"When erotic confessions come true they are inevitably accompanied by uncertainty"

So true!

I've actually had the opportunity to realize one of my fantasies twice, and turned it down.

That was a long time ago, and I kind of kick myself for it at times. less

I did fulfill one of mine, I got to use a strap-on, which I had believe would never come true. On a man no less, and somehow... with all the dildos I have, I fantasize about using my tools to please a woman. I consider myself completely straight, but it's an experience I'd have fun with. less

I did fulfill one of mine, I got to use a strap-on, which I had believe would never come true. On a man no less, and somehow... with all the dildos I have, I fantasize about using my tools to please a woman. I consider myself completely straight, but it's an experience I'd have fun with. less

I will share one - based on the book I read part of over 30 years ago. It was a rape scene and someone has broken into a single girl's apartment.

He has her leaning over /on the back of the recliner and he uses a knife to cut off her underwear - bra first and then underwear.

I don't know why that picture has stuck with me all these years - him fondling her as he does this. less

Okay. How about rock-climbing, lusting after the climber above you whose muscular buttocks are accentuated by stretch fabric, and whose skill with the ropes you have to trust your life to? The actual sex has to wait until the climb has been achieved, but there can be a whole lot of tension built up. less

Also when I was a teenager, I fantasized about being a high-end call girl... sort of like the neighbor in Big Sur, who would go to the cities in California for three months of the year and fulfill all her recurring clients' hard-to-attain desires, and then come back and spend the rest of her year with her kids when she had custody of them.

But probably without the being a single parent thing, that's not really a fantasy at all.

Just the 'being able to make a lot of people's wishes come true' part. less

Emergency Crew: Part 1 (of 5)

The smell of burned rubber and dust was fire in my nostrils as I opened my eyes. The impact had turned my car around to face the sidewalk and I was disoriented as I squinted through the glare of the sun on the windshield. A cough tickled my throat and I reached up to cover my mouth, shaking bits of glass off my arm onto my skirt as I moved.

A siren's wail hit my ears and made me take stock of my surroundings. I was in my car, facing the wrong direction, there was glass on my arm and ... and I wasn't bleeding. This is a good observation, I thought. The siren was louder now and I gingerly moved my head to find the direction it was coming from.

Passers-by were gathering around my car but no-one peered their head in to talk. I was merely an exciting distraction as they meandered out of their stores and salons to see what the noise was. I'm fine anyway, I thought, a little angrily. I don't need any of you. A paramedic truck flashed into the corner of my vision, angling itself across traffic to block the road by my car. The siren was cut but the lights stayed flashing, dancing a reflective pattern over the inside of my instrument panel.

My left ear caught the sound of boots crunching gravel and a dark blue mass shadowed the side of my broken window. "Are you alright, Ma'am?" a voice rumbled smoothly in my direction. I began to turn my head to look at the source of the voice but the voice quickly added, "No, please don't move your head. Let me get a neck brace on you before we do anything." I felt his large, gloved hands maneuver a brace around my neck and fasten it along the front; the hair on the skin above his latex gloves brushed my jawline and my cheek and I closed my eyes.

My door opened and those hands traveled the length of my body, presumably feeling for broken bones or injuries. I was not able to turn my head to look at the person who owned those hands, but I could feel the closeness of his chest when he reached over my lap to unbuckle my seatbelt. He smelled of Old Spice and sweat and dust. I felt faint as I took a deep breath involuntarily.

I must have gone limp because my eyes opened and I was pressed against the warm chest of Mr Old Spice, cradled between his thick arms. Four different hands found their way to my legs, holding onto my bare calves and under my thighs, and four more grasped me under my butt and my back. Gently they lifted me onto a wheeled stretcher, placing me just so and aligning the straps to keep me from falling off. I could see only the sky and an occasional brush of hair as I lay there, motionless and unable to turn my head in the brace. I believed I had counted five distinct pairs of hands as they moved me, four plus Old Spice, and one of the twists of hair was definitely a shock of orange-red.

Staring upwards, the sun would occasionally hit my eyes and I squinted. Old Spice must have seen this as he was steadying my neck because I felt him reach his arm back and he gently covered the top of my face with a hat. "There you go, Ma'am," he said, rolling his words off his tongue. He rested his hands on either side of my head, barely touching my left ear with his thumb. I felt my lower back quiver at this small gesture, intentional or not. A hand from another individual rested on the top of my thigh as the rescue team made their final adjustments to the stretcher.

Old Spice cradled my neck as the crew wheeled me toward the back of the paramedic truck. I could feel the bumps of the gravel in the road as they lined up the stretcher with the open doors. With a thump, the hat fell off my face and my view changed from the sky to the inside of the paramedic vehicle. The one with the red hair leaned over my field of vision enough to hand Old Spice his hat and I saw he was a younger man; he smiled a hypnotizingly bright smile at me and winked as he settled back into his position to the right of me along the inside of the truck as the back doors closed.

Both the front doors of the truck were shut with a muffled sound and the siren began its noise once again. Old Spice leaned over me, blocking my view with his upper body, and slid something cold under the elastic of my skirt. There was a twist of his hand and the cold was removed; he sat back a bit and I could see the faint beginnings of a 5'o'clock shadow on the underside of his chin. He shifted his position and the cold was slipped inside the neck of my shirt. I heard a *snip* and then another, then a third further down before he withdrew and sat back behind me.

Ginger's hand was dry and gloveless as he slid it up my right leg and inside my skirt. There was a tug and I felt the silky material of my panties slide off me easily; I realized what Old Spice had done then when there was suddenly nothing between my skin and Ginger's fingers - those had been scissors in his hand that he had used.

My eyes went wide and I tried to look back at Old Spice but he was just too far behind me. He said nothing but moved his thumb to caress the curve of my left ear, slowly repeating the touch, almost casually. My focus shifted to that feeling; so calm and authoritative was that movement. Ginger had pushed my skirt up above my thighs before I could shift back to what was going on with the lower half of my body.

Ginger unstrapped my ankles from the board and pushed my legs up. A pair of hands came from the left and firmly grasped my thigh, forcing it against my belly. Ginger leaned his weight onto my other leg, positioning both in line with the restraint across my midriff. The unseen person on the left of me slapped a velcro strap across both thighs and Ginger secured it under the stretcher on the right. The rhythmic caresses to my ear hadn't stopped.

My skirt was hiked up and trapped under my legs, and the position I was in showed everything down below - the top of my slit, covered in light brown curls, down to the nub of my clit that was swelling and pushing shyly out from between my pussy lips. Below that I could feel the openness of my fuckhole, gaping and exposed. I tensed the muscles in my vagina, trying to hide and withdraw back into myself. I was completely embarrassed and I couldn't struggle because of the restraints. I felt my face burn with shame and I shut my eyes painfully tight.

There was a shuffling along the bottom of the stretcher board and warm lips engulfed my clit. I was startled and jolted my body against the velcro but the suction wasn't broken. I was scared and tried to thrash; hands took hold of my head and prevented any movement and held me until I gave up trying to stop what was happening. The suction hadn't relented the whole time I was struggling and, when my body relaxed some, a flick of tongue began with increasing enthusiasm.

I could feel my muscles tense of their own accord, contracting and releasing in reaction to the attention my clit was getting. I loved getting head normally and my body reacted as it usually did. Not even my shame could put a damper on my libido.

Ginger had placed both his cool hands on my thighs as he worked at me with his mouth and, as my muscles signaled my impending orgasm, he leaned his weight to one side and drove two fingers into me repeatedly, still not breaking the suction or the rhythm of his tongue. I clenched my teeth, trying not to cry out, but a small noise escaped just as I tightened around his thrusting fingers and wet his hand with my cum. The waves rolled through me from my forehead down to my buttocks and I strained against the restraints as I came.

When my forced pleasure had subsided and I had relaxed a little, Ginger removed his fingers and ran his tongue along the inner lips of my pussy, suckling and licking until I was cleaned of my juices. He ran his thumb over my clit as a last gesture and then I felt him move off the stretcher. The back of the ambulance was quiet except for the muffled siren sound above. less

Emergency Crew: Part 1 (of 5)

The smell of burned rubber and dust was fire in my nostrils as I opened my eyes. The impact had turned my car around to face the sidewalk and I was disoriented as I squinted through the glare of the sun on the windshield. A cough tickled my throat and I reached up to cover my mouth, shaking bits of glass off my arm onto my skirt as I moved.

A siren's wail hit my ears and made me take stock of my surroundings. I was in my car, facing the wrong direction, there was glass on my arm and ... and I wasn't bleeding. This is a good observation, I thought. The siren was louder now and I gingerly moved my head to find the direction it was coming from.

Passers-by were gathering around my car but no-one peered their head in to talk. I was merely an exciting distraction as they meandered out of their stores and salons to see what the noise was. I'm fine anyway, I thought, a little angrily. I don't need any of you. A paramedic truck flashed into the corner of my vision, angling itself across traffic to block the road by my car. The siren was cut but the lights stayed flashing, dancing a reflective pattern over the inside of my instrument panel.

My left ear caught the sound of boots crunching gravel and a dark blue mass shadowed the side of my broken window. "Are you alright, Ma'am?" a voice rumbled smoothly in my direction. I began to turn my head to look at the source of the voice but the voice quickly added, "No, please don't move your head. Let me get a neck brace on you before we do anything." I felt his large, gloved hands maneuver a brace around my neck and fasten it along the front; the hair on the skin above his latex gloves brushed my jawline and my cheek and I closed my eyes.

My door opened and those hands traveled the length of my body, presumably feeling for broken bones or injuries. I was not able to turn my head to look at the person who owned those hands, but I could feel the closeness of his chest when he reached over my lap to unbuckle my seatbelt. He smelled of Old Spice and sweat and dust. I felt faint as I took a deep breath involuntarily.

I must have gone limp because my eyes opened and I was pressed against the warm chest of Mr Old Spice, cradled between his thick arms. Four different hands found their way to my legs, holding onto my bare calves and under my thighs, and four more grasped me under my butt and my back. Gently they lifted me onto a wheeled stretcher, placing me just so and aligning the straps to keep me from falling off. I could see only the sky and an occasional brush of hair as I lay there, motionless and unable to turn my head in the brace. I believed I had counted five distinct pairs of hands as they moved me, four plus Old Spice, and one of the twists of hair was definitely a shock of orange-red.

Staring upwards, the sun would occasionally hit my eyes and I squinted. Old Spice must have seen this as he was steadying my neck because I felt him reach his arm back and he gently covered the top of my face with a hat. "There you go, Ma'am," he said, rolling his words off his tongue. He rested his hands on either side of my head, barely touching my left ear with his thumb. I felt my lower back quiver at this small gesture, intentional or not. A hand from another individual rested on the top of my thigh as the rescue team made their final adjustments to the stretcher.

Old Spice cradled my neck as the crew wheeled me toward the back of the paramedic truck. I could feel the bumps of the gravel in the road as they lined up the stretcher with the open doors. With a thump, the hat fell off my face and my view changed from the sky to the inside of the paramedic vehicle. The one with the red hair leaned over my field of vision enough to hand Old Spice his hat and I saw he was a younger man; he smiled a hypnotizingly bright smile at me and winked as he settled back into his position to the right of me along the inside of the truck as the back doors closed.

Both the front doors of the truck were shut with a muffled sound and the siren began its noise once again. Old Spice leaned over me, blocking my view with his upper body, and slid something cold under the elastic of my skirt. There was a twist of his hand and the cold was removed; he sat back a bit and I could see the faint beginnings of a 5'o'clock shadow on the underside of his chin. He shifted his position and the cold was slipped inside the neck of my shirt. I heard a *snip* and then another, then a third further down before he withdrew and sat back behind me.

Ginger's hand was dry and gloveless as he slid it up my right leg and inside my skirt. There was a tug and I felt the silky material of my panties slide off me easily; I realized what Old Spice had done then when there was suddenly nothing between my skin and Ginger's fingers - those had been scissors in his hand that he had used.

My eyes went wide and I tried to look back at Old Spice but he was just too far behind me. He said nothing but moved his thumb to caress the curve of my left ear, slowly repeating the touch, almost casually. My focus shifted to that feeling; so calm and authoritative was that movement. Ginger had pushed my skirt up above my thighs before I could shift back to what was going on with the lower half of my body.

Ginger unstrapped my ankles from the board and pushed my legs up. A pair of hands came from the left and firmly grasped my thigh, forcing it against my belly. Ginger leaned his weight onto my other leg, positioning both in line with the restraint across my midriff. The unseen person on the left of me slapped a velcro strap across both thighs and Ginger secured it under the stretcher on the right. The rhythmic caresses to my ear hadn't stopped.

My skirt was hiked up and trapped under my legs, and the position I was in showed everything down below - the top of my slit, covered in light brown curls, down to the nub of my clit that was swelling and pushing shyly out from between my pussy lips. Below that I could feel the openness of my fuckhole, gaping and exposed. I tensed the muscles in my vagina, trying to hide and withdraw back into myself. I was completely embarrassed and I couldn't struggle because of the restraints. I felt my face burn with shame and I shut my eyes painfully tight.

There was a shuffling along the bottom of the stretcher board and warm lips engulfed my clit. I was startled and jolted my body against the velcro but the suction wasn't broken. I was scared and tried to thrash; hands took hold of my head and prevented any movement and held me until I gave up trying to stop what was happening. The suction hadn't relented the whole time I was struggling and, when my body relaxed some, a flick of tongue began with increasing enthusiasm.

I could feel my muscles tense of their own accord, contracting and releasing in reaction to the attention my clit was getting. I loved getting head normally and my body reacted as it usually did. Not even my shame could put a damper on my libido.

Ginger had placed both his cool hands on my thighs as he worked at me with his mouth and, as my muscles signaled my impending orgasm, he leaned his weight to one side and drove two fingers into me repeatedly, still not breaking the suction or the rhythm of his tongue. I clenched my teeth, trying not to cry out, but a small noise escaped just as I tightened around his thrusting fingers and wet his hand with my cum. The waves rolled through me from my forehead down to my buttocks and I strained against the restraints as I came.

When my forced pleasure had subsided and I had relaxed a little, Ginger removed his fingers and ran his tongue along the inner lips of my pussy, suckling and licking until I was cleaned of my juices. He ran his thumb over my clit as a last gesture and then I felt him move off the stretcher. The back of the ambulance was quiet except for the muffled siren sound above. less

Emergency Crew: Part 1 (of 5)

The smell of burned rubber and dust was fire in my nostrils as I opened my eyes. The impact had turned my car around to face the sidewalk and I was disoriented as I squinted through the glare of the sun on the windshield. A cough tickled my throat and I reached up to cover my mouth, shaking bits of glass off my arm onto my skirt as I moved.

A siren's wail hit my ears and made me take stock of my surroundings. I was in my car, facing the wrong direction, there was glass on my arm and ... and I wasn't bleeding. This is a good observation, I thought. The siren was louder now and I gingerly moved my head to find the direction it was coming from.

Passers-by were gathering around my car but no-one peered their head in to talk. I was merely an exciting distraction as they meandered out of their stores and salons to see what the noise was. I'm fine anyway, I thought, a little angrily. I don't need any of you. A paramedic truck flashed into the corner of my vision, angling itself across traffic to block the road by my car. The siren was cut but the lights stayed flashing, dancing a reflective pattern over the inside of my instrument panel.

My left ear caught the sound of boots crunching gravel and a dark blue mass shadowed the side of my broken window. "Are you alright, Ma'am?" a voice rumbled smoothly in my direction. I began to turn my head to look at the source of the voice but the voice quickly added, "No, please don't move your head. Let me get a neck brace on you before we do anything." I felt his large, gloved hands maneuver a brace around my neck and fasten it along the front; the hair on the skin above his latex gloves brushed my jawline and my cheek and I closed my eyes.

My door opened and those hands traveled the length of my body, presumably feeling for broken bones or injuries. I was not able to turn my head to look at the person who owned those hands, but I could feel the closeness of his chest when he reached over my lap to unbuckle my seatbelt. He smelled of Old Spice and sweat and dust. I felt faint as I took a deep breath involuntarily.

I must have gone limp because my eyes opened and I was pressed against the warm chest of Mr Old Spice, cradled between his thick arms. Four different hands found their way to my legs, holding onto my bare calves and under my thighs, and four more grasped me under my butt and my back. Gently they lifted me onto a wheeled stretcher, placing me just so and aligning the straps to keep me from falling off. I could see only the sky and an occasional brush of hair as I lay there, motionless and unable to turn my head in the brace. I believed I had counted five distinct pairs of hands as they moved me, four plus Old Spice, and one of the twists of hair was definitely a shock of orange-red.

Staring upwards, the sun would occasionally hit my eyes and I squinted. Old Spice must have seen this as he was steadying my neck because I felt him reach his arm back and he gently covered the top of my face with a hat. "There you go, Ma'am," he said, rolling his words off his tongue. He rested his hands on either side of my head, barely touching my left ear with his thumb. I felt my lower back quiver at this small gesture, intentional or not. A hand from another individual rested on the top of my thigh as the rescue team made their final adjustments to the stretcher.

Old Spice cradled my neck as the crew wheeled me toward the back of the paramedic truck. I could feel the bumps of the gravel in the road as they lined up the stretcher with the open doors. With a thump, the hat fell off my face and my view changed from the sky to the inside of the paramedic vehicle. The one with the red hair leaned over my field of vision enough to hand Old Spice his hat and I saw he was a younger man; he smiled a hypnotizingly bright smile at me and winked as he settled back into his position to the right of me along the inside of the truck as the back doors closed.

Both the front doors of the truck were shut with a muffled sound and the siren began its noise once again. Old Spice leaned over me, blocking my view with his upper body, and slid something cold under the elastic of my skirt. There was a twist of his hand and the cold was removed; he sat back a bit and I could see the faint beginnings of a 5'o'clock shadow on the underside of his chin. He shifted his position and the cold was slipped inside the neck of my shirt. I heard a *snip* and then another, then a third further down before he withdrew and sat back behind me.

Ginger's hand was dry and gloveless as he slid it up my right leg and inside my skirt. There was a tug and I felt the silky material of my panties slide off me easily; I realized what Old Spice had done then when there was suddenly nothing between my skin and Ginger's fingers - those had been scissors in his hand that he had used.

My eyes went wide and I tried to look back at Old Spice but he was just too far behind me. He said nothing but moved his thumb to caress the curve of my left ear, slowly repeating the touch, almost casually. My focus shifted to that feeling; so calm and authoritative was that movement. Ginger had pushed my skirt up above my thighs before I could shift back to what was going on with the lower half of my body.

Ginger unstrapped my ankles from the board and pushed my legs up. A pair of hands came from the left and firmly grasped my thigh, forcing it against my belly. Ginger leaned his weight onto my other leg, positioning both in line with the restraint across my midriff. The unseen person on the left of me slapped a velcro strap across both thighs and Ginger secured it under the stretcher on the right. The rhythmic caresses to my ear hadn't stopped.

My skirt was hiked up and trapped under my legs, and the position I was in showed everything down below - the top of my slit, covered in light brown curls, down to the nub of my clit that was swelling and pushing shyly out from between my pussy lips. Below that I could feel the openness of my fuckhole, gaping and exposed. I tensed the muscles in my vagina, trying to hide and withdraw back into myself. I was completely embarrassed and I couldn't struggle because of the restraints. I felt my face burn with shame and I shut my eyes painfully tight.

There was a shuffling along the bottom of the stretcher board and warm lips engulfed my clit. I was startled and jolted my body against the velcro but the suction wasn't broken. I was scared and tried to thrash; hands took hold of my head and prevented any movement and held me until I gave up trying to stop what was happening. The suction hadn't relented the whole time I was struggling and, when my body relaxed some, a flick of tongue began with increasing enthusiasm.

I could feel my muscles tense of their own accord, contracting and releasing in reaction to the attention my clit was getting. I loved getting head normally and my body reacted as it usually did. Not even my shame could put a damper on my libido.

Ginger had placed both his cool hands on my thighs as he worked at me with his mouth and, as my muscles signaled my impending orgasm, he leaned his weight to one side and drove two fingers into me repeatedly, still not breaking the suction or the rhythm of his tongue. I clenched my teeth, trying not to cry out, but a small noise escaped just as I tightened around his thrusting fingers and wet his hand with my cum. The waves rolled through me from my forehead down to my buttocks and I strained against the restraints as I came.

When my forced pleasure had subsided and I had relaxed a little, Ginger removed his fingers and ran his tongue along the inner lips of my pussy, suckling and licking until I was cleaned of my juices. He ran his thumb over my clit as a last gesture and then I felt him move off the stretcher. The back of the ambulance was quiet except for the muffled siren sound above. less

Okay. How about rock-climbing, lusting after the climber above you whose muscular buttocks are accentuated by stretch fabric, and whose skill with the ropes you have to trust your life to? The actual sex has to wait until the climb has been achieved, but there can be a whole lot of tension built up. less

True. But I wonder if I would back out if the opportunity presented itself again.

I will share here.

It was actually with two men, one of which was my husband and he was the one initiating the scenario. I would love to try dp but I don't know that I would go through with it. less

Getting back to the kinky stories in the book, here are a couple more.

"When erotic confessions come true they are inevitably accompanied by uncertainty; Alexander Liboiron’s “Are You Sure?” exquisitely explores a woman’s confessed need to be roughed up during sex—but the taboo that makes both of them blush and their hearts race is the reason she wants it.
Jenna wanted it; only because Eric loves and accepts her completely can she go through with it. “Jenna’s Gambit,” by Jeremy Edwards, plays on a girl’s fear of being caught relieving
herself in public, twisted into a heightened erotic experience by a man who loves her, understands the eroticism of humiliation, and knows how far a couple can go when they feel safe to do the nastiest thing one of them can imagine."

[Not quite the nastiest thing I can imagine, actually, but not my cup of tea, either. Except that Jeremy is a terrific writer.] less

Emergency Crew: Part 1 (of 5)

The smell of burned rubber and dust was fire in my nostrils as I opened my eyes. The impact had turned my car around to face the sidewalk and I was disoriented as I squinted through the glare of the sun on the windshield. A cough tickled my throat and I reached up to cover my mouth, shaking bits of glass off my arm onto my skirt as I moved.

A siren's wail hit my ears and made me take stock of my surroundings. I was in my car, facing the wrong direction, there was glass on my arm and ... and I wasn't bleeding. This is a good observation, I thought. The siren was louder now and I gingerly moved my head to find the direction it was coming from.

Passers-by were gathering around my car but no-one peered their head in to talk. I was merely an exciting distraction as they meandered out of their stores and salons to see what the noise was. I'm fine anyway, I thought, a little angrily. I don't need any of you. A paramedic truck flashed into the corner of my vision, angling itself across traffic to block the road by my car. The siren was cut but the lights stayed flashing, dancing a reflective pattern over the inside of my instrument panel.

My left ear caught the sound of boots crunching gravel and a dark blue mass shadowed the side of my broken window. "Are you alright, Ma'am?" a voice rumbled smoothly in my direction. I began to turn my head to look at the source of the voice but the voice quickly added, "No, please don't move your head. Let me get a neck brace on you before we do anything." I felt his large, gloved hands maneuver a brace around my neck and fasten it along the front; the hair on the skin above his latex gloves brushed my jawline and my cheek and I closed my eyes.

My door opened and those hands traveled the length of my body, presumably feeling for broken bones or injuries. I was not able to turn my head to look at the person who owned those hands, but I could feel the closeness of his chest when he reached over my lap to unbuckle my seatbelt. He smelled of Old Spice and sweat and dust. I felt faint as I took a deep breath involuntarily.

I must have gone limp because my eyes opened and I was pressed against the warm chest of Mr Old Spice, cradled between his thick arms. Four different hands found their way to my legs, holding onto my bare calves and under my thighs, and four more grasped me under my butt and my back. Gently they lifted me onto a wheeled stretcher, placing me just so and aligning the straps to keep me from falling off. I could see only the sky and an occasional brush of hair as I lay there, motionless and unable to turn my head in the brace. I believed I had counted five distinct pairs of hands as they moved me, four plus Old Spice, and one of the twists of hair was definitely a shock of orange-red.

Staring upwards, the sun would occasionally hit my eyes and I squinted. Old Spice must have seen this as he was steadying my neck because I felt him reach his arm back and he gently covered the top of my face with a hat. "There you go, Ma'am," he said, rolling his words off his tongue. He rested his hands on either side of my head, barely touching my left ear with his thumb. I felt my lower back quiver at this small gesture, intentional or not. A hand from another individual rested on the top of my thigh as the rescue team made their final adjustments to the stretcher.

Old Spice cradled my neck as the crew wheeled me toward the back of the paramedic truck. I could feel the bumps of the gravel in the road as they lined up the stretcher with the open doors. With a thump, the hat fell off my face and my view changed from the sky to the inside of the paramedic vehicle. The one with the red hair leaned over my field of vision enough to hand Old Spice his hat and I saw he was a younger man; he smiled a hypnotizingly bright smile at me and winked as he settled back into his position to the right of me along the inside of the truck as the back doors closed.

Both the front doors of the truck were shut with a muffled sound and the siren began its noise once again. Old Spice leaned over me, blocking my view with his upper body, and slid something cold under the elastic of my skirt. There was a twist of his hand and the cold was removed; he sat back a bit and I could see the faint beginnings of a 5'o'clock shadow on the underside of his chin. He shifted his position and the cold was slipped inside the neck of my shirt. I heard a *snip* and then another, then a third further down before he withdrew and sat back behind me.

Ginger's hand was dry and gloveless as he slid it up my right leg and inside my skirt. There was a tug and I felt the silky material of my panties slide off me easily; I realized what Old Spice had done then when there was suddenly nothing between my skin and Ginger's fingers - those had been scissors in his hand that he had used.

My eyes went wide and I tried to look back at Old Spice but he was just too far behind me. He said nothing but moved his thumb to caress the curve of my left ear, slowly repeating the touch, almost casually. My focus shifted to that feeling; so calm and authoritative was that movement. Ginger had pushed my skirt up above my thighs before I could shift back to what was going on with the lower half of my body.

Ginger unstrapped my ankles from the board and pushed my legs up. A pair of hands came from the left and firmly grasped my thigh, forcing it against my belly. Ginger leaned his weight onto my other leg, positioning both in line with the restraint across my midriff. The unseen person on the left of me slapped a velcro strap across both thighs and Ginger secured it under the stretcher on the right. The rhythmic caresses to my ear hadn't stopped.

My skirt was hiked up and trapped under my legs, and the position I was in showed everything down below - the top of my slit, covered in light brown curls, down to the nub of my clit that was swelling and pushing shyly out from between my pussy lips. Below that I could feel the openness of my fuckhole, gaping and exposed. I tensed the muscles in my vagina, trying to hide and withdraw back into myself. I was completely embarrassed and I couldn't struggle because of the restraints. I felt my face burn with shame and I shut my eyes painfully tight.

There was a shuffling along the bottom of the stretcher board and warm lips engulfed my clit. I was startled and jolted my body against the velcro but the suction wasn't broken. I was scared and tried to thrash; hands took hold of my head and prevented any movement and held me until I gave up trying to stop what was happening. The suction hadn't relented the whole time I was struggling and, when my body relaxed some, a flick of tongue began with increasing enthusiasm.

I could feel my muscles tense of their own accord, contracting and releasing in reaction to the attention my clit was getting. I loved getting head normally and my body reacted as it usually did. Not even my shame could put a damper on my libido.

Ginger had placed both his cool hands on my thighs as he worked at me with his mouth and, as my muscles signaled my impending orgasm, he leaned his weight to one side and drove two fingers into me repeatedly, still not breaking the suction or the rhythm of his tongue. I clenched my teeth, trying not to cry out, but a small noise escaped just as I tightened around his thrusting fingers and wet his hand with my cum. The waves rolled through me from my forehead down to my buttocks and I strained against the restraints as I came.

When my forced pleasure had subsided and I had relaxed a little, Ginger removed his fingers and ran his tongue along the inner lips of my pussy, suckling and licking until I was cleaned of my juices. He ran his thumb over my clit as a last gesture and then I felt him move off the stretcher. The back of the ambulance was quiet except for the muffled siren sound above. less

Emergency Crew: Part 1 (of 5)

The smell of burned rubber and dust was fire in my nostrils as I opened my eyes. The impact had turned my car around to face the sidewalk and I was disoriented as I squinted through the glare of the sun on the windshield. A cough tickled my throat and I reached up to cover my mouth, shaking bits of glass off my arm onto my skirt as I moved.

A siren's wail hit my ears and made me take stock of my surroundings. I was in my car, facing the wrong direction, there was glass on my arm and ... and I wasn't bleeding. This is a good observation, I thought. The siren was louder now and I gingerly moved my head to find the direction it was coming from.

Passers-by were gathering around my car but no-one peered their head in to talk. I was merely an exciting distraction as they meandered out of their stores and salons to see what the noise was. I'm fine anyway, I thought, a little angrily. I don't need any of you. A paramedic truck flashed into the corner of my vision, angling itself across traffic to block the road by my car. The siren was cut but the lights stayed flashing, dancing a reflective pattern over the inside of my instrument panel.

My left ear caught the sound of boots crunching gravel and a dark blue mass shadowed the side of my broken window. "Are you alright, Ma'am?" a voice rumbled smoothly in my direction. I began to turn my head to look at the source of the voice but the voice quickly added, "No, please don't move your head. Let me get a neck brace on you before we do anything." I felt his large, gloved hands maneuver a brace around my neck and fasten it along the front; the hair on the skin above his latex gloves brushed my jawline and my cheek and I closed my eyes.

My door opened and those hands traveled the length of my body, presumably feeling for broken bones or injuries. I was not able to turn my head to look at the person who owned those hands, but I could feel the closeness of his chest when he reached over my lap to unbuckle my seatbelt. He smelled of Old Spice and sweat and dust. I felt faint as I took a deep breath involuntarily.

I must have gone limp because my eyes opened and I was pressed against the warm chest of Mr Old Spice, cradled between his thick arms. Four different hands found their way to my legs, holding onto my bare calves and under my thighs, and four more grasped me under my butt and my back. Gently they lifted me onto a wheeled stretcher, placing me just so and aligning the straps to keep me from falling off. I could see only the sky and an occasional brush of hair as I lay there, motionless and unable to turn my head in the brace. I believed I had counted five distinct pairs of hands as they moved me, four plus Old Spice, and one of the twists of hair was definitely a shock of orange-red.

Staring upwards, the sun would occasionally hit my eyes and I squinted. Old Spice must have seen this as he was steadying my neck because I felt him reach his arm back and he gently covered the top of my face with a hat. "There you go, Ma'am," he said, rolling his words off his tongue. He rested his hands on either side of my head, barely touching my left ear with his thumb. I felt my lower back quiver at this small gesture, intentional or not. A hand from another individual rested on the top of my thigh as the rescue team made their final adjustments to the stretcher.

Old Spice cradled my neck as the crew wheeled me toward the back of the paramedic truck. I could feel the bumps of the gravel in the road as they lined up the stretcher with the open doors. With a thump, the hat fell off my face and my view changed from the sky to the inside of the paramedic vehicle. The one with the red hair leaned over my field of vision enough to hand Old Spice his hat and I saw he was a younger man; he smiled a hypnotizingly bright smile at me and winked as he settled back into his position to the right of me along the inside of the truck as the back doors closed.

Both the front doors of the truck were shut with a muffled sound and the siren began its noise once again. Old Spice leaned over me, blocking my view with his upper body, and slid something cold under the elastic of my skirt. There was a twist of his hand and the cold was removed; he sat back a bit and I could see the faint beginnings of a 5'o'clock shadow on the underside of his chin. He shifted his position and the cold was slipped inside the neck of my shirt. I heard a *snip* and then another, then a third further down before he withdrew and sat back behind me.

Ginger's hand was dry and gloveless as he slid it up my right leg and inside my skirt. There was a tug and I felt the silky material of my panties slide off me easily; I realized what Old Spice had done then when there was suddenly nothing between my skin and Ginger's fingers - those had been scissors in his hand that he had used.

My eyes went wide and I tried to look back at Old Spice but he was just too far behind me. He said nothing but moved his thumb to caress the curve of my left ear, slowly repeating the touch, almost casually. My focus shifted to that feeling; so calm and authoritative was that movement. Ginger had pushed my skirt up above my thighs before I could shift back to what was going on with the lower half of my body.

Ginger unstrapped my ankles from the board and pushed my legs up. A pair of hands came from the left and firmly grasped my thigh, forcing it against my belly. Ginger leaned his weight onto my other leg, positioning both in line with the restraint across my midriff. The unseen person on the left of me slapped a velcro strap across both thighs and Ginger secured it under the stretcher on the right. The rhythmic caresses to my ear hadn't stopped.

My skirt was hiked up and trapped under my legs, and the position I was in showed everything down below - the top of my slit, covered in light brown curls, down to the nub of my clit that was swelling and pushing shyly out from between my pussy lips. Below that I could feel the openness of my fuckhole, gaping and exposed. I tensed the muscles in my vagina, trying to hide and withdraw back into myself. I was completely embarrassed and I couldn't struggle because of the restraints. I felt my face burn with shame and I shut my eyes painfully tight.

There was a shuffling along the bottom of the stretcher board and warm lips engulfed my clit. I was startled and jolted my body against the velcro but the suction wasn't broken. I was scared and tried to thrash; hands took hold of my head and prevented any movement and held me until I gave up trying to stop what was happening. The suction hadn't relented the whole time I was struggling and, when my body relaxed some, a flick of tongue began with increasing enthusiasm.

I could feel my muscles tense of their own accord, contracting and releasing in reaction to the attention my clit was getting. I loved getting head normally and my body reacted as it usually did. Not even my shame could put a damper on my libido.

Ginger had placed both his cool hands on my thighs as he worked at me with his mouth and, as my muscles signaled my impending orgasm, he leaned his weight to one side and drove two fingers into me repeatedly, still not breaking the suction or the rhythm of his tongue. I clenched my teeth, trying not to cry out, but a small noise escaped just as I tightened around his thrusting fingers and wet his hand with my cum. The waves rolled through me from my forehead down to my buttocks and I strained against the restraints as I came.

When my forced pleasure had subsided and I had relaxed a little, Ginger removed his fingers and ran his tongue along the inner lips of my pussy, suckling and licking until I was cleaned of my juices. He ran his thumb over my clit as a last gesture and then I felt him move off the stretcher. The back of the ambulance was quiet except for the muffled siren sound above. less