42 Filthy Fucking Stories

by Lexi Maxxwell

  Lindsey turned her head from the blurry window to the crack in the door and sighed. The only thing worse than waiting, was waiting for what felt more like forever every day.

  Every pore in her body pounded with a dull ache in her soldier’s lingering absence, and it seemed as if each day was teaching her new ways to long for his return. Lindsey imagined running her hand down his entire body, from his strong jawline to the crease where his neck met his shoulders, then down to his chest where she could play with his nipples for long and lingering moments of intense ecstasy.

  If only he would come back home.

  Lindsey even loved his battle scars, and he had several. More since the last time he was deployed. The worst of his new scars was a long purple gash, now mostly healed, which had been caused by an IED. The scar bisected her soldier’s torso, running in a long and ragged valley across his lower torso, all the way from his belly button, past his cock and balls to his thigh. She had cried when she first heard about it, then again when he showed it to her on the computer. She wondered what it would be like to see his newest horrible scar in person.

  Lindsey shuddered.

  She imagined her soldier walking through the front door for the millionth time, then pictured what she would do first.

  She would drop to her knees and slide her hands both up, then down, his chest, stopping at his stiffened cock, where she would hold it at the base before placing her lips over the tip. Lindsey would smile up at him, meeting his eyes and drinking the intense pleasure of his expressive face as the warmth of her touch sent ripples through his body.

  Lindsey heard a sound from somewhere outside, then leaned forward in anticipation, her pussy dripping with the need to feel him inside of her – thick and throbbing, huge and hot.

  But the sound was nothing.

  Lindsey leaned back on the couch and sighed.

  She sat and stared out the window for a few more minutes, then rose from the couch and walked slowly to the kitchen. Dressing for her soldier that morning, Lindsey had put on a short, silky dress with nothing underneath. Walking to the kitchen, she could feel the draft from the floor vents kissing her skirt and blowing it up toward her waist.

  She remembered the classic image of Marilyn Monroe, standing over street vents as her virginal white dress blew up and around her, while pretending to fight it.

  A car door slammed, sending Lindsey back to the front door. She nudged her nose through the crack, then looked to her neighbor’s across the empty street and saw Mrs. Madsen juggling three bags of groceries as she kicked the door of her Accord closed and made her way to her front door.

  Lindsey sighed again, then leaned against the wall, pussy weeping with anticipation. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could wait for her soldier. Her hand crept toward the sticky mess between her legs, but she pulled it back before it grazed her fur, longing to save it all for her soldier.

  She heard footsteps on the walkway and closed her eyes.

  It was him!

  Drawing a deep breath, Lindsey opened the door, shading her eyes against the bright morning sun. He stood before her like an angel, cast in its heavenly glow.

  He dropped his duffle in the doorway, cast a smile as wide as the corners of his mouth could carry it, then ran into her arms, pulling her tight against his body. Lindsey felt him shaking, swollen with desire, his cock fat with blood the camouflage couldn’t disguise.

  “Lindsey,” he whispered, his breath hot.

  He kissed her long and hard on the mouth. It took Lindsey a long minute to catch her breath, as she pawed at his body, desperately wanting to feel his every inch. She dropped her hands to her side, then retreated a single step, staring into his eyes as she ran her hands again down his body, then across to the throb of his swollen cock, straining like the barrel of a rifle against the stiff fabric of his fatigues.

  He leaned down, picked up his duffle, then walked through the threshold of their home, slamming the door shut with his foot. Her soldier dropped the duffle to the floor, then swept her into his arms, and carried her up the narrow winding staircase.

  Her fingers splayed onto his shoulders. After months and months of being alone, Lindsey was finally happy, imagining the final climax of their fuckfest, ending how he loved it most – shooting his load all over her lower lips and into the open O of her hungry, waiting mouth.

  Lindsey had been dreaming about the encounter for months, though it felt like years since minutes turned to hours over weeks without sex.

  At times, during her soldier’s long deployment, Lindsey thought she might die from frustration; the pain of living, with him so far away, no longer lying beside her as she drifted to sleep each night; not being able to take his cock in her mouth as he slept; never playing with it, or waking him up with sex in the morning when he was always the hardest; and especially, seeing him stare into her eyes as he fucked her over and over again throughout the length of a leisure Sunday.

  Her soldier carried her into their bedroom, and laid her at the edge of the bed, studying her body before kneeling on the floor. He slid her dress up her body and past her waist, stopping to stare at her blush colored lower lips.

  He lingered, thumbs caressing the crease between her thighs and flat stomach, inhaling her lust as the intensity of their feelings flooded between them.

  Lindsey slowly unzipped him, then reached into his pants to caress his cock, before freeing it into the open.

  Her soldier smiled, then stood to remove his pants and jacket, and casually tossed them into a pile by the bed. He dropped to his knees again, then slid Lindsey’s dress even further up her body, revealing the flat of her lower stomach.

  He ran his palms over her breasts, then slid her spaghetti straps low enough for the remaining soft silk to slide down around her waist, and spill her beautiful breasts into the air conditioned crisp.

  Her soldier groaned, then bent slightly so he could kiss her along the edges of her pussy. Lindsey went from wet to a soaking wet bucket of desire.

  She grabbed his hair and pulled him toward her, needing to feel the dart of his tongue inside her. He smothered her thighs with kisses before moving his lips to her clit, exploring her insides and tasting her sweet with the length of his tongue.

  Her soldier continued to lick her all over, sending Lindsey racing toward climax.

  She curled her fingers into his hair and waited for it to happen.

  Waves of ecstasy rolled through her body, running from her head to her toes, then crashing up and along the length of her body. Lindsey managed, somehow, to keep her orgasms coming, in wave after wave as she shoved her soldier’s face deeper inside her.

  Lindsey released a final scream, then fell back onto the bed as her soldier slipped off her dress and added it to the pile on the floor.

  To Lindsey’s sex-starved imagination, her soldier’s cock looked as fat as a flagpole. She pulled him toward her, hoping it would feel that large inside. He stared at her for an endless minute, smiled wide, then flipped her to her stomach, ass in the air. He played with her cheeks for several minutes, running his hands over her butt, then underneath her body to tenderize her heaving breasts, swinging freely to meet the warm cradle of his welcoming hands.

  Lindsey squealed as he jammed his cock all the way inside her, shoving his cock and balls against her as he pushed himself into the primal rhythm of sex.

  His breath was heavy, rising and falling as he plunged himself in and out of her body, withdrawing nearly all of the way, before slamming inside her again, his fingers splayed across her ass, gently digging into her flesh and caressing her skin.

  Lindsey felt her soldier’s skin start to burn – hot and moist and fueling the deep intensity of her bottomless arousal. She felt tension mounting in his cock, already over-engorged and growing thicker with his every thrust.

  As he was about to splatter inside her, Lindsey squeezed her muscles around his meat, unwilling to allow any of him to escape her body.

  Her soldier screamed as his
eyes rolled to the back of his head. Then he blasted.

  The first spray tickled the back walls of her hot box. The second spray was thicker, slapping the sides of her inner walls, then pouring from her hole, just like the third and fourth and fifth, flooding her inner thighs like spray from a fountain.

  The flood was almost too much; his long accumulated cum came pouring from her pussy, no matter how hard she tried to hold it inside her.

  Her soldier stayed inside her, slowly inhaling and exhaling as he rocked his body back and forth. Never withdrawing, he pushed her toward the center of the bed, then began to thrust into her again, faster and faster, quickly hard as a gun barrel again.

  Lindsey knew that it was only a few minutes until he would climax for the second time, and hoped his next load would land in her mouth.

  She screamed as he continued to thicken inside her.

  Her nerve endings, still on fire from the first fucking, threw her body into another seemingly endless series of orgasms.

  He withdrew for a moment as her body quivered, then flipped her onto her back. Supporting himself with his well-muscled arms, her soldier leaned over her, kissing her for a long moment, then slowly eased his stiffened cock into her until she once again felt his balls, warm and aroused, nuzzled against her piping-hot pussy.

  Because every inch away from him deepened her pain, Lindsey wrapped her legs around his back, locking her ankles together and pushing herself into him as hard as she could.

  He met her thrusts and two became one.

  Fuck it. He could cum in her mouth later.

  She slapped herself faster against him; their rhythm so exquisite it was nearly unbearable.

  They came in tandem. Her soldier flooded her hotbox with more of his batter, heaving and groaning and crying her name. He collapsed to the sheets, his breath rising and falling like the roll of a tide.

  She lay there heaving beside her soldier, as they both quickly breathed their way to sleep, hoping the memory would last her forever.

  X

  Lindsey woke the next morning to brilliant sunshine streaming through the thin gauze of her bedroom windows, and stretched her arm to feel for her soldier beside her.

  The sheets were still warm, but empty on his side of the bed. She turned and smiled at the indentations in his pillow, and in the memory foam mattress topper beneath the sheets.

  She ran her hand across the top with a lingering caress, remembering the afternoon and evening before. After peering over the edge of the bed to the floor where they’d left their hurriedly removed pile of clothing, she frowned.

  There was nothing there.

  For a moment, Lindsey thought he had regressed, hopefully only temporarily, to his barracks neat military ways, placing everything in the laundry hamper. She sat up and stretched, then swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, savoring the pleasant throbbing inside her pussy, her dull ache still pulsing after getting pounded for hours.

  She smiled, then went to the bathroom and pulled her short robe from the hook and slipped it over her shoulders. On the bedside table, Lindsey had placed a photograph of her and her solider, smiling from the edge of a mountain where they’d stopped to take picture in the middle of a hiking trip the year before.

  Lindsey stared at the photo for a long while, then down to the letter folded in a square envelope.

  She ran her fingers across the top, and burst into tears.

  Turning it over, Lindsey slipped the piece of paper from the envelope, and unfolded it. Through blurry eyes she started to read:

  Ma’am, the army regrets to inform you that your husband was killed in action. Our deepest condolences go out to you and your family...

  She held the letter to her chest, and continued to cry.

  All Lindsey had left were the memories.

  XXX

  Anything But Average

  Fuck him.

  Lisa wasn’t average.

  Yet that’s exactly what Brent had called her. He may as well have called her boring, or predictable. He described his new girlfriend as stunning, a second before calling her average, right in the middle of his pathetic breakup she never saw coming.

  After two years together, the surprise split was a slap in the face. Lisa sure as hell hadn’t been average when Brent first moved to the city and didn’t know a soul, and she wasn’t average when she helped Brent get the job at Crumbs, the bakery owned by her brother. He sure didn’t seem to think she was average any of the approximately one million times he’d filled her mouth with cum, either.

  There was pretty much nothing Lisa wasn’t willing to try with Brent, but Brent wasn’t willing to try with her. She supposed pussy must be pinker on the other side of the fence. A few hours earlier tears were leaking from Lisa’s face like water from a busted faucet. Now, Lisa was ready to show him, and the world, exactly how average she wasn’t.

  After pulling herself together and leaving Brent’s apartment with a final FUCK YOU!, a hard slap across the face, and no look behind, she climbed inside her Corolla and headed straight to Yummy’s, the sluttiest shop in the mall, catering to teenagers with nicknames like “fingercuffs” or “mayonnaise jar.”

  Lisa bought the tightest, lowest cut black dress she could find, and a pair of 5” stilettos to match. The shoes made her feel hot on the outside, and on fire inside. Her pussy was already pounding as she imagined herself primping at home.

  She hit the salon next, trading $100 and shoulder length hair for short, cinnamon colored layers. She got her nails done next, and then off to the make-up artist, with an order for her to make Lisa look pretty, but slutty. The artist, a cute girl in her late 20’s, slightly older than Lisa, with metal in every part of her face, smiled, said sure thing, and then went to work.

  When she was done, Lisa looked at herself in the mirror. She wanted to cry.

  Lisa didn’t look slutty at all. She looked smoking hot and confident, maybe even stunning. Anything but average. Her hair was the perfect color to frame her pale china doll skin. Her eyes were dark, wide, with heavy mascara, and full red lips.

  Lisa raced home and went straight for the bed, horny as fuck from her day of getting gorgeous and flushing the average from inside her, not that it was ever there at all.

  Stupid fucking Brent.

  Her cunt was already hot, but her anger at Brent was fueling the fire and making her burn. She moaned as she slipped the smooth glass inside her slit, and then tilted her head with a soft moan, slipping the dildo in and out of her soaking pussy, sending tremors up and down her body. She slapped her left hand against the mattress as warm fluid flooded her thighs. She pushed the glass deeper and seeped juice from the flesh of her folds. Lisa screamed, then withdrew the dildo and pressed a flat hand against her dripping slit and held it there with pressure, before plunging the glass back into her oozing hole, and moving her other hand to her tits.

  Lisa squeezed and rubbed her breasts while she hungrily thrusted with her dildo, screaming at the edge of total satisfaction. Her mind went blank. Brent disappeared and she was no longer average; she was a gorgeous girl at the peak of a sexual high, shaking her entire body.

  She cleaned herself off, put on her new slutty clothes, then stared in the mirror a final time with pouted lips and said, “Average, my ASS!”

  With her tight dress and heels, Lisa looked stunning. Her breasts practically fell from her dress, and her curvy hips were an invitation to the perfect bubble of her ass.

  She grabbed her keys from the hook and flew out the door.

  Lisa drove to the Rusty Nail, a trashy bar she’d passed a million times but had never dared to even think of going inside. It was beyond seedy, but exactly the sort of dive where Lisa could be stared at, appreciated for the fine piece of ass that she was, and maybe even forget about that asshole, Brent.

  She pulled into the lot. A neon sign flickered, casting the parking lot in pale light. A line of old cars and Harleys, along with a large van, which she assumed belonged to the band, sat in a
disheveled row, with carpets of broken glass around them.

  Lisa stepped from her car, and the two guys smoking at the entrance of the Nail whistled and yelled as she sashayed by them. It looked to Lisa like they hadn’t been there long. They were far from drunk, which meant she was far from average.

  The place was packed, Lisa got mentally undressed from a few of the sketchier looking guys, while getting nasty stares from several of the women. She enjoyed them all, and felt the drip in her slit that comes from being desired.

  The bartender said, “What can I get you, gorgeous?”

  Lisa was stunned. She had never been called gorgeous before. “A Corona and lime, please.”

  “Sure thing,” the bartender said, handing her the beer. Lisa turned towards the stage, two seconds before she smelled the guy behind her. She turned to face him, just as a fog of alcohol soaked stench slapped her in the face:

  “You here alone?” the man slurred with his hand on her thigh.

  “Please don’t touch me!”

  Lisa came to The Rusty Nail to get stared at, and maybe even leave with someone so she could get a little dirty. She wanted anything but an average night, but dirty meant dirty on her terms, and that didn’t include a horrible smelling drunk.

  “I said, stop it,” she repeated, but the guy kept coming.

  “Aww, come on baby, don’t be like that,” he slurred.

  Lisa took a step back and he took one forward. A tall man with massive shoulders and lots of leather grabbed the man’s hand and twisted it away from her thigh. “The lady said to get your grubby hands off of her! I suggest you step the fuck from the bar before me and my friends get angry.”

  Lisa smiled at the five large men, standing behind her protector, staring at the drunk.

  “Whoa! Alright, I’m gone!” he swayed his way to the door.

  “Thanks,” Lisa smiled.