Not Enough #18

I did my best to smile up at her, transfixed by her glittering eyes and smirky smile, the aroma of her perfume wafting in and out, mixing with her own natural chemistry to create an aroma that took away what little remained of my breath, the smell of her drawing me in. My own tension and apprehension made my heart beat even faster, my throat dry and constricted in response to her approach.

"I'm gonna sit down and join you, OK?", and she did, without waiting for a reply. Our shoulders and arms touched, and I could feel her warmth as it radiated to me. She turned partially sideways so that her mouth was closer to my ear, and started to talk to me. "I've been watching you with your friends since you came in, and now they've left you alone, haven't they? You're a newbie here, and you're not really sure what's going on. You probably saw Mistress Lynx with her two supplicants playing with her titties, and a few other things you probably weren't expecting to see tonight. Would you like me to help you in this place?"

Her mouth had drawn closer still to my ear, and I could feel her warm moist breath as I nodded silently. I knew that she could see me for what I was, lost and alone, the odd man out of the trio, shaken and confused by everything that I was seeing and feeling. "You'll have to trust me. Completely trust me...so tell me, are you willing to trust me?" she said, as she ran her finger around the outside of my ear and down my jawline. She smirked at me yet again, not a smirk of derision, just bemusement perhaps at my predicament.

"Good," she said. Now kiss me to seal the deal, and I'll tell you everything you need to know." She turned my head sideways with the hand that had trailed down to my chin, engaging my lips with her firm mouth, her tongue surprising me by licking back and forth until I opened my mouth, allowing her to push her tongue deep into my mouth, the tip of her tongue doing a maddening dance with mine. I thrust back, and our tongues engaged in her mouth, as I tasted the acrid taste of cocaine dripping down from her nose through her soft palate, that wonderfully forbidden dark taste of naughty and nasty pleasures promised. Her hand continued up the other side of my face, stroking my hair and moving my head back and forth as she gripped tight and pulled me closer to her.

"OK, now let me tell you where you are and how things work."

Not Enough #17

A few spaces opened up on one of the couches, and we crammed ourselves onto one of the divans, Debra sandwiched in between Amalia and me. In a rare and unusual gesture, she held my hand, interlacing her fingers with mine, and I could feel her trembling with fear and trepidation, unsure of where the evening was going and what would be required of her. I looked straight ahead, observing the parade of black leather and vinyl, women in sexy dresses and men wearing tight pants. Debra had that deer-in-the-headlights stare, as Amalia turned sideways and started to whisper into her left ear. The trembling persisted, her fingers remaining intertwined with mine, as Amalia continued to speak to her in a muttered undertone, her lips never stopping in their whispered oration, her eyes widening as she continued without stop.
I leaned forward far enough to enter her field of vision, and asked her what she was telling Debra, and she turned slightly away from Debra's ear to tell me it was none of my fucking business what she was saying, reiterating as always that this was her night with Alice, and that I was just along for the ride, a guest. She reached up to Debra's face and turned her head sideways. "It's time right now," she said, and reached over her lap to separate her hand from mine, taking first her right hand, and then her left, puling her to her feet, leading her away through the crowd of people milling around, taking her to who knows where. I sat in shock, my heart beating in my chest, my throat closed in the fear and apprehension of the moment, frantically trying to figure out where they had disappeared to, when I found my field of vision blocked by a woman in a short black dress, a kind of throwback disco dress left over from the '80s, cut well above the knee and decorated with tiers of fringe, spaghetti straps holding it up, the front cut well down on her breasts, which I could see where unencumbered and floating loose. I looked up to a smiling face framed by a full head of cascading curls, reaching well past her bare shoulders, her moist lips curled upwards in a sort of sassy smile, eyes twinkling in a mischievous manner, her eyes flashing a combination of bemusement and concern.
She leaned over, placing her hand on the back of the divan, and I reflexively looked towards her boobs, which swung free of her body as she bent forward. Her breath was warm and moist as she whispered in my ear.
"Ya look lost here, and just a bit confused...am I right here?" I could only mutely nod my head and continue staring at her boobs, which were barely restrained by her dress.
"Want some help?"

Not Enough 16

If you need to catch up, or to remind yourself where I left off in the story of the ebb and flow of my life with Her, click on http://swordfishsuite.blogspot.com/2010/01/not-enough-15.html and perhaps read back in the sequential posts before it.
The taxi pulled up at the back of a nondescript warehouse, with an abandoned loading dock and a wooden door that stretched ten feet high and perhaps fifteen feed wide, with a black wrought iron circular door handle in the middle of the door, waist high. Debra picked up the door handle and dropped it just once, as someone inside opened up a much smaller Judas-gate that allowed us to enter the building. I understood then that she had been here before, and wondered what we were getting into, as we stepped over the door stile and walked into a dimly lit foyer, a bit crowded with about 50-60 people, the men outnumbering the women by almost three to one. I could see that most of the people there wore black, as Debra did, many of the women dressed in ultra-tight clothing, necklines plunging to reveal breasts either encumbered or unencumbered, some skirts slit on the side to reveal thigh highs or full stockings and garter belts. The men were mostly just dressed in black shirts and pants.
We drifted together towards one of the couches arrayed near the walls, acting for the first time in a long time as a couple, each of us hesitant and a bit scared by the new environment. As my eyes became accustomed to the semi-darkness, I could make out the people on the couches, some couples sitting side by side, others with the woman sitting on the man's lap. One couch had two men sandwiching a woman, her DVF-style wrap dress opened just a bit between her breasts, each of the men reaching across the fondle a breast, one man having pulled the tit out of the bra, rolling the nipple between his first three fingers. My heart raced and my pulse accelerated, gaping at them and yet not wanting to stare. Debra's breath quickened also, her mouth open slightly, her eyes starting to glaze over.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Amalia approaching, wearing black pants and a silk tunic buttoned to the next, her hair short and combed close to her skull. Debra saw her at the same time, and reflexively assumed the position that she had been taught, her arms behind her back, each hand holding the opposite elbow, her head inclined down as she averted her gaze. I could see that she was further surrendering herself to the moment and to the surrounding before her.
"Ah, you've finally gotten here," she said. "Let me explain how this works. Alice has been here several times before, but always as someone who watched others. Isn't that right, dear?", and Debra was quick to nod her head several times, never once daring to look up. "And tonight that's just what you're going to do---watch. It's what you're really good at, isn't it, what you really like to do, right?
"Alice, on the other hand, has decided to join in and play with us."
And my heart sank, because I knew and I didn't know what that meant.

Not Enough #15

The endless night finally ended, just as the sun started to peek over the horizon and light the early morning. And it was that night that we understood our obedience to Amalia, our need to do her bidding and perform in the manner she commanded us.We spoke no words to one another, exchanged no looks or glances to decide how to obey...that night we only acquiesced.

Over the next two weeks we continued our pattern of non-communication, never daring to speak of the night with Amalia. We also continued to harshly and aggressively use each other for sex whenever the urge or occasion arose. I would force her to her knees and fuck her mouth angrily, causing her nose to run and her eyes to weep uncontrollably, her throat battered by my cock until she would almost vomit from the stress. When I came in her mouth, she would stand up and kiss me hard, pushing the cum and the bilious saliva onto my tongue. She would reciprocate by pushing her pussy onto my mouth, grabbing my hair and masturbating herself with my mouth in rhythm to the thrusting of her hips, pushing me behind her to tongue her asshole, pushing my fingers deep inside her as she strummed her clit with her fingers, causing herself to spurt on the hardwood floor, wiping it up with her hand and licking her fingers clean. We no longer bothered with intercourse, preferring the impersonality that the quick hit and run oral sex seemed to give us.

She still gave one night a week over to Amalia, and so for the two weeks after we understood our positions with Amalia, Debra would disappear for the night, returning as Alice well past midnight, reeking of alcohol, her clothes in partial disarray, damp from unknown exertions, exhausted. By the third week, she came home from work and told me that Amalia told her to bring me along that evening, and so I watched as Debra changed her clothes, squirming into a tight black tube skirt that cupped her ass, fishnet stockings, impossibly high heels that I had never seen her wear before, a half bra that pushed her breasts up so that they were practically falling out of the strappy black top that completed the outfit. A long black trench coat completed the outfit, and we quickly went downstairs to find a taxi.

She leaned forward to give the driver our destination, and I gazed out the window as we started to drive towards a neighborhood that we never frequented, somewhere far downtown in the rougher part of the city. She turned sideways and leaned up against me hard, her breasts stabbing me in the arm. Her lips rested on my ear, as she whispered, "Put your hand up my skirt and see how wet I am already."

That's when I found out that she was wearing the open crotch fishnets, and hadn't put on any panties. And I knew it was going to be a very long night.

Not Enough #14

As Alice continued to shake her head no and beg for some sort of intermission, Amalia's eyes opened wide and her nostrils flared, anger erupting from deep within her. "No? No?!?!? You tepid little slut, there is no NO for you. You do what I tell you when I tell you to do it." And I watched as Amalia's left hand grabbed Alice's hair and pulled back, forcing her to stand tall, then taller, forcing Alice's feet to scrabble on the carpet for traction, bending Alice's head back over her shoulder, compelling her to stand up straight, as her right arm slid up from its position of support until it travelled up to Alice's neck, and reached around to grasp her own left shoulder. Her left hand snaked down and dug itself into Alice's wet slit, her fingers curling sideways to cover as much of her slit as possible, moving slowly at first. Her right knee slid forward under Alice's butt, forcing Alice to open her legs and almost to "present" her vagina to me.

Amalia turned her head to the left, her lips buried in Alice's right ear, tonguing the delicate lobes and canals of her outer ear even as she tightened her arm and constricted the airflow, drawing tighter and tighter around Alice's neck. Alice's eyes opened wider in shock and fear, her speechless acknowledgment of the total loss of control and total surrender that she was feeling. I still remained frozen, sinking deeper on my haunches, my cock erect and bobbing before me, precum oozing once again from my slit.

Amalia's lips began to move slightly, and I strained to hear what she murmurred in Alice's ear, as her voice shrank to a whisper. The breath noises that Alice had been making disappeared, and she paid total attention to the voice in her ear, as if her very life depended on it, and perhaps it did. "You...Don't...Say...No...To...Me! This isn't a game, certainly not for you. You have no choices here, no options." And she hiked Alice's body higher off the ground, tightening her grip, forcing Alice to fight for every breath as her face became redder and redder. "This isn't about you, or what you want. Do you understand? Do...You...Understand?" And Alice shook her head in agreement, struggling to make a positive sound, whispering a "yes".

Amalia released her hold on Alice's neck, and went back to support her by putting an arm across her chest at armpit level, her left hand still strumming madly at Alice's cunt for a moment or two, then removing all support as Alice tumbled to the ground.

"Jerk him off, and this time make sure he cums in your hand."

Not Enough #13

I stood poised in the doorway, knowing that crossing the threshold and re-entering the room was more than just a physical manifestation, and that once I went back into the room I went back into the vortex we all three had entered...Debra stood with her hands at her sides, her shoulders slumped down, her eyes downcast, a vacant stare on her face, looking every inch a defeated ragdoll, lost yet again in her own faraway world. Amalia now stood behind her, hands raised to Debra's breasts, gripping Debra's nipples between the thumb and middle finger of each hand, rolling the nipples back and forth between the fingers until they became stiff. She lifted each breast by the nipple, and I could see the fluttering of Debra's heart, Debra who was now no longer Debra, but who was morphing into Alice, a new person created by Amalia.

"Plug that thing in and hold it against her clit...let's see just how long it takes her to cum." And so I extended the long cord to the nearest outlet and knelt in front of Alice's vagina, the dyed blue hairs now drenched in fluid, her cuntlips now engorged and slick with her arousal. I held the head of the vibrator flush up against her, moving it around in little circles, trying to match the rotation of the hips in front of me. Alice now exhaled deeply, and emitted a slight moan, the tempo of her breathing increasing, her mouth open and her tongue working itself back and forth across her lower lip, her discreet little noises now cascading on top of one another in rhythm to the circling of the vibrator, the wetness now starting to shine at the tops of her thighs.

"Please, she asked..."Please what?" "Please, can I cum, just a little?"

There was only silence for long seconds, ten seconds, fifteen seconds, as the vibrator hummed away and as Alice sank deeper into her own arousal...then finally, "Cum right now, little girl," and I watched as waves of contractions rippled through her belly, her chest and shoulders shrugging several times quickly, then she sagged back against Amalia.

She had always told me that when she came, the sensations immediately afterward were too intense to bear, and she needed to separate. But I could see the evil smile on Amalia's lips, as she looked me straight in the eye.

"Make her cum again," she said, and Alice just tried to moan her dissent and disapproval.

Not Enough #12

And so I watched and waited, knowing that the night would only get darker and more violent as we all three slid down a slippery slope. We all remained motionless, Debra wide-eyed in the wake of being slapped across the face, I gazing down at my softening cock and the small pool of cum on the floor, Amalia grinning the churlish grin, ever the Cheshire cat standing between two dumbstruck statues. And then she reached up, her left hand entwined in Debra's hair, gripping it hard, then obviously harder, as Debra gasped at the new level of discomfort. Amalia pulled the handful of hair close to her mouth, bringing Debra's head along with it at an awkward angle, causing her to tip to the side and quickly become off balance.

She whispered into Debra's ear, "Clean him up," a short command, as her left hand continued to travel downward toward the floor, now dragging Debra with her, crouching almost to the ground and planting Debra's chin right on the floor. I could see and sense her discomfort and pain, her neck bent almost straight back, and tried to adjust my kneeling posture to accommodate her mouth as it formed that familiar ring around the very head of my cock. I could feel her suckle on it like a nursing child, her head trapped in its clumsy location by Amalia's tight grip on her hair. She was allowed to pull her head back slightly, leaving her little pink tongue protruding from between her lips. "Alice, Fuck the slit of his cock with your tongue, and clean him inside as well as outside" was the next command, and Debra strove to comply, rolling up the sides of her tongue to make it as narrow as possible, trying to cram the tip inside the head of my cock.

Amalia looked up at me, the grin starting to become a sneer. "Why don't you go to the bedroom and bring back the vibrator? It's time for someone else to cum." And I stood there dumbfounded yet again, because she didn't own a vibrator. "Didn't know she had one, did you? Tell him where you hide the Wand." And, armed with the knowledge of Debra's secret hiding place, and the shame and embarrassment of not knowing that she had been masturbating herself to the orgasms that we weren't sharing, I made my way to the bedroom to retrieve the toy.

Not Enough #11

Debra moved her feet further apart, forcing herself to come into a modified squat, her arms dangling at her sides, her cunt mostly bald and fully exposed, quickly obeying the command given to her, her shoulders still slumped in some sort of abject surrender, never once raising her head to look either one of us in the eye. "Now you, Sir Lancelot, lick." And I settled down onto my haunches, moving almost as quickly as Debra had, my will to do anything else seemingly taken away from me. I found that her legs were spread wide enough so that I could just fit my shoulders between her knees. It was an difficult stance for her to maintain, and yet she didn't protest the awkward posture.
I moved my head closer to her pussy, forming my lips into a ring, as I located her clit and ever so gently began to vibrate it by moving my tongue in and out against it, eagerly finding the sensitive area and knowing that I found it by the soft groan that escaped her lips. The woman, who I now know as Amalia, stood up, the sheet falling away from her breasts, her nipples puffy in excitement, the tips erect. She still wore a pair of sheer boypants, her dark pubes showing through against the whisper thin black nylon, a small stain of wetness showing that she was joining us in being aroused by what she was creating.
She came around the bed, standing beside us, watching, inspecting, making certain that I was licking Debra off adroitly, Debra now beginning to buck her hips back and forth as she gave into to my tongue. I abandoned the licking and just started to suck her clit, now wildly erect, standing up like a tiny cock, Debra now moaning in rhythm to her hip thrusts, stirred on by my random licking as her hips receded and pushed forward, almost fucking my mouth with her clit, my own cock now wildly erect as well, drooling with precum as I joined Debra in being lost to the surrender.
Amalia reached over and took her left nipple between her thumb and first two fingers, squeezing hard and pulling downward, forcing Debra to bend forward at the waist, making her moan with the sudden sharp pain. "You're not to cum until I tell you you can. You understand that, don't you?" she hissed into Debra's ear, barely loud enough for me to hear. Her question elicited no response, Debra being too far gone in her own private lust, the pain at her nipple just driving her further forward into her own personal playground of sensation. Neither one of us was conscious of her movement, as she stood behind me.
Until Amalia slapped her hard across the face, causing her to rock to one side, her palm and fingers almost imprinted on Debra's left cheek. "You don't cum unless I tell you to cum. Your orgasms belong to me."
And I suddenly understood that I didn't know if she was talking to me or to Debra or to both of us, but I was in big trouble, as I felt my cock jerk once or twice, my sperm spilling gently on the floor.

Not Enough #10

I was mute, my gaze riveted on Debra's now flame colored pubes, as she parted her legs, putting her right hand on her pubic bone just above the remaining hairs. I could see her push down hard, causing her cuntlips to separate and forcing her clit to stand up even taller than it was before. She was shiny with the wetness of arousal, and the sight of her made my breath come faster, my throat constricting slightly in the excitement of seeing her present herself to me on the command of another. My cock jumped involuntarily, fully extended, and I could see the precum begin to ooze from the slit.
"Do you like it?" she asked again, and it suddenly seemed terribly important for me to give the right answer in the right way. Barely able to speak from the excitement I was feeling, I nodded my head once or twice, barely whispering my assent.
"Spread your knees wider...make room for him. He's going to lick you dry, aren't you?"

Not Enough

Go back to May22nd, and read it there.

Not Enough #9

I hastily threw on a robe, and, with some trepidation, walked down the hallway to the den, where I could see the light escaping from under the closed door. A jumble of mostly black discarded clothing, crowned by a precariously placed scarlet thong, blocked part of the doorway. I moved the pile aside with my foot, and hesitantly turned the doorknob, pushing the door ajar enough to slide through the door.

The convertible couch was open, covered with sheets that appeared yellow in the subdued light. As I scanned the room, I could see Her standing beside the bed totally naked, her shoulders slumped, her head down and her gaze downcast, her hands together in front of her pussy, the posture forcing up breasts together and up. In the bed, between the sheets, was a woman I had never seen before in my life...short brown hair framing a round small face, wire rimmed glasses covering squinting eyes, her attitude and demeanor calm and unruffled, the top sheet covering her breasts and held in place by her arms, which were place over the sheet. I could see the outlines of her smallish breasts, her dark nipples erect in the cool night air.

"Hi sport, we were wondering if you were going to join us, weren't we?" she asked, and to my surprise received no response from Her. "Weren't we, Alice? she asked again pointedly, and her face took on a predatory leer, as she sat up straighter, reaching across to grab Her nipple and twisting it, eliciting a quick moan. "Her name's not Alice, it's Debra," I replied.

"Let me explain something to you. Tonight is Wednesday night, it's my night, it's her night to please me. Her job tonight is to do whatever it takes to please me, and to please me in any way I see fit, whether it involves pleasure, pain, shame...whatever it takes to make me happy. Sometimes I make her make me cum, sometimes I want to watch her cum, sometimes I beat her with a belt until her ass is bright red, and then I go to work on the rest of her body. And if I decide that her name is Alice on Wednesday night, her name is Alice. Isn't that right, Alice?", and Debra could only nod her head once, not being able to pick up her eyes and meet my gaze.

I could feel the erotic tension in the room, this strange woman being able to control her every move and motion. Despite myself, I was aroused by the whole situation, and felt myself become erect, my cock peeking through the folds of the robe. Her eyes dropped down to my crotch and narrowed perceptibly, as the robe opened slightly.

"Ah, the dynamic changes here, doesn't it?", she asked, as she smiled the predatory smile yet again. "You like this, don't you? You like knowing that she belongs to me, and I can make her do any fucking thing I want. Show him what you did for me tonight, what you hoped would please me, what you'd hoped I might like. Put your fucking hands down, you silly little girl, show him your cunt and what you did to it...for me."

With what seemed like a shiver, her hands fell to her sides, and I could see that most of her pubic hair was gone. What little there was left of it was dyed a bright fire engine red. Debra finally looked up at me, a mixture of embarassment and shame in her eyes.

"Open your legs, and let him take a good look...did you think he was never going to see your pussy again? Is that why you were trying to hide it? From him?" And I could see that she was wet from the sheer excitement and shame, all the talk of the state of her pussy only serving to inflame her in some way.

"Do you like it?", the woman asked.

Not Enough #8

And with that late night foray into forcible pleasure we moved further away from the relationship we used to have, drifting away from each other in different directions, she seeming to work harder and harder at looking like some seaside slut on the prowl, as I compensated by making my world smaller and smaller, trying hard to exclude what didn't fit comfortably into the framework that she presented for me.
The sex we had together no longer had any element of lovemaking in it at all, but rather became a series of random encounters marked only by the spirit of opportunity that presented itself in passing periodically. We tacitly agreed, after that late night adventure, to use each other when and as the urge presented itself, in whatever room of the apartment and at whatever time the feeling struck, with few or no holds barred. Early in the morning, after I knew she had been out late carousing, I would reach across the bed to suckle her breasts, and she would lift her tanktop and roll over on her side facing me, allowing me to suck away to my hearts content, all the time barely waking up, periodically changing the angle she lying on, making me change from nipple to nipple without so much as coming to full awareness, her hand as always snaking down between her legs to play with herself just as I did, each of us masturbating away in our own private fantasy world.
We would pass each other on a Saturday afternoon while making lunch in the kitchen, and I put my hands on her shoulders, forcing her down to her knees as I unbuttoned my jeans. She took the zipper in her teeth and pulled down, reaching between my legs with both hands to pull down my underwear and then took my cock deep in her mouth, her hands now resting on her thighs as she started a different kind of blow job. A hand came up to brush aside her hair from her face in an imitative movement, and I could see that she had been watching some porn star in action. She worked hard to get more and more of my cock into her mouth, beginning to fuck her mouth with my cock, now reaching between my legs again to clutch each buttock and pull me deeper, her saliva thickening as she gave up more and more of her throat, the tears of effort now dripping from her eyes, the mucous flowing from her nose as she abandoned herself to raping her throat with my cock, truly making the blow job about her and not for one minute about me. When I spasmed and came, she choked down as much of the cum as she could, taking her mouth off my cock so that the last few spurts flew across her face, her head flopping down from the effort, the cum dripping down her chin.
At times when she wasn't out late drinking with her girlfriends, she would spend an incredibly long time in the bathroom, only to enter the bedroom, climb up on the bed on all fours and mutely present me with a wide open view of her anus, her tiny rosebud hole already lubed up and stretched wide open. She had never been a huge fan of anal sex, but now it seemed to be par for the course, so to speak. She would reach behind her with both hands, pulling her butt cheeks wide open, clenching and unclenching her asshole, posing like the slut that she was becoming, inviting me in. And I always succumbed to her teasing, my cock becoming hard in an instant as I would move forward and put the head quickly in, always eliciting her guttural moan. We were no longer being nice and kind to one another, just using each other for the physical sensations we could garner, and so I would ram forward the entire length of my cock, getting the heartfelt moan as she buried her head in the pillow and I began to move my hips back and forth. Instantly her hand reached between her thighs and started to scrub away at her clit, first rubbing away with a flat hand and then curving her fingers and strumming away. It was yet another movement she had learned from her furtive porno viewing habits, and I wondered where she was watching the porn, and with whom. I invariably came quickly when I fucked her asshole, the friction and pressure and general sluttiness of it being more than I could handle. I would pull out and leave her kneeling there, the cum and lube now leaking out, as she held the pose for just a minute longer than was necessary.
And so we continued, each using the other in the search for base gratification, until the night when I was awakened by the sound of multiple voices from the den.

Not Enough #7

I continued to wait for the other shoe to drop, so to speak, watching her become more overtly sexual on a daily basis. She had taken to idly caressing her sex as we lay in bed reading before going to sleep, her fingers absentmindedly reaching down between her legs to stroke back and forth as she read, dreamily causing herself to become more aroused. We had long ago stopped making love, but still had sex when she was in the mood, which was more often than not these days.
It all changed one Thursday night, when she came home late once again, long after I had given up waiting up for her. I understood that she was out with her friends on the prowl, drinking to excess and relearning the art of flirting. I was dead asleep, lost in my own private dreams, when she came in, overloaded once again with alchohol, thrashing around again while undressing and getting into bed, banging into furniture and making enough noise to wake the dead. She crept into the space that I had left for her, kneeling on the bed, pushing my shoulder once, then again, harder, until I woke up, half in this world and half in dreamland.
"Wake up, dammit...wake up!!" She pushed again on my shoulder, until I rolled over onto my back, trying hard to clear my mind and open my eyes long enough to look at her. "I'm asleep, leave me alone and go to sleep yourself. Your night is over." "It's over when I say it's over...not when you tell me," she replied, anger and frustration creeping into her voice. All of a sudden, she crawled up on the bed and straddled my chest causing my arms to spread wide.
"You're always so boring and vanilla, so ordinary, so run-of-the-mill. And right now I'm soooo fucking horny." She looked down at me with increasing anger, her eyes squinting in the darkness of the room. I could feel her skin against mine, the heat of her body cascading down on me as she knelt across my chest, her sex warmer still, the dampness just touching me. I could smell the sharp acrid odor of her pussy, the days accumulation of juices and perspiration and pee all still lingering on her cunt. She put her hands on either side of my head and forced me to look her in the eye. "Eat me, for chrissake. Eat me right now," she hissed at me, and I shook my head no. "Now, dammit, right now," and I shook my head no again.
"Don't you fucking tell me no. You'll do it right now," she said, and she scuttled forward so that her knees were high in my armpits, leaning her full weight against them to pin my arms high above my head on the bed. She put one hand behind my head and tried to elevate my mouth to her wetness, and when I resisted, she grabbed a handful of hair with one hand and pulled hard, then harder, until my mouth was hard against her sex.
"Now lick, make me cum," and when I didn't open my mouth, she reached behind her like a bullrider in the rodeo and grabbed my cock, yanking it towards herself until I gave and and started to eat her out, taking long slow swipes between her lips, finding her clit easily, rolling my tongue around the elevated stub until it stood up higher and harder. She finally let go of my cock, grabbing my hair with both hands and directing my mouth back and forth along her slit, her juices now flowing freely. In spite of myself I became hard, as she increased her rhythm, now moaning in time to the movements of my mouth. With a sudden surge she came, and I eagerly lapped up the juices.
She fell off me, coming to rest on the bed, asleep almost instantly, as I jerked off next to her, cumming in one massive burst, semen coursing across my stomach and part of the way up my chest.
The other shoe had started to drop, and we had definitely turned a corner.

Not Enough #6

I continued to watch and observe her evolution in both her appearance and her demeanor. Her hair, which had been cut to shoulder length in a utilitarian manner now hung down to the middle of her back, the glossy chestnut brown now streaked with lighter tints and hues, longer curls appearing in what once was her line straight coif. Her forehead, the high brow which gave her face almost a madonna-ish look was suddenly hidden behind peekaboo bangs, her eyes disguised and partially hidden. Makeup went on much heavier, causing her to look like she was going out for the night when in reality she was just going to work...much more eye shadow and eye liner, lipstick and lipliner going brighter one day, much darker the next, contrasting with each other. I notice a second earring in her left ear only.

She started to have more nights out with her girlfriends, stopping for drinks and more on Thursdays, then Wednesdays and Thursdays, sometimes coming home well past the time that Jay Leno had put me to sleep. She would reek of alchohol, and I would wake up in the morning to her liquored breath, her clothes strewn all over the bedroom. She would always wake up in the morning to have breakfast with me, but sometimes it seemed like I was sitting opposite an out of control adolescent rather than the woman I had been with for such a long time.

And then there was the sex.

Not Enough #5

And so I watched and waited, as she slowly began to evolve and change.

The first thing to change was her underwear, as she seemed to subscribe to the philosophy that less is more. The fleshtone bras and panties became a thing of the past, overtaken by an endless parade of those little striped shopping bags from Victoria's Secret, with an occasional foray to the local branch of Agent Provocateur. Colors became the order of the day. The briefs disappeared under a cascade of scarlet thongs and pretty colored boypants, sometimes sheer, sometimes lace. Bras were only half cups or less, her breasts pushed up and now more jiggly as she walked, less constrained by fabric, the random quarter cup almost leaving her nipples wide out in the open.

Her jeans became tighter and lower cut, the kind with the two inch zipper or shorter, the waistband riding low on her generous hips, little or no thought being given to whether her tops even came close to meeting her jeans, her panties randomly peeking out above the jeans, although she did try to keep pushing them down with her fingers while pulling up the waist in some strange attempt at modesty. Tops for the most part remained the same, although the tinier bras often left little to the imagination, her boobs moving as she walked. the occasional skirt was tighter, cupping her ass, and shorter, as is often the fashion.

She no longer wore the flowery summer scent that had been a trademark for years, now preferring the aggressive thrust of patchouli, the dark musky aroma strangely evocative of a different person entirely.

And so I bided my time, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Not Enough #4

I stood up abruptly, not taking the time to tuck my cock back into my jeans, and walked the few steps down to her end of the long low couch. She paused for a moment, dropping out of her playtime as I leaned forward slightly, my flexed knees hitting the couch cushion, my right hand reaching forward ever so slowly towards her crotch, which still glistened with her wetness. Her hand strayed up towards my dangling cock, her littlest finger extended forward towards my slit, her unpainted nail slipping into the slit now wet with precum.
My fingers now reached her pussy, and I rubbed her moistened lips together, causing more and more friction on her clit, and she put her hand over mine, adjusting the rhythm and pressure slightly from moment to moment. Without warning I let go of her pussy lips, and plunged my two middle fingers into her slit, quickly reaching for the spot just behind her pubic bone where that spongy g spot area resided, giving her quick come hither flexes with my fingers. And I watched her start to lose it, drift far away, her mouth wide open as she continue to move her fingers back and forth furiously, her pale face now flushed with the eros of excitement, her breath shortening to panting. Her pussy walls started to flex, once, twice, thrice, as she froze in a rictus of pleasure, her two hands now moving together up and down, pushing her clit towards the mound below my thumb as she came, and I watched her as she did, and then waited for the orgasm to be over.
"Now me, you slut," I said, smiling down at her, my fingers now entwined in her hair, as I dragged her mouth up to my cock, forcing as much of it into her waiting mouth as I could in one shot, now fucking my cock with her mouth, forcing more and more of it into her mouth and down her throat, until I couldn't wait any longer, and came with several quick jerks, her mouth filling fast as she tried to swallow and clear her airway.
We had both cum within moments of each other, and we paused to catch our breaths. I knelt down further to kiss her mouth, tasting my own cum on her breath as she panted one or two last times.
"This doesn't change anything," she said. "It's still not enough for me, and I want someone else, I want something more."
And I knew that this part of the journey was indeed just beginning....

Not Enough#3

And with that she smiled her crocodile smile yet again, her eyelids half lowered, as she bridged her pelvis up in the air, reaching at the waistband of her jeans, opening the buttton and lowering the oh so short zipper, pushing the jeans down until they bunched just below her knees. My hands mirrored her initial movements, opening the buttons on my jeans and spreading them open, reaching into my underwear to pull out my cock which was now more hard than soft.

My eyes locked onto hers, and yet struggled to split their time between her eyes and her crotch."You can see how hot I've gotten, just telling you about this," she said matter-of-factly, her excitement betrayed by the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the dampness of her panties, the small swatch of satin now darkened at the very juncture of the thighs. "Take a look, take a long look at how wet I've gotten imagining a different dick inside me," she added, as she pulled the thin waist of the panties upwards, pulling the fabric inside her slit, her other hand reaching around her hip and underneath her to pull the remaining slack out of the fabric, stretching it thinner than thin until it was bunched in a single line up and down, the now plump lips of her pussy spreading on either side of the cloth.

She began to slide it back and forth, masturbating herself languidly in the late afternoon sun. I did the same, absentmindedly reaching down for my now erect cock which now had started to leak percum juice at a furious rate. We had played this game before, watching each other pleasure themselves in the daytime, gaining something somewhat lurid and sinful about masturbating in the daytime in the sunshine in each others eyesight. We stopped for a minute, catching each others eye, each holding up slick fingertips, smiling at the other in our guilty pleasuring of ourselves.

I waited, and watched as she started to lose herself to the feeling of her fingers, forsaking the bunched fabric between her legs, her right hand diving inside her panties scratching ever faster at her clit and peehole, her fingers all in a line touching as much of the flesh between her lips as she could manage, the left hand reaching further around to finger herself, putting one then two fingers inside. She was constricted by the jeans and by the back of the couch, and she struggled with her left hand, seeming not to be able to reach around herself far enough to touch herself in just the right place inside herself.

She frowned, and then looked up at me with her little girl pout, her lower lip jutting forward. "Can't you help me? Please?"

Not Enough-Part II

If you haven't read Part I yet, just scroll back and take a look. Continuity counts.


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"You want to what?" I yelped, in spite of myself, my stunned surprise getting the better of me.
"I want to take a lover," she repeated. "I'm telling you now, because I didn't want to sneak around and make this terminally sordid, the cheating wife and the cuckold husband. It won't be anybody either of us knows, that would just make it sleazy and cheap, and I think this is going to be difficult enough for each of us, for both of us."
I could see that her face was flushed, her white winter skin turned pink by the thoughts she was having, the thoughts of extramarital sex, the illicitness of it heating her up and exciting her. I put the arch of my foot between her denim covered thighs, feeling the heat emanating from her pussy, touching that extra bit of dampness when she got aroused, the jeans themselves sliding up just a little bit with the give of the extra fabric in her crotch. She smiled a far away smile as I pushed that extra bit harder, her eyes narrowing, her cheshire cat smile spreading as she made a tiny groan.
"You slut. You've been thinking about this forever, haven't you...and you've gotten all wet just talking about it." She could only smile in agreement as I rocked my foot back and forth against her damp jeans, her lips parting as her breathing quickened.
"Would you like to see? I could show you just how excited I am, just how wet I am, just how much of a slut I'm becoming. I could open my jeans and show you just how much pussy juice is soaking through my panties, how its making my thighs shine as it leaks out of my little undies. Would you like that?"
And she knew that I would, as she played to my love of hearing her talking dirty, as she played to my secret pleasure, being the watcher. "Show me," I croaked, my breath caught in my throat, my airway constricting as it always did as I became aroused and hard. "Show me."

Not Enough-Part I

We had survived the holiday season, She and I, getting through Christmas at Her loudmouth sister's, survived the early morning phone call from the Wicked Witch of The West sister, who spent our precious time gushing about her wonderful Christmas Eve, and excoriating Her about everything else, knowing full well that She would be on her best behavior (as the middle child, the appeaser, the gratifier, the go-between) and would be sure to not rock the boat...they were all daughters of the same parents after all, all ACOA, each assuming the specified role long ago proscribed by years of family misadventures.
We lay at opposite ends of the long couch, our legs intertwined, each of us occasionally shifting from one hip to the other, squirming to find a more comfortable position, each of us struggling to catch up on newspapers and magazines that had fallen by the wayside during the Christmas season, the unread events and editorials of the past ten days on the floor before us, each of us with a mug of coffee close at hand. We were smug in the knowledge that we had survived another holiday season, the onslaught of retail adventures and wholesale giftgiving put behind us. We had escaped again together.

Or so I thought.

We had been together for more than ten years at the time, and had long ago stopped talking about sex during sex, both of us feeling that there was some element of traffic directing in specific instructions, and so we had taken to discussing whatever happened in bed at some time the next day, or the day after, sort of like a post game show if we had been playing some sport. The comments often came out of nowhere, no preamble, out of the clear blue, and the listener often had to take a moment to shift gears, the wheels spinning before gaining traction.
"It's not enough for me," she said, and I struggled to understand what she meant, as my heart dropped in my chest. "It's nice, but it's not enough. I'm not lost in it, I'm not abandoning myself to the sex, I'm not disappearing into it. I'm watching as though I were a third person in the room, apart from the two of us, watching the mechanics of it from another place in the bedroom."
I was dumbstruck, unable to say a word, shamed and embarrassed by the knowledge that I was doing my job but not completing her. I had no response, knowing by the way she phrased her words that there was no chance or opportunity for me to find a solution and fix the problem. She was presenting everything as a fait accompli.
"There's passion and intimacy, but there's no lust. I miss the lust. I truly ache for it. I lust for the lust," she said, flashing me an smile that conveyed both sadness and desire at the same time, her eyes narrowing with determination and blatant horniness.

"I want to take a lover."