Showing posts with label erotic fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label erotic fiction. Show all posts

Monday, December 19, 2022

No time to waste

"You have one hour." I said into the phone.

"One?" She was eager but distracted.

"One."

"Why so short?"

"If you want privacy, and sun, and me, you have one hour."

"Are you available?"

"As agreed," As if I would lie about something like this.

"I have the kids."

"Then it doesn't work," I was a bit annoyed, "does it?"

"I guess not."

I hung up and got dressed, put the equipment away, and made breakfast.


I saw her at church a couple of days later. She and my wife laughed and talked and arranged dinner for our little group and I planned to go shooting with her husband and his new associate who hinted at bringing me in on a another, somewhat dubious, business deal, but that was his modus operandi.  Everything was a bit dubious until we sat down, crunched the numbers, and reviewed the legality of what was on the table.  We rejected 90% of the deals that came our way.  The 10% we did support went well enough that a trip to Europe was in the budget for next year, or maybe Thailand.  All 8 of us would go.


"You have 57 minutes."

"57?" she sounded confused.

"Winter solstice is coming."

"Right"

"Conditions are good today." I hung up 

The doorbell rang.  I unlocked the door and walked back into my home office and locked the door behind me.  My front door opened and shut, then my patio door did the same.

I turned on cameras 1, 2, and 7 and checked the batteries on the two drones,

She came into focus on camera 1 first.  Camera 2 picked up the view from the east so was a little overblown by the bright morning sun so I adjusted the angle the best I could an texted her to move closer to the fence, away from the koi pond.  She did as instructed.

"Are we secure?" she texted back.

"Yes."  

She laid out a dark green blanket and arranged her accessories around the outside edge.  In one corner she placed a small placard with her OnlyFans account and a QR code.  I zoomed in on the code, paused for as long as I thought was needed for horny viewers at home, then zoomed back out again.  By the time I zoomed out, she was in her bikini, sunglasses, and floppy hat. 

She gave me a thumbs up and I hit record, broadcast, and livestream all at the same time.  She was on, the sun was out, and within 3 minutes, her followers were on board.

You couldn't see her face, you didn't need to.  Her microphone picked up every syllable of her rich and sexy voice, and you'd never guess that it was the same voice that led our youth ministry choir each Sunday and urged you to vote Republican on Monday.

Not that politics matter with a body like hers.  Two kids in and still a ballerina at heart and a beast at the gym.

Each message got bolder, each watcher more eager.  Soon the money chimes started.  Spread my legs? Cha-ching, Roll over?  Cha-ching, Rub oil on her feet. strangely, Cha Cha Cha Ching, but never my thing.  Oh well.  The coins and tips started adding.  

Pull her bikini bottom up for a camel toe?  5x coinage
Pull her top down for a nipple 10x
Untie her top - the chimes made it sound like a pinball machine.

I put up the notice that she was going to her VIP room in 5 min, top 20 tippers only.  
Holy Fuck, she was going to be very happy. 
She didn't see the money side, she read the requests, fulfilled the wishes that turned her on, and never heard a single money ping.

I heard everything. Saw everything.

"Ready for VIP?"  

"Do I have to?"  

"No, but we'll have to process some refunds to keep people happy."

"Any sign of you-know-who?"

"Not under any names we've identified."

"Are you watching IP addresses? all that Dark Web Shit?"

"Yes"

"You know what to do if he shows up?"

"Yes"

The sun was shifting.  She had 23 minutes before it got dark, shady, and cold. A slight breeze curled the corner of her blanket and I saw the Cyprus tree outside my window begin to flutter its leaves in the wind.

A tipping war flared in the last 90 seconds before her VIP feed started as desperate, but well-funded watchers tried to secure their place on the top 20 tippers list. Suspiciously, a 1,000 coin tip, or $250, came in at the last second and grabbed the 10th spot.

I put a "Watch" tag on the suspicious ID and opened the VIP room.  Her hat came off, the outside lights warmed up, and the drones launched.  They were small, nearly silent, and gave me a tool to get shots without interfering with her pleasure.

This was my favorite part.  All the requests came to my screen, then I whispered them in her ear.

Sit up tall
Touch your nipple through your bikini
Spread your legs
Wider, Please

What the users didn't know, and didn't need to know, is that she didn't read a word of it.
She trusted my voice and obeyed my commands and got more popular by the day.

She was beautiful, that's not uncommon, OF is full of beautiful women, but only a few of them knew their limits, and stuck to them.

Each request cost more coins, each watcher paid with unlimited credit cards and a bit of their self-worth with every request.  She knew what they were doing in the darkened bedrooms, the locked basements, and the occasional office (as long as it didn't have glass walls).  I only discussed this with her once when we set up our arrangement.  

I was blunt, I could not allow her to go into it with any romantic notions.

"OnlyFans," I said as we sat in a park not far from our homes, "is on-line prostitution.  Men, and sometimes women, will pay you for sexual acts.  It's that simple.  The more they pay, the more they expect you to do.  The more you are willing to do, the more they will pay."

"Who can see it?"

"Anybody with a credit card number."

"Can we block my kids?"

"Only if they are in your home, with your security, and as long as they don't have any friends with computers.  We'll setup an alias, anonymous links and emails, and the bank accounts will run through offshore accounts set up by my cousin."
 
"Can you manage the cameras, the computers?"

"Yes, I'll take a 10% cut after OF fees, equipment costs, and an high-speed Internet connection"

"Only 10%?  Where can I film?"

"I have a spare bedroom and a private backyard, and believe me, 10% is plenty."

"Can I trust you?"

"Yes.  But, I'll be clear, after we discuss your limits and preferences, I will watch you every second of every session. I will whisper instructions in your ear, I will tell you when, where, and how to cum.  I will control, watch, and record every orgasm, every toy, and every touch.  I will screen your watchers; I will shield you from the worst and give you only the best.  We will both be rich, and every second of content will be yours."

She looked around the park and blushed, hoping that none of the other moms heard me, but kind of wishing they had.

She extended her hand.  "When can we start?"  

"I'll be ready next Friday.  I have most of the equipment on order for a weekend delivery."

"Pretty confident that I was going to go through with it?"

"I had my doubts, but the way you smiled at me during coffee hour after church told me to hit the order button.

Since that day, we have built her audience, her fan base, her small and growing fortune, but have never once spoken of it outside the digital walls of our burner phones.  The only give-away is a smile at church, or when we pick up our kids from dance class, or occasionally see each other at the mall.

I looked at the clock.  She had 10 min. left.  I announced the Super VIP room would open to the biggest tipper.  10 pings rang, almost in in unison and 9 ID vanished from the screen.  They had shot their wad financially and sexually and knew they couldn't compete, so they logged out with the typical SIMP messages about her beauty, about her body parts, but rarely anything about her personality, her wicked sarcastic sense of humor, or her delicious fudge brownie recipe.  They didn't know her, they just wanted her.  And I deleted it all.

After 10 IDs tossed in their last bid, the 11th outbid them all by $500 and shut them all down.

My IP search finally popped up.  It had taken a while to get through the user's multiple VPNs and anonymizers, but now I could see he was local, and in an expensive zip code.

"There's only one left.  He's local, rich, and it's probably him."

"OK." she said, surprisingly calm, "Let's see if we can play a game."

End Part 1

Wednesday, August 31, 2022

Wednesday Wantings - 8/31

Summer ends Friday

Her text was a genuine surprise. She hadn't talked to me privately for almost two years, not since my innocent "Good Night" text was seen by her husband and all hell broke loose on her end. Now days it was just occasional hellos as she picked up my wife to go to the gym. 

We had never done anything, just a few texts, a flirty chat in her driveway, and a picture of her new bikini from her Outer Banks vacation. His reaction wasn't to my text, but more about his suspicions of her. She was the prettiest woman at church, athletic, outdoorsy, just a little flirty, and more than a little bit of a tease. I know he was insecure, so I backed off and let them manage it at home.

I recognized her type early in our friendship. I knew that the long eye contact and flirty looks over her shoulder as she walked away were to feed her ego, not my unholy desires. Nothing was ever going to happen, she was “all flirt and no fuck”, and so I could play along, say outrageous things, always knowing that it was just for show. She was the WWE of flirting. She'd let you jump from the ropes and knock her to the mat, but everyone knew it was all fake.

Are you ready for school? I responded.

Loading the car was my only focus. The e-waste drive was at our high school, and I was running late for their 3:00 closure.

Almost ready. Her text came back too quickly, I could use some help with a filing cabinet someone donated.

Ahh, here it is, I thought, the fake "invitation" to see her, like the "good old days" that weren't as good for me as they were for her self-esteem.

I have a car full of e-waste that needs to be dropped by 3:00. Can't Kevin help?

Again, her reply was too quick. Out of town 'til Monday

He bailed on you the 1st wknd of school?

Trade Show

Trade Show girlfriends?

Maybe, maybe not, IDGAF

Really?

Can you help me or not?

Not until 3:30

Whatever.

That wasn't her typical send-off, even after a long hiatus.

I'll try.

I stared at my phone and wondered, but not for too long. My phone then did as most phones do, it rang, I picked up, told my wife that "Yes, I had remembered the e-waste drive and I was on my way there."

I hung up, turned off the ringer, and grabbed my keys.

The line at the drop-off site was longer than expected and when I got to the front I realized why, the eager young volunteers were soliciting signatures on another misguided Green Earth initiative and half the drivers slowed the line by signing and the other half slowed it down by trying to argue the finer points of electric car battery disposal with teenagers who just recently learned to smoke pot, and were, therefore, the least able to handle the conversation.

Still need help?

I texted with shaky fingers, wondering what would happen.

She didn't respond immediately, so at least she wasn't hovering over her phone, but I went to get gas, then a $1 soda at McDonalds, then stopped at the dry cleaners, and realized that I was slowly drifting toward her neighborhood.

Yes. 8372

Now I was driving on purpose. My heart kicked up a bit.

I tapped in her gate code and dropped off the hill to the beautiful riverfront home where I parked, knocked, and waited.

Come around to the back.

The gate was unlocked, but sticky, and I made a lot of noise getting in. She rounded the corner, laughing at the racket and opened her arms for a big hug. As her arms opened, so did the cover-up she was wearing over a simple black string bikini. She looked fabulous and my eyes dropped lower than they should have if I wanted to maintain a veneer of disinterest. 

She wrapped her arms around me and pressed herself against me. I returned the gesture, and we held each other for too long.

"I'm glad you're here." she whispered, and then let me go.

She grabbed my hand and led me to the back of the house. The file cabinet sat drying in the sun, a fresh layer of paint matched her new school's colors and a bare spot for the logo in the middle.

"Is it going into Kevin's truck?"

"Eventually"

"Eventually?" I asked.

"It's not dry yet and I need to add the logo and clean out some rust from the inside."

"So, it's not ready to move?"

She smiled, "Not quite yet."

I turned around and looked at her. Then sun highlighted her hair and her cover-up was translucent and showed her slim shaped as a beautiful silhouette. 

"Then why am I here?" My voice was a combination of hope and exasperation.

She shrugged her shoulders and her cover-up fell to the hot cement.

"It's been almost two years." I said. "Why now?"

"I missed you."

"And?"

"The opportunity presented itself."

"And?"

"Kevin's being a dick."

"And?"

"I'm horny as fuck."

"Ah."

"What happens next?" I stepped closure to her and pulled lightly on the string that held her bikini top in place, "Do I strip you down, fuck you hard, and then go home to my wife, who happens to be your best friend?"

She took a half-step back, causing the string to pull further.

"I don't know."

I stayed rooted to the ground, but pulled lightly on the string, feeling it catch in that moment before the knot releases and her top falls down.

"Do I put on you on that lounge chair over there and force your legs open and kiss your sun-drenched thighs until you beg me to eat your pussy through the soaked material of you suit?" My other hand dropped between her legs and I rubbed her through the materiel.

She looked at the lounge chair, paused, then looked back at me. There was the hint of a tear in her voice even as she sighed at my knuckle’s insistent rub.

"I don't know."

I pulled the string a fraction of an inch and the knot gave way, but the sweat and suntan lotion kept the thin fabric on her chest, keeping her covered, but she gave a quick gasp and her eyes opened wide. Her hands flinched but my stare told her not to move a muscle without permission.

I stepped closer and put my hand on her hip, finding the matching strings that held what little fabric, and illusion, wrapped around her body. 

I leaned in and whispered, "Or" I breathed into her ear as I tugged lightly on the strings, "do I pull this string, bend you over, and fuck you from behind like I should have done in your kitchen two years ago?"

Her body shivered, then shook, and she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. She ground her hip against my hard cock then shifted our bodies so I could grind my shaft into her mound. Without pulling away, she pulled on the black strings, stripping away both top and bottom until I held her, naked, shivering, sweaty, in my arms.

"I want it all." she said, "I want it all."

Our lips met in the most ferocious kiss I have ever shared.

"Touch me." she begged.

My hands went down her back and I felt the curves of her hips.

"Deeper." I felt her breasts against my chest, my cock against her body as I took her ass in my hands and spread it wide, exposing her flesh to the hot summer sun. 

"Touch me." she pleaded.

The tip of my finger touched the tight pink pucker of her ass and pressed firmly. Not penetrating, not moving, but pressing firmly as an act of conquest. She was mine.

My hands scooped under her cheeks, and I lifted her off the pool deck and she wrapped her legs around my waist. Even through the damp fabric of my poplin shorts, I could feel her needs, her lips, her wetness.

She broke our kiss and started to talk but I silenced her with a look. I knew exactly what was going to happen next. She held on, naked, needy, wet, ready, and I walked her over to the large outdoor sofa that dominated the space next to the jacuzzi. I bent forward and laid her on her back and stood over her.

I stripped off my shirt and unbuckled my shorts.

"Last chance." I said. I wanted no second thoughts, no excuses, no regrets.

She looked up at me, naked spread, her labia pink and swollen, shimmering in the sun, shaved skin and tan lines no one but Kevin was meant to see.

"Fuck me." she said.

So, I did....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OK, that is the "Wednesday Wanting" version. Scroll down for the real story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer ends Friday

I looked at my phone, surprised to see her name. I blocked the number, deleted the text, and turned my attention back to the baseball game.

"Who was that?" my wife asked.

"Just some junk mail." I said and pulled her to me for a kiss. "Hey, didn't Kate and Kevin give you the keys to her pool while they were gone?"

"Yes," she looked suspicious but smiled, "Why?"

I pulled her in and cupped her left breast in my hand, running my thumb over her nipple. "I thought we just might go for a swim."

"Will I need a suit?" she asked.

"Nope"

"Then, let’s go!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OK, that didn't happen either, Here’s the real story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer ends Friday

I looked at my phone, "OH shit!" BLOCK BLOCK BLOCK BLOCK annnnnnnnnd delete.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have a happy Wednesday.

 

Hey, if you liked my little tale, let me know! :-)