by Emmie Combs
The End.
Feeling Dirty
She didn't want to go to the wedding. She didn't know the bride at all and the fact that she had been in school with the bride's mother did not help the situation. She was 4 days away from her 39th birthday and the more she tried not to think about it, the more nothing else seemed to matter. She spent the afternoon effectively alone. Typically, she did not feel old but somehow watching the young girls dance and frolic and generally throw themselves at the young boys made her heart ache. All she wanted was a man. She was not particular. He needed to have a penis and a set of car keys to get himself home. Was that too much to ask?
An hour passed. The toast came and went as did a plate of chicken and tasteless gravy. It wasn't until the cake was being cut that she was finally approached. From behind her she heard a voice. She closed her eyes and made a wish. 'A young boy that needed teaching, a divorced dad that needed company.'
She turned to find a ruddy complexion, grey hair, and a belly that pushed open his suit jacket. He mumbled something about dancing and asked a ridiculous question about her going to school with the bride. She asked if he had a room at the hotel. He said no. She told him to get one.
His kiss was warm and dry and tasted of bourbon. All the better. He made quick work of undressing to an undershirt and a pair of boxer shorts. It was almost funny, she was in a movie and he was the ridiculous John. She was the desperate hooker pushed to the breaking point. Suddenly, it was better. Somehow it was hotter. She really thought she was being as slutty as she could get, but she was wrong.
Suddenly she was not scraping the bottom of the barrel. Suddenly she wasn't the desperate old hag bedding the only man that would talk to her. She had been waiting for him to undress her, anticipating old fumbling hands struggling with the buttons running down the front of her dress. Instead she slipped around the bed. She remembered the kitten routine she had played as a girl. She licked her lips. She undid the buttons herself slowly. He hung on every movement.
She crawled to the end of the bed. She should have been nervous but he looked so ridiculous how could she be? "Do I get to see Mr. Winky?" Did that really come out of her mouth?
She pulled him to her and pulled down the silly half boxers. Okay, here was a challenge. Sure, she hadn't been with a lot of men, and sure she was no MTV sex goddess but truthfully, was he just not turned on by her. He wasn't uncooked bacon but he was somewhere between hamloaf and wilted vegetables...
"What's wrong, baby? Doesn't he like me?"
"Oh.. He likes you! He likes you!" he reached for it himself yanking on it. Jiggling it up and down.
"Poor Mr. Winky, Do you think he's like me to suck him."
"Oh! Yes! Yes he would."
She slipped his limp member into her mouth. Sucking it, it started to move. She reached around to his ass, it was fat and shapeless. She pinched it and the cock started to come to life. "Oh, there we go. He's so fat! Don't choke me!" she cooed at him. It helped to keep her from laughing.
She lost herself in the moment. Somehow she let everything slip from her mind. She licked, she sucked. She worked the short fat cock between her lips. It was gross. It was dirty and naughty. She wasn't just "fucking some guy." She was sucking off a stranger. She was a dirty little slut and he was coming.
"Oh, don't do that." She said and squeezed the small cock.
He whimpered like a dog.
"Don't you want to fuck me?" Puppy dog eyes.
He whimpered again.
"Do you want to take me from behind? My pussy is sooo wet for you!"
Again, the whimper, but she pretended she didn't hear. She climbed onto the bed on all fours. "Do you like my ass?" He was rubbing her. She reached between her legs and slid her fingers over herself. She was surprised by how ready she was. She felt him slide a fat finger into her. She took it easily. Such a dirty little slut. His fingers were clumsy but it didn't matter. He poked at her pussy and she buried her face into the bedspread.
She moaned for him. She coaxed him on. "Oh like that, baby. Make me cum!" and he worked his fingers faster. She thought of how it looked. Her ass in the air, a fat old man stabbing his finger into her. "Oh, fuck that pussy big boy. Fuck me hard!" The dirtier the better. The dirtier she was the closer she was. "Oh give me your cock, fat boy, fill up that wet cunt!" It came quickly. It surprised her. It wasn't earth shattering. Her legs didn't shake but it felt good. "Come on baby, you wanna fuck me, don't you?"
He felt bigger in her than she expected. He was heavy behind her and as he started to pick up his pace she started to feel it. She was a bad girl and she was getting fucked by a stranger. She felt him slap against her ass. "Oh yeah, do it to me. Do me big boy!"
She was rocking now. Deeper! She wanted him in her deeper. She could only get so close. Grunting, she begged him. "Harder!"
She was a dirty whore. "Fuck me!" she was pleading now. She pushed back at him. He was slowing. God damn it! She could hear him gasping for breath. She didn't think about it. She wanted it. She had to come.
"Get on the bed!" Lying on his back didn't get rid of the immense gut. She straddled him pushing her eyes closed. Somehow she could never be on top without thinking of the word humping. She pushed herself down on him. Please don't give up on me. She pushed her eyes shut and rocked on him. She was so close! It was coming up inside of her. He was grunting. She pressed herself down onto him and she was there. Grinding herself down onto him she thought of popping it clean off inside her. The orgasm hit her like a slap to the back. It was quick but powerful. She waited for an aftershock and rocked back and forth on the fat round man hoping it would come. A moment or two passed and she knew she was done.
She climbed off the bed. She was all too conscious now of the sight of him. She couldn't help but feel that she had to get away. Nervous, bordering on panic she paced back and forth, finally retreating to the bathroom. She leaned over the counter, the light off, she couldn't really think. Her head was swimming, her legs were numb. She really couldn't feel anything except the warmth in her aching to break loose.
She touched herself and felt it again, the electric charge running down her back and through her thighs. She slid her finger over herself and found her clit. Firm and raised, begging. She took it in her fingers. Her knees shook and she locked them. She laid her chest down onto the sink, the cold marble pressed to her nipples.
Roughly. She pinched. She pressed. Her feet cramped and she dug deeper into her clit. She pictured someone behind her; she pictured his cock in her ass. She gasped.
She tugged.
She pressed harder.
She pinched.
She gasped louder.
Her orgasm started in her calves, pulled tight. Up her thighs it shot until it seemed to spin in circles through her body, a tremor pulsing through her teased pussy, finally working its way as a warmth that moved slowly up her chest, within her breasts, finishing as a slight blush in her cheeks.
She flipped on the light. Her hair was a tangled mess. Sweat was beaded on her forehead. She couldn't remember ever looking like this before. So delightfully dirty. What a dirty little slut you are! As she straightened her hair she couldn't help but be slightly confused by how proud she felt at this particular moment. Looking back into the mirror she smiled.
"Where are you going?" She was truly just curious. He had somehow managed to roll his fat ass out of the bed.
"I uh... I have to..." Oh, she had no use for bullshit.
"Nevermind." The room was really quite comfortable. She stepped out onto the small balcony. For the first time in years she really needed a cigarette. Instead she stood in the setting sun, the warmth on her bare chest. He was leaving without even saying anything.
"Hey! You just walking out?" Not that she wanted him to do anything different, she was just a little pissed that she wasn't the one blowing him off. What kind of slut did he think she was? What if she really was a dirty little hooker? Her heart skipped a beat just at the thought of it. "It's 900. I think yo
u should make it an even grand."
"Huh?" Oh what a wonderful look. He was positively terrified!
"Yeah, a grand, big guy. I don't want to have to call my pimp downstairs, he'll be angry at both of us!" Are they really even called pimps?
"I uh... I uh..." he fumbled into his wallet. Fuck? He was really going to pay her. "I didn't know, I swear. I uh. I have $600" He handed her the money. It was warm. Fuck-ola!
"Get the fuck out of here." She admired herself in the mirror. She really never had seen her naked body like this. Her shoulders back, her breasts pressed out. Where was her belly? "Make sure the room is paid through tomorrow, asshole!"
The door slammed.
She was hungry, a little thirsty, and just a little bit worked up still. She showered and pulled her dress back over her head. She didn't bother with her hair but it was definitely an evening for lipstick.
The bar wasn't crowded but there were a fair number of people sitting around at tables. She took a spot at the end of the bar. Yes, she had intentionally sat next to the tall man in the sportcoat with the full head of hair. She smiled at him. He smiled back.
He leaned towards her. Curious she leaned back.
Quietly he spoke "If you are on the clock I need to let you know I'm a cop."
Slowly she turned to him, smiling. She lifted the white wine to lips, took a sip. Leaning in closer to him she tipped her hand and let the chilled wine glass empty into his lap.
"Now that we have that over with, my name is Melody."
"I am so sorry," his embarrassment evident, he pushed back from the bar as if to get up.
"Stay, I'm sorry too." She smiled and held his arm. "Besides I need another glass of wine."
What a dirty slut she was going to be today.
The End.
A Place In The Sun
She adjusted herself one more time trying to find a comfortable spot. Her legs were tied so that she could not move them and her arms gave her a little play. The end of a large vibrator protruded from her cunt. He had carefully positioned it so that every movement she made with her legs pulled on the chain that was attached to her nipples clamps. This was a punishment. The toy wasn't vibrating, it was just stuck there.
She had played with the toys once too often. She knew she was in trouble when he asked her to pick out the toys she liked the most. He then blindfolded her and put a ball gag on her. Slowly as he tied her to the bed he worked on turning her on. It was a slow dance in sensuality. She was already feeling warm inside from the anticipation of being with him, but he knew all the buttons to push. She was turned on by the time he produced fine latex flogger that when he slowly drug it across her chest she emitted a low moan. At that point he placed the vibrator inside of her and left.
She was a pool of frustration. She wanted to move, but couldn't without turning herself on further. It really wasn't what she wanted. A vibrating toy wasn't very satisfying. She wanted him. He knew how to take command of her body. He knew how to keep her suspended between the pain that she knew so well and the warmth of passion. They had practiced it over and over again. He knew her hard limits in the beginning and with time bypassed them slowly. It wasn't something that was supposed to last. She was originally desperately looking for a temporary fix. She had interviewed several Doms, and believed that she just needed a couple sessions to get her head straight. She wasn't thinking that she would ever allow someone to actually own part of her, let alone someone who was married and a complete stranger.
But here she was. And he was back.
He sat down on the bed and silently kissed her forehead. She felt his hand flutter across her clit. The vibrator was taken out. It was replaced by his fingers, so that his thumb rested on her clit. He began to play her slowly. She wanted to rush, but he was going about his business with a deliberate restraint. He was in total control and she would just have to allow it to happen on his time table. She began to move her hips and he promptly stopped.
The big vibrator was then replaced and turned on high. He took a moment and then pressed one to her clit. She immediately responded as if a big light switch had been turned on. She was ripe for the picking. Her hips moved: she wanted to buck. He pulled at her nipple clamps with her other hand. She screamed at the pain and lifted up her torso as he pulled the chain between the clamps towards her cunt. Everything wrapped together into one big movement and she came. Her hand was grasping his leg as she felt the waves from her lower rib cage flutter through. There wasn't any pain, but she felt herself screaming inside. In the moments afterward he kept the vibrator going through the after shocks and turned it off so that she could catch her breath.
His silence was making her jumpy. Everything was unknown from her point of view. She wanted to feel him. She wanted to touch him. She could not read his reactions through the blindfold, nor could she passively project her feelings with her touch. All she could do is submit to his hands.
He instinctively checked her fingertips and found them cold. The clips that held her to the ropes released. He gently rubbed the fingers so that the blood began to return to them. He released her legs and she wanted to crawl up into a little ball, protecting her chest. She knew what was coming next.
He pushed her back onto the pillows and brushed her breasts with the palm of his hand. He opened the clamps and released one nipples and then another. She winced with the pain and cried out. She hated those clamps as they were always painful coming off, but at the same time always fantasied about wearing them. Her nipples were sensitive a couple of days afterward and served as a reminder of her service to him as well as keeping her somewhat turned on.
This time he kissed them instead of gently massaging them. He took his mouth to her nipples and played with them. She groaned. All the blood was rushing back into them, but the warmth felt good and he made her feel good. He took off the ball gag and blind fold and then gave her a bottle of water.
This was all old hat to the both of them . It had been replayed again and again. This time at the end of the bed she noticed his blue bathrobe.
They were going downstairs. She didn't move partially because she didn't want to . Part of her didn't want to breathe, but just to zone off in the covers feeling his warm body beside her. But quantity of time was always short: this was one of the occasions where they could actually spend time being together. This was just one intermission of several movements to come.
They weren't going downstairs immediately as he had other plans. She realized that he was getting into the bed with her and settling in beside her. This part- the "after care" was something she loved. He excelled at taking care of her. Sometimes she was quiet after-wards because she just could not speak. Other times she just wanted to hear his heartbeat close by and listen to him talk. Everything he would say she would soak in, because in the end, he was one of the few things she had for herself. It really didn't matter what was done in those moments after-wards: it most probably amounted to very little but meant everything .
That was what it was. Two people entwining their bodies so that they fit together like they were supposed to. The feeling of each other's hands remembering the landscape of other's body. The softness of skin against skin wrapped in sheets . The quiet kiss that says," Yes, Thank you". As much as this time was a time of peace, it also was a time of passion. In the end she slowly worked her mouth down past his belly and took him in her mouth.. There was no pausing to slowly lick around the rim of his cock. There was no slowly taking it in as if it was something to be savored. She just wanted him.
So deliberately she sucked him down into the back of her throat in one long motion. He thrust against the back of her palate so that the cock had no choice other than to go deep. She held it there and sucked lightly while flicking her tongue against it. She slowly withdrew, taking a breath and then back down again. Each time she would suck on him deeply, holding him in her mouth so that his balls would be right against her lips. Then she would tease him by lightly flicking her tongue on the tip of his dick ,
only to dive back onto in a moment later. She was almost slutty about it. It was not unusual. for his hand to go down below her belly and play with her clit. This was distracting. She couldn't concentrate. She wanted to make love to him with her mouth. This time he relaxed. His hand was on the back of her neck playing with her hair. She felt him begin to move with her and his breathing was increasing.
She could go on with it as long as he could stand it. It didn't last long before he pulled her off. She knew to get on him and ride. She wanted him inside of her, just as she wanted him in her mouth. True submission wasn't about being taken, but giving the gift of one's self to another person. There was the initial feel of tightness as he went in. But when he was finally in and deep there was a sigh that overtook her body that she could feel.. There were no terms to describe it : it was just this feeling of letting go. From there she would ride sometimes shortly and then cum and cum again. It was complete in a sense, because he continued onward matter how hard she came and it just made her go more and more. In what seemed like an instant his fingers went to her clit as she rode . Everything plowed into her and she came hard. He was there inside her coming so hard she could feel it. Suddenly there was this moment where things just stopped because it was so intense.
She went down and kissed his neck. The sub inside of her automatically kissed his neck when she had no words to say what she wanted to say. It was sort of a silent code. He was moving her leg towards the inside so that they could lay side by side. She found her spot next to his chest. It was her refuge. Both of them were panting and breathing hard. It took moments to recover. And then it was about a kiss. Not just the civil "I love you kiss", but the one that she remembered when she was lonely. There was nothing understated about it. When he kissed her like that she remembered that she was also his lover.