My Place In Life free porn video

My Place in Life

01

The lift had broken, that was how it all started again, many years ago, when I was just nineteen. My first job had been with a builder?s merchant, shifting bags of cement, packs of bricks and timber, nothing that could be purchased there was lightweight it seemed. At nineteen I was a wimp, no doubt about it, skinny, almost to the point of emaciation, by twenty-one I was almost a hunk. That though is two years further on than I want to tell you about right now, so I will go back again, back to the year I turned nineteen, the year that, with the help of a loan from my father, I moved into my own place, a flat on the fifth floor of a block where the lift kept breaking down!

~*~

It had been a hard day, a local firm had ordered all the small red bricks to pave the driveways of their new, exclusive, eighteen house estate from us and I had been one of the three men moving them from our yard to their lorries. All I wanted to do now was collapse into a nice hot bath and then watch TV or maybe videos for the rest of the evening. I?d stopped at the fish and chip shop on the way home so I didn?t have to cook.

The sign hanging from the call button on the front of the lift had been adorned with graffiti. Where the official printing of ?Out of Order? finished someone had added ?Again? in a flowing hand. I could only nod in exhausted agreement with their sentiment as I placed one foot in front of the other and prepared to climb the ten flights to my own front door.

As I reached the third landing I saw her. She was older than me, maybe thirty, thirty-five, slim, tall, easily five-ten, or even five-eleven, her hair was what my sister, or one of them, would have called mouse. Brown but nothing special, apparently, although I thought it was wonderful. I thought she was wonderful also, we didn?t meet each other very often but every time we did my heart would beat faster, my brain would shut down and, although I was incredibly aroused, I never really knew why. This time though she looked at me as I passed and, for the first time, to my surprise, I managed to stutter out a ?hi, flaming lift,? or something similar. She just nodded but then smiled, her eyes softening, I saw her whole face soften in fact, and then it was gone, and so was she, opening her own door and disappearing inside.

The other four flights of stairs seemed to pose no problems and soon I too was inside my own flat, kicking my dust covered shoes off in the front hall and heading straight for the bathroom to put the equally dust encrusted clothes into the laundry basket. When I was naked I stepped into the shower, too excited now for a bath and, as the hot water pummelled my back, pumped my hard cock, bringing myself to the point of orgasm and then denial three times before turning the dial back to off and stepping out onto the blue foot shaped mat that lay in front of the shower cubicle door.

~*~

Maybe, to understand why I was so captivated by Susan, her name was Susan; I need to move back in time. I know my past is important to my present and hopefully my future and so I should explain a little about who, and what, I am before we get any deeper into this story.

My name is Martin, some people call me Mart, even Tinny, but never, ever, Marty, I hate that. I?m in my mid thirties now, but then, at nineteen, I was just starting to discover that what I wanted and needed in my life was linked permanently to my formative years between sixteen and eighteen. I am the youngest of five children, and the only boy, I?m also a twin. My mother and father were, to say the least, a little surprised when mum fell pregnant again, even though my dad is a doctor. My sisters ranged in age between five and eight on the day of our birth and from that April onwards I had four mothers and one, not very often at home, father.

Over the years I was, I have to admit, a spoilt rotten mamma?s boy. My mother, so I discovered later, had always wanted a son, although at forty-six, when I was born, she had also long given up the idea of having one and was waiting for grandchildren instead. My sisters, on the other hand, suddenly found that dolls do come to life and, as long as I did as I was told, my every day existence was very pleasant, disobey though and things change, rapidly.

I?m not sure of the exact age, but I can remember, long before I headed off for nursery school, that if I displeased any of my three elder sisters I would be put over their knee and become the recipient of, from little girls at least, a sound thrashing. These carried on well into my teens, as, for a long time, I was the smallest in the family, even though I was a boy. They convinced me to keep my hair fairly long as well, and I have to confess there was a lot of pleasure to be had just by sitting still and letting them comb it, curl it, even plait it.

As I got older, my twin sister, Martha and Fiona, the sister closest to us in age, began to become interested in me in ways other than that of someone to tease, punish or pamper. Fiona, who was very, very clever, top set everything she set her mind to, seemed to realize, when I hit sixteen to her twenty-one, that I could be of use to her. I heard her talking with the only other sister still at home, Martha, who was, as she loved to tell anyone who would listen, five minutes older than me. She was also, blossoming, just like I was, although obviously in different places.

My mother and father had announced, on our sixteenth birthdays to be exact, that Martha and I were now old enough to be left on our own over the weekend, especially if Fiona was home too. They joined a holiday club which gave discounts to some of the best hotels in the country and most Friday evenings saw them loading up their red MG sports car and heading out in one direction or another leaving me, to the delight of my sisters, the only male in the house.

The first weekend, a fortnight after we turned sixteen, was a turning point in my life, not that I knew it at the time. The three of us stood by the front door waving our parents off, a slip of paper on the phone table behind us, should we need, in a dire emergency only, to contact them. Looking back, fire, flood or, at a pinch, death would have been the only emergencies to get them to return early, none of those happened and so they never saw what went on behind their own closed doors.

Fiona and Martha had been having little conflabs all week, which would stop, or turn into fits of giggles, if I happened along. Now I was about to find out what they had been talking about.

?So, Martin, Martha and I think we need to discuss how these weekends are going to be run.? Fiona had her arms folded, a stern look on her face, and for some reason my heart began to race.

?O ? ok,? I gulped the word out, my head dropping into a submissive position without me even realizing it.

?That?s ?ok, Miss Fiona,? from now on.? Her voice made her sound like a schoolteacher and without looking up I spoke again.

?Yes, Miss Fiona.?? I was used to being told what to do, I was regularly ordered about but somehow this time it was different, more charged than usual. I didn?t know why but although I felt about three inches tall, which was also usual, I felt excited as well, my hands were clammy and I moved them behind me so that my sisters wouldn?t realize.

?We have decided that if you want us to continue being nice to you, then you will have to be extra nice to us in return. This means you do the cooking, the cleaning, all the things mum does, and then we will make sure you don?t get lonely over the weekend. Do you understand??

I didn?t, but had a feeling that wasn?t a good answer.

?Yes, Miss Fiona. What do you want me to do first??

What they wanted me to do was make the Friday tea. Mum had left all the ingredients for a spaghetti bolognaise, not out of a jar as she would do these days, but individual bits and pieces that, if put together correctly, should feed the three of us very nicely indeed.

Looking back, it?s a good thing I was in charge of the tidying up as well as the cooking. No one would have wanted to follow me into that kitchen. Gradually though, as the weekends went on, I became much tidier and far more expert, even changing the suggested menu and surprising my sisters.

For about the first six months I was just a lackey. I did everything I was told and in return I was cuddled, had my hair played with, sometimes Miss Fiona would even rub my shoulders when I was free from my chores. I didn?t mind any of the things that were happening, in fact I looked forward to the moment when the little red car would disappear from view and my sisters took over my care.

When things began to get a little more serious I didn?t question it, instead I realized there was no other way for our arrangement to move on, and I was happy with that. The Friday Miss Martha told me there would be a few changes was in September, it was pouring with rain and we had just turned the heating on for the first time since the late spring.

?Come here, boy.? She enjoyed that name more than anything I think, it emphasized her elder sister status every time she used it.

?Yes, Miss Martha.? I had been heading towards the kitchen to begin the dinner but now I turned and walked into the living room behind my sisters instead.

?Stand there, on the rug, we have things to tell you.?

I nodded at my twin, the excitement for some reason rushing through my veins, even though I had no idea what she was going to say.

?First of all, we are delighted at the way you have behaved over the summer, your food is wonderful, the house is always tidy when mum and dad get home, in fact you have exceeded our expectations for you.?

I just beamed, I wanted to cry, my heart was pounding, I managed to keep still, but it was difficult. The praise was more than I had ever expected, and I babbled my own response, although now, all these years later, I have no recollection of what I actually said.

?We are a little disappointed in your appearance though.?

The words brought me back to earth with a bump, they weren?t happy, all the food, the tidying up, the being there for them wasn?t enough, I had let them down.

?I?m ? I?m sorry, Miss Martha. How can I change things so I please you in everything I do??

With hindsight I can see that they were, very cleverly, whether they realized it or not, increasing their hold and influence over me and I was more than ready to let them.

?First of all, whenever mum and dad are away you will no longer wear a top.? Miss Fiona got to her feet as she spoke and moved towards me, causing me to back up towards the door double quick.

?What?? The one word was a squeak and I subconsciously grabbed hold of the hem of my t-shirt, not wanting anyone to touch it.

?Let go!?

I did, I had no power to refuse her and from that moment on, until changes were made again, I was bare chested the entire time our parents were on their little jaunts.

?Good grief, there?s more meat on Ralph!? My older sister laughed as she spoke and I looked down, tears clouding my eyes. Ralph was my father?s skeleton. A bone specialist at the local hospital he sometimes worked in his study at home on papers for various medical publications and Ralph was his constant, if silent, companion.

?He?s quite sweet really, but I have to say you?re right. Lift your arms.? Miss Martha moved a little closer to me as well and I did as I was told. ?At least he has hair underneath his arms. He has hairy legs too, I see him playing football on a Thursday afternoon in PE.?

I may as well have not been there; they discussed my physical attributes for a good five minutes without actually taking any notice of me at all. Then Miss Fiona looked at her watch, slapped me lightly on the chest and sent me off to make the dinner.

Again things went on like that for quite a while but the two of them were clearly enjoying my discomfort and I knew, before long, they would call me before them again.

It was the first anniversary of our being home alone when the next major humiliation occurred and this time they both began to realize I was enjoying myself as much as, if not more than, they were.

My sisters were now seventeen and twenty-two, Miss Fiona was, in my eyes a beautiful woman, and Miss Martha was too. My twin and I were in the sixth form of our school and could wear our own clothes rather than the school uniform we had suffered for the previous five years. As I stood in my usual place on the circular rug I could see that Miss Martha?s white shirt and her PE skirt were on the coffee table in front of them.

?As much as we?ve enjoyed looking at your chest over the past few months we have begun to think that it might not be awfully hygienic to have you cooking with your little nipples on show.? Miss Fiona reached out and pinched both brown nubs as she spoke and I felt myself blush and willed the stirring in my groin to go away.

?No, Miss Fiona.?

?Instead, we have a set of clothes for you to wear. You will need to make sure they are clean and ironed every Friday so that you can slip into them as soon as mum and dad leave. If they aren?t, well then, you know what will happen don?t you??

?Yes, Miss Fiona.? I was still being spanked if I was naughty, usually while I was positioned over the back of one of the kitchen chairs holding tightly to the arms. I had sprung up like a weed in the last year. No longer was I the smallest in the house, and both my sisters liked the way my bum stuck out when I was punished in that way.

?Take off your trousers then, we don?t have all evening!? Miss Martha, who was definitely the more bossy of the two, stood up and I hurried to do what I was told, only to stop dead in my tracks when I realized I was getting a hard on in front of my sisters.

?Oh, for goodness sake, let me do it for you!? She marched forward, but then she too stopped, but whereas I had been mortified she was delighted. ?Fi, look, he has a dick after all!?

Her hands were suddenly on the belt of my jeans, undoing first that and then the button and zipper. She pulled them down off my slim hips, my pants following in very short order, until I was naked before them, apart from my socks.

?For a wimp he?s quite a big boy isn?t he?? Miss Fiona stood in front of me, then she poked me, just the once in my ball sack, and my erection got even harder. I should have run away, shouted at them, pulled my jeans back on, anything to put me in control, after all I was the one who was being exposed, but I didn?t, instead I stood there, beet red from my toes to my ears, and said and did nothing.

?You know, I think we could have two uniforms. This one for when he isn?t cooking, and the other one for when he is.? Miss Martha, her eyes gleaming, spoke quietly but enthusiastically to my other sister and I saw her nod in response.

?Put these on, but once dinner is ready you will come back in here and strip off in front of us, is that understood??

?Yes, Miss Martha.? I reached out for the white shirt and slipped it on. Once I had done that I began to button it up but was stopped by a slap on my hand.

?No, no, that?s not how you wear it at all. I suppose I?ll have to show you.? She undid the two fastenings I had managed to do and then began to bunch up the cotton until she was able to tie the two sides together underneath my chest. No buttons were done up and my stomach, with its line of hair leading from my belly button to my pubic fur, was going to be visible whatever else I put on.

?Let me do the skirt.? Miss Fiona picked up the tiny blue item of female clothing and moved in front of my other sister. ?And lose those socks, you are never to wear them on the weekends again.?

?Yes, Miss Fiona.? I bent down quickly and slipped them off, my cock, which I suppose at that time was about six inches long, bobbed respectfully as I did so; I had never known it feel so hard before.

Once the skirt was on as well, both my sisters inspected the tented shape I was making in the front of it and laughed.

?Off you go, make us our dinner and then report back in here.? Miss Martha had finally sat down, and I realized, rather belatedly, that she was as sexually excited as I was. ?Oh, and you aren?t allowed to touch yourself either. We?ll be checking.?

It was as if it took my sisters at least a few weeks each time to test the boundaries they had set for me. I never received new instructions in concurrent weeks, or even months. Only when I had begun to get used to my new humiliations did they change, either to something worse or totally different.

By the time I was ready to move into my own place just after my nineteenth birthday I was their slave in everything but name. I made sure their bedrooms were tidy even when mum and dad were home. Every weekend I was expected to be with my sisters, my social life began on a Monday and ended on a Thursday. The Friday, Saturday and Sunday I only wore clothes when I was in the kitchen and I was expected to take all the comments as well as the slaps, pinches and strokes of my cock without comment.

During the week I now prepared a lot of the meals we all ate, and would have liked to have gone to catering college but my father wouldn?t hear of it. It was bad enough that I had long hair and no girlfriend, but to cook for a living as well, that was more than he could allow.

Miss Fiona had been the first one to decide that, as I was now eighteen and still a virgin, things needed to be taken, quite literally, in hand. As I remember I had cooked a particularly delicious quiche, with a beautiful salad, jacket potatoes and a strawberry meringue which, though I do say so myself, was to die for, and we were all sitting in the front room, happily enjoying the summer sun as it shone in through the French windows when she spoke.

?Miss Martha tells me you?ve never even seen a woman naked, is that right??

?Yes, Miss Fiona.? It wasn?t something I was proud of, but it was true, and I never could lie to my sisters.

?Would you like to??

?Oh, yes, Miss Fiona, more than anything.? I was, as usual, naked myself, as I had finished working in the kitchen, and my penis, which was flaccid until they began speaking, was now at half-mast.

?There are conditions attached to this.?

I didn?t care; I was humiliated by my lack of a girlfriend, and not in a pleasurable way.

?I?ll do whatever you want, Miss Fiona, you know that.?

?Yes, I do, don?t I.? It wasn?t a question, and I knew better than to answer her.

?Very well, I will explain to you what is going to happen.? She paused for a moment, just for effect, and then continued. ?First of all, you will be spanked, soundly. I don?t want you to think any of this is for your enjoyment. Once you have been punished then I will remove my clothes and you will be able to look, but absolutely no touching.?

?Yes, Miss Fiona, I understand.?

?Did I say you should speak?? Miss Fiona pointed towards the rug and I knew my place, in seconds I was on my knees looking down. I wasn?t sure when I had first been told to do that, but it was second nature now, to assume the position, so to speak, when I was in trouble.

?No, Miss, Fiona, please forgive me.?

?Once you have had a good look,? Miss Fiona continued as if I had remained silent, like I should have done, ?then I may let you learn a little about what a woman wants to happen to her when she is with a man. That depends on your behaviour up until that point though.?

?Stand up and come over here.? It was Miss Martha who spoke now, and I did as I was told. Of the two sisters she usually punished me. My sister was an enthusiastic tennis player and I felt the rough end of her forehand at least once a week.

?Lean forward so that you can grasp the arms of the chair.?

The chair in question was very comfortable, green in colour with wooden insets on the ends of the arms. I had to stand, facing the chair, and hold onto them when my punishment took place in the living room. I felt more pain when I was disciplined here; there was no chair back to stop me moving forwards and by the end my shoulders would hurt almost as much as my backside.

One sister, I?m not sure which, then nudged my feet apart until she could see my testicles hanging down. Once that was done they stood on either side of me and, again anonymously, lightly ran a hand over my bum cheeks and then a long nail down my spine. A thumb and forefinger grasped one of my nipples and pinched it hard, causing me to gasp out loud, even though I knew it was coming.

Through all of this my cock was getting harder and harder, but as I was never allowed to cum, not while we were in the living room, I knew I could do nothing about it. I had to wait until certain conditions were met. One was that it had to be something I was so desperate for I would kneel outside my sisters? bedrooms after lights out, with only the glow from under their closed doors to work with, and beg for their permission to wank myself off until my load shot across the hallway, so frantic was I for release. If one of them said no, then I was forbidden to cum. The second condition was that I had to be vocal; they wanted to hear me as I played with myself, and then, once I had cum I was to remain on my knees on the wooden floor and lick up all my spunk to their satisfaction.

Sometimes I wasn?t allowed to even beg, I had to go to bed with my erection so painful I had difficulty sleeping. Other times I had to play with myself in front of them, but there was no chance of me having to lick up my mess. I would work myself closer and closer to a climax and then one or other sister would stop me. They would hold my hands behind my back and wait, five, maybe ten minutes, all the time discussing my, to them, small dick, and how pathetic it was, sometimes flicking the tip or pinching at my balls, before I was instructed to start again. The most I could do was five almost climaxes, then I would be in tears, begging them, promising the earth to either sister if only they would let me keep stroking myself until that delicious feeling could explode along with all the semen their comments and humiliation had produced. I was never allowed to cum though, not when they ordered me to give them a show, and I knew it. It didn?t put me off; in fact it was so delicious, so exciting to me, that the denial was a huge part of the pleasure.

This time was different, I wanted so much to see Miss Fiona naked, but I knew the moment I did I would probably shoot my load and get into serious trouble. Before that though, I had the spanking to endure, and trying to clear my mind of the things which were to come, I lowered my head and closed my eyes.

SMACK!

?Thank you, Miss Martha.? I had shouted once a few years earlier, when they spanked me, and ever since I was expected to thank them for each slap.

SMACK!

?Thank you, Miss Fiona.? They were alternating the smacks and my heart sank. When that happened it meant I would be punished for twice as long. And if I happened to get their name wrong, then one of them would grasp my testicles hard and twist them each time I was slapped for up to ten hits.

Finally, when I was sobbing and my bottom felt like it was hot enough to cook eggs on, it was over. I was told to let go and then return to the rug. In many ways that was the worst part, even though it was quite old and soft in places, I was expected to sit on the very edge so there was always a hard piece underneath me somewhere.

?Put your hands behind you, then open your legs wide with the soles of your feet together.?

?Yes, Miss Fiona.? I did as I was told instantly, even though I knew I was on display even more than I usually was. The clock on the mantle said it was just after nine. I had been spanked for almost fifteen minutes, my longest punishment yet. Now though, I was to get my treat, I would see a naked woman and I would have endured another twenty punishments for that.

?Woman like to have men look at them, but only when they have given permission. Being leered at in the street is degrading, and you will make sure you never do that. Now though I want you to look, so what you are doing is fine.?

?Yes, Miss Fiona, I will remember not to stare when I am out.? Remember, hell, I would have agreed to anything, but however easily I had accepted her instructions ever since that day I feel guilty if I let my eyes linger for too long on a beautiful woman.

Gradually my sister began to undo the shirt she was wearing. Then she slid it off her arms, onto the floor, and I could see her black lacy bra, making her skin look even whiter than it was. Once that was done she reached behind her and undid the fastening on her skirt. That too slid to the floor and I gasped out loud as I saw she was wearing stockings and a suspender belt. Her fingers slipped into the sides of her knickers and she slowly, oh so slowly, began to slide them down her black stocking covered legs. I could see that she too had pubic hair, blonde, just like mine, but it was only a thin line, which seemed to be made up of little curls as if she had spent ages carefully styling it.

?This is my pussy. In here are all the secrets that one day you might be able to discover, if you are dedicated to the pleasure of your partner that is.? Miss Fiona moved across towards the chair where I had just been punished and put one of her feet on the cushion. Immediately I could see she was shaved and glistening between her legs.

As I watched, my cock getting harder by the second, Miss Fiona ran her fingers along her folds of skin and then, suddenly, two of them disappeared inside her. I know I groaned and my hands were fighting to get a hold of my erection. Again slowly, she removed her fingers with a slurping noise and held them under my nose; they smelt wonderful.

?Taste.?

I shot my tongue out, licking at the liquid that was pooled in the bends behind her knuckles and got my first taste of the nectar I would become addicted to very soon.

For a while Miss Fiona sat in the chair, she had made herself comfortable once I had finished cleaning her hand for her, and I became more and more agitated as nothing seemed to be happening.

?Please, Miss Fiona, please, may I see your tits?? I finally had to speak, even though I knew I would probably be in trouble for it.

?You want to see my what?? Miss Fiona stood up, she was still excited, her thighs glistened, and I could see that the top of her stockings were wet.

?Your tits, Miss Fiona, please, let me see your tits.?

?I don?t think you want to, not really.?

?Oh, I do, I really do.? I was on my knees now; I kissed her black patent leather shoes before looking up at her and speaking again. ?Please, Miss Fiona, you can spank me again, or twist my balls, but please, I want so much to see your tits, I just know they will be beautiful. I won?t touch, I promise, I won?t touch you or me, but please let me see you take your bra off.? I would have prostrated myself on the floor, but knew if I did I would have to rub my cock on the carpet, and so I stayed on my knees, kissing her again as soon as I had finished speaking.

?What do you think, Miss Martha? Does he deserve to have me take my last piece of clothing off? Has he shown that he really wants to see me naked??

Her words were bombarding me with images, I moaned out loud and felt a sob lodge itself in my throat.

?Oh, I don?t know. I think that maybe he should be spanked again. Would you agree to that, Martin??

?Yes, Miss Martha, anything, Miss Fiona, please.?

I was a worm, a pathetic worm, but I had never felt so turned on in my whole life. All that mattered to me was that to see Miss Fiona naked I had to beg, I had to prove to my sisters I would do as they wanted. At that moment I realized I had arrived, I was theirs to command, and from that day on I have, if at all possible, done everything they have ever wanted me to.

Miss Fiona came closer and knelt in front of me so we were almost eye-to-eye, I was still taller than her, even in this position, and then she slid the straps off her shoulders and unclasped the front of the black lacy bra and let it fall.

Nothing could have prepared me for the breathtaking sight in front of me. Her pussy had been wonderful, something I knew I wanted to see again one day, but more than anything I had wanted Miss Fiona to bare her tits for me. And now, finally, I could see them, right there in front of me, even closer than I could have ever imagined. Her breasts were quite large, they were firm, white, and the nipples, oh, the nipples, brown, large and, at that moment, with the areola puckered, they sat proudly waiting to be sucked, pinched and twisted.

?Ohhhh.? The moan that left my lips was one of pure joy and Miss Fiona smiled.

?That is the type of reaction a woman likes. In fact, because of it you may kiss them, once each.?

How I didn?t shoot my spunk all over the floor at that moment I will never know. Maybe all those enforced nights of torment had given me more willpower than I realized, but, instead of letting my hormones get the better of me, I leant forward and took her left breast into my mouth, sucking it for a second before placing a kiss on the tip. I then did the same on the other and reluctantly resumed my contrite position in front of her.

?You have done very well. In fact, you are coming along excellently. Tomorrow night, if you are very good, we may even do this again.?

With that both my sisters got to their feet, one dressed and one totally naked. They both smiled down at me, I was never allowed to leave a room before them, and then wished me a very good night.

?You don?t touch yourself though, not unless we give express permission.?

I knew that I was being given permission to do something, to beg, to plead outside their bedroom doors later in the evening, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, I would be there, debasing myself, promising them the earth, if only they would let me re-live my evening and make myself cum at the same time.

TBC

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Tamera

• 17.06.2020
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