Chains: Second Link


I saw her auburn hair gloriously streaming down her back at the funeral.

One of my wife Sue’s co-workers had died from cancer. Sue had dragged me to the funeral so she could socialize. She held my arm with two small sweaty hands and sniffed appropriately as we wound our way through the crowd to find seats. I looked over the crowd and decided I didn’t want a funeral – on the other hand, a large drunken orgy…

Then I saw her hair. She was dressed in black and stood beside a man dressed in black. She had a small black hat that perched precariously on top of that riot of hair and a black dress that fell to her knees. I watched her as my wife dragged me around to meet and greet before the speeches began.

Finally I was able to slip away. I found her with her back to me, standing gazing off through a rain spattered window at an empty field. I slipped up behind her and whispered, “It’s my turn for a fantasy…”

Her muscles stiffened. Without turning, her whispered reply came, “I can’t…” She took a deep breath, then another, “Where? When?”

“In ten minutes, go to the Ladies powder room.”

I slipped away down the hall to the restrooms. Just beyond them was a chain across the hall that held a sign, ‘No Admittance’. I waited behind the Men’s room door door until I heard footsteps coming down the hall toward me.

The footsteps slowed as they passed the Men’s room. I stepped out silently and found myself behind her. I reached around her waist, she gasped as guided her to the chain. I quickly unhooked it and pushed her through, I then reattached it and guided her to the door that opened to the other side of the hallway from the washrooms. I tried it. It was unlocked and nobody was there. We mounted three steps that led to a platform where there were five chairs and a screen that Ankara travesti separated this room from the main chapel.

The first hymn had just begun.

“Put your hands on the arms of that chair,” I whispered in her ear. “Do you want the story before after or during..”

Her breath caught again. I heard her swallow. Her hands reached out and grabbed the chair arms in a death grip. I moved in behind her so that my crotch was tight against her ass. I leaned over her back and whispered again, “Before after or during..”

Breathlessly, “Oh, god…” she sucked in a deep breath, “during.”

“I am going to fuck you now,” I whispered, “I am going to lift the back of your skirt over your ass. Then I will push your panties down to your feet. You will step out of them. I will slip them into my pocket.”

I slowly slid my hands down from her waist to the backs of her thighs – down to the back of her knees. I could feel her trembling under my touch. My hands reached the hem of her skirt. I ran my hands back up her thighs, pushing the skirt in from of them. Another gasp from her as I slipped my thumbs into the crack of her ass, pushing the string of her thong in deeper. She moaned quietly as my thumbs passed over her anus.

The music swelled as the chorus was sung.

A quick flip and the skirt was up over her back. I slid my hands down again, hooking the top of her thong in my fingers. I ran my hands around her waist as she sucked in another deep breath. The slow downward pressure I applied had her squirming as the thong slid over the round globes of her taut ass.

Another verse began.

Down I went, down her thighs, both hands caressing, both hands dragging the filmy piece of cloth, down over the backs of her knees, down her calves, down to her ankles. Konya travesti I tapped her left foot, she obediently lifted it so I could slip the side band thong over her sock and slipper, off her foot. I tapped her right foot, again she lifted it. I slipped the thong off. The crotch of the thong was wet and gave off a heady odour. I slipped it into my pocket.

The organ drowned out the singers as they lost the words.

I stood up and trailed my hands back up her naked flesh. I ran my thumbs for her anus again – another moan – and squeezed her cheeks in my hands. Leaning over her, I continued my story.

“You panties are mine now. I am going to drop my pants and shorts. You are going to spread your legs and bend over further. Then I will play with your pussy. I will use my tongue, my nose, and my hand. Then I will rub my cock all over your cunt.”

Another chorus was belted out.

Another tremble shook her body as I dropped my pants and shorts in one quick scuffle of clothing. Then I knelt behind her and lapped her cunt with my tongue all the way from her clit to her asshole. She was drenched in fresh woman dew. Next I began to push my nose at her vaginal opening as I licked her clit.

The music disappeared as the minister began he eulogy.

She moan softly and gasped when I lightly bit her clit. I was holding her thighs in my hands while continued to lap and probe. Then i slid one hand up and replace my probing tongue with my fingers. I flicked her clit with a finger while darting my tongue up her canal and pressing my nose firmly against her anal rose bud.

The monotone of the minister’s voice droned on.

She came. I could tell by the spasm on my tongue, by the groan from her mouth and from the gush of juices into my mouth.

Once again İzmir travesti the organ rose into song.

I stood behind her and pressed my rock hard diamond drill against the soft flesh of her labia. I rotated it and rubbed it through the liquid splash of her cum until it was soaked. I pressed the tip against the entrance to her womb.

The voices of the mourners mumbled the words to the hymn.

“I am ready to shove my dick all the way in to your cunt and fuck you until you are blind. Shall I?” I whispered.

“Oh, yes, please, hard…”

I rammed my drill home with enough force to cause the chair to move. I sheathed myself up to my balls in her warm, moist tunnel. I think she came again. I pulled out and began a rhythmic piston action in time to the tune of the organ.

“I am fucking you,” I whispered, “at a funeral… with a dead body… not ten feet in front of you… I wonder… what her ghost… is thinking… maybe that… the sucking… and stretching… in your cunt… should be… in hers… look… did her eyes flutter?”

She moaned again and I could feel the flutter of another orgasm. I sped up my movement as I reached under her to grab her breasts through her blouse. Faster and faster we moved against each other until just when I thought I would die, a crescendo on the accompanying organ set off our explosion.

I sagged on top of her, glad of the wobbly support of her legs. Slowly, sucking in deep breaths, I straightened, backed up a step and reached down for my pants. I quickly slipped them up, redid the buttons and adjusted my belt. I flipped her skirt down, helped her stand, where she leaned drunkenly against me.

The minister was at it again, introducing the first of the speakers, waiting for them to come to the podium.

I helped her down the steps and out to the hall. Once again I unfastened the chain, led us through and then refastened it. In the hall I leaned over her once more to whisper, “Market Mall, 2:30, Thursday, outside Sleep Country,” kissed her softly on the cheek and pushed her into the Ladies room.

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