Post by kingfaraday on Aug 25, 2017 10:44:11 GMT -6
The Routine by The Masked Man
Long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, held back by a pale blue hair band. Her skin was rich and tan, golden. Her breasts hung large and full under her dress, unhindered by a bra, her nipples visible amid the loose folds. Her stomach was lean, though slightly belled at its base, curvaceous is the word, full of life, ripe and succulent. Her hips were the same, curved and smooth, her rump swelling against the fabric of her short dress, like two halves of a sweet plum. Her legs were long, and her feet were small. Her face was beauty, eyes green like a new leaf, bright and gleaning, her nose a button, her mouth a pair of fresh petals, painted red as rose blood. Perched between them a cigarette burned, the ghostly smoke held in a halo about her shining face. She held fast to the light pole, and she looked across the street at me with the eyes of a leopard cat, wanting me like I wanted her. I paused a moment, looking up and down the street at the other girls. They were the same, all the same every week. I would have them later, as I would eventually have them all, but tonight, I felt was this ones night, turning back with a smile and looking pointedly at her through the dusky orange glow of the street lights. She was still smiling back when I crossed the street, taking the cigarette from her lips in anticipation of our traded words. “ Hi there.” I yawned, thrusting my hands deep in the pockets of my over coat. “Hey.” She mewled, shifting her weight, swinging her pelvis forward as she did. I maintained eye contact only for my strong will. “How much for an evening?” “All night?” “Yeah.” “Twelve hundred.” “fine.” The conversation always went this way, each giving the least they can, as if syllables were the valued product. She nodded at my affirmation and stepped forward, lacing her thin arm through mine, pressing her body against the soft cashmere of my coat. Distantly, I felt the pressure of her firm breast on my chest, and very closely I felt the delicate squeeze of her hand in my groin. I smiled weakly, and lead the way back to the car. She smoked most of the ride there, just quiet and smoking, staring out the window at the night. She had offered to give me a blow job on the way over for an extra twenty, but I politely refused. After that, the only thing that came from her mouth was a steady cloud of thin grey smoke, all of which lazily wandered about my car, until it vanished through the small crack in the back window. I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the rapture of impurity, and whenever I could I snatched glances at her, those thighs, those breasts, that face. I shivered in anticipation. The ride always took longer than I remember, or hope, or expect, but eventually we were stepping out and ascending the front stairs, and taking the elevator up to the seventeenth floor. In the elevator, she slid closer, assuming her poise against my chest and in my groin. I averted my reflections gaze and tried to think of other things. I dropped my apartment keys twice, my hands were shaking so badly, but finally we closed the door behind us and stared expectantly at each other. She, whose name was Evanne, I learned, slipped off her light coat, letting slide to the ground with dramatic ease. She turned to me, and asked “Can I smoke in here?” “Yeah…yes.” I stammered, feeling as excited as I always feel. She drew yet another cigarette from her small bag and lit it. She began to advance seductively. She wrapped her arms about me, and pressed her groin to mine, all the while staring into my eyes with those green jewels she had. I swallowed. “Can we…use some of my things…I have some…”
She nodded and gestured for me to show her. I stepped forward, hiding my grin behind my back. No matter how many times it happened, and assuredly it would happen many, many times, it would never cease to be simply, utterly fun. I opened the door to a side room, darkness giving way to light with a turn of the switch. It was a small bedroom, lined with soft carpet and filled with large chairs and beds. In the center of the room were two standing cages, out of place, wrought of a dark metal and ornately decorated. I heard her sigh a little, behind our footsteps, and this widened my grin. She stepped forward, the cigarette hanging loose in her lips. “In there?” She asked, nodding toward the nearest cage. I nodded vigorously, and strode forward to open it. She slid her ripe, supple body into the enclosure, and looked patiently at me. I smiled, closing the door and throwing the latch. I stepped back, looking at her. She was leaning against the back of the cage, smoking absently, looking beautiful. I licked my thin lips, staring at those swollen breasts, at the supple skin, the beating, glowing life that coursed in her. I let out a sigh of happiness. It was so, wonderfully easy sometimes. Excitement, longing, burst in my heart as a song, and with giddy hands I began to set the controls. She was asking me what this was for, and I kept telling her it was alright, to hold on, she would see. She was getting impatient, as all do, when they begin to realize the place they’ve wound themselves in. I aligned all the instruments and strode through the door, out of the room. She called after me, but I didn’t listen. Too late for that. I walked down the hall to Ana’s room, and softly knocked. There was a faint voice from within, ushering me in. I entered, and found her in her arm chair. She was terrible, I saw, just the few hours I had been gone had weighed heavily on her. I helped her slowly up, and placing the walker under her outstretched hands I led her out into the hall. Her long hair fell limp and grey on her bent shoulders. Beneath it her face was pale and wrinkled, riddled with age. Her body had shriveled, her breasts loose hanging on her flabby paunch. I whispered my love in her ears, but she couldn’t hear me. She wheezed at the effort of walking down the hall. Her bent back popped and cracked as she walked and she was slow. At one point she stopped, and with an arthritic wave of her hand, she beckoned me ahead. I stepped out in front of her and looked expectantly into her pale eyes. “I don’t like it when you let me go so far.” She croaked, looking up at me and shaking slightly. “I never want it to be this far again.” I apologized profusely, and she beckoned me on, smiling. We entered the little room, and though at the sight of me and an old woman Evanne began to curse and yell, we paid her no mind. I helped Ana into the empty cage where she stood, stooped and wheezing, clinging to the bars to keep standing. Evanne asked me what was going on, what kind of shit this was, but I simply looked at her and smiled, looking at all that youth there, all that ripeness, the swelling, bouncing beauty that she had. I pulled the levers and twisted the old dials and made the necessary motions before pushing that final switch and stepping back to watch the machine in all its glory. The fixtures above their heads clanked and hummed to life, and the turbines within began to spin. Evanne screamed and shook at the bars, but soon she quieted down, as the work began to show. She stood still, breathing hard, as the bars began to sing and resonate. Ana, in the other cage, laughed joyfully. Evanne stared at her, breathing heavier as the weight came down on her shoulders. Her breasts heaved with her breathing, but as they heaved, the began to waver, and then grow. She turned her face downward to watch as they swelled slowly, and then, with an anguished gasp, as they slid down her chest, drooping and hanging. The terror in her face was emphasized by the lines appearing on it, first it widened a bit with fat, then it too drooped and paled. Her stomach rose out of the folds of her dress and sagged downward, as her slim legs swelled. She began to scream as she lifted her hands and saw as they wilted and speckled with liver spots, the scream magnified by the aging folds of her face, and the color fading from her hair. She spun to look at me, tears welling down her face, and then she turned to look at Ana, who stood now, upright, running her hands through her darkening hair. I looked ravenously as her breasts began to rise and swell, and her wrinkled stomach firmed and shrank. Evanne was coughing fitfully now, wheezing heavily as great folds of skin hung from her slender arms, and she began to stoop and quiver. Her face was etched and lined, spotted and paled by age. Her breasts rested on the swollen flab that stretched her small dress tight, and as it did, it lifted the material, exposing a drooped and grey vagina, and scrawny, shriveled legs. The machine began to cool now, and the hum dropped to a low drone. I stepped forward, throwing open the latch on both cages. I stepped up and took Evanne by the hand and shoulder, she resisted, but could not walk on her own. She relented, allowing me to help her down to the aid of Ana’s walker. Ana, by now, had stepped down on her own, and I cherished it as I turned and looked upon her, young, ripe, beautiful. “How do I look?” she cooed, twirling in place, running her hands along the fine curves of her figure. Behind me, Evanne moaned. “What did you do? Who are you…you were an old woman, what did you do to me?” Ana strode forward, and as she always did, stuck her finger beneath Evanne’s chin, lifting her now ancient face to hers. Evanne winced as her neck popped arthritically. Ana smiled. “You are a commoner, a peasant…I am royalty.” I smiled in the background. “You have no right to beauty while I lay and wither. I have taken from you your beauty, your youth, things you have squandered, and ill appreciated. You are hideous and decrepit, as you should be, mortal.” She threw her head back and laughed a haughty, sneering laugh, and Evanne reached up to touch her face. As she felt the truth, she let out a low moan, tears rolling down her withered face. “No…No….I want to be young again, please, you can’t do this..its not right…” Ana left the room, shaking her now firm rump in my face, enticing me. “Get rid of her, and you may take your reward.” Turning and opening her blouse, exposing her perfect, firm breasts. Beside me, Evanne coughed and sobbed, feeling her shriveled and drooping breasts, remembering their glory with pain. Ana swung the door closed, and I turned to Evane, who coughed and wheezed pathetically. “I’m sorry…” I said “I hate to have to do that to you…but that is the way.” She shook her head. “Please…please...” “Well, there may be a way…” I lied, my heart quickening. “If you pleasure me here, enough, I may be able to bring you back to your youth.” She looked up at me, wheezing. “Anything, anything, please….” I gently placed my hands on her back, and unzipped the dress, pulling off with care. She stood, shaking, naked and in ruin. I remembered the beauty of her before, and shook for joy. She sobbed a little, “please, I need a cigarette…can you find mine…” I nodded, and finding her purse drew one from it. She held it in her wrinkled lips as I lit it for her, She drew heavily from it, and immediately started to hack and cough. I told her she shouldn’t have smoked as much as she did. She whimpered through her coughs. I told her to give me head, and she did, sinking to her knees slowly, painfully, and then accepting my penis in her toothless mouth, and sucked, probably harder than she had ever done so. After that, I bent her over the bed and made love to her, from behind, fondling her shriveled breasts. She smoked and coughed the entire time, and sobbed. Finally, I had repeated this cycle three times, and told her she was done. She shook with excitement and asked me to change her back. I laughed, and told her it was impossible. I drove her screaming and crying to the sparrow park geriatric home and dropped her off at the door. I laughed the whole way home, knowing that after this amount of time, Ana would be well into her forties, and her prime would be spoiled, and I would revel in her aging.
Long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, held back by a pale blue hair band. Her skin was rich and tan, golden. Her breasts hung large and full under her dress, unhindered by a bra, her nipples visible amid the loose folds. Her stomach was lean, though slightly belled at its base, curvaceous is the word, full of life, ripe and succulent. Her hips were the same, curved and smooth, her rump swelling against the fabric of her short dress, like two halves of a sweet plum. Her legs were long, and her feet were small. Her face was beauty, eyes green like a new leaf, bright and gleaning, her nose a button, her mouth a pair of fresh petals, painted red as rose blood. Perched between them a cigarette burned, the ghostly smoke held in a halo about her shining face. She held fast to the light pole, and she looked across the street at me with the eyes of a leopard cat, wanting me like I wanted her. I paused a moment, looking up and down the street at the other girls. They were the same, all the same every week. I would have them later, as I would eventually have them all, but tonight, I felt was this ones night, turning back with a smile and looking pointedly at her through the dusky orange glow of the street lights. She was still smiling back when I crossed the street, taking the cigarette from her lips in anticipation of our traded words. “ Hi there.” I yawned, thrusting my hands deep in the pockets of my over coat. “Hey.” She mewled, shifting her weight, swinging her pelvis forward as she did. I maintained eye contact only for my strong will. “How much for an evening?” “All night?” “Yeah.” “Twelve hundred.” “fine.” The conversation always went this way, each giving the least they can, as if syllables were the valued product. She nodded at my affirmation and stepped forward, lacing her thin arm through mine, pressing her body against the soft cashmere of my coat. Distantly, I felt the pressure of her firm breast on my chest, and very closely I felt the delicate squeeze of her hand in my groin. I smiled weakly, and lead the way back to the car. She smoked most of the ride there, just quiet and smoking, staring out the window at the night. She had offered to give me a blow job on the way over for an extra twenty, but I politely refused. After that, the only thing that came from her mouth was a steady cloud of thin grey smoke, all of which lazily wandered about my car, until it vanished through the small crack in the back window. I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the rapture of impurity, and whenever I could I snatched glances at her, those thighs, those breasts, that face. I shivered in anticipation. The ride always took longer than I remember, or hope, or expect, but eventually we were stepping out and ascending the front stairs, and taking the elevator up to the seventeenth floor. In the elevator, she slid closer, assuming her poise against my chest and in my groin. I averted my reflections gaze and tried to think of other things. I dropped my apartment keys twice, my hands were shaking so badly, but finally we closed the door behind us and stared expectantly at each other. She, whose name was Evanne, I learned, slipped off her light coat, letting slide to the ground with dramatic ease. She turned to me, and asked “Can I smoke in here?” “Yeah…yes.” I stammered, feeling as excited as I always feel. She drew yet another cigarette from her small bag and lit it. She began to advance seductively. She wrapped her arms about me, and pressed her groin to mine, all the while staring into my eyes with those green jewels she had. I swallowed. “Can we…use some of my things…I have some…”
She nodded and gestured for me to show her. I stepped forward, hiding my grin behind my back. No matter how many times it happened, and assuredly it would happen many, many times, it would never cease to be simply, utterly fun. I opened the door to a side room, darkness giving way to light with a turn of the switch. It was a small bedroom, lined with soft carpet and filled with large chairs and beds. In the center of the room were two standing cages, out of place, wrought of a dark metal and ornately decorated. I heard her sigh a little, behind our footsteps, and this widened my grin. She stepped forward, the cigarette hanging loose in her lips. “In there?” She asked, nodding toward the nearest cage. I nodded vigorously, and strode forward to open it. She slid her ripe, supple body into the enclosure, and looked patiently at me. I smiled, closing the door and throwing the latch. I stepped back, looking at her. She was leaning against the back of the cage, smoking absently, looking beautiful. I licked my thin lips, staring at those swollen breasts, at the supple skin, the beating, glowing life that coursed in her. I let out a sigh of happiness. It was so, wonderfully easy sometimes. Excitement, longing, burst in my heart as a song, and with giddy hands I began to set the controls. She was asking me what this was for, and I kept telling her it was alright, to hold on, she would see. She was getting impatient, as all do, when they begin to realize the place they’ve wound themselves in. I aligned all the instruments and strode through the door, out of the room. She called after me, but I didn’t listen. Too late for that. I walked down the hall to Ana’s room, and softly knocked. There was a faint voice from within, ushering me in. I entered, and found her in her arm chair. She was terrible, I saw, just the few hours I had been gone had weighed heavily on her. I helped her slowly up, and placing the walker under her outstretched hands I led her out into the hall. Her long hair fell limp and grey on her bent shoulders. Beneath it her face was pale and wrinkled, riddled with age. Her body had shriveled, her breasts loose hanging on her flabby paunch. I whispered my love in her ears, but she couldn’t hear me. She wheezed at the effort of walking down the hall. Her bent back popped and cracked as she walked and she was slow. At one point she stopped, and with an arthritic wave of her hand, she beckoned me ahead. I stepped out in front of her and looked expectantly into her pale eyes. “I don’t like it when you let me go so far.” She croaked, looking up at me and shaking slightly. “I never want it to be this far again.” I apologized profusely, and she beckoned me on, smiling. We entered the little room, and though at the sight of me and an old woman Evanne began to curse and yell, we paid her no mind. I helped Ana into the empty cage where she stood, stooped and wheezing, clinging to the bars to keep standing. Evanne asked me what was going on, what kind of shit this was, but I simply looked at her and smiled, looking at all that youth there, all that ripeness, the swelling, bouncing beauty that she had. I pulled the levers and twisted the old dials and made the necessary motions before pushing that final switch and stepping back to watch the machine in all its glory. The fixtures above their heads clanked and hummed to life, and the turbines within began to spin. Evanne screamed and shook at the bars, but soon she quieted down, as the work began to show. She stood still, breathing hard, as the bars began to sing and resonate. Ana, in the other cage, laughed joyfully. Evanne stared at her, breathing heavier as the weight came down on her shoulders. Her breasts heaved with her breathing, but as they heaved, the began to waver, and then grow. She turned her face downward to watch as they swelled slowly, and then, with an anguished gasp, as they slid down her chest, drooping and hanging. The terror in her face was emphasized by the lines appearing on it, first it widened a bit with fat, then it too drooped and paled. Her stomach rose out of the folds of her dress and sagged downward, as her slim legs swelled. She began to scream as she lifted her hands and saw as they wilted and speckled with liver spots, the scream magnified by the aging folds of her face, and the color fading from her hair. She spun to look at me, tears welling down her face, and then she turned to look at Ana, who stood now, upright, running her hands through her darkening hair. I looked ravenously as her breasts began to rise and swell, and her wrinkled stomach firmed and shrank. Evanne was coughing fitfully now, wheezing heavily as great folds of skin hung from her slender arms, and she began to stoop and quiver. Her face was etched and lined, spotted and paled by age. Her breasts rested on the swollen flab that stretched her small dress tight, and as it did, it lifted the material, exposing a drooped and grey vagina, and scrawny, shriveled legs. The machine began to cool now, and the hum dropped to a low drone. I stepped forward, throwing open the latch on both cages. I stepped up and took Evanne by the hand and shoulder, she resisted, but could not walk on her own. She relented, allowing me to help her down to the aid of Ana’s walker. Ana, by now, had stepped down on her own, and I cherished it as I turned and looked upon her, young, ripe, beautiful. “How do I look?” she cooed, twirling in place, running her hands along the fine curves of her figure. Behind me, Evanne moaned. “What did you do? Who are you…you were an old woman, what did you do to me?” Ana strode forward, and as she always did, stuck her finger beneath Evanne’s chin, lifting her now ancient face to hers. Evanne winced as her neck popped arthritically. Ana smiled. “You are a commoner, a peasant…I am royalty.” I smiled in the background. “You have no right to beauty while I lay and wither. I have taken from you your beauty, your youth, things you have squandered, and ill appreciated. You are hideous and decrepit, as you should be, mortal.” She threw her head back and laughed a haughty, sneering laugh, and Evanne reached up to touch her face. As she felt the truth, she let out a low moan, tears rolling down her withered face. “No…No….I want to be young again, please, you can’t do this..its not right…” Ana left the room, shaking her now firm rump in my face, enticing me. “Get rid of her, and you may take your reward.” Turning and opening her blouse, exposing her perfect, firm breasts. Beside me, Evanne coughed and sobbed, feeling her shriveled and drooping breasts, remembering their glory with pain. Ana swung the door closed, and I turned to Evane, who coughed and wheezed pathetically. “I’m sorry…” I said “I hate to have to do that to you…but that is the way.” She shook her head. “Please…please...” “Well, there may be a way…” I lied, my heart quickening. “If you pleasure me here, enough, I may be able to bring you back to your youth.” She looked up at me, wheezing. “Anything, anything, please….” I gently placed my hands on her back, and unzipped the dress, pulling off with care. She stood, shaking, naked and in ruin. I remembered the beauty of her before, and shook for joy. She sobbed a little, “please, I need a cigarette…can you find mine…” I nodded, and finding her purse drew one from it. She held it in her wrinkled lips as I lit it for her, She drew heavily from it, and immediately started to hack and cough. I told her she shouldn’t have smoked as much as she did. She whimpered through her coughs. I told her to give me head, and she did, sinking to her knees slowly, painfully, and then accepting my penis in her toothless mouth, and sucked, probably harder than she had ever done so. After that, I bent her over the bed and made love to her, from behind, fondling her shriveled breasts. She smoked and coughed the entire time, and sobbed. Finally, I had repeated this cycle three times, and told her she was done. She shook with excitement and asked me to change her back. I laughed, and told her it was impossible. I drove her screaming and crying to the sparrow park geriatric home and dropped her off at the door. I laughed the whole way home, knowing that after this amount of time, Ana would be well into her forties, and her prime would be spoiled, and I would revel in her aging.