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Part 2—The Myra Chronicles



It was a horribly long week. Nearly as long as the week I was in jail. And she made it longer. And worse. She called me about every other day, and asked me if I had been good. And surprisingly, I had, even though my cock was hard for most of my waking hours. Some of the sleeping ones, too. I could not get the feeling of her hand on my cock out of my head. She’d call and tell me to take it out of my pants and make it hard for her. Tell me how to rub it, and with which hand. On Thursday, she made me rub it with ice. And every call ended the same way. “Stop now, baby. Put it away. Be good. Or what won’t happen on Saturday?”

“You won’t play with it.”

“Good boy.” For some reason, that always sent a surge through my cock.

Saturday finally arrived. She met me at the theater, after she got off work. As she kissed me, her hand rubbed across the front of my jeans and my cock. “Have you been good?” she asked, her hand on my chin, her eyes staring into mine.

“Yes,” I said. How come this chick turned me on so damn much?

“Good boy,” she said, and kissed me again. “You like holding it for me, don’t you?” I didn’t know how to answer that. It turned me on, but I didn’t like it.

As soon as the lights went down in the theater, her hand was on my cock. I tried to return the favor, running my hand up her leg, but her other hand stopped me. She kissed me, and whispered, “Later, if you’re very good.”

Her fingers were very light, the whole time, just teasing and teasing. Keeping me hard, but not near the edge. Halfway thru, she sent me for popcorn. I don’t think she really even wanted popcorn, but just wanted the world to see how hard I was.

She fed me most of the popcorn, letting me lick her fingers clean.

Finally the movie ended. I can’t even remember if I liked it. Her place was near the theater—she liked to walk everywhere—so we walked there, holding hands. It was almost like a date, for a little while.

Her place was funky and neat—the top floor of an old house, the ceiling at crazy angles everywhere. And sitting on the couch, watching TV, was Nicki. Myra introduced us, and casually strolled over and kissed Nicki. It was a nice kiss to watch. Then she walked back over to me, kissing me, her stomach against my rapidly hardening cock.

Still kissing me, she started to play with my cock, feeling its hardness. It became uncomfortable, so I reached to adjust my cock, but she gently pushed my hand away, telling me she’d take care of it. She undid my jeans, and moved purposely to one side, so that she was blocking Nicki’s view. Interesting.

Stroking my cock so it stood straight out in front of me, her small hands both felt wonderful and made my cock look giant. She stroked me hard--harder and bigger than outside my condo. She kissed me again. I reached to put my hand on her breast and she stopped me, a little “Uh-uh” with it.

“If you do everything I say, exactly as I say, I’ll give you a great, big orgasm. Maybe your best. Do you want that, baby? Do you want to show me how much you can come?”

Gulp. “Yes,” I managed, or something that sounded a little like it.

She looked me in the eyes, hands still stroking. “You’ll be a good boy and do exactly as I say?”

“Yes.” This one was better. Almost strong.

“If you don’t, I’ll stop, and you’ll have to leave.” I gave up on speech and nodded.

She smiled at that. The smile made me very nervous, but my cock was too hard, too involved, to care.

Myra began to undress me, slowly, her soft hands caressing every inch of skin she exposed. First my shoes and socks, then my jeans and boxer briefs, running her hands up and down my legs, reaching around and caressing my ass, teasing my crack a bit.

Then all that was left was my shirt—she slipped it over my head, and I was nude, standing just inside her door, a lesbian (supposedly) stroking my cock, her girlfriend watching. Myra led me to the bathroom, by my cock of course. Stood me in front of the sink.

“Put your hands on the sink, baby. Right here.” I grabbed the edge of her square sink—one of those stand-along models—and she adjusted my hands. The back of my head was nearly touching the slanting ceiling.

“What do you think will happen if you let go of the sink before I tell you to?”

“You’ll stop?”

“Good boy. And you’ll have to leave. And your balls won’t be emptied by me.” I wasn’t sure if she meant tonight or ever.

Then she undressed, next to me, which didn’t take long, slipping out of her skirt and unbuttoning her shirt, then her bra and panties. Fuck her body was awesome. I wanted to fuck her something fierce.

“I smell like fish. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Can I taste your nipples? Please?”

She liked that. She lifted up on her toes, and her hand in my hair pulled my head down to the right level—she reminded me to not move my hands and that it would be terrible if she had to send me home, now—and guided my lips to her left nipple. I took it in my mouth. Sucked on it. Bit lightly on it. Then a little taste of the other.

“Good boy.”

Then she slid behind me—her nipples touching my back—and walked to the shower. The bathroom was really cool—it started off narrow, where the sink was with the toilet next to it, then widened to a big space with a separate shower and bath tub, a big window above that. She climbed into the shower, me watching every movement, and started the water.

I felt like an idiot—standing in some woman’s bathroom, afraid to move, while she showered near me. I should be in there, with her, teasing her with my fingers and cock. Shoving my cock into her. But I didn’t move.

Then Nicki was there, smiling at me. She slid her jeans down to her ankles, her sweatshirt hiding me from seeing any of her, and sat on the toilet. Her hand casually reached out and cupped the head of my cock. “She does like them big.” Damn, I was hoping Myra liked me for my personality. Then I heard Nicki start to pee. I’m not really into that, but it was so strangely—what is the word?—intimate, maybe. Showering and peeing with two women I didn’t even know.

Then she was standing, wiping, smiling at me. “Watch this.” She flushed the toilet.

Myra yelled, ripping open the glass door, but Nicki was gone. I was afraid she thought I did it, but then she yelled, “Nicki, you’re going to pay for that.” I wondered how.

Myra’s wonderful skin disappeared back into the glazed-glass shower, but she wasn’t there long. She stepped back out, smiling at me. She dried off with a big, soft-looking white towel, not bothering to hide her body. Drying the inside of her leg, she even showed me her world, looking up at me to make sure I was paying attention.

She slid behind me, kissing my back, and then left me there, holding the sink as she disappeared. She left the door open—what would be the point now.

Eventually she came back, wearing a little nightie—dark blue, with little light blue flowers—and carrying a drink in a big, plastic cup that she sat on top of the toilet tank. I could see her nipples, and the little matching panties looked good on her, but I really preferred her nude. I decided not to mention this.

She started behind me, kissing me with little kisses trailing down my spine. She got to the top of my ass, and I wondered if she was going to kiss me there, but she stopped, and took her hands and ran them up each leg, caressing my skin again, feeling my muscles, cooing and making neat little noises as she did. She cupped my balls from behind me, and with her other hand stroked me—twice up and down, checking to see how hard I was. Her hands then massaged my ass cheeks, even spreading them to plant a couple of small, wet kisses in my crack. She pressed her nipples into my back, and her panties against my ass, and ran her hands up my chest, teasing my nipples, then letting me suck on a finger or two. Her hands continued up my face, feeling each little contour, and then into my hair.

Stepping next to me, her feet straddling mine, she kissed me on the shoulder. She looked down at my cock. “You don’t like my hands, baby?”

“No, I like them a lot. They are wonderful.”

“But you’re not hard.” I was hard, just not completely bonkers hard.

“If you stroke it a bit, it will be right back—“ A smack on my ass stopped me.

“Baby, you don’t get to give any orders.” I met her eyes in the mirror—her face had a very serious look on it. I looked away—down at her legs—as she reached back and smacked me again, on the other cheek. Three or four more followed on each cheek.

“Do you understand?” I nodded, meeting her eyes, but this wasn’t enough. “Tell me baby, do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good boy.” She continued spanking me. Not hard, but solid swats all over my ass. “You like that, don’t you? You’re getting hard again.” I looked down, realized she was right as she smacked me again, harder, and I felt my face and ears turning red.

Myra’s other hand wrapped around my cock, began to pump in long, slow strokes, pulling my skin up and down my shaft. Her hand felt so soft, so wonderful. I looked down, just loving watching her hand stroke me. “Do you want a dozen more, baby?”

I didn’t want to say yes, but I did want more. I nodded. That of course still wasn’t good enough for Myra. “Tell me baby, what do you want?”

“A dozen more, please.” My voice was barely audible.

Smiling, she gave them to me, a bit harder than before, as she stroked me slowly. I’m sure she gave me more than a dozen I knew Nicki could hear it—knew she could her Myra spanking me, and that turned me on even more. I looked out the door, and found Nicki, sitting on the carpet just outside the light of the bathroom, her back against a chair. Her eyes met mine as she slid her hand into her jeans. That was too much—too embarrassing, and I looked back down at Myra’s perfect little hand. Soon, I was pumping into her hand, and she was spanking me even harder. I felt my balls tighten, let out a little moan and—

--and Myra let go of my cock, kissing my shoulder again. “Not yet, baby. Remember I want to empty your wonderful balls.” Her accent made the word wonderful, well, so damn beautiful. I stood there, shaking, my cock thrusting forward, but without any friction I wasn’t coming.

Myra turned my head and kissed me, then smacked my ass again—once on each cheek and hard. She sat down on the toilet seat and sipped her drink as her hand ran around my ass. “I like your ass. It’s so nice and warm.” I felt myself blushing again.

After I calmed down, but before I softened at all, she took a bottle of lube out of the cabinet behind me. She ran a generous line of it along the top of my cock, then snapped the cap back down. Very lightly, with her finger tips, she coated my cock with the lube, humming to herself as she did. The lube started cold, but warmed up quickly and felt good. She poured more on her hand, and coated my balls.

“You would look even bigger shaved, baby. I would like that.” That sent a nervous tingle through my body. I trimmed things, but tried to avoid razors in that area. “And your balls shaved, they’d be more sensitive. You’d come more for me. I’d like that, too.” She seemed almost to be talking to herself more than me, so I didn’t say anything.

She stepped a little more in front of me, and cradled my lubed balls with her left hand as she started to stroke my cock with her right, the palm of her hand on top of my cock. She made sure to run it out over the full length, until the head was against her thumb and forefinger, her fingertips touching the magic spot on the underside. Still slow slow slow, but her grip tightened.

It didn’t take long, and I was pumping into her hand again. She switched to her hand on top on one stroke, then sliding it up and over the top of my penis and then her palm on the bottom for the down stroke. Myra has done this more than a few times, I thought.

I pumped faster and faster, and her hand responded, a bit looser but faster. I closed my eyes and—

--she stopped again. Tapped my cock with her fingertips, as if it had been a little bad. I moaned, eyes watering, cock still thrusting forward.

She sat down again, smiling at me. “Almost there baby. But my hand get so tired.” She flexed it, then picked up her drink again. She stood up and let me sip a little—it was cherry and something strong. I spilled a little—part hit my cock, of course—and she smacked my ass, calling me a naughty boy.

Then Myra took out more lube. She put a little more on my cock, then put a lot on her left hand. Especially her middle and ring fingers. This worried me. She stepped next to me—close, and straddling my leg, so her covered pussy was up against the side of my leg. Her right started to pump up and down my cock with just her fingertips.

Her left settled on my ass.

“Are you ready to come for me, baby?”

“Yes.”

Her left fingertips trailed down my crack. Teased my asshole. My cock jumped a little in her hand. She made a little noise, enjoying it.

“Are you going to empty your balls for me? Come so hard for me?”

“Yes.”

She pushed a finger into my ass. I lifted up, away from her, onto my toes, and made a noise that sounded a little like a no.

“I can stop, baby. Send you home. Do you want that? Just tell me. Or lift one of your hands. Do you want me to stop?”

I shook my head, and settled back down.

“You won’t let go, will you? You want me to make you come, don’t you? Want me to empty your balls, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Her finger pushed back into my ass. I thrusted back into her hand, and she rewarded me by pumping. “Are you going to give me all your white hot milk? Are you going to fill up my sink?”

I wasn’t sure I’d fill it, but damn I was going to try.

Her finger disappeared, then both fingertips were at the back door. She was rubbing against me now, and I could feel her wetness against my leg, the heat of her breath and body against me. She was as turned on as I was, I realized.

“You’re not going to let go, are you baby? You’re going to hang on tight, and give me all of you, aren’t you?” Her fingers pushed in--such an invasion. “I can’t wait to see your beautiful cock shoot for me. I want to feel it pulse in my hand. Are you going to let go?”

“No,” I managed. Her fingers were fucking me now, deep until her knuckles were against my ass, matching the rhythm of her hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, she started to speed up both hands, pumping and fucking.

“I’m not going to stop this time. This time you’re going to come for me. All that come, that you saved all week for me. You were such a good boy, baby.”

This time it took awhile, but then she changed her fingers in my ass, started hitting a spot that I didn’t know existed. It took my breath away. Her right hand started doing the over-and-under trick again, and then I was close.

“If I let you come, baby, will you be a good boy?” I nodded my head. “Will you save your come for me again, so I can make you come again next week?” I nodded again. “Tell me baby.”

So close now. “Yes, I’ll save my come for you. For Myra.”

“And will you be a good boy and kiss my feet before you leave? That would please me.” At that moment, I was very into pleasing her. Doing anything so she would stop again. "Are you going to please me, baby? Tell me."

I managed a very difficult yes.

“I’m going to come with you baby.” Now she was humping me hard. She pumped her fingers in deep again, and told me, “Come baby. Come for me, baby. Give me all your come, baby, come—come--come. Come NOW.”

I’m embarrassed to say, being ordered to come did something to me. I felt that wonderful itch/spasm start near the head of my cock, and I new the point of no return had been reached. Finally. After a week and a thousand dirty thoughts. I came for Myra. Came hard, a low, long moan turning into a gasp as I did. I came as hard as I’ve ever come. She felt me pulse in her hand, and yelled something like a yes, and I could sense her coming, on my hip, her teeth biting my shoulder.

Later, I realized it was like she was coming through me. Like she was coming, somehow with my cock.

Myra—beautiful Myra--kept pumping, long jets shooting out hard—exploding even, splattering into the sink, my balls heaving and contracting like I hadn’t felt since I was thirteen. It was too much, and I started to slip down, but she held me up, with her fingers still in my ass, and milked me—pumping and pumping and pumping, her hand still teasing my way way too sensitive head, and I felt a squirt hit her palm. I liked that—the thought of coming on her hand--and spasmed again, my eyes rolling back into my head.

My left hand slipped off, but I re-grabbed the sink quickly, hoping she didn’t notice. She kept pumping—tight, slow strokes, and then it was too much and I tried to pull away without letting go. She laughed at me, kissed me on the lips, and pumped slowly away as I started to grow soft.

Eventually she let me let go of the sink. My hands hurt from gripping it so hard. She proudly pointed out how much I had come—some in the sink, but some had hit behind the sink, even a bit on the mirror. “You shoot so strong,” she said, making fun of her own accent. “You were a very good boy,” she continued, with another kiss. Then she lifted up her hand, and let me suck one finger clean. It wasn’t my first taste of my own come, but it had been quite some time.

She washed her hands, and she let me run my hands over her ass, inside her panties. I teased the back of her wet pussy, and then she pulled away, laughing. She put my hands on top of my head, and she bathed me, with a warm washcloth. My cock, of course, received lavish attention. My balls, too. She even had me lean forward, and she cleaned my ass. She teased me that my cock was getting big again, and she lifted it with her hand and kissed it on the tip. Kissed my lips.

With one last “Good boy,” she led me out of the bathroom—by my cock again—and back into the living room, to my clothes. Nicki had returned to the couch. But by the redness of her face, I could tell she had come, watching Myra make me come.

After Myra dressed me, my cock was half hard again. She went over and sat down on the couch, leaning up against Nicki and then kissing her. Nicki was slightly taller, I realized.

Smiling at me, Myra said, “Don’t forget your promise, baby.” She pointed to her feet. What a wicked smile. I almost just left, but then I knew it would be the last time. I wondered what would be next, with these two. I stepped in front of them both, and as I knelt down, I felt something change inside me—that kissing her feet, now that I was fully clothed, meant something big. Meant that I was giving her something. I hesitated, but like I said, I have a thing for feet. I leaned over and kissed first her right foot, and then her left. She cooed.

“Kiss Nicki’s too.” I was already down there, so I leaned over and kissed hers. “Good boy, now a little longer. Maybe each toe would be good.” I did—kissed each one. Even tongued Myra’s a little, which I could tell she liked. When I was done, my cock was straining my jeans—getting big again. I sat back on my haunches.

Myra stuck out her foot, touching my lips with her big toe, and then pushing it into my mouth. “You’ll be a good boy, won’t you?” I nodded, toe still in mouth. “You’ll save all my come again?” Another nod. “If you do, I’ll make you come even harder.” She took her toe out. “Tell me.”

“I’ll be good for you. I’ll save all my come for you.”

“Good boy.” Fuck those words did weird things to me.

Myra led me to the door, holding my had, then opened it to let me out, turning me towards her so that she was still inside and me outside. She kissed me there—a great, deep, toe-curling kiss, her hands on my ass.

“One more kiss, baby?” I realized, as she looked down, she meant to her feet. I knelt down on her stoop—it was old hat, now, right?—and kissed each foot, with a little lick between her big toe and the next one, felling like the whole world was watching.

“Good boy. I have to go give Nicki a spanking now. Be good for me.” She kissed me one last time, me still on my knees, my cock hard as it’s ever been, and then she shut the door.

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