Prelude

I have always loved my wife, Stacey. We were always each others' best friend enjoying much of the same past times: hiking, biking, movies, computers, house renovating, each other, even some mild sexual kinks. Some would say we were the perfect couple, always laughing with and loving on each other. But there is always something in every couple that seems to not quite fit, keeping anyone just shy of perfect; that's just life.

We had two obvious such somethings. One minor; one not so. The first was my incessant desire (possibly even need) to try to display my lovely wife; some friends even called it "voyeuristic exhibitionism." Would my wife win a modeling career? Probably not, but her 6' blonde frame was exquisite none the less and I was proud of her for it. However, her modest upbringing prevented her from wearing clothes that were too provocative in public and her poor ratio of petite feet to her wondrous height prevented her from comfortably wearing heals for any duration. I was generously rewarded with many of these divine gifts in the privacy of our dwelling, but she was not keen on wearing them in public. While a nagging desire in the back of my mind to share her view and watch the envy of those around me as she strutted on my arm, it was nothing that could not be overcome or pushed aside. That's just life.

This flippant and fickle desire was nothing compared to our other issue. We had been married for four years and been without birth control for even longer, but had yet to produce offspring despite our very active bedroom lifestyle. Many doctors were puzzled and my wife & I both endured a barrage of medicines with no results. While still in our twenties we wanted to begin a family life now, but the powers that be seemed to just not be working in our favor. Just a cruel part of life.

Chapter 1 - Shopping

Thus, we poured ourselves into various activities and projects in hopes of filling the current void in our life. Not the least of which is renovating our house. Our current project is the bedroom; we're working on an oriental theme with an emphasis on classic deep blood reds & black and including as many neat trinkets as possible to add those extra little touches.

I mentioned our renovation plans to Jack, one of my coworkers, while comparing our workloads at home as well as at our paying profession, and he pointed out a quant little oriental trade shop a few blocks from work. Having never heard of it, I made a mental note to go check it out at lunch later. In the mean time, the monotony of work beckoned and we needed to return.

Once lunch finally rolls around, I asked Jack if he'd be interested in checking out the oriental shop, but he had a meeting or some other lame excuse about having to eat in. Jack really was a work-a-holic. But that's just life for him.

In any event, the directions he gave were rather well and it was a nice brisk walk on a clear day. After hearing the tinkling of the bell toll once I was inside, I knew I would have to watch my wallet here as I could easily go further in debt in a store like this. There were dozens of mismatched oriental furniture pieces, and all sorts of genuine looking art pieces. This definitely was not a cookie cutter chain store but something closer to a second hand store for authentic, high-quality, oriental wares. Most of it appeared out of our price range, but some of the smaller accent pieces could be excellent additions to our room. I was so enraptured by all the exquisite details, it never occurred to me that I hadn't seen anyone else; even someone minding the store.

Suddenly startled by a shuffling coming from the back, my head shot up to see a very elderly looking oriental man come walking out from the back. I realized where some of these items may have come from when I was forced to decipher through his very think Chinese accent, "Hello! Welcome to my store. See anything you like?" I must have looked appalling staring at him dumbfoundedly while my brain churned away on those simple words. He merely chuckled and continued, "Yes.… plenty here for you."

"Um… yes, yes... you have quite a fine selection," I finally answered. "My wife and I are looking to redecorate our bedroom and you have some very fine items here. I am mostly looking at the moment, but I'm sure I will be back with her for several purchases."

"Ah yes, but that is not all you seek for your bedroom and your wife… is it, Geoff?"

My brain wrapped so hard around decrypting his question, it didn't even register that he used my name. "I'm sorry; what do you mean?"

"You seek more from her even though she give so much. She does not do everything you need and leaves you unfulfilled."

"I'm sorry, but you must be confused, sir. My personal life is none of your business, but I will have you know I have a very loving, adoring, and attentive wife! And I will thank you stick to the business at hand." I had made the cardinal rule of bartering, because I should have just left after being insulted so personally rather than continuing to argue the point and showing my desire to buy. But I just couldn't pass up what was available here.

"Ah, but there are things that you have not given her either leaving her unfulfilled as well." That stung as I know even though we have not been able to have children yet, Stacey has been disappointed we haven't been able to conceive.

"What are you trying to get at, old man?"

"Come here and I show you," as he shuffled off behind a counter waving to me to follow.

As I approached slowly still trying to figure out why I was still entertaining this conversation, he reached under the counter and brought out a roll of velvet. As he slowly unrolled the velvet, it exposed some very old looking parchment. Looking closer I could tell this was genuine bamboo parchment just looking at the edges, the thickness, and the way it held its weight; no modern-day paper can ever simulate that. By the looks of it, it was definitely old; much older than even most of the artwork on his walls.

However, one strange thing immediately spoke out about this very old parchment: it was totally blank. There were two sheets that he slowly spread apart and neither had a drop of ink anywhere on them. Why there would be such old parchment never used, but still so delicate kept over such an obvious time period escaped me.

Looking up at him, he was sporting a very broad and toothy smile, "Ahh… very nice, eh? And yes very old, too."

"Well… yes, but they are blank."

This brought out a very deep and throaty chuckle for such a small and aged man, "Hahaha. But of course! How else you use them if they have already been used?" This was followed by some under the breath comment in his native tongue that I could only assume was something along the lines of "silly American" based on tone alone.

"Okay, and what exactly would I use them for?"

"To help you and your wife" or was it life? Very hard to tell with his accent.

"How? Eat them? Burn them? Use them for tea bags? What?" At this he was most startled and against.

He follows this up with some very long winded grumbling and what I can only assume is cursing as he paces behind the counter alternately staring at the floor and parchment and glaring at me.

"NO!" He finally spoke plainly violently landing his hands on the counter. "You *WRITE* on them." Punctuating this with a slap to my cheek.

Nursing the side of my face in stunned silence he continued.

"You take two pens of good, strong ink and soft, delicate tip. Divide parchment and pen between you and wife." He continues as I focus on getting through his quant accent. "You write what you would like to see in her; she writes what she would like to see in you. Then place under pillow and sleep. In morning, everything is as you both would like. All Happy!" There was that toothy grin.

"Okay, I'm supposed to take this very old parchment. My wife and I write on it. I put what I'd like to change about Stacey; she puts what she'd like to change about me. Then we sleep on it?"

He nods, and then answers gravely, "but *never* use names; only use 'man spouse' and 'woman spouse'."

"Sounds like a therapy exercise. Also sounds like a lot of trouble when she reads it…"

"NO!" Cutting me off quickly in mid-sentence, "Never read! Only write and put under pillow. Must not read!"

Okay makes since as would allow us to be honest. Sounds like an interesting exercise, but I'd be damned if I'd use this old parchment for a silly exercise like that.

In any event, I figured that some artwork and framing could add a bit of personal touch to our theme and his sales pitch deserved some reward, so I asked the final question, "How much?"

"$10"

I must have misunderstood; that is a steel for two genuine, classic bamboo parchment sheets, but before I could allow him to correct it I took out my wallet and handed him a $10 bill.

As his hand touch the modern day weaved artwork, I found myself standing outside my office building 6 blocks away with a roll of velvet in my hand and not remembering taking a step from his store. "It's got to be the heat."

Listening to the church bells in the background announce the time, I knew I'd have to hurry to get back upstairs before my staff meeting. Just back to my life.

Chapter 2 – Coming home

When I returned home that evening, my wife greeted me in her usual affectionate kiss inside. Looking at her sweats I thought about how beautiful she still was but was such a shame hiding her lovely figure. She quickly saw the roll of velvet in my hand. "Ooo… what's that?!?"

"Oh, John pointed out this great little shop downtown that had some awesome classic furniture and decorations that would be perfect for our bedroom, even if the owner is a bit odd." At that I began to roll out the parchment on the table.

"Odd, huh? Wow! Great parchment!" She gently turned both pieces over than looked at me quizzically. "They're blank."

"I know. I thought it was weird too. The guy went on and on about using them for some therapy exercise, but I thought they'd be great to make some artwork ourselves to frame and hang them in our room as sort of a personal touch, but still in theme. And I couldn't pass up $10 for both pieces."

"$10!?! But these must be over 200 years old!"

"I know; I don't get it either." I went to the kitchen to grab some water from the fridge.

"What type of exercise was he talking about?"

I proceeded to relay his instructions to her to the best, then followed it up with my own bit of commentary, "seems like a silly waste."

"I don't know," came her response to my surprise. "I think it could be nice to do something personal like that, then decorate the other side and hang them up on the wall. Maybe when we're old and gray we could look at them and laugh about it."

"Heh, I don't know… he did say 'never'. Still, sweetie, I think it might be silly."

"I tell you what." She went into the office and came back with two fountain pens she likes to keep around for signing legal documents, "You take this into the office," handing me a pen and parchment, "and I'll take this one into the den." At that, she skipped off to the den. "Well, I guess I'll go to the office."

Plopping down in the "comfy" office chair, I stared at the parchment trying to decide if I really wanted to deface it like this. After 15 minutes of staring and her not coming to check on me, I figured I might as well.

For the next half hour I wrote every fickle aspect that I might change in my exquisite wife, laughing the whole time about how I it will be such a great chuckle when we're old and gray. I touched on everything from wardrobe & dressing style, to a plastic surgeon's dream & behavioral changes. Once I finally thought I had covered all the bases, I reread over it, expecting my wife to come back by and laugh it off. Since she never came, I added one final line and chuckled to myself knowing it would never happen and figured I'd venture out to see what she was doing. I feared how many flaws she might be writing to change in me.

Instead, I found her finishing up dinner in the kitchen. "There you are," she responded upon seeing me enter the dining room. "The pasta and sauce are almost done. The rolls are on the table. I didn't think it'd be that hard to find a few flaws in me.... or did you find that many?"

"No, no… just couldn't figure out what to write." It was a lie, but I didn't want to hurt her, so I strategically kept the blank backing to her.

"I love you. Well, run upstairs and put it under your pillow and then come down and eat, sir. Need to keep you well fed."

I ran upstairs cursing myself that I was so petty about the little things. Oh, well, as long as she just never looks till much later when we can laugh it off there will be no harm. I gently placed the paper under my pillow and returned downstairs to seeing my wife serving dinner.

Dinner was rather uneventful, but was filled with a rather bit more of flirting from her than usual. I kinda liked it and hoped it headed for more. However, as she placed the plates in the sink to be washed she let out a deep yawn, "I think I'll get these tomorrow. I'm just gonna go hit the hay. Care to join me?"

Suddenly feeling the sandman enter my brain, bed didn't sound like such a bad idea. "Yah, sounds good."

As I followed her upstairs, I liked watching what little of her hip definition I could see beneath her sweats swing from side to side. She looked back as she turned the corner and caught the stare and chuckled, "enjoy these raggedly old pants do you? I thought you begged for skirts and stockings?"

"Heh, well, just thinking about what I'm missing I guess," and winked at her.

She then grabbed a night gown from her drawer and went into the bathroom. 'Damn! Not even gonna get a strip show tonight,' I thought as I yawned. 'I had no idea I was this tired.' I proceeded to strip down to my boxers and crawl into bed.

She exited the bathroom in a very long and modest gown. She crawled under the covers and turned on her side. I then proceeded to snuggle up next to her. "honey, its too hot for being so close. Some other time. I'm just too tired." To which she shifted and yawn and appeared to fall asleep. Well, just my daily life.

I rolled back over and closed my eyes. Nearly immediately falling into a dream world. I remember thinking about all I had wrote. How I'd love to see her in much more revealing clothes, a bit fitter, a bit more receptive, and a bit more explorative. Well, maybe not quite that subtle but close enough.

Chapter 3 – The awakening

Slowly I woke up and rubbed the sleep out my face. I slowly pulled the covers back and gently crawled over to the other side of the bed, making sure not to wake my slumbering partner. This morning, it would be a lovely wakeup call. I gently lowered my head between those glorious legs finding the sweet, sensitive spot slowly licking up and down the length of the beautiful sexual organ. A sweet moan escapes my sleeping lover's lips as I wonder what exactly this is doing to dreams.

I continue my ministrations focusing on my lover's pleasure trying to hit every sweat little spot thinking about how much enjoyment I hope I'm bringing. I am rewarded with the swelling of my lover's sex; a clear indication of the subconscious approving of my tactics. I continue on working to bring the release I so desperately wanted from my darling lover bringing me my own sweat reward.

I slowly suckle on the most sensitive organ of the body consentrating on blowing my spouse's dreaming mind wide. Suckling, licking, and lightly nibbling I hear deep breaths from above me as a hand is placed on the back of my head. With that indication of the continued enjoyment I bring, a smile forms on my lips very pleased with myself as my head is barried deep in my lovers crotch. In continue slurping, sucking, doing all I can to bring sweat release. The hand on the back of my head grabs onto my hair (a moan escapes my lips) and centers my lips for direct targeting.

Feeling his cock begin to twitch, I sealed my lips along his shaft as I felt the sweat nectar of my lover's cock exquisitely slip down my throat feeling a shiver run down my body straight into my pussy as I felt my own juices run down my leg.

Suddenly, with the act done, reality hit me and I sat bolt upright. Looking at the head of the bed was a head panting that looked so familiar to me, but yet just slightly different to me. When I saw what should be *my* lips pant out to me, "Geoff?" I fainted there on the bed as the last line I wrote yesterday popped in my head:

"female spouse will wake male spouse tomorrow with the most exquisite blow job she has ever given, loving every minute of it."

What just happened to my life?

Chapter 4 – Getting dressed

I slowly came to staring at the ceiling. Slowly I began to realize I was in our bedroom. Looking down I gasped in shock, nearly loosing it again. There before my eyes were two very pronounced, well formed mounds on my chest draped by the bed sheets. I slowly moved my hand down my body feeling my smooth skin not wanting to find what I knew must not be down there, but I just had to confirm. As my hand moved across my skin, my nails lightly grazed my skin extending out further than I expected sending shivers throughout my body. I tried to push the observation out of my mind they all the sensations seem to focus towards the destination of my hand; I had to know.

Slowly, I reached where my pole should have been, only to find soft smooth skin. I whimpered a bit at my loss but soldered on. Suddenly, my hand reached an all too familiar yet foreign slit. Probing slightly inside the rather moist folds, I gasped as my finger reached a very sensitive nub. The sensation it sent through my body caused my back to arch and my head to throw back. I was not expecting that.

Knowing I really shouldn't, I felt the need to explore more. As my fingers moved down my slit, each gently grazed the sensitive nub causing several moans to escape my lips. As I continued to explore, I began to loose myself. However, all too quickly I heard a throat cleared at our bedroom door.

My eyes flew open to see a figure that was not unlike how I was, but still slightly different. I quickly sat up bolt right in bed when I realized what it must look like I was doing (which in actuality was probably rather accurate). I noticed as I settled in this person's gaze was on my reverberating chest that was now exposed outside the sheets. I blushed profusely at the realization of my exposure. However, the warmth I was experiencing from the apparent realization seemed to prevent the compulsion in the back of my mind to cover up. Instead, I seemed to nervously wiggle a bit as I bowed my head a bit trying to ignore the conflicting emotions.

"Sorry I missed you waking up, hun. I guess this is all quite a shock." I could only nod, not really trusting myself as tried to play back all the writing in my head.

"I assume by your reaction, it is Geoff in there."

Nod.

"Well, it's me, Stacey. I guess those papers really did work." She slowly brought the glass of water that she was holding in her hand. It seemed like she was afraid if she moved too much she'd startle me. I think the situation had me rather startled all on its own.

I took the offered cup and quickly gulped it down. As I drank, she sat on the bed next to me and wrapped her arm around me. I instinctively wiggled in a bit closer to her as I put the glass down.

"For what its worth, hun, I have to admit that was a really great way to wake up this morning. I can see why you wanted it so often. You really seemed to like it." This caused me to blush deeply again.

She then reached over and put her hand beneath my chin. She then turned me to face directly at her. As her now very strong eyes looked directly into mine, I felt suddenly captivated. "Thank you, hun."

Before I could even realize I was about to form words, I responded, "Thank you, Master." This brought me fully awake as my head shifted forward noticeably cringing.

"'Master' is it? I guess that was part of your paper." I nodded my head. "Maybe you'll have to tell me what else you wrote," at this I went noticeably pal. I could NOT let her know all the entries. I just hope she didn't read them already. "But I think I'll just leave it as a mystery. Besides, the parchment pieces seemed to have disappeared I can't find them anywhere." To this I noticeably exhaled.

"Well, we probably ought to find where that crazy old man is you mentioned and see if he can fix this. You know, you really should ask for clarity of directions more often, hun. I can't think how often I've had to tell you that. Do you remember where the store was?"

I simply nodded my response.

"Well, why don't we go ahead and get dressed. Where is the store at?"

I tried to think of a way to keep from answering but was distracted by the thought of the fact she mentioned "we…getting dressed". "Downtown, near my work, Master."

She chuckled as she saw me cringed. "You're not going to call me 'Master' all the time are you?"

"No, Master, only in private. In public I should use respectful, but socially acceptable terms such as 'Sir' or 'Mr. Johansen'." I can't believe how easily I answered that.

At that she chuckled and grabbed some shorts, a T-Shirt, and some simple shoes. I was amazed at how comfortable and confident she moved. That must have been something she put down. Come to think of it, she did often criticize my lack of assertiveness.

"Go ahead and get dressed, hun." I was dreading hearing that. I noticed she started to get dressed on the bed. I wanted to stay under the protection of the covers, but I was compelled to get up out of bed now.

Looking in the closet obviously more than just my body had changed. The only pants I could identify would only fit her now; not that it would have made much difference to me now based on some of the other entries I put down. Everything else was skirts and dresses, & no longer in the modest style she had. No, I had to specify more revealing and accessible styles. Idiot!

I grabbed the longest skirt I could find and slid into it. It went all the way down to 2 inches above my knees. It was a nice, solid black pleated skirt so at least it didn't cling to my skin and show off my features. Next I had to find a top. I found a decent (I use that term rather loosely) blue baby doll t-shirt that stopped just above my belly button.

Looking down I saw the next set of apparel I was dreading: shoes. Too many of the heels looked like something I would break my ankle or neck on with towering thin spikes. Finally I spotted a pair that had a bit of a wider heal to them, although the sole did look a bit thicker than most of the others. Oh well, I then proceeded to bend over to grab them. As I reached all the way over, I heard a whistle from the room behind me. I immediately grabbed the shoes and shot straight back up. Feeling blood rush to my face in embarrassment from the showing I just gave, but also a bit of flow to between my legs. Why did I have to try to change her arousal triggers?!?

"Nice view, hun! Very bold choice. You might want to choose something a bit more conservative for this outing, but something tells me you can't."

No shit, Sherlock! I was definitely going to have to be conscious of how I moved in this skirt. Otherwise, I was going to be giving a way a lot of free shows.

I turned back to the other room and sat on the bed to put on the shoes.

"Wow! Those are adventurous, hun."

Placing each shoe on my feet, they fit like a glove. I don't think I've ever felt a shoe fit so well. At least I did stipulate that! Maybe get some comfort out of them. Then I realized I need to stand up at some point, so might as well.

This was definitely a new perspective for me.

"Wow! I'm impressed you're able to stand in 5" heels even if there is a 1" platform on those. You better watch your head going through doors." Oh god, she was right. I had actually had an inch to her already tall frame. These heels would put me at 6' 6"! No wonder my perspective was so different.

She noticed the shock realization on my face. "You're not going to put any panties or a bra on?"

The question snapped me back to my current prison reality. I looked at her pleading as I shook my head no.

"Well, didn't you at least give me the option of wearing panties?"

I shook my head yes.

"Then why don't you wear some?"

"Because you have to allow me to, Master."

This brought out peels of laughter. "Oh god that is just too rich! You really did do a number on yourself."

I just looked at her pouting, hoping to get some solace from my plight.

"Wow, you do that pout very well. Hrmm… rather odd affect on me. Well, tell you what, maybe I will let you were some panties." At that she saw me perk up just a little bit. Then I saw a wicked grin come across my old face, "beg me to let you wear panties, little one." This was the term we often used for her during our light D/s sessions before. A felt a rush of blood between my thighs as I could feel my lips swelling. "If you are convincing, I might just let you."

Suddenly, I found myself at her feet begging, "Please, Master, please let your little slut wear panties. I will be a good little girl and do what is asked of me. Please, Master! Please!" That was almost word for word how I used to have her beg. The worst part of it was I think I actually meant it. Why did I have to put so much submission onto the paper?

This brought out even more laughter from it. It actually hurt to feel like I was the butt of some joke for her. Didn't she understand this was not right? This needed to be fixed, now! Chuckling she managed to squeeze out, "yes… go get some panties."

I went over to the dresser and opened up her lingerie drawer. Oh, if only it had always had these contents! We wouldn't even be in this mess. *sigh* Now, I'm the victim of my own male hormones, or previously soon to be corrected male hormones. I suddenly realized that these panties were not going to offer much help, but I grabbed the most conservative pair I could find. Finding the top of the black thong panties, I slid my huge shoes through them and stood up.

Still chuckling Stacey continued, "Oh this is just too rich. My over imaginative husband writes down some silly ass wish list for me, only to screw up the instructions and wind up getting it himself. And here he stands before me in something akin to slut attire about to go out in public. Plus, given the opportunity to actually *wear* panties after *begging* for it, he chooses a pair of thong panties." More laughter. "Oh this is just great. Go do something with your hair."

I couldn't believe how embarrassing this all is. Having the altered body of my WIFE, dressing in the most provocative clothes she could ever have worn, getting ready to go out in public, begging to wear panties, and her in there laughing at me in my own body! Worst of all, it was making me horny! All because I wrote some stupid words on a piece of parchment.

Looking in the mirror, I realized I did at least one thing right for her. Picking up the brush on the counter and quickly moving it through my hair, it was instantly styled. I always did hate waiting for her to do her hair and makeup.

Now that the task was done, the image in the mirror finally hit me. That blue-eyed, blonde bombshell with the 40DD rack, the simple 32" waste, round 38" hips, and long shapely legs that was almost too tall to see herself in the mirror that was me now. Not the idealized version of my wife.

I almost wanted to cry, but I couldn't have a pity party; we had to go get this fixed. Upon walking back into the bedroom I was conscious now of every step. I could feel my breasts bounce with every step, my hips swayed as my feet moved in a straight line, my body slinked as I moved along. I even made her walk sexy. "Can we leave now, Master?" If for no other reason than to stop having to constantly call you 'Master'.

"In that outfit, you really need some makeup. Go put some on." In steps the compulsion, and out I go. As I reach the makeup, my hands begin to put on makeup as if they had always done it. Stacey didn't even used to do lipstick unless we were going out to dinner or dancing. Here I was putting on lipstick, blush, and mascara like a pro. What have I done?

I return back to the bedroom feeling the heat build between my thighs as I waltz back in. "Am i ready, Master?" Did I really just ask that?

"Let's go, little one." She's saying that a bit too easily.

Chapter 5 – Looking for help

When we reached the car, this was not going to be a fun trick. Luckily not many people were around. Stacey was gracious enough to open the door for me as I slid in bottom first as she instructed to get down from my 6-and-a-half foot frame down to her Mustang. I swear it was never this low. And why didn't I just tell her to take my Trailblazer? That would have been a lot easier. Too late now, might as well buckle in.

It was weird have manually position the chest strap of the seat-belt between my breasts. Suddenly, their extreme size was accented even more as the belt sliced between them.

"You know, you really should have worn a bra. It could have really mitigated that some," as she reached over and grasped a breast for emphasis. This elicited a gasp as a wave of pleasure emanated from the touch. She let go and just grinned evilly as she looked in the distance.

Following her eye sight, I saw two of the guys from a building next to ours smiling broadly. They had obviously seen the exchange. I wonder if they saw me get in? Oh no, there's the humiliation kicking in as it bumps up my arousal is bumped up a couple more notches.

The drive downtown was rather uneventful. Although, I do think Stacey slowed down next to each trucker just to try to embarrass me even more; it was working. Worst of all, I don't think these panties were working.

Once we got downtown, I instructed Maste… er Stacey how to get to the shop; then she just drove by it. She then pulled into a parking lot 2 blocks away even though there was parking directly in front of the store.

"Master, why did you park so far away?"

"Because if this is your last walk in that outfit, I want it to last." With that she came around and opened up my door.

Looking around, I didn't see anyone in site, so I twisted my legs around and used her offered hand to stand up. Being she was at my previous standard height of 5'11", I stood a full head taller than her. I felt like I was a beacon for attention.

She stood next to me and placed her hand in the small of my back and directed me forward, "let's go." To which I began my undulating walk. It felt like a thousand eyes were on me and my heart started pounding.

I begin concentrating on my steps allowing me to block out some of the outside world. I think she noticed this, because she took another step to push me a bit more; her hand slid down to ass cheek as I could feel it through the skirt. I began to blush and flush at this, but I could not get up the will to reach back and move her had.

"Enjoying yourself, hun?"

"Not really, Sir." Damn instructions.

"Well, then why don't you move my hand?"

"Because unless you're causing me unwanted or undo harm, I can't keep you from touching me without your permission, Sir."

"Man, you really were gonna make me go through with all this? You really are a pig!"

"No, Sir! I honestly thought it was just a therapy exercise!! I never would believe that this would ever work if it didn't happen to us, Sir!"

"Some how, I don't think you would mind taking advantage of it if you were given the opportunity." I was afraid she was right, but I tried to tell myself she was wrong. "So I'll just do it instead."

As we started to cross the next intersection to go to the store, she turned and said, "reach down and take my hand, then put it up under your skirt on your ass cheek and let go." Oh no!! Glancing around, I see cars next to us and moving up and down the street already staring at me. The steps seemed to come in slow motion as I reach down and took her hand. Normally I would have moved it up; however, because of her instructions, I moved her hand down like some tart and slide it up my legging as the skirt moved out of the way, placing her hand squarely on my exposed ass.

As she squeezed my cheek, I felt a rush of emotions as we were still only half way through the intersection. All this unwanted attention was causing my face and neck to turn beat red, yet at the same time my eyes closed and I gasped in. I could feel the pleasure begin moving around my body. There had to have been at least 30 people seeing this public display of lewdness and I could feel my juices seeping out of my panties and begin running down my thigh.

By the time we reached the curb, I was finally a bit more aware of the world around me but I was still as red and horny as ever. She squeezed my cheek again and pulled me to a stop.

"You really can't stop me, can you?"

"No, Sir"

"It embarrasses you doesn't it?"

"Yes, Sir"

"You're horny though aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir"

She then guided me around to face her, reaching her other hand around to grab the other cheek. I then shifted my weight back and forth rubbing my thighs together, not out of avoidance, but to try to increase the pleasure. This brought on the humiliation even further.

"Kiss me"

She didn't have to ask me twice as I leaned down in order to reach her and shoved my tongue down her throat.

When I finally broke I was panting heavily. "Let's go, we're almost there."

Thankfully, as we walked she didn't put her hand up under the skirt. She just placed her hand over the skirt on my ass. My arousal didn't stop and I was breathing heavily. My nipples were protruding very prominently.

As we were almost to the shop, she turned me to the alley next door to it.

"Sir, it's right there." I panted nearly out of breath.

"No, little one, we have something else to do," as she slowly backed me up against the wall.

"You need release, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Kiss me again." To which I deep throated her heavily.

As we broke the kiss, she whispered something I could not believe. "Play with your clit and tits, but don't cum until I say so." I've done that to her before in the bedroom, but never, ever in public!!! What is she thinking?

During this internal debate, I noticed she took a step back as my right hand slid up under my skirt and into my panties. When my left hand reached my tit, she backed up to the far wall of the alley.

She left me in such a position that if someone were to come from one side of the alley, they'd just see me masturbating against a wall and wouldn't even see the voyeur across the alley.

I threw my head back as I begin rubbing hard against my clit sending waves of pleasure throughout my body as I felt the glow begin deep inside me. Massaging my tits was bringing me ever closer. I don't know how many people came by, but I knew there must have been at least one and that was causing me humiliation and even more arousal.

Finally, as I reached my pinnacle, I realized that he was not going to offer up release. "Please, Sir, can I cum?"

"Oh you can do better than that."

"Please, Sir, please let your slut cum."

"No."

"Please, please… Sir… please your undeserving little love slut needs to cum, Sir." I never made her go that far.

"When I finally let you cum, I want you to shout out that you're 'slut stacey' and keep repeating while you're cumming until I tell you to stop."

"Please, Sir…."

"cum"

"I AM SLUT STACEY!!!!!! I am slut stacey! I am slut stacey… I'm slut stacey!"

She then came over and kissed me hard. When she stopped I continued the mantra. Finally, she told me to remove my hand from my panties and remove my left hand from my tits.

"Provocatively lick your right-hand free and pretend like you enjoy it."

I slowly licked up and down my hand, thoroughly sucking on one finger staring deep in her eyes. Oh why couldn't the earth just swallow me up!!!! Luckily I didn't see anyone around, so it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. "Alright, they're clean. Let's go inside."

What a relief. Then I heard a clapping coming from down the alley. Looking down I could see a homeless man down the way putting his hands up. I was mortified!! Someone like that was watching me?!?

Finally we made it to the shop and went inside; I heard the door jingle behind us. However, looking around things were totally different. Gone was the cluttered sporadic placement of items, but instead were neatly arranged glass display counters. Nothing looked the same except for a few of the exotic pieces I remember seeing.

Looking behind the counter, a young lady in her early twenties of oriental decent stood there smiling. Stacey began to walk over to her as I followed closely behind.

"Excuse me, miss. My hus… er I was in here yesterday and bought two parchment pieces from an old man. Is he around?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but you must be mistaken. Only my husband and I run the shop when my mother is not around, and he is hardly old."

"Oh sorry, is your mother around then."

"Yes, let me get her."

My heart was beating with anticipation; I did not like where this was going.

The woman that returned from the back was definitely not the person I had talked to yesterday. This woman was much more rotund and had no male resemblance at all. Still, Stacey trudged on.

"Yes, ma'am, I was in here yesterday and I bought a couple of pieces of parchment, and I was wondering if I could get a bit more history on them."

The woman looked at him quizzically. "What was on the parchment?" Her accent was MUCH easier to understand than the previous day's occupant.

"Um, nothing actually. They were blank."

"I'm sorry, we do not sell blank parchment, sir. I am sure of that."

At this point, I lost my composure, "No!! You don't understand, the little old man that was in here when this place was a wreck yesterday! He's the one that sold me parchment! He's the one that did this to me! You have to help us find him! He has to fix it!!!"

"Look, miss, I don't know who you are or what you are talking about, but there hasn't been a man over 30 working here in over 15 years when my husband died. And I certainly don't sell any parchment any more! I can't help you because you must be mistaken. Now go!"

I continued to plead to both of the ladies dismay, "please, you have to help me! I have to fix this! I'm not supposed to be like this!! I'm suppo-"

My sentence was interrupted by Stacey grabbing a fist full of my hair. It was a technique I frequently used on her during our play time to reassert control and without harming her. He used the hair to stand me back up and back away from the counter.

"I am terribly sorry for the trouble she has caused you. I'm afraid she can get a bit high strung at times. We must have been in a different shop, I apologize. Tell the nice ladies you're sorry and apologize."

"Madam and Miss, i'm terribly sorry that i have caused you so much trouble."

"Good. We were just leaving, weren't we?"

"Yes, Sir."

With that he turned me around and ushered me out the door as I walked in a daze the world shoving in around me. As we approached the alley, the mental image of what I was doing earlier hit me and I broke down. Stacey moved me into the alley as I had a mental break down.

Chapter 6 – Possible explanation

During my sob session a young man exited the back door unseen to me, but Stacey saw him. She approached him and they began talking, but I couldn't hear them over my pity party.

Suddenly, my sobs were broken when Stacey called out to me, "stop crying, take a deep breath, feel better, and come here, hun." And it actually worked. The sobbing stopped I was able to get aA full breath, and I did feel a bit better, though nowhere near 'good'. I then walked in my all too familiar slink over to Stacey and the young man.

"I was just talking to Ben here and he might have an explanation to what happen and how to fix it. Ben is Lisa's husband, the young lady in the store. He says our story sounds like a very old Chinese folklore that has to deal with what is essentially an imp. And from what he says similar to the European myth of Puck."

I looked at them in awe my mouth a little agape. I don't know why I would be so surprised by it. I was just magically transformed into my wife. Why would it be so hard to believe it was a mythical trickster that did it?

"In any event, he thinks he can find us a solution but it might take some time."

I bounced up and down like a giddy little school girl "Oh that'd be great, Sir!!" I suddenly paused when I realized Ben was staring at my bouncing breasts just at or above his diminutive eye level. Not too mention the look he probably got from my skirt flaring. I felt flushed, humiliated, and horny again. This was really not good. I need to get this fixed fast! Especially before Stacey finds out any more details about my list.

"So what do we need to do to start, Sir?"

"Well, that's where I need to talk to you about. From the sounds of it, this will not be easy. It could even get expensive."

I nodded, it makes since.

"Ben needs incentive to do a thorough job, but I don't have any cash to pay him right now and he can't exactly go back inside to use a credit card to pay for this after the stunt you just pulled." That caused me to look down in shame.

"Therefore, being your savoir yet again, I have an idea to give him a good incentive while working to your reward. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good, Sir, but what does he need?"

He looked at me and gave a knowing glance towards Ben's crotch.

"OOohhhh…"

"Now, this needs to be of your own free will. You have to want to pay the price to get this, but it could mean everything gets put back the way it was. So I need you to think about it, do you want to do it or not?"

I stood there and thought about it. The list of things that Stacey still hasn't discovered flashed through my head, the things she has, the alley just before, could I even begin to deal with this?

At that point, I strutted over to Ben and got down on my knees and proceeded to undo his trousers. I reached in and gently removed out his cock. Luckily, it was nowhere near the size of Stacey was this morning and it was very easy to manipulate. I was able to take the full amount in my mouth and quickly suck him to full erection. I then proceeded to use my tongue on the length of the shaft feeling him shutter under this touch. I bet that prissy bitch inside would never do this for him. I began bobbing my head up and down on his cock, the friction causing my lips to send invigorating sensations throughout my body, my pussy began to get wet yet again as I could feel the pleasure building inside him. I looked up through my long eyelashes and locked my baby blues on him. This definitely had the desired affect as he quickly began thrusting in and out of me. Suddenly he exploded deep in my mouth before pulling out once and hitting the side of my face. I then clamped back down on the head licking the tip to get ever last drop out. Finally when he was done, I reached up to the side of my cheek and scooped up the drop of cum with my fingernail. I then proceeded to suck on it while focusing on him, when it hit me that while this didn't taste nearly as good as Stacey's did this morning, it was still very delicious.

"Damn, girl, I expected to at least go back to the car if not home considering your reaction to being in public before. What a really eager slut to do that so openly in public!" I realized Stacey was right; before I even gave them a chance to hear my answer or even hear the full details, I threw myself at Ben. I blushed profusely yet again, feeling my wet knickers beneath me (will they ever dry out?).

"Since the agreement has apparently been entered into, I better give you the details of what you just agreed to. Now that Ben has been given proper incentive, he will research the story and work on finding a solution. Once he has found a solution he will call us and prepare it. At that point, as a reward for finding your resolution, you will allow him to fuck you. After the problem is resolved, we will pay him $10,000 and I will fuck him as his final reward."

Normally, I couldn't even consider fucking this man, but if it got me out of this predicament, then I'd just go through the motions and get it done.

"Sir, how long will this take?"

I was surprised to hear Ben's voice for the first time (other than moaning), "I may have something for you next week, but considering the age & how little myths are past down to current generations, it could take months. I'm sorry, but I don't have a lot of details right now."

Months?!? I could be stuck as slut stacey for months?!? I hope he gets this done in a week!

"Very well then, Ben. Sounds like we have a deal. Here's our number and call us next week to let us know how its going. Hun, thank the man for letting you suck his cock and finding a fix to *your* problem."

"Thank you, Ben, for letting me suck your delicious cock and helping silly me out of my predicament".

He chuckled, "you are very welcome. I look forwarded to pounding your cunt." I couldn't stop the moan before it reached my lips.

Ben went back inside chuckling at my response.

"Come on, little one. Let's get you home."

As her final humiliating instruction on this trip she made this one the worst of all, I think.

"Walk on headed of me to the car and don't look back to see where I am. When you get to the car, I want to spread your feet to be the same width as the break lights then bend over and rub your nipples on the spoiler."

I blinked and started to walk. I couldn't believe she was really going to do this to me. I had quickened my gate to shorten my trip's length, but she seemed to have caught on to that.

I heard her shout from behind me, "strut like a hooker advertising." Oh no!!! I think I just about gushed as the humiliation of exaggerating my already exaggerated walk to look like that of a street whore. It must have taken me 20 minutes to get back to the car. By then nothing but the wetness running down my leg was grabbing my attention from my pussy.

When I reached the trunk, I spread my legs as instructed and leaned over the spoiler. My body shook as I felt the sensation ripple from my chest, through my body before focusing in my crotch. I also got the mental image of my thong enhanced ass being displayed during this lewd act. I don't know how long I remained there rubbing my chest, but it had to have been at least 6 months.

From out of no where I felt a body standing directly behind me. I leaned back in relief hoping to satisfy this hunger that was building in me. I could feel a cock enclosed in the trousers, so I rubbed my ass up and down both sides of the cock hoping it was Stacey and she would relieve this itch.

"Horny little slut aren't you?"

"Yyeesss, Sssir."

I heard the door unlock remotely followed by his command, "Get in; lets go home."

I couldn't believe it but I actually whimpered.

I heard him get in and the car start before I actually got off the trunk and scampered over to my door. He didn't open it. I also saw him put it in gear so I had to dispense with the proper decorum and just risk someone seeing my panties.

Once in the car, I suddenly realized that I actually wanted to get fucked right then, even it was in public. This was just not good!

All the ride home I could do nothing but wiggle and squirm the entire ride. Stacey said almost nothing during the trip back. The only utterance from her was the command to "hush" during her acceleration onto the highway as the revolutions of the engine sent reverberations between my legs eliciting a moan prompting the new command. This left the trip silenced as I could tell she was perturbed by something. Worst of all was the constant desire boiling up from below that I was sure I was leaving a mark in the seat beneath me. The scent alone was driving me nuts and the humiliation of what the desire meant was causing a cyclical reaction spinning me deeper into the depths of arousal.

The speed bumps of our complex alerted me to our arrival home allowing me to struggle back to this absurd reality as Stacey parked the car. 

While I was still composing myself, I heard her door open as she abruptly exited the vehicle. Realizing she wasn't coming around to open the door and I was being left alone, I quick unlatched the door and proceeded outwards, hearing an audible liquid sound as I stood; this was not good. 

By the time I staggered to my feet, I realized she was already at the steps to our door. Quickly, I tried to shuffle up to the door trying to avoid attention; something that seemed extraordinarily impossible across this empty parking lot in these heels. This led to a new discovery: it is impossible to sprint in 5-inch heels. I must have looked a caricature attempting to move quickly without breaking an ankle.

Hearing the door close just prior to my arrival, my heart rate increased. Reaching for the door and turning the handle, I realize the dead bolt is locked. Attempting to rummage in the teeny purse, I discover there is no keys. Knocking lightly on the door, "Sir?" 

No answer. 

Maybe she just didn't hear me. Knocking slightly louder, "Sir?!" 

Still nothing. 

"Mr. Johansen," slightly raising the knocking level. The last thing I want is someone coming out here and seeing me in my current state. Someone walking by seeing some slut dressed to revel standing in front of some boyfriend's/lover's/john's door. Last thing they would expect is her waiting on her husband outside like that. Not unless she's been kicked out like some floozy or slut. Oh no, the thought is even getting me hotter. I've got to get inside this is so humiliating and that damn, stupid stipulation is causing it to turn me on. I am sooo fucking horny!!

Knocking harder on the door, "Mr. Johansen!" 

Suddenly I see the light change behind the peep hole indicating his movement. "Sir, please let me in." 

"I'm so upset with you right now. Knowing you would want *ME* to have been like that." 

Whispering, "sir, I swear, I never thought this would happen." 

"No, I'm sure you would have wanted something like this: Take off your skirt and toss it as far away as you can." 

My eyes go wide as I feel her command taking over my hands, my voice begins to plead, "please, Sir, you know I'd never put you in harms way." I feel the radiant heat against my bear cheeks as my skirt goes flying out of the breezeway into the lawn. I can feel the juices begin to flow as the exposure registers with my mind. "Sir, please! let me in before someone sees me." Thoughts of waking her up this morning with a blow job start going through my head. 

Ominously from behind the door I hear, "now shed that thong and toss it in the other direction." 

The soaked material removing itself makes an audible slurp as I feel the last small slip of my dignity slide away and watch it fly off in my own hand far down the hall. "Siiir!" I feel the heat flowing from my cunt. The very thought that someone might seem me exposed so egregiously hot body even closer to the edge. The very thought of his cock in my mouth drives me even higher. 

Leaning on the door for some modicum of modesty, I plead with her, "ppplease, Siir, I bbeg. let me in. weee can talk this through. please, someoooone might see me." Thoughts of her cock start running through my head as a lick my lips. Rubbing my nipples against the door for some form of relief. 

Suddenly the door is unlocked and the latched removed as I fall inward from leaning on it for cover. I find myself hurtling towards the tile floor landing on my hands and knees on the cold tile. Catching my breath, I look up to see her crotch still sheathed in pants. Recognizing the distinctive bulge I lung at her, deftly removing her cock from her pants. 

I begin giving the most sensual session of head I can trying to get her as excided as possible feeling my cunt twitch with every entrance of her hot rod into my lips. Closing my eyes to focus on the touch, I feel myself getting closer and closer to release. 

I feel her hands run through my hair and I moan at her touch as it causes a shiver down my spine. 

My moans and menstruations are interrupted by her command: "turn around; hands and knees; spread your legs apart." 

Quickly I spin around getting in position and look back over my shoulder at her as my pussy is exposed for her access. I whisper "Please, Master..." 

"I'm sorry, what did you say," I hear her utter. 

Whimpering I realize what she's after, "Please, Master Gregory, fuck your horny, little slut toy!" 

Chuckling she drops her pants long enough to step out of them and my mouth visably waters from the site of her framed cock. I begin slightly rocking back and forth my body driving me out of my mind. 

Slowly she gets down between my thighs, I whimper in anticipation. Suddenly, I feel the tip of her cock teasing my slit, threatening to penetrate at any moment. My vision becomes hazy with lust and I close my eyes to keep some form of balance; my mind focuses on the amazing, foreign feelings. Noticing the heat emanating off of her member reflecting my own throbbing need.

I begin trying to wriggle back to envelop her rod, but she moves out of the way denying that all illusive penetration. As I continue to try and chase her down, mewing and whimpering, begging her to fuck me, she finally speaks out, "open your eyes and look forward." In mid sway, my lids lift and I freeze as the image before me comes into focus.

Before me is an open door into the breeze way notorious for tunneling and echoing the slightest noise to the residence. The thought of everyone hearing my continued lewd activities or even walking back to see the this wanton slut begging to be fucked sends a flush of red blush down my entire body and a new wave of juices down my leg. Reaching out for the door, I realize I can't reach it and maintain contact with the tip teasing me. I continue to try to wriggle back and forth to find the magic line that allows me to thrust onto the cock and hide my indignity by closing the door, but two juxtapose just too far apart.

Biting my lip, I try to stifle the moans. As I hear footsteps echo down the side walk, I realize there is no time, so I quickly lunge my body forward taping at the door, sending it slamming forward as I thrust back to impale myself on........ air....

Looking behind me, the glorious rod is bouncing well above me as she deftly stood up out of the way. Grinning down with a smirk that I'm sure is all to familiar with anyone who knows me but is oddly foreign from this angle it sends a shiver down my spine as she accompanies it with a, "you know what, hun? I don't think we've checked the mail in a few days."

What kind of sick, perverted mind thinks of a mailbox 300 yds away on the other end of the complex when there is a horny, wet, salivating eager cunt directly in front of them? What the hell is wrong with her....

"Be a dear and retrieve either your panties or skirt from outside then go get the mail; I think I need to go cool off for a bit."

Panting, my perplexed and over run mind tries to comprehend everything that just happened, but the wiring seems to not be fully run. Slowly, I try to move forward to comply by my body can barely move to comply. Seeing my dazed look I think, he takes a bit of pity on me and says, "first, take some calming breaths, get enough of your composure back to stand up and walk before you head out."

Inhaling and exhaling, some of my faculties return as it fully hits me what I was about to do; my body shivers in both fear and anticipatory desire. Seeing her pull up my jeans and plop on the bar stool at our counter, I slowly make my way up the wall to a standing position, only to be met with the revalation that she meant her last directive.

Shaking, I respond with a "Yes, Master" hoping she chuckles and takes it back, but there is no reprieve only more of that smirk.

Slowly, I turn around and step towards the door. Taking a deep breath, knowing what comes next, I reach for the handle and....

Up next - "Chapter 8 -- Adventures in the Mail Room"

This story is intended for open-minded, adult audiences only and deals with adult, highly sexual, and magically fictional concepts. If your age, opinions, location, and/or general attitude prevent you from legally enjoying such stories, do not read on!! This story has been posted with the author's consent to the TGFiction.NET (I know this, because I, the author, am the one typing this). Any redistribution, reprinting, reproducing, reposting, or otherwise thieving this intellectual property without the author's explicit consent is strictly prohibited. If you would like to legally repost this on a free website, please feel free to contact the author and she most likely will be happy to oblige.

As my fingers make the initial contact with the door handle, I hear the gracious sound of my voice near the hall to the back of the apartment, "Oh, George, wait..."

I turn on my heels and look back at her with a pleading smile, glad to hear the joke is off.

"I almost forgot, make sure when you bend over to pick things up, you bend at the waist and leave the knees straight.  Oh and keep your heels shoulder width apart; wouldn't want you to lose your balance would we?  Also, make sure your swing your arms while you walk to keep your balance; don't hold onto your clothes, be polite and smile to anyone you see, and take your time to read in depth any magazine on your way back making sure not to drop it, hold it firmly with both hands," all with that annoying smirk.

I stand there with my mouth slightly agape listening to all this, I can't believe it’s her.  The woman has gone drunk with power.  My brain tries to comprehend what the heck is going on and where is she going with all this...  My mind somehow sputters out a "Ye-yes, Mmaster..."

Laughing she says, "Good. Now get to it!"

My wrist shifts turning the handle as I open the door.  In a haze, I step outside; the "click-click" of my two heels on the pavement as I stand there a bit perplexed just long enough for the apartment door to swing itself shut behind me with a "thud".  The wind is gracious enough to remind me of the first directive as a cold breeze envelops my legs and ass.

I dart my head left and right realizing there is no hope of turning around to go in, I try to figure out if there is anyone about, but I don't hear movement and I see no signs.  I'm now left with the first dilemma: where are the skirt and panties?

Looking to the right, I see a small sheen on the brick façade leading down behind bushes; beneath the streak I can see a small pile that must be the panties.  That's a lost cause.

To the left, I can see the tail of the skirt flittering in the wind at the edge of the side walk; to the left it is!

Taking a few timid steps, wrists out to 'keep my balance' (argh), I see no one about and quickly mince the last few steps I reach it.  Darting my head about to look for anyone, my blonde locks flying about, I see no one. I go to kneel down to grab it, but of course nothing happens.  Amazingly, no matter how I try, my knees will not give to assist my arms.

I begin to panic as I hear a car in the distance.  Taking a deep breath, I resign myself to the all too detailed instructions for such a simple task. Standing before the skirt, I move my left shoe apart from the right with a click of the heel; I feel the conspiratory wind tickling my lips cooling the too damp skin.  With a feat only reserved for gymnasts, strippers, and porn stars, I bend my body in half to reach for the skirt as a blusterous day gust tantalizing my lips causes me to gasp.

With the cloth firmly in hand, I stand bolt upright and 'dash' as best I can in the heels to the shadows of our breezeway, throwing my body up against the wall for some mild form of hiding.

I can hear a car hit the speed bumps announcing it’s at the corner to this section of the apartment maze, as a slink a bit further into the shadows holding my skirt over my midsection.  Thankfully, it continues on it’s marry way with nary an indicator of my existence.

At this moment, my lungs remind me that I can breathe and a quick exhale escapes my lips as I begin panting.

Addressing the next task I look down at the heels & skirt, take a deep breath, and request my left knee to rise. My formerly contentious knee rose without resistance, so obviously my body movements are not always my own.  Glancing around quickly, I try to calm my breath, pull my leg up, push the skirt down, and slide my shoe into the skirt.  This quickly lead to a forceful lesson reminding me just how foreign my clothing was as my shoe reflexively went to return to the concrete to relieve its partner, the spike of the heel caught the waistband and quickly ripped the clothing from my hand.

Staring down in disbelief, I see the skirt yet again on the ground and a replay of what I've already gone through goes through my head.  My heart races as I realize what is about to take place.  Swallowing to try to do something to relieve my stress somehow, I force the realization through my head that it’s now or never.

Taking a deep breath, I spread my heels to either side of the skirt, and lean down between my thighs, as I feel my cheeks rub against the façade I can make out the tickling of my lips against the wall as I finally reach my objective.

Grasping hold of the cloth, I stand back upright as I try to continue this again.  Three more times I find my feet spread and leaning over to retrieve the skirt as my body is shaking from fear that any moment someone is going to find me or the trail leading down my leg sent from my quivering lips indicating how much this has excited me.

Finally on the fifth attempt, the waistband reaches my quaking knees. Taking just a moment to congratulate myself at such a simple task, I let a quick giggle escape my lips before sighing to relieve some exasperation. Knowing that I am still way too exposed I complete the last step and pull the waistband to my waist, exhaling with completion and a silly grin on my face.

However, the grin quickly slid from my face as I look to my right where the soaked remnants of the panties remain and I'm reminded that is all is needed & a much more daunting task remains.

With extreme trepidation and a deep sigh, I push myself off of the wall to stand freely on my shaky knees and begin the trek across the complex. Leaving my hands to swing, I take the first torturous step as my thighs remind me of the deep soaking they're receiving and the unobstructed air tickles my nether lips.  Looking behind me, I can see a shine left behind as I whimper and try to accelerate away on this task.

Moving as quickly as I can, I hear the clop-clop-clop of my heels on the winding path around my complex.  Dreading seeing anyone, I take as many side paths as I can avoiding the parking lot when suddenly I hear a whistle and look up realizing I've found myself next to the pool of all places!!!  Looking at the source of the whistle, I notice the two inhabitants of the area are a couple of lads who can't be much more than college age staring at me with lust in their eyes.  Reflexively I smile and wave 'politely' as I continue on as quickly as I can.

"Oh, you don't have to go, angel cakes," one shouts out, "you can swim with me."

Finding myself not able to 'rudely ignore' him apparently, I turn my head to smile over my shoulder and shout "I'm terribly sorry, but I am in a hurry.  Perhaps later."  And as I politely wave, Murphy's wind apparently decides to intrude and gust swiftly from behind flipping up my skirt.  Realizing that I can't stop the rear flashing, my cheeks flush red and I attempt to quicken my pace.

"Hot damn!" they both shout.  "Oh sweet cheeks," the second guy shouts, "at least shake that naked ass if you're going to walk away."

I'm not sure how this could be considered what's needed to be polite, but my ass starts to shake viciously side to side as I quickly escape around the corner along the path between two buildings almost hyperventilating as my thighs are practically drenched.

Tripping out from between the buildings, I spot the mailbox hut just across a few parking rows.  Walking under a covered parking spot, I glance quickly from side to side to make sure no cars are coming, as I quickly dart across the driveway, reaching the hut.

Suddenly, a simple little fact enters my scattered and distracted brain: I don't have the key! Crap!!

Well, I could wander all the way back to the apartment, but the front desk is next door.  It's Saturday, so Debbie should be at the front desk; she'd be easier to deal with than running into the two swimmers.  At least she won't be leering at me.

So with a quick skip, I move around the corner to the rear of the visitor's center and find the doorway in.  Grasping the door and pulling on it, I'm reminded how well they sealed this place up.  Pulling forcefully, the door finally gives way and a gust of wind pushes out tossing my skirt in the air.  Gasping a yelp at the shrill thrill the air conditioned wind gives my heated clit, I pause for a moment to regain my composure and let my skirt settle down thankful no one was observing it.

Clicking along on my heels, I navigate the residents' hallway to the front desk and come around the corner nearly running directly into the cheerful face of Debbie.

"Oh, Stacey! I was hoping those were your heels I was hearing!" Debbie remarked looking up at me through her hair. "You always have the hottest heels; I just find it amazing you can even walk in them."

Passing on the oddity of her comment as Stacey almost never wore heels but seeing her smile, I return a requisite mirror and blush just a bit before replying, "Thank you so much, sweetie!  Umm... I hate to bother you, but I was just going to check our mail when I realized I left my mailbox key in our apartment.  Could I borrow a spare for a moment?"

"Hehe. Blonde moment, huh?" jabbed the cute little brunette.

"Ya, I'm sorry.  If it’s not a trouble, I'd be very thankful," I said as I twirled a blonde loch and bit my lip in apprehension.

I noticed Debbie staring up at the twirl as she inhaled a bit deeper than necessary.  I'm sure there was least an eternity before she finally broke her gaze (but more like 2 seconds) and said, "Oh! uh, sure, hun!  Let me just, ya, get that for you."  And with a start she dipped her head down and slinked around the corner.

I stood there absently mindedly twirling my fingers, suddenly realizing the air conditioned air was causing the liquid between my thighs to quickly cool & I slowly slid my legs back and forth trying to warm them up.

Closing my eyes and focusing on warming my thighs, I slowly swayed trying to increase the friction.  Suddenly, my focus is broken as I hear her gasp as she walks back in.  I open my eyes to see her standing slightly slack jaw glancing around and waving her blouse.

"um, uh... here's that key," she stammers out while holding out the small key.  I can see she must have been flustered by my wanton rubbing; she must think I'm a real hussy.

"Oh uh, thanks," I squeak out in response to grab the key as I blush from the wriggling waist I must have been showing off.

"I'll bring it back when I'm done," I say as I drop the key in the only compartment I can think of a girl without a purse has and place it inside my shirt along my breast.

Staring at my lewd action, Debbie stammered out, "ya, fine. um, great," looking up at my eyes I see what must be her sales girl smile they're trained to use regardless of how bad their client is, "look forward to it".

Blushing further, I turn quickly to head out the front door to the mailroom.  However, halfway there, I hear the *tink, tink, tink* of metal on hard floor.  Glancing down, see the damn key fell through my shirt onto the floor.  "Dammit!" I would love to know how girls get that to actually work.

Without thinking, I bend down to retrieve the key; its only when I hear the squeak behind me, I realize: my legs are spread wide and I'm bent all the way over at my waist.  Glancing back between my ankles, I see Debbie standing behind me, her neck & cheeks red, looking right at my skirt. Or, crap!  Right where my skirt is pulled up over.

My lips involuntary quiver as I realize I'm completely exposed to that sweet, young girl!  I'm such a tramp.

Griping the key and bolting up right I swish out the door as fast as I can shouting, "Bye!" behind me and shuffle down the sidewalk as quick as I can with these ungodly heels.

Behind me, I hear a click of the door lock and I glance back to see the Open sign turn to "Will be back" by a ghostly hand.  I must have scared her off... probably went to go find her boss to complain; I can see the police report now.

I figure I better finish this up now, while I still can.  I get to the mailbox and realize the next annoying challenge.  There is the damn mailbox..... all the way down at the bottom.  That damn bitch knew that exactly when she said how to bend over before.

Sighing, realizing this is my fate, I push my feet aside and looking around behind me, take out the key and say a silent prayer.  Finally with a last deep breath, I bend over at the waist and slide the key in.  Turning it, I pull it out and see the overfilled contents.  "Crap," I sigh.

The damn wind conspires again as a gust reminds me of my predicament as the cooling causes a twinge between my thighs.

I reach into the box and try to pull it out, but it holds firmly to the girth that were shoved firmly in by the resident mailman.  Grabbing the magazine that was wrapped around everything else firmly with both hands, I tighten it up and pull firmly; once, twice, thrice.  I feel the skirt sway with every tug; its edges tickling much higher than I would like, taunting me telling just what is exposed without even looking.

Finally, the metal jaw lets loose its cold grip of the post and my precarious stance exemplifies just why no lady should do this as I feel my weight thrown backwards.   With the weight now on the back of my heels the spikes dig into the concrete effectively locking them in place, preventing me sliding either foot back to catch my balance.  Feeling the shift move backwards, I quickly try to strain my back muscles to thrust my upper body vertically; however, the shifting mammary weight and the already backward moment seem to just fling me backwards.

I was quickly glad to feel the extra padding in place because I landed almost squarely on my derriere with my spine almost straight upward with an almost audible slap followed by a sharp yelp which would probably call a squeak if I were being honest with myself.  I could feel the course texture of the concrete on my clit causing an almost pleasurable feeling and a quick tensing of my body.  As I was distracted by the odd sensations, I felt my momentum continue in a rotation backwards my back quickly fell into the grass.  My legs locked in relative position from tensing and hoping to keep from falling backwards, my stiletto adorned feet flew upward and left quite a remarkable view against the soft blue sky.

At this point, I quickly realized that this position left the skirt high up my waist and my entire crotch exposed to anyone looking at the heels waving in the air as almost a beckon.  Feeling the sun beat down on what should be covered, I quickly tossed my hands down to thrust the hem back to covering what little modesty it can provide.  As my head quickly darted around to try to see if anyone was noticing me, I could feel my hair wiping around blinding my eyes, panting heavily.

Not seeing anyone around, I did not want to wait around to see if someone would show up, so I quickly stood up.  Dusting myself off, I took one more look around and went to pick up the pile of letters I had frantically dropped on the ground before.  Of course, I couldn't just pick it up; that would be too easy and quick.  Still panting and seeing yet another moist spot on the concrete where I had fallen, I took a deep breath, assumed the position and quickly bent over, coming back up with the pile of post.

Coming up quickly, I returned back to the metal door that was my tormentor.  Bending over to flash the world yet again, I reach down to close the door and lock it back.  I heard a car coming, but of course the key wouldn't turn smoothly.  Continually trying, but the damn one would still not rotate back no matter how frantically I wiggled even as I heard an approach.  Just as I get it the key turned, I hear tires smacking a curb and a car jostling harshly.

Standing up quickly, I spun around to see what the commotion was.  Driving along with a rather distracted and flush looking man, darting his eyes back and forth at me was a Chevy pickup.  With one final glance back at me, he looked back at me with a large smile and winked; I felt my whole body flush with embarrassment and a tingle between my legs.  Quickly, I averted my eyes and opened the magazine to begin my trek back with hopefully decidedly less interceptions.

Realizing that trying to take the back paths was not advantageous after all, I quickly began to just walk in the most direct route I could my face staring down into the only magazine in the lot to try to avoid recognition with anyone.  My pulse was pounding so hard and trying to focus on my hearing so much, it must have been at least 200 yards before my brain finally registered what I was looking at.

There before me in the center of my focus, for all its glory, was the swollen, cut member of the well endowed Mr. June. Frantically closing the magazine, I see that somehow there was an edition to "Playgirl" delivered to our box.  More over, it was addressed to Stacey, but she had never once subscribed to anything like this.

All too quickly, the compulsion from my earlier directives force me to open it.  While several agonizing steps back to the apartment continued to be punctuated by the natural lubrication running down my thighs and the constant thrusting of the wind lifting my skirt for any passer by, I was self compelled to stare at the nude male specimens before me.  Without being able to avert my eyes from the publication, I couldn't tell how much my nemesis of a blow hard the wind was really exposing my uncovered ass to, nor could my ears alert me to any gasps or traffic from anyone around as the click-click-click of my heels and pounding of my heart drowned out anything except for the constant punishment of the wind against my ears.

With a final step, I reached my apartment, half expecting it to be locked, I turned the handle, only to have the door actually give way under my weight as dead bolts were not offering any resistance.  Literally, falling into the safety of the apartment, spilling my paper cargo on the floor, I begin panting as I do not know when the last time I actually afford myself the luxury of a breath.

Realizing I was still on all fours with a door still exposing me to the world, I reached by with my pump and shoved the door closed.  Safety at last, I collapsed into the floor crying as I let the flood of emotions out.

I don't know how long I exactly remained there nearly balling, but I suddenly realized that my spouse was nowhere in our house.  Or at the very least never, made her presence known.

"Sir?" I blurted out.

No response.

"Sir? I finished my task and got the mail," I repeated a bit louder, but was still not treated to any sound.

Standing up, I left my cargo where it lie and brushed down the excuse for clothing, "Master?!?", I shouted as I continued back to our bedroom without any form of a retort.

Finally reaching there, I see a small pile of items on the foot of the bed accompanied by a small note.

Picking up the note, the first few lines clearly state my day is nowhere near done:

Dear "stacey",

Well, you finally made it home, so here's your next assignment....

Up Next "Chapter 9 -- Poolside Peril"...