The inspiration for this cap actually came from another photoset, but by
the time I was done writing the story, I realized that I needed
something different and I eventually settled on this. I had a hard time
choosing between this one and another though! I'm not a big fan of the
orange background in these pictures as I feel it's rather strong, but I
felt that the model in this set was more attractive (at least to me), so
this was what I ended up going with. I'm also still not too sure about
the placement of the title, but after messing around with it for awhile,
I couldn't figure out anything else, so that's what I'm going with. Let
me know what you guys think!
Transcript: Hey there stranger, how would you like to bet your
pleasure on a game of pool? What’s with the dress? Ah, well, that’s a long
story, which I’d be happy to tell you, you look like a fine young gentleman, if
only my throat weren’t uh, so dry. You’d like to buy me a drink? How thoughtful
of you, why yes, my throat is miraculously starting to feel better already.
Let’s see, where shall I begin?
My name used to be Paul Veretti, I say used to because I
go by Natasha now, shocked already huh? But I see you haven’t fled in terror
yet, I’m starting to like you already. You see, I used to be quite the pool
shark. I could rake in hundreds on a good night, but I didn’t do it for the
money, I did it for the thrill. Some of my opponents however, didn’t take too
kindly to losing. I later found out that some of them had decided to hire a
witch of sorts to put a curse on me and bring about a reversal of fortune. Crazy
enough, the curse worked…to a certain extent. The witch wasn’t very well
practiced you see and didn’t have very good control over her magic, so the
spell she cast on me produced some rather…unexpected results, namely, the body
of an attractive young woman.
Adjusting to my new form proved to be quite difficult at
first. There was a lot I had to learn and I hated the way people looked at me,
especially the men. For week or two, I cowered in the safety of my own home,
not wanting to be seen by anyone, until one day, I’d decided that I’d had
enough. I wasn’t going to live my life in fear or shame any longer. I poured
hours of effort into learning how to do my hair and makeup, as well as getting
comfortable in distinctly feminine articles of clothing, such as dresses and
heels. I also made some new friends and began to study and then imitate the
behaviors of women around me, learning to sit like a lady by crossing my legs, but
also how to be a flirt with the cast of a captivating glance. It seemed strange
to me then that the looks of men no longer bothered me; in fact, I actually
noticed that I was quite enjoying them.
By this point, I’d already made my return to the billiard
room. Wearing only the most revealing of dresses and the highest of heels, I
certainly turned a lot of heads. It wasn’t long before I was back to playing my
usual game, where I used my new assets unrelentingly to my advantage. You
wouldn’t believe how difficult it was for my opponents to concentrate when my
breasts were spilling out over the top of my dress or after having ‘accidentally’
brushed up against them. My lavish curves and demure smile could drive them insane
with fervor and I offered them no retreat.
I was also a merciless tease. Something about the way
they struggled against my charms, but still ultimately succumbed to me turned
me on something awful. I loved seeing the painfully restrained bulge in their
pants or feeling their hardness pressed up against my body and knowing that I was
the cause. I took hold of every opportunity to give them ‘accidental’ looks up
my skirt or down my chest, striking the most provocative poses while feigning
innocence. The especially cute ones I would give every excuse to touch their
body against mine, my favorite being asking them how to line up a certain shot,
then requesting that they instruct me in a very ‘hands-on’ approach. This would
require them to press up against me from behind, at which point I could begin
to subtly grind my hips into them. If they weren’t hard before, they certainly
were after, and their embarrassment at my knowledge of their arousal was visibly
evident on their red faces. I would assure them with a coy smile however, that
I appreciated their adoration and that I wished to thank them for the lesson,
privately.
Once we’d reached the backroom, I’d tie the lucky, or
unlucky, man’s limbs down to a chair first before beginning to slip out of my
clothes with sensuous grace. I would take my time, casually letting the straps
of my dress slide off my shoulders, and then slowly peel the skin tight fabric
down until only my naughty sheer panties remained. In the same leisurely
manner, I’d strip him down as well, until he was completely exposed. By this
time, he would usually be desperate for any sort of physical stimulation on his
engorged member, but I would ignore it, choosing instead to tickle and lick its
surroundings first, smiling as I watched the pre-cum stream down his shaft. It’d
only be after he’d begged me multiple times, that I’d squirt some lubricant
into my hand and finally begin to stroke his rock hard cock. I’d alternate
between fast and slow, short and long, and sometimes I would stop altogether, causing
him to cry out in frustration. I’d bring him to the brink of orgasm over and
over again, but always stopping before he could climax. Oh how badly his balls
must’ve ached, but I was a mean mistress. I would ask him how badly he wanted
me, how much he wanted to fuck me, how much he needed to cum, and I’d make him
beg me to let him. If he did a good job, I’d reward him by letting him feel the
warmth of my wet pussy as I rubbed and grinded it against him, eventually teasing
it against his cock, but never letting him in. He would thrash and try futilely
to thrust into me, but his restraints prevented him.
I can only imagine the amount of explosive desire that
must’ve been built up within him by this point, but I wasn’t done with him yet.
For the grand finale, I would unhurriedly open several condoms, laying them in
a neat row on his lap. Into the first condom, I’d squirt a copious amount of a
clear gel before rolling it over his cock. Then, after rolling several more on,
I’d gently massage his tightly wrapped member for awhile to ensure that the gel
had taken its effect. Once satisfied, I would dramatically straddle him, look
him in the eye and ask him if he was ready, and then gently take him in,
savoring the sensation. At this point, he would begin to panic, realizing that
he was unable to feel my wet delicious pussy wrapped tight around his cock.
With a smile, I’d calmly explain that the gel I’d put into the first condom was
a localized numbing agent and that that, combined with the several layers of
latex around his cock, would effectively prevent him from feeling anything at
all. It was the ultimate denial. Then, using him as a life size sex toy, I
would pleasure myself, telling him all the while how good it felt and what a
pity it was that he couldn’t feel me squirming on top of him. When I’d finally finish
with him several orgasms later, I would slowly get dressed, letting the
realization that he would never garner any satisfaction from me sink in, before
bidding him farewell, leaving his blue balls painfully tormented and him
utterly frustrated.
So does that answer your question? Oh, don’t be so embarrassed
about the bulge in your pants, that is certainly nothing to be ashamed of! You’d
like to know what? If my earlier offer to play a game of pool with you was
still open? Of course I’ll play, I can play for hours you know, plus, I quite
like you, you’re rather cute!
