Ciana Rose's Erotic Stories

 

Wicked Thorns

Nastarana

All Rights Reserved

 

 

It all started with a noisy neighbor...

 

"Good morning, sir, this is your early morning wake-up call, it is now 6:30 AM and..."

I interrupted the disgustingly cheerful computerized voice by tossing the telephone onto the floor. I was jet-lagged and highly irritable, having spent a restless night in yet another anonymous hotel room.

As my brain began to catch up with the rest of my body, I reflected on the cause of my sleepless night. I had spent the better part of the night lying wide-awake, listening to the muffled sounds of a woman in the adjoining room having sex. No, not sex, but great sex. She had entertained me with at least two hours of moaning and groaning punctuated by crescendos of gasps and screams, marking each of her many orgasms. Her partner was clearly the undisputed champion at prolonging a woman's orgasmic pleasure. I had eventually drifted off to sleep, dreaming how it was me endowed with this gift, and of the various ways I would use it on my wife to force her to utter similar sounds of abandon.

I dragged myself into the shower. The combination of warm water and memories of my night's entertainment prompted my cock into a serious erection, one that could not, and would not, be ignored. I considered calling home to my wicked wife, who has encouraged me to join her for long-distance erotic whisperings throughout our five years together. Her practical reasoning is that we get to save a lot of money on in-room porn movies and get our jollies at the same time. Sex and saving money, what a powerful combination.

A quick calculation of the time difference convinced me that a transcontinental call to Julie would not fall on welcome ears. So I resorted to the next best thing and grabbed a slippery handful of shower gel. "When you start to feel really horny, just call me and I'll take care of you. I'll be soooo good, you will never want another woman," I remembered Julie's whispered promises. Thinking of the last time we had phone sex, I began to massage the gel around the swollen head of my cock. Julie had brought me to a remote orgasm by describing how she wanted me to shave her for the first time, and how she was going to drench her hairless skin with baby oil before we started fucking. The recollection of her breathless voice describing these dirty details to me as she fucked herself with the fat purple vibrator was all that I needed this morning. After just a few fast strokes along the shaft of my slippery penis, I felt the tightening begin around my scrotum. I came quietly and efficiently, my ejaculation disappearing into the shower spray. As the warm water continued to glide over my skin, with a slow sigh I felt the post-orgasmic wave of relaxation spread down from my shoulders.

My mood lightened considerably by orgasm, I got myself ready to face the world, the inevitable hotel breakfast, and worst of all, my early-morning presentation to the assembled multitudes at the company convention.

As I was passing the room of the woman responsible for my disturbed night, the door swung open. A petite lady of mature years reversed herself out into the corridor, her backside thrusting into my path and forcing me to squeeze up against the corridor wall.

"Oh excuse me, I didn't see you there" she said, speaking in a distinct English accent.

I began to mumble an apology, at the same time wondering to myself if this woman, dressed in such a conservative gray business outfit, could possibly be my aural sex goddess from last night.

I was almost pinned against the wall as she turned to face me, the narrow corridor making it difficult for us to avoid each other's bodies. We held eye contact, and I found myself staring into clear blue eyes framed by the softest of laughter lines. My mouth went dry as the combination of her subtle perfume and body heat began to work their magic. I noted her delicately made-up face, pale skin and very kissable pink lips. All contrasted by jet-black hair cut in an unfashionable pageboy style. It would not be easy to overlook her in a crowd, and at close range, I was treated to the devastating force of her sexual aura, stiffening into my undershorts despite my recent pleasure.

I revised my estimate of her age downwards by at least ten years, relieved that I was no longer considering fucking a grandmother in a hotel corridor. I knew immediately that tonight's masturbation session would be accompanied by mental images of this woman. I would be in my room, cock in hand with an ear pressed against her wall tonight, waiting for the repeat performance.

I held her gaze a moment too long and twin spots of pink embarrassment formed on her otherwise unblemished cheeks. Oh my god, I thought, she knows I was listening to her last night. I felt the heat rising in my own face as I blushed like a schoolboy on his first date.

We tried to move apart, but as we both kept our eyes lowered in embarrassment and confusion her arm inadvertently brushed against me. I may have imagined it, but I could have sworn that, for a fleeting moment, I could feel the heat of her hand on my crotch, molding to my hardness. I felt the muscles in my groin tense, forcing my erection into an even more uncomfortable state of entanglement in my underwear.

In confusion and arousal, I hurried away from her down the corridor, not realizing I was going in the wrong direction, struggling to adjust my trousers.

The rest of the morning remains a blur. Distracted by my out-of-control libido I managed to complete my presentation with none of my usual nerves.

I must have been quite impressive, as I was surrounded by a group of colleagues and admirers at the lunch break, and their eager chatter raised me to a state of euphoria. At least, that is the only explanation I have for my subsequent behavior.

I took a seat at the table reserved for guest speakers, almost completely oblivious to my surroundings.

"I enjoyed your performance today, Mr. Richards."

This compliment was delivered in that sexy English accent I had last heard in the hotel corridor. Without thinking I replied, "And I enjoyed yours last night."

I heard the crack before I felt the stinging slap delivered to my cheek. As I gathered my scattered wits about me, I was able to witness the departure of one gray-suited and very angry lady from my table.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, and I was cowed by the disapproving glares from my fellow diners.

I hid myself in the darkness of the auditorium for the rest of the meeting, but at the end of the day, I was obliged to answer nature's call.

I found myself standing in the men's room next to a colleague, Arnold Beckman.

"Everyone's talking about you, Mark. The rumor is that you have a death wish," he spoke with a sympathetic grin.

"What do you mean?" I snapped.

"I don't know what you said to her, but you can start writing your resume now," he continued. "The talk is that you just managed to get yourself slapped by LV, and in public too."

I stared at him blankly, clearly not understanding who LV was, or the implications of my indiscretion.

"You do know who she is, don't you?" Beckman quizzed, raising his eyebrow.

I continued my blank stare and saw realization and dismay dawn on his face.

"Oh my God, you don't know, do you!" he exclaimed. Then, in a sympathetic tone he told me just how deep of a pit I had dug for myself. " Mark, dear chap, you have just been slapped by Laura Thorne, wife of our chairman and CEO, Eric Thorne."

I felt as sick as I have ever felt in my life. Visions of my demotion to reserve dishwasher in the company canteen filled my mind. I blankly dried my hands and fled the meeting, hoping to curl up and die in my hotel room.

I detoured into the hotel bar, hoping to numb myself before confessing all to Julie. As I nursed my drink, I felt a light touch on my arm. I turned expecting some grilling from my associates, and almost fell off my stool in surprise when I found myself face to face with my nemesis, Laura Thorne.

Her hand reached out to my cheek, and I automatically flinched. She gave me a reassuring smile, and gently stroked the florid mark she had placed there at lunch. In contrast to our corridor encounter, my penis and balls were deep in hiding, and my arousal meter was well into the negative range.

"Hmmm, looks like I caught you rather well. But don't worry, in my experience, the markings usually disappear by themselves overnight."

As I wondered just what her experience in such matters was, she took a deep breath and started an obviously rehearsed speech. "I spoke with my husband about our little incident, and he has told me to apologize to you for my shocking behavior. I was entirely to blame and deserve whatever punishment you choose to hand out."

My astonishment was so great that I was rendered temporarily speechless, but nonetheless noticed her heavy emphasis on punishment and you.

"Please join me at nine for dinner in the hotel restaurant," she requested, bending at the waist and pressing her lips softly to the back of my hand in a very strange gesture for such an important lady. "There is a lot I need to explain," she added over her shoulder as she glided out of the bar, leaving me staring at her departing form in wonder.

Had I been daydreaming when she said punishment? I looked down at my hand where the imprint of her lipstick jolted me back to reality. As dismemberment appeared to be no longer an option, blood began to flow rapidly into my groin. Or was it the forbidden thought of handing out a punishment to Laura Thorne?

Breathlessly I rushed to my room, wondering what was appropriate wear for a dinner date to discuss punishment with my boss's wife. I noticed the blinking light on the telephone, and expecting a message from my wife, I pressed the message button.

"Ah, Roberts, this is Eric Thorne speaking," came the recorded voice. "I wanted to thank you for your fine work for the company this morning. Your presentation was a great success. It will ensure a lot of future business. I will make sure that this does not go unrecognized and we will reward you appropriately."

There was a pause, during which I am sure I heard a stifled girlish giggle on the line, then he continued. "Now, about that other matter... I am sure that you are rather confused at the moment, but I want to tell you that Laura is a very independent woman, and can be a little headstrong at times. She needs a firm hand and as I am not there to correct her behavior, I am asking you to take charge of the situation. I expect a full report next week when you get back to the office. He paused, and in the silence, I thought I could hear someone sucking a lollipop in the background. "Ask Anja, my secretary, for a special evening appointment."

The last part of the conversation came over a little hurried, as if Eric Thorne was in a hurry to do something much more interesting. With a decisive click the message ended, leaving me staring at the telephone for several seconds. So much for being fired, I thought.

At the appointed hour, I entered the dining room, feeling very uncomfortable about my situation.

The manager intercepted me before I could locate my date. "Mr. Roberts, Mrs. Thorne presents her compliments. Would you accompany me this way please." He ushered me to a remote corner of the room, where almost hidden from view by foliage and potted plants a blond woman was seated at a table for two.

"I'm sorry, there must be some mistake," I blurted out, causing the woman to turn her face. There, to my astonishment, sat Laura Thorne.

Highly confused, I let myself be maneuvered into a seat facing my companion, who, seeing the obvious confusion on my face explained, "It's a wig, you silly boy. I like to change the look as often as possible--keeps Eric's interest alive. Now, I have already ordered a couple of cocktails for us, so sit down and try to relax."

As we sipped our drinks, she chatted about company gossip. Being extremely well informed, and with evident glee, she shocked me a couple of times with stories of her husband's adventures amongst the female VP's, who were always considered unattainable man-haters. It seems that Eric is given the freedom to sample any and all temptations that come his way, whilst Laura's role was still unclear to me.

"Mrs. Thorne," I interrupted, "excuse me for being blunt, but I don't understand where I fit into all of this. My stupid remark this morning was out of character. I have never been unfaithful to my wife. I am sorry, although I find you highly attractive--no, make that desirable--I am not about to ruin my marriage by sleeping with you. Or punishing you. Or whatever you want me to do."

She smiled knowingly and reached over the table to take my hand. "Please call me, Laura. If you wish, you can leave now, and we can forget all this ever happened. If, as I suspect, you are sitting there with a stiff cock in your pants, please hear me out."

I felt myself blushing as she laughed at my embarrassment.

"I accept your compliment," she giggled, causing me also to chuckle.

"OK, Laura, you win that one, I have been hard since I sat down here with you so go ahead."

She leaned closer and in a conspiratorial tone explained, "Eric and I have a rather complex relationship. We both need sex in large doses, but unlike my husband I don't find anonymous sex very fulfilling. Over the years, we have found that for me, the best sex involves a large psychological component. In fact, the mental part, mind-fucking to put it crudely, is for me the most satisfying of all. I enjoy arranging affairs and little scenarios for my husband's pleasure. What you heard last night was just me; nobody else was there. I was using the speakerphone to talk to Eric, and he was making me masturbate for ages until he decided to let me come. All the time his secretary, Anja, was with him in our bed, with his penis buried up her arse. I was only allowed my relief when she came, and my dear bastard of a husband was making her wait too. I will have to talk to her about that when I get back." My look of wonder must have worried her, because she broke off her narrative to ask, "Am I shocking you, Mark, you seem to be uncomfortable?"

"Laura," I stammered, "I am about to come in my pants, listening to you talk like this. I think I am way out of my depth here."

"Don't worry, you dear man, I am very flattered, and of course, I am an expert lifeguard," she laughed back.

Our food arrived and for the next half, an hour we talked of less arousing subjects. Through careful prompting, Laura managed to draw herself a picture of my life story, including I hoped, the strength of my love for Julie.

Finally, as the desert plates were cleared, she gave her considered opinion on my marriage. "Mark, I think from all you have told me that you and Julie are not quite ready to explore new territory in your marriage. But, I am sure that in a while, hopefully with my tutelage, you will begin to take the first steps. I will make arrangements to meet Julie and see if we can become friends." Before I could counter and advise her that this was not what I was looking for, she changed the subject abruptly. "Now, about my punishment for slapping you like that. Have you given it any thought?"

I was unprepared for this, having not really taken her seriously earlier. "What sort of punishment do you mean--I don't have any idea about that sort of thing," I replied rather stuffily, still worried about her meeting Julie.

She reached into her handbag and drew out a cigarette case and lighter. Handing me the lighter, she placed a slim white cigarette between her lips, and leaning towards me, made it clear I was to light it.

Julie and I are vehement anti-smokers, yet I found myself unable to deny Laura. She blew a stream of smoke over my head, and leant back in her chair. The simple act of her smoking added to my arousal, and I found myself beginning to actually consider punishing her.

"Now that I have your attention," she slyly began, "tell me truthfully, what images came into your mind when I told you that you could punish me?"

I took a long time, agonizing over whether I should tell her I never thought of punishing her, or the truth. What I visualized was her lying naked over my lap on stage in front of the entire conference. I was slapping her bare behind and fingering her to orgasm as she blushed bright red at both ends--one end from my slaps, the other from mortification at her exposure. To win time I asked her what sort of punishment she usually received.

"Well, two sorts really--sometimes combined if I am really bad. I can be punished physically; you know, spanking, slapping, that sort of thing." Then, after a pause during which she took a sip of water and a contented drag on her cigarette, she continued in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. "I can also be punished by sexual humiliation; in private or," glancing around the room, "even in public."

She must have seen the look of panic in my face as I realized she already knew my deepest, most secret fantasies. At that point, I stammered my excuses and, trying very unsuccessfully to hide my burgeoning erection, fled.

I had just got into bed--too flustered about revealing my true desires to masturbate my aching, and still swollen cock--when the phone rang. Assuming Julie was calling, I lifted the receiver.

"Hello, Mark, sorry you couldn't take me up on my offer tonight. But just to let you know no hard feelings..." Laura paused and let out a long sigh. "Now, don't hang up, this is just for you," she continued. "I have just greased my biggest dildo, and its right at the entrance of my cunt. Ahhh, yes, its right inside me now, all the way up my fuck-box. Oh it's almost too big," she sighed. "If I press hard on the end, it burrows into my cervix, almost like it's trying to fuck itself into my womb." After another pause in which I heard her rhythmic gasping--no doubt pumping herself full of rubber--she continued. "Tell me, Mark, are you playing with yourself yet?"

I tried to lie to her, but was too aroused to deny it. "Yeah, I have my cock in my hand right now, and am starting to wank."

"Tell me, Mark, how will you punish me? Will you make me show my tits to people? Or suck some strangers dick? Will you hurt me? I don't mind, lover, you can have me whipped if you like. I will even burn myself if you want me to, just say the word."

She was driving both of us rapidly to our orgasms with her gasped fantasies of impending punishment. Her words were now punctuated by regular grunts as she thrust her artificial lover deep and hard into her cunt.

I was caught up in her excitement, and if she had been in the room, I am not sure I could have resisted fucking her. Despite my promises and love for Julie, I was entering a realm of arousal where normal rules ceased to exist.

As I pumped my cock as hard and as fast as I could, the words started to flow. "I want to put my fist up your arse and pump you till you piss yourself in orgasms," I grunted, my excitement carrying me away, and probably revealing more about me than I would ever admit, even to Julie. "I want my wife to slap your face as you deep throat my cock. I want to tattoo my name over your tits." I was on a role now, spewing forth all sorts of evil and disgusting things, my passion allowing me to use raw language.

I was cut off by a series of high-pitched squeals as Laura came. From the next room, her spasms were accompanied by shouts of, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," as she came around her dildo.

After a few moments recovery, I heard her breathless voice on the telephone again. "I knew you were going to be a good fucker, baby, but I never expected you would be so wild. I want you to do all those things to me soon." A pause, then she spoke again. "Have you come yet, babe, have you shot your cum for me yet?"

I grunted a "no" as I continued to beat my cock, using the copious pre-cum to make a slippery cock-nest inside my fist.

"I left a present on your door handle, Mark. Go and get it quickly, before I come again," Laura urged.

I leapt from the bed, and swollen cock bobbing like a metronome, opened the door a crack. I reached out and grabbed a piece of cloth draped over the handle. Back in bed massaging my cock again, I examined my gift--a black G-string, which judging by the damp patch in the crotch, had just been extracted from between Laura's nether lips.

"Mark, you there?" came a rather desperate voice from the phone.

"God yes, I'm here, Laura," my emotional voice cracked back.

"I guess you like my present then," she replied. "Why don't you smell them, they are just for you."

Holding my cock in one hand and her knickers in the other, I brought the black lace to my nose and inhaled the rich fragrances. I recognized a host of odors, most noticeably her perfume, which had obviously been sprayed on quite recently.

"Tell me what you smell, I'm almost coming. Please, Mark, talk to me," Laura begged.

"I smell your perfume and cigarette smoke," I responded.

"Yes, yes, I blew the smoke through them for you to smell. What else can you find?"

I sniffed again, focusing on the crotch, and answered her. "Laura, I can smell your cunt juices on them." I heard her gasp and then a long drawn out moan as she started to climb her way to another orgasm.

"Yes, my darling, I covered them in my wetness just for you. I stuffed them right up my pussy. I want you to know...to know what a...a...a hot fuck I will be for you whenever you need me. Ohhhhh, yess, I am there now, yes nowww..." No other coherent words came from the phone as Laura dissolved into another orgasm.

I draped her knickers over my face and inhaling deeply, started the final strokes to power my own orgasm. As I felt the spunk risk up the shaft of my pulsating dick, I stuck out my tongue and tasted the tart, unmistakable flavor of a woman's pussy. I came with a loud cry and quickly spurted four copious loads of sperm-filled juice onto my belly--the deep twitching of my cock testifying that this cum was my most intense orgasm ever.

From the phone receiver came the unmistakable sound of Laura giving in to yet another orgasm--our first, but by no means last mutual orgasm.

 

In part two, we learn how Julie was persuaded to join in with Laura's wickedly sensual plans.

 

 

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