Uncaged Lust

It was a humid summer day when Cheyanne decided to go to the pool. She stripped off what little clothing she had on and walked briskly out to the backyard where the pool was located, gladly feeling the bright sun cast onto her naked body. In another moment, and for a long time thereafter, Cheyanne would be floating on a body-raft in the center of her large swimming pool, taking full advantage of the sun beating down on her.

Cheyanne's backyard was quite secluded, but not entirely. Cheyanne was intentionally walking naked in broad daylight because she hoped that some handsome guy or group of guys would be looking at her and craving her. Cheyanne was lonely and wanted nothing more than to be with a fit, handsome man who would ravish her and make her his sexual slave. Cheyanne was a woman who was not the least bit shy about her body. If a perfect stranger happened to walk by and spot her in the yard naked, Cheyanne would not cover up, embarrassed. She'd simply smile back and say hello as if the guy wasn't staring at her body at all. Cheyanne would always swim, sunbathe and sleep in the nude which was just something she had always done since she was a teenager. She didn't own a bathing suit, she hated tan lines and she could never get comfortable enough for sleep if there were clothes being pulled and stretched every time she rolled around in bed. It was sexy and made her feel free.

Cheyanne was not a very thin girl. She was not fat either. She was very thick, but it was a sexy thick. Her skin was flawless. And perhaps her greatest feature, her huge, natural breasts that now, at their largest, were 38-EEEs. She loved her breasts, but at the same time, Cheyanne had a love-hate relationship with them. It was her breasts that made her so much money at work, where she tended bar for a bunch of horny alcoholics, but they also ultimately forced Cheyanne to move far away from her home state across the country to the small town she now lived.

As Cheyanne rested on her floating raft, looking beautiful in the glimmering sunlight; her eyes shut gently, and half asleep, she imagined a lover being there with her;

always

being there. When he would return home from working hard at his job, it would be a special occasion; the reason for the celebration-sized meal she would soon prepare for them. Then they would eat by candlelight and have casual conversation that would quickly turn seductive. Then her lover would command her to stand and undress. Then he would take her in his powerful arms and make love to her on the table. Then they would finish upstairs until they climaxed together so hard they would nearly pass out. This was her fantasy. Unfortunately, that's all it ever was.

But this fantasy turned her on. She was craving amazing sex and continued to dwell on her fantastical thoughts as she moved her right hand down to her clit. keeping her eyes shut and feeling the intense heat of the sun on her bare skin, Cheyanne slowly began to massage her clit, making it swell and pulsate with every motion of her fingers. She could feel the pleasure inside her pussy grow quickly as she got wetter and wetter. She moved her fingers faster and faster, panting and moaning. She clenched her feet tightly as she felt the burn of a strong orgasm promise to execute within seconds. Her pussy opened and released a gush of fluid spraying across the pool water and she yelled out in climax. After a few moments, Cheyanne rested her hand on her abdomen, leaving her other hand and both feet overhanging the raft in the water.

After another few moments, Cheyanne drifted off into a light sleep, but just deep enough to let her dream. She was dreaming about the past; about her regrets and her wondering how life could have been different if she had a great man in her life when she was younger, how would her life be now? It was a recurring fantasy in her subconscious that always depressed her when she would awaken and realize it was all a dream.

After some time, Cheyanne finally awoke. She slowly opened her eyes and wiped sweat from her forehead with her wet, left hand. More sweat trickled down her body, dripping into the water as she sat up. When she looked down at herself, she was at the borderline of being sunburned. Much time had passed since she first went out. She used her feet to move the raft and floated over to the ladder leading out of the pool. She slowly climbed out and then stretched her perspiring body up straight, reaching toward the sky. She then took a moment to look out at the peaceful and private yard she had, wondering if she would ever share this peaceful residence and her life with the perfect lover. Cheyanne walked down the deck steps and headed toward the house, trickles of water dripping from her feet and hands.

The house was a light-colored grey on the outside. It had two entrance doors and at least one window per room. The backyard was filled with a few rows of pine trees that stood all around the border of the yard blocking most view from any neighbors or random citizens on the outside of the border. In the middle of the back yard was the pool which Cheyanne now occupied; twenty-four-by-five-foot, dark blue interior. Around the right side of the pool was a half circle deck made from maple wood. One ladder accessed the water and there were two aqua-colored lawn-chairs up there to lay on. The water was so clear; you'd swear the pool was empty. This was Cheyanne's favorite spot, and where she spent most of her free time on hot summer days; often nights too.

Later that night, Cheyanne went to work. She was a bartender at an Irish pub on the east side of town. It was always busy, and she would always get hit on by guys that were drunk, half-drunk, handsome, or repulsing. She was used to it, but it wasn't what she wanted. She wanted a great guy to treat her with respect and then offer to take her home and give her an amazing night to remember. The tips she got were ridiculously good because of her breasts. Cheyanne wore low-cut shirts and push-up bras to attract all the male customers and milk as much of their tip money as she could. It seemed almost hypocritical to her, given what she wanted versus what she experienced from the guys at the bar. But it was good money, so she felt she had no right to complain. Through it also was a bit careless on her part seeing as several of her regulars were horny and somewhat aggressive in their verbal treatment of her. There were a couple of them that made Cheyanne afraid to serve them drinks, especially since they didn't need to be drunk to make sleazy passes at her.

By now, it was almost closing time and yet he still sat here talking with a couple other half drunken guys about her tits and how he wanted to give her a show. Cheyanne did her best to ignore him, like she always did. She couldn't wait for the night to be over with, so she could go home, masturbate in the shower and wash the rest of this night away. But then her entire mood changed when she saw a man she had never seen before sit down at the bar. He was muscular and had a nice chiseled-looking jawline. He seemed to be alone. Cheyanne had not seen him before, but she had a feeling inside her upon seeing him that made her wet. She could feel sexual tingling in her clit just walking over to him to ask what he was drinking.

"Hi, what can I get for you tonight?" she asked.

"I was thinking yourself," he said with a grin.

"Oh well, I'm not on the menu tonight, hun."

They both laughed. Then the man ordered a scotch, neat. She served him his drink and then watched him sip at it. She should have been checking on her other customers, but she was drawn to this man. She forgot all about her bad mood due to the sexual comments and rudeness of her least favorite customer. Her eyes made contact with the handsome man's eyes, and her first instincts told her to look away. But she didn't. It seemed that his eyes had a magnetizing effect on hers.

"Can I ask your name?" he said.

"I'm Cheyanne," she told him after a slight hesitation.

This man was older than she. He wore most of what was once a full suit. The tie and jacket were not on him, but Cheyanne saw a dark-gray suit jacket around the back of his chair. She imagined he had a red or black tie that went with it. Was he a businessman of some sort? Did he run a chauffeur service or possibly work at a law firm? She wanted to ask him, but she was shy and nervous. She thought that was too bold of her to ask. But on the contrary, the man liked her and hoped that she would inquire about him. He wanted her to be interested in him. He could tell right away that she was shy, but he was confident that his being there had caught the attention of not only her mind, but her libido as well. It had. But Cheyanne didn't know quite how to handle it. She stood there, pondering what to say next, if anything. Her other customers; her regulars, noticed that their favorite bartender (to a few she was their least favorite) had been hooked by this new face that sat at the bar.

Most of her regulars were nice and good-spirited people, but of course, there were some that were pushy or came onto her when they had a few too many. One of those men was there that evening, sitting two seats to the left of Cheyanne's new customer. He was middle-aged and usually wore a scruffy-looking goatee and glasses. He had tried making passes at Cheyanne in the past when he'd had several drinks too many. Cheyanne would have liked nothing more than to tell the perverted guys to fuck off, but she never did because of the fact she may have gotten fired, or even worse, she could have angered these drunken jerks and they may have attacked her.

But now, the man sitting here, who she did not know, but she somehow felt sexually attracted to was making her fears and principles suddenly fade away. She felt special and empowered, and she hadn't even learned this man's name yet. He told her she was beautiful and asked if she was not too busy. She said it was business like usual at work, but she could still talk as long as she worked. Her body language didn't go unnoticed by the other patrons at the bar, but neither she nor the man cared to notice. But the rudest drinker at the bar, the one who was already making shameless comments at Cheyanne before the handsome, mysterious man had come to the bar was not happy. In fact, he was pissed.

"Hey, sweetheart, can I get that drink tonight?" asked the rude bar guest.

Cheyanne dropped it on the coaster in front of him, not taking her eyes off the man she made love with the previous night.

"Hi, having a rough night?" he asked.

"Do you really care?" asked Cheyanne.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

"Well I'd love to keep talking, but it'll have to be short snippets of chat, hun. I'm still working."

One of her other customers chuckled. He boasted, "If you want to call this working."

Both Cheyanne and the man looked at him with distain. Cheyanne wanted to take the drink he had in front of him and shove it down his throat. But she didn't have to. The man she was talking to got up from his seat and coiled the man's cheap excuse for a tie around his neck tightly. The man was already drunk, and he was panicking not being able to breathe.

"You want to apologize to the lady. If not, I'll strangle your ass right here," the man said.

The other men sitting around either moved away from the bar or acted like this wasn't happening. They were all pussies.

"I'm sorry," the drunken man whined.

The other man released him. The drunken man fell to the floor and then scurried away to the exit door. Cheyanne was speechless. She felt she should have been applaud and worried about a man who resorted to violence in such a way. But it wasn't a serious beating and the drunk was not hurt. The man demanded that this loudmouth respected her. A man had never stood up for her or respected her or demanded respect for her like this before in her life. The man walked back to the bar and looked at Cheyanne's shocked face that now felt hot. The heat continued through her chest and down to her pussy. She felt the sexual heat surging through her. She began sweating.

"I didn't mean to cause a scene," he said. "I just couldn't let him talk to you like that. I hope you still want to talk."

"I do..." she said softly.

He smiled. Then he asked her, "Getting off soon?"

She thought for a minute before answering. Get off? She'd love nothing more than to get off right now, sexually. She answered him slowly, her eyes focused hard on the man's face. She began fantasizing about being dominated by this man, naked, begging for climax and to be used to his liking. Where this was coming from she didn't know. But she felt the sexual burn of craving and longing in her pussy.

"You want to help me with that?" she asked, almost subconsciously.

He grinned. Then he told her he would like to do anything she wanted him to. Cheyanne smiled back and told him she would be off the clock in less than half-an-hour. Then she asked him if he had a car and was good at following people. He said he would follow her anywhere.

"I'd like nothing more," she told him.

Before long they were both at Cheyanne's house, where she led the man in her car, him following close behind in his own car. They were already making out when they got into the house. She led him to the bedroom, throwing the door open, not bothering to close it or the curtains on the other side of the bed. The man pulled off her shirt and tossed it behind him. She laid in a big kiss on him before he went for her bra. He freed her breasts from their confinement of possibly the biggest bra he had ever seen. She stood there topless, feeling vulnerable and shy. She covered her breasts almost reflexively. The man took her hands down and told her how beautiful they were. She blushed and smiled. He then leaned in and kissed her. As they kissed, his hands found their way onto her breasts, feeling every inch of them, the heavy, thick bags of flesh that began sweating, her large nipples getting harder with every stroke of his thumbs. He tasted his tongue and bit his lips. He then dropped to his knees and pulled off the rest of her clothes. He worked his way from her chest to her belly and then to her pussy. He inserted his tongue and worked his magic, sending pleasure though her entire body. Cheyanne had trouble standing after a time. Her moans went right to his cock.

He stood up and kissed her again. He wanted her to taste herself on his tongue. She did, and she liked it. She yanked off his shirt and undid his belt. She was so excited to see his rod, she grew wetter by the second thinking about it. When she pulled his boxers down and looked at it at eye-level, she gasped. He kicked off his pants and shoes and then sat at the edge of the bed. Cheyanne figured he wanted her to put her mouth on it. She hadn't done that before, but the idea of doing it to him made her excited. She spit on it and then pushed her mouth down as far as she could, feeling it glide down her throat. She heard him moan intensely. She forced herself not to stop until she had to breathe. She repeated this a few times until he put his hand under her chin. He kissed her once again, and then said, "I want your tits on me."

She wasn't sure what that meant, but she found out quickly. He reached into the drawer of his night stand and pulled out a small bottle of oil. He popped the cap and then dowsed Cheyanne's breasts with the oil. The sudden chill made her gasp and her nipples get hard again. It took almost half the bottle of oil to fully coat her enormous breasts. He began to massage them like a professional would. He used his strong hands to knead her breasts like dough while she stood in front of him. He kissed her belly while he did this as well. Cheyanne was feeling so sexually charge, her pussy began dripping. He told her to get on her knees again and she did. Then he lifted her oily breasts and dropped them on his lap and squeezed them together. He smiled at her and told her to show him some magic. He then felt the greatest pleasure he could imagine as Cheyanne's massive breasts became his source of that pleasure. It took both his and her hands to hold them in place while he glided between them. He loved it. It felt like he would cum at any second, but he held on. He forced himself to keep controlled; to move slowly. Cheyanne had never done this before. She didn't know what she was doing exactly, but it felt right to her. The sensation was interesting too. She wanted him inside her. She wanted it so desperately, but she wanted him to get what he wanted too.

She soon got her wish though. He laid on his back and told her to mount him in reverse. She did as she was told and felt her pussy fill up with his dick. It felt like time stopped. He let her use his hands like a seat as she arched her feet and held his wrists, letting him thrust into her steadily and powerful. She felt her huge breasts begin bouncing around from the momentum of the sex. If he wasn't using his hands as Cheyanne's leverage he would be groping them.

He wanted to grope them and suck them. She began screaming as her first orgasm burned throughout her body stating with her clit. He didn't slow down or stop. He continued to thrust into her, paralyzing her in the pleasure.

Then he told her to dismount him. Again, she did as he told her. He crawled onto her and pushed himself inside her once again. This time, he held her left leg up by her ankle, watching as she curled her pretty toes out of pleasure. She held her breasts from underneath keeping them together while they bounced. It was so hot watching them bounce and sway around, the man still had trouble keeping himself from cumming at that moment. Again, Cheyanne begged him to move faster until she gushed everywhere. She did, making a mess of his torso and groaning intensely.

Then playtime was over for him. He reached back to his night stand and took out small leather straps. They attached to themselves with Velcro.

"What are those for," she asked.

"They're to keep you from going anywhere. Move over to the head of the bed."

Cheyanne hesitated. Then her lover told her again, more sternly. She did as she was told, wondering where this was going now. She discovered the answer to that question almost immediately. He tied her hands and her feet to the corners of the bed with the leather straps and then said, "I'm in control of you now."

She panted heavily, out of extreme anticipation, and mild fear. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to make you feel good."

He went down to her pussy and inserted his fingers. He massaged her and stimulated her until she was on the brink of climax. Then he stopped. She was puzzled.

"Why did you stop?" she asked.

"I want to build you up as long and hard as I can...before I finally let you release."

He then used his mouth on her. His tongue was very wet, just like her pussy. He tasted her juices and he loved the flavor. He liked her vaginal convulsions even more. Again, as soon as she was near climax, she stopped. Cheyanne understood now: she was in his control and would cum when he wanted her to. He finally pushed himself inside her again. It felt even better than before. She couldn't move much. But she liked that. She liked that this man was using her to his liking with every kiss, every thrust. Her pussy was swelling up. Her pleasure was so intense, Cheyanne began screaming. She felt the burn of an orgasm flooding her body, from her clit all the way up to her face and down to her toes. But he wasn't done. He was still going. Cheyanne felt like her clit would explode. Her g-spot was full of fluid and feeling with every single hard thrust that she herself would explode.

"Please, please, I'm going to squirt," she said. "Here it comes!"

He thrusted one more time, long and hard before pulling out. Cheyanne gushed all over him. She screamed in pleasure and wedged her legs closed. She couldn't take any more. She needed a break. She was so sensitive now; the pleasure would almost feel painful. But he slid inside her again. He clamped his hands onto her incredible breasts that until that moment were flopping around crazily, slapping her in the chin, the huge mounds of sweaty flesh rippling like waves with every thrust. His hands could barely contain them. They were so soft and heavy. He squeezed them hard, using them like cushions for his weight. Cheyanne's pussy was throbbing with pleasure. Now the man was growing close to climax.