"Ass Reaming" - читать интересную книгу автора (Michaels Blake)

Chapter 5

"How would you like to go for a ride in the country, slut?" Bruce asked me over coffee the following bright morning.

I was surprised at his attitude and tone. I didn't expect him to carry his thoughts of our sex session over into ordinary conversation. But I didn't make any scene. I ignored the implications.

"That would be nice," I answered.

"Good. Then, after we've cleaned up, I know just the place to go. By the way, have you looked at your backside this morning?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," I answered. "I don't like what I see."

"But you liked getting it, didn't you?"

"Well… "

"Didn't you?" he persisted.

"Under the circumstances of the moment, I did. But that doesn't mean I have to like the after-effects."

"It's all part of the game, baby," his sober voice intoned.

I thought over what he had just said. I supposed that I had to agree with him.

We finished our breakfast in relative simplicity and silence.

"Oh," I said. "This is absolutely wonderful. It's delicious just to be able to lie back and enjoy the clean silence of the country."

"Yeah," Bruce answered. "It's nice once in a while. In fact, it's even nicer when you've got a hot ass hole wrapped around your cock, or I guess it could also be a cunt depending on taste."

I looked at him sharply. He had the habit of saying the strangest things at the strangest times.

Sex was the farthest thing from my mind. I was drinking in the delights of nature's country air and hearing the happy, carefree sounds of the country. I really wasn't thinking about sex at all.

But when he said that, the thought suddenly came to me that I still had not gotten his cock into me. He had managed to avoid that scene. I still really wanted him.

My crotch gave an involuntary twitch of anticipation.

"I guess you're right," I agreed.

"How would you like a stiff cock up that ass of yours?" he asked.

I didn't know how to answer him.

"You're still hungry for cock, aren't you?" he went on.

"I guess I am," I answered.

"Then, feel this," he suggested, taking my hand and resting it over his crotch.

I could feel his manliness coming to the fore once again. His huge cock had already begun to firm up. I could feel coiled power throbbing and twitching within the confines of his briefs.

Just the touch of him started my insides churning. My ass hole began to ready itself. My breasts drew tight and the nipples stood up, hard and eager.

My mind began to reel, conjuring up visions of his huge cock slipping into my love-hole.

I closed my fingers over him.

"Like that, don't you bitch?" he asked, his voice now hard.

"Yes," I murmured softly.

"Then love it," he said, shoving himself into my hand. "Show me how you love it."

I tried, but his tight slacks and his even tighter briefs held his member in strict confinement. I could do no more than open the fly of his pants and stroke his fullness within his briefs.

But even that small consolation was enough to satisfy me for the moment.

I caressed it, stroking my fingers back and forth over the length of it. I felt it harden and straighten out.

He, on the other hand, lay on his back, resting his head in his hands, and looked up at the sky, impassively.

His aloofness bothered me. I resolved to break through it.

"Bruce, please fuck me."

He responded by pressing his crotch against my hand again.

"Bruce," I repeated, softly and seductively, "please fuck me with that cock. You promised to do it last night. You threatened to do it at Bill's. But you've held me off. Why?"

"Because I want you to really want it," he said in a matter of fact voice. "I want you to really worship this cock of mine. And the only way you can do that is to want it bad, really bad. I want to see your mouth water for the taste of it," he continued. "I want to see your cunt lips work for the feel of it."

"But haven't I convinced you that I really want it? What do I really have to do?"

"Become my slave!" he spat, turning his head look me squarely in the eyes.

"Your slave?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. My slave."

"But what does a slave do to prove she wants cock?" I asked, trying to remain calm and appear unconcerned.

"A slave, you filthy slut, lets her man know he is her master. She subjugates herself to his will."

"Oh. And how does she do that?"

"Suck my toes," he ordered.

I looked at him.

"I said, suck my toes!" his voice was hard.

I didn't move.

"See? You're not really a slave yet. Any other bitch would have been busy already. You're too wrapped up in your own little pride and independence to be a good slave.

"You're just a whore, a lowdown whore. Give you something up your cunt and you'll do anything. That is, anything so long as you don't have to work for it."

I didn't understand this man. How could he be so cold, so cruel, without moving a muscle?

I was hurt. I wanted to cry.

I moved my hand away from his crotch and danced it down his hard leg, toward his knee. It went down over his calf and onto his foot. I undid the buckle of his sandal and it fell from his foot.

I looked him in the face. He was glaring at me. His eyes were like cold steel. He said nothing. He moved nothing.

Slowly, as though wanting to be certain he was aware of my movements, I changed my position. I slid low on the blanket, moving toward his foot.

I wanted to please this man. I wanted to win him. And to do so, I would have to play by his rules, rules that I really didn't find very difficult. It was only that it was such a new role, such a new experience.

My lips touched the skin of the sole of his foot, gently, lovingly. My tongue crept from between my lips, hesitantly.

Contact was made.

His foot moved. It twitched.

Confidently now, my tongue came full out of my mouth and I ran it the length of his foot. The taste and the smell of his masculine odors was arousing me.

"Ohhhh," I moaned.

"Bitch! Cunt! Whore! Slut!" he replied, pushing his foot harder and harder against my lips, pressing them against my teeth. It hurt.

I retreated so as to reduce the pressure.

He pressed again, hard, turning the toes of his foot downward, flattening my nose against my face.

I continued to suck his foot and lick it all over.

"Eat it, you filthy, cock-loving piece of trash!" he said, his voice once again impersonal. But this time it sounded a bit more excited.

I did as I was bid.

I had wet his foot as much as I could, and moved up his leg as far as his pants would allow.

I was excited, now. My hand was between my legs, rubbing my already moist twat.

"Oh, Bruce," I said. "Oh, Bruce, fuck me. Please fuck me!"

"When you're ready for it," he said. "When you're really ready for it."

"But I am ready," I whimpered, continuing to lick his foot. "I'm ready for you, hungry for you."

"But do you want cock?"

"Oh, yes, I want your cock. I want it in me. I want to feel it stretch me, stab me, poke me, anything! Only please fuck me, now!"

As I was saying this, I was busy removing my clothing. My body was on fire. I was lost in another sea of passion, drenched in desire, drained of restraints.

"Oh, slam it to me," I moaned, spreading my legs and rolling on my back."

"Wait right here," Bruce said, sitting up and putting his sandal back on. "I've got to get something."

I looked at him, longingly, hungrily.

He saw my gaze. "You really are turned on, aren't you-?" he observed.

"For you, yes," I said, "For your cock, for your balls."

"Good. Now you be a nice cunt and lie right there. I'll be right back."

He got to his feet, continuing to stare at my nude body lying there, waiting for him to conquer me. He had already conquered me mentally. Now I wanted him to conquer me physically.

I stroked my cunt gently, pressing my finger against the aroused stem of flesh, my clit. It sent a tingle through my body.

I wanted Bruce back with me. I didn't even want him to go away for a moment.

I watched him as he walked away, his tall frame working like a well-oiled machine. His ass and hips rose and fell under the tight material of his pants.

I watched him as he went down the path toward the car. I heard the car door open and close.

And then I heard the engine!

It roared to life and I heard the car drive away. Very quickly.

I was incensed. I was furious. Forty miles from anywhere and I was stranded. I was so angry and upset that I didn't dress. I kept calling him queer and yelling all sorts of obscenities at him; too bad he couldn't hear me.

I was soon exhausted; I lay down and fumed.

And while I did, I continued stroking into my cunt with my finger!

Warm feelings immersed my body, but my mind would not rest. I had been dumped. I had been left high and dry.

Still feeling the pangs of passion, I slowly got back into my clothing. I folded the blanket and then decided to leave it. It was Bruce's. It wasn't mine.

On the highway, I started walking back toward the city. Forty miles…

The sound of an automobile came to my ears and I turned to see what it was. It was a pickup truck, and as the driver saw me, it slowed down.

Without hesitation or questions, I got in.

"Where are you going?" the driver asked.

He was in his late thirties, stocky of build and well-tanned from plenty of outdoor living. The dirt under his nails told me he was a farmer.

"Back to the city. Back to Boston," I said dejectedly.

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" he asked.

"You wouldn't believe it if 1 told you," I answered.

"Try me," he prodded.

"How far are you going?" I asked, ignoring his offer to serve as my confessor.

"I'm going into the city, too," he answered, a sharp and even white line of teeth showing from between his lips.

The vehicle started to move back onto the high-way and I relaxed in the seat, slipping my hips forward and resting my head on the back of the seat. I was tired.

"This is no place for a girl to be, dressed the way you're dressed," he commented.

"Why not?" I asked curiously.

"Well, for one thing," he began, "Those togs are for city walking, not for the country. And for another thing, those clothes are too revealing. They show too much. You could get yourself attacked or something."

"The way I feel," I said, "I don't think I could really care."

"Is that right?" he asked.

His hand was on my breast.

I sat up, quickly, brushing his hand away and trying to appear indignant.

The feeling was exciting. The feel of a man's hand on my breast turned on an alarm. My system was ready for him, a man! He was a man! I wanted him, even in spite of my anger with Bruce. Yes, I wanted this man.

I wanted revenge on Bruce. I wanted to show him I could do without his slimy cock, but it was a beautiful, long cock.

"What's your name?" he asked. "Mine is Jim."

"I'm Kim," I answered, feeling his hand close about my tit again.

"Glad to meet you," he said, applying more pressure to my breast.

I looked over at him, seeking out his crotch. There was life there. It promised pleasure.

His tool rested along his left leg, poking down toward his knee. It was fat, and I could see the outline of its head pressing against the material of his jeans.

I reached over and rested my hand on its hardness. It really excited me.

Without saying anything, he pulled off the highway onto an old, little-used dirt road. It went only a short way, ending in a clump of trees, secure from the road.

He switched off the truck's ignition and turned toward me and leaned forward. One of his hands reached for the back of my head and pulled me toward him.

At the same time, his other hand was slipping, quickly, impatiently, up my leg. It went up the inside of my thigh.

Our lips met and his coarse beard scratched into my face.

I felt my body going limp in his massive embrace. I felt my legs relax and slowly slip apart, minimizing any impediment that might slow his progress.

I wanted to be fucked.

I was going to be fucked.

"Oh, baby," he whispered into my ear, "You're some dish!"

"Ohhhh," was all I could respond. His fingers had come in contact with my pussy and I felt my hips give way involuntarily.

His expert fingers soon found my clit and he started rubbing it with his index finger.

I could feel the sandpaper roughness of his windburned fingers.

I liked it.

I reached down between his legs and deftly opened his fly and slipped my hand inside, down his left leg, along the length of his stiff cock.

It was fat, hard and seemed to be very long, too. Just the way I like cock.

It was uncircumcised, and the loose skin clung to his cock-head.

"What say we get ourselves comfortable," he suggested, not moving his body.

"Great," I responded.

We moved from the truck, and Jim turned to pull the seat from the vehicle.

He laid it on the ground near the truck and began to slip out of his clothes. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over the side of the truck.

He was muscularly well-developed. The muscles rippled under his taut skin, the nipples of his chest looked like bull's-eyes on a pair of hairy targets.

His chest was covered by a thin layer of black hair that his sweat had matted in little ringlets here and there.

When his pants fell, I saw that his legs were strong, powerful, and stocky. They were hard and full, and came together at his crotch between his rigid cock. This wanger was curved, and the pink skin of the crown glared through the dark ring of foreskin covering it.

I had already slipped out of my simple clothing. I fell to my knees in front of him, darting my tongue out to brush his nuts, which were tightly drawn in their sac. They nestled at the base of his cock.

Feverishly, I wet them, poking my tongue between his legs, under his balls, up over the under- 95 side of his cock and onto hard flesh of the cock-head.

Cock, cock, cock, the thought was buzzing in my mind. I wanted cock, cock, cock.

My hands were busy slipping him out of his loafers and socks.

He stood nude before me.

My body quivered with hunger. It shook with the excitement of what was about to happen.

Jim pushed his cock downward from the base, and it changed its direction, poking directly at me.

I opened my mouth and engulfed the head, slipping my mouth completely from his cock to have another look.

The foreskin nestled behind the crown of his cock-head, excited me. My cunt was screaming for its share.

Slowly. I let my body slip from him, back onto the seat, which was just behind me.

I spread myself on it, lying across the seat. My head was high at the end of the cushion.

Jim stood over me, stroking his cock gently, looking down on my pussy; its lips were pulled back, offering themselves and their depths to him.

He came down onto me, slowly, gently, aiming his cock directly for my cunt. He found the target without difficulty and slid it into me.

Oh, the glorious feeling!

His hot, dry skin scraped against the walls of my overheated cunt. It felt like a steel poker with rough edges inviting itself for a stay.

Deeper and deeper it slipped. I could feel the lips being stretched by the broadness of his cock-base. His cock fitted into me snugly, tightly.

When he had lowered his full weight on top of me, his coarse chest hairs rubbed harshly against my sensitive breasts. He covered my mouth with his tongue.

The tongue made wide circles, wetting the outside of my lips, moving around and around slowly, but very expertly, reducing the size so that he was licking me directly on the lips, then on the inside of my lips.

Then his tongue was scraping against my teeth, moving ever forward onto my tongue. It went around and over the roof of my mouth, back into my throat, tickling my tonsils, twitching, poking.

My hands were on his back, pulling his body into mine, forcing him to flatten my breasts. I could feel his heart beating within his chest. Its pounding rhythm caught me and dragged me along with it.

I lowered my hands on his back, down over the fullness of his hairy ass. I cupped his buttocks in my hands, my fingers spread them wide, and I pushed my crotch up into him.

"Aahhhh," he cried. "That is really a beautiful cunt!"

"Ohhhh," I echoed, mimicking his tone, "that beautiful prick!"

I began and maintained a steady rhythm, pushing my loins up into him, sinking his cock to the hilt, but not withdrawing it, only relieving the pressure.

I started swiveling my hips, making circles with my snatch. I could feel his cock responding to my movements. It was circling inside of me, the base being held firm by my swollen pussy lips, and the head of the shaft swinging in a larger, more encompassing arc.

It pushed and scraped against the walls of my sensitive cunt.

It prodded its way home.

Suddenly, he raised his body off me, holding it straight, bracing it on his extended arms.

"Hold that box still, baby," he said. "This ride's on me!"

And with that, he began taking long strokes into me, lowering his entire body until he was lying on me. And then, straightening his arms, he lifted his whole body from me.

His eyes were on his cock. He was watching it appear and disappear, alternately, as it slipped in and out of my waiting cunt.

I was delirious. I couldn't hold myself still. I had to move. I had to have him. Quickly! Completely!

"Oh, fuck, fuck me!" I moaned.

"Will do," he said, through gritted teeth. "Will do." And he renewed his plunges, picking up speed.

My head was lying back over the seat. My hair was tangled in the grass. My eyes were closed and my mouth hung open.

"Oh, that cock!" I moaned. "That beautiful cock. Give it to me! Fuck it into my wet cunt!"

My hips were gyrating obscenely. My heels were dug into the soft soil. I was bucking up to meet his every thrust, greedily.

"Oh, wow!" he said. "Oh, wow! That pussy's hot, biting and burning. It hasn't been had for a long time," he went on. "But it's going to get fucked now! It's really going to get it! Just like you want it, hard and deep."

I stifled a chuckle. I couldn't imagine where he got the idea that my pussy had not been touched for a long time. If I were to tell him what had really happened to me. I doubted he would believe me.

"You don't know how badly it wants to be fucked," I said. "You don't know… how much it really wants it!"

I was lunging up against him, furiously slapping my groin against him. I could hear the moist slapping sounds of our flesh as it came into contact.

I raised my head and looked at him. He was staring fascinated at his cock, little dribbles of saliva clinging to the corners of his mouth. He was really going to town.

I looked down and saw what he saw.

His glistening shaft was slamming into me like a well-lubricated piston: in and out, in and out.

I slid lower on the seat cushion, changing the direction of his cock, forcing it to push more directly downward into me. And, as I did so, I felt it begin to rub against my clit.

"Oh, that's it, man," I rasped. "Fuck it into me. Tear my cunt apart. Plow it with that tool!"

"I am, baby," he said, "I am! It's so good, I don't want to come, ever! I want to spend the rest of the day here, just plugging you. Right up your cunt. Right up that beautiful, wetly hungry cunt of yours."

I was clinging to his every word. I was wallowing in the sensuality of the sex he was radiating.

His body was glistening from his effort. It shone and reflected the light like polished marble.

It was hard as a rock, his muscles tensed, his whole body was on me. It was forceful, overpowering, and manly.

I could feel bells start to vibrate in my head.

I could hear them in my ears.

The sound waves they created numbed my nerves, chilled my blood.

The feeling crept slowly but relentlessly down my body, closer to my cunt with every passing instant.

I didn't want it to stop. I didn't want it to end.

I tried to fight it off. But it would not slow. It would not stop.

Lower and lower the warm numbness engulfed me. There was no more paramount point of attention to my body than my cunt.

It was tingling.

It was throbbing.

It was coming!

"I'm coming… I'm coming… I'm… I'm shooting… Aaaggghhh!"

I felt the food of life gushing out of me. I felt my head tighten, the invisible band around my forehead pulling tighter and tighter, cutting off any sense of reason. The birds all disappeared. Smells vanished.

I could only see the blinding sun glaring down on me through the trees.

I could feel my body coming apart. I could feel tension dripping from me, running from me. It left me limp and wilted.

My body went limp and my head continued to spin.

"Oh, baby," I heard, as though from a distance. "Oh baby! Shit! Oh shit, I can't hold it anymore! I don't want to come… I don't want to! But I can't help it. I have to… I have to… "

I flew into a sexual rage. My body began contorting wildly. My legs flew into the air and locked around him. My cunt sucked hungrily on his torrid tool.

My nails dug into his back. I bit his ear. I clung to him like a leech, draining not his blood, but his come.

Then there was a throb. Then another one.

"Oh, shit! Now, there it is… oh, shit! Take it, baby… take it. Take it all… "

His hips arched into me, stabbing me almost painfully, lodging himself deep in my canal.

And then I felt it.

Liquid fire! Draining into me! Running down my canal.

It was seeping out the limp lips of my womanhood.

It was burning… searing… scorching!

We lay there for a very long time after that. His cock did not soften. It remained hard.

We rolled off the seat onto the soft, cool grass, our bodies still locked together in their carnal embrace.

He kissed me and we made love again.

He continued to stroke his cock into me, gently, caressingly, lovingly.

"Oh, please," I begged, "fuck me again. Give it to me please. I can't stand it. I've got to have that cock. Oh, shit, my cunt's burning. I've got to be fucked. Jesus, fuck me. FUCK ME!"

"Oh. Jesus, baby, if only I could. You just don't know what you did to me. Christ, you just don't know."

"But I want it. Please, God, I need it. My cunt's on fire." I was almost crying. I was crying.

"Baby, try to understand! You're just too much for me, too much. Usually I can fuck a second time, but you're just too much fucking cunt. Do you understand?"

I was too consumed by the fires raging inside me to either hear or understand what he was saying to me.

"Oh, please," I begged. "Fuck it. Fuck me. Fuck my cunt."

"But I can't, god dammit. That cunt of yours is too much for one cock; too much for this cock."

And then he was free of me. His cock popped from my throbbing, itching hole, sounding like a cork from a bottle of wine.

Silently, we dressed and Jim drove me back home. All the way back to the city I was unable to sit still in the car. The burning itch inside my cunt increased and I found myself praying that Jim would fuck me again. And if he didn't, what would I do?

The juice was oozing out of me, soaking my already wet panties. The smell of cunt, my cunt, filled the car. For a minute, I was tempted to just pull my panties off and finger-fuck myself, but I decided to wait. There might still be a cock waiting for me. You never could tell.

By the time we got to my place, the temperature inside my cunt had died down slightly, but I was still starving for a nice, hard cock.