Goldenrod Ch. 03

I got this message from Mikaela:

'Tom, it's Mike. I spoke to Ray, she said everything went really well for you. I'm just calling to add my congratulations. I'm sure you'll be having lots of fun in the future. Oh, on a totally unrelated note, I've taken to jacking off in the shower since your last visit. I come every time. Have you ever noticed how much my harness looks like a jock strap? I have. I stand in front of the mirror before toweling off, admiring my taut, wet body, wishing there were somebody in front of me I could penetrate with my rock-hard cock. I'm going jogging now. Pleasant dreams!'

Having lots of fun was certainly on my mind after my last encounter with Ray, but my old submissiveness kept me from finding any, though the opportunities seemed to be everywhere. I guessed which women were Mikaela's friends without asking them. When I'd go to the coffee shop where we'd last met, the hippie girl with the braids (a real health nut) always did a double take at me from behind the counter, and grinned knowingly, and maybe maliciously. At the library, one of the university's Swim heroes worked a desk. She was a hot butch Amazon who kept her eyes on her monitor and keyboard when answering questions. I thought I saw her pause when reading my name aloud. As she handed me a book, I tried to take it from her, but found it stuck in her vise-like hand. I looked up at her and found her staring icily through me. Then she released the book and I dropped it. Before I could say something two hurried people got in line behind me and her eyes were back down to her screen. Standing on a crowded bus I felt two fingers pressing on my pants over my asshole, but I remained motionless for fear of making a scene. The massaging became a painful probing, and when the bell rang the only person behind me, a girl in a white dress with long blond hair parted in the middle, slung her big purse over her shoulder and jumped off. However many of these incidents were the results of paranoia and how many were perverted flirtation I couldn't know, but I was sure that unless one of these women showed Mikaela's initiative nothing would come of any of it.

It was at a fast food place that I met the girl who would carry me over the threshold. I was squirting ketchup onto my fries at the self-serve bar when I felt a hand creep onto my shoulder, and then the arm it was attached to come to rest behind my neck. Having been manhandled so much recently and never being sure where Mikaela would show up, I couldn't react with any surprise. When I turned though I didn't recognize the young woman standing there in such a chummy pose with me.

"Your name is Tom, isn't it?" Her thumb and forefinger were now kneading insistently where my shoulder met my neck.

"Yes, that's right."

"I'm Candy. We have friends in common." She reached over, took one of my fries from the tray, and bit off a piece. All of a sudden it was like I was being shaken down by a mobster for protection money. "We have to chat. Why don't you come with me? I'll drive you to my apartment, where we can have privacy."

"I just ordered."

"Forget the food. I'll feed you. Come with me." With that I realized it was better to comply.

Candy's apartment was in a duplex secluded in the woods far uptown. The inside was its own world, the kind of silent place where you can forget anything except the furniture and appliances around you exist. The woman herself was large and dynamic, and she fit in the rooms the way a bear fits in a cave. Her actions and movements were too well-planned and too quick for me to get any impression of her beyond the superficial. She had on a green army jacket, a red and black striped sweater, tight blue jeans, and sneakers. Her hair was wild, thick, dark, and to her shoulders. When she spoke it was curtly, with her head tilted up so she could peer down at me, and there was the ghost of a snarl in her upper lip. Her manner made it very clear our meeting had not officially begun, nor would it until she was good and ready.

"You know what to do," she said, and disappeared around a corner. I heard the weak slam of a flimsy door.

I have absolutely no idea what to do, I thought, standing in her kitchenette. Fortunately about two minutes later I heard the door swing open on its creaky hinges, and Candy yell to me, "Tom, get in here!"

I followed her path down the tiny hallway and rounded the corner to find her sitting on the edge of a king-sized mattress. The sheets were green and they cast an eerie halo along the white walls, which were too close to everything they contained. It was nauseatingly claustrophobic. There were the nightstand with its lamp and clock, the bed, the woman, and me, and it felt like we were the last two people on the face of the earth. She had her right knee bent at the mattress edge and her bare left leg extended to the floor between us. Both hands held the cock she had on by their thumbs and forefingers. It was a cleanly smooth marble knob, a healthy seven inches long, the same shade of purple as the form-fitting tank top she wore. In the poorly heated room she had sprouted goosebumps on her pale limbs. She caressed the dick's length as if her fingers were smoothing away folds of skin on its surface, like the folds of excess fabric on her torso below her restricted, average-sized breasts. Then she pointed the rod as if it would emit an invisible ray that might stun me.

"There are a lot of women interested to meet you, Tom. You have a reputation for being quite the entertainer. Though I notice you're still dressed."

"I wasn't sure exactly what was going on."

"Maybe you're too modest. Are you going to disappoint all of these ladies? Starting with me?" With that she turned her other shoulder to me, and scooted back onto the bed, still meeting my gaze. As she reclined, she spoke. "I think I can dissuade them for you, if you fail to please me. They only have Mikaela's word about you, after all, and Ray doesn't speak about her clients very freely. I hate a lot of fuss, when there's nothing to get excited about. I despise empty talk."

It was then that I saw her most clearly, as she stretched out in profile before me. Her head was at my left, its brilliant black hair splayed out over the end of the mattress, and her legs lay to my right. Her back was arched, ever so slightly. Her right arm was bent a little, and the fingers hung over the side of the bed, as if dangling in a stream of running water. Her left hand made sure the cock was perfectly vertical. With her left leg bent to show me her inner thigh and the right leg resting straightly before me, I suddenly realized what kind of shape she was in. All along her there were tiny bruises, and some not so small, and her right knee, though healed, had obviously been badly skinned. This was a very active woman, I realized. Yet where Mikaela's strength was hidden by her leanness, and Ray's limbs were thick but soft, Candy was thoroughly solid, from her long heavy thighs to the great width of her trunk. In repose like the statue of a god, wearing only the purple cock and tank top, and the black padded band around her waist, she looked like a refugee from a futuristic tribe of savages. She completely intimidated me.

"I'm a bit of an ogre," she sighed.

Remembering everything Ray had taught me, I rallied my confidence, and began to disrobe. Her eyebrows rose, and she turned her resting head to me.

"Is he going to play with me, after all?"

I sneered.

"I think you'll find me up to your challenge." As my pants and underwear came off, my own cock proved this to be true.

"Welcome aboard," she drawled, her eyes no longer on mine but focused on my crotch. A flicker of indecision at last betrayed her. I stood naked, defiant.

"Where do you want me?"

With frightening speed she sat upon the edge of the bed, knees together and feet apart on the floor, toes pointed in, her hands on her thighs in front of the ready dick.

"Oh, everywhere."

Five minutes later I was bending over with my hands on the fronts of my thighs, and she was standing behind me with her feet wide apart, gripping my hips like grim death. It came like fist blows, literally the amount of force someone would use for punching an enemy, a little faster than one beat per second.

"Let me know if this tickles," she taunted. In order to impress her I had foregone lubrication, using instead a mental trick Ray had taught me for relaxing and self-moistening my body. Though I was getting sick from being violently shaken up and down by the detonations in my rear, I was able to watch the alarm clock on her bedside table. I tried to tell myself at first that this was an initiation rite, or a test, and I just had to endure it for a bit. At minute 12 it was obvious, even if that were true, that this woman would love to tell her friends she had wrecked my guts before they had a shot at me. She was that kind of fuck; virile, and proud of it. She saw herself as a bull.

At minute 40 she spoke to me again.

"Getting tired, Tom?"

"When are you going to start?"

"I wonder if you're pregnant yet."

Pound, pound, pound: she worked toward the goal of splitting me in half. After another ten minutes, she withdrew by curving her back so that her ass rose, with her weight entirely on the balls of her feet. It was as though she wouldn't deign to use her hands to remove me. I turned pleasantly to face her with the look of tranquility I had with Ray, letting my silence ask for me what she was thinking. She was visibly flustered because I hadn't begged for mercy. I smiled.

"Get on your belly," she ordered, pointing at the bed. I politely obeyed.

Climbing up behind me, she kneed my legs apart so that my rear was elevated. Her thighs pressed against mine. Once the cock was inserted she put a fist on the bed at either side of my midsection, and began to slide into me, more with full body lunges than by the force of her hips. I took it with quiet grace for several minutes. This was just a prelude to her main attack, I was sure.

Predictably, she straightened up, and got into position. Her knees stayed apart but her feet touched each other at the toes. Both of her hands fell on my lower back, just above my ass. The style of insertion changed from a lazy flop with a slight downward pitch to an eager horizontal drive. It was all done with her hips then; with her arms, legs, and erect spine framing the swing. Her speed and regularity increased dramatically, but her manner was still cautious and preparatory. It would only be a matter of time, maybe thirty or forty more pumps, with her looking around the room like an alarmed cat, before she was set to open up on me.

Then it began. Thrusts became more methodical, more tentative, more like an exhibition. Hair which had hung loosely over me from her bowed head was thrown back. Her hands moved back to my hips, and the palms came away, leaving only her fingers to relax on my body, marking my location without making an effort to restrain me. Twice her hips slammed forward as if out of her control, but she instantly regained her rhythm both times. The technique remained the same, but she committed herself to a climax.

Sensing the shift in her attitude, I envisioned the golden flower Ray had shown me. By concentrating on it I would, I hoped, be able to weather Candy's assault.

Pretending to maintain her former casualness, she gradually raised the power of the stroking so the dick was slammed into my ass with mesmerizing precision. The bed started shaking, and Candy's gestures became more animated, from the clutching of her fingers to the rocking of her head. Greater enthusiasm permeated her banging, making the churning of her hips appear to be a full-body activity. Again her tempo gained, her breathing became audible, and her shoulders were drawn back another inch. She let her hands come away from me so her strong arms could dangle at her sides like an ape's, with her pelvis still boring steadily upon me, and her eyes surveying the room like an animal its territory. When she tired of twisting about to inspect her surroundings, she replaced her fingers on my hips and continued at a breakneck pace. Her hold on my backside tightened and she incorporated me into her work by moving me alternately against her and apart from her. The action condensed into still shorter, harder movements. Flying into me then with no more doubts nor anything to stop her, she made for the finish line. Her hands leaped up and returned in a simultaneous slap that reverberated in the cramped chamber. The strap-on pounded. She slapped my cheeks again, and laughed at her boldness. Her attack was mercilessly efficient. At that point her speed increased so that she actually became a blur.

Knowing the killing blow was about to be delivered, I visualized the cosmic bloom to still my mind.

She went on that way another minute, and then did her worst. In that same posture of bent knees, toes pointed in, and hands clinging to my flesh, she leaned forward and slammed her hips into me with all the brute strength in her mighty form, at the rate of one wail per second, the slapping against my ass of the circular area around the cock's base being the only sound in the world. It was more bestial than human, an act of pure, celebratory dominance. Waves of motion descending from her shoulders whipped her crotch at my rear end, I don't know how many times. Though I didn't lose consciousness, time ceased to have any meaning for me.

When she felt her triumph was absolute, she moved her hands to my waist, slowed, and leaned back again. Her arms once more came away from me, and with her eyes on the cock she ground down her thrusting to a halt. I turned to smile at her over my shoulder, and when she saw she'd failed to break me, her happiness waned. She pulled out and sat back on her ankles with her mouth open in confusion, and I rolled over to sit up. I faced her, with my arm resting on a raised knee. There was quiet for several long moments. Finally, she shrugged in resignation.

"Well, I've got two more hours before my shift starts," she said, "and I'm going to spend them fucking your ass raw."

She was as good as her word.

When I got out of her car at my apartment, I was thrilled to discover my body free from aches like the ones Mikaela had given to me. Ray's methods all worked, I noted. Instead of driving off immediately, Candy got out as well, and walked up to me to put a hand on my shoulder as she had at the burger place. She drew me to her and kissed me with passionate tenderness.

"You get a good report card," she said. "I guess you are just shy, after all. You can expect a lot of offers from now on." She smiled, walked back around the vehicle, and waved farewell as she got in to depart. Then she was gone, as quickly as she'd appeared.

Once inside I collapsed on my bed, with the intent of sleeping for a year. As I drifted off, I remembered Mikaela's smutty message to me, and how I went wild at the sound of it, but calling her would have to wait until I'd recovered.I got this message from Mikaela:

'Tom, it's Mike. I spoke to Ray, she said everything went really well for you. I'm just calling to add my congratulations. I'm sure you'll be having lots of fun in the future. Oh, on a totally unrelated note, I've taken to jacking off in the shower since your last visit. I come every time. Have you ever noticed how much my harness looks like a jock strap? I have. I stand in front of the mirror before toweling off, admiring my taut, wet body, wishing there were somebody in front of me I could penetrate with my rock-hard cock. I'm going jogging now. Pleasant dreams!'

Having lots of fun was certainly on my mind after my last encounter with Ray, but my old submissiveness kept me from finding any, though the opportunities seemed to be everywhere. I guessed which women were Mikaela's friends without asking them. When I'd go to the coffee shop where we'd last met, the hippie girl with the braids (a real health nut) always did a double take at me from behind the counter, and grinned knowingly, and maybe maliciously. At the library, one of the university's Swim heroes worked a desk. She was a hot butch Amazon who kept her eyes on her monitor and keyboard when answering questions. I thought I saw her pause when reading my name aloud. As she handed me a book, I tried to take it from her, but found it stuck in her vise-like hand. I looked up at her and found her staring icily through me. Then she released the book and I dropped it. Before I could say something two hurried people got in line behind me and her eyes were back down to her screen. Standing on a crowded bus I felt two fingers pressing on my pants over my asshole, but I remained motionless for fear of making a scene. The massaging became a painful probing, and when the bell rang the only person behind me, a girl in a white dress with long blond hair parted in the middle, slung her big purse over her shoulder and jumped off. However many of these incidents were the results of paranoia and how many were perverted flirtation I couldn't know, but I was sure that unless one of these women showed Mikaela's initiative nothing would come of any of it.

It was at a fast food place that I met the girl who would carry me over the threshold. I was squirting ketchup onto my fries at the self-serve bar when I felt a hand creep onto my shoulder, and then the arm it was attached to come to rest behind my neck. Having been manhandled so much recently and never being sure where Mikaela would show up, I couldn't react with any surprise. When I turned though I didn't recognize the young woman standing there in such a chummy pose with me.

"Your name is Tom, isn't it?" Her thumb and forefinger were now kneading insistently where my shoulder met my neck.

"Yes, that's right."

"I'm Candy. We have friends in common." She reached over, took one of my fries from the tray, and bit off a piece. All of a sudden it was like I was being shaken down by a mobster for protection money. "We have to chat. Why don't you come with me? I'll drive you to my apartment, where we can have privacy."

"I just ordered."

"Forget the food. I'll feed you. Come with me." With that I realized it was better to comply.

Candy's apartment was in a duplex secluded in the woods far uptown. The inside was its own world, the kind of silent place where you can forget anything except the furniture and appliances around you exist. The woman herself was large and dynamic, and she fit in the rooms the way a bear fits in a cave. Her actions and movements were too well-planned and too quick for me to get any impression of her beyond the superficial. She had on a green army jacket, a red and black striped sweater, tight blue jeans, and sneakers. Her hair was wild, thick, dark, and to her shoulders. When she spoke it was curtly, with her head tilted up so she could peer down at me, and there was the ghost of a snarl in her upper lip. Her manner made it very clear our meeting had not officially begun, nor would it until she was good and ready.

"You know what to do," she said, and disappeared around a corner. I heard the weak slam of a flimsy door.

I have absolutely no idea what to do, I thought, standing in her kitchenette. Fortunately about two minutes later I heard the door swing open on its creaky hinges, and Candy yell to me, "Tom, get in here!"

I followed her path down the tiny hallway and rounded the corner to find her sitting on the edge of a king-sized mattress. The sheets were green and they cast an eerie halo along the white walls, which were too close to everything they contained. It was nauseatingly claustrophobic. There were the nightstand with its lamp and clock, the bed, the woman, and me, and it felt like we were the last two people on the face of the earth. She had her right knee bent at the mattress edge and her bare left leg extended to the floor between us. Both hands held the cock she had on by their thumbs and forefingers. It was a cleanly smooth marble knob, a healthy seven inches long, the same shade of purple as the form-fitting tank top she wore. In the poorly heated room she had sprouted goosebumps on her pale limbs. She caressed the dick's length as if her fingers were smoothing away folds of skin on its surface, like the folds of excess fabric on her torso below her restricted, average-sized breasts. Then she pointed the rod as if it would emit an invisible ray that might stun me.

"There are a lot of women interested to meet you, Tom. You have a reputation for being quite the entertainer. Though I notice you're still dressed."

"I wasn't sure exactly what was going on."

"Maybe you're too modest. Are you going to disappoint all of these ladies? Starting with me?" With that she turned her other shoulder to me, and scooted back onto the bed, still meeting my gaze. As she reclined, she spoke. "I think I can dissuade them for you, if you fail to please me. They only have Mikaela's word about you, after all, and Ray doesn't speak about her clients very freely. I hate a lot of fuss, when there's nothing to get excited about. I despise empty talk."

It was then that I saw her most clearly, as she stretched out in profile before me. Her head was at my left, its brilliant black hair splayed out over the end of the mattress, and her legs lay to my right. Her back was arched, ever so slightly. Her right arm was bent a little, and the fingers hung over the side of the bed, as if dangling in a stream of running water. Her left hand made sure the cock was perfectly vertical. With her left leg bent to show me her inner thigh and the right leg resting straightly before me, I suddenly realized what kind of shape she was in. All along her there were tiny bruises, and some not so small, and her right knee, though healed, had obviously been badly skinned. This was a very active woman, I realized. Yet where Mikaela's strength was hidden by her leanness, and Ray's limbs were thick but soft, Candy was thoroughly solid, from her long heavy thighs to the great width of her trunk. In repose like the statue of a god, wearing only the purple cock and tank top, and the black padded band around her waist, she looked like a refugee from a futuristic tribe of savages. She completely intimidated me.

"I'm a bit of an ogre," she sighed.

Remembering everything Ray had taught me, I rallied my confidence, and began to disrobe. Her eyebrows rose, and she turned her resting head to me.

"Is he going to play with me, after all?"

I sneered.

"I think you'll find me up to your challenge." As my pants and underwear came off, my own cock proved this to be true.

"Welcome aboard," she drawled, her eyes no longer on mine but focused on my crotch. A flicker of indecision at last betrayed her. I stood naked, defiant.

"Where do you want me?"

With frightening speed she sat upon the edge of the bed, knees together and feet apart on the floor, toes pointed in, her hands on her thighs in front of the ready dick.

"Oh, everywhere."

Five minutes later I was bending over with my hands on the fronts of my thighs, and she was standing behind me with her feet wide apart, gripping my hips like grim death. It came like fist blows, literally the amount of force someone would use for punching an enemy, a little faster than one beat per second.

"Let me know if this tickles," she taunted. In order to impress her I had foregone lubrication, using instead a mental trick Ray had taught me for relaxing and self-moistening my body. Though I was getting sick from being violently shaken up and down by the detonations in my rear, I was able to watch the alarm clock on her bedside table. I tried to tell myself at first that this was an initiation rite, or a test, and I just had to endure it for a bit. At minute 12 it was obvious, even if that were true, that this woman would love to tell her friends she had wrecked my guts before they had a shot at me. She was that kind of fuck; virile, and proud of it. She saw herself as a bull.

At minute 40 she spoke to me again.

"Getting tired, Tom?"

"When are you going to start?"

"I wonder if you're pregnant yet."

Pound, pound, pound: she worked toward the goal of splitting me in half. After another ten minutes, she withdrew by curving her back so that her ass rose, with her weight entirely on the balls of her feet. It was as though she wouldn't deign to use her hands to remove me. I turned pleasantly to face her with the look of tranquility I had with Ray, letting my silence ask for me what she was thinking. She was visibly flustered because I hadn't begged for mercy. I smiled.

"Get on your belly," she ordered, pointing at the bed. I politely obeyed.

Climbing up behind me, she kneed my legs apart so that my rear was elevated. Her thighs pressed against mine. Once the cock was inserted she put a fist on the bed at either side of my midsection, and began to slide into me, more with full body lunges than by the force of her hips. I took it with quiet grace for several minutes. This was just a prelude to her main attack, I was sure.

Predictably, she straightened up, and got into position. Her knees stayed apart but her feet touched each other at the toes. Both of her hands fell on my lower back, just above my ass. The style of insertion changed from a lazy flop with a slight downward pitch to an eager horizontal drive. It was all done with her hips then; with her arms, legs, and erect spine framing the swing. Her speed and regularity increased dramatically, but her manner was still cautious and preparatory. It would only be a matter of time, maybe thirty or forty more pumps, with her looking around the room like an alarmed cat, before she was set to open up on me.

Then it began. Thrusts became more methodical, more tentative, more like an exhibition. Hair which had hung loosely over me from her bowed head was thrown back. Her hands moved back to my hips, and the palms came away, leaving only her fingers to relax on my body, marking my location without making an effort to restrain me. Twice her hips slammed forward as if out of her control, but she instantly regained her rhythm both times. The technique remained the same, but she committed herself to a climax.

Sensing the shift in her attitude, I envisioned the golden flower Ray had shown me. By concentrating on it I would, I hoped, be able to weather Candy's assault.

Pretending to maintain her former casualness, she gradually raised the power of the stroking so the dick was slammed into my ass with mesmerizing precision. The bed started shaking, and Candy's gestures became more animated, from the clutching of her fingers to the rocking of her head. Greater enthusiasm permeated her banging, making the churning of her hips appear to be a full-body activity. Again her tempo gained, her breathing became audible, and her shoulders were drawn back another inch. She let her hands come away from me so her strong arms could dangle at her sides like an ape's, with her pelvis still boring steadily upon me, and her eyes surveying the room like an animal its territory. When she tired of twisting about to inspect her surroundings, she replaced her fingers on my hips and continued at a breakneck pace. Her hold on my backside tightened and she incorporated me into her work by moving me alternately against her and apart from her. The action condensed into still shorter, harder movements. Flying into me then with no more doubts nor anything to stop her, she made for the finish line. Her hands leaped up and returned in a simultaneous slap that reverberated in the cramped chamber. The strap-on pounded. She slapped my cheeks again, and laughed at her boldness. Her attack was mercilessly efficient. At that point her speed increased so that she actually became a blur.

Knowing the killing blow was about to be delivered, I visualized the cosmic bloom to still my mind.

She went on that way another minute, and then did her worst. In that same posture of bent knees, toes pointed in, and hands clinging to my flesh, she leaned forward and slammed her hips into me with all the brute strength in her mighty form, at the rate of one wail per second, the slapping against my ass of the circular area around the cock's base being the only sound in the world. It was more bestial than human, an act of pure, celebratory dominance. Waves of motion descending from her shoulders whipped her crotch at my rear end, I don't know how many times. Though I didn't lose consciousness, time ceased to have any meaning for me.

When she felt her triumph was absolute, she moved her hands to my waist, slowed, and leaned back again. Her arms once more came away from me, and with her eyes on the cock she ground down her thrusting to a halt. I turned to smile at her over my shoulder, and when she saw she'd failed to break me, her happiness waned. She pulled out and sat back on her ankles with her mouth open in confusion, and I rolled over to sit up. I faced her, with my arm resting on a raised knee. There was quiet for several long moments. Finally, she shrugged in resignation.

"Well, I've got two more hours before my shift starts," she said, "and I'm going to spend them fucking your ass raw."

She was as good as her word.

When I got out of her car at my apartment, I was thrilled to discover my body free from aches like the ones Mikaela had given to me. Ray's methods all worked, I noted. Instead of driving off immediately, Candy got out as well, and walked up to me to put a hand on my shoulder as she had at the burger place. She drew me to her and kissed me with passionate tenderness.

"You get a good report card," she said. "I guess you are just shy, after all. You can expect a lot of offers from now on." She smiled, walked back around the vehicle, and waved farewell as she got in to depart. Then she was gone, as quickly as she'd appeared.

Once inside I collapsed on my bed, with the intent of sleeping for a year. As I drifted off, I remembered Mikaela's smutty message to me, and how I went wild at the sound of it, but calling her would have to wait until I'd recovered.

goldenrod

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