Fun With Kelly

As soon as they’d said “hi” to each other, he told Kelly that he had plans for her that day. He didn’t wait for her to say no, or say I’d rather do something else, or say anything at all, for that matter. He just told her he wanted to take her shopping, and she didn’t say a word. She just stood there a moment in a slightly stunned silence, then a smile started to grow on her face. She tried to hide it, but once he’d said the magic “S” word she couldn’t stop herself.

“Uh, like, what do you mean, “shopping”?”

“For clothes.”

Again, silence, confusion, then an effort to stifle curiosity and joy. The effort wasn’t working too well.

“I know a nice place we can go to together, right now. It’s not at the mall, it’s kinda downtown. Not too far. They have nice things, everything from shoes to lingerie and other stuff…”

Oh, yeah, he knows just how to get to me, she thought. Just when I’m starting to have my doubts about him, he drops something like this on me.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure I feel comfortable going out in public and shopping, and I don’t know if it’s such a good idea for you to…I mean, are offering to buy me stuff?”

“We can drive separate if you want. It’s down on Main, at 3rd St., north side of the road.”

“Uh, well, I might get lost or get separated.”

“OK, then I’m driving.”

Before she knew what she was doing, she was getting in his car and driving downtown with him. She rarely ventured out of her apartment dressed up, and she had only been with this man a couple of times, and yes, they had been wild, thrilling encounters, but still she wasn’t sure about him. He was older, and married (goddammit!), and hard to figure out….

But they were on their way. She felt light-headed at how fast things were moving with him. She just wasn’t sure about him. Would he ever hurt me? Guys can be such jerks. Like that whatshisface creep that one time.

She wanted to tell him that maybe they should slow things down, maybe he wasn’t right for her. But before she could focus her thoughts and feelings into some perfectly coherent speech to lay on him, she started to think about shopping and where they were going and that red outfit she had seen at the mall. Damn, she knew she would look hot in that thing, but it was so friggin’ expensive. I wonder if he’d buy me something like that. He does seem to have money. But rich guys can be such conceited assholes. But he’s not like that. Oh, he’s definitely dominant, but not in a play-acting way. He’s not really arrogant, maybe cocky would be more like it. She smiled at her own joke. He does have a good sense of humor, altho’ it’s pretty off-the-wall sometimes. And he’s not dumb, either, like most of those moronic losers I seem to be a magnet for lately. But I don’t like him just barging in and thinking he can buy me with money and clothes and stuff. I’m not like that…

She looked over at him and started to say something, but they were already pulling into the parking lot of “Leather & Lace”. It was a nice looking store, on the corner of what was still a fairly decent middle-class neighborhood.

“Oh, this looks neat!”

“It is, baby. C’mon.”

Inside it was a wonderland of erotic clothing and fetish accessories. It took up where Victoria’s Secrets left off. There was lingerie, there were shoes, oh dear Goddess, there were shoes! Pumps, boots, sandals, even little school girl shoes to go with a pleated plaid skirt & white blouse outfit. There were wigs of every color, every length, every style. There were silk kimonos, leather corsets, lacey body stockings…Kelly thought she might swoon.

At first, they just walked around and looked and took it all in. She had forgotten any bad feelings she had had about going out in public with him, or going shopping with him. She was just enjoying that old familiar feeling, that thrill of women’s clothing, beautiful women’s clothing. And he seemed to enjoy the fact that she enjoyed that feeling. He is such a sweetie…

“I want you to look around at everything and check it all out, then I want you to pick out one outfit. It’s on me.”

Well, if that’s the way he wants it, why not? And the people working here seem totally cool. Geez, where to start?

For his part, he had never had so much fun shopping with a woman. In fact, it was too much fun. He held her hand as they looked at opera gloves, and bustiers, and boas. She felt a little self-conscious, but he seemed so calm and self-assured. He’d pull some outrageous thing off the rack and look at it and then look her in the eyes and she’d blush and then he’d smile. And they did look at every last thing in that store. But long before they got to that point, he was not just holding Kelly’s hand, he was putting his arm around her waist and brushing up against her arm and brushing up against her leg and brushing up against her ass and oh, yeah, she looks hot and man, she’d look so fuckin’ sexy in that one and baby, I want to fuck her, fuck her bad.

He stood behind her and whispered in her ear. “Kelly, I’m gonna take you home and fuck you.”

Kelly blushed, and it wasn’t easy to make her blush.

“You get that red outfit, and everything you need to go with it, and you get it real quick, baby. I’m gonna buy it all for you, and then I’m gonna drive you back to your place, and you’re gonna dress up for me, and you’re gonna put on a show for me, your best sissy slut show, and then I’m gonna fuck you.”

Well, he dropped a whole chunk of change at that place, and off they drove. The whole way home she was grinning like a school girl on her way to the prom. When they got back to her place, she was getting so excited that she practically ran into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her.

“Now you have to wait until I’m all ready for you.”

He grinned, and tried to sound stern.

“Just don’t make me wait too long, you little slut.”

She ripped off her pant suit, which looked pretty damn good on her in its own right. Oh, that sweet thrill of a new bra and panties! The outfit she had picked out was red, of course: bra and panties, with boots, black lace top stockings, a collar, a red silk robe, and a nice brown wig, straight, about shoulder length, with fringe (“He calls ‘em “bangs” – he’s so old-fashioned!”). She tried to go slow and savor the sight, as she watched herself get dressed up in the mirror. But she was practically shaking with excitement, and her own cock was getting hard. She was dressing up for a man who was waiting in the next room to fuck her, and who had just BOUGHT her the outfit! It was making her head spin.

Now, what to do for the grand entrance? First, some music….

“Hey, wanna party?

Am I sexy, oui ou non?

Follow me and you will know!

Wicked, real wicked …”

She made her grand entrance slowly. She was pretty sure she had the upper hand now, despite all the talk about “submissive cum slut”. She knew what she needed, but she also knew what men needed. She knew what would catch his eye. She could guess what would drive him out of his skull. It wasn’t just clothes, it was her whole “thing”, the way she moved, the look in her eye, her tone of voice. And as the poet once said, her arms were wicked and her legs were long…

Standing with back towards him, she started swaying to the music, while she let her robe drop slowly over her shoulders and down her backside. Slowly swaying, not exactly dancing, but swaying and caressing herself and running her fingertips all over her sexy new clothes and over her skin. She closed her dreamy eyes and just allowed herself to get lost in the music and in the feel of the fabric against her skin. She was doing it as much for herself as for him, not that he could tell. Hell, she knew she had him in the palm of her hand by that point. She became the exotic dancer of both their dreams. She turned slowly around, gently swaying and swishing her hips to the rhythm of the music. She stole a peak at her reflection in one of wall mirrors. Oh, she loved looking hot like this! And now she didn’t have to do it all alone, she had a fine gentleman who loved it and who appreciated her and wanted to spend his time and money on her. She felt partly like a stripper, partly like a flirt, part whore, part super-model. She loved it.

He sipped his bourbon without ever taking his eyes off her. Geez, what exactly was he supposed to do? What was the appropriate response here? Back in the day, when at a topless joint, he knew the rules: you watched, you smiled, you talked, you gave your approval with a whistle, a yell, anything – but you didn’t touch. When some of the clubs started the lap dances, they had always seemed just a super-cruel form of self-torture – but then the whole idea of striptease is a form of self-torture. But this was different. Now he would demand a lap dance from Kelly, his own private dancer, the answer to his prayers. Now he didn’t have to sit awkwardly, trying to keep an erection from growing and showing and eventually blowing. He crooked his finger at her.

“In my lap. Now.”

She feigned shyness, and pretended to be confused and embarrassed.

“Oh, my, you want me to sit in your lap, sir? Oh, no, I just couldn’t….”

She turned her back to him, and began to bend over. She slowly pushed her thong-clad ass out at him, gyrated a bit, and looked back over her shoulder at him, pretending to be bashful.

“Oh, please, sir, don’t make me.”

“Park your ass on my lap NOW!”

“Do you like my ass? Do you want to feel my ass, sir? Shall I sit on your lap?”

They both had to fight to keep from giggling at the whole delightful charade.

But then the music changed. It changed to a hard, thumping beat, a good hard grind, and she changed right along with it. She stood back up, straight and tall in front of him, legs apart, still swaying slowly, but with more bump in her grind. Standing in the subdued light, she ran her hands over herself and gave herself pleasure, but she kept her gaze fixed right into Master Jim’s eyes, except for a few brief moments when her eyes rolled back. He studied her movements: Watch where she touches herself…got to pick up a clue…how does she like her luvin’? The song didn’t last long, but it must have been one of her favorites, because she really got into it. And judging by her choreography, she must have danced to it before, if only in her dreams. She didn’t miss a beat.

Enuff, he thought. He grabbed his crotch and looked deep into her. He stood up and grabbed himself again. He was starting to need it, need it good…

He held her in his arms, and he was trembling. He couldn’t help it. Passion and desire trumped his role as the dom. He wanted this lovely, long-legged lady-boy, and he wanted her badly. He was afraid he might die or the universe might cease to exist before he had a chance to kiss her up and down her back as much as he wanted. He wanted to start at her shoulders and go down to the small of her back and over her darling cheeks and the back of her thighs and her knees and all the way down to her ankles and her polished toenails and then go back up and kiss her all over again. He wanted to….. god, he just wanted to do everything to her, with her, on her.

They stumbled into the bedroom and fell onto the bed, never unlocking their embrace, and barely unlocking their lips. She rolled over onto her knees instantly, reached up to the head and bed and got the stuff. She was wasting no time this time. He kicked off his shoes and then just unzipped his pants and whipped out his tool, which was now moving from interested to happy. A quick squirt of the lube on his hand, a stroke and a squeeze and again a squeeze and a stroke and oh baby yeah. She lowered her head to the bed, reached back with both her hands, and gave him a look, a look that said it all. He gazed for a moment on the beautiful sight before him: a long-legged brunette, skin smooth and fair and lovely, with the most delightful array of red straps and black lacey bands and barely concealed curves. He said a quick prayer of thanks to the Goddess of Love and gave himself another couple of squeezes. He mounted her, took aim, and slid it in.

There was the resistance, the pull back, the return thrust a little deeper, and back again and in again and yes she was yielding. There was the pushing and the pushing back, as they got their rhythms together. There was more pushing, and then slamming and then some banging and some more slamming. His eyes rolled back. The music seemed to emerge again out of the background, rocking and rolling over them in waves of some funk beat. She moved her hands from spreading out her asscheeks to stroking her excited sissy clit.

“Darling, come here, and ….”

He wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. Her ass was just too thrilling, too much for man or beast. Indeed, she had him feeling like an animal, and he loved that feeling, that feeling of being totally lost in the fuck feeling. He had just enough coherence to tell her.

“Come with me, baby. I want you to come with me. Do it now, Kelly. I want to make you my cum slut, baby. Come with me!”

She would oblige him. She was aroused, and she knew that she was reaching the point of decision: either let it go or let it blow. Shit, I wanna blow with him, she thought. I want it. I want to feel him pulse and throb up there, I need that so bad, I want to feel that when I come. I want to feel his juice spurting in me…I know I shouldn’t, but I want it anyway.

And then it happened. The rush began, the flush running up from one head to the other, his chest burning and tingling, and his mind and body starting to reel. He threw back his head and made one last desperate lunge into her. She cried out at this final forceful thrust, but whatever pain she felt disappeared in about one second, and after two or three more good strokes of her own cock, she began her own climax. Her wonderfully massaged prostate began to sign the final chorus of its hymn of joy. He pushed himself down against her back as their orgasms began to subside. He grabbed her shoulders, pressed his chest against her warm skin, and nuzzled his face up against the back of her neck. And her ass said “thank you” to his cock, and he reached around and said “you’re welcome” to hers.