The Secret Sex Lives of Wanda Mitty

by Felix Baron

  She perched on the edge of the chaise and leaned over to inspect his cock and balls from close up. His face twitched in a paroxysm of embarrassment. Chuck closed his eyes tightly and bit his lower lip.

  Kitty waved to Wanda and pointed at Chuck’s now drooping cock. Her eyebrows lifted in a question. Wanda nodded, even though she knew Kitty couldn’t see her, giving the girl her permission to continue the sexual torment she was putting her victim through. Wanda changed her grip on the telescope, swapping right hand for left. Her right was needed up under her brief skirt. Why hadn’t she thought to bring her vibrator? Oh well, fingers came first, so to speak.

  Kitty brushed the backs of her fingers up and down the length of Chuck’s shaft. It stiffened instantly. The boy writhed on the spot, seeming desperate to move but terrified of the consequences of disobedience. Wanda’s friend took a firm grip on the boy’s cock and pumped it, but very, very slowly. A slight adjustment to the telescope’s lens brought the lad’s glans into sharp focus. It had turned purple and was leaking crystal droplets. How he had to be aching. Wanda could almost envy him. To be humiliated at the same time as being erotically tortured, that had to be a really special feeling.

  Chuck’s six-pack abdomen rippled. His clenched rump came up off his seat. Kitty spoke to him sharply. He subsided but his persecution continued. Wanda counted. Kitty was taking between three and four lingering seconds on each upstroke and the same down. What an agony of lust the lad had to be suffering!

  Kitty’s free hand joined the play, toying with the lad’s scrotum, jiggling his balls and scratching gently beneath them. The fingers of Wanda’s right hand tugged her panties aside.

  Chuck was rigid. His biceps bulged. The long muscles in the fronts of his thighs contracted and relaxed, mimicking fucking but not moving him a single inch. Kitty gave Wanda the ‘OK’ sign and winked. Wanda nodded and found the slippery button of her clitoris with the ball of her thumb. Her index finger curled up inside herself to reach the spongy mass of her G spot. She squeezed. Her clit slipped aside like a wet orange pip but her thumb followed it mercilessly.

  Kitty sat herself astride the lounger, lower down, and leaned towards Chuck’s erection. Was she relenting? Was she going to give him head as a reward for his servile obedience? It seemed not. She was simply intensifying her torture. Partly turned aside, to give Wanda a better view, she simply gripped the boy’s shaft, just below its head, and lapped, once, passing the tip of her tongue across the ‘knot’ beneath his glans. He jerked. As a preamble to a good strong sucking, Chuck would have enjoyed that, no doubt, but it was the prelude to her simply looking at his manhood for a long count, perhaps a full minute, before repeating the action. He jerked again. His face was screwed up with lust. He was big and strong. Kitty was tiny and weak. He could easily have grabbed her head and thrust his cock halfway down her throat, but he didn’t. She had him totally under her control. She’d tamed the lusty beast, utterly, it seemed to Wanda.

  By Wanda’s count, Kitty lapped the underside of Chuck’s cock, flicking its knot at the end of each tongue-stroke, once a minute for a good fifteen minutes. The boy was almost convulsive with cruelly restrained lust. Those of his muscles that weren’t straining were twitching. When was that naughty girl going to show him some mercy?

  The feline in question stood up. What now? She unlaced the bottom of her bikini, tossed it aside and threw one leg over Chuck to bestride his hips, facing Wanda. Kitty lowered herself, perhaps crooning something sexy to him. If it had been Wanda’s performance, she’d have used her voice to make it worse for him.

  Kitty bent to reach down and back between her own wide-spread thighs and took a firm grip on his shaft. She lowered herself. When just an inch separated the flaccid lips of her sex from the engorged dome of Chuck’s cock, she paused. The bitch! Down that inch. A little rub, just barely making contact. Another pause. Lower. Lower. Half of the helmet was lodged between her lips. Slowly, slowly … A wink at Wanda. Half of his shaft was inside her. Three-quarters. Finally, the entire rigid length. And there she sat, not moving,

  Her lips blew a kiss in Wanda’s direction. How that little tease was enjoying her power over her helpless victim! Perhaps he begged because Kitty half turned to say something, something sharp and admonishing, no doubt. She lifted herself up, perhaps two inches. Her hips swung left, then right. She did a little bump followed by a long slow rotation, stirring her soft insides with his rigidity. Then down again for another long pause.

  Wanda had to give Chuck credit. Most young men, subjected to the treatment that Kitty was subjecting him to, would have climaxed. Perhaps he simply didn’t dare.

  Wanda would have enjoyed being teased to the point of insanity. Was it the same for men? She’d never treated a man the way Kitty was treating Chuck. Most likely, she couldn’t. It just wasn’t in her nature. It certainly was in Kitty’s, though. Well, even if Wanda couldn’t bring herself to treat a man that way, she could still enjoy watching another girl do it.

  Kitty lifted again, but all the way off this time. When she’d steered his shaft back into contact, she came down faster. And lifted. And down. Accelerating. So, the lad was finally getting what he craved. That was a relief, and a disappointment.

  Past Kitty’s body, Wanda could see Chuck’s mouth gape open. He had to be bellowing out that ferocious noise that some men make when they near their orgasms. Wanda stroked herself faster, trying to keep up.

  Kitty paused, leaned sideways to the little plastic table, grabbed two handfuls of ice cubes, dismounted Chuck’s bucking hips and slapped both hands onto him, one icing his balls, the other his shaft.

  He froze in place. His cry must have turned from a joyous one to one of anguish, if Wanda could have heard it. He looked like he babbled something, pleading or complaining or just spewing nonsense. His erection wilted. Poor Chuck!

  Kitty bestrode him again. She guided his limp length back into position. Smiling at Wanda, the vixen held up both hands. Her right was still full of ice. Her left held her vibrator. She weighed the two, as if deciding on something. The vibrator touched the base of Chuck’s shaft. Even with only an inch of it showing, Wanda could see it stiffen. Kitty lifted, trailing her own pussy with the plastic toy. On her descent, she replaced the vibrator with ice. What would that do to a man? He was being fucked by a gorgeous girl but simultaneously getting his cock frozen – or sometimes vibrated on. He’d never know which to expect. The agony!

  Well, it looked like being a long morning. Wanda skinned out of the panties she’d been wearing around her knees and settled down in a more comfortable position. How to get the most fun? Perhaps she’d give herself a climax soon, then start over.

  She should have brought a snack up into the tower. It looked like all three of them were going to miss lunch.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The moms came home soon after lunch the next day, both tipsy on shopping. Kitty sent Chuck out to help them bring in their swag. Most of it he heaped onto the eating-room table but Martha and Lucinda scurried straight upstairs with two of their bags each, bags they hadn’t let him touch. There were no names on those bags but they were glossy black with lush red lips displayed on each side. Wanda drew her own conclusions as to the nature of the contents.

  By the time the moms’ loot had been carried up, a horn sounded outside. It was a distinctive chocolate-brown van from UPS. That could only mean one thing – goodies from Henry. This time everyone rushed out to see what early Christmas presents Santa Henry had sent them from Europe.

  First out of the van was a gigantic wicker hamper from London’s Harrods department store. It was intended for Consuela, who cooed with delight and had two of her sons carry it straight to the kitchen. There was also a small parcel for the cook-housekeeper. She ripped it open to find three Hermes scarves, all the same design but in different colours. Her husband, Olaf, got a cubic package, about a foot on each side, which he tucked under his arm and disappeared with. Two of the boys’ parcels contained bottles of some s
ort of exotic booze, and a bottle of cologne each. They seemed happy with their gifts so Wanda assumed that Henry knew what he was doing. Well, of course he did. He always did.

  Chuck’s present was an antique chess set, which didn’t seem like much to Wanda but he seemed pleased enough. Another score for Henry – but what had he bought for her? That was the important question.

  Lucinda squealed and clapped her hands when she opened a box to find a small bottle of perfume. From her reaction, Caro’s Poivre had to be something special. Martha, not to be outdone in her reaction to her gift, clutched at her face and sank onto a chair when she unwrapped Clive Christian’s Number One.

  ‘Is that a good perfume?’ Wanda asked.

  Lucinda told her, ‘It’s one of the most expensive perfumes in the world, as is mine. Henry is being very generous. His business over there must be going very well.’

  Kitty’s perfume was about a pint of Chanel Number Five. Half an ounce of the actual perfume, not the eau de cologne, was expensive, so that was impressive. Then there were parcels for the three girls who helped Consuela. Annoyingly, they took them away without showing the contents. If they had, it might have given clues as to their past relationships with Wanda’s Henry; though it was innocent, of course. Of course.

  The next three boxes were all for Wanda. To her frustration, all were marked ‘Do Not Open’ and were tied with golden cord that was sealed with blobs of green sealing wax that were stamped with Henry’s monogram.

  ‘He wants to see you open these,’ Wanda’s mom consoled her.

  ‘And wear them,’ Kitty added. She tapped the boxes one at a time. The labels were Chanel, Givenchy and Fleur of England. ‘Suit, gown, lingerie. Nice and naughty lingerie.’

  Wanda tried to blush and she was pleased, but not in an embarrassed kind of way.

  The last box was for her and it wasn’t marked ‘Do Not Open’. It contained a largish bottle of perfume, Clive Christian Imperial Majesty.

  Kitty said, ‘Wow!’

  Both moms clutched at their faces and squealed.

  ‘What?’ Wanda asked. ‘Expensive?’ She held the bottle up, as if it’d bear a mark of quality of some kind.

  ‘Not just “expensive”,’ Kitty explained. ‘See that golden collar around the neck?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s real gold, solid gold. The diamond set in the collar is a real diamond, three carats, if I remember correctly.’

  Lucinda added, ‘It’s only the most expensive, and exclusive, perfume in the entire world. It’s one of a limited edition. Just half a dozen were made.’

  ‘Five,’ Martha corrected her.

  Lucinda beat that with: ‘Plus the customised bottle in the shape of a piano that was made for Sir Elton John. That makes six.’

  Kitty said, ‘For the price of that bottle of perfume, you could buy a house, Wanda.’

  Wanda felt her face, and brain, go totally numb. ‘H-how m-much money are we talking about?’

  ‘It’s not nice to ask, my dear,’ Lucinda told her, ‘but, as you have, over two hundred thousand dollars.’

  Wanda’s trembling fingers set the bottle gently on the table, well away from the edge. She sat down and stared at it. ‘What’ll I do with it? Where will I keep it?’

  Henry’s mom told her, ‘You’ll keep it on your dressing table, of course. When Henry comes home, you will wear it, but use it sparingly please, dear.’

  ‘Oh, I will,’ Wanda promised. ‘I will.’ She turned to Kitty. ‘Do me a favour, Kitty? Would you carry it upstairs for me?’

  Wanda spent the rest of the day in a state of dizzy euphoria. Love can be overwhelming. It isn’t right for a girl to love a man just because he gives her expensive gifts, but, when she already loves the man and then he showers her with fabulous presents, her adoration for him can become overwhelming, almost painful. But the bliss! Such incredible bliss!

  Wanda must have eaten dinner but she didn’t know what Consuela had served or what it tasted like. She must have occupied the time between dinner and bed somehow, but doing what? Most likely she’d talked to people, but who and what about were lost in a mist. All was well, in a wonderful world. For the rest of that day, she didn’t even fantasise. She was aware that she had a wedding night coming quite soon but what that meant, in terms of physical intimacy, she didn’t even try to imagine. It would be perfect, whatever ‘perfect’ was. That sufficed.

  When she woke up the next morning, she was close to sane again, until she saw the bottle on her dressing table. The mist of bliss returned as she stroked the cool glass but it faded again. By the time she got down for breakfast, she was just incredibly happy.

  There was a choice of kedgeree or cheese and spinach omelettes. She’d never tried kedgeree so she chose that. It didn’t look that appetising but Wanda found that she really enjoyed it. That was going to be her life from then on – trying new things and enjoying them. Pleasures that she couldn’t even imagine were in store for her.

  As Consuela dished up, Kitty asked her, ‘Consuela, can I borrow Chuck for the day? I want to take a ride around the ranch and I’m a bit nervous to go alone.’

  Consuela squinted at Kitty, gave Wanda a knowing glance, and nodded.

  Kitty looked at Wanda and winked.

  When the two riders set off, Wanda peeked down on them from her bedroom window. There was a coil of white cotton cord hanging from the pommel of Chuck’s saddle. Who’d be tying who up? It wasn’t hard to guess.

  Thinking about Kitty and her willing sex slave got Wanda’s imagination going again. She hurried to the tower room and moved the telescope over to the window that faced the direction the two had ridden off in. No luck. They’d already disappeared. While she was at the ’scope she panned it around idly. Maybe she’d find that big red barn. Silly! That’d been a fantasy, not real. Hadn’t it? Sometimes, in recollection, the difference between fact and fancy was hard to be sure of.

  Maybe there’d be something else worth looking at, but not the sunbathing roof. The moms were most likely out there by now, topless, or worse. How about those stables? Two of the ranch-hands were going in, a big burly guy in his forties and a slightly shorter and slimmer, younger man. She hadn’t met either, which opened the door for her lurid imagination wide.

  She knew she couldn’t do what Kitty was doing, dominate a man, not in real life. Maybe she could do it in a fantasy. First, she’d need a hold over him, like Kitty had over Chuck. Could those handsome two hands have a guilty secret she could use to control them? What if … Wanda settled back in the big comfy chair, skirt rucked up, ready to play once the warm feeling came over her. Recalling an old and long-lapsed personal ritual, she sang softly to herself. ‘Hey diddle, diddle, time for me to fiddle …’

  Now, what would she be wearing? She’d bought a little skirt that she didn’t dare wear when her mom was around. It was very low-rise – with a band that came almost six inches lower than her navel, and very short and flirty. With nothing beneath it, she’d be more than ready for some wild sex. Above? All the girls on the ranch seemed to favour gingham shirts, tied between their boobs. That’d work. She had the tits to carry it off. And ballet flats on her feet.

  So, she’d follow those two hands into the stable, and …

  Stables are usually icky and stinky but this one had just been cleaned and renovated. There were no horses in it yet. The floor was wooden planks scrubbed almost white. The walls and inside the roof had been whitewashed, except for the beams that had been painted black. Overall, it was a much more salubrious place than that gigantic red barn had been. No surprise. The barn had been in a dream, not a fantasy. That’s where fantasies beat dreams. You have more control, usually. Even so, fantasies sometimes took strange and unexpected turns. At least, hers did.

  Guttural grunts and wet sloppy gulping sounds betrayed the hands’ general location. Wanda crept closer, keeping her head well below the level of the stalls’ walls. As she got close to the stall the hands were occupying, she dropped to her
knees and crawled until she could see in from almost ground level.

  They were magnificent.

  There was a strap-iron manger in the far corner. The bigger of the two men was facing it, holding it in his fists. She’d thought him big and burly but naked he presented a totally different picture. He reminded her of an elder Greek god, such as Zeus. All the statues of the number-one Olympian had shown him as mature and heavy, but all great slabby muscles that were well defined but not ugly, like some of the bodybuilders whose pictures she’d seen. His hips were relatively lean, as was his bum, that slowly clenched and relaxed in a steady, tightly controlled rhythm. Those beautiful smooth muscles would be as hard to the touch as his biceps, she was sure.

  His lover was crouched down before him. Wanda couldn’t see the younger man’s face but his body could have posed for Michelangelo’s David, or a statue of Adonis. Slighter and less muscled than the older man, he was, nevertheless, gorgeous. The only things about what she could see of him that didn’t fit his being a statue of a Greek god were his two dangling, swaying balls, and the curved column of a beautiful erection that stood high enough to bounce against his navel.

  Adonis was gripping Zeus’ thighs, just above his knees. As Wanda watched, the lad ran his palms up the insides of the man’s legs, to his bum. His hands prized those sculptured cheeks apart and wormed a finger high up between them. With that intimate control, he pulled Zeus closer, driving the man’s cock into his own mouth, then tugged him away, and back …