Subject: A true story... The Visit
From: Rugby87 <rugby87@aol.com>
Date: 1997/08/12
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

I am a single female, work full time during the day, studying for a
masters degree at night... this visit was with someone I met after a
previous story I had posted...

			  The New York Visit
				  by
				Carrie
			       Part One

	She had met him on the computer over a year ago, yet since she
lived in the northeast, and he in California, geography had prevented
them any contact beside the telephone or email. But his recent change
in job had brought not only an increase in pay, but the requirements
of travel: business contacts sprinkled all through the west, and one
particularly important new contact in New York; and this associate
would require a visit soon after the first of the year.

	She had been startled to open the Federal Express envelope
marked "confidential" and find a plane ticket to New York. There was
no note or indication of the name of the sender, and the ticket was
for the coming weekend. But a telephone call later that day from
him... from Michael... unraveled the mystery: the long awaited trip to
New York could be put off no longer, and he insisted she meet him
there.

	Their relationship had been a unique one ever since they had
met: Michael was married, and Carrie single, and though he loved his
wife, his need for a submissive, a slave, a child to discipline... her
need to serve, and to submit... had drawn them together. He had
puzzled many times at how often Carrie entered his mind, and it
alarmed him even more, that frequently Carrie was in his mind when his
wife was in his arms. He had never been unfaithful to his wife, yet
all he could think about after realizing the trip to New York was
confirmed, was having Carrie for himself.

	For his birthday the year before, she had Federal Expressed
him a pair of her panties, scented with her favorite perfume, but even
more heavily scented with the delicious smell of her wet pussy. Her
enclosed note had revealed to him that the had worn the panties most
of the day... stepping into the restroom at work only a few moments
before mailing the package... and had rubbed her pussy, thinking of
him... until she had cum, filling her panties with her wetness...
making sure he would be able to feel the sweet juices that dripped out
of her cunt just for him. There had been more than one occasion in the
past when she would pass through his mind and he could feel his cock
involuntarily stir and begin to get hard. And the longer she stayed in
his mind... her beautiful large breasts, her pussy wet for him, he
willingness to do anything he required... it took all of his restraint
not stroke himself the one or two times it would only take before he
could cum.

				* * *

	He had given her VERY specific instructions: how she was to
dress, what she was to say, how she was to address him, how she was
expected to behave. Their sightless 3,000 mile relationship had been
frustrating at the very least... and his trip was just a couple of
days... and he absolutely required she comply, without complaint, to
each and every thing he demanded.

	His flight landed several hours before hers, and she was to
meet him in the lobby of the hotel. It being January, an overcoat of
her choice would be permitted, but all else that she was to wear was
decided by him in advance: her white sweater, without a bra, her black
"cheerleader" skirt (that she had told him she wore infrequently
because it was so short and almost any movement would expose her),
black thigh high stockings (that she had also told him the tops of
which, and her thighs, would be clearly visible as she walked wearing
the "cheerleader" skirt), and... of course... no panties.

	He could see her as she entered the lobby, stopping just
inside and setting down her bag and removing her coat, just as he had
instructed. They had exchanged photos, and he knew it was Carrie
immediately. She waited patiently and kept her eyes downward, again,
just as she had been told to do. She had dressed as he had demanded,
and he was enjoying watching her, knowing that she was nervous, and
excited, and waiting for him. He circled the lobby, knowing she would
not see him since she had not yet looked up, and walked around behind
her. Without speaking a word, he circled his hand around her throat
and tightened, feeling her sudden gasp for breath, his thumb and
fingers pressing into her flesh, knowing that only a slight increase
in pressure and he could cut off her breathing. He could feel the
pulse in her neck, and he was enjoying the sense that she was
powerless.

	"Little girl," he whispered, still behind her, "we will start
this visit with a clean slate. But if you disobey me... even a
little... like all bad little girls, Daddy will have to punish you. Is
that understood?"

	"Yes," she whispered, then feeling his hand clench her throat
tightly, momentarily cutting off her breath before he released, she
having forgotten she was not to speak unless specifically instructed
to do so. She then nodded her compliance silently.

	"Good girl," he responded, and at last released his hand from
her throat and circled her to face her. Without saying another word,
he reached to pick up luggage, grasped her wrist with his other hand,
and led her toward the restaurant.

	He knew she was uneasy, and nervous, after talking hundreds of
times, but never meeting face to face... and he wanted to make her
strain and tremble, waiting for each second that would pass between
them over that weekend. He knew that a nonchalant meal in the hotel
restaurant would only serve to heighten the tautness of her nerves and
cause her the agony of waiting still longer in anticipation.

	The restaurant was quiet; there was almost no one there.
Carrie had followed him on the long walk, a dull pain in her wrist
just beginning as they entered, from the tightness of his grasp. He
continued forward through the room, as the matre de led them to a
booth. Michael wanted to tease her, and proceeding by making small
talk, yet never giving her permission to speak, preferring to allow
her no outlet for her uneasiness. He talked about his work, the plane
trip, the economy...

	After he had sent the waiter away a second time, telling him
hwe'd signal when he was ready, he leaned over and whispered into her
ear, "rest your elbows on the table and sit to the edge of your seat;
I want the to waiter to be able to see the tops of your breasts when
he comes back to take our order. If you attract the attention of
anyone except the waiter, it will make me angry;" and immediately he
sat back and raised the menu, waiting for the waiter's approach.
Carrie quietly shifted in her seat as best she could, and, too,
waited.

	The wait person approached and Michael ordered for both, and
just as quickly the waiter departed, without so much as a glance at
her. Knowing she had failed at even this first, ever-so-simple task he
had given her, she was frightened to look at him... when at long last
she knew he must. He was facing away, absently staring out to the
restaurant, but she could tell his face was a bit flushed, her guess
at his disappointment being perfectly correct. She sat still and
waited for his reaction, and for a long time he did nothing, which
only served for her nervousness to increase.

	After a long time, he moved, and she could feel his hand on
her thigh. She remained perfectly still as his fingers softly trailed
up her thigh, sliding slowly beneath the hem of her skirt. When his
hand was nearly all the way up her thigh, she could suddenly feel his
fingers tighten, the sharp pain of his them digging into her flesh
causing her to gasp involuntarily. He continued his silence, and also
continued to dig his fingers deeper and deeper into the fleshy skin of
her inner thighs. The increasing pain caused her to gasp again, and
she knew if he continued, a bruise would be the result, skillfully
placed above the hem of her skirt.

	The waiter returned with the meals, and she could feel Michael
keep pushing harder and harder. Almost involuntarily she hunched
forward, and was relieved when the waiter at last glanced at her,
smiling, and departed; Michael's grasp finally released, and he pulled
his hand away.

	Still quiet, he nodded at her and surprisingly pleasantly told
her "Carrie, enjoy your meal." She could not help but sigh in relief,
and eat the food put before her. When she was nearly finished, again,
without even turning his gaze to her, he whispered again: "sit up on
one knee, leaving the other foot on the floor, with your legs apart.
Do it now." She quietly complied.

	"Now put two fingers inside yourself and pull them out. I want
to see how wet you are." He had finished his meal and was watching her
now, but did not touch. She obediently slid two fingers into her hole
and was dripping wet and tender, dying for some attention, and he knew
she would be. Sliding her fingers in and out of her pussy felt so
good, she wanted to keep them to pumping in and out. But she heard his
voice, "Carrie!" and quickly pulled her hand away. Not being able to
help himself, he instantly took one of her slippery sweet fingers into
his mouth for just a moment, but removed it just as quickly, instantly
realizing this minor show of his temporary weakness.

	Her pussy was quivering from the few seconds of stimulation,
and the feel of his tongue on her finger tips, and he knew it. He
pulled her hand from his mouth and smiled at her, knowing he was
teasing her, taking her close to the edge as possible without letting
her cum. After watching her for a moment, Michael told her to put her
fingers between her thighs again. "You may make yourself cum... I want
to watch your face," he whispered. Carrie needed no more instruction
than that: her clit was aching to be rubbed and she could feel her
juices running down her thighs; she didn't care if the waiter was 20
feet away or not; his skill at heightening her nervousness and
anticipation was finely honed: she felt like she wanted to explode.
Eagerly she thrust her fingers into her juicy hole and couldn't help
but let out a small moan.

	She worked her clit with her thumb, and involuntarily her eyes
closed. Spreading her knees apart as far as she could so she could
fuck herself with her own fingers as hard as possible, she knew he was
watching each thing she did. She could feel her orgasm building
inside, and moved her hips back and forth against her fingers. She
felt as though she were in total darkness alone, because all she could
feel was hot pleasure building and getting ready to burst. Again, an
involuntary moan escaped her.

	Then out of the darkness she felt a hand grab her wrist and
yank it away. Biting her tongue to keep from speaking, she knew it was
Michael, he had pulled her hand away because he had released the
control to her for only a moment, and now he wanted it back. It took
all her restraint not to twist her wrist and free it from his grasp to
rub her aching clit, but he held it firm, it starting to turn red. She
knew she could say nothing. He knew her body was aching by the way it
twitched and the heaviness of her breathing.

	The waiter returned with coffee, and without releasing the
grip on her wrist, he enjoyed his cup, paid the bill, and motioned to
her that they were leaving. At long last he released her wrist, and
they departed the restaurant. She quietly followed him, silently
wondering to herself why he had slipped the empty beer bottle from the
table into his overcoat pocket. He gave her suitcase to a bellman,
indicated she should put on her coat, and then he... at long last...
warmly clasped her hand and led her out of the hotel into the darkness
that had fallen. She walked with him silently, feeling at last like
the good little girl with her daddy that she so wanted to be.

	The walked for just a short while, and she was surprised to
see him turn the corner and approach the ramp of the hotel's parking
garage. They entered the elevator of the garage, and rode it to the
top floor, all the while still saying nothing. They continued walking
as they exited onto the nearly empty top level, only a handful of cars
being parked in the open-air. He finally stopped and leaned against a
parked car, pulling the empty bottle from his pocket and telling her
to drop her coat to the ground. She wordlessly complied, shivering in
the cold, January New York air.

	"Slide the neck of the bottle in and out of your pussy" he
whispered. She could only stare for a moment, amazed at this request.
No one would see her, the lot was all but deserted, but the request
nonetheless frightened her. "Carrie" was all he said, noting her
hesitation, and she complied with his request.

	The coldness of the bottle startled her, but the movement of
the long neck moving in and out of her cunt felt so welcome. She could
feel that the sticky juices had trickled further down her thighs as
she had walked, and that her pussy was still throbbing from getting so
close to orgasm. Fucking herself with the cold glass felt so good...
it only took a moment before she could feel her climax rapidly
approaching.

	Again, just as quickly as he had stolen it from her before, he
reached out and pulled the bottle away, not letting her cum. She could
feel tears spring to her eyes from this second denial of her pleasure,
and she could feel her knees shake, she wanted it so much.

	He reached out and put her hands again on her throat as he had
done in their first few seconds after meeting, and drew her toward the
car. Pushing her forward and down, she was soon standing up against
the car, her torso lying over the hood. She could feel him pulling
her skirt up over her waist, his eyes at last resting on that juicy
cunt and ass that he had thought about so many hundreds of times. She
could feel that he was running the neck of the bottle up and down over
her pussy and she so wanted to arch her back and force the bottle neck
back into her hole, but he still had his other hand tightly on the
back of her neck, holding her down to the car, and she couldn't move.

	The bottle was so slippery with her juices and he knew that
she wanted it to fuck her, but he wanted it for something else: he
also knew she had a virgin ass, and the sight of the bottle, smooth
with her juices, making her back door ready, was making his cock get
harder and harder. Without warning, he thrust the bottle into her
asshole, enjoying hearing her cry out with the pain, and quickly
pulled it out again, full aware the she believed he would not violate
her further if he knew of her pain. But the sight of her tight ass
being fucked by the cold, hard glass was what he wanted, and he
plunged it into her again... and again bringing a gasp of pain.
Fucking her with this bottle... this thing... he knew she felt the
physical pain, but he was also aware that she felt humiliated to be
violated by something other than his cock.

	He continued to slide the missile in and out of her butt hole,
her cries of discomfort growing less and less with each push. At long
last, though, he could wait no longer, and slowly he pulled the bottle
out her hole for the last time, then wetting three fingers with her
pussy juices and inserted them into her ass in place of the bottle.
Jamming now his hand in and out her ass, he could hear her sounds of
pain disappear and her sounds of pleasure reemerge. He could also feel
her pussy was lubricating more and more... getting fucked from behind
for the very first time. He kept ramming his fingers in and out of
her hole; she was close to cumming and he could tell. He slammed his
hand against her butt once more, and then pulled it away. She was in
tears... he had brought her so close she was in pain, and he had, yet
again, stopped.

	"No," she involuntarily cried out; and she knew almost
immediately that her disobedience at speaking without permission had
angered him. Her inability in the restaurant to get the waiter to
watch her had annoyed him, but this second failure at something so...
SO... simple, made him truly angry. It was only a second before she
felt his hand slide from her neck and yank her up sharply by her hair,
while his other hand landed sharply on her exposed ass cheeks with a
stinging smack. She could feel the burn from the sharpness of his hit,
and could not even catch her breath before her smacked her... hard...
again and again and again.

	She stood as still as she could, knowing she had not complied
with the most basic of his wishes, and could only pray silently that
his anger would soon subside. After several stinging blows to her
butt, he was still, and for a moment she thought her punishment was
over. But rapidly he pulled her head back by her hair even further,
causing her to rise to her tip-toes, and swung his free hand to her
throat, tightly clenching, making it difficult to breathe.

	"Carrie" was all that he said, and she knew by his tone that
she had disappointed him already and the punishment she was receiving
was graciously light, compared to what he might impose if he so
chose... so early on... and she just tried to remain still, though her
body was shaking. Even in these first few hours, she had learned that
she would have to try quite a bit harder if she were going to please
him. "Do you understand? Answer me," he asked. And she uttered the
single word "yes."

	What seemed like a very long time finally passed, when she
could feel his fingers loosen in her hair and sliding on her pussy
again. Lifting her ass up with his hands and pushing her dress again
around her waist, he pushed her again down on car, and surveyed her
sweet juicy cunt. She was sticky and wet, and her ass was deliciously
red from the light thrashing he had given her, and he at last decided
to reward himself... as he had wanted to since the first second he saw
her... and fell to his knees and slid his tongue inside her sweet and
tasty box.

	She gasped as she felt him run his tongue over her clit, and
then spread her cunt lips apart and sink himself deep into her hole.
For a second she was frightened, wondering if some owner of one of the
handful of cars would come along, but she didn't care. She needed to
cum, and didn't care if the whole world stopped by to watch. She
pushed her ass backward, to give him a better angle, and twitched as
his tongue darted in and out of her tunnel, licking up her juices. She
could feel his nose and his fingers pushing up against her, and could
hardly keep from cumming. And she could stay immobile no more. She
thrust her hips up and down and spread her legs as far apart as she
could. She could feel Michael make use of this better angle, spreading
her cheeks apart and shoving three fingers in and out of her hole
while his tongue moved from her clit to her ass and then... again...
away.

	She bit her lip to keep from screaming... her pussy was
dripping from anticipation. Yet he still hadn't let her cum. He only
smiled and put one hand back into her hair and pulled her up. He could
see her pain. Unzipping his pants, his rock hard cock popped out, and
he grabbed her and swiftly pushed her face down on it as she fell to
her knees.

	She took him into my mouth hungrily. Sucking dick was one of
her most favorite things, and she so wanted to taste him in her mouth
and bring him pleasure. Running her tongue first down one side and
then the other, making him slippery to fit between my her lips, she
slowly drew him in. Teasing the head with her tongue, she could feel
him quivering inside her mouth, and touching the back of her throat.
She slowly slid herself down as far as she could, taking all of him
into her mouth, then wrapped her lips as tight as possible and pulled
up.

	A groan escaped him. She slid her mouth down again and again,
pulling his cock between her lips as hard as possible, teasing his
head with her tongue and lips every chance she got. She could feel his
hand in her hair, pushing her face down, his shaft growing harder and
harder. She slipped her head down ever further, taking first one then
the other of his balls into her mouth. They were soft and warm, and
she knew she was pleasuring him because of the tightness she could
feel and the smooth thrusting that had started in his hips.
Continuing to pump with her mouth, she sucked his dick as hard and
fast as she could, finally being rewarded when he exploded into the
back of her mouth, she swallowing every drop.

	Michael pulled her by the hair, at last letting her stand to
face him. He reached forward slowly and kissed her: she knew he could
taste himself in her throat. Without saying another word, he
straightened her clothes and took her hand, leading her back out of
the garage. Her pussy was still aching, her need to cum almost
overwhelming, but she had pleased Michael... and his needs... of
course... were important, and hers were not.

From: rugby87@aol.com (Rugby87)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: The Visit, PART TWO... a true story
Date: 13 Jan 1996 22:24:48 -0500

			      The Visit
			      Part Two

	I had left the office in a rush, abandoning a stack of files,
and dozens of unanswered phone messages. Trying to leave the office at
a designated time always turned into a race against the clock; in this
case, in an attempt not to miss the flight that was the first leg of
my journey from Maine to Fort Lauderdale. Cranky, sullen business
travelers had accompanied me in the first stage until my plane change
in Newark, but thereafter the mood in the plane was cheerier; I guess
the departure from snow to sunshine was bringing out the best in
people.

	It had seemed such a short time since I was flying around the
office until now, and here I was, in Florida, dinner eaten,
introductions made, riding in the Mercedes away from that fabulous
restaurant that I'll always remember. Glancing at my watch... nearly
11 p.m.!! My flight had left Maine at a little after 12:00 that
afternoon: time certainly flies when you're... well... you know...

	Thursday night. 70-something degrees outside. I couldn't
believe I was actually there, or what had actually happened so far.
Michael pulled the Mercedes over next to a beautiful apartment
complex, and Brad reluctantly exited the car. "Nice meeting you...
I'll see you again before you leave?" he asked. "We'll see," Michael
replied, before I could even formulate a response. I sat quietly as we
pulled back into traffic, my mind wandering with thoughts of how the
rest of my trip would progress, the soft sexy feel of the leather
seats in the car, the faint smell of Michael's cologne. After the rush
of the last 12 hours, I closed my eyes, tipped back my head onto the
headrest, and was enjoying the smooth relaxation of being driven
through the streets of a city I had never been in before. I could feel
Michael's fingers rise to massage my neck after seeing the look of
total relaxation on my face, the nervousness over our first meeting
now passed.

	The instant his fingers touched me, even though just on my
neck, I could feel my nipples start to harden... a combination of the
pleasurable tickle on the back of my neck, and the feel of his warm
fingers moving back and forth on my skin. I continued to sit quiet,
Michael slowing moving his fingers around to my cheek, and then my
lips. Inserting one finger between my lips, I could taste the
smoothness of his skin, his faintly salty taste... delicious. He must
have known that the earlier events of the evening had only served to
peak my curiosity and desire, become thought my nipples were visibly
hard and I had slowly parted by thighs, his hands didn't move from my
neck.

	Soon we circled into his driveway, he parking the car and
quickly moving around to open my door. Retrieving my luggage from the
trunk, we soon were inside the house. "A tour?" He asked casually,
watching me gaze around his beautiful home. The living room, the
hallway, the dining room, the kitchen, his study, we moved quickly, me
silently admiring his good taste and the neatness of each and every
space I saw, and still wondering just a bit at his fast return to
"gentlemanlyness." At long last, the bedroom, he still congenially
playing host and tour-giver. Having left the bags in the front
hallway, I heard him pointing out the beautiful plants his mom had
given him, the entry to the master bath and the walk-in closet. In mid
sentence and completely unexpectedly, I head him slam the door and
move quickly forward, yanking up my dress with both hands, exposing
the cheeks of my ass and my naked pussy, the words "I can't believe
Brad fucked you before I did" angrily coming out of his mouth.
Wrapping one hand around my waist and pushing me forward, I was soon
against the wall, with his fingers roughly pulling at my cunt. Still
holding me with one arm, I could feel him reach out and unzip his
pants, his hard on jumping out against the cheeks of my butt
immediately. Removing his arm from my waist, I could feel him shove
his knee between my thighs, thrusting them apart, causing me to
stumble a bit as my legs spread and I leaned further into the wall, by
now resting against it with my hands. Almost instantly, he spread my
pussy lips open and shoved his cock inside me, pumping hard while
holding my hips with both of his hands. I could tell from his urgency
in fucking me, as well as the sore, red marks his tight fingers were
making on the smooth skin of my hips, that he wanted to fuck me hard
and cum, not caring if he pounded me or not. Grabbing my hair and
pulling my head back, hard, causing me to cry out, I could feel his
balls slapping at my ass, and in an instant he came, yelling out
loudly as he rammed himself into me over and over, pulling out at the
last second, spurting some of his come on my ass and my dress.

	In a moment again calm, having been able to just fuck me as he
wanted with no thought to me, I turned around to look at him, my own
cunt still juicy, and I could tell that THE VISIT was just beginning,
and sleep would be the one thing I would not get much of that night...

				* * *

	Reaching over to the far side of the bed in the morning, all I
could feel was cool, empty sheets. Friday morning, and though he had
tried to free himself for the entire day, the stock market had no
patience, and he was needed in his office for a few hours; I was to be
on my own, for a while anyway. Opening my eyes, I could see the note
he had left me on the bedside table: he would be back a little after
5. Curling up in the coziness of the covers, my mind roamed, dreaming
about the rest of the weekend and what had happened last night...

	Having been exhausted from my trip, among other things, when
the opportunity had finally arisen, I had fallen to sleep quickly,
Michael's soft breathing on the back of my neck, and his arms
encircling my waist, making me relax and slowly ease into a deep
slumber. Having woken a few hours later, it took me a moment to recall
where I was, not at home, with this handsome semi-stranger resting
beside me. The room was cool and dark and I watched him for a moment:
his eyes closed, resting comfortably, lying on his back still sound
asleep... it was the perfect opportunity to do one of my favorite
things.

	I reached over and gently peeled the sheet back, being careful
not to wake him. Curling back down on the now nearly bare bed, I
gently dusted my fingers over his skin... first touching his chest,
then his stomach, his thighs... all so delicately as not to wake him.
Barely touching him with just my fingertips, I continued to trace the
lines of his body, enjoying the feel of his warm skin under my touch.
Still he slept. Continuing with the lightness of a feather, I move my
fingers to the softness between his thighs, EVERY part of him still
not yet awake. Drawing one finger slowing up and down his softness,
tracing, teasing by barely making contact, one part... the part that I
want... starts to awaken, while the rest of his body still sleeps. I
quickly insert my own three fingers into my mouth, making them warm
and slick, and gently return to my task of waking him. Using my now
slippery fingers, I continue to gently caress him, sliding my fingers
around and around, taking him into my warm palm, and gently moving my
hand up and down over his growing hardness, his eyes still closed, his
mind still asleep. I can feel his awakening under my fingers, an
involuntary smile escaping my lips... his mind still slumbers, and he
has no idea that his body is betraying him by awakening to my touch.

	Slowly, and moving as smoothly as possible so as to keeping
him resting, I rise to my knees and climb between his thighs, kneeling
between his legs in my favorite position for giving a man pleasure. In
one fluid motion I remove my fingers, and replace them with my mouth,
placing my hands on the bed next to his legs, so that all he feels is
the softness of my lips in contact with this body. Running my tongue
up and down each side, circling him, I can feel he at last is starting
to awaken completely, though slowly, no longer able to deny the
wetness and heat he feels from being against my tongue. Moving my head
up and down, each time encircling his now hard cock, I pull up with
all the tightness my lips can muster, and can feel my own pussy
starting to dampen, enjoying the feeling that this man is hardening
from only the touch of my tongue. Though I cannot see his face, I can
tell that he is awake, and soon I feel his hand grasping my hair, a
moan escaping his lips. I continue to work his prick inside my mouth,
resisting the urge to finger my own hole, now dripping, because I want
his pleasure to grow. I move myself lower, tonguing each of his balls,
more moans escaping his mouth, his hardness above twitching as I
continue to tease him with my wet, slippery tongue. His hand tightens
in my hair, and hips move slightly, signals that he is enjoying the
feel of my tongue massing each of his balls as they are inside my
mouth.

	Selfishly wanting to feel his hardness in the back of my
throat again, I move back up and circle his cock with my lips. But I
move slowly, first circling the head with my tongue, flicking it, and
only taking him partly into my mouth. I can feel his hand in the back
of my head trying to push me down... but I resist. I suck up one side
of him and then the other, licking him like a popsicle, taunting him
because I know how much he wants me to fuck him with my mouth and I am
making him wait, just a little. At last he is angry, tired of waiting
and he shoves my head downward, and I can feel him in the back of my
throat, pushing his hips upward and pushing himself between my lips as
hard as he can. Pulling his tool with all the tightness I can,
encircling my lips and moving my head up and down, I can feel him
rising to orgasm, and at long last he rewards me by spurting his cum
in the back of my throat. My pussy now soaking wet and dying for
attention from having him pound into my mouth and the taste of his
sweet juices, I continue to work as hard as I can, sucking him harder
and harder to make him keep cumming between my lips so I can continue
to taste him inside my mouth.

	At last he pulls my hair and draws my face away. As much as I
don't want to finish, my box is so tender, juicy, dripping from the
experience of having this man cum in mouth... and it wants attention
desperately. Climbing forward over him, I kneel over his face and
cling to the headboard, unable to stifle a moan from my lips at the
first touch of his tongue on my engorged clit. Arching my head back
and closing my eyes, I can feel his hands on my ass, pushing my hole
closer to his face, his tongue lapping up every drop of my juices. I
spread my knees as far apart as I can, arching my back as much as
possible, grinding my pussy into his face, panting at the feel of him
biting my lips as he pulls them into his mouth, and darts his tongue
in and out of me. I can feel him work one of his hands around to my
backside, one finger finding my tender asshole, his fingers slick with
my juices, and gently sliding first one, then two fingers, into my
backdoor, and then pulling them out and inserting them again, fucking
my ass with his hand. Moving my hips back and forth in rhythm with him
fucking my behind, I can feel a rush starting to build in my body.
Michael feels me quickening too, and bites my clit, then takes it into
his mouth, massing it with his tongue, while his fingers continue to
pound my butt. Unable to hold back any more, I can feel the orgasm
rising inside me... even if Michael were to stop now, I would still
cum ferociously, my pleasure being a while in building. At last I
explode... I can feel Michael hungrily pushing his tongue inside me,
eager to swallow each drop of my juice. I cannot help but pant and
scream, the feeling of cumming with something in my pussy AND in my
ass, bringing out the most tremendous and stimulating orgasm, rushing
and going on and on and on. Slowly coming down the other side of my
pleasure, I continue to push myself onto his face, wanting him to
swallow every drop of my wetness and lick me clean as I had swallowed
his.

				* * *	

	Lying there on the bed alone, Michael gone and at work, the
dream of his tongue and finger fucking me playing in my mind, I
couldn't help but lower my fingers between my thighs: they were juicy
from just the replay of the previous nights events in my mind. I
couldn't help but slide my fingers inside myself and rub my clit with
my thumb. Turning to perch up on my knees, leaning forward in a sort
of doggie style position, I buried my face in the pillow, and slammed
my hand again and again up against my pussy. Being kneeling, with my
knees apart, my cunt lips were naturally pulled tightly apart,
allowing me full access to my oozing hole, the juices running down my
thighs. If anyone had walked by the bedroom window just then, all they
would have seen was my ass in the air, and my arched back, me
fingering myself as hard as could, my orgasm being only moments in
arriving.

	Collapsing on the bed, ready to sleep again, I resisted the
urge to close my eyes, knowing that if I rested I might not awaken
until late in the afternoon... spoiling my plans for the rest of the
day. Quickly showering, I rifled through my suitcase, finding my
skirt, blouse and jacket, my favorite to wear to the office, though
now being something of a wrinkled mess from being stuffed into the bag
for so long. I called it my power suit: a slim fitting black and white
skirt coming well above the knee, with matching jacket with black
velvet lapels, worn with a white blouse and black stockings and heels.
It looked very slick and professional, perfect for all of those real
estate closings and business meetings that I conducted back at work,
huge amounts of cash or securities changing hands at table, everyone
listening to my explanation of the stacks of documents that needed to
be executed before it was a "done deal." Yet despite its professional
look, it was sexy too, and showed my curves just enough, it being
difficult to hide my large firm breasts... there had been more than
one occasion after leaning forward to distribute them zillionth
document required for a transaction, when I stood up and knew that one
of the other attorneys present or the banker or the broker, had been
looking down my shirt, just being able to see the edge of my breasts
or my lacy bra between the folds of my blouse. Though completely
inappropriate behavior on their part, it always stimulated me just a
bit, making me wonder how far their imaginations went beyond wondering
over my skill at putting together a business deal...

	Shaking the suit out, I assembled the stockings, garter,
panties and bra I always wore with it, and looked around the house for
an iron. After something of a lengthy search, I put the iron to my
suit, and then dressed. Before long I could hear the honk of the taxi
I had called, and quickly tossed they key into my pocket that Michael
had left, him having anticipated correctly that I might not want to
sit at his home all day alone. Quickly reciting the address I had
pulled out of the phone book, and tried to relax and look at the
scenery as we drove through the city, but I couldn't help myself... I
was nervous and excited. After just a few minutes, I could hear the
cabby say "ma'am?" We had reached my destination. Michael had said his
office was only a few miles away, and he was right, though I sort-of
wished it was further, giving me more time to be sure I had the
courage to do what I had in my mind. Paying the fare, I slowing walked
into the building, locating the suite where his brokerage company was
located with ease. Giving the receptionist only my last name and
telling her I had been referred to the firm, I hoped Michael might not
realize who I was until he saw me, perhaps not recalling my full name.
From the look of surprise on his face when he arrived in the reception
area, I had been correct. A smile sliding across his face, he told me
to come on back to office, dismissing Margaret, his secretary, as he
walked past. Sitting down in the chair opposite his desk, "the staff
leaves at 4:30" he remarked before I could say a word, "good night Mr.
Chamberlain" coming from the front office as Margaret departed. I
could hear muffled conversations and footsteps from the hallway
outside, glancing at my watch noting it was 4:32, and all the staff
were going home for the evening. Sitting back in his chair, I knew
Michael was surprised to see me, and I was equally nervous at being
there. At first making small talk about how my day had gone so far, I
was listening for the quiet that would signal that most of the other
employees had gone. Still hearing faint footsteps and the occasional
ringing phone, I continued the chatter with him, all the while slowing
moving to the edge of my chair, easing my knees apart. From the sound
of his conversation, I could tell that he was a little uneasy, after
all this was his place of work, yet unable to stop watching me cross
and un-cross my legs, my skirt riding up with each movement. Soon the
tops of my stockings and the smoothness of where my garter belt
touched my thighs was visible, though if someone were to lean in the
door behind me, it would look like we were having an innocent
conversation. Gently running my hands over my neck, I drew my fingers
up and down in the space between my breasts, being able to feel my own
nipples harden, continuing to act and talk as if it were innocent
fidgeting. Michael kept talking to me, leaning back in his chair, one
hand disappearing below the level of the desk. Crossing my legs again,
I was now perched on the very edge of the chair, and leaning forward,
my hands having moved to rest on my thigh, staring him right in the
eyes, daring him to look away from my gaze as I knew he wanted to,
smiling just little. I listed intently over his conversation: I
couldn't hear another voice, or foot step, or any other sound. Though
I could not be sure, it seemed as if everyone had left. 4:52 p.m., and
from Michael's earlier descriptions of his days at work, once the
market closed, in no time the office was usually deserted. The
nervousness at the possibility that one of his co-workers could come
strolling by at any moment, popping into the office to ask a question,
only made me more nervous, but, more than that, was making me more
excited. I could feel that pulsing between my legs, as well as the
moisture starting to soak my panties. It was now or never. I stood and
walked around to Michael's side of the desk, leaning against the large
wooden piece of furniture right in front of him, continuing to
converse casually. Michael's eyes were darting from me to the door, it
still being open 2 or 3 inches, but when I jumped up on the desk,
sitting swinging my legs between his knees as he sat in his chair, his
eyes stopped moving to the doorway and he was watching me. Again
crossing and un-crossing my legs, my skirt quickly rode up to my
thighs, exposing the tops of my stockings and my warm skin. Continuing
to wiggle as I sat on the desk, and with a little help from my hands,
soon my skirt was up high enough to expose the edge of my panties. I
could tell by his tone that Michael was nervous about being
interrupted, but I could also tell that he was enjoying watching me by
the hardness that was becoming obvious in his lap. Finally stopping my
talking, I sat silently and listened to Michael going on and on, as he
watched me start to stroke my own thighs with my finger tips.
Spreading my knees apart to give him a good view, I starting rubbing
myself through my panties, being able to feel that wetness that had
already soaked through them. Inching toward the edge of desk and
putting my feet on each of the arms of his chair, I continued to play
with myself, pushing my panties aside now and sliding my finger into
my wet hole. It felt so good, teasing myself, knowing just where to
touch, I bit my lip to keep from making any noise, and had to close my
eyes and lean my head back. Resting backward with my other hand on his
desk, I pulled my panties as far aside as I could, plunging my fingers
in and out of my dripping cunt, almost forgetting where I was,
enjoying the feeling of being fucked by my own hand. Though still
prattling on and on in nervousness, I could tell by his stuttering he
was enjoying my show, torn between the sight and smell of my wet pussy
and the raging hard on he was getting, and the fact that it was all
happening in his office, his place of employment. He must have given
in to his excitement, because in a moment I could feel him tear my
hand away, groaning as he dove between my legs with his tongue, loving
the taste of my sweetness in his mouth. My other hand now free, having
been replaced with Michael's expert tongue, I placed it on the desk
behind me and leaned back further lifting my feet off the arms of his
chair, giving him better access. I could feel his hands pushing my
cunt lips apart, his nose buried in my bush, his fingers plunging in
and out of me while his tongue massaged my aching clit. The
anticipation at what I was going to do having started to excite me
while I was at his house as well as while still sitting in the taxi,
it didn't take long before I could feel myself cumming, grabbing
Michaels head and forcing his face into my pussy as hard as possible,
pushing against him with my hips. Again biting my lips to keep from
making a sound, I could feel myself finally explode, Michael licking
my thighs to swallow every drop, my juices visible on his chin as he
sat up. "Carrie... " he whispered as he sat back, his eyes darting
once to the doorway. Without giving him a chance to stop me, I slid
from the desk onto my knees, perched perfectly below the level of the
desk, difficult to been seen from the doorway. As much as my orgasm
had brought waves of heat into my body, and streams of pleasure, I
wanted this man to fuck my mouth... his raging hard cock obvious
inside his still zipped fly. Leaning forward I quickly unzipped his
pants, his hardness escaping immediately. Taking it into my hand, I
head him start to say "Carrie, don't" but I didn't listen, and quickly
covered his hard on with my mouth, feeling a little surge in my pussy,
at the feel of him in the back of my throat. "Carrie, Carrie, please
don't" I could hear him protesting, still being nervous about being
discovered, but the growing hardness between my lips and his hand
tightening as he grabbed hold of my hair betrayed his words. Pumping
as hard as I could, I knew I had to work fast, the possibility of an
interruption being a definite reality. Taking him all the way into the
back of my throat, I grasped him and pulled up, moving my head back
down again as soon as I could, and then grasping and pulling again.
Sucking him so hard and fast I could feel that he would not be long in
letting me taste him, but he had teased me and gotten exactly what he
wanted last night, and today, I wanted to HIM to be the nervous one.
Continuing to make him harder and harder, massing him with my lips,
and then my hand, and then lips again, I could see that his orgasm was
only moments away. Looking up quickly, his eyes were closed and his
head laid back against the chair, he was very close. Jumping up and
pushing my panties aside, I put my knees on either side of his legs on
the big leather chair, shoving his cock into my again dripping hole.
Bucking up and down, my hands grasping the chair next to his face, I
pumped my ass up and down, twitching at the feel of his cock pumping
inside me, quickly feeling him explode into my pussy, filling me up as
he came, he too biting his tongue to keep from yelling out.

	Quietly I climbed down from the chair, pulling down my skirt
and rearranging my hair. I walked back around to the chair on the far
side of his desk, sitting down and looking back him, he, too, now
composed and watching me. I couldn't help but smile a little, I still
had two days left to my trip, and couldn't wait for the rest of the
visit.
--
	A tiring weekend so far, don't you think? Are you interested
in the rest of my Florida weekend? Let me know...

CARRIE, Rugby87@aol.com