Alison's Wonderland (19 page)

“This road is a bitch on wheels,” he said. His voice was like busted glass and gravel and barbed wire all rolled into one. I fought the urge to slither across the seat and put his hand back in my lap. I had clearly lost my mind.

“No, it’s pheromones you’re feeling,” he said as if he was reading the mind I had lost. “I have to pull over. This section is infamous for completely flooding out. More cars and motorists have been lost along this stretch than any other.” He nudged the giant black truck over to the shoulder and we sat. The truck vibrated and grumbled beneath us. I wanted to grumble, too.

“So, we just sit here?” I grumped.

“What else do you suggest?” he asked. When he turned to me his eyes flared white and green in the low light. I told
myself it was the dashboard lights illuminating his naturally feral face.

“I—um—I was just—”

Wolff turned to me and shoved both hands up under my skirt. He hiked it up even farther, exposing the tops of my motorcycle boots and the thin scrap of my panties. “I say, snack time.”

I swallowed hard. Somehow I knew I was the snack. “I was just—” What? Was I really going to argue with him?

“Red, you know there’s no fighting me. I’m the Big, Bad Wolff,” he whispered, and my nipples peaked, hard little points in my soft gray sweater. Without thinking, I arched my hips up in his general direction. A silent, shameless plea for him to carry through with his threat.

He fought his way over the gearshift, and pushed his hand under my seat. The seat slid back quickly and I let out a surprised little whoop. He held my skirt back and ate me with his eyes first. “Well, look what we have here. Dessert,” he said, and ran his red, red tongue over his full lips.

Between my thighs, I was hot and wet and ready. Ready beyond comprehension. He tugged my panties roughly and I shimmied to help him along. When his shaggy head lowered, my heart stopped, or so it seemed. When his tongue lapped at me, hot and wet and slick, I fisted my hands in his hair. I tugged. Hard. I didn’t care if I hurt him. “Oh, please,” I said mindlessly.

“Please what? Please don’t, Mr. Wolff? Please do? Please don’t stop? Please go faster?” He pushed his fingers deep inside me and my hips jerked up on their own. I mewed softly, ashamed of my shamelessness.

“All of it,” I said.

He fucked me hard with his fingers but soft with his tongue. For every brutal thrust of his digits, his lips adored
me. I felt myself hovering right there on the edge. Right on the cusp of letting go and christening him with my juices. “Do it for me. I’m far from done, sweet thing. We have time for a mating, if you will, and then when the storm passes, we’ll get you to Grandma’s house all safe and sound.”

He thrust higher with his big fingers and sucked my clit firmly between his lips. I came with a plea, but I couldn’t tell you what I was pleading for. Most likely it was for more.

I couldn’t see his hands but I heard his zipper. Even over the pounding rain, my ears picked up that sound. He pushed my thighs wide and muttered, “Open.” I opened as far as I could as the velvety hard head of his cock pushed against me. My body split wide and accepted him. He rocked into me as deep as he could go. Just as I had fantasized at the tavern, I wrapped my legs around his hips as he sank his teeth into the sweetest spot where my neck met my shoulder.

“You are tender, I’ll give you that,” he teased, and bit me again.

I dug my nails into his hips as far as I could and yanked my heels hard against his hips. Maybe I wanted to hurt him a little, too. Maybe I just wanted his cock as deep as it would go. Either way, a brutal flash of lightning flared and his face, darkly stubbled and somewhat lupine, lit up with an eerie light. He grinned at me and those teeth flashed again one more time before sinking into my flesh right above my collarbone. I came with a breathy little cry that evened out his deep animal growl as he emptied into me.

Just like that, the rain went from downpour to mist. He took a deep breath of me and I listened to his panting. He smelled like sweat and smoke and earth. My cunt flickered lazily around his cock. When he pulled free of me, he licked my lower lip before kissing me.

“Jesus,” I said.

“Ryan.” He laughed softly. “But thanks for the compliment.”

“We’d better go. My grandmother will be worried. I don’t know what I’ll tell her.”

“Tell her the Big, Bad Wolff stopped you on your way.”

“And?”

He shrugged and raised an eyebrow. I felt my body go soft and ready for him again. “And it was good?” he said. He got himself back behind the wheel.

I nodded. “Fair enough.” Good didn’t even begin to cover it. “How long will you be visiting Grandma?” He took a right and I recognized my grandmother’s street. She would have waited up. She would want to make sure I was safe and sound.

“Until she’s healed.”

“Does she have a car?”

“No,” I said slowly, not understanding.

“And the Mustang is your only car?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a real piece of shit, you know that?”

I felt a smile come to my face and his hand was back on my thigh. His finger traced the still-slick seam of my pussy and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. “I know,” I breathed.

“You’ll need lots of help with that. With patience and regular trips to town, we can get her running good again in no time.”

“She’s a him,” I said.

“Of course he is,” Wolff said, and pulled in front of Grandma’s cottage.

“I hear the local mechanic serves free hot dogs,” I teased as he slid a finger into me and flexed. Pleasure unfurled in my pelvis and I sighed.

The front door opened and Wolff withdrew his finger. I smoothed my skirt. “Only if you provide dessert, Red,” he
said against my ear. He nipped my lobe hard enough to make spots bloom before my eyes. My cunt went fluid, aching for him all over again. Grandma waved. I waved back. “I can do that,” I said. “No problem.”

Kazimir was still undressed when I called round that night. He answered the door with a small white bath towel draped around his hips that drew my eyes to his groin. I’d never known a man to be so unconcerned about his appearance, but still manage to be effortlessly handsome. He moved a lock of damp hair from his hazel eyes and winked.

“You’re early, Lisa,” he drawled. “What’s the hurry?”

I went to check my watch, and then remembered that I didn’t have it tonight. Instead, I wore a pretty silver timepiece that dangled from a chain in my waistcoat. The watch was the finishing touch to my outfit. This was the first time I’d dressed completely in men’s clothing; a fetish charity ball was the perfect opportunity for me to explore cross-dressing. I wore a formal pinstripe suit, complete with bowler hat and umbrella—a throwback to the old
Avengers
TV show. I’d discovered the alternative scene rather late in the day; I’d married very young, and had spent twenty years as an obedient little housewife. One divorce later, I was a free woman, determined to make up for lost time—that’s where Kazimir came in.

“We’ve only got fifteen minutes before the ball starts,” I
complained as Kazimir ushered me inside. “Don’t you think you should get dressed?”

I stepped over strewn clothes that lay on the floor of his apartment, making my way to his bedroom. Once there, he pressed me against a wall. He gyrated against me, and the towel slipped away. He removed my bowler hat and flung it on the bed. I felt his hot cock growing harder with every movement he made against me. His hands went to my breasts, but I captured his wrists, and held them at his sides.

“I thought you said I had to get dressed?” Kazimir asked with a smile. “But we could always stay here and have some fun of our own.”

I released him, patted his bare backside and stepped away. It’s not that I don’t like the idea of restraint, but I knew where it would lead. If we started doing that now, we’d never get to the ball. On our second date, Kazimir had tied me to his bed; it was just supposed to be a little naughty fun, but it soon evolved into more when he refused to release me until I’d admitted my secret desires. After so many years bottling things up in a stale marriage, I was only too ready to spill. One of my wishes was that I could be more forceful during sex. My admission had only served to arouse my new man—we swapped places, I cuffed him to the bed and then proceeded to screw him through the mattress. I’m not usually that bold, but now that I was dressed like a man, I could feel some of my hidden power start to rise to the surface. I idly wondered where I had last seen the leather wrist cuffs, just in case things got interesting, but it was impossible to locate anything in Kazimir’s untidy room.

I opened his wardrobe and pulled out the dress he was going to wear tonight, still in its plastic dry-cleaning cover. The frilly pink-and-white creation looked like a cream cake, with layers of lace and full wide skirts. Kazimir took the
gown from me and started pulling it over his head. I stopped him quickly.

“You can’t just put that on without any underwear!” I explained. “That dress needs some foundation garments.”

Kazimir looked at me as if I were mad.

“What the hell are those?”

“Bras and knickers,” I replied patiently.

He rummaged around in a pile on the floor, and I was dismayed to see him hold up a pair of my black knickers and a red push-up bra. Funny, but I didn’t remember leaving them after my last visit.

“Don’t worry, babe, they were just mementos.” He answered my unspoken question with a guilty smile. He pulled on the bra, and then tried to do up the fastening at the back. Luckily we were a similar build, although Kazimir’s much taller than I.

“Don’t you move,” I commanded, and he arched an eyebrow. I twisted him around, pulled the bra in place and secured the hook-and-eye fastening. The padded bra gave him a pair of nice little tits. I reached inside, and pinched one of his nipples until he gasped.

“Now everyone can see this peeping out the top of the dress.” He ran his hands over the lacy cups, squeezing the imaginary breasts inside. “I’ll look like a slutty Cinderella.” As Kazimir spoke, I trailed my hand down his back and lower to his ass. My fingers tickled his crack, massaged the globes of his cheeks, and then I pinched him hard enough to make him yelp.

“Shoes!” he suddenly exclaimed, jumping out of my reach. “A girl’s got to have some heels.” He scampered into a corner of the messy room, and then produced a pair of black patent-leather shoes. He tried and failed to step into them, stumbling. I sighed, knelt at his feet, and gently lifted first one and then the other foot into the shoes. He wobbled for a moment, but
then he straightened his back, jutted his hip and stood up tall. The sight of a half-naked man wearing only heels and a bra was something else. My mouth went slack.

“Do you like?” he purred. He walked carefully over to his bedside table, and produced his camera. “Why don’t you take a photo of me.” He handed me the camera, a high-tech model with lots of features. I’d used it once before, and I knew it had a timer, so we could both be in the shot. I set the device, and ran to Kazimir’s side. I only came to his shoulders, now he was wearing his shoes, but I didn’t care. I could still reach over to pinch one of his nipples. He made a gentle “Oh!” as the flash came to life. I knew the picture would be hot.

“Now kneel down, Cinderella, and let me stand behind you.” Kazimir did as I said, and as the camera flashed, he gripped my thighs and buried his head in my crotch. The camera continued to flash every few seconds whilst Kazimir unzipped me slowly. A flicker of light made me look up as he nuzzled my open fly. His long fingers slipped past the barrier of the boxer shorts I wore, and he finally spread my labia wide. The flash went off at the exact moment that Kazimir’s lips touched my clit. He craned his neck to reach me, and with every flick of his tongue, the flash sparkled, illuminating us. He unbuttoned me, and then tugged down my trousers. The flash went off once my legs were bare. I couldn’t open my legs as wide as I would have liked, with the trousers bunched around my ankles, but Kazimir didn’t need much room. He mouthed my pussy, licking hungrily around my clitoris. His goatee beard grew wetter from my juices—the pulsing light reflected on his shiny face. I gripped his head with both my hands, steadying myself as I thrust against him. I felt the heat build inside my pussy, and every nerve ending tingle as my whole being centered on Kazimir’s lips. My heart pounded in my chest as I came, and I leaned on his shoulders to stop myself from falling over. He stood to kiss me. I could
taste myself on his hot face, could feel his bruised lips and his sticky beard from where I had used him for my pleasure.

“Kazimir, we’ve got to stop, or we’ll never get to the ball.” I sighed, staggering back. He sauntered over to the camera and switched the machine off. Our photo album was certainly going to be interesting.

I helped him into his dress, and carefully pulled the zipper up the back, dotting a kiss to Kazimir’s skin as I did so. The dress really did suit him. Once he had shaved, his look would be perfect, but he had no such plans.

“You can’t go out wearing a bright pink dress and a goatee,” I explained as rationally as I could. Kazimir only pouted, pulled out a hairbrush and started combing his hair. There was no way I would turn up to the ball with him looking this way. I had a hard enough time hailing a cab dressed as I was, and I didn’t want to walk. I felt my face burn with frustration at being ignored, so in a fit of outright defiance, I grabbed the hairbrush out of his hand, midstroke. I tapped the wooden back against my thigh, making loud slapping noises.

“What are you going to do with that?” he asked quietly.

“I’m going to teach you to listen.” I had no idea where this had come from—maybe the clothes I was wearing, or maybe Kazimir’s outfit, but I felt a rush of power at my words, a rush that went straight to my still-sensitive crotch.

Kazimir swiveled in his chair, looked me right in the eye, before saying, “You wouldn’t dare.” I clutched a handful of his hair, and pulled his head back roughly. The sound he made was a surprise to me—there was pleasure in his groans, and not a drop of pain.

“Oh, God, that feels so good,” he gasped. I released him, and stepped away to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out how I was going to harness the power that lay inside me.

“Get over here,” I said, though I could hear the tremor in
my voice. Kazimir shuffled over on his knees until he knelt at my side. “Bend over my lap,” I whispered, and he swiftly moved to drape himself over my thighs. I pushed all the frills and layers of his dress upward, bunching them into the waistband. My ex-husband loved to threaten me with something like this, but he never followed through. I, on the other hand, had more balls than he ever did. My palm slapped Kazimir’s ass with a loud clap. He shivered beneath me, and then arched up for more. This wasn’t punishment—this was instruction, and Kazimir was a willing student.

“Next time I come round, I expect the place to be tidy.” I followed my words with three tentative slaps from the hairbrush. His skin went pink instantly—I could see the clear outline of the brush on his flesh.

“Of course,” Kazimir said breathlessly.

“When I give you some advice, you damn well do what I say.” The hand holding the hairbrush was sweaty, but I wasn’t about to stop. The brush landed on his ass with a solid thump.

“Yes!” And then, “More, please!”

I could feel his cock hard against me. The slippery fabric of the dress rubbed against my thighs, but his length poked through the folds. I took off my pocket watch, and dangled the cold metal case against his heated skin. He jerked against me, but stayed on my lap once I pushed him firmly down. When I slipped the fob chain between his ass cheeks, he flinched, but I held him firmly in place. I ran the length of chain up and down his crack. He stifled a moan, and pressed his cock harder against me. Up and down, over and over, I ran the silver chain between his cheeks, slowly teasing him. I was starting to become aroused at my actions. The boxers I wore rubbed against my pussy. I knew I was getting deliciously wet again. I could smell my own scent rise to my nostrils, and I knew that Kazimir could smell me, too.

“Next time we go to a party, we will be on time, am I un
derstood?” I asked, using my gruffest voice. “We’re already fifteen minutes late.”

I wiped my palms on my trousers, and then delivered fifteen harder whacks to Kazimir’s backside. He counted every one of them, his voice going rough near the end.

After that, I felt a little at a loss. I had never done anything like that before. In fact, I would never even have dreamed of this, if not for the threats my ex used to make. Hell, I suppose he was good for something after all. Kazimir remained panting beneath me. His hair obscured part of his face, but I could still make out a wide smile. I soothed his stressed skin, gently rubbed my hands over the hot flesh.

Then I spotted a small bottle of moisturizer on his bedside table. I just about managed to lean over to grab the tube without dislodging Kazimir. I smeared some of the cream over his skin, massaging in the lotion. He sighed contentedly as I worked, but then his sighs became more urgent as I dribbled some of the cold liquid between his cheeks. I circled a finger over his asshole, gently pressing as I went.

My index finger slipped in, quickly joined by my middle finger. He was hot there, so hot and tight that he practically sucked me inside. Kazimir humped my lap. I pushed the full fabric of the dress higher until the ruffles covered his face. I didn’t want him to see how nervous I was. I slowly worked my fingers deep inside him. I twisted them, and he panted loudly. More cream, and I could slide in and out quickly. My fingers rubbed up against a magic spot inside him, and he almost leaped off my lap.

“Do that again!” he yelled.

“Excuse me?” I purred. “What would you like?”

“Please,” he wailed. “Please do it again.” I complied with his request, and soon he was grunting and thrusting against me with force.

“Are you going to come all over your pretty dress?” I
crooned, tapping his special spot, the place I began to suspect was his prostate.

“Yes, I’m gonna come!” he yelled from beneath the pile of pink fabric.

“Then get off me.”

Kazimir rolled off my lap, and stood, lifting the skirts of his dress to place his hard cock flat in his palm. I wiped my hands on a discarded bath towel, picked up his camera and centered him in the view screen.

“Stroke yourself for me,” I whispered. I could see his pupils dilate from where I stood, could hear the painful gasp as his hands touched his cock. I snapped a photograph, capturing the moment forever. Kazimir looked away from me as he ran his fingers over his cock. I had never known him to be even remotely shy before. He bit his lip, hesitantly peeking back at me.

“Look at me,” I said, but he turned away even more. I followed him with the camera. “Look at me, Kazimir.”

“I don’t know about this, Lisa,” he said quietly. His hand hovered above his dress, not touching, but longing to.

“You look so good, Kaz. Do it, do it for me.” He nodded slightly, and then gasped when he held himself once more. I took a string of shots as he stroked himself. I zoomed in on his crotch—I could just about see the tip of his cock squeezing through his fingers, all surrounded by pink-and-white fabric. His face was open to me. His usually wicked eyes were soft, and his skin was flushed. I set the timer on the camera, before placing the expensive plaything on the bed. When I moved behind him, I could feel the tremors his body made. I angled us so we were facing the camera, and then stretched my arms around to cradle his cock. I heard the flash flutter to life, felt the lacy dress tickle my wrist, and I inhaled the smell of sex. Kazimir’s cock was like a rod of steel in my hands as he moved faster.

“Come on, princess,” I growled, “Do it, do it now!”

Kazimir’s hand sped up around his cock. He cried out and jerked as he came in a gush. Then he sagged against me, breathless and sweaty, before hugging me hard. He stumbled into the chair by the dresser, and fumbled for a discarded T-shirt on the floor to wipe his face. I looked around at the room, now even messier than usual—he’d managed to splatter the pillows with the force of his orgasm, and the room looked depraved, debauched and absolutely fantastic.