He had been warned but now it was too late. He has already fallen
under my spell, now he's hopelessly trapped between my thighs. As I lie
under him, bucking and writhing my body in response to each and every thrust,
I know I'm the kind of woman his mother and wife warned about. There are
many names for me: scarlet woman, femme fatale, seductress, temptress,
vamp. I don't really care; I relish the names because that is what I am.
By the way, my name is Veda.
I live for the thrill of the chase, that fantastic feeling of bringing a man to the bursting point. I get them so worked up, so turned on, that there is no turning back, no escape. Once a man succumbs to my wiles, he is mine, at least until I'm ready to move on to my next target. This one, Jeremy, is my latest. Mmm, he is a good lover, if not the greatest. Ooh, he's a potent one, too. God, if he rams into me like that one more time...
My body screams for release as he teases me with his fingers and tongue. Of course, I lead him on, give him what he really craves: a good romp in the sack. Obviously he doesn't get this at home, from his wife. I continue to squirm and wriggle under his relentless pounding. My body goes into, on purpose, a sensually sinuous dance of love. Oh, he must love the way I move because he keeps telling me over and over, "Veda, you're so damn good, baby."
Gee, it's easy to get men to bow to my command. I spur him on with words like, "Oh, Jeremy. Go deeper. Mmmm...yes...Oooh...a few more strokes, honey..."
Well, he may not be the best, but it is good sex. I love sex; in fact, I have this drive that just won't quit. Back in the "good old days" when women weren't supposed to enjoy sex, they'd say I'm a nymphomaniac. OK, so what's wrong with wanting a penis inside me all the time? When I see a man I want, my lust goes into overdrive, my body begging for sexual gratification.
Ow! His fingers found my clit.
Now he's pressing down on it like he's punching the elevator button. OK, I'll oblige him. Up and down my body bounces on the bed, taking him on a wild bucking bronco ride he'll never forget. Umm, I'm starting to come too soon, and I can feel him getting ready. He keeps working his penis inside me, sending me into twitching fits of orgasm. Oh God, this feels so good. I squirm uncontrollably with unbridled pleasure; my screams of satisfaction do not go unnoticed. Jeremy finally lets loose his seed; it shoots up inside me like hot cream. And I don't mind churning it.
"What's so funny?"
"Mmm, Jeremy...A few more – Oh yeah! – thrusts..."
"Uh...Ooh...OK...Ahh...Umm.."
My sheets are sticky and wet from our perspiration. Who cares. The cleaning lady will wash them; she always does and doesn't complain. Jeremy finally pulls himself out then rests up for a few moments before rising from the bed. I'm still in bed, still throbbing gloriously as he gets up to dress. So what if I don't see him again? I got what I wanted, he got his. Good sex without the strings attached – no marriage, no kids, no worries. I don't have to worry about getting pregnant. I'm what they used to call barren. I can't conceive if I wanted to, and I don't want to. Everyday I thank that old quack who botched that abortion back when I was sixteen.
I got careless with a boy who was on the track team back in high school. As my usual pattern, after school I'd sit out in the bleachers and watch the boys practice. There was one particular boy, Cory, I think that was his name. He was so dreamy, so hunky with his tight muscles, long lean legs, cute rounded butt. He had the sexiest blue eyes, flashy and all thickly lashed. His hair was sexy, too, the kind I like, black and glossy and wavy. Never did like tight curls on a guy, or blond guys. The hair had to be dark with just enough wave and shine.
All I remember of that day was sitting out in the bleachers. It was hot so I changed into a tight white mini dress that didn't hide my curves. Even then I had a good body and learned early what to do with it. All during practice, I caught Cory's eye several times, moving my body seductively. I pretended to be hot and uncomfortable, so I kept shifting in my seat, rearranging myself ever so subtly. Last thing I wanted was to draw attention from other students who sat nearby. No way were they going to mess up my "hunting expedition". They didn't catch on to what I was doing but Cory sure got it.
After practice, I told I'd wait in the science lab while he showered and changed. How did I gain access to the lab? I cobbed a key from Mr. Groves, an addle-brained chemistry teacher who had a nasty habit of leaving his keys all over the place. So, after track practice, I sneaked back into school, went upstairs and let myself into the lab. There was sort of a office adjoining complete with an old couch. That's where Cory found me when he came upstairs.
"Damn it, Veda, you know we'll get in trouble if someone should come
in here and catch us."
"Shut up, Cory. No one's here. We got the place to ourselves. Now...Do
me."
I did a sexy little dance then spread myself out on that couch, still writhing and wriggling my body enticingly. Cory, being the ever-randy seventeen-year old boy, got it up fast. Soon we laid on that couch, humping and thrusting. It was good, good! I guess it was then I learned how much control and power I had over men. I also learned something else: I could control what a man thought, even plant suggestions in his mind. I had – still have – a hot, uncontrollable sexuality that had be satisfied by any means necessary. And if it meant ruining a man for life, so be it.
Now, how was I to know I was going to get pregnant. I was truly scared, so scared that I never told my folks about it. Oh sure, I know what they'd say – I would have to marry Cory when marriage of any kind was out for me. I wasn't about to be saddled with a bawling kid for the rest my life; I had too much going for me. So I got together with Barb, one of my hot-to-trot friends, who hooked me up with a doctor who did abortions. He wasn't all that good but he got the job done. I had some bleeding afterwards, even some pain, but I played it off and told my folks I had a bad time with my period. Thank goodness I had no more complications, but the job did leave me unable to have kids. I wasn't worried, just relieved I was at last free to pursue my true life's work: seducing men.
What happened to Cory? He never knew about the baby. He went off to college, got his J.D., married a nice girl, and settled into a life of suburban respectability.
Jeremy just left but not before telling me what a good time he had. Gee, Jeremy, you fool. Get in your shiny new SUV, go home to your wife and kids, to your home in the country. Wonder what could happen if I put the video on the Internet? I've done that before and it has guaranteed to be a lucrative hobby. I just contact the guy I just slept with, email him the pictures, then threaten to show them to dear wifey. Oh yeah, could you fork over a few hundred every month or so, then I won't make you an overnight global porn star? Stupid guys, scared of losing their "good reputation", fall for that bull all the time. In fact, men are stupid, period. Always letting their brains fall below the belt buckle whenever they see an attractive female come their way. They get what they deserve.
Guys like Rob. Yeah, Rob. What a dolt he was. Good old Rob with his six-figure salary, big mansion in town, nice wife of twenty years who did all this charity work, and three honor roll kids. He was talked into running for political office that year, state senator, I think. Rob, being relatively young – not yet thirty – was a virtual shoo-in just because of the voters would be drawn to his youth and vigor. Rob and I crossed paths last spring, at a nightclub of all things. I never thought guys like Rob would frequent dance clubs, but that is where I met him. You see, I was new in town, had yet to make many friends, when one of my neighbors suggested we take in a few nightspots. It was a cool dance club, one of those hot disco-type places with lighted floor, strobes, blazingly loud and pulsating music, and a sea of beautiful people dressed to kill.
And I was dressed to kill that night. I wore my tightest red lamé mini dress with the halter neckline. My shoes were those three-inch clear lucite platform numbers. I put up my hair in a high beehive 'do. Even my makeup played up the "shameless hussy" to the hilt.
My wardrobe consists of two things: everyday stuff and "hunting" clothes.
The former I were at my job as receptionist for a law firm downtown. The
latter I were after five o'clock weekdays and all weekend. So what are
"hunting clothes"?, you ask. Everything that is skintight, short, shiny,
cleavage revealing, skin-baring, and shows off the curves. Complete the
look with super high-heeled shoes and boots. I think I have one of the
largest collection of sexy clothes in town – lots of leather, latex, lamé,
spandex, rubber. Not exactly what a "respectable" girl wears but it gets
the attention I crave.
Besides, I'll admit that I get turned on when I wear those clothes.
When I put on my sexy duds, I like to look at myself in the mirror. I purse
my lips in mock kisses and seductively wriggle my incredibly curvaceous
body. Believe me, the sight of my erotically writhing body encased in anything
skintight and shiny always makes me wet and needy. Wow, to think what I
do to the guys makes it more special.
I have a pretty face, smoldering dark brown eyes, full ripe lips, and a mane of thick glossy black hair. My body is to die for, a perfect 38-24-36, the type that men drool over. My legs are long, shapely. I've been told that if Adonis saw me first, he would've never given Venus a second look. Now, with my looks I could make a killing as a centerfold model, even pose for those sexy fetish 'zines. Although I love the way I look in latex and leather, I've never considered being one of "those" models. Some day I might consider modeling as a sideline, but for now I'm having too much fun seducing men and making them pay.
Inside the club, I spot Rob with his friends. He isn't there by choice; it was a business associate's idea. Clubbing isn't his scene, so I learned. I also learned that he has a weak spot for pretty ladies. Rob is no stranger to the extramarital affair, having ended a long-term relationship just last month. I wonder if his wife knows. Who cares? Rob was now my quarry; I couldn't wait to pull out all the stops.
I can't recall exactly what the DJ played that night, but I do remember the song had a wild, primitive, funky beat and extremely sexy lyrics. When I hit the dance floor, I made sure I was within striking distance of Rob's table. The guys at his table soon cast their eyes on me, but I had my eyes glued on Rob as I executed the sulturiest moves this side of a cheap strip joint. In that skintight, shiny, micro-minidress, I moved my body in sinous, snakelike patterns, writhing in all the right spots. My hips worked like pistons, bumping and grinding sensually, insolently. I made eye contact with Rob, obliviously to the lecherous leers and comments of his companions.
"Oh my God, look at that hottie!"
"Hey, Rob, she's lookin' at you."
Rob saw me all right, and I could tell he was totally smitten with my beauty, my sensuality. I continued to work my pelvis overtime, pumping and wriggling like a whore in heat. I slowly dropped to my knees, the dress barely covering my womanly secrets. My pelvic contortions caught the eye of every man present, and I could sense their blood racing to exotic locales. I worked my tongue in and out; my hips squirmed and wheeled in orgasmic rhythm. I was hot, so hot that I began to feel that certain wetness, and I got so worked up that I didn't realize I actually climaxed right there on the dance floor. My perspiration dripped all over, giving my body an extra alluring sheen. The dress, now soaked, clung to my body like a wet cloth.
When the song ended, everyone applauded my terpsichorean talents. Even Rob by now was literally salivating when I, on purpose, made my way to his table. He was grinning like a cat who just caught his first bird. I could sense he wanted to hook up with me that badly, so I motioned to him to join me at a private table.
Did I say he took the bait? Oh yeah! His companions kept nudging each other, giving me dirty old man looks and egging Rob on. They left us alone, and it was just me and him snuggled together over drinks at a table in a darkened corner.
"Do you live far?," he asked.
"No, just a few blocks away," I replied, knowing exactly what he had
on his mind.
"Well," he said after some thought, "I keep a suite at the hotel nearby.
Why don't we blow this joint and you and I can get to know each other better."
That decision would be his undoing and another notch on my bedpost.
STORY TO BE CONTINUED....GO TO PART 2!
Copyright©2003 by Pepper Shriver*. All Rights Reserved.
*My pen name :-)