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Her hands caressed the marks, bright red against her skin, and thought of him

Her hands caress the marks, bright red against her skin, and thinks of him. Wonders where he is, what he?s doing, is he thinking of her at all? At this last she shakes her head to clear it and stands.

What does it matter? He?s hundreds of miles away at the very least, and she has no idea when she?ll see him again.

If ever, the cynical part of her mind adds. She pushes the thought away and forces herself to dress for the day. Every day, without fail, she stands in front of the full-length mirror in the vanity area and thinks about what she has to do that day and what should she wear that he would enjoy. Today is fairly easy: she has a job interview. Easy to choose the skirt, just above the knee. Easy to choose the sweater, low-cut without being whorish. Easy to forego panties. Easy to roll the stockings ? real stockings, not pantyhose ? up her legs and step into the 3-inch heels.

She doesn?t wear makeup as a general rule, but for days like this, for job interviews, she will at least wear lipstick. She wields the curling iron like a weapon, preparing for the battle that will be the interview. With her hair up, she looks like a librarian. With it down, she looks like someone a lot less intelligent. Can?t win, she sighs, and leaves her hair down. If she can get through this meeting without twirling it, it might just work. Final touches: contacts, silver hoop earrings, watch.

One last look in the mirror before she leaves the apartment; it will have to do, she decides, and goes downstairs. The drive to the nondescript office building is blessedly short, all the better to not brood on the mistakes she might make. Day after day she goes out looking for jobs, and day after day she is told she is by turns overqualified, underqualified, too aggressive, not aggressive enough. It is wearing on her psyche, making her think she isn?t good enough, that no one wants her for any reason.

Logically she knows that?s not true, but she keeps all her fears to herself, afraid people will jump to the worst conclusions if they know she isn?t as together as they think. She picks up her purse and folio and heads into the building, checks in at the receptionist?s desk. She?s early, of course, early enough that the interviewer hasn?t yet arrived for the morning.

She decides to freshen up in the ladies? room; it?s really just an excuse to trace those welts on her breast again, to indulge in a couple moments thinking of him before reality interferes, intrudes. Those marks, those welts remind her who she is, who she is to him. She lifts her skirt, one hand holding it up while the other strokes her pussy. Relax, she thinks. Relax, it?s just another idiot interviewer who will look down your sweater, refuse to meet your eyes, thinks your talent is stuck in your breasts and not your mind. She dips a finger inside, not terribly surprised to find that she?s quite wet. She?s in a perpetual state of arousal anymore; she knows he knows and is pleased, even if he can?t be there to take advantage of the situation ? to tease, torment, and finally (hopefully) fuck her.

She pulls her skirt back down, slowly licks her finger clean, and heads back out to reception. The interviewer is apparently unthrilled that she?s there early. It?s only twenty minutes early, she thinks. Late, as far as she?s concerned, but strike one against her even before the interview begins. It?s nearly enough to make her consider getting up and walking out, but she needs a job too badly. So she sits, reading and re-reading her resume to herself as she has dozens of times before.

Finally the receptionist takes her back to a meeting room to wait some more. The interviewer will be with her shortly, the receptionist tells her. Yippee fucking skippee, she thinks. Not an ideal attitude to go into this with, she knows, but at this point she?s simply tired of the job hunting process.

Ten minutes go by, then fifteen. Now the interviewer is late, and she is extremely annoyed. Has she wasted her time here when she could be somewhere else? Somewhere she can be alone and make herself cum. Somewhere she could work on the tasks he set for her this week. Somewhere she can do something that connects her to him.

At the twenty minute mark, she decides the interviewer is just playing one of those fun interview games, one where they try to force the interviewee into being antagonistic. Screw that, she thinks, and stubbornly refuses to play the game. She conjures him in her mind, his face, his body, his smell, his touch . . . the list is endless. She closes her eyes and smiles. Silly, really, how just the thought of him can calm her.

Thirty minutes. Should she go get someone, she wonders? She decides against it, and instead traces those marks through her sweater and bra.

Forty minutes, and she decides she might as well remove the bra. It?s not like the interviewer would notice anything above or below her chest anyway, and the bra is constricting against her ribcage. She reaches under her sweater, unclasps the bra, shrugs it off and places it in her purse, thankful she carries a life-size purse instead of one of those itty-bitty bags. Much better. One hand automatically continues to sketch the shadow of those marks on her breast, separated only by the sweater. She can feel her nipples harden, most definitely a reaction to her thoughts, the marks ? oh especially the marks.

She looks at her watch, almost not interested in how long she?s been left in this meeting room. Forty-five minutes past her appointment time. Ah well, she thinks. I can take a hint when it?s writ as large as this one. But rather than leave, she turns sideways in her chair so she can put her legs on the chair next to her. Her legs are lewdly splayed, her skirt hiked up to her hips. She?s pretty certain she?s lost the job, so she turns her attention back to him. She thinks of the last time she felt his hands on her body and realizes it?s been months. Months since she felt his lash on her breasts, felt his hands on hers following her movements as she masturbated for him, felt his lips on hers.

The door to the meeting room finally opens, but she?s utterly unaware, lost in her own world. He steps into the room, assesses the situation and closes the door. A smile crosses his face as he watches her touch herself, one hand still tracing the marks on her breast, the other teasing her pussy. Her eyes are closed; she?s completely lost in her thoughts, her reverie. She hasn?t noticed that he?s in the room, that he?s watching her intently.

He crosses the room so he?s behind her, watching her push her skirt higher and her sweater lower as her breathing becomes ragged. She?s close to the edge, close enough that when he puts his hand on hers and strokes the marks he made on her body, her soul, she orgasms quickly. He puts his mouth close to her ear and whispers one word ? lovely.

Her hands caress the marks, bright red against her skin, and thinks of him. Wonders where he is, what he?s doing, is he thinking of her at all? At this last she shakes her head to clear it and stands.

What does it matter? He?s hundreds of miles away at the very least, and she has no idea when she?ll see him again.

If ever, the cynical part of her mind adds. She pushes the thought away and forces herself to dress for the day. Every day, without fail, she stands in front of the full-length mirror in the vanity area and thinks about what she has to do that day and what should she wear that he would enjoy. Today is fairly easy: she has a job interview. Easy to choose the skirt, just above the knee. Easy to choose the sweater, low-cut without being whorish. Easy to forego panties. Easy to roll the stockings ? real stockings, not pantyhose ? up her legs and step into the 3-inch heels.

She doesn?t wear makeup as a general rule, but for days like this, for job interviews, she will at least wear lipstick. She wields the curling iron like a weapon, preparing for the battle that will be the interview. With her hair up, she looks like a librarian. With it down, she looks like someone a lot less intelligent. Can?t win, she sighs, and leaves her hair down. If she can get through this meeting without twirling it, it might just work. Final touches: contacts, silver hoop earrings, watch.

One last look in the mirror before she leaves the apartment; it will have to do, she decides, and goes downstairs. The drive to the nondescript office building is blessedly short, all the better to not brood on the mistakes she might make. Day after day she goes out looking for jobs, and day after day she is told she is by turns overqualified, underqualified, too aggressive, not aggressive enough. It is wearing on her psyche, making her think she isn?t good enough, that no one wants her for any reason.

Logically she knows that?s not true, but she keeps all her fears to herself, afraid people will jump to the worst conclusions if they know she isn?t as together as they think. She picks up her purse and folio and heads into the building, checks in at the receptionist?s desk. She?s early, of course, early enough that the interviewer hasn?t yet arrived for the morning.

She decides to freshen up in the ladies? room; it?s really just an excuse to trace those welts on her breast again, to indulge in a couple moments thinking of him before reality interferes, intrudes. Those marks, those welts remind her who she is, who she is to him. She lifts her skirt, one hand holding it up while the other strokes her pussy. Relax, she thinks. Relax, it?s just another idiot interviewer who will look down your sweater, refuse to meet your eyes, thinks your talent is stuck in your breasts and not your mind. She dips a finger inside, not terribly surprised to find that she?s quite wet. She?s in a perpetual state of arousal anymore; she knows he knows and is pleased, even if he can?t be there to take advantage of the situation ? to tease, torment, and finally (hopefully) fuck her.

She pulls her skirt back down, slowly licks her finger clean, and heads back out to reception. The interviewer is apparently unthrilled that she?s there early. It?s only twenty minutes early, she thinks. Late, as far as she?s concerned, but strike one against her even before the interview begins. It?s nearly enough to make her consider getting up and walking out, but she needs a job too badly. So she sits, reading and re-reading her resume to herself as she has dozens of times before.

Finally the receptionist takes her back to a meeting room to wait some more. The interviewer will be with her shortly, the receptionist tells her. Yippee fucking skippee, she thinks. Not an ideal attitude to go into this with, she knows, but at this point she?s simply tired of the job hunting process.

Ten minutes go by, then fifteen. Now the interviewer is late, and she is extremely annoyed. Has she wasted her time here when she could be somewhere else? Somewhere she can be alone and make herself cum. Somewhere she could work on the tasks he set for her this week. Somewhere she can do something that connects her to him.

At the twenty minute mark, she decides the interviewer is just playing one of those fun interview games, one where they try to force the interviewee into being antagonistic. Screw that, she thinks, and stubbornly refuses to play the game. She conjures him in her mind, his face, his body, his smell, his touch . . . the list is endless. She closes her eyes and smiles. Silly, really, how just the thought of him can calm her.

Thirty minutes. Should she go get someone, she wonders? She decides against it, and instead traces those marks through her sweater and bra.

Forty minutes, and she decides she might as well remove the bra. It?s not like the interviewer would notice anything above or below her chest anyway, and the bra is constricting against her ribcage. She reaches under her sweater, unclasps the bra, shrugs it off and places it in her purse, thankful she carries a life-size purse instead of one of those itty-bitty bags. Much better. One hand automatically continues to sketch the shadow of those marks on her breast, separated only by the sweater. She can feel her nipples harden, most definitely a reaction to her thoughts, the marks ? oh especially the marks.

She looks at her watch, almost not interested in how long she?s been left in this meeting room. Forty-five minutes past her appointment time. Ah well, she thinks. I can take a hint when it?s writ as large as this one. But rather than leave, she turns sideways in her chair so she can put her legs on the chair next to her. Her legs are lewdly splayed, her skirt hiked up to her hips. She?s pretty certain she?s lost the job, so she turns her attention back to him. She thinks of the last time she felt his hands on her body and realizes it?s been months. Months since she felt his lash on her breasts, felt his hands on hers following her movements as she masturbated for him, felt his lips on hers.

The door to the meeting room finally opens, but she?s utterly unaware, lost in her own world. He steps into the room, assesses the situation and closes the door. A smile crosses his face as he watches her touch herself, one hand still tracing the marks on her breast, the other teasing her pussy. Her eyes are closed; she?s completely lost in her thoughts, her reverie. She hasn?t noticed that he?s in the room, that he?s watching her intently.

He crosses the room so he?s behind her, watching her push her skirt higher and her sweater lower as her breathing becomes ragged. She?s close to the edge, close enough that when he puts his hand on hers and strokes the marks he made on her body, her soul, she orgasms quickly. He puts his mouth close to her ear and whispers one word ? lovely.

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Do you ever like to lay back and fantasize about being feminized? I do. I wonder what would happen if, one day, my wife decided that she prefers women? What would she do? Maybe she suddenly realizes; she wants her husband to be submissive and feminine. Maybe she formulates a plan. To start, she starts slipping doses of strong testosterone-blockers into my morning routine. She tells me they're multivitamins, they'll keep me healthy. While we're on the topic, she encourages me to...

Weekend at My Older Brothers0

"Georgie, you fucking little skank, you love my fucking dick so shut the fuck up...enjoy," Frank said. As Ghost rammed his dick back down my throat to his balls, I heard Frank spit, then actually felt it on my asshole. THen I heard, "Hold on Frank...spread her cheeks...," my brother Harry said. I felt my butt cheeks being spread, then I could feel something being pressed against my asshole and slightly enter me. Then lots of laughter from the bikers watching who were recovering for thier...

Bakugan Gundalian Invaders

(Earth) ''Lets Hit em Hard Guys!'' Says Dan as the others shout yeah. ''Got room for one more?'' Asks a Voice as the Others Look up go see the Ace Brawler Shane Cormarrick. ''Shane!?'' Asks Marucho. ''The one and only! The way I see things, you'll need all the Help you could Get. And Me, Reaper, Hydranoid, Execedra, Vanderus, and Leonidas are Ready and Able to Assist.'' Says Shane. ''No way we get the Legend Brawler to help us? This just gets better and better.'' Says Jake. ''Jake Right? I've...

Elixir of Power

Lauren was a girl who was stressed out all the time. She had gone to college in the past, but what did that get her? A job at McDonald’s. As far as she was concerned the college degree was worthless and the best thing out of college was meeting Molly. Lauren was always miserable when she wasn’t at home – there was nothing outside her apartment that mattered to her. She looked rather cute with curly red hair and black eyes, but the only one that noticed was Molly. Molly was a girl who Lauren...

The Destroyers Book 2 Hope and BetrayalChapter 12 Discovery and Planning

The transport tube doors opened and they stepped out into the hallway outside of the medical bay. Turning she led them down the short corridor and into the medical section. Molly was helping a young man to sit up in his bed as they entered. She was holding a glass in her hand. Once the patient had taken a drink from the glass, she set it down on the table. "Molly, I have some guests for you," Tammy said. "Be right there, Tammy." Looking at the young man she said, "Lieutenant Myers,...

Roisin

As an aspiring photographer, I’m always stuck for people to photograph as they never like your photos of them. Not because you have done something wrong, but because they don’t like themselves. There’s no photo in the world that’s going to change that, so I was not really expecting any reply when I set my Facebook status to ‘wants a model’. But two days later I got a message through from a girl called Roisín. I’d never met her, but I’d seen some photos of her, she was a college friend of my...

Family Whores Never ending affair chapter1

“Oh yes, fuck me like a whore,” I screamed when my perverted, dirty, little brother, Mike, pushed his cock deep in my pussy and pulled my hair. We had just arrived to our beach house this afternoon, and he was fucking me second time in a row. It had been two years of my marriage but it could never end between me and my brother. Sorry, let me start telling from where it began. It was Sunday afternoon. I was in my bedroom with my mother and we were just checking everything we bought today. From...

Incest

Maxine Stones New LifeChapter 268 Why Do I Do It

I got a block from the house then pulled the cruiser over. I made sure no one was hanging around or behind me before I made the call. "Vlad where are we?" I asked when he answered the phone. "There is a boyfriend and he is missing," Vlad said. "Does he have family that he is close to. If so pick me up one without being seen. Bring whoever it is to the drugstore, but make sure they have no idea where they are going. stick them in the trunk and park in back. Don't get any blood in your...

Book 8 ZaraChapter 21

Zachary dropped the garden shears and started running, he skittered into the kitchen and grabbed Bailey "take Alana and Finbar to the cottage, stay there! until I come for you, do you understand." Bailey stared at Zachary for a second then took Alana's hand "you've found it?" Zachary grinned "it's calling me Bailey, I'm going to go retrieve it right now, it's at a place called Montcliff" turning he rushed out of the kitchen. Allora stared at the two piece's then put the stick in...

Seducing Your Step Sister

Ever since you met her, your sister Emily has been eye candy and has been the focus of many wet dreams. It's gotten so bad that today, while your parents are gone, you would try something, anything, to fuck her. All day you planned your approach and you are finally ready to act.

Incest

Unexpected Fun With Girlfriend

Hi, Indian sex story readers and followers. I would first wish to introduce myself, I am Arun (name changed) basically from Kerala, but settled up in Chennai due to my father’s occupation. I am a great fan of this site, I got introduced to this site a year ago from then this site is been very useful to satisfy my feeling. I have been planning to write my first sex experience from last few days, finally ended up in making it. This is my first sex story, so sex experts and lovers please do...

Incest

Tim The Teenage MCPart V 5 Sex Goddess I Call Mom

Joey, Suzi and I were getting ready to go to bed in a third room. It was identical to the first room, except it didn't have a waterbed or the paintings, but had something our room didn't. "Holy Shit," Joey exclaimed when opening a drawer of the additional cabinet. "Its a drawer full of those things Sandi had. Except they don't look like they vibrate. Hey Tim, what did they call them?" he asked holding up the plastic penis. "Dildo, dummy," Suzi answered instead. "What? Don't you...

No FutureChapter 14 Faith and Charity

Diane 2042 Reverend Diane Dawkins wept while she watched the television news film of the dead and dying of Rawalpindi. If the wretched souls hadn't already died from the intense heat and blast of the nuclear explosions, they would surely do so from radiation poisoning. Perhaps those who were dead were the lucky ones. Cancerous growths and the birth of deformed children were all that most of the survivors had to look forward to. Her usual response to such international crises was to...

Encounter in Motorway services

Jesus , this fucking weather. Business meeting in Scotland, no problem, with the flight up, but by the time I had finished the fucking weather had closed the airports and it looked like armageddon People on the phones, no fucking hotel rooms available. Luckily for me I hadn't handed over the hire car, I then spent the next 30 minutes extending the hire period and telling a fuckwit behind the counter I was going to drop it off in London tomorrow. two options exist from Edinburgh, coast road...

JuniorChapter 18 Gladys

Attending Greg and Trisha's wedding was an obligation that could have been avoided; I wouldn't have been missed. On the way back to school, I reflected. This was a good time to make some decisions. Why had I pussyfooted around and let Charlie take advantage of me? I told myself it was because of his mother. She had asked me to look out for him. But really, I knew in my heart that I was afraid of losing my only male friend. I didn't correspond with anyone from C.M.A. and doubted they even...

BORN GR8 KI STORY

I am going to tell u all my first exoerience which has since than changed my life forever(in sexual aspects). Lets come to the story directly. There was this girl named c.k who was an angel in this world and I had crush on her and always wanted to lay her. She was 20yrs but she was strict and she was never giving any signals. Let me describe her to u all she is around 5ft 6 and a gr8 bod (coke bottle fig) she has a round and plumpy ass which is tempting to spank. And her boobs are round and...

Blue HandChapter 7

The middle forests of Anshar were a wonderland of trees that soared high into the sky on thick tall trunks and then shot in all directions with branches creating thin canopies of rustling leaves. Often thick purple vines with white four petal flowers that drooped like rain droplets encircled the trees. The floor of the forest had ferns in the deep shadows alongside bushes that snagged at a person from his ankles to his shoulders. The cries and calls of the forest creatures were often loud and...

A Fistful of Sand Book 1Chapter 15 A Good Day part two

Gregg closed the car door and leaned back into the open window. "Thanks again for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow. 9am ... don't be late." Laura smiled excitedly and nodded. Just knowing that she'd get to see her "Master" again so soon had her body on fire. It didn't worry her that he'd told her to bring her sorority pledge paddle. She watched as he walked up the sidewalk to the cozy duplex on the opposite side of campus from where he lived. Standing in the main doorway was a...

Shadows From the PastChapter 8

Jason glanced down the hall before pulling the door to the downstairs bathroom closed with a solid thump while he remained outside. He retreated the way he had come, cocking his ear for any change in the drone of post-dinner conversation in the living room. The door to the sewing room lay open a crack. Jason pushed it open just enough for him to slip inside and put it back where he had found it. A wave of nausea washed over him as if a foul odor had suddenly wafted towards his nose, his...

My summer of sexual awakening

Introduction: This was the summer I first had sex, and the story of my first, and second, times…. It was only a couple of weeks into summer vacation and I was already sleeping away most of the day from boredom. It was almost noon when I got out of bed. I went into the bathroom and ran the brush through my curly auburn hair a couple of times before heading out to the kitchen. I was wearing a little camisole top and a pair of boy shorts, but was pretty sure I was the only one in the house. My mom...

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