She flung the door open and stood silent and still, watching the tremors of shock work their way through the muscles of Giuseppe's face. His shoulders seemed to go limp, and one glance down confirmed the instantaneous transfer of energy from his upper body to his groin. She reached out a hand, pulling him inside, her tongue slipping under the collar of his shirt as her hands found the stiffness of his cock.

"Ms. Tinnell!" he exclaimed into her hair, and did it matter what soup of emotions were contained in his simple declaration of her name? She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly, and when his pants and briefs were bunched at the ankles, she pulled him deep into the living room, pushing him hard so that his ass sank unceremoniously into the cushions of her sofa. She climbed aboard, knees bent and thighs spread wide, her tits molding themselves to the sides of his jaw.

"This will make things even better," she breathed, wrapping the blindfold snugly around his head, tying it tight.

"But Jacques will wonder where I am!" he groaned, as if she or he could give a damn what his co-worker thought. Giuseppe's hands clutched at her thighs, and she thought for an instant that he would try to resist. But his hands roamed hungrily, feeling her thighs, squeezing her calves, taking her measure as though he had played this scene in his mind dozens of times, and now wanted to affix the details precisely in his memory for future use.

She adjusted her position, spreading his legs as she slipped down between them. Kneeling on the carpet like a supplicant, she fondled his cock, treating it to the appetizer of her hot hands. Giuseppe groaned his soft Italian groans, never hearing Holly and Katia pad forward, their bodies as naked as their feet. A growl of lust escaped from Catherine's throat they were so beautiful, their bodies different from each other yet equally exquisite. She tried to see Katia's pubic hairs, but the girl cruelly shielded them with one hand, as though she knew of Catherine's interest. And in Katia's other hand. Catherine's growl became lower and more animal when she caught sight of it, the dark phallic object, held like a weapon of love.

Oh my God, no, no! Inconceivable, totally forbidden! It was huge, almost twice the size of Giuseppe's dick, and just unthinkable! She knew that things like that existed, there were shops all over the Village with adult toys of all kinds but here, for her? She should be running, or screaming, or feeling horribly perverse and disgusted. Why, then, was her too-big clitoris screaming for joy? Why was her pussy becoming drenched, feeling so empty, and opening, fully opening?

She lost sight of Katia. Holly remained in view, standing behind the sofa, right above Giuseppe's head. She licked her fingers and tweaked her big nipples, and then Catherine saw what she had wanted to see for days, the sight of Holly's extraordinary tits being hefted, and squeezed, and oh my God, she could lift her tits and suck on her own nipples!

Catherine was near the edge already, before feeling the sensation of the. the terrible thing, the hard thing, all lubricated and warm, dancing lightly at the back of her legs. The touch should terrify her, why didn't it terrify her? Her body responded counter-intuitively, spreading out, opening, her strong calves working to raise her rear into the air. She felt as though her body was instantly tuning into the choreography of this perverse and unfamiliar sex scene. She was inventing a sexual ballet position, one that allowed her head to swallow one dance partner while completely opening her pussy for penetration from behind.

The change in her position brought her mouth right into Giuseppe's lap, and yes, now was the time, and she opened wide, wrapping her lips around his hard cock. She licked, dribbled, puckered and twisted, feeling Giuseppe grow more in her mouth, her tongue and saliva conquering any silly fears he had about his job security. She lifted her eyes to watch Giuseppe's grimacing mouth. Holly's spectacular tit-show, unseen and probably unknown to him, was taking place right above his head.

And then, with a suddenness that propelled Giuseppe's cock to the back of Catherine's mouth, the huge hard thing that had been teasing at her thighs was thrust into her gaping hole.

"Uuuuoooommmm!" her stuffed mouth cried. Oh God, oh God, would it fill her, would she finally be completely filled? She felt Katia twisting the phallus, cork-screwing it deeper into her tunnel, and she couldn't help twisting her head in response, giving her doorman some approximation of the searing pleasure she felt erupting inside. He started to groan, panting, and Catherine screamed, and screamed again, giving Giuseppe's stunned cock a screamjob as she felt her tunnel so deliciously stretched, so blissfully filled.

Her doorman's hips bucked, his gaspy groans running together. Behind him, Holly lowered her hands to her pussy and bent over, vibrating her massive boobs against Giuseppe's neck and the back of his head. Did he even know that he was receiving the attentions of two women? Did he think that Catherine's tits could be up there while she was blowing him down here? She didn't know, but she sensed the change in his cock, a moment of telltale swelling, and she knew that he was ready to pop. Her throat opened eagerly to drink him down, and then he was spurting, shouting his release, the taste of his hot cum filling her mouth just as the phallus inside touched deep places in her interior that had never been touched before.

Catherine came. And came and came, the explosions inside shooting waves of energy everywhere. Her cunt and limbs and head roiled in a wild froth of liquid pleasure, and she heard herself screaming, the sounds still muted by Giuseppe's meat, the shockwaves reverberating over and over. And then she was floating, feeling ghostly, churning currents of pleasure taking her downstream. Her body seemed to disappear for a few moments, but then it was there again, her form defined by the hands stroking her legs and squeezing her breasts. She was there again, being carried feet-first, the river's hot water tickling at her nipples. She felt like she should paddle or swim to stay afloat, but her arms wouldn't work right, as though they were glued together at the wrists.

Her nipples were on fire, the hot liquid licking at them. She opened her eyes. She was lying on her bed, and there was Holly above her on all fours, sucking on her nipples. Holly's grand breasts billowed down, her large, hard nipples lightly brushing Catherine's taut belly. Oh God, the touch, the knowing touch of a woman. And further down, out of sight beyond Holly's sturdy body, little kisses being applied to her thighs, hands stroking her calves. Katia. Lovely little Katia, of the mysteriously colored pubic hairs.

Catherine didn't know what she wanted more the taste of a pussy on her tongue? The touch of a tongue on her pussy? Or just knowing, finally, the exact color of Katia's patch? She shouldn't want any of it, and yet she was dying for it all. She was dying to taste their pussies, dying to feel Holly's tits in her hands, dying to run her hands all over Katia's trim body.

She tried to reach out to grasp Holly's huge hangers. But her hands didn't obey. Oh fuck! The wrist restraints! They had bound her wrists, she had no use of her hands!

"Uuooohhh!" she groaned. "I need to. I have to."

"Not until we let you," Holly whispered, her lips taking turns with Catherine's nipples, sucking on them, pulling them up and letting them go.

"Oh God!" Catherine cried, feeling her nipples growing with every pull, growing like her clitoris had grown, so impossibly large, so impossibly needy. Katia's tongue closed in on her steaming box, the sensation of a tongue near her clit bringing that strange feeling back into sharp focus, that sensation of her pleasure nubbin being several times its normal size. She began to pant, her head thrashing back and forth. Oh God, touch it! Touch it! But Katia slipped her tongue around and around the area, dabbing briefly inside her tunnel, coming close, oh God so close.

She felt her big, super-sensitive clit stretch out, seeking the tongue that refused to meet it. How could this be happening, how could her clit be alive like this, almost sentient, elongating its shape to reach out, stretching to meet Katia's approaching tongue?

Holly's lips left her nipples, and she dragged her bountiful breasts down Catherine's torso. At the same time, Katia's tongue left off its leg-licking. Oh God, they were going at her in a coordinated way, like tag team lovers. Catherine lost track of Katia, her body screaming at the sinuously movement of Holly's heavenly boobs upon her lower belly. They moved down, brushing Catherine's trim bush, her upper thighs, her knees. And then Holly folded her body forward, her tongue moving in tight circles, painting the folds of her labia with warm saliva. The tongue-tip dabbed, stroked, sometimes soft and light, sometimes harder, with more pressure. And then Holly's tongue reached inside her tunnel to replenish itself with Catherine's own juices before withdrawing, and moving up, and up more, and ohGod yes, finally brushing against her massive pounding clit.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

"It's your turn to give," Katia's voice came, And there she was, behind Catherine's head, her legs spread wide, her pussy descending to be eaten. Oh yes, oh yes, tasting a woman, she would finally taste a woman. No. Oh no, no! Katia cruelly held the palm of one hand flat above her glistening slit, hiding her pubic hairs, keeping their color a mystery.

"Aaaahhhhhhh!" Catherine screamed. She had to know, she had to know!

Katia grinned above, upside down. "Why don't you just move my hand, Catherine?"

"I. I can't! My wrists. Untie me! Untie me!"

"But there's nothing binding you wrists, came Holly's voice from between her legs.

The bitch! Of course there was something binding her wrists! They had.

"Just move your hands Catherine. We'll let you do that now."

She willed her hands to move. And there they were, in front of her face, with no marks or indentations on her flesh. What. How could this be? They had been bound, they had been bound!

But now they were free, free to grasp Katia's protective, hiding hand, and pull it away, and. Yes! Oh God yes! Blonde pubic hairs! Blonder than Holly's! Paler, finer.

She felt it coming, a surge like an approaching tidal wave. Her tongue reached out above, her oversized clit reached out down below, and she tasted, and was tasted, as the surge crashed forward, always moving forward, the taste of freedom exploding everywhere, filling her, overwhelming her senses, her screams of freedom sounding, reverberating in Katia's dark, wet tunnel.

CLASS FIVE

She leaned her head against the fogged window, trying not to wiggle her legs like a woman who had to pee. Halfway to Philadelphia on the afternoon train, she could barely keep from masturbating in her seat, or begging the businessman seated next to her to reach under her skirt to do the deed for her. Oh God, she was such a mess, and spending several days with Charles was going to be so hard. It would be bad enough to return to her fianc with her tail between her legs, but it was much, much worse than that. How could she ever explain to Charles that she had some sort of voracious beast between her legs, a runaway, devouring hole that felt as though it could never be totally filled? She couldn't. She couldn't even explain it to herself. Nor could she understand how her appetites kept increasing like this. She shouldn't be all super-itchy, she should be exhausted, and sore.

And satisfied. How could she still be so horny after so much. fornicating? She couldn't be, and yet there they were right now her tunnel, feeling a mile deep, and her clitoris, feeling far too large and far too needy. Her nipples were the same. She opened the front of her coat just enough to peek inside, to make sure that they really weren't as large as pill bottles. Fuck, something. terribly unusual, was going on, something way beyond a "normal" sexual awakening. It didn't make sense that her body's needs would change this dramatically, and so fast, as though a switch had been flipped in the depths of her being. And the way her vagina and nipples ached. It was almost like a hallucination, a misfiring connection between her body and her brain. Was her body dishing out sensory punishment for years of repression? Or maybe she was truly going insane, and like all insane people, she had no way to analyze her insanity, because she was insane.

But still, certain thoughts nagged at her, certain inconsistencies, like her hands last night. Why had she felt them as being bound together, immobilized, when they hadn't been? And how could she have lost her focus so completely to begin with? She had been so determined to attend Ash Wednesday evening services. But rather than having her forehead smeared with ashes, she got her face and much of her body smeared with the delicious liquids from two women's cunts. Giuseppe's cock in her mouth, a giant phallus plumbing her depths, eating pussy for the first time. It was like having her own hedonistic Mardi Gras carnival right inside of her apartment, all inhibitions tossed to the winds.

And then today, from the moment she opened her eyes, her lust had continued unabated. She awakened to the ringing of her phone. Answering it, she decided that she must have still been dreaming, because it was Joel. Got her number in yesterday's class, he said. Checking on her, he explained. Seeing if she was okay.

Okay? Her face and hair smelled like she'd used Holly and Katia's cunt juices as bath oil, and just hearing Joel's voice made her throat feel parched. Because she wanted no, needed to drink his cum. Desperately. Impossibly. Immediately.

Joel was shy on the phone. She heard the desire in his voice, although he tried to hide it. Pierce wanted the students to spend the next few days drawing figures outside of class, he reminded her, even if that meant simply sketching people in coffee shops or out on the street. Maybe it wasn't right to ask, but she was so beautiful, would she have any desire to act as his model for a few quick drawings?

"Yes!" she screamed into the mouthpiece, knowing full well that he also hoped to find her hands on his hard dick again.

"Yes? Great! Maybe we could meet at."

The silly boy was still trying to disguise his desires. "Come here to my apartment, Joel. Soon. Immediately. We'll have the drawing session right here, in private."

A few beats of silence, the words and tone of her voice being digested. "Catherine. I'm not calling because. I wasn't suggesting that."

"Yes you did and yes you are, Joel. Don't lie. And you can draw me nude. I want you to draw me nude."

Had he really believed that she would let him get to any drawing? He arrived at her door twenty minutes later, sketchpad and his little art toolbox in hand. She met him with her pussy glistening and her nipples straining forward, wearing nothing but her new garters and stockings, with the ruby red heels that Holly and Katia had left behind.

Drawing. What a laugh. How could Joel draw anything with his face buried between her tits? How could he draw when she had him on the floor within seconds? How could he draw when she pivoted her body so that all he could see was her sopping wet pussy, wide open, charging towards his tongue?

He wasn't as artful at eating her pussy as Katia and Holly had been, but he didn't need to be when her clitoris felt as large as an apricot, her entire nether-region ready to burst with nectar. She came on his face, and came again with his tool jammed into her depths. Joel's cock was gorgeous, by far the biggest and fattest one she had yet to encounter. And he was a good boy, staying hard for her, holding off his release until she licked her juices off of him, her hungry tongue dazzling him, making him pant, and shout, and bellow. She came again when his milky torrent hit her tongue. Sweeter than Giuseppe, a little less tangy than William, with hints of chocolate and plum. She gave him a few minutes to recover before repositioning her body to score his wonderful cum as a sixty-nine.

She drank him down three times before sending him on his way, and yet her cravings remained, and actually grew through the morning. And that sense of growth it couldn't be true, she knew it wasn't true but it felt as though her clitoris was literally becoming larger and more sensitive by the minute. The sensation had been so alarming in Penn Station that she locked herself into a stall in the ladies' room to check her anatomy, only to fall into an uncontrollable finger-fuck session that had her screams echoing off of the tiled walls. She just couldn't understand it a hand mirror confirmed that her anatomy was unchanged, yet her clitoris felt as though it was easily as large as one of her thumbs.

It was there right now, feeling huge and swollen and oh-so-fucking sensitive under her skirt, the train's subtle vibrations constantly keeping her on edge. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't real, that her pussy was not as she felt it to be, but what use were her rational thoughts against the signals emanating from her own body? She kept losing, losing her mind and losing her will, the flood of incendiary desires undermining any possibility of traction.

How? Why? She had already scratched her unthinkable itches innumerable times, why were the desires still there? How many dicks did she have to suck, how many pussies did she have to eat, to move on? It was as though the more she engaged in outrageous behaviors, the more hollow she felt inside. She might expect that to feel a hollowness of the soul after what she had done, some disquieting pangs of conscience or guilt. But this was different. This lack of fulfillment was a physical sensation, a deep, almost cellular longing, centered somewhere in the depths of her dripping cunt.

She needed to save herself. There had to be some psychological equivalent to a "revert to saved" computer command, some way to restore the old Catherine. Because this current reality, this slipping between the woman she knew and some other whorish self, could not stand. She instinctively knew that she could not be split in two like this for long, the differing versions of herself battling for domination. One set of desires would win, one set of goals would have to be met. And what were the goals? On the one side: marriage, safety, mega-wealth, children and a fine reputation. On the other side: less extreme prosperity, multiple partners, risky behaviors and forbidden sexual experiences.

Practical thinking, that was her only hope. And she could start by cleaning up the language in her mind. Yes, her itchy vagina was driving her crazy, but since when had it become a "dripping cunt" in her thoughts? She had been so wrapped up in trying to control the actions of her body unsuccessfully that she hadn't even realized the degree to which her thoughts had degraded. Well then no more cocks and dicks and pussies. And it was definitely making love, not fucking. Vagina, penis, make love, vagina, penis, make love. There, that wasn't so hard. Victory number one.

The train snaked around a wide turn, and she could see the engine at the front plunging into the darkness of an overpass. Like a huge long cock entering a dark tunnel. Ohhhh Goddddd. Fuck, oh God, oh myfuckingGod. She glanced down at her skirt, and was surprised that her screaming vibrating gigantic clit wasn't causing the fabric to visibly move.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Maybe she could think more coherently if everything in her life wasn't a metaphor for the pleasures of sex! And maybe the "old' Catherine could reassert herself more if her lips weren't so parched, because it had been hours since she'd swallowed any cum.