Table Of ContentINVITATION TO LIVE
Copyright © 2010 Max Ibach
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions.
Published in the United States by Carnal Desires Publishing, a division of
Double Dragon Publishing Inc., Markham, Ontario Canada.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission
in writing from Carnal Desires Publishing.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Carnal Desires Publishing eBook
Published by
Double Dragon Publishing, Inc.
PO Box 54016
1-5762 Highway 7 East
Markham, Ontario L3P 7Y4 Canada
http://www.double-dragon-ebooks.com
http://www.double-dragon-publishing.com
ISBN-10: 1-55404-783-8
ISBN-13: 978-1-55404-783-3
A DDP First Edition October 1, 2010
Book Layout and
Cover Art by Deron Douglas
INVITATION TO LIVE
Max Ibach
Chapter One
Not much going on today, Sheila Robinson thinks to herself as she pushes the
vacuum cleaner around the house. She has a fetish for doing housework naked –
a preference that got her laid a lot when Lenny was living with her. If she wanted
sex, all she had to do was put on the stilettos and work commando around the
apartment.
Seeing her naked could divert Lenny from the best basketball game ever played.
She would intentionally work in the next room from where he lay sprawled in
his recliner.
Her performance was best done where only the occasional glimpse was afforded
him.
The sight of a kinky naked woman pushing a vacuum in high heels would bring
Lenny at a high lope. Just a passing glimpse would give him an instant throbbing
erection that required her immediate attention. When he came to her for sex, he
would be naked and clutching himself. After his initial presentation, Sheila
would take over.
What followed would be most of the ways there are for adults to misbehave.
The thought of her giving him the ultimate lover’s kiss would immediately place
him at her mercy. Past cock-tending memories would make him ready for
anything she wanted to do to him. Lenny Johnson’s idea of sex involved nothing
more than fellatio.
His instrument of full erotic arousal also included being restrained as a necessary
feature. She preferred using standard police handcuffs.
Sheila was always willing to give him what he wanted, but for him to be
properly flammable Mister Lenny Johnson required bondage. If she didn’t bring
the cuffs, he would willingly go and find them for her. The mere sight of the
cuffs would starch his cock to its maximum muscular thickness so quickly the
event would frequently give him a headache.
If Sheila didn’t want to clean house naked, all she had to do was bring the
handcuffs into a room and show them to him. The sight of the manacles would
prepare Lenny for everything that was to follow.
Any form of restraint would guarantee her Lenny’s preferred form of sex in near
record time. Sitting on his face would frequently turn into an hour-long lust-fest
before she would allow him fulfillment. Her most favored form of tending him
involved rationing herself to him.
Sometimes summoning the sperm factory would find her kneeling in a room and
calling his name. Either clothed or unclothed, all she had to do was show him
either the thigh/wrist restraints or the cuffs to get what she wanted. Finding her
kneeling anywhere in the house would turn his cock to spring-steel density in a
heartbeat.
He loved for her to talk to his cock between slithering applications of her tongue
stud. Licking his stones required mercy, if she expected him to last very long.
Without mercy, Lenny Johnson would lose control and come almost
immediately.
On this day, the memories of lust with the long departed Lenny Johnson crowded
her mind. Sheila has decided to sit naked at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee
while reading the morning paper. Later she will have to head out on assignment
to cover more of the idiotic political scene in the city. In a week, the elections
will require her to fly somewhere to cover more of the national pre-election crap.
Sheila hates politics almost as much as she hates politicians.
With reading the morning paper foremost on her mind, she heads for the
apartment door leading into the hallway. Every morning she customarily leans
outside unnoticed to retrieve the paper. No need to fetch a robe – she just extends
an arm without anyone’s noticing.
She cracks the door and has a look. The damned newspaper is further along the
baseboard than usual. She sticks her head out to have a look around. Nobody is
anywhere in sight. It’s about an hour before people begin leaving for work.
The next time she tries the retrieval, she puts more of herself outside than she
originally thought would be necessary. The paper remains just out of reach. She
can touch the end of the roll, but not enough to grab the thing.
Dammit, this is not working out the way I had hoped it would.
She stretches a little further without success. In fact, her extended fingers push
the local news rag another half-inch further away from her. She takes another
look along the corridor. Still nobody. Sheila leans more dramatically out through
the gap in the door this time. In her new position, she would be fully revealed,
with the exception
of her left foot. Her elongated position would make her visible to any voyeur
who happens to enter the hallway.
She considers for an instant what she looks like in her bunny rabbit slippers,
with sun-stroked golden hair and eyes the color of glacier ice. Her appearance
speaks of wooden shoes, dikes, and windmills in a far land. She has been told
before that she radiates animalistic sexual heat even when she is fully clothed.
One man she dated claimed she looked like a bedroom, no matter how she
dressed.
She studies the newspaper problem through the door opening again before
moving a little further out. She finally does a dramatic stretch that would have
made her yoga instructor proud. As her palm encounters the end of the roll, the
door nudges her slipper-shod foot aside. The door closes with a latching sound
that has a finality to it that she is not likely ever to forget. She turns like a
cornered rat to clutch at the thoroughly locked doorknob.
At first, there is a quiet astonishment before full panic sets in. The entire time
she fights with the door, she whimpers over her latest lot in life while jerking
frantically on the knob.
Sheila now stands cloaked only in overpowering personal terror. She glances
feverishly both ways along the hallway. The only way back inside the apartment
is either to call the Super to come let her in, or as a last resort, ride the elevator
down three floors where she will have to walk boldly to the front desk to beg
assistance.
Of course the elevator will shortly be fully stocked with people on their way to
work. Riding the system with other individuals while traveling naked would be
an edifying experience. She again rattles the door with no hope of access. At the
moment, hopelessness has yet to fully establish its atmospheric foothold. Her
first thought is that there’s no way she is going to willingly make the
dramatically embarrassing trip to the front desk naked. Doing that would create
the most disconcerted tale of a lifetime. It would be recorded in all the local
diaries as the day when the dumb blonde reporter locked her nude self out of her
apartment.
If anyone were to come along with a camera, she would most likely make the
local five o’clock news. While she considers her situation with more than a
glimmer of self-awareness, she jerks again on the offending doorknob. By now
she is displaying
wide-eyed terror. In a flash she mentally turns into a trapped rat frantically trying
to return to her burrow. Almost as though it’s been scripted, she hears the door
behind her unlatch. Sheila turns just her head in time to see Nick Blackstock step
out of his apartment. He’s obviously on his way to work.
Nick is probably of Italian descent with a shock of black hair and the build of a
weight-lifting aficionado. Sheila has watched him at the apartment complex
pool, making Olympic quality dives from the high board. The man is built like a
Greek god.
He wears a narrow white Speedo when he dives. Every time she’s seen him at
the pool, she has wanted to grab his crotch and lead him to her apartment as
though he is a trailer attached to a hitch.
She’s never even heard his voice, but no matter. She lusts for him the way a
junky lusts for his next fix.
While Nick did those rolling, twisting, heart throbbing dives, desire filled her as
though a rose was suddenly turning from a bud to a full blossom within her
pelvis.
The first time she saw him dive, she wanted him in her before he ever struck
water. A man built like Nick is more than inspirational. His narrow white
swimsuit is not much larger than a swimmer’s jock. At the moment, all she can
think of is him dressed that way as she turns to face her fate.
She stands frozen in place as they stare at each other. He puts forth a hand as he
announces, “Hi, I’m Nick Blackstock. I don’t believe I’ve met you.”
“Not now, you idiot!” she wails in panic. “Get me out of the hall before someone
sees me!”
His eyes crawl over her body with more than incidental interest. She has a
distinct feeling that she’s about to hand out a free ass pass to her orgasm mine in
order to get out of the hall. She makes no effort to screen her nakedness from
him. There’s no arm across her breasts, no hand cupping her hairless mons. Her
Brazilian muff cut is gloriously on display. The aesthetician had worked on her
yesterday, so the wax job is as fresh as possible.
She stands momentarily with her arms behind her where her hands still clutch
the knob. She suddenly turns again to grapple in vain with the door. It’s entirely
obvious to him that she’s been walking around naked inside her apartment. Very
soon,
it’s going to be apparent to anyone walking past that she relishes nudity. At the
moment, reading the morning paper is the furthest thing from her mind. Sheila is
currently an individual at odds with her shattered early morning dream.
She decides that Nick is probably the same as Lenny. By now, his cock has
assumed the rigidity of a concrete reinforcing rod. His package seems to have
grown alarmingly in the last three seconds. She imagines his sex engine pulsing
