But I Am A Lesbian! (Filthy Education Series) (2 page)

I wait as more and more is inserted. The
stench of his cock is disgusting. I lick my lips and imagine a wet
and leaking cunt over my wide open throat. Instead, he bends my
head back over the bench, reaching over the table to force the
dildo in and out in long deep strokes that send blazes of
pleasurable hell fire through my lower thighs, as he puts his junk
in my mouth.

“
Your balls need a
clean.”

They are shaven, tidy and perfect, but no
one is more perfect than me and no one desires perfection more than
I. It is the principal of the thing.

My blackmailer groans and slows his hand. I
open one eye, glare at him, look downward suggestively, and he
man's up for a good few minutes to really shove that pussy smasher
of a black cock down the throat of my cunt near enough to touch on
all the points that a woman would want to be touched – even by a
foul dicked bastard like this.

Soon the cock is removed, both of them, and
I am told to stand. He wraps my short uniform skirt up at the waist
band and runs his calloused fingers over my ass.

“
Just get on with it,” I
urge with only a small amount of desire slipping into my
voice.

“
Bitch...”

I am impaled from the rear and don't mind
mentioning that it feels rather good.

“
Your cock is tiny,” I say
as I think,
If he pushes that in any further my pussy is
going to break.
Obviously, my thoughts and
words are not in alignment.

Smack.

SMACK.

SMACK!

The attack of his palm and five fingers on
the perfect round of my butt is refreshing. I am rarely dominated –
mostly because anyone that would dare would get it 1000% in return.
This feels absolutely lovely, like going to the spa with mother
around Christmas and getting those lovely Euro girls that work
there to lick my cunt as I am massaged by the less pretty mistress
of the place.

“
Ahhhh---” I bite my lip.
I must not remember these things. They are making me weak. Heating
me up. Making this cock feel too good and loosening both sets of
lips significantly.

“
YOU FUCK!” I
cry.

Harry stuffs four fingers in my mouth and I
suck on them to stop the screams. He is sweating. The man's bad leg
is not strong. Soon he will reach his limit.

“
I...”

My hand comes up.

“
Do not speak, dirty
male.”

I turn, push his huge cock up into my pussy
from the front, stretching the lips until they are red and flush,
and throw my perfect slim arms around his neck.

“
If you even breathe on
me, Garden Whore, I will make you pay 10-fold.”

Harry turns his head with a smile. We both
know how this goes. I will never ever admit that I could take the
video from him if I wanted to with assistance from my favorite
computer genius Misa Tomotaka, a naughty Jap with a fetish for
being fingered while eating cream puffs. And he could let me off,
having had his fill and then some of my perfect pussy, and have
some of the other women that I know he has similar evidence on but
does not attempt to blackmail for whatever reason. Our motivations,
my love for the quality and thick and stiff edge of his horse cock,
and his desire to stick it in what is probably the best pussy he
(and most other men in existence) could ever hope to find, are less
relevant that that we keep up the charade of our arrangement. The
only cock that I allow entrance to my pussy is his. I would die
from embarrassment just saying those words to him.

“
Fucking bitch,” he
whines.

I hammer him harder and experience what I
have been waiting for. A hard, long orgasm that fulfills me almost
as much as if it came from a woman's wet tongue. Then he, too,
cums, squirting his juices inside.

After some panting, in our moments of
recovery, he points to my soaked pussy and says, “You let me cum
inside.”

The look of glee in his eyes makes me
physically ill.

“
It was an error in
timing. Nothing more.”

We stare at each other.

“
You will give me that
video one day,” I growl with one fist clenched at my
side.

“
Sure, baby. Think what
you want.”

Pulling up my panties and pulling down my
skirt to prune and primp to a more lengthy hang, I stride
purposefully to the door of this sex stinking shed.

“
Never say
good morning
to
me in public again. Our situation must remain hidden. You will
obey.”

“
Okay. I'm sorr---” He
closes his mouth.

“
You will also be
quiet.”

I leave after my command is given. This
filthy man. I hate him so much and, worse, I hate that I love the
cock he is attached to enough to come back for more, like some
little love struck fool – if one can fall in love with an
appendage.

Stomping off to the dorm
to find a shower, I make my decision to visit Ms. Green tonight for
some training. That little whore was taking cock when I caught her.
We shall see if she can take a fat black rubber cock as I did
today. That should cure me... I mean her... of my cock frenzy. Damn
it!
HER
–
her –
cock
frenzy.

That's how the story goes, anyway.

A Night Of Expectation

Simple Fantasies Series
7
Book 2

Forever to return to the same day, one man
struggles to find an out but finds something more profound in the
arms of a woman instead.

Blue, crystal clear water is the picture
postcard backdrop to my expectation.

In front of me the sun is slowly sliding
down below the horizon. It murmurs of sweet tidings to the land
that it kisses in the last moments of its hazy orange, red and
yellow sleepiness. My world passes from day to night in one
glorious flash of white light. It flashes over me like a tidal
wave, pushing me backwards, the mushroom cloud of a nuclear
explosion right all that remains in what was once a man's vision.
This is the end of the world and it was beautiful.

*****

I'm dead - again. For the 15th time since
this all started.

I blink.

"Where am I?"

I always ask the same question when I come
to the white place that I am in.

"Did you find her?" the voice that seems to
come from everywhere and nowhere asks.

Looking around, I try to find the source of
the voice, but I never can.

"No. Can you give me a clue?"

The voice doesn't answer. I feel myself
slipping downwards, like being sucked down a sink hole, begin.
Frantically I grab at anything I can, but, of course, I have no
hands and there isn't anything to grab.

"Where can I find her?" I scream. "Tell me
at least that."

The slipping stops.

"The market. Look there, Carl Robinson."

Everything goes black. I get the very real
sensation that this might be my last chance.

My eyes open sharply. I roll out of bed,
flip on my clothes so fast that I nearly break the zipper on my
pants and rush out the door.

"The market," I murmur.

I went there once looking for the woman that
I'm supposed to find, but didn't notice one. Now that the voice has
given me my - most likely final clue - I need to get to her
quickly. I don't know what it is that is supposed to happen, but I
MUST meet her today. There will be no more chances and I don't want
to think about what might happen if I don't achieve the mission
that I have been set.

Running down the road, I turn several
corners. The whole town is so familiar now that I am almost a
local.

The market is in the middle. I hustle
through the crowds of milling tourists, desperately eyeing every
single woman, young or old, for any kind of indication that she
might be the one that I am looking for.

Two hours later I have nothing. Not a single
woman stuck out as being the one that I'm looking for.

"Fruit, sir?"

I look down from where I am standing in a
quieter part of the market where fewer people are milling about.
There is a small girl with an apple in her hand. It's extended to
me. For a second I wonder if she is the one, but I realize that is
silly. The voice said a 'woman' not a 'child'.

"No thank you."

Turning, I don't see the little girl's grin.
She hammers the apple into my groin. I note that it is quite hard
for an apple and is actually a painted stone replica.

"Ouch..."

I hit the ground side on. She frisks me so
professionally that I don't even notice her stealing my
valuables.

"Thanks, mister. Have a nice day," she
cheerfully calls as she runs away.

Groaning, I drag myself to my feet. It's not
the lost possessions (personal items are pretty meaningless when
you die everyday) that gets me there, but the fact that this hasn't
happened before. Maybe fate has thrown me a bone. I certainly need
it.

My feet perform an ill-timed pattern of
steps on the gritty, broken pavement as I try to chase down the
little thief. She isn't very fast because of her size and I know
every inch of the market quite well by now. The child jumps under
the back flap of a stall. I slow and walk around front. The girl is
talking to a woman. I pause.

"It's her."

Somehow I know. She stands as tall as me,
has gorgeous brown hair, the sooty browned skin of the locals and a
slim but curvy body that would give any man pause. The girl is
holding my possessions out to the woman, who doesn't look pleased
by her facial expression.

"Excuse me," I say.

The little girl looks terrified. I barely
see her. She can have everything I own. The shop owner, she is what
I'm here for. I know that in my heart right now.

"Yes?"

My fruit selling thief makes a break for it,
but is caught by the collar.

"That child stole my stuff just now," I
explain. "It's really nice to meet you."

The two comments don't really fit well, but
they make perfect sense if one thinks about it. The child did steal
my possessions, but that doesn't matter. Meeting the one that is
going to save me from whatever it is that I'm caught up in is more
important.

"I thought so," the woman says. She turns to
scold the child, but I put my hand up.

"It doesn't matter. She can have it. I came
here to meet you."

"Me?"

"Yes. I think you are stunning."

Never before have I ever been so direct with
someone of the opposite sex, but this time it seems very
naturally.

"Ah... Thank you," she says, blushing. "You
aren't mad at her?"

"No, not at all."

The two stare. I think my complete lack of
concern shocks them. They would understand fully if they had
watched that same explosion 15 times and known the secret terror
that I always hold on waking up: The fear that I might not see that
explosion ever again and sink into the white place forever.

"Then... how can I help you?"

"A date. Now, actually."

She stares in shock.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. 100%."

The shop keeper shakes her head, clearly
worried about what kind of crazy that has come into her shop
today.

"I can't. I have to look after the
shop."

I shrug.

"Leave it. You have to go out with me today.
I don't have a choice."

We stare at each other. Strange as it might
seem, I'm totally calm. I've faced real death and the terror of it
over and over. Asking a girl out on a date is nothing in
comparison.

"You are nuts."

I shrug again.

"Kid, can you look after the shop?" I
ask.

Her mouth opens a few times, the child looks
up to the woman and back to me.

"Ok."

The shop keeper stares down at her.

"Why? Why me?"

I answer simply.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have
ever seen. If I was to die today then there would be no regrets in
my life if I could spend the rest of today with you."

"Wow..."

"I know."

I put out a hand.

"Come with me. Let's get some coffee."

The girl nudges the woman. She looks down to
her and back to me.

"Alright. Let's go."

She takes my hand. It feels so right that I
almost swoon. Never before have I experienced love at first sight,
but this must be exactly what it feels like. It's almost like a
story, but twice as good because this is real life and she is right
at my side.

"What's your name?"

"Sara."

"I'm Carl Robinson. 32 and a lawyer. How do
you know that kid?"

"She's my daughter," the woman admits as I
guide us towards the best cafe in town.

"Really? You don't look alike."

"Her father is a white man. She's a
mix."

"Ah..."

I pause with her.

"Married? Boyfriend?"

She shakes her head.

"I've been single for 4 years now."

I nod. About the same time as me.

"That's good. I'd hate to go on a date with
another man's woman."

We continue walking.

"Why do you think I'm so beautiful," she
asks after awhile. "I don't understand."

I brush a hand through my hair and smile at
the sun for a second.

"Because you have the most amazing face I
have ever seen. Love heart shaped, but some how symmetrical in a
way that defies shape."

"No one has ever said that to me."

"I'm not no one," I tell her in reply.

We stroll into the cafe. Everything is
always the same every day I come back, so I guide Sara to the rear
table that I know is available until 10am.