arms folded, until the arrival of the police.
That man is a lieutenant in the police department of my own city, and the video of his activities was a sensation.
At the next club meeting, it was proposed that the dashing hero be invited to be the guest of honor at the scholarship banquet. “Oh my,” said one lady. “He must really be in demand. He’d be a tremendous draw for sure, but how do we land him? He must be spread pretty thin.”
The club president smiled. “Girls, I have an ace in the hole. My husband went to high school with the police chief and they’re still buddies. Maybe I can pull some strings.”
It was only days later that the club’s officers received an e-mail that the lieutenant would be delighted to attend the banquet.
I was in the hotel ballroom with the other club officers and was putting the finishing touches on some tables when I heard the door at the end of the room quietly open. A man stood framed in the doorway. He was quite a handsome young man, no more than thirty. And he was the most frightening man I’ve ever seen in my life. His eyes swept the room like a lion at the edge of a herd of gazelle. “Of course,” I thought. “He’s a professional lawman…it must be difficult to turn it off.”
The club’s officers approached him and introduced themselves. His face immediately brightened. I joined the group as the club president said,”…and this is Evelyn Henderson, our committee chair for hospitality.” Something changed in his eyes as he firmly gripped my proffered hand and said, “A pleasure, Mrs. Henderson.” “Oh My!” I thought. “From a lion to a lamb…but the lion is still there, lurking quietly in the background.”
He stood by the doors with the club officers and greeted the arriving guests, utterly charming each arriving lady. Most of the club’s women are somewhere between soccer mom and grandmother, with marriages ranging from mundane to dead and buried, and I’m sure more than one lady immediately began harboring intense fantasies about our guest.
Dinner was announced. I found myself disappointed and a bit jealous that I was not seated next to him, or even at his table, I was close enough to see that he kept the ladies spellbound who were seated about him, and a few of them seemed to be rather shameless in the way they were throwing themselves at him.
When dinner was completed, the club president made a little speech and our honoree was introduced again. A band had been engaged for dancing (women, of course, love dancing). I was more than delighted when I found the lieutenant standing before me, his hand extended. “Mrs. Anderson, will you honor me?” he asked in that delicious baritone voice.
“Oh! Lieutenant! Oh, yes, please,” I responded. In a moment I was where every woman in that room wanted to be, in his arms. I have never been the catty type, but as I felt every other woman’s eyes on me I simply couldn’t help feeling a bit vixenish.
Trying not to look around, I said, “Lieutenant, there are quite a few rather attractive women who are far younger than I am who would like to be doing this.”
“That may well be true Mrs. Anderson,” he replied. “But I’m afraid they simply can’t compete with you where charm is concerned.”
“Oh Lieutenant,” I said softly. “That is a very sweet thing to say, thank you. And please, call me Evelyn. When you call me ‘Mrs. Anderson’ I feel like one of your friend’s mothers.”
He chuckled. “My given name is Henry, which of course, I hate. My friends, and beautiful women, call me ‘Hank,’ ” he said.
“And I’m to call you that as a friend?” I replied, as coquettishly as possible.
“I think you know the answer to that,” he said quietly.
I hated to surrender him as the music ended, but I certainly knew that I couldn’t monopolize him, and he was enough of a charmer that he knew he had a duty to the other ladies present, especially those who were unescorted.
I had assumed that the delightful compliment he paid me originated from a sense of duty, but after just a handful of dances with other ladies he reclaimed me for the dance floor, and so it went for the rest of the evening. My sister club members were not neglected, but I was clearly receiving his special attention. I felt like I was at my first prom and I loved it.
Towards the end of the evening, when he was once again squiring me smoothly around the floor (did I mention that he dances divinely?) he said, “Evelyn, I know that this is presumptuous, but we cops tend to be rather forward. I guess it’s part of that fatalistic ‘live fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse’ thing. May I escort you home?”
I must have looked like a fish out of water. “Oh! Hank!” I said. “Well, I have my car here, and, well, the other ladies…”
He smiled. “I didn’t mean for us to leave arm and arm,” he said. I know that you’re a lady, and I don’t want you to do anything scandalous. I can follow you home discreetly.”
“Hank,” I said softly. “I can’t even begin to tell you how flattering this is. I know that there simply can’t be any way you don’t know this, but I AM old enough to be your mother, literally. I have sons who are older than you are.”
“Evelyn, all that does is it makes you more intriguing.”
I heard someone say, “Hank, I’d be delighted to have you come home with me.” That someone was me.
I stood in my kitchen, in the dark, my heart pounding, feeling like a school girl. I saw his headlights in the driveway. I heard the car door, but strangely he made not a sound as he approached the back door. I later learned it was a skill cultivated by street cops who walk beats in dangerous neighborhoods.
“He hunts longest who hunts in silence,” he said.
I saw his figure at the door. I opened it and he stepped in, bringing the scent of his aftershave with him. Whatever it was, it was manly. He didn’t utter a word but swept me into his arms and kissed me, REALLY kissed me. I thought of Rhett Butler when he told Scarlett O’Hara, “You need to be kissed, often. And by someone who knows how.” Hank knew how.
When we parted I gasped, “Hank, honey, let me catch my breath.” His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Hank, I’m afraid that I’m going to be a disappointment to you.”
“Are you indeed? And why is that?”
“Hank, honey, you probably think that since I’m so much older that I’m sexually experienced, but I’m not. My husband was a sweet, dear man, but he wasn’t sexually adventurous. My sexual experience has come in thirty second intervals, and, well, there are a great many things I haven’t done.”
“But something tells me you wanted to. You wanted to try new things, experiment, indulge your fantasies, but you didn’t feel you could tell him, right?”
“Oh Hank,” I sighed. “I AM pitiful, aren’t I?”
“Evelyn,” he said. “You’re not pitiful at all. You’re inexperienced, and there is a cure for that. Why don’t you tell me some of the things you’ve wanted to try?”
“Oh Hank, I couldn’t possibly! I couldn’t say such things out loud!”
“Well then, what experience have you had with oral lovemaking?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t had any,” I said sheepishly.
“Not giving or receiving?” he asked gently.
“No…see what I mean?”
“Well, that will be one of the first things we correct,” he responded.
My head spun as I considered the implications. “Hank? Does that mean you’re going to…oh good heavens…”
“I’m going to what?” he asked quietly.
I looked at his chest, unable to look into his eyes. “Put your thing in my mouth?” I whispered.
I could sense him smiling in the dark. “Evelyn, I love how ladylike you are. There simply isn’t enough of that in the world anymore. But to answer your question, what’s going to happen is, you’re going to suck my cock and lick my balls.”
Never in my life had I ever heard a man utter such words, and I was speechless…and terribly excited.
“Now then,” he said. “What are you going to do?”
I heard a small woman’s voice say, “I’m going to suck your cock and lick your balls.” There was a pause, and I looked into his eyes and said, “I’m going to suck your big, hard cock and lick your hairy balls.”
“I’d like that very much. And after that I’m going to spread those pretty legs, lick your pussy and suck your clit.”
My knees almost buckled. “Hank, are you supposed to have your orgasm in my mouth?”
“That is up to you…do you want me to?” he asked.
“Oh yes, please!”
“Now then…what is your most intense fantasy?”
“Oh Hank!” I gasped. “Oh, it’s simply awful. You’ll think I’m the world’s biggest whore! I can’t!”
He chuckled again. “World’s biggest whore huh? Well, that IS a pretty kinky fantasy, but something tells me that’s not it.”
“Oh gawd Hank, I’m so embarrassed,” I said as I buried my head in his chest.
“So…a charming and genteel lady has a fantasy so awful she can’t describe it. And likely thinks she’s the only woman on earth who has it. Hmmm…does it involve force?”
My head popped up and I stared at him in disbelief. “Hank!! How on earth…how did you…”
“Evelyn, that sort of fantasy is one of the most common that women have, especially reserved, genteel ladies like you. If you’re forced, you have no control, you’re not responsible. You can be a bad girl, but you can’t be blamed for it.”
“Hank, I’m not, well, abnormal?”
“You’re actually sickeningly normal,” he said. “Now then…strip,” he said.
I was taken aback by the suddenness of his words.
“Hank,” I stammered. “You mean HERE?” Not once in my sheltered life had I ever taken off my clothes, or been nude, anywhere other than the privacy of my bedroom. His eyes narrowed into the menacing, lion-like look he’d had when first I laid eyes on him, but now it was frightening in an intensely erotic way.
“I said strip!” he growled.
I had received that order dozens, maybe hundreds of time from as many fantasy captors in endless scenarios and venues, but now a breathing, flesh and blood man was ordering me to strip naked! I felt like I was going to faint. He wanted to see me naked, and seeing me that way was going to make his cock, the cock I was going to suck, rock-hard, and the thought made me giddy. It didn’t matter that my boobs were too small, or that my 58 year old butt was too big, or that I had grey hair on my pussy. He was going to lick it, grey hair and all. I wanted to turn the kitchen lights on so that my neighbors could watch me strip naked and see how much he wanted me.
My fingers trembling, I unzipped the dress I was wearing and let it slither to the floor, leaving me in bra and panties, and I was glad I’d worn nice ones. I unhooked the bra, pulled the cups from my breasts, and dropped it to the floor, crossing my arms in front of my chest and looking as demure and as much like a damsel in distress as I could.
“Panties,” he said.
“Oh please,” I whined like a little girl. “Please…not my panties.”
“Panties, now!” he growled.
It was better than being a little kid at Disney World. I slid my panties down my legs and kicked them off, leaving me naked except for the shiny, black heels I’d selected to wear that evening. I was naked, in my kitchen, a gorgeous stud’s prisoner (in my mind anyway), and I was about to be pleasured not for thirty seconds, but for hours.
He effortlessly swept me into his arms, movie-style, and carried me to the bedroom. He dropped me gently onto the bed. I watched him take off his sport coat. He was wearing the double shoulder holster that I saw in the video, containing two big handguns. I shivered a bit at the realization that not only were they not toys, but that he knew how to use them. He turned away from me as he removed his shirt and pants. He turned around and I must have looked like a deer in headlights as I stared, transfixed, between his legs. It basically resembled my late husband’s…with the exception of its dimensions. I was thrilled by it, and terrified by it, and I loved the feeling.
He lay down next to me, swept me into his arms and began kissing me, exploring my mouth with his tongue. He kissed my breasts, licked and bit my nipples. He somehow knew just exactly how hard to bite them. It hurt, I wanted it to hurt more, and it was incredibly exciting. I reached down and began to play with his cock, and although it hardly seemed possible it grew bigger.
“Hank,” I whispered between his hot kisses. “May I suck it now?”
“Yes, you may.” He shifted to his back and I grasped his thick cock.
“Um, honey I’m a bit new at this,” I said sheepishly.
“Kiss it baby,” he said.
He didn’t have to ask twice. I began planting long, slow kisses on his cockhead. The skin was hot and silky and I loved how it felt. But the best part was that he began to quietly moan. I kissed it for what seemed like a long time, then began to lick. His moans increased, and so did my confidence. I managed to get the head into my mouth and swirled my tongue around and around.
“Oh baby,” he groaned. “Now run your hand up and down the shaft.”
I did so, and his hips began to gyrate. I was doing it right!
“Get ready baby, I’m going to cum.”
I was as ready as I could be. With a deep groan, he entwined his fingers in my hair, and his big cock seemed to explode. I felt sudden warmth as he filled my mouth with his hot sperm. I swallowed and swallowed. Were there women who really didn’t LIKE this? I found it thrilling. When at last he relaxed, I gently squeezed his cock and licked away the drops of sperm that appeared at the tip.
“Did I do ok?” I asked.
“Good Gawd, Evelyn, that was fantastic…now it’s your turn.”
Again he was kissing me, my mouth, my face, my neck, breasts and nipples, but this time he didn’t stop. He kissed down over my tummy, and as he moved down he gently parted my legs. For a moment his face was poised over my pussy, and then my world turned upside down.
I didn’t last anytime at all. What he did was incredible and overwhelming, and I began to cum almost instantly. I grabbed the headboard, writhed, bucked, moaned and gasped such filthy language at Hank that even now my face turns red at the thought of it. When the waves of pleasure at last stopped rolling over me I lay there gasping for breath, my chest heaving.
“Shhhhhh,” he said. “Time for the main event.”
I looked fearfully at Hank’s cock, which was again rock-hard. “Hank, I’m a little scared here. Have you heard that saying about ‘ten pounds of sand in a five pound bag?’ ”
“Does it excite you to be scared of my cock?”
“Very much,” I responded. “But I’m beginning to realize that fantasizing about being raped with a bull cock and actually experiencing it may end up being very different things.”
“Close your eyes, relax, and trust me,” he said gently.
I did trust him, completely, and did as instructed. I felt him over me, then I felt his cockhead parting my soaking wet lips. Then he stopped, bless his heart. He inundated me with more of his exciting kisses, and I felt him thrust a bit more into me, very gently, allowing me to become accustomed to the huge newcomer. Before I knew it I felt his balls against my bottom. Surely that monster wasn’t inside me? How could a man with a cock like a barnyard animal be so gentle? And why did it feel so wonderful to be stretched like this? He gently moved my arms above my head and firmly gripped my hands. A thrill shivered through me.
“Hank,” I breathed softly. “Are you holding me down?”
“That depends,” he answered. “Does the thought of being held down excite you?”
“Oh Gawd, you know it does. Who are we? How did I get here?”
“Well, let me think about that…what was your club president’s name again? The pretty dark one?”
“Josephine, Jo we call her.”
“And the short blonde with the boobs?”
“Devil,” I snapped. That’s Judy.”
“Ok, I need to get this straight in my head. You, Jo and Judy are taking a trip, girl’s night out on a grand scale. I think Aruba will do nicely. You’ve spent a day on the beach, now it’s evening and you’re going clubbing. You’re in breezy, summer dresses. You cross the mouth of an alley. You hear a noise behind you. A bag is thrown over your head and you’re dragged away before you know it. You’re in a vehicle of some kind…it must be a van. All three of you have been kidnapped.”
I noticed that Hank had begun very gently fucking me. It hurt just the right way. I was imagining the scenario and my breathing was quickening.
“The van stops. The three of you are taken from the van and into a building of some sort. It’s cool, and it smells earthy and musty. Your hands are tied above your head. You feel hands and your clothes being torn. You’re being stripped.”
“Everything…in seconds you’re naked,” he responded. “The hoods are pulled from your heads. Jo and Judy are strung up too, and are also naked.”
“Ohhhhhh….,” I cooed. “I see everything.”
“Tell me what Jo looks like naked,” he said.
“Mmmmmmm…she’s Italian, so I’m betting she has nipples like big Hershey Kisses. And if she doesn’t shave she must have a very hairy pussy. And a big butt. Oh honey, fuck me a little harder,” I cooed.
“Nice,” he replied. “And Judy?”
“She’s very petite, barely over five feet tall. She has really big boobs…I’m not forgetting you noticed…and since she’s so fair she probably has pale, pink nipples and a little triangle of golden hair on her pussy. She has a butt like a little girl.”
“So…what happens now?” he asked.
My mind was racing. “You’re an international slaver. You have a very select clientele all over the world that like mature women as sex slaves because of their sexual experience. The three of us were too tempting to pass up. You’re going to auction us.”
“Hmmmm…I like that. Are you going to cooperate?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re ladies. We’ll demand that you release us so we can contact the American Embassy.”
“My, my…so feisty. Looks like some persuasion is going to be in order,” he said ominously.
Why did that have such a thrilling sound?
“So,” he said. “How should I proceed,” he asked.
Any inhibitions that I had developed over the decades were gone, long gone. There were no taboos.
“Wellllll,” I said. “Judy is so tiny. I really don’t think she could bear to have that horse cock of yours in that little butt.”
A picture flashed into my mind of little Judy cut down and taken to a rough wooden table where she’s bent over it and tied down, her big boobs flattened against the tabletop and squeezing out from the sides of her chest. I saw Hank behind her, putting his baseball sized cockhead between her little butt cheeks. I saw him thrust and could hear Judy’s shrill scream. “HANK, I’M CUMMING…..”
He began pounding me as I writhed and struggled beneath him. I bucked my hips to meet his thrusts and came and came. Hank knew when it was over and stopped thrusting. He knew I needed a break.
“Baby,” I gasped. “I could see you butt-fucking Judy. I heard her screaming. Oh Gawd!”
“You liked that, did you?”
“Hank, you have no idea what this is doing to me…please, I want more.”
“Ok, how about Jo?”
“To hell with Jo…it’s my turn. I want to know how you’re going to break me.”
“My, such a hurry,” He said. “I say to you, ‘Mrs. Henderson, you can see that we take a dim view of ladies who fail to cooperate. Are you ready to submit to your new life?’ ”
“No, I can’t,” I said, stepping into my role. “I’m a married woman, a mother, you know I can’t possibly submit to what you’re asking. Please, let us go. We’ll go home and won’t tell anyone what happened.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen. Your choice is to either submit or be persuaded.”
“No, I just can’t,” I said. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Well, Mrs. Henderson. I hate to mark a slave if I don’t have to. I’ve learned that the key to securing a reluctant lady’s cooperation is in her nipples. I see that your nipples are longer than the average. Don’t you feel a bit guilty that yours are so hard from watching your friend being assraped?”
“Oh, you bastard,” I hissed.
“A lady’s nipples are remarkably resistant. They’re made to be chewed on by ravenous babies, right? You can put clamps on them and add weights until they’re stretched considerably, and when you remove them they snap back, as good as new. I once had a young Roman Catholic nun who endured having hers stretched almost to her knees before she broke and agreed to suck my cock.”
“HANK!! HANK!!” The picture jumped into my mind and I saw every detail, the pretty young nun with her hands tied overhead, streaked with sweat, sperm running down her thighs from the gang-rape that had occurred before she was strung up to be tortured, struggling wildly, causing the weights to swing and increase the anguish to her tortured nipples. I came so hard I thought I’d pass out. “Hank,” I gasped weakly. “You’re killing me…you’re fucking me to death…don’t stop”
“I’m going to let you cum one more time then we’re through for tonight. You’re going to be sore as hell. Now that Judy has been broken and she’s ready to obey, I think she should lick Jo’s pussy. What do you think.”
“Oh! I think that’s a delightful idea!” I responded.
“Well…you just mull that over for a minute.”
I imagined little Judy, still sobbing from being assraped, kneeling in front of Jo. In my mind’s eye, Jo had been whipped for being defiant, and her breasts and big, brown nipples, her belly, her ass and her thighs were criss-crossed with angry red welts. She was shiny and slick with sweat, sobbing and moaning. Judy reached around, placing her little hands on Jo’s ample ass, and pulling the sweaty, hairy pussy against her face. Then Judy began to noisily suckle Jo’s clit. Jo began to cum…and so did I.
“FUCK me!!!” I hissed. Hank poured it on. I felt his hairy nuts slapping against my ass. He was right, I had never felt more exhausted and needed a big rest. I drifted to sleep to Hank’s very gentle kisses.