Walking across
the common, the sun warming me, the breeze wafting up my short
dress, swirling around my hairless pussy, I knew I'd have to
appease my clitoris at some stage. Wandering into the woods, I
entered the clearing and looked about me, recalling the debauchery,
the massive orgasms, the spunking knobs. The branch the bitch had
lashed my breasts with lay on the grass, as if beckoning me. I felt
cold surrounded by the trees, the sun blocked out by the canopy of
leaves high above me. The woods were eerie, the clearing heavy with
an uncanny air of vile sex. It was no place to be alone, I
reflected, following the path back to the common.
Walking,
thinking, my clitoris perpetually begging for my caressing
fingertips, I followed the path round the lake and came across a
secluded spot surrounded by bushes. Sitting in the sun, I
contemplated the meaning of life. Childhood, growing up, marrying,
old age - death. What was the plan? What was the point? Dreams,
aspirations, failures... No, I'd found success. I'd been through
hell recently, but I was successful.
"Oh, sorry." I
looked up from my meditation to see a young man emerging from the
bushes. "I usually come here to think, but..."
"No, it's OK,"
I smiled. "I was just going."
"I've
disturbed you, haven't I?"
"I was doing
some thinking, but if this is your thinking place..."
"Don't go," he
said, sitting beside me. "Let's think together."
"We can't
think together!" I laughed. "I know, let's think aloud. What are
your thoughts?"
"My thoughts?
God, do you really want to know?"
"Yes, I do.
I'm Selina."
"Hi, I'm
Barry."
"I used to
know someone called Barry. Anyway, that was years ago. Tell me your
thoughts."
"Well, my
marriage is in ruins, I'm broke... You don't really want to
know."
Gazing into
his deep-set eyes, I felt comfortable with him. In his early
twenties, good-looking, I wondered how he could be in such a mess.
His life had barely begun, and he was having marital and financial
problems? What had he done to deserve it? What have any of us done
to deserve the shit life throws at us?
"I do want to
know," I smiled. "Tell me all about it."
"I married too
young, for starters. Kay's a lovely girl, but... I don't know, we
just don't hit it off any more. So, what are your thoughts?"
"I'm not
broke, but my marriage is just about over. It's funny, you never
know what's around the next corner. One minute I'm celebrating my
first novel, and the next..."
"I thought I
recognized you. I've seen you on TV, and in the papers."
"Selina
Goodman, prestigious authoress. Or, I was."
"What went
wrong?"
"Everything!
Still, let's not dwell on the past. Not that the past is over
yet."
"What do you
mean?"
"I'm still
having horrendous problems with... I'd rather not talk about it.
Let's just sit quietly and contemplate."
Reclining on
the soft grass, I looked up at a small cotton wool cloud drifting
across the blue sky. That's what I was doing, drifting aimlessly,
going nowhere. Barry, what a coincidence! I reflected, gazing at
his dark swept-back hair. If only I'd not ripped the insurance
company off. If only I'd never got involved with Barry the lying,
two-timing bastard. If only, if only...
I could have
the young man fuck me, I mused, imagining his solid penis driving
in and out of my aching vagina. His balls would be heavy with
sperm, his shaft smooth in youth, erect as he slipped his swollen
knob deep into my irrigating cunt. I'd suck him after he'd fucked
me, lick the sperm and cunny juice from his beautiful glans, nibble
his hairy balls.
Male or
female? I pondered in my rising confusion, recalling my time with
Crystal, her hairless love lips, her wet tongue. I didn't know what
I wanted. Sperm or pussy juice? A pulsating clitoris in my mouth or
an orgasming knob? The rugged hardness of the male body, or the
soft femininity of a girl's naked form? One thing was certain as I
gazed at Barry - I wanted sex!
But no, it
would ruin our friendship. We'd become friends, I decided - there'd
be no sex, no debauchery. But my mind was again battling with my
physical needs, my swollen clitoris, my wetting vaginal sheath. I
couldn't allow sex to rule my life, but my overwhelming desires
were winning. Sex was like a drug, the withdrawal symptoms
unbearable.
Nymphomaniac.
The word swirled within my tortured mind, hurting me, taunting me.
Cocks sperming my orifices, a girl's clitoris exploding in orgasm
within my wet mouth, whips, ropes, handcuffs, cucumbers, the
vibrator... I desperately needed to come! I looked at Barry again,
my stomach somersaulting. He was a stranger, and I was imagining
him fucking me! What had I become in my sexual cravings?
"Your thinking
place!" I giggled, trying to force all thoughts of sex to the back
of my mind. "It's funny, isn't it?"
"Yes, I
suppose it is," he smiled, looking down at me. "We all need
somewhere to go in times of trouble. Some people try to drink their
worries away, others sit in churches and pray, and I sit here."
"What do you
do for a living?"
"God, that's
another problem! I used to work for a travel agent, but they made
me redundant."
"You have got
problems!" I sighed. "Still, try and look on the bright side."
Dare I invite
him back to the house? I wondered, my vaginal juices seeping
between my swelling labia. We could drink wine, forget our problems
and... No, I didn't trust myself. I knew that, the minute I'd lured
him into the house, I'd offer him my naked body, part my hairless
pussy lips and offer my vaginal mouth to his erect penis.
Should I
appease my inner desires and fuck him on the common? I wondered.
Amongst the bushes we were secluded, hidden from the prying eyes of
the world. No one would know, and I'd be safe in my debauchery. I
should have been at home, writing, cooking, pottering in the garden
as I used to, I chastised myself. Housewife, homemaker,
writer...
But the more I
thought about his beautiful cock, his purple knob, the more I
wanted to suck him to orgasm. Fight myself as I did in the
battlefield of my mind, my clitoris pulsated as I pictured sperm
jetting from his twitching penis, and I thought I was about to
come.
"Barry," I
said softly. "Barry, I..."
"You what?" he
smiled, lying beside me.
"Nothing."
"It's nice
here, away from the crowds, the world. I could sit here beneath the
sun forever."
Resting on my
elbow, I gazed at the crotch of his jeans, bulging with his penis,
his balls. Did he masturbate? I wondered. With his marital
problems, did he wank and waste his spunk? My hand trembling, I
almost reached out and squeezed him, stroked the swelling denim.
Friends? I pondered as my mouth watered at the thought of drinking
his gushing sperm. What was the matter with me? Why couldn't I
control myself? He'd think me a tart if I unzipped his jeans and
pulled his penis out!
As I unbuckled
his belt, he closed his eyes as if he'd been expecting me to make a
sexual advance. Perhaps he'd glimpsed my knickerless pussy. Had he
sensed my desire? I wondered as I tugged his zip down. Raising his
buttocks as I pulled his jeans and boxer shorts down, he remained
silent. What was he thinking? I wondered, taking his stiffening
penis in my hand. What were his male thoughts?
Pulling his
foreskin back, I ran my fingertip over his purple plum, wondering
whether to suck his glans into my thirsty mouth or sit astride him
and impale my spasming cunt on his solid shaft. Gasping as I
kneaded his heavy balls, his penis twitching, he was obviously
enjoying my intimate attention and I wondered how long it had been
since he'd last had sex.
Leaning over,
I sucked on his ballooning knob, pulling his foreskin right back,
exposing his silky-smooth globe to my sweeping tongue. Lowering my
head, I took as much of his solid cock into my mouth as was
possible, my lips stretched tautly around his veined shaft, his
knob at the back of my throat. His balls rolled and heaved as I
gently tickled his hairy bag with my fingernails. If he came in my
mouth, would he be able to fuck me? In his youth, he'd probably be
able to come twice, I decided, bobbing my head up and down, fucking
him with my wet mouth. The old man had come twice.
Emitting long,
low moans as I hugged his glans between my full lips, he arched his
back as I ran my tongue round his salty globe. Desperate for his
sperm, I licked and sucked his purple crown, kneaded his rolling
balls, wanked his hard shaft until his body became rigid in the
beginnings of his coming. His sperm suddenly jetting into my mouth,
bathing my sweeping tongue, he thrust his hips, mouth-fucking me as
his orgasm rolled on.
I didn't
swallow, allowing his spunk to pour from my mouth and run down his
cock, flow over his heaving balls in rivers of milk. Gasping and
moaning, his body shaking uncontrollably, he continued to pump out
his white liquid as I expertly caressed his throbbing knob with my
wet tongue. Repeatedly sucking and then opening my mouth, his sex
milk bathing his shaft, his hairy ball bag, the flow finally
stemmed, leaving him gasping in the aftermath of his obvious
release.
Slipping his
cock out of my mouth, I licked his twitching shaft, lapping up the
white liquid as he writhed on the grass. Did I want to whip his
cock? In my crudity, I wanted to thrash his veined member, watch
the weals fan out over his brown skin. But he wouldn't allow me
such pleasure, I knew. If only I had a pair of handcuffs, I
reflected, imagining him at my mercy, his naked body writhing
beneath the whip.
As I lifted my
dress and sat astride him, settling my gaping vaginal crack over
his flaccid penis, I rocked my hips, the sperm squelching, mingling
with my own juices of desire. I felt my clitoris throb in
expectation against the silky-smooth wetness of his knob, my cunt
tightening, my womb rhythmically contracting.
His shaft
hardening, I grabbed the base of his cock and sank his glans deep
into my burning cunt, my pelvis bloating with his magnificent organ
as my swollen outer lips hugged the base of his penis. Bouncing up
and down as his shaft fully stiffened, I whimpered in my
debauchery, the sensations of crude sex sending quivers up my
spine.
My clitoris
massaged by his dripping cock, I came quickly, crying out as my
orgasm gripped me, shook me to the core. My vulval flesh sticky
with spunk and my juices of lust, I prayed for him to come again as
his knob battered my cervix. My orgasm rolling on as I bounced my
trembling body up and down faster, my breasts heaving, my nipples
brushing against the sensuality of my dress, I sustained my
multiple orgasm.
At last, I
felt his second flow of spunk jetting deep into my cunt, pouring
from my inflamed duct, squishing as my fiery sex flesh repeatedly
slapped his balls. Riding him to my sexual heaven, sustaining our
illicit climaxes, I shuddered, tossing my head back as the last
ripples of carnality surged through my pelvis and touched my womb.
I'd done it, seduced a stranger on the common, sucked out his
spunk, fucked him, appeased my thirst for sex. The nymphomaniac
within me had found gratification - for the time being.
Finally
rolling off his trembling body, I licked his balls, lapping up the
copious blend of sperm and cunny juice. Sinking my teeth into his
flaccid shaft, I was desperate for his cock to re-stiffen, to enter
me and fuck me again. Sucking his wet knob into my hot mouth,
tonguing his plum, I closed my eyes as my cunt tightened again. My
insatiable thirst for crude sex would never wane, and I knew I'd
meet him at our thinking place again - our secret fucking
place.
Cleansing his
balls, lapping up our orgasmic juices, I finally sat upright and
looked into his dark eyes. What did he think of me now? I wondered
as he tugged his shorts and jeans up. Selina Goodman, the
best-selling author - the common whore, the tart. The possibility
of friendship had been blown away, tossed on the winds of lust.
"OK?" I asked
as he buckled his belt. Smiling, he said nothing. There were no
words, only thoughts and emotions drifting between us. As I climbed
to my feet and tugged my dress down, he glimpsed my hairless sex
crack, his lips furling into a grin. Had he noticed the fading
weals?
"We'll meet
again," I said at last.
"I hope so,"
he replied pensively.
"Here, in our
thinking place."
"Our loving
place."
Walking
through the bushes and out onto the common, I left him to his
thoughts of sex and love. His sperm ran down my inner thighs as I
made my way home, trickling, seeking, cooling my soft skin. Sex and
love? They were miles apart, only bridged briefly during fleeting
moments of passion. Had I found love with Crystal? She had no
sperm.
Nearing my
house, as if waking from a dream, I became aware of the world.
People walked, cars passed, the distant laughter of children from a
nearby school drifted through the still air, a dog barked in the
distance. I was different, living my life like a dream, living my
life through sex. Sex was my life.
Opening the
front door, I decided to get back to work, carry on with the book
while Danny wasn't around to disturb me. I'd ring Tammy at some
stage to reassure her, tell her that I was doing well with my
writing. I should have taken Crystal's phone number. I wanted to
call her, invite her round for the evening.
"At last!" the
bitch grinned as I walked into the lounge to answer the phone.
"Get out of my
house!" I spat, my stomach churning as I glared at her. "How dare
you..."
"Calm down,
Selina. Remember what I said about obedience?"