MarcieChapter 2 Marcie s Induction
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The Newlin's, Marcie And MarkChapter 6 free porn video
When Mark originally enrolled at the University of Nebraska, he wanted to be an architect, but had not decided on which aspect of the field he wanted to major in. That of course, was one reason he chose Nebraska, for it offered several diverse fields including urban design, historic preservation, building sciences, or acoustic design.
Now Mark had almost completed the first portion, the Bachelor of Science in design, a para-professional degree and a necessary component of the professional program which culminates with the Master of Architecture degree being the first professional degree fully accredited by the National Architectural Accreditation Board.
His dream of becoming an architect was a demanding one. It required longer periods of study than the majority of other courses, particularly humanities, modern languages or social sciences. It was expensive and challenging. And Mark was constantly reminded that effort wasn’t enough to get through it; talent, resilience and skill were also called for.
Simply put, architects design buildings. When a client explains to an architect their desires for a building, they are also describing his or her values and priorities. What separates architecture from most other forms of communication is its sheer size, the longevity of its statement and its mass appeal.
Mark had already discovered that there wasn’t enough practice in architectural education; it was mostly theory. He wasn’t the first to level this criticism at the school, nor was his university the only one guilty of this omission. There is a lot of theory to learn, and you needed to learn to approach the varied and complex design challenges in the right way. There was plenty of studio time and of course, lecture after lecture, and project work to carry out at home.
What nagged at Mark was the fact that they kept telling him that even when he did qualify; it would take several years for him to be trusted to work on his own. And so when he discovered it was possible to enter a competition allowing college students to submit projects that use a thoroughly integrated approach to architecture, natural systems, and technology to provide architectural solutions that protect and enhance the environment. The competition would be recognizing the work of ten exceptional studio projects that integrate strategies for enhancing a complex in the city of Monroe, Louisiana.
Mark jumped at it. He already had a firm grasp of the essentials involved: and his technical drawings were constantly praised and he had the engineering know-how to support his designs. He would be required to work under the direction of a faculty sponsor. Professor Horowitz might be that person.
He made a call and got an appointment with the Professor for later that afternoon. Mark realized the Professor would encourage him to enter the competition as a team member, but that would entail finding several other interested students on campus, and he didn’t know of any that fit his needs. He would enter the individual category. It was what he really wanted after all, earning recognition of his skills and imagination in the architectural field.
Professor Horowitz greeted him warmly, saying, “You know, Mark someday you’ll be a fine, possibly renowned architect. But you’ve still got the masters ahead of you. Your strength in ‘crits’ (designed to teach students how to put forward an argument and then support it.) will undoubtedly be of help, but do you think you possess the intense psychological training so highly valued and which holds the most value in an architectural project?”
“I’m not sure, that’s why I’ve come to you, Sir.”
Professor Horowitz smiled and said, “I must admit I’ve never been asked this of a student before. I like your chutzpah, as we Jewish Professors like to say. You realize they will be asking you to explain the thought process behind your design and it will be put under the closest scrutiny by the committee members as well as the staff here at the University. Even practicing architects find this type competition nerve-wracking and intimidating, but overall, I’d say that it won’t hurt you, um, other than your pride should you be ostracized for presenting an inferior product. On the plus side it should help you become well-practiced at presenting your pitch, improvising to meet unique challenges, and arguing your case with reason; all highly valuable, a combination that is often lacking in business today. And that’s if you don’t win; should you actually win, or even place, you will have taken a giant step forward in the field.
“But you mustn’t let the competition pull your normal class work down.”
Mark spent the next three weeks totally engrossed in his vision of how the center-piece for the complex should look, and how it might best be constructed. He hardly slept, and of course he all but ignored Rana until he finished his design and with Professor Horowitz’s approval, sent it off to the competition committee.
It so happened that the following day Mark received a check from his father that was totally unexpected. It seemed that his Uncle Fred had won the lottery back in New Hampshire, and as he had no other relatives than his brother, Mark’s father, he’d sent him $25,000 of which Mark’s father decided to put $10,000 towards his college tuition. The check Mark received was only for $200, but was ‘for him to have a good time with.’
And so, when Rana came to his apartment after her last class, he embraced her, and following a long, languid series of kisses, told her they were going out to the best place in town to eat that night.
“We are?” Rana gushed excitedly. “That’s wonderful!”
“Yeah, but um, where would that be? I haven’t really eaten out since coming to Lincoln,” Mark said with a smile.
“Oh, well Mark, that is easy to answer for there is only the one, and it is a Mediterranean style restaurant called Sultan’s Kite.”
“Only one---and it’s Mediterranean?”
“Yes, it is owned by a relative of my cousin Armin. He is...”
“Never mind, I’m taking you there and I’m paying. We’ll do our best to avoid your cousin or there will be all sorts of gossip directed back to your family.”
“Yes, Mark you are quite right. I do not wish my family to know that I am openly consorting with an infidel.” Then laughing giddily, she hugged him tightly until he started tickling her around the ribcage; that made her shriek with laughter. He carried her to his bed and laid her down then began tugging her jeans off, and then her top. Mark couldn’t contain himself and began manhandling her breasts through her bra.
“Do you love me?” Rana asked, not caring what his response was, but only wanting to hear his hoarse voice uttering something into her ear.
“Yeah, I do and I wanna fuck you silly. I want to cum in every one of your holes. Everyone---do you understand?”
“Yes—yes—yes!” she answered, already dripping profusely from her cunt.
They kissed a long time without either of their tongues touching. When his finally flicked between her slightly parted teeth and touched her tongue, he heard Rana begin whimpering. And then their tongues got physically involved and she responded excitedly when he pushed his long tongue into her mouth as far as it would go. Her body began to vibrate and she brought her left hand back under his armpit and up around his back and shoulder and somehow managed to entwine her fingers in his hair at the back of his head. Then, as they swapped saliva, Rana slanted her ass in order to feel the full brunt of his hardon. Mark unfastened her bra, freed her breasts and feasted on them until sated in that regard; then he got to his feet and began undressing.
Rana’s pupils’ dilated as she focused on his boner, and it took a strong measure of self control to keep her hands from doing any more than lightly stroking him.
“I love your pintle, Mark. I love it in my mouth and in my pussy...”
“You love my what?” he said, puzzled by her use of a strange word.
“Pintle, lover, its Farsi for penis.”
“Ah, so I learn a new word. How is it spelled?”
“Just like it sounds p-i-n-t-l-e,” Rana said slowly. She was sitting on her heels and looking downward as if afraid to meet his eyes.
“Want me to use our toy now?” Mark inquired softly.
“If you wish, Mark.”
“Oh, you’d prefer I use my pintle?”
“You may use whatever you want. You will bring me the greatest pleasure whatever you decide to use.”
Mark had come a long way in the brief time since their first coitus together. In Rana’s mind, he could do no wrong. “Then use your mouth for my ... pintle, Rana my love.”
She brought her arms above her head and submissively steepled her fingers together. Had there been an onlooker they would have assumed the couple had done this before, and they had. “Suck me, Rana,” he whispered and she quickly took the crown of his penis between her lips and licked then sucked on it and the corona just below the crown. She did not attempt to envelop any more of him, content with bringing him intense pleasure from that action alone.
“That’s good, Rana ... that’s soooo good,” he whispered. Rana moaned around his cockhead at the praise and purposely widened her eyes, blinked several times as she looked up at him as she continued her almost soundless sucking.
Rana took her time, using soft, gentle motions as she sucked on him. She wanted to look at his cock, but held her eyes on his, letting him see her face as she began to stroke him; fellate him. As she watched his excitement grow, she quickened her pace by gripping the base of his shaft with one hand then sliding it up its length while the other hand grabbed him and repeated the motion. Rana never let the head of his penis leave her mouth.
He began to moan from her actions and her hands moved faster, while squeezing him harder. Her hair had fallen across her face, but she continued looking up at him, expressionless.
Cover me with your life giving seed, she thought to herself. Bathe your little whore with your cum.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, Mark came for her, moaning loudly, as she carefully pulled him from between her lips and aimed his penis at her face.
Suddenly a series of white streamers of sticky hot cum jetted through the short space between cock and face, landing on the side of her nose, and her lips and chin. Rana didn’t flinch or move, welcoming the cascade of jizm raining down upon her.
And when he stopped ejaculating, she recommenced squeezing his shaft again, drawing out the last remnants of sperm from his pintle and licking them away with the tip of her tongue.
She remained on her knees, looking up at him, letting him see his seed dripping down her face and chin, with some gobs already hanging off, ready to fall to her heaving breasts below.
Mark remained hard in her hot hands, and she refused to release him. He looked at her for a long moment, memorizing her face as it was at that moment then moved into action, lifting her slight frame into the air. He held her there, with her face now above his, looking down at him with its dripping pools of cum. He could see in her face that she understood what he was about to do and her eyes signaled she welcomed it.
“No,” he said, “you do it.”
“Ummm,” she moaned and still holding his pintle tightly, placed it against her cunt as he lowered her onto it.
He fucked her slowly, rocking back and forth with an easy, unhurried motion. Rana wrapped her legs first around his back, and then agilely moved them under his arms to rest her feet on his shoulders. As she did so she slipped entirely down onto his shaft. The heat of her cunt completely enveloped and took him, giving his entire cock every bit of pleasure she had to offer.
She rode his cock that way, bouncing up and down with him, all the while staring at him with his cum thinning until it dripped down her face like thick tears. Drops of it continued to land on her breasts.
Two minutes into their coupling Rana began to lose her composure. Her expressionless gaze gave way to one of tormented pleasure. Her smile, the sensual one he’d seen her wear whenever he fucked her, crept back onto her face. Eventually the whimpers started, too, but softly.
He continued until he felt her cumming for him and he continued doing so until he felt he’d provided a semblance of the pleasure she’d given him. Somehow she kept herself nearly silent, only whimpering and moaning softly, so no one would hear her. No screams or high pitched squeals escaped her throat that night.
Mark wasn’t ready to cum again, not so soon, but he reveled in the feeling when the soft flesh of her cunt tightened suddenly, grabbing at his cock and convulsing powerfully as she climaxed. He continued pumping away until the twitching, gripping sensations died off and he was sure she couldn’t cum any more.
Afterward he held her there, still staring into his face, not blankly now, but lovingly, and smilingly. She made a show of using the fingers of one hand to smear some of his cum across her face onto her tongue. She did it again, over and over, until most of the signs of his ejaculate had been pushed into her hungry mouth. Her face was still damp, glistening in the faint light of the room.
She pulled herself up and kissed him on the mouth then hugged him and they remained tightly entwined for an hour or so. Mark was sleeping when she left his side to return to her own apartment to dress for the dinner he’d promised her.
Back in her apartment, Rana went through her closet looking for a killer dress to wear that night. In the corner was a leopard-print dress she’d meant to return, not having had the nerve to wear it to the wedding. But now---now it seemed the perfect outfit. Rummaging through her lingerie drawer, she selected a black lace thong, and a matching black lace push-up bra.
“I’ll wear this,” she said aloud, “he’ll love it!” And the thought of him seeing her in this sexy dress sent shivers down the length of her body.
In the shower, she carefully worked the body wash into lather, ensuring that her skin was silky smooth. Thinking about the night ahead made her body warm and tingly, and the detachable shower head tempted her to pleasure herself before the night even began. But Rana refrained; knowing she would enjoy the torment of waiting for him to take her later would build throughout the evening and heighten every orgasm he would give her.
She was fully dressed with her makeup done, twisting her hair up into a bun in the bathroom when he opened the door unexpectedly and walked in on her.
“Oh,” she said, showing her surprise as she turned to face him.
Mark’s eyes roved over her body, wrapped snug in the tight, leopard-print dress.
“Do you like it?”
“Like is an understatement. I could look at you all day and all night without blinking for fear I’d miss something.”
Mark moved to her and pulled her to him. His manly scent filled her nostrils. He breathed in her delicate perfume and made a mental note to ask her later what it was. He would buy her some for the holidays.
With both hands on her firm ass, he pressed his boner against her and felt her shudder.
In a counter move, Rana placed her hands on his chest, found a nipple and teased it, murmuring softly, “You look pretty handsome yourself.”
Grinning, he ran his hands over her curves, straining at the fabric of the dress. “As usual you look good enough to eat,” he whispered into her ear while hiking up the dress until her black lace thong was revealed.
“Ummm, delightful,” he said and sent a delightful shiver down her spine. “But I don’t think you’ll be needing them tonight,” he added, pulling them slowly down to her ankles and waiting while she braced her hands against the counter and stepped out and away from them before picking them up and putting them in his pocket.
“What?” she gasped but didn’t finish the sentence as he casually moved the straps of the dress off her shoulders. The top of the dress drooped exposing her black lace bra.
“Nice,” he said so huskily that Rana almost came from his voice alone.
“Oh, you want to... ?” Rana began, but Mark interrupted her, saying: “Now spread those magnificent legs for me.”
She did as he asked and watched as he took his cellphone and took a picture of her.
Snap.
“Mark ... you shouldn’t!”
Mark took note that Rana hadn’t told him not to take the picture and continued, saying: “Now look over your shoulder at me. Mmmm, bite your lip,”
Snap—snap.
Rana let out a low moan, realizing that he could destroy her should her family ever see any of the pictures he’d just taken.
“Mark ... you won’t show them...”
“No one gets to see them. I’ll transfer them to my computer and erase them from the phone. I promise you I’ll never put them on the internet.”
“Now fix your dress, we have a reservation and don’t want to be late especially if your relatives own the place.”
Rana readjusted the straps of her dress, and smoothed the dress by running her hands down her body, secretly wishing it was Marks hand and they were going to fuck on her bed instead of going out.
It didn’t happen. Instead, he kissed her warmly but not lustily then took her hand, waited a moment while she hastily picked up her small purse and led the way out of the building to his Accord.
Once they were in the Honda, Rana squirmed in her seat and blurted, “I can’t help but confess the pics you took of me...”
“Yes?”
“Ummm, they made me so wet that I’m dripping down my thigh, and---and you took my panties.”
“Oh, really? Which thigh?”
“The right---the right thigh, Mark.”
Without a word he pulled into the parking lot of a used car dealership. The dealership was closed for the night. He brought the Accord to a stop, pulled up the emergency brake and shut the engine off.
“Are you all right, Mark?” Rana said, surprised at what he’d done.
Without uttering a word, Mark lifted her dress and pushed her legs apart. He brought his face down between her thighs and said, “Mmmm, Rana, you’re absolutely soaked. Then he proceeded to lick the juices from the errant thigh before biting her there. Rana cried out and pulled his hair which only made him bite her again.
When he sat back Rana looked down. The top of her right thigh was red and swollen and his teeth marks imprinted on her flesh. He reached under the seat and pulled out a towel and had her sit on it.
“No sense soaking the seats, they’re not leather, and as much as I enjoy the smell of your arousal, it wouldn’t do to have it baked into the car in this summer heat.”
“What about the restaurant chair, Mark?” Rana said, thinking ahead while staring at the red marks on her thigh before tugging the dress down.
“Fuck ‘em. No one looks at the chair seats for tell tale stains. If it’s as classy a place as we think it is, they’ll probably clean them regularly. I’m sure you’re not the only woman who gets worked up by her date while dining.”
He started the engine before Rana recovered enough to reply, and feeling dismissed, she decided against it.
Feeling it was necessary to explain his actions to her, he said, “I can be cruel when it’s necessary. I’m told that women like a man who takes charge.”
He didn’t see the expression on her face change as his words registered.
“I’m told that that is a two-way street, Mark,” Rana said softly.
Mark grinned and said, maybe it is. I guess we’ll see ... eventually.”
They came to a stoplight and he reached over, running a hand up the inside of her thigh. But instead of exploring that spot further, he brought the hand to her chest. Casually, he pulled down one of the straps on her dress lowering the front of her dress. Then he fondled her left breast, still inside the cup of the matching black lace push-up bra.
“You really don’t need a bra at all. You realize that, don’t you?”
“A girl needs certain ... um, restraints, Mark.”
“Yes, well your tits look amazing in that dress.”
Rana blushed and lowered her eyes. “Thank you. It makes me feel naughty, to be spilling out of my clothes like this.”
“You like that feeling, do you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” Mark’s voice was firm.
“Ohhh, Yes, Sir!”
The light changed and they resumed driving. Rana shifted in her seat as she glanced over at him.
Could she be that submissive? He wondered, and then began thinking about previous occurrences between them. I should test her further, he decided.
“Show them to me.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She looked around, seeing cars and pedestrians everywhere. Biting her lip, she turned to look at him. He met her look and waited for her to obey.
Rana was certain if she didn’t comply he would probably tear the dress off of her. Maybe even force her from the car to find her own way home. Terrified she released her seatbelt and gingerly pulled her dress front down, exposing the push-up bra, then reached behind her to unclasp the hooks holding it closed.
With a low sob, Rana eased the bra from her chest and let it fall to the floorboard. Her breasts wobbled as Mark drove over a pothole and as her breasts encountered the rush of cold air from the dashboard air-conditioner, her nipples stiffened.
Acutely aware of her surrounding and feeling overly vulnerable, Rana heard Mark inhale as they pulled up at another stoplight.
“Your tits are perfect, Rana.
“Mmm, thank you,” she said feeling almost giddy with sexual arousal.
Still waiting for the light to change, he reached over and squeezed each breast, giving both nipples a generous tug that had her writhing with pleasure.
Rana noticed a grin appear on his face and glanced over his shoulder to see a car alongside them. The driver and, presumably, his wife, were staring at them. The man gaping openly as Mark groped her tits, and his wife appeared to be scolding him. Or she might have been saying scathing things about Rana---Rana couldn’t tell for sure.
“Fuck!” she swore under her breath.
Mark realized what had happened and laughed. “Looks like we’re putting on a show for someone, Rana,” and only then did he accelerate away from the other vehicle.
Rana sat back in seat, her face flushed.
“You can cover yourself now,” Mark told her, a wide smile across his face.
“Christ ... That was so...”
“Hot?”
“Yes.”
“You enjoyed it, I could tell.”
Her flush grew darker as she placed her breasts back into the bra and readjusted her dress. Rana bit her lip and smiled. “I did.”
“You liked it a lot, didn’t you?”
“Not at first, but then ... yeah, it was soooo hot being watched like that.”
“You’re welcome.”
Rana giggled and spread her legs affording him a glimpse of her pussy every time they passed a streetlight.
“Are you soaking my towel?”
“Umm, I don’t think so ... but I am wetter now.”
“Will it show through the dress when we walk into the restaurant?”
“I doubt it—at least not from the way I’m sitting. But I’d appreciate it if you checked me out when we get there.”
“Sure thing,” he promised.
“Umm, Mark?”
“Yes, Rana?”
“Are you going to play games when we sit down in there?”
“You mean am I going to make you touch yourself under the table, things like that?”
“Mmmm, yeah!” Her voice was filled with excitement.
“Don’t you think it exciting to be made to finger yourself to an orgasm in public?”
“Very much so! I—I just wonder if I can do it, you know?”
They arrived at the Sultan’s Kite and Mark got out of the car, crossed over to the passenger side and opened the door for Rana before the valet could. He checked the back of her dress, told her she was good to go and they headed inside with the evening breeze drifting up her dress and cooling her simmering pussy momentarily.
Inside the restaurant, the hostess, on hearing their reservation name, led them to a low-lit table in the corner, perfect for what he has planned for them that night.
Mark pulled out Rana’s chair for her, and as she sat down whispered in her ear, “Every man and woman in here checked you out in that dress as we walked by.”
“Oh you ... you’re just saying that,” she said, but he could tell she was very pleased with his words.
Mark smiled and placed a hand on her knee under the table. “Now, let’s have you spread your legs just a little wider, hmmm?” Then with a firm grip on her thigh, he pulled the knee towards him, opening her up and increasing Rana’s feelings of exposure.
Before she could protest, their server arrived and exchanged pleasantries with them. While discussing the night’s specials, Mark’s fingers moved up and down her legs---from one thigh to the other. This forced Rana to focus on keeping her breathing steady and face neutral, though she can’t help but bite her lip. And when Mark turned to ask her a question about something written in Farsi on the menu, his fingers inadvertently pressed the tender spot on her right thigh, still sore from the bite marks his teeth left; and she gave a start, resulting in her knee hitting the underside of the table.
Mark settled the wine order and turned to Rana as the waiter walked away. “How badly do you want to touch yourself right now?”
“Oh, God. Mark. I can hardly stand it. Maybe I should just go to the restroom and finish myself off.”
“No you may not go there.”
“Ohhh ... then here?” she inquired hopefully.
“Ask nicely.”
“May I please touch myself?”
Instead of answering her, he smiled and leaned back in his chair. His eyes drank in her rapid breathing, and the way her breasts seemed to be threatening to leap from the confines of her bra. He glanced under the table; saw that her legs were still parted as he’d asked of her.
She is a submissive and an exhibitionist! He exalted inwardly. I’d better take things slow or I’ll fuck up---don’t want to do that.
“Rana, you know, this is your opportunity, your night as it were to be a very naughty girl.”
“I know,” she replied, and licked her lips slowly, more for effect than anything else.
“You posed for me, letting me take a scandalous picture of you in your bedroom. Need I remind you, your tits were practically bursting out of your dress; your panties down around your ankles, your legs spread, and your ass fully exposed to the camera.”
“Mmmmm...” she purred, denying nothing.
“In the car, you allowed me to hike up your dress and bite your thigh.”
“Uh-huh...”
“Still in the car you had your tits out, letting me fondle them with a couple in another car looking on.”
Rana began to squirm in the seat, gripping the sides of her chair to maintain her place.
“Are you dripping wet now?”
“God, yes. I’m all gooey and dripping down both of my thighs. I have been since...”
“Since we last kissed in your apartment!”
“YES!” she almost shrieked, but at the last second caught herself.
“Yes, what?”
“Huh? I don’t...”
“Yes, what?”
“Oh ... oh, I mean, Yes, Sir.”
Her answer confirmed his suspicions. She was a submissive, but did she realize it? Women were so analytical ... she must know, or suspect. When he spoke his voice was low, but fiery. “And now you want me to let you make yourself cum; not with me, but in a shithouse where I can’t enjoy watching you get off. You are really a selfish bitch, you know that, Rana?”
“Yes, sir! I mean no sir! I---I---I don’t know what I mean! I---I just need to touch myself---badly!”
Leaning forward, Mark brushed his fingers over the tops of her cleavage, causing Rana to shiver. One of her dress straps slipped from her shoulder.
He made no move to fix it, so she left it there, even as the waiter approached the table with their wine.
Mark leaned closer and whispered, “Take your phone into the restroom. Set the camera up so I can see your tits and your ass. Make a video for me where you lift your dress up and stick at least two, if not three fingers inside you.”
The waiter stood patiently beside their table, but Mark ignored him and continued whispering in her ear. Rana tried to control her breathing, hoping her face wouldn’t reveal how turned on she was to the waiter.
“I want at least a full minute of you fucking yourself with your fingers. Be sure to lick and suck your fingers clean when you’re done. DO NOT CUM! If you make yourself cum I will see to it that you can’t sit down for a week. Now go!”
Without another word, he turned to the waiter, leaving Rana to grab her purse and head to the ladies room.
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