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Heather Submits, Part 1 (M+/f, D/s, reluc)
First a.s.s.m posting: 08/08/02
Last update: 08/24/02
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Please leave my e-mail address attached if you archive this
or share it with a friend. Feedback is welcome.     
heatherkalin@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr.org/~heatherkalin
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Every Thursday I pick up the free weekly paper at the bus
terminal on my way home from work. After I scan the Letters
to the Editor and the cover story I amuse myself by reading
the personals. It's a way to kill time until the bus drops
me off in front of my apartment. The personals are good for
a chuckle but I never expected to read an ad that would grab
my attention by the lapels and demand a response. (Walks in
the rain, picnics, and sunsets seem to be the norm around
here.) But then one day last year I saw it, an ad that
completely caught me by surprise.


SUBMISSIVE?
DUNGEON TOURS FOR FEMALES
SERIOUS LOCAL INQUIRIES ONLY
CALL ###-#### FOR INFO


I read the ad again to be sure it said what I thought it
said the first time. I must've stared at the ad for several
minutes before I finally fished my cell phone out of my
purse and dialed the number, knowing I could always hang up
if a real person answered instead of a machine. I didn't
memorize the message I heard but this was the gist:


"Hi, my name is David. I'd like to meet you and show you
the dungeon in my home, but first we need to establish
groundwork for what could be a very fulfilling
relationship. I need you to write me a letter, telling me a
bit about yourself, the number of sex partners you've had,
and any experiences you've had with the submissive
lifestyle. I am especially interested in knowing how you
learned about your submissive nature. Did you figure it out
on your own or did someone help you? Be as descriptive as
possible. Just remember that I'll eventually know if you're
lying so be honest. You don't want to lie to me. Send your
letter to ----@-----.com. If you don't have an e-mail
account then visit the public library and someone there
will help you set up an account at no cost. I'm looking
forward to hearing from you. I promise if you write then I
will respond, even if it's just to say your letter did not
meet my high standards for scheduling an introductory
meeting. This is an outgoing message only so you will not
be able to leave a voice message in response. My email
address again is ----@-----.com. Feel free to call back if
you want to hear this message again. Goodbye, I hope to
hear from you soon."

When I got home I called the number again four times in a
row. Wow, did I have a story to tell this guy and it was a
story I desperately needed to tell someone. There was a
secret I had kept from my family and all my friends. I had
never met anybody (outside of Kevin's circle of friends)
who would've even begun to understand. I didn't need a
therapist, I needed a friend who wouldn't run screaming
from the room when I revealed my deepest secrets and
desires. I needed another Kevin. Who's Kevin? Well . . .
keep reading.

I had an e-mail account so that wasn't a problem. I set
aside an entire week of evenings to write down my
experiences for David. At the end of the week, after
several pages and a lot of effort, I had barely scratched
the surface. I worried that it wasn't enough, what exactly
were David's high standards? I was tempted to write more
but I didn't want to waste any more time on him if he
wasn't for real. For all I knew he was just a lonely horny
guy and he'd never write back. He'd have to prove himself
to me if he wanted to hear more.

This is what I sent:

Hi David,
My name is Heather and I'll get right to the point. I'm 23
years old, 36 B, 5'5", 118 pounds. I have short curly light
brown hair and brown eyes. Men often tell me I look like I
was on the cheerleading squad in high school. Actually I
was on the drill team instead of the cheer squad, but I see
their point. I think I'm pretty in a cute peppy way, which
is just fine with me and the guys don't complain. I can
send you a photo attachment if you need one before you
agree to schedule an appointment.

I lost my virginity when I was 15 and since then I've had
sex with a total of 16 men and 4 girls. I don't really
consider myself bisexual but I haven't completely ruled out
sleeping with girls again, especially if the right man is
involved too. I'm usually open to trying new things at
least once.

I work as a receptionist at a dentist's office and I'm
currently single, no kids, one cat. My last boyfriend and I
broke up in April. I've dated a bit recently but nothing has
gone anywhere. I've been unable to meet a man who
understands my desire to be sexually controlled and
dominated. It's not something that's easy to bring up with
the kind of men I meet in daily life. I run into a lot of
nice guys, the type who believe that most girls my age have
their eye on a diamond ring and 2.5 kids. They don't know
how to handle any other kind of girl.

You asked for a detailed written description of my
experience with the submissive lifestyle and I hope the
following satisfies your requirements for an initial
meeting between us. I have been as descriptive as possible
because I want you to completely understand how I learned
about my submissive nature (the good _and_ the bad parts)
so you'll better understand me and where I'm coming from.

I met Kevin at the mall when I was 16 years old in the
Spring of my 10th grade year. I was sitting with friends in
the food court and he approached me, complimenting me on my
curly hair, which was much longer then. My friends quickly
excused themselves to check out the earring store, sensing
that I wanted to talk to this cute guy alone. He asked my
age and I said 20, explaining that the other girls were my
younger sister and her friends. I knew I looked older than
16 but there's no way my friends did. He said he was 27 and
asked if the seven year difference was a problem. I shrugged
and lied, "I've always dated older men." It was exciting to
know that I could attract an older guy, a real man with
money in his pockets. By the time I told him the truth
about my age (a few days after we met) we'd already had sex
and apparently he didn't want to give up a good thing.

Kevin had an enviable job, drove a nice car, and his
clothes were stylish, so I was surprised when he told me on
our first date (the day after we met) that he shared a house
with two friends, Joe and Paul. "Can't he afford his own
place?" I wondered, kinda grumpy. I envisioned making out
with my good-looking date in a shabby group house, which
wasn't what I originally had in mind.

Sensing my skepticism Kevin explained they preferred to
rent a house so they could split the rent and sock money
away for the future. "Just wait until you see it," he
assured me. "It's a nice place. We don't really hang out
together that often. I can go days without seeing either
one of them if I feel like being alone."

Once I actually saw the house my mood improved. It was
located in a wealthy neighborhood and they had a lap pool
in the manicured backyard. Joe had claimed the upper level
with the master suite and several rooms (most of which I
never saw so I have no idea what all was up there). Kevin
kept mainly to the basement where he had his own office,
bedroom, bathroom, kitchenette, and workout/laundry room.
Paul had been the third to move in so he lived on the main
level with less privacy but he had easy access to the
deluxe kitchen and spacious living room. Nobody else I knew
lived in a house with three levels, a pool, and a home
entertainment system that looked to be light years ahead of
anything I imagined possible. Joe even owned a boat that he
moored at the marina. From my perspective it made sense
that the three of them enjoyed living in an upscale home
that they wouldn't have been able to afford individually on
their own.

I couldn't introduce Kevin to my mom (dad took off when I
was 4, that's another story) so I spent a lot of time
"hanging out at the mall" or "working on a drama production
after school" or "going to see a movie." In reality I spent
most of my free time at Kevin's house.

It's clear to me now that Kevin only wanted me for sex,
which is what we spent most of our time doing when we
weren't swimming in the pool or watching movies on the
giant screen TV. Kevin was reluctant to take me out in
public because I was so young and I was just happy being
with him. He made me feel older, more mature, and he really
turned me on. I thought I was in love.

About a week after we met he dropped me off at Planned
Parenthood with instructions to get on the pill. I was so
infatuated I went along with everything he said. I wasn't a
virgin when we met (though I had only one previous sex
partner) so I felt grown-up and ready for anything. I
really had no idea what I was getting myself into or how my
life was about to change.

At first the sex was fairly normal, though it was new and
exciting to me at the time. He was a much more experienced
lover than my first boyfriend and he introduced me to
orgasms and oral sex. I enjoyed orgasms so much that it was
easy for him to get me to beg for one (or two or three). He
took pleasure in making me beg.

After a few weeks he said he had a new rule. He'd only make
me come if I wore a skirt without panties when I visited his
home. I was so intoxicated by the orgasms he gave me that
his request seemed reasonable and I followed his
instructions. I enjoyed the wicked way it made me feel
riding the city bus and walking over to his house, knowing
that the other bus passengers and drivers in the cars
passing by had no idea I wasn't wearing panties under my
flippy skirt.

After two months something changed. Kevin introduced a new
wrinkle into our sex play, he started calling me a "slutty
girl" as he was getting me off, just whispering it into my
ear. I was so turned on by what he was doing to my clit
with his hand that I was soon nodding and saying yes when
he asked if I was his slut. I knew it was a dirty thing to
be called a slut but it was such a turn-on while it was
happening. Afterwards I felt unclean and ashamed, I
remember crying all the way home. I was so upset I skipped
the bus and walked the entire distance, not wanting other
people to see my tears up close.

I returned to Kevin a few days later, unable to resolve the
conflict between my desire and disgust over the names he had
called me. The smile on his face when I showed up at his
front door was one of smug satisfaction. He motioned me to
follow him into the living room where he bent me over the
couch, pulled up my skirt and took me without a word of
greeting. The only words he spoke were about me being a
slut and easy and a great fuck. When he was done with me he
told me to go home and return on Saturday. As I was leaving,
confused and partly in shock, one of Kevin's housemates
walked in the front door. I freaked out, realizing that
Paul would've seen everything if he had returned home just
a few minutes earlier.

I went home and cried for hours, wondering what had
happened to my boyfriend. My mom was concerned so I lied
and told her a boy I liked didn't ask me to a school dance.
She had no clue. I was a very popular girl at school, there
were many boys who would have eagerly taken me to that
stupid dance! What was I doing with a man who treated me so
badly? I felt used and embarrassed.

I thought a lot about what Kevin was doing and decided
after I woke up Saturday morning that I would see him as he
instructed, but it would be to end our relationship. I
didn't understand why the things he said turned me on so
much but I knew it made me feel miserable afterwards. Out
of habit I buttoned on a skirt but caught myself when I
glanced in the mirror. I changed into a pair of jeans
instead and pulled on a grubby sweatshirt. I didn't want to
appear enticing in any way, I was determined to tell him to
never contact me again.

On the way over to his house I started crying again as the
pit in my stomach grew. I tried to hide it but some of the
other bus passengers noticed. This only added to the
humiliation I felt over the situation I had gotten myself
into. Crying on a city bus, that's pretty low.

I dreaded knocking on Kevin's door and decided as I waited
for a response that I wouldn't even go inside, I'd say what
I had to say outside on the doorstep. That plan was thwarted
when Paul opened the door instead of Kevin. He rolled his
eyes when he saw me. "Kevin is downstairs, go find him
yourself. I'm busy." Paul walked away, leaving me standing
there in an open doorway. I was too shy to call him back or
ring the doorbell again. I don't like making people angry.
"Might as well get this over with," I thought and headed
inside.

Kevin was at his desk in the bedroom, writing something in
a notebook. He gave me a look of disapproval when he saw I
was wearing jeans and casually announced, "Looks like
you're not getting any today."

I put on my best tough girl voice. "I didn't come here for
sex, I came here to break up with you! You're treating me
like a whore and I don't deserve it!"

Kevin put down his pen and sighed patiently. "Sit down
Heather." I sat on his bed and then thought better of it,
sliding down to a sitting position on the floor. There was
a long pause. Just as I was about to say something he cut
me off.

"Look, we both know why you come over here, you're not
fooling anyone. You enjoy getting fucked but you're a
popular girl, what should you do? Sleep around with half
the football team and get a bad reputation or meet a
discreet older guy like me who knows all about getting you
off? The answer is obvious. I enjoy the time we spend
together but I have no illusions about what this all means.
You're a slut. Why do you pretend otherwise?"

I was NOT expecting that from him. "What?! I was almost a
virgin when we met. You know my ex-boyfriend and I only did
it a few times. How can you say those things?" I was so
shocked that I couldn't even cry. My mouth hung open in
disbelief.

Kevin laughed cruelly. "You put out for me the first night
you were here, on our first date. Within days you were on
the pill. Last week you admitted to me that you were a
slut, right here in this very room. You haven't forgotten
all that, have you? What else was I supposed to think?"

Damn, when he said it like that . . . He was right, on all
three counts. I did have sex with him on our first date, I
did go on the pill that first week, and I did say yes when
he asked if I was his slut. "That isn't fair, I thought we
were in love. And I only said yes to the slut thing because
you were making me come, I would have agreed if you said I
was... Abraham Lincoln! That wouldn't make me President
Lincoln, would it?" I felt a twinge of triumph. Ha, told
him!

Kevin shook his head, his mouth a grim line. He was not
impressed with my reasoning. "Actually Heather, and I say
this with some authority, girls who _don't_ get off on
being called a slut _don't_ return for more of the same. If
you didn't like it last week then I wouldn't have seen you
on Wednesday. Remember Wednesday, just a few days ago?
Living room, couch? I didn't tie you down. You could have
left at any time. And now here you are today. You could
have phoned me, but instead you showed up in person. Why?"
He smiled ever so slightly, interested in hearing my
response.

"I didn't come here for sex!" I protested.

"Then why didn't you phone instead and tell me to fuck
off?" he pressed.

I had no response. Why hadn't I phoned to end it? That
would have been a lot easier. I sat there in silence. Kevin
started writing in his notebook again. "Go home Heather.
I'll see you next Saturday, around 2." With that, he
dismissed me. Numbly I stood up and left the house without
another word, my mind a mass of confusion.

I was so turned on by the way he talked to me that I had to
make myself come four or five times as soon as I got home.
Maybe he was right?

That week passed by in a blur of pop quizzes, one late book
report, a scandal involving drugs found in the locker next
to mine, and drill team practice. I didn't call Kevin and
he didn't call me. The latter wasn't a surprise because he
rarely phoned me at home even though I had my own phone
line. (When we started dating I told him not to call unless
it was urgent. The last thing I needed was my mom suspecting
I had a boyfriend, she'd watch where I went like a hawk if
she had any idea.)

Saturday morning I helped mom weed the flower beds. When we
finished up around noon I took a shower, dried my hair, and
ate lunch at the kitchen counter in my bathrobe. Mom asked
what I had planned for the rest of the day and without
thinking I said "I'm going to a friend's house." I hadn't
made a decision to see Kevin, why did I say that? I quickly
added, "Tracy and I are going to do something." Mom reminded
me to call if I wouldn't be home for dinner at 6.

I went to my room and phoned my best friend Tracy but she
already had plans with someone else. She was surprised to
hear from me, probably because we hadn't been spending much
time together since I met Kevin. (I bet she was dying to ask
if he broke up with me.) I called another friend but there
was no answer. I considered telling mom that Tracy had to
cancel our plans. Maybe mom and I could go shopping, we
hadn't done that in months. Instead I impulsively selected
a skirt from my closet and a matching shirt. I knew where I
was going.

This time Kevin answered the door. "I knew you'd show up,"
he said in an unusually gentle voice. "Come on in. Nobody
else is here, Joe and Paul will be gone for hours." I
followed him inside and sat on the couch in the living
room, not entirely sure what I was doing or why I was doing
it. Kevin offered me a drink and I declined silently with a
shake of my head. He sat next to me and patted my knee.
"It's OK, I know you're scared. This is new to you. Most
girls like you resist it at first, it's not an easy thing
to accept. Right?"

I nodded, staring straight ahead at the picture window,
watching a man walk his dog down the street. Just being
there felt very surreal. "I have to call my mom by 6. Don't
let me forget." I wanted to change the subject but I already
knew where our conversation was headed.

Kevin continued, ignoring me. He was speaking calmly and
quietly, stroking my knee. "Any man would consider you a
prize. Joe said the other day he can't believe I have a
beautiful girl like you in my life. I felt so lucky and
proud when he said that."

I felt a wash of gratitude spread over me and my eyes
immediately filled with relieved tears. "I knew you weren't
mean," I sniffled and wiped the tears away. "That was a nice
thing to say. Thank you."

"I'm not mean Heather," Kevin agreed. "I just had to do a
few drastic things so you'd reach a better understanding of
yourself and where we stand. You were acting a bit clingy, I
felt your expectations of me veering off course. I had to
put us back on track. Do you understand now?"

Actually, I didn't. I wasn't sure what he meant. Where we
stand? Veering off course? "What do you mean?" I asked,
looking at him and making eye contact for the first time
that day.

"OK, you still sound confused. Maybe this will help." He
paused and gently rubbed my thigh for a moment. "Pull up
your skirt," he instructed, still speaking in his calm
voice. Without stopping to think how that would help
anything I did as he asked, exposing my bare bottom to the
plush couch. I glanced outside the window to be sure nobody
was looking in. He reached down with his hand and gently
spread my legs. "Keep them like this until I return."

I heard rummaging around in the kitchen. Two cars passed
the house as they drove down the quiet residential street.
Surely nobody could see me through the large window, not
from a moving car anyway? I hoped not. Kevin returned about
five minutes later empty handed. I then understood it was
just a test, to see if I would do as he asked. My legs were
still spread, my wet pussy already soaking the couch
underneath me. "Good girl," he breathed as he kneeled in
front of me and reached beneath my thighs, sliding my pussy
towards him. He leaned forward and his tongue lapped at my
clit, teasing it, both of us making involuntary soft
murmurs of appreciation.

After a few minutes Kevin looked up at me, replacing his
tongue with his fingers. I felt two fingers slide inside me
as he continued to stroke my clit with a thumb. I was
approaching an orgasm quickly, I could tell that it would
be mind-blowing intense. "Slower," I said, barely audible.
He slowed his pace a bit and I calmed down, just wallowing
in the sensations. I didn't want to come too fast, this
felt too damn good.

"You taste so good Heather. Your pussy is the sweetest I
have ever tasted. I've been with other girls your age but
none of them taste as good as you." He was staring at me so
hard I felt uncomfortable so I closed my eyes and
concentrated on the sound of his voice and the way his
fingers manipulated me. He was calm and relaxed, explaining
things as he teased and stroked me.

"I want to share something with you, something I've figured
out. Girls my age are so hard inside. Most of them hate men,
they say they've been burned and blame it on us. They play
games with us, pretend to be innocent but in reality
they're fucking just about every guy they meet. They think
they're good girls but they're fooling themselves. Then
there are girls like you Heather. Special girls. You know
you're a slut and you're young enough to enjoy it. You're
so lucky. You know you're lucky don't you?" I opened my
eyes and nodded. The intensity in his look was overpowering.

I felt lucky at that moment but a twinge of uncertainty had
crept in. How many girls my age had he been with? Not all
girls sleep around, my mom didn't. Then again, she wasn't
his age. Maybe girls changed after they reached their 30s
or became mothers. I wasn't sure. All I knew was that his
fingers were magical and I was surfing on a glorious
pre-orgasmic wave of pleasure so I pushed all doubts aside.
I groaned and thrust my hips up at him, our signal that I
wanted his cock inside me instead of his fingers. Kevin
unbuttoned his jeans and sank himself into me with no
effort. I was so slick it felt like I was sitting on a wet
washcloth.

"You want other men, don't you?" Kevin asked, whispering
intensely.

"No," I said, taken aback. "Never. Keep going," I urged,
pushing my hips up against him.

I knew he didn't believe my denial. His hard cock slid into
me and pulled back out, finding a slow deliberate rhythm. He
was stroking my clit with his thumb as he fucked me, almost
soothingly. "But you do. You think about your English
teacher fucking you. Maybe the football captain. Maybe the
janitor. I know they stare at you, they look at your ass
and wonder what it'd be like. You wonder too. It's OK, I
understand girls like you. You need to spread your legs but
you're not sure who is safe, who won't tell."

He was right, I did think about having sex with one of my
male teachers instead of taking notes during class lectures
and there were several boys at school I fantasized about
too. The head janitor was actually a gross old man but
there were some younger guys on the janitorial staff that
looked pretty good and now that he mentioned it . . . I
clenched my eyes shut in response, refusing to admit he had
guessed correctly.

"Heather, you don't need to worry about this anymore. I can
take care of all your needs, I can bring men to you. Not
boys, men. They'll fill you with their come. Does that
sound like fun to you? It sounds good to me," he said,
almost sweetly. I was too scared to nod, too scared to
admit that it sounded incredible. Maybe this was a trick
and he'd throw me out if I agreed?

Kevin planted his cock deep inside me and reached down to
unbutton my blouse. He unhitched my bra in front and
tweaked my nipples as my breasts popped free. I started to
shrug out of my shirt and bra but he stopped me. "No, it
looks sluttier this way when you're half-dressed and
exposed, your shirt open, your skirt bunched up around your
waist. Any man looking at you right now would know you
didn't pause to take off your skirt because you were so
hungry for cock. This is what men want. You want other men
to see you like this, don't you? You want other men to use
you too?"

I nodded. Just barely, but he saw it. He knew.

He pinched my nipples, rolling them between his fingers.
"I'll tell you a secret. You're the best kind of slut,
exactly what men want. Men look at you every day and think
of ways they'd fill you with their cocks, with come, over
and over. They want to fuck the cute smirk off your face,
turn you into a greedy moaning whore. They want to use you
until you plead for them to stop and then they want to use
you more. You can count on it. Men think these things about
you. On the bus ride over here, at school, in church, at the
mall. Does that turn you on?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Tell me you're a slut Heather, you're made for pleasure, I
want to hear you say it." His voice suddenly sounded
strained, I could tell he was close to coming.

"I'm a slut, a pleasure slut. I'm so close, don't come yet
please. Wait for me," I begged.

"Your pussy is so tight, so tight. Other girls don't feel
like you Heather. I fuck other girls but I always return to
you. You know that, right?" My brain registered what he
admitted with shock but my body reacted in a way that
completely caught me off guard. It felt like a million
nerve endings had exploded in my center, this was the most
intense turn-on I had ever experienced. It wasn't an
orgasm, it was an entirely different kind of surge. He had
sex with other girls? After he met me? My mind needed
clarification as my body continued to push up at him,
trying to pull him even deeper inside me. This was a
physical sensation I did not want to stop.

"Other girls? Recently?" I gasped.

He plunged into me again and again. "Yes, other girls. Are
you mad?" he asked, slamming into me with every word.

"No no no!" I breathed effortlessly, pushing my hips up
towards him, pulling him into me.

The joy in his voice was thrilling. "I knew you'd
understand. Oh God, I'm going to come, I want to come in
your mouth." He quickly straddled me on the couch and
shoved his cock in my mouth, groaning as he hit the back of
my throat. The first salty spurts flooded my mouth and I
sucked eagerly, wanting to clean him and consume him.

When he was done he stood and looked down on me, my mouth
glistening with his come, my legs akimbo, exposed. "I need
to come now," I whimpered. "Please." I didn't want to stop,
I needed to keep things going. Once the tension in the room
wound down we'd have to confront the unspeakable things
that had been said. I wasn't ready for that talk, I wanted
more pleasure first.

Kevin smiled down at me and buttoned up his jeans. "I said
I'd take care of that, didn't I? You wait here. Don't
move." I heard his footsteps on the stairs that led to the
upper level. Joe's level. There were voices. That is when I
realized someone else was home, it hadn't been just Kevin
and me. I was too stunned to move.

Within moments Joe was there in front of me, grinning with
lust and surprise. "You're right," he said to Kevin who was
standing out of sight. "She does look good enough to eat.
But I want her to eat me." He unbuckled his belt and tossed
it aside as he straddled my torso on the couch in the same
position Kevin had been in minutes before. "Suck me baby,"
he drawled, unzipping his pants and pointing his hard cock
at my face. I lifted my chin, offering my mouth by opening
it slightly. He slid home and sighed. "Kevin my man, you
need to bring me more girls like THIS."

Kevin laughed from across the room and said "Just remember
you owe me now. This makes two new girls in three weeks."
He sat down on a chair in the corner of the room where he
could enjoy the show. He leaned forward, watching intently.

"Sure, until next month when you'll owe me again," Joe said
with a glint of humor in his voice. I had no idea what he
meant but I was concerned more about the thick cock trying
to work its way down my throat.

"I forget, how old are you, baby?" Joe asked, pumping out
and then refilling my mouth with cock so I was unable to
respond. I looked up at him helplessly.

"She's 16," Kevin answered for me. "If you like them this
young then I know a couple more girls like her, a bit
older, but still fresh. I have to work with them a bit
more, they still might bolt. I have my eye on another girl
if they call things off, no big deal."

Joe scoffed. "You mean older like that hag you brought home
two weeks ago? I want more exactly like this one we've got
here." He pulled his cock from my mouth and stood up.
"Damn! She has cute tits. I can't remember the last time I
had 16 year old pussy. Looks like this is my lucky day.
Thank God you're legal in this state." Joe grabbed a pillow
off the couch and placed it on the floor. He then kneeled on
it and took my hand. "Get off the couch baby and kneel down,
facing the couch. I want you from behind."

Like a silent automaton I did as Joe requested, my pussy
burning hotter than I had ever dreamt possible. I just
wanted a cock, any cock, inside me. At that point I would
have spread my legs for the fat balding school janitor in
the filthy janitor's closet. I buried my face in the seat
cushion, inhaling the scent from my wet spot, and tilted my
bottom for easier access to my cunt. Joe grabbed my hips and
sank into my soft pussy on the first stab, pushing me
forward roughly, digging my knees into the carpet. "Oh fuck
yes, yes, yes! She's so fucking wet and tight!" Joe muttered
as he pounded me harder than Kevin ever did. He didn't last
long, just a few minutes later he came deep inside me with
a low intense moan. I slumped against the couch,
unsatisfied.

Joe cleared his throat and found his belt on the floor.
"Thanks Kev. If you can find more like her then I'd be a
very happy man. I'm taking a shower now. You'll need to
steam clean this couch after she leaves. Call a
professional cleaner if you don't have time to do it." I
realized that Joe's mind was already off me, he was only
concerned about the couch. He took the stairs to his level
and the house fell silent.

I heard Kevin stand and walk towards me. He knelt and
placed his hand on my back. "You were beautiful Heather.
Thank you for doing that for me. Did you enjoy it?" he
asked, as if he genuinely cared.

I spoke for the first time in what felt like hours. "Yes. I
think so . . . Yes." My mouth was so dry I practically
croaked out the words. "What happened?"

Kevin sat down and pulled me onto the couch so my upper
body was cradled in his lap. His hand reached for my wet
pussy and gently started to stroke me.

"Close your eyes and relax. Open your legs a little. Good
girl. Let me explain a few things to you. Joe actually owns
this house. He charges Paul and I rent to help cover the
mortgage, even though he doesn't really need it. He enjoys
spending money on toys as you've noticed but he enjoys
sharing things more. We've been friends for years, we see
no reason not to share. He's a busy guy at work, he works
in a much higher position than I do so he has a lot more
responsibilities. He's older than us, more dedicated to his
job, and he doesn't really have time to meet beautiful young
girls like you. He relies on Paul and me to find girls for
him. Nothing serious, mostly just what happened today. A
fun time. He shares his beautiful home with us, we share
our beautiful girls with him. If we don't want to pay rent
then we bring home a girl. When I first saw you at the
mall, I knew you'd be one of those special girls. It was
the way you smiled at me. I had no idea at first you were
so young, but that's just icing on the cake. Does that
answer your question?" Throughout his explanation Kevin
continued to stroke my clit with his fingers, bringing me
closer to the orgasm he knew I so desperately needed.

"I think so. I need to come now, please," I whined softly.
What Kevin just said didn't really sink in until later, my
attention was focused elsewhere.

"Do you want to come, slut?" he whispered, slowing down.

"Yes, please! Faster, not slower!" I hissed desperately.

"Tell me how bad you need it," he teased.

"Please, I need to come so bad, I fucked you and your
friend, wasn't I good? Please please please!"

"Will you do it again?"

"Yes, just please make me come right now," I whimpered and
grabbed at his hand trying to make it move faster.

"You want to be used by other men I bring home?"

"Yes! I'll be your slut! Whatever you want!"

"And it's OK that I fuck other girls? Maybe someone you
know?" He sounded like he already had someone in mind.

My eyes flew open. "Yes, PLEASE, I NEED TO COME! Faster!"
My legs were trembling.

"OK, here you go," he said grinning down at me, his fingers
picking up the pace. I finally exploded like a firecracker,
my legs tense, my body shuddering, and my back arching. I
must have said thank you a dozen times, I was so relieved I
almost collapsed. Kevin held me close and stroked my hair.

"You're lucky, don't forget that," he said sincerely. "Most
girls deny themselves this level of pleasure, they can't
admit their true nature to themselves or anyone else.
You'll understand better someday." I fell asleep there in
his arms, mentally and physically exhausted.

Kevin allowed me to doze for an hour before waking me up.
He handed me a phone. "You should call home, it's getting
late. I'll drop you off a block from your house."

So that's how it started. If you'd like to hear more please
write back.

Love,
Heather
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End of Heather Submits, Part 1
(c) 2002, heatherkalin@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr.org/~heatherkalin
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