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The Lazy Boy

4/23/2008

I can’t be absolutely certain that what happened, happened
for the reason I think it did. But I’m pretty sure. And I don’t
feel very good about it. On the other hand, if it hadn’t been
me, it probably would have been someone else. As much as
I’d like to think that Sharon saw something special in me,
or something that she liked, I don’t know. I think at that
time, in that situation, just about anyone with a penis
would have suited her just fine. Still…


Lucy’s Little Longhorn. That’s honest to god the name of
the little bar on Burnet road in Austin, Texas. You could,
as they say, look it up. I had never been there before that
night. It’s one of the many great little hole-in-the-wall
places throughout Austin where you can just sit quietly
and sip a beer and listen to live music. Along the back wall
is a raised wooden stage where the musicians set up and play.
There’s a small open area next to the stage for anyone who
wants to dance, and the rest of the place is filled with ancient-looking
rickety wooden tables with matching chairs. There were
Shiner Bock beer coasters propping up a leg of most of the
tables in a vain attempt to stop them from wobbling. There
is a bar that runs the length of one of the walls, complete
with brass rail.


I was there to see Karyn Poston and her Krystal Pistols.
She’s a country-western wonder of a tall, substantial
girl, is Karen. She wears weathered cowboy boots, a big
cowboy hat, and a Texas-sized belt buckle with the Lone
Star on it. I had seen her a few weeks before belting out a
few Johnny Cash tunes at one of Austin’s many famous “hoot
nights”, where the local artists cover famous songs from
the chosen artist. That night I planned to catch the whole
show. But, of course, things don’t always work out the way
you plan, now do they?


I got there early to be sure I’d get a seat, and had my choice
upon arriving. I sat near the back, to be a little bit further
from the speakers and closer to the bar. I was sipping on
a beer and thumbing through the Chronicle, the local weekly
paper with all the movie and music listings, and tapping
my toe absent-mindedly to the jukebox, when she came up.



“Are you here alone?’


“Yes.”


“You mind if I share your table? It’s probably going to get
pretty crowded, and I don’t want to stand up all night.”



“Sure, have a seat.”


“I’m Sharon, by the way.”


“Hi, Sharon, I’m David. Nice to meet you.” I started to stand
as I shook her hand, but she waived me back down into my seat.



I would estimate Sharon’s age somewhere in her early to
mid-forties. She was wearing blue jeans, and a white blouse
that hugged her curves nicely and allowed you to see just
a hint of the lacy bra underneath. Her breasts looked full
and firm, I guessed a large C or even a small D. She framed
them nicely with a black vest and finished the ensemble
with a black belt with silver studs. I don’t normally notice
a woman’s shoes, but hers were a very severe, constrictive-looking
black lace-up pair of the sort that fashionable women everywhere
swear are comfortable, but which look like a de Sade torture
device.


As we sat there talking I began to take more notice of Sharon’s
defining characteristics. She had large, intelligent
brown eyes that sparkled as she spoke. She had high cheekbones,
attractive but not pronounced the way they would be for
an emaciated super model. When she smiled slight crow’s
feet would appear, adding character. Her hair was also
brown, without a trace of gray. It was cut in a simple, professional
style, straight without elaborate curls or feathering.
It was parted on the side, and came down just to her shoulders.
She was a woman that you might not notice as you walked in
the room, but if you took the time to look, you’d realize
that she was very attractive.


I hadn’t really noticed the rest of her body as she had walked
up and introduced herself. But by now I was starting to get
interested and was curious. When she offered to go to the
bar and pick up the next round, I got my chance to see the rest
of her. She was about 5’ 8” I’d guess, with nice slender legs
that the jeans hugged nicely. Her belt was cinched tight,
accentuating the narrowing of her waist. Her hips flared
out sensually to a beautifully rounded posterior. Her
body was full and lush, and, I imagined, soft and feminine.
I started to wonder what it would look and feel like without
the clothes.


And she caught me wondering. One moment I was staring at
her ass and the next moment she had turned and started back
towards the table. But I was still staring waist high, and
apparently the look on my face spoke volumes. When I broke
my trance and looked up at her, she had a knowing look on her
face, and her lips turned up at the corners into a reproaching
grin.


“And here I thought all you wanted was beer, ” she said,
handing me the bottle. She held on to it as I tried to take
it from her. It was only when I looked her in the eyes that
she finally let go.


“Sorry, ” I said, turning six shades of red and taking a
long drag on the beer. When she didn’t speak, I glanced sideways
at her, trying to figure out what her reaction was going
to be. She just sat there looking at me. Just as I was ready
to crawl under the table, she busted out laughing.


“David, it’s OK, ” she exclaimed between giggles. She
grabbed my forearm with her and leaned forward to meet my
eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing to be ashamed
of. You’re not the first guy who ever looked at my ass.”


“I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of pervert or something.”



“I don’t think you’re a pervert. I just think you like my
ass.” I started blushing all over again when she said that,
and was again speechless.


“God, you should see your face right now. Lighten up.”


“OK. But could we talk about something else for a while?”



“You don’t want to talk about my ass any more?” she said,
maintaining her devilish grin.


“Let’s talk about the GNP of Peru or something, all right?”



“OK. You’re off the hook. On one condition.”


“What’s that?”


“You go to the bar for the next round. I want my turn.” Blushing
for yet a third time, I covered my face in my hands. I only
uncovered it again when I felt her hand on my shoulder, which
I took as a signal that everything was all right.


“OK then. It’s settled. Now, are you a big fan of the band?”
Sharon had an engaging way of speaking that let you know
that she was actually paying attention to what you had to
say.


“Actually, I’ve only seen them once before. A couple of
weeks ago at the Red-Eyed Fly.”


“Oh, yeah, where’s that?”


“Down on Red River. They played at the Highwaymen hoot night.”



“The what?”


“The hoot night. It’s a fund-raiser where a bunch of bands
get together and do covers of a band.”


“Sounds interesting.”


“How about you? Have you seen them before?”


“No. I didn’t even know they’d be playing tonight. I just
wanted to get out and have a drink, and this place looked
interesting when I drove by.”


“Do you like country-western music?”


“Yeah, I guess. I listen to a lot of different music.”


“I think you’ll like this then.”


We continued chatting about nothing in particular as the
place began to fill up and it got closer to show time. After
a while, we were both empty, so it was my turn to go to the bar
for a beer. We hadn’t talked further about my peccadillo
from earlier, but it was still at the forefront of my mind
that she might be looking me over as I got up and walked the
few feet to the bar. I even put on a little show as I stood waiting
for my order to be filled. I bent at the waist and leaned on
the bar, sticking my ass out in an exaggerated fashion to
give her a good look. As I turned to head back to the table,
I was disappointed to find that she was looking forward
at the stage, and not at me.


But at least she had good cause to be looking there. The band
was slowly making its way through the crowd and around the
equipment on the stage. In a moment they would be tuning
up the guitars and getting started. I handed her the beer
and she thanked me. Pointing towards the stage, she said,
“That’s her, huh?”


“Yep.”


“She’s a big girl.”


“She’s got a voice to match.”


“This ought to be good, then. Here’s to big…voices, ” she
said, as we toasted with a clinking together of the bottles.
I could only chuckle at the apparent joke. Before I could
come up with a witty retort, Karyn strummed her guitar and
the show began. It was pure country, as she stood stock still
on the stage except for the tapping of her toe, and belted
out the songs with a voice straight out of 1950s Nashville.
Both Sharon and I tapped our toes right along with her. Almost
immediately there were couples two-stepping and twirling
near the stage.


After a while the waitress came around, and we ordered another
couple of beers as the music continued. I was getting a nice
little buzz going by the end of the third one. I ordered a
fourth to keep it going. Sharon and I hadn’t been talking,
or even looking at each other much since the music started,
concentrating instead on the stage and the music itself.
After the fourth beer, I knew I was going to have to hit the
restroom before long. When I couldn’t wait any longer,
I excused myself and went off. As I went in I heard Karyn announce
that they would play a couple of more songs and then take
a short break. I was glad that I had beaten the crowd that
would undoubtedly be in the bathroom at the end of the set.



When I came out of the bathroom I was startled as I almost
ran headfirst into Sharon. I assumed she was headed for
the ladies room next door down. “Sorry, but I think we lost
our table, ” she said. “I got up and someone took it. It might
take a fist fight to get it back now.”


“OK, well, I don’t mind standing if you don’t.”


“Actually, I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere else.”



“Didn’t you like the music?”


“Oh, no, it was fine. I just feel like going somewhere else.
Can you walk me to my car?”


“Uh, yeah, sure.” We navigated our way through the crowd,
out the door, and into the parking lot. The first thing I
noticed when we got outside was that it had cooled off quite
a bit since I had gone inside. It had been warm enough earlier
that I had left my coat in the car. Now, though, I was shivering
a little. Sharon reached into her purse and pulled out her
keys. She hit the button on the key chain to unlock the car,
and I noticed the lights flash on and off on a Lexus sedan
a few cars away from where we stood. It was the only foreign
car in the entire parking lot, and, I guessed, easily the
most expensive.


“Hop in, and we’ll get warm, ” she said. “My car’s heater
is really good.”


“I’m all for that.” I hopped in on the passenger side as she
went around to her side.


“It’ll just be a minute or two, and it’ll start blowing warm
air, ” she said as she adjusted the controls.


“It got kind of chilly, didn’t it?” I said, my teeth chattering.
“So, where do you want to go now?”


“Where do you want to go?” she asked.


“I can think of a couple of places. But it sounded like you
already had something in mind. Do you?”


“Yes…I suppose we should talk about that, ” she said, tilting
her head down and to the side and gazing up at me. She might
have been blushing, but I couldn’t tell in the dim light.
“I want to play a little game. Do you like games?”


“Depends on the game, I guess. Do I get a prize if I win?”


“Actually, you’ve already won. And if you don’t blow it,
you’ll get a prize that I think you’ll like. Are you up for
it?” As she said that, a smile crossed her face for just a
moment, though I couldn’t tell whether it was a tease or
a challenge.


“Yeah, OK, I’m willing. What’s the game?”


“Well, I want to take you somewhere. But to go, you have to
be willing to wear a blindfold.” She paused, as if to let
that soak in.


“Is that it? Or is there more?”


“There’s more. Once we get where we’re going, you have to
do what I say. When we finish playing, I’ll put the blindfold
back on you and bring you back here. That’s it.”


“And what will you be asking me to do?”


She leaned across the seat, and stroked my cheek. She looked
me in the eyes, and gave me a light kiss on the lips. “Some
things, you just have to take on faith.”


Obviously, the choice was mine. I could accept her conditions
and take what promised to be an intriguing little trip,
or get out of the car and go back inside for the band’s second
set. I made a quick calculation about the likelihood of
her meaning me bodily harm versus the likelihood of her
meaning me bodily pleasure. I decided that pleasure was
much more likely, and my penis took it from there.


“You’re not going to drug me and take my kidneys, are you?”



“What?”


“You know, the old urban legend. You wake up in a bathtub
full of ice next to a phone. And there’s a note that says “Don’t
move! Dial 911! Your kidneys are missing.”


“It’s nothing like that. You’ll have all your organs when
the night’s over.”


“OK then, I’m in.”


She reached into her purse then and pulled something out.
“Turn your head, ” she said. I did, and felt something soft
and smooth cover my eyes. “Good boy, ” she said in a deep
sultry voice, her lips only inches from my ear. The sound
sent a tingle through my body, finishing at my groin. Then
I felt her hands at the back of my head tying a knot. She reached
around the front to pull it down in front to make sure it covered
my eyes. Then she turned my head towards her and looked.
“Can you see anything?”


“Not a thing.”


“Good. Then we’re ready to get started.” I felt her hand
reach across my stomach. Thinking she was about to stroke
my cock, I let out a small moan and raised my hips slightly
to meet her. “Easy, lover” she whispered in my ear. “I’m
just getting your seat belt.” I could hear the mirth in her
voice, and I had to smile myself at my eagerness. She gave
me a small peck on the cheek, and then I heard her putting
on her own seat belt. She backed us out of the parking spot,
and we were on our way.


We drove on in silence for a few miles, before I couldn’t
quell my curiosity any longer. “Sharon.”


“Yes?”


“Why were you carrying a blindfold in your purse tonight?”



“What do you mean?”


“You had a blindfold all ready to go when I agreed to wear
it.”


“That’s not a blindfold. It’s a scarf.”


“OK, then. Why were you carrying a scarf in your purse?”



“Why are you asking me these questions?”


“Well, it just seems like you had this whole thing planned
out already. It makes me kind of wonder what’s going on.”



“I had the scarf in my purse because I was going to wear it
in the bar. But I decided at the last minute that it was too
much. So I took it off and put it in my purse.”


“OK, I’m sorry for being so paranoid.”


“Your real question is was I planning to pick someone up
tonight and blindfold them and take them home with me. Well,
I wasn’t. I just wanted to go out and have a drink and listen
to some music. But if you don’t believe that, then I’ll turn
around and take you back to the bar.”


“No Sharon. I want to go with you. I’m sorry I asked you about
that.”


“It’s OK. I realize this isn’t a normal situation, so I’ll
forgive you a little curiosity. But no more questions,
agreed?”


“Agreed.” We drove on then without another exchange for
what seemed like a long time. Of course, being blindfolded
can throw your sense of time out of whack, not to mention
your sense of direction. By the time we pulled into a driveway,
and finally into a garage, we could have been anywhere from
Waco to San Antonio for all I knew. I only hoped she was serious
about driving me back to my car when our adventure was finished.
She led me out of the car and into her house, one hand on my
forearm and the other on my shoulder blade.


Once we were inside, she reached behind my head to untie
the blindfold, and gave me another soft kiss on the cheek.
As I blinked, getting used to the light, I surveyed the room
we were in. Although the room itself was dark, a light from
another room lighted it to some extent. It allowed me to
make out the general layout of the place, without being
able to make out the specifics of such things as art on the
wall or photos on the mantle. And there was a mantle over
a large fireplace that looked as if it had gotten some use.
A large basket of firewood lay next to it.


The furnishings consisted of a long, plush couch that looked
to be leather or something similar that was situated lengthwise
parallel to the wall where the fireplace stood. In front
of the couch was a large glass and metal table on which were
coasters and a bowl of some sort. Beside the couch there
were what looked to be matching reclining chairs of the
same material as the couch. It all looked rich and plush
and comfortable. Across the room I could see a large screen
TV, 46” at least, which seemed to be the centerpiece around
which all the furniture was situated.


As my eyes were adjusting to the light, Sharon sat on the
couch and leaned back, crossing her legs and putting her
hands in her lap. I had hoped for some more intimate contact
with her, but it seemed she had other plans.


“Take off your clothes for me, David” she said in a deep,
seductive voice. It was the first unmistakably sexual
thing she had done or said to me that night and it sent a shiver
down my spine in anticipation. She had turned sideways
on the couch to face me, and was running her hand through
her hair. Her legs remained demurely crossed, and she laid
her other hand on her thigh. Her foot bobbed up and down slowly,
the only indication that she was not completely relaxed
and confident about what she was doing.


“Do you just want to watch, or what?” I asked.


“I’ll tell you what I want after you’re naked. Now come on,
put on a show for me.”


I then faced my second decision of the evening. I felt kind
of silly standing there, about to strip down for a total
stranger. Also, I didn’t know how sexy I could make it. Should
I act like a Chippendale’s dancer or something? I’ve never
given much thought to the way I take off my clothes. I could
have just asked Sharon to put the blindfold back on me and
take me to my car. But I was starting to get into the situation.
I wanted to look sexy for her. So sexy, in fact, that she would
strip down for me too, and we’d enjoy each other’s bodies.
By way of showing her my decision, I stepped out of my shoes
and kicked them aside as I looked in her eyes. Sharon smiled,
knowing that I had decided to go along with the game.


I tugged slowly on my shirt until it came untucked from my
pants. As I slipped it up my torso, I stroked my stomach and
sides with my hands. As a tease, I let it slide back down and
cover me before lifting it again. I continued stroking
my stomach and chest with my fingertips as I lifted the shirt,
finally pulling it over my head and off. I stood for a moment
posing, arms dangling at my side.


I placed my left hand on my pants buckle then, just letting
it sit there. With my right hand, I started at my thigh and
slowly moved it up towards the buckle. Sliding it along
my inner thigh, I cupped my balls in my hand through the denim
of my jeans. Sharon’s eyes were intently watching my right
hand, and she let out a small sigh and smiled as I squeezed
my balls. When I didn’t make any further move to unbuckle
my pants for a moment, she looked up at me.


“Tease, ” she said.


“No, a tease doesn’t put out. You won’t have that problem
with me.”


I slowly then moved my right hand up the length of my zipper,
sliding over my hardening cock. I couldn’t tell whether
Sharon could see the outline of it through my jeans; it was
only half-hard. But I slowly squeezed my cock through the
fabric and slid my hand up and down a couple of times. Then
I moved up and unsnapped my pants. I slid the fingers of my
right hand down and under the waistband of my underwear,
and started to squeeze and stroke my cock for her. By that
time, her eyes were absolutely blazing as she watched,
enraptured. She was squeezing her thigh with her hand,
but had still made no move to undress or to touch herself.
However, I thought she was weakening.


“You’re pretty good at this. Have you been practicing in
front of your mirror at home?” she said, smiling.


I slowly unzipped my pants. By now she could see the whiteness
of my briefs, and, I was sure, the outline of my cock. It still
wasn’t all that hard. I was putting so much concentration
into the stripping that I’d stopped thinking about her
naked. I turned sideways to her, and slowly began to take
the pants off, sliding them down my legs. As I slid the jeans
off my legs, I pulled the socks off as well. Then I turned
to face her again.


“Are you ready for the grand unveiling?”


“Yes, I want to see.”


Holding up the right side of my briefs, I began to slide the
left side down, exposing my inner thigh and just a hint of
my light blonde pubic hair. As I was about to expose part
of my cock and balls, I stopped and slid them back up. I repeated
the same motions with the other side, again stopping just
short of exposing anything other than the sparse hair.
Then I slid my left hand into my shorts, reaching down the
length of my cock to stroke my balls.


I turned around, so that now my ass was facing her. Looking
back over my shoulder, I began to slip the underwear down
the length of my body, exposing my ass to her hungry gaze.
I held my legs slightly apart as I bent at the waist and slid
the shorts down to my ankles. When I got to the bottom, I turned
to look at her. I wondered if she could see my swollen balls
hanging down between my legs from that angle. They felt
large and full, ready to burst, although my cock was still
only partially hard. I allowed her the full view of my ass
from that position for a few seconds before lifting one
foot and then the other and removing the shorts.


On a lark I then went down on my knees, still facing away from
her. I spread my legs wide apart and lay my shoulders down
to the carpet. My ass was then sticking up in the air, exposed
to her, and I knew then that she could see my balls hanging
low and full. My cock was exposed at that angle as well, hanging
down as it still was, as was my brown puckered hole. I found
the idea of it very exciting, and I lay there under her gaze
in that way for a few moments.


“Let me see your cock, David.”


I stood up slowly, back still turned to her. I ran my hands
around to my ass and kneaded the cheeks. I then gave my left
cheek a hard slap that made a loud flesh-on-flesh sound
that seemed to echo through the empty house. Slowly, then,
finally, I turned to face her and let her see all of me. As
I looked at her, I noticed her eyes were closed to mere slits,
and she was looking at my cock.


“Ooh, you’re cock is soft. I like that. Will you make it hard
for me?”


“I know I’d get hard if you’d take your clothes off, too.”



“It doesn’t look like you need my help, ” she said, staring
down at my crotch. Then her eyes met mine, and she smiled
her knowing smile again. Sure enough, even though I had
yet to touch myself after the strip tease, my cock was already
half erect. She was getting me hard just by looking at me
and talking. “Come on, David, touch yourself. Get yourself
hard for me.”


I was momentarily embarrassed by her unashamed and hungry
stare, and very aware that I was standing in front of her
totally naked while she sat there fully clothed and in control
of the situation. My first instinct was to cover up. But
then I realized that she wanted to watch me, and that she
was going to be turned on by it. I wondered if she was getting
wet as I stood in front of her only a few feet away. The thought
made my cock jump a little and get harder, and a low moan escaped
from her lips. I dropped my inhibitions and started to go
with the flow.


“Is this what you want to see?” I asked, as I started slowly
and deliberately to slide my hand up and down the growing
shaft of my cock. As I did so, the foreskin slipped back and
forth over the head, sending ripples of pleasure to my spine
and balls. I rocked forward on my toes and leaned my head
back. I was so turned on having her there watching me that
a moan escaped from my lips. It sounded almost like a scream
in the silence of the room.


“Yes, that’s good. Keep going.” she said. Her voice betrayed
her sexual arousal. However, she remained seated with
her legs crossed on the couch, and had made no move to remove
her clothes or to touch herself.


My other hand had been resting on my inner thigh up to that
point. But I decided to really put on a show for her in hopes
that she would strip down and join in. I slid the hand up my
thigh and lightly brushed my balls, pushing them up and
out from my body. My hand continued moving up my body, and
I stroked across my stomach and rib cage slowly with just
my fingertips. I shivered as the goosebumps raised on my
arms and chest from the cool caress.


My hand continued upward and I stroked my chest. I made eye
contact with Sharon as I began playing with my nipples,
pinching and pulling on them. She didn’t say anything,
but just smiled at me again. My hand traveled up to stroke
my neck, then to my cheek, which I brushed across. I was giving
her the full treatment as I playfully licked and sucked
my index and middle fingers, lapping at them with my exposed
tongue.


I closed my eyes and pretended that I was sucking and licking
her swollen clit, running my tongue around the tips of my
fingers with my eyes closed in concentration. When I opened
them, I could see that her hand had inched a small way up her
thigh, and her hand was squeezing her thigh. However, she
still was not touching herself, and she was still fully
clothed and zipped up. I thought I had heard a sharp intake
of her breath while my eyes were closed, but I couldn’t be
sure.


She couldn’t completely hide her feelings, though. As
she moved her head slightly, her eyes were highlighted
in a shaft of light. They were blazing with sensual energy.
In any other situation I would be expecting her to jump off
the couch, throw me down and me. She showed no signs
of making a move, though.


“Do you want to touch me, Sharon?”


“I want to watch you. Keep going. And tell me when you’re
getting close to cumming.”


As much as I wanted to move to the couch and ravage her just
then, there was something that prevented me from doing
it. I think I liked putting on a show for her. But I also didn’t
want to anger her or make her disapprove of me for some reason.
And I had agreed to do whatever she said once we got here.
So I started to slowly stroke myself again. I slowly retraced
the trip down my body with my other hand, stroking my chest
and stomach. When I got back down to my cock, I began to lightly
squeeze and rub my balls. I was now really getting into it.
My knees were feeling weak, and I could feel the tension
welling up in my balls.


I decided to give her the whole show, and to maximize my own
pleasure at the same time. As I continued stroking my balls,
I began to rub the area behind my balls with my index finger.
It was getting slick from my perspiration and arousal,
and I began to slowly move closer and closer to my anus. Finally,
I began circling the rim of it with my finger, as I increased
the pace of the strokes on my cock. My head was leaned back
and I was breathing hard. I was rocking back and forth as
my knees kept nearly buckling from the foreskin sliding
back and forth over the head of my cock and arousing me even
further. I could tell I was getting very close to cumming.



“Are you getting close, David?”


Sharon’s voice startled me, as my excitement had made me
momentarily forget she was there. I opened my eyes and looked
at her. “Yes, ” I moaned in a deep voice.


“Wait. Don’t cum yet. I want you to go and sit in the chair.”



“What?”


“Please. Go and sit in the chair. I want to watch you cum in
the chair.”


Confused, I sat down in the chair and reclined back into
the luxurious material, the footrest coming up as I did
so. It was so soft and comfortable that it was almost like
a sensual caress as I moved around. I noticed that a shaft
of light from the other room fell across the chair, illuminating
me in soft light that would allow her to see me better. As
I relaxed, the thought floated again into the back of my
mind that Sharon had planned the whole night in advance.
I beat the thought back and continued to stroke myself.



“Spread your legs for me, David, so I can see you. Drape your
leg over the arm of the chair and sit back.”


I did so, and spread my legs as far apart as I could comfortably.
I began to stroke myself again, faster, determined to cum
for her and for myself.


“No, go slower David, I want to watch for a while.”


I looked her right in the eye as I began to take long, slow
strokes on my cock. I was once again stroking my balls with
my other hand. For the first time, she seemed to be embarrassed
about what was happening, as if asking for what she wanted
had made her self-conscious. She smiled a shy smile and
broke her gaze from mine and looked down at my hand sliding
up and down on my shaft. I moved my hips forward in the chair
so she could get a better look at what was going on.


“Do you ever slide your finger in your ass when you masturbate,
David?” she said, looking up at me again.


“Sometimes.”


“I want you to do that for me. Put your finger inside yourself.”



“OK.” I once again began to slowly rim my anus with my index
finger as I continued my slow strokes. I lifted my hips slightly
so that she would be able to see my finger as it slid in. When
it was slick enough, I slid just the tip in up to the first
knuckle, so that it wasn’t past the ring of muscle yet, but
I could feel it. It was an intense feeling, and I moaned once
again. Sharon seemed to lean forward just a little then,
and her hand traveled another inch or two up her thigh. Her
lips parted just slightly, and I thought I could hear an
increase in her breathing.


“That’s good, David. Now put it all the way in” she said breathlessly.



Slowly, I did as she said and began sliding the entire length
of my index finger inside me. Once the tip was inside, there
was no more resistance. I began to move the finger in and
out slowly, and moving it inside myself as well. The stimulation
caused my swollen cock to twitch uncontrollably as my anus
gripped the invading finger.


“Oh, god that look’s good. Your cock is huge, David. Are
you getting ready to cum?”


“Yes, yes. I’m very close.”


“I want you to keep going and cum for me, David. I want to watch
your cum shoot out everywhere.”


Hearing her talk dirty to me had put me near the edge as much
as my own stroking had done, and I knew that I was very close.



“Tell me when you’re going to cum, David.”


“I’m close. I’m so close.”


“Go on.”


“NOW!” I said through gritted teeth as I felt the first burst
of sperm about to spew out of my near-bursting cock. As I
looked over at Sharon, I saw that she had pulled a small camera
out of her purse and was aiming it at me. I started to object,
but then I was too far gone.


“UNNNHHH!” was all I could manage to say as I began to shoot
thick streams of sperm from my cock straight up into the
air. Sharon snapped off three or four shots as the cum landed
on the chair and me. When I finished what seemed like minutes
later several long, pearlish stands of my sperm had stained
the arm and footrest of the chair. Even more lay in a puddle
under my spent cock. My hand was also drenched in the stuff,
and I could feel that my thigh had been sprayed as well. I
can’t remember ever cumming that much before. It had been
so intense that it was almost painful. My sperm lay white
and shining, in sharp contrast to the dark color of the chair.



After a few minutes of recovery time, I thought again about
what had just happened.


“Sharon, why didn’t you tell me you wanted to take pictures?”



“I wasn’t sure you’d let me.” She had suddenly become shy
and apologetic in the wake of my orgasm, which I found a bit
confusing.


“I came here, took off my clothes in front of you and did a
little striptease, and jerked off in front of you. I even
stuck my finger up my ass in front of you. Why did you think
I’d be worried about a couple of pictures?”


“I don’t know. I just couldn’t be sure. So, instead of asking,
I just went ahead and did it when you were in no position to
say no.”


“What are the pictures for?”


“I just want to have them to look at later. So I can remember
tonight. And don’t worry, I didn’t get your face in any of
the shots.”


“I don’t care about that. But you don’t have to look at pictures.
You can have the live show any time you like. In fact, I was
hoping that you’d return the favor for me.”


“We’ll have to wait and see about that.”


“Do you have a towel I could use to clean up?”


“Just wipe yourself off on the chair. I’ll clean it up later.”



“It’s going to stain if it dries there.”


“It’s OK. I’ll clean it later. Wipe yourself off and get
dressed.”


We hardly made a sound while I slowly got dressed once again.
I tried to hug Sharon as she approached me to replace the
blindfold, but she just spun me around and put it back in
place. The trip back to my car was mostly a silent one, and
seemed a lot faster than the first trip. I think that maybe
Sharon had driven around a little bit on the way there in
order to confuse me as to where she lives. Looking back,
the whole thing seems so calculated.


Still…I felt something for Sharon. I felt an emotional
tie to her, maybe just sexual attraction, but I think it
was more. And even though I knew there was a chance that she
was just using me, I wanted to, needed to, see her again.
I couldn’t hold back as we arrived back at the nearly empty
parking lot. As she took off the blindfold, I took her hands
in mine.


“I want to see you again, ” I said, looking deeply into her
eyes.


“We’ll see, ” she said, kissing me lightly on the lips.
She stroked my cheek, and had something in her eyes that
I read as longing, and possibly affection. She gave my thigh
a gentle squeeze, and then gave me a push to let me know it
was time to go.


I knew that she wouldn’t be cleaning the chair that night,
or probably any night. She’d probably let her husband find
the stain, and then he could wonder what was going on. If
he had trouble believing her story, she had the pictures
as additional proof.


It would be up to him what happened after that. He could change
whatever it was that had brought Sharon to that point and
save his marriage, or he could keep going and probably lose
her. The only indication I was likely to get as to how things
turned out was if Sharon ever showed up at Lucy’s again on
the prowl.


And I must admit, I’m curious. Curious whether they worked
things out, and curious as to what Sharon would look like
sitting naked in that chair, legs spread, touching herself
for me. I think that the next time Karyn Poston plays at Lucy’s
I’ll swing by and check out the crowd. Purely out of curiosity,
of course.

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At least you came???

4/23/2008