We repeatedly shifted positions.
I watched my husband plunge his penis inside Carla. And I was able to stroke his balls as he slipped in and out of her tight pussy. Both Ricky and Ronnie climbed between my legs during that afternoon. And I sucked both their cocks while John took me from behind and Carla pressed her tongue against my sex.
The sun was glorious. A light breeze dried the sweat on our naked bodies. The picnic spot remained wonderfully isolated. And our climaxes came in glorious waves that had us all panting, laughing and exhausted. It was an afternoon where we did so much. It was an afternoon where we simply fucked.
When we got back to the hotel that evening, and returned to our separate rooms, the sex was better than ever. It had been incredible to be with Carla, Ricky and Ronnie. But it was even more rewarding to relive that thrill while it was just me and John. I felt sore after all the pleasure I’d had through the day. But that didn’t stop me from wanting every inch that John could drive into me. When we eventually fell asleep, we were wrapped in each other’s arms and completely drained and satisfied.
We met up with Carla, Ricky and Ronnie each day for the rest of that week. Although they were scheduled to leave on the Saturday morning, Ronnie extended their stay for another week and we were able to spend the remainder of the holiday together. It truly was a memorable fortnight. We exchanged names, addresses and telephone numbers and have seen the three of them several times since. Those experiences, too, have been incredible. And this year, when it comes to booking our holidays, I feel sure that John and I will be going back to effing Mablethorpe.
– Tanya, St Albans, UK
Stranger on a Ten-Speed
I watched as a group of girls my age walked by. They were carrying shopping bags and all looked so pretty with their stylish clothes and make-up. They were laughing and seemed to be having so much fun, and as they walked away I noticed a group of guys from across the street watching them and whistling out. How I had wished that it was me that they were looking at.
I continued down the street alone towards the park where I usually went with my best friend, only she was away on a family vacation so I had spent most of the summer on my own, sitting and reading in the park. I had other people that I had been friends with through high school, but most of them moved away as soon as they were eighteen, in hopes of a life more exciting than our small town could ever provide and, being as shy as I was, it was hard to make new friends.
Guess I had lived a pretty sheltered life; here I was at nineteen years of age, never having had a boyfriend – not even so much as a real kiss with tongue! My parents were kind of old school and quite religious, so growing up, my socialising was limited to other kids from the church. I didn’t really think much about make-up and clothes then, but now that I was older, being plain was something that bothered me. I wasn’t ugly or anything, but my hair, which had been the same since elementary school, was plain, short and brown – easy to take care of – and my clothes were pretty conservative, with my summer uniform, if you will, consisting of a basic pink T-shirt and a knee-length cotton skirt and sandals.
As I turned the corner, a leaf came floating down to my feet, brushing past my face on the way – the first indication that summer was coming to an end. I bent to pick it up when a bike tyre zoomed past, almost knocking me over.
‘Oh – sorry about that, sweetie,’ said a frazzled voice.
‘Whatever,’ I mumbled, feeling more invisible than ever and resuming my walk.
I could hear the clicking of the wheels of his ten-speed behind me and looked back. He was at least in his late twenties, with dishevelled curly hair – one of those red-haired freckly guys. He sped up until he was riding at my side and I tried not to look at him.
‘You mad at me? Come on, don’t be mad,’ he mocked.
‘I’m not mad. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine,’ I
said while picking up the pace.
‘No, I can see yer’ mad,’ he insisted. ‘Let me make it up to you. Just stop for one second – please?’
I stopped and just looked at him impatiently as he rested one foot on the ground to hold the bike steady. I immediately noticed something bulging in his tight black biker shorts and felt my cheeks go red. He homed right in on my accidental gaze which embarrassed me further.
‘See something you like?’ He grinned, showing his less than perfect teeth.
‘Eeew! No!’ I cried out, looking away.
‘Saw you lookin’,’ he said.
‘Why are you even wearing those shorts? You’re not even a real cyclist! And they’re too tight and look silly!’ I said, turning to walk away.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. You seem like a sweet girl and yer’ real pretty …’ he said, changing to a softer tone.
I immediately took note; he was the first person of the opposite sex to ever call me pretty and I was blown away. He could see the effect it had on me and grinned.
‘Mind if I walk with you? Where are you going?’ he asked, getting back on the bike.
‘Just over to the park. I guess you can come if you like,’ I replied, feeling a bit nervous.
‘I would love to go some place more private so maybe we could talk a bit. I really like you,’ he cooed.
‘Sure,’ I replied, excited at the prospect of my first ‘date’, even if it was with someone older and not so cute.
‘Follow me,’ he said, opting to walk his bike instead.
We quickly turned off the road and up a driveway to a building, but instead of going in the door, he began to walk down the ramp to the underground parking. I hesitated for a moment, but then went on after he flashed a smile that put me at ease. Inside, it was dim and what little light was in there glowed almost pink.
It felt chilly compared to out in the sun and the air was almost damp – certainly not the most romantic place to talk. We finally stopped at the end in a little alcove with some sunlight peeking through the grid above.
‘Sit down, relax,’ he said, pointing to a concrete stump. He took a seat next to me, paused and asked: ‘Have you ever been with a guy? Or even seen one naked before?’
I was stunned and excited at the same time. I felt my cheeks flush and a tingle between my thighs, and was a little scared, but somehow liked it. I didn’t dare reply – I was too embarrassed.
‘It’s nothin’ to be scared of. You’re pretty, so I would love to see you naked …’ he said, leaning in to me.
He pressed his open lips to mine and gave me a wet and sloppy kiss, causing my entire body to feel warm. He looked at me for approval and then moved my arms to my sides and raised my T-shirt, revealing my bra.
I just watched him, not knowing what to say or do. His fingers worked to pull my cotton bra down, exposing my milky-white breasts. My nipples were harder than I had ever seen them and I worried if that was even normal. He squeezed hard, kneading the flesh with his entire hand, stopping to pinch the nipples till it hurt and I felt myself getting moist between the legs. He leant in, taking a tit in his mouth, slobbering all over it the way he had my lips earlier. The arousal washed over me and I knew I wanted to do something more, but I didn’t know what or how, so I just stood there, my arms still at my sides, letting him do as he pleased.
‘Take off your skirt. I want to see you,’ he said as his face remained expressionless.
‘But …’ I stammered.
‘Now!’ he commanded.
I reached around the back and undid the zipper and watched as the skirt made its way to the floor around my ankles. There I stood, in my panties and bra with my tits – wet with saliva – resting outside the cups, while he began to pull down his shorts. His tank top, though long, rested just above his pubic hair. When he stood up, tossing his shorts off to the side, his cock stuck out and was hard and swollen. I had never even realised that they could be so big! His balls were long and hung down pretty low, and the curly hair, though darker, was also red like the hair on his head.
‘You
r underwear too,’ he said.
When I lowered my panties, I could see the wet spot on the crotch and hoped he wouldn’t notice. He bent to push the skirt and panties away from around my feet and pressed his hands to my legs, motioning for me to spread them apart. The cool air in the garage gave me goose bumps and felt good against my wet pussy.
‘I know you’ve never done this before, so I’ll try to be nice,’ he said, sounding almost annoyed. He stood closer; his cock brushed against my leg and he reached down to my cunt and began rubbing it with the palm of his hand. He smiled as he felt the wet and slowly ran one finger down and around my slit until reaching the bottom when he started to push it inside. I flinched and he paused for a second and then used his other hand to take mine and bring it down to his dick. ‘Stroke it up and down, but not too hard,’ he commanded.
I did as he said, taking a hold of it and feeling the ridges of his veins and skin as I ran my hand along it while it grew even more inside my grip.
His finger began to ease its way inside me again and I tried to relax – I was horny and felt like I needed something inside of me. Once his finger was inside, it felt good having it move in and out of the wet, so when he began to force a second one inside I tried to welcome it. My knees felt weak and I leant into him for balance. I tried to kiss him, but he turned his face and continued pushing two, maybe three fingers in and out of me while I continued to stroke his cock. As I was really beginning to enjoy it, he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down onto my knees. He didn’t look angry or mean, so I wasn’t scared.
As I kneeled there on the cold dirty floor, his cock dangled right in front of my face. He took it in his hand and pressed it to my lips. I could feel something wet and a bit sticky on it and tried to move it away, but he persisted.
‘Open your mouth. Come on, just lick it a little – you’ll like it,’ he said.
I opened my mouth and he pushed it deep inside while I tried not to gag. He began pumping it in and out of my mouth and I used my tongue to keep it from going in too far as he grunted out loud. When we heard a car horn echoing through the garage he pulled out, his cock hitting me across the face.
‘Lay down!’ he said with urgency.
I lay on the floor which was freezing against my bare back, with little pebbles digging into my skin. He spread my legs apart and kneeled on the floor between them, leaning forwards until he was hovering over me.
‘Just relax,’ he whispered.
He watched me, looking into my eyes as his hands shuffled around between my legs, before taking his cock and pressing it against my wet slit. He pushed it around, looking for a way in, and my cunt ached to be filled.
I could only describe it as a strong itch that needed to be worked and I spread my legs farther apart, hoping to make it easier. He was pushing so hard that when he finally got to the right spot, his cock drove hard into me, causing me to yelp. He shushed me and pulled out a little, only to keep going back in and out harder and faster.
It didn’t take long before the pain stopped and was replaced by a feeling so good that I just wanted him to go deeper and deeper. Drops of sweat from his brow dripped onto my face and neck and I could feel every inch of him pumping in and out of my tight hole. Something warm and wet trickled out of me and down my ass and I wondered if I had peed myself. I had felt myself get wet before when I would see sex on TV, but had never felt it quite that wet!
I noticed the shadow of two people walk past, but they had not seen us. He began to fuck me even faster and the skin of my back and ass stung from the scrapes against the rough floor. His grunts grew louder and his thrusts harder until he pulled out of me and practically trampled me, bringing his cock to my face.
He stroked it until I began to feel hot cum dropping onto my mouth and chin and I squinted to keep it from getting into my eyes. With a final moan, he rubbed his moist and sticky head over my lips and I could taste the salty milk on my tongue.
‘Thanks, sweetie. That was great,’ he said, getting up and quickly getting dressed.
He tossed my clothes to me and he used my panties to wipe my face. I quickly put my clothes on and remained quiet. I really didn’t know what to say as I followed behind him back through the garage.
‘Pick up the pace – I have to go,’ he said, looking back at me.
‘So go,’ I said quietly.
He continued to walk with me up the ramp towards the daylight and said, ‘Well, I’m not lettin’ you walk through here alone – it could be dangerous for a girl.’
Once outside the garage, he grinned at me one last time and rode away on his bike.
– Dianne, Toronto, Canada
Jan’s Buyer
I thought I would tell you about how my fetish was revealed to me recently and has completely changed my outlook on sex.
I was a pretty ordinary girl, originally. I would regularly go out with guys, but without being promiscuous or easy to catch. I even had a wee rule: no sex in the first month. I found this tended to root out the ones who were only interested in shagging me before they moved on to their next conquest, but it also gave me a little feeling of power sometimes: when things were getting hot I always found amusement in how agitated my suitors would become with an erection in their underpants that was going nowhere. I used to let them finger me or lick me, they were all too keen to do that since they imagined it would lead somewhere else, especially if they made a good job of it, but I never touched them, save to rub their aching rods through their jeans, to egg them on a bit more, until the four weeks were up.
Some of the tongue and finger work on my fanny and clit, during what I suppose was essentially a trial period, was fantastic. Those that got fed up with me after a fruitless week or so were useless at it anyway, but those patient enough to stay on through weeks two and three seemed to be more studious and dedicated. I even wondered if some of them had gone home to study or read up on pleasuring a woman in an attempt to persuade me to give it up, because they seemed to get better at it as the month wore on.
I used to encourage them with comments like ‘I’ll be worth the wait’, or ‘Not long now, baby’, to try and egg them on for as long as possible. It gave me another wee power thrill to string them along like that. I held out as long as I could, but the truth was I did want to fuck, and if a guy got close to the month mark I became tempted on many occasions to give him time off for good behaviour. But I kept my resolve and never broke my one-month rule before humping anyone’s brains out.
The latest candidate for fucking my auburn-haired pussy was Alec. He was your typical Lanarkshire local boy: pale skin, dark hair, friendly as anything. He lived in the neighbourhood adjacent to mine and used to catch the same bus from his work (at a bank in town), getting off at the same stop every day but walking off in the opposite direction. I knew he was glancing at me every now and then, which is always pleasing, as long as they don’t get leery about it. Eventually after a few weeks, he gave me a hello as he walked past me on the bus and, of course, having been brought up to be nice, I returned the hello the next time. After a week or two of this, I think Alec felt he had built up a foundation of familiarity and was confident enough to ask me out without it looking too forward. He chose his moment as I stepped off the bus, and I let him walk me home.
I first kissed him in his car, as he dropped me off from a trip to the flicks one evening. It was certainly a lustful kiss, but he didn’t let things get carried away; I felt his hand on the inside of my leg and certainly under my skirt hem, but not so high that he would have felt the tops of my hold-ups. He seemed to be well behaved therefore and I predicted that he might very well stay the one-month course.
On our second date I went back to his house and he got a little bit braver as we clinched, feeling my breasts through my dress and then allowing his hands to wander up past my stocking tops, which he discovered without any apparent reaction, and onto the gusset of my knickers. I let him tickle and press through the thin white fabric on my glowing clitty and moist pussy,
but grunted in discouragement when I felt his fingers feeling their way underneath them; he retreated back to the good work he was doing on the gusset. He pulled my auburn hair to one side and licked and munched on my ear as he softly rubbed me and I lay back doing my best to cope with, and enjoy, the arousal and the pleasure I was getting from his efforts. But I allowed him no further. He was hard as a rock when I left him to get into my taxi and I thought about how he would be pumping a lonely tribute to me as I was driven home. It made me feel wonderfully in charge of him and the relationship.
In the middle of the third week I invited him to mine, and dressed to tease him horribly as we ate dinner, knowing this would make him work harder to please me once we had retired to the couch. I wore another light dress, flesh-coloured hold-ups, which are the only leg coverings I will ever wear, and light-tan high heels with an ankle strap. I put on the same pair of knickers I had on a few days before, unwashed and ripe with my juice.
This time, once I was satisfied with the stimulation he had given me through the dirty knickers, I let him peel them off me. Then, pushing his hand away from my crotch, I whispered to him to suck the gusset. He was so desperate to get further with me that he did it without hesitation; at first the tasty cocktail of new and old juice overloaded his senses, but after a second or two I knew he was enjoying every last molecule he could suck from the weave.
I was most definitely in command; I think I had him so teased and entranced that he would have sampled other of my bodily concoctions quite willingly, had I made him. The sex-starved man will perform like a monkey on an organ if you play a tune that implies imminent intercourse, I’ve found, and he’ll certainly lap at your clit until his neck aches, which is what I had him do on this occasion.
Nexus Confessions: Volume Three Page 8