Beverly’s Private Show

You can start at the beginning or just jump in here… It may even be hotter with no context.  

Beverly was nervous. Tonight she was performing the live show for Mr. X. She still didn’t know if he really was her boss, or just sounded like him, but that was enough to convince Beverly to go through with the recording.

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Beverly’s Next Mask

Read part One here. Or you can jump in here. 

Beverly took extra care choosing her outfit for work.  Ever since her Friday cam show, she’d been distracted thinking about her boss.  The voice of the man watching her show, watching her fuck herself to orgasm with a dildo, had sounded so much like him. She’d spent the weekend masturbating to the recorded track of his, “come on slut, fuck that pussy.”

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Masks

Beverly applied the eyelash glue to her mask. With the mask in place, she slipped into her lingerie. The scarlet lace of the bra contrasted with her pale skin. The thong panties matched and barely covered her freshly waxed pussy. Staring at her reflection, she felt like someone else. She liked the feeling of being someone else, being free from the constraints of her life. Of course this was only the first part.

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The Diary

Kate opened the package.  She expected her latest paperback book order, but instead she found an antique book, carefully wrapped in paper and cloth, both crumbling a little at her touch.  She turned back the package, wondering where the book had come from.  Her little book store specialized in genre fiction, the kind of paperbacks people took on planes and to the beach.  She didn’t deal in old books.  The package bore her name and address on a handwritten label.  The return address label was illegible in both handwriting and being half covered with stamps and notations from the post office.  This package had seen some adventures getting to her.

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Natalie in the Cold

This story stands alone, but if you want to read more about Natalie’s adventures check out Natalie’s Date

Natalie waited for Sir to come home.  She knew he’d be home soon, and she’d put on the lingerie he’d requested.  She loved the way she looked in the open cup bustier that held her tits aloft, but left them bare. She’d slid into the g-string. He’d asked her to wear the French maid apron, but that was all.  She knelt next to the door and waited.

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From Behind

I’ve never liked the name “doggy style.” But I do love sex from behind. It’s just about sex. There’s less touching and no kissing. It’s, in my experience, rougher, harder, and yes, animalistic.
***
doggyI’m on my hands and knees. My cheek resting on the sheets, my hands gripping the sheets in anticipation. My ass is up, my legs spread wide. It’s a vulnerable, exposed position.
When he slams his cock into me, I group the sheets and feel myself slide forward. That is what I want – it’s what I came here for. I tilt my pelvis, controlling how deeply he can penetrate.  His hands gripping my hips pulling to him.
His thrusts are hard and rapid, his balls slapping against my pussy with every thrust. I cry out and beg for more. My hair has fallen over my face, blocking my view of him, but he wasn’t the point. I let myself go, my voice urging him on, going from begging to demanding. “fuck me, harder, more”
He responds in kind. His own stream of dirty talk, his own primal, primitive words washing over me. “Do you like my cock pounding that pussy?”
buttsI think I growl, pressing my hips back to meet his thrusts, feeling his cock slip deeper right in the edge of hurting. My nipples drag across the sheets and I rub my clit, not at all surprised to find I’m dripping wet.  I rub my clit, feeling the orgasm building inside me.
I’m sure he growls as he continues to pound into me. Even when I cry out my orgasm, he never ceases his rhythm. I ride out the orgasm,  my eyes closed behind the curtain of my hair.  I know I’ll come again before he does, so I tilt my hips and demand more, and he obliges.
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Daddy’s Girl

On the drive back to his place, Daddy had my tits out and was squeezing them so hard, I knew I’d bruise.  When he slid his hand up my skirt, his fingers found my sopping wet pussy.  “You’re so wet, baby girl” he’d commented without ever taking his eyes off the road.  “What were you thinking about during dinner?”

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