|
Paganini's Tale 1/3
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Paganini's Tale, Chapter 17
Her cunt was plundered, invaded, and she felt like an Amazon
conquered by a hairy barbarian during the fall of the Tribe.
The mophandle in the crook of her elbows, holding tight her
shirt-bound hands in front of her while the wooden handle
rubbed her vertebrae, that mophandle was a spearshaft, and the
hand in her hair smelled of battle.
Abruptly she came back to reality: the chemical fruit smells
of cleaners and solvents mingled with the perfume of humans in
rut. She couldn't help groan as her lover's iron fuckaxe
plunged back into her. He rammed into her, in complete control
of everything.
Now he lifted her with the handle behind her back, lowering
her onto his prong, the top of his thighs a cushion for the
bottoms of hers. She was propelled into another fantasy:
She and her lover have perfected a trapeze act--the fuck-
pass in mid-air. Swooping down into the air, holding
precariously to the bar, the two trapezes approach, she
backwards, legs spread, him with his legs back and his stiff
cock aiming like a dart toward her cunt.
The crowd below falls into a hush of anticipation as the
first thrust is attempted. They both release their holds, and
in mid-air collide with inhuman precision, a perfection of
impact and angle that spins them each to the other's trapeze,
where they begin their swings for the next fuck.
The crowd roars its approval, and in mid-swing she appraises
the crowd below: all eyes up, open-mouthed at the awe-
inspiring fucking going on above their heads.
The swing through the air is a delerious rush, a controlled
falling, her cunt aching for the next surge of manmeat into her
cunt, and as she rushes toward in it in a swift arc, her legs
splay in expectation. The crowd seems to take a simultaneous
breath, and again they collide, the slapping sound resounding
through the big top, getting groans of shared lust from the
crowd below.
Again they grip the other's trapeze, and the swing back is
thrilled by the roar of the crowd, the moans, and now as she
looks down she sees the cocks of half the men, out, some being
beaten off by silent hands, others, in the mouths of wives,
girlfriends, or women overcome by the erotic flying trapeze act
above them.
She swung in the practiced parabolic arc, her tits riding
high on her rib cage. Her cunt rang like a huge bell. She could
feel her cunt juice dripping off in the centrifugal force,
running down her legs, baptizing the onlookers with the dew of
her snatch.
Their finale began, each of them changing their position on
their trapeze, on the swoop downward to their meeting spot,
high up, near the peak of the big top. She could see him now,
the shaft of flesh standing out like a ship's mast from his
crotch, and she spread her legs, and bent her knees, then when
she let go, went into a backward somersault.
He met her first with his hard prick sliding into her hot
cunt, then his hands grabbed at her tits as her heels jammed in
on his buttocks, pulling him deeper into her heat.
They stopped in mid-air, brought to a halt by the cancelling
of their momentum, and there was a moment when they both could
look down on the vast orgy beneath them, seeing in still life
the tangled naked bodies, the mouths on cocks, the cunts
thrusting against cunts, the hands embedded, the roiling bodies
writhing among the stands.
Spinning slightly, she and her lover began to fall, with each
spin pulling a stroke off, thrusting into each other, bucking
in a descending ballet. The crowd paid them no heed, for they
were too busy now, and so the two fell, fucking furiously, down
through the air until they hit the safety net like a
trampoline.
Alice dug her heels in deeper, pulling him in again, afraid
of losing him, losing his stiff cock, even as they bounced
again on the mesh. Over and over they bounced, each time
slightly less, but slightly more inside. Each time they landed
one of them was on top, and the weight seemed to fuse their
bodies together, welding them with the heat of lust.
Finally, as they rolled toward the center of the webbing, she
began to come, feeling like a top wobbling off center, spinning
in crazy angles in a last desperate attempt to stay on its
point. She came in oscillations, rising toward a high-pitched
scream.
Suddenly his hand covered her mouth. Her tongue could taste
the salt on his palm. "You may have gone too far," his voice
said into her ear.
"We may be all right. If it's a man, I think I will offer him
some of you. Will you accept?"
She reeled, trying to get a grip on where she was, what he
was asking, trying to see through the blindfold covering her
eyes. . If <who> is a man, she thought, and what did I do? Her
cunt burned with his cock inside it, still hard, still waiting
for its turn. But she wanted more, she realized. Another cock
would be fine. "Yes," she said. "Yes, please, that's what I
want."
She could hear footsteps in the hallway: "Hello?" a deep
voice said. "Anybody here?"
The cock pulled out of her, making Alice gasp. Then a shaft
of light entered the janitor's room for the first time since
she'd entered.
She heard whispered words. Then the door closed. She still
was tied by the mop-handle, her elbows behind her back, with
the handle sticking between biceps and back.
"You sure about this?" she heard as the man came in.
"Ask her."
"You really want this, miss?"
She hardly hesitaed. "Yes. I want it."
"Just tell me if you don't, cause if you don't, I'll just..."
"I want your cock," Alice said in a low, throaty voice. "I
want your stiff prick up inside me. Get hard, fast, I want
you deep in me. Whoever you are, fuck me now."
She could hear the sound of his belt coming off, the zip of
his fly. "Say, she's a hot one, isn't she. Does she like being
called a whore?"
"Ask her."
"Do you like being called names?"
She paused. Did she? It all seemed so astounding anyway,
she couldn't know, couldn't remember. She'd never really done
that before, but the few times her new lover had used those
terms, a small thrill had sung through her. "Go ahead," she
said, "try me."
"God, mister, what a hot slut you have here. And what an
ass." She felt a hot firmness probe at her thighs. "But jeez, I
kinda wish I could see her better. Can we have some light?"
Alice cringed. <No,> she thought, that wouldn't work....
"No," her lover said. "That isn't part of the game. Fuck her,
like she wants you to. Hard, fast, fuck her cunt deep, ream her
out. Make her groan. Fuck this hot whore of mine. She wants two
cocks.
"Fuck her cunt good, and I'll be ramming my hard prick into
her throat. She loves to be filled with meat. Isn't that right,
Alice."
Hearing her name, she almost rebelled, but just then the
young salesman's thin cock found the lips of her cunt and
slipped in. "Oh, God," he said, and Alice cried out "Yes!" as
if in answer to his question.
"Yeah," the salesman continued, "oh shit, she's tight, what a
cunt, it's hot as a fucking machine gun, yeah, what a fuck she
is, oh, man..." and he pistoned into her, trying to get in as
deep as he could.
Then she felt her lover's body before her, and in the faint
light she could, see through the crack beneath the blindfold,
his hard cock jutting out from the tangled
darkness around his crotch. She opend her mouth, wetting her
lips. "Yes," she whispered to that cock, "Come to me, fuck my
mouth, I want you on my tongue. Yes, bring it in..." and then
her words were smothered by his dense lovemuscle.
Never before had she had two cocks in her simultaneously. It
was almost too much to bear. As if the cocks carried
electricity, her body jolted and jerked. Her front lover pulled
back, as if concerned that he was choking her, but she lunged
back at his meat with such a hunger that he laughed and plunged
back in.
Her throat felt open; like that first time she had let loose
of her sphincter, suddenly it was easy to take him down her
throat. Her mouth writhed around it like her cunt was writhing,
and she felt herself become one long cunt, before and aft, a
fucking receptacle, and she felt like she could taste the young
boy's cock with her cunt.
The boy began making ratcheting throat noises, his pumping
took on a frenetic pace, and he gripped her hips more tightly.
Her lover's pace increased too, and he took her head in his
hands, caressing her ears while fucking deep into her mouth,
using her cheekbones as a brace.
In the small part of her mind untouched by the eroticism of
the moment, she was amazed that she was taking anything as big
as his shaft down her throat. She was astounded that she could
be so aroused by a strange man's prick in her quim. And she was
deliciously pleased that she could be so decadent.
Hot jism jetted into her cunt, and she could feel it in her
stomach, like hot caramel spattering her intestines. An instant
later, she gulped as her lover's come spewed out. She pulled
back just enough to feel the spume gushing out his cock on her
tongue. She held both of them in as they softened. Then she
pushed out the boy's prick with a cuntal squeeze, and with a
sucking kiss allowed her lover's prick to slip out of her
mouth.
"Uh, gee, thanks, Mister," the boy's voice said, and she
realized that he mst have deepened his voice when he first
came in, that he had been afraid. "That was great. You, uh,
you two can come back anytime. Just ask for Danny, okay? Suh,
see you."
And he went out the door.
From: [email protected]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
Subject: Paganini's Tale, Chapter 18
Lines: 80
====================================================================
================= You say I Play as if ====
================= Possessed by the Devil? ====
================= Madame, I play with Passion. ====
================= There is nothing Evil in Passion! ====
================= Passion is Ecstasy enacted ====
================= and Ecstasy is Divine. ====
================= --Paganini, 1782-1840 ====
====================================================================
All heck will break loose if I find this story being sold in any
fashion. I've got the rough draft. I'd be nasty. It may be archived
or reransmitted electronically only with this header attached.
Copyfree 1992 by Michael Paganini
This tale has most of the elements frequently found on asb. If those
elements offend you, go away.
Paganini's Tale, Chapter 18
Her breast hovers like a moon above, silhouetted by the
faintly-lit window. Shadowed phallus approaches, glisten of
juice glimmering on its tip, to touch her nipple. Slowly it
draws away, the precome spinning a one-stranded web between
them.
Only one of the three can see it: "You're weaving a one-
stranded web," he says, pointing; they both look, laugh.
"Enough to snare," the man behind the cock says. "They're
coming along so well. Alice is a natural. The way she came with
Danny inside her, the way her lips undulated around my cock.
She was randy indeed.
"Keeps that cock hard just thinking about it, doesn't it?"
Her voice is low, mellifluous. "Bring it here. I want it
between my cheeks. I'll let you decide which ones."
"Hmmmm..."
The other one clears his throat. "Care for two?"
"Wherever you want..."--her voice stays low--"just don't come
too quickly."
"Don't I always come on cue?"
She smiles: her cheeks gleam white in the faint light.
"You bet. Though sometimes the cue is yours...." and with
that she takes the plump smooth sponge of his cockhead in her
mouth, moaning low and slow. A groan pushes out of her as the
man behind her pushes in to the juice of her cunt. Three
strokes, and he pulls out again. Her mouth moves with the
gyrations of her ass, seeking the hot spear behind her.
He moves up a notch, pressing against her dark rosebud. She
pulls her mouth away from the shaft in front of her, hissing
"Yesss..."
He pushes a bit more, and the cunt-slickened head of his cock
slips in. She makes a hard "o" of her mouth, and pushes against
the cockhead in front of her, letting its head pop into her
mouth, and is rewarded with an appreciative groan. With her
mouth she mimics the assfucking she gets. As he pushes deeper
in, and deeper still, she lets in more and more of the cock
into her mouth, her tongue dancing on the ridges and veins as
it slides in. All three groan, in surprising unison.
Their laugh is unstoppable, and it builds to hysteria as
their laughter tickles the other: the mouth on the cock, the
cock in the ass, the jiggles of body against body, and in their
laughter they all roll different directions, disengaging,
laughing/moaning, laughing some more.
"Three <much!>" one of them cried, and laughter began anew.
Then the woman's voice, finally catching her breath:
"nothing's more empty than something recently filled. C'mon,
you two, fill me back up!"
And then their laughter took on a different tone, rapidly
changing to sighs of pleasure.
From: [email protected]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
Subject: Paganini's Tale, Chapter 19
Lines: 369
====================================================================
================ You say I Play as if ====
================= Possessed by the Devil? ====
================= Madame, I play with Passion. ====
================= There is nothing Evil in Passion! ====
================= Passion is Ecstasy enacted ====
================= and Ecstasy is Divine. ====
================= --Paganini, 1782-1840 ====
====================================================================
All heck will break loose if I find this story being sold in any
fashion. I've got the rough draft. I'd be nasty. It may be archived
or retransmitted electronically only with this header attached.
Copyfree 1992 by Michael Paganini
This tale has most of the elements frequently found on asb. If those
elements offend you, go away.
Paganini's Tale, Chapter 19
Larry took a sip of his beer, grinning through the glass at
Winston, his friend from work. Lunch with him had become a
habit on odd days when their schedules coincided. Though only
with the company for three months, Winston had already
demonstrated his ability, and Larry liked him personally. Warm,
confident without arrogance, interesting... Larry was glad
Winston had joined the company.
This lunch, he'd risked bringing up sexuality, first
obscurely, then gradually more directly. Since Winston seemed
comfortable with it, Larry continued:
"...and she's this sudden wildness in my life. Unpredictable.
Out of the ordinary. Completely unexpected. I mean, I'm
attractive enough, but not the sort of guy who girls get hot
for just by looking at me. Nor am I the kind of guy who goes
out looking for an affair and then blames it on being seduced.
I <was> seduced, and I hadn't even seen her before. I hadn't
played up to her at all. It's just so wild..."
"How erotic is it?"
Larry stumbled on the question: "uh, how erotic, well...,
uh..."
"What I mean is, it sounds like the ideas about the sexuality
is almost more arusing than the actual sex itself. Although
you haven't told me how, shall we say, <graphic> the sex is
with this woman, I get the idea that it's pretty hot.
Larry grinned again. "Hot it certainly is. Erotic it
certainly is. That woman could light a match with her look.
It's like she's way out of my league. Like dancing with Ginger
Rogers or something. Or maybe like talking psychology with a
mindreader. It's not so much that she's better in terms of
skill. But the way she makes it happen, the lust she
inspires...."
Suddenly Larry realized what he was saying out loud, to
someone he really didn't know all that well. For a moment he
was embarassed at revealing so much, but then he heard Winston
start to speak:
"Yes, I've known a few women like that. One I remember best.
Her desire, her lust was so powerful it was a drug for me. Such
an altered state--I would come to my senses afterward amazed
that the world wasn't changed. She said she was in touch with
the Goddess, and I couldn't rightly say that she was wrong. Yet
I know we all have that in us. I've tapped those nerves in
women myself. Am I in touch with the God? Connected to
something, anyway, in touch with some part of us that is
magical."
Then Winston, who had been looking up at the chandelier as he
spoke, realized he'd begun to ramble, and brought himself
short, laughing. "Listen to me! I hope I didn't embarass you.
But it's good to talk about these things. You know."
Larry nodded. "Yeah, and I think that this affair, this...
this event I'm having with "Sophia" is making it easier for me
to talk about it. I'm remembering things, sort of, sort of
waking up to parts of me I hadn't realized were asleep.... if
you know what I mean."
"Absolutely," Winston said, and then looked at his watch.
"Shit," he said, instantly animated, "It's 1:30! I've got to
meet Evans down at the plant in ten minutes!"
"Okay," Larry said, dismayed only that the conversation had
to quit, "You go on, take off, I'll get the bill. You can get
next time."
Winston grinned, standing. "Thanks, buddy. See you later on."
And he was off.
Larry sipped the last of his beer, sitting alone at the
cluttered table, enjoying a few rare moments to himself. He put
money on the little tray that held the bill. Then he rose to go
back to work.
She met him as he was leaving the restaurant, wearing a laced
white blouse beneath a jet-black jacket. "I watched you eat. I
watched you talk. Your lips moved nicely. I have another
assignation for you. Do you want it?"
He didn't hesitate. "I want it."
They continued to walk briskly. "What do you want."
"I want my cock in your cunt." Larry smiled, thinking of the
one-line eavesdroppers passing them.
"You want <my> cock in my cunt."
"I want my cock to be your cock in your wet cunt."
Her dagger heels struck the cement sharply, clacking with
each step. "Then listen. Tonight at 6:30 you will arrive at
Jackrabbit's, over on 87th. Come alone. Come with your cock
hardened. We'll see what happens."
He started to object: what would he tell Alice? But he could
immediately think of half a dozen reasonable lies, and even the
best truth: he'd be busy until mid-evening. And so he simply
allowed the fluttering in his chest to continue. "Jackrabbit's.
6:30. It's a date."
She turned to look up at him then, her dark eyes mascaraed
and shadowed, her mouth in a smirk. "This will be a new one,"
she said, and then, reaching out with her hand, gave his cock a
squeeze there in the middle of the sidewalk. "Tonight, then,"
she said, and turned to walk back the way they'd come.
***
Jackrabbit's smelled of stale beer and too-loud catcalls
settling like a layer of dust after every night, to coat the
gelled lights above the lacquered-pine stage, dulling the
sequins spangling the walls. Smoke masked the air, made it
muggy and thick; the noise, the rhythmic disco-like music, the
thrums of bass and bass drums, the raucous screams, the
undercurrent of shouted conversations. A strip joint, where
almost all the chairs faced the stage, and all the chairs
filled by women.
Mostly older women, fat women, bowling-club women, ladies'
auxiliary women, office pool women. Women out for a good time,
a time apart from their lives, women not looking to be picked
up, since there were probably only a handful of men here. Women
out to watch.
And up there on the stage, making his silk-sacked privates
swing around in circles, a well-built man danced. Fives and
tens were pushed through and around the string around his hips
holding the sack on; the bills clustered around his crotch,
where the women's fingers got a touch of pubic hair, perhaps
even some soft flesh.
And as he watched, an overly-plump woman with flabby upper
arms jiggling in her polyester kni top reached up with a
twenty. The dancer began doing a limbo-like dance up to her
spot by the stage, shimmying his ass, stroking his thighs as he
scooted forward. Hoots and squeals resounded around: the woman
was licking her lips, making the most of her twenty.
The dancer got within a foot of her, his knees at the level
of her shoulders, his crotch near her face. She stroked the
silk sack with the twenty, in circular motions, and he played
back at her, circling his pelvis toward her. And as Larry
watched, he heard the shrill screams change their tenor, as
well as their pitch, nearly drowning out the music. He squinted
to see what the dancer was doing.
Then he finally realized what it was: the dancer's silk pouch
was starting to push up--the man was getting a hard-on, and the
woman with the stroking twenty kept playing at it, licking her
lips some more, raising her eyebrows in overplayed amazement,
while the crowd cheered their pleasure. The stripper's prick
got larger, changing the dimensions of the pouch till it was
tight as a puptent, a black silk spearhead of magnum
proportions.
The dancer was grinning, humping the air, lapping at the
lights as if they were the woman's cunt, and she, laughing,
cackling, slips the twenty in at the top of that spear, her
hand lingering, gripping the hard knob of his phallus. After
letting her feel him for a few seconds, he backed away, shaking
his finger at her, telling her she was a naughty girl.
A voice behind him: "This is just decadence. The real show is
in the back. Follow me."
He turned and saw her glove-tight blackjeaned ass move away
from him, and he followed, slipping between the women standing,
drinking, appraising. More than one hand reached between his
legs as he walked by to stroke his balls, grab his ass.
Sophia reached the back wall. She ducked into the men's room;
he followed. In the middle stall an "out of order" sign was
stuck on the door, but she pushed in, and he saw as he came up
behind her that the flusher was a latch, and the back wall a
door.
They entered a dark and narrow corridor, barely enough room
for two people to pass if they hugged each other. Faintly lit.
The sounds from the main room were muffled. And other sounds,
more muffled still, came from up ahead.
They squeezed ahead, Larry smelling the faint musky perfume
that he associated so strongly with her; it smelled almost like
her cunt tasted: deeply textured, a funk of desire. Over her
shoulder, he could see light thrown into the corridor. And he
began to be able to discriminate the sounds.
Fucking sounds. Grunts, moans. Lusty anguish. Cries of
delight. And then they arrived, and Larry looked over the
tableau:
A three-tiered circular arena. On the top tier, women lounged
in various states of dress, one on the right naked but for the
push-up bra, another in a teddy, but with her thumb stuffed
deep into her cunt. Altogether, perhaps a dozen watchers
reclining in a rough circle around the second circular tier,
where five women lay with their legs spread, a five-pointed
star inside of which stood two men, on the bottom tier, the
circle around which the other two were built, each with his
prong embedded in a woman, and both hands busy with the women
next to the ones being fucked.
They stood in the doorway, unnoticed. Larry watched as one of
the men, an ebony black man with wiry muscles, pulled his cock
slowly out of the 45-year old woman in front of him. After
pulling out perhaps six inches of black prick, Larry expected
the head to come out, but he kept pulling back, as inch after
slick inch slid out of the wet cunt. Amazed, Larry focused,
squinting, not believing the prodigious length of the cock
below. At least a foot long, sticking out proud and rampant
from a dark mass of curls.
The woman losing it moaned in dismay, then cooed when his
fingers replaced his dong. He move his bat of a cock to the
next woman, whose fat thighs opened for him, revealing a deep
red gash sloppy and glistening from masturbation. He easily
slid in, and there was a collective sigh around the room.
Larry felt his cock hardening. Seventeen women, two men.
Three, with him. Sophia looked at him, grinning. "I've brought
you here to show my cock off. This is the Stud Room. You are my
stud. Now strip. Show off my meat."
She hadn't spoken loudly, but since nobody else was speaking,
nearly all eyes but those delirious in the inner ring turned
toward them. Lots of smiles, from women who for the most part
were attractive. All of them were flushed with sexual
excitement, all nipples that he could see were hard, and all
that looked at him were looking with lustful approval.
His cock lurched inside his pants, clearly having a mind of
its own: it wanted out, and then in again. Sophia helped it out
by unzipping and unbuckling his pants. "His name is Brett," she
said loudly. "He is my cock. I put him at our disposal. He will
do whatever he is called upon to do. Isn't that right, Brett?"
Larry half-embarassedly grinned. "That's right," he said to
her, then looked around the room, directly into the eyes of
those who he might be fucking soon. Some murmured to each
other, others licked their lips; he spoke again to the group at
large, "We'll all have some fun tonight." He felt brazen.
"You don't think we aren't already, cock?" a woman's harsh
voice took the wind out of his sail. "But you look good enough
to me. She brings you, you've got to be good. Bring that big
cock of yours down into the circle." She was a slender fifty,
breasts loose beneath a gauze top, naked from the waist down.
Her legs weren't bad at all. She stood, and gracefully moved
down toward the inner circle, taking the two-foot drops with
ease. "I want you first. Come on in."
Larry felt like a servent in the employ of royalty: this was
like the debauches hinted at in some of the textbooks he'd
read, the orgies of the nobility in the eighteenth century. The
Duchess' mountain retreat, where gigolos were imported for an
evening's entertainment for all her friends.
As he made his way past the women, hands grabbed his hairy
butt, his balls, his hard-on. Tweaks, yanks interspersed the
caresses, but all of these women wanted him. He was an object
for them, to gratify their desires. And it didn't feel that
bad. His cock stuck out, a beefy rod that Larry felt proud of.
It wasn't as long as the black man's, but it was dense, thick,
and ready. With each step, it bobbed.
The Duchess changed the pentangle to a hexagon of spread legs
by squeezing between a blonde (whose wife was that? whose
mother? he thought, they have no idea she is like this) and the
woman who owned the snatch the black man's fingers were still
buried in. The black man grinned at Larry as he approached.
Head thrown back, the Duchess leaned back on straight arms,
her kneees bent, her thighs spread. "Bring that randy cock to
me. Stick it in my cunt. I'm ready for it. I've been watching
for too long, and I want that prick in me. Bring it here,
pretty boy, bring that thick hunk of meat over here."
The last step was three feet down, a depth that allowed him
to stand almost upright, his cock just above cunt-level.
Standing between his legs, his cock lay pulsing atop her pubic
hair. He tensed a muscle, and his cock jumped, then slapped
back down against her. He repeated it, giving his cock the
impression of independent life. The Duchess laughed with honest
pleasure.
"Oh, Irene," she called back at "Sophia," "great cock you
found here. Looks like it'll burrow into me like a prairie
dog!"
He laughed along with the rest, and then, holding the
Duchess' knees in each hand, guided his cock down toward her
opening. His cockhead lodged into her notch.
"Ready to be fucked?" Larry said with bravado. Their eyes
met.
"Sure, honey, I'm ready as hell. Now fuck me, you bastard
cock. Fuck me deep and wide."
Their eyes lingered, blazing into each other; he wanted some
mastery here, and it was like she was daring him to please her.
Go ahead and try. Just try to make me come.
He took it as a challenge. Twisting his pelvis up, he kept
pressure on the top of her cunt against her pubic bone as he
entered her, scraping the top of her vagina with the ridges of
his prick.
Slowly, easily, moving slightly side to side, his cock forced
itself into her furrow. Her eyes widened just a little once he
was halfway in and she could feel the girth of his cock swollen
inside her.
Round and around he moved, rotating her thighs from her
knees, now her ankles, and he held her ankles up high and
pulled her entire body suddenly up and in to his cock. She
groaned.
From beind he could hear admiring commentary: "I haven't
seen that move in ten years," a woman's voice said. Larry felt
proud, and pressed on, and in, grinding pubis against pubis,
yanking her pelvis in the direction that seemed right.
The air itself was swollen with the smells of fucking, the
odor of lust. Everyone had only one main theme in their minds:
sex. Larry could only join in, and it seemed to make him more
perceptive a lover. He could read her perfectly, gauging the
everchanging desires of her cunt and modifying his technique
accordingly. Pressing down to achieve the right angle. Canting
his hips to rub the right side, at the right pace. The Duchess
was beginning to writhe.
The woman on his right watched from close up, a foot away,
sighing, watching, breathing on the joinings of their bodies.
The Duchess, whose tight clothes pushed hard against her skin,
began gutteral thrums in her throat timed to her writhes. A low
call to the reaches, the distance, the wilderness of orgasm.
Larry listend and was amazed.
He knew precisely what moves to make, felt in complete
control because he'd mastered the connection. He rode in low,
crushing the membrane between cunt and tube, aiming for atop
the cervix with his tip. Bearing sideways to stroke the dark
chamber behind her cervix, which exists just for man. Rising up
as he drew out of her, to stretch out the labia tightly. And the
Duchess was lost in the sensations.
Beside him, between them, the woman breathed, and now began
to lap at skin, paint shafts of cold evaporation up their
flesh, touch and soothe and pinch. "Fuck, yes, oh fuck, you
two fuck each other, slam in there, move around, yesss... yes
you do it so well, keep on fucking, fucking, it is so
beautiful, so good, fucking each other...."
And around them, the audience, the other couples fucking, the
hands in snatches and tongues in mouths. The sounds of group
arousal. The scent of cooze and semen, sweat, and pants. Larry
was amazed. "Fuck, yes, up now, up high in her snatch, and you,
fuck him back, yes, twist those hips, writhe, baby, writhe..."
and the Duchess' rumbles were turning to a roar, and the
woman's voice was rising in pitch to breathless screams, "yes
come, baby, come, come hard, go on over, let it go, come you
bitch, come you slut, don't you love it, let it go, feel like
that whore, let that harlot come out and fuck him back, fuck
him back, take in, take it all in..."
And his cock felt terrific. Incredibly tight, strong,
sensitive, and in control. The pleasure was lasting. He could
relish it without having to fight against coming. The pleasure
just rolled on and on, and he felt free.
Then he looked up, over the bucking woman beneath him, over
the woman whispering diamonds from the gutter, over the large
woman with her hand in her cunt, thumb and all, then over the
pair of lovelies enwrapped in themselves, all lips and tits and
legs; over them all, e matched eyes with Sophia. The wild
woman. The dark woman. The vampiress, and he saw her eyes
flashing blazing crashing down through him and he flashed the
power right back at her, and then they understood somehow, made
a pact, and then they were done.
Larry reached under the Duchess' arched back and jammed his
cock deep into her. She was just to the edge, and so he pulled
back and rammed into her again, and then again, gradually
accellerating, picking up speed and power, till his hammer was
pounding as fast as he possibly could, and the Duchess began to
shout with every other thrust, the tempo building to a
tremendous gutteral roar.... then she went limp, her chest
heaving, a smile of satisfied delight on her face. Her eyes
fluttered, and then she smiled again.
Larry's cock was still hard. He looked up to Sophia.
"Hey, Isabella," the woman beneath him panted, "this cock of
yours is choice. Do you rent him out?"
Larry watched Sophia's face shift into a smile; their eyes
lanced again. "No," she said, "He's an independent contractor.
But you'll still have to talk to me. Brett, put that cock away.
We have elsewhere to go."
From: [email protected]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
Subject: Paganini's Tale, Chapter 20
Lines: 485
====================================================================
================= You say I Play as if ====
================= Possessed by the Devil? ====
================= Madame, I play with Passion. ====
================= There is nothing Evil in Passion! ====
================= Passion is Ecstasy enacted ====
================= and Ecstasy is Divine. ====
================= --Paganini, 1782-1840 ====
====================================================================
All heck will break loose if I find this story being sold in any
fashion. I've got the rough draft. I'd be nasty. It may be archived
or retransmitted electronically only with this header attached.
Copyfree 1992 by Michael Paganini
This tale has most of the elements frequently found on asb. If those
elements offend you, go away.
Paganini's Tale, Chapter 20
The lips of Alice's cunt throbbed. Her clit felt like a
pencil eraser rubbed down to the nub. As she picked up socks,
shirts, blouses, and the other dirty laundry littering their
bedroom, Alice squeezed her legs together when she got the
chance. In the background she could hear the bathwater running
hot and steamy. Her body ached for the salve of a long bath.
She couldn't get rid of the smile that kept creeping up to
the corners of her mouth, whenever she thought back over the
afternoon's encounter. In Sears, no less! And that stockboy, or
whatever, Danny, with his strong lean cock, as much a surprise
for him as for her. She remembered the feel of his cock
slipping inside her and smiled again.
The laundry was piled onto the basket; she turned off the
bathwater and tested the temperature, stroking the rippled
surface with the tips of her fingers. She felt luxurious: the
bath oils smelled like a garden of soft ferns. The towel
awaiting her was large and thick. And the water was... just a
little too hot.
<Like maybe I am,> she thought, and grinned at herself in the
full-length mirror. Then she faced herself, legs spread as if
braced against the center of the earth. First she unsnapped
skirt fasteners and unwrapped her hips. She wore no underwear.
Then she unbuttoned her white blouse in a slow striptease. Bits
of lace began to show, and she pulled the tails of her blouse
down, tightening the fabric against her soft-brassiered
breasts. Nipples poked through enough to show.
The white cloth slipped off her smooth shoulders, and gently,
gently, she withdrew her hand from the sleeve, relishing the
lines of her arms and torso. The other sleeve, and then a
cross-armed pulling off of her bra, fast enough to set her jugs
bouncing. She stared at herself, as she had before, appraising,
criticizing.
But this time she could see herself with a new eye. There was
compaction there. She could see the sex lines to her body.
Those curves that move toward tits and cunt like roads to
Rome.
Nature had sculpted her body for fucking--solid, wide-tipped
tits, ample hips, slim waist, tight thighs. Full lips, still
pouting slightly from the reaming of the afternoon.
She pulled her hands up her belly to her chest, cupping each
breast in a hand, offering them to herself in the mirror. She
posed for herself: one round moon out, looking over her
shoulder, one hand between her legs. Then a falsely demure
Betty Grable pose. Then a raunchy movie pose, one hand on her
snatch, one pinching her nipple hard, and her mouth a sensuous
pout of lips wanting to taste ock.
The temperature of the water was just right now, and so she
stepped into it, wincing at the delicious heat. Then gradually
lowered herself, feeling the searing of her buttocks, the sharp
jab with the water reached her asshole, then her chafed cunt,
and finally her sensitized clit... then on up her stomach and
and back as she reclined against the gold back of the tub.
The phone rang. She sighed, and let it ring. She already knew
Larry was going to be late, and if was going to be later, that
would be okay. So she didn't need to answer the phone. Anybody
else would call back sooner or later....
She sank down even further into the water listening to
the third ring: and then she remembered--it might be her lover
calling with an assignation. She sat bolt upright, water
streaming from her skin. Fourth ring. She stepped out of the
bath, gathered the towel around her as she moved to the door.
Fifth ring. She might make it by seven, and she might not--she
rushed through the utility room, then through the living room,
heading toward the bedroom, sixth ring, and she grabbed it just
before the seventh ring would have rung.
"Hello!" she nearly yelled int the receiver.
"Six and a half rings," his voice purred. She had been right.
"You shouldn't keep me waiting that long."
"I'm... " she stopped herself. "I was in the bathtub."
"Ah, so you're naked, then."
"Well... yes. Yes," she repeated, "I'm naked."
"Is your hand between your legs?"
"It is now."
"Push your middle finger in between those luscious cunt lips
of yours. Move it around slowly."
"I'm doing that now. Yes, it feels good. I wish it was your
cock."
"What would you be doing with my cock?"
"I'd be riding it, feeling it split my cuntlips apart,
rubbing my hot clit, fucking it hard...."
"Now pinch one nipple with the other hand, hard. I have bound
you over a chair, you are held fast, but your hands are free. I
fuck your tight cunt while your squeeze and pull your tits.
Your snatch quivers around my pulsing cock, and then you see a
cock in front of you, manmeat waiting for you to suck. Your
mouth opens, and you ensnare its hea between your lips. Suck
on it, babe, suck that cock. There are more waiting for you to
suck, all shapes and sizes, all cocks for you to suck and fuck
and stroke and squeeze. Suck that cock, my beautiful slut, and
fuck back at me as I shove into you. Yes, fuck back, fuck me,
you sweet bitch, ripple that cunt of yours."
Alice was moaning in response to his commands, his fantasy,
as her fingers shoved into her cunt, pinched her nipple and
kneaded her tit. She imagined the parade of cocks lining up for
her, as many to fuck as she could have, could want, could suck
and fuck to complete satiety.
She imagined their taste, their feel, and felt her own
fingers stretching out her lips, and began groaning in earnest,
finally oblivious to anything he was saying, just consumed by
the fantasy she was creating, by the power of her arousal. She
came with a wrenching sob, dropping the phone, dropping to her
knees, pulling up against her pubic bone with her full hand,
clutching at her jug like she was crushin an orange. She
tipped over to lay her head on the bed. She caught her breath
there, face on the bedcover, and then picked up the phone.
"I'm back," she said.
"Good. If you want three cocks in you, then wear your black
pumps with the brass buckles tomorrow. If you want three cocks
in you, then the next day, at noon, you will arrive at the Bill
Bateman Dance Studio, 2400 S. 53rd, at noon. You will open the
door and undress. Lay yourself over the small low bench which
will be set up in the middle of one of the rooms.
"Do not turn on any more lights than are on when you arrive.
Once you have laid yourself over it, head and cunt hanging over
the ends, you must tie the bonds I leave for you to your
wrists. I will then enter behind you and tie your arms under
the bench. I will ask you, before I tie you down, if that is
what you want. If you tell me you want three cocks inside of
you, then we will proceed. 2400 S. 53rd. Noon day after
tomorrow. Have a pleasant bath. Treat that sweet cunt gently."
With that he hung up the phone. Alice, still on her knees
leaning against the bed, laughed at the dead receiver. Still
tingling with her orgasm, chilled from the cold air on drop-
dappled skin, and holding the phone while his words
reverberated inside her. <Three cocks inside me," she thought.
"I've had that fantasy for too long to not let it come true.>
Alice returned to her bath and soaked in perfumed splendor
for fifteen minutes, then arose and put the casserole in the
oven to heat while she dressed. She had on her brassiere and
panties when she heard Larry's car drive up. She put on her
blue silk robe and loosely tighed it with the sash, then went
to the door to greet him.
"I didn't expect you home so soon," she said as she kissed
him hello. "When you say late usually you mean late. But you're
in luck. Dinner's almost ready. I wasn't hungry, so I haven't
eaten either."
Larry smiled a he tightened his arms around his wife. "Good.
I'm sure hungry."
Larry made drinks while they chatted about nothing: the same
old things at the office, some minor updates on office gossip,
and the like. Alice noticed while they talked that Larry's eyes
were on the opening of her robe where her cleavage showed, and
to the flash of thigh that the robe showed when she moved.
Alice began to subtly chanage how she moved and sat to give him
a better eyeful.
A slight bulge began to appear in his pants. She smiled,
pleased with the power of her body to arouse. Their
conversation meandered, until she brought the undercurrent of
sexuality out into the open. "I love watching your cock get
full behind your zipper," she said, shocking even herself.
Larry looked embarassed, and almost turned his hips away from
her, but then checked himself and brought himself around to
face her fully. He took a breath. "And I love watching your
tits bounce under that silk. You're a babe, you know that?"
He moved toward the sofa she was sitting on. "I also love the
way we've been, lately, with each other. I mean...."
The pause almost became awkward, but she saved it for him,
afraid that if it got uncomfortable, they would get embarassed,
and fall back on the old safe ways. And those safe ways looked
too much like grey clouds for her to allow that. "I know what
you mean," she said, "I'm glad too. It's so... so erotic to
talk about it directly."
He smiled. "Talk about <what> directly?"
She smiled back, seeing what he was doing, and playing right
back to him. "Talking about fucking, and bodies, and cocks, and
cunts."
"Plural?" he asked, tauntingly.
"How hot do you want me to be?"
"As hot as you are."
"I'm real hot. I have thoughts that are whorish and crude. I
feel like a slut sometimes just for thinking them."
He was close beside her, and he slid his hand beneath the
blue silk; her skin was more smooth than the fabric, and her
tit felt heavy in his hand.
"You can't shock me," he murmured. "You have no idea how many
crude thoughts I have. And I'll tell them to you if you tell me
yours."
She leaned back, taking a deep breath to push her breast into
his hand. "I love it when you touch me like you want me. Like
I'm a woman, rather than your wife. Pinch my nipples, just a
little. Yes, like that, oooh, that sends hot flashes through
me."
Her hands caressed his shoulders, his chest; snuck
between his buttons to play with his chest hair. Then her
fingers moved down, and pushed behind his belt. Her nails made
the soft flesh above his pubes shrink and shudder. His cock
thrust painfully against his pants.
"I'm going to suck you off," Alice said to him, moving down
off the couch to kneel between his legs. "and I want you to
tell me the dirty things you think about. Then I want you to
suck me off and I'll do the same." She was unzipping him, and
he nodded, amazed to see Alice, pretty, chaste Alice between
his legs leering at the cock bulging beneath the white cotton
underwear.
"Yess... yes, I'll tell you, I'll tell you a few of the dirty
things I think. But get those lips around my shaft before I
chicken out. Suck on me, baby, mouth my cock."
She pulled the manmeat out, gasping at the tautness of his
lovemuscle. "Oh, Larry, you're so hard, I can see the veins
pulsing. I love this cock. I've always loved it, but I could
never tell you." She lapped up at it, her tongue broad and wet,
from the root up to the purple tip.
Suddenly Larry realized that he hadn't showered since
screwing the Duchess at Jackrabbit's back room. His cock, no
doubt, was coated with the dried cream of that fuck. Alice
would taste it, could probably smell it even now, and there was
nothing he could do about it. He certainly couldn't take a
shower now.
But he could take the moment and run with it. Show her that
she didn't need to be threatened. Show her that she could do
the same....
"That mouth of yours, god, you're (oohh) good, yes," he said,
as her mouth enfolded his purple helmet, "yesss...."
He cleared his throat. "Sometimes I think about you fucking.
I remember what you can be like fucking, and wonder what it
would be like to watch you fucking someone. Yes, suck it in,
oh, Alice, that tongue....
"Someday I want to see you with some stud-stalk in your mouth
while I fuck you from behind. That's something I think about. I
think about hearing from your lips, those talented lips, about
how it felt to have a cock in your cunt while mine was in your
ass. Oh, god, Alice, that mouth..."
Alice made her tongue a circular lathe smoothing the already
smooth skin of his hard pecker. She could taste the other
woman's juices on his cock, but oddly, she didn't even mind
that much. At first, she had been aghast, but as soon as her
tongue touched his shaft, she was just amused. <So he's fucking
somebody else, too> she thought, and then, <if this is the
result, then I'm all for it.>
She could hear his throat sporadically tightening as he
talked, whenever she would take his column down deep, and so
she bagan to take him rhythmically, using the skills she'd
recently learned from her mystery lover. Her throat opened more
than it ever had with Larry before, and she was loving every
touch of his thick hot cock in her mouth.
She groaned, then lunged back at his cock, down, pubic hairs
tickling the end of her nose, then back up, smacking her lips.
The other woman's juices and scent gave the blowjob a decadent
perversity which perfectly matched what was going on.
Larry was losing track of his train of thought. Alice's
burning tongue was nearly all he could think of. "God, Alice,
god you're good, what a cocksucker, jesus, oh man, suck me,
yes, oh, you whore, suck it deep now..." and thinking <when did
she decide she liked sucking cock? Maybe she has a lover? That
would even things up, now wouldn't it? But man, am I
benefitting from that shit...>
Alice's head began to bob, as her lips encircled the head at
each rising, keeping her teeth from tearing his skin as he
thrust up into her mouth. He began to buck as she grabbed the
base of his wang and jacked him off with her fist as she rammed
down with her mouth.
The effect was just what she wanted. He felt encased,
engulfed, as if his cock was being dissolved into her mouth. He
took her face in both hands, feeling her cheeks sunken with
sucking, and held her face as he shoved his ramrod into her
mouth. With her fist at the base, he knew he couldn't hurt her,
so he could thrust as hard as he liked. She was so obviously
loving every minute of the suckjob that he knew whatever he
wanted, she wanted too.
So he rammed into her, his breath coming in gasps, pants, and
he grunted out his words: "god, yes, suck it, fuck, yes, I'm
fucking your face, you're sucking my cock, suck it, yeah, suck
it, oh you whore, you sweet slut, suck me off, yess, oh god
yes, I'm going to come, yes, oh god oh god o ga<aaAAGHhh> oh
shit god yes, fuck h fuck, yes...."
His come was more of a gusher than she'd expected, especially
if he got laid earlier in the day. But the sweet cream pumped
out faster than she could swallow, and some dribbled past her
lips and down his cock. She sucked more gently now, almost
massaging his softening sausage with her lips. She smiled up at
his face, his closed eyes, his splayed arms, the tie slightly
askew, one forelock of hair falling in an unruly curl on his
forehead.
She smiled as she sucked the last droplets from the hole at
the end of his tube. She <was> getting to be a good cocksucker.
Mostly because now she loved it. Such direct control. Sucking
him, she had completely possessed his cock for that time. She
liked that.
Alice let him catch his breath for a few moments, then
climbed up, knees on his thighs, then put her feet onto the
couch. He looked up at her, with her legs on either side of his
hips, towering over him. Still leaned back, his head on the
bck of the couch, he watched her untie the sash and let her
blue robe come completely open.
Her breasts jutted out, her belly was a soft roundness, and
her sweet cunt lay open above him. She began to bend her knees,
slowly, so that her snatch would lower inch by inch.
"Now it's my turn," she said, "my turn to tell you my dirty
thoughts. Suck on my clit, move your tongue within my lips. Eat
me, Larry, here comes my cunt, moving down. Stick out that
tongue of yours, get it slick, get it ready.
"My thoughts are dirty, Larry, filthy and sluttish. I loved
hearing you want strange cocks in me." She was two inches away
from his open mouth, her cunt so hot she could almost imagine
the drips of juice running down her thighs. Like her cunt was
drooling for his tongue.
She bent the final inches in a rush, grinding her gash
against his tongue, lips and chin. She groaned "ohh, Larry,
ohhh, yes...," then positioned one knee up atop the couch,
giving him easy acces to the inner walls of her tube. "Lick
me, lick me deep. Ohh, yes, lap it around, up around my clit.
Flick it, yes, oh god yes...
"You're so good, god, yes, eat me out, you bastard, yes suck
me. I imagine sucking someone's cock while you eat me out. A
young man's cock, long and rock-hard. He groans and tells you
what a great cocksucker you've got. You tell him you know, and
that he should taste how good I am. Then, he lays down and
pulls me over his face. `Sit on my face,' he says. And then
you move behind my ass.
"Beneath my cunt his mouth works like yours is, now, but then
you begin to finger my ass, opening it, loosening my rosebud.
Then you ease your cock slowly in to replace your finger. Just
the tip at first. You feel your balls bounce on the forehead of
the young man beneath you."
Larry's hands, which had been squeezing her inner thighs, now
moved up to squeeze her butthams. His index finger spiraled
around, homing in on her brownie, while his tongue mimicked the
motion arond her clit. Tongue and fingertip found their mark
at the same time, and Alice groaned as he began to press
against her tight asshole.
His amazement was only matched by his excitement at seeing
his wife, hearing his wife act like a wanton whore. She was
backing into his intruding finger. Even more amazingly, he
could feel himself hardening again, not more than five minutes
after coming like a geyser.
He thrust his tonge deep into her cunt, then withdrew it to
moisten his finger. With the lubrication, he began to enter the
wrinkly button, rippling the folds of skin and muscle. Round
and round his finger moved, into a dark pit that he'd never
entered before.
Alice gyrated her ass on his impaling finger, pushing his
finger deeper into her chute. Her belly began to burn. "Your
cockhead is inside now, and the pressure keeps increasing. The
man's tongue is like a flickering flame, and then a hot iron,
working my cock like a bear at a salt lick. Bt that cock in my
ass starts to hurt, a good hurt, but I can't tell how much it's
going to hurt.
"I begin to struggle, and you grab my wrists and pull them
behind my back." She brought her arms behind her. With his free
left hand, he held her wrists. At best the hold he had on them
was symbolic. He squeezed to help the fantasy along, as if her
wrists were held fast.
"And I try to pull away, but you won't let me, you whisper in
my ear that it's all right, you know I'll like it, you know it
won't hurt more than I can stand, and I trust you, and want
your cock in my ass. Your hot breath in my ear saying how much
you want me, what a great whore I am, that to be a good slut I
have to take it up the ass, and you bastard, you begin to push
in farther, slowly, tantalizingly, gaining an inch, then
stopping, making me want it."
His finger followed the instructions she was giving him by
implication: he pushed another inch in, then stopped.
"You say, `say it, you sweet slut, tll me what you want,'
and so I tell you, I say I want you to fuck me in the ass,
stick that cock up by chute, ream me out, fuck my ass hard,
like you mean it, and so you begin pushing deeper. The pain is
a rage of pleasure that keeps pushing me higher and higher.
Fuck my ass! I shout, fuck me hard, suck me hard, oh shit,
deeper, deeper...."
His finger was in up to his knuckle, and he thrust it in and
out, winding around her relaxing sphincter. He lapped as fast
as he could, and she ground her cunt hard against his face.
clit against nose and lips.
"Deeper, oh god you two fuckers bring out the whore in me, I
love fucking and being fucked, yes, shove it in, you fucker,
ram me, ram me, god yes, <yes>, Yes, <YES> AAAggghhhh! Oh <GOD>
DAMN fuck me shit oh FUCK goddammit Oh fuck me hard harder oh
<YEAH!> motherfucking oh shove that asshole oh yes, oh...
ohh..." and she wilted down his suited chest.
His finger stayed in her asshole, and after a moment, he
began to move it around again. Her moans gave him the go-ahead.
She was oblivious to anything more than motion now, so he
rolled her over, then over again, kneeling over with her tits
on the couch, her ass in the air. On the second roll, his
finger had stayed stationary while her ass rotated upon it; her
gasp was full of passion.
"I'm going to fuck you in the ass, sweet Alice, my sweet
slut, and you're going to love it. Because you <are> a whore,
aren't you. Don't you want it. Don't you."
He took a risk, carrying the fantasy into reality. But the
risk was worth it. She responded completely.
"Yes, anything, fuck me anywhere. I need your cock in me
somewhere."
He pushed his finger in deep again, feeling way up inside a
few firm pellets of shit. <I'll pack that back>, he thought to
himself, <but she has to be ready. This is a virgin asshole. I
want her to want this again.>
So before moving his marble-hard cock to her ass opening, he
leaned over and spit on her crack, a drooly stream that he
caught with his middle finger and used as a lubricant to push
in as a second finger. Index and middle fingers squirmed inside
her, and she gasped. "Oh, fuck me, yes, god that's so good, oh,
yes...."
Then suddenly he withdrew both fingers and pulled back from
her. Her ass involuntarily clutched at the open air. "Oh, god,
put it back, my ass is hungry, jesus don't make me wait, fuck
me..."
And he spit in his hand to coat his cockhead. Then he put it
against her brown bud. "This is my cock," he told her. "Now I'm
going to fuck your ass for real. Are you ready?"
"Yes, oh, yes, I'm ready for your thick cock in my ass. Oh
yes I'm ready, don't make me wait, fuck me...."
His cock popped in, almost being grabbed by her sphincter,
her buttmuscles. Her moons lay creamy beneath his hands as he
splayed them out, to see her asshole.
The sight of his cock in Alice's forbidden tunnel astounded
him, and almost made hime come, but he stilled and regained
control. Then he pushed onward, into that darkness, the moist
channel of her bowels. Bit by bit he shoved his way in, urged
on by Alice's cries. Finally he was in almost to the root.
He leaned over. "You like my cock in your ass, I can tell.
You are a whore, aren't you, my whore, fucking my cock with
your ass. Tell me that you like it, tell me how much you like
my prick in your poopchute."
"I love it, fuck me with that prick, fuck my ass, fuck me
like a truck through a tunnel fuck up to my belly, god I can
feel you in my stomach, fucking me, jesus, fuck me, back, in,
back, yes, god, plow me, plow me you bastard, fuck my ass, fuck
my ass, yes..."
"I'm all the way inside you," he whispered hotly into her
ear. Yes I'm deep, so deep, and <now> you're going to find out
what a real assfucking is. Are you ready to get assfucked, you
sweet slut?"
"Do it, plow me, ram me, fuck me hard, <agh yes! yes!> Ohhh,
<AH> yes <AH> god <AGH> fuck me <AGH> is that all you can <UH>
do you bastard c'mon <UHN> uck me you cocksucker, you <UKH> Oh
god I'm going to <UNKH> come from my ass oh <OHHH> shit yes
fuck me fuck <UNKKH> fuck me yes <YES> oh <GOD DAMN SHIT
ANKHKHKHKH....>
What a reaming he was giving her, and watching his cock
sinking into her asshole, hearing her actually coming from
getting it up the ass, was too much for him. His cock began to
pulse, to tighten even further, and he could feel each ridge on
his cock getting a massage from her ass muscles. The jism rose
like a beaker boiling to overflow, and bubbled out first before
pressurizing to a stream that felt like his intestines were
being strained through his dick.
He screamed with her, punching his rod into her ass like he
was packing a muzzle-loader, and the explosion rocked them
both, sent them reeling into a collapse neither realized till
they both gradually awoke from the trance state. His pecker was
now soft, though still held tight by her ass. He eased it out,
and she squeezed the last spunk out as she expelled him.
Then he rolled her over. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes
dilated, her smile infectious. He leaned down and kissed her
deeply. He could still taste a little of his come in her mouth.
The kiss was tender. From both sides, an appreciation, a joy.
Both felt more loving and more loved than they had for years.
Their arms came around each other and the embraced, their
tongues dancing a slow gavotte, while their pulses gradually
wound down, and their breathing became even. The kiss was
sweet.
And then they both smelled the casserole burning in the oven.
|
|
