Wild Week I

Monday and Tuesday

MONDAY

Oh my secret lover! How can I live sanely after that wild and unbelievable week? I still find it difficult to accept that it actually happened, that I - that we - did all those things that had only ever been a fevered fantasy of my darkest nights. Maybe it is this lack of belief that forces me to write to you like this, put it all down. I don't know if I will ever send this to you, but as a diary of that momentous week, it will help me come to terms with the change you have brought to my quiet, sheltered life. Maybe reliving it, writing down all those things - may help me accept their reality. And, of course, I can reread and relive it each night I lie alone with only my fingers for company.
How innocent it had all seemed, those late night online chats with a distant stranger. A stranger who seemed to be able to read my secret soul, my hidden inner self. And read it so easily! It was frightening - and at the same time, so strangely liberating. You confused me so much, you made me question so many of my long held beliefs. What did it all mean? - That I had come across the one person in the world who not only understood, but seemed to share my depravity? Or more wondrous yet, that those fantasies, those desires, were not at all that unusual! They were fantasies shared by a great many people, from different countries, different cultures. That the things I felt were only part of the greater human norm? Oh, you tried to reassure me of the latter, but despite my own desires to believe you, I found it difficult to shake the convictions, and constrictions, of my upbringing.

You wrote about things that I had only dreamed about, not even knowing exactly what those feelings meant, or even how to label them - never mind how to put them into actual words. You freed that part of me, gave me those labels, wrote about those things and feelings that made me understand what it was I was seeking, however unconsciously. I told you things that made me blush when I recalled them in the cold light of day. I told you things that I had not even told myself - if that is possible - but it certainly felt like it. Your words, your seductive burning words, had me squirming in my seat, wet between the thighs. It got so that I would take my knickers off before logging on to read your latest depravities... and then rub and finger myself into a sweaty, quivering wreck. You made me tell you what I was doing, describe the intimate features of my life, of my body. Even now, I can feel the heat in my cheeks at the memories of those early, liberating acts.

There may have been a few thousand miles separating us, but you were fucking me every night - mind fucking me. When I begged you for pictures, images to feed my fever - you gave me more than I bargained for. And that photo of your veined and gnarled erection filled my dreams, as nightly I would fantasise, squatting over you, sinking down onto its length, of you filling me with your phantom seed, feeling it oozing and dripping out of me. I tasted you in my dreams, swallowing you despite the fact that I had always found that so unpleasant in reality... and contemplated acts that I had never dared. I indeed had enjoyed plenty of sex... but nothing out of the ordinary, nothing depraved. Vanilla sex you called it. Clumsy fumbles, muttered apologies and embarrassed silences. All so polite, as if it was too difficult to contemplate the crude slapping of sweaty skin, the flowing juices and sheer animalistic nature of being soundly fucked. Your became the raspberry whirl, the chocolate chip, sex of my imagination - and I ached for you each night, for the things you did inside my head, the forbidden desires that you caused to blossom in my darkest, wildest dreams. Rest easy, my lover.... You lived up to your promises.

When the chance came to accompany my boss, and most of the sales team, to the London office arose, I seriously considered not telling you about it. I was fearful, of my own fantasise - which could all too easily become a terrifying reality. I considered refusing the chance to go... but that dark part of my soul exalted, thrilled at the prospect of experiencing even that slimmest chance that maybe... just maybe…
You sounded pleased to know that I was due to visit your part of the world. And, reading between the lines, fearful of just what might be expected of you. You talk the talk, but could you walk the walk? I made it as plain as I could that I would be busy, surrounded by colleagues, not free from the nosey snoops and eagle eyed gossips, for any cosy meetings or assignations. But looking back, I guess I did drop enough hints to make my unspoken desires plain. If not, you did a wonderful job of reading my mind.

I was a nervous wreck all during the journey from the airport to the hotel. Sonil (my boss) and Shamila, one of the pool secretaries, both remarked upon the state of me - which I passed off as mere jet lag, or maybe something of the airline breakfast that disagreed with me. Shamila, a dark skinned, quiet girl had been assigned to share a room with me. She had been chatty for most of the trip, working hard to be friendly, and more than a little puzzled at my distracted indifference. Arriving at the hotel, unloading under the carport, I recognised you straight away. Standing casually near the revolving door, smartly dressed and as if waiting for a tardy partner. I thought my heart had stopped for a moment. It was an intense and frightening experience. You were not simply a fevered figment of my imagination, an electronic phantom that lived inside my home pc. You were a person - rather ordinary looking, harmless even - but I knew how your circumcised penis curved upwards when it was hard... while you, you knew my most secret, deeply hidden inner thoughts. You knew details of my sexual fantasise and darkest longings. I think I actually spent the rest of that week in a state of semi-shock - spine tingling, electrifying orgasmic shock after orgasmic shock.

The hotel lobby seemed very crowed, since a party seemed to be checking out, just as ours attempted to check in. Shamila, chattered on inanely as we joined the queue for the concierge. Being girly and exited, about sharing a room, seeing the city. I knew little about her, but so far had found her rather dull, her childlike enthusiasms wearing - I knew that I was being unfair, preoccupied with darker thoughts that jarred with her girly chatter. I was very conscious of your presence, having to fight hard not to stare at you. You photo's had been a good likeness. I had recognised you instantly. You had moved inside with the crowd, leaning casually against the wall, well out of the way. You were looking straight at me, each time I risked a glance in your direction. Once you gave me sly wink, then looked away innocently as if you were a total stranger. I almost wet myself. You were here, breathing the same air as I, surrounded by my company sales team in a hotel lobby - and I was juicing up just thinking about that simple fact. You turned your gaze back to me, then glanced pointedly at a service corridor the appeared to lead towards the bathrooms. You jerked your head in the direction of the corridor, and then walked nonchalantly down it. Your meaning was clear enough. Heart in mouth, I turned to my prospective roommate.
"Hold this a moment, Sham - I need the bathroom." And I handed her my shoulder bag, and hurried after you, my legs feeling leaden and clumsy. Around the corner, there was only a line of unmarked doors. I had no idea where you had gone! Then one door opened and your hand waved me towards it. As I approached, the door opened wider and you reached out to pull me roughly into the small room.
There was a dim, naked bulb lighting the small room, allowing me to see that it was some kind of store room. It was dusty, with little space amongst the racks of cases and boxes. You held me at arms length and paused long enough to take a long and thoughtful look at me. I panted wordlessly under your scrutiny, feeling the wetness between my thighs. Seeing the obvious pleasure in your gaze, I felt the fear in me recede slightly. I breathed you in, male scent, hint of tabacco and spicy aftershave. I felt dizzy, hot with shame and lust.
"I so wanted... " I started, but you placed a finger to my lips and hushed me quiet. "Don't talk', you breathed. You reached between my thighs and rudely cupped my sex through my skirt. I froze with shock, the sudden crude touch of you turning my blood to ice. Your palm pressed against me, and you lips formed the words,
"You're not here to talk. You came here to be fucked." The crude truth of your words numbed me to my core. Your unsolicited touch was the only reason I had hurried into this grubby closet with you. My outraged protests died unspoken.
It also felt weirdly good, a relief. Nothing needed to explained, nothing to be worried about. I knew why I was there. I was there to be used by you, in whatever manner you choose, just as I had fantasised. It was a release, an abdication of responsibility. What ever was going to happen was not down to me or my actions. Stupid I know, but I had given myself into your hands. Your hard, capable, and oh so cunning hands.

When you leaned forward, brushing your lips over mine, I heard myself moan like some kind of animal. My pulse throbbing in my temples. The hand between my thighs moved down and up under the hem of my skirt. Your free arm slipped around my waist and crushed me to you, you mouth pressed roughly over mine and your hand once more cupping my sex. Despite my mental clamour, my body hungered for you touch, and I whimpered when you pulled the cover of my knickers aside to slide a couple of long, hard fingers deep into my cunt. A final mental scream, and my years of respectable behaviour blew away in cloud of animal lust. I sucked on your tongue and squirmed moistly on your impaling fingers. Foolish me… I never gave a thought to what doors I had just opened. You brought me back to shocking reality within seconds. Your mouth moved over my cheek and nuzzled my ear, and your softly whispered words turned my boiling blood to ice. I blush to remember the whimper that escaped me as your rough fingers withdrew from my body, the outraged shame I suffered when you lifted them to your face, inhaling the scent of me. Your eyes held mine, blatant, challenging, as you licked and tasted me. I cringed as you pressed a pussy flavoured finger between my lips, then shuddered as you spoke.
"Do you spit or swallow?"
I froze, stupefied as the meaning finally penetrated.
"I am going to fuck your mouth." You confirmed for me.
"You ... I can't... I.." I finally stammered.
"Shut up, kneel down and open wide" and you commanded, your tone brooking no dissent.
Everything seemed dream like, I was light-headed and I felt so powerless, events so out of my control. I could never have contemplated giving you a blow job if the choice had been left to me! But it was not my choice, was it? The crowd of people only yards away never entered my mind. I was too busy grappling with the idea that you were going to put your penis in my mouth and that I was not going to resist such crudity. Numb, I let you press me down onto my knees, suddenly very aware of my aroma on your wet fingers. I struggled weakly, and totally ineffectually, and then watched mesmerised as you unzipped your flies and produced the veined organ that I had come to know in such fine detail from the computer images. The number of times I had masturbated over that photograph you had sent me. I had fantasised about this moment, this very act... and now felt so totally overwhelmed by the reality of it. You pressed the blunt tip to my lips and when I tried to jerk away, you held me firmly in your hands, fingers tangled in my hair. You forced me forward onto you, pursed lips firmly against the warm, living thickness.
"Suck it" you whispered, and with gentle tugs on my hair, my mouth opened without any further conscious thought. Your thickness filled me, stretching my jaws further open as you forced yourself into me. I had never liked the act of oral sex, sucking on a penis - refusing to give blow jobs if I possibly could. It was degrading, something I had always resented doing... it gave me no pleasure at all. But this... this was not of my choosing. I was being made to do this, to blow you... No coy appraisal, no teasing licks or working up to the act of opening my mouth to you... You were using me, there was no romance, no gentleness. I was fully dressed, in my smart business suit, kneeling in a dingy closet with your dick in my mouth. Friends and colleagues a few short steps away, oblivious to the obscene act I was performing. I could feel the hunger in you, the urgency - you had been thinking about this for as long as I had. You wanted me, you wanted to fill my mouth, feel me swallow you. I don't think that I had ever been so hot and horny in my life.
I struggled to breath, fighting not to gag as you thrust repeatedly into my open mouth. I could feel the smooth flare of your glans, the veined surface of your shaft, with my tongue, tasting the salt and the smear of pre cum, inhaling the scent of you. My pussy ached for your touch and without thinking I reached up under my skirt to rub my soaked knickers, rolling my eyes up to look at you. My left hand wrapped around the base of your cock, partially to restrain your thrusts, but more to feel your thickness, the throbbing warmth of you in my hand. Your face was all strained, tense and filled with a lustful, pleasurable agony. You acknowledged my strained glance by baring your teeth and groaning. Your whole body trembled already so close to release. The clear and graphic pleasure you were taking, watching yourself fucking my open mouth became unbearably arousing. My enclosing fist pumped the base of your shaft and I could feel the gathering explosion build to its climax. 'Swallow it!' you grunted, and I distinctly felt the pulse of your orgasm, as your cock jerked, and filled my mouth with your seed. I ground my clenched fist against my sex, throat flexed as I swallowed your slimy fluid... and my belly convulsed - and I had a strange little orgasm all of my own. I sucked, and I swallowed, until your spurts subsided. Rather breathless and still feeling dizzy, I licked and sucked the length of you cock clean. Despite my efforts, some had leaked from my lips, and I wiped my chin with the back of my hand.
You tucked yourself away and zipped your flies up, then helped me to my feet. I was panting a little, from the sucking and from my own excitement. You rather surprised me by kissing me passionately, open mouth on mine, stealing the air from my lungs. Your hand reached up under my skirt and you cupped my tingling cunt in your warm palm, as if to signify your possession of me, and the promise of things to come. Your fingers sought the moist opening once more and I could feel the heat in my face, as my body pressed down onto you. I shuddered with shame and lust when withdrew your fingers and once more, deliberately inhaled my hot scent. My wide eyed gaze seemed to amuse you, then I was sucking on your soiled fingers, tasting my own arousal, my cunt juices mingling with your sperm. You kissed me again, sharing the subtle flavour of our sex once more. You murmured unintelligibly into my open mouth. Breaking the kiss, you spun me round, then slapped me hard on my behind. I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, with your parting whisper ringing in my ears. 'Next time…."

I found Shamila waiting by the concierge, and took my bag from her. 'Everything alright?' she asked.
"Of course, don't fuss - I'm fine." I muttered, still tasting your semen in the back of my throat. She gave me a rather funny look, then shrugged.
"Our cases have been taken up already."
She had collected the key for our room, and I followed her to the elevator still in heady post orgasmic daze. In the room, I unpacked on autopilot. Shamila certainly noticed that I was acting rather spaced out and kept asking me if I was alright. She was normally the quiet type, never volunteering anything, always keeping her own council. I mentally shook myself and tried to respond to her sensibly. She was darker skinned than I, with long, black hair that made her rather ordinary features more striking. Large expressive eyes and a button nose. A little on the plump side, but with a fit looking body for all of that. I knew virtually nothing about her personal life. She wore glasses, that gave her a kind of cute school teacher look. I knew that she was not married, but had no idea if she had a boyfriend or not. I suspected not, since she seemed extremely naïve and rarely understood the more risqué jokes that the male sales reps often cracked. I found myself wondering if she was a virgin or what she would think of the indecent act I had just performed in a hotel storeroom. I glowed inside at the sheer wantonness of it all. Had she sucked on a hard dick? I confess that I found myself heating up again, the sudden mental image of the demure Shamila on her knees, chocking down a long hard dick - your long, hard dick. The thoughts you stirred in me! I was still very sexually charged from what you had just done to me. I had never looked at another women with sex so much on my mind. I knew from you fevered writings how arousing the thought of a little girl on girl was for you… I wondered if her pussy tasted like mine? God, I was going insane with the lusted you awaked in me. I needed some release. I wanted to masturbate, relive that sordid, wanton mouth fuck and finger myself senseless. Shamila inhibited me enough that I knew that it would have to wait.

It was almost midday, and once we had freshened up - clean knickers a priority - and I had quickly dabbed at the odd semen stain on my blouse - we joined the rest of our party for a late lunch. The rest of day was taken up with various briefings I kept trying to work out what I felt about what had happened, what you did to me. I would always start off feeling disgusted with myself, with you. But each time I relived kneeling in that grubby storeroom being fucked in the mouth... I knew that I was a lost cause. I had enjoyed the sensation too much. I couldn't recall having felt like that since... since that time my older cousin had finger fucked me to orgasm at a family gathering. He had accosted me in coming out of the bathroom and I had been too frightened to cause a scene. I was totally innocent and he had easily frightened me into shocked silence, and had fingered my virginal pussy roughly. I often wondered how far he would have gone if we had not been disturbed. I had avoided him from then on, too frightened of him, of what he made me feel. Shame, disgust and explosive excitement at the forbidden nature of it all.
I think I gave up trying to fight what my body was craving that first afternoon. I guess that I stopped worrying about it. What ever was going to happen... was going to happen.

The afternoon dragged on endlessly, and I hated every drawn out minuet of it. At last it all came to an end, and we were allowed to escape back to the hotel. A group dinner had to be suffered before we could escape to our rooms for an early night. Shamila unfortunately beat me to the room, and found your envelope with my name on it under the door. She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and I read the note in the bathroom. I made some lame excuse and popped out to use a call box down in the lobby, and called your mobile number. You never said a word about the days events, simply asking for details of our planned itinerary. When I told you about the theatre tomorrow night, you simply told me to wear something nice. Your tone made me shiver. Details complete, you wished me pleasant dreams (as you knew quite well what I would be dreaming about!) and hung up. Another time, another place - another person - and I would have been incensed at your treatment of me. As it was, come the early bedtime, and Shamila had to knock on the bathroom door to ask if I was ok again, as I had spent so long in there. Masturbating myself silly.

TUESDAY

Waking up on that second morning, it took a little while for the events of yesterday to come to me. As the full horror of that brief encounter in the storeroom flooded back I felt rather sickened. I moaned aloud - and then had to cover up my confusion as Shamila was once again fussing over me. I almost confessed to her! I was on the point of blurting it out when I recovered and reined back my emotions. Breakfast was an awkward, silent affair, as I had slapped her down rather strongly - basically telling her to mind her own business.

The day was full of meetings, new faces and whirlwind trip around the company offices. I more of less put you totally out of my mind - but every glimpse of store room door brought back the taste of you. I was more than relived when the day's events reached their conclusions, and we all were shuttled back to the hotel. An early dinner, then it would be time to get ready for the evenings entertainment. My pulse rate increased at the thought.

The company organised theatre trip. It was Miss Saigon at the Haymarket. Rather a formal affair, and I dressed appropriately. I suspected that the evening would include some kind of theatrical performance of the participation type. In the bathroom I slipped on a white silk g-string and then the garter belt and stockings. I had rarely worn stockings before, but found them rather a sensuous experience. The air on my upper thighs, and barely concealed mound had me damp with anticipation almost immediately. I slipped into the long evening skirt and my dark silk blouse. I wore a bra that fastened at the front. Shamila made a joke about me looking good enough to eat, causing me to do a hurried double take - then figured that it was an innocent enough remark. I did start wondering if she suspected anything, as I was certainly acting very jumpy.

Taxi's whisked us off to the Haymarket, and we crowed into the theatre. I saw you straight away, my eyes automatically scanning the crowd. You were standing near the back of the foyer. You made a point of ignoring me, looking for all the world like an impatient husband awaiting a tardy wife. My heart began to beat faster. I could feel your eyes on me as we queued to collect our tickets, feeling you assessing me, my appearance, my dress. I became wet, right there, standing in the queue. I was once again, kneeling in that squalid room, fear and adrenalin coursing through my veins, chocking on your cock remorselessly fucking my mouth. A whorish slave to your animal lust. When I next looked, you had disappeared. I sat through the first half of the show with nervous anticipation. I don't think I heard more than the odd word or two. I squirmed uncomfortably on the seat, unable to get settled, the urge to soothe my own hot lust almost unbearable. Shamila again asked me if I was ok, and I distractedly attempted to reassure her. I ached to touch my clit, sate the hunger between my thighs with a finger or two. I wondered if you would approach me during the interval, and fought the urge to touch my anus, for if you kept your word, it would never be the same virginal opening again. Once the lights went up for the end of the first half, I walked round the back of the theatre looking for you. I ended up being buttonholed by my boss, who wanted to talk about the next days meeting with our London office. It was only when you pressed that note into my hand, behind my back that, I became aware of your presence. I scrutinized the note the first chance I had - it simply said 'Start of the second half - at the back'. I wondered briefly what you would do if I didn't turn up… but only for a moment.

Once the lights went down for the second half, I eased out of my row, apologising profusely saying that I needed some air. Shamila was all for going with me, and I had to be quite sharp refusing her. I hurried up the darkened isle, and found you waiting at the back of the auditorium. My worries and fears seemed to melt away as you enfolded me in your arms, your mouth one mine, and hungry, insistent. I was barely aware of your fingers opening my blouse, but when you undid my bra, and my breasts were suddenly free and very exposed, I stiffened in alarm. Although it was gloomy at the back of the theatre, it was far from private. Anybody in the rear seat could have seen me, breasts exposed, watched you suck on my engorged nipples - and then as you raised the back of my long skirt, my bare ass and the tiny white thong. I was suddenly panting with fear and adrenalin, as you groped my bare behind, then slide your fingers past the thong and deep into me. I could have died.

But there were no cries of outrage or shock, and you finally relented, letting my skirt fall to cover me. You took my hand, not letting me even hold my open blouse closed and led me unresisting towards the "Ladies" sign, through the curtain, and then the door. I had a moment of panic and the urge to run back to the safety of the public auditorium. You held me firmly, murmured kind of reassurance then bundled me inside the mercifully empty room. I let you guide me into the end stall, silently urging me inside, before you squeezed in behind me. My heart hammered in my chest, I felt light-headed in you presence, almost as if I had been drinking. When your hands gripped me forcefully by my upper arms I couldn't help whimpering, then gulping apologetically when you hissed at me to be quiet. Inside the stall, with the door locked it was claustrophobically intense. Fear coursed through my veins, mixed with a horny excitement in a buzzing cocktail of chemicals that made breathing difficult. You turned me to face you, and forced your mouth over mine. I struggled as you kissed me hard, ignoring my twisting and feeble attempts to avoid you. My body craved you touch, while my mind screamed at me to resist your control. Your hands ran over my body, squeezing my ass, fondling my breasts. Then one ran up my back and under my hair, gripping me by the back of my neck. You pulled me back, and stared into my eyes.
"You're going to sit down and suck my cock, then I'm going to bend you over and fuck you." Fear and lust coursed through my veins. It was degrading, sordid… it was making me wet with anticipation. I couldn't…
I started to voice some weak protest, ignoring you hissed 'Quiet!' You pressed me down to sit upon the toilet seat, and you silenced my shocked mutterings in your wonderfully direct fashion. You unzipped your trousers, pulled out your throbbing erection and pressed to my open lips. I gagged, shut up and gave up trying to reason, or plead with you. I wrapped one hand around your shaft, holding you near the base, feeling your pubic hair on my fingers. I pulled back, not wanting to choke on you, and reached out with my tongue, and tentatively licked at the tip. The gentle approach was clearly not what you had in mind. You shoved into my open mouth, and I was once again struggling with the length and thickness of you. You pulled on my hair, making my head move back and forth, sliding my lips along your shaft. I savoured the raw male flavour, the tangible evidence of your hard and throbbing desire for me. I was giving you head within moments of our second ever meeting. There was a momentary pang of shame, of remorse, at what this must say about my character, but it quickly succumbed to the lusts that the act aroused in me. I was a dirty little cocksucker and I was loving it.

When the door of the Ladies banged open, I jumped, making you jerk as I caught you with my teeth, causing you to hiss in pain. I froze, you cock stilled, but continuing to fill me. Footsteps, that paused outside the stall door, and then a timid knock. It was Shamila! She asked if I was inside, while I sat immobile, your cock throbbing deep in my mouth. Finally, receiving no response, we heard her leave.
"Friend of yours?" you whispered.
I mumbled unintelligibly around your cock, and with that, you pulled out of my mouth.
"Not really - but she is sharing my hotel room."
"Wonder if she likes it up the ass?" you mused
Oh God - I had the sudden image of plump little Shamila on her knees with your cock jammed up her ass. I had never, ever, contemplated such imagery in my life before. Heat flared between my thighs, behind my eyes. Whatever my higher consciousness thought about such a sight, my body flamed with a consuming lust.

Shamila's sudden entrance seemed to bring a natural pause to events. I was trying to get some breath back, when you were taken with my exposed breasts once more. I loved the admiring, pleased noises you made - I had always been unhappy with them, convinced that she had to bigger to be found attractive. Over the months you had almost convinced me that less was more, that the male stero type was exactly that - a stereotype, of a crude and working class mentality. The true gentlemen, the connoisseur, you insisted preferred the smaller variety. All I know for sure is that you seemed to get a great deal of pleasure from mine. Another new experience for me - having my tits fucked. You crouched, your slippery, spit wet cock sliding over my breasts, and I pressed my smallish, pale brown orbs together to form a gully for you to fuck. I revelled in the urgency in your movements, the frantic, slippery thrusts of impending climax. You groaned, then cursed as cock leapt and spat a stream of cum up my chest, to my throat and chin. I barely had time to register a sharp pang of disappointment, before my mouth was once more full of semen smeared cock.

I sucked on you… tasting you, both disgusted and thrilled… and you stayed hard, filling my mouth without any noticeable change. Your cum cooled on my breasts and throat, and I found myself rubbing the slimy stuff into my swollen, sensitive nipples. My jaw ached and I was just starting to wonder when this torment would end… then you pulled out of me, and helped me to my feet. I felt so powerless when you turned my round and forced me to lean forward, my hands resting on the seat to stop myself from falling face down.
I was trembling as you pulled the long skirt up my legs and folded it roughly up over my back. Your gaze burned over my exposed bottom, and I heard you gasp appreciatively. I guess you liked the stockings, and that little white g-string?
I was more than ready for this, my body was hungering for the feel of you inside me. My mind was less sure, but totally submissive to events that seemed so out of my conscious control. I was suffering extreams of split personality - half desperate for you, urging me on ward, the other screaming in horror and outrage at what I was letting you do to me. Then all thought dissolved as you slapped my quivering bottom - the noise loud in the confined space. I shuddered as you ran your hands, hot and hard, over my smooth, cool skin, exploring my thighs and butt cheeks. The g-string gave you easy access to me, and I moaned when you brushed it aside, exposing my dripping cunt and shrinking anus to your steely gaze and your burning touch.
You were clearly in no hurry, taking time to run your hands over my swollen pussy lips, releasing the moisture that had been building all evening. Pussy juice wet my inner thighs and I moaned when you thumb pressed between my slick labia, and into my hot cunt. It felt so good, so what my body hungered for. Your fingers teased my anus, rubbing the tight muscular ring, scratching gently over the puckered opening, before probing gently. I knew that you had enjoyed and expressed desires about anal sex… and I had written back about my distaste, even fear of that act. Still… your fingertip felt good, so good that I found myself pressing back against you, ignoring the fact that it forced you finger deeper into my bottom. I sighed in frustration when you pulled out of me, then had to bite back a cry of pleasure when I felt your pussy wet thumb stretch my asshole a little wider. Two, long angular fingers squeezed into my cunt, twirling and twisting inside me. My knees shook so hard that I feared they could no longer bear my weight. I arched my back, taking more weight onto my arms, forcing my hips back, driving you deeper into me.

Then came the heat and hardness of you cock between my upper thighs. Your thumbs spread me wide and the tip of your cock was rubbing against my dripping opening. I bit back a loud cry as your cock eased into my slippery opening. You drew back, the tip rubbing over my swollen, pouting lips. I ached for you, my knees trembling. The broad tip found me again, paused and then drove deep into my cunt, sliding past the slick wet lips and filling me with an uncomforting fullness. I had never felt so tight… or your cock had swollen appreciatively since filling my mouth. Deep, deep in me, filling me, driving the breath from me… and you were still again, buried hilt deep in my body. You hands stroked me, my bottom, flanks and round to tease my breasts. I was aware of the quivering of your body, pressed to mine, your impaling cock trembling… Slowly you drew back, pulling agonizingly out of me… Then you fucked me. God you felt so good… you felt so long and so beautifully hard. It was what I had been dreaming about - although my bending over, fully dressed in a public toilet like a cheap whore, had not been in my mental script. I was sopping wet, squelching obscenely as you filled me repeatedly, thrusting deep, knocking against my quivering cervix. When you plugged your thumb into my bottom, I yelped at the unexpected assault. You stretched me, but there was way too much pleasure coursing through my body to register any real pain. It was disgusting, it was crude and sordid - and it was going to make me cum hard and fast. I could feel my cunt clenching around your hardness and then my muscles were jerking in a sudden explosive orgasm. You fucked without pause, slaming hard against me, balls thumping deliciously against my open, swollen lipped cunt. You leaned forward, your hand covering my mouth to stifle my cries, thrusting hard and fast into me. My knees threatened to give way, and I was grateful for your other hand holding me around the waist, keeping me from collapse. You brought me to a second, shockingly fast orgasm, and you groaned when I bit hard against you fingers. Finally you paused the brutish assault, and while I sobbed, my head hanging down, trying to catch my breath.

Now you fucked me slowly… long, full length withdrawal that had me whimpering, then an equally slow, deeply filling penetration. Despite a double orgasm, I had never felt so small, so tight… or a cock so full and filling… it had been a long time, too long, since I had last had a man inside my body. I don't remember my ex being any less well endowed than you… a bad memory, or do we shrink from lack of use? And for all that I was enjoying my tight, clasping cunt - it was clearly having its effect upon you too. You were groaning deeper, you body tense and clearly close to another explosive release. I was a little surprised when you suddenly slipped out of me, but as awkward as the cramped space allowed, I urgently twisted myself around, just in time to receive my first proper facial. Just like a porno movie!

Your pale, creamy fluid splashed across my face, my cheeks, nose and forehead. Then you found my open mouth and once more I swallowed hungrily, ignoring your hard pull on my hair, forcing my face into your groin, hearing you grunt and groan in the throes of you own climax. You leaned weakly against me for a while, your cock softening in my mouth. Then you shook yourself, pulling away and zipping your trousers up. I re-seated the soaked strip of my g-string and let my dress fall to the floor, hiding my shame from the world. I shakily refastened my bra and buttoned up my blouse. My thighs slid wetly against each other, my pussy seemed to glow with inner heat. Weak kneed and wobbly I emerged from the stall. One long hard, breast crushing hug and a long kiss and then you slipped away.
A quick check in the mirror, a hasty smoothing of my roughly handled hair, and I staggered back to my seat in the auditorium. My abused bottom had me shifting around in my seat, unable to get comfortable, while my senses were constantly assailed by the smell of sex. I was sure I reeked of it. Shamila did give me some very curious looks, but feeling smug and sluttish, I managed to ignore her - more or less. The rest of the evening was pretty much a daze. Back at the hotel, I spent a lifetime in the shower, soaping my sensitive, much abused pussy giving myself a couple of sobbing orgasms in the process. I was very conscious of Shamila's eyes on me when I finally emerged, wearing a long comfortable t-shirt, and slipped into bed. I made it more than plain that I had no desire to hold a conversation with her and fell asleep almost instantly.

The rest of the week to follow.

Readers comments are always very welcome, and always responded to. Please drop me a line, a horny thought or story you may care to share. (Always looking for ideas!) sabre13uk@hotmail.com