Their Night In - A New Story

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It had been a particularly hard day for Catherine. The pregnant movie star clearly had better things to do than attend a court hearing that week, so she was hardly in the best of moods. She saw her husband, Mike, at the door of their bedroom. “Honey, I’ve had one hell of a crappy day, so you know what I want now,” she said bluntly, as she stormed past him. “Why, yes I do,” said Mike, as he undid his top button and tie. “No, not that!” shouted Catherine. “Oh, please, darling, no…” whined Mike as Catherine stared him down. “Oh, honey, please…do it for your Catty…” she said, seductively. Mike, dejected as ever, slumped down on the bed. Catherine pushed him onto his back, as Mike struggled to overpower his baby-carrying partner. Catherine punched Mike in his groin, which put a stop to all his moaning, as the stunningly-gorgeous CZJ sat on his chest, all her weight on his lungs. She looked over at her fallen husband, as she parted a slit in the back of her dress that allowed her to bare her arse in front of him. “You know, that court food really is terrible – but I guess I don’t have to tell you that,” she said, giggling, while her husband struggled on. She slid her arse over his face, almost enclosing it in a cell of flesh…and worse.

CZJ was sitting on her husband’s face, waiting to do the dirty work. She had been cross-examined by a barrister who had got her particularly annoyed, and now she had to vent her frustrations; right into her husband’s nose. “Can you hear me, Mikey?” she asked patronisingly. “I don’t think that you can, but you should be able to hear this –” BBBBRRRRRPPPPPPPPTTTTTT!! “Ah, that was sooooo gooooood for me. What about my little Mikey? Be a good boy, and sniff it all up, now,” she ordered, while gently stroking his head. She had had a penchant for breaking wind since she was a little girl – after all, it was encouraged in Wales. Just because she was a Hollywood movie star didn’t mean she couldn’t blow off anymore. She was still dressed in her glamorous black dress, and still decked in lavish jewellery, making her a usually-irresistible sight for any man. Her pregnancy had given her extra fuel in this respect, and she was able to ‘taint the air’ better than ever before. “Can you breathe, Mikey?” she asked, in an almost considerate tone, “cos I’ve got plenty of air for you!” she said, this time laughing quietly. “But to get it, you gotta…pull…my…finger…” Mike cleverly refrained from doing what his demonic wife was suggesting, but she replied to this strike of actions: “Michael, if you don’t, I swear I will sit here until you suffocate” in the most serious tone she had used all day.


Mike gingerly raised his hand, in search of his ‘prize’, when Catherine stretched it out to him. As he touched one of her fingers, she said, “That’s it, Mike, just a little bit more…” and as Mike grasped onto her index finger, she said, “Hooray, you got the prize! You deserve a cheer…a Bronx cheer, anyway! Pull my finger! Tug!” Mike reluctantly pulled his wife’s index finger, and as he did, he felt this force pounding down on his head: BBBBBRRRRRUMMMMMMMPPPPPPP! “Ha ha ha ha ha ha!” squealed Catherine, delighted with her efforts. “Come on, Mike! You can’t say that you didn’t like that!” In truth, Mike, a 65-year-old movie star, had had enough. He tried to move his wife off his face, but he didn’t have the strength to do it, so he tried to make himself pass out. Catherine noticed what he was doing, and so she climbed off him. She went over to her cabinet and pulled out something labelled ‘Pep Pills’. She walked back over to her husband, and squeezed open his mouth, proceeding to pour the pills down his throat. Mike had no option other than to swallow the pills, which would mean that it would be so much harder to pass out at this stage. Catherine emptied the whole bottle into Mike’s mouth, before discarding it onto the floor and climbing back on Mike’s face. As soon as she had, Mike’s nose burnt again with those stenches of cabbage, fries and poorly-cooked burgers that only his wife could produce. It was truly an unholy reek, and the only reason that Catherine could put up with it was because she had grown up around it. Mike was seriously close to throwing up last week’s food at this rate, unless he could do something about it. Catherine removed her hair band, letting her luscious black hair free. “Oh yes,” she said, regarding her spouse. “I almost forgot about you.” She took hold of her husband’s ears, and pulled them towards her, forcing his face up her backside. Mike was left staring at darkness, smelling the foulest of foul odours, when he felt her cheeks clench. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got a nice one cooked up, and it’s right on time.” PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSS!!! Oh God, thought Mike, an SBD – the worst of CZJ’s repertoire. She had got the SBD down to an art-form of brutal proportions, which was only bad news for anyone on the wrong end of it. She leant forward slightly, and rubbed her wonderfully clean crack slowly with her right hand, before drawing it to her face. She took a deep, long breath, after which she remarked: “Ooooooooohhhhhhh God, that’s smelly…although I’ve dropped worse.”

Catherine started to bounce on her husband’s face, to improve her position, but she realised she was enjoying herself quite a lot. She was pummelling her husband’s face, and burying his head deeper and deeper into the mattress, until she finally got tired of it. By now, her awesome rump was level with the top of the mattress, and Michael’s head was far beneath it. “Y’know what, Mike? I tried some of that Steak Laisse today – wanna smell?” Michael tried to wriggle his head in a fashion that might be reminiscent of a ‘no’, but Catherine said to him: “I thought you might.” Underneath that creamy butt of Catherine’s, you could see a grown man crying his eyes out, all because of her flatulence. “Right,” she commented, “just let me get ready…and…here we go…any second now…” Michael prepared himself for the force of what he was going to have fired in his face – Catherine lifted a cheek, and cut the cheese, right on her husband’s nose. The smell wafted right up Mike’s nostrils, where it let its power wreak havoc on his senses. “Right, Michael,” she said firmly. “For my next trick, you will have to breathe in the air I give so deeply that your breaths should last about four seconds each. Failure to do so may result in punishments, so be a good boy.” She manoeuvred her bum so that Mike’s nose was up her butthole, at the closest possible range for her gas. She arched her back quickly, before reverting back and stating, “Remember Mike, I’m farting for two now.” She arched back again, and PHURT! Another shockingly-potent SBD worked its way out of Catherine’s lavish butt and into her husband’s weary head. This seemed to spur her on even more than she had been before, as she put her right hand to her butt and lifted the smell to her nose again. She declared, “Oooh, there’s something kicking inside. This might be it -” PPPPPPRPPPPP! She took a deep breath herself this time, stating, “Mmmm, vintage fart, straight from the valleys of Wales!” This bare-arse farting was knocking Mike for six by now: his head was spinning in a sea of methane, provided by his very own wife, Catherine.

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Dark Fantasy

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"To sleep, perchance to dream..."

There is a fringe group within my local BDSM club scene known colloquially as 'The Roundabout Gang'. This group of twenty or so men and women, besides being members of the BDSM club I belong to, are also members of a swinger's club in town. When they attend functions at the BDSM club they will arrive en masse later in the night and don't usually mingle much with other members. Ever since it was first pointed out to me who this group was, I got the feeling of a very strong 'Us and Them' attitude prevalent. The view of those in the 'Us' group seemed to be that 'Them' (The Roundabout Gang) didn't play by any of the unwritten but inherently established 'rules' of BDSM engagement - the whole 'Safe, Sane and Consensual' credo often being cited.

While I used to sit and silently listen to discussions like this, I did get the distinct impression many in the 'Them' group looked at 'Us' as being so orthodox in our views as to be almost as bad, if not worse than anybody in the Vanilla world - a world generally agreed by both 'Us' and 'Them' as a place from which we all wanted to escape. I enjoyed playing the BDSM games of the 'Us' group and felt comforted to be accepted as a part of that scene and its small rebellion from the Vanilla world I had long felt trapped in. However, as much as I felt comforted by the acceptance of my friends in the 'Us' group, I also felt rejected in equal amounts by 'Them'.

It's difficult to put into words how this made me feel. I supposed the simplest explanation is I am a person who has always felt insecure unless I had the acceptance of everybody. I have an innate desire to make everybody happy and most of all, the people who probably care for me least. In short, I felt myself slipping deeper and deeper into a dark and lonely crevice between the two groups, much like the divide I by now felt separating me from the Vanilla world I'd once known. More than this, the 'invisibility' that used to stalk me and withhold the acceptance I craved in the Vanilla world had followed me into my BDSM world and it felt like nobody noticed or cared that I was falling from view.

Themes of abandonment are strong in my darkest fantasies. In this particular fantasy, as I look up the ragged walls of the emotional ravine I've slipped into, I see my husband and our kinkster friends above. They stand on the edge of the precipice with their backs to me. I can at times hear them chatting and laughing; at other times, speaking ponderously about the nature of dominance and submission or making inane judgment calls on things that might define people into their neat, tidy compartments.

At the top on the other side of this imagined abyss stand many men and women from The Roundabout Gang. None of their faces are really clear except for those of Julienne and her husband, Mike. In the past, whenever I saw them at the club, they always seemed to studiously avoid me as if my connection with the BDSM club and my friends in it branded me a pariah to 'Them'. Now, as I struggle before them so clearly in need of some kind of lifeline, their faces beam with wicked delight.

A rope ladder is thrown down to me. I see it right beside me within easy reach. All I have to do is grab hold of it and climb out of the darkness -- to be rescued. It's a choice I have to make and one that frightens me. Below me, if I don't accept the escape offered, is the certainty of plummeting into the blackness of oblivion. Above me, the hands I see all calling me to grab hold of the ladder are the hands of strangers who I am sure would rather rape me than rescue me. But it's still my choice and mine alone to make. I look one last time toward the other side of the emptiness for any signs of a third choice, but there is none. The edge on which my husband and friends once stood has receded from sight; the sounds of their voices now nothing more than distant echoes.

This might be all a dream except for the fact I fear any awakening before it's complete will leave me lost in the limbo it has conjured. I grab hold of the ladder and slowly begin my ascent. Or is it a descent? I'm climbing but at the same time there is a sensation of falling still deeper. My mind is reeling just as Alice's had when she fell into the rabbit hole portal to Wonderland. Things that were up are now down; big becomes small and the trivial, profound. My clothes fall away from me as I struggle in the direction of The Roundabout Gang. I can sense the energy of the conversations they're having. They're animated and filled with the sound of excitement, but nothing is clear to me and all I can hear is babble.

As I near the top of the ladder, the hands that clawed the air reaching for me now have hold around my wrists. They are the large hands of strong men and I feel myself being lifted from the beyond. Or maybe they're the hands of women? My eyes are fully open but I can't see anything clearly. I'm completely naked by the time I'm lifted clear of the abyss. More hands grab hold of me. The only faces I can clearly identify are those of Julienne and Mike. She is saying something; I can't make out the words. I look at Mike's face and try to fathom what is being said. His mouth is moving too, but I can't hear anything. There's just the sound of my own pulse pounding rapidly and loudly in my ears. It's as if my head has been trapped inside an invisible cocoon. A blindfold is slipped over my head and I am plunged into total darkness - a frightening darkness.

The last thing I can remember seeing is a glimpse of the inside of a large room. It's a room I've been in once before. A few years ago, when The Roundabout Gang had a BDSM night at their club and a few of 'Us' went along, just out of curiosity. Nothing happened there that wouldn't have happened at any of our regular club nights, but I spent the entire evening wondering 'what if?' Back then, I had felt free to dream my dark dreams because I was safely surrounded by my familiar kinkster friends. Now, as yet more hands of unfamiliar strangers grab hold of my ankles to carry me somewhere, I feel no such envelope of safety.

I struggle and cry out, but no sounds penetrate the invisible bubble surrounding my head. Outside that bubble is the sound of a crowd of people. I can scarcely hear what they're saying above the din of the loud, pulsating music that fills their club, but I'm convinced it is talk of the perverse things they intend doing to me. I can feel fingers penetrating my vagina and then laughter. I'm suddenly acutely aware of my own wetness and the aroma of my arousal. The embarrassing assault on my senses causes my face and ears to burn.

The hands on my wrists and ankles hold me spread and vulnerable as I'm carried through their club. I am totally disorientated in the darkness of my blindfold, but instincts tell me I'm being taken to one of the private rooms at the back of building. They're rooms I remember overhearing somebody talk about that one night earlier when my kinkster friends and I had visited their club. I never got the chance to actually see inside any of them, but heard enough to know it was where The Roundabout Gang 'initiated' all the new swingers.

The very word itself - initiate - sent a chill down my spine. There was no doubt in my mind what was meant by it. I would be taken into one of those back rooms and gangbanged, probably restrained as well so I couldn't escape until everybody who wanted to use me had done so. And so begins my darkest fantasy...

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Dark Fantasy: Manifestation Of A Dream

"Henceforward I am ever ruled by you." -- Juliet (Shakespeare)

You want to know what turned me on most about revealing my darkest fantasy? It was that moment when I first heard you ask whether I'd tell you a secret. Right then and there, in an infinitesimal moment, it was as if you'd already glimpsed all my deepest, darkest fantasies bottled up within me. After that, all that remained for me to do was loosen the cork so the dark genie of truth within my soul could escape.

From that day on, I lived with an ever-increasing paradoxical sense of both release and tension. The dark fantasies that lurked in my heart were finally being drawn out and this gave me a sense of relief after such a long time of struggling to keep them contained. But at the same time was the tension and anxiety of the date you'd set. I had marked it discreetly on my kitchen calendar with a simple and almost imperceptible black dot on a Friday - the same Friday that was notable for being the beginning of a weekend that husband and family would all be away leaving me alone to act out the fantasy I revealed to you.

There was many times leading up to that Friday when I felt compelled to tell somebody else besides you about what was planned. It was a desperate need and yet, every time I came close to confessing I felt the invisible hand of my fantasy genie pull me back. Outwardly, I must have looked as normal as ever and never once displayed any signs of the inner turmoil that gripped me. On the morning of that fateful Friday, I even laughed uneasily when the usual jokes were made about it being a thirteenth - lucky for some, unlucky for others.

I sat in my car for a long while before summoning that final amount of courage to make my way up the stairs to The Roundabout Club. Julienne and her husband Mike didn't seem surprised to see me but they remained slightly indifferent until I explained I was alone and wanting to join their club. My hands trembled as I wrote my details onto a membership form. I can't even begin to describe how I felt when I finally had to complete my application by paying to proceed. The realization that it wasn't enough for me to simply be there willing to surrender myself to any pervert who might want to use me for their sexual pleasure. I had to pay for it with my own hard-earned cash, as if it was a bizarre kind of prostitution in reverse.

Other club members had drifted in with a few stopping to ogle me. I vaguely recognized a few people, but most were strangers. Mike had one of them strip me right there in the foyer of the club, blindfold me, and then collar me so I could be led on a leash into the main area of the club.

I was led to a booth within the club and locked inside, alone. A voice from outside told me to remove the blindfold, which I did, and I was confronted by a number of disembodied, half erect men's cocks dangling in through holes cut in the walls of the booth. It would be my 'function as the club's newest service slave', I was told, to suck and pleasure them all and not to allow any of them to ejaculate on the floor. I glanced around expecting to see a towel or something, but the small cubicle was empty except for me. The size of the confined space was such I was able to bend over and take one cock in my mouth while another penetrated me from behind. My hands held and gently massaged cocks that presented through holes in the walls either side of me. And this is how I spent the rest of the night. I swallowed lots and lots of filthy, anonymous jism that night but even so, my misjudged timing of when some would cum meant many ejaculated into my pussy (which then leaked it messily onto the floor) or spurted in from the sides into my hands and over my body. All-in-all, it was the most perverse and degrading thing I could possibly imagine happening and I'm still left with a lingering guilt over the dark secret pleasure I felt while doing it.

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Dark Fantasy: Voyage To Elsewhere And Beyond

"You remember that place between sleep and awake, where you can still remember dreaming? That's where you'll find me..."

I love that quote. It's paraphrased from something Tinkerbell said in the movie 'Hook' and it resonates deeply in me. Daydreams are like that magical place, and I daydream constantly. So, when you asked whether I had to search deeply to find my darkest fantasy story, the answer is a resounding no. You asked whether it's the only fantasy I have, and the answer to that is also no, although I admit it's one that does frequently get looped in my mind's eye. However, it's one thing to have these fantasies swirling around in the erotic whirl of my daydreams but quite another to commit them to paper.

I'm not a big reader of 'pop psychology' books that claim to offer the means to achieve everything from growing rich to understanding the cosmic beyond, but I do give some credence to the idea that the first step to making any dream come true is to write it down. That said, you first asked me to share a dark, secret fantasy with you, and the idea of this tantalized me. The delight wasn't simply in the fact I might share something so intimate and personal as an embarrassing secret fantasy, although this was a factor. A large part of the pleasure for me was in knowing by writing it down I was in fact taking the first step toward making my dark secret fantasy a reality, whether I wanted it to become real or not.

Why would I want to do that? Could it really be true I actually want this fantasy to become real - to be stripped completely and forced into a situation where I might be humiliated in such a perverted and disgusting way? Obviously, the thought has been in my mind for a long time, otherwise the fantasy wouldn't exist to begin with. The mere fact that it does exist at all is enough evidence for even the most amateur of observers to think it's true and my defense of it, by guarding it as a secret, confirms the truth beyond doubt.

As I sit here contemplating all this, I am aroused by the thought that confessing this secret to you requires me to trust you'll guard my secret as closely as I have guarded it. But what reason could I have to trust you at all? I mean, you're a total stranger and yet I am trusting with a small piece of information about me that nobody else on Earth knows. Perhaps I can rationalize it by pretending you don't really exist at all, except in the ether of the Internet, just as my fantasy now exists there. This delusion might hold true for a while, but deep down, just as I know my secret desire to be real, so too are you.

In a sense I feel my fantasy has not simply been released like the genie from the lamp, but that it has been projected onto you. When it had been bottled up inside me, I still had some control over it but now? Now, my fantasy and by extension, my reality is in your hands and outside my control.

Control is a word I hear a lot whenever anybody talks about dominance and submission. Many scene people will also talk about submission as being some kind of 'gift' that the submissive offers and that the dominant treasures. Perhaps I'm blithely revealing yet another dark secret of mine but for me, I am most aroused when I think of my control not simply being offered to somebody else as a gift, but to surrender it as one might do to a conquering victor. To throw myself completely at the mercy of them and abandon all hope, just as in the warning Dante had seen before entering the first Circle of Hell.

Of course, all that really exists right now is the truth of my darkest fantasy and the trust I have you'll guard my secret. Neither is really significant on its own and unless a third element is added, the two might just as well not exist at all. To reveal the third element is to come full circle again and expose yet more truth about my darkest fantasy. That third element is 'betrayal' that could manifest in something tangible, such as your using your position of trust to blackmail me, or something more intangible such as fate or, to coin a favorite word of mine, 'serendipity'.

By definition, serendipity is 'the act of making fortunate discoveries by accident'. Your discovery of my darkest desires could be said to be serendipitous, but that still isn't enough to explain how you came to make that discovery in the first place. It could never have been made unless I took the first step to lead you to that discovery. A longer, more poetic definition can be drawn from this quote, taken from John Barth's book 'The Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor (The Sinbad Adventure)':

"You don't reach Serendip by plotting a course for it. You have to set out in good faith for elsewhere and lose your bearings serendipitously."

The notion of a life led without direction but full of serendipitous surprises is one that appeals to me deeply. Then again, maybe all this is now falling back into the realms of daydreams and the romantic notion that you will guard the secret I have shared with you. To do this overlooks the fact of what you asked me to do with my fantasy story, after I had written it down.

You said I should print it out on a single sheet of paper, fold that paper to a small size, and then bury it somewhere. More than this, I had to bury it in a place where I might walk past it every day - a symbolic reminder of the dark, unfathomable desires that occur in my dreams. If this wasn't enough to send shivers of tingly delight through every nerve ending in my body, you concluded by asking how I felt about knowing it is there, in your words, "like a part of you waiting to be found?"

Well, I not only buried my story as instructed, but I enclosed it in an airtight small plastic capsule. Thus buried (in a pot plant at a coffee shop I frequently visit at lunch times) it lies preserved like a time capsule and will remain in a pristine condition awaiting that moment of serendipity when somebody else, on their own personal voyage to elsewhere, might find it.

Victorian Values

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Posted by Toby on September 10, 1999 at 10:56
Hello all,
It's nice to be near the beginning of a new board.Felicity's adventure continues with Chapter 8 in which she becomes acquainted with some new friends...!
Regards,
Toby
Chapter VIII - The Village Fair.
Its was soon Sunday and the day of the village fair. Unsurprisingly they had not heard a peep from Mrs Tirde since that last meeting at the house. Nevertheless the village fair was an event not to be missed and Georgina and Felicity dressed in their fine summer frocks. Felicity was unsure of herself that day as Georgina had suggested that they indulge themselves in company who were otherwise unaware of their interests.

"Don't concern yourself Felicity "said Georgina soothingly, "the herbs will prevent anyone becoming aware of your fun and your dress will surely hide any visible signs".
"I know," said Felicity, feeling very unsure of herself. "But I don't know if I can hide the expression on my face as I ease the hard lumps into my knickers".
"Well why not try, or at least watch me" she smiled.
"I might just watch this time" agreed Felicity "I may acquire the nerve to do it myself another time".
The fair was in the midst of activity when the ladies arrived, and Georgina was pleased to see her friend Cathy from London who was visiting her aunt much in the same way as Felicity. However, whereas Cathy was very much into filling her knickers with lovely warm lumps, her aunt was not and so her stay so far had involved some abstinence. Cathy was a pretty girl of twenty-two years with long blonde hair and mischievous blue eyes. She struck up an immediate friendship with Felicity and was so excited by the tales of what they had been up to since Felicity arrived.
"Why Georgina" said Cathy her eyes wide with disbelief, " you two have had a most eventful time I do so wish I could have joined you".
"Perhaps you can" said Georgina her eyes focussed away from the group. "For I do believe I am going to hold a party next weekend". Felicity looked at her with a puzzled expression for she had mentioned nothing to her and she believed she might have confided in her first.
"You haven't said anything before" queried Felicity. Georgina's eyes were still on the distance.
"That's because I didn't know he was here," she said. The two other girls traced her line of sight until it fell upon the most handsome and dashing man Felicity had ever seen. He was resplendent in his bright red military uniform with gold braid and silver buttons. He was a sight to behold. He appeared to be looking amongst the crowd and Felicity watched him scan the gathering until his eyes came to rest on their group. He smiled and made his way directly over to them.
He was a fine looking man with a quick smile and it got broader as he neared them.
"My dear Georgina" he exclaimed as he reached them. "You are as beautiful as ever." Victorian etiquette dissuaded any more affectionate moves between them but it was clear to Felicity that they were more intimate than it appeared. They looked deep into each other's eyes and he barely noticed the two attractive young girls by her side.
"It's about time you returned," said Georgina with a knowing smile. "I've had to make alternative arrangements for my entertainment for far too long". Richard Arcey looked at her and the other two girls.
"Do not worry Richard" said Georgina reading his mind "May I introduce my niece Felicity and my friend Cathy" she lowered her voice to a stage whisper " They are enlightened and enthusiastic participants in our favourite pastime". Richard smiled and gently kissed each of their hands.
"Ladies, I am delighted to make your acquaintance"
Felicity and Cathy excused themselves to take a walk around the fair and to allow Richard and Georgina a little privacy. The conversation quickly came around to the subject of wetting and dirtying one's knickers. They were aware that they had to stop and start their conversation due to the proximity of the crowd.
"I must say that I have had to withhold my pleasure for so long that I cannot wait to indulge. My little hole is quite damp now at the thought of it," said Cathy.
"Have you ever done it in a public place?" enquired Felicity.
"Yes I have actually" admitted Cathy "We were on a boat in the river and Mama and her friends were there too. I was desperate to go and fortunately I had taken some of Georgina's herbs to help disguise my little mess. We were a sitting on the seats when I felt the urge. The seat held it for a few pushes but I realised that I would have to let it out or I would surely burst. I surreptitiously lifted my bottom off the seat on one side and waited for my tummy to start contracting. Soon enough I felt the tip nudging out and pushing above the hard wooden seat then a huge push came from nowhere and quite took my breath away. I nearly gave a big grunt, which would have surely given me away, but instead I was speechless as a long warm soft pile oozed out into my knickers and spread between my legs. After two more pushes I was full and I carefully sat down squeezing that lovely warm mess up my bottom and along my thighs."
"Did you not get discovered?" asked Felicity.
"Oh no, I looked away from everyone so that my face wouldn't give me away." Said Cathy. She looked around her.
"Why don't we go behind one of the marquees and fill our knickers here, She said wickedly "I could easily push some nice lumps into my gusset." Felicity looked around her, well it was quite busy but no one would notice two young ladies in quiet conversation. Why not, she concluded.
The girls walked behind the large tent at the furthest point from the main area. It was shady and it felt quite secure considering, Cathy held her arm and looked about to make sure the coast was clear.
"Here goes, " said Cathy excitedly. She bit her lip and screwed up her eyes and gave a little grunt. She smiled and opened her eyes. Felicity watched as her eyes got wider. She shifted her position to balance and brace herself for the onslaught. Then she gave a hard breathless grunt and Felicity felt her grip tighten on her arm and her tummy contracted. The faint squelching sound emanated from beneath Cathy's dress as she gave two more hard pushes before catching her breath.
"Oh that feels so nice" she gasped, "So warm and soft just sliding underneath me. Mmmm. Come on Felicity your turn now." Felicity was still unsure with a little trepidation she looked about before parting her thighs and squatting slighlty. She gave a hard push looking at Cathy as she did so. Cathy smiled.
"Good girl come on push harder" she said. For a split second Felicity felt she was two years old again. The she felt that familiar movement.
"It's coming," she said almost whispering. Felicity felt the hard tip push out of her little hole and touch the soft cotton of her knickers. Then the big push forced the lump down into her gusset. She felt it sliding down her thigh before it moved along and between her legs easing gently along her body. She forced out another lump, which squashed itself against her. Then she felt herself leak a little as she let a few drops of pee escape. She pushed again and signed as the warm water gushed into her knickers and ran in lovely warm torrents down her thighs and legs to complete the sensation of pleasure.
The young man had just relieved himself in the bushes and fastened up his flap. He made to go back but heard two female voices whispering. He looked through the bushes and saw too pretty young ladies, one with thick auburn hair and a fair-haired girl. They looked to be in collusion about something or other then he noticed the fair-haired one she was up to something and yes, he had seen this before. This little beauty was filling her knickers with her poo. He watched with fascination as she grunted her way into laying a nice pile into her soft cotton gusset. What colour would her knickers be? White? Pink? Well they would be a little brown by now but wait. The girl with the auburn hair was gong to do it too. There was no mistaking her posture, legs wide enough to allow the firm lump to slide out into her little gusset.
He fingered the hard front to his trousers as he heard the sticky squelching as this attractive young girl push some lovely hard lumps into her knickers. What damn good luck!
Then the blonde girl walked off leaving the darker-haired one there. He couldn't resist a challenge.
"I'm just going to clean myself up," whispered Cathy "for I fear I shall pong a little soon without the aid of the herbs. I must renew my supply from Georgina before I depart." With that Cathy disappeared.
Felicity stood for a moment feeling the delight of the warm mess against her skin. Suddenly an arm grabbed her waist and a head rested on her shoulder. She opened her mouth to scream but a hand covered it.
"Hello my little beauty, I've seen what you've been up too and I won't tell anyone if you don't make a fuss." The hand came away and Felicity caught her breath. Her heart beat faster as the arm still gripped her slender waist and she felt a hand slide down to the full load in her knickers.
"Mmm that's a nice soft pile in there," said the voice. He sounded young but not malevolent. In fact Felicity decided he sounded damn cheeky and impudent.
"What do you want sir" she said trying to sound as if she was in control.
"Only to indulge in your soft delights in return for my silence," said the man. With that he pressed the lump squeezing the still warm mess against Felicity's bottom causing it to ooze between her clamped thighs. She gasped at his cheek as she felt the warmth spread over her skin.
"Why you impudent young sir" she said scoldingly beginning to realise that she was enjoying the sensation.
"Why my dear if you think this is impudent then what is your opinion of that?" he moved her hand to the front of his trousers whereupon she encountered the long hard unmistakable lump of his manhood. Felicity began to mellow as he continued to massage the contents of her knickers over her thighs and bottom.
"Well sir I may not think it impudent if you can wield it with some skill." Said Felicity.
"That I can my dear" he said and without letting go of her he began to nibble her ears and neck. Felicity felt her heart beat faster as she concluded that she was going to be ravished by this young buck without apparently seeing his face. His free hand lifted the backs of her skirts and Felicity found herself bending forwards and to her surprise she was still eagerly rubbing his quite hard member. He deftly undid his trousers and fumbled at her gusset tearing a hole just large enough for his intrusion, which Felicity felt nudging at her entrance a short time later. She leant froward unable to see her assailant as he pushed his pole inside her sliding slickly into her warm wet tunnel.
"Oh you naughty boy" she gasped, guessing his youth by now. "Now fill me up hard if you're half the man you claim to be." This did the trick he thrust deeper into her pliant body as she felt her eyes widen at the size and length of his pole. He was truly well endowed. She was bent over supported only by his hands. She could have turned to face him but it was more exciting not to look, not to see the face of her invisible tormentor. At this thought she felt her self tingle and soon she was writhing in the throes of a mighty spend. Soon after he jerked and Felicity felt a warm infusion explode inside her.
He slid out quickly letting go of Felicity. She regained her balance and turned around to catch sight of him, but he was too quick. The bushes swayed showing where he had dived into them but he was gone.
"Shall we go back to join Georgina," said Cathy from behind her. Felicity turned and regained her composure.
"Are you alright Felicity," asked Cathy.
"Yes I am perfectly alright," said Felicity. She smoothed down her dress and took Cathy's arm as they made their way back to the throng of the fair.
"Ahh there you are" said Georgina "we wondered what you've been up too" she said knowingly. Cathy giggled and Felicity smiled still a little moved by her experience.
"I'd like you to meet Richard's younger brother, Felicity this is Ben Arcey" she said indicating a young man with his back to them. On hearing himself introduced he turned around. The look of shock on his face was unmistakable, he looked Felicity up and down and turned bright red.
"P-Pleased to meet you ladies" he said shakily. Felicity looked at him harshly, there was no mistaking that voice. She held her hand out for him to kiss.
"Why sir, I do believe we are already acquainted," she said

The Sea Whore Provided By: BDSM Library www.bdsmlibrary.com

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