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Willpower

Alice’s knees were beginning to ache, but she held herself steady.  Without turning her head, as she had been explicitly instructed, she could see the newly-made bed and the closed door to the bedroom. She entwined her hands more thoroughly behind her back and held them to the small of her back.  A light breeze came in through the window and her nipples puckered in greeting.

“Alice.”  The voice was tinny but undeniably her lover’s.  She almost melted into the carpet with relief and arousal at the sensuous sound.

“Yes, sir,” she said breathlessly.

The walkie talkie on the bed hissed again.  "You may move your hands to your breasts now.“

"Yes, sir.”  Alice delicately unwound her fingers and brought them around with tai chi slowness to cup both of her small breasts.

“Look at them.  Catalog them.  You have five minutes.  When I speak to you again, I want you to tell me everything about your beautiful breasts.  Nod if you understand your assignment.”

Alice tilted her head so she could look into the shiny black eye of the camera mounted above teh door.  Then she dropped her gaze down and began to examine the delicate white skin.  The time crept by.

The sound of the walkie talkie made her start.  "Tell me, my little poet.“

"My left nipple,” she began in a raspy song of a voice, “is smaller than my right.  It dimples just north of center when I shiver.  They are both gently sloped, like foothills against a craggy mountain.  There is a single long hair that grows at eleven o’clock on my right areola.  You like to lick it when we fuck.”  She tipped her chin back to the camera again, sparks in her eyes.

Her lover chuckled.  "You’re a cheeky little slut.“

"Yes, sir,” Alice said, inclining her head so her chin touched her neck.

“Now,” the voice went on, “slide your hand down your stomach and rest it there for a moment. Think about how sexy you are.  Think about how nice it would be to touch a girl with a flat stomach, and then enjoy the fact that you are doing it.”

Alice’s hand began to tremble, but she tried to recapture her sense of obedience and slid her hand down her skin.  She had oiled before she had entered the room, so it was smooth and luxuriously soft. Down the muscles in her taut stomach.  Lingering over her belly button, petite and puckered.  She closed her eyes and thought of other beauties, the girls her lover shared with her.  She thought of the lithe forms and her hand drifted lower.

“Good girl,” the voice said, and the walkie talkie spat as he left the control room.

Alice moved lower, lower, until her fingers began to circle her clit.  She teased herself, not allowing direct contact until she could stand the tantalization no longer.  Her fore and middle fingers squeezed together, she stroked herself up and down the length of her pussy, sometimes slipping inside to collect the natural lubrication.  Her breathing became ragged as, eyes tightly shut, she did not move from her kneeling position but came all over her hand.

The door flew open and her lover walked in, offering his cock.  She took it fully into the back of her throat and reveled in his hand in her long hair.

“Good girl,” he said again.

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Maximum Input

Hundreds of thousands of applicants to be the first to technologically make out in their car, and we won.

Henry and I were both shivering, our hands wound tightly together, as we stood in the driveway and watched the logo-encrusted van pull in.  Out popped a smiling Latino man, the sort that hosts late-night variety shows.

“Amigos!  I am Jorge. Let me see – you must be Henry,” he said, bobbing Henry’s free hand up and down.  My husband could barely nod.  "And you have got to be the lovely and talented Rosa.  We loved loved loved your essay.  So let’s get this started, eh?“

He and his crew went about pulling parts from their van.  I stood so enraptured with their process and products that I didn’t even notice Henry pull the groaning C230 out of the garage.

"Here she is,” Henry said, an unnatural amount of fondness in his voice as he patted the hood with one hand.  "Our first car.“  He looked at me and smiled.  "She’s pretty special.”

“Wonderful,” Jorge said, and his team descended upon our car like ants to watermelon.

A few hours later, they let us come back outside and sat us in the front seats.  There were now strange apparatuses scattered between our legs, under the seats, and around the instrument panels.  I lifted something that looked like a suction cup on Henry’s side.  "What is all this?“

"Virtual reality,” Jorge said in an eerie sing-song voice as he snapped something down over my eyes.

I was now staring at the inside of the car, but nakedly.  I squeaked and went to cover myself even as I turned to the left, where an equally naked Henry sat looking just as startled as I did.  "Woah,“ he said.

Suddenly the apparatuses came to life.  A long, slender tube snaked its way between my legs and hovered at my entrance.  Henry gulped as the suction cup clamped on to his dick.

"And go,” said Jorge’s disembodied voice; we were completely alone in our virtual world.

The car began to fuck us.

It rocked with the motion of a skilled human being, and Henry and I both drew in our breath at once. My hand went to his.  He reached over and grabbed my shirt front and stroked my tongue with his.  I struggled not to climax too quickly – while strangers were watching, what was I thinking?! – but the car was persistent, and I shuddered around the tube.  Henry’s hand tightened on mine.

“This – is – awesome,” he said, before his words collapsed like a tent and he made noises and the car gently came to a stop.

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Necessity Breeds Creativity

They only knew her as Tangelina Grimes – Tangie for short – and no one knew where she came from.  She drifted in and out of the studio, working odd jobs for the janitors when there was extra mess to cart away.  The directors, actors, and crew came to smile at her bright orange hair as she bobbed and weaved among them without a word, just a brilliant smile with a gap between her front teeth.  She had only given her name once, to the head janitor Jose, but it had spread like wildfire.

So they were surprised when she shared much more of herself.  One of the producers, Sam, stepped away from the gang-bang shoot for a few moments to make a call in the kitchen.  He opened the door to find bright-haired Tangie sitting on the counter, her legs spread under her skirt and a condom-wrapped banana halfway in her pussy.

Her eyes popped open as she heard the door, and though she tensed, her smile was as wide as ever.  "Hullo,“ she said.  Sam froze, his iPhone squawking halfway to his ear.

"Call you back,” he said, and pocketed it.  "Tangie.  I – didn’t realize you were in the business?“

Her face scrunched up adorably.  "Oh, psh, I’m not,” she laughed.  "I’m not pretty enough for the boys to stay hard.  See?“  She pinched the tiny love handles, made prominent by her scrunched position on the counter, and giggled.  "Nobody wants to watch this.”

Sam’s eyes drifted down to her pussy, sleek beneath the close-cut hairs.  "Oh, I think they will.“

Tangie wriggled off the counter, slipping the banana out with a pop.  Behind her, lined up along the counter, was a colorful array: the orange of a carrot, the white of a lotion bottle, the red of a toy firetruck.  She laid her banana next to these, and Sam’s eyes widened.

"All of those?” he asked in a husky voice.

Tangie tucked her hair behind her ears, her cheeks warming even as she giggled again.  "I get horny, okay?  And like I said – the boys don’t like me.“

"I think,” Sam said, clearing his throat because there was suddenly an awkward lump there, “you’d be surprised.”

“Let me show you,” she said eagerly, lifting her skirt again so pink peeked out.  She took the lotion bottle and dipped her hand down to gather moisture, then ran it over the top of the bottle.  Pulling a nose-wrinkling face, she squatted and gently pushed the bottle up inside.  Sam crossed his legs.

“Will you try one session?  Just one.  And if you don’t like,” he added quickly, because a bit of fear danced behind Tangie’s eyes, “you can go back to being a janitor.”

She thumbed the bottle thoughtfully, managing to think and relax against the stroking at the same time.

“Sure,” she said, “just one.”  And with a little gasp and shiver and titter, she squeezed so hard the bottle popped free.

“Oh good,” Sam said.  He couldn’t stop staring.