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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
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X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 21 Feb 2003 17:38:53 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Taken in Adultery by Vickie Tern 2/9 TG femdom
Date: Fri, 21 Feb 2003 18:10:04 -0500
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Man Taken in Adultery
Vickie Tern
ii.
I looked over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her front
door, my escape route. No, my escape route to the front door is
now through her pussy! I realized. By licking her pussy. Sucking
my own cum out of her pussy. I'd never done that before, not even
with Carrie -- oral sex was what we did before we made love, not
afterward. When we were eager, passionate! When when we were
finished being intimate and we were both deliciously sloppy, we'd
just curl into each other and go to sleep.
No way was I going deeper into this woman's lair, to be entrapped
upstairs in her bedroom, her husband's bedroom, their bedroom. No
way would I become another of her surrogate lovers on their bed,
not flat on my back and not face down on her quim either. No way
did I want to lose sight of that front door! Did I have a choice?
"Knees," I said. "Here."
She rose up and pushed herself up off me, and twisted to sit
alongside me on the couch. Then looked at me and smiled
pleasantly. I saw she was holding her thighs tight together.
"I thought so." she said. "That's the way you'll do it, then.
That's what you'll do for me from now on. All right, kneel down in
front of me, and kiss my thigh so I'll know you appreciate what I'm
allowing you to do. In token of respect and gratitude for what I'm
letting you do. Then take hold of my hips and pull yourself in
real close, your whole face, deep between my legs, and I'll open
the golden portals and let my twat become your whole world. That's
what I want for you. That's how I like it. What's your name, by
the way?"
"Bob." Why did this remind me of the way I'd met Carrie? The same
question! The same answer, I thought, stupidly. My eyes started
to tear. What had I just done to Carrie? I'd betrayed her! I
crept down onto the carpet in front of the woman with whom I'd
betrayed Carrie and just knelt there, my forehead resting on her
knees, abject. I had tears in my eyes.
She leaned forward and took hold of my head with both hands and
tilted my face up toward hers and leaned close, as if she were
talking to a puppy. "Poor Bobbi," she said. "You do what I tell
you and do a good job and everything will be just fine. There's
nothing to feel sad about. You just tell yourself over and over
that now you're finally where you belong, kneeling between my legs
and kissing my cunt in gratitude for what it's just done for you.
Because this is where you belong now. Tell yourself that. Will
you tell yourself that?"
She continued to hold my head firmly -- she had long, slim,
red-tipped fingers but her hands were strong -- was she a tennis
player? She looked down at me not unkindly. But she was waiting
for an answer and her grip was like a vise. She waited.
"Yes," I said. Anything!
"My sweet Bobbi. I see tears. Well, you just wipe those tears on
my pussy and then lick them all up. Then they'll be all gone, and
there'll be nothing left to cry about! This is where you belong,
Bobbi. Right here. On your knees in front of me licking cum out
of my pussy. Do you want me to open my legs now so you can begin?"
"Yes," I said. She was playing with me, playing cat and mouse with
her pussy and my mouth! Making me agree to everything! I thought
'Let's get this over with!' but realized I'd better not say it, she
would not wish to hear it, there could be repercussions. I had to
do what I had to do and then get out of there fast, before she thought
of more things for me to do. I had to get back home, pull myself
together, think this through, do some damage assessment! Decide
what to tell Carrie when she gets home and senses there's something
different about me. About us.
But Carrie won't be home for a few more days. Maybe there's time
to cover this up? Even in my own mind?
"All right then," this woman said in a relaxed, leisurely way.
"Kiss my thigh. Ahhh, so sweet. No, linger there a moment. Now
here you are, sweetheart, enjoy!" She scooted forward until her
rear was half-off the sofa and opened her legs wide and pulled my
head into the gap between them.
Actually, it wasn't too bad. She had a very pretty pink cunt,
shiny with our smeared fluids, her shy clit peeking out from its
folds, a little larger than Carrie's. There was a pearly glop
half-caught just within. I closed my eyes and went to work on her
like a dog licking out a dog bowl. My tongue went in and out and
up and down that tender pink slot with those moist lips, while she
lay almost on her back with her bottom rising and falling off the
edge of the sofa, enjoying it all, occasionally moaning.
My cum coated my tongue like thin pancake syrup, only salty instead
of sweet. Mixed with hers it soon filled my mouth. I was reluctant
to swallow, but as I licked, she grew more and more tense, squeezing
out more and more. Then with a great groan she went into an orgasmic
spasm and delivered gouts of ropy jism out of her depths into my face,
and I had to swallow, then sucked up and swallow down more. It was
strange stuff, at first disgusting, like phlegm, but much smoother,
finer in texture. I was surprised to find I didn't mind, and could
even swallow avidly. It was a little bit exciting to think that
there were now live sperm swimming inside me. Peciliar but exciting.
By the time I'd emptied her and licked up the last of of me and
it was all her own juices, she was nearing another orgasm. So I
felt I had to keep going. She tasted like a girl in college who'd
once asked me to go down on her, and like Carrie too. It was
pleasant! She smelled fresh, flowery fragrant, not at all musky
or fishy, faintly soapy. She'd had her morning shower and sprayed
cologne on her pussy, I supposed, and then she'd waited for me to
retrieve the morning newspaper. Perhaps she'd baited her trap
by moving it out to the road herself. And I'd fallen for a trick
like that!
I'd been such a fool! To punish myself and also to get it over
with I licked and sucked and poked and swiped and swallowed her
relentlessly! Desperately! Up above, she began to moan yet again.
She was writhing and pressing her groin against my face as if trying
to swallow my head. "Oh, good!" she uttered aloud involuntarily as I
nibbled her clit, and she lifted her whole crotch to angle it more
toward me. "Oh, yes! Yes!" I tried to lift my face away but she
pulled my head back into her pussy and wriggled even more, until my
whole nose was deep inside her slit. "More!" she commanded. Finally
when I'd licked and swallowed her repeatedly, her whole torso rose
once more and stiffened, then descended again, and her thighs went
slack. Her hands fell away from my head.
"Yes," she whispered to herself. "So good! This is where you
belong! This is what you'll do!"
I waited a decorous moment or so while she recovered. Then stood
up and again looked toward the door. She didn't stir. Instead she
merely said, "You can't go outside like that, you know, Bobbi
honey. Practically naked? Whatever can you be thinking?"
I looked down at her. She was now lying back voluptuously,
negligently at her ease, that same half-smile on her lips,
her eyes now wide open again, large and innocent, seemingly
innocent but staring straight at me. Her pale pink chiffon gown
lay in disarray across her body. Both of her breasts now hung
pendulously in full view, the neatly trimmed bush I'd been mouthing
was only half covered, and her legs sprawled carelessly open. It was
as if the proprieties no longer mattered, her appearance in my eyes
no longer mattered, modesty no longer mattered, she had nothing to
hide from me, because I no longer mattered. It crossed my mind
that probably even her husband never saw her lounging this
casually, this indifferently, her most intimate parts carelessly
exposed to full daylight. I wasn't her lover. I wasn't her equal.
My opinion of her, how she looked, didn't count, not any more.
Now I was a kind of body servant, an extension of her will, something
to be used. A pet lap dog? A ladies' maid? A convenience?
I was baffled by that relaxed nonchalance. It seemed intended to
put me in my place. As her fucktoy? I didn't move.
"Mmmm, kiss my titties, Bobbi. Again. You forgot to." She
stretched out her arms wide. The session wasn't over yet.
"I can't, I've got to go!"
"Wearing what?" she asked again. "That rag you think is protecting
your virtue, whatever may be left of it?"
I was getting impatient. "Watch me!" I replied.
"Oh, my dear, just look at those undies of yours, sticky with cum.
Our cum! Delicious enough I'm sure, judging by the eager way you
lapped it up. But it isn't very decent for you to wear them in the
open air in daylight, in the street. Just look at them, torn wide
open. What might our neighbors think? What might I think? Your
penis is hanging out. It's a pretty penis, it suits you, I loved
using it! But even so!"
My shorts were indeed torn wide open, she'd torn them herself. In
the midst of all those dips, bobs, and wheels astride me she'd
reached down on either side and wrenched them wide open and they'd
ripped. I'd assumed it was to give her hole access to the full
length of my cock, which was already altogether inside her anyhow.
Why else?
"And your face -- it's so cute, really, I'm sure I'm not the first
girl to tell you that. But right now it's all caked and gleaming,
all soaked in cum and saliva and sweat and tears too, you poor
dear. One eyelid is half-glued shut! All those love juices!
Surely you don't want our security cameras to see you slinking away
with that stuff covering you like the icing on a cake! What a
before and after set of pictures! You entering the house with me
in only a pair of undershorts, but still, decently covered, kissing
me on the doorstep before coming here to a more private place.
Kissing me very affectionately too, I loved those little moues and
mouthings. But do you want our cameras to show you leaving looking
the way you do now? That's rather more ... suggestive, don't you
think? Not everyone who sees the security tapes will think the
better of you for doing what you just did!. Just think about it."
She closed her eyes and waited. Security cameras! She'd recorded
me following her into the house! Being led into the house? How
could I get out without being seen? Through a window? No, of
course, she was a woman supposedly alone all day in this isolated
house! So of course there were cameras. her husband would have set
them up probably everywhere! So only invited guests could enter
the house, and if anyone misbehaved the evidence would be
unimpeachable! My God, were there cameras inside the house too,
in every room? Even in this room? She had an open marriage, she
had nothing to fear from exposure. But I had everything to fear.
What was that reference to 'everyone who sees the security tapes'?
Who might see them? Police? Could she charge me with some crime?
I didn't think so!
"Security cameras?" I could barely croak the words out.
Her innocent eyes looked up at me. "Tom worries about my safety
when he's not here. He likes to look in on me now and then," she
said. "What with all my visitors coming and going in different
rooms. He wants everyone to know he's watching, and that it's all
being recorded. For my sake, and everyone else's reputation."
In all the rooms? My God! And what did "look in" and "now and
then" mean? Did those cameras broadcast or broadband their images
to his office? Or something? Had all my fucking and sucking been
transmitted live as it was being recorded?
I asked her, and she nodded reassuringly. Then I got frantic!
Terrified! Carrie could know! She'd see!
She saw the fright in my face and hastened to reassure me. "Oh no,
you're mine now, doll, and I'll take good care of you," she said.
"Don't you worry at all. Just kiss my titties goodbye for now, and
I'll let you go. You'll be fine."
"For now," I repeated, my heart sinking.
Her eyes never wavered, though her eyebrows curved sympathetically.
"That's right, honey. 'For now.' Now that we've finally met, I
know we're going to be very friendly."
"I have a wife," I said quietly. I felt forlorn. "I don't want to
be unfaithful to her. I won't fuck you ever again. I don't want
to hurt her."
She seemed genuinely surprised. "Oh?" she said, "That sounds very
firm. How very man of principle!" She paused thoughtfully. "Yes,
honey, I know you have a wife. It's so darling that you don't want
to be 'unfaithful' to her! Wherever did she find a man like you?"
She considered the matter, then a sly grin came over her face.
"All right, you be as faithful to her as you can be, and we'll do
other things I've always wanted to do with a man. You've got a
lovely penis, but I have lots of others. We won't fuck any more,
Bobbi. There, does that make you feel better? But what about
everything else? Would she want to know about the other things
we've done? How ardent you are when you suck cum out of my pussy,
how you're such a gentleman that you don't stop until I've had
multiple orgasms, one after the other? What about the other things
I'll want to do with you? I myself believe in absolute honesty
between husbands and wives. Tom and I tell each other everything,
if either of us happens to ask. But perhaps you have a different
relationship? "
She waited again. She seemed to think I should respond. She also
seemed to think I'd be coming back here again! No way!
"We do have a different relationship," I said, feeling superior to
her. "No, I don't want Carrie to know," I added. And now I felt
like a sneak, that this woman was the one who was morally upright!
Clearly, I was now implicated in a conspiracy to deceive Carrie.
Trapped. I'd made the trap myself, and this woman would see to it
that I remained there. But what could I do? After what I'd done
this morning, how could I re-establish absolute honesty? Tell
Carrie what I'd just done?
"You don't want her to know," she said. "I'll remember that. And
you'll remember that too, won't you?"
There was a brief pause while her meaning sank in. She'd keep my
secret as long as I did the "other things" she wanted to do with
me.
Then suddenly she sat up straight and thrust her chest at me.
"You'll want to kiss my titties now I think, by way of saying
'thank you' to me for this whole morning's pleasures, Bobbi. Let's
see what kind of a sweet baby you can be. And I want to find out
something else too. Let me see, I'm looking for that hand cream I
was using in this room just before I went out this morning to meet
you, I'm sure it's here somewhere. Yes. Do take off those awful
undies so I can throw them away. And lie down here alongside me
and come rest in my arms, and hug me, tuck my breasts into your
mouth, and kiss my nipples. Suck on them, you darling!" She
patted the cushion next to her.
I did those things. I lay myself naked in her arms and licked and
sucked on her generous boobs, feeling forlorn, snared. I felt
terrible. Yet oddly, as she clasped me to her, her soft, warm
bosom was comforting. Just taking her whole breast tip into my
mouth and pressing my face into those capacious globes, I could
forget what this woman had just done to me, to my marriage. Was
doing. What I'd done. I closed my eyes and moaned like an infant,
working my tongue around her thick, erect nipple. And when she
moved my mouth to her other breast, I didn't open my eyes, I only
resumed nursing.
And as I sucked, and my mind filled with an uneasy contentment, I
felt her hand slide down from where it had been resting on my bare
buttocks and reach to probe my rear with one finger, then another.
She was seeking my asshole. Her fingers felt cool and slick,
almost greasy -- I supposed she'd found that hand cream. One
finger poked at my opening and entered it. Then a second finger
joined with the first one. Her fingers were inside me!
"There, there, baby," she said soothingly. "You just lie here in
my arms and let yourself go, just concentrate on kissing my nipples
and nuzzling my breast, and sucking on me, and how nice I feel now
that I'm inside you, and we'll soon have you feeling very nice
indeed. Very nice! The nicest you can feel."
And those two fingers in my anus began to slide back out, then in
again. Slowly at first, but then deeper. In and out. At first I
felt full, as if I needed a bowel movement, but then I felt empty,
as if something was missing. Then full again, nice, just as she'd
said. Gradually the full feeling changed to something else, more
than full, a fulfillment, a peculiar yearning that grew until it
had me reaching for some kind of completion inside myself. She was
finger-fucking me. Masturbating me somehow from inside. I'd done
that to Carrie's pussy often enough, but this was the first woman
who'd ever done it to me. Had I just lost my virginity?
I whined, and held her more tightly, my face buried in her soft,
warm titty, my mouth now working furiously on her thick, turgid
nipple. Her fingers flew in and out of me, almost as if fluttering
like a bird inside a deep cave. The yearning in me rose higher and
higher.
And then I came! My penis pulsed repeatedly! Oh, God, it was so
great! My ass muscles clenched tight on her fingers with each
pulse, squeezing and hugging them in gratitude. As she felt my
body finally relax she hugged me tightly with her other arm and
said "There, there, Bobbi baby, didn't I tell you? Isn't that
nice? You're so wonderfully responsive!"
I had no reply. My mouth was still filled to the brim with titty.
But I whined again in response. I couldn't tell myself if it was
a whine of satisfaction or of defeat. "Just lick and suck me now,
sweetie," she whispered. "Since you don't want to be a man with me,
you can be my baby. Tomorrow I won't ask you to be a man at all."
She held my head to her breast. I licked and sucked. Now and then
she moaned, or sighed, content. "No, not a man," she whispered to
herself. "This will be such fun!" I nursed on her and almost fell
asleep. I was no longer in a rush to leave. I felt reassured,
somehow. Maybe she could make things right?
Finally she lifted my head away from her breast and said "There,
there, that's enough now. Don't be too greedy the first day, baby.
Would you like some coffee before you go?"
I accepted, and followed her into the kitchen. I was still stark
naked and her chiffon peignoir was still draped carelessly on her
partly naked body. I felt like Adam after he ate the apple, and I
told her so. She smiled, clearly enjoying her own implied role as
Eve the temptress. I told her how deeply ashamed I was, ashamed of
betraying my wife, ashamed of what we'd done sexually, even of my
nakedness. "You'll live," was all she said, before taking a sip.
She sounded confident. "And she will too. You were born for what
we did this morning. And you know it was great. So cheer up."
Eventually she disappeared upstairs, then came back with something.
"Here," she said. "Wear this home."
It was one of her robes, pink with huge floppy sleeves and a wide
satin collar -- very feminine. Did I have a choice? When I put it
on I expected her to laugh. Instead, she looked at me intently,
then seemed reassured. "Yes, that's possible too," she said to
herself. Then to me, "Bobbi baby, you're a natural! It's amazing!
That's robe's so very flattering. We'll certainly have to do more
of that!"
I felt embarrassed. I asked her if she had something else,
something of her husband's maybe that I could wear instead past her
security cameras, say another pair of undershorts.
"Oh, no," she declared flatly. "We keep our personal affairs
separate, Tom and I, that's our arrangement. He doesn't lend my
panties to his women, and I don't lend his briefs to my men."
She sipped her coffee and thought about it some more. Then added
cheerfully, "But I can lend you a pair of my panties, if you want
to feel covered, if they'd help you feel better! You've already
said it, you don't want me to think of you as a man or to use you
like a man. Because you want to stay faithful to your wife. Well,
I can respect that. But believe me, my husband is very much a man.
So his clothes aren't really appropriate, they'd give me naughty
ideas about your manhood again, and who knows where that might
lead? Isn't it better for you to wear clothes that don't remind me
of your manhood? That help keep you faithful to your wife when
we're together?"
I couldn't tell if she was teasing or taunting me, or just thinking
aloud. "I guess so."
We stood up. "I knew you'd agree." she said cheerfully. "Keep the
robe for now," she said. "It's better than walking naked past the
security cameras. Wear it proudly. We'll get you something more
appropriate next time."
"Who looks at these security camera tapes?" I asked, annoyed.
"Whenever you remind me of them, you seem to be threatening me with
them!"
"Why no, Bobbi, quite the reverse, I want to protect you from
embarrassment with them," she said, as if hurt. "My husband
monitors them now and then wherever he may be. In his office or
anywhere in the country. Recorded or live, I never know.
Sometimes because he's lonely and he feels better if he can see
that I'm not, he loves me, the dear. Sometimes to reassure his
girlfriends about our arrangement, so they can enjoy him without
feeling sorry for me. Mostly though its a security precaution, as
I said, a way to assure that any gentleman who comes here remains
a gentlemen." She paused. "Unless I ask him to be something else.
Then with what's already recorded, they help assure that he'll want
to be that something else for me too!"
As I thought. Not exactly blackmail, because it never got that
far. Intimidation, maybe, with fear of exposure. "Then there are
cameras inside the house too," I said. "In every room. Aren't
there? He may be looking at us right now?"
She almost laughed. "Oh, Bobbi, what an idea!" she said. "For me
the idea's comforting, but perhaps you'd best not think about it at
all! It might embarrass you!"
She didn't deny it. I was now anxious to leave, and stood up. She
showed me out, and at her front door she stopped to kiss me yet
again. "This has been so much fun," she murmured. "Even better
than I'd hoped. Call me tonight so we can confirm tomorrow. I
definitely want you tomorrow, probably around noon and then all
afternoon, probably the evening too. Then day after tomorrow
we'll see. This will be so very marvelous! Much more fun than
fucking! It's more fun already!" Her eyes glinted in the
sunlight.
We stood together by the front entrance while she said these things
and I looked in vain for the security camera. Maybe in a nearby
tree, surveilling both of us this very moment? The whole world had
turned around since I'd last stood here with her. I felt trapped.
Yet I couldn't say I hadn't enjoyed it.
"What's your name?" I asked her, trying to recover some of my
dignity. My mouth now tasted of coffee instead of cum, but my
asshole still felt a little distended from her fingers, and slick
with her hand cream. It was an odd sensation, as if her fingers
might now somehow slowly slip in and slide out any time she wanted.
"Gail," she said. "Call me Gail when we're with other people, but
I'll appreciate "Ma'am" when we're alone, especially when we're
being intimate. I want you always to show me a certain appropriate
respect, and never forget that I'm in charge of our relationship.
This will be wonderful! You're going to do things with me other
men never do when they're being men, everything except the one
thing of course that you feel makes you unfaithful to your wife.
And we've already done that anyhow. Here's my card with my phone
number. I tell everyone that if they don't call me, not to worry,
I'll call them and if necessary leave messages on their answerers
and voice mails. Which isn't a reliable way to reach them, because
their secretaries and wives and girlfriends sometimes pick up those
messages and then erase them by mistake. And then erase the men
from their affections, too, that happens. Call me this evening and
we'll confirm our time tomorrow. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," I replied. I understood well enough. But now I was
thinking about her saying I can call her by her proper name 'when
we're with other people'? Does that mean what it seems to mean?
She will want me to meet 'other people'? Other people talk! They
gossip! Carrie will surely find out about us! What does this
woman have in mind?
I was so worried that I didn't look at her card until that evening,
when I had to know her phone number to confirm the hour she'd
specified for our ... assignation. I wondered how she knew I'd be
free tomorrow, and the next day too. That Carrie would be away the
whole time. How could she know that? We'd never met before, and
she'd certainly never met Carrie!
The answer was printed on her card. "Gail Hanover" it read. I sat
down and reread it. That was what it said.
"Gail Hanover" was a name Carrie and I had bandied back and forth
in the past, because many of Carrie's projects were first proposed
by someone with that name, and when Carrie'd brought them off,
"Gail Hanover" had written her the congratulatory notes. Gail
Hanover was majority stockholder of "Hanover Associates." She'd
inherited the company from her parents. Her husband Tom was the
president. Carrie was one of the "associates." Gail's husband was
Carrie's boss, and Gail was in effect Carrie's boss's boss as well
as his wife. I'd just fucked the boss's wife, and now she meant to
use me for whatever other kinds of pleasure met her fancy. The
security cameras alone weren't what would keep me in line. Nor was
it just my desire to keep this liaison secret from Carrie, so Carrie
wouldn't leave me, divorce me on the spot. I was also playing for
Carrie's career. If I blew it, Carrie would suffer for my sins.
This morning, when Gail Hanover had pulled my prick into her house
and then sat down on it, I really had gotten myself fucked.
I called Gail as instructed. She sounded almost impersonal. "Oh
yes, it's Bobbi, isn't it. Well, I do want you here at noon, and
plan on making yourself available the rest of the day and well into
the evening. I assume that's no problem. Come dressed the way you
left me." And before I could reply she hung up.
Carrie called an hour or so later, just as I was going to bed
exhausted. As she always did at least once when away, to ask how
things were going. I'm sure I sounded nervous, edgy, guilty, I
don't know what else. Luckily she was too hurried to notice.
Things were going other than as anticipated, as usual, more
surprises, more hassles But she was keeping up with them and she'd
changed her game plan, and certain outcomes were already better
than expected. She was learning things she'd never known, and the
challenge was frankly exciting. But she had to cut the call short
now, she was being paged, and she apologized for it. Just as well,
I was thinking. I was afraid to prolong our conversation right now
anyway. She missed me, she said. "Do you miss me too?"
"Very much," was all I could say. My voice broke, and I was
choking. I was sure she could hear it.
She did. "Awww, sweetie," she said. "Well, don't feel bad!
Please, believe me, there's no reason. I'll be home before you
know it. Love ya! Have fun!"
Always more concerned for me than for herself! I went to bed
miserable, sobbing for my lost virtue, and fortunately fell asleep
almost at once.
end 2/9
VickieTern@AOL.COM
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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