Vile Bodies

No, not mine, and not necessarily yours. After three months without physical contact I have lost interest in other bodies. I used to love the feel of another’s skin, the stubble of a man brushing against my cheek as I kissed him, the smell of arousal, even the aroma of sweat as I made love on a muggy evening, the taste of a bell end glistening with pre-come as I took it into my mouth, the musk of a cunt, juicy with arousal, the joy of burying my face in lush pubic hair as I go down on her, the feel of her tongue against my finger as she licks her juice.

All these things I have enjoyed, and my body in turn has given pleasure to my lovers. And yet it all seems so long ago, no more real than  the smut I read, the stories I write. The stories. I have moved my sex life into my head, I write and write and write, not always for publication, but always to get off, to experience the orgasms that come from the mind, to make sense of all those bodies and the things I did with them, before everything is lost.

I am used to this now. The urge to write is irresistible, I fear the bodies, imperfect as mine is imperfect, sweaty as mine is sweaty, sagging as mine sags, that will come between me and my imagination. I think them vile, I push them away. But I cannot do this for ever.  My lover today sent me a picture of his cock, as yet untasted by me. But taste it I will, for I must. It took me decades to love my body, nearly as long to love the bodies of others. The language of these bodies is another language, once foreign, still not entirely familiar. I cannot afford to forget it.

Skin Deep

Skin, I once read, is the heaviest organ in the human body. The thought disgusted me. I saw myself being peeled to the muscular redness of  the grotesque cadavers you see in medical schools, my skin an amorphous pale mass plopping onto silver scales, all two and a half kilos of the stuff that holds me together. It disgusted me. My skin disgusts me.  For my most of my life I have suffered from eczema. I hate my skin. My skin hates me back. It cracks and bleeds, lets infections in through the perfidious gaps it leaves.

There came the day when I lay in bed, ill, my skin blotched, red, and cracked, oozing blood. My hands were incapable of holding a pen. I lay helpless and repellent. I cried but there was no one to hear, no one to wipe away the tears, before they seeped through my cracks and raised my torment up a notch.

Then she came. I could not make out her face through my tears , just the whirl of clothes bring taken off before she pulled back the duvet and climbed into bed next to me. She leaned over me, tugging down my pyjama bottoms, pulling out my blotched, ugly cock. I felt it harden.

She said nothing, but took it in her mouth, closed her mouth round it. I felt the foreskin slide back and she began to work the exposed head with her tongue, a rhythm of flicks alternating with gentle sucking, increasing the tempo as I swelled in her mouth until I came with a shout and felt the urgent force of the flow into her mouth

Come was dripping from her chin as she set to work licking my torso, my neck, my face, her tongue pushing into the cracks, applying the balm.

“I’m not disgusted by your body, you know that don’t you?”

She flipped me over and I felt her tongue running down my spine, felt it gently explore my bum crack. I came again.

“Kneel up.”

I did and she slid underneath me to take my cock into her mouth again, suck up soem more come for my legs, my feet.

I don’t remember her finishing, I don’t remember her leaving. It was after ten o’clock when I woke up. I had slept for, I don’t know, maybe 10 hours?  My skin hurt, still bled, but by Monday I could see that it was starting to heal. The following Saturday I went swimming.

And that is the thing with eczema. It comes and goes without warning, without reason. One day my whole body is cracked and bleeding and I cry in despair. A few days later the eczema goes, but never completely. There is always a small rough spot just below my left thumb that never clears up. My eczema is always there, lurking, lying in wait for the times when my mystery lover stays away, when I have no one to bring me to sweet, creamy orgasms, when I am too down to wank. When I cannot be myself. .

This is a post for edition 292 of Masturbation Monday. Click the picture below to see what others have been getting up to.

Masturbation Monday

 

Special Delivery

The card looked official. It said “A Message from Direct Mail Services. Your special delivery will arrive tomorrow at 12 noon. As this is an official court document it is a legal requirement that you be at home to receive the delivery.” The card has a very imposing looking stamp with a crown and the wording Her Majesty’s Courts and Tribunals Service. I held it in my hands for a few seconds, reflecting, Then I put it down.

I went to the kitchen, made a cup of tea and lit a cigarette. I was puzzled by this message but also a little worried. I mean, what did the courts want with me? I had no debts, I had never been in trouble with the police, and the more I reflected on it, the more worried I became.

The following day I woke early after a restless night and phoned the office to say I had a heavy cold and would not be in. And then the time dragged and dragged. I tried to do things, the washing up, read a book, anything but I just ended up smoking too many cigarettes and scrolling listlessly through my Facebook timeline.  The time dragged but, at the same time, moved remorselessly forward. Just as it must have done for condemned prisoners once upon a time I reflected.

I started when my phone burst into life with its jingly jangly alarm call melody.  It was noon. I was about to find out.

I looked through the front room window as the delivery man opened the gate and walked confidently up to the front door. His uniform was dark blue with yellow trim, not quite like the Direct Mail corporate uniform, and then he had his cap pulled down to obscure his face.  But the way he walked seemed familiar. I smiled to myself. I was feeing better already.  I went to the door but he didn’t knock.

“On your knees by the letter box” said a commanding masculine voice. I complied. The flap of the letter box opened and I was suddenly eyeball to eyeball with the fat purple bell end of a most magnificent cock. It was hard, ribbed with veins, the tip already glistening.

“You know what to do.”

This was as much a command as a statement. And I set greedily to work, long slow movements punctuated by whippings with the tongue, feeling it grow ever harder in my mouth as I quickened the tempo. I pressed face against the door to give him the space to face fuck me. He pushed hard as I sucked on his end and three hard choking thrusts later he came with a moan that someone surely must have heard in the street outside.

I gasped and coughed and the come dripped down my chin and onto my top. Then he knocked the door as I hoped he would, document or no document.  As I opened the door, he pushed his way in, bow with a stocking over his head.  I had never enjoyed his cock before but now that I could smell him I was sure I knew who he was. And he was welcome here, especially if I could enjoy his cock again.

He whipped out a pair of handcuffs and used them with a speed and dexterity that left me unable to resist. He attached me to the stair rail.

“You have been a naughty girl” he said. He took a paper handkerchief and wiped the come from around my mouth. Then he pulled down my skirt and panties, bent me over and fucked me from behind, fucked me hard, fucked me until I could take no more and I felt warm come flowing down my inner thigh.

He freed my hands and handed me a delivery note to sign. In my orgasmic daze

“Sign here please Madame to confirm the delivery was safely received.”

I handed it back. He tore off a copy for me and smiled.

“My number is on there if you have any problems with the delivery.”

“Thank you” I muttered.

“Well I am sure we will meet again. I am glad I could be of service.”

He turned and left without looking round.

I sat for a while, enjoying a cigarette (and cigarettes after sex are always the best ones aren’t they?).  picked up the phone and dialled the number on the delivery note. I was sure there was more to be delivered. And I wanted it before dinner.

 

This was a story for Wicked Wednesday. Click on the image below to see who else is being wicked this week.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

 

Mornington Crescent

Not least of the attractions of being with James was that he was a wonderful cook. Most of the time they were not in the bedroom they spent in the kitchen with Debbie obediently preparing the vegetables, washing up, doing everything Chef required in anticipation of the treats ahead.

It was a Monday evening, a Bank Holiday Monday to be precise. After a day of enjoyable outdoor play, when Debbie had brought home the nettles needed for the soup inside her panties, they were in the kitchen preparing dinner. The nettles were wilting nicely in the saucepan as Debbie’s buttocks bubbled red with pain and discomfort. She had been ordered to prepare the vegetables and took out a wooden chopping board and Sabatier knife.  Debbie chopped the thick courgettes with their bulbous ends and soon fell into a reverie as she contemplated their similarity to what she doubtless had awaiting her after dinner.

‘Are you listening to me slut?’ asked James suddenly with obvious irritation.

‘I’m sorry sir,’ answered Debbie, clearly flustered at being so rudely woken from her dreams.

‘I said switch the radio on and tune it to Radio Four,’

‘Yes sir, I am very sorry sir’ .

She switched the radio on and selected Radio Four as ordered. There was a panel game on , or rather, the antidote to panel games as she noted. Debbie returned to chopping courgettes telling herself that she needed to be more attentive.

As the panellists launched into a game called Mornington Crescent, Debbie noticed a glint appear in James’ eye.

‘Your task for this week slut is to be fucked by a complete stranger at Mornington Crescent tube station and to bring me proof. Is that clear?’

‘Yes sir’ said Debbie and carried on chopping.

The following Wednesday Debbie took the afternoon off to prepare for her assignment. It was a chilly day and she selected her favourite fur and black patent boots. She would have nothing on under the coat. She loved the way that a heavy fur could naturally fall open, expose her breasts and help her trap her prey. She stood in front of the mirror and arranged and rearranged the coat just to see how she could show her cleavage to best effect.

Debbie had decided to head out at two o’ clock when there might be men about not in too much of a hurry to stop for sex, when it would be busy enough to trap a suitable partner but not so busy that you couldn’t have sex on the platform once you had waited until the passengers had drifted away. The station was relatively quiet in the afternoon, you might have three minutes, what more did you need particularly if you could get ready while you were on the train.

She slipped her keys, her Oyster card, phone, packet of condoms and her little Chanel No. 5 spray, into the deep pockets of the fur coat and set off walking briskly and confidently down the road to the Tube station.

She changed onto the Northern Line at Charing Cross, stood by the door of the carriage, making herself as visible as possible, breathing slowly and deliberately, letting her breasts move up and down with stately magnificence, licking the lips on which the bright red lipstick had hardened nicely. She took out her bottle and sprayed a further thin mist of Chanel behind her ears, on her neck. The trap was set.

By Leicester Square the train was quite full and a tallish balding man got on and stood next to her pushing himself against her.

‘A frotteur’ she thought with quiet satisfaction.

Debbie did not yield but pushed back against him and forced her left knee between his legs. She breathed slowly, looked at him. He went red. She looked to the floor and his eyes followed. Now he could see the gleaming black boots. She pushed her knee up towards his crotch and felt his cock, felt it begin to stiffen with the excitement of a booted female leg rubbing against his inner thigh.

He smiled and shut his eyes.

‘I’ve got you mate’ thought Debbie with satisfaction.

She shifted her position slightly and moved her face to a position where she could smell his breath which was fresh, with a touch of mint. He looked and smelt clean. That was a relief.

The man pushed back against her and began to grind his crotch against hers. He looked furtively around and seeing that the other passengers were engrossed in their Kindles and newspapers, began to grind against her. He then slipped his right hand inside Debbie’s coat and began to squeeze and twist her right nipple at the same moment as he slipped his left hand in further down and after a little fumbling found her swollen clit. He worked it with his finger, breathed heavily and ground and ground before starting a pumping motion. Debbie could feel his huge stiff cock straining against his trousers, straining against the fur, like a missile seeking the target that was so close, the target that was dilating, was getting wetter and wetter. As he slid two, then three, fingers inside her, Debbie felt her clit rub against the lining of her coat. She wanted to do it now. She could not wait to Mornington Crescent. She was aware that she was panting and gasping, aware suddenly that people were looking at them. Debbie didn’t care. She just needed to be fucked.

‘Discipline’ she said to herself, ‘Self control.’ That much James had taught her well.

As the train pulled into Euston the man made no move to get off with the crowds. Debbie was relieved. He wanted this as much as she did. As the train rolled out of the station and plunged back into the dark tunnel, she heard herself saying

‘Dark tunnels, do you like going into long dark tunnels?’

She was astonished. She hadn’t intended to say anything to the man. He looked away, too embarrassed to speak but, using the motion of the train as a pretext, pushed against her hard so that they were crotch to crotch. Again he ground his crotch against her, this time he tormented the left nipple. The pain and the pleasure worked together in an intoxicating medley of sensation. She felt relief as the lights of Mornington Crescent station began to flash past. Debbie simply could not wait any longer.

The doors opened and she virtually pushed him out of the train. She pushed him into the corner by the clock at the far end of the platform. Soon they were alone on the platform. Debbie looked at the platform indicator. There were four minutes until the next train.

‘We’ve got two minutes I reckon. You’ve got me ready, now you’ve got to fuck me and fuck me hard’ she said.

She bent over, threw up her coat and placed her fingers between her legs to massage the wet cunt again, prove to herself just how wet it was and to show him the way. He unzipped his trousers came forward and as he did so Debbie grabbed his huge swollen cock, rolled on the condom and guided him in.

‘We’ve got to be quick. Just give it to me hard, hard.’

And he began to give it to her with big pelvic thrusts that forced his cock deep into her, His flesh thumped against her thighs harder and harder. He began to flag and paused to pant.

‘I can’t ‘he said. ‘I can’t manage any more.,,,’

‘Yes you can I haven’t come yet,’

Debbie spun round and knelt before him, removed the condom and took the diminishing cock into her mouth. She tongue whipped the end, she licked her way along, licked her way along the shaft before taking as big a mouthful as she could manage without choking sucked and pulled, purring with delight as the man stiffened and threw his head back, as if he was seeing stars. She felt the cock begin to swell and harden then he gasped and come began to flow into her mouth. She swallowed then pulled back to look up at the man, like a naughty girl caught with the remains of a cream cake around her mouth.

‘Now do it again ‘she said rubbing the cock, and sliding another condom on.

She stood up and bent down facing the tiled wall. There were people gathering on the platform now. She draped the coat over the man’s cock and grabbed his buttocks to pull him in close and guide the cock into the hole that was by now a gateway to a warm and sensuous lake that was being filled by her fountain of arousal. The man pumped and pumped and as Debbie bent down further to allow him to penetrate long and deep she placed a finger on her clit and began to rub vigorously. She heard a train rumbling closer, closer. Soon it would disgorge crowds of passengers who would catch them in the act.

They came together just as the train pulled into the station, rushed to rearrange their clothes as two dozen passengers stepped out into the platform. The man walked quickly away and Debbie suddenly realised she had forgotten the proof.

‘Shit!’ she said but the man was already on the train which was pulling out. She had done her duty but had no proof!

As she turned to head for the southbound platform she felt a tap on her shoulder.

‘Could I have a word madam?’

She started. It was a bearded transport policeman.

He held out a pair of handcuffs.

‘I’m arresting you for lewd behaviour in a public place.’

She held our hands to be cuffed, too much in shock to resist and meekly complied with his instructions as he led her away down a tunnel to a door marked No Entry to General Public.

He pushed her against the wall and said

‘I have photographic evidence of you committing a serious criminal offence. You could get two years for this. ‘

He showed her the footage on a mobile phone.

‘This matter will go to court unless………unless………’

‘What?’

‘Unless you kneel down and blow me.’

‘But that’s outrageous’

‘Do it slut do it now.’

He took out his cock and Debbie knelt before him. Either this or prison, she thought, and maybe he would let her have a picture for James…….James? She looked closely at the cock, she looked up. The policeman pulled off his beard and said

‘Well done slut. A task completed to my complete satisfaction. But carry on, don’t let me stop you.’

And Debbie took James’ cock in her cuffed hands, took it to her mouth and began to suck her dom’s magnificent member. She had been obedient and surely James would not withhold her reward.

‘By the way’ he said ‘we’re having roast duck tonight, with apples and red cabbage.’

Paying Her Dues

“Well this is certainly a surprise” said Roxanne as he walked round me letting her fingers trail teasingly over my cock, “you certainly look a lot prettier than before, What’s your name now?”

“Celia” I said, “I just kinda liked the sound of it.”

“Well it’s been a while since you came as David. What can I do for you?”

“Well I am not into fucking anymore. I thought about a massage, a blow job, and then maybe you could fuck me. I like that idea.”

I reached into my bag and took out a dildo and harness.

Roxanne whistled and smiled.

“Well you have come prepared. Maybe you would like to take your clothes off and we can have a little fun.”

And we did.

When she finished fucking me, or rather, when I called for her to stop as it was getting a little too intense,  and she took the harness off I saw that we still had five minutes so I knelt over her, masturbating vigorously until I came over her breasts in warm creamy glugs which I licked off greedily.

I collapsed onto the bed panting. This had been a good time. Roxanne rolled of the bed and wrapped a towel around her.

“Thank you darling. I need a shower now but before I go, I need a few pennies off you.”

I looked in my bag and went cold.

“I’m, so sorry Roxanne. I seem to have forgotten my purse.”

“How are you going to pay me then?”

She was no longer smiling. I had always imagined her as hard underneath the smiling exterior but now I was really seeing the hard side of her.

“You come to a brothel without money? You know I trust you because you used to be a regular and this..?”

“Well I “

“Well nothing! Thought you would get a free fuck, did you? Did you?”

“No Roxanne”

“You are going to make it up to me. You are staying here. You are going to work off your debt”

“No I er…er

“Do you fucking understand?”

She turned and left the room, locking the door behind her. Now I was her prisoner.

A few minutes later she returned, freshly showered,  and I tried to push past her and leave the room but she caught me and pushed me back against the wall and wrapped her hand round my throat. She moved in close and I could smell tobacco and mints on her breath.

“if you ever want to get out of here you are going to do what I say” she hissed.

I said nothing, trying hard to suppress mounting panic.

“Is that clear Celia?”

She almost spat out my name.

”I am really sorry Roxanne, I will bring…..”

“Bring it next time?”

She let out a mocking laugh.

“You must think I was born yesterday. I do this for money and only for money. No freebies here however much you kid yourself I like you.  I trust no one. And you are going to find out, Celia, just what a shit job this can be.”

You are going to give my three punters blow jobs at £50 a time and that way you will pay off your debt pay your debt.”

Again, I said nothing, trying to hide my rising feelings of fear and nausea.

“Aren’t you?” she shouted.

“Yes Roxanne”

She left and returned shortly afterwards with a balding overweight man who could barely fit his jeans over his gut.

“So darling I have a little extra to offer you today. For £50 my little shemale Cock Sucking Candy will give you oral. And she is rather good.”

“Oh I think I might like that” he said and smiled maliciously. He had sensed my fear and was enjoying it.

I knelt before him and noticed that he was sweating profusely even though it wasn’t a particularly warm day.

Roxanne laughed as I knelt before him and introduce myself.

“I am Cock Sucking Candy sir. Please may I give you oral”

He nodded, a bemused smile on his face, and unzipped his fly. The penis that flopped out was not clean, his foreskin was flecked with smegma and his bell end dotted with bits of tissue paper from  attempts to clean up after having a wank.

Roxanne handed me a condom and I slipped it into his cock, I set to work, sucking, licking and tonguing, doing all the things I liked Roxanne doing to me. I felt him stiffen and swell, then subside. I kept working until, suddenly, he hardened again and ejaculated into a condom.

He groaned and sighed, and I could see that he was sweating even more than before.

I slowly removed his shrinking cock from my mouth rolling off the condom as I did so. I swallowed its contents greedily.

I watched him take out his wallet and peel five £10 notes off a roll and hand them to Roxanne.

“I enjoyed that “he said. “Perhaps you could send the sissy round to my hotel room so that I can give her a real seeing to.”

“Well if you are a good boy I might. Let’s go next door and see what you’ve got left. Candy has more cocks to suck today.”

They made to leave the room and I said,

“Roxanne can I ask you a question?”

“What is it ?”

“Can I come here tomorrow as well?”

Song of a Baker

There’s wheat in the fields, slut, there’s water in the stream. We will go down thee and I will have you in all your filthy sluttery. You will kneel amidst the ripening crop and I, head high to the blades,  will take you from behind as you sink into the rich cloying earth.  Then I will lie on my back and I you can come down on me

Pat a cake pat a cake baker man bake me a cake as fast as you can and when you have finished hurry up to the flat and take me, fill me with moist springy cake, fill me till ready to burst with the work of your hands. And then, my little baker man, you will come down on me and eat me out, yes eat me out, fill your face with that sponge steeped in my juices. Kiss me and fill my mouth with chewed mushy cake. Spit the rest out over my boobs and lick it greedily off.  And them fuck me, fuck me hard

I will decorate you with dough, a little bun on each nipple,  a bite sized chunk on your clit and take a photograph. I will post it on that website we use where you are The Baker’s Wife The Greedy Bitch Who Wants to Have Her cake and Eat it. And the finished scones we will take to the club next week, and there you will lie on the table covered in scones and jam and cream and every single one must l be eaten off you. Then I will fuck you, fuck you right there on the crumbs and the jam and the cream. Our bodies will fuse in sweetness and you will taste salt. Then I will invite anyone who wants you to join the queue to fuck you, you who will be strapped down, legs apart. One after the other they will take you. Greedy girl. You will have your cake and eat it.

Oh baker man oh baker man who has made me a slut from a slave to cake, my baker man whose cock never fails to rise like the yeasty dough in your kitchen. Oh baker man I thank you for each cock you have allowed in my cunt, each cock I have had in my mouth and tasted and enjoyed as I enjoy your cakes. I thank you for the come I drink every day. Oh baker man, my baker man, I thank you most of all for the mornings when, sated with sex and refreshed by sleep, I come down for breakfast and gorge myself on the most sensual delight of all, your soft crusty bread, fresh from the oven.

A Treat Between Courses

Day nine was the best orgasm so far. and the first one that wasn’t solo.

We sat in a secluded corner of our favourite Indian restaurant, my lover and I. The poppadums were served hot and crisp, the chutneys tangy and the Chardonnay was dry and oaky just as I like it.  A sensual feast for the mouth. The onion bhajis were, well,divine.

But there was more in store for him. He moved aside to let me out from behind the table so that I could go to the loo. I turned and beckoned to him to follow me. I pulled him into the cramped cubicle. I lifted my dress, pulled down my knickers and said

“Kneel.”

He did as he was told.

I sat down on the toilet, bursting for a wee after the wine and beer earlier at the pub. I had been saving it all for him. I took his head, pulled it in close to my crotch and pushed my cock into his eager mouth. I felt myself stiffen slightly but not enough to stop the strong hot flow down my urethra. He sucked and drank and struggled at the quick insistent flow that filled his mouth faster than he could swallow until he started to gag  and I withdrew to let the rest flow into the toilet bowl..

He looked up, smiling with happiness, and wiped a drop off his chin. Now I was getting hard.

“After wine, lassi” I said.

He didn’t need to be told what to do.  My lover gives me divine pleasure with his mouth. It is soft and warm, and he works me just right,  always enough to make me come, never too vigorous on my most sensitive parts. I  sat back, leant against the newly tiled wall and moaned louder and louder until I heard the door open.

“Keep going” I ordered in a fierce whisper.

I was hard but not quite ready to come. I took my cock out, quickly masturbated to completion before coming in his lovely  mouth in glugs of ecstasy. Whoever had been in, waiting impatiently, had gone so I let out a scream as the orgasm hit  me in waves.

Most days I would return the favour. But not today. There was no more time. The main courses were surely about to be served. He had his reward though, tucked greedily into nan breads that were liberally smeared with what the casual observer might have thought was butter.

And I am back there tomorrow with my lady lover, for a spicy dish with lady’s fingers

Another Girl, Another Planet

This is a short story I wrote specially for the Eroticon reading slam. There was a certain amount of inspiration from a song, as older readers may notice.

‘Space travel’s in my blood’ she said, pulling off her silver boots, ’there’s nothing I can do about it.’

‘Tell me about yourself, how you came to be doing this.’

‘My name is Neptunia. I was born on the Neptune colony four thousand years ago and came to this galaxy through the time shift, after the solar system was abandoned I have travelled a lot, I enjoy it and when..’

‘they allowed sex again?’

‘Yes, I was chosen to apply to be an inter-galactic sex worker and I jumped at  the opportunity. I see a lot of the cosmos, the money is good  and I ways wanted to be a teacher.’

A teacher was what I needed. This was my first permission to visit our galaxy’s pleasure planet. I had read about sex in antique data storage from the days before humans destroyed planet Earth and the solar system had to be abandoned, musty stained things called books. I grew up after the move towards the more efficient asexual reproduction of the species.  For millennia sex was forbidden. Oh we still married, but only for companionship. Ova and sperm were produced by industrial process so there was no need for the human body to be involved. And sex for pleasure was deemed harmful, detrimental above all to the efficiency of the galactic economy. Like all males I had been locked into a chastity device on my thirteenth birthday. It was only ever removed under medical supervision for purposes of washing and so on,  and we knew nothing other than the dull aches and throbbing pain of the erection being crushed by the pitiless kryptonite.

And now sex was allowed as a privilege, but only for those with the means to travel to the pleasure planet and pay one of the few handpicked sex workers like Neptunia.

‘We only have an hour’ she said ‘maybe we should get on with it?’

She removed her gauntlets and pulling down the shimmering suit revealed two small firm breasts followed by a stomach tattooed with a pink meteor shower and then her pussy, her pubic hair shaven into what Earth language called a Brazilian. As the suit fell round her ankles she stepped out of it and walked towards me. I gazed at her. I had never seen a naked woman before. She took my hand and guided it to the hair, the lips and made me feel my way gingerly up and down.

‘You’ve never seen a woman before have you?’

‘No I er…….’

She gently kissed the top of my head.

‘The pleasures of the body couldn’t be denied for ever’ she said, ‘ and I am so glad the Administration realised that. Just relax……feel my hair, feel the roughness of the stubble, then feel your way down..’

She guided my hand to wear I could sense an opening, then put one of her fingers in and pulled it, put it on my tongue.

‘Taste. I’m getting wet, that’s what women do when they are ready for sex.’

She knelt before me, pulled my head towards hers and kissed me, forcing her tongue between my teeth.    I pulled away horrified.

‘But that’s so unhygienic. It’s gross.’

Neptuia laughed.

“You need to forget all they taught you at school. This is not dirty. It’s really wonderful to get close and intimate with another human being like this. Besides I’m clean and if you want to suggest otherwise you know where the door is,’

She wasn’t laughing now.

‘Just get this straight. I am proud to be a sex worker and any ideas you have about dirty disease ridden whores are just so ancient solar system. Just get them out of your head. Besides only I have the cyberkey to your chastity device. So you had better be nice to me.’

She began to laugh again.

She pulled a thin metal rod out of her bag and pointed it at my crotch. The chastity device loosened with a click and she was soon on me, Gently sliding it off, pushing me onto my back as she kissed me again. This time I could feel her strength as she pinned me down and pushed her tongue into my mouth so hard that I struggled to breathe. I made a token effort to throw her off but she was too strong for me. She slid down my body, her tongue leaving a damp trail until she arrived at my penis. She licked the end before whipping it delicately with the end of her tongue. I felt it harden and rise, now unrestrained for the first time in thirty years. She took it into her mouth and began to suck.

I stiffened and made to draw back.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that I’ve never done this before i…..”

The move into her mouth had drawn the foreskin back and the unsheathed bellend, all purple and shiny with her saliva felt vulnerable and exposed. I shuddered.

“Trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

I lay back on the bed took a deep breath and tried to relax. She started again.  This time I shut my eyes and tried to yield to her. She began to move in and out in slow rhythmic movements, and I felt myself beginning to enjoy the warmth and softness of her mouth. Another tongue whipping, another couple of swift movements in and out and I had come, feeling more pain than pleasure as one huge ejaculation quickly followed another.

Neptunia swallowed but kept a little in her mouth as she kissed me and passed some of the creamy fluid into my mouth.

“That’s the taste of a man. That’s your taste.”

She wiped her lips and smiled.

‘That’s it” she said. “Your time is nearly up.”

“And sex?” I asked not hiding my disappointment.

“Not today. I need to file my report and the Pleasure Ministry will decide if you can have a second appointment with full service.”

“And if they don’t?”

“If they don’t they don’t” said Neptunia matter of factly. “It’s down to the Ministry to decide if you need sex, or if the productive capacity of the state will be enhanced. It’s not my decision. And to be honest I don’t care either way. I’m a sex worker. I service my clients and show them the door. I don’t get emotionally involved.”

Perhaps she could see the disappointment on my face because she quickly added

“I like you and I’ve enjoyed spending time with you. So I will write a positive opinion. And maybe you will come again.”

She reached behind her and picked up the chastity cage and cyberkey.

“Come here. I have to put this back on.”

“No” I said, surprised at the firmness in my voice. “I’m not going back into that.”

I backed away but she stood up and walked towards me with a determined look.

‘That chastity device IS going back on. It’s inter-galactic law and I am here to enforce it.’

She pushed me back against the wall and hissed

‘Are you going to do as you’re told or do I have to hurt you?’

The last words came out with such venom that her spit flecked my glasses.’

‘Just remember the report I have to file. Piss me off and you’ll never come here again. You’ll live the rest of your life like a fucking monk. Is that what you want?

‘No’

My resistance was broken. She clipped it back into place, locked it with the cyberkey. I looked at her, as he pulled on her boots. I felt desire for her again, felt the blood pumping into my penis, which rose and swelled until cruelly restricted by the cage. I bent low with the agony and sank to my knees crying. It was not just for the desire of Neptunia but for what I had understood. Chastity was slavery, I had always wondered about the things I had read from earth days when chastity was a form of play in something called BDSM. I realised that when we are not free to use our bodies as we want, when we cannot express ourselves sexually then we are slaves. My head was teeming with subversive thoughts. Did The Administration realise how dangerous this could all be?  I knew too that I could say nothing of this to Neptunia who was after all a spy for the police, part of the control apparatus. What an irony there was there!

In any case I had to come back, to push my penis for the first time through those mysterious soft folds of flesh, into that secret place of the ultimate warmth and softness.

‘Come on’ said Neptunia. ‘it’s time for you to go.’

She led me out to the docking pod and I was soon on my way, her planet a distant speck and her body a sweet memory. It is a long and tiring flight to the Pleasure Planet and back but I know I will return. Long journeys wear me out but I know I can’t live without it.’