Kim (MF,F-solo,light bd)
by Philip Harris

Kim's story:  A lot of boys were after me when I was a 
teenager because my breasts were big, my hair was blonde, 
and I was pretty cute.  Besides, I was friendly toward 
them.  I smiled, and made myself approachable and acted 
"girlie" and told them they were clever even when they said 
stupid things.  I liked to talk dirty, too, which seemed to 
draw boys to me.

By the time I was 15 my boobs were overflowing my blouses 
and it felt so good when boys touched me that I just sort 
of let them do it.  Soon there was a lot of pressure on me 
to go all the way.  I wanted to wait a few years, but 
pretty soon I gave into one boy--it just sort of happened--
and after that I kind of felt I'd be selfish if I didn't 
give into other boys too.  My high school years seemed like 
constant sex, sex, sex.  I didn't have time for any 
schoolwork at all.

After finishing high school I got a job as a receptionist, 
and that was the first time I had sex with an older guy.  
Mr. Bartoni wasn't really old--I think he was maybe 35.  He 
treated me pretty well and let me take days off whenever I 
wanted and mostly I just had to give him oral and let him 
make his "daily check on the twins," as he called it.  
Having boobs seemed a lot better than having brains, in 
those days.

Then I started putting on weight.  My metabolism changed, 
or something.  I was never a skinny girl, but from about 
age 19 I started getting heavy in a lot of places.  Boys 
were still friendly toward me, but they stopped calling me 
up for dates.  I remember the first time a boy didn't want 
to have sex with me; our date ended early and I found 
myself at home alone, crying.  I felt terrible about myself 
after that and promised myself that I was going to slim 
down, but I just kept gaining weight.

That was the beginning of a long dry spell for me.  It was 
as if all the boys and men in the world were through with 
me.  Mr. Bartoni wasn't even playing with the twins 
anymore, and soon afterward he let me go from my job.  

I found other jobs after than, and learned to spend my 
evenings alone at home, comforted by a dildo.  I still 
had a passion for sex.  I really needed it.  I became a 
frequent masturbator.  I'll tell the truth: I did it at 
least once almost every night.  Some nights I did it a lot 
more than once.

I had fantasies of living with a dominant man, of being very 
sexually submissive toward him.  He'd make me dress in only 
a nightie around the house, with no underwear so that he 
could always see through to my bare boobs and pussy.  And 
he would always be touching and caressing them--possessing 
them.  Just in passing through the kitchen he'd stop and 
cop a feel, squeezing my boobs, and then reaching between 
my legs, finger-teasing me and chastising me if I wasn't 
sex-ready.

But that was all fantasy; my own fingers were the only 
touch I felt.  And I was ALWAYS sex-ready.

I lived like that for a couple of years--on my own, very 
lonely at home.

When I was 23 I decided that I'd better go back to school.  
I started going to college at night.  There were dreamy-
looking boys all around; their trousers bulged.  But the 
other girls were terribly pretty and skinny and young.  I 
smiled and was nice to everybody, but it ate me up inside 
with envy whenever I'd see a tall boy whispering to a 
pretty girl, holding her shoulders as he talked to her, 
their body language conveying that later that night she'd 
be getting exactly what I very desperately needed.

Then in my senior year I had to take a graduate class 
because an undergraduate class I needed was filled.  The 
graduate students were different.  Most of them were older.  
Many of the women were mothers, their bodies rounded and 
chubby.  The men were older too, losing their hair, and 
some with bellies.  

One guy who sat next to me was very friendly.  We clicked 
right away.  He was okay looking--not great--eight years 
older than me, and a bit chubby himself.  The first evening 
of class was on a hot day in September and I wore a low-cut 
blouse.  I saw right away that he was sneaking peeks at my 
cleavage.  He was pretty clumsy about it, looking down my 
blouse so far it was comical.

After class I went home and--well I'll confess that I was 
rather bad--I dildoed myself three times that night.

The next week we both took the same seats in class and we 
talked to one another quite a bit.  It went on like that 
for several weeks, with us talking, him x-raying me with 
his eyes, me being naughty at home, but nothing else 
happening.  Then just before the midterm exam I told to him 
that I needed help with my studying.

"Would you like to study together after class?" he asked.

We studied in the library, and then I asked him over to my 
apartment for more studying on Saturday afternoon, and he 
accepted.

That was on a Tuesday night.  All that week I was busy with 
my dildo.  I kept fantasizing about how I should approach 
him.  I thought about simply meeting him at the door in a 
sheer nightie, explaining, "Oh, this is the way I always 
dress when I'm at home.  It's comfortable."  But I didn't 
even own a sheer nightie.  

I thought that maybe I should say that I always study in 
bed.  At that point in my life just having a man in my 
bedroom and on my bed with me would be a thrill.  I 
fantasized about us locking eyes, sweeping our textbooks 
off the bed, kissing passionately, then undressing, and 
fucking like beasts.  That fantasy got me off three times 
on Tuesday night.

I even thought about somehow getting some Viagra and 
slipping it into a Coke for him.  I wonder if that would 
work?  Can you imagine a man in a woman's bedroom, on her 
bed, suddenly getting an erection totally beyond his 
control!

Would that drive him wild with lust?  "No, no, please 
don't," I'd plead as he pins me down to the bed and forces 
his hands inside my clothes.  "You're raping me, you're 
raping me," I'd cry as he forces his Viagra-crazed cock 
between my kicking legs.  On Wednesday night I dildoed my 
pussy numb with that fantasy.

No, a gentler approach would be wiser.  While we're 
studying, I'll just reach between his legs and casually 
stroke his cock bulge, without saying anything.  "What are 
you doing?" he'd ask, but I wouldn't say a word.  I'd just 
continue coaxing.  "Don't you want to study?" he'd say.  
"Don't you want to fuck?" I'd answer.  On Thursday I tried 
that gentle approach between my own legs and it certainly 
worked for me. 

On Friday night I realized that my boobs had been his most 
obvious interest.  I tried several T-shirts, with bra and 
no bra, and some plunging-neckline blouses.  Standing 
before my mirror in panties and bra I didn't like the body 
that I saw, but my panties were soaked with hopeful 
anticipation.  I began to feel desperate--I really needed 
service from this man.  I tried to control myself, but 
within ten minutes I was back to self-servicing.  I wonder 
if men ever get so desperate?

On Saturday I decided upon a tight T-shirt torn in front to 
slow a slutty amount of cleavage, with my bounciest bra 
underneath.  All morning and into the afternoon I waited 
anxiously for him to arrive.  At the very last minute I 
panicked when I realized that I had absolutely no birth 
control in the house.  It had been so long that I'd thrown 
out my old diaphragm, and I didn't have any condoms or 
anything.  Was there time for a quick run to the drugstore?  
No, I didn't want to risk not being home when he arrived.  
I decided that I wanted it so much that I for the first 
time since high school I was going to go bareback.

To my tremendous relief he was exactly prompt.  He was 
dressed more causally than at school.  He wore shorts and a 
T-shirt.  He looked cute, but I was momentarily 
disappointed that he hadn't dressed up for a date.  He was 
carrying his schoolbag.  I had kind of hoped that he'd have 
plans to take me out after studying.  I felt disappointed, 
and immediately abandoned my plan of taking him into my 
bedroom to study, as being too obvious.  I felt a sinking 
feeling that this "study date" wouldn't work out as I'd 
hoped.

But when he came into the apartment his eyes immediately 
gave me the full-body x-ray, with an extra gawk at my 
boobs.  

"Do you live alone Kim?" he asked, looking about my 
apartment.

"Yes," I said.

He put down his schoolbag and suddenly grabbed my boobs 
through my T-shirt, pulling me to him by them.  He kissed 
me full on the mouth, squeezing my breasts powerfully.

"I don't know what you had planned," he said, "but you're 
going to spend the afternoon fucking instead of studying."

He kissed my mouth again before I could answer him.  I was 
completely taken aback, but recovered my wits quickly and 
returned his kiss.

"My bedroom is that way," I said as soon as my mouth was 
free, but he pushed me over to my couch and sat me down.

"We'll fuck in every room," he said, "but we'll start here.  
Show me your boobs first."

I quickly pulled my T-shirt off over my head and unhooked 
my bra, releasing the twins.  He took handfuls immediately 
and twisted them painfully.

"You've been teasing me with these from the first day, 
haven't you?" he demanded.  "Haven't you, you slut!"  

I didn't expect this from him at all, he seemed so mild 
mannered in class.  He was truly hurting me--cruelly.

"Yes, yes," I said.

"You're a slut aren't you?  You love being fucked, don't 
you?"  He let go of my breasts and immediately pinched my 
nipples, jerking them upward so roughly that I jumped out 
of my seat.

"Yes," I said.

He jerked my nipples downward, forcing me to sit again.

"Say that you're a slut and you love to be fucked," He 
demanded.

"I'm a slut." I said.  "I love to be fucked."

"You're too rough," I added.  "Ahh!"

The last was a scream of pain as he pinched my nipples and 
jerked them so hard it felt like he was trying to rip them 
off as souvenirs.

"Take off your pants and fuck yourself while I watch," he 
demanded.

I stripped off my jeans double-quick, dropping my panties 
at the same time, and started rubbing my clit.

"Spread your legs and show me," he said.  "Finger-fuck 
yourself.  Show me that you want to be fucked.  Show me 
penetration."

I did as he asked, spreading my legs and finger-fucking 
myself there on the couch.  I'd done this hundreds of 
times, but never while being watched.  He was being far too 
rough with me, but it was an incredible turn-on to be made 
to do this.

"Don't cum," he said, "but fuck yourself faster."  He 
released my nipples and the sudden end to the pain felt 
terrific.  

"Fuck yourself faster and harder, but don't cum," he said.  
He began undressing in front of me while I sat spread-
legged before him, my boobs bouncing as I finger-fucked 
myself frantically.

"That's it, that's it," he urged.  "Do it more."

"I have to cum," I pleaded.

"Don't you dare!" he said.  "From now on you only cum when 
I say that you can.  If you're alone here and you need to 
cum, then you call me and ask me and you let me listen to 
you do it."

"Stop now," he said, just in time, just as I nearly 
exploded from stimulation.

"Please don't be so rough with me," I begged him.  "I'll do 
whatever you say.  I want to fuck you.  I wanted to fuck 
you tonight."

"Stroke my cock," he said, sitting himself naked beside me 
on the couch.

I stroked his cock with my vagina-juiced hand.  It felt 
marvelous, the first cock I'd touched in years.  His body 
was not great but I felt ecstatic to be having real sex 
again.

He fondled my boobs, gently this time, while he kissed my 
lips, then his mouth went down to my nipples while his 
fingers entered my pussy.  We played with each other on the 
couch for a long while.  He kept me near climax for a long 
while, making me say, "there, there" and "fuck me, fuck me," 
to indicate when I was right on the cusp of cumming.

He came from my hand job, which was a disappointment because 
I wanted him to cum inside me first.  His cum shot onto my 
carpet, and some of it splooged onto my coffee table.  He 
made me wipe the rest of it onto my boobs, and then lick it 
off.  He slapped me cruelly on the left nipple when I tried 
to rub a little of it into my pussy.

When I'd tongue-cleaned my boobs, he took some handcuffs 
from his schoolbag and made me put my hands behind my back.

"No, please," I pleaded.  "I'll do anything, but please 
don't use handcuffs."  He used them anyway, and now I was 
naked on my couch with my hands bound behind my back.

He reached into his schoolbag again and I heard tiny 
jingling bells.

"Oh no, please, please," I pleaded again when he took some 
clamps with Christmas bells on them from his schoolbag.  
"Please, I don't like to be hurt."

He tightened a small clamp upon each of my nipples, 
stopping just short of hurting me.  The bells jingled 
merrily whenever my boobs jiggled.

"I'll tighten them when you've gotten used to them," he 
said, "now kiss me to show your willingness."

He kissed my mouth for a long time, but while he was doing 
that he reached beneath us and tightened each of the nipple 
clamps until tears came to my eyes.  He flicked the bells 
to make them jingle gaily.

"Please loosen them," I asked when he stopped kissing me.

He grabbed the little bells with his fingers, tugging on 
them, which made the clamps hurt much more.  

"This is to establish our relationship," he said.  "You 
give me pleasure, and I choose whether to give you pleasure 
or pain; understand?"

"Yes, yes, yes," said as he turned each clamp a little bit 
tighter and shook my boobs to make them jingle again.

Then he put me over his knee and spanked my bare bottom 
until it was a sore as my jangling nipples.

"Now you're going to cum for me," he said, while I was 
still upside down over his knee.  He began rubbing my pussy 
up and down very gently.  I was already very aroused, but 
my pussy was overworked from before.  He deliberately under 
stimulated me.  "Let yourself cum, let yourself cum," he 
coaxed.

Very gradually he increased my stimulation.  He'd slow or 
stop whenever he saw that I was again near climax.  He 
penetrated me with his fingers and pressed his fingertips 
against my G-spot, making me confess where it is.  He 
pressed hard, pressing his thumb against my clit too.  Soon 
I was moaning with frustrated need for climax.  No man had 
ever done this to me before.  All the men I'd had when I 
was younger simply got themselves off quickly and let me 
cum naturally.

"Are you ready to cum for me?" he asked.

"Yes, please, please," I said.

"Jingle your bells to let me know that you want to cum."

I shook my boobs back and forth to make the bells ring for 
him.

"Okay," he said.  He took his fingers from my pussy and 
pushed me off his lap.  "Find a way to make yourself cum," 
he said.

I was naked, achingly horny, desperate, but with my hands 
still bound behind my back.  I thought of my dildo, and 
headed for the bedroom with him following along behind me 
as my boobs jingled the way.  Using my hands behind my back 
I opened my bedside table drawer and took out my dildo, 
turning on the vibrator.

"Will you please take down the coverlet from the bed?" I 
asked him, "I don't want to ruin it."

"You have to do this all yourself," he told me.

I carefully placed the dildo on my bedside table, where the 
vibrator drummed against the wooden tabletop.  Working 
backwards, I pulled the coverlet and blankets down from the 
bed, stripping it to the sheets.  Then I placed the 
vibrator upon the bed and climbed in beside it.  For a 
minute I rolled about futilely, eventually getting myself 
into a sitting position with the vibrator against my clit.  
He watched amused as I hip-humped the vibrator, my boobs 
shaking and jingling, and pitiful moans escaping my mouth 
until I finally came for him, my wetness spreading through 
the sheets.  

I'd fantasized all week about cumming while he fucked me, 
but he'd made me cum to my dildo again.

"Will you please take the bells off my boobs," I pleaded.  
"My nipples are very sensitive and they hurt awfully."

"I love the way you moan to the bell chorus when you cum," 
he said, "and I want to hear you do it again."

He joined me on my bed, spreading my legs and bringing his 
face between them.  I'd craved this pleasure for years.  He 
used only his tongue on me, very skillfully, making me moan 
and jingle in orgasm for a very long time.  

"What's the most times you've ever cum in one night?" he 
asked as he wiped his face clean between my boobs.

"Three times," I lied.  I had to taste myself on his lips 
and tongue as he kissed me.  Just to make sure, he dipped a 
finger into my pussy and then put it in my mouth.

"I'd much rather taste you," I told him.

He got into 69 position, but this time he only finger-
teased my pussy, while I sucked his absolutely delicious 
cock with enthusiasm.  In one afternoon he was giving me 
many things that I'd craved and craved for a long while.

He pulled his cock out before cumming.  "Are you ready for 
me to fuck you?" he asked.

"Very ready!  Please fuck me!" I pleaded.  "But could you 
please take the bells off my nipples?  They hurt!"

He jiggled my breasts again as he mounted between my legs.  
"I like you wearing the bells while we're having sex," he 
said.  "You'll have to have them clamped on until you get 
your nipples pierced with rings for me, okay?"

I didn't want to do that, but he was teasing my pussy with 
the tip of his cock and I was desperate for pleasure.  
"Okay," I said.

He was a very good fuck and it felt wonderful to have him 
cum inside me.  I'd always been afraid of becoming 
pregnant, but the feeling was so good that I simply didn't 
care.  I wanted him to cum in me--a lot.  He was being very 
cruel to me, and I was falling deeply in love with him.

He undid the bells while he was laying on top of me 
afterward, his cock still inside me.  It felt so good!  My 
boobs felt so good, my pussy felt so good!  I felt very 
satisfied by having his cum inside me.  It wouldn't have 
felt nearly as complete if he'd used protection.

"Thank you, thank you," I told him sincerely, forgiving him 
his cruelty in my relief from pain and frustration.

He stayed all that night and until late the next afternoon, 
and he never let me put any clothes on.  I couldn't walk 
across the room without him feeling my breasts or caressing 
my pussy.  We fucked six times, and me made me cum a lot 
more often than that.  He made me dildo myself while he 
watched, he fingered me while making me stand up against a 
wall, he handcuffed me and belled me and made me bed-fuck 
the vibrator again.  

He put me outside of my apartment naked and made me stand 
in the hall like that for ten minutes, frightened out of my 
wits that somebody might come along and see me.  "Just for 
fun I'm going to make you walk naked across campus some 
night, just to see how many guys rape you," he teased.

Holding my naked body to him felt very good.  He hugged and 
held and caressed and coaxed me almost constantly throughout 
the whole weekend.  He spanked me often, and tied me up 
sometimes, but more often he kissed and fondled me kindly.  
He made me be sexual to myself and to him continually.

That was last weekend.  Now it's Monday night and he's left
me alone.  I can't wait to see him in class tomorrow evening, 
and I'm dying for him to come over again next weekend.  Now 
I've got my dildo out and I'm very horny, but I've got to wait 
for him to get home from work so that I can phone him and ask 
his permission to make myself cum while he listens.

-end-