by Penny Birch
‘Yes,’ I answered and began to scramble round on the filthy mattress.
I put my head down and lifted my bum, choking with humiliation as his fat thumbs found my cheeks and spread them. He was going a fuck me, a great, fat slob, with his cock up me from the rear. Worse, once he’d had his fun with my pussy he was going to make me kiss his anus, and I’d asked for it.
There were tears in my eyes as he prodded his cock at my hole, guiding it with his hand. I was whimpering too, a really broken, miserable sound, but he took no notice, sliding his cock up my pussy and taking me by the hips. My hole was so wet he’d gone straight up, really easily, adding a fresh stab of shame as he started to fuck me. His belly was right up against my bum, and I could feel the sweaty flesh sticking to mine and moving, peeling on and off. He had his thumbs under it too, holding my bumcheeks apart.
‘I love doggy,’ he puffed, his thumbs digging into my bottom to spread the cheeks wider still, stretching my anus. ‘I wish I could see this. I bet you look fucking great. You’ve got a lovely arse, lovely knockers too. You’re a fucking doll. I could spunk up you so easily.’
‘Don’t,’ I panted, ‘but fuck me faster, for a bit.’
Immediately he slammed into my bottom, really hard, knocking the breath out of me. He kept going too, again and again, puffing and panting as he rode me, too fast and too hard to let me catch my breath, crushing me down into mattress with his weight, until I couldn’t breathe at all, only to stop as suddenly as he had begun.
‘I’ll spunk if I do that,’ he gasped, slowing, then stopping. ‘I’m going to spunk anyway.’
‘No!’ I begged. ‘Not up me! You’re going to make me kiss your hole!’
‘Fuck, but you’re a dirty bitch!’ he swore, but he pulled back and began to turn me by my hips.
I went with the pressure, surrendering myself and hoping he’d just make me do it and not beg for it or anything still more humiliating. Sure enough, he rolled me on to my back and crawled up beside me. I could hear him fumbling with his trousers, my heart hammering in my chest as he prepared to force me into the obscene act I’d wanted so desperately.
He climbed on to me, forwards, and I was imagining his great cock rearing up over my face, slimy with my own juice. I could smell it, both him and myself, and then he was settling his vast backside across my neck and the hair of his scrotum was tickling my face. I opened my mouth, wide, expecting his balls in it.
I got them, right in my open mouth, sucking them in to make him gasp. I felt his hand touch my nose as he folded it around his cock, wanking, right in my face as I sucked at his balls. I could taste his sweat, and my own juice where it had run down as he fucked me. My legs were coming up and apart, spreading my pussy to the air. I was going to masturbate as he did it, and I couldn’t stop myself.
Out came his balls, pulled away as he lifted himself, then laid back wet and sticky with saliva, across the bridge of my nose as he lowered his bottom into my face. It was going to happen, now, and I had found my clit as he sat slowly down, his great wobbling backside touching my mouth, spreading across my face, soft and heavy, the cheeks coming apart, my lips puckering out, and I was kissing his anus.
I just came, the instant my lips touched that bloated, filthy hole, screaming out my ecstasy, only to be shut up as his bottom settled fully on to my face. I was still coming, but I could hardly breathe, panting the scent of his balls through my nose with my mouth crushed to his anus and my face screwed up in utter disgust and utter ecstasy. The orgasm went on and on, with my back arched and my head just burning with utter, complete humiliation. In the end my tongue came out, up his dirty fat hole and then it was just too much. My orgasm was breaking and I couldn’t breathe at all, my hands thumping on the mattress to try to make him stop.
He took no notice at all, just jerking furiously at his erection, his fist hitting my nose with every stroke. I tried to struggle, panicking, my feet drumming on the mattress, my hands beating on his back and sides. He kept on, hammering at his erection, his balls slapping in my face, grunting as he rubbed his anus over my mouth as I writhed and struggled under his weight, only to groan and splash hot come over my face as he came.
‘Fucking nice!’ he grunted.
I was still hitting him and he climbed off pretty quickly, leaving me gagging and spitting on my back.
‘You are one great little arse-licker!’ he panted, and sat down heavily against the wall.
I couldn’t answer. My face was covered in spunk although, as I tried to wipe it out of one eye, my fringe fell back into place and I discovered that most of it had gone in my hair. All I could do was grope a tissue out of my bag and wipe up as best I could, but there was nothing I could do about the taste in my mouth, while for some reason the effect of the alcohol seemed to be ten times worse than before.
I kneeled up, feeling sick, my head swimming. He was doing something behind me, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was the state I was in and the awful shame running through my head, made worse by the fact that I knew full well I’d end up masturbating over the experience. I thought I’d got over sexual shame and guilt, but I’d been wrong.
Suddenly needing to cover myself, I groped for my panties, finding them right beside me, on the mattress. I struggled into them, pulling them quickly up, and it was only then I realised that he’d wiped his cock on the seat.
Three
It was not the best of awakenings. The first thing I was really aware of was the cold, then the taste in my mouth, which was absolutely revolting. I was half under his coat, in just my top and panties, which had dried and stuck to my skin. The fat man was still asleep, snoring, with his trousers still undone and halfway down over his pasty white bottom, which reminded me of what I’d done.
I felt really ashamed of myself, but good too, in a way, because I’d realised my fantasy, which sometimes takes a lot of strength. Not only that, but I still didn’t know his name, or vice versa, let alone his number or address. It was clearly time to leave, as quietly as possible. That way I could put the experience behind me, something I could masturbate over from time to time, when I was in a dirty mood, but not something that was going to have any repercussions.
In any case I had managed to avoid either making a play for Gina or spilling my heart out to Gabrielle. I was fairly sure that if it hadn’t been for the fat man I’d have ended up going back to the hotel. After all, it had been a pretty wild night, and the little bit of concrete visible under the garage door was still wet, even though it now seemed to be blazing sunshine outside. If I had gone to the hotel, there would have still been a fair chance of fouling things up.
I began to dress, as quickly and quietly as I could. My bag was by the mattress, and for one horrible moment I had a vision of him rifling through it while I was asleep, but it hadn’t been touched. My clothes were damp, and dirty too, but I ignored the discomfort as I struggled into them, covering my boobs first and pulling off my soiled panties before putting on my jeans.
He was still asleep by the time I’d finished, and it occurred to me to leave him my panties as a souvenir, which I was sure he’d appreciate. I was even laying them on the mattress when I had an awful vision of him trying to get them on and changed my mind, balling them into my fist instead, for disposal in the first convenient litter bin.
The door was bent and rusty, creaking so loudly as I pushed at it that I was sure he’d wake up. He didn’t, but as I ducked out beneath it I discovered that we were not alone. There was a man sitting on the dirt bank opposite the garages, looking right at me. He was a mess, with filthy clothes and matted hair, one hand clutching an open beer can, with several more littered around him. I tried not to make eye contact, edging to the side and wondering if I ought to just run for it.
‘Bitch, fucking in my bed!’ he snarled suddenly and spat on the ground.
It was only then that I realised that that was exactly what I had done. I hadn’t really given it thought, assuming the garage was just somewhere the
‘Fucking bitch!’ he roared, and threw the beer can at me.
As I dodged it, my toe caught in a crack in the concrete and the next moment I was down on my knees as beer splashed over my top and into my hair. His laughter rang out behind me and I cursed as I scrambled up, rubbing at my right knee. It hurt, and I turned, intending to give him a piece of my mind and then run like crazy.
‘Bastard! Fucking your whore on my bed!’ he was yelling at the fat man, who had come out of the garage.
The fat man started towards me, and I was going to run, but there was beer dripping out of my hair and all down my top, and I badly needed someone to help me. He was the only choice.
‘You all right?’
‘Yeah, fine,’ I answered. ‘He just threw beer all over me. Look, you’re local aren’t you? Because I really need to clean up.’
He laughed, and I nearly slapped him, but the vagrant had picked up a lump of concrete, so we beat a hasty retreat, up on to the road, from where we could see right along the coast. I hadn’t realised just how far we’d walked the night before. Even the West Pier seemed to be almost on the horizon.
‘Where do you live?’ I asked, praying it was going to be nearby.
‘In London,’ he answered. ‘I’m borrowing a mate’s flat for the weekend. We can go there. I’ll sort you out.’
The flat was in Peacehaven, miles away, and we took a bus. I started out feeling really embarrassed, but he wasn’t brash, as I’d expected him to be. In fact, he was seriously insecure about himself, and while he kept giving me funny looks, he seemed to be pretty grateful for the fact that I was with him. That was fine by me, because it put me in control of the situation. There’s nothing quite so easily led as a man frantic for sex.
He talked on the way, almost non-stop, as if he thought I was going to disappear if he stopped. I let him, and when I found out that he was a computer programmer and lived in Croydon I even told him my real name. After all, it wasn’t as if we moved in the same social circles. His own name was Monty, Monty Hartle, and he was younger than I’d imagined, in fact a year younger than me, at 26, which improved my authority even more.
As he talked I realised that he didn’t see himself as fat. He was aware of it, obviously, he could hardly not have been, but it was rather like the way that I’m aware that I’ve got brown hair but I don’t see myself as a brunette. To me, words like ‘brunette’ and ‘blonde’ just objectify women, and he clearly viewed being fat in the same way, although to me it was the overridingly important thing about him.
By the time we got to the flat I was feeling a lot better about myself, mentally anyway. Physically I was both exhausted and uncomfortable. The more friendly I’d been to him the more in awe of me he had become, and I could see no reason not to take advantage of the fact. So I told him to run me a bath, and pinched his mate’s dressing gown before stuffing my clothes into the washing machine.
He had hovered outside the bedroom door as I undressed, obviously wanting to look, but not daring to. His sheer desperation put a smile on my face, and I deliberately left the robe loose at the front so that he got a teasing slice of bare boob when I came out. At my suggestion he started to get a coffee together, which I needed badly, and I sat down at the kitchen table while the bath ran. He’d gone silent, but spoke as he poured boiling water into the mugs.
‘You know last night . . . it was all right, yeah?’
‘I was so drunk I don’t really remember,’ I lied. ‘But, yes, it was all right. I don’t mind, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Great,’ he answered, and there was so much feeling in that word.
I was beginning to enjoy myself. He was a bit like Percy in a way, really attentive, but, where Percy keeps me under quite strict discipline and won’t stand too much nonsense, Monty really seemed to worship me.
The bath was full and I took my mug into the bathroom, sipping at it before shrugging the robe off. With some coffee inside me I felt better still, and I left the door slightly open, as much to tease him as to allow us to continue talking. Getting into the water was lovely, sheer bliss as I relaxed into it and all my stiffness and discomfort began to fade away. As Percy says, to really appreciate a pleasure you have to experience the reverse, and it was certainly true about that bath.
I put my head back, letting my hair soak to get rid of the spunk and beer, with my ears underwater so that I couldn’t hear. Taking the soap, I began to wash, my tummy first, which is always so soothing, then the caked mess between my bumcheeks and pussy lips. When I finally lifted my head I realised that Monty had said something, a question.
‘Sorry, what was that?’ I asked.
‘I said, may I watch?’ he answered.
‘Watch me in the bath?’
‘Yes.’
I hesitated. He sounded really insecure, urgent too, as if just seeing my naked body was a really big deal. Obviously it was.
‘Do you have to?’ I demanded.
‘We fucked last night,’ he said, his voice mixing resentment and longing.
‘Oh, all right,’ I said. ‘If you have to.’
I was enjoying his discomfort, his lust too, and as his owlish face appeared around the door I gave him a dirty look. His guilt was plainly written on his face, but he came in, sitting down on the loo with his fat hands folded in his lap. I began to soap my legs.
‘You’re a real pervert,’ I told him. ‘A peeping Tom.’
He coloured and shifted uneasily, but his eyes were fixed on my body, flicking between my legs and where my boobs showed above the surface of the water. There was so much lust in his face, which had started to go red.
‘You’re just a dirty little boy,’ I went on. ‘Aren’t you? A filthy, dirty little boy. Honestly, wanting to watch a girl in her bath.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’ he said, now defensive.
I just laughed, because that wasn’t what I wanted, not to make him feel bad. Anyway, not so bad it stopped him getting off over me.
‘You can wank if you like,’ I offered. ‘That’s what you’d really like to do, isn’t it?’
He nodded, the colour of his face growing suddenly richer as he reached down for his fly.
‘Uh, uh, not yet,’ I chided him. ‘First you’re to wash my hair, but no touching anywhere else.’
He swallowed, the lump clearly rising in his throat. It was great. I had total control over him. Why he put up with it after the sluttish way I’d behaved the night before I don’t know. If I’d treated Percy the same way he’d have spanked me with the bath brush.
I sat up a little and put my head back as he reached for a bottle of shampoo. His hands were trembling, and he was really clumsy, squirting out so much that it ran over the side of his palm. He got down on his knees and I shut my eyes as his hand went to my head, smearing the shampoo liberally over it.
‘Rub it in well,’ I ordered, ‘with your fingertips.’
He complied, clumsy, but effective, with his big, podgy fingers actually just about ideal for the job. It was soothing too, and he didn’t seem in any rush to stop, while I knew full well that his eyes would be fixed on my body. I was enjoying myself more and more, and I wanted to drive him crazy with lust and make him feel really guilty at the same time.
‘Now rinse,’ I said and arched my back to dip my hair into the water and incidentally stick my boobs up high. ‘In the water first, then from the tap.’
I could hear his breathing as he washed the shampoo out of my hair, and I was wishing there had been some conditioner so that I could make him go through the whole thing again. My nipples were hard, and it was as if I could feel his eyes on my chest. I let him do my hair, until his hands began to sneak lower, massaging my neck. It was nice, but it wasn’t what I wanted, and I sat up.
‘Uh, uh, don’t get dirty with me,’ I chided. ‘Now out with your little cock and I think you’d better wank it off.’
I needed a towel to dry the water off my forehead, and by the time I opened my eyes he was back on the toilet seat, with his fat thighs wide apart and his cock and balls hanging out of his trousers. It looked really obscene, just the way I had imagined it the night before, and my dirty feelings started to rise again, urging me to crawl over to him and lick and suck at his gross genitals, but I held myself back.
‘Soap your knockers, please,’ he rasped as he began to stroke at his cock.
‘Dirty bastard!’ I answered, but took my boobs in my hands, with the soap bar as well, smoothing it over them in circles as his cock grew in his hand.
‘That’s great,’ he moaned. ‘Oh you’ve got gorgeous knockers, Natasha, really gorgeous ones.’
‘You like them do you?’ I taunted. ‘You like to wank over girls’ boobs, I suppose. I bet you go down to the beach to watch.’
He nodded, now tugging hard at a fully erect cock. It looked perfect, so utterly obscene, with the great thick shaft straining up over his ball sac and his free hand holding his gross belly out of the way. I wanted to laugh at him, but I wanted to suck on his cock at the same time. He was getting frantic, and I went on soaping my boobs, which were covered in lather, with the nipples poking up through the froth, rock hard and very sensitive. I thought he was going to come, but he slowed suddenly, panting, obviously unable to make it so fast.
I laughed, I couldn’t stop myself, just from his desperate, urgent lust, and all because I’d let him jerk his dirty cock over the sight of my body. He swallowed, struggling to regain his breath, then began to wank again, more slowly now, stroking his balls as he did it, then gradually faster as he feasted his eyes on me.
‘What do you like to do?’ he urged. ‘I bet it’s something grubby, something really grubby. Come on, you can tell me.’
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