Brandy
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Brandy Ch. 09-10 free porn video
The following material is sexually explicit erotica.
If you are offended by hard-core pornography close this file.
Chapter 9
THE COP
But every now and then I do get a really strange request involving both the clothes I’m to wear and what the man wants to happen. Will was an example of that, the man I mentioned earlier, the one who just wanted me to put on a ‘show’ for him – but like the ‘nun’ he preferred to satisfy himself, only needed me there as visual stimulation. The man I think of as ‘the cop’ was a better example of a man who wanted me to create a total scenario for him.
I’m sure he wasn’t a policeman but the ‘cop’ is what I always think of when I think of him, as I do from time to time. Like most clients he knew somebody who had been with me but unlike most he said that what he’d like us to do was a bit complicated and so he’d like to send me a description, so I could look it over and that he’d then ring back in a few days to see if I was prepared to go along with it.
I don’t like giving out the address of wherever I happen to be living and so have always rented a mail box just in case there is ever any need for clients to contact me that way. He must have sat down and written up his instructions as soon as he’d put the phone down because the envelope was there the following day and when I read through them the first time I must say that my initial reaction wasn’t too good. But he’d anticipated my nervous hesitation and included assurances that absolutely nothing more than what he’d written would happen to me, had included an amount of cash as a ‘deposit’ as he called it and said how much it would mean to him if I would go along with his idea.
Things had been a bit quiet and his idea intrigued me so, when he rang a couple of days later, after I had asked him a few more questions, really just to get him talking, so I could get an idea of the man behind the scheme, I agreed and we arranged a date and time.
I was to wear dark clothes, preferably black – sweater, pants, any sort of running shoes, some sort of hat to cover my hair and to take a single stocking and a couple of other things with me.
It was dark by the time I called a cab and gave the driver the address I’d been given and got there a little after the time we had arranged, the house was quite ordinary, with a garage on one side and a narrow path-way running down the other, just as he had described. I paid off the cab, went through the front-garden and stopped beside the house to put the stocking over my head and cover it with the hat. You see he wanted me to burgle the house!
He’d drawn a sketch of the lay-out and I found the window he’d asked me to use and outside of it the box he said he’d leave so I could climb up and get into the house. Once inside the bed-room I closed the window behind me and used a little torch I’d brought to find the envelope he had said would be there, the rest of my money was inside it, then I went into my burglar routine, opening and closing drawers as though looking for loot.
He kept me waiting for several minutes, perhaps standing outside the door, monitoring my progress around the room then, when I was busy with a small chest of drawers he burst in, waving what was obviously some sort of toy gun and telling me in a fierce voice to ‘Stop!’ or he’d shoot.
His notes had outlined what was to follow next – in the semi-darkness he was supposed not to realise that I was a woman and of course my voice was muffled by having the stocking over my head, so he either didn’t understand or simply ignored my pleas for mercy, shaking his head, saying he was going to ring the cops – but that first he’d have to make sure I didn’t escape. The next bit is what had originally concerned me, he was to tie my hands behind my back – I’ve never got involved in B & D and didn’t like the idea of being made semi-helpless in a strange house. But he’d agreed on the phone that he would only tie them very loosely, just to keep up the pretence – and he was as good as his word.
Once he’d done that he said he’d have to get a look at me so he could describe me to the police and of course when he took off the hat and stocking he was amazed to find that he’d caught a female burglar. Then, without the stocking I was able to make myself heard properly and said I’d been driven to what I’d done because my parents were dead, I had just lost my job and I had a kid sister to support – that I hadn’t taken anything and that I’d do anything for him, if he didn’t call the police.
He looked me up and down, licked his lips nervously and asked me what I meant by ‘anything’. I replied excitedly. ‘Anything, anything at all!’ Then in a softer voice added. ‘You’re a good-looking man, I could fancy you. Would you like me to give you a blow job? Or would you rather fuck me? Anyway you like!’ He paused, apparently thinking about that, reached out and touched me, lightly running his fingers over my breast, finding out that I wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the thin sweater and then on down over the curve of my hip.
After a minute or two he said ‘O.K. But I can’t risk you running out on me, I’ll have to keep your hands tied-up until afterwards.’
The knots he’d used to tie my hands were so slack that I knew I could slip them off without any trouble, obviously it was the idea of me being tied-up that was the important part of his fantasy so I smiled and nodded, saying that in that case he’d have to get me undressed – and that as I couldn’t lie down for him, he’d have to fuck me from the back while I knelt on the edge of the bed.
He got out of his own trousers and pants first, letting me see that he had become excited by our play-acting, his cock was already virtually fully erect, a nice straight one, thin but quite long enough. Then he got my slacks and panties off, pressing his face up against my stomach and kissing his way down through the bush of hair beneath, his gentle touch actually setting off a few little sparks inside me. With my hands tied he couldn’t get my sweater off of course but when he stood he eased it up over my breasts and spent a while caressing and nibbling each of them in turn, which was also quite nice and added to the faint arousal he had already started for me.
When he’d had enough of that he helped me up on to the edge of the bed and as I couldn’t use my arms to support myself, pulled down a pillow for me to rest my head on as I bent low for him. Then, having first felt between my legs and found that what he’d done had started moistening my pussy, spent a minute or two increasing the flow by slipping his fingers inside it, up and down the crack between the cheeks of my bottom and then back between my thighs and up over the tender nub of my clit. So, by the time he actually guided the swollen bulb of his cock-head between my pussy-lips I was more than ready for it – I was quite looking forward to having him inside me.
As he had with everything else he’d done, he was considerate, gentle and thorough – very thorough! In fact for a while I was beginning to wonder if he was ever actually going to climax – and he didn’t just keep going at the same speed, every now and then he’d change from long, deep strokes to shorter, sharper little jabs, using just the tip of his cock – which drove me wild, the sharp curve at the base of it triggering little shocks as it rubbed back and forth between my sensitive pussy-lips.
But eventually I sensed he was building-up to it, his hands gripped my hips tighter, his grunts of pleasure got louder and he started thrusting himself faster, plunging his cock even deeper – then I felt it swelling and almost immediately after that, he screamed and repeatedly slammed himself hard up against my bottom as he pumped load after load of his boiling semen high up inside me.
When he’d finished he amazed me by sitting down on the floor, his back against the end of the bed and then lifting himself, so he could reach my dripping pussy with his mouth. He not
only sucked out his own semen, he then went on licking and sucking at it and the hard ridge of my clit until he brought on my own climax.
Later, when we had both showered and he’d poured us a drink I grinned and said. ‘Your note didn’t say anything about the finale you had planned.’ Telling him how pleasantly surprised I’d been by the climax. He said that he hadn’t planned that but as I had given him such a marvellous orgasm it was the least he could do for me. There should be more customers like that!
But actually that reminds me of another, who in his own strange way was just as considerate and also gave me almost as much pleasure as he got himself – but first let me tell you about someone who pleasure came mainly from their own imagination, with only a little help from outside.
TO BE CONTINUED
Chapter 10
THE COLLECTOR
It’s amazing the lengths some men will go to and the time and money they’ll spend to create a particular sexual environment for themselves. Will, the man who just wanted to look up women’s legs, was one. Chuck, the millionaire was another. A third was Richard – and over the years he must have spent as much, if not more than the other two had between them – and the result certainly classified his tastes as being, well at least a little bit bizarre.
He collected images. Images of women of course, all sorts of images – paintings, photographs, books, statuettes – you name it.
When I first met him I didn’t know anything about that of course, like most of my clients he heard about me through a friend or business associate and after a brief chat on the phone we arranged to meet for dinner at one of my preferred hotels. We ate, talked, went up to the room he’d booked and had sex – perfectly straightforward sex, nothing strange or kinky. He was pleasant enough, very attentive and considerate and after we had finished and I was about to leave he said he looked forward to seeing me again.
Plenty of men say that, I guess they feel they have to say something – it’s a bit like a guy saying ‘I’ll ring you’ to a girl he’s met or picked up somewhere, even though both of them know it’s unlikely that he will.
Anyway Richard did, we met another couple of times over the next few weeks and it was only after the third time, again when I was just about to leave that he asked almost shyly, if I ever accepted invitations to the client’s home, rather than meeting them in hotels.
By then I knew from our little chats that he had been divorced for several years, had teen-age children that he saw fairly frequently and that he had an apartment not far from the centre of the city, so although I felt confident he wouldn’t suddenly turn nasty on me I still thought for a moment or two and said it depended on the client and why he wanted me to do that.
He obviously understood exactly what I meant – and I’ll never forget his answer.
‘I’d very much like to take some photographs of you – and show you where I’ll be displaying the best one.’
During the time I’ve been an escort-girl I’ve had plenty of pictures taken of me, usually naked or semi-naked and usually the instant variety, that end up in the back of some guy’s wallet. I don’t mind, sooner or later the guy is going to brag to a friend, show them the picture and maybe I get another client out of it. It’s a form of advertising as far as I’m concerned.
But part of Richard’s answer intrigued me – ‘and show you where I’ll be displaying the best one.’ Of course I asked him what he meant but he just smiled and said I would have to see for myself.
As I said, I felt sure I could trust him, so I agreed and we arranged a date and time. As he’d said that the main purpose was so he could take my picture I asked what sort of things he would like me to wear. ‘Something slinky.’ he said. ‘Something that shows off your figure, I mean its shape.’
I don’t mind admitting that over the next few days I thought about Richard’s request quite a bit, toyed with various things I had that fitted his rather broad description. I had quite a few figure-hugging tops that I could wear with either pants or a tight skirt – or would he prefer a teddy, one piece underwear – then there was a tube dress I’d bought a few years earlier, it was certainly ‘slinky’.
But nothing really seemed quite right and in the end I went out and bought something, a cat-suit or body-suit – actually I bought two, a black one and a vivid red one. When I’d tried them on in the shop I’d had to leave my underwear on of course, so as soon as I got home I had to try them on again – without. I must say, the difference was quite dramatic.
The fabric was stretch lycra and once the zip down the back was done up it fitted like a second skin, covering me from neck to ankles and wrists – and as I turned slowly around in front of the mirror I knew that even if he hadn’t known it himself, this was exactly what Richard meant when he’d said ‘slinky’.
I experimented with a few poses, stretching my arms high above my head, bending low, half turning myself so that the curve of my breasts showed as I looked back into the mirror – and found myself wondering which particular one would turn out to be Richard’s favourite.
Although I was tempted to see what the cab driver’s reaction would be, I finally decided not to put on either outfit before leaving, packing them and a few alternatives in a small bag and wearing just a fairly ordinary skirt and top for the short journey. I’ll never forget the look of disappointment on Richard’s face when he opened the door – but it quickly disappeared when I told him I had my things in the bag and he got positively excited when I added that I would leave it to him to choose from the several outfits I had brought with me.
He’d booked me for the whole evening, which I always prefer – I hate having to trot from one client to another – and had told me he would fix something for us to eat, so once we’d settled the financial business and he’d got a couple of drinks he asked if he could see what I’d brought with me, so we could decide what I was to wear later. Although he obviously liked both the teddy and tube dress when he saw the two cat-suits he literally grinned from ear to ear and said.
‘Perfect! Absolutely perfect Brandy. I should have known you’d pick something as brilliant as this. I can’t wait to see you wearing them, you’ll look stunning – and the pictures will be fantastic, I just know they will.’
When I asked him which of the two he liked best he said. ‘Neither. You’ll have to let me take pictures of you in each of them!’
‘So, do I get to see where you are going to put these pictures? That’s what you said you’d do.’
He put the suits on one side and got up. ‘Of course you do Brandy. Come along, though we mustn’t get held up in there or dinner will spoil.’
Although his apartment was very modern the building it was in was quite old and there had obviously been a good deal of renovation done to it to make the individual apartments both functional and attractive. But wherever possible the developers had retained the former layout of rooms and of course they all had the original high ceilings. Richard’s apartment was at one corner of the top floor and to my utter amazement still included a quite large, turret-room, which was reached by a narrow stair-case behind an ordinary looking door at the end of the hall-way.
‘They loved having decorative bits and pieces on the outside of buildings in those days – but they still liked to make practical use of space when they could.’ he explained as he led the way up the stairs. ‘I’ve no idea what the room would have been used for originally – maybe a study or just a storage room – but when I was looking for a place, after my wife and I split up and I saw this I just had to have it – it’s absolutely perfect for me.’
He opened the door, turned on a light and led me inside. It was like something out of a movie, an odd sort of movie – there were women or rat
her images of women, everywhere.
The walls were covered with pictures of them, some paintings, others photographs, some of them life-size, some much smaller, all very carefully arranged for maximum effect.
Statuettes, in marble, gilt, bronze – you name it. Some serving practical purposes as lamps or vases, others purely for their appearance. Some artistic, others in quite obviously erotic poses.
One wall, beside the door was taken up with a book-case which went from floor to ceiling. On the lower shelves were very large books, which he said contained photographs or photographs of paintings of women. Higher up were the ordinary sized books, many of which were quite serious books about sexuality but he admitted that there were also a large number which were full of pornography of various kinds.
Richard let me wander around, examining whatever aroused my interest, giving me time to adjust to what I was seeing. But after a while, when he saw that I was neither upset nor disturbed by his collection he took me gently by the arm and quietly said. ‘I’d like the picture of you to be over here Brandy, see what you think.’
We moved to the other side of the room, skirting tables and pedestals until we stood in the bay formed by the curve of the window. Between the window frame and one of the life-size paintings was an area very nearly filled with about a dozen photographs of various women – all of whom were quite stunning and all of whom were in poses designed to simply display the shapes of their bodies. Some were in colour, some in stark black and white and no two poses were alike.
A quick glance showed that several of the poses I had tried out had already been done – but was thrilled to see that the one that I had thought actually suited my figure best and which accentuated my long legs, hadn’t been.
Of course I didn’t know whether Richard had rearranged the photographs just before my arrival or that he had in reality been waiting for someone special – but the central area was blank, as though it had been reserved for me all along.
‘There Brandy, right there in the centre. And I think it will end up being the red outfit that will win pride of place. But I’ll take pictures of you in both, just in case – if you don’t mind of course.’
‘Of course I don’t mind. I’ll be honoured Richard, honoured.’ I answered almost absentmindedly as I turned and looked slowly around the room again. ‘How long have you been collecting these things Richard?’
‘Seriously? Since my wife and I split up, that’s nearly ten years now. But I’ve had some of these things much longer than that, some of the books and quite a few of the pictures. That was one of the reasons for the start of the marriage break-up – my wife could never understand my interest, no fascination with sexuality and pictures of women. Thought it meant I was perverted.
Oh I admit I sometimes used them to masturbate – but then most men do that – it doesn’t mean they don’t still love their partner, still find them sexy. But she couldn’t accept that. But that was really an excuse I think, there were other, deeper problems between us.
Anyway, once we’d decided to split and then, when I found this place, well it sort of inspired me. I set out to create something unique. It’ll never be complete of course I’m still adding things, though it’s getting harder to find things that are better than what I already have. When I look at something, even if a know I have space for it I ask myself whether I would be prepared to throw something else out, to make room for it.’
‘What did you throw out to make room for me Richard?’ I asked with a grin.
He smiled back at me. ‘That would have been easy Brandy, you have such a beautiful body that it could have been any of that group of photographs.’
I thanked him for the compliment and he said he thought we ought to go down and eat before the meal spoiled, saying he’d be glad to bring me back again later, if I was genuinely interested in his collection.
Mara
- 17.04.2022
- 19
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