Welcome Wipsters… congratulations, you’ve made it half way through the week and the weekend is in sight… so take a deep breath, grab a coffee and get yourself ready for… NAUGHTINESS. Well. What else?
The Ties That Bind
Soft groans of torment could be heard from inside the bed. Arms thrashed wildly upon the heavily starched white sheets and legs flailed about helplessly, but whether the occupant was having a dream or a nightmare was uncertain. Dark, chestnut hair spilled out in all directions, unkempt and tangled from a fitful night’s sleep and tempting, naked patches of tanned flesh frequently spilled from its generous confines.
From behind his screen on the observation deck, Vince grabbed his bowl of cornflakes, dug his spoon in deep and decided that even at the ridiculous hour of six am in the morning, he loved his job. There were many perks to being a security officer at the Sandringham Apartments. You got a comfy leather chair, twenty six days annual paid holiday and as much tea and coffee as you could handle. You also got paid to watch some of the most beautiful women on the planet earth, in all states of undress, quite legally, and for as many hours as you could handle. All he had to do was make sure none of them had any fun. His orders from the top were few. The women were allowed no unauthorised visitors, but more importantly, they were not permitted to orgasm. It was his job to review the security footage of the building on a daily basis, and report back any infringements of the rules to his boss. Unfortunately for him, his life had been very boring as of late. The girls could all have been auditioning for the role of Mary Poppins, because every single damn one of them toed the line to the letter. No masturbation, period. Not in the bathtub, not in the shower, not sneakily under the covers in the bedroom and not even hiding behind the sofa. They filed and painted their nails, they primped their hair, they trimmed and plucked, pouted and painted themselves in all kinds of lipstick, but they never had any fun on his watch. This was all very well, but he signed up for this gig to watch women orgasm. He got a hefty bonus if he caught one of the girls playing the disappearing finger trick. Four months had gone by with nada to report. Nothing, zilch, zero and zip. Either he was going blind, or these girls were giving the late departed Mother Teresa a run for her money. It wasn’t that he needed the money. Zystrom paid him well enough without bonuses, but a little entertainment every now and again wouldn’t go amiss. So when he caught the merest hint of under-the-covers duvet action, he nearly fell off his chair.
Staring at Miss Morreau intently, Vince ascertained that her hands were moving underneath the sheets, and well, wasn’t that a turn up for the books? Giving a little muttered, ‘Way-hay,’ beneath his breath, he got his face up close and personal with his eighteen inch monitor. Too close, as it happened, because his breath fogged up the glass. Backing away a touch, he felt his jaw drop open. Miss Morreau’s sheets had just slithered to the ground and both her hands were firmly between her legs. “Yes, yes, yes,” he hissed through his breath. His day had just taken on a rosy hue.
And there’s more! Check out these excerpts below:
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