Im Loving It Ch 05

Dear Readers—Thanks for the wonderful praise I've gotten. I'm really happy that so many of you enjoy my writing and hearing about a really special time in my life. Sorry this chapter has taken me so long to write—life got really really busy for me and confusing and chaotic in the last couple of months! For all the haters on here, I'm not sure why you're still following me around like a case of ugly genital warts, but please just don't read me if you don't like me. It's that simple. It's as if a sizable percentage of people in this category get off on hatred and being rude. I think you need to re-prioritize your lives and go find something more enjoyable to do than endlessly bitch and be rude to random people you don't know on the internet.

Aura

*****

After Miko left our house on amiable terms, Steve and I curled up together and laughed our asses off about his crazy little show.

"I had no idea what you were doing!" I admitted. "I thought you might try to fight him or something."

"I watched you squirm and I liked it," Steve said with a wolfish grin. "So, how'd you like fucking two guys back to back? All that jizz!"

"I thought it was so hot. I totally loved it."

We kissed each other and talked late into the night and were both so turned on by what happened, and by the idea of going to this sex party.

"Do you think Tamara will be into it?"

"I know she will. She's a total slut," I said, remembering stories she'd told me how her random men over the last few months. "I'd still like to get a taste of her before we go there, if you don't mind."

Steve smirked impishly at me. "I get to taste her if you do, that's the rule."

I pouted at him, but secretly I was already thinking there're some things I just won't tell him, like what goes on next time I massage Tamara.

"Don't pout at me, you selfish little slut," he said, flipping me over roughly so I was facedown on the bed. "I let you play with Miko, and I think you should let me play with Tamara. Or rather, let us play with Tamara." WHACK! His hand came down hard on my right ass cheek. "This is what happens to naughty little sluts who don't like to share." WHACK! This time on my left cheek. He was slapping me hard, and I really felt like I'd done something wrong. My mind just automatically switched into the submissive who deserved to be punished, and my cheeks burned with shame as Steve continued to smack my ass. I knew exactly what he wanted now, and this was the price of my selfishness.

"Yes, Daddy, I'm a selfish little slut."

WHACK! "It's time for you to learn how to share, isn't it?"

"No, Daddy, I can't share her. I want her all to myself first."

WHACK! "Wrong answer, you naughty little bitch. Daddy wants to feel her, too."

"But Daddy, please just let me explore her first, because we have something building—"

WHACK! "You know the rules." He hit me so hard this time my ass stung and throbbed from it.

"Okay, Daddy, I won't touch her unless I bring her home for both of us." I was lying, but it felt like the only way to appease him. What happened between Tamara and I was certainly just for us, and Steve would be an unwelcome third wheel. Maybe after I had her myself, I would see if she was interested in him, but not before. She and I had unfinished business with each other.

I wondered what he would do now, since he was in this mode.

Steve's hands gripped my hips roughly and yanked me across the bed, suddenly his hard cock was jabbing between my legs and pushing my pussy open around it. I had no idea he'd gotten me wet from the beating, but I was soaked and he slid right in. I felt naughty and ashamed for wanting Tamara to myself, and also more because of the fact that I had decided to deceive him about her. That's really what my punishment was for, but he didn't know that.

Steve was thrusting so hard into me that my body felt pounded across the bed. He leaned up and whispered into my ear. "My little slut is the sexiest girl alive, isn't she?"

"Yes." And my pussy started to get sore, but I liked being his naughty little bitch right now. And I felt absolutely filthy about everything—about Miko, about Tamara, about lying, about this sex party we were getting ourselves into. "I'm your little slutty cum rag," I whimpered.

"Oh yes, you're my little slutty cum rag, and Miko's, and whoever else is at this party, aren't you?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

"How many loads of cum are you going to eat at the party?" he asked.

"As many as you want me to," I said.

"How many loads of cum do you want to eat there?"

I grunted as he fucked me harder. "At least ten loads." I knew he wanted slutty talk of cum. In reality I didn't actually want to swallow ten loads of unfamiliar men, but he was getting close and I knew this would push him over the edge.

"Oh, good girl. You wanna feel ten guys shooting cum in your sexy little mouth?"

"Yes Daddy, I want to feel their cocks pulsing and unleashing spurts of cum in my mouth. I want them to use my mouth and my lips and fuck my face until they're ready to give me that delicious cum and then I'll feel it sliding down my—"

"AAAGHHHH!" Steve screamed and pulled out of me, dragging my head across the bed by my hair as he brought my face to his cock. I pliantly followed his lead and felt hot liquid hitting my cheek, then another rope flung across my eye and forehead, and finally his cock pressed to my lips and began spurting cum onto my tongue. I held it tightly, lapping up each burst hungrily until I felt him subside. I felt like an extension of him, like we were some organic process here, and somehow I existed almost solely for the satisfaction of his cock. It was a strange feeling, his cock pulsing lightly in my mouth but no longer releasing any seed, my lips holding it patiently while his hands cradled my head. My pussy throbbed but not because I'd cum, just because it had been beaten on tonight, and she felt glad to be free of cock now, her duty done. She pulsed with her own life, too, somehow responding to his cock, and I sat there in my little blissed out place, enjoying my role, proud of my man.

Steve's face suddenly nuzzled against mine, and it startled me, as if I'd been dozing off.

"Hey pretty lady," he said.

"Hi sexy man."

"Do you feel weird at all?" he said.

I did feel a little weird. "No," I said. "About what?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. It's just been a strange night."

We curled up together and passed out after a few soft kisses. I definitely felt weird but I didn't know what was bothering me. I hoped Miko really felt okay about everything, and that his feelings weren't hurt. I hoped Tamara and Miko would actually hit it off. I wasn't sure what to make of Steve and his newfound kinks. Sometimes the world just feels like an unknown landscape, and the entire future is uncertain.

* * *

The next morning, I texted Tamara and told her I wanted to give her a complimentary massage at my office at 6pm.

'Mmmm,' she texted back. 'I like the sound of that. Let me buy you dinner first like a proper date.. meet at 5 at TGIF.'

I guess she hadn't forgotten our last session, and knew exactly what I had in mind.

'Perfect,' I said. TGIF was right near the mall, and the tiny office I rented.

I felt nervous and excited all day, practically tingling inside with the lust I felt for Tamara, and the thrill of connecting with her. It was going to be so strange. This wasn't like the sorts of feelings I'd had for women before, during past threesomes that were done for my boyfriends' enjoyment. This was something I chose, something she and I both felt, and it was private to us. I knew it was wrong to lie to Steve, but I couldn't share this with him. It was too personal.

The work day flew by at the club, and I had one massage at my office as well, which is great. The club pays me $27 per hour massage and at my office I make $70 per hour. If I could just build up my client base then I could really do well for myself.

James, my client at my office, is a 61 year old man who I poached from a former asshole employer. He loved my massages and started coming to my private practice instead of the other massage clinic, so that I would get the full pay. He'd been coming to me for almost a year, and had opened up a lot to me about his life and his troubles with his wife. His biggest trouble is that she was Catholic and not very into sex.

The other noteworthy thing about James is that he lays there through every session with a raging hard-on poking up from the sheets, and he groans a lot in pleasure so you'd actually think he's about to jizz himself if you're standing out in my waiting room. I actually find it kind of sexy and flattering that this man is so hot for me. I can't help but sometimes think how nice it would be to just let my hands wander over his cock and massage it until he came. He has a pretty sizable cock, too, which makes that fantasy hotter. It really shouldn't be illegal for me to touch him there, because massage is meant to be a full body healing experience, and sexuality is such an important part of our body and spirit. But of course I wouldn't cross that line, since doing so could cost me my license. I still think it's ridiculous that I'm not allowed to... if I want to please him a little beyond the realm of the normal massage, it should be my choice, right?

If anything, you'd probably think a guy his age wouldn't be able to get it up very well, but not only does he get it up every time, it just stays in place like a ship mast for the duration of the massage! Sometimes it moved and flexed during the session. I'd actually caught glimpses of his cock before because the sheet had slipped off it while I was trying to maneuver around him. I actually laugh openly at him about it, and regularly joke with statements like, "Put that thing away!" or "Are you trying to poke me in the eye?" And of course my cock jokes always makes James laugh hysterically. He's a big old flirt, for sure.

Anyway, I was all jazzed up for my session with Tamara, and somehow I felt comfortable telling James about it. I was just too excited to keep it in, and since he'd confided with me about his life and even about his sex life, I felt like it was okay to confide back. I told him everything, including the part about Steve and I both cheating, and bringing Miko over so Steve could watch. His erection soared throughout this story and he moaned as if I was giving him a handjob. I found it funny, but I also felt like I was tormenting him. I didn't tell him the part about Steve fucking me while Miko hid in the closet, because I didn't want to complicate the story, or give James an aneurism.

When I was done explaining it, he just said. "Oh my god I just can't even believe you. Who would've ever thought that an innocent girl like you would be so wild. I'm speechless."

"I'm clearly not innocent!" I protested, and he laughed.

"Obviously. So you're going to have sex with this woman... tonight?" he said, after I laid out the story.

"Yes!" I said, giddy. "At least, I think so. Can you believe it?"

"Oh you're too much, Aura. I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that session," he says with a chuckle. His boner flexes mightily in approval. "I might have to stay in the waiting room and listen in on this one. It's too hot."

"You're not the only one who approves!" I say coyly, looking at his cock.

He laughs and it rears up again. "Yeah he's got a mind of his own."

"So, do you think it should be considered cheating for Tamara and I to see each other? I mean, I understand Steve wants to watch, but if he were there, it would just be us putting on a show for him and probably him being the center of everything. And she and I have our own connection, which I really think deserves to unfold on its own."

James thinks about my words before responding, which I respect. "It's kind of a gray area whether it's cheating or not. It is cheating, since you made an agreement with him, but it's also not, since he allows you to have sex with other people. I think it's just a situation where it's hard for a man to understand this. I mean, the stuff your generation is into just blows my mind. We were never like you guys."

"What about the 60's I say? Weren't y'all having orgies and getting fucked up?"

He laughs. "I wouldn't know—I was a 1950's throwback. I didn't get hip until the 70's, because I grew up in a religious home in Pennsylvania. We rebelled against our parents, but nothing like you kids."

"I'm not a kid, James!"

"Compared to me you are. Anyway, I just mean youngsters today are all wild, young kids getting pregnant, all the shenanigans and sexting. I'm probably not the best person to ask for advice about all of this."

"Well, I appreciate you and your opinion. And you're outside of my circle of friends, so it's safe to ask you."

"I appreciate that you felt comfortable talking to me about it all. I know what I'm going to think about when I go home tonight," he laughs and winks at me.

I made a playful skeeved-out face at him. "Don't wink, James. It's just creepy when people wink. That's some weird thing from your generation, and I have to put a stop to it, starting with you."

James laughs but he looks a little hurt.

"I'm glad you're going to think about it. That's okay with me." I smile and caress his calves gently, reassuringly, just wanting him to know I didn't mean to reject him.

He seems okay with that. His erection flares again, but I'm used to that after this conversation. I think about how fun it would be to just take him in my mouth with no warning and make his fantasy come true. That would be super hot, but I'm not gonna lose my license over it. Plus, it's a passing fantasy because I'm really just super horny for Tamara.

At the end of the session, he gives me a $30 tip, which is generous, and tells me to enjoy myself. I always charge him $80 for a 75 minute massage, which is a discount, because that's how much his insurance pays. And he usually gives me a $20 tip. "I want you to enjoy yourself tonight, honey," he says. "Life is too short to live with regrets and limit yourself."

I hug him when he leaves, like I always do, and I feel his protrusion against my stomach. "Okay, James, go take care of that," I say with a smirk.

"I sure will. But it won't be me," he says in a suggestive voice, like he's going to get a hooker or fuck his wife really well.

"What do you mean?"

He bumbles awkwardly. "Oh I just meant I will be thinking about you." He looks shy and it's adorable, this sweet older man getting all blushy around me.

I hug him again and look in his eyes and for some reason I say, "I'll do anything you want, then." And I smile at my joke. But then I feel weird for saying it, and when he leaves the room it seems we are both just feeling a little awkward.

* * *

Before I meet Tamara, I doll myself up a bit with rose lipstick, deep green eye shadow and black eyeliner, then I use my eye pencil to give myself a little black line around my eyes that ends in sharp points on the outsides of them. I've been told many times I look like a cat when I do this, and I want to look feline tonight.

I also brought a change of clothes, and I quickly throw on a green sparkle dress that's slightly too chic to be casual. There's a toilet off the waiting room I share with two other offices, and in order to see myself I have to stand up on the toilet. Which is awkward, and I'm the first one to feel ridiculous being so vain in the mirror, but I decide that I look hot. Except I want a darker shade of lipstick, so I have to smudge the rose off and apply

pense a moi

, which shimmers devilishly. What can I say, I'm a Lancôme primadonna. And I look sexy as can be. I slip into the Steve Madden sandals I got on clearance at Macy's, Vienna style, boosting me just enough with their 2 ½ inch heels to make me feel like Blake Lively owning the red carpet. I do a little twirl and watch my hem fluff, then I crunch my hair up in my hands to give it a more natural, unbrushed look, and force myself out the door before I hyperfocus and spend an hour in this bathroom and miss my date.

I actually get to the restaurant before Tamara, so I ask for a table for two. The hostess tries to seat me in the middle of the restaurant, and I point to a booth in the corner. "Do you mind if I have that one?"

She smiles and leads me over. And I wait, my arms reacting like chicken skin to the air conditioning in here.

Oh no, she's going to see me and think I just took a bath in poison sumac!

"Would you like anything to drink?"

"Just water to start," I say, realizing that I'm not sure what kind of date this is. Dinner and a massage, but is it appropriate to drink before I massage? And haven't we both acknowledged that this is going to be a sexy massage? I feel a quiver go through my belly at the prospects.

Tamara appears about three minutes after me, although it feels longer than that because I've been nervously sipping my water, chewing on my straw, and wondering how to get from Point A to Point B with her. Do I just start touching her places I shouldn't?

She looks absolutely gorgeous! Her blonde hair is tinged with plum-hued highlights that she didn't have last week, and it matches her lustrous eyeshadow. She put it on thick, and her luscious lips glisten with a magenta hue that lightens the whole look and sets off the plum. Her smile dazzles me, and her eyes carry a mischievous gleam. Her body practically falls out of her white crochet tank top, and she's clearly not wearing a bra underneath: I can actually discern the pink of her areola through one of the gaps! This woman is fearless, and beautiful. Her scandalous black miniskirt is cut in front of both thighs, and held together with a bronze coin belt that jingles delightfully as she throws herself into the seat opposite me.

"Hello beautiful!" she says. "What are we drinking?"

I smile shyly at how bold this woman is, and my eyes are magnetically stuck to hers, like I can't look away. Her smile widens as if she sees how trapped I am in her. "I didn't know if I should drink and massage," I say, giggling nervously. God I hate that giggle! Why do I have that? It's bad enough when guys can make me do that—but a girl is eliciting that now?

"Of course you should. I'm the client, and I insist," she says. "How about a Cosmo?"

"Sounds good. If you insist."

She calls the waitress over and orders us drinks. I want to tell her how beautiful she looks, but I feel weird. Is this a date? She said she wanted it to be a proper date, but it's awkward when you're with a girl you've flirted with and you're not sure if she likes girls. It seems like we're on the same page, but how do I find out? I don't want to say anything that will weird her out, but at the same time—is this gorgeous girl sitting here on a date with me and planning to have sex in my office? Because that's certainly the direction I was hoping this would go.

"How's things with the poet and the hunk?" I ask, deciding to feel her out more.

She laughs. "Oh, get this-the hunk told me I don't have to worry anymore because he's going to marry me, can you believe that? I mean, I've made it obvious this is just sex and having a good time, and he actually thinks that not only would I commit to him, but that I've been stressing and worrying about him not being my boyfriend!" We squeal with laughter together at this.

"That's unbelievable. So what now? Did you give him the easy let down?"

"Guys think they're so important, right?" she makes an incredulous face.

I nod knowingly. "So what did you say to him?"

"I told him I don't ever want to be his girlfriend." She grins and shows off her perfect teeth.

"Did you really?"