the doctor is in.

I grab the chart by the door, and enter Examination Room Three, my eyes scanning over my assistant's messy handwriting.  He's new, Eric is his name, and I don't know if I'll ever get used to his bizarre mix of cursive and block letters.  He also has the annoying habit of interrupting appointments to ask tedious questions, which is completely unprofessional.  I sit in my chair, preoccupied for moment, thinking of his buffoonery, without introducing myself or announcing my presence to my patient.  Only when I'm properly seated and feel grounded enough to continue, do I glance up.
 
"Now, what seems to be the matter?" I ask the young, nervous woman sitting on the examination bed.  I peg her at 30.  Good job, boyfriend, new home owner, perhaps.  She adjusts herself, and the paper underneath her crinkles.    
"Lately, I seem to have trouble..."  She trails off, eyes averted down towards her hands.  Mine follow, and I watch her pick something out from under a freshly manicured nail, and flick it onto the linoleum floor.  I take a moment to notice her perfectly professional attire: a knee length skirt, pristine pantyhose, fitted button down shirt, her hair tightly pulled into a slick ponytail. Except for one flaw: a button carelessly left undone at her breast.  As her chest is too small to pop the button, I attribute it either to something she fidgets with when nervous, or the window to her newly undone state.  
"No reason to be nervous," I encourage.  "There is no judgment, here."
"Right," she breathes.  "Nothing you haven't heard before, I'm sure."  I smile, and wait.  There is an obvious internal struggle she's having. Either shame about the problem, or the condition is somehow tied up with her emotions... something heavily loaded or layered perhaps?  Something that is in part, psychological?  The woman crosses, then uncrosses her stockinged legs.  I glance at the clipboard in my hand for her name, and lean forward emphatically.
"What seems to be the problem, Janet?"
"I'm having trouble orgasming," she stammers.
"I see," I say, trying to suppress a smile.  Sometimes I really consider myself a healer.  "Well, there's could be several reasons surrounding an inability to..."
"It all started when I broke up with my boyfriend," She says. "He would always... do it... for me?  Now, I don't really know... how."
"Well, it's important to remember that our bodies can take time to adjust to a new type of stimulation.  There could be a period of adjustment between moving from his mouth, for example, to your hand, or a toy."
"A toy?"  She asks, perking up.  She's either very naive, or a great actress.  
"Yes.  Something of a phallic shape, or with vibration or a thrusting action."  Her blank stare tells me she's overwhelmed.  "Why don't I show you what I mean," I say to an enthusiastic nod.  I get up from my chair, and walk toward the cabinet, my heels clicking in the quiet, anxious room.  My hand dances across the doctor-ly looking implements; a speculum among them, syringes and pumps, measuring devices, and the classic stethoscope and head flashlight.
I place a pair of latex gloves on my hands, before removing a lovely replica of one of the first vibrators ever made, to treat hysteria in women.  It's an ancient looking thing, a metal plug in wand, that looks more like a fifties style microphone than something you would put on your genitals.  I feel powerful, just holding the weight of it in my hands.  I place it on the tray beside the examination bed, and my patient's eyes are already dilating.  
"Why don't you remove your clothing, and I'll do a quick exam.  Before we get to the tutorial," I smile.  I flip open the stirrups, watching her face turn the most attractive shade of pink.  She begins to unbutton her shirt, when ...

There's a frantic knock at the door.  "Head Mistress?"
Just as I was dreading.  "Eric. What?"
"Someone says they have a session booked in the dungeon, but Mistress Heather's using it until 5pm."
I glance at the clock on the wall.  "It's only ten minutes from now.  Ask them to wait."
"Ok.  Thanks."  He addresses my patient.  "Sorry."  

I take a deep breath, suppressing my annoyance.  "Would you like to continue?"  I ask, giving her the out, since the fantasy has now been completely shattered.
"Oh, yes," she breathes.  "Very much so."

my two partners (part nine).

Meaghan

“Snuggle for a couple minutes, first?”

“Sure, baby.”

Scott lies down next to me, and I curl into him, with my head on his shoulder, when I can nuzzle into his neck, and take in his scent.  His smell calms me, and I need it.  All I can think about is Emily.  My mind races, excitably, dreaming up potential dates for the three of us.  Even just going to a bar together excites me.  I imagine a night of fun flirting, touching each other on the arm or on the leg under the table, the waiter perplexed by our obvious three-way attraction.  In the cab, we kiss.  First, Emily and I, feeling the booze warm in our bellies, then Scott leans across me to have his turn with her.  I feel Scott’s boner through his pants, and discreetly rub it while tasting Emily on his mouth.  When we reach our apartment, we barely make it inside the door to shed our clothing.

“I texted Emily.”

“Oh yeah?  Saying what?”

“That we should get together again.”  I try to contain my excitement.

“When, do you think?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe this week?”

“Sure.”  From having courted Scott before, I know his preference to do things on the fly, but I prefer to plan.  For one, it gives you a chance to look forward to the event.  And that’s half the fun.  “That’s nice you talked to her,” I add, detecting my own jealousy.  

“It was just for a second.” 

“Is tonight your monthly show?”

“Yeah.  Looks like it should sell out.”

“Sorry I’ll miss it.”

“I know,” he says, kissing me on the forehead.  “I should head out, though.”

“Okay, baby.  Love you!”

“Love you,” he says, giving me a tender kiss on the mouth.

“So, I met her finally,” I tell Anthony at work, from across the bar.

“Who?  Oh yeah.”

“She’s great.  Really cute.  And, I feel like she was really into me.  Her eyes were, like, really connecting.”

“So, you didn’t...”

“No!  No.  I mean, I want to build some sort of relationship with her, so...”

“Relationship?  Oh geez.”

“Well, not a relationship, exactly.  But, just something casual.  Like flirty friends.”

“That sleep together.”

“Yes!  It exists.”

“Those always end bad.”

“No, they don’t.  How would you know?  Lots of people aren’t in traditional relationships.  Just because it’s not for you, doesn’t mean it can’t work for other people.”

“I guess.”

“We might get together this week.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.  The three of us.  Scott’s been doing the courting, so I’m not totally sure of the details.  But, yeah!”

“Great.”

“Why does everything you say sound sarcastic?”

I usually get home well before Scott when he produces his monthly show, because he’s obligated to stay until the very end.  Unlike other gigs, in which he can cut out soon after he’s finished playing.  But, he usually does very well for himself on these nights, selling out and making a tidy profit, even despite the money he gives his performers.  He could easily make it a show that happens twice a month, if he wanted to.  Or, even a weekly.  That’s what I would do if I owned a theatre company with a consistently sold out show.  Extend the run.  But this isn’t exactly what keeps me awake at night.

I devilishly plug in my laptop beside the bed, and position myself under it.  Living together and on similar schedules, Scott and I rarely find ourselves alone in the house.  I intend to take advantage of it tonight, even though I usually would meet him at the venue for last call to celebrate the successful show.  If he asks, I’ll just say I had to stay late.  I click my bookmarked favourite porn website, and scroll down to the Lesbian category.

I need a release, but a different kind than Scott can offer.  Yes, he fulfills me in every way he imaginably can, and is even eager to indulge my new threesome fantasy, but I begin to feel the stress of a secret.  The secret of how much I want this.  I choose a video with two girl-next-door babes; one just happens to have short blonde hair.  I turn on my vibrator, and squeeze out a drop of lubricant onto it.  I watch the girls writhe against each other; their seemingly soft skin grazing each other, sexily and sensitively.  Their small, delicate mouths opening ever so slightly, with slips of fleshy tongues sliding seductively, in and out of lips.  Breasts softly pressing and perusing.  Their shapely hips, and the gradual curves of their lower backs, then supple asses.  It all looks too perfect to ever touch, and I question whether I really can, with Scott watching.  Even when prompted, I feel the need to limit my earnestness.  I come quickly; much quicker than with Scott, but the orgasm is always less rewarding.  And, then there’s the guilt.

Scott

“You’ll be late for work, babe.”

“Mmm?”  Meaghan moans sleepily, rubbing her eyes.  She manages to sit up, pulling her long mane of hair back into a ponytail.  She’s never been a morning person.  Meaghan mopes over to the bathroom.  I talk to her through the shower curtain, shouting over the water.  

“So, I forgot to tell you.  I saw Emily the other night at the monthly.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  I think she was wondering why we didn’t... stay over that night.”

“The night of her party?”

“Yeah.  She has a really high sex drive.  She would’ve fucked us for sure.”  A pause.

“You talked about it?”

“Yeah, she jerks off in public, and stuff, apparently.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”  Another pause.  I hear her rinse off.

“Oh, I was just thinking... that there were other people there, I guess.  Would have been weird.”

“Mm hm.  No, I agree.”

“What else did you talk about?”

“I told her to be careful.”

“About what?”

“You know.  Just sleeping with people in the scene.”

“In the music scene?”

“Yeah.  Like, it could get in her way.”

“You didn’t shame her about it, though.  I hope.”

“No, no.”

“Like, that’s great that she’s so sexually liberated.”

“But, it’s not the most professional.  You know.”

“Yeah.”

“Like, she had slept with a bunch of people that were there.  And, she’s going to have to work with them at some point.”

“Right.”  She enters the shower stream again.  “Do you have a gig tonight?”

“Nope.  Off.”

“Lucky.”

“Yep.  I’ll just be missing you terribly, though.  Just pining away all day long...”  I joke.  She laughs.  Speaking of thinking of Meaghan, I retreat to the bedroom, and take out her laptop.  I look at her internet history, but it’s not for untoward reasons.  I like to see what porn she is watching.  Sometimes I get her to send me links of porn she has gotten off to, or I send her websites of videos I think she’ll like.  Looking at her history goes one step further, granted, showing me the things that truly get her off, without fear of me seeing it.  But, my chub fades, to realize that she has been watching mostly lesbian vids.  Not that picturing Meaghan getting off to lesbian porn isn’t hot, but I know that there’s more to it, this time, and my cock knows it, too.  Subconsciously, I think I know what I have to do.        

I look at the calendar, and it appears that the allotted time necessary has gone by to continue denoting the pending threesome as “casual”, so I text Emily.  Enough games.  I don’t want to give her the wrong impression and appear emotionally engaged, but I admit, I’m eager to finally do this.  And, not in a lusty way.  Yes, I’m a straight man and obviously interested in having a threesome with a cute girl, and I also badly want to see Meaghan satisfy her threesome fantasy; but I’m equally interested in getting it over with, and continuing with my life.  Courting someone takes energy, and energy that I don’t necessarily have or want to spare on some twenty year old.  I already have a great girlfriend, whom I’m happy to expend energy into.  And not only am I looking to resume my normal life, but our lives.  Mine and Meaghan’s.  She’s been noticeably preoccupied, and I want her to move on to the next fantasy that gets her off.  And, hopefully one that’s  a little less complicated.  

Em!  What are you up to tonight?

Thinking about going to a show.  Why?

Do you want to come over?

Sure.  Maybe I’ll come by after?

Sounds good.  Meaghan’s will be done work at midnight.

K.  I def can make it there by then. :)

Cool.  See you then!

I refrain from jerking off, even though Meaghan will still be in the shower a while.  I don’t need it anyway, feeling a breath of relief that all this will be soon coming to a close.  

Meaghan kisses me on the way out the door, and leaves before I can tell her about tonight.  It’s better to spring things on her, anyway, so she doesn’t have a chance to think about them.    

  

friend date (rewrite).

**This post has been removed due to impending publication with Black Scat Books.  This story will be available soon in The New Urge Reader 2.**



SEXY EXCERPT:


"Yeah.  I doubt I'll see him again, though," she smiles, making direct eye contact now.  Her hand drifts back under the table, and I can feel it resting on the thigh of my jeans.  My breath catches in my throat.

"Right."

"Funny story, though..." She continues, as if nothing is happening, and maybe nothing is truly happening.  It's hard to tell between women, whether they're flirting, or just being friendly.  Besides, to my knowledge, Bethany is completely straight.  I try to just treat it as a platonic touch, swallowing away the excitement, and blinking hard, as if trying to readjust the way I see her.

"Yeah?"  

"The other night... Oh, I can't," she reconsiders, suddenly embarrassed.  She cutely nuzzles her face into my upper arm, playing coy.  Something between my legs stirs.  As if the muscles there are waking up.  

"What?"  I encourage, as casually as possible.

"I had a bet with the guys at work on who could pick up this girl."

"Oh yeah?" I nod, ears perking up.  Does she mean, which of the guys could pick her up?  Or...  Just then, she leans in, close to my ear.  Her hand follows, perhaps unconsciously, moving towards my inner thigh, between my legs.  My pussy instinctively tightens, as if trying to grab onto something.  She giggles, then confesses, in a wet whisper.

"And I totally won."

friend date (part three).

Bethany kisses me deeply on the mouth, and I think of how I like to taste myself on Mark's lips after he goes down on me.  I'd stop now, content with finally satisfying my curiosity, having finally tasted a woman.  But, I fondly think of how enthusiastic he is with my interest in girls, and how he seemed to have planned the outcome of this entire night.  How he'll get off when I relay the story to him later.  The story of me coming wildly on Bethany's face.  

Eager to return the favour, she moves quickly.  She wetly kisses down my neck, to my nipples, and my torso, not spending more than a moment or two on each.  I barely have a chance to moan or groan, as she's already moved on, planting aggressive kisses on my mound; and I push back, lifting my hips to meet her mouth with each one.  She forcibly splits my legs, placing them on either of her shoulders, and I feel the muscles in my pussy strain for this lustful lady.  Right away, she presses her face hard against me that I feel myself bearing down.  Her tongue and lips move so quickly and forcefully over me, that I can't even tell what she is doing; it's just a wall of pleasure that at the moment, completely defies explanation.  Before long, I stop trying to wrap my head around describing it later to Mark, and just give myself over to the vibrator-like intensity.  I suddenly open up, and already feel the urge.  Push.  Relax.  Yes, fuck...  Do it for Marky.  He wants you to.  He wants you to come for Beth.  All over her pretty little face.  I feel it again, and don't shy away this time.  I groan and release, bucking on her mouth, feeling like all the muscles in my body are contracting at once.  

She joins me, just like I did before her, and we lay beside each other, breathing heavily for a couple magical minutes.  

"But, really, I want a friend more than anything," I joke. 

"Haha!"  She laughs.  "Yeah, me too!"

"Really!"  I say, emphatically.  "We should, like, grab a movie or something next.  Anything."  She looks at me seriously, considering. 

"Okay," she smiles.  And, I feel good.  So very good.   

friend date (part two).

Too drunk to drive, we hail a cab, and find ourselves suddenly silent in the backseat.  My breath catches in my throat, and my mind is racing as fast as the taxi.  Instead, I nervously reach for her hand, fingers loosely lacing in hers.  I dare only peek out of the corner of my eye, so I can't see her reaction exactly, but she doesn't pull away.  Even though my hands are slightly numb, I can still tell that much.

When we arrive, she kicks off her sandals, throws her purse on the floor, and unties her hair in one fluid motion.  Her apartment is small and messy, which Bethany quickly apologizes for.  "I've been working double shifts all week!  I usually only have the time to strip, and fall into bed at the end of the night."

"Strip, eh?" I tease, ready to stop all this talking.  "Now who's flirting?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she smiles coyly.  "I'm just telling you about perfectly mundane activities, and you're the one who keeps dreaming up fantastic circumstances..."

"CirCUMstances?  How am I expected to react when you talk like this?"

"Haha," she laughs. "You're ridiculous!"

"RiDICKulous."

"Stop it!"  She teases, trying to breathe in between giggling gasps.

"Well, what can I say?  It's hard to keep my mind out of the gutter, looking at you," I say, letting her watch me ogle her a moment.  Her chest heaves from laughing, breasts bouncing with every breath.  Her neck invites me to taste it, reflecting its soft creaminess in the lamplight.  I remember the smell of her soap, and long to bury my face in her skin.  My heart pounds in my ears as I step towards her, my pelvis leading the way.

She lets out a long sigh, finally catching her breath.  "Oh, really." 

"Really," I counter, looking at Bethany's beautiful blue eyes, almost close enough to touch noses.  I loosely lock my hands in hers again, and lean slightly forward, eyes cast down at her soft, succulent lips.  I want to feel them on me; feel her small mouth open on my skin; I want it so badly that I feel myself beginning to salivate.  But, that's not the only thing becoming wet. 

"I want to kiss you," I inform her, suddenly solemn.  She doesn't utter an answer, but instead her lips part, subtly smiling, so that only the corners of her mouth curl.  I feel her sweet breath on my face, as she slowly leans in, and softly places her plump, pouty lips against mine.  Her hands come alive simultaneously, grasping my hands in hers, as she opens her mouth, encouraging me in.  I delicately reciprocate the pressure, politely parting my lips as if asking her tongue to dance.  

Then, I feel my pelvis take the lead as before, pressing impatiently against her, and feeling her warmth through my jeans.  Her hair flutters in the breeze from electric fan, and I feel a similar wave through my body, intensity spreading through the pleasant pressure on my pussy.  My mouth moves from her lips to her warm, creamy neck, and I devour it.  Her fresh, subtle scent surrounds me.  The soft, breathy moans in my ear make my pussy tingle further, muscles tensing and coming alive as if they're reaching out to her, wanting her for their own.  I want her to remove her shirt, lifting it to feel her soft sides, and she pulls it over her head, hair catching momentarily, then dramatically cascading back over her shoulders, like it was choreographed.  

Her bound breasts are begging to be let free, barely contained in a cotton sports bra.  I kiss the cramped cleavage between them, letting my tongue slide sexily in the crevice, having never had the pleasure of touching a girl with breasts this big.  The thin material allows me to fondle her nipples with my thumbs as my mouth wanders back to her neck, then back to her wet, wanting mouth.  We kiss again, as I venture to knead a large breast in my small grip, but I quickly retreat back to the nipple, requiring two of my hands to properly fondle just one.  I remove my own shirt, savouring her warm skin against mine for the first time.  I feel a shiver, I crave the warmth so intensely, and long to bathe myself in it, wrapping myself completely in her.  I sandwich our breasts together, our torsos, even thighs, overpowering her slightly so that I back her towards the edge of the bed, inch by inch.  My tongue boldly plunges into her small mouth, as if pointing the way.

Bethany sits under me, breath laboured, and I struggle to remove my jeans, bending over her and shimmying them over my hips, kicking them quickly to the floor.  She lay back, lifting her hips to remove her skirt, and I take a place beside her, each in our bra and underwear, now.  Hers a sports bra and cotton, full bottomed panties, and I in a mismatched lace set.  I glance downward to make sure my thong isn't soaked through with wetness, my face flushed prematurely.  My eyes turn to her natural loveliness, while she turns towards me, on her side, accentuating a shapely hip.  One of my hands traces her outline, from her soft shoulder, down her delicate arm, to the valley of her waist.  She smiles seductively, and reaches out to do the same.

The contact of her hand through my hair, relaxes me so that I melt into the bed under her touch.  But, I soon brace myself against the sheets, as if using it for leverage.  She moves slightly over me, and I close my eyes, letting her hand drift over my skin, now goose pimply with anticipation.  I feel my pussy straining again, as if it has a mind of its own, begging to be touched.  Her hand lightly moves over me, almost hovering with sensual energy, pausing momentarily over the parts that make my back arch into it.  My nipples noticeably harden through my bra, and I reach around to unclasp it.  Free and anticipating, my small tits try to find her elusive grasp.  I remove my underwear as well, wanting to restrict myself no further.  

She moves over me, suddenly kissing me on the mouth with loose, luscious lips, and pressing her feminine figure into mine.  My knee lifts, my leg wrapping around her, and pulling her into me.  I feel my shaved pussy smear against her hip, my bare folds so sharply sensitive that I almost pull away.  She pushes her cotton underwear down only partially, down to her shapely thighs, wanting to feel herself against me as well.  I feel her small, blonde bush straddle my thigh, and my nipples freshly harden, rubbing against the thin material of her bra.  Our lips meet, parted in pleasure, breathing and moaning into each other's mouths.  I loosen my grip on the sheets, and grab her body instead.  Cupping her round ass in my hand, I pull her pelvis against me, my wetness covering her now glistening hip.  I lift my knee even further, sliding my clit over her silky skin.  Her legs remain pinned by her panties, but she continues to press her trimmed bush against me, softly moaning into the sheets by my shoulder.  

I straddle her, suddenly wanting her very badly, and I know exactly what it is that I want.  The two times I've slept with women, I've been accompanied by Mark, and he was usually between us.  But, not for lack of desire for the women, or any selfishness on Mark's part.  I kissed them enthusiastically, played with their breasts, even enjoyed touching their pussies, one even to orgasm.  I think I was too shy to go one step further, though, especially with someone watching.  For whatever reason, the assertive pickup artist disappeared once we got to the bedroom, despite my aching curiosity.  So it has remained, that I've always wanted to know what it was like to go down on a woman.  And, I think to myself, tonight's the night I'm going to find out.  

I peel her bra up over her sizeable tits, and they fall attractively to the sides.  I follow them, happy at the chase, moving back and forth to suck and flick each nipple with my tongue, in turn.  Bethany's hand goes to my hair again, which has an extreme calming effect on me.  I move southerly, kissing her ribs, down her hip bones, to the crevice beside her trimmed blond mound.  I make believe I can smell her already, and perhaps I can.  I knead her mons with my hand, as I continue to kiss her creamy thighs, and I can feel her pressing back into it.  I position myself below her, trying to stay fluid in motion, kissing her inner thighs, and she quite naturally opens her legs.  I lick the precious pale skin of her thigh now, as my palm presses against her fleshy mound.  From here, I take a moment to look at her.  Similar to mine, but different, folds once tucked neatly below her, now pretty and puffy, pink and engorged for me.  I lick my lips, and venture for her clit.  My hand assists, pulling upwards and pressing against pubic bone, just how I like it.  The tip of my tongue tickles the most delicate of folds near the top.  She moans, encouraging me.  Little does she know, I need very little. 

I bat the hardening little bead with the tip of my tongue, close my lips around it, give a little bit of suction, lick it with a wide, flat tongue.  She arches her back, exposing her tits to me, and grips the sheets.  I moan without realizing it.  Her taste is creamy and mild, like an extension of the rest of her skin, and I feel myself getting wet pleasing her.  My hand drifts to her opening, finding that she is streaming, too.  I tease her with my fingers, and her hips start to tilt, thrusting towards my hand, telling me something.  Her moisture begins to coat my face, and I relish it.  I lick downwards, mopping up the liquid and depositing it on her aching clit.  She continues to strain for my touch, and I give her what she wants.  I lay my fingers at her opening, and her fluids seem to draw me in.  Warm, swollen, and succulent, her walls hug my two fingers, until I find her soft, spongy g-spot.  

Liquid from my mouth and her pussy stream onto the sheets, coating my hand in the process, and I imagine my pussy dripping at the same time.  I massage her g-spot with the tips of my fingers, and my pelvis yearns for the same thing.  Suddenly, she grabs my hair, and I know this is it.  I lick her with vigour, careful to keep a steady rhythm, pulling on her hood, and wiggling the tips of my fingers inside.  For a moment, I sympathetically feel the familiar tug on my own g-spot, and I realize that I'm humping the corner of the bed.  I groan, and she accompanies me, buckling down and pulling my face towards her.  She breathes for a moment, then tenses again, pushing and bearing down on my hand.  Then, in one glorious moment, she cries out, curling forward.  I feel her pussy pulsate, twitching, and I wait until she's stopped before withdrawing.  Flopping backwards, and sighing, I carefully remove my fingers, and discreetly wipe my face on the bedspread.  She breathes heavily, and giggles softly, looking at me.  

But, it's not over. 

friend date (part one).

**This post has been removed due to impending publication with Black Scat Books.  This story will be available soon in The New Urge Reader 2.**



SEXY EXCERPT:

She walks past the table, not seeing me at first.  I don't call out.  Instead, I watch her gaze around the rest of the seats, searching for me.  Blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, she wears a black tank top and flowy, flowery skirt.  Behind the bar at the pub, she usually wears a t-shirt and jeans, so I'm taken aback at her feminine appearance now.  "Bethany," I finally say.  

"Ang!"  She turns, gushing, and I stand to hug her.  From the intermittent contact we've had in the past, I know her to be affectionate, hugging me almost every time she sees me.  I welcome it, allowing her to press her ample chest against mine.  She looks downright sexy, I think to myself, done up as if she's on a real date, rather than a platonic one.  Her tank top reveals a tasteful yet alluring amount of cleavage, and a touch of make up on her porcelain face only enhances her natural beauty.  As we part, she flashes an excited smile, her shoulders rising momentarily, before deciding on the seat directly beside me.  It is a little noisy, I think to myself, explaining away the fact that she didn't choose the more obvious seat across from me.  

mistress leila.

She fastens me into the device, hog tying my feet to my hands, behind me.  I feel the cool metal of the table on my exposed belly, squished breasts, and warm face, which all rest against it.  

The machine around my pelvis doesn't naturally make contact with me; that is, with my pussy or ass, but if I tilt my pelvis forward, which is difficult considering the pose she has me in, then I feel both graze my sensitive flesh.  These two latex prongs, attached to the harness, both vibrate, as I can hear their buzz, and feel them slightly, when I rock my hips forward enough.  The temptation to do this is irresistible, even though I'm not usually a fan of anything touching my ass.  Mistress Leila, of course, has set it up this way, on purpose.  She intends to break me.
"Comfortable?"  She walks around me to deliver this saucy line, right to my face, winking, her heels clicking on the concrete floor.  "Now, darling," She says to me affectionately, taking my face in her delicate hand.  "Don't be cross with me.  I just want to open you up to a while new world of pleasure."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Shall I get the oil?"
"Yes, Mistress."  She takes the glass bottle, inverting it over my exposed ass, and I feel the cool liquid run between my ass cheeks, down to my pussy.  The coolness of it gives me goosebumps, sending a shiver through the core of me, and I feel my nipples harden against the table.  I long for Leila to touch me; rub it in a little, probe my crevices with those warm, womanly fingers, but she denies me that humanly pleasure.  Instead I feel it pool beneath me, and I instinctively thrust into the table, allowing the vibrating tendrils to momentarily and simultaneously make contact with my clit and ass.  I instantly shy away from their vibrations, unused to the one that so coyly tempts my asshole.
"Mmm," I hear her moan, watching the oil glisten off my flexing butt.  She, no doubt, must long to touch me, as well.  "That's right, my dear.  Don't be afraid of the harness.  It can give you so much pleasure."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Will you try it again for me?"
"Yes, Mistress," I answer obediently, but unsure of my ability to proceed.  Yes, I trust Leila with my body; she knows me better than anyone, yet the thought of anything entering me anally, is enough to make me clench.  But, I crave the clit vibrator so badly right now, and want her please her equally as much, that I ultimately concede to put myself in her hands.  Or rather, her harness.  I once again tilt my pelvis towards the table, hands and feet bound behind me.
"That's lovely, my pet," she coos, eyeing my bare ass cheeks tightening again.  I do it quickly, almost believing, through the sheer power of my will, that the anal probe won't be there the second time.  But, I feel it tickle my asshole again, and I retract almost as quickly.  "Try to linger there, my love. It's nothing to be afraid of.  I'm here with you, after all.  Aren't I?"
"Yes, Mistress." I have such strong feelings for her, such an immense build up of trust developed over the course of our sessions, that I'm willing to do almost anything for her.  Even if I have an aversion to it, I know that she is ultimately doing it for my own good.  I try again, feeling the now familiar sensation of the pulsating protrusion near my anal opening.  I let it stimulate me there, choosing instead to concentrate on the vibrator nearing my clit.  If I can just focus on the pleasant pulses emitting from my pussy, then I can almost bear the rest.  I surprise myself, by employing this, rotating my hips against the table again, and I almost forget about the anal probe.  My pussy's wetness mixes with the massage oil on the slippery surface of the table.  I test this theory again, thinking only about the sensual stimulation on my clit, and the anal vibe seems to fade into the background.  Not only does it eventually recede as I get used to the sensation, but after a half dozen thrusts or so, it almost seems to enhance the experience.  I hear moans release into the air, thinking at first that they belong to Leila, who is enjoying the delicious presentation before her.  But, after catching a glimpse of my mistress, I realize that they aren't coming from her lovely mouth at all, but from my own.
I let the anal vibrator enter me as I force my hips against the clitoral one, hands and feet bound and hindering, rather than facilitating.  Leila softly hums and crosses her arms, enjoying my sensual struggle.  I feel a bead of sweat drip down my temple, as I taste salt from my lip as well.  She's making me work for it, this time.  Equally bound by my respect for her as the corporeal restraints, I continue to thrust, secure in knowing that it's what she wants me do.  "That's it, my dear.  I'm not letting you go unless you come."
"Yes, Mistress."  I answer, allowing myself to finally feel the flutter of the urge to come.  With the probe in my ass, my instinct is to shy away from the feeling, but I remember Mistress Leila's desire for me to experience this new and intense pleasure, and I try to open myself up to it.  I relax my ass, allowing my hips to melt into the table, and therefore, the buzzing vibrator against my clit.  I feel myself buck, and cry out both muffled and echoed by the metal table.  I both tense and relax at the same time, welcoming everything to contract at once, from my ass, to my pussy, to my clitoris.

"See, my dear?  That's a good girl."  And, I do feel good, even if the process felt a bit foreign.  Very good, indeed.

my two partners (part seven).

Emily

I can’t believe my first show is tonight.  After this, I feel like I can really focus on my career.  If my Dad stops bugging me about going back to school.

“You don’t have to worry about financing, if that’s the trouble.”

“It’s not, Dad.”

“Then, what?  Why wouldn’t you complete your degree?”

“I have a degree.  A fine arts bachelor.”

“A degree you can use.  That will actually help you get a job.”

“I can get a job.  There’s so many positions available in my field.”

“Like what, Em?”

“I could be tech-ing a different show each night, if I wanted to.  Playing gigs, producing... I’m producing a show tonight.”

“Yes, I’m aware of the show you’re producing tonight.  Out of my garage.”

“I have other things going on!”

“Why don’t you continue your PhD.  Your mother and I are willing to fully finance it.  Think of it as a scholarship.  Would you refuse a scholarship??”

“Dad!  I don’t know.  I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay, okay!  That’s all we’re asking.”

I spend the day clearing out the garage, and laying carpets down like Scott suggested.  Despite my mom’s protesting, I borrow couch cushions and pillows from around the house to line the walls.  I move my drum kit up from downstairs, bring our kitchen chairs out in the garage, and unfold as many lawn chairs as I can find.  Seating for about fifteen.  Everyone will probably want to stand, anyway.  I tie balloons to the tree out front.

I climb the stairs back up to mine and Kyle’s apartment, and flop on the couch.  

“Ready for the party?”

“It’s a show.”

“Oh.  Ready for the show, then?”

“I need to wait for a friend of mine to bring his equipment.  Otherwise, yeah.”

“Have I met him?”

“I don’t think so.  No.  It’s pretty new.”

“Cool.”

“Your friends are coming, right?”

“For sure.”

“Good.  Thanks.  I better not have gone to all that trouble for nothing.”

“What, cleaning?”

“Mm, hm.”

“Good thing it wasn’t in here.  That would be too much work.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea for next time, though.”

“What?”

“A show in our living room.  We could call it, The Living Room Series.”

“Cool, sis.  You’ve got all the ideas.”  I adjourn to my bed room, for a series of orgasms.  Mostly as a stress reliever.  I think about the sweaty bodies being pressed together while watching a band.  I picture someone fucking me in the middle of the writhing crowd, but it’s so compact and loud, nobody is even noticing.    

“Hello?”  I hear Scott, from the bottom of the stairs.

“Hello!  Hey!  Be right down!”  He’s gotten a bandmate to drive him, and help haul equipment.  They’re already unloading the gear into the garage.  “Hey, I’m Emily.”

“Mike.  I’ve seen you around, eh?”

“Yeah, probably.”  He’s a heavier set guy, but cute nonetheless, with a blonde beard a toque on.  He adds a tom-tom and a cymbal to my set.

“Looks pretty good,” Scott says, as he half hugs me, his other shoulder carrying his bass.

“Yeah, I got as many fabrics and things as I could find.”

“Cool.  One good thing, is we can drink our own booze.  Save some cash.  Was a huge selling point when I was telling people.”

“Yes!  Exactly.”  Didn’t even think of it.  “Meaghan coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Kyle’s friends start to file in, filling up the space, and I grab some chips and pop from the kitchen.  Johnny and Mark are here from Folly, but no Jer.  I only asked them to play in hopes of having Jeremy over to my house, but still no luck there.  When I recognize Meaghan from her pictures though, I remember that I have something else to concentrate on tonight.  Other than hosting.

“Welcome everybody, to my... garage.”  I say on mic.  The small room laughs.  “Seriously, thank you so much for coming out, and thanks to Scott for helping me set up.  We have a really great show for you this evening!”

Meaghan is lovely.  She has a great smile, and uses it often.  She loves to watch Scott play, and is really into talking to me.  She asks me everything trying to learn as much about me as possible.  I’ve already heard a lot about her from Scott, so I just watch.  The sound is still shit in here, despite all the rugs and whatnot, so I can barely hear her anyway.  

She doesn’t wear any makeup, and doesn’t need to.  She does wear big earrings, and a pretty blouse.  She looks effortlessly beautiful.  Not too much taller than I am, and just as slim, but she carries it differently.  Like a dancer.  Does she dance?  I think Scott said that.  After his set, he turns the laptop music back on, and joins us.
"Great set!"  Meaghan says before I can. 

“Looks like you two are hitting it off!”  He replies. 

“Well, I’ve heard so much about her, so I thought I’d let her find out a little about me.”  I start.

“We’re having a nice talk,” Meaghan says to him, and he bends and kisses her on the mouth.  Her lips look soft.

“Meaghan was just telling me about...”  I start, but realize that I can’t finish it, because I couldn’t hear her.  I can’t believe the sound was so bad in here.  Oh, well.

“Her PhD.  That’s what you said, right?”

“Oh.  Yeah.  We’ll see.  I have to really think about it.”

“It’s a huge decision.”  Meaghan continues.

“Yeah.  I might just want to do shows, and stuff.”

“Playing shows definitely have benefits,” Scott winks.   

“Like what?”  Meaghan flirts, hand on a hip.

“Like... all the PUSSY!!”  He jokes, grabbing her waist.  We both laugh, and she slaps him.

“Where were we?”  She tries, playfully pushing him away.  I don’t need a whole night of questions to figure out that I would fuck her in a second, whether Scott was involved, or not.

“I don’t know, to be honest!”

“Me either.  Scott, do we have more booze?”

I drift away for a while, talking to Scott’s drummer, Mike.  I grill him about his technique, and process.  With Scott at the other end of the room, in Meaghan’s arms, Mike shows me a little more interest than before.

“You’ve seen us play before, right?”

“Yes!  I have.  A few times.”

“Thought I recognized you,” he says, scratching his beard.  “This is your house?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”  Before I know it, Scott interrupts.

“We’re taking off!”

“You are?”  I say, genuinely surprised.  I thought... well, I don’t know what I thought.  I guess I thought that we were going to fuck.

“Bye, Emily!”  Meaghan waves, giving me a big, gorgeous smile.  What a good looking couple.  I’ll just have to wait, I guess.

“See you later?”

“Yes.  Thanks again for everything!”  I turn, and it looks like most of Kyle’s friends are going into the house.

“Looks like the party is heading upstairs,” Mike says.  I follow him inside.

Meaghan

Finally!  I’m going to meet Emily.  I can’t wait!  Scott’s already gone over there to help her set up, and I’m left to trip over my own excitement.  I take an hour to decide on what I’m going to wear; something that looks pretty, yet still slightly dykey.  I end up going for a flowy, natural look.  I blare music, take a shot of rye to loosen up, and put the rest of the mickey in my purse. 

I take transit, since Scott and Mike went with the equipment, and arrive a little later than I would’ve liked.  The small gathering is in full swing, sounding like a party twice it’s size in the cramped garage, with an interesting mix of mostly gay guys, super straight bearded musicians, and the only girls; Emily, and I.  I barely get to say hello to Scott and his bandmates, before Emily gets onstage and begins hosting.  I’m grateful for the minutes she’s up there, as I get a good, unapologetic, first look at her.  She’s wearing kind of an odd outfit, with a short sleeved collared shirt and kerchief at her throat, but is very cute, nonetheless.  Scott knows how to pick ‘em.  I love her soft looking, short brown hair; heart shaped face, and small stature.  She looks quite a bit younger than she does in her pictures, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing.  Her youthful, excitable energy mimics it.  

After the opening band takes the stage, she beelines over to me, and I can't believe I'm finally meeting the real Emily.  I feel like I've been stalking her online for so long.  

"Hi!!"  She mouths excitedly, waving.  She could have said it out loud for all I know, but perhaps too quietly for the loud room.

"Hi Emily!  So nice to meet you!"

"You too!  I've heard so many good things about you," she says a little louder, making deliberate eye contact with me.  

"It's all lies," I flirt.  It feels so good to be courting a woman again.  And such a cute one, at that.  She laughs.  "What did Scott say about me?  I'm wondering what he says behind my back," I joke.  

"Oh, just that you're an actor, and stuff like that.  And how great you are!"

"Oh, yeah?  I'll have to thank him later," I wink.  "Well, I was looking at some of your pictures online.  So, I've been creeping on you, too!"

"Ha!  No worries!"  

"The one of you in a Halloween costume.  I was actually expecting a French maid tonight.  So, I'm very disappointed...!"  She laughs again.  I continue, eager to eat up the lag in the conversation.  "Just kidding.  You look cute.  Not French maid cute, but..."

"Oh, thanks!  I don't know what I'm wearing.  It all made sense it my head.  I was going for some sort of garage theme."

"Totally nailed it," I laugh.

"Well, you look lovely.  I like your top!"

"Thanks."  Grasping for the next thing to say, I catch her small dark eyes bearing into mine.  My confidence momentarily leaves me, as I avert my gaze towards the band.  I remember the Mickey in my purse, and take it out for a shot.  "You drinking?" I ask, offering the bottle.

"Sure," she says, reaching for it.  I like the intimacy of sharing a drink.  She could have grabbed a cup or wiped the rim, but she didn't.  We're practically kissing already.  

We watch the opening group, chatting mostly about the band that's playing; Folly is their name.  As they wrap up, Emily doesn't realize for a second, that it's time for her to go back up.  When she gets there, her patter is too short for the next act, Scott's band, to set up behind her.  She introduces them, we clap and holler, then there's a half minute of dead air, until Scott reaches towards the laptop to play some music from it while they finish setting up.  Well, there's a first time for everything.  

Scott set is great, as usual, despite the odd choice of venue.  Emily mingles for most of the headliner set, but sits back down with me on a lawn chair for the last song.

"So, is this party celebrating anything?"  I ask.

"Well, it's more of like, a series of shows I want to produce here in the house."

"Cool!  How many people do you share it with?  It's pretty big."

"Oh, it's my parents' house.  The shows are going to be fundraising for these youth classes I want to... Shit!"

"What?"

"I forgot to saw something!  And get cover charge from people!"

"You could still say something... And maybe pass a hat around after?"  I offer.  Pretty funny that she forgot the main reason for the "show", but I let it slide.

"Hey!  That's a great idea!"

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," I flirt.  "What are the classes going to be like?"  I ask.  "Do you know?"  I add, realizing that she may not have even thought that far.  She looks a little stunned for a second, then recovers.

"Oh, the youth classes!  Not sure yet.  They're going to contain music lessons, music history, maybe theory, improvisation..."

"Sounds great!  And, you're going to teach?"

"Uh, yeah.  I think so.  Or I might get people."

"Do you have any experience?"  

"Not really.  Like, I have a degree in music, and might go for my PhD, but... "

"Really?  Wow!  Good for you."  Now, that's genuinely impressive.  Especially from her, who seems so young and well, kind of flighty.  Not many people in my and Scott's circle have a PhD.  Most of my friends have worked with me at some point, and are either actors, or waiters and bartenders, as well.  And Scott only hangs out with other musicians.  "I could never do all that schooling."

"Yeah, I don't want to, really... But, my parents are pushing.  They'll pay for it, obviously."  Not so obvious to me.  I paid for all my own tuition and expenses.  Going for a PhD is a little different than three years at college, though.  

"Well, it's good to have a backup plan.  There aren't many people lucky and hardworking enough to have full time work in an arts field.  Scott's truly an anomaly.  Like, me, for instance... I'm just not willing to hustle constantly and have this inconsistent lifestyle.  I mean, I love acting, but I'm not going to through my nicely balanced life in flux for it.  I need to go somewhere each day and work, you know?"

"Yeah!"  She says, but I may have lost her.  It is a little hard to hear in here.  Just then, Scott's band finishes up, and we clap and cheer.  Scott wipes his forehead, and joins us.

"Great set!"  I say.

"Looks like you two are hitting it off!"

Shortly after, I'm feeling a little drunk, happy with the first impression I've made on Emily, and ready to call it a night.  I'm not that much of a party-er, I admit.  I mean, I go to some of Scott's shows, or have a quick drink after a shift, but at the end of a day, I always look forward to going home and sharing my bed with Scott.  Even more so, tonight.

We stumble through the front door of our apartment, locked by our lips and pelvis', dropping our jackets and bags, and kicking our shoes to the floor.  With the overwhelming potential of the fthreesome fresh in our minds, we walk in parallel, side stepping down the hallway as we furiously devour each other's mouths.  We litter our clothing, leaving a trail behind, perhaps with the subconscious thought that Emily will be able to find the bedroom this way.  Scott falls on top of me on the mattress, and I feel his weight press satisfyingly into me.  We peel off the last remnants of our clothing while squirming, sandwiched together over the sheets.  The warmth of his skin spreads through me, making me feel comforted, relaxed, and urgently desiring, all at once.  Then I feel his cock.  He slides over my pussy, and I tilt my hips so that he finds me.  We groan into each other's mouths as he easily enters me, and despite trying multiple times to get up on his hands, he's pulled down again and again so that I can feel his body close to mine.  I encourage him to give me his weight, craving to be crushed by him as he crashes into me.  I moan in his ear, kissing his neck and holding his head against mine, his sounds are muffled by the pillow beside me.  I feel him approaching orgasm, and as he pulls out, I immediately feel his absence, not only in me, but on me.  The sweat evaporates from the front of my body, as Scott lays beside me, continuing to jerk his cock to climax.

I turn on my side, curling into him, whispering into his ear.  "You want to fuck Emily, don't you?  It's okay baby.  I want you to."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah baby.  She wants a big man on top of her, giving her his big dick, doesn't she?  She wants your big fucking cock, doesn't she baby?  She wants a big man on top of her..."  He groans, releasing his load onto his stomach.  We both breathe easy.  

"I only want you, baby," he says after, kissing me on the mouth.

"Mmm, I know my love."  

I get up to pee, and by the time I get back, he's cleaned up.  We fall asleep in our bed, together.