Dieter was at the gym at 7:00 a.m. on Friday working out hard. The week had been a hard one. He wasn't a spectator type and it had been frustrating to sit on the sidelines. The weights he was lifting hurt, but he enjoyed the feeling of the strength in his muscles, the competence of his body when faced with the simple physical challenge.
Friday watched him from a stationary bike across the gym. He was truly well built- he had a sense of how to build his body to pleasing proportions. He'd been spending a lot more time in the gym the last few days, and as a result, she had too. The girls were keeping close tabs on the guys, partially to make the game more exciting. It was a huge turn on to pull a random fact out of the hat to surprise them with, but increasingly, Friday just liked to look at him and imagine running her hands all over his perfect body. She wouldn't have to wait much longer. It was time to go.
As she went into the locker room a sprightly barbie of a woman was bouncing out, ready for her workout and dressed for a show.
"See if you can get a rise out of the Adonis," Friday said to her offhandedly as she walked past, "I've been in the same room with him all week and he hasn't seen me."
The blonde's eyes sparkled as she looked at the man across the gym pouring his soul into the iron. She made a beeline for a point twenty feet in front of him, searching for an apparatus that would involve a lot of bending over.
By the time Friday came back out of the locker room, Dieter was gone and the blonde was hitting a punching bag in a far corner. She smiled to herself. It was time for him to go home anyway. She pulled out a cell phone and keyed in a short text message, "Send it" and left the gym.
The email was already there when Dieter got home. None of the other guys were up yet, so he had the leisure of a first read in private.Hello boys,
It's Friday, and we wanted you guys to wake up to something nice, so- a big virtual hug from all of us. We all kissed Anthony's Volvo for good luck last night as we left. We hope he doesn't mind.
Tonight Friday is going to appreciate the long-suffering Dieter. She's told us quite a bit about him, but we'll just stick to a few things. He helps teach a course in self-defense at the gym, and he usually ends up impersonating the bad guy. He tolerates a lot of slapping, kicking, and eye poking, not to mention kicks to the groin. We appreciate that. It's a skill that two of us have had to use for our own safety- fortunately we were successful. That's important work and we appreciate that he's helping women stay safe. Dieter also recycles (Germany gets points for this one) and this morning he shut down a blonde tart that was trying to get into his very appealingly clingy workout shorts. Friday is still smiling about it. We find the ability to delay gratification attractive in a man.
Tonight we need to adjust the seating because of a fun little game Friday wants to play. Set up the seats like always, except don't put a chair in the center. We'll explain more when we get there. Friday would be glad to have the use of Gabe's magical rug if he can part with it for another night.
This is the last night of the game as we had originally imagined it (and it has gone better than we imagined!) but we thought we would just add one more round. Something completely different. I have a truly devilish idea, and if it goes according to plan, on Saturday you can look me in the eyes and tell me how much you hate it. Watch your email.
Love, Monday, for Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.
Dieter made himself a cup of coffee and went outside to the driveway. Anthony's Volvo was sparkling clean, like always, but there were five neat lipstick kiss marks evenly spaced along the top of the driver side window. The last one was the largest and he studied it, hoping to get a sense of who Friday was or what she was like. He shrugged eventually, touched it lightly and went inside.
Dieter waited in the middle of the rug in the dark, standing barefoot, wearing a light pair of pants and a cotton button down shirt.
The girls came down right on time, chatting and laughing. When they entered the room though they stood near the door instead of fumbling over to their seats.
Monday said, "Okay, guys, we need to sit on the ends in the four corners, so you need to sit in the seats in the middle on both sides. Go ahead and find seats."
"Girls, find your guys and sit next to them." There was some small confusion and a few instances of accidental lap-sitting, but eventually each girl was sitting next to the guy she had appreciated.
Dieter stood in the middle of the room, waiting while the others fumbled around when he felt a soft hand touch the center of his chest and linger there. He took a deep breath and whispered, "Friday."
Monday's voice came from the corner of the room, "Okay, I don't think I need to remind you that this is Dieter's appreciation and the rest of us need to keep things more or less... restrained."
"Keep your hands at your sides," Friday whispered to him, her hand still on his chest, feeling him breathe. "I want to touch you, but I don't want you to touch me yet."
She placed both her hands at the sides of his neck and ran them lightly along the tops of his shoulders to his arms. He was relaxed, but she could feel the power in him. She felt his arms. She touched his chest, ran her palms down his stomach.
Dieter felt her walk around behind him, keeping a hand in contact with him as she walked around behind him and explored the contours of his back, her hands mirroring each other.
She slipped her hands down to his buttocks and was pleased to feel the slightest involuntary twitch as she continued down to the backs of his thighs, admiring the sculpture of his legs, his calves, his feet.
Friday faced him and placed the palms of her hands on the fronts of Dieter's thighs. "Flex these," she said, and concentrated on the sensation in her fingers as his muscles slowly acquired sharp definition and relaxed again slowly.
"I chose you to appreciate you because you are one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen," she said softly and confidently, "and because you know the value of patience, and because you will be disappointed graciously."
"Thank you, I think," Dieter loved the sound of her voice. She had a slight accent he couldn't place, and the liquid confidence with which she spoke was promising, mysterious, maybe even dangerous. "I love your voice - say something new. Tell me why I'm going to be disappointed."
"I'm not going to let you fuck me tonight. I'm a virgin and I have decided," her voice smoldered, "that the man who first pushes into me will be looking directly into my eyes when he does it."
There was absolute silence in the room.
"Our arrangement tonight clearly is unsatisfactory for me," she continued coolly, "but I have some skill which I hope will make you feel very, very appreciated. I am also going to allow you to know much more about me than my friends have allowed about themselves."
"You have my complete attention." Dieter said.
"Yes I do. I want you to appreciate me the way I just appreciated you, only don't touch my hair. That's for later."
Dieter remembered her fingers on his shoulders and matched their movements. Friday was wearing what felt like a simple cotton dress that hardly concealed her from his touch at all. It was unbuttoned very low between her breasts. She wore nothing underneath it. Her posture, like her voice was relaxed and confident, and as his hands discovered her breasts and he felt the weight of them, the image that started to form in his mind of her body was startling.
"Tell me what you are thinking," she said as his hands crossed and cupped her breasts and traveled downwards.
"I was thinking I like larger women, or rather, that I don't find skinny women very attractive. There is no movement to a skinny woman." Dieter was behind her, devouring her back with his hands. "I had hoped that you would please me this way."
"And do I please you this way?"
"You are not what I feared, but you are not what I hoped either. You are something else entirely. You are better than I hoped."
"Tell me why I am better than you hoped." Friday flexed her bottom slightly as his hands moved across her, as he had done, a private joke between them.
"You are a fully formed woman on the outside, soft, wonderful to touch, smooth, very warm." His hands trailed down her legs, past the bottom of the dress at her knees and to her feet. He stood in front of her, his hands on her thighs and without his asking she flexed them as he had, slowly, showing them off. He had a brief vision of these thighs flexing powerfully around his waist. He closed the vision off and stored it for later. "But there is steel at your core. You bring your femininity and your strength together perfectly."
"I'm glad you can see that," she said simply, "It is how I see myself also. I have made guesses about you, Dieter, and I think I am right that you value your control as much as you value your power. Perhaps more."
"I'm glad you can see that," Dieter said. This woman's self-assurance was so complete as to be almost innocent. He found it refreshing.
"It is easy for people to ask for a demonstration of power. They ask you to lift this thing or that thing, show how strong you are." Friday was unbuttoning Dieter's shirt. "I want to give you an opportunity to demonstrate your control." She pulled his pants and his boxers off at the same time, hardly touching him at all.
"Unbutton my dress. I am finished with it. You do not need to be as careful as I have been with you."
Dieter found Friday's breasts and lifted them. They completely filled his hands. He brushed her nipples lightly with his knuckles and her breathing changed subtly. She pressed herself into his hands. He grasped the neckline of her dress between her breasts and pulled until one button popped off, then another. The buttons popped off with a measured precision, one per second until the dress hung open. She shrugged and it fell to the floor.
"Lie down on the floor, then ask me a question."
Dieter complied. The alpaca felt fantastic on his skin. "My first language isn't English. I can't place your accent. Is it Italian?"
"No, not Italian. English is my third language, but I have been in the United States for three years and I have visited many times." She spread his left leg out and put what felt like a rubber band around his ankle.
"What is that?"
"A test of control. Don't move your leg. Ask another question."
"Tell me about where you grew up."
Friday pulled out his right leg out and again, he felt another rubber band slip around his ankle. "My father is the richest man in our city. He runs businesses. Some of them are dangerous. Some of them are illegal. I grew up in a big house on many hectares in the city. There were always guards at our house. He is a very influential man." She pulled Dieter's right arm up and slipped a rubber band around his wrist.
"Are you Russian?"
"I'm not Russian."
"What are you doing to me?"
Friday pulled his left arm up so he was completely spread eagled and slipped the last rubber band into place. "I'm tying you down."
"Single threads. The other end of each thread is attached to rubber bands on the ankles of my friends. Your left wrist is connected to Monday's ankle. If you cannot control yourself and you move your left arm, you will break the thread and snap her ankle with her rubber band. Your beautiful limbs are all connected to my friends. Ask me another question."
Dieter could feel slight tension on the rubber bands. He lay very still, but he could feel a fire kindling. The game would be a true test of his control. "Why are you in the United States now?"
Friday threw her leg over Dieter's chest and straddled him. She caressed his face. "I came for University, officially, but it's not that simple. I love my father, but I am ashamed of his business. I want to become independent from him financially. I needed to learn how to do that. I am here to become independent from my father. There are other reasons too."
"Is your accent French?"
"But I think you don't come from France." Dieter managed, just as Friday put a hand behind her on his stomach and started sliding it toward his cock.
"You're right. You don't like French girls, do you? You like me though. What was her name?"
Dieter was always astounded at how much these girls seemed to know. "Beatrice."
"Beatrice. You won't think of her after tonight." She found the tip of his cock with her fingers and pinched it gently and rhythmically between two knuckles. "You are free, of course, to experience a climax, but I think that would interrupt our questions, no?"
Dieter could feel Friday's pussy, moist against his chest. She seemed to press herself against him harder when she wanted to emphasize a point. Her fingers on his cock felt wonderful.
"Are you from Canada?"
She pinched him hard enough to get a grunt, but not hard enough to break threads. "I'm not Canadian." She reversed herself so she was straddling his waist, facing away from him. "I can feel your mind working. You have a very expressive cock. By holding it in my hand I can almost read your thoughts." She had his cock in her left hand, holding lightly, just feeling him, and her right hand cupped his balls. "You wonder am I Belgian or Swiss or French. You're trying to solve the problem. I will know when you have solved it. You are wondering where in the world a virgin can learn to play a man's body. Not Belgium or Switzerland or France."
Dieter's mind was racing. The pieces of the puzzle were nearly in place when he felt Friday shift. She straddled his left thigh, her pussy pressing his skin and squeezed with her thighs.
"Flex," she said. Dieter concentrated on his thigh, on bunching the muscles slowly, one by one without bending his knee and breaking the thread. The puzzle of Friday had dissolved into an effort to please her.
"That feeling," Friday said, "is delicious. I am going to tell you a story. You may think it's a strange story. You keep pleasuring me like this."
"In my city powerful men's daughters who are virgins are valuable because they can become wives to other powerful men. Business and political alliances are formed through marriage, but the strength of the alliance is dependent on the quality of the wife. So I was trained to be a good wife- in cooking, hospitality, courtesy, and lovemaking. My father owns some brothels- sad, dangerous places, but excellent for learning to please a man."
"You worked in a brothel?"
Friday's fist hit Dieter directly over his heart. "I learned skill from the women there. I will not be paid for pleasures."
Friday's thighs squeezed along with Dieter for a few moments, her breath coming faster. "Your right leg is a little stronger, yes?" And without waiting for an answer, she straddled his right thigh. "Flex." And she sighed for a few moments as she felt the power coming alive between her legs.
"They brought young men for me to practice- massage and hand pleasure and mouth pleasure. One of them lost control of himself and he tried to attack me. I broke his nose and my father heard about it and the man is lost now."
"What do you mean he's lost?"
"They can't find him. They never will." Her hand was resting lightly on his penis, registering his reactions.
"I'm not sure what to think about your father. I must confess that his approach appeals."
"Yes, well, I can't go back now. I will not make a good wife for those men."
"I don't see a downside, unless you are just phenomenally ugly."
Friday laughed. "I am not ugly. I am intelligent. That is the problem. Those men like simple wives who take orders and never think. And even if I return I will not be a virgin."
She felt a twitch in Dieter's cock and smiled to herself. "So have you solved your problem? You are close."
"You're from a recent French colony- not Southeast Asia. What is your independence day?"
"August 15, 1960."
Friday felt a jump and a steady swell in Dieter's already hard cock. "You have solved it. You can tell me what I look like now. I like this effect on you."
"Let me feel your hair."
"Mmm. That's an excellent idea." Friday's hand left his cock. Hundreds of beads fell on his chest as she slid her body down his torso and dragged her pussy down across his burning erection without allowing any penetration at all.
Dieter realized that the beads were all on the ends of long thin braids of hair and that the motion of the beads was converging on his cock. He felt Friday's teeth on the head of his penis. His mind was going fuzzy. Friday's tongue touched the tip of his cock and slipped around it in a quick circle.
Dieter struggled to resist the urge to embrace her, to hell with the threads. "You have black eyes."
"Yesss. Tell me more." Friday swirled her tongue softly around the head of Dieter's cock.
"You have black hair, braided with beads. Your skin is dark, maybe very dark. Your lips are nearly black, like your nipples. Your pussy is..."
"Black." Friday said, sliding back up Dieter's body. "And moist." She rubbed the lips of her pussy against his erection.
"I want to hold you. I want to feel your skin on my fingers."
"One more answer. What country?"
"Republic of Congo. Let me hold you."
"Hold me then."
Dieter brought his arms down around Friday, ignoring the protests of the girls whose ankles he snapped with the infernal rubber bands. He curled around her, his chest touching her back, arms around her, his face against the back of her head.
"You don't need protection from anything, but I feel like protecting you. Why do I feel so much like protecting you?"
"You are a man who values women. You want them to be safe. I have been in danger and that distresses you. It's a strength and a sweetness. Some men make their bodies strong because of something they lack. You have made your body strong as an expression of your deeper strength. You are beautiful."
"I don't need anything else from you," Dieter said, stroking Friday's thigh with his fingers.
Friday turned her head and gave him a lingering kiss on his lips. "I think you are not lying. I need something from you though." She pushed him gently on his back. "I am wrapped in a great desire. Please help me." She disentangled herself from his arms and, to his surprise and delight, straddled his head and pressed her pussy gently to his lips.
Dieter nuzzled her quietly for a while, then licked, his tongue parting her outer lips, and sliding along the complicated folds of her pussy. Friday jumped a little and whimpered. Dieter ran his hands up her back, feeling the heat of her body and the tension of her arousal mounting. He licked again and she jumped. He licked again. His hands found her breasts and held them, caressing, pressing her flesh, listening to her whimper and moan her desire.
"Ohhhh. You are much better than my teacher..." Friday said, panting.
how to enjoy this?" Dieter ran his tongue gently around her clitoris and went back to long licks that covered the length of her pussy.
"Learned to give pleasure," Friday's breathing was becoming ragged, "Learned to take pleasure. Ohh yes- do that again. Yess."
Dieter picked up speed and intensity as Friday's pussy rocked against him, her moisture sliding into his mouth, and across his cheek. He vaguely registered whimpering and sighs coming from the darkness around them. He pushed his tongue into her pussy until it stopped, pulled it out, and did it again and she climaxed, sealing his mouth with her flesh and squealing, her teeth clenched, her thighs clamped around his head. She rocked gently as she came down and he flicked his tongue into her to please her.
She backed off of his face and sat on his chest to recover, leaving droplets of her moisture in the hair on his chest.
"What teacher taught you how to enjoy that?"
"That is of no importance," she said, still breathing heavily. She moved down Dieter's body and kneeled between his legs, "She was very selfish."
Before he could comment on this revelation, Friday's beads touched all in a circle around his cock and Dieter felt her lick him from base to crown, just as he had been doing to her moments before. "Are you sensitive here?" She asked innocently as one of her fingers touched his anus.
Dieter jerked. "I've never had any... luck... with that."
Friday sucked his cock into her mouth completely and bobbed her head a few times, then licked the head again. She continued, varied the pressure, the speed, the moisture. The beads clicked and danced on his skin. She sang him songs to his cock. He held her head in his hands. She made Dieter see colors and hear music and feel lightning. She made him gasp and grunt. Then, as she felt him rushing towards his orgasm, she slipped her finger into his anus and pressed.
"Shit! Ahhh!" He came explosively. Friday couldn't keep up with him and his semen got on her face, on her hair. She kept her finger just inside him and pressed one more time. Dieter grunted and jerked, her teeth grazing the head of his cock, her finger on some unknown bright button inside him.
She kissed his stomach, cleaned up gently with what was left of her dress. Kissed his lips to keep him from speaking.
"Beatrice," she said, as she curled up next to him on the rug, "was doing it wrong."
"Who?" he said.
He asked her for her name when they were away from the others in the closet and she was standing with her head against his chest.
"Marie Marthe," she said. "The others will be upset that I have told, but they are owing me a little now. At least they think they are owing me. I have not done anything I was not hoping to do."
"Marie Marthe," Dieter said thoughtfully, "You have the names of two sisters. It seems right. You seem to be more than just one woman."
"Tomorrow's game will be difficult for some, but it won't be for you."
"Well, if it's a lineup, I know I just need to find the Congolese woman with the perfect body."
"How did you know our Independence Day?" Friday asked. "I was very impressed."
"It is my uncle's birthday. He is always joking that he's exactly the same age as Congo. It was a long shot."
"Now I'm less impressed." Marie cupped his buttocks with her hands. He flexed. "Okay," she said, "now I'm impressed again."
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/exhibitionism/darkroom-friday.aspx">Darkroom - Friday</a>