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Chapter
2
I was awakened again
at 8 a.m. by Linda at the door. I let her in without a word and
made my way towards the kitchen to make some coffee. I was half
relieved as I saw her set up her stuff outside. The weather had
turned nice today, and she apparently decided to take advantage
of it to paint the outside trim. At least she wouldn't be waving
her ass in front of me as I ate breakfast, although I did get several
tantalizing views as she gathered her materials.
I went back to the den
to work. Occasionally, I heard her moving the ladder outside, or
doing some other work. After a while it became routine -- just another
one of the commonplace household noises you hear but never pay attention
to.
I tried to concentrate
on my work, but I couldn't. My thoughts kept going back to the night
before. My cock was already hard, having been invigorated by watching
her seductive work-dance on my patio. Now that the image of my masturbational
delight of 12 hours earlier was in my head, I couldn't control myself.
I held off as long as I could, but by mid-morning, I made my way
towards the laundry room and the spare bath.
Everything was exactly
the way I left it. I picked up her sneakers and put them on the
vanity. I kept my eyes on them as I stripped. Since I was wearing
only a robe, underwear and slippers, I was naked in less than ten
seconds. I picked up one of the sneakers, dropped slowly to my knees
and lifted it to my face.
I breathed in deeply
allowing the molecules of her body mingle with mine. The effect
was intoxicating and I was lost in a world of imagination. I closed
my eyes and I could see Linda, I let my mind wander, and I could
hear Linda. It was several seconds before I realized that I wasn't
imagining that I was hearing her. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"
the very real Linda was yelling at me through the window.
I almost dropped the
sneaker into the toilet. I turned to see Linda standing on the ladder
outside the window, bristling with anger. She disappeared briefly
and appeared at the door. "WHAT IS THIS?"
I didn't know what to
say, so Linda filled in the details for me. "I saw you through the
window. What were you doing? Were you going to play with yourself?
And what were you doing with my sneakers?"
She really didn't wait
for an answer. "You were going to play with yourself! What
are you, a little boy? You're just like my thirteen-year-old cousin
Billy. He jerks off all the time. He doesn't know that I know, but
I do. I thought about telling my aunt about it, but I think I'll
hold off and tell my cousin Amy when she comes back from camp next
month. She's just about old enough to be able to handle her older
brother."
"Look at this," she
said, holding up the other sneaker and waiving it at me. "The opening
is forced open. The laces are stretched out. You've been sniffing
these things haven't you? What are you, some sort of pervert?"
I was studying my toes
as I felt the heat of embarrassment rising in my face. I hadn't
had this kind of a scolding since my mom caught me stealing her
panties. Even though I had a thing about women's clothes, I never
acted on it except for playing a little with Margo's shoes, and
now, Linda's sneakers.
The only reason I was
after my mother's panties was because of a challenge made by some
of my friends when we were 16. We were supposed to get our girlfriends'
panties. I couldn't get my girlfriend to cooperate that weekend,
so I was improvising. Mom misunderstood my actions.
Linda stood in front
of me hands on hips, leaning forward slightly, and demanded, "ANSWER
ME. LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU."
I looked up but couldn't
say anything. It wasn't only that I couldn't think of what to say,
I was physically incapable of talking as my throat tightened with
my humility.
She grabbed her sneakers
and the rest of her clothes, and walked out of the room leaving
me standing there naked.
-=o=-
The shock wore off slowly,
I put on my underwear and robe, and I made my way back to the living
room where I could see her packing up her stuff.
"What are you doing?"
I asked.
"What does it look like
I'm doing, you idiot? I'm quitting. I'm not spending a minute more
in a house with a sex maniac like you. I can't trust you."
"I'm harmless, really.
I'm sorry, don't leave." I didn't really need the house painted
this badly. I could always hire another painter. I had the perfect
excuse to tell my wife. The first painter did leave the job.
What concerned me was
what Linda might tell her father, and what he might tell his wife,
and what she might tell my wife. Thanks to my adrenaline rush, I
was totally alert by now, and my mind was functional enough to reason
this out.
Suddenly I was extremely
interested in what Linda thought of me. For some reason, I wanted
to impress her, and I knew I was getting off to a bad start. If
I could get her to understand me, she might take sympathy on me
and keep quiet about this.
I tried to calm her,
"I'll stay out of your way. I won't do anything."
"Oh yeah. What kind
of guarantee do I get? I saw the way you were looking at my ass
yesterday." (She turned and thrust her tush at me for emphasis and
my prick responded). She continued, "What can you do that will assure
me you won't harm me?"
"I'll do anything,"
I responded.
"Anything?" she asked,
green eyes glinting.
"Just give me another
chance."
"OK," she said, "Let's
see how serious you really are. Come with me."
I followed her back
to the bathroom.
"I want you to show
me what you were doing when I caught you."
"WHAT?"
"You heard me," she
said, "Take off your clothes and do it!"
The rational part of
my mind was telling me, "Don't do it." However, being a man, my
hard-on had its own advice. Testosterone spoke louder than logic
one more time.
I undid my robe, revealing
the boxer shorts I'd slept in. Linda smiled, and wiggled her index
finger up and down a couple of times to indicate that I should drop
them.
Having to undress for
her was more embarrassing than being caught naked. Blushing profusely,
I slid my boxers down. My erect member sprang out like a soldier
standing at attention awaiting her inspection.
"Not bad," she giggled.
"Now step up and do it," she said, handing me a sneaker.
I knelt down in front
of the toilet. She enjoyed the picture of me submissively on my
knees before her.
I put the heel under
my chin, and slipped the tongue over my nose. My penis twitched.
She laughed. "I knew
you were up to something the moment I saw the way you were looking
at me. I suspected you were oversexed, and in need of some disciplining.
What surprised me was that you grabbed my sneakers. Nobody has ever
done that before. I figured you for a pantie man. Well, maybe we'll
explore that later. I'm surprised, but delighted."
She gave me the coaching
I wanted. "Breathe deep, my sneaker sniffer. Smell me. These are
my 'utility sneaks.' I wear them for just about everything except
work. I've worn them every day to school for the last two months,
and now that summer is here, I've worn them to the store, the beach,
... everywhere. I have them on my feet from the time I get up in
the morning until I take my feet off the floor to go to bed at night."
"Think about that as
you sniff the home where my feet live. I really should wear socks
when I wear these things, but they feel so much better without them.
I imagine they smell better because of it, too. Don't you think
so?"
I muttered out a, "Yes,
Linda," through the canvas fabric of the shoe.
"Oh, you can call me
Ms. Worthington. OK?"
"Yes, Ms. Worthington."
"Good," she said pointing
at my erect member, "Now that you have that penis of yours in the
condition it's supposed to be in, I want you to do something with
it. I want you to put on a good show for me."
I reached down with
my free hand and grabbed my cock and started stroking it. Although
I had my eyes closed, I could feel her eyes staring at me. My heart
was pounding and I never found my penis so hard. The increased blood
pressure made it even more sensitive than normal. I pulled on my
penis about two dozen times before I exploded.
It was a fantastic orgasm.
I could feel the strong contractions in my groin. Linda sucked in
some air. I kept pumping and pumping, and found it difficult to
kneel erect. I was getting dizzy from the smell of her feet, and
the sudden release of sexual tension. It was almost like being on
a drug, and I was getting addicted. I thought then that regular
intercourse or the other games my wife and I played would never
be as good as this.
Linda applauded as the
last feeble squirts of my ejaculation dribbled out. "Very good,"
she complimented, as I lowered the sneaker from my face, "I think
you have promise. Are you willing to behave yourself and do as I
say?"
I was in no condition
to object so I nodded my consent.
"Good! Clean up in here
and meet me in the living room."
I looked at my robe.
She said, "Oh no, you won't be needing that. We aren't done yet."
I looked at the toilet
as she left. What a mess! I had come everywhere. It took quite a
while to clean it up.
-=o=-
Linda was setting up
some scaffolding when I got to the living room.
"Give me a hand with
this, will you?" she asked. I helped her set up a low scaffold in
the middle of the room. She arranged a single board over it about
18 inches from the floor.
"Sit down," she commanded.
I sat on the board. "Swing your leg over, and straddle it."
I did.
"Now, lay down."
I had an idea what was
in store, but I tried to object nonetheless as she grabbed my arms
under the board and started to tie them together. "Hey what are
you ..."
"Shutup" she quickly
cut me off. "Look, I still can't trust you, so I'm putting you where
I can keep an eye on you."
After securing me to
the board, she took one of the sneakers, pulled out the laces, and
restrung them through the top eyelets. She placed the heel of her
sneaker over my nose and tucked the tongue under my chin. She took
the laces and tied them together behind my head. I wore her sneaker
like this for the next several hours. I had already learned to associate
the tennis shoe with sexual activity. Its constant, literally "in-my-face"
reminder had me in a perpetual hard-on.
I tried to relax and
watch her paint. Every now and then she'd turn towards me and give
me a girlish smile. Except for a cock standing up and begging like
a puppy, I was getting quite comfortable with our arrangement.
At about 2 P.M. she
took a break. She brought out a lunch box and a thermos. She set
them at my head and poured herself a cup of coffee. Then she unwrapped
a muffin.
Next she stood beside
the board and pulled off her shorts and panties, leaving herself
clad only in an oversized shirt and work boots. It was probably
the least feminine attire I've ever seen, but for some reason, it
had me fully aroused.
She undid my sneaker
mask, swung her leg over my head, and lowered her body onto my face.
"You know what to do," she told me, "Tongue!" As she sat there humming
to a song on the radio, contentedly nibbling on her muffin and sipping
her coffee, I was busy at work on her clitoris.
I swirled my tongue
around her sweet nubbin exciting it into a mini-erection. I sucked
it in gently and tried to ignore the streams of fluid dripping over
my face. I barely touched it against my teeth, grazing it tenderly.
She shuddered and my face was awash with her feminine juices. We
repeated this scenario several times over the next ten or fifteen
minutes.
Before leaving me to
get back to work, she propped her sneakers up against my erect penis.
The afternoon wore on, and I was getting uncomfortable. For one
thing, my face was wet, and my eyelashes were getting sticky from
her drying come. The other thing that was a problem was that my
bladder hadn't been emptied since I got up. Sex, even masturbation,
causes me to want to urinate. I was about four hours overdue!
I was afraid to mention
this to Linda, but the pain was too much to ignore. "Ms. Worthington,
I need to go to the bathroom. Will you please untie me." Ouch! It
sounded so formal and stilted, but how else does one address an
18-year-old girl who has you tied up and at her mercy?
"Hey, that's not my
problem." She replied, "If you got to go, you got to go." I knew
I was in trouble when I saw her face brighten. She slid the board
at my head out of the support and lowered it to the floor. I was
now laying on an inclined plane with my head down. She immobilized
my head with an ordinary belt that went around my head and buckled
behind the board. Strapped in this position, I couldn't move my
head from side to side or up and down. About all I could do is shift
my eyes.
She grabbed an unused
paint stirrer, laid it across my stomach, and propped it up under
the head of my penis holding it in place with some masking tape.
I looked down (actually up) at my penis. It sat there like an artillery
piece at the ready.
My quasi-inverted position
only made my bladder condition worse. I couldn't hold it any longer.
Once I started pissing, I started pissing hard, and I couldn't stop
for at least a full minute.
Linda figured out the
geometry perfectly. My stream of urine hit my face right on the
chin and lips. It flowed up my face into my nose so I actually swallowed
some of it that way as well as smelled it. It washed up into my
eyes burning them, and dribbled into my hair and even my ears. For
the sake of my rug, I was glad there was a drop cloth under me.
Linda had to dismount
from the other scaffold and sit down, she was laughing so hard.
I felt about an inch and a half tall. Here was this girl -- cute
-- but still a girl, and she arranged to have me piss all over myself.
There was absolutely no sympathy for my plight in her. In fact,
she was enjoying the whole humiliating event.
I spent the rest of
the afternoon on my back with head tilted down. Just before 5 p.m.
Linda brought me back to the horizontal position and untied me.
I was dirty, I smelled of dried piss, I was stiff, and sore.
She said to me as she
collected her things, "Same time tomorrow?"
My mouth answered for
my penis before my brain could interrupt. "You bet!" I said.
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