He was patient, letting her take her time, only to suddenly push hard, bursting Amelie’s hymen with one thrust and making her cry out at the sudden sharp pain, but also in sheer joy. Her cunt still stung as she lowered herself properly onto his cock shaft, but she was determined to cope for the sake of having her hole full, not only of erect penis, but of the spunk he had to give her. Again he began to thrust and she responded by wriggling herself down onto his cock, then lifting her hands to play with the dark mass of her hair as she rode him, showing herself off as they fucked. He gave an encouraging grin, reaching out to take hold of her breasts and pull at her nipples as his cock moved inside her, and yet he showed none of the desperation she was used to from Tom and from other lovers.
Amelie told herself that he’d probably had a thousand lovers in the course of his long and eventful life and had no doubt learnt to pace himself. In any case a man in his seventies could hardly be expected to behave like a twenty-year-old. Yet it was essential that he stayed focused on her cunt and came inside her instead of in her mouth, over her face and breasts, or any of the other dirty things men so enjoyed doing.
Eager to get him more excited, she lifted herself off his cock to turn around, exhibiting her bottom to him as he once more eased his erection up her hole. He made no comment but immediately took hold of her bottom, spreading her cheeks to show off her anus and the junction between cock and cunt as they fucked. Amelie knew she was bloody, and that he could see every rude detail as she rode him, in a way that no man had ever done before. It was gloriously dirty, almost too dirty, and she had to remind herself who she was giving such intimate pleasures to in order to let herself carry on. Yet still he showed no signs of wanting to come.
Exasperated, Amelie dismounted once more and spread herself out on the dry grass beside the chair, her thighs wide to invite entry to her freshly deflowered sex. He responded without hesitation, mounting her and driving his erection deep up her cunt even as he settled between her thighs. Amelie spread her legs as wide as they would go and took hold around his back, clinging tight as he began to hump her with an earnest enthusiasm that made her sure she’d soon be given a filling of hot sticky spunk. Only it didn’t happen.
He’d been pumping away on top of her for a good five minutes when he suddenly withdrew to kneel back and make a circular motion with one finger. The implication was obvious and again Amelie had to remind herself who he was and why it was important that she did as she was told. She got into the most vulnerable and undignified position a woman can possibly adopt, on all fours with her knees braced well apart and her bottom stuck up to expose her cunt for entry and make a blatant show of her anus.
Looking back between her dangling breasts, Amelie found his face full of lewd delight as he pulled at his cock over the sight of her spread bottom and now gaping cunt. At first she thought he was going to pull himself off and was about to speak, but he came forwards and pressed his cock to her hole filling her with thick, meaty erection. His hands took her hips and he began fucking her once more, hard and deep, and with the same even, lazy rhythm he’d used all along.
Amelie could only hold her lewd pose, her knees wide and her back pulled well in to show off her bottom to the best possible advantage as he enjoyed her cunt. He obviously appreciated the view, not only pumping in her cunt but squeezing and spreading her cheeks to enjoy the feel of her flesh and the display of her anus. Then he’d begun to spank her, chuckling to himself as he slapped at her bottom cheeks, all the while sliding his cock slowly in and out of her hole.
Only one option remained. Amelie reached back, first to squeeze his balls, then to slide a finger into the crease of his bottom to find his anus. He gave a little gasp of surprise as he was penetrated, but as she began to rub at the inside of his rectum he was gasping and immediately began to thrust deep and hard into her cunt. She pushed her finger deeper still, disgusted with herself for what she was doing but unable to deny the dirty thrill of deliberately bringing him off up her cunt hole by fingering his anus. It was working too. His hands went back on her hips and he thrust himself into her, harder and harder, until at last he jammed himself in to the very hilt and gave out a cry of ecstasy as he filled her cunt with come.
Amelie found herself smiling as she pulled her finger free. She’d done it, sweaty, exhausted, sore, but triumphant, with the great man’s spunk dribbling slowly from her well-fucked hole. But one thing remained, to make very sure her womb got a good share of his seed. Even as he pulled out she was rolling over onto her back once more, to spread herself out in front of him, thighs cocked wide as she began to masturbate.
It was easy. The dirty, undignified fucking she’d been given was more than enough to spark her needs. But better still, the man whose cock she’d sucked, who she’d ridden back and front, who she’d accepted between her legs and knelt down for rear entry, who’d spanked her bottom and had her finger in his hole, was Vicente da Silva.
* * *
He watched as the beautiful, naked girl walked into his kitchen and poured out two glasses of red wine. She’d come from nowhere, a lovely young virgin, stripped, wanked him hard, sucked his cock and allowed him to fuck her in four different positions, finishing off by sticking a finger up his bottom to make him spunk inside her, and to cap it all she’d masturbated in front of him. It had to be a joke, one of his mates having a laugh by sending him a tart. Either that or she was some demented sex addict. Not that he really cared, because it had been the best fuck of his life, and no man in his right mind would have turned her down, let alone Paul Suggs, retired plumber from Penge.
Something Between Them
Ashley Hind
Hot weather makes me horny as hell. There is a simple equation I can apply: no sex for three months plus ninety degree heat equals one frustrated girl lacking her usual sense of moral decency. I had to add to this a day spent miles from home on a business course alongside mainly young males, all of whom seemed less keen on working than on eyeing me up. Their unsubtle innuendo should have made me baulk but it didn’t. My usual circumspection was in constant danger of flying out the window. Although I did succeed in knocking back several hollow offers to meet up for a drink (and presumably more) that same evening, I kicked myself each time for my reticence. By the end of the day my frustrated, treacherous pussy was all but marching around carrying a placard bearing the words: Don’t listen to her – slip that big cock into me right now!
Heat must blur the boundaries of etiquette because I was being leered at like I was a hired stripper. True, I had dressed less formally than most. A suit would have been more appropriate than my thin cotton summer dress, but I needed to take bold measures to avoid evaporating in the heat. There is something about sweat that makes me feel dirty – not in the unclean sense but in the rude sense. I guess it is by association with rampant sex. The trouble is if I sweat even a little I think it makes others believe that I’m some kind of fuck-pig that needs an instant seeing-to, like I’ve ceded my virtue and am available to anyone. This might not be far from the truth but I do like to cling to some vestiges of decorum. It’s hard to be demure when you are leaking pints. I think that if boys see my sweat they will know I am secretly gagging for it!
I managed to get through work without having to yield my honour, although one long afternoon daydream saw me taken by all-comers in a smouldering, slithering tangle on the seminar-room floor. The day was so hot that by the end of it I felt like my insides had melted and were slowly seeping out of me and into my knickers – a dangerous thing when they are as brief as mine. Donning G-strings under a dress that only reaches mid-thigh is a bit like playing arse roulette, but unlike many girls I just love the feel of them. I love the tightness and intrusion in your rude bits. I adore the tiny slip of fabric that you don’t get with fuller panties. It’s just a little strip that barely covers your modesty, especially when your lips are as full as mine. If you pull them camel-toe close they cling to your shape, exposing the wrinkled-skin hint of your hair-free outer
labia where they merge with your groin. You know that no matter how tight they are against you it would still only take the merest movement, just millimetres either side, to expose your slit completely. And since I have slender legs there is no flesh to hide any indiscretion. One unexpected gust could reveal everything.
Rush hour meant that the platform was packed, which also meant that getting a seat would be nigh-on impossible. I was beyond weary now. I almost screamed with the frustration of having to suffer another two hours of standing up with my pussy and my legs aching and these damn shoes killing me. The only saving grace was the slightly cooler breeze that channelled down the platform to help dry my clammy skin. However, it would be a brief respite with the train likely to be a sweat-box. The air-con would be no match for the body heat generated by the sardine tin crush of commuters. Thankfully it was on time, but as it glided in it became obvious that it was already near full, the passengers getting on at Waterloo already bagging the seats. Once it left here it would go for nearly an hour without stopping, which meant no one was getting off to create any space. It was a heart-sinking inevitability that it would be a nightmare journey.
I didn’t even bother looking for a seat. I just stepped on and lodged myself into the space by the doors where I could get a decent handhold and where I was at least cut off from those lucky seated passengers by the solid partition separating the exit vestibule from the carriage. It gave me my own little square foot of space, territory that was mine, with its own small advantages to be guarded and enjoyed. There was solidity on one side giving me something nonhuman to lean against from time to time, and doors near enough to watch the world speed by and to provide an easy escape once my stop finally came. However, it wasn’t all five-star luxury. I had to stand astride my bulky bag, holding it upright between my ankles, soldering myself to the spot for fear of it tipping and spreading the contents across the floor. Anything spilled would be impossible to gather up, since I was unable to bend without ramming my behind into someone’s crotch. My legs were thus forced apart and I was supremely conscious of the sticky dampness between them. It seemed inevitable that the scent of my day’s rudeness would seep into the air of the compartment to join the fug of the other passengers, all with a day’s toil behind them. My body was covered in a sheen of sweat, my pussy felt molten, and I was surrounded by strangers.
I was thanking my lucky star that at least I wasn’t too hemmed in when a group of teenage backpackers filed into the space beside me, chattering loudly in German and realising that further search would still yield no seats. They jostled around behind me, knocking me with their rucksacks before deciding that here was as good a place as any to ride out the journey time. Their loudness broke into my little corner of peace and they ate up my room, forming a wall of rucksacks to the side of me as they filled the vestibule. The rock of the train meant a backpack or two would sporadically nudge me, keeping me off balance. They were oblivious to the crush they were causing so I took comfort only from the fact that they had their backs to me and effectively sectioned me off from everything else, providing me with a cramped but secret corner of my own.
I was just coming to terms with my newly restricted space when I was jostled again from the side and looked up to see the rucksack wall being breached. First came a slender arm, soon to be followed by the rest of an annoyed-looking female. She squeezed through their ranks to force her way into my corner, right between me and the exit door. She seemed surprised and angry to find me already squashed into that precious space behind the backpackers, but the rucksack wall closed up tight again and there was no way back for her. She cursed my presence in some foreign tongue then shuffle-turned back and forth to try and find a suitable position which didn’t leave her face squashed to the carriage walls or door, eventually having to grab a handle for stability. She thus ended up facing me and so close that the large bust she’d somehow contained inside her tight white T-shirt was nearly touching mine. Lucky my own tits are so much less of a handful! She smelled sweetly of a light fragrance, and I could just detect the scent of her fresh perspiration from her exertions in finding some space to stand. She was about my age, maybe mid-twenties, and Eastern European at a guess. She had dyed spiked red hair, a high, wide forehead, pale skin and bee-stung lips. She was pretty for sure, though overly made up to the point of trashiness.
She had stunning large green cat’s eyes, one of which was slightly in-turned so that even though her face was barely a foot from mine I couldn’t quite tell if she was looking straight at me. She certainly seemed to be and her pout was more than a little unnerving. We would generally rock back and forth in tandem but occasionally the train would cross a junction or take a sharper turn and our breasts would press gently together, holding for just a fraction before parting again. It was embarrassing but she had no room to manoeuvre and I could feel weight behind me so I dared not step back. She was tight-lipped and her eyes had narrowed and seemed to be boring into me as if it was my fault that we had ended up so embarrassingly close. I decided that ignorance was the best policy. If I didn’t look at her then we could both pretend this social impropriety was not actually happening. The trouble was my nipples knew it was happening and I could feel them itching inside my bra and threatening to stand up and be counted. Worse, the naughty part of my brain – the part that annoyingly always leapt to the forefront when decorum was called for – had already decided that, despite her slightly scary demeanour, this girl was pretty enough, and our little booby-squashing antics sufficiently titillating to be used as fodder for a hot, urgent wank the second I got through my front door and tugged down my damp panties.
Then she spoke. It startled me, although her voice was not loud and was nothing like the cacophony emanating from the German kids. I didn’t hear what she said. It was a short phrase, possibly not even English. I looked at her blankly.
‘I’m sorry?’ I said.
Her eyes turned fractionally and I saw that only now was she in fact looking at me. I felt the colour rising in my cheeks but before I could say anything else a low foreign-sounding male voice spoke from just behind me, making me jump. It was just inches from my ear – so close I could feel the breath move my hair, worsening my rapidly building jitters. I almost turned to see who this rude fellow was invading my personal space but just looking around would surely have resulted in me smacking my face splat into his nose. He wasn’t actually touching me, but I could sense him right there, feel his heat, maybe even detect the fibres of his clothes against the hairs standing up on my bare limbs. Her eyes flicked away that fraction to resume her previous focus and she spoke again, not quite through me but almost, like I was invisible between her and the male companion. If her words were solid, they would have brushed my cheek on their journey to him. They took turns to speak, conversing in short, edgy phrases. It wasn’t quite an argument but there was tension and impatience in her voice, although he seemed to be less agitated. I tried to lean to the side, to escape the conversation that seemed to be passing back and forth through my head, but the rock of the train kept me in the firing line and bounced me gently between their two bodies.
Her eyes would flicker back and forth almost imperceptibly as she spoke, mostly aiming at him but sometimes at me, as if she were suddenly talking to or about me. It made me jump every time, charging my belly with anxiety. Their voices dropped to hushed whispers, and her eyes fixed on me for longer, like I was definitely the target of their conversation. They were hatching something between them. I closed my ankles tighter against my bag, even though there would be nowhere for them to run if they tried to snatch it.
‘I don’t care!’ she suddenly hissed in answer to his latest murmur, the first thing she had spoken in her accented English. ‘My cunt is like a furnace and I need to come right now!’
It sent a shock jangling through me. She didn’t seem to mind at all that I had heard her, not even glancing my way to gauge my reaction or witness my saucer-eyes. Her words seemed preposterously loud considering their
content. I flushed with the embarrassment of being privy to them. But she could have shouted and no one would have heard her above the backpackers and the noise of the train. I felt him lean into my back, maybe due to the rock of the carriage, maybe to get closer to her to regain the circumspection she had cast aside. His voice was now more hushed and chiding, and even closer to my ear. She just tutted in response and looked more exasperated.
‘Why won’t you ever just fuck me when I ask?’ she demanded.
It seemed extraordinary that she could be so devoid of any social graces. The heat had clearly driven her to distraction and I was seemingly the last of her worries. His words remained low and measured, still incomprehensible to me, but they were delivered right next to my ear and sent a shiver down my spine. She flashed a half-smile at his answer, then bit her lip and leaned into me, again as if I didn’t exist, pressing her soft bust to mine so that she could get nearer to him.
‘I can’t wait to suck your big cock,’ she said. ‘You are such a dirty bastard I bet you’ve already had it up some other bitch today but I just don’t care. I want every inch of it in my mouth, whether or not it is still coated in some dirty slut’s come. I’ll suck her clean off you and squeeze your huge tight balls because no matter how many times you have come there is still always a gallon of spunk in there to shoot down my throat.’
Sex and the Stranger Page 4
