Video Jukebox: Ex-Girl To Next Girl

A brilliant rap from a simpler time, when a guy could rap about his girl troubles without resorting to flagrant misogyny.

Witty, funny, and musical . . . light-years ahead of so much crap that has come down the pike since.




Fiction: Journey Down, Part 4

The first week: Friday night, Part 1

Terri marveled at how it always seemed that the less you're wearing, the longer it takes to get dressed.

She looked at herself in the mirror. The outfit that Dave had asked her to wear (he had actually asked, but in Terri's mind is was totally a command) was clearly designed to make the woman wearing it extremely aware of . . . herself.

With no underwear, the shortness of the dress was foremost in mind every second -- she had to move in a very calculated fashion to avoid exposing herself. The half-bra made her already firm and sizable breasts stand out even more; and no matter how many times she checked it was impossible for her to convince herself that her nipples weren't visible through the dress. The heels were so high that she needed to concentrate a bit on her walk, and take very small steps.

It was on outfit in which one would be looked at in one way and one way, only . . . and Terri could feel herself melt inside when she thought about that.

* * *

Dinner, thankfully, went fast. Terri was so focused on how incredibly badly she needed to be fucked, and to finally cum, that she wasn't thinking about much else. Her mind was like mush . . . but Dave at one point stared into her eyes, making sure this one exchange she remembered clearly.

"Terri . . . it's clear that we hit it off, and it's very clear that you're the kind of girl who likes to be told what to do."

Terri just nodded, each word of his gently pushing on some button she was only remotely aware was there to be pushed.

"So, that's how I'll approach things. I enjoy telling you what to do, so I will do that. If there is something you cannot do, or don't want to do, then you have to say that and we'll have a discussion. In the absence of that, I expect that My commands will be followed, immediately,totally, and cheerfully."

Terri nodded again, his gaze on her the only thing keeping her attached to the here and now. "I understand," she said.

"I will try to keep things simple at first . . . so that you can acclimate yourself to the situation. At times it might seem as though there is too much, but you'll eventually see that you're capable of handling quite a bit."

Terri nodded, but "capable" was the last thing she felt at this moment.


* * *

They got back to Dave's house and the first thing he did was have her take off the dress, leaving in just the half bra, stockings, garters, and heels. He gave a very short black silk robe to put on. In truth it really didn't cover anything but psychologically Terri felt better with it on.

"This is the first thing, Terri. In my house, this is all the modesty you're allowed. You're to wear this robe, or less at all times when you're here unless I've dictated otherwise."

Terri listened, nodding.

Dave sat down and Terri didn't really need to hear the order . . . she sank to her knees and within seconds had his cock out and was on it, greedily sucking.

In seconds she found herself in that dark, soft, blissfully sinking place. The feel and smell and sounds blended into one continuous sensory hum . . . she could never recall her mind being so totally empty, empty of everything but experiencing what she was helping create . . . the rhythm of it so gently but inexorably pushing her down . . . her eyes shut tight, afraid to open them lest the entire sensory bundle disappear like some magic spell.

She had no idea how long it went on . . . Dave seemingly could hold out, hold out, hold out, and then explode instantly at any chosen moment. One moment she was deep in that warm darkness and the next there was nothing but the taste of his explosion filling her mouth . . . his hand firmly holding her there as his cock emptied . . . she moaned deeply as she swallowed every drop, sucking him dry, and feeling something inside her melting . . . slowly giving way.