The orange light of the street lamps cast curiously green shadows over the 2am dimness of this corner of town.
It's a mild night but I'm shivering with anticipation and trepidation... it's
not a nice neighbourhood, the blare of a local night club with a bad reputation
thumping in the dark. You chose it 'cos it's a real place where prostitutes
hang out, and where you want to pick me up from... the thrill and danger of seeking
out a woman of the night and whisking her off. Already I've had a couple of
slow drive-by interests, eyes peering darkly through their windscreens,
undressing me in their thoughts and weighing it against the wedge in their
wallets. A fast car of young guys screech to a halt on the kerb, making me
start, and they leer, reeking of drink, asking 'how much?' and 'how good?'
among a string of other suggestive obscenities.
I wish I'd worn a long coat to cover the very short shortness of my tight skirt
but it's what you wanted me in... classy office slut - all fitted jacket and
mini-skirt suit, tottering on 5 inch heels. The skirt only just covers the tops
of the seamed fishnet hold-ups you chose, and my face is made up as sultry as I
can to mask my fear. I turn away, pull my jacket tight under folded arms,
hoping to hide the fact I don't have a bra or slip on beneath my pale thin
sheer blouse - my fear making me too daringly perky - and the louts give up and
screech off into the dark, thank God.
Eventually I see your car slowly closing on my patch of kerb... God, I've even
marked out my territory by pacing agitatedly back and forth. It slows, and I
try and remember the rules... I don't know you, shouldn't feel relieved at a
familiar face but act a street pro and ask a good price. Haggle higher if I
don't like what you want. In the shadow of the car I hear your voice and bend
down to make out the words.
I reply as coldly as I can.
"Too much. Sorry." And the car starts to move on. Ooh you bastard!
I didn't realise you were going to haggle back. "One hundred!?" I
call out, surprised by the loudness of my cry against the night. The car stops.
I'm relieved, and can only think of scrambling into the protection of your car.
The door swings open, and I tug my short riding-up skirt down as I totter in
and slump unsteadily off my unfamiliarly high shoes.
"Bargain." I hear you mutter under you breath as you drive on, me
huddled and shaking beside you. There's an uneasy silence for some while as you
aimlessly wander the roads. "So?" You pipe up again, "Are you
going to tell me where you want me to take us?"
Fuck, I think, you want it to be that real. I could just take
you home but that would be too familiar. I stutter and mumble, unsure what to say,
and you look at me distantly. "You're new to this, aren't you?" I nod
dumbly, realising I'm fucking this up big time for you. "Yeah, I thought
so. Don't worry, I know a place... "
I'm too shaken to wonder how or why? Have you done this before or are you just
very good at the part? After long minutes your car pulls up outside a bed &
breakfast in the far corner of town. It might be pictureque in daylight, with
balconies outside the patio windows that offer a view if you don't look too
hard. Instead the darkness and shadows make it look a creepy ghost house.
I clamber out and totter toward the door as you stride past me, producing a
key. You would have had to paid for a room before knowing I hadn't a place to
go, second-guessing my incompetence... I feel such a fool, and hope to make it
up in the bedroom. The door swings open and there's a dim nightlight for the
stairs, and you offer for me to go first. "Top floor, second door on
left... room 14." I smile at your returned gentlemanliness and unsteadily
stagger up the stairs... these heels are killing me! Then from behind I feel
your hand on my bum... ooooh. OooOOH! No, not my cheeks but lower,
searching up under the short skirt and tween my thighs. Casually it might look
like you've got your hand there to steady and cheekily helping me up but your
cold fingers probe and swirl, finding no panties - just my tense tenderness,
making me start.
"Just checking the goods." You whisper, and I'm not sure how to take
that. As we climb higher, so do your fingers, until two are gripped deep in me,
each step making me grind with dirtying dampness against your knuckles as my
thighs sweep back and forth over your hand. It's partly rousing but slightly
scary, expecting the landlord or lady to pop their head out from anywhere to
check us out.
In the eternity of the dim stairs, we eventually reach room 14 and my
tenderness is released as you unlock the door. There's the vague scent of me on
you now, a sticky remembrance you've obviously enjoyed. Inside and safe, I try
and gather my scatty scenes to make the most of the game now.
You turn on a single lamp in one corner. "So what am I getting for my
hundred?" Ah, at least I'd worked out an answer in advance. "An hour
of my time." I reply. You seem to consider. "No holds barred? You do
anything I ask?"
I hadn't considered the implications, that taking us fully outside the norms of
cosy loving sex might open doors that should remain shut. You seem so
wonderfully old-fashioned, so amazingly polite, not even liking to cum in my
mouth when sucking you, that I've never wondered if you have any fetishes or
perversions hidden away. I should take it as a compliment that it's me you want
to share them with instead of going off with a real prostitute or other slut.
But it still startles me...
"That's extra!" I pipe up, regaining some ground in the game.
"Two hundred!" You haggle.
I wonder what's in store. "Two twenty-five!"
"Done!" Oh, fuckity-fuck... I hope I haven't sold out cheap but
it is only an hour. What do you want? Anal? Eewwww, yuk I hope
not. Guys seem so into that now, and I'll know where your cock has been even if
it were sterilised for days. Bondage? Hmmm, might give that a go if
it's not too kinky. Sadism? Oh FUCK! Or is it masochism? No I
couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to. There's a case on a chair, and I hope
it's not full of leather and whips. I'm hardly the dominatrix type.
Instead you produce a small tube. Lube? "Do you know what manjakani
Sounds vaguely familiar, reviews in a mag somewhere.
"It's a tightening cream, used to help the vaginal muscles after
pregnancy." Hey, I think, I said an hour, not over nine
months. Do you want a baby? I've heard guys knock up girls cos they have a
fetish over supping their girls milk like overgrown babies. Is that what you
want? I know how much you love my nips but... "It can also be used,"
you continue, "to just tighten the muscles before sex, to make you feel
like a virgin."
Hmmm, I think, not all bad. I guess I could try it. "OK." I shrug,
relieved. I'm not sure what to do but hand-out for the tube to read the
"No need... I applied some on the way up to save time. Did you think I was
just having a quickie grope?" If it wasn't for the fact I'd already
consented I'd have been furious at the unasked intrusion. But no harm done, I
guess. I thought the increasing tenseness was nerves but there's a strange
'twang' to my tenderness that is slightly odd, like the smart of smacked skin,
the twisting tautness of not-quite-pain.
"The other thing is... I don't wanna see your face. You're just a cunt I'm
fucking." The cold coarseness of your words cuts, but it's a scenario
we've already played with so I'm easy. After all, you should be just a paying
dick to me, with no emotional ties.
You gesture you want me to undress so I shrug my jacket off and unzip the
skirt, letting it fall. Undo my slightly pinned back hair, tumbling free on my
shoulders, and stand there in just a blouse and stockings after stepping out of
the killer heels. You just stand there arms-folded, watching like some voyeur.
It's only as I unbutton my blouse that you start to undress too.
In no time at all you're naked and lying back on the bed, cock stiff and eager
and oh so bloody huge. You're liking this, as I guess I might when we get down
to things after not doing my groundwork for the game. I suppose you want me to
ride you but I'm unused to reverse cowgirl, preferring to see and touch you.
Slipping the hold-ups off, I crawl over your body facing your feet, brace
myself on your knees and straddle your hips backwards. Reaching through my
thighs I find the stiff shaft and place the tip at my tight twat. Normally I'd
be wet through now and you'd slide in like a dream but the gut-wrenching
unfamiliar smell of an different room, and a cold uncaring you, make me dry and
unyieldingly clenched without the manjakani.
"Ease up, will you?" You say grittingly behind me, "Or do I have
to force my way in? Time's precious..." God no, I think, recalling the
real first time when fear and inexperience meant my bf at the time, also a
virgin, virtually tore me apart with knife-searing agony. Of course I shouldn't
be enjoying this - you've paid for my time, not me yours, but I didn't realise
it might hurt. So I try and relax, thing of the good sexy times we've shared,
and imagine we're in our bed. And suddenly, you're in.
I saw how enormously erotically engorged your cock was, and even without the
tightening cream you feel fiercely fully filling of me. I don't want to gasp my
pleasure as I stretch over you, the hot skin rubbing roughly over every nerve
inside. They say the nerves, the sensation of feeling, end within the first
third of a woman's depth but I'm sure I have the giddy grip of you all the way
in, can snuggle the swollen head and ripple over the dripping tip, am aware of
the oozing burning stickiness right at my cervix. Your hands on my bum cheeks,
pushing me back and forth on your cock, stir me from my riverie, the lost
thoughts having made me wickedly wet now. I'm slippery snug round you, and God,
yes, it does feel almost like - well, not my very first time, but the
first time I was with an experienced man, the first to give me a patient
wonderful, loving orgasm that blew my mind, defining sex as not pain and
punishment, and making me sob with unparalleled joy.
But this isn't then, your thrusts are uncaring and animalistic, pure sex with
no love. I've had my own times, one-nighters or weekends, when it was just body
and lust, and can appreciate it myself. The manjakani makes it hard for me to
squeeze and clench on you but there's little need... I'm as clamped round you
as you ever need me to be, and you as wonderfully wide and lustily long as I
can stand. I could let you fuck me like this all night, and I seek out a clock
in my juddery jolting vision. Only 45 minutes more.
But all too suddenly there's a familiar-but-made unfamiliar tremble from
within, magnified by the manjakani into a vibrator-like pulsing, set on
ultra-high with new batteries strength, and fuck I don't know what doctors mean
when they say I have no nerves up there but god fuck I feel you squirting a
long gushing ejaculation that splashes and gushes like a hose gone mad and fuck
fuck fuckity fuck it runs down my insides squishing gainst your hot huge horn
and my soft soaked sex til it suckily squelches out a deep dirty din punctuated
by my uh uh UH UUHHHs god I sound so fucking loud loud yes yes ye-ES YES YESSSSSSSS....
I can't even hear how loud you were, the rushing roar of arousal in my head but
I go redder than my flushed panting marathon-won-and-run expression must be,
thinking I've fairly screamed my orgasm across town. If the other roommates
aren't banging on the door, floor or ceiling telling me to shut-the-fuck-up,
then the police must be smashing the place in wondering who's been murdered. Only
my modesty officer! Quiet, prim shy office girl, now yelling her slutty
sexploits at the top of her voice, clad only in perfume and perspiration, atop
her lover-cum-client in a dirty dead-of-night tryst. If my friends and
co-workers could see me now...
The clock tick-tocks another 40 minutes to go...
"Fuuccckkk... " I gasp, head lowered, body and soul shaken. That was
mind-blowingly, cunt-crashingly amazing. Beyond wild, below primitive... raw
undistilled sex like you can't even imagine, let alone read about. 'Fuck'
doesn't even come close as a word... we need a new one to describe the violent
searing unpreparedness of what we've just experienced. Usually I'll feel a
tightening stitch inside my tum after you've pummelled and filled me but it's
now a topsy-turvy roller-coaster muscle-knotted ache almost like that of
extreme lust before sex... an eternal desire burned into my innermost of
intimacies, as if you've branded me. Part of me is so satisfied it's like I'll
never again need sex, the rest is ignited with untamed sensuality that makes me
your whore forever...
I'm still senselessly musing as you kick me off to drop limp on the bed and
drag a chair to beside the bed. Normally that kind of exertion would tire you
but you've vividly eager, and sit there patting your lap. God, do I have
to? Your cock, now slimily slicked with semen and my wetness, is still stiff
and super-sized. Enormously dark, back-rearing and enticing.
"C'mon!" You said through clenched teeth, "You're wasting
time!" And slap your thighs again eagerly to emphasis your need. Dizzily I
drag myself up and across to you. You grip my hips and spin me round to face
away, pull my knees apart so I lollop on your lap. Roughly you grip my bum and
ease me up then back and down on your huge hot hardness, which pops in and up
with professional ease this time. Your feet twist inside and round my ankles,
and you widened your legs to pull mine apart, further and further as you hold
my tum and a boob to steady me up. Grindily thrusting into me, you hiss,
"Play with yourself!" in my ear.
I claw my way down to where you've penetrated me, and swirl the stinging
swollen bud as I feel your cock rubbing relentlessly within. I'm so raw, still
tingling with the jarring joy of orgasm, it's almost painful to touch. You inch
your feet further and further apart, dragging my widening legs with them until
my knees point to opposite ends of the room, and your savage shoving into my
sore sex threatens to tear me in two. I have my other hand on my left nip,
yours on the right, sending quivering excitement through me. The steadying hand
on my tum presses the ticklish tenderness of my g-spot gainst your shivering
shuddering shaft with pounding pressure. Giddily I groan at the simultaneous
stimulation of my nips, clit, cunt and g-spot, give increasingly animalistic
cries and gasps as your cock feels like a expanding balloon, stretching me even
more and trying to poke out my belly button.
Seconds stretch like my widening vagina into mangled minutes and time is lost
in the primeval rhythm of our joined bodies. I thought you would have cum again
first but exertion must have numbed you. Instead the hammering I get shoves me
past the point of no return first and I can't contain the convulsions and cries
of a colossal climax. If the first were the 'hors d'oeuvres', then this is the
main coarse course. The punishing pleasure-pain makes your first penetration
pale into insignificance as I give a choked chain of cries to the ceiling, head
back and back arched as you try to hold me like a bucking mare against her
stallion. I so SO need to bring my legs together, stop the pounding, but your
legs trap me apart still as I have to let go of my nip and clit, reach back and
dig my red-painted nails into your thighs for support and sanity. Tears stream
from my eyes, ecstasy mixing with sorrow... I've never been so high, and
anything else is a dejected downturn from here.
But I'm wrong... you take me even higher, my soul unfurling like a flower,
soaring like an angel, as you join me in orgasm. This time you're like fizzy
sparkling champagne popping from a bottle, with your cock the thumb that makes
it spray in all directions. I was already full of you, clinging stickily inside
me, and now I imagine the tumultuous torrent is fairly squirting up, back, down
and out, dribbling out of me over your dick as my cunt runneth over. I orgasm
again, an overdose of intoxicating rapture that softens me to collapse limply
back on you, a little death as I lose consciousness, falling into bare black
I'm barely aware as you stand, holding me up with you still inside,
pigeon-stepping across the room. There's clicking sounds, then a blast of cold
air against the burnt nerves of my bare skin... orange light through my
flickering eyelids, then I'm dropped hands and knees on a rough softness over a
hard surface. I can feel myself goosebumping in the cool dark air and come to,
chin-rested on folded arms, on my knees with you dogging me on some kind of
padded lounger. My swaying blurred vision makes out the prettily-lit darkness
of town below me, through the swirling iron pattern of a balcony barrier.
There's a hint of dawn on the horizon, and even though we're three floors up, I
suddenly feel quite shockingly naked and spotlighted by the streetlight on the
other side of the road, biting my tongue to stop another screaming show for the
Adrenalin face-slaps my wits back... I love dogging but this is too exposed,
frighteningly fearless of you. And perhaps the one thing I might have objected
to. Sex in a very public place. We've had our fun, in the forest and
underground, so perhaps this was your response. We're not as cloaked in
darkness but it's early and unless someone else pokes their head out on a
neighbouring balcony I should enjoy it for the daringness and deep dirty
desires you've dug out of me, the overwhelming orgasms and searing sensuality
of it all...
Fuck, I'd even forgotten this is all for you. What is the time... ?
I'm so drained yet satisfied, your third and final climax is a formality to
me... I'm so blasť about it I'm almost the street-pro you wanted me to be. A
quick squeezing squirt that doesn't even dent the vividness of my vagina, still
buzzing from the two other awesome outbursts. It feels almost at a point of
eternal ecstasy, a strange knocked-funny-bone sensation inside that makes me
want to laugh and cry at the same time without stopping. When you drag me back
into the room, the clock has just ticked past an hour and I have to say 'Time's
up!" before I feel like dragging you onto the bed and fucking you
shamelessly again. I can barely walk as it is, my thighs feel as if they're
still pointing in opposite directions, my nerves telling me I'm doing a bandy-legged
splits as I mince to my scattered clothes, fumble for a tissue in my handbag
and mop my muff.
As I dress, you thrust a thick wedge of twenties and tens at me. I should have
taken the money first but I'm past caring... tonight, even for a seasoned street-pro,
barely a novice like me, must have been beyond value. I should refuse, end the
game here, but it's your fantasy and I don't want to ruin it. I count it
reluctantly and find it more, much more than the two-twenty-five bargained for.
"W-why... " I stutter, "Thank you." It'll go back into your
account anyway, it's just part of the fun, but part of me is overjoyed at being
valued more, part of me ashamed that it had been given a value at all. To me it
was priceless, a thing more precious than any remuneration.
As you quickly dress, you ask, "Can I drop you anywhere? Back to your
corner?" The game continues. As it should to be something for you to value
and keep close to your heart. Or cock. Whatever.
"OK." I nod, and minutes later I'm walking the streets again, strobed
by alternating darkness and orange light as the sky brightens into morning.
Inside me I carry a warm wet remembrance of you, savouring the sensation of its
soaking steaminess. God I could almost have another orgasm just thinking bout
it now. Mebbe I will, and as the tops of my stockings swish past each other, I
fantasize what I'm gonna do to you when I get in and find you in bed, and let
my intimates ignite into inspired intoxication once more...
© Copyright SandieQ June 2009
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