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Exhibiting to a cabbie.

It makes me flinch and whimper a bit, this unexpected depth. You press into me and give a bouncing thrust and then you moan--but its not your voice, its not you moaning, it is someone else!

"What the hell?" I shout, and you are on me all of a sudden, straddling my chest. My hands lift to tear off the blindfold and I get it partially off before you capture my wrists.

Someone, whoever it is, starts pulling slowly out of me and I try to close my thighs against him, but he thrusts forward, pressing deeply, too deeply. And it hurts, because he's too long, because I'm tense, because I don't want him inside me, this uninvited stranger. He sucks in his breath between his teeth and moans again, his fingers digging into my hips as he grinds against me.

I feel like my blood has turned to ice water as a cold rage floods me. "Who is it?" I demand between clenched teeth. "You son of a bitch! What the hell kind of game is this!?"

"Its your punishment," you say, smiling down at me, pinning my wrists on either side of my head. "And its the nice hard cock you said you wanted."

I raise my legs to kick whoever the hell it is and start fighting you in earnest.

"Hey!" says the man between my legs, "I thought you said she would go for this."

I freeze. I know that voice.

I glare up at you with the one uncovered eye. "Stephen?" I hiss at you, half-incredulously.

"Yes," you grin wickedly at me. "Stephen. He's the one I was talking to when you pulled your little stunt. And seeing as you've been fantasizing about him for years..." You shift so my wrists are in one of your hands, then you slip the blindfold the rest of the way off my head.

You lean forward to kiss me and as you do, I think of several possible reactions. I consider butting you in the nose with my head. I consider spitting in your face. I consider clawing your eyes out. I consider biting your lip until it bleeds. But Stephen's hands caress my hips and run down along the underside of my thighs. It feels good, the touch of his hands, and I relax a bit, visualizing his tanned skin contrasting sharply with mine, which is so pale. His hands slide up my inner thighs and my skin pebbles, my nipples harden. When your lips touch mine, I kiss you, hard, and moan into your mouth.

Stephen. Mmmm. Something about your friend has always been deeply attractive to me. Partly his voice, partly his hands, partly that close-trimmed mustache and beard that inevitably has me fantasizing about riding his face. That, and his love for H. L. Mencken, Mark Twain, and Hunter S. Thompson -- Stephen has such a marvellous sense of humour.

You turn your head to look over your shoulder. "Don't stop," you tell him.

Stephen's hands tighten on my thighs. "Not until she tells me its ok," he asserts.

I mouth the word 'condom' at you and you nod. I take a deep breath, and in a heartbeat, make up my mind. "Its ok, Stephen. Just please... not so deep."

I wait until he is situated between my thighs again, until he has again begun his long, slow gliding, until he has placed his thumb against my clit and begun massaging it rhythmically, and then I take your shaft in my hand and pull. You lean forward on your hands and knees and spread your thighs until the head of your cock bumps against my lips, smearing them with precome. I open my mouth, darting my tongue out to collect the clear fluid, and moan. God, you taste good.

I open wider and take the head of your cock into my mouth, massaging the knob on the underside with my tongue. You suck your breath in between your teeth and let it out on a long, shuddering groan. Your thighs flex and you rock forward, pressing a couple of inches deeper, then sliding back. I relax my jaw and slip my hands around your thighs, pressing my palms flat against the cheeks of your ass.

When my fingers curl into the crack of your ass and begin teasing the opening there, Stephen gives me a deep jab.

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