Alyssa's Needs

Brad and Alyssa had been married for about a year and a half when she told him, one evening after a quiet candlelit dinner at home, that she had needs which he could not satisfy.

“Wh-wh-what do you mean?” he asked, shocked.

Alyssa licked her lips consideringly. “I’ve come to realize,” she said, quietly but with deliberation, “that by yourself you can’t give me what I need, sexually.”

He could only stare back at her in disbelief, his jaw hanging open. He tried to speak, but no words came. Almost of its own accord, his head began to shake back and forth in the negative, scarcely noticed.

“It’s taken me a long time to realize this, Brad,” she continued without rancor, “and—who knows?—maybe my needs have changed as I’ve gotten a little older and really come to know myself.” She gave a slight shrug with her expressive dark eyebrows. “But it’s clear to me now that regardless of how you try to satisfy me sexually, I’m going to need more than you can give.”

“B-b-but, honey!” he sputtered. “I-I-I—” Brad swallowed, then started again. “Baby, if you want more, then of course I’ll do anything you want, any time you want! Gosh,” he added incredulously, “I could make love to you two, maybe three times a day if you’d let me, Alyssa!”

“Not good enough,” she said flatly.

Her voice was like a granite block sliding immovably shut on the last passageway into some mysterious pyramid, and the utter finality of it made him blanch. “Look, if you need more than that,” he attempted, “well…” He bit his lip. “Why, baby, you know I’d do anything—anything! I’d eat you, rub you, dildo you—or whatever!—anytime you like.”

Alyssa blinked silently back at him, heartbreakingly lovely. He almost thought he saw one corner of those beautiful, suddenly cruel lips twitch in the ghost of a smirk—and then it was gone.

“In fact,” Brad whispered softly, trying to bring her back to him, “it’d just turn me on so much, to—to know you needed it that bad, and to know I could do it to you, everything, anything I ever wanted…” Suddenly his poor cock stood thick and rigid within his trousers beneath the table as he imagined being required—allowed!—to pleasure his sweet black-haired queen two, three, perhaps four times a day.

Oh, how reciprocally satisfying that would be for him, too—the feel of her firm, supple flesh beneath his worshipful hands and his joggling red organ and his happily groaning mouth, the intimate musk of her ready excitation, the tangy taste of the over-lubricated nest of hairy pink between her splayed thighs. The girl was so responsive, so easily excitable. Sometimes it thrilled him to reach right into her moistening vulva and finger her relentlessly to orgasm, until finally the drowsy, grateful girl begged for the simple comfort of her wild-eyed husband’s penetration of a receptive female body that still glowed with pleasure. Sometimes, however, it pleased him instead just to open her up with his thumbs without a moment’s notice and nuzzle the blunt head of his cock at the very outside of her vagina, and though she might be excruciatingly tight at first, by the time he had pushed himself balls-deep he would find her shamelessly juiced up, all wet and ready for him. How reaffirming it always was to his male pride!

And yet later, even after he had fucked her to his satisfaction and his poor flesh was tired with overexertion, still the smirking thing loved to accept his caresses. Naughtily flattered by his restless attentions, she would revel in his unquenchable desire as he whispered into her blood-warmed ear, kissed and nibbled along her pale neck and her delicately freckled shoulder and her back-arched throat, scratched teasingly at dark crinkled nipples that would not yet go flat. How pleasant it was just to play with that kittenish young body—the sinuous, delightfully feminine curve from narrow waist to long sleek hip, her fluttering belly and the fishy wet hairs beneath, the cool ripe apples of her exquisitely upstanding little bosoms. Yes, for no matter how thoroughly and patiently he had taken care of her womanly needs, the amorous dallying could not help but make her need him still more.

Indeed, many were the times that, while the shrunken little organ jiggling beneath his belly ached with fatigue, he had reached smilingly into the bedside drawer to pull out an absolutely enormous dildo, thick and swelling and nubby. Then, as Alyssa’s dark eyes lit up gratefully in her silent expectation, he would slither down between those sweaty thighs and open her up again, hairy and pink and spongy, slippery and salty-sweet. He might gaze down longingly for a timeless moment into that paradise of used flesh, his nostrils filled with the heavenly, intimate aroma of the very essence of her womanhood. Finally, smiling serenely in his selfless adoration, he would plunge the great rubbery intruder splashingly deep into the gasping girl to take her breath away, and to master her bubbling, sperm-filled depths once more…

Yes, he would do it all, gladly—any way that she liked, any time that she liked, just as much as she liked. How he would thrill to the sight of her dear face contorting with orgasm after orgasm as she wallowed in the blissful ecstasies which he so willingly granted her...“It would excite me so much to be able to please you like that, Alyssa,” he repeated softly. “So much…”

This time Alyssa did smile—a slow-growing curl of her lips that seemed to reveal a glimpse into strange, dark depths within her such as he had never even imagined before. “Oh, I’ll bet it would,” she said at last, crookedly. “And yet the point is not exciting your little appetites but fulfilling mine…”

Brad blinked back at her in confusion. “Alyssa, baby,” he attempted, “I worship you—”

“Well, that’s a start,” she said with a trace of slightly ironic satisfaction.

“I-I-I—” He gulped. “I would do anything for you!”

This time her fathomless dark eyes stared so intently into him that he suddenly quailed before her unreadable mood. “Aaaanything…?” she wondered softly, arching one smoky eyebrow.

Brad swallowed, suddenly uncertain. Her tone was so enigmatic, like nothing he had ever heard from her before, and her eyes gleamed liquid and somehow secretly expectant. “W-w-well,” he stuttered, “I mean…”

“Because if you’re truly going to promise anything,” she interrupted him calmly, “you should think very carefully about exactly what that means.” Her dark gaze held him transfixed and somehow vulnerable. “Very carefully.”

Brad licked his lips. Just an hour ago he would have promised anything without a second thought, and yet now—now her tone made him hesitate, despite his most loving, most selfless intentions. “W-well…”

“And you should understand,” Alyssa amplified levelly, “that the desires I now have will take more than just one man to satisfy.”

For a moment Brad was not sure he had heard correctly. He blinked. And then suddenly he realized that she truly had said it...All the blood drained from Brad’s face. He felt stricken, and his sudden, pounding, hopeful erection deflated with a humiliating rapidity. “You—you want a divorce?” he choked out.

This time she was the one to shake her head, with great calm. “No, sweetie,” she assured him solemnly. She reached across the table to take his trembling hand in both of her long, smooth, cool ones. For a moment her face seemed to soften slightly. “I love you, Brad, I really do. I just need…well, more.”

“Wh-wh-what do you mean?” he husked out. His heart stuttered within his cold chest.

“I want to feel…wild and uninhibited,” she replied with a calm, unshakable purpose, “and to be completely in charge of my own sexuality. Completely! I want—” Her eyes flashed suddenly in the candlelight. “I don’t know, I want everything.”

“Don’t I give you everything you want?” he asked in a small voice, his poor little dick shriveled pathetically. “Don’t I—”

“You’ve always given everything you can,” Alyssa interrupted almost regretfully, “and I do appreciate it. I’ve come to realize, though, that I want more than any one man can give me.” She took a deep breath. “I want to feel like a whore sometimes, Brad, to really turn heads and make men who don’t even know me feel crazy with desire. I just—I just want it all!”

Brad stared back at her, wide-eyed. All at once it was as if pieces of a puzzle clicked together in his mind, revealing a pattern that he had only cloyingly sensed. He should have seen this coming, he told himself silently. Why, perhaps even from the very beginning he should have known she was capable of—of this.

Sexually, after all, Alyssa had always been delightfully full of surprises. The slinky brunette was inventive and uninhibited, seductively alluring—always wildly satisfying. Though never vain or insecure, she obviously had long been quite aware of exactly how pretty she was, and even way back when they had first been dating she had learned the extent to which a little pursing of the lips, a half-lidded expression, or a flirty pose could make Brad respond. She had never before taken advantage of him in any pernicious way—at least that he was aware of, he amended grimly now—and yet he knew all too well how flattered and aroused she herself grew whenever she saw his eyes light up at one of her little games. Yes, she had always enjoyed making him shiver and beg.

The sable-tressed girl was tall and pale and slender, with beautifully shaped hands and feet, elegant calves and thighs. Even her forearms were attractive, Brad had told her—the very shape of them, and the downy black hairs which graced her creamy soft skin. And, of course, well…to someone of Brad’s temperament, those fine dark strands could not help but evoke in his imaginative mind the luxuriant curls brooding odorous and moist and warm in the secret garden between the tops of her sleek thighs. Mm, yes—even watching the scissoring slide of her trim ankles as she walked or the play of her shapely arm and supple, somehow expressively feminine wrist was enough to set him rigid with desire. And those seemingly innocent hands? Why, how beautiful it was to imagine one of those cool white fists wrapped playful and shameless and snug upon the engorged red pillar of the helpless erection she inspired…

And her hips, though not by any means wide, still were long and curvy, very feminine. When she knew Brad was watching, it pleased her sometimes to accentuate them by posing as if by happenstance with one trim calf ahead of the other. And more than once, of course, had she chanced to drop some object so that, bending at her supple waist, the squeezable round cheeks of her shapely bottom stuck out inviting and plump before him. Oh, how the supple temptation called to his eyes, his hands, his body!

Alyssa’s bust, moreover, was exquisite, cool upstanding handfuls—literal handfuls!—tipped with beautiful dark nodules so flatteringly responsive. Those girlishly petite pale breasts stood so firm and jauntily apart upon her delicately freckled chest, delicate little apples ripe for the plucking. They were small enough that she could get away without wearing a bra when she wanted, but they were by no means too small. Some other guys might have liked a set of great big plump jugs, heavy and squeezable and maternal, but these dainty hemispheres of living cream fit the adoring husband’s cupping palms as if made expressly for his pleasure. To him, they were simply the ultimate of desirability.

What a joy it was for him to leer at the beautiful things, to fondle and grope them with a casual, purposefully swaggering sort of possessiveness, to suck at their rigid dark tips like a fiend, sometimes even to lube them up and, pushing them ecstatically together, make wild, almost fetishistic love to her silken cleavage! Yes, she often liked to show off those jiggling mounds for Brad, whether in some top scooped to reveal the creamy rounded upper slopes of her breasts or merely with a short, clingy tee-shirt that covered them and yet displayed every smooth curve of her solid swells. The knowledge of her husband’s reverent gaze always made her easily excitable nipples stand up crinkled and thick and dark, achingly obvious beneath the thin cotton. And if she happened to take a deep breath or to stretch, pulling her shoulders back to push those suckable nubbins out even more boldly—especially when the couple was out somewhere in public and the poor boy couldn’t just begin molesting the naughty things as he so craved—she smiled secretly to see the sweat begin to bead upon his brow, and his fingers grow twitchy and restless.

Even Alyssa’s hair was striking—heavy and dark, lustrous sable waves that swung and bounced about a cool ivory neck that he so loved to kiss and nuzzle. She liked to let her tresses blow in the wind, or to allow a long raven swath to fall crookedly over her eye now and then. She knew exactly how to incline her chin just so and half-turn her head to look back sideways at Brad over her pale shoulder in a way that always made his pulse pound heavily within him. Her eyes were dark and sultry, long-lashed and accentuated by sly, expressive eyebrows. Her red lips, he had learned, could be the most wickedly smirking things imaginable.

In short, with her sultry cream-colored face, her slinky young figure, and her sly predilections, she could be an unendurable cock-tease ever when she felt like making a man suffer. Sometimes—well, many times, Brad amended silently—it seemed that perhaps the favorite path to her own excitation was to tease him and tantalize him first, to seduce him and enslave him, to make him crave her utterly. Yes, for whenever Alyssa wanted, the smirking girl knew just how to make him helpless and needy in his desperate desire.

Why, once on one of their very first dates, the flirty thing had teased and inflamed the boy so mercilessly throughout the evening that his erection was a constant ache within his suddenly too-tight jeans. After dinner at a cozy restaurant, where they laughed and smiled so easily, and sometimes she leaned endearing in with her soft head upon his shoulder, or even dropped her hand with unspoken promise upon the top of his quivering thigh while they fed one another morsels from their own plates, he drove the girl out into the country at her coy instigation. At last, trembling faintly in his own need and his helpless anticipation, he parked the car along some deserted dirt road in the soft moonlight beside a cattail-fringed pond. And there, in the peaceful quiet of nature punctuated only by the mating calls of crickets and frogs, she had kissed and necked with him and made him ever crazier with desire.

He begged her to go further, but though his hands roamed her clothed body hungrily, caressing and squeezing like an animal, it had pleased her mood instead to refuse, and to make him suffer exquisitely. God, the feel of those curvy young hips and her sleekly tapering waist, and the denim-wrapped pubis so warm and ever so faintly moist somehow whenever he touched the fabric experimentally. Mm, and the delight of the resilient handfuls of her chest that jiggled in his grasping palms, scarcely covered by a thin, silky blouse and a brassiere that felt teeny-weeny and lacy and very deeply cut! The most she would do was to draw back solemnly, lift her shirt in regal silence, and gravely show him her beautiful little titties gleaming bare and pale and oh-so obviously stiff-nippled in the moonlight. Oh, how his breath had caught in his throat!

He started to raise his trembling hands to those ivory globes, but she merely waggled one finger at him in smirking denial. “They’re so beautiful,” he breathed reverently.

“Really?” wondered Alyssa, her voice suddenly girlish and shy at his compliment. Quickly, though, she caught herself, and she pursed her lips knowingly. “You like ’em, huh?” she asked, watching his wide, helpless eyes.

Those high young breasts had felt so good through her blouse, and the thought of wrapping his hands and his mouth around the bare things now aroused him incredibly. Ah, the jaunty shape of those deliciously feminine fruits of delight, the seeming smoothness of their delicate pale skin, the flattering erections that crowned each forbidden handful! It was all he could do to restrain himself. “Please—please let me touch ’em again.”

“Oh, you’re a beast,” she chided him playfully. “A beast like you won’t touch my little titties again.”

“If you let me,” he promised, “you won’t be sorry.” Her dark eyes seemed to tease him further, so he licked his lips and panted out, “Mm, your nipples look so yummy! Please, Alyssa, just let me grab ’em and touch ’em—”

“You’re terrible!” she gasped in feigned shock. She covered her bosom quickly with coy hands, a movement that stimulated fresh desires far more than they dissuaded, and as she watched his reaction, her eyes were heavy-lidded and knowing.

Back and forth they went in her teasing little game. He begged her to let him to play with the upstanding handfuls, to squeeze them and suck on them, to tug on those sensitive nubbins of crinkled pink-brown erectile tissue and make her squeal. Smirking primly, however, the terrible temptress would not even allow his lightest touch on the glorious things. Brad’s poor erection grew ever more agitated in its frustration.

“If you’re that horny,” the wicked raven-haired angel said at last, inclining her head so that she could look up at him from beneath her lashes, sultry and provocative, “why don’t you show me…?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” he had asked breathlessly.

“Show me,” said the bare-breasted girl again, surprising him and riling him still further by reaching down to open his jeans. “Show me how excited you are.” Calmly her red-nailed hands unbuttoned and unzipped him, freeing a thick purpled erection that thrust straight up, throbbing untouched in its agony.

Oh, how kinkily good it was to be exposed before her! His balls felt full to bursting, and the tiny slit at the tip of his desperate glans already shone with a clear drizzle of anticipatory seminal fluid. Surely now, he thought, she would take pity upon him…

Brad’s eyes darted to hers, but she merely pursed her sly lips. “Is that supposed to be for me?” she wondered quietly.

“Uh huh,” he breathed, watching those dark pupils dilate ever wider at the sight of the poor urgent manhood which had plumped up all fat and congested at the very thought of her. Licking his lips, he watched her appraisingly.

“Why, you must think I’m an awfully dirty girl,” came her soft, teasing voice. She reached over and tugged at the lever that dropped his bucket seat back, almost flat, so that now as he lay there she towered serenely over him. She blinked down coquettishly as she calmly opened his shirt to bare his fluttering male chest. “I mean, you don’t think I’m gonna put that naughty red thing inside of me, do you?”

“M-maybe you could—”

“Nope,” she said evenly, cutting off any and every possible suggestion, “not me.” She gave a mock-shudder. “Ooh, not in my pretty little pussy, or in my dainty little mouth either!”

“But—”

“Uh uh,” she said reproachfully. “You’d probably want to push that great big red thing around inside of me, and just use my lovely white body, all to gratify yourself. Why, I’ll bet you’d simply do it, and do it, and do it, until you just squirted off and made a big mess all over the inside of me! Wouldn’t you?”

Brad licked his lips. “M-maybe…” he said, imagining it. Oh, God, to grab that beautiful body of hers, to grapple with that slender white flesh and put her under him, to throw her kittenish thighs wide and just mount her! Mm, to push her velvety lips squelchingly apart with his exulting masculinity and feel her snug and slippery and blazing hot along every veiny inch of him as he penetrated her to the very core! Yes, to make her shudder and gasp as he possessed her, crushed her beautiful pale nudity beneath his straining hairy male flesh, filled her again and again and again with his raging red erection until his eyes rolled back in his head and with every stringy gout of his overflowing lusts he just made her all his somehow…

“And it would be a big mess, wouldn’t it?” she wondered crookedly. “A great big, thick, gooey mess…?”

Brad swallowed. Oh, how full he felt in the heavy sac beneath his belly, how heavy with the promise of the semen that had oozed and drizzled and brewed over the last few hours! Yes, she was right—when he came, it was going to be a dozen squirts if it was one, a tremendous glopping mess that went on and on and on…

“Yes,” he replied at last, very quietly. “It sure would be…”

“Oh, Brad, you’re terrible!” And yet her dark eyes twinkled as she teased and thrilled him.

He held his breath as the slender white hands that had slid seductively down to the shapely swell of her hips now came slowly back up her bared sides, to nestle alongside her upstanding bosom. Teasingly her fingers crept along those springy curves toward the dark nubbins of flesh that tipped each breast. Eyes bright, he watched those fingertips scratch gently along the very outsides of the crinkled areolas.

Brad licked his lips, his gaze on those seductive, red-nailed fingers. “B-but what about…?”

“My hands…?” she wondered smugly, watching the direction of his eyes.

“Y-yeah!” he breathed eagerly.

“Why, you naughty boy,” she chided him, giving her nipples a slow, purposeful stretch before his wondering eyes, “these hands are for me, not you.”

Unblinkingly he watched those slender fingers pinch at a pair of thick dark puckers, pulling the sensitive things farther, and farther...Oh, how beautiful it was!

“Besides,” she said primly, “wouldn’t it be naughty and messy? Oh, I wouldn’t want to do that all over me. Ick!”

“Alyssa…” he breathed, gazing up helplessly into her glowing visage.

“Are you turned on?” she wondered, teasing and caressing her sensitive flesh with shapely, tapering fingertips. “Bad?”

“Yeah…” he breathed, his voice ragged as she touched herself so softly.

“Them show me…” whispered Alyssa excitedly. Smirking, she started to pinch and squeeze at her nipples in earnest, making her eyelids flutter.

Oh, how Brad desired her! And yet, he realized, though his body longed for the feel of her smooth skin all over him, at least for now it was her pleasure instead to make him suffer. He was not allowed to touch her, and though she had bared him to her enigmatic gaze, his sweet seductress did not deign to touch his hungry flesh. Nervously he glanced down his belly toward the erection that climbed straight up, pounding untouched in its utter male enormity, already oozing with its helpless desires. Despite himself, the hands sweating at his sides twitched in uneasy sympathy.

“Come on, Brad,” she said with sly insinuation, “you’re not really gonna wait till you get home, are you?” With queenly grace, she rolled her own lengthened nipples slowly between her thumbs and fingertips.

“Wh-wh-what do you mean…?” the boy asked her unwillingly. Oh, for if after this incredible teasing game she still she would not satisfy him and he had to go back home in this state—why, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from beating off almost immediately! And yet she could not really mean that…could she?

“Go ahead,” she urged him softly. She flicked her lashes swiftly at the hard-on which her sweet provocations had erected. “Show me how much I turn you on. Show me what I make a bad boy need to do to himself.”

Brad licked his lips. The notion embarrassed him, and for a moment his penis softened slightly in his discomfort. No girl had ever seen him do that—it was just too private. And yet…well, how desperately he needed his release! He hesitated, teetering between his mortifying embarrassment and his almost unendurable arousal. It seemed impossible to think of playing with himself before this girl, of doing the secret, shameful things which surely everyone did but which he had never shown another. And yet—and yet how the blood raged in his engorged phallus!

“You do want it, don’t you, bad boy?” wondered Alyssa in carefully quiet tones that belied the saucy smirk she simply could not hide. “You’re a naughty, naughty thing, aren’t you?” Licking her lips, she palmed those smooth, upstanding young breasts, her eyes never leaving his. “And for these,” she crooned softly, squeezing the fiercely erect dark tips that both reflected her own simmering arousal and yet also could be used to push her excitation higher, ever higher, “you’ll do anything, won’t you? Aaaanything…”

Brad looked hopefully up into the eyes that held him exposed and helpless and yet also painfully excited. “R-really?” he asked at last, shyly. “Sh-should I…?”

Alyssa smiled regally down at him, and yet though the unashamed hands that caressed her pale, lovely bosom posed as teasing and grandly unconcerned, her eyes seemed to burn with secret eagerness. “Yes!” she husked.

Swallowing, then, Brad reached embarrassedly down and began to masturbate before her.

“There you go…” she whispered, her cheeks deeply flushed.

He had never done anything like this before. It seemed so dirty—and yet so wildly inflaming as well. He simply could not help himself. Shivering, he jerked at his naked reddened member, fist growing ever more rapid as the dark-haired temptress-angel smiled placidly down at him. Exposed before this girl whom he scarcely knew, he pleasured himself like a beast, thrilling to the look in her eyes as she caressed herself absently. How lovely she was, how cool and serene and commanding! Delicately she fingered herself, smiling down all the while at his helpless movements.

At first his movements had been unnaturally mechanical, a simple up-and-down motion made less for truly pleasuring himself than for somehow saving face before his date, for simply doing what she said she wanted. Gradually, however, he grew more demonstrative in his movements, more personal—no longer did he restrain himself by trying to seem controlled and calm. God, it felt so good, and the very thought of it was so naughty! Mm, to lie exposed and hugely erect, jerking off beneath the simmering dark eyes of this commanding angel who, bare-breasted and lovely, touched herself in slow counterpoint as she leered down at his every helpless struggle...The titillation was exquisite. He craved the brutish liquid release of his growing physical tension more than sanity itself, and yet he wanted the anticipation of it, the beautiful torment, never to end.

Alyssa, seemingly calm and self-composed in leering down at his shameful struggles, yet with her cheeks deeply flushed as she fingered the tips of her bosoms so eagerly, read it all in his unsteady eyes. “Yeah,” she whispered fiercely, “don’t hurry! Take your time, you bad boy. Show me how naughty you are!” She struggled for breath as she tugged at herself so assertively. “Show me. Sh-sh-show me…”

Wriggling somewhere deep inside, Brad complied, wickedly. Rather than a simple rhythm, for example, he now and then speeded up or slowed down his gripping palm, trying not to climax too swiftly but instead working unashamedly to prolong the sweet agony so that he could truly wallow in the dirtiness of it all. Occasionally, wildly conscious of the girl’s intent gaze upon him, he even scratched the fingernails of his other hand shyly at the sensitive skin of his twitching testicles—oh, that secret little delight felt so good, and it was so wonderfully perverted to expose his most private acts before her! Gasping, Brad writhed in his seat, performing so intimately beneath her steady gaze.

On and on Brad strove, masturbating like an animal. When finally he had teased his poor body as much as it could humanly take and he teetered on the delirious brink of orgasm, the girl read it in his face, and she reached calmly down with unhurried graceful fingers and gave a savage double-handed yank to his hairy male nipples. That shockingly personal contact seared like lightning straight down to the base of his clenching balls—it seemed so kinky, an unexpected and yet strangely titillating pleasure like nothing he had ever experienced before. Whimpering with the impossible bliss of it all, he just discharged immediately, all over himself.

First there was a quick jet of anticipatory fluid, thin and drizzly and yet surprisingly copious—a great liquid splat upon his heaving belly. He kept right on yanking, though, and immediately after came the true product of his lusts, thick clingy gouts of sperm dredged up from the very base of his balls, a grunting, throbbing bliss that seemed to have no end. Groveling in his helpless joy beneath the girl’s demanding red nails, he erupted what seemed like half a pint, spurt after spurt of goop jetting from a spasming urethra that felt dilated as wide as his thumb. Unreservedly he poured himself out, semen splattering out all over his naked belly and chest, his gasping face, his tousled hair.

Oh, how good it felt to empty himself as she pinched and stretched the surprised, sensitive flesh of his erect little nipples, to let his clenching balls scream with the sweet agony of their mindless release. It was kinky, it was messy, it was shamefully primal—and yet Brad didn’t care! His poor overexcited body knew no shame or remorse, only the exquisite joy of its wild, exhibitionistic gratification. Every squirt brought a burst of pleasure that shook him to the very center of his being, and he wallowed without restraint in the messy culmination, a great spattering geyser spouting to the tribute of this inventive girl who tortured him so sweetly. He just kept on pulling, pulling, pulling, panting, grinning, whimpering as he milked himself. It was a long, long time before his orgasm was finally done.

At last, however, as his hammering heart gradually began to slow, he became embarrassedly aware that there was cum all over him, thick and glistening and drippy. He could feel it start to ooze, all over his bare, trembling flesh. His forehead was wet, and something started to drizzle down his neck and into his collarbone. One nostril felt almost glued shut with his own jism, and as the great tangled glob hung heavy upon his gasping upper lip, threatening to drip, it seemed that he could smell nothing but the liquid reek of his own shame. He froze, afraid even to move. Never had he displayed his most private acts before a girl like that, never, and suddenly, as the once-proud flesh of his poor uncertain dick began to creep back upon itself in fright, still drizzling, he felt cold and exposed and vulnerable.

Calm in the face of his slow, abashed understanding of the what he had done, Alyssa leaned courteously down, and as he blinked hesitantly up at her, she closed her heavy lids beatifically and bent further, obviously with the intent to kiss him upon his open mouth. Despite himself, he recoiled back into the lowered seat, acutely conscious of the semen all over his face—his chin, his forehead, his reddened cheek, his lips.

Alyssa, however, did not stop. As the open circle of her soft red lips descended across him, it chanced to catch that enormous, heavy glob of sperm which had trembled upon his own lip, and it swept the gluey thing right into his gaping orifice. Brad flinched at the bitter plop of goop upon his poor cringing tongue, but the girl’s mouth closed firmly upon his, and her probing tongue fell happily into the stringy mess. He squirmed beneath her, and yet Alyssa’s kiss burned with her secret passion, and he found he could not resist. Moaning, he surrendered to her.

One of the girl’s hands stroked gently at the wet plane of his blazing forehead, while the other pinched delicately at a sensitive male nipple that made him buzz once more somewhere deep within. He cringed, feeling polluted and embarrassed and vulnerable, but as she cradled him there in the moonlit darkness and toyed so knowingly at the tingling flesh crowning his hairy masculine chest, she mastered him utterly. Her tongue fluttered and swirled within his cheeks, and he was forced to taste the sour tang of the utter depths of his submission.

Brad shuddered at the impossibly intimate contact, thrilling that the wicked darling would even touch him after how thoroughly he had revealed his basest lusts. And yet she did—graciously, indulgently, wordlessly. How wickedly dirty it was! Though the inside of his mouth felt bitter, and strangely slippery, he smiled inwardly as he realized that her tongue wallowed in that gloppy sperm no less than his did. He reveled secretly in the way that she, too, tasted his most primal fluids, and his pulse beat heavily at the thought. Despite its recent exertion, his tired little cock began to twitch one more, restlessly.

Finally she released him, and as her cream-colored visage drew gravely back, those beautiful dark eyes gazed down upon his defenseless face. Something thick and clammy swam at the back of his drooling throat, and for a moment he gagged. He wanted to sit up, wanted to lean out the window and spit the sour mouthful, but he knew that if he moved, the sperm that was still all over his chest and belly would run into his clothing—and Alyssa’s orbs bored intently into his, bright and expectant, willing him onward somehow…

At last, then, as the girl watched approvingly, the poor blushing boy had to swallow. His gorge rose threateningly for a moment, and he had to work to get the clammy mouthful down—but swallow it he did it, ashamed and reluctant and yet unable to resist. As thick swallows of clingy, bitter shame slithered down his cringing throat toward his queasy belly, he realized that Alyssa’s excited gaze never wavered.

Brad blinked up sheepishly. He was acutely conscious of the bitter aftertaste in his mouth, of the fact the he was still covered with his own cum, of the smallness of his satiated little organ. The girl smiled faintly at his discomfiture. Her cheeks were warm, and her nostrils flared. “Why, what a naughty, naughty boy!” she exclaimed with a smirk that made him thrill somewhere deep within.

Alyssa straightened her spine once more, and as she pulled her shoulders back, the motion made her naked breasts stand out firm and proud and white. They were, he could not help but notice, still agonizingly stiff-nippled in their excitation. Oh, how beautiful she was in her fierce aroused! He looked for a long moment up into her lovely face—and the wicked little quirk of her lips made his eyes widen.

“But that is what you like, isn’t it, baby?” she murmured. “You like to get all turned on, and to expose yourself, don’t you? You just love having to masturbate for me, and then showing exactly me how dirty you can get…”

As Brad lay there, breathless and uncertain, the girl reached down once more. Smiling placidly into his eyes, she placed both of her hands about his little male nipples, and again she began to pinch and pluck at the hairy things. “And this is what you need, huh?” Tingling fire ran straight to his groin, and his breath caught in his throat. His sticky, shrunken penis began to plump up for her again, thick and red and hungry. “A guy’s nipples can get turned on, too, can’t they…?”

“Y-yeah…” Brad groaned, shuddering. He bit his lip, blinking up at her—

Alyssa’s red lips were crooked and knowing and sly as she scratched and pinched so energetically at his sensitive flesh, making him shiver. His cock stood straight up in its renewed excitation. He was flushed and sweaty, exposed and shamelessly titillated beneath her sultry gaze. It felt so good! Finally, groaning, Brad just had to reach down, and as Alyssa drank in the sight, he began to masturbate once more.

“Oh-ho, that’s my boy,” the girl laughed softly, looking cool and superior in the face of his helpless exertions. “Show me,” she instructed him calmly. “Show me.”

Grunting, Brad jerked himself ravenously once more toward the orgasm she made him crave. Writhing comfortably beneath her inflaming touch, he gasped and sweated and shivered in his helpless agitation, until finally he could not help crying out and again squirting off all over his belly and chest. Oh, how sweet it was! “Thank you,” he gasped when his poor spasming balls had emptied themselves to their mindless satisfaction, “thank you!” Suddenly a bit shamefaced again, he tried not to notice that the copious of his previous orgasm still pooled in cooling globs about his neck and collar bones…

Alyssa said nothing, merely smiled down at him. And then, when he had caught his breath, she cocked one smoky eyebrow challengingly, and in a calm, regal, superior sort of silence she began playing with his oversensitized nipples once more. He shuddered happily, and then, obedient to the sultry-eyed angel’s unspoken command, the poor agitated boy started working on his third orgasm…

Gluttonously Brad had wallowed in his lusts that night, on and on and on, until finally his poor clenching balls could force only the tiniest dribbles of thinning fluids through the spasming tip of his exhausted, shrinking cockhead. Oh, how fulfilled he was, how comfortable and cherished and pampered! Blinking, he looked across his chest and fluttering belly at what he had done, feeling sweaty and sticky and gooey. Alyssa watched him drowsily as, using tissue after tissue, the shamefaced boy at last silently wiped himself clean beneath her superior gaze.

Only when at long last he was done, his poor shrunken penis wrung pitiably dry and unable to perform any further, did Alyssa straighten back up again, bare-breasted and lovely, and while Brad watched in awe, she began to masturbate herself to the beautiful orgasm that on that night she did not yet deign to let him cause. As Brad’s fingers twitched in restless sympathy upon the leather of his bucket seat, the enigmatic girl stared back a silent, somehow self-assured challenge and reached up a hand to caress her shapely chest without modesty or shame, squeezing the high, pert mounds, rubbing them, even pulling directly at the exquisitely crinkled nipples. Nostrils flaring, the heavy-lidded thing then pushed her other slender red-nailed hand across her flat young belly and down into her jeans, and she started rubbing herself there, very dirtily and very directly.

He could not see it, perhaps, but he knew what she was doing—ah, the way the tendons on the back of her hand writhed so urgently, the sound of her nails scratching within the coarse damp fur there, the excited fishy smell of her that wafted so irresistibly out! The act was inexpressibly lovely. He did not interrupt her, nor did he saw a word. He scarcely blinked. Mesmerized, Brad simply gazed up longingly as the wanton angel, already heartbreakingly lovely, strove to make herself ever more beautiful in her innocent pleasure. She did not hurry, and when finally her breath caught in her throat, and she threw back her head and whimpered out her unguarded bliss, Brad seemed to melt inside. He had never felt closer to anyone in his life.

And, really, it wasn’t until after he had dropped her off at her apartment and, feeling warm and happy and so very, very fond, had kissed her tenderly goodnight and then left, that Brad realized with some surprise he had never even so much as touched the teasing girl’s bare breast. A little confused, he had hurried home and slipped restlessly into bed, and then, as he imagined it all again, he began jerking once more, compulsively, at his sticky little organ…

Perhaps if he truly had been paying attention, Brad thought now, that first of many, many teasing games would have told him something about the way her mind worked, and about what excited her. Certainly she loved to be the center of attention, in fact the center of affection. Certainly she liked to posed and preen, to flaunt her lithe flesh until he could scarcely restrain himself. And yet restrain himself he still often did, for it pleased her mightily to make him suffer and beg for pretty favors. More than once, after all, he had licked her desirable white body from head to toe and back again, supplicatingly, before finally the girl granted him the opportunity simply to enter her and do what he needed while she smirked slyly up at his helpless and agitated movements.

Yet until now he had never had cause for complaint. If anything, his feeling had been the opposite—for though sometimes it was her pleasure to tease and inflame the boy’s passions mercilessly, when she finally deigned to end the game, she was not shy about granting him in return the most sumptuous of rewards. Many were the lazy Saturday mornings, for example, that though he woke with a hard-on and pleaded to make love to her, it pleased her instead to masturbate herself slowly to orgasm before his wondering eyes, once, twice, perhaps even three times...Oh, what a beautiful torment it was for the man!

Nevertheless, to his extraordinary delight, when the exhibitionistic display finally wound down and the mischievous angel sensed he could take no more, she would grant his release with a gracious inventiveness. Sometimes, for example, she simply drew up her knees and spread her thighs to expose herself before him, split soft and hairy and wet. Yawning, she might fold her bored hands patiently upon her sternum. “Fuck me now,” she commanded matter-of-factly, and she would watch calmly as the panting man made desperate love to her cool white body. And oh, how embarrassingly swift it always was, too, his easy male arousal and so-straightforward satisfaction forming a flatteringly rapid counterpoint to the beautifully self-indulgent circuitousness of her own slow, showy, feminine orgasms.

Now and then, smirking knowingly, she invited the poor thing to pull out at the instant of climax, and show her just how much she excited him, and how fully she satisfied his simple male lusts. Oh, what a messy joy it was! For as she watched in quiet approval, his glistening, throbbing cock would twitch and pulse and jerk, splattering the indulgent girl from navel to nipples to neck with every clingy jolt of his ejaculation until her belly and breasts were heaped over in his fluids, wet and shining and dripping. Yes, how deliriously beautiful she was then!

Occasionally Alyssa instead instructed him to straddle her ribcage, below the pretty mounds of her pointed breasts, and simply play with himself. Then, as the red-faced boy began to masturbate before his wife’s indulgent gaze, she might reach up and begin scratching and plucking at the sensitive little points of erogenous tissue crowning his hairy male chest, on and on, pulling and stretching ever more demonstratively, until he just squirted off right in her beautiful face with a splat. Yes, that showed her!

And sometimes, just in time, the terrible dear opened her smirking mouth and stuck out her tongue invitingly, and she let him ejaculate all over the inside of her. Oh, how excited that made him, pointing his throbbing cockhead at the sly, round O of her open mouth and splattering her lips, her teeth, her gums, her palate, her tongue, until she was strung with every gooey cable of his fierce liquid love. And then she would smile, and smack and slurp playfully at his frothing goop before she tossed it back with a theatric relish, and her throat worked unhurriedly and without shame. And yet sometimes, whimpering in his joy, the poor boy simply could not restrain himself, and even before his dear love had swallowed, he simply collapsed gratefully upon her slender white body, took her darling face in his trembling hands, and just kissed her and kissed her and kissed her…

Yes, if Alyssa could be his goddess of desire, his regal queen, his sweetly demanding mistress, so too could she be the most utterly magnanimous of lovers. She was not shy about gobbling at his rabid purple knob, reaching down with those wicked red-nailed hands and masturbating him of the very edge of his sanity, or letting him fuck her silly on a moment’s notice—as long as it was on her terms, in a way that let her know how pretty she was, how desirable, and how wildly alluring. Though she implicitly demanded a high degree of sexual pampering, he had always considered her the ultimate feminine ideal, and he never felt anything less than completely satisfied with his beloved wife.

Now, however—now Brad felt as if his entire reality was cracking all around him, ready to crumble and crash if he happened to say the wrong words or even look askance. Everything he had believed in was suddenly uncertain. His heart ached within his constricting chest, and his very blood seemed to stutter in his veins.

“Do you understand?” she said, eying him narrowly. “I have needs—urgent needs, desperate, dark, and unstoppable—and I am not going to deny them any longer.”

“L-like what…?” he asked quietly, in an unwilling sort of dread.

“Like maybe getting ogled and groped and fondled by some stranger I’ve never met before,” she said deliberately, staring a challenge into her husband’s shocked face. “Mm, feeling his body press up against me, hearing his breath come warm and panting in my ear.”

Brad’s jaw dropped, and his breath sucked in sharply. It felt as if he had been stabbed suddenly in the heart. His mouth moved, yet no words came.

“It’d be so kinky to watch his excitement mount,” continued Alyssa purposefully, “to feel him grow bolder as he touches me all over, measuring my sleek bare curves with his leering eyes and his cherishing palms. Mm, groping me, squeezing my ass, fondling my lovely white titties and pinching at the engorged dark tips, teasing me, making me beg for more. Mm, and beg I would,” she vowed softly, her eyes aglow. “He might grin to himself a little about what a slut he’s got, but I couldn’t help it—after fantasizing about it for so long, there would be no hesitation, no regrets. I could only give myself to him, helplessly, happily, and soon I’d feel his fingers sliding into my crotch to find me all wet and hairy and soft, getting lubed up for him, and kinda naughty and reckless…”

“B-but, Alyssa!” he gasped at last.

“Or maybe,” she continued with a dirty smirk, “I’d duck into a back alley some Friday night and pull my shirt up in public and draw back my shoulders to make my breasts stand out so high and proud, and a bunch of boys would hoot and holler and gawk. Yeah, and they’d just reach in and play with me, and bend in and suck my titties, red-faced and eager. I wanna feel their hands all over my naked breasts, grabbing and pinching at my nipples so I can’t even tell who’s doing it. It’d hurt a little, maybe, from the way they got so wild and worked up and rough, but I bet it’d feel good, too. Mm, to just stand there and shiver and squeal, getting all juiced up with the way they treat me…”

Her eyes blazed. “And if any of ’em have girlfriends there that get jealous, why, then maybe if I posed and preened just right, I could seduce them, too, and then I’d let those sneaky, bi-curious girls feel me up and kiss me right on the mouth while their boyfriends watch. It’d be so kinky to have another girl do that to me—God, their soft red lips on mine, moaning, and their uncertain but excited hands all over my jiggling boobies!—but my main payoff would be the way it gets all those cocks so hard and eager for me…”

Brad gazed back at her, white-faced. He heard the words, but what they implied made his blood run cold. His wife, his own dear wife, exposed and on display…

“Or maybe,” she went on determinedly, “I’ll feel like getting down on my knees in the middle of a frat party somewhere and giving head to every man there, just for the joy of feeling each fat red cock throb and twitch and squirt all for me. Oh, and I’d put on a really dirty show, too! I’d scratch and squeeze at their balls, and coo about how much I want ’em to come for me, and I’d beg ’em to gimme their sperm.”

Aghast, he could only gape at his suddenly unfamiliar beloved in disbelief, so she continued persistently, “And it wouldn’t be just talk either, Brad, ’cause finally when I knew the guy couldn’t take any more, I’d blink up into his face around a thick mouthful of dick, all soft and kittenish and sweet, and I’d let him unload in me, all over my tongue and the back of my throat. And I’d gulp down each stringy mouthful, smacking happily, one big red dick after another, while everybody watches and cheers. Mm, yummy!” Purposefully she watched his reaction, smiling faintly at his sudden vulnerability, his shocked silence.

“And sometime I want to lie back and open my legs and have five or ten guys just climb up and gangbang me, one cock after another. There’d be no pickup lines, no kisses, no stale little lies—just a bunch of young studs desperate to use me for their own cum-dump, all hairy and smelly and oozing. They’d think I was cheap, and call me a slut and a whore, but I wouldn’t mind, because really they would be my whores, doing what I want! Yes, and I would just lie there and laugh, and pull my nipples high, so high, while they watched, daring them to start. And then they would grab me like a piece of meat, and put me under them, and throw my bare thighs wide to mount me with a grunt, and just use me and use me and use me. Oh, can you imagine it, Brad? One big veiny purple erection after another—taking me, owning me, filling me, over and over and over!” Her eyes burned huge and glassy. “Mm, and they’d squirt me full of their gooey wet sperm, absolutely full, on and on, splashing and bubbling…”

What she proposed was shocking and disgusting, as embarrassing to him as it should have been to her. And yet...Well, in a way he almost could understand something of her delight in a messily fucked vagina. He himself was no stranger to dildoing that beautiful cunt after he had already filled it with his own sperm, after all, and he knew very well the heady joy of gazing reverently into that curl-wreathed garden of fragrant, cummy pink flesh—feeling it wet and slippery and oozing beneath his wild fingers, watching it bubble and splash so close before his wild-eyed face, breathing in the very essence of her intoxicating sexuality!

The sudden remembrance made his own cock twitch strangely now. And yet what she wanted, he realized bleakly, was not the splattering plunge of the couple’s favorite rubber phallus but the real thing—the intrusive penetration of stranger after stranger, balls-deep and messy, a shocking betrayal...His blood seemed to run cold.

“If you were a good little boy,” she teased him wickedly, “I might just let you watch, Brad. But that’s all! You could only stand there, and shiver and watch and wait. You would suffer with all the things they do to me, and with the way I respond so easily to the simple flattery of their firm, muscular bodies.” Her smile was devilishly gleeful. “But no matter what I let all those nameless, naked studs do to me, don’t you dare think I’d deign to let you even stick in your little finger until I had satisfied eeeevery other dick first.”

Brad swallowed uncomfortably. It was bad enough that she would want to cheat on him like that, but the thought of making him stand by and watch as she gave her gleaming, bare young body to the leering eyes, the slavering mouths, the grasping hands, the throbbing penises of her welcome ravishers...Why, the notion was hideously embarrassing, somehow almost as shaming to him as the terrible acts themselves.

“I’d let ’em fuck me until my pussy was so wet and open and sloppy and brimming over with cum that it wouldn’t even bring off the next cock in line. But if I still wanted more, honey,” she told him pointedly, “then more cock is what I would have. In fact, Brad,” she continued with a sly determination, “maybe that’s when I’d really take charge, and show all you stiff-cocked male posers who the boss truly is. Yeah, to get me clean enough for the next guy, I’d just have to order some groveling slave to get down there between my legs and lick me aaallllll up!” Her eyes gleamed into his with a nasty relish, and she fixed him with a particularly wicked smile. “Mm, simple enough, right, baby…?”

Brad blanched, aghast. Oh, he was no stranger to wallowing in that beautifully fucked cunt—in fact, more than once he had grown so desperately inflamed during their lovemaking that at her indulgent nod he had taken his orgasm first and then, a little shamefaced but still impossibly aroused, he had simply slid down there and felt compelled to pleasure her not with his fingers or even with her favorite dildo but with his worshipful tongue!

Yes, after a hasty, inadequate scooping out with his trembling digits, he had simply dropped his red face into her with a plop and slavered at her savory pink flesh until she whimpered and shuddered and squirmed beneath his fierce cunnilingus. Oh, how sweet it had been—grappling deliriously with her supple white hips, whimpering in his reciprocal delight as his mouth drowned happily in her flesh and hair and fluids! God, the taste of it, and the very thought of it! And though his poor satisfied penis had shrunk with its exertion, sticky and drizzling, at this sweet perversion it had plumped up again, fat and ready and urgent, so that he climbed atop her once more, and as he Frenched her desperately with his stinking mouth, he had gruntingly filled her to the core yet again…

But this—why, the terrible parody of his love that she threw so sneeringly in his face was awful beyond belief. These things were unspeakable, revolting, unnatural! And yet, oh, the look on her face...He gazed hypnotized into her flushed and beautiful visage. Her narrowing dark orbs locked with his wide, wondering eyes as he unwillingly pictured the depravities she so eagerly described—the exhibitionistic flauntings, the sweet spermy betrayals, her apparent subservience to other men’s mindless phalluses that in truth more likely would be enslaved by her own unquenchable desires.

“Mm,” she prodded him purposefully, “can you imagine it…?”

Her cheeks glowed with her arousal, and her eyes shone bright with the thought of the things she had said—getting ogled and groped and fondled, being penetrated and just fucked absolutely full, even…even having the beautiful, hairy pink nest of her fishy cunt licked worshipfully out, all so she could satisfy her wicked desires still further, and wallow in her awful debaucheries. Her nipples, Brad could not help but notice even through the fabric of her blouse, stood up thick and rigid and excited upon her firm young bosom.

What she described was dirty, it was disgusting, it was impossible…and yet somehow, deep within, he could not quite suppress a guilty twinge of his own unwelcome excitation as well. He tried to tell himself that he did not want any of those dirty things she craved, could not possibly wish to share his beloved wife with anyone else, did not even understand why she would ask for such things. And yet how beautiful she was in her restless arousal, how wildly desirable…

Still, however, shame and revulsion burned bleakly within his aching heart. Such acts simply could not be borne, he told himself. He was a man, and she was his wife, and she belonged to him—to him! He would not stand for this, could not stand for it. Not now, not ever, no matter what she said. It was impossible. He swallowed, trying to rally his pride, his dignity.

“But, baby,” he said at last, slowly, “you’re my wife! I mean— Well, I can’t let you do all those dirty things! I can’t!”

Looking slightly mournful, she released his hand regretfully. “That,” replied Alyssa in grave tones, “is something you will need to think about.”