Whispers

I am a lesbian woman with a hair fetish. Not like other hair fetishes where you like other people’s hair. Ever since I can remember I love having my hair touched. Having it brushed or stroked or anything like that is such an incredible turn on. I just love it! You can imagine what it is like to go to the hair salon. By the time I’m done I can hardly sit still.

My fantasy is about a hair salon. A very special kind of hair salon. When it’s time for my appointment, the hairdresser takes me to the back. She is tall, with nice small breasts and a trim body. She sits me at the sink. I am already starting to have sexual thoughts before I even lean back. She says “Close your eyes and relax.” I hear water running. She starts running her fingers through my hair. “I need special assistance over here” she calls.

I am already getting turned on. She starts to wash my hair. I feel someone else touch my leg. It startles me a little bit. “Just relax. Close your eyes.”

Someone else starts to unbutton my shirt. Soft warm hands touch my breasts. My pants are slid down. I’m surprised but so turned on that I just go with it. She is shampooing my hair. She gives me the most wonderful scalp massage.

Hands are touching me all over. Lips are kissing and sucking my breasts. It’s very sensuous the way she is lathering my hair. It doesn’t take too much of this to get me moaning.

A finger touches my clit. I spread my knees apart a little bit to show how much I like it. The finger is replaced with a tongue. I start moaning louder. They are fingering me, licking my clit, touching my breasts, sucking my nipples, and always she is washing my hair. Shampooing it, running her hands through it.

The second I start to cum, she leans over to kiss my lips. Her lips are so soft against mine. The way she inhales my moans, it seems she must be getting off on it too.

I open my eyes and see three women all looking down at me with smiles on their faces. They finish undressing me before they lead me to the chair. She drapes a cape around me. One of them kneels at my feet. I wonder what she’s doing when she spreads my knees apart to crawl up between my legs. I feel that amazing tongue on my clit again. The other one straddles me so that she can hold me down in the chair. “Hold her still” says the hairdresser. “With pleasure” says the woman.

She combs out my hair, totally ignoring my moans. I feel another orgasm coming up fast. “Hold her still” she says as I’m screaming and cumming. Her hands never stop working, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be cutting someone’s hair while she’s cumming again and aagain. I am being held down and licked and I can’t take any more, but I know that they aren’t going to stop until she’s finished with my hair.

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The fantasy that gets me off the most lately is about hitch hiking. It’s late at night. My car breaks down on a lonely road way out in the middle of nowhere. And wouldn’t you know it, there is no cell phone service. Nothing to do now but try to get a ride.

I stand by the car wearing my best helpless look. There isn’t very much traffic at this hour. I don’t feel very optimistic about my chances. Then along comes a car, way out here in the middle of the night.

Guess what? It stops! I gratefully hop in the front seat. There’s a hot guy driving, you know the type. Short hair, fit but not too buff, just the way I like them. I see he’s checking me out while I put on my seat belt.

We drive off. I tell him how grateful I am that he came by. While we drive along, I can see him looking at me when he thinks I don’t notice. He keeps glancing over, and I can tell he’s scoping out at my firm breasts. I keep waiting for him to make a move, but no, he’s a gentleman. Doesn’t say a word.

I’m scoping him out too. The car is just crackling with sexual tension. I can’t keep from looking at his crotch, wondering what he keeps inside those faded blue jeans.

I’m still waiting for him to make a move. Still nothin’. I’m starting to wonder if he’s gay or something. Finally I say to him “I am really grateful to you for picking me up.” I set my hand on his leg. “Really grateful.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it” he says.

That’s all I need. I run my hands over his crotch. Nope, he’s definitely not gay, he’s really hard in there. I unbuckle the seat belt. I strip off my shirt first, then my bra, so that my tits hang free. My nipples are all perky. He’s staring at them now, like I’m wondering if he’s going to drive off the road. My pants come off next. He’s just staring at me while I’m stripping down to my panties right here in his car. I fold them all up neatly. “I don’t want to get cum all over my clothes” I explain.

When I pull down his zipper his cock springs out. Yeah, he’s ready. I lean over across the seat so I can take it in my mouth. That cock is so thick that I have to stretch my lips around it. He just keeps on driving while I suck. I’m taking my time, no rush, just slurping that thick boner while we’re driving along. My hand is inside his pants playing with his balls.

I feel them start to pull up and I know what’s coming next. He starts screaming. That cock starts gushing like there’s no tomorrow. The first blast goes right down my throat and after that I can’t keep up. My mouth is full with his jizz is leaking out the sides and it’s still gushing. I lean over him so I can take it all over my tits. My hand is stroking him and it’s just gushing all over me. All that jizz is dripping down my chin like crazy.

He pulls the car over. We’re stopped on the side of the road. He opens the door and pulls me out. he pushes me down on the hood. Before I know it he’s got my legs open and he’s eating me out like there’s no tomorrow. I grab his hair with my feet up on his shoulders and I’m pushing his head down, grinding all over his face. He’s got a mighty talented tongue, it’s getting busy all over my clit. When he shoves his fingers in it’s all over. I’m screaming like a wild thing, cumming so hard I nearly pass out.

I think that’s it but he has other ideas. He’s already hard again and his boner says it’s time for round 2. He flips me over. Now I’m bent over the hood of his car just like he wants me. His cock just plows into me and oh God does it feel good. He’s grabbing my hair and pulling it hard, just the way I like. The whole time, he’s talking dirty, calling me every name in the book. When he starts gushing again I lose it. I’m cumming even harder than I did the first time. The whole time he’s just ramming into me.

When we’re done I have jizz all over me and leaking out of me. We get back in the car. I sit down and put on the seatbelt. He looks at me funny, like he expected me to put my clothes back on. I smile. “I told you I don’t want to get cum all over my clothes.”

He drives me straight to my house. I thank him for the ride. I pick up my clothes out of the back seat. “I might need a ride back out to my car tomorrow. Do you think you could give me a lift?”

I walk naked into my house, with him watching me the whole way in. I spend the rest of the night jilling myself off, wondering if he will be back tomorrow.

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My fantasy is wearing a remote control vibrator at a party.

I put it on before I get dressed. Then I dress up. Black thong panties. Black bra. Low-cut shirt. Tight jeans. We go to the party. You and I. You have the remote in your pocket. I’m getting wet thinking about it.

We get there. You tell the people at the party what’s up. You give the remote to someone, I don’t know who. All night long it keeps buzzing inside me. On and off, on and off, all night long. I am walking around the party. Smiling, laughing, talking. Struggling not to make a sound. Struggling not to cum.

The remote is passed around the room. I never know who has it. I just feel it buzzing inside my pussy. On and off. It surprises me sometimes. I can’t stop the moan. On and off. The orgasm surprises me. I scream. Everyone smiles. I don’t know who has the remote. I don’t know who made me cum. Afterward you take us home. We have the hottest sex of our lives.

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Hi Whispers! Here is my fantasy that gets me hot. I want to lick my husband’s cum out of another woman. First I want to watch my husband pound her nice and hard. When he is finished, she spreads her legs for me. I get down and start licking in circles around her clit. Then when she’s ready to cum I slip my tongue into her twat. I keep licking until she screams. When she comes I can taste my husband’s cum pouring out of her. Hopefully he gets so turned on watching that he pounds me hard. Then she can return the favor.

I like talking to my husband about it. I love how it gets him hot. Where can we find a woman to make this fantasy real?

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I am wearing a blindfold so I can’t see. But I can feel them all around me. I feel their hands on me. I feel them touch my naked breasts. Their stiff cocks touch my lips. I have no choice except to suck. It’s what I’m there for.

It’s my job.

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After thinking about it for the last three days I think I’ve figured out what my favorite part of sex with you would be.

It wouldn’t be as I wrapped my legs around your waist with my skirt and socks still on, your shirt hiked up enough so you could feel the place where heavy knit meets bare skin. You’d shiver. I’d smile and brush my mouth down your neck, figuring out where I could pull another violet out of the gold. No, that wouldn’t be my favorite. But that’d come close.

It wouldn’t be as you nipped and sucked and made little Voski-noises on my tits with my hands tangled in your impossible hair. I would hum impromptus in the lowest places a woman’s voice goes, alternating with whispered instructions to make it so I’ll have to keep my shirts buttoned up all the way for a week. I think that’d come close too, but not close enough.

I lke to think you’d slowly smile against my cunt before you lapped at me like some demented, perverted lion-god and that might come close too (and when I first thought of that little gem there was Keset sitting on my left and Lind right behind me and oh how far I have come)

But no, I think my favorite part would be afterwards, when your hair would still be unbound and your eyes/my eyes half closed and me spread out on top of you, inhaling your gold, and your fingers pushing through the place between where wings would be, almost as if you were encouraging wings to grow.

If I asked you to help me learn what my body was for I think you just might say yes. You are terrifying, Voski. You are sweet. You are wonderful.

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We arrived too early for my heritage celebration so I suggested we grab a bite to eat and pulled into a nearby sub shop. As we left with out lunch, I said I had a small detour to make before the event.
A few moments later I turned the car into the cemetery he looked confused.
“Haven’t you ever had a picnic in a graveyard?”
Along the far fence line I pulled over, grabbed our tasty morsels, and led him to our detoured destination.

It was a beautifully sunny day. I introduced him to my father, and we sat on Dad’s grave for our picnic lunch. The first lover I had ever shared with my father.
That My Sunshine enjoyed this detour was making me rather moist, but I knew I must restrain myself as the ceremonies were to begin soon.

He was anxious as we entered the expo hall. I enjoyed sharing the history and culture, and he began to feel more at ease as I shared a Prayer Tie with him. (A prayer tie is a physical representation of a prayer – a pinch of tobacco tied in a small cloth.) I told him of how tobacco is sacred, often given as a sign of honor, and the gift could be carried as a charm or to remind him of the wish for his health and happiness. I did not divulge that my prayer for him in the tie was for ultimate pleasure.

Upon taking leave of the celebration shortly after the Grand Entrance and ceremonies, I drove us to the park. We strolled the grounds. I led him to a partially secluded gazebo and he sat on a bench while I stood before him, leaning over so he could caress my breasts from under my ribbon shirt. My breath quickened as we switched places. Now he leaned over me, kissing me, nibbling my neck. I reached out and teased his growing bulge, slipping my hands beneath his shirt and under his waistband. I could barely contain my excitement as I unbuckled his belt, slowly unzipping, then teasing his head to peek over his undies. God, I wanted to take him into my mouth and savor his sweet pre-cum. He looked around nervously as a wedding party began to draw near in search of a photo op. To ease his mind, I gathered him together, refastened his belt, and licked my fingers.

At his suggestion, we headed to my home.
Dammit, my son was home. No wait, he was getting ready to leave for the weekend. To release some pent up tension, he helped my work in the yard until the house was ours.

The next three hours were a blur of nakedness. We undressed and he was on top of me, inside me, thrusting until we were spent.
He napped a moment and awoke to me ravaging his ankles with my mouth and tongue. I was ravenous, biting, teasing, licking, sucking my way up his leg, to his knee, inside his thighs, paying special attention just below his balls, then around the base of his shaft. He could no longer resist as he rolled over and drove into me once again. I shuddered with delight as he varied his pace and angle, reaching my sweet spot. I twined my legs and arms around him and came hard over and over again.

Once again he drifted off momentarily. As he opened his eyes he saw me next to him, cricket masturbating – rubbing my thighs together. I reached over and guided his hand to my crotch, ordering him not to move it as my thighs and pussy writhed against his hand. He asked if I could orgasm like that. I answered him by demonstrating. Unable to contain himself we was upon me once more, only this time after a few moments he rolled over pulling me on top of him. I leaned back and caressed his balls and ass as I rode his cock gleefully like a child on a carousel. He pulled me forward, his hands on hips guiding my pace, his mouth hungrily suckling first one breast, then the other. I came over and over in waves of ecstasy. The headboard was banging against the wall as I began to scream, OH GOD! bucking and quivering. I came in a gush to rival Niagra Falls, continuing to fuck myself, impaling myself on his throbbing cock until I could not take any more. Oblivious to his orgasm, I rolled off him and into a semi comatose state.

When I came to I was more sensitive than I had ever been in life. I ordered him not to touch me. He was timid at my demand as we generally caress and cuddle in our orgasmic afterglow. It was quite some time until I was able to regain function of my body enough to dress and strip the sopping bed covers.

Three times in three hours! With the best round last! My prayer tie worked it magic.

I made us a nice dinner, gave him my car keys and napped while he drove us to his home and to his loving wife, who insisted I spend the night on their couch instead of napping in the car until I was recovered enough to drive myself to my own home.

It has taken three days for my hornies to finally return. I have NEVER before been to completely well fucked as to be floating and fulfilled for such a long time (Generally I’m ready for the next round before my partner has even gone soft!). He has earned a new name: My Satiating Sunshine.

I am wet with anticipation of our next encounter.. in two days my mother and son will be joining us out for dinner before we can retire to the privacy of my home once again, and the introduction of a few new bondage toys. I do hope he’s a good boy and not need to be punished too badly (or do I?)

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It seemed to have been a day like any other really. Morning services followed by afternoon devotions.The semi-dull drum of repetition mildly numbing his senses as he completed last services.

Thankfully today was Thursday and so he knew there would not be another service for the remainder of the day. His shoulders physically relaxed at the thought as his mind wandered. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps a small respite preceding a quiet evening might be in order. But his mental reprieve was fleeting as other, less enjoyable thoughts encroached upon visions of restful reading by the fire. Thoughts descending upon his peace as if delivered upon the wings of taunting devils. An itemized list of items and duties sprang to mind washing over his calm like a foul wind.

Arrangements to be made, directions to be given to Anthony, Our Lady of Forgiveness‚ very own clerical administrator. (Had he told him about the weekend’s service to the kitchen on the 8th?)

And when was the last time he opened the suggestion box?

Shaking his mind free of the weight pressing down upon his shoulders with each passing responsibility, the previous thoughts of a restful evening rushed in and swept him away.

“I have worked this day. This week has been arduous and this weekend appears to be busy as well,” he thought to himself, walking down the center isle towards the back of the church.

Winter duty was a bitter sweet suffering for the poor man but all of this was nothing in comparison to the near fatal agony he felt when that young woman from his parish would come to make her confession.

She would always attend mass or take confession in something that would accentuate her lithe form just this side of cautionary in style. Fingers of cloth holding and caressing her breasts and hips, stomach and thighs as she would kneel to tell the intimate matters of her life.

He would keep his responses to a minimum for fear he might betray the inner turmoil he now grappled with.

His eyes automatically scanning to either side of him, his mind holding to at least one piece of duty as he searched each pew in passing.

He had made a habit of this since the amorous impulses of two young people placed themselves (and him) into a rather awkward moment of accidental discovery one evening four winters past.

Smiling to himself at the remembrance of their shocked expressions as he continued down the isle. The images fresh as if they‚d happened yesterday. The young man looking over his shoulder perched above her. She on her back, her shirt pushed above her developing breasts. Her skirt a mere belt around her waist. Her shaven wetness glistening in the faint parish light.

A tremor, delicious in its temptation and strength, surged up from within the priest‚s core and spread out to each corner of his being, causing him to shiver.

“Are you cold Father?”

A trilling voice, sweet in its assumed innocence, cut through his reverie as if casting light on his secret thoughts.

A flush rushed to his face as he turned to face the voice, feeling as if his thoughts had betrayed him before a member of his parish. His lips parted in near shock as the very woman from his thoughts stood before him as if materialized from his thoughts to taunt him.

“Oh, I apologize. I was lost in thought and you surprised me just then.” He struggled to compose himself, rubbing his eyes a second.

Focusing on her again he began, “Erica is it?”

He could have sworn she had just blushed. But perhaps it was from the weather she came in from.

Looking closer he convinced himself of it for the purpose of continuing to assist her in whatever it was she came out into this night to do.

“Oh, I’m sorry Father. Did you have something you needed to do? I can wait,” she said, lowering herself into the closest pew corner.

“No, no you‚re fine my Dear.” he said, taking her hand and encouraging her to stand and walk with him.

“Come with me, I was just doing my rounds before locking up and retiring for the evening. I think I’ve dallied too long and it appears as if brother Anthony has gone home for the evening. So the items on my own “To Do” list will regrettably have to wait until tomorrow” he said without the slightest bit of remorse in evidence.

She smiled, following him as he lead her towards the doors at the front of the church.

Locking the doors securely, his fingers passed above the green glow of the alarm pad keys. He was about to turn to face her when he felt her hands slip around his waist as if to give him a hug from behind. But this was different and he knew it immediately, frozen motionless in his realization.

Erica, now older, was a women of intuition. After a number of encounters she had no doubt the priest was in some kind of distress. She felt for the man who had shown her such compassion at so many times in her life. (He’d never even mentioned anything of that night he caught her with Aaron.)

On this cold night she wrapped herself in her finest furs and went to the church hoping she might find him and discover the cause of his affliction. This is what she had told herself when she was getting ready to brave the temperatures.

“Now or never, right?” she had said to her reflection in the bathroom mirror, marshaling the courage to take the steps she’d been anticipating for more months (years?) than she could recall.

Those breasts were his first shock. He‚d seen them displayed in different outfits, coverings and wrappings many times before. He‚d never have imagined they would have, could have felt this firm as they pressed warmly against his back.

Even through the added layer beneath his shirt he could feel them rising and falling with her breathing. (Was it quick? Was he imagining this?)

She sighed contentedly against him. The warmth of her breath as she exhaled coupled with the delicious agony of her nakedness against him turning his thoughts, his mind, his heart.

“Mea maxima culpa”, he whispered beneath his breath…

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So while He enjoyed reading about me telling the world at what I Slut I am (and want to be for that matter), He asked that I provide a little more detail about that night. And although it is a bit later than I anticipated in providing these details, I am more than happy to oblige. After all, thoughts of Him consume every free moment of my day.

As I told you before we were able to play all afternoon. Since we couldn’t meet when we had originally planned, He instructed me to describe how I would undress and how I would feel. It was easy to imagine. I have thought about it for months. Although I am much more brave when I imagine standing or kneeling before Him than I think I will actually believe I may be in His presence. Still the thought of losing my top, my skirt, my bra, my panties is still overwhelming. I get wet at the thought, which is also what He is hoping for today. I even have on my special panties so He will be able to see just how wet I get reliving the other night.

I can still feel the chill down my back when He instructed me to stand in front of the mirror and disrobe just as I had imagined earlier in the day. To look in the mirror as if I were looking at Him. I was embarrassed and He wasn’t in the room, it was strictly my imagination. I gave Him the play-by-play for everything that was happening. I was excited, embarrassed and getting more wet by the second.

Before having a chance to remove my wet panties, He had me remove the bobby pins from my hair and begin placing them on my nipples. It was a pleasurable pain. It always is. I just wished he were the one pulling them from my hair and placing them one-by-one on my breasts. Hoping he will kiss me softly to take my mind off the pain.

I put in the ring gag like He instructed, again wishing He were the one putting it in place and tightening it just beyond comfortable. But I did it just as I thought He would. I wasn’t allowed to wipe the drool from my face. It was running down my chin like a faucet. The more I tried to swallow and stop the drool, the more it ran down my chin.

When he had me gather the belts, my nipples became so hard with excitement that the pain from the bobby pins became almost unbearable. The drool began running down my chest and as I tightened the belts around my ankles and thighs, it even dripped at the top of my freshly shaven pussy. My legs so tight together, smooth lips rubbing together I could feel the wetness begin running between my thighs. Although honestly, I don’t know if the wetness was from my pussy or my drool. I couldn’t get control of either, not that I was trying too hard.

The idea of having the third belt slap against my ass nearly brought me to orgasm, but I knew that was against the rules. I had to focus on the pain just to keep from cumming as I typed every detail of the evening. Leaning my tender nipples into the ottoman as I typed to awaken my senses and focus on the time and detail that was needed as I typed.

He was disappointed that He couldn’t read my story that night with the delay in posting, but I was able to provide him the details of my then current state of excitement. I was so thankful when He gave me permission to play. As you well know, this is something that I am unable to do without permission and everything in my body was begging for it. I needed it! And I was so thankful when he allowed me to play with my clit, to rub and pinch hard. I came in seconds, with my legs quivering. But He wasn’t finished, and neither was I. He then let me catch my breath and slide my fingers deep inside me. I didn’t want to stop, it felt so good. Imagining it was Him inside me. Just as I was about to cum He had me remove the bobby pins which literally put me over the edge. I had to muffle my screams, not from pain but from the exctasy and length of my orgasm. I felt like I came for ten minutes and I didn’t want to stop.

Playing was long overdue. For both of us. I was so thankful that He was pleased with my initiative and detail. I only hope my performace in person is even more pleasing. That I am rewarded with the ability to cum over and over again. I think we both need the release but I need his direction and instruction. I look forward to it everyday, just as I do tonight, although I know He won’t get to read this until tomorrow. I hope I make Him as happy as He makes me.

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