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Message-ID: <37758asstr$1028815802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: heatherkalin@hotmail.com (Heather K.)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 8 Aug 2002 12:39:12 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} NEW story: Heather Submits, Part 1 (M+/f, D/s, reluc)
Date: Thu,  8 Aug 2002 10:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is what I sent:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," I whispered.

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

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

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

"Other girls? Recently?" I gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Will you do it again?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love,
Heather

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If you'd like to hear how David responded let me know!
heatherkalin@hotmail.com
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