## Archive-name: ara1a

From: Daegga <daegga@mail.idt.net>

Subject: RQ'd Repost: ARA Ch 1 (1/2)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

This work of fiction contains graphic depictions of a sexual encounter between heterosexual adults. If such material offends you, please skip to the next article. Copyright _1996 by Michael Dagley. Permission is hereby granted to repost it electronically, provided that it is posted in its entirety. Any deletion or alteration without the express written permission of the owner is a violation of domestic and international copyright law. All other rights reserved.

A Rude Awakening

Michael Dagley

Chapter One (1/2)

No matter how he fought to stay awake, Joey Adler found himself drifting off. He tried to make sense of the black and white television sitting ten feet away, tried to understand the jokes Jack Parr was telling, but sleep had a stronger hold on him.

He hated little more than falling asleep while baby sitting, and this particular job was one he'd most hate to lose. He had no other source of income, and though his parents paid for most everything he needed, he still liked having the walking-around money supplied by the 50 cents he earned each hour keeping watch over the houses of the neighborhood's young couples with children. And this particular house was that of Mrs. Kerning, about whom he'd entertained thousands of fantasies since she and her tiny baby had moved into the neighborhood. Joey wasn't sure how old Mrs. Kerning was -- he was sure she was pretty old, maybe twenty- four or twenty-five -- but he was positive that he'd never seen a more beautiful or sexy woman in his life. From the first time he saw her wandering through her yard dressed in a pair of blue denim cutoffs and a cotton shirt with its tails tied together (he could see her bellybutton), he'd been entranced. The fact that he felt so guilty for spying on her only added to the intensity of his passion.

Joey was eighteen, a slender young man with good skin, good grades, and a good case of teenage lust. His class would be graduation soon, and he found school no longer posed any challenge. He even had a girlfriend, though he felt as if he were getting nowhere with her. Not like Tim Gulliver, who bragged about his exploits with Sonya Beal (another of Joey's fantasies, though he wouldn't admit it to Tim). No, the closest thing to an "exploit" Joey had experienced with his girlfriend, Jackie Rhodes, was seeing her change her dress for a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt, the change giving him a brief glimpse of her young frame in nothing but a very opaque bra and panties. That and a few good night kisses had been it. He hadn't even tried to get to "second base" with her.

That he hadn't tried anything much with his girlfriend was not surprising. Joey's instincts were perfect all right, but he had been taught by his parents that a young man must treat a woman with respect at all times. That meant one did not try to touch her in any suggestive way or any private place. It also meant that one did not look when a woman hiked her skirt to adjust her stocking or changed a blouse after having spilled something on it. Instead, one courteously looked away until the woman had taken care of the problem. (As a result, the one brief glimpse he'd had of his girlfriend's relatively exposed body had been the most teasing of all, caught only from the corner of his eye.) And Joey, being a "good boy," had always done his best to live up to his parents expectations.

That is, he'd always done so with one very important exception: Mrs. Kerning. She and her baby had moved into the house directly behind that of the Adlers. Each of the houses in the southern California housing tract, Paradise Hill, was built according to one of four basic floor plans, and each had a small yard, front and back. All the back yards were defined and protected by pink brick walls. Most of the houses had pools, as was the case with the Kernings, but others, such as the Adlers, were less fortunate. Instead, they had a small stand of pine trees that Joey's father had planted in hopes of attaining additional privacy.

This worked well for the Adlers, but not so well for the Kernings, as it happened. When Joey was fourteen, he'd extracted permission from his father to build a tree house in one of the pines in the back yard. Joey, who prided himself on doing his best at anything he attempted, carefully planned and designed the tree house so that it would have all the comforts a young teenager would desire: a small mattress, a leak proof roof, a combination strong box, and several small windows through which one could view the world outside without giving away one's presence. The small structure, in fact, blended in perfectly with the surrounding trees. Joey had painted it--camouflaged it--with that in mind.

At first it was a place to get away from the troubles that bother all young men. He found not only that he couldn't get along with his father but that he couldn't stand a thing the old man said or did. His mother just made things worse. No one understood him. His body had betrayed him, first by causing his voice to crack just as it was rising to make a point in class, then by littering his face with occasional pimples, and finally by filling him so full of desire for women that he could hardly make himself speak to one. He couldn't see himself as others saw him -- as a fine, considerate young man with good skin (they didn't notice the pimples that seemed to obstruct his view of himself) and a dignified manner (the cracking of the voice leant a nice touch of earnestness to the points he was making). He stood an inch over six feet, had a slim but muscular body, and natural grace. He particpated in sports, on the track team and the swim club. He had soft eyes and a hard jaw, and his hair was brown with sun-bleached touches of blond.

Most people saw him as a handsome young winner, but he saw himself as a loser, all because he'd had no success with girls -- or should he start saying "women"? He could not even talk to them without turning every shade of red in the spectrum. He only had a girlfriend at all because she went to the same church as he, and their parents often suggested they do this or that together. He hadn't exactly courted her or convinced her to go out with him.

So when the little troubles of his little world got to be too much for him, he'd retreat into his little tree house, listen to KFWB (The Beatles!) on his transistor radio, and dream of someday becoming an artist (whether a writer or musician or painter, he was unsure). From his fourteenth through his seventeenth years, his tree house served him well as a simple retreat. Then the Kernings moved into the house behind, and the tiny hiding place took on a new purpose.

He discovered it by accident. One afternoon in early April of his eighteenth year, after a fight with his mother, the subject of which he couldn't even remember, he told her he'd be out for a while. He took a novel he was reading for the Literature Club, Crime and Punishment, up to his hideaway and began to read. Before he'd completed ten pages, he began to doze. After sleeping for perhaps half an hour, a strange sound awoke him. He sat up and listened again. Yes, someone was working on the pool next door.

Though he knew no one could see or hear him, he crept as quietly as possible up to one of the windows he'd made to view the "enemy" from behind. What he saw was no enemy. It was Mrs. Kerning, cleaning her pool. She was dressed in a very short pair of blue denim cutoffs atop which she wore a white cotton blouse. The blouse appeared to be unbuttoned with the tails tied together. The young woman wasn't more than fifty feet from Joey, so he had a fine view of her very thick, dark reddish-brown hair, her brown eyes, her thick, full lips. As she bent to push the pool broom across the bottom of the filthy pool, he could see a bit of her cleavage.

He knew he shouldn't be watching, but he couldn't pull himself away. When she straightened up, he could clearly see the outline of her nipples against the almost transparent cotton of her blouse. He couldn't believe his eyes. Nor could he take them away. He watched her work for nearly an hour. He teased himself with half glimpses of her breasts. He watched as she came to his side of the pool and bent forward to push the broom towards the other side. As she did so, her short pants rode up until he could see a flash of fleshy whiteness. He tried to pull himself away, but he was powerless to do anything until she finally gave up and went inside. By then he was so hard that he was aching. Though he didn't know it at the time, he was experiencing his first case of blue balls.

He returned to the house, hoping that his mother wouldn't be able to see (as it seemed she could when he was small) what he'd been doing. He knew it was sinful. He suspected it was criminal. But he also knew he'd be watching for any opportunity to do it again.

Not only would he be watching for the next opportunity, he would actually prepare for it, beginning by purchasing a pair of binoculars. He kept the purchase a secret from his mother and father, using money he'd hidden away in the small metal tool box with a combination lock, the same box he'd built into his tree house. Once he'd purchased the glasses and tested them, verifying that he could see the beads of sweat as they formed on Mrs. Kerning's upper lip, he kept them in the same small tool box. All through April he would make his pilgrimage to the tree house, hoping for an encore performance. He did see her, sometimes sweeping the area around the pool, sometimes hanging out her clothes on a line he'd watched her install. Even the clothing fascinated him, showing him that while she may dress conservatively when going to work, usually covering herself in navy or pink business suits whose skirts came to the midpoint of her calf, she came to life afterwards, wearing the sheerest and laciest of night wear (who was the lucky man?), sexy dresses that would be ideal to wear for a night of dancing.

Dancing! He was reminded of exactly where she was this night, and the reminder served to awaken him. How beautifully sexy she'd looked as she walked him through the house, explaining where everything was kept. She'd been wearing a pastel yellow one-piece dress with a loose neck line (plunging if she assumed the right position, as she did once, bending in front of Joey to remove a spare house key from the kitchen drawer and flashing a quick view of her naked breasts -- how pink her nipples had appeared!) and a flaring skirt that barely made it to the midpoint of her thigh. Her stockings were black and striking, with a bold line up the back, defining her long legs in a way Joey couldn't forget. Yes, she'd covered her sexy frame in the most inviting of clothing, just a tease, really (and he knew she loved to tease), hidden it beneath a cloth coat, and driven off alone to a dance -- was she meeting someone? Did she have a boyfriend? Why wasn't he picking her up? Was she up to something else? The mystery only made him more interested.

He rolled over on his back and adjusted his erection, excited by the feel of his hand on his hardness. He refused to masturbate in a lady's house, so he contented himself with arranging it so that it was distinctly framed by the thin white cotton of his shorts. For some reason, it excited him to have his penis practically showing in Mrs. Kerning's house. It felt extra hard, and he could make out the very shape of its circumcised head through the cotton of his shorts. As always, he wore no underwear, having heard that a man is less likely to father a child if he wears tight underwear. Something about having the scrotum too hot. Joey wasn't too sure about that, but he didn't want to ruin his chances.

What Joey knew for sure was that she had the sexiest body he could imagine. In May, as the weather began warming, she made a habit of spending as much time by the pool as possible. Joey was there, watching and waiting the first time she emerged. He'd already seen her dressing a couple of times by training his binoculars on her bedroom window, but the glimpses were most teasing -- she'd disappear to the right, only to return wearing nothing. He'd get a flash of her naked flesh, but not enough to allow him to focus or define anything. Then she'd flit to the right, only to return wearing bra and panties. Even then he could not get a satisfactory look. Just a flash of light brown flesh covered with a bright white or sky blue or hot pink or jet black bra and panties set. He sometimes wondered if a woman could feel a man's eyes on her. How could she so thoroughly tease him without even knowing it? It was almost as if she were putting on a show. He saw everything, but never slowly enough to see it, actually focus on it and see it.

All of which changed the first afternoon she came out to sun herself. The temperature had climbed into the high seventies, and as always in southern California, the humidity was nonexistent. She emerged from the patio door wearing a long, slinky robe over a one-piece swimming suit and a pair of two-inch sandals. Her legs were perfect, long and well- muscled. She must be a runner, he thought, hoping somehow to share her interest in a sport he understood. He watched as she dropped her bag and suntan lotion onto her chaise lounge and began a series of stretching motions. First she lifted her hands towards the sky, standing on her tip toes and reaching as high as her arms would let her. As she did so, the front of the robe flew open, revealing the one suit to have a very interesting construction. The top part looked like white lace, held in place by two slender spaghetti straps. Her breasts strained against the material, and Joey felt his cock jump as he noticed that the material was nearly transparent. He could clearly see the dark outline of her nipples and the points they created in the material as she pushed her chest forward. His focus was close, and he could see her as if her were standing only a few feet away. She then removed the robe, showing Joey that the rest of the suit was also quite interesting. It resembled a tiny dress, much too short, with a flared little skirt that came just below her crotch, but as she turned her back to him and leaned against one of the posts of the patio to stretch her calf muscles, he saw the dress slowly work its way up her behind until he could see that it was open underneath and that she wore nothing else. He could plainly see the crack of her ass and the nest of hair below. He watched her stretch the other leg and then begin touching her toes. Each time she bent forward, the skirt flew up and revealed all to him. He couldn't believe his luck. He was perfectly situated to see everything, and see everything he did. While watching, he grew so horny that he had to open his pants and let his aching prick free. He, too, wore no underwear; he thought: what a coincidence! As he unzipped his pants, he felt the air hit the head of his penis, a cool sensation because of the silky ooze that covered it. He felt it spring against his belly, hard and straight up. Slowly he began to run his fingers up and down its six hard inches as he continued watching, trying not to take himself in hand and end things too soon.

Thus he watched, stroking himself with greater warmth as his neighbor began swimming laps in her pool. With the water against the suit, it became even more transparent, and he could clearly see her bush and nipples peaking through. First she swam on her stomach, an Australian crawl that made Joey wish he could swim behind her. The thought of her naked bottom swimming through the water drove him wild. How he would love to play with her in the water, stroke her bottom while kissing her, touch her breasts, feel the muscles of her legs. Then she turned over and began doing a back stroke. When swimming away from Joey, Mrs. Kerning was showing her breasts heaving with her stroke. And as she stroked, so did Joey, feeling himself very close, but stopping and squeezing tight against his hard-on every so often to keep himself ready for when she finally emerged.

When she did, it was worth every thing that had gone before. First she lightly toweled herself off. Then she sat down on the chaise lounge and began applying suntan lotion to her body. Starting at her neck, she slowly rubbed the cream into her shoulders, working her way down one arm and then the other. She removed the straps of her suit from her shoulders, took them in her hands, and slowly peeled the wet fabric from her breasts. They were whiter than the rest of the skin, and the contrast defined them in a way that Joey found most exciting. The nipples were brown and erect. The flesh of the aureole was proud: Joey could see each and every chill bump on them as he focused his glasses there. She squirted another pool of cream into her hand, rubbed her hands together, and then applied it to her breasts, circling them with her fingers and working her way in, finally holding on to her nipples and pulling on them gently. She repeated this motion several times, and as her excitement grew, Joey noticed that her face reflected the ache of her desire. Then she turned over on her stomach, pushing the suit down behind, exposing her beautiful shoulders and back. Below, as if with a mind of its own, the skirt slowly rode up until Joey could see every curve and contour of her ass. It was full and round, jutting out and deeply creased. He could see small dimples in either side, and as it dried, he could even focus in on the fuzz of tiny hairs that covered it. Best of all, he could see where it all came together, could see the mossy nest between her legs, could see its slit. And he could see that while the rest of her dried, the slit seemed to be getting wetter.

Again she began rubbing herself with suntan lotion. She covered her shoulders and then began kneading the cream into her ass. It began to glisten in the sun, and Joey could scarcely stand his longing to touch it, to feel its slippery contours with the palms and fingers of his hands, with the ridge of his naked penis. She eventually finished applying the coconut oil to her ass, and leaning forward, she flipped the skirt up and made sure the sun could kiss every dip and dimple, every shiny pale inch of her ass.

He allowed the binoculars to roam her behind as he wished his fingers could do, and then focused more closely on the cleft below it, where legs and ass met in a tangle of auburn hair, slightly browner than the auburn hair on her head. He tried to penetrate the folds of flesh he could see glistening with their own juices, but they were hidden by shadow. Then he saw her fingers, with bright red nails, slowly playing in the wet soft skin, moving in a slow circular grind, and slowly running up and down against her fat, wet clitoris. As he watched her doing this, he began timing himself, convinced he could make himself come when she did. Soon her motions became more frantic. He could see her ass beginning to move about on the chaise lounge, twitching with the contractions of her legs. She raised it higher in the air, pushing her face down into her towel. What a show she was giving him! He could see exactly how she was making herself come. Her legs continued to quiver, growing in intensity until he was sure it was involuntary. Suddenly she went rigid, ass high in the air, hands moving in lazy, languid loops around her pussy lips and clit. And that sudden, taut grabbing of her muscles, that delicious, delirious hardening of her haunches, that orgasmic freeze -- all communicated an excitement to him that caused him to begin spurting his come in a long arc of semen that splattered against the wall of his tree house. He couldn't help groaning, and when he did, he could have sworn she lifted her head to look right at him, though that was clearly impossible, since he was well protected. But as he focused the binoculars on her face, the most sexy and sensual thing about her, with her tongue licking her thick lips, it seemed obvious she was smiling at someone. If not at him, then at whom?

Must be her fantasy, Joey thought, as he ducked behind the wall and finished spilling his puddle of seed on the floor. He quickly wiped it up with tissues he'd brought for the purpose, but a stain was left where the first glob had landed. As he slowly pulled his pants up and made his way out of his fortress, he promised himself to buy some suntan lotion so he'd be ready next time.

Joey jumped, aware suddenly that he'd fallen asleep after all and that someone had entered. He could not open his eyes, though he could hear his neighbors husky voice whispering.

"Joey? Joey . . ."

He could feel how exposed his rock hard cock was, still hard and still bulging distinctly against the thin cotton of his running shorts. He wore his shorts as low as possible, so his T-shirt, bunched up around his chest, revealed the hairy expanse of chest from his belly button down to his crotch. He didn't know what he could do. He couldn't pull down his shirt without letting her know that he knew he was exposing himself to her. He couldn't make his eyes open. And it seemed she was taking a long time about awakening him.

Then he felt something on his leg, her hand. How its softness excited him as she slowly let it slide up the inside of his thigh.

"Wha--!" he managed to stammer as he opened his eyes. There she was before him, leaned forward so that he could see both of her perfect breasts, their nipples pointing out, hard with desire. She held her position for a moment, allowing him to look, watching the throbbing of his prick. Then she slowly pulled back and offered him her hand. She was tall, he noticed for the first time, probably five nine or so, a perfect fit to his height. She was also strong, and she pulled him up a little harder than he expected so that his momentum carried him forward into her arms, his pounding prick making the first contact, touching her thigh close enough that he could feel the soft flesh above the ridge of her stocking through her dress and his thin shorts. He was blushing furiously and turned away at once.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to be so rude."

She touched her throat and blew softly into the air above her head. She looked at him, waiting for him to turn. When he did, he saw she was smiling.

"How was Linda?"

"Fine, Mrs. Kerning, she slept right through the evening."

"You could call me Alice, Joey."

"OK, Mrs. Kerning."

She came over and put her finger against his lips.

"Alice. Say it."

"Uh, Alice."

"How much do I owe you?"

"I don't know. What time is it. I've lost track."

"It's very late, after midnight. You can sleep here, if you like," she said, handing him a ten dollar bill.

"I couldn't, I mean, I just live, that is, I don't have change for this --"

"Keep the change. You're the only good thing that's happened to me tonight."

Joey wanted to ask her what she meant, but it proved unnecessary. She backed up, shrugged out of her coat, put her hands on her hips and looked him straight in the eye.

"What's wrong with me?" she asked.

"Wrong? Nothing, you're perfect."

She smiled, causing Joey to blush to the roots of his ears.

"I mean, you know, I, uh--" he continued.

"Then why are men afraid of me?"

"Because you're so damned beautiful," he heard himself blurting out, expressing an opinion he'd formed long ago.

She dropped her face into her hands.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. K-- Alice. It's just that, there's nothing scarier than a beautiful woman. I don't know why, but . . . I don't even know where I'm getting the nerve to say all this. I better go. I'm sorry. Good night."

"No! Don't go. Not now. Wouldn't you like to . . . I know, why don't we dance."

"Dance?"

"Yeah, dance. I've been standing against the wall at the high school dance -- I teach English, by the way, at Empire High."

"Oh."

"Your rivals. That a problem?"

"No, no way. You dressed like that to a high school dance."

"Believe me, no one noticed."

"I bet they did, but they just couldn't get up the nerve --"

He was cut off by the sound of some soft jazz, fast enough to dance separately, and he watched, entranced, as Alice began dancing across from him. She had a way of moving her pelvis that communicated directly with his cock, and when he felt it jump, he wanted to cover it. He pulled his T-shirt down, but it wouldn't stay. He thought he heard Mrs. Kerning clucking her tongue, but he couldn't be sure, and she held her arms out, indicating he should dance, too. He began moving, but the sensuous music and movements of his partner did nothing to take his mind off his aching erection. In fact, it seemed to leap forward at every moment as he tried to copy her movements.

A slow ballad followed, and he felt her pulling him closer and closer. He held his pelvis back, trying to hold her with one arm around her waist and the other holding her hand, but she put both her arms around his neck. He found a neutral zone at the small of her back and began dancing, again aping her steps. Slowly he was pulled forward until he knew she was going to feel him again. Bad enough to insult her once, but now he felt himself close to doing it again. He tried to keep his crotch back as far as possible, feeling like a fool as he leaned forward, his head touching hers.

He tried not to be rude, but she didn't let him succeed. Instead, she let her hands slip down to his ass and pulled him into her. He could feel the split of her cunt lips as she pulled him against her crotch, thrusting it forward.

"How does it feel?"

"Please forgive me, I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to do this."

"I know. How does it feel?"

"It's making my juice spill."

"Careful," she said, looping her arms back around his neck with her belly forward, his cock in place against her slit. She looked up at him with a look in her eyes he'd never seen before. It was like hunger, like desperation, like bliss.

"Kiss me," she said, and he bent forward and let her soft fat lips brush against his. He just brushed against them gently for a moment, and then pressed them against his mouth. He felt the tip of her tongue emerging, and it seemed only natural that he open his mouth. She stuck her tongue into it, and he thought he was going to lose it right there.

"Oh, baby," she said, breaking away, "it feels so good."

He let his hand wander a bit, getting closer to the teasing curves of her rear. She continued kissing him. He got even closer, feeling the dimples on either side, realizing she must be wearing very skimpy panties . . . or none at all. He began to come closer. She broke the kiss and said,

"Oh yes, Joey, touch me. Touch my ass."

He did as she asked, first rubbing it through the thin fabric and then pulling the fabric up on either side, exposing the cheeks and touching her naked flesh.

"How does it feel?"

"It's heaven."

"Strip my panties from me."

"What?"

"You heard me. Do it."

Her knelt in front of her and allowed his hands to wander up the sheer stockings wrapping her legs. He couldn't help gazing at the incredibly sexy shape of her legs, thrilled by the feel of the tight nylon as he moved his hands along her calves, past her knees, along her thighs -- pausing for a squeeze which made her gasp -- and finally past the soft flesh above the dark lace tops of the stockings. He cupped his hands beneath the pear-shaped halves of her derriere and then slipped his fingers beneath the lacy elastic of her pink panties. He pulled them slowly down, happy that she'd had the foresight to put them on after attaching her stockings to her garter belt. He slowly pulled them from her waist and her ass and the sticky place between her legs. His wish to see her pussy was foiled by the falling hem of her dress. As he passed her knees, she lifted her left leg to allow him to pull the panties over the high heels of her shoe. He did, also kissing her on the knee and looking up at her. He could see the longing in her eyes, and he began to wonder if it weren't sometimes better to be a little rude. She stepped back and lifted the other leg. Joey pulled the fabric free. He could feel the wetness of the panties' crotch, which was soggy with her juices. He held it up to his nose.

"What does it smell like?"

"Musk."

She pulled him closer.

"Let me smell it, too."

She did, and as they smelled, he looked into her eyes. They locked on his. He could see how brown and large they were. He loved the exotic slant to them. No wonder she found herself without a man. She was too beautiful. He couldn't believe his luck. He'd never have had the nerve to approach her, and it was no wonder to him that she scared men away. She smiled at him.

"This doesn't bother you?

"No. Why should it?"

"Some men are threatened by a woman who likes the aroma of pussy."

He breathed deeply, keeping his eyes right on hers. He could feel the slight movements of her hips as she gently ground them against his cock.

"I like it. I like the smell. I like sniffing your panties with you, having your face close to mine. I like seeing your eyes. They're incredibly sexy."

"Ummh."

"And I like the way you move your body against mine."

She moved again, rotating her cunt against the hard ridge of his prick. She kissed him again, moaning softly.

"Touch me," she whispered into his ear.

"Where?"

"My ass. Touch me there."

Joey looked around for a place to put the panties. He started to toss them onto the couch, but she caught his hand.

"Keep them."

"Huh?"

"They're yours. They might help you remember me sometime, should you ever think of me at all."

"But I always --"

"Shh --"

He put the wet panties into the back pocket of his shorts and let his hands fall again to her ass. He liked the feeling of it swaying beneath the soft fabric of the dress. They continued staring one another in the eyes, and it felt to Joey as if he were falling forward, suspended only by three points, her eyes, her pussy, and her ass. The feeling continued until her found himself again kissing her, his eyes closed, his hands exploring the heavenly flesh of her bottom. He pulled on her dress, lifting the hem, and let his hands roam beneath. He squeezed and pinched gently and palmed the fullness of her and let his fingers dip into the pool at the juncture of her legs. He followed the slit back and let his hand slip along the crack of her ass and just tease the tight bung hole with a juicy swipe. She moaned, and he let his finger wander up and down the crease, pausing every so often to penetrate the tight hole, a teasing pressure, nothing more. It felt like heaven to feel her.

"Do you like to watch?"

"Huh?" He backed away for a moment, feeling nervous and guilty. She wouldn't let him away, smiling as she ground her cunt against his crotch.

"I'd like to let you watch me."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to watch your cock while you watch me."

"You do?" Joey said, jumping back, ready to be punished.

"Would that be all right?"

"Oh my God!"

"You don't want to watch?"

"Oh, yes, but --"

"No buts. Do you want to watch me now?"

"Well I'd rather --"

"There's no hurry and time for everything. Just remember that."

"Yeah, but --"

"Do you want to watch?"

"Well, sure, uh, why not?"

"Fine. I want to watch you, too."

"But nobody's ever seen --"

She put a finger to his lips.

"Shhh! Let me see it. Let me see your cock. I know it's hard."

"Well . . ."

"I'll help you. Put your hands behind your back."

"But --"

"Just do it."

He complied, holding his hands behind him. She stepped back a few paces, still moving in time to the music. She turned her back to him and bent down to pick up her purse from the floor. Her dress slid up over her ass, and she lingered in the pose for a moment, swaying back and forth to the music, allowing him to see the shiny whiteness of her ass, its deep crack, and below, framed by her white thighs above the black stockings, the wet brown hair between her legs.

Rising, she took a scarf from her purse and used it to tie his hands. She could see his bulge and the wet place on his pants near the tip. Her heels clicked as she stepped forward and ran the tips of her fingers along the spine of his hard spike. He felt his muscles jerk and heard her moan in response.

Last modified (12/24/96 14:06:50) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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