Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Episode Four: Two Kims Work Out
DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of fiction. It features a public person as a character, but strictly in a fictional setting that in no way implies the private interests or personal behavior of the public person in fact parallels the scenes depicted below. This article has not been approved by or presented to the public person for endorsement or comment. Any similarity between the actual acquaintances and actions of the public person portrayed here, and the content of this story, is strictly coincidental.
* * * * *
Kimmy doesn’t remember her dreams. Sometimes she wakes up in the night, skin damp and clammy, her body flushed, and for a moment there’s a ghost of recall but it doesn’t last as long as it takes to press long slender fingers to her groin. The moist memory of something is still fresh, there, although the sleep images which made her so are gone.
Despite great beauty, Kimmy rarely sleeps with anyone. Her usual bedtime companion is a tattered, battered teddy bear who attended her every girlhood every tea party. So her night visitations can’t be clutched at when she wakes from a tossing rest, told to another before the ghost in her brain vanishes. To know what dances among the neurons when Kimmy sleeps, we must steal into her ear, make our way finally along the nerves and set exploring to find that region where her mind lives as her conscious body rests.
And yes, there is a party tonight in Kimmy’s brain.
Perhaps we should dress for the occasion first, with a little more knowledge of the woman whose very secret self we will invade. Kimmy is young, just a little older than the law requires to serve her a drink she would only sip from politeness. She was raised well, uses good table manners and doesn’t care to see feelings hurt, is kind to animals, watches her small budget and yearns to do something important in her life. Most families would be very proud indeed to welcome as a son’s bride this petite, slender blonde with the swan’s neck, defined jaw line and straight nose.
Perhaps. There’s another side to Kimmy that proves the old adage, “You gotta watch the quiet ones.”
She is a bisexual woman with an unquenchable sex drive. Her closet is filled with slutty clothes and rows of very high-heeled shoes. At the private strip club where she is the only dancer, she sometimes fucks the customers … on stage, on a table, or in the parking lot – and sometimes in groups of 20 to 40 at a time. Often she goes to work dripping cum, stoppered in her ass with a butt plug, gathered in a noonday cruise for cock among the businessmen’s bars in town. And when she’s not working, Kimmy’s at home with a huge assortment of toys she uses while chatting about sex on the Internet – or for fucking with one of her several bisexual girlfriends. Sometimes she has them tie her up and dominate the tiny girl with the very full, silicon-enhanced bosom.
Kimmy’s appetites are not the norm, perhaps, but she shares a habit with many people. She sees someone attractive, perhaps someone interesting in personal manners or even spiritual ways more than physically, and develops a crush on that stranger. And she’s shy about it, even as many of us are. But where the average young woman with a harmless crush on a handsome stranger might contrive ways to peek from the sides of her eyes at her new attraction, Kimmy wonders how she could ask him to fuck her senseless. Or how to get that foxy woman, rather than a hot guy, in bed. Kimmy is an equal opportunity lay.
Also, like many others, Kimmy is a bit star-struck. She has an open heart as well as open legs, so for her a crush on a famous actor, beautiful model, or popular singer is a brief imaginary love affair of great intensity. In fact, her response is a flood of fluids down her thighs. She often daydreams about being a star-fucker. She doesn’t remember them, but her night dreams are often filled with celebrity sex. And we, the dream invaders, are going to join her.
When we are wandering around Kimmy’s dreams, it might be best if we wear stainproof raincoats with hoods.
* * * * *
Soaked casino oyna sweat shirt and pants dribble over the edge of the hamper at the end of Kimmy’s bed. She’s completely motionless, the sheet pulled all the way above her head, obviously sunk in an exhausted rest. Our Dream Queen has been working out.
Invading her nocturnal wanderings when Kimmy is so tired ought to be much more fun. She’s hardly likely to spot us lurking in the corners of her mind, voyeurs of fantasies. Will she be a star-fucker tonight, too? Kimmy’s crushes are so much fun.
About 40 women are in what looks to be a gym. Tonight her sleep fantasies are not so very well-defined, but look – a wall of mirrors, showing very nice bodies in leotards or sweats doing some kind of aerobic routine. Over there are some exercycles and weight machines. Kimmy’s reliving her day, perhaps. We can see her lithe little form at one end of the back row, her firm breasts bobbing below the edge of a yellow crop top. Her tiny, tight red satin shorts barely hide the rounds of her rear, and have crept up into the seam of her buttocks.
Oh, yes, this is an exercise class with some prime lovelies in it. Leading at the front is the stunning exercise model, Kim Paul. Oh, look at her splendid full breasts under that tight green jersey top, the kind with the skinny straps and low-scooped neck. She’s bent half forward, head tilted up to watch her group, a little sweat dropping from her brow while her arms pump down and up at full extension and her feet hop in a quick run-in-place. Ms. Paul also looks something like our Kimmy – could it be we see her feature act in this dream?
The workout group slows and jogs slowly in place, cooling down. Kim Paul strips off her top, and then everything but her white shoes and low socks. This never happens outside of dreams, workout leaders don’t do this – that woman is gorgeous. She begins to do a fitness competition routine, showing off to the fascinated crowd of women. Kimmy is fairly drooling at the sight. Oh, yes, Ms. Paul is Kimmy’s next star-fucking target.
Ms. Paul makes a dramatic demonstration of her strength and flexibility, dropping onto one hand, lifting her body up into the air above the floor about six inches and spreading her strong, quite nicely curved legs into a gaping split. Kimmy stands frozen, her eyes riveted on the instructress’ groin, the smooth hard mound fringed by short-clipped brown-blonde hair poised above the floor. Kimmy can’t help herself, she begins to rub her own mound, creasing the cloth of her shorts into her slit as she imagines fucking this star of fitness.
Just as we are getting interested in watching Kimmy get herself nice and hot, everything gets crazy – all the women, including Kimmy, are naked and doing a new exercise routine. We wish Kimmy would be a little more considerate of the voyeurs in her mind, this is hard to handle. Now the other women in the class are standing straddle-legged, arms over their heads, leaning from side to side in long stretches.
We’re off to Kimmy’s side, getting a great view of her wonderful naked body as well as of all these women. What a smorgasbord of tits and ass! Oh, take a closer look at Kimmy. She came to this workout session wearing a butt plug. And see the reflection from the mouth of her pussy? The little minx is also equipped with a set of ben-wa balls, and one of them is tucked right in the tiny fold of her labial lips! This woman is serious about sex all the time.
Slight shift: Instructress Paul is talking softly to Kimmy, who flashes the exercise princess a big grin and nod. Kim Paul noticed Kimmy’s front and rear appliances, too – look, she’s tugging at the flange of the butt plug as Kimmy bends over in one of the workout motions, and then spanks it back with a playful slap. Then Kim Paul goes back to the front of the group and leads all that wonderful nakedness through a boob-juggling jogging routine and dismisses class. Kimmy gets her duffel bag and disappears into a misty place at the edge of this dream world where the office seems to be.
We follow workout princess Kim Paul as she sends the ladies’ class off, all naked, canlı casino with winks and nods, then heads to the office, too. As she walks along the back hallways, the rooms behind us dissolve and the area before us takes shape. This is pretty cool. She enters the office.
Kimmy is naked on the couch, on her elbows and knees, popping the ben-wa balls in and out of her pussy when Kim Paul comes in. Not a word – she kneels in front of Kimmy and lifts the girl’s chin so she can begin tonguing Ms. Paul’s slit. She holds Kimmy’s hair in both hands and by gesture alone guides our star-fucker’s actions. When Kimmy’s tiny pointed tongue tip touches the instructress’ upstanding sex button, it triggers a response in Kimmy’s belly and she begins to experience the first of a series of “the small deaths.”
They both smell the fragrance of sex coming off Kimmy’s body – Kim Paul shifts her grasp, shoving the hard shape of her pubis into the girl’s face, demanding her tongue inside, and with another hand reaches over to lightly scratch the center of Kimmy’s back with her nails. Turns out Kim Paul gets off rather easily, and often, and very wetly – a stream of hot liquid sprays onto Kimmy’s upper lip, splattering into her nose with a stinging smell and runs down her face.
Ms. Paul throws Kimmy off the couch and drops her cunt onto the smaller woman’s, and rides it. When la Paul presses down on Kimmy it compresses the butt plug and our little pink sex object feels it squeeze within her ass. The ben-wa balls, forgotten, form a bulge inside Kimmy’s pussy, and press down against the space between her mound and asshole. Ms. Paul discovers that ball when it gives her a moment’s surprise while the two women’s pussies are slapping against each other. In a flash, the workout wonder pushes the external ben-wa ball into her own vagina and begins to double-fuck herself and Kimmy. Seconds later both women are clenching each other in a deep kiss and coming together.
Hoo! Watching this gets us so hot we begin to whack the wank like a monkey at the zoo, careless of who might be with us. Ridiculous concern, of course – we are Dream Invaders and not likely to be caught. But the momentary distraction of personal pleasure means we have missed another dream transition, because when we look back up the women are back in the gym, and Kim Paul has assumed the posture of a tough drill sergeant dressing down a balky recruit. There’s a big difference, of course – in boot camp the soldiers get to wear clothing. Both these women are naked as jaybirds except for low socks and tennis shoes.
Kimmy is sitting with a perfectly straight back at the edge of a long padded bench. There’s one of those weight machines behind her, the kind that had a long crooked handle attached by cables to weights lifted up over a system of pulleys. We real her lips as Kim Paul slaps Kimmy’s tits, calls her a pussy whore, a weak woman, a toy for anyone stronger. The instructress steps back and says she’s going to whip Kimmy into shape.
She tells Kimmy the first lesson is obedience. She puts Kimmy’s hand up to her strong, prominent mound, and we notice the ben-wa ball is hanging out side Kim Paul’s snatch, this time. So we look again at Kimmy’s ass – yes, the butt plug is gone, too. Another dream tool has mysteriously vanished. Kimmy’s tiny pucker is hardly noticeable, it is exactly the same color as her ass.
Kimmy pulls on the ben-wa ball hanging outside. From the rippling contractions of Ms. Paul’s groin and tummy muscles, it is obvious that when Kimmy almost pops the internal ball out, the aerobics specialist clenches on the sliding sphere and makes it go back up inside. Wouldn’t that kind of muscle skill feel wonderful around a hard cock about to blow? Aren’t dreams just the best fantasies?
Hair-trigger Kim Paul makes all the motions of a woman ready to come – then she grasps Kimmy’s hand so the two of them pop the ben-wa ball free, and Kim Paul’s cum squirts in a hot thick stream onto Kimmy’s breasts, torso and lower body. Kimmy grasps the other woman’s hips and points the aromatic jets higher, leaning down to catch some cum on her outthrust tongue and kaçak casino chin. The shining splatter gleams all over Kimmy, who now lets go, rubs her hands in the mess on her body and sucks her fingers.
Now that Kim Paul has twice shown her dominance by spraying her pleasure juice onto Kimmy’s face, she exercises her authority. Kimmy is pushed backwards, straddling the workout bench, far enough to put her legs over the weight machine handle. Almost immediately, the slender girl’s legs fail in resistance to the pull of the machine, lifting her knees high in the air. Pinned helplessly against the weights behind her, her legs hoisted high, Kimmy can only wave her hands when suddenly Kim Paul inserts a long double dildo into the girl’s small vaginal gap, then straddles the weight bench herself and very deliberately lowers herself onto the other end of the dildo.
Kim Paul fucks them both by doing a sequence of deep knee bends. Kimmy must be screaming, even if there are never any sounds in these dreams – we can see her head tossed as far back as she can, her mouth wide open. Each time Ms. Paul lowers herself in the knee bends, obviously the dildo in Kimmy penetrates to maximum depth, then presses down painfully against her innards. Finally, Ms. Paul finishes, and when she lifts herself off the dildo, it shines with her wetness while a small puddle on the bench shows she has again achieved climax.
Trapped and exhausted by repeated orgasms, Kimmy simply lets her legs dangle over the cruel pull of the weight machine handlebars. Kim Paul is not through with her star-fucking dream girl, however. Magically, Ms. Paul acquires a long, thick steel bar of the kind used for severe free weight lifting. She lays it on the stretch of bench before Kimmy’s exposed body, then slowly, slowly slides the fat, cold, hard end into Kimmy’s asshole. Nearly twelve inches of relentless steel disappear into the once-tiny rosebud.
Impaled on the heavy bar, Kimmy can’t move as Ms. Paul again grasps the dildo and fucks the girl back to climax. We can see from the movement of Kimmy’s lips she is begging Ms. Paul to stop – instead the instructress again slips the free end into herself and fucks herself on Kimmy’s body while the smaller girl just rages from orgasm to orgasm.
Even the splendid and tireless Kim Paul finally has enough. She leaves the whimpering Kimmy for a moment, then comes back with a handful of short bungee cords. These she uses to tie Kimmy securely to the weight machine, as if the exhausted young woman might somewhere find the strength to get her legs unwrapped from the weight machine and pull the long bar out of her stretched anus.
Kim Paul wraps the strong cord around Kimmy’s breasts, squeezing them between the coils. One of the cords is unused, but it does not go to waste. Ms. Paul doubles it into a short whip and begins to lash Kimmy’s pinioned breasts, shoulders, knees, thighs, ass, and, finally, pussy. The workout teacher drops the cord, and clamps Kimmy’s nipples between the knuckles of her hands, pulls and twists. The girl moans and thrashes, but is actually hardly capable of movement.
One of Kim Paul’s hands forms a fist and stops Kimmy’s mouth. With her other hand, she lifts the weight bar poking into Kimmy’s intestines and raises, lowers, raises it again. The immense lever pushes backwards against the young woman’s buttocks muscles, then slides upward over the internal wall near her “g” spot, back and forth, forcing Kimmy into wracking convulsions of pain and pleasure. When Ms. Paul begins ponderously pulling the bar out of Kimmy’s ass, then pushing it in again, fucking her with the monster steel prick, tears of pleasure and pain stream down the sweet cheeks under Kimmy’s brimming brown eyes.
Even as a dream this is too much for Kimmy. We are swamped with her pleasure chemicals as in her sleep Kimmy’s body engulfs her with an overwhelming orgasm. We will have an endorphin hangover long after we depart her brain. Making our way out of Kimmy’s midnight convulsions, we wonder – does she ever get off that weight bench?
* * * * *
(c)Copyright, 2000 by Wil E. Harden, Bryn Mawr, CA 92318 â€¢ All Rights Reserved â€¢ Published by permission of the author on Literotica for non-commercial, individual private entertainment – not to be reproduced or copied in any fashion without written permission of the author
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32