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CH 20
JR went out of state on an engineering job for a few weeks and I grew very horny while he was away. We spoke on the phone several times and I talked dirty to him, describing what I was wearing, and not wearing, and telling him what I wanted him to do to me. Unfortunately he was very busy and we didn’t have many opportunities for naughty phone talk. I got hornier after each conversation. When I was alone I watched the videos of myself rotating under the waterfall of melted wax, over and over, and I played with myself and I had many orgasms. But it just wasn’t enough. Finally I decided that I would do something very daring.
I got dressed in a skimpy hooker outfit with a skirt so short that when I was standing still it barely covered my pussy and when I sat the skirt hiked up and my pussy was exposed. The skirt was green and although I was tempted to go out wearing only it, I finally decided that discretion was the better part of exhibitionism, so I wore a pair of green panties which gave me the barest amount of decorum, and added my pussy chain with a bell over the panties. I slipped on a transparent bra under a semi transparent yellow blouse, then I drove to the motel.
I called ahead and told the clerk that I was coming and he was waiting outside with his camera when I arrived. We went through our routine of me exposing my panties as I opened my car door and he taking pictures. I stretched and looked around and pretended not to notice him, all with my legs wide apart. Then I got out strutted around, dropped my purse and squatted to pick it up (legs open again), dropped it again and bent over with my back to him, and after he’d shot two full rolls of film I climbed onto the hood of my car, rested my feet on the bumper and opened my knees wide. He frantically reloaded film into the camera and got do flustered that he dropped a roll and had to crawl under the car to retrieve it. I was standing over him on wide spread feet when he emerged from beneath the car. He grinned and shot another roll lying flat on his back.
Then I lifted my skirt and wiggled my hips to get my little bell jingling. There was no one in the motel parking lot but I heard brakes screeching and looked to see a taxi stopped dead in the street. The driver was staring at me open mouthed. I made a kissy face and wiggled my boobies at him, then I strolled into the lobby.
The clerk held the door for me and patted me on the bottom as I entered. I stopped in the doorway, took his hand off my bottom and guided it to my pussy. His eyes widened and I let him caress my crotch, right in full sunlight.
“Does this mean that I'm going to get lucky today?” he asked.
“No, not quite,” I answered, “But you are going to get luckier than you ever have been so far.”
“Whoa.”
He flicked the bell a couple of times, and I closed my legs and clamped his hand between them. I’ve never behaved so sluttishly in my life, and boy was it fun. I glanced over his shoulder and saw the cab coming into the parking lot.
“Give me a minute,” I told the clerk, and strolled over to the cab.
I bent over and leaned on his window, giving him a good look at my breasts.
“Is there something on your mind?” I asked.
He was quite bold and simple grabbed one of my breasts. I squealed as he gave it a firm squeeze.
“How much, honey?” he asked.
“How much have you got?” I asked.
“A hundred bucks?” he offered.
“Don't be silly,” I laughed.
“Yeah,” he grinned, “It was worth a try. How about two hundred then?”
“Sorry, but you aren't even close,” I said. By then he'd tugged my blouse down and had his hand inside my bra.
He started to raise the bid but I stopped him.
“I didn't mean to get your hopes up, but I'm busy for the rest of the day.”
“Some other time then?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
He was still squeezing my breast and twisted in his seat to get both hands on my boobs. It felt very good, and I gasped when he slid a hand under my skirt and grabbed my pussy. He felt my pussy chain and yanked his hand back in surprise, then he lifted my skirt and saw the chain.
“Well that's sexy as hell,” he said. He slipped a finger between the chain and my body and rubbed it up and down.
I came very, very, close to changing my mind and getting in that cab. I let him fondle my body for a few minutes then straightened up and pushed his hands away.
“Go away,” I laughed. “You're too tempting.”
He started to put the car in gear, then reached into his shirt pocket and took out some money. He grabbed the waistband of my skirt and pulled me close. He slipped a bill into my cleavage, then yanked my skirt up and tucked another under my chain.
“What's this, a down payment?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Then he drove away.
My legs were shaking as I walked to the office. The clerk was lowering his camera.
“Did you get all that?” I asked.
“Yep, and those pictures it ought to be very interesting How much did you make?”
I retrieved the money. Both were twenties.
“Forty dollars,” I said.
“Not bad for letting a guy feel you up for five minutes.”
“Now, don't be jealous,” I told him, placing his hand between my legs. “After all, I don't charge you anything.”
He grinned and motioned me inside. I climbed onto the counter and opened my legs. I let him take pictures up my skirt as I posed on the couch, sprawled on the floor, on top of the desk, and on the stool behind the counter. The clerk began taking liberties with my body. At first he pretended to be adjusting my position for the best pose, with a pat here or and casual hand on my chest, but pretty soon he was blatantly groping me, and I didn’t object. I was really on fire when he played with my crotch from behind as I knelt on the counter. That was the same position I was in when that man walked in a couple of years earlier. I wouldn’t have minded if he had shown up again.
The clerk slipped his hand inside my panties and his fingers inside me, then the panties seemed miraculously to vanish. By the time he ran out of film I was naked except for my pussy chain and my skirt which was bunched up around my waist. (I never figured out how he got my panties off with the chain over them, but he did). Somewhere along the way my blouse, shoes and stockings had come off as well. People walked through the parking lot and some passed close to the lobby but no one noticed what we were doing just inside the window.
I was lying on the counter with my knees apart and my hands behind my head. The clerk had a fantastic erection and I was just about to suggest that he take me to our room when he glanced out the window. A look of alarm came over his face. I looked and saw two men in suits getting out of a car.
“Quick, get out of sight,” he told me. “Those guys are vice cops and they will shut me down if they see you like this.”
“Goody,” I giggled. “Then you will have all afternoon to play with me.”
“No,” he said vehemently. “I’ll lose my job, and that would be the end of our little arrangement. Now get in the back office and stay there.” He opened the office door then scrambled to get my clothes and shoes. He threw them into my arms.
The officers looked around for a moment scanning the area, then walked slowly to the office. The clerk was standing casually at the door. He glanced back and nearly panicked when he saw that I was standing topless behind the counter. I smiled sweetly at him, then sank to the floor. They didn’t see me.
I made room for myself, quietly moving a trash can and backing into the space under the counter, then I squirmed out of my skirt and crouched naked.
The clerk greeted the cops and offered them coffee. They chatted and I heard the liquid being poured. The clerk poured himself a cup, then he walked to behind the counter. His eyes widened when he saw me. They widened more when I opened my legs as wide as the space permitted and motioned him to come close. He took a deep breath and stepped in front of me. I touched his crotch.
He felt as hard as iron.
He chatted with the officers about football and the weather and cars. The policemen didn’t seem to be in any hurry and poured themselves a second cup of coffee. I unzipped the clerk’s fly.
I had to suppress a giggle when his penis popped out very hard and very long. I squeezed it. He inhaled very deeply.
The clerk tried gamely to keep up his end of the conversation, but he went into a stuttering spell when I slipped my mouth over his cock but the officers didn’t seem to notice. I toyed with that delightful masculine organ, being careful not to make him cum. I didn’t know if he would be able to spurt quietly and for his sake I didn’t want the cops to find me. (Although I would have loved to have seen their faces if they'd discovered me).
As I gently licked his cock it suddenly occurred to me that this was only the third penis that I’d every touched in my life. I’d been a virgin when I met my husband, and JR was the second man that I'd made love to. I felt a twinge of guilt when I thought of him, but that passed quickly when the clerk leaned forward and his cock slammed into the back of my throat. The back of my head bumped the counter. I gagged and made a noise. The clerk began drumming on the counter to cover it.
I heard another police officer come in. From the jingle of his equipment I knew that he must be a patrolman. He had seen the vice officers and stopped to talk. He mentioned that he had noticed a hooker earlier in the parking lot. He had been on his way to a call and didn’t have time to stop but he thought that she might have come in to the office. The room was quiet and I knew that the cops were looking at my friend.
“Yeah, she came in,” he told them, “But I ran her off. You guys know I don’t allow any funny stuff here.”
“Who was she?” one of the detectives asked.
“I don’t know her,” the clerk said, “She's not a regular but she was really skanky looking.”
What a sweet thing to say about me. I was flattered and gave the clerk’s cock a sweet kiss. Then a thought hit me. Since I had accepted money from the cabbie, did that make me a real prostitute? True, I hadn't screwed him or sucked his penis, but I did allow him to touch my body. Mmmm, maybe that constituted prostitution and I was officially a hooker. How fun.
“Skanky is right,” the uniformed cop affirmed. “I didn’t recognize her as one of the locals, but she had huge tits and nice legs.”
“Description?” the detective asked.
“White female in her forties, sexy as hell,”
“Sexy or skanky?” a detective asked.
“Both,” the clerk answered.
“Yep, she looked good for her age,” the patrolman said. “She didn't have that burnt out, wrinkled face that the regular hookers have.”
“She wasn't bad looking,” the clerk affirmed, “For her age.”
For my age? I was tempted to bite his penis, hard.
“Ok,” the detective said. “We've got a nice looking slutty white female, big boobs, light brown hair, big boobs, yellow blouse and green micro skirt, and, oh yeah big boobs.”
“Yup.”
“Micro skirt?” the other detective asked.
“Yeah, the shortest skirt I've ever seen on a woman.”
“That's for sure,” the clerk confirmed.
I glanced down at the yellow blouse and green skirt lying between my feet then I looked at the big boobs. I put my hands under them and jiggled them
“She was rearing really high heels,” the clerk offered,” Expensive looking ones with rhinestones on the heels and toes.”
“That’s right,” the uniformed cop confirmed, “And she had big boobs.”
The shoes were also on the floor between my knees. I picked one up and tapped the clerk’s cock with it.
“I got the part about her shoes,” the detective said, “But what was that about the boobs?”
“Big,” the cop said.
“Very big,” the clerk agreed.
“How big?”
“Ten pounders,” the officer said, “Apiece”.
“Yeah, easily tens,” the clerk affirmed, “Maybe twelves.”
I pulled him into my mouth with suction and pressed my boobs against his knees, which began to tremble.
“You have a thing for big boobs, don’t you Johnson,” the detective laughed.
“Damn right.”
Which way did she go?” the detective asked the clerk.
“I think she went down,” he answered. They all laughed.
I rewarded him by licking his balls. One of my hands was gently stroking his penis and the other was deep in my pussy. And my breasts were still rubbing against his legs.
“Oh, is that her?” the clerk asked. He suddenly began humping my mouth rapidly. I realized that the officers must be looking out the window. It was very sexy. He stopped when they turned back.
“No, wrong gal,” officer Johnson said. I kept sucking.
I felt a mild thumping against my back and realized that one of the cops was idly tapping the front of the counter with his shoe. Only half an inch of plywood was between his foot and my naked body. That made me feel even sexier.
The officers hung around for about twenty minutes, and I could tell when they weren’t looking because the clerk would hump my mouth madly for a few seconds.
Eventually the cops left. The detectives thanked the clerk for the coffee and said that they would cruise around and see if they could find that nasty looking hooker with the big boobs. The instant they walked out the clerk began thrusting rapidly into my mouth. He thrust so hard that my head hit the back of the counter and I began to giggle. He thrust harder and I grabbed his butt and pulled him into my face and he spurted. I was delighted and astonished to feel the most massive amount of semen fill my mouth. He gushed so much that my mouth couldn't hold it all and I had to pull back. He was still shooting and I watched fascinated at the cum still spurting while his pelvis thrust toward me. When he finished my face and hair and chest were coated with cum.
I had an orgasm too.
He staggered back and collapsed on the floor. I shoved both hands into my pussy, and when my orgasm hit I slammed backwards against the counter, then toppled forward flat on my face between his outstretched legs.
I raised my face after a moment and his penis brushed my nose. My hands were still busy in my vagina and another orgasm slammed through me. He grabbed my hair and pressed my face against his cock. I was blindly seeking it with my mouth when we heard a car door slam outside.
“Damn!”
The clerk staggered to his feet and yanked me upright. He pushed me into the tiny bathroom and closed the door behind us. I sagged onto the toilet while he zipped his trousers and tried to tidy his clothing. We heard to entry bell ring as the door opened.
“Stay here,” he hissed at me. He took a deep breath and tried to walk normally to his post.
I slouched on the toilet allowing my legs to sprawl apart. I listened to him talking to someone outside. I slipped the door open a crack and saw a man and woman checking in. I thought about walking out naked but they looked like nice people so I behaved myself.
I looked in the mirror. My face was covered with semen so I massaged it into my skin. Some was in my hair too so I splashed water on it and tried to comb it into some kind of order. I noticed splatters of cum on my breasts so I rubbed it in too.
When they left he opened the door and handed me my clothes and shut the door.
“Where are my panties?” I asked when I came out. He grabbed me and gave me along fantastic kiss. I wondered if he could taste his own cum on my lips and tongue. It made my pussy throb.
“Are you ready to go again?” I asked, “Shall I get under the counter?”
“Hell yes,” he started, then looked up. “Damn.”
Another car was pulling in to the parking lot. Behind it was a second car. I stepped back into the inner office and waited as he handled several guests. More were coming in. The Broncos were playing a home game tomorrow and the motel was only a few blocks from the stadium. A caravan of fans had arrived from out of town and were checking in. He looked at me and shrugged, silently asking me to be patient. I responded by raising my skirt for him. That reminded me that my panties were still missing. I looked around but couldn’t see them. I got on my hands and knees and crawled to the counter. The clerk tried to ignore me as I crawled over his feet and even when I nuzzled his crotch with the side of my face like a cat. My panties weren’t under the counter, so I peeked around it at the lobby. I saw peoples’ feet but no panties, I crawled back to the office. A marker was on the desk and I used it to write on a note pad: ‘Where are my panties????’
The clerk shot me an impatient look that said: ‘Not now, I’m busy.’
More cars arrived and it was obvious that he was going to be stuck at the counter for a long time. A small crowd was forming in the lobby and outside in the parking lot as the fans made plans for dinner. The clerk looked at me and let his shoulders sag. I knew what he meant.
I nodded and blew him a kiss. I started to leave but he asked the customers to wait for a moment and came in to the inner office. He took the marker, pushed me against the wall and pulled my skirt up. I giggled wondering if he was going to screw me while his customers waited. He had a different plan. He knelt at my feet, unhooked my pussy chain, then carefully drew an X through JR’s brand. Then he signed his name in large flowing script across my belly. He reconnected the chain, kissed me again and went back to the customers. I let myself out the back door.
CH 21
I walked down the alley very pleased with myself and my pussy bell tinkled happily as I walked.
A guy was changing a tire on an old car in the alley and he stared at me open mouthed. He dug into his wallet and counted his money.
“Hey baby, I got fifty bucks,” he said hopefully. He looked dirty, otherwise in the mood I was in, I'd have screwed him for free, but I laughed and shook my head.
Wow, two offers in one day, maybe I should go into business.
I rounded the building and the crowd outside the office got very quiet when I reached the parking lot. Some of the men made comments and I wiggled my butt in appreciation. I waved at the clerk through the window, flashed the crowd as I got into my car, then drove away.
A few blocks later I saw a police car. I caught up, drove along side and matched speed, never looking at the officer. But he noticed me, dropped behind and turned on his red and blue lights. My pussy tingled as I pulled into a parking lot.
I didn’t know if he had been the cop in the motel, but just on the chance that he was ‘Johnson who liked big boobs’ I undid one more button on my blouse
“May I ask why you stopped me?” I inquired icily when he came to the window. “I'm certain that I wasn’t speeding.”
“No ma am,” he answered looking me over. His eyes lingered on my breasts, “We’re looking for a woman that matches your description. Would you wait here please?”
He took my license and went back to his car. I watched in the mirror as he talked on the radio, and a moment later the plain clothes detectives arrived. They came to my car.
“Yes?” I demanded haughtily. The detectives weren’t impressed at my demeanor.
“We are looking for a woman who looks a lot like you,” one said as he scanned the inside of my car. His eyes examined my breasts and my legs.
“So I’ve been told. Why are you looking for her?”
“Suspicion of prostitution,” he said.
I gasped, and stuck out my chest indignantly. Their eyes went to my breasts.
“Well, do I look like a prostitute? I demanded, fully aware that my nipples were poking against my blouse.
“Oh no. Not at all,” he said sarcastically, “Except for that short little skirt and your open blouse.”
If I’d opened my legs half an inch he would have seen my pussy. I looked down and saw the tiniest glint of gold peeking from under my skirt. I was so wet that I was sure that I’d stick to the car seat if I tried to get up. I wondered if they couldn’t smell my very damp pussy, or the semen on my face. I made a show of buttoning my blouse, but only one button.
“I wear this short little skirt because I teach dance classes,” I told him frostily, “And I was running late so I didn’t change after class.”
“Oh, I see,” he raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. “Would you mind showing me your shoes?”
I started to lift my foot, but that was a mistake. My pussy was exposed the instant I moved. I opened the door and swung my feet out to the ground. I kept my legs clamped tightly together. The cops watched every move.
The detective looked at my shoes for a moment, then held out his hand and said: “May I?”
I bent forward trying to keep my pussy concealed, but that only meant that I pressed my breasts against my knees and another button popped open on my blouse. I took off one shoe and held it for him to see. He took it from my hand and examined the rhinestones, then showed it to his partner while I fumbled with my buttons.
“Do those look like the shoes of a prostitute?” I asked.
“Only if she were a successful one,” he said. “These are expensive. Most of the girls around here don't make enough afford them.”
“I was employee of the month,” I said dripping sarcasm. “My pimp gave me a plaque and these shoes.”
He stared at me in amazement, then shouted with laughter.
“And it is illegal to wear this kind of shoe?” I demanded.
“Not at all, but most hookers wear felony fliers.”
“What are felony fliers?” I asked puzzled. I'd never heard the term.
“Tennis shoes,” he said. “Generally with thick soles and good arch support. After all, prostitutes spend a lot of time on their feet.”
“Oh, well I'm a highly successful prostitute so I spend all of my time on my back.”
He laughed again and I couldn't quite suppress a smile. He had an infectious laugh, and he was almost friendly the way he acknowledged my riposte.
The detective was still chuckling when the uniformed officer returned and handed him my driver’s license. “She’s clear,” he said. “The license is valid, and she has no record of any contact or arrest, not even traffic violations.”
The detective showed him my shoe and they both smiled knowingly.
“Are you satisfied?” I demanded.
“You may be clear under this name,” he said. “But do you go by any other names?”
“Certainly, I am also called Linda Loose Legs at my church.”
He laughed so hard that he had to lean against my car. “Damn, that's great.”
“Is there anything else you require from me?” I tried very hard to keep my stern demeanor, but I was starting to like him and it was hard not to smile.
He looked at my legs and I thought that he was going to say something funny, but he shook his head.
“No ma am, sorry for the inconvenience,” he said insincerely. He stared at my breasts as he handed me my license. And he continued to admire them while I put it back in my purse, then he handed me the shoe.
He watched them as I swung my legs into the car and tossed my shoe on the seat. I closed the door. started to drive away but he stopped me. “It’s against the law to drive a motor vehicle without foot wear.”
I pulled my knee up and slipped the shoe on. I might as well have pulled the skirt up because my pussy and its chain were fully exposed. All three cops’ eyes widened.
“Is that satisfactory?” I demanded, blushing.
“Yes Mrs. Legs, you are now in compliance with the Colorado traffic code, he said officiously, then he grinned.
“Extremely satisfactory,” the other added.
“I've never seen anything more satisfactory,” the patrolman said.
“I hope it isn’t against the law to drive without underwear,” I said nastily. The detective frowned in concentration, then looked at the patrolman.
The uniformed cop took a booklet out of his shirt pocket and pretended to consult it. The detective looked over his shoulder, then shook his head. “No, you’re allowed to drive without panties.”
“Good!” I yanked my skirt up to my waist, slammed my knees apart and put the car in gear.
“Wait,” the detective said. He stuck his head in the window and peered at my crotch. I gasped at his daring. He stared at my pussy, then my breasts, and back to my crotch. He raised up and spoke to the others.
“Is there anything in the law restricting a woman from operating a vehicle while wearing jewelry between her legs?”
The second detective looked closely then shrugged and shook his head. The patrolman stuck his head in my car and examined my pussy chain. Then he leafed through his book again and pretended to find the law. “She's ok,” he told them. “It's permitted so long as the jewelry doesn't use batteries.”
I had to bite my lip not to laugh.
“You do understand ma am that they don't want you ladies getting distracted and having an accident,” he explained seriously, “Otherwise, there are no restrictions.”
I couldn't suppress a giggle.
I was incredibly excited. I was angry at those cops for laughing but excited because they had seen my pussy and I was disappointed that they hadn’t fucked me in the back of the police car, and I was humiliated that they had seen my pussy and I was excited that they had seen my pussy. (Have I ever mentioned that sexual exhibitionism can stir up a lot of conflicting emotions?). I fumed in confusion for a moment, then smiled. After all, I’d just sucked the clerk’s penis while they were in the same room. If only they knew.
The detective gave my pussy a last admiring look, then then waved me on. Our eyes met and he gave me a grin that went past my armor and right into my soul. I blushed and drove away.
I drove home with my skirt still around my waist and I got the attention of several truck drivers. I was so excited that I wanted to stop and play with myself, but I managed to keep a little self control.
When I got home I stripped and admired myself in the mirror. I was delighted to see the clerk’s autograph on my belly, then I set up my camera on a tripod and took several pictures. After that I took a long soak in the tub. When I got out the signature was still there. I tried again to wash it off but the ink remained unchanged. I tried and tried, and I even scrubbed my skin with alcohol and paint thinner. Nothing. I got a little panicky. What if it never came off? What would JR do when he saw proof that I’d been unfaithful?
I drove back to the motel. The clerk was sitting outside the office with a self satisfied look on his face. His eyebrows rose when he saw me.
“Wow, are you ready to go again?” he asked.
“Inside,” I ordered stomping past him. When were in I raised my skirt. He smiled happily.
“I’m not here for sex,” I said. “I want to know what you wrote on my skin with. It won’t come off.”
He frowned in puzzlement. “It was an ordinary felt tip marker. It should wash off easily.”
“Well, it doesn’t come off.” I said angrily.
He opened the desk drawer. “Uh oh,”
“What uh oh?” I demanded.
“This is a laundry marker. It’s indelible.”
“What?”
“Sorry.”
I poked him in the chest. “Find some way to get this off of me,” I yelled.
“Ok, ok, calm down,” he said. “Let me see what I can do.” He read the instructions on the marker, then called the manufacturer. I slumped on the couch while he talked to them. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “By the way, I found your panties,” he handed them to me. I threw them at his face. He caught them and raised them to his lips. I couldn’t quite suppress a smile.
He returned to the phone. After a long conversation he hung up.
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “They gave me a list of things that ought to remove this from human skin, but it apparently takes a number of applications.”
I glared at him. “Get this ink off of me!” I growled through clenched teeth.
“Ok. Look, I get off in half an hour,” he said, “And I’ll go buy the things we need. In the meantime I’ll put you in your usual room and when I get back I’ll apply the stuff to get you cleaned off.”
“Give me the key,” I demanded.
“Don’t you want your panties?” he asked.
“No. you keep them.”
“Wow, thanks.”
I went to the room and sat on the bed.
I stretched out and tied to relax. I glanced down and realized that in my haste I had put on the same clothes from the morning; the green micro skirt and yellow blouse, and they were both dirty, but this time I had no bra, no panties and no pussy chain. To kill time I took my clothes off and washed them in the sink. I hung them up to dry on the shower rod and lay back down. I idly rubbed my belly, and found myself tracing his signature. It was exciting to bear another man's mark on my body. I wondered if JR would allow me to wear both his and the clerk's initials. My pussy began to throb again. After all, I can't really blame him, and I was the one who picked up the marker. I wondered what would have happened if those detectives had arrested me. Would they have strip searched me? And would they have recognized the clerk's name on my belly?
There was a knock on the door and when I opened it I found myself looking at a pizza delivery boy. His eyes widened when he saw me. I jumped behind the door.
“Sorry,” I gasped. I was expecting someone else, uh, my husband.”
“Sure lady,” he said. “Anyway, here is your pizza.”
“I didn't order pizza.”
“The guy at the office paid for it.”
“Oh. Thank you.” I took a deep breath and stepped into view. “Did he tip you as well?”
“Yes ma am.”
I let him look at me. I toyed with the idea of seducing him, and thought how nice it would be to have the clerk come in and catch me with the delivery boy's cock in my mouth. It would serve him right, but the boy was too young so I took the pizza from his hand.
“Thanks very much,” I repeated. “But you probably ought to go, my husband could get here at any minute.”
He grinned and started to back out, but he paused and looked at my tummy.
“What's that writing on your skin?”
“It's Elvis Presley's autograph,” I said, “I got it in the sixties when I was one of his groupies.”
“Wow!” He believed me.
I pushed him out and closed the door. Then I sat cross legged on the bed and ate pizza. It was delicious.
When the clerk knocked on the door my anger had faded, in fact, I was getting aroused again. When he knocked I opened the door and met him in the nude. His eyes widened.
“Does this mean that you aren’t mad at me any more?” he asked. I stuck my tongue out at him. A man across the parking lot did a double take when he saw me. I waved cheerfully at him and closed the door.
The clerk was carrying a large shopping bag. He put it on the table and took the contents out one by one. Bottles of liquid, rubber gloves, washcloths and towels. The last thing was a rubber sheet.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“The solvents are pretty strong, and they say to keep them off of clothing, and stuff.” He stripped the bed clothes and spread the rubber sheet, then he motioned for me to lie down. I felt a sweet little tingle as I did. I lay on the sheet and watched as he removed his clothes.
“Is that to keep the solvents off your clothes too?” I asked sarcastically.
“Uh, yeah, sure. That’s it.”
I snorted.
Then he brought out his camera.
“Oh, you want proof of your crime?” I asked.
“I sure do,” he grinned snapping pictures. “Now open your legs please.”
My anger was fading quickly, and my pussy got quite damp at the sight of that camera.
I posed very naughtily on the bed. He took close ups of the writing, then of my breasts, and of my pussy (after I opened my legs). I spread for the camera, rolled around, knelt and peeked back at him, smiled for the camera between my legs, and put my fingers in my pussy. He went through two rolls of film, then set the camera aside and slipped on a pair of rubber gloves. He opened a bottle of something, poured it onto a cloth and began gently rubbing it on my tummy. I lay back and enjoyed.
The stuff was cool but felt sexy. My nipples perked up instantly. He reached up with his free hand and tweaked one.
He worked diligently and used up the whole bottle. It did nothing to remove the ink, so he opened another.
He kept one hand on my breasts while he rubbed my tummy. I lay back and watched his face. By the time he had used up the contents of a third bottle I realized that he was playing with me. I decide to get even.
“That stuff is making me cold,” I told him.
“Sorry.”
“Would you like to know how my master keeps me warm on cool nights?”
“I can just imagine,” he replied as he pretended to intently swab my abdomen.
“No you can’t,” I said smugly. “He cooks me on a spit.”
His head flew up. “What?”
“He ties me very tightly to a roasting spit then rotates my body over a barbecue grill.”
He looked at me for a long time, then shook his head. “You’re just making that up.”
“Nope, I have pictures and video of myself being roasted.”
“That’s perverse,” he gasped, “Its monstrous.”
“And what you and I have been doing isn’t?” I asked
“Not that perverse,” he spluttered. “Cooking someone is sadistic. It borders on necrophilia.”
“I like being cooked,” I told him. “And since I’m a masochist naturally my master is a sadist. That’s why he and I get along so well.”
“And necrophilia?”
“No, we aren’t into that, I think they call that particular fetish gynophagia.”
“Yes, that’s it,” he agreed. “Sexual cannibalism.”
“I do like being cooked over a fire. It is very erotic, besides, after he cooks me he eats me.”
I told the clerk in great detail how JR cooks me, coats my body with wax, then melts it off, then what he does to me afterwards. The clerk stared open mouthed as I talked. His cock resembled a pole. When I finished talking he reached into the shopping bag and took out a coil of rope.
“Hmmm, what do you plan to do with that?” I asked.
He didn’t answer; he just grabbed my hand and tied a rope around my wrist, then he tied it to the bed post. I was very excited and held out my other hand for him. Then he moved to my ankles. He tied my legs wide open and high in the air. When he was done I tugged at my wrists and the rope slipped.
“Hold it,” I said.
“What?”
“Tie me properly,” I demanded. “These ropes are way too loose.”
“Jesus,” but he retied me correctly. The ropes were delightfully tight, and when he was finished he got between my legs. His penis pointed straight at my pussy.
“Wait,” I said. “You can’t screw me.”
“What?”
“I told you a long time ago that I belong to my master, and no one may fuck me without his permission.”
His jaw dropped.
“You may do anything that you want to me,” I told him, “Except that, you can’t put yourself inside me.”
“You have to be kidding!” he gasped.
I shook my head. “I can’t stop you,” I said. “But it would be the end of our friendship.”
He looked at me for a long time, and I could see his mind working. I wondered if he would ignore my request and screw me anyway, and I must confess that a tiny part of me hoped that he would. The possibility of actually being fucked against my will was thrilling. (Have I ever mentioned that sexual slavery can be confusing?) But he didn’t do it.
“Damn,” he sighed and buried his face in my pussy.
I came instantly.
“Aren’t you supposed to be removing that ink from my body?” I asked, when my eyes focused.
“I decided to lick it off,” he said, looking at me between my legs.”
“Ok.”
He took a long slow, sweet time, and licked every inch of my tummy and my crotch and the insides of my thighs. He had me writhing in pure passion and I was on the verge of begging him to screw me, when he climbed over my chest and thrust his cock between my lips. I began sucking in true delight and he spurted soon. (Yes I know that I told him not to put his penis inside me, but I only meant my pussy).
After he came the clerk collapsed on top of me. He dozed off and I lay contentedly while he snored softly in my ear. (It’s not as if that never happened to me before. Remember, slavery teaches patience). When he woke he raised himself up, looked into my eyes and I felt him getting larger and hard against my legs. He put his mouth on my nipple and began suckling like he was starving for milk. I talked dirty to him and it drove him to try to devour me. He squeezed, and groped and tugged on my breasts, and he sucked them into his mouth as far as he could manage. He nipped my nipples with his teeth, which set off sweet little orgasms, then he sat on my chest and titty fucked me.
Several times.
After coming onto my throat and chin he lay atop me and slept some more. Then he woke up and did it again.
He is a young man and very virile, and he had lots of stamina, and he was encouraged by my fantasies.
He laughed when I told him of about dancing for the gnome and himself, and he made me promise to dance for him someday, but he really liked the one about the Chinese temptress and oil torture. That one inspired him because he knelt over me with his head between my legs, and his cock in my mouth and slipped his tongue inside me. He took his slow sweet time and drove me utterly mad. When I began cumming he didn’t stop until I was practically screaming for mercy. Even then he only ceased because he was worried that someone might hear my shrieks.
When I returned to sanity he had me repeat the story while he explored my vagina again; this time with his fingers. The story took longer to tell because I kept losing my thoughts when his fingers drove me to another orgasm. He did that at least four times that evening, maybe five. Between times I sucked his cock.
The clerk kept me tied until eleven o’clock when he finally wore out. He rolled off of me and staggered into the bathroom. When he came back he collapsed into a chair and immediately fell asleep. I was still tied with my legs in the air and I waited for an hour until he woke up. He looked around dully, then realized that I was still bound. He jumped up.
“Jesus, I’m sorry,” he apologized.
“Sorry for what?” I asked.
“Leaving you tied up for so long.”
“Silly boy, I like being tied up.”
“It’s been hours,” he said looking at the clock.
“That’s not long, and this isn’t very tight anyway,” I said wiggling all over the bed. “I prefer being completely immobilized.”
“Jesus. What do you call a long time?”
“I’ve been tied up for days at a time,” I said, as I sat up and rubbed my wrists.
“You have?” he was amazed.
“My longest is four solid days with twenty minute breaks every four hours,” I said proudly. “And I loved every minute.”
“Incredible.”
I looked at him calculatingly. “Did you enjoy tying me?” I asked.
“Yes, I did.”
“Want to do it for real?”
“What was wrong with the way I did it?”
“It was much too loose and untidy,” I said. “Would you like to learn how to do it correctly?”
“Sure.”
“Ok, give me a few minutes.” I trotted into the bath and refreshed myself, then I came back and lay on the bed.
“Put me into the tightest hogtie that you can manage,” I told him.
I rolled onto my stomach and he tied my wrists.
“Tighter,” I demanded.
“I don’t want to hurt you,’” he said.
“Well, I do. Now tie me tighter.”
He wrapped the rope very tightly up my arms, and I sighed with delight as I felt myself sinking into that delightful helplessness.
After my arms were secured he slipped his hand into my pussy for a few minutes. I was hot and humping the bed when he stopped.
“Uh oh,” I groaned when his fingers went away.
“What?”
“I see that you’ve learned the true meaning of torture.”
He chuckled and patted my bottom.
“Ok, now tie my legs,” I said.
I walked him through and told him how to fix a pussy rope between my legs. He liked that and took his time getting it just right. I was hot as could be when he finished. Then I told him to roll me onto my back and bind up my breasts. He liked that and wrapped them until they stood up like loaves of bread. We only stopped when he ran out of rope, then he got serious about playing with them.
“Ok, now what?” he asked after half an hour of massaging my girls.
“Go away and leave me here all night,” I sighed. “Come get me in the morning and I’ll buy breakfast.”
“I can’t leave you alone,” he said. “Something might happen.”
“Ok, then, you may stay,” I said dreamily.
He crawled in bed beside me. “Tell me about those marathon bondage times,” he asked.
“Someday,” I said, “But not tonight. I’m too tired.”
He snuggled up beside me on the bed and covered us both. I was tired and fatigue suddenly hit me. I remember falling asleep with his hand between my legs.
I woke up a couple of times in the night, and sighed with delight when I couldn’t move. I looked at the clerk beside me, and it was an odd feeling having a different man in bed. He felt differently, smelled differently, and touched me in his own way. I thought about different men and their methods and wondered if I could arrange a contest where I would be bound and blindfolded, then have my ex husband, JR, and the clerk do things to me and see if I could identify which man was which. I wriggled slightly to try to get comfortable and his hand reached for my breast. He didn’t wake up but he squeezed me for a few moments, then his hand dropped away. I wiggled again and the same thing happened. I decided to see if I could get my mouth on his penis and wake him up with an orgasm but I was so tightly bound that moving was impossible. I gave up and went back to sleep.
I woke up in the morning. I was still completely immobile. None of the ropes had loosened during the night. I strained quietly against them but I had no chance of getting loose. I gave up and lay contentedly beside him. The clerk woke up a couple of hours later and his hands went straight to my boobs. He played with me until I asked him to let me go to the bathroom.
“You can tie me again after I’ve had a chance to freshen up,” I told him.
It took a few minutes for him to release me and I had to pee very badly. It was a race, which he won just in time. I jumped up and my stiff legs gave way. I toppled over. He picked me up and carried me giggling into the bath. He got out and closed the door just in time for decorum.
When I came back I rewarded him by taking his penis into my mouth and getting it to spurt like a fountain.
“Do you want to tie me again?” I asked as he sprawled with his legs apart. He shook his head.
“I can’t,” he said, eyes closed. “I have to go home and get ready for school.”
“I thought you were out of college now,” I said.
“I teach English lit,” he said. “I can’t make a decent living working at this motel.”
“Then why stay?” I asked. Then it hit me. “Oh.”
“The pay is lousy,” he said. “But there is one major benefit.”
“Oh, you mean all the slutty women that pose for your camera?”
“Yeah, and it keeps getting better.”
I took a long shower. I scrubbed at my tummy but the ink showed very little effect. I was still worried but I couldn’t stay angry at him, not after that wonderful sex.
He lounged on the bed as I got dressed.
“What were you saying about cannibalism being monstrous?” I asked.
“It is,” he replied.
“Well, take a look at the tooth marks around my nipples,” I said. “I’ll bet they match your dental records.”
He grinned and shrugged.
I looked through his assembly of bottles. “What is all this stuff?” I asked.
“Water and rubbing alcohol,” he answered.
“What?”
“There’s nothing that will remove the ink,” he said.
“Oh really?” I had already figured that out.
“Yep,” he grinned. “But it will wear off under your clothing within a few days, so you probably ought to wear panties for a while.”
“You have the only pair of panties that I own,” I joked, “I ought to make you buy some more for me.”
“It’s a deal,” he said, “But I get to pick them out.”
“Wicked boy,” I laughed. I kissed him and left.
As I passed his car I saw that my green panties were prominently displayed hanging on his rear view mirror. There was no one to see me get into my car but I opened my legs wide any way.
I was hungry so I stopped at the diner a block away. I wondered if I might bump into the vice detectives again, then realized that would be off duty that time of day. Too bad, because I was in the mood to flirt with them again. Maybe I could get them to put their handcuffs on me. Oh well, it was late and I was tired and I looked haggard. My makeup and hair were a mess, my clothes were wrinkled, my arms and legs had rope marks, and my boobs had teeth marks that showed above my blouse. From the looks I got, everyone in the diner thought that I was a total slut. The waitress thought so and she let me know it.
“Rough night?” she asked snidely as she brought my breakfast.
“Very rough, Dearie,” I smiled at her, “But that’s the way I like it.”
She curled her lip and walked away. I left her the money I got from the cab driver, a forty dollar tip for a nine dollar meal. And I wiggled my hips when I walked out.
I took the clerk’s advice and bought several pair of heavy cotton undies. They were horrid things that only a nun or old woman would wear and I hated them, but they helped rub the ink off. I wore them under my tightest jeans to get the maximum friction.
I guess that I should have felt guilty having fooled around with the clerk, but I surprised myself by having no regrets at all, and I managed to convince my self that oral sex, and fingering didn’t really count as infidelity.
A few days later my daughter dropped by while I was putting away the laundry. I was wearing skin tight shorts to increase the friction on my belly. I also wasn’t wearing a shirt or a bra. The clerk’s bite marks turned to bruises and took several days to fade and I liked looking at them.
“Hi Mom, you look very sexy,” she commented as I turned my back and slipped in to a tee shirt. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No, JR is still out of town. This is the way I always dress for household chores.” I hoped she hadn’t seen the bruises on my breasts.
She saw the granny panties in the basket.
“What in the world are these for?” she asked turning them in her hands. “They’re awful.”
“They are just underwear,” I said.
“They’re horrid old granny panties.” she answered, “They are absolutely unsexy.”
“Well, I am an old granny,” I pointed out.
“Not that kind,” she said, “And you don’t wear anything like this.”
She was turning them over and over.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m looking for JR’s initials.”
“There are no initials on them,” I said. “I bought them for a special reason.”
“What ever for? Don’t tell me that JR thinks they are sexy.”
“I wear them under my habit when we play Priest and Nun,” I answered tartly.
“You do?”
“Sure, I dress up as a nun and JR is a priest, and I confess to him that I’ve been wicked and had evil thoughts,”
“What kind of thoughts?”
“What ever I can think up at the time,” I replied. “And he gets aroused and makes me undress in front of him and he punishes me by tying me up and whipping me and spanking me then screwing me.”
She looked at panties for a moment.
“I don’t believe a word of that,” she said, folding them neatly.
“Why not?”
“Because we aren’t catholic.”
It took almost ten days for the ink to go away and I was glad that JR was out of town. But I confess that I did like wearing the clerk’s name on my body, it gave me the same thrill as when I was first branded. I was almost disappointed when the ink finally disappeared.
I went to my swim class as usual, and this time I did turn toward the wall when I undressed, but Sally noticed. She walked out with me.
“Uh, forgive me, but I noticed something odd on your stomach,” she said.
“Yes, it was written on by a man,” I said, “And the writing is taking a long time to fade.”
Her face went red. “What did he write?”
“His name.”
“I thought he already had his initials on your skin.”
“Oh, this was a different man.”
Her mouth was still open as I drove out of the parking lot.
After the clerk’s name finally disappeared I experimented with different markers to see which could be washed off quickly. Who knows, someday I just might permit him to autograph my pussy again, or maybe that lesbian at the adult store. I wonder what she would write on me.
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