by Penny Birch
‘Perfect,’ he declared. ‘Right, strip.’
‘Strip? What, bare?’
‘Yeah, starkers. Why should I let you wear any clothes?’
‘In case people come, that’s why!’
‘I already told you what happens if people come – they get to fuck your posh little cunt. Now strip, bitch.’
I hesitated, not at all sure of myself. Dirty old men are one thing, easy to handle. Lads are another, and the quarry was a lot more open than the woods had been.
‘Do you really think it’s going to make any difference if I let you keep your clothes on?’ Monty said. ‘They’ll just strip you and fuck you anyway. Come on, Tasha, nobody’s going to come, and if they do we’ll hear their cars ages before they get here.’
‘All right,’ I conceded, ‘but I want my cheap dress, and you’re to tie me lightly. Hang on.’
I ran back to the car, leaving him to amuse himself. I’d put on tight white trousers and an equally tight top, along with a bra that gave plenty of support but was a pig to fasten. The cheap dress was a much more sensible choice – easy to pull off and easy to pull on. I changed in the shelter of the car, hurriedly stripping off my top and pulling the dress over my head before removing my trousers beneath it. I’d chosen the yellow knickers from the three-pack, fairly sure they’d get ruined, and I kept them, running back to find Monty by the unburned car.
‘Just what we need,’ he said, grinning as he held up something for my inspection.
It was the dipstick from the car, a long rod of flexible metal ending in a smooth ball, still oily. I’d been expecting him to use twigs, but I had to admit it was going to make the perfect titty whip, light but painful, just right to punish a girl across her breasts.
‘Right, dress off and up against a tree,’ he ordered. ‘And we need string, or rope.’
‘Use my panties,’ I suggested, ‘as I suppose I’m going to have to take them off anyway.’
‘You are,’ he said, ‘right now. In fact, why aren’t you stripped?’
He snapped his fingers, pointing at me. I took the hem of the dress in response, obediently peeling it up and off, to leave myself in panties. Those followed, shrugged down and off, tossed to Monty, who caught them and sniffed the crotch.
‘Nothing like the smell of a hot cunt,’ he drawled. ‘Right, a tree. That one’ll do, with the smooth trunk. That way you can slide down to suck on my cock once I’ve beaten you.’
I went to it meekly, clasping my hands behind the slender trunk. He came behind, to twist the panties around my wrists and tie them off, leaving me bound and vulnerable in the dappled sunlight. My breasts felt huge, and my nipples were sticking up, stiff and sensitive. I was ready, or as ready as a girl ever can be when some bastard is going to whip her across her breasts and then make her suck his penis.
Monty came close to me, trailing the dipstick around the curve of my body to leave a line of old oil running from my hip up to my chest. He stopped with it between my breasts, and pushed, making it flex against my skin.
‘Nine,’ he said. ‘Now don’t you wish you’d been a bit more obedient last night and a bit less prissy?’
‘I wasn’t prissy!’ I complained. ‘I wet my panties in front of you! I let you bugger me!’
‘You were still worried about your precious body,’ he answered. ‘You should have done exactly as I said.’
With that he lifted the dipsitck, stepping close to press it across my breasts, hard, to make the flesh bulge. I looked down, my lip trembling, as he bent the tip back, leaving another oily line running from boob to boob, just above my nipples. I could see what he was going to do as the rod bent back further and further. At any moment he’d release it, letting the horrid thing snap back across my breasts. The thought of it was making me shiver, my breath coming in ragged pants, tears of panic and frustration welling in my eyes.
He let go. I saw it, a flicker of oily metal and then it had hit me. I felt my flesh jerk and heard my own scream, jumping on my feet, shaking my head in my pain, calling him a bastard. I struggled to recover, only to find him doing it again, the other way around, a touch higher. The agonising process was repeated, the stick drawn back, held, released and again I was squealing and jumping in helpless pain and consternation.
My breasts were already throbbing, and I was breathing really hard. Monty showed no mercy, apparently unaware of my distress. Instead he was just concentrating on my breasts, his piglike eyes fixed on the round globes of flesh with the two oily red lines to show where he had punished me, imposed his perverted will on me.
The third was done low, up under the curve of my boobs, the fourth the same but running the other way. Both cuts set my chest bouncing and jiggling, which really made his eyes pop, and he stopped for a quick grope, stroking them and leaving oily handprints on my skin. Satisfied with his feel, he gave me the fifth and sixth, also under my tits, but harder, which set my tears rolling and had me struggling against the tie of my panties before I regained control of myself.
As he lined up for the seventh I felt a trickle of fluid escape my pussy, running down the warm, dry flesh of my thigh. I hadn’t realised I was that turned on, not enough to drip, but there was no denying the reaction of my body. I got the seventh high, right up on the flank of my chest, the eighth criss-crossing it. There was one to go, and as he pressed the awful thing to my boobs I knew it would be the worst, full across my nipples.
He pushed it in really hard, until it hurt, with my breasts bulging out above and below the stick, one nipple popping up over it, the other pressed hard in. The rod came back and I was shaking, mumbling, my breathing deep, wanting to scream and then screaming for real as it cut back, lashing across my nipples. It stung crazily, and I really howled, shaking myself and bawling my eyes out as I sank down against the tree, weak kneed. My boobs were throbbing, sore and welted, the nine long wheals already rising as I slumped down, my head hung low, my knees well spread.
At that point Percy would have paused, to comfort me a little, stroking my cheeks or hair, bringing me to that extraordinary state of gratitude a girl can only feel after punishment. Then he’d have made me suck his cock.
Monty was different. He simply left me sobbing on the ground as he freed his genitals, cock and balls thrust obscenely from his fly. He squatted down, and simply stuffed it all in my face, forcing me to take first his balls into my mouth, then his cock. He was as greasy as ever, and tasted of oil as well as sweat and stale spunk. I sucked it though, not just willingly, but urgently, feeling him grow in my mouth until he was at full erection, which was when he decided to fuck my boobs.
He didn’t ask, but just squatted a little lower, cupping my aching breasts in his hands and folding them around his cock. He was touching some of the wheals, his thumbs rubbing my flesh, which stung crazily, making me cry out again. He took no notice, bouncing and jiggling my boobs around his penis, slapping them together and squeezing them hard, rubbing my nipples with his thumbs until I was screaming and writhing my body against the tree. He loved that, grunting as he forced himself against me, crushing me to the tree with his great fat body as he fucked my cleavage, faster and faster, until at last he came, his cock erupting, splashing spunk over my poor, whipped breasts, up my neck and in my face.
As he collapsed back, panting on the ground, I looked down. My boobs were both soiled, their flesh dirty with oil and slick with sweat, each decorated by several thick blobs of come. The welts really showed too, red and angry, displaying exactly what had been done to me. My belly was dirty as well, wet with sweat and oil, while I could feel the come on my neck and one cheek. There was juice under me too, only it wasn’t Monty’s, but mine, a damp mark beneath my open pussy betraying my excitement.
‘Make me come,’ I managed.
Monty said nothing, just blowing his cheeks out. His face was red from his exertions, sweaty too, and his breathing really heavy. Obviously he wasn’t going to be of any use to me, and even before I realised I was pulling at the pa
nties, jerking one wrist free and putting my hand straight to my pussy. The panties were still on my other wrist, and I caught them up, on to my sex, rubbing at my clitty with the warm, dry cotton. I was close, almost coming, rubbing myself off with my own panties, my other hand on my whipped breasts, feeling them, smearing oil and sperm over the rough ridges where the rod had caught my flesh, soiled and beaten in the hot sun, eyes closed, mouth wide.
Which was when Monty filled my mouth with the full bulk of his oily, sperm-wet genitals, balls and all, forcing it in just as I was coming. My reaction was immediate, and glorious. I’d been right on the edge, thinking of the state I was in, and the man who’d put me in it had stuffed my mouth with his cock and balls. I just came, unable to breathe, gagging on the head of Monty’s penis, my hips bucking frantically, my body crushed to the tree by his huge thighs, my face smothered in his fat gut. It was wonderful, going on and on, worth all the pain and risk, a thousand times.
I only stopped, pushing Monty away, because I was in danger of choking. He withdrew, giving me a final degradation by wiping his wet genitals in my face, then stood back, grinning, and staggered a few steps, sitting back heavily against the wrecked car.
‘You are hard work,’ he puffed.
‘Punishing me is hard work? Poor Monty!’
‘No need for sarcasm. It was good though, wasn’t it? Just a pity your joyriders didn’t turn up to watch, eh?’
‘Don’t joke. I know what it’s like to have a load of men take turns with me.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, as it happens. It wasn’t rape or anything, but they were pretty rough. They stuck candles up my bum and pussy, among other things.’
‘That I’d like to have seen.’
‘They wouldn’t have let you, or at least, they wouldn’t have let you join in. In fact, my guess would be, if the joyriders had come, they’d have made you watch while they took turns with me, then made you eat my panties or something cruel like that.’
‘Leave them the panties as a trophy then. I wish we could leave a photo.’
I laughed, imagining their faces on finding a photo of me, tied to a tree with my boobs whipped and oil and spunk all over me. Being joyriders, they were probably quite young, teenagers to whom putting a finger up a girl’s pussy was a novelty, which made the idea even more amusing. So I used the yellow panties to wipe my pussy and boobs, and hung them on a tree, where they couldn’t fail to be seen.
‘Neat,’ Monty commented.
‘Best go then,’ I replied, ‘before you do end up eating them. No, you need to be careful if you want an audience. Too prim and you might get arrested, too wild and it’s likely to get dangerous. Dirty old men are best, and fat boys too.’
I gave him a grin, to which he responded by waggling the dipstick at me. I set about washing in the pool, listening out, but not really worried. After all, we’d been there over half an hour and we hadn’t even heard a car engine. On the surface I was glad nobody had come, but underneath there was a trace of disappointment.
In a fantasy, about twenty really horny eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds would have turned up, and just used me, in my mouth, up my pussy, up my bum too, leaving me to bring myself off on the ground with my whole body bruised and sodden with their sperm. They’d have tied Monty up and made him watch too, with my panties in his mouth.
Reality was different, especially when despite my best efforts to wash I was left damp and greasy, with the cheap dress on and no panties. It was getting on for lunchtime, and I needed a clean-up, so I suggested returning to our original plan and driving down to the sea, where I’d be able to find a pub or hotel with some decent facilities.
We ended up in a hotel in Eastbourne, where I managed to sort myself out, even shaving my pussy, which was getting stubbly. Clean and refreshed, I put on my white trousers along with a light top that left my tummy showing, a look which made me feel a lot more confident and a lot less of a slut. Monty had sat in the bar while I changed, and we ate there, looking out across the front.
It was nearly two by the time we finished, and I was already getting a touch of melancholy at the thought of the weekend being over. We had the afternoon, but for me the impetus seemed to have gone out of things. I’d even put on normal panties, heavy white silk, which I knew in the back of my mind meant the end of our fun. After all, I still had a pack of the cheap ones we’d been using as a calling card for our dirty adventures. Monty seemed quiet as well, not saying much until we had returned to the car.
‘I bought this,’ he said, holding up a small canister, ‘while you were in the loo.’
For a moment I thought it was a mini deodorant, only to realise that it was in fact spray cream, the sort used to top cakes. It was obviously not intended for tea, or at least not in the conventional way, and it was impossible not to smile at his sheer enthusiasm.
‘I know I’ve been a bit cruel,’ he said, ‘so I want to give you a treat, a really nice orgasm.’
‘With cream?’ I giggled. ‘Licked off my pussy, I suppose?’
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘and more. I’ll do it among the bushes, up on the Head. Come on, it’s a lovely day, and it may be our last chance for outdoor sex.’
‘OK,’ I agreed, ‘but let’s walk up. I don’t feel ready yet.’
He gave an uncertain glance at the bulk of Beachy Head, but nodded. I gave his fat bottom a slap, which he returned, and we set off, hand in hand, which drew a few peculiar looks, but I found I didn’t care. He had used me so well, or at least so thoroughly, that I was beginning to grow fond of him, at least enough to be defensive about people’s reaction to me being with him. Anyway, it wasn’t as if I was likely to meet anyone I knew.
We talked as we went, once more swapping dirty stories to get me in the mood. Monty’s were as dirty as ever, about peering up girls’ dresses, spying through windows, even pinching panties from washing lines. He did have morals, of a sort, and drew the line at touching, but I could imagine that he’d left some women pretty upset, which diluted the effect his stories had on me. Much more effective were my own, both from remembering them and from the embarrassing thrill of telling Monty.
By the time we reached the flank of the hill I was feeling more than ready to have my pussy licked in the bushes, while his cock was hard in his trousers, so I knew I was going to get a fucking as well as a lick. It was a good place as well, with lots of thick clumps of vegetation divided by paths. Monty had been peeping there more than once, and knew the layout, taking me high on to the head and well away from the cliff, where there were fewer people.
The place he chose was excellent, a little dip in the chalk, sheltered by a stunted thorn and a ring of bracken and other plants, secure enough for him to fuck me, yet risky enough to give a strong exhibitionist thrill. I wasn’t going to strip, not there, and Monty agreed, suggesting I pull down my trousers and panties, rolling my legs up so that he could get to my pussy. It was typical male, and typical Monty – no snogging, no petting, just straight to the pussy. Not that I minded, as I was turned on enough and it was too public for anything leisurely.
So I did as I was told, squeezing down my trousers with my heart hammering in my chest. My panties went too, to my knees, and I rolled my legs up, my bare pussy sticking out, holding myself ready. Monty was kneeling over me, the spray cream in his hand, glancing around one last time before aiming the can between my thighs. The cream spurted out with a rude noise and I felt it on my sex lips, cool and light, a delicious sensation. He didn’t just do my crease either, but made a little whorl on my pussy mound, the sort you top a cake off with. Seeing it made me giggle, and he grinned back.
I lay back, relaxing as best I could with that lovely feeling of exposure growing inside me. If anyone caught us they would see me with my pussy bare and creamy, a good rude display. They’d be shocked, or really jealous, with the hugely fat Monty obviously about to fuck me, and it felt good just knowing. My bumhole was showing too, my cheeks well spread, so they’d see my l
ittle brown ring, quite nude.
Monty had begun to kiss my thighs, and it was more than I could resist not to pull my boobs out, so up came my top and bra, exposing my breasts, the nipples hard, the whip marks clear on the pale skin. Holding my legs up by clutching my panties, I began to stroke my boobs, thinking how rude I looked.
It was about to get a lot ruder, because he had pushed the nozzle of the can into my pussy. The next moment I heard the hiss of pressure and felt my vagina start to fill, the cream up me but oozing out too, down between my bumcheeks. A bit fell off, right on to my bumhole, and I sighed in pleasure, pulling my legs higher still. Monty’s lips found my flesh again, sucking cream from my pussy lips and feeding on me, licking and sucking at my sex, eating up the cream from my body.
His hand had come up, grasping my panties to pin my legs high and free my own hand. I put it to good use, a boob in each hand, stroking the welts he’d made on my tender flesh. He shifted, pulling himself up beside me to feast on my pussy with his fat belly at my shoulder, his crotch near my face. I went for his cock, eager to suck while he fed from my pussy, no longer caring about getting caught.
It took me a moment, and then his erection was out and in my mouth as he swung his legs across to squat obscenely over my head, his big balls dangling over my nose, his massive backside poised above my head. He had me pinned, helpless beneath his weight, my legs flexed wide to accommodate his gut. He was still licking though, and fucking my mouth, driving his cock down between my lips, again and again.
The nozzle was up my pussy once more, jammed well in, the cream squirting out to fill my cavity and burst out before he pulled the can free. It wasn’t going to take much more, just a few touches to my clitty. He did it, lapping up the cream, each long slurp of his tongue running full length up my clitty and then I was coming, my mouth agape on his erection, then closed, sucking hard and hoping fervently for a mouthful of hot sperm while I was still in climax.
