Made For Sex (13 page)

Carla sat behind him and applied a generous amount of lubricant on the flesh-colored rod. “You know where you need this?”

“Yes.”

She pulled the panties to one side and slid the dildo easily into Max's ass and replaced the nylon. “Now, that's done and held in place firmly. Stand up.”

“I don't know whether I can.”

“You can and you know it.”

Max stood up, almost unable to control his body. It was taking all of his strength not to come. But when she milked his cock with one hand and rotated the end of the dildo with the other he was done. Semen soaked the front of the panties, drenching Carla's hand. It seemed hours and still he came, Carla handling his cock in front and twirling the dildo in back. When his body was empty, Max dropped back onto the bed.

Carla sat beside him until his breathing had almost returned to normal. Then she withdrew the dildo from his body, washed it and put it away in the toy drawer.

“That was marvelous,” Max said, turning on his back and watching Carla move around the room. “Just marvelous.” He sat up. “Help me off with this stuff.”

Carla carefully removed the clothing, then slid a new pair of red satin panties up Max's legs and over his limp penis. “Leave them on under your slacks and think of me as the material rubs your cock.”

“Hell, Carla, you'll have me hard all the time.”

“That's the idea. Your cock will be hard and you'll remember me.”

With a quick laugh, Max pulled on his slacks over the red panties. “I just hope I don't have to pee before I get home. Someone in a men's room might see this red stuff and get the wrong idea.”

“Or the right one.”

“You're quite something, lady,” he boomed. “I'll be calling you. And I've got a lot of friends. I hope you're not overly booked.”

“I'll make room. Any friend of yours will become a friend of mine.”

As Max left, Carla noticed that he was walking just a bit differently, enjoying the slither of the red silk under his slacks.

About a week later Carla received a note in the mail. “Max told me about you. The plumber will be at your apartment at six o'clock on Tuesday evening the 27th.” The note was signed “Gene.” The only other thing in the envelope was five hundred dollars in cash. Later, Carla got a phone message from Max saying that a friend of his named Gene would drop her a note soon.

Carla was at the brownstone at six on the selected evening, dressed in a pair of tight, white denim pants and a snug-fitting plum-colored polo shirt that accentuated her bralessness. When the doorbell rang, she opened the front door and faced a muscular, if slightly overweight, man of medium height. He wore a pair of stained coveralls and carried a toolbox. “I'm Gene,” he said, “and I'm here to fix your kitchen faucet. Max said your plumbing wasn't usually a problem.”

Carla almost giggled. “My plumbing is usually fine,” she said. “But that kitchen sink has been giving me a terrible time recently.”

“Let's check it out.” Gene followed her to the kitchen and proceeded to actually dismantle the faucet while she watched. “Okay, lady,” he said, “I'm going to need some help here.”

“What can I do?”

“Most things, I'd imagine,” he said, grinning. He had disconnected the faucet and fastened a huge pipe wrench around some connection at the back of the sink. “But right now I need you to hold this wrench.”

Carla replaced his hairy hands on the wrench with her own. “Now pull hard,” he said, “and hold tight. If you let go, we'll have water everywhere.”

Knowing nothing about plumbing, Carla had no idea what this man had done, so she pulled on the wrench with both hands. “Don't let go,” he warned again. As he stood up, he brushed against Carla's breasts which, since she was bent over the sink, were hanging heavily against her shirt. “Nice melons, lady,” he said, squeezing one of the heavy globes.

“Hey,” she said, “cut that out.”

As she started to straighten, he said, “Don't let go of that pipe or it'll make Old Faithful look like a garden sprinkler.”

“Shit,” Carla said. She had no idea how much of this was fantasy and how much was reality. Not ready to take a chance with Ronnie's kitchen, she held onto the wrench.

“I'm glad you understand,” Gene said. He squeezed her breast, weighing its fullness in his hand. “Nice big tits,” he said, nodding. “Fill the hand, and then some. I love titties that are more than a handful.”

“Will you let go,” Carla snapped.

Gene backed up and, behind her, Carla heard tools banging around in the toolbox. “Here we are,” Gene, the plumber, said. Carla heard a loud snipping sound. Suddenly her polo shirt was being cut up the back and across the shoulders. With a yank, she was naked from the waist up. “That's better,” Gene said.

“Now wait a minute,” Carla said, but Gene silenced her with a pinch of one of her swollen nipples. “Ouch.”

“Be a good girl,” Gene said, “and don't let go of that pipe.” He leaned over and bit her earlobe. “If you say ‘Uncle,' I'll stop. Understand?” he whispered. Carla nodded.

With both hands holding the wrench tightly, Carla tried to wiggle away from the plumber's hands, but she had almost no room to maneuver. He pressed his body against her back and his rough palms cupped her heavy breasts and pressed them against her ribs. As he held her, he thrust his lower body against her buttocks, jabbing her with what felt like the largest cock ever.

“That's for later,” he said, his laugh warm, moist waves against her ear. Again he backed up and rummaged in his toolbox.

Suddenly Gene draped heavy, cold lengths of chain over her shoulders and wrapped it around her ribs and under her breasts. “That's cold,” she shrieked, as he fastened the chain in the back.

“And this is warm,” he said, leaning into the sink and sucking one nipple into his mouth.

The contrast between his hot mouth and the cold chains was tantalizing. She started to relax and loosen her grip. “Don't let that go,” he said. “I mean it. It'll drown us both.”

“Shit,” she hissed again.

Gene pulled one nipple while he nursed on the other. He moved around to the other side and exchanged his hand for his mouth. He was rough and both his mouth and hands were painful, hurting yet exciting and soothing all at once. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, pinching her left tit hard.

“Ouch! Yes, you're hurting me.” Carla looked down and saw a bright red mark. She knew that she could say ‘Uncle,' but she wasn't anywhere near needing to. Quite the contrary. She felt wonderful.

“Good,” Gene said, unzipping her jeans and pulling them down. Automatically Carla lifted her bare feet so he could pull the pants off, leaving her dressed only in her panties and several lengths of chain. Gene slid his hand down her belly and into her panties. “You're hot for me,” he said, his fingers pulling her wet pubic hair. Carla couldn't deny what was obvious to the touch. “I have just the right tool to use and it's not the one you think.”

He pulled something from his toolbox and Carla felt something slender, cylindrical, and cold wiggle into the narrow crevice between her legs. “The right tool for every job,” Gene muttered. He slid the dildo deep into Carla's pussy. In and out he fucked her with it, moving the slender object around so it touched every inch of her insides.

Her knees weak, Carla had to be reminded not to let go of the pipe. “Hold on to that wrench, lady. Hold on.” He pulled her panties back up to keep the dildo in place while he undressed. Since she couldn't let go of the wrench that held the disconnected pipe, Carla backed up as far as she could and arched her back.

She worried about how to insist on a condom without ruining the fantasy, but, as if he had read her mind, she heard the telltale ripping of the condom wrapper. “Don't you worry about a thing. I wouldn't do any job unprotected.”

Gene held his large cock in one hand and moved aside the crotch of Carla's panties with the other. With little warning, he pulled out the dildo and rammed his huge cock into Carla's soggy pussy. He was enormous, stretching Carla's body almost to the point of agony. But not quite. The sensation of being so full drove Carla to climax quickly. With a loud scream she came and soon thereafter Gene spurted come deep into her.

When his breathing was more normal, Gene took the wrench from Carla's hands and disconnected it from the sink. No water spurted out. As she dropped on a kitchen chair, Carla watched Gene efficiently reassemble the faucet.

“Nice plumbing,” Gene said, packing his wrenches in the toolbox and gazing at Carla's body. “Very nice plumbing.”

“And the tools you used were absolutely perfect for the job,” Carla said, still puffing.

“I'll be back if you have any more trouble.”

“Any time,” Carla said. Gene zipped up the front of his coveralls, picked up his toolbox, and left.

O
ver the next few months, Carla and Ronnie established a routine. Carla didn't want to be away from her sons any more than was necessary, so she limited her encounters in the city to Tuesday and Thursday evenings and the occasional daytime frolic that didn't keep her from being home when the boys arrived from school. Ronnie used the brownstone other evenings and occasionally on weekends. Every Monday Ronnie and Carla met for lunch, sharing stories and deepening their friendship.

By Thanksgiving Carla had developed a clientele consisting of about a dozen men who regularly perused her album and played out their fantasies with her. A special favorite, her first customer Bryce McAndrews became a regular visitor to the brownstone on 54th Street. At least twice a month, he and Carla got together, ate at a four-star restaurant, and attended a Broadway show or a concert at Lincoln Center. Once they had spent an hour at a Benjamin Britton concert that they both hated. They left after the first selection, when they discovered their mutual dislike of any music composed in the twentieth century. Most evenings they ended up in the paneled room, although occasionally they parted without making love at all.

One afternoon in mid-December Bryce called and told Carla that he wanted to act out an especially elaborate wish of his. He'd make all the arrangements for the following Tuesday and he asked her to leave the brownstone at seven-thirty that evening, setting a key beside the front door, then come back at exactly eight o'clock.

Carla left at the appointed time, had a cup of coffee at a little restaurant on Second Avenue, then returned to the house filled with mounting expectation. Bryce seemed to understand her desires more and more and their appetites matched perfectly. She walked into the front hallway and heard his familiar voice. “Up here,” he called from the second bedroom.

When Carla walked into the room, the entire atmosphere had changed. Bryce had replaced the dim lighting with strong, 100-watt bulbs and all of the exotic equipment that could be concealed was out of sight. Bryce wore a white lab coat and had a stethoscope draped around his neck. “Thank you for being so prompt, Miss Barrett, and I'm sorry you haven't been well.”

It took only an instant for her to slip into the part and only slightly longer for her to be wet and trembling. “It's been a difficult time,” Carla said, trying to suppress her growing flush.

“I understand completely.” Bryce handed her a light blue paper smock exactly like the one she had worn at her last doctor's appointment. “Step into the bathroom and put this on. I'll be ready for you in a moment.”

As she took the smock from him, Carla noticed a narrow, padded table covered with a strip of plain white paper, set up in one corner of the room. Her knees wobbled. Did he know about her “playing doctor” fantasy or was this his own erotic dream? It didn't matter.

In the bathroom it took Carla only a moment to strip off her clothes and put on the smock. “Nothing but the smock,” Bryce's voice said through the bathroom door, “and have the opening in the front. I'll need to examine all of you.”

Timidly she walked from the bathroom. She realized that the room smelled of antiseptic. “That's a real doctor's examination table,” Carla said.

“Of course,” Bryce grinned. “And this is a real doctor's office. Now, Miss Barrett, lie down.”

She stretched out on the table and the doctor put a pillow under her head. “I hope you're comfortable,” he said. “Are you nervous?”

“Maybe a little,” Carla said. Barely covered by the scratchy paper gown, she felt exposed, despite the fact that Bryce had seen her nude a dozen times.

The doctor picked up a pencil and pressed the point gently against her upper arm. “There,” he said. “I've given you something to relax you. Now let's discuss your symptoms. Any loss of appetite?”

“Unfortunately none that I've noticed.”

Bryce ran his hands down her sides. “You've nothing to worry about, Miss Barrett. You have a beautiful body. Any difficulty sleeping?”

They continued bantering for a few moments, then Bryce said, “Are you less anxious? I hope so. That injection I gave you should thoroughly relax you. Your arms should feel very heavy.”

The sound of Bryce's voice flowed through Carla's body like warm honey. Although he'd used no real medication on her, she felt almost liquid as she melted into the table. “My arms are very heavy.”

“And your legs too. As a matter of fact it's getting very hard to move at all. It's a nice, floaty feeling, but you know you can't move. Close your eyes.”

Carla did, slipping further and further into the scenario Bryce was enacting.

“Good girl,” he said. He took out some cotton and a bottle of alcohol. He soaked the cotton and pressed it against Carla's upper arm.

The cold was surprising and the smell was enough to transport Carla more deeply into the scene. “That's cold,” she whimpered.

“Yes,” Bryce purred, “it is. And you want to move away from the cold but you can't. As a matter of fact you can't move at all.” He moved the still-wet cotton to the inside of Carla's calf. She wanted to pull away but she couldn't break through the haze of the fantasy. Or she didn't want to.

“You're not frightened, but you can't move. The medicine I gave you is a special blend of exotic drugs. You can see and hear and feel, but you can't move, can't speak, can't resist anything I want to do to you.

“First, your breasts.” With almost medical objectivity, he pressed and prodded at her flesh and pulled at the nipples. “Your tits get firm,” he said. “Good reaction to stimulus.” He used a pair of tweezers to pinch one erect nipple. As Carla's body winced, he said, “That must hurt a bit. It's too bad you can't move. And you can't move, can you?” He used the tweezers to lightly pinch tiny pieces of skin all over her body, nodding as her body reacted. “Very good,” he said.

Carla gazed at Bryce but said nothing.

“Next is the temperature test.” He reached behind him and picked up a glass full of ice. While Carla watched, he picked up a cube and held it so the icy water dripped on one breast. As the drop trickled down her white skin, he licked up the water with the tip of his tongue. Drip, lick, drip, lick, he alternated ice water and the heat of his tongue. She became accustomed to the routine and closed her eyes. Suddenly the frozen cube pressed firmly against her left nipple. “Owww,” she yelled, her body jerking.

“Don't try to move,” Bryce said. “It's impossible to overcome the effect of the shot I gave you and it is very harmful to your body when you try to resist. Just hold still and I'll finish the temperature test.” He dropped the cube back into the glass and placed the flat of his tongue against her almost-frozen dark-pink bud and held it there as the warmth seeped back into her skin.

“Good,” he said as Carla's body relaxed, “you've done very well with this test.” He opened the bottom of the gown and slid his fingertips up the inside of Carla's thigh until he reached her cunt. “So wet,” he chuckled. “You are excited by these procedures. That's very interesting.”

Excited by these procedures? Carla was certainly excited by these procedures, but it was humiliating to know that Bryce could reach between her legs and tell how aroused she had become.

“Let's see. What else excites you?” he said. “I know. Words excite you. Let's just test to see which ones exactly.” Keeping one hand on the springy fur between Carla's legs, Bryce leaned close to her ear and whispered, “How about when I tell you that your pussy hair is so soft? Yes. Your cream is flowing so those words must work.” He rubbed the wetness around, stroking her clit. “How about when I say ‘Your titties are standing up, waiting for my mouth'?” He sucked her upright nipples and continued to agitate her cunt. “What if I tell you that my balls are heavy and my cock is hard, waiting to slide into your pussy? Soon I'll place the tip of my dick against the opening of your greedy slit and push it in ever so slowly.”

Carla was lost in a sensual fog, her eyes closed, giving herself to Bryce, hearing his voice and feeling his fingers between her legs. Tremors began deep in her belly and she knew that his manipulation was going to bring her to orgasm.

“You're close to coming,” Bryce said. “But I don't want you to just yet.” He stopped and got another ice cube. “Let's cool you down a bit.” He maneuvered the frosty cube over Carla's pussy lips.

“Oh God, stop,” Carla said, forgetting that she supposedly couldn't speak.

“You know the word to use,” Bryce said, removing the ice cube, “if you really want me to stop.”

“Yes. I do, Bryce,” she said, warmth flowing back into her chilled lips. Then she added, “Doctor, please don't do that.”

“It's no use asking me to stop,” he continued. “The doctor has to do these sexual tests. It's purely scientific.”

He's making me crazy, Carla thought. “Please no more.” But she wanted more. As much more as Bryce wanted to give her.

Bryce rubbed the cube lightly over Carla's clit, watching her arousal decrease. “Good girl,” he said. “Your reaction to this test is excellent.” He pushed the cube into Carla's cunt, then pushed two fingers in after it. “You feel hot and cold at the same time,” he said. “The sensations must be driving you crazy.”

“Ummm,” Carla said. Cold water from the melting ice trickled down Bryce's fingers and ran from her cunt down over her ass.

“Maybe you're getting hot enough for the final test,” Bryce said.

Final test?

With two fingers buried deep inside of Carla's pussy, Bryce took his other hand and explored the rim of her tightly puckered hole. Then, with both hands moving he leaned down and flicked his tongue over her clit. Fire blazed to and from all the sensitive places he was touching. Hot and throbbing, Carla released, screaming. Every muscle in her lower body spasmed.

“Your body is clenching my fingers,” Bryce said, his face buried in her pubic hair. “Come baby,” he purred, his hot breath restoking the fires in her pussy. “Keep coming.” He drew his fingers from her cunt and quickly moved around the foot of the table and parted the sides of his lab coat. He wore nothing underneath and his arousal announced itself.

As he stood at the foot of the table his cock was at the height of Carla's pussy. He slipped on a condom, then pulled her legs so she slid down the table. He parted her thighs so her soaked cunt pressed against the tip of his cock.

Her juices were still mixed with melted water from the ice. “Not too fast,” he told himself, gritting his teeth against the desire to slam his body into hers. “Make this last.” His body shook and sweat ran down his chest as he fought for control. He rubbed his sheathed cock against Carla's overheated flesh, then pressed just the tip into her.

She was more excited than she had ever been, yet, because she had already climaxed once, she was able to experience all the nuances of Bryce's body. She could hold herself at a level just below climax, slipping into the ecstasy whenever she wanted to. He opened her inch by inch with his cock, slowly filling her. Occasionally she squeezed her inner muscles and smiled as Bryce shuddered.

When he was fully inside, Bryce stood still for a moment savoring the sensation of being encased in pulsating velvet while the tip of his cock was slightly cold from the remains of the ice. Carla wrapped her legs around Bryce's waist, then pushed her cunt against him driving Bryce's cock still deeper. He could hold still no longer. With panting breaths he clenched his ass muscles and let his body thrust into the slick heat.

“Oh yes,” he cried as hot bursts of semen exploded from his penis. “Oh, Carla, yes.” He collapsed, his upper body lying across hers, both breathing hard and trembling. She shuddered as her muscles pulled at him.

Long minutes later they were calmer. “Oh, doctor,” Carla said with a giggle, “your tests are so educational.”

“Zertainly,” Bryce said, imitating a thick German accent. “Ve try to be zo zientific.” They lay together until Carla's leg began to fall asleep. She moved slightly and Bryce's satisfied cock slipped from her body. As Bryce stood up, he said, “Okay, last one to the shower has to scrub the other, all over.”

They made love again in the shower, steaming water pouring over their soapy bodies as Bryce pounded into Carla's cunt from behind.

When he was dressed, Carla said, “You have no idea how much fun our evenings are for me.” She stretched on the bed watching his eyes rake her naked body.

“Me too,” Bryce said, kissing her on the tip of her nose.

As usual on their evenings together, Carla had arranged for her parents to stay with the boys so she could sleep in the city. “You could stay here tonight,” Carla said, reluctantly. Although Bryce still paid her for their evenings together they were also lovers and she sometimes wanted to spend the night with him. But staying here together felt wrong, somehow. Too comfortable. Too married.

“No, but thanks. We both like things just as they are.” He counted out five hundred dollars and put it on the table. “No strings.”

Carla smiled. “Right,” she said, playfully swatting his nowclothed behind. “Let me know when you want to get together again.”