Daddy's

by Helen Goodman

  She looked towards the ceiling. Here she was, she thought to herself, a respectable traditional married mother of two, being fucked mercilessly by a disgusting fat stranger, while others watched! She didn't care, in fact the very thought brought her to another climax. She dug her fingernails into Eric's buttocks to encourage him, and he obliged by pumping away harder. He carried on for a further ten minutes, giving her two more orgasms, before reaching his own and emptying himself into her cunt. He sagged onto her for a moment, before heaving himself off the sofa, and pulling his jeans up.

  Meena got unsteadily to her feet, collected her clothes, and dressed calmly while Eric watched.

  "Thank you for showing it to me" she said to him brightly, "I liked it very much." Meena walked out of the office door into the sunshine, smiling at the workmen standing nearby, watching her silently as she passed them by. She stumbled across the site to the road, feeling their eyes on her back, and set off for home. Her face was flushed, her hair untidy, her sandals and clothes covered in the dirt of the site and the office. There were grimy hand marks on her breasts and buttocks, Eric's semen was soaking her panties and running down her thigh, and her cunt ached, but she felt on top of the world. When she reached home, she walked through the door and undressed again. She threw all of her clothes into the washing machine and went upstairs to take a shower.

  After she had removed the mud, dust and semen from her body, she lay naked on her bed, and despite the soreness between her legs, gave herself her sixth orgasm of the day. She felt a disappointment that it was Friday, but felt that she might just be returning to the building site very soon...

  The End.

  Visitor

  I was cowering in a corner of my cell, when I heard the sharp click-clack of high heels on a stone floor. I pictured, with dry humour, a sexy warden wearing high heels and coming to punish the poor prisoner. That was what kept my spirits up in this wretched place; humour and fantasies.

  As the person with heels came closer, I was able to glance at her through the small barred hole on the cell door. Even from afar, she seemed like a formidable woman – beautiful face, long black hair, dressed in black from head to toe, and she somehow had this air about her... I can't explain it, except that maybe the best word to describe her presence would be 'charisma'. As she spoke to the jailor, her hands emphasized her words with vivid gestures. The jailor seemed scared, but showed admirable courage in denying the lady what she demanded. I already knew, watching from afar and without being able to make out the words of their conversation, that this woman had the self-confidence of someone who was rarely or never denied. And as it turned out, she wasn't this time either; when the jailor refused to give in, she up and walked away, only to return a few moments later with the poor jailor's superior. And this mysterious lady was granted an access to the prison.

  I was curious about this woman, and very much in love, even before I had ever talked to her. As she walked past my cell, I retreated from my watching spot, only to see her come towards my door and ask the jailor to unlock it. I retreated all the way into the corner, suddenly terrified. Even if being alone in my cell meant being lonely, someone coming to my cell usually meant very bad news.

  The woman stepped in, and the jailor closed the door behind her. For a while she just stood there, watching me. I avoided her gaze, but stole glances of her hands. Those big, strong, soft hands I suddenly wanted to touch. She didn't come any closer, respecting my personal boundaries; instead, she spoke to me.

  "Come here," she said, her voice soft and bereft of all that demanding tone she had used on the jailor. "Don't be afraid," she added when I hesitated.

  I took a cautious step closer, but hesitated again. I wanted to ask who she was. And what she was doing here. What she wanted of me? I wanted to believe she didn't mean me any harm, but as long as I wasn't sure I could not be at ease at her presence.

  As I stood there, eyeing her – still not her face, only those beautiful hands and the high-heeled shoes she was wearing – she extended her hand to me.

  "Come on," she renewed her plea, her voice even softer this time. "I'll take care of you."

  I froze at those words, and slowly lifted my gaze to meet her eyes. Seeing the warmth in them made me take a slow breath, just to steady my racing heart. And no more hesitating; I closed the distance between us, taking her extended hand, and she pulled me into an embrace. I closed my eyes as she pulled my head against her chest, caressing my hair. I inhaled her scent, a sweet perfume, not too overwhelming but certainly noticeable. For a long while, we just stood there, as she was holding me close and stroking my hair, rocking me softly in her arms.

  After what felt like an eternity, she planted a soft kiss on my head, then lead me to sit on the bed. Sitting beside me she cleared a strand of hair from my face, then took my hands into hers. As she was looking at me, I knew I could tell her anything I wished.

  "What's your name?" I asked. My voice was hoarse, since I hadn't spoken aloud in days.

  She lifted her hand to caress my cheek as she replied, "I'm Kaliopi."

  Content with that answer, I leaned in to rest my head on her shoulder. She kept stroking me, my cheek, my hands, my arms, my thigh. There was a long moment of silence, until I lifted my head to look at her one more time. She had a somewhat Slavonic face – with the big nose I always liked in Slavonic women – and long, very straight black hair, and judging by the wrinkles on her face she was in her mid-40s. Suddenly I realized I was staring at her lips, and wanting to do a lot more than just stare. I leaned in again, to whisper into her ear,

  "Te sakam."

  A wonderfully useful phrase, since it means both "I love you" and "I want you". I stayed close to her ear, knowing I was so close she could feel my breath. After a while I slowly retreated to meet her eyes again. The warmth in them was still there. I placed my hand on her cheek and leaned in...and the first touch of those lips was all but divine. She kissed me back, so tenderly I feared my heart would burst. As she slipped her tongue into my mouth, I inhaled sharply and, unconsciously, pushed my body against hers. Her hands were caressing my back and my sides, and the kiss that had started out so tender and delicate was becoming more and more passionate.

  She now took the lead, peeling my shirt off but never stopping the kissing for long. Then she gently pushed me down to lie on the bed, and came next to me, her hands now caressing my stomach. I can't even describe how wonderful those fingers felt on my bare skin. When her hand touched my breast through the fabric of my bra, the feeling made me hold my breath – long enough for her to let out a small chuckle and remind me to keep breathing. I smiled as I resumed breathing, and her hands kept traveling on my skin. Soon, she added another sensation, softly brushing her lips on the side of my neck. I tilted my head to give her better access, and she used the opportunity to kiss the same spot properly this time. She even sucked gently, not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough to draw a very needy little moan out of me and make my hips buckle against her. She smiled against my neck, a smile that I could not see but could feel on my skin, and kept planting kisses down my neck. Her hand now rested on my inner thigh, and I was very aware of it being there, almost where I needed it the most but not quite. But she managed to distract me by placing a kiss on my breast, just on the border of the fabric of the bra. As I subconsciously arched my back, she slipped a hand under me and unhooked my bra, then swiftly removed the garment. It was gone so fast that I almost didn't notice.

  As the bra was discarded, she now had full access to my breasts. She placed small kisses on the skin, then swept her tongue over a nipple, making me arch my back again. She sucked the nipple into her mouth, stroking her fingers over the other one. I bit my lower lip, seeing in my mind how those beautiful fingers with bright red nail polish looked like on my breast. As she kept licking and stroking, my body was moving on its own accord, and I was becoming so wet that I seriously needed to lose my pants. Which she understood soon, taking a break from the caressing in order
to pull my pants away. Panties followed suit without further ado, and so I was completely naked.

  Which reminded me of the fact that I wanted to see that gorgeous body of hers, too. She had managed to charm me so completely that I had literally been mindless for a while. Knowing that I couldn't keep my wits about me under her administrations, I decided to act quickly. I opened my eyes (when had I closed them?) and tugged the hem of her shirt, not finding words but wishing to communicate my intentions by gaze. She understood, lifted herself up a bit and removed the shirt. I lifted myself too, slowly bringing my hands to touch those big, soft breasts. After a while, she smiled at me and removed her bra, after which I simply couldn't resist and took one of those beautiful nipples in my mouth. She placed her hand on the back of my head and arched her back, and I was happy to fulfill that unspoken wish, sucking a bit harder, then licking, then sucking again. She took my hand and guided it to the other breast, then covered it with her hand, leaving my hand comfortably squeezed between her breast and her hand. Her quickened breath and soft sighs were music to my ears.

  After a long while of enjoying those gorgeous breasts, I lifted my eyes to see her face again. She placed a finger under my chin and gently brought me up to kiss her lips again. I did so, my hands on her shoulders, as she gently swept me back to lying down on the bed, this time coming over me, parting my legs and positioning herself between them. As her sex touched mine the first time, I gasped and ground myself against her, desperate for greater contact. She repositioned so that her sex was now against my thigh, and her thigh against my slit. I wrapped my arms around her neck as we found a steady rhythm of grinding against each other, pulling her down for a kiss. She tucked her long hair behind her ear, then took my hand and pushed it down on the mattress, above my head, her fingers intertwining with mine. She bit my lower lip, so gently it didn't hurt, but sent millions of little shivers down my spine, making me gasp into her mouth. As my breathing was getting quicker, she leaned close to my ear so I could hear and feel her equally excited breath, then she nibbled at my earlobe, making me moan aloud. She then lifted herself a bit, and I almost cried at the lost contact. She more than made up for it however, sliding two fingers into my dripping wet cunt. As she set a steady pace, my hips buckled to meet her hand with every thrust. Her lips were still only an inch away from my ear.

  "Do you want to come?" she whispered in a low, husky voice.

  I was too far gone to utter a simple coherent sentence, but I made a sound in the affirmative. And a desperate one at that. She kissed me on the lips, long and deep, and then leaned close to my ear again.

  "Come on my hand, little one. I'll be here for you. I'll take care of you."

  Those words again, and her quiet, husky voice, her breath in my ear – she drove me over the edge. And she kept me there, kept me riding the wave of my orgasm, holding me close and safe at the same time. It seemed to last for several minutes, and when I finally came back down, she squeezed me tightly against herself, kissing me on the cheek, on the forehead, keeping her arms tightly wrapped around me. I eased myself into her touch, feeling safer and more comfortable than I ever had.

  I fell asleep in her arms, as she was idly caressing me, sometimes muttering sweet little words for me. Somehow I knew I would be safe, and she would still be there when I'd wake up. I don't think I had ever slept that peacefully before, as I did in her arms that night. She kept her promise; she was taking care of me.

  The End.

  A Casual Encounter

  A subtle breeze cuts through the heat of late spring, making for as pleasant a day as Paul could have hoped for. He saunters down the familiar park path that winds its way down the hill and hugs the curve of the pond, shielding his eyes from the midmorning sun as he seeks out his regular bench. Nestled in a cove of pine trees with a great view of the duck-dotted pond, it's the perfect location for him, a spot that he seeks out week after week on lazy weekend mornings.

  Paul settles himself onto the slick, well-worn wood seat and goes about arranging himself appropriately. The newspaper is plunked down next to him, the business section isolated and brought to the top. He retrieves his newsboy cap from his back pocket, unfolds it and slips it into place on his head. His ex-wife had always hated this hat, telling him often and emphatically that it made him appear older than his years, but he insisted that it gives his conventional look a rakish touch.

  Absently he unfolds the paper while looking out over the rest of the park, taking in the frisbee-chasing dog and his owner across the pond, the pair of joggers struggling up the hill, the men, like him but older, taking up space on the benches in the distance. A quiet day overall, the kind he prefers.

  He snaps the paper into position and sets to leisurely perusing the dry text, though he can't help the way his gaze wanders up to note the passersby on the path in front of him, especially when those passersby happen to be of the female persuasion. He may be in his 40s, but that doesn't mean he can't still look and maybe even hope. He tries not to hope too much, though, and always returns to reading about the strength of the dollar.

  Maybe he could have stood to read a little less and hope a little more, though, because he doesn't even see her walk up. She's peeling back the top corner of his newspaper before he even notices her, despite her striking appearance, with that unnaturally red pixie cut and the multiple little hoops lining the edge of her ears. She's young, college-aged at least but baby-faced in a way that makes her seem innocent despite clear attempts to try and roughen her exterior. She stands there smiling, a cryptic little thing, while she sizes him up, her blue eyes taking in his square jaw and distinguished nose, but also his wrinkles and rather thin mouth. Self-consciously, he clears his throat. How utterly boring he must seem to her.

  After another second, he puts on his best debonaire tone to say, "Hello there."

  She doesn't answer. Of course, she doesn't answer, that's how these things go. He knows enough to expect that but he's still thrown off a bit by it, unsure of how to proceed. She helps him out at least, taking the paper from his hands altogether and letting it fall haphazardly to the side. With a single finger, she tweaks the bill of his cap and then brazenly climbs into his lap, her summer skirt spreading over his legs as she straddles him.

  It worked. He can't exactly believe it even now, but it worked. Ever since his divorce was finalized, he had been putting up these Craigslist ads and sitting here on this very bench in this very same situation every Saturday, waiting for some woman, any woman, to take him up on his offer. A nice fast fuck right out in the open. He's always had a bit of an exhibitionist fetish, but with his rigidly modest wife, there was never much of a chance to indulge it. It was part of the reason she left him, actually. Of course, he never anticipated that his little ad would work, not really. What chance did his rather gentlemanly request for a fun public fuck have in with all the many lewd dick shots and poorly worded solicitations from 20-something "studs?" But he figured why not try all the same, and live out at least a fraction of a fantasy in the process. So each week he would post that he would be waiting on this bench, at this time, holding a newspaper and wearing his brown houndstooth cap, for anyone looking for a quick public tryst.

  And now the tryst is right here, sitting in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning her round face, smooth and pale, against his. She seemed almost waifish standing there in front of him, but her petite frame is pleasantly solid under his wandering hands, with some delicious substance to her hips, her ass. Her plump lips teasingly engage his as he gropes southwards and he anxiously returns her kiss. He lets her be the first to offer tongue, but meets it hungrily when she does, daring to press his cock against her with a rock of his hips. When there's no rebuke from her, his hands venture further and fumble under her skirt, where he finds, thank all that is holy, she's not wearing any underwear.

  He lets his fingers work the magic he learned during his 20 years of marriage and casts a glance over the woman's shoulder at the park at large. Every
one in sight is ignoring them so far. They're just a couple making out on a park bench, after all. The cops usually don't get called until things have progressed much further.

  She grinds against him, in time with his persistent stroking, the moan in his ear pulling his attention fully back to her. He drops his mouth to her neck, nibbling gently at the point where her neck meets her shoulder. And then again not so gently, when he feels her shivering, rocking reaction. He gets his reward in the form of her reaching down, steadily unbuckling his belt and yanking open the fly of his pants.

  He's already hard when she pulls his cock out but her small hands expertly running the length of it bring him close to bursting. He wraps his hands gently over her upper arms, stalling her for the quick second it takes for him to scope out the area once again. No one near enough, those in sight occupied with their own lives. It's now or never.

  Paul fishes a condom from his pocket and tears it open with his teeth, still too pragmatic to risk a random bareback encounter. He takes control of his cock again and slides the thing on before grabbing a handful of ass on either side and sliding her forward. She seems to expect nothing less from him and wriggles eagerly into place when he pulls, lightly biting her lip in anticipation. She seems to enjoy the anticipation a little too much, though, because she pauses there, pussy poised teasingly on the tip of his rubbered cock.

  "Now," he rumbles, fingers digging in at her hips and urging her downward.

  She just grins right back, seeming to thoroughly enjoy the rise she's getting out of him. With slow, devastatingly slow purpose she lowers herself onto him, resisting every one of his restrained attempts to thrust himself deeper. He lets out a heavy, inadvertently held breath when she's finally eased all the way down, when his cock is buried in the tight warmth of her pussy. With practiced ease, she begins to move her hips in small, deliberate circles, just slow enough to keep strangers' eyes from figuring them out too quickly.