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5-STAR POSTS!!     |
12/07/2020
Ingrid! She is the most beautiful woman in my life, she is my ecstasy and my despair, my love and madness. And never, ever did she become mine. But again and again she almost did: with just three feet of air between her skin and mine. Riddles? Read on!
She is a beautiful blonde woman, with an attractive, somewhat mischievous face, shining blue eyes, soft rosy cheeks with nice dimples in them when she smiles, and an expressive mouth with lovely full lips. She always wears her hair pinned up high, leaving her slender neck free. She has a gorgeous figure, somewhat full and yet slender at the same time: well-developed full breasts, a narrow waist with wide hips underneath (but not too wide), long legs with full, firm thighs, shapely calves and slender ankles. Which she always accentuates by wearing high stiletto heels.
Very soon I was crazy with longing for her. I had made her acquaintance at a dancing school, and I dated her sometimes, or visited her at home. And then usually we danced a little, and I could press her supple body to mine. But it had never gone any further than that: we might dance sensual tangos, a dance that’s sometimes called ‘sex with your clothes on’, but no more than that. Not even a kiss … let alone anything without our clothes on.
I felt the desire not only in my groin, but also in my belly, my chest and my throat: a tingling feeling in my skin that was only temporarily assuaged when I masturbated, yet I would never feel really relieved. Only the touch of her flesh against mine could cure me of that desperate longing that sometimes made me think of a disease.
Yet I didn’t have the nerve to approach her. She wasn’t prudish, I knew she had several lovers to satisfy her sexual desires, but she would not give up her independence for any man. And she wasn’t shy about that at all.
Then why was I so shy with her? I vaguely feared she wouldn’t find me attractive enough … but that might be only the fear of rejection. Besides, with other women I never felt so bowled over if one happened not to want me. I could always find someone else. So there was nothing to fear, was there? … But for some reason it was different with Ingrid.
In short, Love’s lightning had already struck me terribly. And then it struck again, even more terribly. Read, and tremble, oh men!
I had come to visit her, and as always his longing for her almost constricted my throat. She wore blue that night: a blue blouse, a somewhat tight blue skirt that showed her enticing buttocks and thighs well, and blue nylon stockings underneath. Her skirt crept up a little when she sat down, and I saw the skin of her thighs showed delightfully against her stockings . And though she was tall for a woman, she wore blue shoes with high stiletto heels that accentuated the beauty of her gorgeous legs even more. She had her hair up as usual, only a few little curls hung loose cutely beside her fase.
We had been chatting. About sex! And about men’s and women’s roles, and the advantages and disadvantages of casual sexual contacts. With a straight face I had been voicing very women-friendly opinions on that, but I had been as silent as the grave about my own feelings.
For example, we discussed the compatibility of feminism and high heels. Of course, I said: if a woman feels comfortable enough with them, then why not? But I didn’t have the guts to say anything about the crushing effect her high heels had on me. (Oh … how they lenghtened her beautiful long legs even more. Oh, how they made her hips’ buttocks’ thighs’ tempting movements even more voluptuous when she walked. How their ticking on the floor seemed to pierce my heart: it almost hurt me physically!)
However, I was thinking that now I should at last …
The bell rang. Ingrid walked to the front door (‘click, click’, her heels sounded on the stone floor in the corridor) and she greeted the second visitor enthusiastically. It was Willem, another guy from the dancing school whom she also dated occasionally. Willem was a handsome, cheerful fellow with an athletic slender body and a naughty bad-boy smile with dark eyes and black curly hair; an easy, humorous talker with a rapid flux-de-bouche.
Ingrid used to call Willem a ‘true Amsterdammer’ (“een ras-Amsterdammer”), and she clearly meant that as a compliment. I always felt a bit uneasy when I saw Ingrid and Willem together, although I didn’t want to admit that to myself.
Willem sat down and the three of them went on chatting. Still about sex and relationships. Willem sometimes made a witty remark which made Ingrid laugh delightedly. I joined in the laughter, but cursed myself at the same time that I hadn’t thought of a joke like that.
For example: “What were you talking about before I arrived?”
“About feminism and high heels!”, Ingrid said.
“Are you a feminist?”, Willem asked.
“In principle, yes, but today I’m not. For today is High Heels Day!” she said with a coquettish smile.
“Today, you say? I never saw you otherwise than in stiletto heels! But do you mean high heels aren’t feminist?”
“Many feminists say they’re not. Well, Jan is a feminist man, and he has another opinion.”
She smiled ironically, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Well, so do I! High heels are pure female power! They make us men completely powerless! At least, as long as you keep the strings tightly as a woman. I understand Jan completely, you know. Long live women’s stiletto power!”
She laughed, again with that delightful ironic smile:
“So even men can teach me something about feminism. But don’t you guys objectify me, if I wear high heels for your pleasure? Isn’t that called ‘the male gaze’?”
“No, sweet Ingrid”, Willem said. “The real male look admires you! And you enchant us through it! Without heels too, of course, but with heels our fate is sealed for good! If men objectify you, it’s because they can’t stand that. Such men can’t bear your stiletto power!”
“At least you can say it beautifully. Besides, a little bit of objectification can be quite fun, if at least you guys can bear my stiletto power!”
And Ingrid laughed delightedly at him. I laughed with them, but I cursed myself that I hadn’t thought of making a remark about her stiletto power.
Was I mistaken, or was there really something not quite definable growing in the room’s atmosphere? Ingrid’s cheeks were always somewhat rosy. Was her blush really deepening, or did I only imagine it? Were her shining eyes really shining even more?
I caught himself trying to see to whom Ingrid’s eyes turned more often: to Willem or to me? Was Willem really winning out on that point, or was that only my own fear?
And then Willem made the proposal that I hadn’t dared myself.
“Shall we do a little game of strip poker?” With a straight face, just like that, you know.
I half expected Willem would get a slap in his face. But Ingrid’s only looked at Willem with surprise and then pensively.
“Strip poker? And then? You can’t make me believe you want to leave it at that. Besides, there are three of us. Jan, what do you think? Isn’t this too impudent to be acceptable?”
But she said this with a smile, a little ironic again, but not angry.
Now! Now I had to drop my restraint!
“Seems fun to me too! But you’re probably right that Willem and I don’t want to leave it at that.”
“Exactly!”, Willem added with a broad grin.
Ingrid looked back reservedly.
“Well, no”, she said. “No way, and that’s that. I don’t want to make love to two men at the same time. I did have a threesome once, and I didn’t like that enough to do it again. And just teasing the two of you by undressing … no, I don’t want to do that either.”
“But then why don’t you pick one of us? Then only one man will remain unsatisfied, but otherwise all three of us!”
Had I said that myself? What was coming over me?
(There was an itch in my groin that demanded I’d make happen whatever might happen.)
Now Ingrid’s blush really deepened.
“What are you saying? And the one I don’t choose? Before his very eyes …?”
“Yes!”, Willem said. “What if Jan and I both promise to you we will both accept your choice? If I can’t get you, I’d find it very exciting at least to see you, preferably in action! I promise you! Jan, please promise her as well!”
I nodded. What else could I do? I had been the one to propose it in the first place.
(And the itch in my groin urged: “Come on! Make it happen!”)
Ingrid was silent for a while and licked her lips (without noticing herself).
“Oh my God … what a hot proposal! Do I dare accept it? I’ve been dreaming of this for years: two men competing for me, then me having hot sex with one of them, and letting the other man look on, aching with desire! I always found that a bit too cruel to put it into practice, but if you propose it yourselves … are both of you certain you dare take the risk? For it might be really hard for one of you! Do both of you promise you’ll accept my choice without complaining?”
Willem nodded with enthousiasm. I swallowed, drew a deep breath, and said: “Yes!”
“But then you’ll have to promise something else as well: that the guy who doesn’t get me, doesn’t masturbate either. And my choice is final! The other one won’t get me afterward either! That’s my fantasy. Maybe you find it cruel, but if you want to make our little game really exciting for me … Do you both promise?”
“OK”, I said hoarsely.
(The itch in my groin got hotter and hotter, though I dreaded what might happen.)
“OK! We’ll both empty our balls only if you let us! Tonight, Jan and I must make you enjoy yourself as much we can, and you decide the outcome! Now, isn’t this feminism in high heels?”, Willem said.
Ingrid laughed delightedly.
“Oh, you’re both great! I’ve been dreaming of this for years! It’s really, really very sweet of you that you’re willing to do this for me! By the way, I don’t have any playing cards, but we could do something with dice as well. I hope you realize what risk you’re about to take. I’ll tell my choice at the end of the evening, so both of you will have to suffer a bit for some time. Let’s get started now!”
Half an hour later almost all clothing had been removed from our bodies, with a lot of laughter and erotic thrill, and now all three of us were naked. Only at Willem’s request Ingrid had kept her suspender belt on, and her nylon stockings and high-heeled shoes. She had smiled at that request.
“That excites you, doesn’t it? And you too, Jan! Well, OK, now I understand that that’s actually very feminist. So look on with your male gaze, and enjoy!”
“We both promise you that our male gaze will admire you, and won’t objectify you!”, Willem said. Ingrid laughed loudly.
“You flatterer! But please go on with it! Even if you objectify me, it’s really very much fun. My stiletto feminism can’t have enough of it! That way I really do like feminism: with sex, and in high heels!”
When she made a move to loosen her pinned-up hair, I asked her to keep it up.
“It’s such a lovely sight to see your smooth neck, and your ears!” She smiled warmly at this request and kept her hair pinned up high.
There we were sitting! Ingrid sat down on the three-seater like a Dutch Venus, her left leg drawn up under her body, half turned to Willem who also sat on the three-seater, about three feet away from her.
I sat on an armchair and thought my eyes would pop from my head. Oh what a gorgeous body. Her breasts were big and full, and yet hardly sagged. Her pert brown-red nipples were erect, and under those delightful breasts he saw her smooth belly. And underneath her belly, at the top of her thighs, a little tuft of blond hair. Because of the way she sat, her thighs were spread apart a little, and I could vaguely discern her labia, at least partly. I thought I saw some glistening moisture, but maybe I only imagined that.
Willem couldn’t keep his eyes off her either and had a huge erection. I was so excited that I thought my throbbing cock would burst.
Ingrid smiled at us as if she wanted to say: “Well, what do you gentlemen think of it?” I had a funny feeling: what now?
“Who’s your choice now”, Willem said with a hoarse voice.
“Easy, easy, gorgeous, don’t be in such a hurry!”, Ingrid answered. “At the end of the evening I’ll tell you who my choice will be. It’s quarter past eleven now, so just be a little bit patient, both of you. But in the meantime we could play some more games.”
“What do you mean?”, I asked.
Willem had an idea. “With the stripping game we told each other to put off a piece of clothing. We might go on in the same way. If Ingrid wins, she can give an order to the guy who loses. And if you or I win, he can give an order to Ingrid.”
“So I have a chance of two in three to lose? Fine! I’m fond of losing games like that”, Ingrid said. “But only I am allowed to give orders to touch my body.”
“Can’t we make requests to touch you either?”, I asked.
“Yes, but I may refuse. Maybe I’ll grant to the other guy what I refuse to the first. Then you’ll know who really wins. OK? But, whatever I allow you to do or not, doesn’t mean a thing about the choice I’ll make after midnight. That will keep up excitement for both of you!”
So we played on. The first time Ingrid won and I lost. She let me pour a glass of wine for her.
Then Willem won. He let Ingrid play with her breasts: she had to put her hands beneath them, and pinch and knead them lightly, while her fingers rhythmically rubbed her nipples. Her blush became deeper and she breathed a little bit more heavily, her eyes half closed.
Willem asked: “Can you get an orgasm if you go on like that?”.
“Sometimes”, she sighed, “but I want to keep that for later now. OK, let go on!”
I won, and I asked Ingrid if I could kiss her legs.
“Yes, that’s allright.” (My heart jumped.) “You may kiss my heels! I’m sure you’ll enjoy that. But remember, only my heels, and nothing else!”
And so I kissed and licked her high heels tenderly, but of course she wouldn’t feel that. I didn’t go any further, just as she had told me. With a sigh of yearning I sat down again.
Now she won, and Willem lost.
“Kiss my neck and my breasts”, she said.
I felt a shock. Would she … but she had said clearly enough that her choices before midnight would not have anything to do with her final choice.
Willem kissed the side of her neck tenderly, under her ear; then his mouth went down to her breast; to her nipple, which now disappeared inside his mouth. Willem sucked her nipple slowly and Ingrid let him do as he pleased. Willem’s mouth moved to her other nipple, then upwards again over her other breast; her neck up to the ear, and finally Willem very softly bit her earlobe.
And then Willem withdrew. It didn’t escape my attention that Ingrid looked at Willem’s athletic body with pleasure. Willem looked back intensely.
They played on, and I won again.
“May I feed you a sip of wine from my mouth?” (My former lover had found that very erotic.)
“No”, she said. “Let’s see, that means that Willem must do it now. Come, Willem!”
Angrily and with a pounding heart I looked on how Willem gave her the tongue kiss that I had wanted to give her. A red drop of wine trickled downward along her neck, between her breasts, over her smooth belly.
“Wait, let me lick that up”, Willem said. Laughing breathlessly Ingrid tried to restrain him.
“No, don’t! I didn’t order you to do this. What’s this … Oh …”
The drop of wine had trickled into her crotch of all places, and Willem’s tongue went after it.
“Oh Willem … don’t do that please … oh Jesus … Now you must really stop! Stop! I mean it!”
Willem stopped. Ingrid looked at him in confusion and great erotic excitement.
“It’s not midnight yet, Willem, you’re in too much of a hurry! Really, you must wait and do nothing I haven’t told you to do. And wait if I choose you or not. That goes for you too, Jan.”
I nodded.
She won and I lost. She thought for a moment. I waited breathlessly what she would order me to do. The tingle of desire in my naked body was more intense than ever. Oh God, at least let me feel her body. Only that can soothe this ache. Oh Ingrid, what do you want now?
“Please put on some nice, slow and sticky dancing music for me!”, she said with a sensual smile.
My heart jumped up again. Had she sensed my feelings? But now I finally could press her belly and thighs to mine, and finally I would feel her stiff nipples to my pining chest. And then … everything was still possible, nothing had been decided yet.
I picked a CD with the slowest, stickiest music I could find and put it into the player. I turned to Ingrid …
… and saw how she took Willem by the hand and went to the middle with the room with him.
Ingrid danced with Willem, slowly, slowly, with her belly and thighs pressed to his and her nipples sticking into Willem’s sturdy chest.
Every now and then Ingrid gave Willem a leg hug: wrapping one leg around his waist, her high-heeled foot above his buttocks, while standing one her other foot. That was part of the dance, but it looked uncomfortably like an invitation.
So they danced, five minutes, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, their naked bodies touching closely.
Then they sat down again. Ingrid’s body had a rosy colour and she had a soft, yearning look in her eyes.
Then she spoke to me: “Jan, the dirty dishes are still in the kitchen. Would you be a feminist darling and wash them up for me?”
I nodded. What game was she playing with me? Suddenly I felt my desire take a perverse turning. I decided to let the itch in his groin take over, and wait and see that would happen. If I could contribute anything at all to her pleasure, I’d enjoy that. I don’t care how, even though I go nuts with desire, I said to myself.
But I could play myself too. And I said: “Then, please, won’t you come with me to the kitchen to show me where to find everything?”
She laughed.
“Do you think you can’t find it yourself?”.
“Maybe I could, but I’d love it so much to hear the ticking of your heels when you walk with me to the kitchen.”
“Well, that’s a nice reason! Come, I’ll show you around in the kitchen.”
So she went before me through the corridor to the kitchen, her heels clicking on the stone floor. My heart pounded in my chest.
“Did you enjoy yourself? Was it nice to dance like that?”, I asked while I started doing the dishes.
“Naked body to naked body, you mean? Yes, that’s delightful! Much more fun than the dishes. Did you find everything now, darling?”
“Only a few moments please, before I hear your heels ticking away from me again, to the room. What amused you most? To dance skin-to-skin with Willem, or to make me put on the CD? I really thought you invited me to dance, skin-to-skin! My skin really tingled with expectation! And then I saw you rubbing your body to Willem’s! And my skin still won’t stop tingling!”
“Am I making it too hard for you?”, she asked with a look of concern in her eyes, and caressed my arm for a moment. I shivered when I felt her soft hand touch my skin.
“Come on. Just amuse yourself! We promised you! I put on that CD for you, so you could dance. And although I hoped you’d dance with me, now I’ll do the dishes, so you don’t have to think about them anymore. So you’re free to enjoy yourself! It’s your party, and we do it all for your pleasure! That CD wasn’t finished yet, you know?”
She looked at me for a moment and smiled. She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t find the words she wanted to say.
I felt an almost uncontrollable desire to grab and kiss her wildly, but yet I restrained myself.
Ingrid blew a kiss at me, turned around and left the kitchen. (Click, click, her heels ticked on the floor, her buttocks slightly swaying in the half-dark of the corridor). I looked after her. She opened the door to the living room and went in. I didn’t see her anymore.
I sighed and went on with the dishes. I heard Willem’s voice, then Ingrid’s. Then I heard music, and the shuffling of a dancing couple. The tingling in my loins was starting to smart.
… And then my wristwatch gave a little beep. Midnight! So late already? What would Ingrid and Willem be doing? I quickly finished the dishes, put everything in the cupboard and hurriedly went to the living room. Would I get Ingrid at last, at last now, or would he have to go on with my seed burning in my balls, without hope for release? I did not feel at ease with that thought. But now I just had to know!
I entered the room. Ingrid and Willem were still dancing, intimately entwined in each other’s arms, her white body unbearably beautifully contrasting against his sun-burned skin. Hadn’t she made her choice yet, then?
I opened my mouth to ask Ingrid about it. And closed it again immediately. What funny movements her hips were making. Her hips her buttocks … slowly rocking forward and backwards with the music’s rhythm. Her breath halted and panted a little. Then she gave a soft, groaning sigh, from deep inside her throat. Willem gave her a long and intense kiss.
They were fucking. While dancing! Ingrid was a tall woman, and on her high heels she could take Willem’s cock into her cunt, while dancing!
And hadn’t I suggested she’d go dancing again with him? Hadn’t I said I had put on the CD for her, and then would do the dishes so she would be free to enjoy herself? That I did it all for her pleasure? Well then! I felt as if I had given up my chance of sexual fulfillment myself. Although she had clearly preferred Willem from the start.
My desire now really hurt me physically, the tingling had become aching. I felt a lump in my throat and tears welled up in my eyes. I had seen the blow coming, in fact I had even provoked it. And yet it struck much harder than I had expected.
Oh Ingrid …
But I had promised her. I wouldn’t whimper. I had no right to whimper. If this was the way I could give her pleasure, then I would have to bear this pain for her gratification. She had looked forward so much to this hot game I had proposed myself, now I had no right to spoil the fun for her.
She looked at me, at my face and my crotch. My pain and frustration would surely show clearly in my face. My cock quivered, as hard as a club, the glans a purplish red. I felt a drop of moisture trickling down my throbbing shaft. Before I knew myself, I uttered a groaning sigh.
Oh Ingrid …
Did she hear me? Anyway, it excited her visibly to see me like that, unsatisfied and rejected: her pelvis’ movements became more thrusting and less regular. She gasped and groaned audibly with pleasure. A very thin film of sweat covered her face.
She looked at me and smiled satanically: “Look, good boy, this is what they call sex! Now you can see for yourself what it is.”
Ouch! But I couldn’t keep my eyes off her bewitching movements. Despite my heart’s and balls’ ache, I looked on in utter fascination. Unbelievable! Such a beautiful woman! In someone else’s arms, and with only a few feet of air between her skin and mine!
And that haunting witch-dance went on and on. It had lasted about a quarter of an hour now, and Ingrid and Willem were hardly able to keep up the music’s rhythm anymore. It was less and less dancing and more and more fucking while standing up. Ingrid’s groaning sighs had become panting little cries now. Willem stroked her sacrum, between her loins and her buttocks.
Suddenly she grasped Willem’s other hand and pressed it roughly against one of her breasts. “Mmmm!”, she groaned impatiently.
Willem began to massage the breast, while Ingrid rubbed the other one. Her head fell backwards, her eyes closed and her mouth wide open, grimacing with pleasure. Their hips moved frantically and hungrily. The film of sweat now also covered Ingrid’s breasts and loins. Now her hips moved as if she tried to catch the approaching orgasm between them. Her skin had a red glow now, as if she blushed over her entire body.
And then she let out a shivering cry, and another one, and another one and another one as the glowing shoots of pleasure convulsed her groin. Her hips her buttocks jerked wildly, her face covered with sweat and contorted with pleasure.
It almost seemed as if her cries of gratification would not end, but finally they died away in shivering sighs. She laid her head against Willem’s shoulder, almost seeming to sob, the sweet cramps of pleasure slowly, slowly ebbing away. I thought I saw something moist flowing down her thighs.
Willem moaned: “Oh Ingrid, your body is so utterly sweet, I can’t hold back anymore!”
Ingrid looked intensely into his eyes, her lips less than half an inch from his. She whispered hoarsely: “You don’t have to hold back! Be my guest and empty your balls in me! ”
Then her lover really couldn’t hold back anymore: he screamed as his balls did empty themselves in hot spasms, shooting their liquid fire into her body. Ingrid kissed his lips and then laid her head on his shoulder. She sighed deeply in her post-orgasmic glow.
And I stood by and looked on, and I only thought: “She invites him to empty his balls into her. And I must sweat it out. My poor bursting balls, my poor cock, my poor naked body that needs her so badly and yet cannot get her. Her choice is final, she said. Did she mean that only for tonight? Or forever?”
Languidly Ingrid leaned on Willem’s body and looked at me.
“Can you handle it, Jan?”
I nodded, although I really thought I couldn’t.
“I promised! It was my own idea, wasn’t it? And now I am the one to remain unsatisfied. But you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and your orgasm makes you even doubly beautiful! As a man I’ll accept anything for that!”
“You’re sweet. And I really never came so intensely before! Can you believe me when I tell you that you made twice as horny for me by looking on? It was even hotter than my fantasy! When I heard you sigh ‘Oh Ingrid’ I almost went out of my mind!” she said with a tender smile.
I nodded again, swallowed the lump in my throat and smiled back.
“I’m awfully glad with you, Ingrid! And I´m very glad I could still contribute to your pleasure, with only air between your skin and mine! And seeing you so delightfully languid now!”
She blew another kiss at me, her smile mischievous now. Despite the ache of my unrequited longing the itch in my groin was ecstatic. Horrible it was, and sublime. Surely this wasn’t going to be the end of it.
And indeed, it wasn’t. Her choice had indeed been final, and in a little while I took leave with bursting balls. But at the front door our game already went further. I couldn’t resist asking why she had chosen Willem.
She stood in the opening of the door, gloriously naked, still with nothing on her body except her nylons and high heels. Her high hair still up, only a few locks had come loose when she came. Every passer-by in the street could have seen her like that.
“Are you sure you really wish to hear that? It might hit you hard, you know.”
“I know. And yet I would like to hear it from your own mouth. Why did you choose Willem and let me look on?”
She giggled a moment.
“Willem is more relaxed, more attractive, and he has a bigger cock!”
Ouch!
“And he gives me such sweet compliments. When he came in tonight, the first thing he said was: ‘Oh Ingrid, how beautiful you're again today!’ And that remark about my stiletto power, that was really a delightful trouvaille.”
So I didn’t give such sweet compliments. Ouch!
“But there is another reason.”
She giggled again.
“You’re such a correct feminist, Jan! Always a proper distance between my skin and yours, even without any clothes in between! Even when the two of us were together in the kitchen, and you were only doing my dishes as a correct feminist.
You gave opinions on feminism and high heels, from your head, but I didn’t hear you about my stiletto power. What you felt in your body you kept firmly shut behind your teeth.
Only later your cock showed me your really wanted me. Fortunately at least your cock gives me the compliments you don’t say aloud. Unfortunately for you, that same too late.
For I want feminism with sex! In stilettos! And I can’t have sex with a head with an opinion, even about feminism in high heels.
So I had already chosen to fuck with Willem, in my stiletto heels, delighting in your horny dick’s compliments.”
She looked closely at me, as if she wanted to see her words´ effect on me.
“That hard club I saw aching and suffering …”
(She suppressed a guffaw.)
“… from the sexless correctness of the man it´s attached to! In any case your responsible feminist admiration has given me an unbelievably horny evening. You are the ideal friend for my perverse desires. Shall I see you again soon?”
“Ouch … and ouch and ouch! And thrice ouch again! But certainly, I’ll always be at your service, whenever you want!”
We heard footsteps behind us in the street. Ingrid looked up to see.
“Who passed there?” I asked.
“A young man. He’s moving on again.”
“Did he see you?”
“I think so. He stopped for a moment, but then he went on in a hurry!” she sniggered.
“What a fool!” I sniggered.
“Now, sweety, I think I’d better go inside. Or else the police may come and ask what we’re doing here!”
“Can I give you just one kiss?”
“Too late. No more touching today!”
And she blew another kiss at me, with the same mischievous smile as with the last kiss-at-a-distance.
“But please call me soon!”, she said, before finally closing the door.
I walked home and felt extatic, frisking beside abysses of pain and despair.
But after that talk by the door my balls were really almost bursting. So at home I fucked my black leather sofa. I rubbed my glans to and fro over the sat, until my balls exploded, and I screamed while my sperm squirted in hot gushes over the black leather:
“Oh Ingrid!”
But the tingling feeling of yearning in my skin did not go away. It never would anymore.
Oh Ingrid …
FUCK MY WIFE!
CLICK BELOW TO FIND A BULL
She is a beautiful blonde woman, with an attractive, somewhat mischievous face, shining blue eyes, soft rosy cheeks with nice dimples in them when she smiles, and an expressive mouth with lovely full lips. She always wears her hair pinned up high, leaving her slender neck free. She has a gorgeous figure, somewhat full and yet slender at the same time: well-developed full breasts, a narrow waist with wide hips underneath (but not too wide), long legs with full, firm thighs, shapely calves and slender ankles. Which she always accentuates by wearing high stiletto heels.
Very soon I was crazy with longing for her. I had made her acquaintance at a dancing school, and I dated her sometimes, or visited her at home. And then usually we danced a little, and I could press her supple body to mine. But it had never gone any further than that: we might dance sensual tangos, a dance that’s sometimes called ‘sex with your clothes on’, but no more than that. Not even a kiss … let alone anything without our clothes on.
I felt the desire not only in my groin, but also in my belly, my chest and my throat: a tingling feeling in my skin that was only temporarily assuaged when I masturbated, yet I would never feel really relieved. Only the touch of her flesh against mine could cure me of that desperate longing that sometimes made me think of a disease.
Yet I didn’t have the nerve to approach her. She wasn’t prudish, I knew she had several lovers to satisfy her sexual desires, but she would not give up her independence for any man. And she wasn’t shy about that at all.
Then why was I so shy with her? I vaguely feared she wouldn’t find me attractive enough … but that might be only the fear of rejection. Besides, with other women I never felt so bowled over if one happened not to want me. I could always find someone else. So there was nothing to fear, was there? … But for some reason it was different with Ingrid.
In short, Love’s lightning had already struck me terribly. And then it struck again, even more terribly. Read, and tremble, oh men!
I had come to visit her, and as always his longing for her almost constricted my throat. She wore blue that night: a blue blouse, a somewhat tight blue skirt that showed her enticing buttocks and thighs well, and blue nylon stockings underneath. Her skirt crept up a little when she sat down, and I saw the skin of her thighs showed delightfully against her stockings . And though she was tall for a woman, she wore blue shoes with high stiletto heels that accentuated the beauty of her gorgeous legs even more. She had her hair up as usual, only a few little curls hung loose cutely beside her fase.
We had been chatting. About sex! And about men’s and women’s roles, and the advantages and disadvantages of casual sexual contacts. With a straight face I had been voicing very women-friendly opinions on that, but I had been as silent as the grave about my own feelings.
For example, we discussed the compatibility of feminism and high heels. Of course, I said: if a woman feels comfortable enough with them, then why not? But I didn’t have the guts to say anything about the crushing effect her high heels had on me. (Oh … how they lenghtened her beautiful long legs even more. Oh, how they made her hips’ buttocks’ thighs’ tempting movements even more voluptuous when she walked. How their ticking on the floor seemed to pierce my heart: it almost hurt me physically!)
However, I was thinking that now I should at last …
The bell rang. Ingrid walked to the front door (‘click, click’, her heels sounded on the stone floor in the corridor) and she greeted the second visitor enthusiastically. It was Willem, another guy from the dancing school whom she also dated occasionally. Willem was a handsome, cheerful fellow with an athletic slender body and a naughty bad-boy smile with dark eyes and black curly hair; an easy, humorous talker with a rapid flux-de-bouche.
Ingrid used to call Willem a ‘true Amsterdammer’ (“een ras-Amsterdammer”), and she clearly meant that as a compliment. I always felt a bit uneasy when I saw Ingrid and Willem together, although I didn’t want to admit that to myself.
Willem sat down and the three of them went on chatting. Still about sex and relationships. Willem sometimes made a witty remark which made Ingrid laugh delightedly. I joined in the laughter, but cursed myself at the same time that I hadn’t thought of a joke like that.
For example: “What were you talking about before I arrived?”
“About feminism and high heels!”, Ingrid said.
“Are you a feminist?”, Willem asked.
“In principle, yes, but today I’m not. For today is High Heels Day!” she said with a coquettish smile.
“Today, you say? I never saw you otherwise than in stiletto heels! But do you mean high heels aren’t feminist?”
“Many feminists say they’re not. Well, Jan is a feminist man, and he has another opinion.”
She smiled ironically, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Well, so do I! High heels are pure female power! They make us men completely powerless! At least, as long as you keep the strings tightly as a woman. I understand Jan completely, you know. Long live women’s stiletto power!”
She laughed, again with that delightful ironic smile:
“So even men can teach me something about feminism. But don’t you guys objectify me, if I wear high heels for your pleasure? Isn’t that called ‘the male gaze’?”
“No, sweet Ingrid”, Willem said. “The real male look admires you! And you enchant us through it! Without heels too, of course, but with heels our fate is sealed for good! If men objectify you, it’s because they can’t stand that. Such men can’t bear your stiletto power!”
“At least you can say it beautifully. Besides, a little bit of objectification can be quite fun, if at least you guys can bear my stiletto power!”
And Ingrid laughed delightedly at him. I laughed with them, but I cursed myself that I hadn’t thought of making a remark about her stiletto power.
Was I mistaken, or was there really something not quite definable growing in the room’s atmosphere? Ingrid’s cheeks were always somewhat rosy. Was her blush really deepening, or did I only imagine it? Were her shining eyes really shining even more?
I caught himself trying to see to whom Ingrid’s eyes turned more often: to Willem or to me? Was Willem really winning out on that point, or was that only my own fear?
And then Willem made the proposal that I hadn’t dared myself.
“Shall we do a little game of strip poker?” With a straight face, just like that, you know.
I half expected Willem would get a slap in his face. But Ingrid’s only looked at Willem with surprise and then pensively.
“Strip poker? And then? You can’t make me believe you want to leave it at that. Besides, there are three of us. Jan, what do you think? Isn’t this too impudent to be acceptable?”
But she said this with a smile, a little ironic again, but not angry.
Now! Now I had to drop my restraint!
“Seems fun to me too! But you’re probably right that Willem and I don’t want to leave it at that.”
“Exactly!”, Willem added with a broad grin.
Ingrid looked back reservedly.
“Well, no”, she said. “No way, and that’s that. I don’t want to make love to two men at the same time. I did have a threesome once, and I didn’t like that enough to do it again. And just teasing the two of you by undressing … no, I don’t want to do that either.”
“But then why don’t you pick one of us? Then only one man will remain unsatisfied, but otherwise all three of us!”
Had I said that myself? What was coming over me?
(There was an itch in my groin that demanded I’d make happen whatever might happen.)
Now Ingrid’s blush really deepened.
“What are you saying? And the one I don’t choose? Before his very eyes …?”
“Yes!”, Willem said. “What if Jan and I both promise to you we will both accept your choice? If I can’t get you, I’d find it very exciting at least to see you, preferably in action! I promise you! Jan, please promise her as well!”
I nodded. What else could I do? I had been the one to propose it in the first place.
(And the itch in my groin urged: “Come on! Make it happen!”)
Ingrid was silent for a while and licked her lips (without noticing herself).
“Oh my God … what a hot proposal! Do I dare accept it? I’ve been dreaming of this for years: two men competing for me, then me having hot sex with one of them, and letting the other man look on, aching with desire! I always found that a bit too cruel to put it into practice, but if you propose it yourselves … are both of you certain you dare take the risk? For it might be really hard for one of you! Do both of you promise you’ll accept my choice without complaining?”
Willem nodded with enthousiasm. I swallowed, drew a deep breath, and said: “Yes!”
“But then you’ll have to promise something else as well: that the guy who doesn’t get me, doesn’t masturbate either. And my choice is final! The other one won’t get me afterward either! That’s my fantasy. Maybe you find it cruel, but if you want to make our little game really exciting for me … Do you both promise?”
“OK”, I said hoarsely.
(The itch in my groin got hotter and hotter, though I dreaded what might happen.)
“OK! We’ll both empty our balls only if you let us! Tonight, Jan and I must make you enjoy yourself as much we can, and you decide the outcome! Now, isn’t this feminism in high heels?”, Willem said.
Ingrid laughed delightedly.
“Oh, you’re both great! I’ve been dreaming of this for years! It’s really, really very sweet of you that you’re willing to do this for me! By the way, I don’t have any playing cards, but we could do something with dice as well. I hope you realize what risk you’re about to take. I’ll tell my choice at the end of the evening, so both of you will have to suffer a bit for some time. Let’s get started now!”
Half an hour later almost all clothing had been removed from our bodies, with a lot of laughter and erotic thrill, and now all three of us were naked. Only at Willem’s request Ingrid had kept her suspender belt on, and her nylon stockings and high-heeled shoes. She had smiled at that request.
“That excites you, doesn’t it? And you too, Jan! Well, OK, now I understand that that’s actually very feminist. So look on with your male gaze, and enjoy!”
“We both promise you that our male gaze will admire you, and won’t objectify you!”, Willem said. Ingrid laughed loudly.
“You flatterer! But please go on with it! Even if you objectify me, it’s really very much fun. My stiletto feminism can’t have enough of it! That way I really do like feminism: with sex, and in high heels!”
When she made a move to loosen her pinned-up hair, I asked her to keep it up.
“It’s such a lovely sight to see your smooth neck, and your ears!” She smiled warmly at this request and kept her hair pinned up high.
There we were sitting! Ingrid sat down on the three-seater like a Dutch Venus, her left leg drawn up under her body, half turned to Willem who also sat on the three-seater, about three feet away from her.
I sat on an armchair and thought my eyes would pop from my head. Oh what a gorgeous body. Her breasts were big and full, and yet hardly sagged. Her pert brown-red nipples were erect, and under those delightful breasts he saw her smooth belly. And underneath her belly, at the top of her thighs, a little tuft of blond hair. Because of the way she sat, her thighs were spread apart a little, and I could vaguely discern her labia, at least partly. I thought I saw some glistening moisture, but maybe I only imagined that.
Willem couldn’t keep his eyes off her either and had a huge erection. I was so excited that I thought my throbbing cock would burst.
Ingrid smiled at us as if she wanted to say: “Well, what do you gentlemen think of it?” I had a funny feeling: what now?
“Who’s your choice now”, Willem said with a hoarse voice.
“Easy, easy, gorgeous, don’t be in such a hurry!”, Ingrid answered. “At the end of the evening I’ll tell you who my choice will be. It’s quarter past eleven now, so just be a little bit patient, both of you. But in the meantime we could play some more games.”
“What do you mean?”, I asked.
Willem had an idea. “With the stripping game we told each other to put off a piece of clothing. We might go on in the same way. If Ingrid wins, she can give an order to the guy who loses. And if you or I win, he can give an order to Ingrid.”
“So I have a chance of two in three to lose? Fine! I’m fond of losing games like that”, Ingrid said. “But only I am allowed to give orders to touch my body.”
“Can’t we make requests to touch you either?”, I asked.
“Yes, but I may refuse. Maybe I’ll grant to the other guy what I refuse to the first. Then you’ll know who really wins. OK? But, whatever I allow you to do or not, doesn’t mean a thing about the choice I’ll make after midnight. That will keep up excitement for both of you!”
So we played on. The first time Ingrid won and I lost. She let me pour a glass of wine for her.
Then Willem won. He let Ingrid play with her breasts: she had to put her hands beneath them, and pinch and knead them lightly, while her fingers rhythmically rubbed her nipples. Her blush became deeper and she breathed a little bit more heavily, her eyes half closed.
Willem asked: “Can you get an orgasm if you go on like that?”.
“Sometimes”, she sighed, “but I want to keep that for later now. OK, let go on!”
I won, and I asked Ingrid if I could kiss her legs.
“Yes, that’s allright.” (My heart jumped.) “You may kiss my heels! I’m sure you’ll enjoy that. But remember, only my heels, and nothing else!”
And so I kissed and licked her high heels tenderly, but of course she wouldn’t feel that. I didn’t go any further, just as she had told me. With a sigh of yearning I sat down again.
Now she won, and Willem lost.
“Kiss my neck and my breasts”, she said.
I felt a shock. Would she … but she had said clearly enough that her choices before midnight would not have anything to do with her final choice.
Willem kissed the side of her neck tenderly, under her ear; then his mouth went down to her breast; to her nipple, which now disappeared inside his mouth. Willem sucked her nipple slowly and Ingrid let him do as he pleased. Willem’s mouth moved to her other nipple, then upwards again over her other breast; her neck up to the ear, and finally Willem very softly bit her earlobe.
And then Willem withdrew. It didn’t escape my attention that Ingrid looked at Willem’s athletic body with pleasure. Willem looked back intensely.
They played on, and I won again.
“May I feed you a sip of wine from my mouth?” (My former lover had found that very erotic.)
“No”, she said. “Let’s see, that means that Willem must do it now. Come, Willem!”
Angrily and with a pounding heart I looked on how Willem gave her the tongue kiss that I had wanted to give her. A red drop of wine trickled downward along her neck, between her breasts, over her smooth belly.
“Wait, let me lick that up”, Willem said. Laughing breathlessly Ingrid tried to restrain him.
“No, don’t! I didn’t order you to do this. What’s this … Oh …”
The drop of wine had trickled into her crotch of all places, and Willem’s tongue went after it.
“Oh Willem … don’t do that please … oh Jesus … Now you must really stop! Stop! I mean it!”
Willem stopped. Ingrid looked at him in confusion and great erotic excitement.
“It’s not midnight yet, Willem, you’re in too much of a hurry! Really, you must wait and do nothing I haven’t told you to do. And wait if I choose you or not. That goes for you too, Jan.”
I nodded.
She won and I lost. She thought for a moment. I waited breathlessly what she would order me to do. The tingle of desire in my naked body was more intense than ever. Oh God, at least let me feel her body. Only that can soothe this ache. Oh Ingrid, what do you want now?
“Please put on some nice, slow and sticky dancing music for me!”, she said with a sensual smile.
My heart jumped up again. Had she sensed my feelings? But now I finally could press her belly and thighs to mine, and finally I would feel her stiff nipples to my pining chest. And then … everything was still possible, nothing had been decided yet.
I picked a CD with the slowest, stickiest music I could find and put it into the player. I turned to Ingrid …
… and saw how she took Willem by the hand and went to the middle with the room with him.
Ingrid danced with Willem, slowly, slowly, with her belly and thighs pressed to his and her nipples sticking into Willem’s sturdy chest.
Every now and then Ingrid gave Willem a leg hug: wrapping one leg around his waist, her high-heeled foot above his buttocks, while standing one her other foot. That was part of the dance, but it looked uncomfortably like an invitation.
So they danced, five minutes, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, their naked bodies touching closely.
Then they sat down again. Ingrid’s body had a rosy colour and she had a soft, yearning look in her eyes.
Then she spoke to me: “Jan, the dirty dishes are still in the kitchen. Would you be a feminist darling and wash them up for me?”
I nodded. What game was she playing with me? Suddenly I felt my desire take a perverse turning. I decided to let the itch in his groin take over, and wait and see that would happen. If I could contribute anything at all to her pleasure, I’d enjoy that. I don’t care how, even though I go nuts with desire, I said to myself.
But I could play myself too. And I said: “Then, please, won’t you come with me to the kitchen to show me where to find everything?”
She laughed.
“Do you think you can’t find it yourself?”.
“Maybe I could, but I’d love it so much to hear the ticking of your heels when you walk with me to the kitchen.”
“Well, that’s a nice reason! Come, I’ll show you around in the kitchen.”
So she went before me through the corridor to the kitchen, her heels clicking on the stone floor. My heart pounded in my chest.
“Did you enjoy yourself? Was it nice to dance like that?”, I asked while I started doing the dishes.
“Naked body to naked body, you mean? Yes, that’s delightful! Much more fun than the dishes. Did you find everything now, darling?”
“Only a few moments please, before I hear your heels ticking away from me again, to the room. What amused you most? To dance skin-to-skin with Willem, or to make me put on the CD? I really thought you invited me to dance, skin-to-skin! My skin really tingled with expectation! And then I saw you rubbing your body to Willem’s! And my skin still won’t stop tingling!”
“Am I making it too hard for you?”, she asked with a look of concern in her eyes, and caressed my arm for a moment. I shivered when I felt her soft hand touch my skin.
“Come on. Just amuse yourself! We promised you! I put on that CD for you, so you could dance. And although I hoped you’d dance with me, now I’ll do the dishes, so you don’t have to think about them anymore. So you’re free to enjoy yourself! It’s your party, and we do it all for your pleasure! That CD wasn’t finished yet, you know?”
She looked at me for a moment and smiled. She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t find the words she wanted to say.
I felt an almost uncontrollable desire to grab and kiss her wildly, but yet I restrained myself.
Ingrid blew a kiss at me, turned around and left the kitchen. (Click, click, her heels ticked on the floor, her buttocks slightly swaying in the half-dark of the corridor). I looked after her. She opened the door to the living room and went in. I didn’t see her anymore.
I sighed and went on with the dishes. I heard Willem’s voice, then Ingrid’s. Then I heard music, and the shuffling of a dancing couple. The tingling in my loins was starting to smart.
… And then my wristwatch gave a little beep. Midnight! So late already? What would Ingrid and Willem be doing? I quickly finished the dishes, put everything in the cupboard and hurriedly went to the living room. Would I get Ingrid at last, at last now, or would he have to go on with my seed burning in my balls, without hope for release? I did not feel at ease with that thought. But now I just had to know!
I entered the room. Ingrid and Willem were still dancing, intimately entwined in each other’s arms, her white body unbearably beautifully contrasting against his sun-burned skin. Hadn’t she made her choice yet, then?
I opened my mouth to ask Ingrid about it. And closed it again immediately. What funny movements her hips were making. Her hips her buttocks … slowly rocking forward and backwards with the music’s rhythm. Her breath halted and panted a little. Then she gave a soft, groaning sigh, from deep inside her throat. Willem gave her a long and intense kiss.
They were fucking. While dancing! Ingrid was a tall woman, and on her high heels she could take Willem’s cock into her cunt, while dancing!
And hadn’t I suggested she’d go dancing again with him? Hadn’t I said I had put on the CD for her, and then would do the dishes so she would be free to enjoy herself? That I did it all for her pleasure? Well then! I felt as if I had given up my chance of sexual fulfillment myself. Although she had clearly preferred Willem from the start.
My desire now really hurt me physically, the tingling had become aching. I felt a lump in my throat and tears welled up in my eyes. I had seen the blow coming, in fact I had even provoked it. And yet it struck much harder than I had expected.
Oh Ingrid …
But I had promised her. I wouldn’t whimper. I had no right to whimper. If this was the way I could give her pleasure, then I would have to bear this pain for her gratification. She had looked forward so much to this hot game I had proposed myself, now I had no right to spoil the fun for her.
She looked at me, at my face and my crotch. My pain and frustration would surely show clearly in my face. My cock quivered, as hard as a club, the glans a purplish red. I felt a drop of moisture trickling down my throbbing shaft. Before I knew myself, I uttered a groaning sigh.
Oh Ingrid …
Did she hear me? Anyway, it excited her visibly to see me like that, unsatisfied and rejected: her pelvis’ movements became more thrusting and less regular. She gasped and groaned audibly with pleasure. A very thin film of sweat covered her face.
She looked at me and smiled satanically: “Look, good boy, this is what they call sex! Now you can see for yourself what it is.”
Ouch! But I couldn’t keep my eyes off her bewitching movements. Despite my heart’s and balls’ ache, I looked on in utter fascination. Unbelievable! Such a beautiful woman! In someone else’s arms, and with only a few feet of air between her skin and mine!
And that haunting witch-dance went on and on. It had lasted about a quarter of an hour now, and Ingrid and Willem were hardly able to keep up the music’s rhythm anymore. It was less and less dancing and more and more fucking while standing up. Ingrid’s groaning sighs had become panting little cries now. Willem stroked her sacrum, between her loins and her buttocks.
Suddenly she grasped Willem’s other hand and pressed it roughly against one of her breasts. “Mmmm!”, she groaned impatiently.
Willem began to massage the breast, while Ingrid rubbed the other one. Her head fell backwards, her eyes closed and her mouth wide open, grimacing with pleasure. Their hips moved frantically and hungrily. The film of sweat now also covered Ingrid’s breasts and loins. Now her hips moved as if she tried to catch the approaching orgasm between them. Her skin had a red glow now, as if she blushed over her entire body.
And then she let out a shivering cry, and another one, and another one and another one as the glowing shoots of pleasure convulsed her groin. Her hips her buttocks jerked wildly, her face covered with sweat and contorted with pleasure.
It almost seemed as if her cries of gratification would not end, but finally they died away in shivering sighs. She laid her head against Willem’s shoulder, almost seeming to sob, the sweet cramps of pleasure slowly, slowly ebbing away. I thought I saw something moist flowing down her thighs.
Willem moaned: “Oh Ingrid, your body is so utterly sweet, I can’t hold back anymore!”
Ingrid looked intensely into his eyes, her lips less than half an inch from his. She whispered hoarsely: “You don’t have to hold back! Be my guest and empty your balls in me! ”
Then her lover really couldn’t hold back anymore: he screamed as his balls did empty themselves in hot spasms, shooting their liquid fire into her body. Ingrid kissed his lips and then laid her head on his shoulder. She sighed deeply in her post-orgasmic glow.
And I stood by and looked on, and I only thought: “She invites him to empty his balls into her. And I must sweat it out. My poor bursting balls, my poor cock, my poor naked body that needs her so badly and yet cannot get her. Her choice is final, she said. Did she mean that only for tonight? Or forever?”
Languidly Ingrid leaned on Willem’s body and looked at me.
“Can you handle it, Jan?”
I nodded, although I really thought I couldn’t.
“I promised! It was my own idea, wasn’t it? And now I am the one to remain unsatisfied. But you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and your orgasm makes you even doubly beautiful! As a man I’ll accept anything for that!”
“You’re sweet. And I really never came so intensely before! Can you believe me when I tell you that you made twice as horny for me by looking on? It was even hotter than my fantasy! When I heard you sigh ‘Oh Ingrid’ I almost went out of my mind!” she said with a tender smile.
I nodded again, swallowed the lump in my throat and smiled back.
“I’m awfully glad with you, Ingrid! And I´m very glad I could still contribute to your pleasure, with only air between your skin and mine! And seeing you so delightfully languid now!”
She blew another kiss at me, her smile mischievous now. Despite the ache of my unrequited longing the itch in my groin was ecstatic. Horrible it was, and sublime. Surely this wasn’t going to be the end of it.
And indeed, it wasn’t. Her choice had indeed been final, and in a little while I took leave with bursting balls. But at the front door our game already went further. I couldn’t resist asking why she had chosen Willem.
She stood in the opening of the door, gloriously naked, still with nothing on her body except her nylons and high heels. Her high hair still up, only a few locks had come loose when she came. Every passer-by in the street could have seen her like that.
“Are you sure you really wish to hear that? It might hit you hard, you know.”
“I know. And yet I would like to hear it from your own mouth. Why did you choose Willem and let me look on?”
She giggled a moment.
“Willem is more relaxed, more attractive, and he has a bigger cock!”
Ouch!
“And he gives me such sweet compliments. When he came in tonight, the first thing he said was: ‘Oh Ingrid, how beautiful you're again today!’ And that remark about my stiletto power, that was really a delightful trouvaille.”
So I didn’t give such sweet compliments. Ouch!
“But there is another reason.”
She giggled again.
“You’re such a correct feminist, Jan! Always a proper distance between my skin and yours, even without any clothes in between! Even when the two of us were together in the kitchen, and you were only doing my dishes as a correct feminist.
You gave opinions on feminism and high heels, from your head, but I didn’t hear you about my stiletto power. What you felt in your body you kept firmly shut behind your teeth.
Only later your cock showed me your really wanted me. Fortunately at least your cock gives me the compliments you don’t say aloud. Unfortunately for you, that same too late.
For I want feminism with sex! In stilettos! And I can’t have sex with a head with an opinion, even about feminism in high heels.
So I had already chosen to fuck with Willem, in my stiletto heels, delighting in your horny dick’s compliments.”
She looked closely at me, as if she wanted to see her words´ effect on me.
“That hard club I saw aching and suffering …”
(She suppressed a guffaw.)
“… from the sexless correctness of the man it´s attached to! In any case your responsible feminist admiration has given me an unbelievably horny evening. You are the ideal friend for my perverse desires. Shall I see you again soon?”
“Ouch … and ouch and ouch! And thrice ouch again! But certainly, I’ll always be at your service, whenever you want!”
We heard footsteps behind us in the street. Ingrid looked up to see.
“Who passed there?” I asked.
“A young man. He’s moving on again.”
“Did he see you?”
“I think so. He stopped for a moment, but then he went on in a hurry!” she sniggered.
“What a fool!” I sniggered.
“Now, sweety, I think I’d better go inside. Or else the police may come and ask what we’re doing here!”
“Can I give you just one kiss?”
“Too late. No more touching today!”
And she blew another kiss at me, with the same mischievous smile as with the last kiss-at-a-distance.
“But please call me soon!”, she said, before finally closing the door.
I walked home and felt extatic, frisking beside abysses of pain and despair.
But after that talk by the door my balls were really almost bursting. So at home I fucked my black leather sofa. I rubbed my glans to and fro over the sat, until my balls exploded, and I screamed while my sperm squirted in hot gushes over the black leather:
“Oh Ingrid!”
But the tingling feeling of yearning in my skin did not go away. It never would anymore.
Oh Ingrid …
 TAKE MY WIFE |
 FUCK ME |
Poster:
singlecuckold