Domination/submission

Fiction

Under Tori’s Butt

This is a story about butt-style facesitting and the joys of a male who craved it for years. Sometimes, our cravings bring more than we anticipated. This is not a story of sex but more of ass adoration.

Fiction

Slave-Complete

This is the complete version of my story Slave. Hope you enjoy it, please feel free to comment!

Fiction

My Life as a Slave 1

My Life as a Slave 1
I entered the gay chatroom, posting that I was looking for someone that was dominant and into bondage. After a few fruitless hours, and some people that didn’t quite grasp the concept of intelligent conversation, I was messaged by someone who intrigued me. His name was Ross, he was 40, and he’d had bondage experience. I was 17, working in a better job than most who never went to college, and living on my own, me being gay not having sat well with my family. I loved older men, and I was intrigued.
We talked for a while, discussing interests and bondage, and I found out he was fairly nearby, me living in Albany, NY, and him living in southern Vermont. It was a drive of about an hour and a half. I didn’t have any pictures of myself, but I talked to him on the microphone for a while.
After a few months of this, he decided we should meet. He recommended meeting in the middle and getting food so neither of us had to drive too much, and it’d be a neutral place in case I got nervous.
I pulled into the diner, seeing his old Chevy pickup in the lot and walked in. He said he’d have a red hat on so I could find him. I scanned the restaurant and saw him and sat down. We introduced ourselves and he smiled at the look of me. He called me cute when I described myself, and I guess I’d satisfied his mental picture. He was pretty much exactly how he described himself, a little taller than me, short dark hair, fit, but showing some of the paunch that comes with age.
We ate and talked for a while, the conversation turning to sex and bondage. He said that I seemed pretty calm and that he liked how I didn’t shy away from the more hardcore topics. At one point he asked me to stand up and spin around so he could look at my body. I complied quickly, the thought of following orders, especially in public making my dick start to stand.
I asked him if we could go back to his place. He seemed taken aback by the question at first, but then readily agreed. We left, and I drove behind him the whole way back. The diner was about a half hour away from his apartment, all the way I was both nervous and horny. I followed him up to his third floor apartment, and removed my shoes as I walked in.
He told me he wanted to talk with me for a while, make sure I was comfortable, but that part of bondage is being uncomfortable, so I should strip down to my boxers. I complied and handed him my clothes, which he took into another room. He returned and sat on the couch, and I was to stand on the round wooden coffee table in front of it.
I was nervous, but my cock was starting to stiffen. We talked about innocuous things for a little while, and the first few words were difficult, having been put on display like I was, but slowly they flowed more easily. Quickly, our conversation shifted to some of the more “adult” things we’d talked about online.
My cock couldn’t help but grow hard, and I instinctively tried to make that less apparent. He could not help but notice and asked me if I was self conscious about my erection. I told him I was, and he commanded that I unbutton my boxers and pull it out through the slit. All of a sudden, there I was, hiding nothing from someone I’d had a conversation with for less than a few hours.
He told me I had a nice cock, to which I thanked him and probably turned pretty red. He asked me if I liked showing him my dick. I told him yes. He said good, because it would be out very often. He also asked if I’d had as little bondage experience as I’d said, to which I told him yes again. Now, he said, it was time to take my boxers off. I complied once again, and handed them to him.
I stood there and talked with him for several more minutes, my hands behind my back per his orders, my body on display on the coffee table.
He stood and told me to follow him into the bedroom, where I watched him toss my boxers into a safe that I could only assume held the rest of my clothes. On his bed was a box filled with various bondage items. He told me that he knew I preferred rope bondage, but that I was going to have to submit to him as opposed to him binding me.
He handed me a leather collar with four D-rings on it. I fastened it tightly around my neck. Next he gave me handcuffs, and told me that once they were on me, I was his to enjoy. I paused for a moment, before locking them onto my wrists behind my back.
Now, for the first time, I was helpless in front of Ross. He smiled somewhat evilly, which gave my cock another twitch. The great thing about cuffs, he told me, was that there was no escaping. I was his until he decided to let me go, whereas rope provided a possibility for escape, not that I could from his ties anyways.
He gave my stomach a little slap, just enough to get my attention. “I want you to realize, I can do anything I want to you now,” he informed me. “You know how I said you’d be naked most of the time here?” I nodded. “I lied. You’ll be naked all of the time.”
This only made me hornier. He brought me over in front of an armchair, where he forced me to my knees. He asked me if I wanted to see his cock in person. I nodded eagerly. He asked me if I was willing to be trained to give head. Another nod. He told me that the first thing I had to do was beg to suck him dry.
I’d never sucked a dick before, let alone begged to, so this was completely new to me. For about a half hour, I moaned and pleaded with him to let me suck his cock. Before he finally relented, he told me that I should understand that sucking his cock was a privilege and a reward, not a right. Every time I was allowed to wrap my lips around his dick, I was to thank him for it. I nodded again.
I had to scooch closer to be able to lean over without losing my balance. He didn’t push my head down at all while letting me go to work. I took his head in my mouth, him being about seven inches and circumcised (as I am also) and started bobbing up and down. I didn’t expect to do a great job, and concentrated on keeping my teeth out of the way. His cock tasted as any other bit of skin does with the wetness of my saliva and his precum.
As I worked, I wondered what his cum would taste like, knowing he’d expect me to swallow. I’d heard conflicting reports, and the thought made me a little nervous. I wanted to enjoy the taste, but didn’t know if I would. He let me work for a few minutes before instructing me to take as much of him as I could in my mouth. I responded by forcing my head down until a disappointing three inches had disappeared. He reassured me this was good for a first try, but that I’d eventually have to learn to deep throat him. I was to be punished if I didn’t learn fast enough.
I worked on going deeper and deeper while I blew him, but seemed to make little progress. What I did make some progress at was getting him closer to cumming. He told me he hadn’t cum for a while, wanting it to be relatively easy for me to get him off, so I could expect a big load. This did little to ease my nerves.
After a few more minutes, he started moaning that he was close. I took this as my cue to focus my efforts on his head. His cock stiffened as a warning before he shot several ropes of cum into my mouth. The first few splashed down my throat and I had to struggle not to cough or gag, before he eventually began dribbling on my tongue.
After he finished and slid his dick out, he told me to hold his cum in my mouth. The taste wasn’t as bad as I thought, but a bit stronger, not unlike salt water, but thicker. The vulgarity of semen sloshing around in my mouth only served to make me hornier. He tucked his cock back into his pants before he made me swallow.
After I’d swallowed my first load, he covered his cock and stood up. He helped me to my feet and brought me back over to the box on the bed. He grabbed a rubber cock ring and stretched it over my dick. It had another smaller ring that dangled below my balls, making it in essence a figure eight. To this loop he attached a leash that was about fifteen feet long.
He took pleasure in dragging me around the room and his apartment for several minutes, and I loved the control he had over me. Sometime he would pull me close so he could stroke my cock or swat my ass, or lightly slap my balls. Everything he did made me hornier and hornier. Finally he pulled me over to a sliding glass door that opened to a small balcony. There were blinds that could be drawn across the door to block the sun. He attached my leash to the rod, tightening it until I had to stand on my tiptoes. I was both nervous and exhilarated at the fact that I was showing my body out the door, even with the balcony rail somewhat blocking the view. The rod proved to be surprisingly strong. “Don’t fall over,” he said, heading out the door. Before I could reply, the door slammed shut and he was gone.

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Fiction

An Edited Life, Part 1

The hot bath was a welcome friend.
My eyes closed as my body sank into the deep tub, the lavender and chamomile-infused water seemingly embracing me as I inched into it, sighing softly as my frame nestled against the tub’s bottom.
It had been a hectic six months. Nearly a year earlier, a developer contacted me about coming to work in a planned community along the Indiana bank of the Ohio River, not terribly far from my hometown. The idea intrigued me, less for its proximity to home than for the town that was being built from nothing but gently-rolling hills and the challenges of the position I’d been offered.
When Alan Mercer first shared his vision, I was, admittedly, skeptical. He’d acquired five square miles of somewhat desolate land, several miles upstream from Louisville, Kentucky. On it, he was developing what could best be described as a playground for the youthful and educated. From the mixed-used buildings – with restaurants and retail and street level and apartments and condos above – to the sprawling riverfront park with its golf course, softball fields and amphitheater; to the winery and you-pick-it farm at the site’s fringe; to the enclosed water taxis that went back and forth to downtown Louisville, Mercer had seemingly thought of everything.
My role was to serve as the assistant editor of the development-owned media, keeping residents and visitors abreast of anything and everything that had to do with The Meadows at River’s Edge. The job was a hybrid of journalism and public relations, but about eighty-five percent of the development’s adults and a fast-growing number of its visitors were plugged in to our work, and neither its importance or its salary and significant perks were lost on me.
As my body absorbed the water’s warmth, it struck me how little I was plugged in to my new hometown. Several months had passed between Mercer’s offer and the actual move, and now six months into my new life, I realized I was living an endless procession of ten- to twelve-hour work days, with little to no human interaction after leaving the office.
That had to change.
My thoughts began to drift more deeply into my loneliness. The only man I’d really given a second look during the past six months was Andre Gregory, my editor. About five years older than me, Andre is a rock-solid six-foot-three, with a shaved head and crystal-clear chocolate skin. His smooth, deep voice is the sort one would want melting them to sleep night after night.
At times, the little smiles that often accompany Andre’s glances seemed knowing, almost taunting, causing my tummy to flutter slightly. Even as he’d always interacted with me as a gentleman, his look – THE look – often made me wonder what he was thinking.
But Andre was not only a co-worker, he was my boss. Tempted? Yes. But I could never let it happen.
As my bath lingered, I noticed the water cooling. No longer was steam drifting from its surface and a chill was beginning to run through me. Grudgingly climbing from the tub, I wrapped towels around my body and head and walked into bedroom, surprised to find that more than thirty minutes had passed since I’d sought refuge in the water.
Tonight, I was going out. This playground in which I’d found myself had become a lonely place, and with the awakening of spring and having the weekend off, this wasn’t a Friday night to be wasted as so many others had been since my arrival.
It’s been so long since my last night out, I felt almost inept to dress myself athletic, five-foot-nine frame for anything other than a day at the office. After what seemed like an eternity of indecision, my hand reached into the closet and came out with a hanger that contained a blue, floral-print figure-skater dress. Admittedly, it was almost too short, its skirt reaching just below my tush. But, hey, one can’t afford to spend a rare evening out unnoticed.
It was but a 10-minute walk from my apartment to the club at which I’d decided to spend the evening it. Strolling along the river, it struck me that I was turning some heads as others passed, including one poor bastard whose wife or girlfriend rewarded his glance at me with an open-handed slap to the back of his head.
The journey was both unsettling and gratifying.
The music from Escape was noticeable from about half a block away, its pulse growing louder with each step. The lobby was crowded as was the club itself, but an open table next to the dance floor beckoned, so I sat, relaxed, ordered a vodka and cranberry juice and began taking everything in.
Journalists are awful about mentally picking people apart, perhaps as a defense mechanism as much as anything. As my gaze flowed around the club, I began to analyze the people around me. That man with the tacky gold chains and his shirt open by about two buttons too many ought to head straight back to 1975 where he belongs. The fifty-something woman just a tad overweight for the spandex in which she was clad was probably mistaken to be hitting on twenty-something men.
Time passed and several drinks had flowed through my lips, and it suddenly struck me that a Friday night at home in front of the television might not have been a bad idea.
It was approaching midnight and nearly two hours had been wasted at the club. It was becoming more and more obvious that with no hope of companionship in sight and after having finished off a couple of drinks, it might be time to leave.
“How interesting,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear, from behind, “my dormant flower has emerged from her hole with the spring’s warmth.”
Though I turned my head, it wasn’t necessary to see my editor before I knew it was he who had teased me, using my dress’s print as imagery to poke fun at my lack of socialization.
His hand reached over my shoulder, grabbing one of the empty glasses on the table at which I sat, lifting it to his nose and taking a breath before snickering, “Drinking vodka and cranberry juice alone while surrounded by people; how absolutely typical of you.”
Though a smile crossed my lips, the emptiness I felt outside of work had become a bit painful. I grabbed my purse from the table, stood and turned, muttering, “I was just leaving actually,” only to feel his hand against my tummy as he said, “Oh no you don’t. You spend six months doing nothing but working and you think you’re heading home at eleven on a Friday night when you’ve the weekend off?”
My tummy fluttered slightly at his touch, and I glanced at him and said, “You won’t let me leave?”
He said nothing, smiling as he shook his head, grabbing my purse and returning it to the table before sitting in the chair across from me. Andre then motioned for the waitress standing nearby, ordering another vodka and cranberry for me and a Woodford Reserve on the rocks for himself.
Andre reached across the table, taking my hand in his, briefly saying nothing as he looked at me.
“Not once can I remember you mentioning a date, socializing, anything that would lead me to believe you’ve allowed yourself to enjoy a life outside of our work,” he said.
His observation did nothing for my self-confidence, and I caught myself struggling to find the right words with which to respond.
“The opportunities just haven’t been there,” I said, immediately realizing how hollow my words sounded.
“No,” he said. “The opportunities are there, you’ve just not taken advantage of them.”
Our drinks arrived, and I quickly grabbed my glass, lifting it to my lips before I said something else that left me coming across like a child making poorly-engineered excuses for unacceptable behavior.
“Look around us,” Andre continued. “It’s Friday night, the club is packed with people and I found you sitting here alone. If I had to guess, I’d say you picking them apart, person by person, so that you had a prefabricated veto in hand, in the event that any of them dared approach you.”
I caught myself – barely – before I spit my drink on the table.
“That’s exactly what I’d been doing,” I said with a smirk, realizing how observant Andre had been of my personality during the past half year.
The chat – which was more a polite lecture than anything – continued, with Andre chiding me for burying myself in my work when it wasn’t necessary for me to work at all, given that the trust my parents had set up for me afforded me considerably more financial independence than a career in journalism ever would.
What bothered me most about Andre’s friendly rant was that he left me with no room to object, so I listened somewhat helplessly as he methodically laid out what was wrong with my life.
With our glasses nearly empty, Andre ordered more drinks, but before they arrived, he stood and motioned for me to join him, taking me by the hand and leading me to the dance floor. My first few steps with him were awkward, between the drinks I’d already had and the rarity with which I wore heels.
Andre led me to an open spot on the floor, turned me around so that my back was to him, wrapped his thick, muscular arms around me and guided my body against his as we began to sway together.
Had this man not been my boss, what had happened wouldn’t have bothered me a bit, but here I was, in public and with his arms wrapped tight around me. What if a co-worker popped in? How many of these people had seen both our photos scattered throughout our work?
As these thoughts flowed through my mind, Andre’s hands slid down my sides, grabbing my hips and pulling my ass against his pelvis. Even with my embarrassment, my spine tingled at the attention and almost instinctively, I pressed back against him and gave my hips a playful little shimmy, only to have him lean forward and with that velvet-like voice purr, “Tonight, you’re going to socialize.”
We’d danced for nearly an hour, and I’d felt almost as if I were being publicly displayed before Andre very calmly said, “Now we can go.”
“We?” I replied. “It’s no trouble to walk home. It’s not that far.”
He smirked as he took my hand and led me back past the tabled where my purse – and our untouched drinks – sat. I grabbed my bag and followed him out the door and down the street to his Wrangler, climbing in as he opened the door for me before he entered on the other side.
“You’re coming to my place,” Andre said, as he started the car.
My head turned toward him as I replied, “Pardon? That strikes me as inappropriate.”
He nodded as he softly said, “Yes, it is,” his tone an almost mocking one.
Had Andre not been my boss, none of this would have been a conflict for me. He is a stunning, confident and cerebral, strong in every sense of the word.
As he drove, my mind struggled to grasp what was happening. After half a year of a social void, how was it possible that I’d just spent an hour unexpectedly dancing with my editor and was now even more unexpectedly in his car, tingling from having a bit too much vodka, heading to his house?
Andre pulled into his garage and clicked the remote on his visor, closing the door behind us. He exited the Wrangler, walked around its backside and opened the door for me, and then I followed him into his home.
We walked into his living room and stood behind what appeared to be a fairly expensive leather sofa. His arms wrapped around me again, this time pulling me toward him face-to-face and our lips met, first fluttering together before mine opened and his tongue slid into my mouth, causing me to moan into his as my heart began to race and a vaguely familiar warmth began to build within me.
Instinctively, I struggled, even as the moment was enjoyable. “He’s my boss,” was the thing that kept running through my mind. Andre apparently sensed my hesitation, my doubt, grabbing me all the harder and kissing me that much more passionately.
The kiss lingered, and my mouth felt full as his tongue slowly snaked within it. So focused was I on what Andre was doing with to mouth that I’d failed to notice that he’d grabbed my dress’s hem and was lifting it up my body, and that my arms had risen over my head without me even realizing it. It was only when he broke the kiss – my bra-less breasts exposed to the room’s cool air – to lift the flowery blue garment over my head that I actually became aware of what was happening.
So there I was, standing in Andre’s living room wearing nothing but a blue satin thong and nearly perfectly-matching, heeled sandals.
“Lose the shoes,” he said, and I nodded, lifting each foot, in turn, before tossing the sandals toward where my dress lay on the floor.
Andre slowly turned me, leaving me facing the sofa’s back. His hand found the middle of my back, bending me forward, and my own hands grabbed the sofa, leaving me bent at the hips and nervously stammering, “W-W-What are you …” before he shushed me.
The few seconds that passed seemed like an eternity. I could feel Andre looking at me, inspecting me before I jerked forward as a sharp sting exploded within me, his hard black hand having come crashing onto my ass. He laughed when a high-pitched whimper passed through my lips then said, “I told you back at the club you were going socialize tonight.”
My grip on the sofa tightened, expecting to be spanked again, but nothing happened. As my fingers relaxed, another slap shot through the air when he struck my other bun, this time hard enough that my knees buckled and I squealed, “Holy shit!” as I struggled to hold myself up.
That my rump was burning didn’t stop Andre from groping it with his powerful hands. As he kneeled behind me, his palms rotated, his fingers having been pointed toward the floor while he was standing, then ending up pointed toward my back by the time he reached his knees.
He slipped his forefingers into my panties’ waistband and pulled them over my hips, drawing them down my legs. As they reached my ankles, I lifted first one foot, then the other, stepping out of them. Andre’s hands returned to my ass, pulling me open and then he smirked, “I am soooooooo gonna enjoy this.”
As he kneeled behind me, he took a slow, deep breath as his nose hovered oh so close. My legs trembled as his warm exhale flowed through my crotch, and it struck me that his nostrils had to be filled with my musk. His grip on my ass tightened and he pulled me open even further, to the point that it strained me enough so that I rolled to the balls of my feet.
Again, seconds passed and nothing happened before he jolted me again with the flutter of his tongue against my folds. I dared not release my grip on the sofa’s back, and my body began to writhe with his licks, and I could hear him chuckle as he teased me with his lapping at my pussy.
As Andre’s tongue flowed through my vulva, the guilt within me grew. It was nearing 2 a.m. on Saturday and my editor’s face was in my snatch and my honey was dripping onto his eager tongue. How the hell would we face each other at the office on Monday?
Having been lost in my remorse, I’d not even noticed that Andre had stood up till I looked over my shoulder and saw that he’d been upright long enough to shed his clothes and toss them to the floor to our left. When he brushed up behind me, a gasp escaped my lips as I felt his rigid shaft against my tush as he leaned forward, guiding my hands from the sofa’s back and bending me completely over it.
The cold leather made be break out in goose bumps, despite the heat that raged within me. My areolas were rock-hard at the ends of my full, round breasts and Andre’s hands found those spots where the backs of my thighs joined my buttocks, his thumbs pointing inward and pulling me open, as he deeply, calmly said, “I’m about to change your life, Gabi.”
He held me open as the head of his thick, brown cock hovered at my entrance, as if he instinctively knew I’d never had a black man inside me, as if he wanted to give me a moment to ponder what he was about to do to me.
And then, it happened.
With one vicious thrust, Andre filled me, his pelvis crashing hard into my white ass as my warm, slick womb engulfed every last inch of him, his cock’s crown stabbing my cervix. I’d never felt so full, and my scalp began to tingle beyond the voda’s effect as his hands slipped to my hips, grabbing them firmly as he began to slide in and out, my lips emitting intermittent moans as he began to use my body for his pleasure.
The tickle from my crotch was overwhelming, resonating through me from head to toe as he flowed back and forth, my slit dripping its nectar down the back of the couch I was bent over with the longest, thickest cock I’d ever taken making itself at home inside me after having gone so many months without.
As Andre pounded me again and again, my guilt gave way to raw, primal lust. No man had ever robbed me of control and used me this way, and I found myself savoring the moment, as if falling into a trance.
“Fuck the shit out of me!” I growled, the words escaping me before I’d even realized it.
“All … weekend … long,” he calmly replied, hammering me all the harder.
My feet lifted from the floor, my legs drawing up as Andre’s prick filled me again and again, my weight teetering on the couch’s back, my head spinning as I wondered whether he was serious, whether I’d spend the weekend with him between my legs, digging myself an even deeper hole before the new work week began.
As my body rocked atop the sofa, Andre’s hand slammed against my ass again and a shriek passed through my lips, his cock likely the only thing from keeping me from falling over.
My sense of time was lost as Andre impaled me unmercifully, seemingly thousands of times, to the point that my snatch ached and convulsed as it never had before, only a brief glance at the clock bringing me to the realization that it was after 3.
He groaned as his rod began to twitch violently, deep inside me.
Andre didn’t withdraw immediately, holding himself in me long enough that his prick began to soften. When he finally slid out, my legs uncurled and my feet again touched the floor, and his jizz began to run down my inner thighs.
He guided me around to face him again and I looked up at his ebony face, blushing deep red as I muttered, “All weekend long?”
“Yes,” he said confidently as he nodded, “As I said, I’m going to change your life.”
Andre grabbed my hand and led me down the hall to his bedroom, and I nuzzled against him as we drifted to sleep, my mind filled with hazy images of what the rest of the weekend might hold.

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Fiction

AFTERNOON SURPRISE

This is one of several stories with ‘Surprise’ in the title; their common theme is lesbians caught in an unexpected situation. To find the others, and the rest of my 100% all-girl lesbian stories, follow the author link above. This is quite a long story – some of my others are much shorter (try the ‘Scene in a …’ series). It is fiction, and any resemblance to real persons or places is purely coincidental.

Fiction

Mom, The Unwilling Slut Ch 02

Authors Note
This is a BDSM/Incest story with some non-consent elements. If you don’t like those topics please find a story more to your liking.
This chapter was written by popular demand of my fans on other sites. There will not be a chapter 3.
This is a work of fantasy. Salacious Scribe in no way condones the actions contained in this story. All parties to any encounter should fully consent to the experience.
© 2019 Salacious Scribe. All Rights Reserved.

Fiction

Mom, The Unwilling Slut Ch 02

Authors Note
This is a BDSM/Incest story with some non-consent elements. If you don’t like those topics please find a story more to your liking.
This chapter was written by popular demand of my fans on other sites. There will not be a chapter 3.
This is a work of fantasy. Salacious Scribe in no way condones the actions contained in this story. All parties to any encounter should fully consent to the experience.
© 2019 Salacious Scribe. All Rights Reserved.

Fiction

My Niece Mary Jane , Part 2 Sunday morning

Unfortunately, it was around nine AM Sunday when I woke up, to find that I was still alone in my bed, and the wet dreams that I may have had had been just that wet dreams. I noticed that the door to the guest room was closed, so I went about my morning business and descended to the kitchen to get the coffee going. It looked as though it was going to be a bright warm sunny day as I took my first cup out on to the deck and settled myself down. It was not before I had finished my second cup of java that I heard movement in the kitchen, my wife came out with the coffee pot asking if I wanted a refill of what was left or if I wanted to wait until she made a fresh pot. My wife usually wears a full set of girly pajamas to bed so most times she does not have to wear a gown to be decently covered up. This morning however she came out on the open deck dressed in the skimpiest, shortest night gown if that is what it could be called. It was tied loosely at her waste, allowing me to see almost all the wonderful naked body that was underneath. It was not that it mattered that much, as the material was so thin, the sunlight had transformed the gown into almost no covering at all, my wife might as well have been stark naked, for all the protection the gown gave her.
I was very slow with my reply, not wanting her to slip back into the house, decided that I would accept a refill of the old coffee , even if it might be a bit stale, after all I had made it much earlier that morning. I was bright enough however to leave my cup on the side table completely opposite my wife. When she leaned her body across mine, to fill the cup, I managed to pull at the tie cord, loosening the material of the gown so that I could reach up and grab hold of her bare left tit. My wife did not chide me nor pull back like she had in the past, she allowed me to play with her tit, to caress it, to squeeze it, to pinch at her nipple and bring it to life, making it emerge from her areole and extend itself quite firmly. To my entire surprise, my wife put the coffee pot down, and turned to face me, spreading her legs open on either side of mine. She bent her body forward offering free access to her nakedness, she bent further seeking to attach her lips to mine, at the same time allowing the little short gown to slide from her body to the floor of the deck.
It had been a long time since I had had my wife out in the open, naked like she was then, a long time since we had enjoyed the simple pleasure of each other’s body. I did not quite understand what was feeding her sexual appetite, but I was not going to try to figure it out, I was going to seize every opportunity to enjoy what she was offering me. As we continued kissing, my wife grabbed my free hand and slipped it down between her legs, where contrary to coming into contact with her lovely silky pussy hairs, I found my fingers brushing up against her bald cunt lips. This unexpected contact caused my cock to surge to its full blown size, making me squirm in the chair to eliminate some discomfort. My wife taking advantage of this movement slipped her hand down into my pajamas and pulled my rigid manhood out into the fresh air. She used her slender fingers to stroke it in such a manner that she managed to make it surge to even a greater length.
Satisfied with her efforts to extract the maximum of my appendage, she descended between my legs and took my cock into her mouth and went at it with her tongue. I set my head back against the chair, placed my hands on my wife’s head and let my body react to her wonderful manipulations. Taking her time, my wife brought me to the edge several times, causing me to flex and grunt with great passion, certainly to my wife’s satisfaction. Finally with the greatest of care I felt my wife tug at the band of my pajamas, trying to pull them off my lower body, so I lifted my ass off the chair allowing her to slid them down around my ankles. With this completed she reached for my ball sac and proceeded to stroke it softly at first then with an increased vigour. I sensed the build up of my seed way down, it was at first a tingling feeling, then it became a more urgent sensation , then suddenly I felt my wife’s finger insert itself in my rectum, producing a powerful explosion that caused me to evacuate a great deal of warm white liquid, pouring it forcefully into my wife’s waiting mouth.
I opened my eyes, I wanted to see my wife take my seed, well I wanted to see how much I was shooting , how much she was able to hold. I wanted to see my seed dripping from the crease of her lips, I wanted to see her swallowing. When I opened my eyes however, I was almost shocked to see Mary Jane standing beside us watching my wife sucking me off. She was standing, dressed in almost the identical gown that my wife had on, or at least had worn earlier. It was untied, hanging open. Mary Jane was playing with herself, she had one hand working her tits, pulling at her little nipples, while the other hand was very busy working her cunt. She much have inserted at least three fingers from what I could tell in her little hole. Mary Jane was so close to us that I could see her juices running down her legs, almost in as great quantity as I was emitting.
It was very difficult to divide my vision between them, I really wanted to watch my wife taking my seed down her throat, but Mary Jane was also a delicious sight standing there masturbating her young body. The dilemma was solved rather quickly, once my wife realized there was no more to suck from my cock, she rose and mashed her body with Mary Jane’s. My wife brought her lips to Mary Jane’s and from what I could tell proceeded to push some of my cum into Mary Jane’s receptive mouth, at the same time pushing the gown completely from her body. I watched as my wife’s hands replaced those of Mary Jane’s as she proceeded to bring Mary Jane to climax while they stood exposed out on the back deck that beautiful Sunday morning. In a short time my wife had Mary Jane to the point she wanted, I watched as Mary Jane bucked and vibrated, shuddered and shook, almost to the point of collapsing in my wife’s arms. When she was allowed release she howled so loud I was concerned that we might have disturbed the neighbours, or at least had caused them to question what the hell was going on over at our place. It did not however appear to faze my wife at all, as she kept working Mary Jane’s body parts allowing her no reprieve at all. It was almost like my wife had turned sadistic and was enjoying taking advantage of her young niece.
Finally my wife could no longer hold Mary Jane’s body in a standing position and allowed her to slip down on to the floor of the deck. She then moved back over to me and sat her sweaty, shining body down into my lap, placed her arms around my neck, and sought out my mouth with her wonderful sexy lips. We must have all dozed off in our positions as the next thing I knew was that I needed to piss really bad, almost to the point of having done so unintentionally while I sat there in my deck chair holding my wife in my lap. Stirring carefully, I gently shook my wife, awaking her from what ever dream she had been involved in and told her of my problem. She responded telling me it was a good thing that I had not released myself on the deck as we had already dripped enough body liquids on the deck as it were. My wife nudged me in the direction of Mary Jane, who lay sprawled out where she had been dropped, suggesting that we pick her up and take her inside so that she would not get sunburned. My wife told me to carry her up and put her in the tub as she needed to be rinsed down a bit.
I carried this poor spent naked body from the deck and carefully deposited her in our tub, then moved over to the toilet to take care of my problem. My wife who had followed us, looked at me then started out saying that perhaps I could, do something for her. Then continued that perhaps it was a bit too early for her to take Mary Jane that far along, but added that she would like to hold the hose while I released the liquid into the bowl. The piss flowed in great force from my hose as I realized that my wife had almost suggested that I provide Mary Jane with a golden shower as she lay exhausted in our tub. I hoped perhaps that what every my wife had gotten into with Mary Jane was not just a one time deal and there might be another opportunity down the road to release my hot piss on to this lovely young naked nymph.
Once I had finished my business, my wife insisting on shaking the last drops from my cock on to her fingers which immediately were taken into her mouth . I was ushered out of the room and told to wash up in the downstairs facilities. It was almost one o’clock before everyone found themselves back in the kitchen. My wife stating that perhaps it would be best if we went out to brunch as they were too exhausted to make anything to eat. This of course was fine with me. I had no objection to taking to lovely girls out on the town, especially after the treat they had provided me. My wife asked for a few more minutes to get ready, pulling Mary Jane back upstairs, telling me to lock up and go start the car.
The girls came out of the house, all done up, almost in the same outfit, they certainly could pass for mother and daughter, even older sister and younger sister , not quite even in their ages, but close enough as far as my eyes were concerned. Both were wearing light sleeveless blouses, Bermuda shorts and sandals that were laced part way up their legs, two beauties they were , it went without saying. As my wife got into the car it was easy to see she was wearing a bra, so I glanced in the rearview mirror to see if I could tell the same of Mary Jane, unfortunately I was able to confirm my fears, she also was wearing a bra. I figured if they had bras on them more than likely had panties to boot, and that any fun and games that I thought might be played out were quashed.
The restaurant that I had chosen for brunch was busy so we had a choice of standing in line, or sitting in the bar, where of course you were expected to order an alcoholic beverage. As we had not eaten since the night before I suggested we order a light ros?ine, that would not interfere too much with our lack of food, and might even help prepare our stomachs for the delights that we could smell coming from the dinning area. By the time we had finished our second glass, about half the bottle we were called to be seated. Fortune would have it that we were directed to a side seat, located in an alcove like part of the room, slightly off from the main stream of things, decorated with large leafy plants. There may have been six or eight of these types of seats and we were offered the third from last, making the walk from the food center to our seat not as far as the customers seated in the last seats, yet not as close to the food that a hungry person might want to be. It was however a comfortable spot, with a window that looked out towards the park, it was kind of cozy, it was public yet private just what the doctor ordered for three frisky loving people.
We settled in at first a girl on each side of me while we took in the situation we found ourselves in, commenting on the lovely open scene that the window provided, as well as the privacy of the area that the large leaf like plants provided. It was almost as though we were all alone, isolated, insulated from the outside world, yet we were surrounded by the goings on of the restaurant. I let the girls go get their plates first as I wanted to watch my two lovely ladies parade back and forth from the table. It was indeed a sight to watch those two tight bottoms wiggle as they walked towards the food counters. Needless to say my wife accentuated her walking moves as she sauntered back towards me, putting on a great show, for any of those patrons sitting at the tables in the first few alcoves. For a man I could not have wished for more, my wife was it she was great, more than great , I was sure that every one looking her way knew it as well.
Once she had taken her seat I left to go fill my plate, meeting Mary Jane who was on her way back. I held her up just long enough to place an Uncle type kiss on her cheek, and tell her how beautiful she looked, and how jealous the other men were that she was with me and not them, causing her to flush pink in the face. The girls were in deep conversation when I arrived back at the table, both providing me with a sneaky little grin as I took my place to the left of my wife. I was allowed to let my hand slip down on to my wife’s upper thigh and let it lie quietly with out any complaint. In fact as I began massaging a small area on her thigh , I noticed that she had placed her left hand down on to Mary Jane’s right thigh and was copying my movements. I was not certain if this was planned or just happened to develop in that manner, but I thought I would test things to see. I increased the size of the area I was rubbing, and at the same time leaned into my wife and kissed her just below the ear lope. No sooner than I had broken the kiss, I felt her slant her body towards Mary Jane and do the same.
These mimicking actions I figured could only mean one thing , the games were still on . I then I thought maybe it was just a fluke situation so I gave it a rest and continued to finish the food on my plate, while attempting to take part in the conversation of the moment. I decided to push things a bit more, making my actions a bit more daring, so I removed my left hand from my wife’s upper leg and sent my arm around her shoulders. Nothing was done to stop me at that point, so I eased the fingers on my left hand down in front of my wife’s upper body . I slipped them in under the opening of the sleeve of her blouse and rubbed her bare skin. How my wife did it I do not know, but she managed to get her own left arm up and around Mary Jane and copied my exact movement.
Eureka I thought this was fun , I was going to take things as far as I could , before getting stopped, or getting caught by the waitress, or perhaps a restaurant patron.
I decided to see just how far I was going to be allowed to go, so turning in my seat I placed my right hand on my wife’s knee and squeezed firmly, but with a gentleness, that I could afford, after all going slow was key to this trial run. I turned to look her in the face, then as I applied pressure with my left hand to the upper potion of her chest, I slipped my right hand in under the material of her shorts as far as I could, then dragged my finger nails back over the inside of her upper thigh. This accomplished I twisted my body back into the normal sitting position and finished cleaning my plate. Immediately my wife turned towards Mary Jane, and certainly must have done the same thing, only she may have gotten her hand further up Mary Jane’s bare leg as I heard a distinct gasp exiting her pretty lips, just at the moment the waitress stopped to refill our coffee cups.
My wife paid no attention to the waitress at all, and simply repositioned herself in her seat . Telling Mary Jane it was time to return to the food counter and see what other delicacies they could find, they left leaving me to deal with any situation that might be brought up. The waitress , I must say was very professional. She did not mention, nor look like she was going to broach the matter. She offered to come back when the ladies returned to fill their cups, rather than leave a full cup to get cold, then she exited the area quickly. When the girls did return , I could tell there was something different in the way they were moving, but it was not until they were almost at the table that I noticed several upper buttons on their blouses had been undone. If it was evident to me , it certainly was to any of the other patrons, they were showing a large amount of bare chest , in fact you could clearly see that their colored bras were showing. Upon closer inspection, that perhaps only I was afforded as they reached the table I could tell that both were wearing bras that had the clasp in the front.
I left the two of them giggling senselessly to go get myself another plate of some of the most wonderful restaurant food I had seen in a while. I had however to take a moment to go relieve the pressure from all the coffee I had drunk so far. It was perhaps ten may be fifteen minutes before I returned to the table . I could see my girls once again in deep conversation, my wife holding Mary Jane’s face in her hands talking quietly. At first I began to slip in once again beside my wife, however she motioned for me to slip in on the other side, effectually squeezing Mary Jane between us. I figured in this position I would not be able to play any further games, because my wife had placed herself out of my reach. I shrugged, feeling good that I had already managed to get a little , and went about consuming the delicacies that I had brought from the food counter paying little attention to the two girls.
About fifteen minutes had gone by when suddenly I felt my wife reach over and touch my right hand, motioning for me to put down my fork. Once that was accomplished she tugged my right hand down under the table and set it on Mary Jane’s left thigh, pushing it in the same rubbing motion that I had done earlier on her own upper thigh. Now this was not quiet what a gentlemanly Uncle should be doing, but as it was my wife who was really directing things, I did not stop her , nor pull my hand back, in fact I began to enjoy the heated sensation that was rising from Mary Jane’s leg. My wife left my hand to continue by itself, and moved her own over to Mary Jane’s other thigh once again mimicking my movements causing Mary Jane’s to sound off with a series of very low moans. We continued these antics for perhaps five or ten minutes, before Mary Jane’s shifted slightly in her seat , spreading her legs as wide as she could, pushing her left leg hard against me, as no doubt she did with her right against my wife’s. This opened up a whole new area on which to rub, cautiously however, I eased my rubbing fingers closer to the inside of her thigh, pushing up towards the center of her young limbs. You could hear Mary Jane taking deep breaths as my fingers crept closer and closer towards that special little spot of hers. Eventhough she had spread herself wide, there was not all that much room and when my fingers reached a certain point them came into contact to my surprise with my wife’s, she also had sent her finger creeping up Mary Jane’s inner thigh, it was no wonder the poor girl was making those sounds.
I guess I was just about to reach the epicenter of things when my wife turned in her seat and clamped her right hand onto mine holding it still with a firm grip. She then turned sideways in her seat, facing both myself and little Mary Jane who was now sitting between us and reached for my left hand. She slipped it under the material of Mary Jane’s blouse, where it came to rest on bare flesh, extracting a low groan from some where far inside her lungs. My hand was left hanging, placed firmly against Mary Jane’s lower torso and left on its own while my wife fiddled at the front of Mary Jane’s blouse. I could feel Mary Jane’s body quivering as my hand lay there on her soft bare skin, quivering perhaps in anticipation, quivering with perhaps a bit of anxiety, or fear of what might happen I did not know . I was beginning to be anxious to see what my wife’s next move would be. Having finished what ever she was doing with the front of Mary Jane’s blouse, I found her hand back on top of mine, applying pressure , pushing both our hands firmly on to Mary Jane’s body. Then my wife moved our hands upwards, not quickly but very slowly, almost excruciating slow . Mary Jane tightened her body muscles, seemingly almost holding her breath. This caused her upper chest to expand, pushing her tits out even further, and I guess this is what my wife was waiting for , or expecting, as she seized that moment to direct my hand higher, until I felt it tangle in some loose material . My wife lifted our hands outward just a bit , allowing them to slip further up and to my immediate pleasure settle quite nicely on Mary Jane’s bare tit. It appeared that my wife had undone the front clasp holding the bra cups together .
Mary Jane sounded out with a deep almost very loud gasp as my wife settle my hand on her left tit, squeezing my fingers gently on to her soft warm breast. My wife withdrew her own hand leaving me to continue on my own. I tried to watch both girls, Mary Jane’s facial expressions were captivating, however I was very curious as to what my wife would succeed in doing next. Indeed it did not take but a few seconds before I realized that my wife had moved her now free hand over onto Mary Jane’s right tit. There we were, two mature adults, sitting at the table in a none too unoccupied restaurant, playing with , well perhaps mauling at a young girl’s naked breast, causing her to squirm from the sensations she was experiencing while we proceeded uninterrupted.
I was certain that my wife had not taken her other hand from Mary Jane’s leg, she was still rubbing that part of her anatomy. I could not see, but I could guess from the moaning and groaning noises Mary Jane was emitting, that my wife had her hand much further up her inner thigh than mine had been. Mary Jane must have been in the throes of ecstasy for not only was she pushing her upper torso forward in an attempt to keep the pressure of our hands on her tits constant, but she was gyrating the lower portion of her body, moving her bottom back and forth along the seat where we were sitting. Suddenly Mary Jane began to utter different sounds, urgent sounds of “ Uh! , Uh!, Oh!, Oh! Aw!, Aw! ” from what I can remember, sharp little grunts that came quicker and quicker.
It was at that moment that my wife pulled her hand from where it had been below the table and reached over and took my hand away from Mary Jane’s soft warm tit. If Mary Jane was surprised, I was more than taken back, at first I thought that my wife had noticed someone at , or coming towards our table in our out of the way spot, but when I looked around I saw nothing at all. I looked back at Mary Jane to see a poor girl gasping at release , wanting to cum, wanting to continue, sheer desperation showed in her face. My wife brought the fingers of the hand that had been below the table to her nose inhaling I am convinced the sweet smell of Mary Jane’s scent. She then bent towards Mary Jane and whispered in her ear, nothing however that I could decipher.
The expression that appeared on Mary Jane’s face, appeared to be one of pure fear, or almost, her normal pink coloring drained from her cheeks, she turned pure white, as though she was in shock. Several minutes passed before I detected movement on Mary Jane’s part, she cleared her throat, trying hard to swallow I assumed. I watched the color come back to her face, turning it a vivid pink. She eased her hands down below the table and fiddle with what I found out later to be her belt and the zipper of her Bermuda shorts. Mary Jane then lifted her bottom and began to pull at the material of her shorts, moving it over and off her hips and slide it along her thighs, past her knees which then allowed it to fall down around her ankles and settle on the floor of the restaurant’s alcove. Once this was accomplished Mary Jane sat back on to the seat, either waiting for my wife and I to continue where we had left off, or get the courage to do more That was I what I thought, perhaps she was waiting for my wife to whisper instructions to her once again.
Mary Jane was staring straight ahead, looking over the table , above the food and dishes that were there, across the area in which we were seated, over to the leafy green of the plants that were offering us some privacy from the rest of the restaurant patrons. It was like she had tunnel vision, seeking to fix her sight on or at on point in particular . Then carefully, slowly, cautiously she reached for the opening of her blouse, and began undoing the remaining buttons one at a time. I watched as she completed this task with great anxiety, here we were letting a young girl undress herself in the middle of the day, in the middle of a busy restaurant. I knew for a fact that her brassiere had been undone, so once her blouse was undone, she risked being placed in a very delicate situation, if the blouse opened too far, her entire upper body would be very exposed indeed.
Now I had no idea what my wife had whispered earlier to Mary Jane ,so I could not believe my eyes when I saw her, as she unfastened the last button, open her blouse completely, move it and her loose bra off her shoulders and let them drop down behind her on to the seat. I was astonished, Mary Jane was now naked exposed out in public, her tits showing above the table top, her two nipples poking out rigid from her areolas. She made no move to cover her beauty, she simply lowered her arms to her sides and waited. At once my wife reacted, she turned her body towards Mary Jane, sending one hand down below the table, the other to pinch at an elongated nipple causing Mary Jane to flinch. My wife then spoke to me in a low voice , she told me that it would be quite alright if I wanted to play with Mary Jane’s left tit. I was however to keep my hands away from the lower portion of her body. Immediately I attached myself to Mart Jane’s tit, I was not going to miss this opportunity. I started to roll Mary Jane’s left nipple between my finger and my thumb, enjoying the sensation of the rubbery like feeling of this young lassie. Mary Jane went ballistic with both of us pinching at her nipples, my wife no doubt using her other hand to stimulate her nether-land.
I was at first a bit nervous and concerned, now that Mary Jane was moaning and groaning very loudly. I was certain that those sitting in the neighbouring booths could hear her. I was about to say something to my wife, but I guess she was watching my reaction to all this lovely noise, for she suddenly stuck her tongue out and made a flicking motion to me, then she turned her tongue towards Mary Jane. Not being too stupid I figured she wanted me to use my tongue to further stimulate Mary Jane’s nipple or whole breast so I complied leaving my thoughts of being discovered hanging in the air . Once I had fixed my mouth to Mary Jane’s tit, my wife pressed her own mouth over Mary Jane’s, effectively cutting off most of her sounds. Seconds, perhaps minutes or so passed as we continued to abuse Mary Jane there at the table, before her movements became erratic, uncontrollable. Her almost naked breasts were moving every which way making it difficult to keep my mouth fixed on her tit. As suddenly as she had begun , she stopped, she moved her upper body back into the seat , lifted her lower body upwards almost striking a prone position and shook or shuttered, her whole body convoluting, Then she dropped back, her body going limp, so much so that we had to grab onto her to avoid having her slide off the seat onto the floor. Mary Jane had released her orgasm, she demonstrated to me at least that it had been one hell of a cum.
We allowed Mary Jane to lay sideways between us sort of taking her out of any direct view from inside the restaurant , letting her ride ,out the rest of the spasm that I could see rippling through her sweaty little body. Satisfied that Mary Jane was securely settled as not to roll off the seat, my wife once again sent her delicate finger creeping up her inner thigh. Snaking up and slipping under the loose leg band of Mary Jane’s panties I watched as my wife worked her magic. When she extracted her fingers I could see the glistening wetness of Mary Jane’s body fluids dripping off the ends. My wife immediately brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked them clean of those lovely juices. My wife took great care to exaggerate her motions, making certain that not one single drop of this precious liquid was lost, She then licked her lips in such a manner that I released a low primeval groan from deep inside. Returning her fingers, she pulled at the material of Mary Jane’s panties exposing her bare little cunt to my eyes and provided me with a detailed viewing scene as she slipped them once again deep into Mary Jane’s love tunnel. My wife plunged her fingers not so gently into Mary Jane’s causing the little limp body to jerk several times before she pulled them back out, covered this time is with perhaps a more lucid coating of fluids. To my delight instead of taking her finer to her mouth she raised her hand and presented the finger at my lips. Needless to say I wasted no time if taking her fingers into my mouth and savouring the wonderful exotic taste of our young Mary Jane.
We began to notice that the sun had moved a great deal from the position it had occupied in the window, so we decided that we had better get moving along, if we did not want to run into to problem at the restaurant. My wife revived Mary Jane gently, telling her we had to prepare to leave. Upon opening her eyes, Mary Jane looked directly at me and smiled one of those warm smiles of hers, she took my hand and brought to her mouth gave it several loving kisses then returned it to my lap. We helped her on with her blouse, my wife indicating that she need not replace the bra as the day was still young, then assisted her with her Bermuda shorts. Fortune would have it just as we had managed to compose ourselves the waitress came along with our bill , telling us that the dining room was to be closing in several minutes. She lingered a bit, seemingly shy but I could not tell, so I asked if everything was alright, the bill, the means of payment, only to receive somewhat of an embarrassed reply.
There had been nothing at all wrong with any thing, if fact we had been delightful customers, if fact she went on to say she had appreciated our visit more than most. I must have looked a bit confused, for the young lady continued telling us that much of her time had been spent standing on the other side of those big green leafy plants. She wanted to know if next time we chose this particular restaurant, we could ask for her as our waitress. She said she could arrange things so that she could be our real personal server, in a more private way, willing to do our biding in any way we wished . She continued on, turning a bright color of red telling us she had really enjoyed the expos?f our young charge, the delicate way we had handled things .
She wanted to let us know that she would be delighted to be included in such fun and games if we ever decided a repeat undertaking was necessary. She complimented Mary Jane on her lovely body telling her that she wished she had not been so far off so that she could have seen better and wished that she might be taken care of like that one day. Dianna, as she called herself, gave my wife her telephone number then whispered a few more sentences before she began to excuse herself for being so forward, as that was not really her style, but she really liked what she had seen and could not take the chance to miss an opportunity to speak with us.
All this time our Mary Jane was standing there listening, but fixed in a position that looked to me like she was shocked now knowing someone had been watching her perform , watching her undress, watching her cum, her face was just about a red as was Dianna’s. My wife looked at me for a moment, then told me to go speak with the Maitre d’ and tell him how pleased we had been with Dianna’s service, telling me she needed a few minutes alone with the girls. I did as I was told, but as I was real curious as to what was happening back at the table. I snuck back a bit quicker, stopping by the spot Dianna had pointed out as her spying position. I got back just in time to see Dianna breaking off from what it looked like where I was standing a real passion kiss with our Mary Jane. What surprised me even more was that Mary Jane was standing there with all her clothing at her feet she was bare naked, this time her panties had been taken off also . Dianna then moved away from Mary Jane allowing her to redress herself and began talking with my wife while she sucked on her fingers. Figuring I had missed all of the good stuff, I gave Mary Jane time enough to button up, then I eased myself back into the hall and entered the area of the alcove trying very hard not to let on that I knew the girls had had a little play time.
Dianna our kindly waitress escorted us to the front of the restaurant, all the time kindly expressing her gratitude of our patronage, while walking beside Mary Jane, one hand pressed to the small of her back, the other delicately stroking her bare arm. I was wondering if she was over compensating for the treat she had been allowed, was genuinely taken by Mary Jane, or simply wanted to keep sensations of the event in the forefront of things. It was easy to tell she wanted nothing better than another opportunity to kiss Mary Jane goodbye, unfortunately there were too many people at the entrance to do so, Dianna conveyed once again the message that she would be very pleased to serve our needs anytime we so chose and left us to return to her duties.

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