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Chandra still seemed at a loss. "But I...aren't you mad at me?"
"A little," Ursula said, grabbing Chandra's wrist and pulling her into a passionate embrace. "But you know what they say, make-up sex is always the best. Now, can you please fucking hypnotize me? I'm horny as fuck, my subconscious has been fantasizing about this for three solid weeks, and I don't want to think for even one second longer tonight."
Chandra smiled through her tears. "When you put it that way...remember the pendant, Ursie."
Ursula smiled as she sank into trance. Remember it? She never fucking wanted to forget it.
The End.
The Party Experiment
Party Girl,
I can't tell you how much I miss gazing upon your naked body. Could we maybe make it a weekly thing? Say, I come around to the clump of palms beneath your balcony every Tuesday at 11 P.M., and you take off absolutely everything? Think about it. I know I do, regularly, and my hand starts creeping, and I dream of all the naked things I could do with your naked body. The neighbors would never be the same.
And while you think on that, think on this: I know you're a woman who likes her parties (and her orgies, I might as well add). I'm guessing you even have a couple on the schedule this week. I love a party too -- the talking, the drinking, the possibilities -- but don't you find that most parties don't have nearly enough orgasms? I thought you'd agree, and I've decided that you and I should do our part in fixing that. What I really mean, I guess, is that you should fix that, and I'd like you to start at the next party you attend.
This is a very simple dare, really. Somewhere at this party, whether it's at someone's house or at a club, sooner or later, I want you to have an orgasm. Close yourself off in the bathroom, if you like, or strip and fondle yourself towards ecstasy in front of everyone, which of course I'd like more. All that really matters is that your body be racked by pleasure at some point in the night (day?), and that you tell me all about it. Specifically, I want to know what's on your mind as your hand moves towards your moistening pussy, and I want to know about the situation you've chosen for your lust, and I want to know the specific details of how an orgasm feels to Mona -- what happens in your body, and your cunt, when fantasy and a moving finger take you straight over the edge. If I can't do it to you, I want you to tell me how you do it to yourself, and I want your wandering hand to become my wandering hand.
Deal? I hope so. My fantasies about your body (breasts in particular, if you want to know the truth, and I've never particularly thought of myself as a breast man) have distracted me to such a point that I desperately need me some Mona.
Wanderingly,
Mr. X
...
Dear Mr. X,
You make me so horny, and I love your whole mystery man thing, but I also hate it, because I really want to fuck you. I want to take off all my clothes for you slowly, not all at once like that night on the balcony, and show you my tits first and let you kiss my nipples, then show you my pussy which will be completely shaven, and put your hand between my legs to feel how wet I am. I just imagine the look on your face, and I imagine unzipping your pants and putting your yummy cock in my mouth. I could definitely show you things.
So I had all this in my mind at a few parties where I did not feel like doing your dare, and then I went to this big party at the house of my friend last weekend. I was planning to masturbate there somewhere for your dare, but then I started laughing and drinking and dancing, and maybe it was in the back of my mind, but more or less I had forgotten about it. Then I sort of picked up this guy, very cute, I had seen him around in the discos. We were both getting drinks at the bar, and I caught him looking at my breasts (like you naughty boy!), and I laughed, and he laughed too, so we started talking and he kept looking at my breasts from time to time. So I was wearing a low-cut white top, a short red skirt, sheer black stockings, and no underwear. So I had come prepared. And this guy? A black dress shirt undone a little over a strong, hairy chest, and only blue jeans, but I had already noticed they had a nice tight bulge. He had thick lips and a mean stare that got me wet. And like I said, I had seen him around and danced with him a couple of times at clubs, and I knew he wanted me.
After talking a while we went out on the terrace for cigarettes. When he lit mine I saw him staring hard at my lips. I wanted to jump him right then but acted like he did not interest me at all and turned away to press up against the balcony railing that looked down on the street, sort of like at my house, lover! I leaned out over the railing and brought the cigarette to my lips, which gave him a nice little view of my skirt riding up towards my ass and my sexy sheer stockings down to some SCANDALOUS red heels. I wanted his cock inside me right then, and I knew my curvy ass was having its effect when I felt him press gently up into it, like he was just admiring the view, too, but I knew we were looking at two very different things. He was kind of at my side, so his hipbone was at the outside curve of hip, but he was close enough in that I could feel his cock against the outside of my ass, and it was as hard as the balcony railing I was gripping in my left hand. Don't worry! I let him stay right there!
After a while I wiggled a little bit, and he knew what I wanted, so he shifted until he was right behind me and I could feel his cock right on my ass, and I pushed back against it. Then I felt his chest against my back and he moved my hair away to kiss my neck. I groaned. Mmm! I wiggled some more and said, "I bet you want to fuck me!'" How about you, Mr. X? I bet you want to fuck me, too.
I think he was so shocked or so excited he didn't know what to say, so he just went on kissing me, and I threw my cigarette away and turned to kiss him on the mouth. Right away one of his hands was up fondling my breast, and I said, "Not here but I know the place." I took him by the hand and led him back through the party. It was really rocking now, and I led him back to the bedroom of my friend, which I I know pretty well because one time we had a sort of a threesome in there! Gulp!
As soon as I shut the door behind me, he attacked me, and normally I do like it hard and rough, but I did not really want anyone to find us fucking in there, so I pushed him away. Then I really thought of your dare again, so I pulled my skirt over my hips and leaned back on the bed without lowering my stockings. He smiled real big and just stared down at the slit of my shaven pussy through the sheer back material. Then he dove for it, grabbing them to pull them down. "No!" I cried. "Just your hand, just
like this."
He didn't know what to make of me, but he was certainly entranced by the sight, so he lowered himself to his knees like he was at the altar of Mona's cunt and began stroking me through the stockings. I was already a fucking swamp down there, and I pulled out a breast to pinch as he went on rubbing my clit with his thumb. I pressed up hard into his hand with my hips and came in like thirty seconds. "OH MY GOD!" he said, like he had just come as well, but I was already tucking my breasts back in and straightening my skirt. He did not know what had hit him!
Afterwards we went back out to the party and for the rest of the night I pretended he was not in the room, just to amuse myself. Whenever I glanced over he looked like a little wounded puppy -- pretty cute, and I'm sure I will fuck him sooner or later.
So next time I will try to masturbate myself as you ordered, but this time it just turned out easier to have someone else do it for me! I wish it had been you, Mr. X!
...
A few days after Mona conspired to have herself masturbated through sheer pantyhose at a party, my wife and I went to a party, too. I will admit that I was hoping to find Mona there: for a glimpse of her fabulous tits, at the very least, and maybe for a private bedroom fondle of her shaven pussy through sheer hose? Well she wasn't there, although the crowd was fun, and drinking a lot. We didn't know a lot of the people there, which is rare in a smaller town, and which tends to turn us both on. Nothing's healthier for a marriage, as far as I'm concerned, than a bit of across-the-room flirtation, a hint of possibilities. And my wife does turn heads (judge for yourself), and my head does enjoy a good turn or two.
But we didn't induce an orgy or bring strangers back to our bed for naked flirtations. We drove home after midnight, feeling loose and good, laughing about the party. Neither of us had to find a way to propose it — we knew we were going to fuck.
No romance, but there was romance in that. We didn't even make it to the bed. Her lips were on mine as the key went into the lock, and the front door closed again with a bang as I pushed her against it, one hand gripping her shoulder, the other the inside of her thigh, my thumb feeling up into the damp center of her panties, my tongue pressing into her mouth. Her tongue was not enough in response. I needed more. I needed to lose myself in tits and cunt, and her blouse, already unbuttoned low, came fully open easily. Her tits came out so easily too, as I raked her bra aside with clutching fingers.
My wife, she likes to be overcome, but she was cock-starved that night too, and her red painted fingers slipped magically over my crotch until in my madness I felt that my cock was free and clutched hard into the flat of her palm. We fell to the floor in a tangle while trying to get me extricated from my shoes and my pants. She fell perpendicularly on top of me, her shirt and her bra having completely vanished now, her panties stretched aside into the groove between her soft mound and her tensed leg, beneath a skirt that was bunched up over the curve of her hips, as Mona's had been.
