these are the naughty things that keep me awake at night…~n~

Pacing the floor wouldn’t get the guy here any faster. She knew it, but she still hopped up every time a vehicle drove down her street. Her electric was out-but only in half the rooms of half the house. The dryer had a squeal that sounded like someone was being eviscerated every time it ran. There was a drip under her toilet tank that was filling up the bowl beneath it a little faster every day.

Her house was a freaking disaster.

But it was hers, her money pit, her sanctuary, the place she came home to each night, the lawn she mowed, and the driveway she shoveled. But the few little things to be done had become more things to be done, and now was a veritable pile of things that had to be done. And while it was true that she could, and did, handle a great deal of the small stuff on her own, there were things she just wouldn’t do. Electricity. Plumbing. Dead things in the walls.

And really, dead things in the walls were sort of self-cared for anyway. All it took was a cold snap or a good hot spell, and after a week, ten days at the most, the smell went away. She imagined there were any number of skeletons in the walls of her home.

Where the holy fucking hell was he?  she wondered for the hundredth time. She’d set aside this time to be here and she wasn’t enjoying a work-day-home, oh hell no. Her fingernails with the pale pink polish drummed lightly on the counter. Her long hair was caught up in a messy pile on top of her head, and her jeans were old, soft and comfortable as only old jeans could be. Noting the very soft spots on her thighs, where her hands tended to rub, and the even thinner spots between her legs where those rubbed, she ruefully accepted that this could be the final day these could be worn.

“One good sneeze and I’ll blow the ass out of them,” she mused, trying to look over her shoulder at her butt. Still, they hugged that bum delightfully. Going commando on off days was the normal dress code, so she doubly appreciated the near-velvet texture of the aged denim.

At the crunch of gravel, she straightened. At last! NOW she could really get some shit done around here.

Stepping out to the driveway, she lifted her hand to block the brilliant sunshine. Whoa. He was huge. Easily topping six feet, he stood beside his beat up truck. All manner of compartments beckoned her curiosity.

“Hi, you must be Julia?” His hand, which could easily have juggled bowling balls, engulfed hers.

“And you must be Will?”

“Sure am…at least I was when I woke up this morning!”

She laughed a little at his folksy humor.

“So, I hear you have a huge list of things needing my help,” he said. He slipped a cell phone from his pocket, and a stylus from behind his ear.

“Why don’t we do a walk-through first, and you can tell me what you’re thinking.”

It was a good idea, she knew, so he wouldn’t need to take things out of his truck that would be unnecessary. She showed him the drippy toilet.

“Supply line,” he murmured, jotting a note on the phone. She pointed at the dimmer switch that always shocked the finger that dared to touch it,  (new switch, make sure ground is on), the window that wouldn’t go up (broken cording inside the sill plate) and the dryer that screamed, (bearings), before taking him to the electrical panel. After explaining the strange and wacky electric situation, he asked to go up to the attic.

“Yup, just as I thought,” he said as he made his way down the ladder. “You have a sub-box with old glass circuit breakers. I’ll replace those, but you may consider running the wiring back down to the main and getting rid of the old wires that aren’t code anymore. Not today, but at some point in the future.”

She agreed to all the fixes he’d proposed, and got busy working around the house while he did his thing. They talked a little while he worked on the toilet in the hallway outside her bedroom. Her head was under the bed, her ass in the air as he stepped into the room. She didn’t realize that the soft cotton had parted ways at the seam over her crotch, and that her pussy lips, flushed and swollen from the rubbing on the denim, had slipped outside of the confines and beckoned him.

He stood between her legs, his own legs not letting her back out from under the bed. His fingers caressed those puffy lips, then worked under the thin strip of seaming to pierce her hole.

“Wha! what the….”

She could not move back, his tree-trunk legs blocked her. She could not move sideways, or any way, could only just be there. His finger, his thick, rough finger, slid in and out, round and round, diddling her pussy, until she felt the moisture build. At this angle he kept rubbing her spot, just a flick of intense pleasure every few wiggles of his finger. A second finger joined the first, the two wriggling digits making her shudder and rock back against him.

“So. FUcking. Tight.”

She heard the groan in his voice, then the pressure as he knelt behind her.

“Don’t move.”

She couldn’t imagine what he was doing. What he was going to do. There was a sudden tightness as he tugged the tight strip of seam pulling it away from her pussy, then the quick snapping release as it broke free. With one hard pull, the entire crotch of her jeans gave way with a gentle fabric sigh.

Shocked by the sudden brush of cool air against her hot cunt, she didn’t hear him unzip his own jeans. The push of a very large cock against her slippery opening made her struggle for a moment, but it was too late. He slid into her as if she’d been made for him.

“Aaaaah, gawd,” he groaned. “I’ve never fucked a cunt that could take it all.” He pushed steadily forward until she felt his thighs on her buttocks. His hands reached under her pulling away more of the jeans until her entire ass and pussy was bared. Still buried inside of her pussy, he looped an arm under her belly, and began crawling them back, freeing her from under the bed.

“Please,” she said, but he cut her off, lifting her and carrying her to the living room. She dangled, impaled on his cock, catching sight of herself, hair falling everywhere, her mouth open in a gasp of pleasure and pain and shock.

He threw her over the back of the couch, reaching up and under to tug her bra up and over her tits, then grabbed them, using them like handles to pull out, then slam back into her.

“OW!” she yelped.





He grunted, thrusting deep with every word. She barked out a short scream with every slam, the flared head of his cock slamming her cervix. It hurt, her belly felt stretched and torn.

His fingers found her nipples, pinching them hard, then twisting them. She arched back, whimpering at the dual slap of hurt on her sensitive tits. His hips pulled back then swiveled, driving deep. Her knees buckled and she impaled herself further on him, his grip on her nipples and his cock in her cunt the only things holding her up.

“Oh gods it hurts…please…”

Pulling her back over the couch, he slid out of her cunt, then lifted her head by the hair.

“Look at that. Look at my monster cock.”

She could hardly look away. It glistened, the head almost as big as her fist. It flared, red and dangerous looking, a weapon, not a sexual toy.

“It’s wet. Not with blood, you little whore, but with your cunt-juice. Your cunt is gobbling my cock, welcoming it. Wanting it. But okay, I’ll give it a break. Open your mouth.”

She shook her head, despite the tearing of her hair to do so. He shook her head harder, pushing her to her knees, wiping the tip of his cock on her lips.

“Suck it.”

Again she shook her head. He dropped her there, and strode into the bedroom. He returned with a pair of pliers from his tool belt. His fist grabbed her left tit, the pliers grabbed the nipple and pinched, slowly tightening the grip on her swollen bud.

“No…nooo..” she could not break eye contact, and his implacable look cowed her. Her mouth opened to scream as he twisted the pliers that were mashing her nipple. A little pop of his hip shoved the tip of his dick between her lips. It was too big. It was not going to fit all the way.

He pushed harder, his grip on the pliers steady. A scream built in her throat as he kept twisting. Her head fell back, and he plunged forward, dropping the pliers and grabbing her head. Fingers twisting in her hair, he fucked her mouth, splitting the corner of her lip as he battered his way into her throat. Gagging, vomit rising, she implored him with her eyes to let her go, but he smiled down at her. He pulled out as her throat spasmed, as the vomit rose.

Swallowing hard, stomach heaving, she was limp as he lifted her up, spinning her around and back over the couch. Into her dripping cunt he slipped, fingers bruising on her hips as he lifted her higher to accommodate the thrusts of his body.  He ground against her crotch, banging hard, nearly throwing her over the couch as he began to spurt seed into her.

“So. Fucking. Tiiiigghhhaaarrgghh!” he groaned, dumping what felt like acres of cum into her.


He dropped her onto the couch, came over it to sit beside her.

“You…came in me,” she murmured. “I could get…”

His fingers kneeded one nipple.

“Free milk,” he said. “Don’t worry, next time I’ll fuck you in the ass.”

“Oh no,” she said.

“Well, yes,” he said, pointing to his still-hard shaft. “Mr. Woody doesn’t go away after the first shot.”

He squeezed her nipple hard.

“Roll over.”




She couldn’t move. Sure, she could clench and unclench her muscles, but any other movement was halted. Blindfolded she couldn’t see what held her in stasis, where she was, nor could she remember quite how she got to this place, what she’d been doing.

What had she been doing? Gym? Coming home from work? Walking downtown? It was perplexing how foggy her brain was.

In the background was the soft whirr of a fan, the stirring of air on her skin. Her nipples pearled in response. The sound of a door opening halted the muddled whirl of thoughts.

“Hello pretty.”

Footsteps moved closer, a warm hand pressed against her belly, then slid upward to cup her breast. A finger flicked her nipple. A garbled moan came from her open mouth response. She couldn’t close her mouth, she realized.

“Good girl. I think you’re ready now.”

‘Ready?” she thought, confused. ‘Ready for what?’

A cold splash against her vulva made her belly tighten, made a quick grunt of shock emit from her throat. A faint hum presaged something slick pressing between her legs, sliding over her clit, through her channel, and into her cunt. She tried to shake her head no, but that too was immobile. Her pussy accepted the tool readily enough. He pushed and pulled, fucking her slowly. Every few strokes, the vibe would be pulled free of her sucking hole and roll over her lips, her clit. The sensations were overwhelming.

“Such a greedy cunt.”

There was no way to protest his bland comment. It stung, the matter-of-fact tone as he continued his assault on her body.

“You may wonder why you can’t move. I’ve found that merely tying a woman to the bed still allows too much freedom of movement. I want my girls to be as close to immobile, and yet unharmed as possible.  I had to get a bit creative, as you’ll find out. Later.”

The bed shifted as he rose, moving away. He’d pressed the vibe inside of her, but the lube allowed it to shift, and slip free. It pressed high, right against her sensitive bulb. No amount of tightening would move the thing, and pleasure vied with the sensitive touch of pain.

Again the bed moved as he sat.

“Tsk. Naughty pussy.” The vibe was moved away, and several hard slaps fell between her legs. Again she attempted to move her head in protest, as guttural gurgles came from her splayed lips. Quickly he reinserted the dildo, the curved tip of it scraping along that sensitive spongy top of her vagina. Her hips lifted, seeing more of that sensation.

“What a greedy pussy you are. Just how I like my pretties.” His voice was filled with amusement. A loud hum filled the room, echoing around and through her. He pressed it between her legs, moving it up, down, and around that slick slit. She whimpered, trying to move away. Movement, however, was futile. But what he was doing to her–it was too much. Too intense. She tried to struggle, but could only lay there, open and vulnerable, and take what he was doing to her.

An orgasm shuddered through her. Her pussy clamped hard on the vibe inside, adding its own tremors to the sensory overload. She felt spacy, breathing hard as the quivers began to subside. The vibe was not quite touching her now, but she could hear it, feel the air move just over her pussy lips.

“You can’t move away. You can’t bend and writhe. I love to watch the struggle as my girls cope with the overload of sensation. The way your face contorts, your nipples contract, your pussy convulses. I’ll take your picture as you cum, and cum again.”

He paused, rubbing the vibe against her puffy lips, a wisp of a touch.

“There is something so primal, beautiful, evocative in the violence of your release. I will watch you cum many times today. I’ll use your mouth when I can’t stand the pressure of my cock any further, then return to your cunt. I’ll cull the pictures later, taking the best of the best to remember you by. You, pretty pussy, will remember none of this. You’ll wake in your own bed, feeling sore, used, exhausted. But you won’t remember why.”

He laughed, a soft sound almost hidden by the louder hum of the big vibrator.

She wanted to speak, to plead, to know what drug he had given her to immobilize her so completely. She felt the coil of rope on wrist and ankles. The tight binding of a collar around her throat. He pressed the head of the humming ball against her clit and she felt nothing but the shocking bolt of lust wrapped in pain.


She woke in her bed.

Her head ached, her throat was dry. Her pussy throbbed. What? She didn’t remember coming home, only recalled leaving work, dressed for Claire’s party. Remembered  eating those lobster canapes, drinking champagne to celebrate her promotion…then nothing. She must’ve gotten totally wasted.

She sat up, groggy, hoping that whomever she’d fucked had left, and she wouldn’t have to go through that uncomfortable “morning after” dance.

The urge to pee was the only thing that made her get up. She might have lazed in bed for another hour, but her throbbing clit and aching bladder had other plans.

Stepping into her bathroom, she sat, eyes closed as she peed. Rising, she flushed, and decided to brush her teeth. Morning after mouth sucked. Looking at the mirror she recoiled.

A photograph taped there.

A woman, spread eagle on a bed.

PVC pipes covering her legs, her arms.

Mouth held open with a wire thing.

Her hand moved to her pussy, covering the sudden throb.

The erotic scene made her dizzy. And the face was unmistakable.


Flat Tire

She was all New York Glam, waltzing into the small gas station. Her over-large sunglasses hid her eyes, but her hair, platinum blonde, was perfectly coiffed. The pimple-faced teen at the register watched her sashay into the small space, her perfume rolling over the more familiar scents of grease and oil.

“My tire is flat.”

That was about the only flat thing, Marty thought, wiping his hands on a rag as he came out of the garage area. Her ass was the kind described as “bubble butt” and his cock responded instantly. Thankfully his cover-alls hid Mr. Woody. He had a real thing for a fine ass.

“Help you, miss?”

She turned slowly, sliding her glasses down her nose with well manicured fingers, her eyes snapping.

“I said,” she began, her tone sizzling ice, “that I have a flat tire. You will attend to it, now.”

Pushing her Ray Bans back into place, she turned her back to him.

“Round here, we say please, and thank you, Miss.”

She shook her head, and Junior at the register knew she was rollin’ her eyes behind the shades. Whoopie but she was gonna be in a lick of trouble if she pissed off Marty. He was the most mild-mannered of men, most times. But stroke him the wrong way? He knew, in his gut that she was going to push. And push. And push. He could hardly wait.

“I said…”

“I heard what you said. This is a garage. You work on automobiles.”

Her words, while reasonable, were made ugly by the implied sneer in her tone. Marty was proud of this business, one he’d taken over from his daddy when he was all but 19. He’d made a go of it, too, no small accomplishment in this day and age.

“So go out there and fix my flat tire.”

“Seems to me that you’re at a bit of a disadvantage. If I decline to ‘help’ you, you’ll have to find another mechanic. Not another one ’round these parts for…oh, about 80 miles or so.”

“I can call my triple a,” she began. Pimple kid pointed over his shoulder where the emblem hung on the wall.

“You can’t deny me service.”

“Oh, little lady, I can indeed. My garage, my rules. I don’t make so much on their dole that I’d lose much by ignoring one call.”

“You’re an imbecile. And rude.”

She whirled, jabbing her finger into his chest.

He snapped. Tugging the greasy rag from his pocket that he’d used to wipe his hands, he grabbed her wrist and shoved the rag in as she opened her mouth to yelp. Swinging her around, he caught the other wrist, and steered her into the garage.

“All right Miss High Horse. You’ll get your ‘service’. Junior, pull her car into bay 2, close the door, and turn down the lights. We just closed early. Then come on back and help me show our ‘guest’ some manners.”

Junior leapt from behind the counter, fishing in her pocket for the keys as she struggled, pathetic whimpers coming from behind the cloth the boss had shoved deep behind her ruby lips. With great daring, he grabbed her tits, great huge knockers, and squeezed, before grabbing the keys and running for the yard.

In seconds, the sound of a fine motor hummed to life. The kid drove the car into the second bay, the sound a lumbering thud typical of a car rolling on a flat. She was ushered to the back of the garage even as the bay doors began their creaking descent. The bell on the door jangled as Junior wrangled it closed, locked it, and flipped the OPEN sign over, slashing at the light switch in his haste, once, twice, until he pushed it off at last, plunging the storefront into near darkness, lit only by the Interstate Battery sign on the back wall.

By the time he got back to the garage, the woman had her skirt pulled up, her hands secured to the motor block of the old Ford that Marty had been rebuilding, and Marty’s hands were moving over the perfect moons of her ass.

The slap, when it came, echoed around the cinderblock walls.

“Time to spank some manners into your fine ass.”

Juniors cock rushed to life. The feel of the tits lingered on his hands, the sight of the bare ass, panties at mid-thigh, stockings held up by garters….mah gawd, garters. He’d only seen the like in girly magazines, or porn sites online. There was a big red handprint appearing on her white ass.

“Marty,” he groaned.

“Geezuz, kid. Fine, do it.”

Marty stepped aside, and in seconds Junior held his long thin penis in his hand, pumping it slowly as he moved towards the holy grail. Her slit was right there her cuntlips were fat and juicy. He pressed his cockhead against them and she grunted, shifting her hips trying to move away.

“Ya gotta take her in hand, boy. Hold her steady and fuck. Don’t let her control your cock, boy. Men take.”

His hands almost shaking, Junior grabbed her hips. She wriggled.

“Stay still, cunt.”

The word was foreign–at least to say to a woman– so dirty that he felt cum drip from the slit of his shaft. With a moan, his fingers dug into her thin hips, and he bucked forward, sliding into her pussy hole. Though she tried to yell, it was muffled. With vigor, he plunged and withdrew until he felt the tightening in his balls that presaged the splatter of his cum inside her.

He pulled out, depleted. Cum oozed from her cunt. He always did have a lot of it.  He liked the way it pearled at the entry hole, then slipped down over the folds.


Nodding, he stepped away, folding his cock back into his boxers. Marty stepped to the side of the woman, fisting his fingers into her hair, tugging her head, making her back arch. It looked for all the world as though she was presenting her ass to them. It looked fucking hot.

“Take my cell phone and get pictures of her dripping cunt and her ass. If she’s a good girl, they’ll stay in my phone and not get posted to a porn meeting site, with her name, phone number and address.”

She made a noise in her throat.

“Yes, I know you’ll be a good girl. You city sluts are the worst. But you learn quick, I’ll give you that.”

There was the mechanical whirr that the phone made while taking pictures. One, two, seven, ten.

“Now a picture of her license, Junior.”

Another click.

“Yup that shows her address. I’ll bet her cell’s in her purse. Let’s just jot that number down, too.”

She tried to toss her head, to kick her feet. His hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head back further.

“Got it, boss.”

Marty’s cock was so hard that it ached. He was going to hold off as long as he could–it’d been a long while since he’d seen so fine an ass…and he was gonna enjoy it to the max.

He took a pair of chains, used to hoist engines, and wrapped an end of each around her ankles, securing it with a zip strip through each thick loop. The other ends he fastened to the lolly columns that supported the garage roof. Her legs were spread, her ass poking up, her head muffled.

Finger swiping over the plump wetness of her pussy, he smeared the wet goo along her asshole. He debated about pushing his finger up there, to loosen her up a bit. But he loved, adored, craved that feeling when the tight ring was breached, the desperate grab around his shaft as he made entry. His cock pulsed. ‘Down boy,’ he thought, ‘just relax…you’ll get your turn.’

Taking up a drive belt, he swished it through the air a few times. It made a satisfying swish. He struck her ass. She yelled, loudly. Though the sound was greatly reduced by the filthy rag in her mouth it was a satisfying noise.


Slap, slap, slap.


This stroke was hard, hitting along her lower back and into the deep crevasse of her split-tail.


Slap along the top of one thigh, the other. She tried to dance, to wriggle away–the chains held her fast.


Fore-and back arm strokes, slashing along the round orbs of her buttock. Red welts had blossomed wherever the rubber belt had landed.


These last strikes were hard, unforgiving.

She shrieked, her entire body stiffening as the pain penetrated, then went limp. He busied himself with putting the belt back on the workbench until she regained consciousness. There was a certain gratuitousness to her fainting. Message received, boom.

“She’s not…dead…is she?”

He’d almost forgotten that Junior was there.

“Nope, just fainted. Those rubber belts hurt like fuck-all. She won’t forget this beating for a while. Seems her daddy did her no good by goin’ easy on her ass as a kid. Spoiled skank.

“I’m gettin’ hard again.”

“Well, Mr. Speed Dick, you’re gonna have to wait. Later you can titty fuck her, you’ll enjoy that.”

“Titty fuck? You mean that’s a real thing?”

Dry laughter filled the room.

“Kid, you have no fuckin’ idea what there is out there. The world is a fucking kinky place.”

Goldilocks had stirred. He moved over to the car, fished the cloth out of her mouth.

“You can scream all you want, slut. No one around to hear you. Dark out now, hardly no one goes out this road on a Tuesday night. And oh, but golly I want to hear your voice when my cock slides inside your asshole.”

Her words spilled out, including ‘please, please please no’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘let me go’…all the usual things one might expect. His hands stroked along her glowing ass, smacking now and again when her blatting annoyed him. He unzipped the front of his coveralls, and released Mr. Big. He wanted to strut to where she could see what was gonna breach her, but he figured surprise was just as much fun.

He pressed.

She resisted.

He felt her clenching, the tightening of her buns. He imagined she did those videos like his wife did, ass of steel and such, but it wouldn’t stop him, any more than it did when Edna tried. Course, that was all in the game he and Edna played…she came like a New York fire boat when he fucked her backdoor. He imagined that Miss High Horse’s butthole was small and tight, being as her ass wasn’t all that big to begin with. He peered down, saw the tiny pink pucker. Yup. It was small, alright. He smiled to himself.

Pushing the head of his cock against that little butt-wink, his fingers pulled her cheeks apart, until her resisting, clenching butthole began to spread.

She cried out when the enormous head pressed through her tight anal ring.

She cried as the long thick shaft slid oh-so-slowly deep into her bowels.

She wailed as he pulled out and slammed back in.

“Say it.”

He pulled away, then plunged inside.

Her shriek was followed by her gasp.

“Say it.”

He stroked impossibly deeper, rough and mean.  He was the barnyard dog, proving to the bitch who was boss.

Her ass quivered under the onslaught of the fat mean dick in her bunghole. In and out,  he sawed his way into her guts.

“PLEASE!!” She screamed, her anus throbbing. She imagined blood. She imagined tearing, and irreparable harm to her rectum. It  hurt. It fucking hurt, the bloody fucking asshole bastard!


“PLEASE!” she hollered.

“Please what?”

His tone was silky, husky, with a grunt at the end as he sheathed himself. She swore she felt the slap of his fat balls on her pussy, her clit trembling from the repeated blows of his sac on it.

“Please…ungh…oh…oh fuck…please…”

He sped up, pulling just half-way out now, his hips working hard and fast, a human piston plunging into the tight hot tunnel. Sweat popped on his forehead, his palms, making his grip on her hips slip. His nails dug into her flesh, half-moons of grease left on her skin.

“….change my tire…please…”



Her words came quickly, until she groaned, her nipples pearling tight as her cunt clenched. A stream of girl cum spurted between her splayed legs, landing with an audible spatter.

“She fucking pissed!”

“Squirted. Seems our Miss High Horse is a squirter who likes her asshole plunged by a nice hard cock.”


Her ‘no’ faded off as she came again. He felt the laxness as she passed out. No matter. His cock spurted once, twice, releasing his own juice into her bowels. She’d shit cum for a week, he thought with a chuckle.


She woke up, spread eagle on the floor, naked. Her tits were squeezed between Juniors hands, his cock plunging in the tight tunnel he’d created. Her eyes opened as jets of cum landed on her face, her mouth, her nose. Her eye stung as one fat wad landed dead on her baby blue.

“owwww!” she yelped, but he just crouched there, smiling that vapid smile.


Her cell rang as she was tooling down the road. It was Linda, of course.

“Hi hon, sorry I’m going to be late. Yes. I know. I had a flat in East Bumfuck.”

She winced at the truth in those words.

“No, I had to get the owner to open up and change my tire. No, I’m fine, just took some time I hadn’t planned on. I’ll be there in a few hours. Sure thing. Toodles.”

She shifted in her seat, trying to adjust the thing he’d duct taped into her ass as a reminder. He’d put the tape over her pussy fur, so it would hurt like fuck to take off. She winced. She didn’t know what it was in her asshole, but it was big. Not as big as that mammoth cock of his. She frowned. Fucking asshole, treating her that way.

She’d be stopping by for an oil change next week.