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A word of warning: This story isn’t meant to stand on its own, using characters that have quite a bit of history in my continuous private universe.
In the late spring of the year 2088, somewhere between Rotterdale, NC and Springfield, OH,
“Fuck that shit.” Tristan has been known for better trains of thought in his life. This one time he stopped doubting for a change and went about doing something he knew he wanted, and to damn with the consequences. We all have to deal with anxiety at once or a second, right?
In this instance fucking that shit meant passing up on some mundane social arrangement or another and cavorting himself north a ways to a place he was somewhat afraid to go to. He got there and he didn’t hesitate to knock. If he had hesitated, he would have been lost in his thoughts.
Easy enough. Even to stop to catch his breath may have slowed him down just enough to stop his steam and that’s not something he could afford. He opened the door and beheld what was there waiting beyond. “Good evening, Misses McClure,” he said to the woman sitting upon the couch with her eyes glued to the Wavevision because the woman gets attention first, “Mister McClure.”
“That him?” the mister asked the misses. Like his wife he didn’t spare much more than a glance away from the Wavey to see what was whatting.
“Pretty sure,” answered the misses.
“You don’t sound sure.”
“This is a really interesting show.”
“Beatrix home?” That was Tristan speaking there.
“Had to lock her in her bedroom,” the misses answered.
“She was getting gloomy.”
“What’re you fixing on doing with my daughter with that length of rope?” the mister asked.
Tristan took a glance at his hands as though seeing what he’d brought into the home for the first time. “Uhh… kidnapping her?”
The misses looked as well. Like her husband, the concept was rather dubious. “We have church in the morning.”
“Can you make it quick?”
“Yep, it’s him,” the misses said to her husband.
“Look young man,” the mister said with an uncomfortable shift in his seat, “you seem like a nice feller but we can’t just go advocating letting you spirit my daughter around town willy-nilly. What kind of example would we be setting for the boys?”
“What if we just locked you in there with her?” the misses suggested. “It’s technically kidnapping.”
“Yeah but only if I do it,” Tristan said. “Also…”
“…She can be a little… loud.”
The mister and misses consulted with each other by means of knowing glances. The mister picked up a roll of duck tape, which just so happened to be gracing the end-table by his left hand, and tossed it to his guest.
“Like, really loud.”
The mister, having already considered the conversation over, kept his eyes on the Wavevision and simply turned it up louder.
Tristan shrugged and headed off down the hall, cracking open a length of tape on his way. He took his shoes off first of course; no need to be rude.
The door clicked open and Beatrix lifted her running eyes with hope lighting in them. “I’m sorry Mom, I didn’t mean to be so… Tris? What’re you doing he… what’re you planning on doing with that duck tape?”
“Where’re your shoelaces, Tristan?” Tristan answered in mocking echo, “Why are you so tired all the time, Tristan? Why is the shower so slippery after you use it, Tristan? What’s that smell, Tristan? You’d think people would’ve learned something in five decades of being alive, the number of stupid questions they can come up with. I’m tired of answering stupid questions.” Tristan shut the door behind him, the door being locked from the outside, and took meaningful steps toward the bed and the young lady held captive within it.
“Umm… Tris? You’re being all spooky. Did something happen?”
“No, nothing happened. That would be the problem. I’m about to make something happen is what.”
“Umm… okay, sit down and we can talk about stuff.”
“I don’t think I’ll be doing anymore talking tonight. You too.”
“…What’s that in your pocket? That wouldn’t happen to be a cucumber, would it? What’s a cucumber doing in your pocket?”
Tristan sprung like a dog and Beatrix leaped straight up like a cat. Much chaos ensued.
Many hours later,
Beatrix’s tongue fell slack from her mouth. With each of Tristan’s powerful thrusts it was dragged through the wet spot she’d left on her bed, be it from coming too hard for the gajilionth time or from when she’d peed herself seeing the bulge in Tristan’s shorts once he’d got his pants off. She’d actually thought he’d stuffed a cucumber in there just to spook her and instead she learned he’d done some growing since she’d last seen him.
Tristan gave a mighty roar and came for the last time. With that, the last of his strength left him and he fell flat onto the bed. More of a swamp than a bed at that point, Samsun Escort the way Beatrix leaked everywhere from what he’d been doing to her all night. Too sore of muscle to care anymore.
Beatrix was the next few minutes catching her breath, perhaps she was waiting for the focus to return to her eyes. Perhaps the feeling in her tongue was returning and she needed to suck it back into her mouth and swallow a few times. Minutes later she remained untouched, the longest she’d gone so since her territory was encroached upon. She struggled and squirmed yet the rope binding her arms behind her back stayed true. She at least could scrunch herself up to get her chin between her knees and with them catch the dangly end of the tape that had come loose and with a few tries pull it off.
“Ow.” Perhaps the first word to be spoken in several hours. Maybe there’s a certain magic in sex that can be broken with a single word. Nevermind. Beatrix did the three-point turn between her knees and her chin to come face-to-face with Tristan who was still wiped out with his head comfy against her fluffy pink pillows. That is, her face was more at level with his groin but you get what I’m trying to say. She scooched herself forward, got her head in his lap, and sucked his dick.
The door was banging and daylight was sneaking in through the window.
“It’s like morning already!” came from without the door. “I know the two of you have a lot to talk about but Jesus Christ! Like, literally Jesus Christ! Church and stuff, let’s go!”
“And I thought my parents were weird,” grumbled Tristan who was begrudgingly waking.
“Wanna switch?” Beatrix grumbled back. “Hey cool, you’re still here.” She snuggled what was left of herself into Tristan’s embrace. For a person of her length that’s something of an impressive feat let me tell you but cats are liquid and I’m not entirely convinced she isn’t part cat. I mean there’s the fear of cucumbers and all.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Tristan said without a hint of grumpiness and with a kiss to her forehead, “not anymore. Also your mom locked us in.”
At that moment the door was unlocked and opened and Misses McClure stuck her nosy head in. “Jesus Christ, it smells like a brothel in here!” she exclaimed.
“Good morning to you too,” fussed Beatrix who clamped her eyes shut against the onslaught of light newly invited in from the hall.
“Get your shit on; we’re goin’ to church. Him too.”
“He’s agnostic,” Tristan corrected. Like Beatrix he was keeping his tired eyes firmly shut against the invasive light.
“He’s late for church is what he is,” Misses McClure corrected, “now hope the shit he wore on the way here didn’t pick up any of that God-forskin stench.”
“Forsaken!” Beatrix hollered.
“Okay, professor,” Misses McClure said obnoxiously. “Now get that ass out of bed and dressed in something appropriate to worship and I’ll make you Swedish pancakes.”
“Ha,” Tristan said, “no way she’d fall for something so… Bea?”
Bea wasn’t to be found in his embrace where last he’d checked. By the closet she was, already stuffed into a dress and putting earrings on. Her hair was tamed and perfect after only one shake of her head. “Come on, lazy bones, let’s go.”
“I’ll give you pancakes,” Tristan grumbled but up he got anyways.
“Wanna hear something funny, Trissy?”
“I just did.”
“You ain’t called me ‘Trissy’ for a good few months now, that’s funny.”
“…That’s not funny.”
“You’ll have plenty of chances now.”
“That’s… that’s not funny either but it makes me smile even better. Shut up! I’m trying to say something portant.”
“Then say something portant.”
“I’ve had a lot of guys try to put strange stuff up my booty.”
“Let me finish! I mean most of them succeeded…”
“…Strange things, then?”
“I mean I know what they are but it’s not like we’re ever on a first-name basis or anything so…”
“You’re so strange.”
“Yeah, and you love me for it.”
“And you love me too so there.”
“Last night was the first night I ever wanted someone to put something up my butt. So… thanks.”
“I’ve wanted to, in case I never mentioned.”
“Good, I worried.”
“I worry about everything, or haven’t you heard? I thought maybe you don’t like buttsex.”
“I love it. Maybe it’s something I wanted you to love as much as me, wanted to do with me, not just something you’re forced to do.”
“Yeah but I kinda like it when you’re forceful. Good call on the rope by the way.”
“I didn’t want you to think I didn’t think about what I’d do to you if I ever got you back in my arms again.”
“And those few hours is all you came up with?”
“No but I wasn’t able to bring the tub of jello here. Or a choir of schoolkids.”
“You Samsun Escort Bayan were gonna have kids sing to me while we made love?”
“Nah, I just want them to watch you scream.”
Another day, another dollar. The last guest was shown the door and Beatrix had the rest of the night to get all of her junk re-organized fit for the morning person to take over. That, and the pile of paperwork her boss had inflicted upon her because hostesses “have it so easy”.
“She’s just jelly she doesn’t get to wear this cute dress,” she said to herself. She didn’t even need the attention from the little blue number, she just liked rubbing it in her super’s face for being a bitch. Not that the little things can get her down anymore, right?
And right on time she got a buzzing in her phone right against her nipple where she stashed it, giving her a little purr. A quick glance, a flirty reply, and a promise of a dastardly and physically challenging evening.
“G48 day 2day! U?”
Even her boyfriend’s blasé attitude in the face of her chipperness was exciting. More so how he always spelled everything out contrary to her one-finger jibberish. “U wot m8?”
With a happy squeal Beatrix zipped over to the huge bay window with the view of the coast she so adored. There was even a moon about to be full, her favorite. She lounged herself good and proper on the backrest of her favorite squishy bench seat and posed herself good and proper with one strap dangling dangerously low off her shoulder. Her nipple may or may not have been exposed, difficult to see with its shade barely a darker pink than the rest of her beast and in the dark blue light of the sky and the sea behind her.
Giddy, she glued her eyes to her phone to await an assuredly overjoyed reply. Instead, nothing. Not even a “sorry I’m busy but you look hawt.” She loved how he spelled hot when he setxed her. Just nothing. She had time to go back to her station and pretend to tidy up while she waited. A full fifteen minutes she had to wait, and all for a paltry “meh.”
“Meh?” she texts her reply, “That’s it? 1 paltry meh?” I mean, come on. She killed it in that dress.
“Try another one.”
The nerve of that boy, yet Beatrix scooted directly back to the bay and got back into position. It was hold hat for her by then; she barely even tripped in her heels anymore or fell back to the floor onto her bottom when she tried leaping onto the balustrades. Instead of just teasing with her boob, she pulled her dress down properly to make sure at least one was fully uncovered. No, he’d scoff at that too. She hefted one with a spare hand. Heavy and squishy, just the way he liked his boobs. She could feel his eyes on her, judging her. She wanted him hard and desperate yet he played it so cool. So be it; she could play that game too. She lifted her breast higher and gave it a kiss right where her nipple was hiding. Snap, send. Take that, boyfriend.
Real fingers closed around her bottom. She released a sigh she’d been saving for when her boyfriend touched her and she kissed her breast again out of habit. She just couldn’t wait.
“And what’re we up to while still on the clock, hmm?”
Beatrix turned her back to the beautiful view and looked upon her boss’ handsome face. He was already descending on her and she had just enough time to tilt to the side and part her lips for his kiss. “Just tidying up, Boss,” she answered. True enough; her dress was in a state of disrepair and anyone could tell easy enough.
The boss wasn’t so easily fooled of course. He examined her undress with eyes as well as hand. “Any more of this lackluster attitude toward the dress code, and I’m going to have to use official disciplinary measures,” he suggested, his hand grazing her exposed breast.
“You mean where you and I have to go to an office and sit down and close the door and everything and you tell me what a bad hostess I am?” Beatrix pouted.
“That’d be the procedure.”
“Like last time, how you told me to try wearing something tighter and I kept nearly falling out of my dress all night?”
The boss licked his lips and wrapped his large hands around his hostess’ narrow hips. “You know, as your employer it’s my responsibility to let you know you’re getting too skinny.”
Beatrix eased back against the armature and rested her elbows on the flat surface behind herself. Her boss may be scolding her but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not off her skinny waist, and not off her breasts once she opened her chest to his inspection. “Go ahead,” she dared.
The boss crept up to her chest which was not something mistaken for skinny. Nor was her full bottom. “As a man I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate each and every single one of these impossible curves.” He took his time caressing those curves that stood so exposed in the tight dress. He squeezed her bottom rather firmly, pulling her into his embrace, her breasts next after pulling Escort Samsun the other strap down.
Beatrix’s phone gave another little buzz. She glanced at it. All she’d gotten for her daring photograph was a paltry “It’ll do.” She returned her eyes to her boss and let him kiss her again.
“And what did I tell you about that blasted phone a dozen times over?” the boss asked her.
“No talking dirty to people unless they’re in the house,” Beatrix teased, “or while on the clock. Be right back, I’ma go clock out.”
The boss hefted her up by her hips and plonked her back down where she’d been seated and he scolded, “You’ll stay right here.”
Her legs wrapped around his hips and they kissed further. His tongue felt good in her mouth and his silk suit was smooth against her thighs. She’d taken to experimenting with stockings after seeing how sexy they looked on her boyfriend’s sister but tonight her legs were bare. Feeling especially naughty, she took a feel of her boss’s dick. She loved how hard he always was around her. He lowered his head to her breasts, making her go dizzy. Her phone buzzed again with the message, “I guess.” She messaged back, “I cood stay out all night and practice with some stranger…”
“Just as well. I’ve been stroking myself all night and I thick I may be a little backed up. Wouldn’t want to put any holes in you ain’t supposed to be there.”
The thought made Beatrix go all fuzzy; she actually blacked out for a moment and dropped her phone. Her boyfriend, officially so whether she wanted it or not, was being such a careless badass lately and she couldn’t get enough. And what’s more he had grown more than a boy his age had a right to since she’d last seen him and his volume had knocked her for a loop. Life hadn’t given her time to fully explore his new capabilities and she’d spent the whole week doing nothing but obsessing about the next time she got him alone.
The boss meanwhile thought it was his gentle playing of his tongue on her shy nipples that got her to drop her phone. He moved in and kissed her again and found her moaning anxiously. “I’m not distracting you from your very important conversation, am I?” he teased her.
Beatrix was beyond words, beyond thought. She could only gaze at him with that lust-heavy pair of eyes of hers and that alone was usually enough to make grown men pop and her boss was no exception. When he moved away from her, she felt nothing but immense personal satisfaction. She’d grown up to be quite a tease in the past few months without even trying. When she did try she always had quite a bit of fun. That her boyfriend could hold out on her for so long was grating to her and she wasn’t about to put up with it. She messaged him back, “I’ll try to find some time for you tonight.” She put her phone away and awaited her boss’ pleasure. All things being equal, he usually had something inappropriate in mind when it came to her.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked her.
“You can eat me if you want,” Beatrix answered. Or maybe not; she wasn’t quite sure what may come out of her mouth once properly motivated. Nor was she picky about what into it.
“I have a little surprise, make tonight a little special. What do you think?”
“What’s the occasion?” Beatrix teased.
“Pretty much you. You could say I have good news.”
“Me too; let’s do it.
After fitting her boobs back into her dress, the boss took her not to the kitchen where the food lived nor the parking garage where the cars lived but the roof where was parked one of those quad-prop glass bubble-things that never quite took off like the predictions said they would. “You like it?”
“Wow, cool! Does that thing fly? Is it yours?”
“A little toy since the wife didn’t want to get a boat. Fancy a little trip?”
The ride was neat and Beatrix felt like a child again. Acted like one too and in front of her boss, so mature even in the face of such a cool toy. The cozy little cockpit was all clear plastic so they could see everything in the beautiful, clear night and she could barely hear the buzzing of the propellers. They came to a landing not far away on yet another roof and the boss led her to a table that had been set up with red cloth and a bottle of champagne on ice.
“Wow, Boss!” Beatrix exclaimed. “What’s the occasion? Wait, I asked you that already didn’t I? Ignore me.”
“You, always,” the boss answered with a light laugh. “Come, my lady.” He took her hand and helped her into his chair. He popped the champagne and poured and they cheered and drank and kissed across the table. They feasted on basil-scented snails and capers and capon and figged-ices.
“Yummy!” Beatrix exclaimed at the last bite. For whatever reason she’d been acting like a child for being showered with attention. Nobody ever seemed to mind.
“And now a little dance to work off some of those calories?” the boss suggested. He wiped the corner of his mouth with a rather expensive-looking napkin, got to his feet, and helped Beatrix to hers. At the push of a button music began to play and he led her in a waltz. It was hot as heck out so the exposed skin leaking out of Beatrix’s dress was already warm to the touch. And he seemed to her rather handsome in the moonlight, always a weakness of hers.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32