Heather sat staring out the window of the plane as it soared 15,000feet somewhere over Colorado (or so the pilot had said, but she onlyhalf heard). She was on her way to Racine, Wisconsin for the 9th stopon the Women's Professional Beach Volleyball Tour, and she was having abanner year. She and her new partner had won 6 of the first 8 events,and even though the money still paled next to the pro men's tour, shewas definitely making enough to train full-time for the third straightyear.
She played with the lettuce in her salad, but she didn't bother toeat any. She pondered her odd mixture of anticipation, nervousness andexcitement over this particular site, but she didn't want to put herfinger on just exactly why. The money at the Racine tournament wasn'tunusually high - $25,000 split among all winners, 1st place splitting$7500, and the event had no prestige value. This year's event was onlythe second at Racine, so it lacked enough history to mean much.
She put down her plastic fork on the tray and took a distracted sipof her V8. Maybe discouraging her boyfriend, Jack, from coming on thistrip was a mistake after all. She had been so subtle about it hedidn't even realize that she had softly talked him out of joining herat this particular event.
In the spring, he had asked if she would like it if he startedcoming with her to the tournaments, and she was thrilled. But as theRacine tourney drew closer, she became increasingly apprehensive andstarted to play up reasons why he shouldn't come to this one. It wassuch a small event on the tour really, and nothing - nothing - was inRacine she said. When the work schedule at his computer consultingcompany required that he work that weekend, she hid her relief andassured him it was OK if he didn't come.
Now she wasn't so sure.
Finally she let her mind dwell on the real reason this tournamentwas giving her competition-seasoned heart vexations. It wasn't thetournament at all. It wasn't Emily, her partner, who was a god-send —a child-hood friend, a joy to play with, and most importantly a hell ofa player. And it sure wasn't Jack, with whom she was enjoying asomewhat directionless but entertaining romance.
No, her problem was who she might or might not see on the man-made"beach" in Racine. Would he be there, watching her thinking about herwanting to touch her waiting to serve her —
"Are you finished, Miss?" the flight attendant coaxed gently.
Startled, she almost dropped her plastic cup of V8, which shenoticed was nearly full. She put the cup down on her tray with herstrewn but uneaten salad and said, "Yes, thanks." She was hungry, butthe butterflies in her stomach were clearly not going to permitanything so invasive as eating.
Suddenly, she felt angry with herself, as she had so many timesbefore when she thought about Racine and who she might see there. Thiswasn't right. She and Jack had been together now since last October. What was that - 9 months now? She shouldn't be playing little headgames with him now.
She should just pretend that nothing happened last year inWisconsin. Fact is, she could. There were no agreements implied orany "real" relationship established. It was just something thathappened. It didn't happen all the time, but she knew that sometimessome of the other single girls on the tour had met fleeting "romance"on tournament weekends.
So the guy had written her a few times. So what. She'd neverresponded. She found she wanted to but just couldn't. Better that shejust forget what happened. Yet she had done everything she could tomake sure she wouldn't have Jack with her this weekend. Her mood grewmore resigned. He wouldn't be there anyway. His last letter was inFebruary, Valentine's Day in fact. But she hadn't heard anythingsince, so maybe he'd given up. Somewhere in her heart, though shedoubted it. What scared her though was that she hoped he hadn't.
Last year's Racine weekend was so bizarre. She had just caught herthen boyfriend and forever jerk Allen cheating on her the week before -some bimbo personal trainer he had met at the gym. At 24 with abudding volleyball career, Heather knew she wasn't ready for any realcommitment and she'd let Allen know that up-front. But that didn'tmean she was out dating other guys either, so she was pretty hurt anddisappointed when she found this girl's g-string in his bed.
Still, to her credit, she had a great tournament that weekend inRacine. Went undefeated and won the championship pretty handily withEmily fairly early on Sunday. She never let other things in herpersonal life - least of all men - interfere with her profession. That's why serious relationships weren't really an option for hernow.
Dammit it then, why can't I get John out of my head, her mind'svoice yelled at her. How ironic it was that John and her boyfriend hadthe same name — at least their given names. No one ever referred toJack as John, though. Except that one time when she and Jack weretogether and he was kissing her just the way she loved between herlegs, and she began thinking about Racine... Luckily, she was able toweasel her way out of it with some bullshit story about how sometimesshe liked to think about Jack with his full name. She never did callhim John again though.
Ah yes, last year at Racine, John had certainly kissed her. Shenever thought twice about why she didn't actually start dating Johnafter that weekend. In addition to the obvious problems of her careerand their respective locations was the simple fact that everythingabout that weekend just wasn't conducive to a "normal" relationship. The whole experience was just too bizarre. Even now when she thoughton it, she felt an unbearable mix of excitement and shame, and thenmore embarassment when she recognized who own excitement.
Oh, how John charmed her and made her laugh until she cried at thepost-tournament party. In fact, for a fan of the sport he hadremarkable self-composure. None of that star-struck awkwardness youusually see in fans - especially male ones. She knew that she was veryhighly regarded by the men in the stands as much, if not more, for herbeauty and physique than her skills as an athlete. Occasionally, arude fan - usually half-drunk or worse - would say something about hertits or her ass, but most of the time the guys had trouble even lookingher full in the eyes.
So from that perspective, John stood out almost immediately. Heseemed so relaxed when he approached her at the party, which was heldat a local bar and was open to the public. He struck up the usualconversation with her about the tournament and volleyball in general,but it was clear that he was not a true follower of the tour or thegame. In a way, that actually helped, because she found it easier torelate to him as just herself and not as Heather Jowens, volleyballstar.
What started out as a typical two-minute fan-meets-star conversationturned into a 4-hour discussion about everything from the rigors ofbeing on tour to the personal specifics of her relationship with Allen,men, and sex. The last subject seemed to come up more and more as theevening wore on. She was surprised that even though she was flirtingwith him a little bit (the beer was loosening her mood), he neverseemed to take the bait to come on to her. That was really unusual, asshe knew she was in good shape and men never failed to reassure herthat she was pretty. She liked that about him, and it made her wanthim a little bit, too.
Looking back on it now, she thought, he played me like a violin. Heseemed to know exactly what buttons to push and when. He was agood-looking, well-built, funny, intelligent man who was showing her atremendous amount of attention - and she could tell it had nothing todo with her semi-celebrity status. That insight would prove to beaccurate. She hadn't even noticed at the time that they spoke verylittle about him; he seemed so totally absorbed by her that it justdidn't come up.
Her partner Emily had hung around the party only for the first houror so, and then she left to catch a flight back home. Heather had beenalone with John for about 3 hours at the party. She could stillremember the fateful moment that would change everything. In a suddenself-conscious moment in their conversation, she noticed that she had ahand on his arm and she realized that she had been absent-mindedlydoing it off and on for at least an hour. She noticed it because forthe first time, he reciprocated by putting his hand on her thigh. Aseason as a pro volleyball player gives you a good tan, and his skincolor was a marked contrast on her leg.
When she saw that he had noticed her looking at his hand on herthigh, but did not remove it, the conversation came to completesilence, relaxed and yet tense silence. The romance and sensuality inthe air seemed to swallow any possible words. Somehow he'd managed tospeak. "Corny as this may sound, I have to say that from the moment Isaw you on the court, I simply knew I had to touch you. Now that Ihave, I am overwhelmed with just how gorgeous and sexy you are. Iwould love nothing more than to take you home, and pamper you - feelyou - smell you - taste you - serve you. If you don't mind beingtreated like an absolute Goddess, I would love for you to come homewith me and spend the night."
Under any other context, she probably would have laughed at thosewords, which almost sounded like a well-rehearsed speech. But hissincerity was unmistakeable, so instead she felt like she had beenstruck by lightning. He had so obliquely avoided this moment that thedirect honesty of his words and the passion in his voice shocked her.She knew she was attracted to John, and had suspected that if he'd justmade a move, they might end up spending some time together. But hiswords, painted wonderful images in her head. She wanted to be felt,smelled, tasted, and served - whatever that meant it sounded good toher. She didn't say a word, couldn't say a word to respond to him.
Instead, she squeezed his hand and got up from the bar stool.
As she sat in the plane heading back to Racine a year later, shemarvelled over how unapprehensive she was as they left the bartogether, how pure the excitement she felt was as they got in his carand went to his home. She had actually grown moist between her thighssitting in his car, something she didn't ever remember doing beforewithout some direct touch or stimulation. The moment was so romantic,and the electric charge of lust was very distinct in the hot summerair.
The drive was mercifully short, about 10 minutes. Neither of themsaid anything. It was like all that could be said needed to be saidwhen they could actually be face-to-face. He lived in a new or nearnew ranch house. She noticed that his house was in a relativelysecluded, beautiful wooded area. Clearly he had money. When shepassed through the front door of the house as he held it open, she hada brief pang of doubt. But then she felt his hand touch her back. Itfelt like fire traveling up her spine.
As soon as they were inside, she turned to him and they began tokiss. Gentle kisses on the lips gave way to the passion of kisses heldback for too long. Long moist open-mouthed kisses. She could tastethe beer in his mouth, but it tasted fresh and sweet. His skin hadthat distinctly masculine scent that she knew could not happen withoutsweat. Without transition, he had picked her up in his arms. Her headwas nestled close to his neck as he carried her like a little girl intohis living room.
He laid her gently on his sofa, sitting upright, and knelt in frontof her. She remembered how erotic it felt looking down and seeing hislean waist between her knees. She remembered visions of him fuckingher entering her head. She was amazed at how turned on she was and how? her thoughts were. She couldn't even blame the alchohol she'd drunkeither. She hadn't had anything to drink for the last 1 to 1 and 1/2hours that they were at the bar, and except for a slightly lingeringbuzz, she knew she was straight.
She started to lean forward to kiss him, but he gently pushed herback and put his index finger to her lips in a motion oddly likeshushing her. He said, "As an admiring fan, I would like to just spendthis night admiring you. As long as we're in my house anyway, I'd liketo treat you as my guest. This means you'll just have to sit backpassively and allow yourself to be adored. Can you do that?" Helingered on the word "adored" and pressed his lips against herneck.
Mutely, she had nodded yes. Now it seemed ridiculous, but at thetime, she trusted him completely. She was more than willing at thatmoment to give up control of the situation to be adored.
And adore her he did. She remembered the feeling of his handscaressing her back, waist and thighs as she sat back and relaxed on hissofa. He continually kissed her the neck. Each kiss was drawn out,racing her pulse. He seemed to be trying to draw in her essence witheach one. She could tell by the sound that with each inhalation he wassavoring her scents. He began to speak to her through his kisses. "They say that girls are made of sugar and spice and everythingnice..."
Again, as the memories flooded back to her in vivid detail on theplane back to Racine she felt a pang of regret that it hadn't juststopped there. What happened up to that point was almost like a fairytale, it was everything she had ever envisioned in meeting a new man. Romantic. Hot. Sexy...
"I want to taste your sugar and your spice," he'd said, finishingeach sentence with a kiss.
But what happened that night brought such shame to her afterwardthat she just couldn't bear it. To chalk it off as kinky sex didn'teven scratch the surface. Her behavior was so unlike her ownself-perception, but worst of all she had loved every minute of it. Itwasn't until the next day, out of the heat of the moment, that heractions just seemed unconscionable to her. She had left without a wordbefore he woke up the next day. Somehow he'd figured out her addressand sent her letters. None of the letters even hinted at what had goneon that night, but she still could not answer them...
"And I don't care whether or not you're nice," he'd said. Eachkiss drew his face closer to her chest.
"I care about worshipping you like the sweet Goddess you are." Heopened her blouse with his teeth. She was not wearing a bra. He puthis arms around her waist and pulled her toward him, arching her back. His words were intoxicating. They created a mood of completeabandonment. He could worship her any way he wanted.
He kissed a nipple and then drew it into his mouth. She let herhead fall back and let out a soft moan. With one hand he caressed theother breast, teasing the nipple into full hardness. She felt theother hand on the middle of her back slide down the back of her jeanshorts. She felt a finger slip down enough to touch the crack of herass.
He removed the hand from her breast and unbuttoned the top of hershorts. His face soon followed, so that when he unzipped her shortsshe could feel his breath lightly on her belly button and below. Usingboth hands he lifted her 5'7" frame enough to slide her shorts down herthighs and off of her ankles. He paused to lean forward and give thearch of each foot a gentle, lingering kiss. The sight of sheerreverence in the gesture made her feel a little light-headed, shewanted to feel those kisses everywhere...
"It is an absolute pleasure to kiss your feet." he said, and thentook one big toe into his mouth. Then he began to lick the bottom ofeach foot. She spoke for the first time in what seemed like aneternity. "Do you have a fetish for feet?"
"Maybe," he said, "but mostly I just want you to feel the power ofyour beauty. I feel a little like I am groveling here before you." She felt a flush of embarassment and started to protest, but he quicklyspoke over her. "And that's the joy of it. I want you to enjoy beingplaced on this pedestal while I bow before you, serve you, grovel atyour feet. The pleasure is mine." The embarassment didn't reallysubside but it changed, she was finally beginning to understand what hewanted. "I hope you like having your ass kissed, Sweetheart, becausethat's what I plan to do. Admit that part of you is enjoying seeing megrovel here before you, and wants to feel my lips elsewhere, too."
She was not aware that, sitting in the plane now, she was actuallywincing as she relived these memories.
"I think I could learn to like it," she had said smiling. Indeed.
He began to kiss her ankles. "Just for tonight," he said, "trythinking of me as your personal servant — maybe more like a slave —whose greatest desire is to stroke and serve your ego and relish yourbeauty." What was it about this guy that made her feel so comfortablewith these ideas, so ready to accept and enjoy them? She'd had aboyfriend once who wanted her to pee on him while they had sex, butthat just seemed so disgusting. They never spoke of it again, but theywere also never quite the same again either. Things seemed sodifferent with John that night. He seemed to make everything seem soexoticly erotic.
John kissed his way up her calves and over her thighs. He seemed totake special pleasure in the firm, smooth skin of her femininelymuscled legs. He rubbed his nose and lips over them, inhaling deeply. It was maddening. With each stroke over her leg, his face drew evercloser to her underwear and her inner thighs. He would pause with hisnose less then an inch from her moist sex, barely covered in her cottonunderwear, and draw a deep breath like he was breathing in lifeitself.
He began to run his tongue over her inner thigh at the edge of thecotton, his nose nudging her sensitive lips through the fabric. Hekissed her pussy through the wet underwear, then pulled them down andoff her body. His face was than less a foot from her pussy when heguided each of her legs onto his shoulders. Almost reflexively, shecrossed her ankles across his back. Sitting in the plane now a fullyear later, she could still remember with crystal clarity the unspokenwords going through her mind. "Lick my pussy. Suck on my clit. Makeme come in your mouth!" It was the mood of the moment, a mood she'dnever felt before. He may not have heard those words coming frommouth, but he acted like he had.
She distinctly remembered how his face glistened after he buried hisnose deep into her pussy. She saw his nose appear between her lips andrub over her swollen clit. Then his tongue, O God, would she use thattongue that night, licked her clit like she was made of candy. Heseemed to really get off on burying his face in her pussy, getting herjuices all over his face, making sure she could see it.
One time he lifted her knees to her chest before slipping his noseinto her pussy, and then for the first of many times that night shefelt him kissing her asshole. As she savored the feeling of his lips,she put a hand on the back of his head and gently rocked back and forthon his face until she came all over it. As she was coming, she buckedpretty hard against him. When it was all over, she was amazed at howshe had drenched him. It occurred to her that she was being prettyselfish, but she didn't really care — he seemed to want it that way,and she was really beginning to like being worshipped.
"I see you were serious about kissing my ass," she remembered saying, she'd even giggled lightly.
She could now see the lights of Racine through her window. She felthot and flushed.
"Oh, I have yet to kiss your ass," he'd said. He was giving herpussy light kisses all over.
"Hey, I felt it!" she retorted.
"That was just a peck," he said, "I couldn't justify not kissingyour ass properly."
"And what would a proper kiss be like?" she asked teasingly.
"Sweetheart, I won't be happy until I've tasted your sweet ass. That's a proper kiss." His kisses started to tend toward the lower partof her pussy.
"I hate to admit it, but I love the way you think. Aren't youtaking a chance, though? I mean, I hope you like the taste of my ass."She couldn't help giggling again.
"Does it matter? You're being worshipped, remember? Anyway, I'msure I'll be left craving it afterward."
Suddenly, she felt she needed to go to the bathroom. "Well, notjust yet anyway," she said, "I have to pee."
He continued kissing her pussy for a bit before he said, "So?"
"So, where's you're bathroom?" she asked.
"I don't think you're going to need it," He stuck out his tongue andplaced the tip of it squarely on her clit. It was clear to her that hewas purposely doing it in such a way that she could plainly see it.
"I'm serious," she said. "I really have to pee." Laughing sheadded, "I'll piss in your mouth if you don't let me up!"
He pulled his tongue back into his mouth, but didn't close it. Hepressed his open mouth against her pussy and just looked up at her.
She finally got it.
"Are you serious?!" she cried, but her voice did not lose its humor. Now as she looked back on it, it was amazing to her how different herresponse to John was than when her old boyfriend had asked her to peeon him. She didn't even think of that event during this sequence withJohn.
"Don't you think you've grovelled enough? I've already got a prettybig head now thanks to you, you know," she said. "Now, you want to bemy toilet too?" and she laughed. And she couldn't stop laughing. Itjust seemed so funny to call him her toilet with his open mouth therewaiting on her pussy.
Still laughing, she warned "I'll do it. I'll take a piss right inyour mouth. And I'll make you drink every drop of my sweet piss! Whatdo you think of that?"
She remembered the way he stared unblinkingly at her, mouth open andready, his eyes seeming to implore her to carry out her threat. It wasthat look in his eyes that finally did it for her. She remembered shedecided Ôfuck it, I'm going to enjoy this' and she began pissing. Atfirst she intended to just give him a little squirt to let him know shewas serious. He would end up tasting her piss (he'd deserved it!), buthe could spit it out. But her plan backfired. Once she started, shecouldn't stop.
The thought that she was in the midst of an uncontrollable piss andthat poor John was tasting all of it made her start to laugh again,which made her laugh even harder. The more she laughed, the less shecould hold her piss. She was drowning him in it. Maybe the mostembarrassing memory of it for her was the fact that at no time -before, during, or after - did she make any attempt to get away fromhim, to not piss in his mouth.
In fact, as an almost defensive reaction, she decided to go with it. "Drink it!" she said in almost hysterical laughter. Much to hershock, he was drinking it. He gulped it down as fast as she could pissin his mouth. She was still laughing when she finally pissed all buther last. Through tears of laughter, she asked, "Well, how was that? Bet you feel pretty pissed on now, huh? Did it feel good being mytoilet?"
"Yes, thank you," he responded, "and how do you feel?"
"The truth? Pretty damn good. I never knew something like thatcould be so much fun!
I have a little more. Do you want it? Beg for it."
Unfortunately, she felt mostly guilty when she thought back on itnow, but back then, the feelings of arrogance and pleasure she had wereindescribable. It just didn't fit into her self perception that shecould enjoy pissing on someone so much.
It's funny what bizarre thoughts stick out in your mind in asituation like that. She remembered thinking as he began to beg formore of her piss in his mouth, that he had accomplished the goal he'dstated earlier. She did feel like a Goddess - albeit at his expense. But he wanted it that way, had engineered it that way. The superiormood that he had induced in her was so strong that when she looked downat him and listened to him beg (beg!) to taste more of her piss, shedecided to just let the rest of her piss go right on his face withoutsaying a word. It was purely impulsive, and he clearly wasn'texpecting it. It just seemed so comical. Cruel and funny. And fun.She'd even thrown her nose in the air, like a snobby bitch reveling inher own superiority as she pissed on her worshipper. God it was funpissing on his face!
At the time, she'd only wished she could pee some more. Now, shewished it hadn't happened. But the worst was yet to come.
His face and mouth were just soaked in her come and piss. Sheremembered thinking he's probably going to taste that in every meal fora week! Why did she like that thought so much? She knew that shereally liked John. It wasn't that she really wished anything bad onhim at all. In fact, she felt a strange bond forming between them asthey shared the unbelievable. They were just playing and having fun,but there was something unusually intimate about the sheer kinkiness ofit. Maybe it was because she'd never done anything like that before,and even now could never imagine doing it with anyone else butJohn.
That was one side of the coin. The other was that in her morelevel-headed moments afterward, she found the shame of doing somethingso dirty, so perverted, was just too much for her. The peeing was onething, but...
She remembered not being able to pee any more. She looked at Johnand smiled. She remembered through all of the fun, sensual, arroganceshe was feeling she also felt an odd warmness, a closeness to John, asshe looked in his eyes. He looked unbelievable happy. But the kinkymood was still so prevalent, and she was so turned-on.
She lifted one leg over his head and turned around on the sofa. Nowshe too was in a kneeling position at the sofa, knees on the floor,arms tucked under her upper body as she rested on the sofa. "You maykiss my ass now," she said, "and don't forget to thank me for comingand pissing in your mouth." (Had she really spoken like that? Shejust couldn't believe that was her...)
She was expecting the exquisite feeling of his lips on her ass, butit didn't happen. She turned and looked over her shoulder at him. Hehad a strangely quizzical look on his face. She thought he might havebeen thinking about how he had lost control of this situation. Much toher current consternation, it was clear at the time that she had takenwhat he started and began running with it. She'd guess wrong though. With what looked like an almost involuntary gesture, he looked down ather ass and then slowly back up to her eyes and asked, "You sure youdon't have to go any more?"
Puzzled, she looked at him for a moment and went into anothertorrent of laughter. "Haven't you had enough? Sorry, I've peed all Ican. You drank almost all of it! I hope you don't get sick." But hejust looked at her with that same strange expression. Then she guessedwhat was going on. "We're not talking about pee, are we, John?" sheasked. The look on his face now made sense, confirmed her suspicions. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet," she said, "I can't believe whatwe've done so far." She was still feeling heady from being worshippedso completely, though. She thought for a moment, and added with asmile (or was it more of a smirk?) "But maybe if you lick my asssweetly enough, I may be coaxed into having to go some more."
What amazed her now (and always shamed her) was that she had notreacted to his implied suggestion with disgust. She seemed more towrite it off as an impossible fantasy. You know, the kind that peoplesometimes have but would never actually want to realize. Like womenfantasizing about rape, for example. Still, she remembered that shewas not even remotely repulsed. What a difference a few hours withJohn had made in her. Even now, she was not repulsed by the idea, justmortified at her own lack of repulsion.
Finally, she felt him kissing the cheeks of her ass. His lips feltso good, so loving, so adoring. He seemed to know just how to varythem from firm to soft. She felt like he was caressing the skin ofeach cheek with his lips. It was completely relaxing, and naturally,as with anything she had done with John made her feel like a spoiledprincess. And she knew almost subconsciously that John wanted her tofeel free to be — she didn't know how to describe it — rude if she wasso inclined.
And so she was feeling a more relaxed arrogance as she lay thereletting him worship her ass. She found herself thinking about whathe'd (sort of) asked for — wishing she did have to go — and not justpee. That had to be what he meant, what else? What would it feel liketo do that to someone, she thought. She really couldn't imagine it. She felt his lips against her asshole again. God, that felt good. Shedecided that there was something about having your ass kissed, I meanreally kissed, that's just so exciting and satisfying both sensuallyand emotionally. Even now on the plane, she conceded that point. Butit was such an arrogant and self-centered pleasure.
She felt him begin to lick her ass. This was a new experience. Shefelt his tongue moving up and down the crack, then she felt it slow andcircle around her asshole before feeling the tip gently probing away ather shitter, then pulling away briefly, only to be followed by a fullon romantic kiss. She allowed herself to think about what he might betasting. Then she began to think again about what it would be like todo something really nasty to him. Could she really do it if she had togo? Given her mood, anything could happen. Hell, she thought, the wayhe's treating me like nothing but candy comes out of my ass, I probablywould do it.
He started to probe his tongue into her asshole. His manner seemedto suggest that he really was trying to taste her, not just stimulateher. She felt his tongue lick every wrinkle of her asshole. Every nowand then he would stop to sniff her asshole, inhaling deeply with hisnose pressed right up against it. He kissed her pussy every time hesniffed her, and he finished each sniff with a kiss directly on herasshole, before resuming his slavish licking. Without saying anything,he seemed to be encouraging her to think about doing rude things tohim. The more demeaning his behavior, the more arrogant she felt.
The feeling of his tongue lapping away at her asshole was actuallyreminiscent of going to the bathroom she noted. He was making her wantto do it to him. And that thought was making her pussy so wet and herclit so hard. Before she knew it, she found herself shamelesslymasturbating - all while thinking about what it would feel like toinflict the worst degradation possible on him. He started to stick histongue deep into her ass. That sensation was even more like taking ashit. It made the image in her head of actually doing it to him feelthat much more real.
Out of nowhere she began to climax again. It started out as alittle skipping orgasm that seemed to be in sync with his tongue. Eachskip grew larger than the last. In spasms, she felt her asshole graspat his tongue as delicious waves of pleasure ran over her clit. Finally, like cresting a wave, she was overwhelmed with a feeling offree-fall, and then she had a full-blown orgasm. It was so intense shefelt like she was going to black out.
It was wonderful. He had actually tried to stick his tongue all theway into her asshole when she came. She'd felt his tongue go in deeperwith each spasm. When she was done coming, his tongue was buried tothe hilt, so to speak, up her ass. "How's it taste?," she askedbreathlessly. Looking over her shoulder, all she could see of him werehis eyes over the cheeks of her ass and his nose buried deep in thecrack of her ass. "Ass licker," she added tauntingly, and let out ahappy exhausted little giggle.
As he pulled his face out of her ass, she felt his tongue slowlywithdraw from her asshole. That feeling of taking a shit was uncanny. He said with odd excitement, "You taste delicious. When you came, mytongue touched... ...I tasted it!"
"What are you talking about?" she asked with a smile.
"Are you sure you don't have to go?"
She thought about it. She wasn't sure, but she didn't think shecould feel anything. "I don't think so, John," she said. Suddenly,he put his tongue back into her ass. He pulled firmly up on her hips,arching her back. It still felt so good, she just relaxed. She felthis tongue going back up her ass, deeper and deeper. It seemed like hepassed a certain and threshold and then she felt it. An unmistakablefeeling of having to go. At the same time, he seemed to elongate histongue even more and gave each of her cheeks a loving squeeze.
The captain announced that they were preparing to land and thatthey'd be on the ground in 10 minutes. Heather was grateful for theinterruption. She felt a stinging flush come over her face as sherealized how engrossed she was in her memories. Her respite did notlast long though. In spite of herself, Heather began to remember theworst shame of that night...
She told John to keep his tongue in there and wiggle it around. Thefeeling of having to go grew stronger. She could feel things startingto move. She felt the resistance of his tongue. She had the feelingthat if what she thought was going on was what was actually happening,his tongue was—
Oh God, she thought. No way. She couldn't do this, it might feeltoo good.
She told him to pull his tongue out of her ass. He was very slow(reluctant?) to remove his tongue from her ass. Maybe he thought thatmeant the game was over. She turned to see his face. "Stick out yourtongue," she said. She felt faint when she saw that on about the lasthalf-inch of his tongue was an unmistakable smear of shit. Thequantity increased at the tip. The smell was obvious. She couldn'tkeep herself from asking, "How do you like the taste of my shit?"
Her conscience got the better of her for a moment, so she asked "Yousure you want me to do this to you? I think by now we both know thatif you let me, I'll do it and love it." He didn't answer. Curiously,he asked a question of his own instead. "Don't you know that I want toput you on the ultimate pedestal, my Goddess? Let me eat it. No, makeme eat it. Do it just for the fun of it."
Her former mood was now fully restored. His obvious desire todegrade himself for her seemed to release her to enjoy his humiliationwithout boundary. He just knew exactly how to draw that out of her. Still, she knew she couldn't completely blame her behavior on him. Shenever would have done it, or even wanted to, if he hadn't opened thatdoor and begged her to go through it, that was true. But nevertheless,when she did walk through that door, she had absolutely loved it andreveled in it. Knowing full well that he wanted her to do the thingsshe did just didn't seem to justify the sheer delight she took in doingthe most degrading things to him and enjoying the most arrogantpleasures, all the more because they were at his expense.
However, she remembered each word of her response to him as thoughit were engraved in stone in her mind. "I guess I deserve to, don'tI?", she'd replied. She'd remembered feeling wonderfully cruel whenshe laughed.
He responded to her laughter by burying his face in her ass, kissingher asshole, and plunging his tongue as far as it could go. He stokedher arrogance with every word and gesture. She wasn't sure, but shethought she could feel him sucking on her ass. Inwardly, she laughedwhen she knew the time had come. She just let it go, and she began totake a shit. She felt the shit driving his tongue out of her ass. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. A moment went by. Then she felt himpull his tongue out of her ass, and she began shitting in his mouth. She imagined what must be going through his mind as he ate her shit,and she came a third time.
The screech of the landing gear jerked her out of her trance-likestate. For better or worse, she was back in Racine. A flush ofhumiliation rushed over as she realized her underwear was soaked.