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Summary: Cheryl Hart is is a bored suburban housewife who hires a special service to fulfill her kinky fantasies. She is abducted by a gang of Lesbians who use her for BDSM and sex.
Cheryl had just completed the latest grueling day of her insipid life. She flipped on the lights in the foyer of her posh suburban house, remarking to herself how tired she felt. Her leather valise was plunked on the kitchen counter and she poured herself a glass of champagne. Cheryl felt hot and exhausted. She popped the top buttons of her blouse and pulled her scarf out, wiping the sweat from her face with the tail. Her fingers released the clasp that held her hair tightly against her scalp. Cheryl turned up her collar, changing her appearance and sensation from a stern executive to a relaxed, sensuous woman. For Cheryl, life had a dual existence. During the day, she was the authoritative executive, buttoned up in the layered shell of power suits, the ever present burgundy valise tucked under her arm or slung over her shoulder… but at night, she was a rutting whore, craving rough sex and hard cocks.
Another evening of overtime at the office left her strained and frazzled. She had just spent two hours crammed into a stuffy overheated conference room with thirty or more executives, secretaries and consultants. The result was sweaty clothing adhering to her skin, the odors of multiple bodies lingering in her nose, and due to a particularly busty secretary whose soft, delicious body she spent pressed against for much of the conference, Cheryl’s hot silk panties were filled with a thick, viscous fluid. Her pulsating cunt and throbbing clitoris itched for the caress of her fingertips. She wanted her cunt and ass to be impaled by hot, fat cocks as her mouth sucked on the thick, salty nipples of that cloying, oversexed, over-perfumed secretary.
Cheryl’s eyes and imagination had wandered over those perfectly spherical, globular breasts straining to burst the buttons of a tight-fitting, expensive, striped silk blouse. Cheryl had popped them one by one in her daydreams, pulled the lacy brassiere down to expose two thick nipples standing erect on the plum-colored areolae of those milky breasts. She imagined her tongue following the faint tracery of light blue veins until they vanish under the knobby areolae. After thoroughly biting, sucking, kissing and licking those nipples, her mouth ran to the secretaries’ open lips, drawing out her tongue and tasting the sweet juices while her startled eyes stared into hers. “Ms Hart! Ms Hart!” rang in her ears. Cheryl was startled from her daydream, “Did you hear Ms Robbins’ question? …About last quarter’s earnings?”
With these idle visions, Cheryl’s nostrils flared as she sniffed the perfumes and sweat of this fleshy, Lesbian fantasy, mingling with her own faint odor of arousal. Hot cream pulsed into her panties. Cheryl’s nipples throbbed and itched beneath the multi-layers of satin, lace and silk encasing her rutting body. She felt light-headed after her short drive home, still dreaming about that secretary… but reserving her orgasms for the privacy of her bedroom.
With her sharp heels clacking up the staircase, Cheryl was beginning to undress herself. The last two buttons of her blouse were popped open, and she unbuckled the designer belt on her creased slacks. Pulling her blouse out, Cheryl’s fingers felt the heat of her soft mound of Venus before moving down to the bloated, throbbing cunt encased in a layer of silk and nylon pantyhose. When she wanted to maintain a state of arousal, the tight seam, with the buttoned fly of her tight-fitting slacks providing additional pressure, would rub her clitoris as she walked, or when she crossed and uncrossed her legs. By the time she arrived home, or returned to her hotel suite during business trips, her lips would be swollen and her erect clitoris tingling with the need to be stroked, rubbed, and penetrated.
Without even bothering to kick off her heels, she lay back on smooth satin sheets and gulped from her champagne bottle as one hand slipped into her panties. With the half-empty champagne bottle left on a bedside table, her hands were both free to pull her bustier cups down and tug, twist, pinch and knead her swelling, erect nipples. There were wet spots in the cups… her nipples had discharged. It seemed as if an electric current ran directly from those aching nipples to her clitoris. From a bedside stand, she removed a clear bottle of baby oil, a tube of jelly and a large vibrating dildo. The jelly was squirted along the shaft of her dildo, and the baby oil rubbed into her breasts and nipples. A small amount of vinegar and baking soda was rubbed on her nipples, the hot tingling sensation driving her to the very edge of ecstasy.
Cheryl pulled the clitoral hood away as the vibrating tip of the dildo teased the pearly, greasy, ultra-sensitive knob. It grew ever larger, as her nipples also swelled to a painful degree of erection. Moaning, bleating and cooing, “MMmpphh…. Aaahhh…. OOOooo…. ” Cheryl whispered the name of that voluptuous, fragrant secretary as if she were with her, begging and pleading… ikitelli escort “OOOO…. It feels so good…. UUUhhh…. Hard…. Rub me harder…. Twist my nipples…. Karen, you’re so hot…. I’m…. I’m…. UUrrggh…. Such a slut! Fuck me like the slut that I am, Uuggh, a sleazy Lezzie cunt-sucking, nipple-kissing whore… oh Karen!”
She grabbed the dildo in both hands and thrust it deep into her pussy. Causing her torso to arch off the bed, her breasts to jut out, her eyes to roll back, and her mouth to open in a painful, sudden, deep “UURRGGH!!!” Her torso bent and arched back and forth like a bow, twitching with pre-orgasmic spasms that caused her breasts and belly to tremble. She reached lower with her fingers and pushed the tip of her index finger through her tight sphincter. A jolt of electricity shot through her body, causing a burning in her nipples and cunt. “Karen, roll me on my sticky hot belly and ram my ass with your dildo! Sodomize me! Slap me, pinch me, hurt me!”
As her orgasm approached, a wave of masochistic impulses shot through Cheryl’s nervous system. She wanted pain and humiliation, to be this woman’s anal whore and fuck toy. She rolled on her belly, pulling the pillows underneath her to elevate her ass and to hump them. She ran her hands across the buttons of her blouse and felt the smooth silk sliding over the hard, lacy shell encasing her torso. The heat of her soft belly burned through the lace. As she popped the last of the buttons, she imagined it was the hands of her ravisher, though at this stage she might have preferred that her clothes be ripped from her body. Her nipples were burning hot and hurt with increasing sensitivity. Her arms were underneath her, groaning with the hard push to get the dildo into her rectum.
“GGGrrr….. HHmmpphh….. Harder….. Harder…..” Her face was flat against the bed sheets, her left cheek buried in the satin. Her mouth was still uttering her guttural moans, pleading in her fantastic stupor, “Sodomize me…. Deeper…. Harder…. Rape my fat ass… MMMmmm…..” As her hands pumped the dildo, she was humping her pillows, until the sudden shock of orgasm shot through her body like a blast of lightning… Cheryl’s back arched, pressing her belly into the soft pillows, thrusting her ass into the air, and causing her mouth to go suddenly wide with a nearly silent hard exhalation…. A crackling in her throat was the only sound. Her body went as rigid as a sculpture, with a sudden gushing spray soaking the pillows… either she pissed herself or ejaculated… she was in too deep an ecstatic stupor to know or care. Her eyes stared sightlessly as all she could see was orgasmic flashes… After several hard spasms jerked her body, her eyes rolled back, her muscles relaxed and her lips curled in a smile. She let out a satisfied moan and the room went silent, only broken by the faint buzzing of a greasy dildo resting on her thighs after it was expelled with a sticky sound from her sodomized rear.
The noise of the squeaking bed, the squishing liquid sounds of thrusting dildos and fingers, the moans, all were now silenced. Cheryl lay facedown in her ruined clothes and sheets, twisted and stained with body fluids, lipstick, baby oil, and a pool of sweat, ejaculate and girl-cum. A pair of shiny round globes protruded from the tangle, along with a mass of stringy, sweat-soaked hair. Her arms were still buried underneath her, one hand gribbed by the suction of a post-orgasmic cunt, the other arm bent so she could suck on her gluey fingers.
When she awoke the following morning, she burst off another orgasm. The room smelled like the musky, sweaty bedroom of a reeking whorehouse. Cheryl looked like a thoroughly ravished, hung-over, filthy used-up slut. An hour later, she was washed clean, with creamed and lotioned skin, perfumed, impeccably made-up, sheathed in crisp clothes and ready for business and pleasure. Fingering a string of pearls adorning her business attire reminded her of the pearl of her clitoris… the hard satiny sphere’s resemblance to a drop of her girl-cum or that of a male injecting her. Her days were occupied with the rigors of business, finance, maintaining a marriage and a house.
Whenever she had the opportunity, such as the meeting she had spent next to Karen, her erotic imagination ran wild. Cheryl discovered that the more absurd the fantasy, the more aroused she became. A mature woman with a young, nubile lover… a thick BBW with a delicate, flat-chested girl… a nasty street whore with a prissy housewife… The thought of a horny, over-sexed teenager in a school uniform bunny-humping or tongue-kissing her austere, mature teacher would inflame Cheryl’s lust. She found herself dressing like a stern schoolmistress in severely cut suits with her blouse fastened at her throat… her manicured hands fingering the collar nervously like a prudish, sterile old maid. Cheryl sometimes imagined this persona of hers being pounded by some fat-assed, thick-waisted girl or the oiled, fleshy bodies of Carnivale dancers… her dominant personality sought to be sexually ravished… what istanbul escort she needed was a sort of role-reversal.
Cheryl Hart was bored with her mundane, vanilla sex life. Such a satisfying masturbation was a rare occurrence… besides, she needed more than just a release. Marriage left her little more than a cold bed in which to sleep. Cheryl often reminisced about her sexual adventures when she was young… as a teenager and in college. In her imagination, she often relived the escapades she once had with men and women alike. When she lived in a crowded dormitory with a pack of wild teenagers who were just discovering their sexual freedom, Cheryl had an easy outlet for her own voracious appetites. This was two decades in her past. Gabardine and satin replaced denim and flannel; she carried keys to an Astin Martin and a Jaguar, not a rattling old Subaru.
Mrs. Cheryl Hart was now a mature woman with a high salary and innumerable responsibilities. She was affluent, well-known, powerful… and sexually frustrated. Her husband was often away for an entire week, attending conferences, touring industrial facilities for his company, or occupied with the myriads of other business activities. During these absences Cheryl had no other recourse than her dildo collection. Her husband didn’t mind; he sometimes watched her masturbate prior to sex. He had a few pornographic DVD’s that was his prerequisite to ‘get in the mood.’ She often resorted to trashy novels for her own mood.
One boring, lonely night, Cheryl was channel surfing and stopped on an HBO sex ‘documentary’ that depicted a Strap-on Dyke Party. She was never a hard-core Lesbian, just a bi, highly sexual woman… or, more precisely, an under-sexed, working housewife. She was shocked initially… then curiously aroused. The sight of women humping each other’s asses and sucking strap-on dildos made Cheryl’s pussy gush into her panties. The fingers on one hand were soon working her clitoris and swelling pussy, the other was soon inside her blouse, masturbating the erect nipples on her swelling breasts. She imagined herself on her bed, her ass raised high to receive one of these strap-on cocks by a voluptuous, sweat-soaked dyke with gyrating, pumping hips. Cheryl enjoyed being penetrated, but never associated penetration with Lesbian sex. Her flings with girls in High School and college were her favorite sexual memories, but strap-on dildos were something she had never tried.
Cheryl began craving Lesbian sex, in her office, her conferences with other women, and especially in her bedroom when she was working herself with her dildos. It was a common fantasy of hers to go to bed with another woman but she hadn’t done anything like that since her college flings… sweaty sex with hard-up, drunk, insensible bi-curious girls whose mouths tasted of cheap liquor and whose cunts tasted like Vagisil and soiled tampons. Formerly, when Cheryl watched her husband’s pornographic videos, she imagined herself as the porn actress… taking a hot blast of cum on her nipples as she tweaked them, or a load in her mouth as she licked her lips. More and more, she fantasized about being with the women in these scenes… kissing their nipples, lapping hot juices from their puffy cunts, or kneading the soft flesh of their firm asses before poking a finger into their hot, narrow rear tunnels. Her husband’s DVDs had some Lesbian scenes, but Cheryl wanted to see something like the strap-on sex in the documentary. She wanted to be bounced back and forth on her mattress by a woman’s soft, sweet-smelling body, not the smelly, hairy belly and hips of a man.
Cheryl needed to see more… and decided she needed a strap-on dildo for herself. She had never been to an adult store, but decided to try a large adult boutique she had always passed on Route 22. Her dildo collection was mail-order… this preserved her sense of privacy. Cheryl did not have the patience to wait three weeks or more for a delivery… she wanted her strap-on cock now. It took some nerve to go inside, but she was relieved to see another woman shopping there by herself, as well as a male-female couple. Walking through a room filled with sex toys, her embarrassed eye caught a realistic dildo with a leather harness. The image from the documentary passed through her mind and she imagined herself wearing it, or better yet, taking it from another woman. She bought the strap-on dildo for $89.
Her heart was thumping…She dropped the packages on her bed and lay back. Cheryl was getting hot and said to herself, “I’m a nasty whore! Ruin my little pink asshole!” Cheryl was masturbating with her new dildo. The harness was wrapped around her wrist. Cheryl had occasionally stuck a vibrator up her bottom while masturbating, but never a dildo this large… it stayed in her pussy till she came all over her hand. Cheryl felt adventurous, and she was as lecherous as a rutting mare… she sodomized herself with her new strap-on cock. It was painful, especially with the initial insertion… she couldn’t imagine how it might feel with the weight and muscle of a woman’s body humping it up her rear. kadıköy escort bayan Facedown on the bed with that pseudo-cock filling her to the bursting point, she was wracked with powerful, spasmodic orgasms.
The next night she was again by herself and repeated the action. She just couldn’t get herself to cum the way she had the night before. The dildo was missing something… a woman attached to it. Cheryl removed her slacks and strapped herself in to the dildo harness, holding the heavy shaft in her hand and flopping it around. She pulled her slacks back on and was barely able to pull up the zipper and fasten the button tab with the strap-on underneath. Looking down, she was aroused by the enormous phallic bulge in her crotch. She buttoned up her suit jacket over it and walked to the floor-length mirror. Cheryl adjusted the collar of her blouse over her jacket, applied an extra coat of deep red ruby lipstick, and slowly undid her clothes as she watched her reflection.
Cheryl stared at the bulge of her strap-on dildo and as she pulled it out of her slacks she imagined it was another woman preparing to fuck her. Cheryl wanted to be roughly taken by another woman. She fantasized being thrown down on a bed in a sleazy motel. An oversexed whore wearing a strap-on reamed her pussy while sucking the tongue out of her mouth. She would then flip her roughly on her belly and ream her ass… then she would make her deep throat it. Cheryl kissed her image in the mirror as the tip of her new cock awkwardly rubbed against the glass.
Cheryl determined it was time to take action… she was determined to fulfill her fantasies. Cheryl realized she couldn’t just ask for something like that from any old Lesbian or bi-sexual woman… she maintained friendships with several authentic Lesbians from her corporation and elsewhere… knowing they made love with other women, they occasionally entered her fantasies. To make a request such as “Please tie me up and force me to take your strap-on cock,” was not a viable option for a married, high-profile executive. Besides, Lesbians often have vanilla sex lives… most, she knew, are no different than hetero couples, except they prefer relationships with their own kind. They often have boring, vanilla sex lives too. Yet, few women and no man would have passed up a chance to take Cheryl to bed: she was exceptionally attractive, authoritative and very feminine. She exuded sex with an alluring sensuality and a titillating hint of danger.
Through careful research and confidential inquiries, Cheryl discovered a lead concerning a high-class service for women with desires such as hers. To cover her expenses with this special call-girl service, a fur coat bought full price was returned to the furriers… she bought an identical coat for $4000 less. This way, her husband wouldn’t notice the missing cash. She had discovered a high-priced sex service that catered “to Lesbian or bi-curious women’s specialized fantasies…” After getting past her fears, Cheryl’s desire to enact her fantasy overpowered any reservations she held.
It began with a telephone call. The woman who answered the phone had a suave, sophisticated voice and she quickly put Cheryl at ease. “We have clientele from all walks of life. We do not keep records or phone numbers for some third party to discover. We are experts in confidentiality… look at this like a dating service… our ladies have careers in multi-billion dollar corporations, prestigious Universities, government, you name it… we have them here… and they participate in this simply because they enjoy fulfilling fantasies. Our charges are primarily for covering expenses… there is no luxury, no fantasy scenario that is out of our reach. What specifically are you looking for?” Cheryl hesitated… “I want… well… Feminine but strong, a rough type…” She came out with it… “I want a lipstick type to rape me with a strap-on dildo, after tying me up. I want to be ‘O’ in a Lesbian version of Chateau Roissy.” The woman responded casually, “Role play is one of our specialties… I have just the women for you too. You’ll have to answer a few questions. You’ll be provided with a form to fill out… with a variety of questions concerning your sexual fantasy and your limitations. If portions of your fantasy scenario are to take place in public we need to choreograph it very carefully. We certainly wouldn’t want someone to misconstrue a mock abduction…”
Cheryl went into business mode. She was discussing the role-playing game as if it were just another business deal. Rather than scoring a lucrative contract or a profitable sale, she was securing the fulfillment of her favorite sexual fantasy- the nasty prerogative of a wealthy, sexually frustrated bitch in heat. Cheryl understood she would meet her strap-on rapist at some point in time and some place, but part of the game was its realism. She was assigned a “safe word” as well as a “safe signal” (after all, she was to be gagged- according to her own fantasy). The forms she filled out described every sexual experience she could recall, her every fantasy, fetish and proclivity. But the actual details of her fantasy session were to remain a mystery until it was being enacted. It could happen anytime or anyplace. This was a sophisticated operation and she paid several thousand dollars for it. A detailed questionnaire had been filled out, covering everything from the intricacies of her married life to her daily routines.
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