by Неизвестный
We were both getting more than a little bit excited by the story, I could tell. Anne’s eyes were slitted, and she squirmed a little as she spoke, while my sex felt like it had melted. I was so excited by the way Anne was speaking, that I couldn’t stop myself any longer. Making sure Anne saw what I was doing, I kept hold of her hand with one of mine, and the other crept under the table to rub at the bulging of my own slit.
‘This is such a horny story, Anne. Don’t stop, please,’ I whispered, and watched as her own free hand dipped under the board out of sight. We both started to rub ourselves in time, as Anne began to speak again, and her voice cracked a little when she resumed.
‘Like I said, I could tell she was a bit scared of what he was going to do, but I didn’t care any more. I wanted him to do it to her. To punish her for not wanting me, and I wanted to see her arse opened, by this bastard who had made her suck his big, hot cock. Her face was turned towards me, and pressed against the mat, so I could see the apprehension growing when he gripped her tight little cheeks and pulled them apart. He grunted in some sort of approval at the sight of her little hole. I could see why. Her arse was so shoved up at him that, when he spread the cheeks, I could see everything too. Her anus was stretched by his fingers, but it still bulged out a little bit, and it glistened where her spit had gathered in the crinkling around it. He slapped her, hard, on one of her cheeks, and she cried out, into the rough fabric of the mat.
‘So he did it again, and I was glad, because she cried out even louder that time. Then he started to hiss filth at her, while she squirmed her open arse, the slutty bitch.
‘ “Look at you, you dirty bitch. You love this. You want me to fuck your little arsehole, don’t you?” he sneered, and she groaned a shaky yes into the mat. He kept it up, while his hands cruelly spread her cheeks so wide, that she started to beg him to put an end to it, and fuck her, fuck her, fuck her.
‘But he hadn’t finished humiliating her yet, and he stepped back from behind her, with his hairy buttocks turned towards me. I was fascinated by them, even though they repulsed me too.
‘He bent away from her, and I caught a flash of her sweet cunt shining with excitement. I remember thinking what a slut she was, our prim and proper Miss, and I wished that it was me who was going to fuck her.
‘The man had picked up a piece of rounded wood, and I recognised it as a rounders bat. I thought he was going to stick it up her bottom, and the thought made me queasy, in a sexy sort of way. Instead, he rolled the thick end around the lips of her cunt, and she shifted her thighs to open herself for it.
‘I wanted to wank myself by then, so I quickly lifted up the pleated front of my skirt, and shoved my hand down the front of my knickers. My cunt was soaking, and my fingers slid easily between the lips. I began to stroke myself, in time to the movement of the bat, and my stomach gave a lurch when he rolled his wrist and slid the end into my pretty teacher’s pouting cunt. The groan she made stifled the sound of mine, and they carried on, oblivious to me. I was so turned on that I wouldn’t have cared if they had seen me anyway. I watched in amazement as the thick wooden peg slid into her, and she arched her back to it. I could clearly see how stretched she was by the way her arsehole bulged at each outward stroke of the bat. I grew impatient to see him fuck her there. I wanted to see him open the bitch’s arse while I watched, and if he didn’t do it soon I was going to come without it happening to her.
‘He grunted again in approval, then slid the object rudely out of her. Her wet slit gaped, but he wasted no time on it. I saw him place the thick head of his cock at her bum, then press it hard against the opening by the pressure of a thumb behind his rosy knob. She squealed in alarm, trying to draw away from it, but he just gripped her more firmly and thrust with his hairy buttocks. His cock was so long that I could see the head disappearing into the crinkled ring, and heard her grunt of surprise when the first few inches slipped in.
‘God, how he fucked her. He was pitiless, and I delighted in what he was doing to her. Her arse was stretched wide by the reddened shaft, and she could do nothing but hold her hips rigid, while he slid it in and out of her arse. I watched her grimaces turn to slack-lipped ecstasy as the movement in her arse must have given her more intense pleasure. She came hard after only minutes of this rough bottom-fucking, and he slid straight out of her when his own turn came. I was close to the edge all through her buggering, but the sight of her open arsehole, and the jets of creamy sperm he spurted into the dark opening, sent me spinning.’
Anne and I were straining at our cunts while she spoke with ever more urgency and, even as this image was unfolding in my mind, the pent-up frustration boiled out in an orgasm of such unexpectedness and sheer beautiful pleasure that I actually howled with release. I rubbed furiously at my clit, and could say nothing but pant my approval as Anne struggled to a finish clearly as intense as mine. Her eyes were slitted shut, and she gasped out more short obscenities as vile as they were wonderful. It was the most extraordinary thing I had ever seen. Less than a foot away from me, a grown woman was masturbating to a climax in her kitchen, while I watched her do it. It was amazing.
Her shoulders shook, and her neat head nodded slowly forward in sharp jerks, until, with a groan from her pursed mouth, her forehead met the granite worktop in a gently pressured halt. I let her get her breath, and she eventually straightened up, only to bend again, convulsed with the same laughter that shook me. In between sobs of hysterical mirth, I asked her if it was true, which seemed to strike her as even funnier, and it was some time before she sobered enough to answer me.
‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, ‘it’s true, though I may have exaggerated the bit about the rounders bat. He didn’t actually put it in. He just rolled it around her lips for a bit. Everything else was exactly how it happened, even the bit about what I did.’
‘And did they see you?’ I asked, and she swiftly replied.
‘No, I buggered off while they were still recovering. Then I ran to the woods near the school and cried for hours.’
I felt sorry for her, though she didn’t look that upset at that moment. I suppose I was sympathising with the girl she had been. A girl who had deceived herself as much as I had. I felt compelled to ask, ‘Did anything ever come of it, then?’
She mused for a bit before replying, and I became aware that we were still holding hands at the same moment she did. We just looked at each other with a question in both of our gazes. She squeezed my hand a little, then said, ‘Not with her, sadly, but I still have dreams about that evening. Much the same as you, really. I hated the thought of that man doing things like that to her, and I hated even more the thought that she wanted to do them. The worst part of it is that, in my dreams, I am her.’
I was bemused.
‘But I thought you weren’t interested in men?’ I asked her, and she smiled knowingly, then explained to me the strangeness of her mind.
‘I’m not,’ she told me, ‘interested in men in my conscious life, but there is a part of me that loves the idea of being forced to do what most women love to do. It makes it seem all right. Do you see?’
The truth was that I did see. If you are forced to do it, or if you can’t help yourself, it makes it seem OK. When you are full of lust, you don’t care what you do: just like when you are really hungry you will eat anything. The more wicked or perverse a thing is, the deeper you have to go to unlock it. I understand all this, with the benefit of hindsight, but at that time I was more innocent of the tricks a person’s mind can play.
The kinkiness of what we had just done hit me then, and I stared at Anne in shocked surprise.
‘I can’t believe we just did that, Anne,’ I gasped, and she squeezed my hand, before replying.
‘I promised myself that I wouldn’t try to seduce you, Jessica. Please don’t think that’s what is happening. You don’t, do you?’ she continued.
I sat in silence, while I gathered the courage to whisper to her, ‘You can, if you want to. I don’t mind.’
>
I squeezed my thighs together, to still their trembling, and felt the sharp throb of excitement in my lower tummy lurch upwards, into my chest. Anne stared and stared, her eyes darkening as the pupils dilated, until I found my own eyes misting at the edges of their focus, as I tried to read the thoughts that whirred behind those black mirrors.
‘Do you want to come to my room?’ she asked, and the question split the silence like the cracking of a whip.
I felt my insides soar with sick delight as I answered, ‘Yes’, and we rose unsteadily, circling round the table towards each other, like tigers entering a jungle clearing. The last steps before I touched her felt like they were drawn out in time, and I watched my own hand, like a stranger’s, drift trembling to her chest. The first contact set off little rockets of activity in the back of my skull, like sharp, cold water from a shower. I couldn’t think, and the actions of my body were instinctive and immediate. My free hand curled around her waist, and drifted up, under the edge of her jumper, along the warm, taut skin of her side. My fingers grazed the straps of her bra, and came to rest in the unfamiliar hollows of her back; my hand fluttered nervously against the ropy sinews of her lower spine, as I tilted my head for the touching of her lips. Her dark head moved in a blur to my throat, and the shock of her naked tongue against the delicate skin of my neck made me gasp. She licked urgently upwards to the edge of my jaw, then swooped her soft mouth over mine to gather up my expelled breath. Our lips rolled softly together, in the lightest of touches, until her quick and clever tongue slipped out between the rolling, coral-pink swell of her soft lips, and darted into my mouth. Surprise after surprise, but I went with the feelings that her probings had produced, and coiled my tongue around hers, in a clumsy dance of sudden heat and tingling. Her cheeks were cold, and the soft skin thrilled me where it brushed against my own. I started to roll her jumper up, and was surprised when she grasped my hands in hers, stopping me.
‘Not here,’ she said, and drew me with her as she walked towards the stairs. ‘We must go to my room.’
I made no protest, being content to let her lead me up the stairs, while I studied the lazy swinging of her hips and shoulders. Her bare feet whispered against the boards, making soft counterpoints to the swishing of her calico trousers. The trousers bunched in little puffs around the broad belt that held them up, but they were drawn up tight around the swell of her bottom, and the seam was buried deep between the tight cheeks. The rolled-up ends exposed the tanned flesh of her lower calves, with the flexing of the large tendon at her heels drawing my eyes to its ropy strength. The shadow of her slim legs showed in a patchy outline through the gauzy fabric, and I, unable to resist, stroked the firm curve of her hip.
She paused to let me stroke her hips and lay my head against her lower back, and for a moment we stood awkwardly on the steps while I panted, in hushed excitement, against her spine. Then she resumed the stately upward progress, until we stood before the threshold of her room. She let my hand go, and turned, so that I could pass before her into the curtained dimness within. I stepped hesitantly past her, and stood with my back to the door, listening to it shut over the sound of my own harsh breathing. I felt her move behind me, and my mind gathered stray impressions, while her hands busied themselves at the fastenings of my dress. It slipped away from me, to the floor, letting the slight chill of morning air from the open window cool my bare skin. I was wearing only the plainest of underwear, and suddenly I was ashamed of the plain whiteness of my bra and panties. I wished I could be dressed for sacrifice.
Quick fingers snapped the catch of my bra, and my breasts were pushed forward, free, while the warm breath of Anne tickled on the short hairs of my neck. I shuddered, and the rosy tips of my tits swayed in gentle time to my quivering frame. Anne’s cold fingers slipped around my ribs and clutched in greediness at the swollen tips. She pinched both stems with hard fingertips, while the bra gathered in the crooks of my updrawn elbows. I gasped, and pushed my buttocks back at her to steady myself, until I felt the roughness of her trousers rubbing, and the tine of her belt scratching at my lower spine. She released me, for a moment, and I heard the whisper of her jumper sliding over her hair, then the first shocking contact of her stiff, bare nipples against my back. Her perfume rose in waves around me, and I swayed in a near faint when she popped the clasp of her belt open. The trousers hissed over her skin, and she flicked them, with a foot, across the polished bedroom floor. They struck against the skirting board, and the movement drew the attention of my overheated mind. As I turned my head to look, she stopped the movement with a gentle hand and whispered, in the gentlest of sighs, ‘Don’t. Not yet! I want to play with you like this.’
I stood, stiff-limbed, while ripples of goose bumps ran over my naked flanks, and felt the play of Anne’s warm breath on my back. The first light tickle of her fingers at the swelling of my hips almost passed by unnoticed, such was the fevered state of my mind. There was too much sensation. Too much that was new. The unfamiliar room, the presence of another woman, naked at my back, the vulnerability of my circumstance.
Anne’s warm hands slid over the tense muscles of my hips, and met over the flat plain of my lower belly, just above the waistband of my knickers. She pushed the tips of her fingers, like blunt knives, between my skin and the tight hem. The sheets of muscle at the side of my bellybutton fluttered at the contact of the soft pads, and I caught my breath when they slipped, ever lower, to stroke and scrape at the flattened tangle of my pubic hair. Anne was leaning heavily into my shoulders, and I felt the hair above my ear float away from her whispered words.
‘What are you hiding in here, Jessica?’ she asked, and I could not frame a reply, for one of those impudent fingers had stroked its way, through the crisp hair, down to the seam of my sex lips and now pressed lightly against my bud. I felt the skin of my clitoral hood slide over the little nub, as Anne’s knowing finger rubbed its way between the moistening lips of my sex. Slow, delicious tingles spiralled lazily up my spine, like bubbles fizzing along the stem of a straw, and my hips rocked unconsciously with the flares of pleasure produced by Anne’s manipulations. My cheeks brushed against the silky fronts of Anne’s hips, and the realisation of her total nakedness poked through the fabric of pleasure that her finger was weaving in my mind. She was wearing no knickers, and the fleeting contact of her pubic hair against the crease of my bottom confirmed this. I pushed my bottom back more firmly, to feel her nakedness better, and the front of her melded into the back of me like we were made of plastic. Her breasts bulged against my shoulder blades. Her stomach sucked against the sweaty hollow of my back. Her thighs flexed in hot, muscular contact against the straining backs of mine.
I felt cool air slip in between us as she moved her left hand away, out from the restriction of my panties, and into the warm space where my buttocks pressed against her taut inner hip. Her fingers curled around the full flesh of my bottom, where it tensed beneath my cotton pants. She gathered up the material and, in one smooth movement, pulled it up into the tight cleft between my cheeks. It felt oddly, uncomfortably sexy, to have my bottom divided in such a way. The pressure on my clit increased as Anne’s hand was pulled tightly against my cunt by the drawing up of my knickers at the front, by the tugging at my behind. I tilted my upper torso away from Anne, to ease the pressure between my cheeks, and the heavy globules of my swollen-tipped breasts hung like ripe fruit. I moved my right arm over Anne’s, so that she could twist around my hip, and burrow even deeper between my thighs. I felt a finger slip wetly into me, between my puffy lips, and wriggle like a little snake along the crease.
The edge of Anne’s hand kept the pressure on my clitoris, as her fingers squirmed up into my pulsing slit. I bent forward, rudely opening my legs to strengthen the stance, and braced my upper body by clutching the corded muscle above my knees with both hands. The hand at my rear was adjusted, and I felt the slim fingers joining in the seeking of their fellows at my front. A sudden stretching sensation in my sex heralded their
entry, and I groaned in utter abandon as Anne smoothly pushed a couple of fingers in. She leaned away from me a little, and her right hand ceased to play around the entrance of my cunt, and concentrated on the pearly nub that was the centre of my pleasure. Her other hand had found a rhythm that was clearly pleasing to us both and, with each inward movement, I felt the entrance of my vagina yield a little more.
‘God, you’re so fucking tight!’ Anne murmured, even as I felt her attempt to add another finger.
‘No, too much,’ I protested, as the finger joined the others within me. She slowed her pace, and shortened the movement of her hand, and I trembled on the edge of acceptance. She kept me there, on that delicious precipice, by the perfection of her knowledge. She knew, by the shudders of my hips and the shivering in my legs, that I was close to coming.
Moving swiftly, she withdrew her hands and rolled my cotton pants down, over the swell of my hips, until they were stretched taut across my widespread thighs. She rubbed her whole forearm down my perineum and over the swollen lips of my cunt, then back up, to fiercely enter me again with three bunched fingers. My brazenness increased with my excitement, and I tilted my hips up to her, so that she could push her hand more rudely into my stretched and slippery pussy. I groaned, and squeezed the walls of my vagina against the insistent press of her slim fingers. She slapped me, once, twice across my broad cheeks, and I came against the thrusting, beak-like intrusion of her hand. My head snapped up, and I howled with ecstasy.