Author: Maybe_even_a_lot

S pegs her frustration on B [MF]

It had been a long week, and I needed to get out of the office. I could feel the stress piling on my shoulders. When my phone buzzed and S said she would be home soon, I knew that release would come soon.

After I arrived home, I put Spotify on to play and settled into the quiet routine of a light meal. As i stood at the stove I heard a light rap on the door and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I realised that S had arrived.

“Hey B, you look fried!” S said as I opened the door. She stepped in and kicked off her shoes. Her curves highlighted by the severe corporate blouse and skirt caused me to stir. “Wine?” She asked, holding up a bottle. Wine was the last thing on my mind. “Sure,” I said instead, and took two glasses down from the shelf

Wine in hand we sat on the couch and exchanged a few stories of our week. S has a job out at the airport and was highly strung out. “I need to take out my frustration on something I guess!” She explained. “Take it out on me,” I offered, with my heart in my mouth and my cock pressing firmly against my belt. Read more »

An offering at a milking table [MF]

It started with a cryptic message from a friend of a friend. “Dom requires subjects for milking. Discretion mutually assured. Enquire direct to 0409 ### ###”. Needless to say, my curiosity was piqued.

A flurry of messaging followed, and proof of life submitted, in exchange for a time and an . Instructions as follows: knock twice, enter, second door on the left, no talking. The date was in four days hence. I existed in a heightened state of anxiety and arousal in the meantime. What was I getting myself into?

The allotted time slowly arrived and I walked up to the front door of an suburban household.

It was a very quiet neighbourhood with everyone out tending to their business. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I knocked, and then turned the door handle and opened the door silently. My footsteps rang in my ears as I walked down the hallway. Was I being setup? I stood in front of the second door in the left. This one was painted differently to the rest, black in a piano gloss. I hesitated with my hand resting on the door handle. Read more »

Jay, Bee and The Other Guy [MFM]

“Is this it?” I wonder out loud as I pull my car up outside the nondescript brick apartment building. “Number 64.” Huh; not quite what I was expecting. End of the driveway, he said. I walk up the drive, a little purposefully, but it is an act: I don’t belong here.

The door for number three is there as promised. The brass number is a little tarnished and suddenly I am mindful of how quiet is is on a Tuesday morning. I try the door handle and find it unlocked, the door swinging open in my hand. A wave of cool air washes over me, clearly the aye cee running to knock the last of summers humidity out of the air inside. “This will be good,” the first mindful thought I have since stepping out of the car, as I reflect on the leather bustier that creaks ever so softly with every movement I make under my dress.

The door closes noisily behind me and I cringe a little. Standing inside the bottom of a stairwell I look past the islander artifacs hanging from the walls and try to peer around the corner as I reach the top of the first flight. There they are. Read more »

Hot peach cream pie [MF]

You have arrived at the address you received and, as instructed you open the door and enter the cool entranceway from the heat of the day. Doubt races through your mind. “this is insane, I’ve never even met this guy before.”

Your heels click on the tiled floor as you walk down the hallway. “Third door on the right” you repeat to yourself. The message had been so very enticing. “Hot peach cream pies available. Enquiries to u/maybe_even_a_lot”

“Come in please,” drifts through the door. You push on the door which opens heavily and silently. You step inside the room. Dappled sunlight pours through timber blind hades. As your eyes adjust to the room you see a well worn leather chesterfield couch against the wall. A massage table is positioned in the middle of he room atop a large fibre rug.

“Where did the voice come from,” you wonder before your memory reminds me of your instructions: Disrobe and mount the table. Await your pleasure. Your summer dress slips from your shoulder and falls to the floor silently. Kicking your shoes off you run your hands over your bare ass. “Wasn’t any point putting underwear on,” you think to yourself. Your nipples are erect in the cool air, and you walk quickly to the table which you climb atop Read more »

A park bench somewhere [MF]

“Fuck, I’d better not get arrested again,” I thought to myself as I walked down the footpath. I was very conscious of my footfalls in the cool evening air. The park that she’d directed me to was only another block along my way. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears now, so I slowed my pace and took some deep breaths. “Easy,” I thought to myself, “She probably won’t even be there.”

*”I must be fucking crazy,” I thought to myself as I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom. I ran my hands up my thighs, marvelling at the sheen of the silky black thigh highs were held in place by a black lace garter belt. A thing landing slip directed my eyes down to my clit, already swollen with arousal by the thought of what I had ahead of me. I turned back to my bed and picked up the coat draped across the bedspread. Pulling it over my shoulders, I took one last look at my otherwise bare breasts and pussy. “Okay here we go,” I said aloud while buttoning the coat buttons, cinching the belt tight and knotting it. I turned to the door and walked out my front door.* Read more »

An offering at a milking table

It started with a cryptic message from a friend of a friend. “Dom requires subjects for milking. Discretion mutually assured. Enquire direct to 0409 ### ###”. Needless to say, my curiosity was piqued.

A flurry of messaging followed, and proof of life submitted, in exchange for a time and an . Instructions as follows: knock twice, enter, second door on the left, no talking. The date was in four days hence. I existed in a heightened state of anxiety and arousal in the meantime. What was I getting myself into?

The allotted time slowly arrived and I walked up to the front door of an suburban household.

It was a very quiet neighbourhood with everyone out tending to their business. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I knocked, and then turned the door handle and opened the door silently. My footsteps rang in my ears as I walked down the hallway. Was I being setup? I stood in front of the second door in the left. This one was painted differently to the rest, black in a piano gloss. I hesitated with my hand resting on the door handle. Read more »

A gypsy has an encounter [MF]

You have arrived at the address you received and, as instructed you open the door and enter the cool entranceway from the heat of the day. Doubt races through your mind. “this is insane, I’ve never even met this guy before.”

Your heels click on the tiled floor as you walk down the hallway. “Third door on the right” you repeat to yourself. The message had been so very enticing. “Hot peach cream pies available. Enquiries to iamborticus”

“Come in please,” drifts through the door. You push on the door which opens heavily and silently. You step inside the room. Dappled sunlight pours through timber blind hades. As your eyes adjust to the room you see a well worn leather chesterfield couch against the wall. A massage table is positioned in the middle of he room atop a large fibre rug.

“Where did the voice come from,” you wonder before your memory reminds me of your instructions: Disrobe and mount the table. Await your pleasure. Your summer dress slips from your shoulder and falls to the floor silently. Kicking your shoes off you run your hands over your bare ass. “Wasn’t any point putting underwear on,” you think to yourself. Your nipples are erect in the cool air, and you walk quickly to the table which you climb atop Read more »

Now imagine this [FM]

“Is this it?” I wonder out loud as I pull my car up outside the nondescript brick apartment building. “Number 64.” Huh; not quite what I was expecting. End of the driveway, he said. I walk up the drive, a little purposefully, but it is an act: I don’t belong here.

The door for number three is there as promised. The brass number is a little tarnished and suddenly I am mindful of how quiet is is on a Tuesday morning. I try the door handle and find it unlocked, the door swinging open in my hand. A wave of cool air washes over me, clearly the aye cee running to knock the last of summers humidity out of the air inside. “This will be good,” the first mindful thought I have since stepping out of the car, as I reflect on the leather bustier that creaks ever so softly with every movement I make under my dress.

The door closes noisily behind me and I cringe a little. Standing inside the bottom of a stairwell I look past the islander artifacs hanging from the walls and try to peer around the corner as I reach the top of the first flight. There they are. Read more »