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She was an attractive divorcee, and a lot of fun to talk to. I had no idea she would say “That sounds like a great idea!” when I suggested she join my wife and me for an evening. And the lack of resistance when I asked Jan about it didn’t really make me feel too badly.

Here we were together in the hotel suite after an evening of dining and dancing. Sally liked Tuborg Gold Tequila and Jan liked Manhattans. I was all set for both. We sat and had a few drinks, when Sally asked Jan to join her in a joint. She never had before, but was willing to try. I had just quit smoking a few years before, so didn’t dare join them.

Well, it wasn’t long, with pot and whiskey, and three people who had known each other for a few years, before the atmosphere became very, very comfortable. I finally suggested turning off the lights and lying down and they both agreed.

It was pitch dark, and my clothes were off in a flash. Lying there in the middle of the king size bed, I was growing with anticipation, hearing them both undressing on either side of the bed. Sally lay down first and I put my arm around her, kissing her gently. Her skin was so soft, and I had never touched her before. As I felt the bed move when Jan sat down, I rolled over on my back, taking her in my other arm. Her breasts were larger, and her perfume sweet, and she snuggled in closely.

I was in ecstasy, feeling both of them in my arms, and their thighs against mine. Both of their hands were exploring my chest and abdomen. Suddenly I realized that I could feel their lips and bodies, but I could no longer feel their hands. They had reached across and were exploring each other intimately. I could begin to feel their hips writhe as their fingers found each others clits and reached inside.

Then they began kissing my nipples, and running their tongues across my belly and into my belly button. Their tongues met on the tip of my penis as they were kissing the shaft on each side at the same time. Two tongues on my cock at the same time, and then an alternate seesaw battle taking turns sucking and engulfing it. And always not being able to more than guess where their hands were.

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At thirteen, Angie was not very different from all the other eighth graders. The other girls were approaching sexual maturity, some faster than others. Certainly they were all sex conscious, with budding breasts, spreading hips, a new growth of pretty pubic curls. A few of the girls were already full-busted, though these few were at a distinct disadvantage–their thrusting titties gave the look of being fully sexually aware, and mostly, they were by no means ready for any kind of mature behavior. The boys of the same age were a couple of years behind the girls in development.

That summer, after school was through, Angie was sent to Wisconsin to visit her aunt. This was more or less an annual affair, having happened at least twice before. Those summers, Angie’s mother had been overseas on business, and auntie’s house was a convenient place to park her where she would not get into any trouble. Well, not much anyway.

Aunt Millie was a new divorcee. She had a new boyfriend that she was trying to catch, so she frankly had not much time to think about a niece–who she did not really want around, anyway. She was out most evenings, leaving Angie to “play” with the other kids on the street. The kids were a couple of years older, but Angie’s nicely developing figure gave her the look of a 15 year old, and certainly she did know what it was all about even if she had not really done anything yet.

The girl next door, Sally McIvers, was a year older than Angie. She too knew what it was all about, and had some experience at wild petting parties. Usually she was the youngest one at the party. One of the boys on the street suggested that Angie be invited to the next party, and Sally thought this was a good idea. Angie was invited, was excited at the prospect of being with the older kids. Sally told her that there would be plenty of smooching and some petting, but nothing too strong.

Angie had been kissed a few times and once, her cousin had sneaked up behind her and took each of her breasts in his hands, nicely squeezing them as she squealed. Later, a day or two later, while kissing her, he had forced his hand down the back of her slacks, inside her panties, and there squeezed each of those delicious rounds. He did not try to get a finger into her pussy–though later that evening, while alone in bed, she thought about the episode with great excitement, ran her hands across her naked mound. But now afraid, she stopped.

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My name is ‘Show Girl.’ I’m 23 years old, 5’5″ tall, 115 pounds, and my measurements are 36C-21-34. I’m a natural blonde, with blue eyes and I’m into sexy talking and sexy ideas.

Actually, MY fantasy is to be on a stage with a lot of people watching me dance naked. In my fantasy, the guys hoot and holler, making very lewd and suggestive remarks about what they’d like to do to me in bed. I dance alone for a while, shaking my tits in their faces, or bending over in front of them close enough for them to try to lick my pussy. They all chicken out at the last minute though, and this makes be bolder and hotter the longer I dance.

I have in mind one of those semi-round stages, with a short, straight runway straight out from the stage. I start out dressed in a skirt and blouse, and quickly lose my clothes to stand completely nude before everyone.

While I’m dancing, my pussy gets wetter and wetter, and I feel my pussy cream mixing with the sweat that covers me from dancing under the hot lights. Faces are blurred beyond the edge of the stage, but the men are all intent on checking out my body. As I dance, I get more and more suggestive about what I want. I’ll lay on my back with my legs spread and rock my hips as though I was being fucked hard and fast. Then I roll over and spread my legs and thrust back, showing everyone my wet pussy and sexy ass. This I do with a nice looking guy of about 27 sitting at the edge of the stage. I shove my ass and cunt almost in his face several times. When I get up and dance by him, I can see a thick bulge in his lap, and I know he’s hot for me.

Finally, I see a pretty woman about my age sitting at the edge of the runway with her boyfriend across the table from her. I dance down towards her and lay on my stomach, pressing my large breasts against the floor. I look her in the eye and run my tongue across my lips sensuously, then flick my tongue up and down, showing her I’d like to eat her pussy too. To my surprise, she gives me an air-kiss, and runs her tongue around her lips too.

Excited, I sit up and spread my legs wide, with my ass at the edge of the stage, gyrating my hips lewdly right in front of her. I’m daring her to show me. Then she leans forward, and I hear the crowd hush. Her tongue lightly licks my soaking pussy, and she runs it over my clit, taking me closer to a climax. She leans back and fingers my vagina, and then licks my cream from her fingers, smiling up at me.

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Walking along the dark street, I thought for a moment to the almost daily occurrences that seemed to dominate the news. Numerous bodies had been found in the recent weeks. Bodies savaged physically, and sexually. Bodies of mostly women, but a male or two as well. Grinning to myself I walked on, shrugging my shoulders and pushing my hands deeper into the pockets of my overcoat. The tabloids were shouting about rampant [tag]vampires[/tag] and wolfmen. Right. Even though the reputable papers did mention, from time to time, the disturbing fact that the victims did seem to be a bit on the anemic side, the whole thing seemed pretty outrageous. Here at the beginning of the 21st century, old ghost stories were dominating the papers. Chuckling lightly to myself, I turned and started across the street, heading toward the little bar that I usually frequented.

As I walked in, swinging my coat off my shoulders and hanging it on ‘my’ coat hook, the bartender gave me a nod. As I reached my stool, I found a draft waiting for me, and I casually tossed back a swallow, looking around the bar. The TV was on, over the end of the bar, and the late news was on, more jabbering about yet another body found just after nightfall today. Pity, I thought to myself. “It’s your buddy at work again, Slade,” the bartender jibed toward me.

“Can’t you put some other trash on Tom? Don’t you get sick of this shit?” pushing my empty mug toward him, he picked it up, and soon, I found it back before me.

“You know I only put it on to annoy you, Slade,” he grinned broadly at me and went to the other end of the bar, taking a drink to an old man sitting there. He always bugged me about this shit, knowing how I felt about sensationalism. We had talked often of how these losers would pull some cheap stunt, grab some publicity, and get credit for being so strange. And a vampire impersonator certainly had the attention of the city now. “You know they found that gal,” he gestured toward the screen which showed a body being carted into a waiting ambulance, face covered, “about a mile from here?” He grinned at me, and I just shrugged. No sense feeding his mirth.

“Yeah? You’re hitting them close to home, eh?” He laughed as I ducked the wet bartowel that soared toward me. Eventually, thankfully, the news changed to more mundane matters, and I watched silently as one little tragedy after another was shown. Pity.

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She stumbled out of bed to answer the shrilling phone, still half asleep. She barked her shins on a pile of notebooks on the floor. Across the room, her roommate groaned and rolled over in her sleep. She hurried a bit more to get the phone before waking her roommate up.

“Hello?” she asked sleepily.

“Morning,” came the reply. She recognized the voice of her master immediately.

“Hello, sir,” she said, and her voice had a much more submissive tone. “Why did you call me?” She wished she was at his apartment. So much better, to lie with him and awake with her small hands bound in a bondage belt, with the warmth of his body nearby and having the excuse of fetters to allow her to lie in bed.

“I want you to come to the dining hall and have breakfast with me. Also, I want you to wear a skirt today. Above the knee, I think. And your stockings and garter belt.”

“Why?”

“You’ll find out after English. You can wear flats if you want, but bring your heels along in a bag. Oh, and if you wear underwear, it has to be something that comes off easily. Wear your silk ones with the bows.”

“OK, sir,” she said, wondering inside what he meant. She would be glad in an hour for having eaten, but right now she wanted more than anything to crawl back into bed and sleep. She had half an hour before class. But she obeyed, wondering why all the while.

He was no more tractable at breakfast. He allowed her to get three bowls of Captain Crunch, something he usually forbade on the grounds that it was junk, but anytime she asked why he wanted her dressed that way he only answered, “You’ll find out after English.”

English. Short Story Writing, specifically. The last class she had on Fridays, the only one she had with him. So many times, that had been the last thing she did before spending a weekend in erotic submission to him. The simple thought made her belly turn over.

The whole day she was unable to keep her mind off it. What did he have planned? A weekend of submission? Maybe. But that was hardly uncommon. So why all the secrecy? And why the costuming? In classes, she found herself writing his name and WHY? WHY? WHY? on her notes. She tapped her feet incessantly and waited for the class to end. She supposed people were looking at her. She didn’t care.

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