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."

good boy.

Let me describe a scenario for you.

I have you undress and sit in the chair beside my bed, while I lovingly clasp your wrists together, behind the back of the chair, with the black silk ropes I reserve for special occasions.  While I fasten your hands, I lean in to your ear so that you can feel my warm breath tickle your earlobe.  I tell you that I want you to come inside me like a good boy, but that you have to wait until I've gotten myself off first. You tilt your head so that you expose your neck to me, hoping that my lips grace the soft skin there, but I remain diligent in my knot tying, wanting assurance that you couldn't reach for your own cock even if you tried.

I undress in front of you, the restraints already tightening against your wrists, as you long to touch every inch of creamy white skin that I expose to you.  I retrieve my vibrator from the bedside table; a dick sized, purple latex phallus, which I tease you with as I slowly approach the chair, letting it graze my small, perky tits, making my nipples stand at attention.  I run one of my hands through your hair, stopping at the nape of your neck, while my other raises the dildo towards your lips.  You obediently lick your lips and open your mouth, the taste of silicone fresh on your tongue.  I look down at you, being such a good boy, and I feel my pussy twitch sympathetically, as if it was my dick you were taking into your mouth.  Yours starts to rise.  

Satisfied with the moisture accumulated on my vibrator, I withdraw the latex dick from your lips, and you immediately feel its absence, knowing that this is the last time you will be in physical contact with me.  Now, you must only watch, and longingly wait.  

I kneel on the bed in front you, just like in the picture I sent you, exposing my soft round ass, and puffy pussy lips, already glistening with desire.  As I place the pre-moistened vibrator between my legs, you observe my muscles immediately contract, hips tilting, thrusting towards it.  The buzzing sound of the toy is soon followed by moans of delight.  I bend deeper, letting my face rest on the sheets, giving you an even more immaculate view of my pussy and and asshole.  You see the opening of my ass clench and release, and I rock forward against the vibrator.  Then, you become extremely jealous, as the fake phallus probes my dripping pussy lips, ready to sink itself deep within me.

The dildo easily finds its way in, and I bob it into my pussy, only about halfway for now, coating its purple tip with my moisture.  You notice a bead of sweat break your hairline, and long to wipe it.  Your muscles flex, and erection begs to be soothed.

I push the toy deeper inside myself, as I release a groan up into the air.  My ass is working overtime now, muscles contracting and releasing, trying to sync up with the vibrations delivered by the dildo.  Your wrists strain against the ropes, ready to rip them to spreads to get to me.  Suddenly, I buckle forward, gasping, tense one moment and relaxed the next.  I remove the vibe from my pussy, still twitching, and exhale.  

Your mouth forms a saucy smile, ready now, to be released.  Your cock anxiously awaits my touch, and the warm wetness of my engorged pussy.  The past ten minutes has felt like a lifetime. "That's one," I exclaim, exasperated.  

"Usually I give myself three or four, when I'm alone."  

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.    

  

my two partners (part eight).

Scott

Meaghan, used to late nights at the restaurant, sleeps in.  She also needs a lot more sleep than I do, so I take advantage of the mornings alone.  I type a flurry of emails and Facebook posts pertaining to future shows, and even manage to get some social calls in.  A couple days after the garage show now, I remember to touch base with Emily.  I haven't given this whole thing too much thought, but I know Meaghan would want me to keep the momentum going.  Emily hasn't contacted us either, which doesn't exactly surprise me.  Between her other partners, her projects, schooling, and attending as many shows as she possibly can, I can't imagine she has too much time or energy left over.  In fact, I'm surprised she's given us as much attention as she has so far.  I'm beginning to realize that she's pretty unfocused; but I can't imagine a completely put together person having threesomes with couples, so we'll take what we can get.  There's a reason she isn't in a relationship right now.  I search for her number on my phone, deciding to tread lightly and casually.  But, some text flirting never hurts.

Hey.  Great show the other night, Em.

Thanks!  It was super fun.  Thanks for all your help! :)

Np.  We had fun, too.  Meaghan thought you were super cute.  Her words.

I liked her too!  She's reeeeally pretty. ;)

I know.  She's the hottest. ;)

Too bad you had to go early.

Yeah, I agree.  We should hang out soon.  Maybe this week?

Totally!

K.  I'll ask Meaghan when she's avail. 

K great!

Talk soon.

Yep!

Done.  It's a little manufactured, but courting someone usually is.  

I start to load up the car for tonight's gig, then take a shower,  and see where Meaghan's at.  The door creaks as I open it, and she stirs.  I quietly make my way over, and sit beside her on the bed.  Her beautiful brown eyes open, though barely.  She's not usually a morning person, but she smiles, pulling me down for a squeeze.  Meaghan's been in a great mood lately; noticeably so.  I feel a pang of sadness at the realization of why: Emily.  Or, at least, the prospect of Emily.

I mean, I know we have a great sex life, but who says anyone else couldn't give her the exact same thing?  A bit of dirty talk and playing with her ass, while she does most of the work with a vibrator.  It's not exactly rocket science; though it did take me a while to figure it out.  Months into our relationship, and I still couldn't make her come.  Most of the girls I've dated would orgasm over my cock quite easily, but she was different.  Even with lots of stimulation on her clit; with my fingers or tongue, with or without penetration of any, or every, kind.  I tried everything; I felt like an octopus down there.  Once we introduced the vibrator, things got easier.  She told me that she had started using it almost every day since her last boyfriend, and had simply gotten used to it.  For a while, I didn't know what to do, while she used the vibe on herself; where I fit it.  I felt utterly useless.  She still couldn't come in front of me, feeling self conscious now, from the pressure, or stress.  After I got off, coming inside her, I would leave to take a shower, so that she could do it without me hindering her.  The gasp when she came was audible from the washroom, and broke my heart the few times we did it this way.  Thankfully, we figured it out.  My job ever since has been to set up some naughty role play and play with her ass, while she vibrates her clit.  

Then, she went off the pill, and I could no longer come inside her when we had intercourse.  It wasn't a big deal to me, but it was her favourite part of vaginal sex.  She suggested that I wear a condom, but I can't start wearing them now.  Instead, I blow my load on my stomach, usually jerking myself off while she kisses me.  It's our normal.  But, it's not normal.  It's more like lesbian sex, than straight sex. 

I kiss her face, still dusted with sleep.  "You better get up, babe. You have to leave for work in an hour."

"Mmm," she groans, stretching.  "Do you have a gig tonight?"

"Yeah.  I'm going to leave soon, too."

"Okay," she says, finally opening her eyes fully.  She smiles again, always happy after a good night's sleep.  "Snuggle for a couple minutes, first?"

The gig is a monthly show I produce, with some of the best acts in the city.  The venue is stellar; right downtown with a good sized stage, phenomenal sound, and helpful staff.  The booze is overpriced, but they've got to make money somehow.  Especially since I take the cover charge from the door, and split it between the bands.  The bands get drink tickets as well, so it's a pretty sought after gig.  And, it's at the point where I hardly have to hustle to fill the room.  And one of the people in this room, happens to be Emily.  

Now that she's on my radar, I seem to see her everywhere.  Not that I should be surprised; she makes it to so many shows, and this is one of the very best.  I doubt she knew I produced it, though.  

"Emily!  Didn't think I'd see you here."

"Oh hey!  You neither.  Are you playing?" 

"A small set, yeah.  I produce the night."

"Cool!  Is Meaghan here?"

"Not tonight, no.  She's working."

"Ah.  Well, I'm here!"

"Yeah, great!  Thanks!  Meaghan will be sorry she missed you, though."

"Why, what did she say about me?"

"Oh, I can just tell.  She was crushing pretty hard after your show."

"Really?  Aww."

"Yeah."  I don't want to scare her off, so I decide to change the subject.  But, she gets to it, first.  

"Do you want to know a secret?"

"Sure."  My stomach flutters for some reason, uneasy.

"I slept with someone that night that I'm not even attracted to."

"What?  Who?"

"It's not important.  I'm a little embarrassed, actually."  My mind goes to the other straight guys that were in attendance.  All music friends of mine.  And another thing: why is she telling me this?  Not exactly the thing to say to someone you might fuck in the near future. 

"Hmm.  You were drunk, I guess?"

"Not really.  I don't know.  Just feeling horny."

"Right.  You get like that often?"

"Yeah.  Sometimes it gets a little crazy.  Like when I'm in public. I've masturbated on public transit before.  Like, several times."

"Wow.  I used to be like that.  When I was your age, I used to jerk off like four or five times a day."  Meaghan would love to know that about Emily, but I can't help but think of my own dwindling sex drive.  She smiles, brushing a curl away from her face.

"It's more of a nuisance than anything."  

"Well, you should be careful, though.  You know, fucking musicians in the local scene.  It could make things difficult in the future.  Like, in your career.  Or just, socially."

"Yeah, I know.  I'm feeling that a bit.  I've slept with like four guys in this room, alone."  Soon to be five.  "It's pretty awkward."

"I mean, I'm not judging or anything.  Just looking out for you."

"Thanks."  Her gaze drifts towards the stage, while I try to think up another topic of conversation.  It strikes me that I'm too old for this.

"Meaghan has a pretty high sex drive, too."

"She does?"

"Yeah.  I mean, we have sex almost every day, but she'd probably like more.  And, in different ways."

"I see.  In what ways, exactly?"

"Well, she'd love to fuck a woman.  But, you already know that," I wink.

"Just any woman?"

"One, in particular."  Emily smiles at that, deep in thought.  She doesn't ask anymore questions.  "I should go," I say, gesturing towards the stage.  She nods, and we give each other a quick, half hug.   

  

Emily

"I mean, I'm not judging or anything.  Just looking out for you."

"Thanks," I say vaguely, as if saying it to the whole room.  What a buzz kill.  I was looking to share a funny secret, and he had to get all serious on me.  Not that I don't appreciate where he's coming from.  Older, wiser, and all that.  Coming from anyone else, I might be insulted, but there's something about Scott that makes me feel like he is genuinely looking out for my best interests.  Him and Meaghan really seem like they have their shit together.  I should take note. 

He drops Emily's name again before runs off, and it's good to see that they're still interested.  Ever since my show, I assumed that they had moved onto other things.  Or more specifically, other people.  If it was me, I would've banged the person and been done with them by now.  What's the hold up?  But, I guess they like me after all, and I have to say, it feels good.  It feels good for to be in someone's mind for more than the hour or so that we're fucking for.  It's scary, but good. 

I slice through the crowd, making it almost to the front, and carve out a space at the side, in front of one of the monitors.  The sets are tight, and sound great, but something about this show feels different.  Usually I find myself taking in the whole experience, letting the room's energy wash over me like liquid.  But this time, my focus is razor sharp, and specifically narrowed in on Scott.  As I watch him pluck his bass guitar, the room seems to go completely quiet, receding, like a wave.  It suddenly occurs to me, that he could really help me.  Meaghan, and him, I mean.  My body buzzes, and my hands feel numb.  So much so, that when I discreetly reach down my pants, it feels like someone else's hand.  My pussy is flooded, but my eyes remain as focussed as lasers.  The sound pumps through the speaker as if through water, sounding slow and slightly distorted.  I keep my gaze affixed on Scott, while the arm favouring the wall vibrates my hand over my slick clit.  My other arm, the one other spectators might see, swings nonchalantly with the beat of the bass drum.  I've done this before.  But, it doesn't usually feel this intense.

My clit is as pointed and sharp as my gaze, as I draw moisture up from my folds, flicking it like I'm playing a high hat cymbal.  In eighths, then sixteenths, speeding up as I feel my hips tilting and my muscles bearing down.  Maybe Scott will be the best thing that's happened to me in a while.  Scott, and Meaghan.  Maybe it's exactly what I need to get my life on track.  I picture fucking him, Scott giving me his cock on the quarter beats.  Yes.  Yes.  Fuck!  I come quietly but intensely on my hand, and the crowd cheers.

"Great set!"  I say to Scott, finding him after they've torn down.  I didn't even talk to anyone else, and it's been almost an hour.  I feel different, and I like it.  I touch his arm, and look deeply into his eyes, hoping he can feel me trying to connect.

"Hey!  Thanks, Em."

"What are you doing after?"

"After the show?  Uh, not sure.  I might have a couple drinks.  Then head out.  Why?"

"Do you want to go somewhere and mess around?"  He coughs, as if he breathed in through the wrong pipe.  

"Oh.  Uh.  I don't think that's... something Meaghan would be into.  I mean, we haven't talked about doing things... separately. Yet."  

"Oh.  Sure.  No problem."

"But, you're going to come over.  This week.  Right?"

"Right."

"Alright.  Well. I'll text you."

"Yep.  See ya!"

"Later!"  

Suddenly, the room feels very noisy, like it was previously on mute, and someone just turned on the sound full blast.  I retreat to the quiet of my parent's car, driving home without bothering to turn the radio on.  

caught with my pants off.

I text my boyfriend, "Coming home soon?"  After waiting the necessary ten minutes, I unplug my laptop, and carry it into our bedroom.

Not that I don't want Daniel to come home; in fact, it's just the opposite.  I just don't want to masturbate if I can get off with him later tonight.  I would much rather share my orgasm with him, but it's a little selfish, too, I admit.  My orgasms are much better when he assists me.  And, by assist, I mean, I'm still going to use my vibrator, whether he's here or not.  It's just an issue of whether I'm getting other things stimulated, while I'm doing it.  And I don't necessarily mean sexually; that is, the smell of his skin comforting me, his deep voice arousing my mind, and our general intimacy relaxing me.  He also touches my breasts, pussy, and butt.  Everything forementioned attributing to overall better orgasms.  And, it just so happens that our sexual position of choice, is usually assisted masturbation.

I plug the laptop back in next to the bed, and settle into the soft sheets.  Remove most of my clothing, leaving only a tank top and white ankle socks.  I'd usually remove everything if I was making love, but doing the activity solo allows me to be most comfortable, and I come easier when I'm on the warm side.  I take up a position on my end of the bed, laying with the laptop balancing delicately on my stomach, and I take out my vibrator from the side table, poised to turn it on.  First, I search for my favourite porn site.  Not that I watch too much porn anymore, now that Daniel and I have moved in together.  My masturbation time has been significantly cut down by the fact that I rarely have time alone at home anymore; and if I'm horny, I'll find Daniel over sneaking off to the bedroom by myself.  And since I'm watching alone, I don't have to be self conscious about what I choose.  This is my opportunity to watch exactly what I want to watch, and I savour it.  I feel a smile creep across my face as I saucily click the category, Anal Sex.

I fast forward, past the interview with the cameraman at the beginning, past the blowjob, even past the vaginal sex.  I stop right before the anal penetration. The part I'm looking for, is the warm up.  Something I very much enjoy myself, I look forward to watching the brief part where he plays with her ass with his fingers, or with toys; effectively warming her up before he puts his dick in it.  Not that the sixty seconds of anal foreplay they show is going to be enough for the average, non-pornography starring girl looking to engage in full on anal sex, because, to tell you the truth, it's barely enough for me to come while masturbating to it.  Sometimes I rewind, and watch it multiple times.  

The man on the video makes her spit on his fingers, instead of using lubricant.  I get mine from a bottle, squirting a healthy dollop onto the vibrator, and placing it on myself.  He bends her in half, lifting her legs, and pushing her knees up towards her shoulders.  He asks her if she's flexible, and she nods, settling into this pretzel-like position.  The man brushes the opening of her asshole with the spit, as I feel myself start to relax and bear down.  Her ass easily takes his fingers, as they disappear inside her.  She must have warmed up off camera.  I watch the delicate skin of her asshole pucker and stretch as he moves them in and out.  He asks if she can take one more.  I feel my clit harden and it feels so good, I almost shy away from the intensity of the vibrations.  

Just then, I hear the front door slam.  "Jen?"  I freeze, not knowing whether to answer.  Not that Daniel would mind if I'm masturbating; in fact, he likes to hear that I'm still doing it.  But, walking in on me, is something altogether different.  I pause the video, take the laptop from my chest, but I don't close it completely.  I'm still planning on getting off. 

"Uh... In here!"  I turn off the vibrator momentarily, close my legs, the lube squishing slightly between them.  He appears in the doorway.

"Hey, I was trying to call you... Um, are you getting off, baby?"  He chuckles, eyes alight.

"Uh... Yeah."

"Mmm.  What are you watching?" He says, interested, taking off his shirt, and joining me.  He lifts the laptop, revealing a still of a the girl's loosening asshole.  

"How embarrassing..." I say, only half joking.  

"Mmm," he says, closing the laptop and placing it on the table beside him.  "Are you embarrassed to be caught masturbating, baby?"

"Hmm," I smile, reddening.  "A little bit."

"Are you embarrassed that I saw what you were looking at?"

"Mmm.  Yeah."

"That you were looking at a girl's ass?  Hmm?"  He says, faux sternly.  

"Yes, baby," I smile, turning the vibrator back on.  He kisses me deeply on the mouth, moving down my neck, to my clothed breasts.  He removes my shirt, bending to lick my hardening nipples.  I press the vibrator against my clit, allowing myself to moan in pleasure.  He takes out his dick, and starts stroking it.  

"You're a bad girl, getting caught, aren't you?"  I feel moisture drip down between my legs, towards my ass, a blend of my own juices and the lube.  With one hand, he feels my wet, puffy pussy.  His fingers glide over my glistening folds, as I feel myself push, almost reaching out to him.  His elbow grazes my side as he jerks his cock, his voice wet in my ear.  "You need to be taught a lesson, don't you?"

"Mmm.  Yeah, baby." I feel his slick hand move down my sensitive perineum, towards my ass.  Immediately, I feel the urge to bear down.  

"So you don't do it again."  

"Mmm.  Yes."  I feel the pad of his finger trace the opening of my ass, in a circular motion, teasing it.  I feel my asshole pulsate, wanting his fingers.  He changes the angle of one of them, and it dips in slightly.  I moan, my ass relaxing to accommodate it.  

"That's a good girl.  You know what I need you to do."

"Yeah, baby," I groan, feeling him enter me.  The role play is perfect.  I love when he pretends to make me do something that I so badly want to do already.  In reality, Daniel touching my ass is rather mundane, it being a weekly occurrence at least, but the dirty talk makes it seem taboo, like when he first started to touch me in this way.

"I need to touch you here, don't I?  To teach you a lesson."

"Mmm.  Yes, baby."

"Are you going to be a good girl?"  He says, plunging the finger all the way inside my ass.  I gasp, the muscles in my ass both pushing and relaxing to allow him to enter.  He vigorously jerks his cock, elbowing me in the side with each stroke.  I press the vibe harder against myself, knowing that I could come at any time, now.  He begins to wiggle his finger.  "Are you going to let me punish you?"

"Yes, baby," I say, voice quivering.

"You're not going to make this any harder, are you?"

"No!"  The liberation of saying this word, whilst completely immersed in the consent play, does it for me.  I open my ass, bearing down in the unique way that combines both pressing and opening, allowing him to stimulate that spot deep within me.  Everything contracts at once, and I cry out a guttural sound.  Daniel continues to jerk off a few strokes before letting go himself.  His glistening semen lands across my torso, expertly avoiding the sheets.

"That was unexpected," he says, breathless.

"You're telling me."
"I tried to phone you, but I guess you were busy," he winks.  I flush crimson.
"Yes, I was..." I laugh.  "Yes, I was."

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 six).

Meaghan

                              

Scott passes me the soap, as I watch the shower’s warm water glance off his sharp shoulder.  I lather the bar in my hand, handing it back, as I pass suds over my arms, underarms and breasts.
“Let me do that for you,” he jokes, reaching across me to indulge in one of his favourite past times.  “Your boobs need a good wash, don’t they?”    
“Not really,” I counter, though smiling.  I give myself over to his touch momentarily, feeling his large hands slide over my breasts.
“I think they do,” he says, massaging more vigorously.  He tests my patience by tweaking a nipple.  I turn away.
“Scott!”
“I know.  Just let me clean this nipple.”
“That’s not...”
“Why are these so hard?”
“Because you’re playing with them,” I laugh.
“Mmm.  What nice tits, baby.”  I reciprocate the moan, letting myself really feel his soapy hands on me.  Even through the water, I can feel myself getting wet.
“This is supposed to be a quick shower,” I say, stretching up to kiss him.  We have a nice warm, wet kiss, then embrace under the shower head.  I rest my head on his shoulder, as we sway a few times under the spray.                                                     
“Emily and I are hanging out again tonight.”
“Oh?”
“Yep, just grabbing lunch again, I think.”
“Okay,” I say, resuming washing myself.  So soon.  It’s only been a couple days.  Well, that’s good.  She’s clearly interested.  Then, a thought strikes me.  “She knows you’re seeing someone, right?”
“Of course.  It’s, like, one of the first things I ever said to her.”
“Okay,”  I smile, relieved.  
“Of course, babe,”  He reiterates, kissing me again.

At work, I’m on her Facebook page on my phone.  “It doesn’t say she’s in a relationship.”
“Who?”  Anthony replies from behind the bar.
“Emily.  Do you listen to me when I talk?”
“Well, considering most of what you say is complete nonsense...”
“Of course, she could take in a relationship to mean a monogamous relationship.  Which I know she isn’t.  Apparently, has a girlfriend and a boyfriend right now.”
“Right.”
“Do you want to see a picture?”  I ask, showing him before he answers.
“Is that a costume?”
“Obviously.”
“Isn’t there a better picture?”
“Not really.  We’re not technically friends yet, so I don’t have full access.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I think she’s super cute.”
“From what you can see.”
“Yeah.”  He serves a customer a draught beer, then turns back to me.  I continue.  “You know, I was looking at some poly forums...”
“Poly?”
“Polygamous.”
“Good grief.”
“And, they’re advocating against a one dick policy in open relationships.  A lot of couples that try open relationships, only have female partners.  Like, the girlfriend only gets to sleep with other women, but not men.  And, of course, the boyfriend isn’t into guys, so he obviously still gets to do whatever he wants.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Exactly!  They’re saying not only is it not fair, but that it also places a stigma on lesbian sex.  That it isn’t as important as straight sex.”
“So, you want to sleep with other guys as well?”
“What?  No.”
“So...”
“I’m just saying.  I agree with that.”
“You’re nuts.”
“You agree, too.  You just said.”
“As a general rule, I never agree with anything you say,” he says, smirking.
“Apparently, poly people hate couples looking for thirds, too.”
“Why?”
“Well, they say that though it is definitely is non-monogamy, it isn’t totally polygamous either.”
“Who cares?  
“Well, real poly people do.  I guess it bothers them when couples that have the occasional threesome call themselves polyamourous.”
“Well, the labels are dumb, anyway.  There’s so many, nobody even knows what they mean.”
“Well, people are trying to find other people that do what they do.  Like, on OkCupid you can say that you’re a polyamourous person looking for a secondary relationship.  Meaning that they have a main relationship already, but are looking for another, more casual one.  I’ve even seen people that aren’t interested in a main relationship of any kind, but function best as a second or tertiary partner.”
“Right.  And you’re the expert.”
“No!  Not at all.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“Oh.”
“You have a table.”  I turn around to two patrons waving me over.
“Shit.  Thanks.”

“So?  How was it??”  I grill Scott when he gets home.
“Good.  We got lunch, and then came back here for a bit.”
“She came over?  Here?”  I’ve never had anyone over to the apartment.  To me, that’s a huge step.  For Scott, it’s no big deal, but some of my closest friends have never even been over to our apartment.  Hanging out eludes me, I think.  I tend to never see a friend unless we’re doing an activity.  Going to see a show, taking a class, celebrating a birthday at a bar or something.  I’ve always been jealous of the easy way Scott develops friendships.  I hope the apartment was clean.
“Yeah, we caught lunch just down the street, so...”
“So, what... did you guys do?”  
“We watched some TV.  She’s definitely interested in a threesome.”
“Why, you talked about it?”  Another thing.  He talks about sex so easily, with almost anyone.  Complete strangers.  His friends that are girls.  The only person I ever talk to about stuff like that is Anthony.  I love sex.  Why don’t I get to talk about it with people?
“Yeah.  I showed her pictures of you.”
“What pictures?”
“Just the ones on the walls.”
“Oh.”
“She definitely thinks you’re hot.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, babe.  Obviously.”  I smile at that.  

I take a shower, washing away the smell of french fries from my hair, and I go to bed thinking about it.  Scott is soon sleeping soundlessly beside me, but I can’t turn off my brain.  I picture a woman’s soft skin, her petite mouth, her breasts, hips, shaven legs, manicured pussy.  But, most of all, I think about taking her out.  Anywhere.  Maybe I can bring her to my work.  Introduce her to Anthony.

Scott  

Meaghan leaves for work, and I’m still at half mast from touching her perfect tits in the shower.  I plant myself in front of my computer, and peruse the porn vids.  I look through the two girl threesomes for a change.  Not my usual pick, but it seems appropriate, considering our circumstances.
Two girls with huge, fake tits appear before me, and I grip onto my thickening cock.  Meaghan’s tits are perfect, don’t get me wrong, but I love jerking off to girls with enormous fake breasts.  It’s a fetish thing only, though.  I’m sure I wouldn’t want that in person, if I had the opportunity.  Some things are better as fantasies.  I blow my load not to what I actually see in the video, but what I want them to do.  
I waddle over to the bathroom, cupping the come against my stomach as I do so.  I wipe it up with toilet paper as best I can, and hop back in the shower for a quick rinse.  I get dressed, and walk to meet Emily for the second time.

I’m there a little late from the impromptu jerk off, but so is Emily.  Nowhere to be seen.  I take a seat as before, and recognize the potential pattern.  Soon enough, she shows.  She’s cute, so I bet she gets away with a lot.
“Hey!”  She says, embracing me this time.
“Hey, Em.  How are ya?”
“Great!”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, my show is really coming together.”  Her show.  Almost forgot.  I’ve got to put it in my calendar.
“Oh, awesome.”
“Yeah.  I’ve got everyone booked, so now I’m getting my friend to design a poster, then I’ll start promoting.”
“Great.  What’s the show called, again?”  I ask, as I put it in my phone.
“The Garage Series.”
“Cool... do you mind me asking why?”
“It takes place in my garage.”  Did I hear that correctly?
“Like, at your house?”
“My parent’s house, yeah.”  Oh my god.
“Wow.  Okay.”
“Yeah, it’s going to be awesome!”
“Mm hm... Do you have the proper set up?”
“Oh yeah!  Renting equipment.  I have to do that, still.”  It’s a disaster.  I totally have to co-produce this.   
“I can bring.  I have patches... I’ll bring one amp, small mixer and one speaker?  Two mics, probably.  Are you using your kit?”
“Yes.  That’s the one thing I do have.”  
“Okay.  Okay!  Cool.”  I feel a little better.  We’ll talk more details later.  We'll need to hang curtains and sound proofing, lay down lots of carpet to absorb the sound.  As long as it isn’t too small.  And people actually come.
“So, how are you and Meaghan doing?”
“Oh, great.  We’re always great, though.  I told her about you.”
“Haha.  What did you tell?”
“That you were her type.”
“Oh?”  She says, suddenly interested.  I chuckle.
“She likes a bit of androgyny.  Tomboy girls with short hair.”
“Hm.  I still have to see a picture of her.”
“Long blonde hair, pretty, great body.  We live right down the street, if you want to hang out after.”
“She’ll be there?”
“No.  But, I have some things I could show you.”
“Okay.  Cool!”

We finish up, and walk back to mine and Meaghan’s place.  
“Wow!  Nice place!  It’s so clean.”
“Yeah, Meaghan keeps it pretty tidy.”
“Is this her?”  Emily asks, looking at an old framed theatre poster of Meaghan’s.  She was the lead in that play.  Blew everyone away.
“Yep.  This is her, too.  And, here.”
“I didn’t know she performed.”
“Yeah, it’s nice.  We both understand the lifestyle, though we’re not doing to exact same thing.  We can support each other in our different interests.  I think I’d go crazy being with another musician.”
“Right,” she answers, submerged in the pictures.  I have the urge to backtrack, but I don’t think she really heard the remark, or if she did, didn’t associate it with herself.  “This one’s incredible,” she says, looking at Meaghan in a scant, sexy costume.
“I agree.  Had to keep my hand over my crotch, for that one.”
“Haha.  I bet.”
“Is the girl you’re seeing super good looking?”
“Well, we’re not really seeing each other anymore.  She was cute.  But, it didn’t work out.”  
“Why?”
“Um... she wanted something more, I think.  I just wanted to keep it casual.”
“You have a boyfriend, though?”
“No!  No.  I’m not interested in that.  I was dating a guy for a couple years.  Like, just him.  But, it wasn’t the healthiest.  Probably.”
“Oh, okay.  I getcha.”
“Yeah, like, I see a couple people here and there, but nothing serious.”
“Mm hm.  Meaghan and I aren’t looking for anything serious, either.  Other than each other, obviously,” I add, smiling, trying to lighten the mood.  “Want to watch a show or something?”
“Sure!”
I wonder if she’ll try to snuggle up on me, but she doesn’t.  We keep chatting like friends, throughout the show.  I might be more attracted to some of my girl friends.  I sense interest from her when we talk about sex, or Meaghan, which is nice.  She makes a lot of eye contact.  When I mention it, she says that people have told her that before.
“Do you want to have a staring contest?”
“Uh... sure.  I’ll win, though.”  I recover, after a brief hiccup at the mention of a child’s game.       
“Okay.  Rules are: you can blink, but you can’t smile.  And, you have to maintain eye contact no matter what.”
“Got it.  You can talk, though.”
“Yes.  You can say anything to try and make the other person lose concentration.  First person to look away or laugh, loses.”
“Okay.  Ready?”  She nods.  “Go.”
“Do you know that a whale’s penis can be up to ten feet long, with 12 inches in girth.”
“That’s not very thick,” I reply, stone faced.  Her eyes are small, one might describe as beady, with colour almost as dark as her pupils, like a cat’s eye.  She blinks.  “Although everyone knows that ratio is ideal for female pleasure.  Mine is twenty inches long, and as thin as a pencil.”
“Really?  Interesting.”  She answers, solemnly.  Having just eaten lunch, I easily produce a loud fart.  She doesn’t budge, but I almost lose it.  “That almost backfired on you, didn’t it?”
“No way.  I’m good.”
“Are you sure?  I think I can see your face crack.”
“Nope, not even close.”    
“I want to fuck you and your girlfriend.”  My mouth drops, shocked, and I can’t help but laugh.  
“Okay!  Okay!”
“I win!  You farting was super funny, though.”  I get a case of the giggles, still laughing at it.  

We laugh and laugh.