An Hour Of My Time
By SandieQ
(MdomF, rough, oral)

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.

"How much?"

"One fifty" 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?"

Oh fuck.

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 fifty."

"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 is?"

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 instructions.

"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 bliss...

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 world below.

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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