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Strapon story

The skintight black patent leather minidress should have been the first warning. Instead, it was the bait, and she reeled me right in. I'd stopped off at my favorite hangout after work. It was mostly older college students and young professionals not too far removed from the campus. I was chatting with a few buddies when I spotted her. 

She was just standing on the edge of the dance floor, surveying the room, her hips barely undulating in time to the music. She was the woman who had starred in my erotic dreams since I was a teenager: wavy black hair to the middle of her back, creamy white skin, a petite curvy form with bulging breasts above flaring hips and a narrow waist any woman would kill for. Her lips were glossed a wine shade of red and her hair was in cute bangs in front. 

Her whole package was shown off in that shiny black dress, black stockings with seams and low-heeled black patent shoes. I was in love! 

I approached her, ready with one of my best lines, but she cut me off. ``You're cute,'' she said. ``I'll take you.'' Then she grabbed my hand and pulled me, stunned, onto the dance floor. As I trailed behind, I watched her cute little butt wiggle in the shiny black dress and started growing an impressive hard-on. Fast songs or slow, she danced so close that some part of her was always touching me: hands, arms, breasts, hair, butt. During one slow song, she reached behind and planted my hands on her ass. 

As I caressed her cheeks, I could feel the unmistakable presence of garters beneath. What a hot one I had! When the song ended, she looked into my eyes and licked her lips. ``Listen,'' she said, ``we both know why we're here. Why don't we just head back to my place?'' She grabbed my hand and led me out the door. It seemed we had only danced a few songs, but it already was dark out. She led me to a cherry red Mustang convertible. ``Hop in!'' she said. And we sped off into the night. As we cruised along one of the highways that slices through the city, this mystery woman turned to me and said, ``I promise you the night of your life. We will have sex like you never dreamed possible. 

Just do everything I say and you will have fun like never before. Hesitate, even for a moment, and the fun stops.'' My cock made a noticeable bulge in my pants. ``Now, unzip that thing and start jerking off,'' she commanded. ``Remember, no hesitation.'' She didn't need to order me. I was dying for some relief. And I sure wasn't going to pass up a night with this hotty because she got a little kinky as she drove. 


My cock was hard and thick and hot as my hand slid up and down. It felt so good that it didn't really register that she had taken something from between her seat and the door. Before I knew it, the flash on one of those one-use cameras went off. ``Keep stroking, horny boy,'' she demanded. ``I just want some insurance.'' What the hell, I thought. But she wasn't satisfied. ``Strip!'' she ordered. ``Shoes, socks, everything.'' I was about to complain, but I remembered her warning about hesitation -- and the picture she had snapped. I stacked my clothes on the console between us. 

Despite the humiliation, my cock was still rock hard. She reached over and grabbed it. ``I love driving stick,'' she said, giving my cock a few of the most erotic strokes of my life. She did something with her fingers so they rippled as she jerked me up and down. It was incredible. She started to change lanes, and let go of my cock. I thought she did that to concentrate on her driving. But, instead, without saying a word, she grabbed my clothes and tossed them out of the car onto the side of the highway. ``Hey,'' I yelled. ``I need those. And my wallet's in there.'' ``If you ever want to see them again, you better start stroking again.'' We drove around like that for a while, me naked, her snapping pictures every now and then. 

We even got off the highway and drove on city streets. Suddenly, she pulled to the curb in front of a photoshop, which, thankfully, was closed for the night and deserted. I saw her write something, then drop her camera in a little envelope and slide it through a slot in the door. ``They'll be developed tomorrow,'' she said. ``Of course, you haven't got a clue what name I put them under, so don't even try to get there before me.'' We sped off again into the night. She was very quiet as we drove, as if she were lost in thought. The only thing she said was: ``I know it seems like I'm really being mean, but, trust me, and you'll have a night you'll never forget.'' We drove into a seedier part of the city, where she made me kneel on the seat and jerk off. That put me at just the elevation where people standing on the street could see what I was doing. 

Fortunately, the only people out walking were the trashy whores who worked the neighborhood. Several of them cheered on my mysterious driver, and one even flashed her tits and pussy at us. At long last, we pulled into a parking lot next to a tall apartment building. She drove through the lot as if she'd been there before, choosing a parking spot in a darkened corner as far from the building as possible. She gazed into my eyes with that droopy-lidded stare that bespoke desire and licked those wonderfully full, wine-colored lips, making them even glossier. ``Do you know what a blowjob is?'' she asked, then continued without waiting for my answer. ``I don't mean some girl just sucking you off. I mean the kind of blowjob that will make your dick twitch when you're an old man remembering this sexy night. This sexy girl

These sexy lips. I promise, after tonight, you'll know what a blowjob is.'' Then she bent slowly toward my crotch. She grabbed my shaft in one hand, which almost made me cum, and pulled her hair out of the way with the other, so I could see every bit of the action. She formed her luscious lips into an O-shape, and I could feel her panting breaths on the head of my cock. I closed my eyes, settled back into the leather seat and prepared myself to enjoy this. ``Come on,'' she said. ``Let's go.'' By the time I was fully aware of what was going on, she was out of the car and walking around to my side. ``Come on,'' she said as she opened the door. ``Get out. This is my place. 

We're going up to my apartment for the time of your life.'' She yanked my out of the car, and I sat naked on the pavement. I really didn't have much choice. The building had a security guard, and I blushed as she signed us in. ``Evening, Ms. Langton,'' the guard said, as if everything were normal. The ride to the seventh floor in the elevator was uneventful. But, when the doors slid open, two young women were waiting to get on. They giggled when they saw me. As they got on the elevator and we got off, I heard one of them say, ``She's always such a slut, but that...'' She opened the apartment door and we walked down a short hallway to what must have been the livingroom, except it was almost devoid of furniture. A black leather easy chair stood against one wall, and what looked like the frame for a glass-topped coffeetable was in the center of the room. The glass top was gone, but probably a dozen pieces of rope were attached to it. ``Let me make one thing clear,'' she said. ``You're going to do everything I say, or the pictures we took earlier are going up all over the city, with your name and your boss's name on them. Got it?'' I just nodded meekly; I knew I was trapped.

 She had me kneel near the heavy iron table frame, and tied me to it. The position was similar to being on all fours, except my arms were lashed to the frame, and didn't make it to the floor. My butt stuck up in the air, and my cock dangled freely. I was positioned so that I couldn't move my head much and could basically only see what was in front of me: a bare white wall. I was facing away from the easy chair. ``I'll be back,'' she said, and I heard her footsteps leave the room. When she returned, she stood in front of me, having changed into very tall spike heels, I might guess six inches even. From behind me, in the direction of the easy chair, I heard a vaguely familiar feminine giggle. Swell, I thought, I have an audience. I struggled to turn and see who it was, but I was incapable. The woman who had driven me to the apartment stood before me in profile. 

Besides slipping on the spike heels, she also had put on shiny black gloves that extended beyond her elbows. The heels had done wonderful things for her: Her calves were taut with sexual tension, the curves of her ass jutted out even farther and her breasts seemed magnified. As she stood before me, she held a long, white cigarette to her lips, and fired it up. My boner twitched and tingled. How could she know I had a smoking fetish? She puffed on the cigarette inexpertly, like someone who had just started smoking. It lent her an air of wicked innocence that drove me even wilder. She let out a long exhale, then dangled the cigarette between her pouty lips. 



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