The Naughty Collection

by Ruby City Books

  After some time of this sweet, sweet cruelty, Billy pulled away from me, licking his lips as though to clear his mouth of my glorious nectars, and then reaching down to the fly of his trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping them, and peeling them off in one fell swoop.

  My jaw nearly bounced off the surface of the bed and landed squarely in the center of the floor...

  I had thought that my husband was quite the well-endowed specimen, even if he didn't seem to know how to use what God had given him properly, and even though I didn't really have any standard of measurement for this sort of thing, but he wasn't piddly shit compared to the almighty heat that Billy Boy was packing. This pecker... It looked more as though it had been soldered form the body of a horse onto the pelvis of a man than it appeared to be any sort of genuinely human pecker. It lacked, perhaps, an inch or two of the girth of my husband's, but he amply made up for it in his astonishing length, his blade so crippling that I nearly collapsed at the sight of it, my body weak, and my head spinning as he pulled it by the hair up in the direction of his pelvis.

  I had never before had the pleasure of performing oral sex on a man, given that my husband was an absolute prude in a bedroom, and I struggled, initially, with even wrapping my lips around Billy's enormous monstrosity. I did my damnedest to swallow him as completely as possible, inhaling inch by inch by inch of his raging hard on until I could feel myself beginning to gag on him, his engorged tip knocking against the back of my throat and then the shaft just keeping on coming, until at long, long, long last I felt my lips press down against the tangled black fuzz of his pubic hair, and I slowly began to pull back in the reverse direction, building up a fierce suction as I slid along his veiny, throbbing immensity, and snapping open my lips as I arrived once more at his head, thinking intuitively, somehow, that this was the proper way of delivering the maximum amount of pleasure in a single, seductive movement.

  I'm sure that the ensuing blowjob was far from professional, although I'm also certain that if he'd wanted professional he could have damn well sauntered down to the bar below us and hired himself some more experienced company for the evening, perhaps even two or three girls at that. But what he wanted, I was quite convinced, was a seemingly innocent girl, and in that regard I certainly fell far from disappointing, clumsily stroking and regurgitating him with my tongue, choking on my own fluids as they dribbled down my throat, making all sorts of amateur mistakes that I'm fairly certain only served to further arouse him, heavier and heavier as his breathing was becoming with the steady progression of my efforts.

  He didn't cum in my mouth, thank the Lord, or else I might really have made a fool of myself in my panic, but by the time he pulled out of me with long strands of fluids banding from his cock I was hacking my goddamn lungs out, struggling to breathe, and so fucking turned on by what I had done that I thought I just might arrive at climax without even having to engage in vaginal contact.

  I gasped, quite suddenly, as I felt his hands lift me brusquely up, flipping me over, and positioning my body onto its hands and knees, the posture of a fucking dog, mind you, my ass thrusted out toward him and my tits hanging loosely from my chest like two fleshy pendulums. This was it, I thought, as he slid his palms into the fabric of my panties and carefully dragged them down along my thighs. For so long I had so desperately craved for a man to genuinely take me, to brutally fuck me like an animal and make me cringe beneath his efforts, and now, Lord God forgive me, here it was, here was the long-awaited obliteration of my innocence, a penetration far more effective than any I had ever experienced in the arms of my husband.

  And then my eyes went wide-

  This seemed unfamiliar...

  And suddenly I was shrieking in agony, my fingers clutching the bedspread for dear fucking life, and yet, in spite of the sheer pain of what was happening to me back there, I was finding myself considerably turned on by it the further he progressed, the pain giving way to pleasure, and my body shaking by the time he'd buried his fat cock all the way inside.

  His tip had penetrated into the tightly closed opening of my sphincter, and then come sliding like a blade into the tight, hot sheath of my rectum, cramming so tightly into my anus that I thought I might fucking implode, and the cheeks of my ass seriously quivering by this sublime, painful point in the proceedings.

  Sodomy, eh? I could go with that...

  He reared back, and then plunged back deep, deep into me, tearing immediately into a frenetic, angry rhythm, slamming into my anus and pounding that pink thing so hard that I began to see stars, his speed gradually increasing, and his testicles flopping like mad into my body, the percussive sound of skin slapping against skin like sweet, beautiful music in my ringing ears, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP!, and streams of profanity ringing forth from my throat like water, “Oh God, oh God, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!”

  That vicious outlaw absolutely brutalized my anus, continuing to stutter like this for several cruel minutes, the limits of his endurance and stamina seemingly boundless, until after what had seemed like a lifetime he smashed himself deep up into me, and held himself stiffly in place, pouring his sweet white cream into my quivering anus in such thickness and abundance that it came flooding back out of my body, and I began to tremble like some beat dog from head to toe with a sensation that was quite unprecedented, that of sweet, sweet anal orgasm, a phenomenon I had never before fathomed to have existed, to be quite honest.

  Finally, after every last throb of his cock had been exhausted, he pulled out of me, and I let out a tremendous gasp of relief, both from the pleasure and the pain. I was shocked, then, when almost immediately his hands were upon me once again, flipping me over onto my back, and pushing part my thighs, his body quite evidently immune to refractory periods, and ready to go again instantly upon splooging his thick white sperm up my rectum.

  Almost violently, he seized hold of my ankles and thrusted them all the way up to around my ears, spreading me out so wide that he could reasonably have crawled into my body at that point, then mounting me, sliding his sperm-soaked cock into my pussy like a blade, and touching down deep inside me, my body still ringing from his previous back door efforts, and my constitution perhaps unsuited to surviving another vicious orgasm this quickly after the first.

  But he fucked my lights out once again regardless of the fact, several times, to be precise, the two of us screaming and creaming and sweating the sheets throughout the entire course of the night, the fact eluding me that, much to my future consternation, I had forgotten to take my snake oil birth control before coming up here to his room with him...

  Chapter 3

  The weeks rolled slowly by and things returned, more or less, to some semblance of normalcy. I did my damnedest to put old Billy the Boy as far away from my thoughts as possible, although admittedly it was far from easy whenever I woke up in the middle of the night screaming, soaked in a cold sweat after having the female equivalent of a wet dream over the many perverse things the two of us had done to one another. And whenever I would look at my husband, smiling dumbly at me as was his way, blissfully unaware of what I'd done in his absence, and the guilt would well up inside me like a virus.

  And when there was a strong possibility that I happened to have Billy the Boy's little bun in the oven...

  That's right... I was, predictably enough, knocked up...

  Now, there was no way for me to tell for certain whether it was, in fact, Billy the Boy's ambitious little sperm that had successfully taken residence of my womb, given the fact that Wayne and I had been passionlessly intimate the night before his leaving for the dusty trail, him, I think, dumbly hoping that he might get lucky and plant his seed in me to find it growing upon his return, and indeed, the moment I told him I was pregnant his face had lit up like the sun itself, as he spouted all sorts of babbling nonsense about the Lord having blessed my uterus and yadda yadda yadda... Yet on the same token, it seemed a statistically far greater likelihood that the guilty penis had in fact belonged to B
illy the Boy, given that the night the two of us had made love, he'd poked that thing into me so many times I'd lost track by the end, and filled me up with so much of his thick, creamy sperm that I'm surprised I didn't just stick to the bed when I tried to lift myself up off from it the next morning. I'd attempted, in the ensuing weeks, so many times to calculate the exact number of days between the instances of intercourse and the realization of my missed period, but the dates were just so damn close together, and my period had always been a bit on the irregular side, so that it was virtually impossible to tell for sure which of the men's little wrigglers had been the one to make its mark upon my uterus.

  At any rate, I was now swollen so round that I looked like I'd swallowed a fucking pumpkin, my pregnant belly so fiercely overlapping my lower extremities that I could probably have walked outside without a skirt on and people would likely be unable to see the faintest trace of my pussy past the thing.

  I was, quite simply, knocked up, and regardless of who the father happened to be, I was having all sorts of doubts about the concept of being a mother. I'd gotten so damn panicky, so certain that somehow something bad was going to happen that I'd confided in my best friend Mary about my affair with Billy the Boy, which I should have known, even then, was a bad idea, Mary having a well-earned reputation as the town gossip as she did, but I'm certain my judgment was far too clouded by fear and uncertainty at the time to be functioning on a wholly rational level. I just felt the need to confide in somebody about the sins I'd committed, and although I know now that Mary had been the wrong someone, and though I should have known then, it did, for the time being unburden some small measure of the load from my swollen, milk-engorged chest. She comforted me and said she understood, given what I'd told her about my husband's Puritanical ideas about sex, and she said she felt no judgment toward me, that it had been my decision and that now I just needed to do the best I could without having that shit hanging over me for the rest of my life.

  Well, apparently upon passing this information to Mary, it was not at all long before the news began to travel amongst the lips of the townspeople, the source of the news quite obviously Mary herself, and its eventual destination the very piqued ears of Billy the Boy himself.

  Billy the Boy, despite harboring an incredible number of generally shameful attributes, somehow managed, nonetheless, to be something of a proud man, and the notion of some other man, a law enforcement agent, no less, raising what he believed to be his own gestating flesh and blood as his own- well, that was just not about to fucking fly with Billy the Boy...

  That man flew back into town on his black horse with his black hat and his black cowboy boots like a bat into hell, if that makes any sense whatsoever as an expression, and stampeded on a collision course with my unsuspecting husband, who was in the sheriff's office at the time, thinking it to be an unusually slow and, dare he say, uneventful day...

  I was at home, meanwhile, taking a nap like I tended to do almost constantly at this swollen stage of pregnancy, when suddenly Mary the rumor mill came bursting into my house, startling me awake so abruptly that I pissed myself (as a pregnant woman, I pissed myself all the time, so this, in itself, was no big deal when you got right down to it.)

  What was a big deal was the fact that, apparently, a shootout had erupted between my two jealous lovers over the fate of my unborn child, and if I didn't get my unsteady ass down there in a hop skip and a jump that meddlesome little baby inside me would quite likely end up without any father at all.

  I hurried into town as fast as a jiggling ball of womanhood as myself could go, and flung myself inbetween the two men, whose pistols were drawn and their hats comically filled with the numerous bullet holes of several missed shots. I pleaded with them, saying that if they kept this up it I wouldn't have a single goddamn thing to do with either of their asses.

  I begged them both to holster their weapons and come discuss this with me in the safety of the sheriff's office, where no innocent bystanders could get hurt if negotiations ended up going south.

  And well... Things ended up escalating, pretty damn fast, in a direction that none of us at all had remotely foreseen...

  I don't know if it was a matter of me so openly discussing my problems in the bedroom that had led me into Billy's arms that did the trick, or whether it was something inherently erotic about the nature of these two well-endowed men trying to dish out whose cock had fertilized my pussy that ended up creating a rather sexually tense atmosphere. Hell, I don't even remember the chronological chain of events that directly led up to the events in question that formed such an impression in my memory, as abstract and hazy as the sequence of happenings so quickly became.

  But the next thing any of us knew, things had gotten very, very personal between the three of us, and our tense meeting had devolved into an outright western orgy...

  It was, in many ways, shocking, given how adhesive to standards of propriety my husband had always so vehemently proclaimed himself, so unaccepting of sexual funny business. And Billy the Boy, too, I would not have pegged for a man all that interested in threesomes unless it was with a double helping of pussy involved.

  But lo and behold, here the two of them were, closing in on me with an unmistakable sexual fury in their eyes, the mutual desire to consume me clearly too much for either of them to handle, and me, shaking from head to toe with the anticipation of having multiple men inside me, ready and willing and wet-lipped despite my incredible astonishment at this most unexpected turn of events.

  The two men passed me around with a reverence that I'm sure bespoke, to some degree or another, at least, of the fact that I was with child, the way they touched me almost like I was some holy being in their presence, my body a temple, fragile, delicate, to be treated with the utmost care even as they brutalized it in so many ways.

  I nearly drowned beneath the sweaty, sticky heat of their collective kisses, the two of them pushing their powerful bodies up against me, and passing me between themselves in a slow, agonizing circuit. My lips on my husband's, being kissed more passionately by the man than I had ever experienced at any prior point in my marriage- I've heard it said that men are capable of working up a bit of extra juice in the presence of sexual competition, and so it's hard to imagine that this had nothing to do with this new, unexpected ferocity...

  Then, Billy's lips took the place of Wayne's, suckling on my hot mouth as though with the ultimate aim of detaching my soul from my flesh and sucking it clean out of me, a goal which, as I whimpered and swooned and sweated into him, I thought he might reasonably have achieved with any extended period of effort.

  And then... Oh Christ... What happened next was really fucking staggering to me.

  This was, admittedly, completely beyond the realm of the perceived character of either man a far as I could tell, my husband in particular, although I suppose Billy the Boy's gaze might have been so hypnotic that he could have put the fear of God in an atheist if he'd stared at him for long enough.

  But whatever the cause may have been, Billy the Boy's lips were now on those of my husband, the two of them making out, rubbing their hot bodies together as though it was the most natural thing in the world, good and evil getting nice and cozy with one another, I suppose is one way you could think about it... At this point in my viewing of the spectacle, I thought I might fucking pass out clean on the spot, my thighs quivering so expectantly and my heart beating so fiercely that it's remarkable how well I was able to keep my self upright. I absolutely savored the popping and squelching and sucking of their lips on one another, the two potential fathers of my child making out like goddamn newlyweds right there before me in the middle of the Sheriff's Office, and I placed the palm of my hand on my distended pregnant belly as though in honor of this fact, feeling so swollen and so wet at the pussy in that moment that it was almost agonizing to stand there without participating for so long.

  At last, I was brought back into the fold, and we kissed in this circuitous nature for some time, h
ands groping my body regularly as I spun around between the two men like a top, Wayne's lips on mine, my lips on those of Billy the Boy, and Billy the Boy's lips coming back around to my husbands, their kisses never failing to shock me with their almost violent passion, and my pussy never seeming to throb at the sheer splendor of their efforts every time things came back around to them.

  On one of these occasions, finally, of the two men grinding and bumping up against one another, the pushing of their erect penises through the fabric of their trousers became entirely too much for me to withstand for much longer, and I found myself carefully lowering my pregnant body down onto the floor, squatting onto my knees, and getting to indulge myself just a bit further in terms of fantasy fulfillment...

  I unbuttoned and unzipped each man, and simultaneously plunged my grasping fingers into the dank confines of their underwear. I pulled both of them out into the open, savoring the heat of their immense, veiny shafts in my grip, and gazing astonished as each of their fat, fully loaded cocks swayed and dangled like the limbs of a tree in a storm. Then I seized a firm hold of each man, closing my fist around each cock as though to somehow murder both men through the force of penile strangulation.