And so, after several long months of frustration, it had eventually taken marrying the man to get to the point where I wanted to be with him, to at last feel the sweet, sweet cleaving apart of my wet, throbbing pussy by a stiff, hard cock, riding my man off into the sunset, as it were, and screaming like a motherfucker at the top of my lungs.
Or... Well... Sort of, anyway...
Things, even after we were married, didn't at all go the way I had expected them to, much to my disappointment. See, although he'd never specified this particularly shitty little part of the bargain beforehand, in addition to only engaging in sexual activity after marriage, Wayne was adamant about the fact that sexual intercourse should only take place within the confines of procreative purposes, and that such lascivious activity should only be engaged in in the missionary position when that did chance to occur.
And so, on our wedding night, I was disappointed when, despite my intense desire to go absolutely nuclear bouncing up and down on top of that long hard cock of his, he instead simply settled for climbing up on top of me, pulling his pants down just barely beyond the lower end of his butt cheeks, and pushing his ding-a-ling into my ting-a-ling, the sensation of which, in itself, was a pleasant, if painful one, with the rough stretching out of my virgin pussy, the warmth and the tightness as he crawled with his fat erect penis into my body, the heat of him enveloping me like a blanket, even if the two of us did have most of our clothes on, my own skirts bunched up around my waist and my panties simply brought down to around my knees, with no foreplay or otherwise touching of bodies whatsoever. And when he began to pump himself into me, God it was like magic, the feeling of him grinding in and out and in and out and in and out of me...
But the thing of it was, the proceedings could scarcely be considered a full on wedding night because, quite simply my long-awaited introduction into the blissful realms of sexual intercourse were brought to their conclusion in a good ten minutes tops, long before the point when I would have come close to achieving orgasm myself, and I felt him grunting on top of me, moaning and panting as he splooged his warm baby gravy into my body, pulse after pulse after pulse of the stuff, a feeling which was pleasurable in and of itself, in fact, but still, perhaps, a bit overwhelming considering the long, passionate night of knockout sex I had so mistakenly had in mind for the two of us.
And so it was that he pulled out of me, and I then began my quest for the next several weeks to attempt to seduce him as often as possible, as though the repetition of this short and unsatisfying act might eventually lead to a sort of accumulation of pleasure on my part, and a bunch of little, interrupted fucks might somehow amount to one good big one in the grand scheme of things. If I was really lucky, I could convince him to fuck me two times in one night, although this was something of a blue moon occurrence, and could only be achieved if I convinced him that his sperm had not successfully wriggled themselves all the way up inside me as they needed to if a baby were to eventually result, and he therefore must reload and shoot again if he had a hope in hell of managing to hit his target. In fact, I rather liked it when he made it through his refractory period and put his cock back inside me, the sensation of him grinding once more through the liquid accumulation of his own sticky cum like an extra level of lubrication, producing sensations that were sweet beyond description compared to the normal, quick, abrupt fucks, and they also lasted just a little while longer, given the fact that it became more arduous for him to arrive at climax after his initial load for the evening had been passed into me.
Little did he know, all that time, that I had been taking a specially prescribed formula of snake oil birth control, and that, in doing so, I was granting myself access to repetitive sexual trysts while avoiding the potential reality of filling up with a baby on his behalf. Now, say what you will about this slight dishonesty, but I felt just a little bit bamboozled by the terms of this very unphysical marriage myself, if you do not recall, and I therefore felt compelled to go about getting as much damn cock from my husband as I could get to help compensate for his many inadequacies, all without popping out a slew of youngins from my uterus just yet, which, I knew, would further complicate my already-sabotaged and unfulfilling sex life.
And so, this was how I lived for some considerable period of time, feeling as though the two of us were continually growing more disparate, and Wayne, all the while, not seeming to suspect a thing in the world was wrong with our relationship. And then, one day very recently, Sheriff Westwood announced to me that he had to tumble out of town for a few days and would be back before I knew it- he didn't give me a direct answer as to why he was going out of town, he just said that it was Sheriff's Business, and that I mustn't worry my beautiful little head about such trivia, talking down to me as was his regular wont, and seeming quite the idiot to me as he galloped away from the scene, and ass riding a horse off into the sunset thinking he was going bravely on to save the day for some poor unfortunate soul somewhere.
And before he left, he had encouraged me to put in appearance at the town square dance, given that I was the Sheriff's young wife and was therefore expected to be in attendance at such festive occasions, even despite the fact that I was absolutely forbidden to dance with or talk to anyone of the opposite sex while he was gone, as he said that any men who might approach another man's wife under such circumstances were clearly snakes in the grass simply waiting to lash out at a pretty young thing like me. Hell, I'm certain that if he'd found out about me even making eye contact with another man while I was there he would have had a few choice strong words for me upon his return home, and frankly this fact went a long way in pissing me off like hell even as I stood there acting like a perfectly good little girl.
It should come as no surprise, then, that when I heard the call of “Hey there pretty little girl...” from somewhere in the corner beside me, I should find myself putty in the hands of this newly arrived male seducer, his eyes dark and penetrating and his face an absolutely devilish one, his body, meanwhile, matching its main visual conduit perfectly.
Letting my defenses down as I had for no man up to that point in my life, not even my husband, I felt the tickle in my ear as sweet, perverse nothings were whispered into it, and I found myself blushing, but not turning away, giggling, like some charmed girl, swept off of my feet, astonished by my fascination with this man. And then, Lord help me, I made the bold, terrible move of letting him take me by the hand, subtly leading me away from the crowd of the square dance, and escorting me up the stairs to his room above the saloon, where I was about to celebrate with the sort of wedding night enthusiasm I had never had the luxury of enjoying with my own absent husband...
Chapter 2
I simply couldn't believe myself, could not comprehend my own audacity at going along with this man, this outlaw, after he'd seductively poured a few spoonfuls of sugar onto my tongue and then gone in for the kill so suddenly. I mean, hell, I had never given in to the flirtations of a man so readily, and this man, in particular, was not one that many supposed “good girls” such as myself might have hoped to find themselves tangled up with. This man truly was a snake in the grass, to put it very, very mildly...
Billy the Boy, as stated, was an outlaw, a fact which could be readily discerned by the fact of his walking around in all black, but often he reared his beautiful, criminal head without fear of consequence in various towns across the west, because frankly the people were so damn afraid of him that they didn't dare try to turn him in to law enforcement officials. I had no idea how extensive his list of offenses were, precisely, but I was quite certain that murder was one of the many among them, and that, in itself, should have been enough to keep me beyond a fifty mile radius of this absolute maniac.
But I don't know what it must have been in the air that night, other than, you know, cattle shit and such because the two of us met in a barn, but I'm reasonably certain that that wasn't it... But something, one thing or another, perhaps my immense feeling of misery and my desperate need to find
some slight boon to my mood, had led to me flinging myself into this horrible, wonderful man's arms, at last lowering my many defenses for him of all people, and allowing myself to be ravished by him, touched in the most intimate of ways by this very, very bad man, an act which was currently unfolding atop the ruffled surface of his bedspread.
Unlike my husband, Billy the Boy (who was in his twenties, mind you, the “Boy” thing was just some goofy outlaw name,) had no reservations about getting absolutely buck naked for the sheer, splendid act of sexual intercourse. I peeled out of his shirt like a snake sheds its skin almost the instant the door was closed behind the two of us, revealing to me his stunning pectoral muscles, the crippling rungs of his six-pack abdominals, and the deeply chiseled V-lines of his hypnotic Adonis muscles...
He pulled me into him them, and plied me so viciously with kisses that I thought I would fucking suffocate from them, and not the sort of sexless, platonic kisses that my husband planted on me once every week or so, either. These were goddamn, motherfucking tongue kisses the son-of-a-bitch was smothering me with, absolutely brutal little things, gouging his tongue so far back toward my windpipe that it caused me to gag on him, and for some time I found myself paralyzed by him, victim to his love as he practically knocked my head from its shoulders, my lips unresponsive as he seemed to attempt to crawl directly into my open mouth and unbirth himself back into the female anatomy.
But then, at last, I managed to get a hold of myself, and returned the splendid efforts of his love, pushing my face back toward his with as much opposing force as I could muster, allowing my warm, wet tongue to wrestle with his own inside our mouths, saliva crackling from mouth to mouth and back again, sticking to our lips and banding out every time we pulled ourselves apart, his warm breath melting me to my fucking core, and the need for escalation, to see what other almighty splendors might yet lay in store for me, positively making my head spin. If the man could get my damn pussy as wet as the town spigot just by the force of his ungodly kisses, then I could only imagine what he would do using the rest of his and my anatomy.
Things got awfully damn gropy awfully damn fast from then on out, and aside from the actual act of penetration itself, I could tell that he and I had already progressed leaps and bounds past the levels of intimacy ever engaged in by my husband and I in our marital bed. His fingers reached over so greedily for my fully clothed body that I was largely astonished by the fact for a moment, my instinct to find such abrupt intimacy rather untoward, but then my sense catching up with me, and the swaying of his palms across my anatomy transforming into a fact that was utterly pleasurable for me.
He began to squeeze on my tits through the fabric of my blouse, something I can guarantee you that Wayne had never before done, the sensations wholly alien to me aside from the scant opportunities I had had to touch myself in my vanity mirror. I don't mind telling you he worked up quite the storm in my bosom before at last pulling away, filling me up with such an agonizing craving for him that I thought I just might not survive through the entire remainder of the night, my tits feeling as though they were on fire as his fingers clamped into him like vices, causing me to moan at the top of my lungs, and begin to sweat like a fucking pig on behalf of his efforts.
The perspiration problem, then, was promptly given a solution, as he proceeded to absolutely tear me the hell out of my clothes, shredding them from my form with abandon, and causing me to fill suddenly quite anxious about all this, given that, after all, I had never actually had my naked body exposed in the presence of a male human being- Wayne, remember, only ever fucked me with my skirts pulled up around my waist and my panties around my ankles, and by comparison to that this total denuding was beginning to feel like absolutely sinful exhibitionism.
And Lord, how I loved every minute of it...
With some considerable effort, he managed to pull me completely out of my dress, and by this point had me all the way down to nothing but my panties, which, for the time being, he graciously left in place upon my body, his eyes, meanwhile, fixated as they were on the heaving pink pupils of my sharp, luscious nipples. He put his hands on my stomach and caused me to cringe, pulling me into him so that the mattress creaked beneath our bodies, and immediately latching onto my tits with a redoubled measure of fury, letting his lips melt onto me with absolute lust, suckling on my nipples as a newborn babe nurses on its mother for nourishment. I let out an agonized moan of pleasure, tilting my head back, closing my eyes, and soaking up the sin, letting the sweet perversity pump through my body like a drug as he nibbled on my flesh, working up the skin of my nip very lightly with his teeth, filling me up so thoroughly with desire that I honestly thought my aroused pussy fluids would begin to seep through my panties and leave a stain on the rented bed.
After some time of this sweet, sweet cruelty, Billy pulled away from me, licking his lips as though to clear his mouth of my glorious nectars, and then reaching down to the fly of his trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping them, and peeling them off in one fell swoop.
My jaw nearly bounced off the surface of the bed and landed squarely in the center of the floor...
I had thought that my husband was quite the well-endowed specimen, even if he didn't seem to know how to use what God had given him properly, and even though I didn't really have any standard of measurement for this sort of thing, but he wasn't piddly shit compared to the almighty heat that Billy Boy was packing. This pecker... It looked more as though it had been soldered form the body of a horse onto the pelvis of a man than it appeared to be any sort of genuinely human pecker. It lacked, perhaps, an inch or two of the girth of my husband's, but he amply made up for it in his astonishing length, his blade so crippling that I nearly collapsed at the sight of it, my body weak, and my head spinning as he pulled it by the hair up in the direction of his pelvis.
I had never before had the pleasure of performing oral sex on a man, given that my husband was an absolute prude in a bedroom, and I struggled, initially, with even wrapping my lips around Billy's enormous monstrosity. I did my damnedest to swallow him as completely as possible, inhaling inch by inch by inch of his raging hard on until I could feel myself beginning to gag on him, his engorged tip knocking against the back of my throat and then the shaft just keeping on coming, until at long, long, long last I felt my lips press down against the tangled black fuzz of his pubic hair, and I slowly began to pull back in the reverse direction, building up a fierce suction as I slid along his veiny, throbbing immensity, and snapping open my lips as I arrived once more at his head, thinking intuitively, somehow, that this was the proper way of delivering the maximum amount of pleasure in a single, seductive movement.
I'm sure that the ensuing blowjob was far from professional, although I'm also certain that if he'd wanted professional he could have damn well sauntered down to the bar below us and hired himself some more experienced company for the evening, perhaps even two or three girls at that. But what he wanted, I was quite convinced, was a seemingly innocent girl, and in that regard I certainly fell far from disappointing, clumsily stroking and regurgitating him with my tongue, choking on my own fluids as they dribbled down my throat, making all sorts of amateur mistakes that I'm fairly certain only served to further arouse him, heavier and heavier as his breathing was becoming with the steady progression of my efforts.
He didn't cum in my mouth, thank the Lord, or else I might really have made a fool of myself in my panic, but by the time he pulled out of me with long strands of fluids banding from his cock I was hacking my goddamn lungs out, struggling to breathe, and so fucking turned on by what I had done that I thought I just might arrive at climax without even having to engage in vaginal contact.
I gasped, quite suddenly, as I felt his hands lift me brusquely up, flipping me over, and positioning my body onto its hands and knees, the posture of a fucking dog, mind you, my ass thrusted out toward him and my tits hanging loosely from my chest like two fleshy pendulums. This was it, I thought, as he slid his palms into the fabric
of my panties and carefully dragged them down along my thighs. For so long I had so desperately craved for a man to genuinely take me, to brutally fuck me like an animal and make me cringe beneath his efforts, and now, Lord God forgive me, here it was, here was the long-awaited obliteration of my innocence, a penetration far more effective than any I had ever experienced in the arms of my husband.
And then my eyes went wide-
This seemed unfamiliar...
And suddenly I was shrieking in agony, my fingers clutching the bedspread for dear fucking life, and yet, in spite of the sheer pain of what was happening to me back there, I was finding myself considerably turned on by it the further he progressed, the pain giving way to pleasure, and my body shaking by the time he'd buried his fat cock all the way inside.
His tip had penetrated into the tightly closed opening of my sphincter, and then come sliding like a blade into the tight, hot sheath of my rectum, cramming so tightly into my anus that I thought I might fucking implode, and the cheeks of my ass seriously quivering by this sublime, painful point in the proceedings.
Sodomy, eh? I could go with that...
He reared back, and then plunged back deep, deep into me, tearing immediately into a frenetic, angry rhythm, slamming into my anus and pounding that pink thing so hard that I began to see stars, his speed gradually increasing, and his testicles flopping like mad into my body, the percussive sound of skin slapping against skin like sweet, beautiful music in my ringing ears, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP!, and streams of profanity ringing forth from my throat like water, “Oh God, oh God, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!”
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