Compulsion

by Don Julian Winslow

  He held her there for a few seconds, her lips pressed to his penis then the pressure on her head eased, though he still kept her captive, her face between his hands. He tilted her head back till she was looking up at him her wide blue eyes soft and unfocused, glazed with desire.

  “Yeah…that’s what you want isn’t it? You want cock…my cock. You want to suck it, don’t you?”

  Looking up at him, Miriam’s lips parted, but no words came out.

  “SAY IT!”

  She swallowed, twice.

  “Yes…I want your cock. I want to suck your gorgeous cock,” she whispered breathlessly. She was burning up now, huddled over, her small sagging breasts dangling loosely, heaving with the effort of her panted words.

  Blake smiled, wildly elated. Fingering his lust-swollen prick, he tilted it toward the older woman who was kneeling at his feet.

  “Oh yeah, you’re gonna suck it real good. Go on now...suck it! Suck my cock!”

  The naked penis seemed to beckon her. She leaned into him, stuck out her tongue, lovingly lapping her way up that quivering shaft from the base to the very tip of the boy’s straining manhood. They she licked hungrily, lavishly, holding him clenched in one hand while she worked him over in a frenzy of wild enthusiasm.

  He closed his eyes to give himself up to the tickling feelings that slavishly working tongue were generating in his loins. The moan he tried to stifle with tightly-pressed lips forced its way through to emerge as a helpless whimper. The sound of his plaintive surrender brought on a massive surge of lust, driving the woman on in her single-minded obsession, wildly desperate to please her man. She bent her head and took him in, went down on him; soon he was guiding her bobbing head between his hands while she tightened the ring of her lips and sucked him with grim determination.

  He groaned, his weakened hands fell away, only to clamp her shoulders and tightened on them, pressing in a death grip, determined as he was to hold on to cling to his sanity for just a few seconds more while the unstoppable rise of creamy pleasure threatened to erupt from his pumping loins.

  Her head was bobbing furiously now; her fingers tightly clenching his hardened butt. She had her man teetering on the very brink of ecstasy when he abruptly clamped her face between his hands and held her to still the pistoning motion. Looking down, he found her questioning blue eyes looking up at his from under a shock of smooth blond hair.

  Blake grabbed his throbbing prick from her, and his familiar touch instantly brought on a tremendous upsurge of erupting sperm. He clenched his teeth while rearing back, to jack off furiously, aiming right at the face of the kneeling woman, shooting thick gobs of his cream on her brow, her cheeks, across her closed eyes, and even in her hair. Soon sticky strings of the young man’s sperm decorated the mature blond face of the attractive lady judge.

  ***

  Sprawled out naked on the queen-sized bed, the young guy idly fingered his softened cock while his eyes followed the woman in the cream-colored brassiere as she padded back and forth across the room in the act of getting dressed. At the moment, she had her back towards him, and was leaning over to step into her panties. Was she unaware that in the process, she was offering her middle-aged bottom to the boy jutting back in inadvertent provocation? In any case, Blake resisted the desire to take a swat at that tempting target, contenting himself with the sight of the fading pink blush that still tinged the cheeks of Miriam’s womanly bottom -- the residue of the thorough spanking he had so zealously laid on to those nicely-plump buttocks no more than half an hour ago.

  With her underpants hitched up, the judge straightened, and rushed to complete getting dressed. She hadn’t much time. While her schedule allowed these Wednesday mornings romps with her young lover, she simply had to be in court by 1pm for the usual half-day session. As she opened her mirrored closet to select an appropriate outfit, Blake noticed the judicial robe hanging there - a spare to the one she kept in her office; an idea came to him -- an idea that sent his flaccid cock stirring in his lap.

  That day Judge Miriam Bryce-Havens was to do something that was unthinkable! If one of her neighbors had seen her driving to work that warm Wednesday afternoon, they might have idly wondered why the judge was already wearing her long black robe. What they would not have know, could not possibly know, was that that single thin loose robe was all the lady had on! Under it, the judge, as ordered by her dominant lover-boy, wore absolutely nothing but a pair of thigh-high dark-tinted stockings! To go out dressed in such an outrageous manner was an audacious thing to do; to go to court, even worse! An incredibly stupid thing! She kept telling herself, again and again. She had to be insane…to take such a risk! Yet she couldn’t deny the wild and crazy thrill it gave her, -- an incredibly sexy feeling of being wicked and fantastically free. She couldn’t help squirming in the leather seat like an excited schoolgirl as she hunched over the wheel, driving her BMW much too fast in her haste to get to the courthouse that day.

  But Miriam’s utter astonishment at the outrageous things she had done was nothing compared to the stunned amazement that was to befall her later when the courtroom doors were thrown opened that afternoon. Just as the first group of spectators began filing into the public gallery, she saw him …walking calmly, nonchalantly strolling into her very own courtroom! Her young lover found a place in the line and was now taking a seat toward the back of the room. And as she gaped, speechless, astounded by the unbelievable collision of her two worlds, he looked up, straight at the bench, to give the petrified lady judge a decidedly wicked grin, and then, a broad and knowing wink!

  14. What’s in a Name?

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  ‘When I use a word,’ Humpty Dumpty said in a rather scornful tone, ‘it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.

  -- Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

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  The trim blonde in the black pants suit was toying with a pencil while smiling across the table at the group from BDB&O. Having risen from his chair at the front of the table, Brian Alberts was now strutting about, rambling on, extolling the virtues of his “team,” -- the hard work of the many talented people who put together the Isopod campaign, etc., etc.

  Finally, he nodded in her direction. “Ms. Slayton here is responsible for all the graphics, and I think you’re going to be blown way by what she put together for us. In a few minutes, I’m going to ask her to walk us through the campaign? If you don’t mind, Melissa?” he added with a smile.

  She turned to look up at her big grinning boss, and opened her mouth to reply when…she was struck speechless! A surge of warmth rose up in her, heated her face, her cheeks, her brow. She was caught in the grip of escalating sexual arousal that shook her; left her breathless, panting, lips parted in unsaid words! Immediately the palpable lust deepened into her loins, flooded through her body, sending exciting tingles through to her vagina, her pussy, her cunt. The words slammed through her.

  The graphics designer managed a nod, shuddered, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and struggled to regain her composure. The sudden horniness that shook her, now settled into a rutting urge. She wanted to be fucked. Needed to be fucked, right then and there. ‘Fuck me, Fuck Me, FUCK MEEEEEE!’ the words screamed in her head. She simply had to touch herself. Her hand dropped under the conference table, feverishly stroking her thigh through her thin slick pants as the flush of arousal heated her up to the burning point.

  Sitting upright on the edge of his chair at the end of the long table, young Eric Sutton was eagerly waiting for the boss to say the triggering word. He had been dismayed when, during the introductions, Brian had gone all formal and started referring to everyone as “Mr.” this and “Ms.” that -- ignoring first names completely! But Eric knew that couldn’t last. It was only a matter of time.

  Then it happened. He said the one word Eric had been waiting for --“Melissa.�
�� In reaction, Eric’s eyes shot to the girl’s face, watching closely for the first signs to register on those attractive blond features. Then he saw it! Her eyes fluttered; a tiny quiver ran through her jacketed shoulders, and he knew…he had her! Eric glanced up at the videocamera in the corner of the room. By now, the fingers of Melissa’s hand holding on to the edge of the table, had tighten in a white–knuckled grip, while her shoulders gave an excited wiggle. The other hand was hidden below the table, Eric thought he knew why.

  Eric’s fingers joyfully danced over the keypad of the Blackberry he held under the table.

  “DID U SEE THAT?”

  “Y. U DID IT! YOU D MAN!”

  He smiled to think of crazy Wong, his fellow conspirator, huddled over the video monitor in the equipment room, and probably jacking off as he watched the little piece of software they called their “Spanish Fly” now work its magic on the stuck-up girl known widely around the office as “the bitch.” They had secretly sent their brainchild to her computer on daily basis for thee weeks, never knowing if the subliminals would take hold. Now they knew!

  Under the table Melissa’s fingers had slid lower to dip into her crotch. She sprawled back, fondling herself, urgently rubbing her moistening pussy through the smooth fabric of her tailored black pants. Her thighs clamped together, hard, imprisoning the pleasuring hand, and stopping its wicked work -- for just a moment. She uttered a small tight grunt. Her thighs slackened and she yielded to the exquisite pleasure.

  “Are you alright, Melissa?” There was genuine concern in Brian’s voice.

  A second jolt of pure lust slammed through the young woman at the sound of her name. Her left hand tightened its death grip on the table’s edge, while her right hand plunged deeper into her churning crotch. Still unable to speak, she managed to nod once again, this time more rapidly, her blond head bobbing up and down even as her glazed eyes remained fixed on the table before her. The hand under the table had slid into her waistband, and was now jammed down the front of her worsted twill pants.

  Hastily typed text messages flew back and forth at lightening speed.

  “DAMN….LOOK AT THAT! IT’S TURNING THE BITCH ON. MAN IS SHE EVER HOT!!!! JUST LIKE U SAID!”

  “IT’S WORKING…SONOVABITCH..THE THING ACTUALLY WORKS!”

  “I BET SHE’S PLAYING WITH HERSELF RIGHT NOW. U CAN TELL! LOOK AT THAT!!!”

  By now, the others at the table were getting alarmed. Brian Alberts was standing over her, his jaw open, stunned to see his top designer seemingly in the midst of some sort of seizure. She had sunk down into her seat, eyes tightly shut, squirming uncontrollably and making tiny whimpering noises through tightly-pressed lips.

  “Melissa, what’s wrong,” he cried, reaching down to touch her on the shoulder.

  At the sound of her name coupled with the male touch, the girl seemed to explode up out of the chair, arms and legs failing as she sprang to her feet, knocking over her chair. For a second she stood panting and disheveled.

  All watched in amazement as the frantic girl suddenly bolted for the door. “I…I’ve got to go…”she mumbled over her shoulder, fumbled with the door knob, and then she was gone.

  The Isopod team and their BDB&O guests were left to look at each over the table in stunned silence at what they just witnessed.

  Once out of the room, the panting woman slammed the door behind her and fell weakly back against it, her heart pounding; consumed by the terrible heat that was burning her up. The hallway was empty and so no one saw the agitated blonde grab for her crotch, cupping herself and arching back, squirming against the door, and moaning out loud as she palmed her needy cunt in a blurred frenzy of lust.

  Then the wild-eyed blond girl was stumbling off down the hallway, desperate to reach the sanctuary of the Ladies’ Room where she might surrender to the first tremors of the building orgasm that were already coursing through her body; there to drop her drawers and masturbate furiously, bringing herself the blessed relief for the burning itch between her legs.

  15. Sylvia’s Piece

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  To some people sex is sex, to Lisa, sex is theater. To me, sex is opera –but then, I’m another story.

  -- Tiffany Clark as Renee, in Hot Dreams

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  Linda met me at the door to Sylvia’s place, craned her neck out to glance quickly up and down the street, and yanked me into the house with a “Hey…get in here.”

  “Hi, ahh...what’s going on? Where’s Sylvia?”

  “Gone to some conference at Big Sur, you know one of those arty-type things. Left yesterday. She wanted me to come over to feed the dogs,” she added, grabbing my hand to lead me down the hallway to what I knew to be Sylvia’s spare room. “You have got to see this!”

  She opened the door and found the light, revealing a cluttered room, one with that eerily still feeling of a room long used for storage. It was a room I had never been in, although I’ve been all through the house at Sylvia’s many parties. That door at the end of the hall had always been locked. Until now. Linda had come over for her dog-sitting chores and found to her surprise that the door had been left ajar. Sylvia must have left in a rush to get to the airport, forgetting to lock the door in her hurry.

  Like a kid who can’t wait to share a secret, Linda led me to a bulky object placed against the far wall. It was draped with a thin white sheet. “Wait till you see this,” the dog-sitter enthused, barely able to contain her childish glee. With a dramatic flourish she whipped off the sheet off to reveal a white marble statue. I stood in awe. It was a life-sized figure of carved marble in the form of a standing male, big feet set in a widened stance, its back against the wall. It was an impressive figure, with broad shoulders and a powerful physique, and it must have stood well over six feet tall! He must have been a god -- some sort of pagan idol, one of those primitive deities you find in the overgrown Incan ruins somewhere high in the Andres.

  But the most remarkable feature of this brooding figure, one that could hardly be ignored, was the erect phallus the proud male sported; jutting up and out, slightly curved, as though frozen in full-fledged erection. Life -sized, and nicely detailed, the marble penis stood as if ready for mounting. I was impressed. Sylvia was indeed a very talented sculptress!

  My eyes took in that massive shape. On the head, an elaborately carved headpiece came down to form a half-mask. Unseeing eyes started out at the world through holes in mask that covered the top of that square face; below the mask the features were coarse, the lips full and pulled back in an obscene grin.

  Massive shoulders and powerful arms ended in hands that, hanging at the sides, were cupped and curiously turned outward to the viewer, as though the god was inviting alms. The figure seemed to be wearing some sort of kilt that fell open at the front and left bare his sturdy legs and widely planted feet. Spanning that muscular chest was a short vest. The shoulders of this brief jacket were adorned with military style epaulettes into which were set metal brackets sticking up from the top of the shoulders.

  “What are those?” I asked pointing to the extended brackets that had an oddly tacked-on appearance.

  “Can’t you tell?” Linda teased. “They’re handholds.” She looked at me with sparkling eyes, a half smile playing over her lips. “You use them for climbing abroad,” she added, like she was explaining things to a two year-old. When she saw my still puzzled look, I thought she was going to burst out laughing.

  “Climbing aboard?” I repeated, still not entirely sure what she meant.

  “Sure, don’t you see what crazy Sylvia has here? She’s carved herself a lover…a big-chested, always ready, and absolutely tireless lover.” And Linda gave the prominent phallus a friendly little pat, as she smiled up at that scowling marble face.

  She turned to me with an impish grin. “Wanna see? Look what I got! Sylvia’s a regular Girl Scout -- always prepared.”

/>   From a nearby drawer she produced a tube of gel; I watched while she proceeded to thoroughly grease the smooth marble shaft. I just stood there fascinated, a rising sense of excitement in my body and a stirring in my pants, as I fully came to fully realize just what my always-horny girlfriend had in mind.

  “Oh, yeah,” I breathed, “This is GREAT! Do it!”

  Linda gave me a brief kiss, then calmly stripped off her T-shirt, and ran her shorts down her legs. The panties were quick to follow. Now wearing nothing but her socks and sneakers, my naked athlete promptly scaled the built-in scaffolding, placing her feet in the upturned palms, reaching up to clasp the shoulder brackets.

  I couldn’t resist lending a cupped hand to boost her hanging butt as Linda hauled herself up till she stood with stiffened legs in a widened stance, her slight breasts just inches from the idol’s stony eyes. I watched her carefully center her crotch over the upright penis, and gradually bend her knees. Slowly, cautiously, she began lowering herself into a half-squat, while one hand reached between her legs to hold open her cuntlips; biting her lower lip, the agile girl settled down on the phallic shaft that was sliding smoothly up her gaping vagina.

  “Whewww…that’s cold!” A quiver ran through her naked shoulders; she let out a long shivering breath as she settled into place, impaling herself on that hard marble phallus. I watched her clasp her stone lover in her tightening arms, close her eyes, and with a little smile begin a slow dreamy ride.