The Firehouse

by

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Reluctant, Heterosexual, Light Bond, Humiliation, Gang Bang, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, .

Desc: Sex Story: Every year Donna puts together something to thank the firemen in her community. This year, I had her thank them a little more personally.

Donna had a dark side, a side that wanted to submit to the commands of a man who knew how to control her, knew how to handle her, knew how to tame her. She had dark fantasies, wants and needs that she didn't know how to handle. But she also had a light side, a side that loved volunteering, mentoring, helping people. It satisfied her knowing that she was doing something good to help people.

One of those good deeds was helping out in the annual 9/11 commemoration celebration. From even before September began, Donna prepared, making up baskets, baking up a storm, and then on 9/11, delivering those baskets to the local fire stations. This year she was even interviewed by the local television station about what she did. And this year, her worlds overlapped, dark bleeding into light.

She had been to a number of firehouses already, but when she walked into Station 10, one of the mechanics looked her over and said, "You know my mom."

"Yes, I do know your mom," Donna replied with a nervous blush. His mom ran parties that demonstrated and sold sex toys. Donna knew that she was blushing.

Donna talked to the firemen for a little bit, and presented them with the basket of treats that she had prepared. Then it was time for the group picture.

"Can everyone please stand in front of the fire truck so we can get a picture," Donna requested.

"With our shirts on or off?" one of the fireman asked.

Donna knew what she wanted the answer to be, but she just laughed and said, "If you want to take off your shirts, I will not object one little bit."

Another, older, fireman said, "If you take yours off, we will take ours off."

She looked over at her husband and knew that wasn't going to happen! They got a picture with all of their shirts on. But she wondered what would happen when she told X.

Station 10 was not only remembering the events of 9/11, but also remembering the service of one of its members on the day that he retired ... Donna talked to Harry about his pending retirement, asking if he as looking forward to it.

"It'll be OK," he told Donna. "My wife's a bush doctor."

Donna asked innocently, "Where in the bush of Alaska does she work?"

Harry looked at her and said, "She is a gynecologist."

The men got a sample of how beautifully Donna could blush as she turned about 50 shades of red while the guys were rolling with laughter. She tried to hide behind her husband, but that didn't work.

After finishing at Station 10, Donna visited another three firehouses, with far less embarrassment, to her great relief. Her embarrassment, however, was far from over.


One night later in the week, Donna again approached Station 10. She was carrying another basket and she was far more nervous than last time. One of the mechanics looked up when she entered and asked, "Hey pretty lady, what are you doing back?"

"Um, I brought another basket," Donna said nervously. "Also, I wanted another picture."

"What was wrong with the last one?" the man asked.

Donna couldn't look at him in the eye as she said, "We were wearing our shirts."

He smiled broadly and yelled, "Hey guys!"

The rest of the men in the station filed in the room, and the smiling mechanic filled them in. "It seems this pretty lady wasn't kidding about a picture with our shirt's off, and she's asked if we could take a picture like that for her. If I understand correctly, she'll take her shirt off as well."

As he spoke, Donna glanced around the room from under half closed lashes. The men ran the gamut of ages, from barely out of their teens up to near retirement ages. They also covered many different body types, but because of their profession, they were all in pretty good shape. And there was something about firemen that just did it for Donna, regardless.

One of the men relieved her of the basket, while another took Donna's camera and set it up on a tripod. Donna heard the man who had taken the basket exclaim, "What the fuck?!"

She looked up and saw that he had opened the package, and was reading a note. That realization made her lower her head and blush even redder. She actually didn't know what was in the basket, or what the note said. "Damn X and my traitorous friends he uses as accomplices!" she thought to herself. She might not have known what was in the basket or the note, but she could guess the general drift. He wouldn't have sent her here for a simple social call.

"Guys, you have got to look at this!" the firefighter with the note insisted. The men all gathered around and passed the note to one another. Each one expressed surprise as they read it.

The captain turned to Donna and asked, "Do you know what this says, Missy?"

Donna shook her head.

"So its just a joke," he asked.

Donna shook her head again.

The captain walked over and handed Donna the note. She took it into her trembling hands and read the short note. It was short and simple, saying, "In gracious appreciation for the courageous service that you provide to this community, I am providing this Dolly to you for the night." It was signed with an X. Donna's breath caught in her throat.

"Is that serious?" the captain asked.

Donna nodded silently. She glanced up and gasped as she saw the contents of the basket. It was filled with condoms, lube, rope, dildos and even a flogger. She knew she was in for an interesting night.


The first thing that the men did was to take the requested picture. The men all pulled their shirts off and looked at Donna expectantly. "Well, come on Dolly," the captain said. Donna shivered as he used X's pet name for her. It actually helped her continue, as it reminded her that she was just his Dolly. It was he that posed her, dressed her, and more importantly, undressed her, even if it were her hands doing it. She unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged it off, well aware of the fact that all she had left were her jeans and flip-flops.

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