First In: Femdom Stories of First-time Strap-on Sex by Brett Olsen, Elizabeth Colvin, Dexter Cunningham, Felix D'Angelo, Erica Dumas, Kendra Jarry Page B
Authors: Brett Olsen, Elizabeth Colvin, Dexter Cunningham, Felix D'Angelo, Erica Dumas, Kendra Jarry
Ads: Link
wearing them. Did Jenny mean what
she said? That she was going to get my ears pierced soon?
My heart races as I think of
myself wearing earrings. It would be so humiliating if she made me wear them
out in public...maybe even to work...
That thought only makes me dance
sexier, working my hips and grinding with the music, feeling the obscene lyrics
penetrate my drunken brain and make me even hornier. They're influencing me. I'm
your slave/I'm your cunt/I'm your whore/Use me/Take me/Fuck me/Spank me/Hurt
me/Give me your cock...
My arousal mounts as I shimmy and
grind with the music. Drunk and increasingly loose, I'm having a good time. But
Jenny is not satisfied. After a few minutes of watching me dance, Jenny chides
me for not following the rhythm, for not doing it slow and sexy. She makes me
slow down until I'm grinding with the music. She makes me take my time. She
makes me pull my jeans down to the top of my boots and bend over and work my
ass back and forth in time to the music.
She makes me pull the panties down
and turn away and bend over and show her my asshole, never stopping the slow,
increasingly sensuous moves of my dance.
It takes me a long time to get the
hang of it, but with Jenny's guidance, I start to loosen up.
She gives me pointers. "Work
that ass back and forth like a girl, baby. Think of how you like to see
it when you're at a strip club."
When she's not giving me
instructions, Jenny mouths the words to the obscene song. " I'm your slave/I’m
your whore/I'm your cunt/I'm your bitch/Take me/Use me/Fuck me/Hurt me... "
Seeing my beautiful wife mouth
those suggestive lyrics with her perfect red lips, I find myself inspired. My
inhibitions melt away. Before long, I'm dancing like a girl; I've wriggled my
way out of the jeans and boots, and I'm dancing for her, almost like a
stripper. Almost like a girl.
Jenny purrs at me happily, claps
and giggles and even cheers me between lip-syncing lines about taking it in the
ass. I'm naked except for my panties and dancing with increasing ease, my
movements getting fluid as I undulate back and forth, getting more turned on as
I see the yummy reactions my wife gives me. She rubs herself as she watches me.
It's so gratifying to know I’m actually turning my wife on that I dance more
energetically, building up a sweat.
"You're doing so good,
Kendra," "See if those white stripper pumps of mine will fit you,
baby."
"Huh?" I ask her.
"Darling, they won't...your feet are size fives."
"Just go ahead and see,"
Jenny tells me. "They're on the top shelf in the closet."
I go there. I take the shoes down.
I realize that even though I've always thought these shoes are incredibly sexy,
I've never seen Jenny wear them. I've even jacked off fantasizing about
her wearing them...but I've never seen her wear them.
When I hold them in my hands, I
realize why. They're not Jenny's size. They're mine.
Blushing, covered in sweat,
exhausted, I step into the white pumps and secure the buckle.
They fit like a charm.
The heels are much higher than the
ones on the red boots she made me wear earlier. My cock has never stopped
throbbing and my erection has never dwindled. But I swear, having my ass forced
into that unnatural stripper posture from six-inch heels and a thong that rubs
my butthole actually makes my cock actually feel like it grows .
Covered in sweat, dripping from
the exertion of dancing, I finish the third wine cooler. Jenny takes the fourth
one from the cardboard four-pack on the nightstand. She waves it at me. I go to
the bed and get it from her. She pulls me halfway onto the bed and kisses me --
stopping me with her own high-heeled shoe in my balls when I try to climb on
the bed all the way.
Her kisses taste like beer, vodka,
and Mike's cum. My own mouth tastes like wine cooler and pussy. I feel
incredibly drunk.
"Make it slutty this
time. Why don't you play with some toys?"
I take
she said? That she was going to get my ears pierced soon?
My heart races as I think of
myself wearing earrings. It would be so humiliating if she made me wear them
out in public...maybe even to work...
That thought only makes me dance
sexier, working my hips and grinding with the music, feeling the obscene lyrics
penetrate my drunken brain and make me even hornier. They're influencing me. I'm
your slave/I'm your cunt/I'm your whore/Use me/Take me/Fuck me/Spank me/Hurt
me/Give me your cock...
My arousal mounts as I shimmy and
grind with the music. Drunk and increasingly loose, I'm having a good time. But
Jenny is not satisfied. After a few minutes of watching me dance, Jenny chides
me for not following the rhythm, for not doing it slow and sexy. She makes me
slow down until I'm grinding with the music. She makes me take my time. She
makes me pull my jeans down to the top of my boots and bend over and work my
ass back and forth in time to the music.
She makes me pull the panties down
and turn away and bend over and show her my asshole, never stopping the slow,
increasingly sensuous moves of my dance.
It takes me a long time to get the
hang of it, but with Jenny's guidance, I start to loosen up.
She gives me pointers. "Work
that ass back and forth like a girl, baby. Think of how you like to see
it when you're at a strip club."
When she's not giving me
instructions, Jenny mouths the words to the obscene song. " I'm your slave/I’m
your whore/I'm your cunt/I'm your bitch/Take me/Use me/Fuck me/Hurt me... "
Seeing my beautiful wife mouth
those suggestive lyrics with her perfect red lips, I find myself inspired. My
inhibitions melt away. Before long, I'm dancing like a girl; I've wriggled my
way out of the jeans and boots, and I'm dancing for her, almost like a
stripper. Almost like a girl.
Jenny purrs at me happily, claps
and giggles and even cheers me between lip-syncing lines about taking it in the
ass. I'm naked except for my panties and dancing with increasing ease, my
movements getting fluid as I undulate back and forth, getting more turned on as
I see the yummy reactions my wife gives me. She rubs herself as she watches me.
It's so gratifying to know I’m actually turning my wife on that I dance more
energetically, building up a sweat.
"You're doing so good,
Kendra," "See if those white stripper pumps of mine will fit you,
baby."
"Huh?" I ask her.
"Darling, they won't...your feet are size fives."
"Just go ahead and see,"
Jenny tells me. "They're on the top shelf in the closet."
I go there. I take the shoes down.
I realize that even though I've always thought these shoes are incredibly sexy,
I've never seen Jenny wear them. I've even jacked off fantasizing about
her wearing them...but I've never seen her wear them.
When I hold them in my hands, I
realize why. They're not Jenny's size. They're mine.
Blushing, covered in sweat,
exhausted, I step into the white pumps and secure the buckle.
They fit like a charm.
The heels are much higher than the
ones on the red boots she made me wear earlier. My cock has never stopped
throbbing and my erection has never dwindled. But I swear, having my ass forced
into that unnatural stripper posture from six-inch heels and a thong that rubs
my butthole actually makes my cock actually feel like it grows .
Covered in sweat, dripping from
the exertion of dancing, I finish the third wine cooler. Jenny takes the fourth
one from the cardboard four-pack on the nightstand. She waves it at me. I go to
the bed and get it from her. She pulls me halfway onto the bed and kisses me --
stopping me with her own high-heeled shoe in my balls when I try to climb on
the bed all the way.
Her kisses taste like beer, vodka,
and Mike's cum. My own mouth tastes like wine cooler and pussy. I feel
incredibly drunk.
"Make it slutty this
time. Why don't you play with some toys?"
I take
Similar Books
