Marie was as excited as she could ever remember. Blaine, the young black kid she had worked with all summer, the kid she was making out with on a daily basis, the kid she was jerking off but whose dick she hadn't seen, the kid whose cum she was eating but whose cock she hadn't sucked had just caught her licking his cum from a concrete storeroom floor although he might not have seen exactly what she was doing.
What he had noticed was she had something white drying on her lips. What he had ordered was that she wear her hair in a certain style next week. What she would do is wear her hair in that style because somehow the ninteen-year-old college sophomore-to-be had gained sexual dominion over the white, married, fifty-two-year-old school teacher.
Marie could remember watching the movie years ago with her husband Dave. It was an era before fantasies of black men and cocks consumed her and this delicious young white stud with a vertical hard on was telling the hot young woman assigned to extract his load to put her hair in a bun so he'd "have something to hold on to" if she knew what he meant. She did -- as did Marie, as did her husband -- and rushed to reconstruct her hairdo into a sexually purposed handle while sinking to her knees.
Now summer was coming to a close, a new car would soon be in Marie's garage, and Blaine had asked the same thing of her as did that young stud in the old movie. Blaine hadn't been so crude, hadn't directly stated her hair style would serve the same specific purpose as it had in that movie.
Was Blaine telling her that she'd be blowing him come the start of the next week? Whether he was or he wasn't, just the idea that he might expect that of her had Marie breathing through her mouth.
For the first time in weeks, Marie didn't masturbate when she got home. She was completely on edge of course, because she'd been so unfortunately interrupted as she humiliated herself on that cement floor and then was presented with the likelihood that Blaine now expected oral sex from her.
Despite her sexual frenzy -- her fingers had already entered her twat as knelt on the concrete licking up Blaine's cum -- Marie fought the urge to continue what she'd already started the minute she arrived home. Instead, she relaxed in a warm, bubble-filled tub. She had to keep reminding herself to pull her hand away from her cunt as it continually slipped up her inner thigh through sheer force of habit.
She sipped wine directly from the bottle as she moved languidly, nakedly about her bedroom, pinning her hair up in a scattered, working coif and coloring her fingers and toes. She tried on a few sets of lingerie, examining herself in the mirror before settling on the bra that produced the maximum lift and cleavage. That its below-the-waist partner-in-seduction was a sexy thong thrilled her.
Marie couldn't remember the last time she'd worn panties that tapered to a single strand that covered neither cheek nor crack in back except that whenever it was Dave had too much to drink and proved a limber, sleepy bed partner rather than steely super hero she'd hoped for when she'd made her daring purchase of that intimate apparel. She'd need to monitor his drinking if tonight was to be as successful as she hoped.
Working all summer hadn't given Marie any significant time in the sun and she looked for a pair of tan stockings to cover the whiteness of her legs. She rolled them on and looked for a suitable garter belt to see if they looked better with or without a garment that many men, including her husband, found arousingly sexy.
Trying on shoes, she found a pair of stilettos that, reduced to their essentials, consisted of a sole, several thin straps, and a four inch spiked heel. Wine bottle in hand, she strolled through the house in bra, thong, stockings, garter and heels in an exaggerated, seductive fashion.
Stopping in the livingroom for a moment, she placed a foot on the coffee table and touched the lip of the wine bottle to the slick folds of her labia before deciding now wasn't the right time to take a bottle of merlot as a lover. As she brought the bottle back to her mouth, she discovered that snatch flavored vino was delightful as she licked the bottle neck and sipped the wine.
Marie quickly headed straight for Dave's smut locker where she rummaged around for several things. She found the recently purchased DVD first. It featured mature white women with young black men. Below the DVD was an eight-inch, black dildo bought years ago and put immediately away because Marie became fearful of the true enjoyment it's use brought her. She'd begun using it privately that summer and decided to bring it back into their lives that evening.
The final items were a pair of nipple clamps that Marie had to practically empty the chest to find. Both she and her husband were fully aware of the arousing effect rough play had on Marie's breasts, particularly her nipples.
Back in her bedroom, Marie removed her bra and began squeezing the pink tips of her tits engorging them with blood, enlarging and hardening them.
She opened the clamp on one bangle, eased it onto a nipple and slowly, gently released it. She watched herself in the mirror as the jaws of the clamp closed, squeezing her nipple tight, forcing flesh aside before it began to puff out and surround the metal clasp.
Marie held her breath and bit her lip as she adjusted to the pressured pleasure. Finally all the force of the clamp was on the nipple and Marie pulled her hand slowly away. In her shoes, her toes were curled into a tight ball in empathy with her abused breast tip.
A throbbing beneath the clasp began in which Marie could detect her heartbeat and her lips began to curl upward knowing the pounding in her flesh was a harbinger of the pleasure to follow. It came rushing forward in waves causing her knees to buckle briefly. The pleasure began in her nipple and spread to her vaginal lips and walls where it radiated forward to her clit and back along the perineum to her anus, delicious, delightful, pleasant pain, the sexual equivalent of sweet and sour sauce.
Marie started over again with the other breast and savored a second helping of that sexual tug-of-war where pain and pleasure battled and pleasure always won. The clamp squeezed, her flesh compressed, waves started and crashed all over her body.
When she'd finally settled down again, she began examining the damage and the allure. She pulled at the baubles dangling from her tits, pressing her lips together when the delightful pinching sensations briefly returned. She twisted the clamps and watched the torturing of her tender flesh in the mirror, simultaneously feeling sensations in her vagina at the beautiful punishment being acted out on her breasts.
When Marie held her bra up, she didn't like how the color of the nipple stones clashed with the color of the bra. She went back into her lingerie drawer to search for something more suitable. She dropped the bra and stripped off her panties leaving the nipple jewels to dangle enticingly, dancing on the ends of her tits with every movement, jostling and bouncing around the buoyant flesh eliciting a thousand tiny, electric sensations.
Marie was disappointed when the best bra-jewel match she could find was one with a matching bikini bottom rather than a thong. She walked around the room holding up one then the other trying to determine the best trade off between fashion coordination and the ultra come hither signal of the thong.
