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June 17, 2007

Lesbian Nurse Sex Story

Filed under: cum stories, medical sex, nude nurses — Administrator @ 8:48 am

Chapter 1

I moved to Guildford two years ago; John was transferred and I had to leave my
job as a secretary for Colson’s, a wine importer back in Warminster. I had no
real qualifications, but we needed the money from both of us working - and I
was getting bored fixing up the new house and window-shopping in the town
centre. Eventually John bought up my old nursing qualification - It’d already
occurred to me, but I wasn’t sure that it was what I wanted now. I’d drifted
into the classes at 16, with nothing else to do, and passed the qualifiying
exams, then after half-heartedly applying for a couple of local posts thrown
it all up and worked for Colson’s for four stagnant years.

John thought it was a great idea. “Give them a call tomorrow, love”, he said,
nestled under my arm as we lay in bed that night. His hands were wandering
about in their familiar and welcome pre-sex rounds; I lay back, relaxed as he
gently turned me on, stroking the outline of my thighs, the curve of my
bottom, my stomach. I saw him looking at my nipples under my T shirt - he
knows how sensitive they are, what they do to me - and I felt the melting
begin in my tummy as he pulled the T shirt up to my shoulders and sucked the
nearest erect nipple between his warm lips, tweaking the other between the
outside of his index and middle fingers. I lay there passively, as his
suction drove pleasure throughout my body, radiating from my nipples, my
breath deepening. He lay on his side at my side, now, and I could feel the
heat of his cock throbbing against the cool, smooth skin of my thigh. It felt
bigger than its seven inches (I’ve measured it for him!), hot and blunt; I
couldn’t stop my bottom shifting in the bed of its own accord to turn and
press my thighs against it, my breasts against his lightly-haried chest. Now
I felt my usual urgent need to be taken by him, to be overwhelmed; my open
mouth found his and our tongues talked and chattered. His large hands ranged
down over my bottom, first pressing it down to push my delta gainst his stiff
tool, then to part the globes with his palms while running his forefinger
lightly over my anus, then down, gently, to make small, gentle circles at the
now sticky bottom of my vagina while his other hand tweaked a nipple sharply.

He shifted, pushing me on my back and rising - I opened my legs to him, held
out my arms for him as he positioned himself above me - in the half-light I
could see the outlines of his cock as it rose past his navel. I would have it
- in me - now! At the thought I felt an unbearable sticky itch within me that
only his cock could scratch, I murmured, “Fuck your cock in me, Fuck me!”
With one hand he forced it down, pushed the plump head up and down in my slick
entrance, pressed on the hood over my clitoris, then, as if tiring of teasing
me, he manouvered his stiff, vein-ribbed dong, it was stiff, stiff, to the
inner channel, then quickly, smoothly, pushed it all, all of the stiff, in my
hot, oily tunnel.

Breath whooshed from me as he entered; the feel of the full length of John’s
cock stretching me comfortably and juicily made me woozy with pleasure: before
I recovered I felt the brief intimate slap of his balls against my smooth
bottom-cheeks and his hand pulling at my left nipple again. The sensations
overwhelmed me, rode me up my pleasure, too many to keep track of. I could
feel all his veins in his cock as it pressed in, the pleasure-pain in my soft
breasts, his weight forcing me, taking me, the butterball heat-itch in my
middle being scratched with his slick, blunt fuck-tool. I gasped out, my hair
dischevelled, my hands at his chest, my legs wrapped around his bottom,
looking in his eyes as he pounded me now, a thin sweat on his muscular body -
bigger than me, taking me - his thickness stove in and out, moving my pleasure
on, closer to blotting me.

“Cocksucker!” John said to me distractedly, his breath ragged, “Fuck-Bitch”.
I could see he was approaching his orgasm, and I needed mine - I pushed
against him with my thighs, now, and his enraged cock thrust in a little
deeper, he slapped against me, and again - my pleasure neared its peak as his
thrusts became deeper, longer, His frantic fingers pinched my nipple hard and
pulled up on it with a sharp pain - I surrendered to the body-filling waves of
ecstacy. “Cunt, Cunt!”, his breath gasped from him now, and finally he
pressed into me with all his body, and even in my daze of sensations I felt
his spunk jet out from his iron cock, into me, filling me, his cock still
filling my channel, so full! I held him to me, savouring the completeness, my
vacant cunt filled.

Finally he shrunk, panting, and his heated body cleaved off from our mingled
sweat and clumped down beside me. Tendrils of pleasure sang me to sleep.

Chapter 2

Guildford General did have a vacancy for a qualified Staff Nurse, in fact for
two of them. An interview was arranged for the following friday with the ward
sister, Angela Leighton, just after lunch. The receptionist told me they’d
had dozens of enquiries from an advert in a local paper, so my hopes were
pretty grim.

I wasted half an hour trying on various outfits - I settled on a medium-length
wollen skirt with a businesslike creme silk chemise, without the bra - I
didn’t want them to think I was some old fogey, or whatever.

When I turned up - a little early - I was shown into her little office, and
took a seat nervously. Angela wasn’t there yet, so I sat quietly with my
hands in my lap and tried to think of something else. Muted chatter and the
clink and rumble of trolleys outside the open door lulled me, and I relaxed a
little. After a few minutes a nurse in her early thirties with her blond hair
tied severely back stepped through the door with a sheaf of folders. “Are you
Wendy Stanton?” I nodded and rose, “Hello, ” she said, with a smile, “I’m
Angela Leighton - Anglea, alright?” I smiled back. She sat down and leafed
through a pile of folders already on her desk. “Right - If I can just get
this form…OK. ” She pulled a pen from her breast pocket. “OK.
Wendy…Stanton… - what’s your address, Wendy?” I told her and she copied
it down. “Right - Erm, Female, no, no, yes, erm… twenty-fifth.”. She went
on with questions about my qualifications and school history. We covered
previous employers, then she rose and shut the door, and sat down again. “OK,
Wendy, that’s, erm, so far, so good. Now I have to ask you some personal
questions, do you mind?” I said whatever was necessary was fine by me.

“OK.” She ferreted out a clean sheet of paper and put the form to one side.
“When was your first sexual experience?” Well, this took me by surprise a
little. ” Do you mean masturbation, or real intercourse?” I asked. “Well,
masturbation counts, I guess,” she said, with a gleam in her eyes. “When I
was fourteen, then,” I said. She made notes on the paper. “Was that when you
were alone, or .. mutual masturbation?” At this a brief flash of memory of
Claire flashed by, dislodging more feelings with it than it ought to.

“Actually, it was with my best friend at the time.”, I said in a sort of
impulsive confidence.

“A Girl, then?”

“Yes, ” I said, reddening and wishing I hadn’t been so honest. Anglea gave no
signs and made more notes.

“What is your sexual preference at the present time?”, Angela looked me
straight in the eyes across the desk as she asked. “I can’t believe this is
relevant, ” I began.

“I know it seems that way, ” said Anglea in a warm tone, “but trust me, Wendy,
it’s very relevant to this job. But if you don’t want to say…” she let it
hang. “Heterosexual.”, I said. “Exclusively Heterosexual.” I added. Angela
nodded sagely and gave me an appraising look that covered most of my body. I
looked down in confusion to see my nipples erect through the silk chemise. I
blushed and looked in the corner. Angela coughed and the questions turned to
my history of diseases and allergies.

Finally, she finished and we both rose. She gave me a warm smile. “I think
you’ve done very well, Wendy; we’ll be in touch.” I felt her eyes on my body
as I left. Were those questions for real, or was she some kind of lesbian?

Chapter Three

The ‘phone rang on Tuesday morning - it was Angela herself. “Hello Wendy!
I’m very pleased to say that we’ve selected you for one of the positions!”

“That’s great,” I said, pleased. “When do I start?”

“Sooner the better, I think, ” said Anglea. “Why don’t you come to my house
this evening and I’ll take you through an idea of your duties?”

She gave me directions and her number in case I got lost, and I said I’d be
there for nine. I had a long bath that afternoon, and in the middle of it
remembered that John was working late tonight. I wrapped a towel around me
and called Angela at the Hospital to ask if she’d mind picking me up, although
John’d probably be back by the time we’d finished and could drive me back.
She was only the other side of town, anyhow. “No problem, Wendy, No problem”,
she replied, “See you at nine. I’m really looking forward to it.”.

Jeez, what did that mean? I was beginning to wonder if Angela was a Lesbian,
and she fancied me. All those questions! What did I feel about that? It
reminded me of Claire; but that was a long time ago, now. Somehow in my
mind’s eye my image of Claire seemed to be wearing starch, white linen, now.
I gave a little shiver and finished my bath.

I spent the next couple of hours lounging around, getting dinner and watching
TV, surprising myself a little with my growing restlessness. I settled on
jeans and a T-shirt, and after some indecision, decided on a bra. As nine
O’Clock approached, I grew steadily more nervous, and had a glass of wine from
out of the fridge to calm myself down.

The doorbell rang at five to nine - Angela stood there in her uniform.
“You’re Ready?” she asked, with her warm smile. I told her I was, shut the
door and we both walked to her car.

“I hope it’s not too late for you, tonight - it’s just it’s the end of my
shift at 8:30″ she said, once we were underway. I told her it was fine, and
that anyway, I needed the job badly. We made small talk, and eventually we
pulled up at her block of flats. She parked the car, and we got out into an
awkward silence. She led the way to her flat, unlocked the door. It was a
cosy flat, with rugs on the floor and hung on the walls, ornaments and
nick-nacks everywhere. “Make yourself at home,” said Angela, and went off to
make some tea. I made for the sofa and looked around while Anglea made
tea-making noises in the kitchen. She had some photographs framed sitting on
a dresser - there was a couple of a little boy, as a young baby, then at two
or so, then one of Angela with a younger black-haired girl, standing in front
of a tree sheilding their eyes from the sun, and - my eyes must have bugged
out - one of Angela and the black haired girl kissing. I looked away, just in
time to collect my tea from Angela - she must have seen me looking, but said
nothing.

“OK, ” said Angela, and she began to take me through the shift times, and a
quick idea of who I would be working with. I was half listening to her.
Running through my mind like a stuck record was “Angela licks cunts”. I
stared at her lips as she spoke, unable to not imagine them pushed against a
moist cunt, her nose buried in the pubes. “Are you free tomorrow afternoon?
I’ll show you around the ward, and introduce you.” I said I was.

“Angela,” I said, hesitantly. She gave me her full attention with her green
eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

She said nothing in a way that was an assent. “Are you… erm, do you
prefer… other women?” I croaked out, redenning.

“You mean, ‘Am I a Lesbian’? What made you ask that,” she said in an even
tone, giving nothing away.

“Well, the questions you asked at the interview, and, the… picture over
there…”, I indicated, and ground into an embarassed silence. “I’m sorry, ”
I began, “I shouldn’t…”

“Yes, ” she said, cutting me short. “I am a Lesbian. Women turn me on, I
love women. I don’t hate men, just prefer women. By a good margin.” She
looked me steadily in the eyes, I guess I gaped back at her. There was a
silence built of cast iron.

Chapter 4

“I’m not going to jump on you,” she said finally, with her calm smile; I
laughed nervously. “Look, do you want to go? ” she asked, in a way indicating
she would understand, wouldn’t be offended. “No, No,” I insisted, “I just
wanted to know.” The silence grew out again, my hand fidgeted in my lap.

“Wow, you look stressed out!” she exclaimed with a laugh. I smiled nervously
up at her. “Since you’re staying, would you like something a bit stronger
than tea to calm you down? Bacardi, Martini…?” I was aware we were heading
into dangerous territory here, but an ambivilence urged me on. “Yes, please!”
I said. She smiled at me and made me a Martini and lemonade - I accepted it
and gulped half of it down. “Who is your friend in the photgraph?” I asked.

“That’s Melanie - I guess you’d have to call her my ‘Lover’. We’ve being
going steady for three years, now. We don’t live together, though.”

“Oh.” I said. Angela eased herself beside me, at the oppsite end of the
three-seat sofa. She had been sitting in the Armchair across from me. “Can I
ask _you_ a question, now you’ve satisfied your curiosity,” she said, looking
mischevious. I said OK, and took another gulp of Martini.

“How did you and your friend get together that time when you were fourteen?”
She certainly hadn’t forgotten anything about our interview! She must fancy
me, that’s why she invited me over here, she wants to.. she wants to fuck me,
I thought, and my eyes glanced over her breasts. She noticed my attention,
and now her eyes were bright.

“Her name was Claire - she was a year older than me, much more confident than
I was. She - she made me do things.” She had mastered me; I had been her
slave. She had teased me with her too-perfect blonde body until I begged to
lick her perfect little sixteen-year-old cunt for her, tears in my eyes. She
never cared for me, and finished with me in two weeks, before moving on to
greater victories; I was like some kind of warm up for her. The last I heard
of her, she was high up in a famous woman’s magazine in London.

“She made you just masturbate her? Did she make you do anything else?”
Angela had edged closer on the sofa. I felt a familiar warmth between my
legs; I shivered. I couldn’t look Angela in the eyes, somehow, “She made me,
you know, do cunnilingus on her,” I stammered out. I glanced in her eyes, she
was beside me now. She looked magnificent, strong and confident, with me the
object of her attention, her prey; it was almost too much to smell her warm
perfume. Her breasts jutted up at me, crowded me. My nipples ached against
my bra cup, my insides began to melt. “Did you… enjoy it? Enjoy what she
made you do? Did you like being made to lick her cunt?” I stammered out some
nonsense as I felt her cool hand cup the back of my neck. “You like to be
made to do things, don’t you?” I glanced about like a frightened rabbit, but
her gaze transfixed me, and I stared my lostness into her green eyes as she
leant closer and brushed my parted lips with hers. “Poor Darling,” she
breathed, and stroked my hair. “You want to lick my cunt, don’t you? Do I
make you wet? Hmm?” I couldn’t have replied even if I knew what to say. I
felt so turned on by her attentions, by not knowing what she would do to me,
by her being in control, I was half out of my mind with desire.

Her hand at the back of my neck gathered my hair and pulled down on it hard
enough to make me turn my face up. “Put your tongue out,” she commanded,
keeping up the tension on my hair. I gazed at her, and peeped the tip out; it
felt so secret between us, we both imagined it buried in her cunt. She
laughed, and bent to kiss it, sucking hard on it. “Lick my cunt, Hmm? Lick
it?” her warm breath spoke into my mouth, as I gasped back into hers. She
released my hair, her hands were on my breasts now; she jerked the T shirt out
of my jeans, reached inside and unhooked my bra. My full breasts spilt
forward, to her hands, at first with my nipples burning into her palms, then
intense sensations swept me as she twisted my nipples roughly between her
thumb and forefingers.

Abruptly she let me go, and held out her hands to help me up from the sofa. I
was in a state, my bra half-on, and half off, my T shirt rumpled. She led me
by the hand into her bedroom, and sat me on her double bed. The sheets were
cool under me. “I… I…” I stuttered, but Angela was unzipping her nurse’s
uniform. She unhooked her bra, kicked off her shoes and her small breasts
bobbed free. She quickly slid her skirt down, then her panties, revealing her
carefully tended mound. It was cut very short, and shaved at the sides. She
was evidently a natural blonde.

She stood in front of me, her hands in my hair again, pushing my face into her
warm pubes. “Lick my cunt, Wendy, put your tongue in. I’m wet for you. Lick
me!” She parted her thighs, and ground my willing face into her moist slit.
The dark, heady perfume of her juices filled my lungs, intoxicated me. She
hunched forward, and I craned my head forward, then squeezed my tongue between
her cuntlips, tasting her heat and moisture. How sweet her moisture was!
With one hand she pressed my face into her mound, the other was busy at her
nipples, pulling them out and letting them snap back painfully. “Oh, you
tongue me, you slut,” she hissed, “you tongue-fuck my cunt.” She rocked her
thighs into my face. My tongue pressed into her moist creases, tasting her
sweet fresh juices.

Suddenly she pulled back, and tugged at my T shirt, pulling it up and over my
head. I held out my arms meekly, staring at her breasts with their stiff
nipple-turrets, and she pulled it off, my breasts jiggling, my nipples taut.
As she leaned over me to undo my jeans, I craned up and caught a nipple
between my lips briefly, then lay back as she took off my jeans and jerked my
panties down. She pushed me roughly over on my tummy, grabbed my hair with
one hand, and pulled it tight enough to hurt a little. “Slut! ” she said
loudly, and her open hand came down hard on my bottom with a loud smack. It
stung and I cried out, muffled by the bedcovers. “You want to tongue me,
Slut! Say it!” She smacked me again, harder. “Say it to me!” The burning
in my bottom joined with the warmth in my tingling slit.

“I…” She pulled back harder on my hair, bringing my head off the bedcovers,
smacked me again. Tendrils of pleasure-pain felt around by body. “I want to
tongue your cunt,” I whispered. And I did. I adored her strength, the way
she dominated me. I wanted to worship between her legs. I felt her thumb
force its way between my exposed bottom-cheeks, and press in and out against
my anus. I was hot, hot. I wanted to be taken.

She roughly turned me over again, on my back, and straddled herself on top of
me. She moved up until her breasts we above my face. “Suck my titties,
Slave-Slut,” she commanded from above me. I reached up and caressed them,
then craned up and captured each nipple in turn, sucking the nipples hard, how
I like it. “Ooooh, feels good!” Angela gasped. After a moment one of her
hands reached down to roll and tweak my left nipple painfully hard. I raised
a knee and ground it into her behind, above me. It felt hot and sticky. We
continued this way for minute, then she raised herself, and bought her sweet
cunt over my face. We stared into each other’s eyes with lust and love.
“Tongue me, Slut?” she teased, her perfect blonde quim inches above my hungry
lips. “Yes, yes,” I husked. Finally, she pressed her open thighs down on my
mouth. Her hot, sticky moistness enveloped me, and I was glad. I opened my
mouth so my top lip worked on her clitoris as I moved my head, while my tongue
pressed into her as far as it could go.

She rocked on her kees above me, her hands reaching back to squeeze my breasts
and brush my nipples. My own cunt ached for her, now. After a time her
movements became spasmodic on me, and she deserted my breasts. I looked up to
see her hands clamped on her own, her eyes closed, mouth parted. My tongue
tasted sweeter juices deep inside her. She was close. I nibbled on her
clitoris, my hands wanton on her bottom-cheeks, moulding them, pressing her
into my face. I wormed a finger between them, as she had done to me, and
pressed at her anus. She gasped, above me, and her thighs jerked frantcally
on my face. I moved to remove my finger, but a quick hand darted down and
pushed it back into place. Her anus relaxed rythmically on my finger, but I
kept up a gentle probing pressure with my fingertip.

After a few moments, she collapsed on top of me, panting. Her nipples burnt
into my breasts, and mine into hers. Her mouth sought mine, and our tongues
entwined. I knew she could taste her own juices from me. Her leg slipped
between mine and at last her thigh squashed my pulpy slit, to my pleasure.
Her caressing hand trailed down my body, reached between my thighs. She ran
her forefinger smoothly up and down my oily channel, slipping over my raised
clitoris and lightly into my vagina. “Oooh, like that, Slut?” she breathed.
I ached to feel her within me. “Fuck me, make me come!” I gasped. Her smooth
finger slicked up and down. She leaned down and covered my mouth with hers.
My thighs parted wider and I quivered. Her hand twisted - now her thumb
stroked horizontally across my clitoris, and her slick, oily finger wormed
confidently into my bottom. I bucked as she pressed her fingetip into my
anus, but her weight held me down, and her tongue licked mine soothingly. Her
experienced finger slipped in, lubricated by my juices - it’s itchy-burning in
me connected with her thumb toying with my clitoris and I caught fire in my
bottom and in my cunt. My hips jerked, my breath rushed in and out - her
finger slid in my anus all the way to its knuckle. My back arched, and I
came, came in my cunt and in my bottom, like never before - my whole body was
alight, my tensed muscles sang.

Sensing I was coming, Angela slid down my body, and replaced her thumb with
her tongue. She splurged her hot tongue into my wet slit, and shifted her
head up and down so the whole surface of her broad, muscular tongue pressed up
and down the inside of my cunt-lips. Her finger in my bottom vibrated,
tickling deep in my anal canal. I came again, and again.

Eventually she slipped her finger out of my bottom, and moved up the bed to
me. As I lay there panting, she embraced me, kissed me tenderly and stroked
my hair. We lay there, our legs entangled, each feeling the other’s smooth
thigh against their soaked cunt. I felt that she owned me, and I was proud.

Chapter 5

By the time I got back home that evening John was fast asleep in bed. I had
cuddled up with Angela for a while after our experience, and she had reassured
me about what we had done. I was tired, but my mind was in a turmoil. I
sneaked into bed and dozed off, my mind blurred.

I woke to feel a stiff cock pressed up between my bottom cheeks, it’s hot head
butting against my spine. In my dreamy half-asleep state, last night merged
with now and I thought it was somehow Angela’s prick, by some miracle. John’s
familiar hairy legs put me right; I said nothing. I lay on my side, with my
legs drawn up slightly, John behind me. I ground my bottom against him,
feeling the dimensions of his cock as I moved against it, caught in my
bottom-groove. I felt an itch in my bottom from last night with Angela. I
reached out, swivelling on my bum so it pressed harder against him, and took
the bottle of hand cream from the bedside table. John’s big hands caressed my
breasts as I relaxed back on the bed. I splurted a gob of handcream out on to
my hand, and reached around to take hold of his cock. Still with my back to
him, I spread the hand-cream over his dick and ran my hand tightly up and down
it, giving him a smooth, slow hand-job. His breathing became ragged as I
worked. Afetr a few moments I said, “Give me your hand.” He held out his
hand, and I pressed the handcream out on it. “Put your finger in my bottom,”
I said. He hesitated, but I resumed my slow up-and-down motion on his stiff
cock and his hand reached down between my cheeks.

First he ran the side of his hand up and down between by bottom-cheeks,
spreading the hand cream in the groove, teasing my cunt at the end of every
stroke. When it was all slick, his forefinger pressed against my anus, at
first softtly, then harder. He wiggled his finger, and entered about
half-an-inch. I shifted my bottom towards his hand, and continued to jerk him
off slowly. He took the hint and pressed in more. Once he was partially in,
his whole finger slipped up there. I had to let go of his cock - my other
hand was busy flicking and pressing at my clitoris, and I needed to squeeze my
nipples real bad. “I need your cock.” I said to him. “In there?” he asked,
wiggling his finger in my bottom. “I want to be buggered” - the word spilled
out, how dirty it sounded! - buggered in my arsehole by his thick stiffpole.
I let out a small noise, my nipples tingled. I wanted taking, the taking of
me. He gently slipped his finger out, and reached over for more hand cream.
He pushed at my thigh to indicate I should take the doggy position, but it was
not right; instead I turned on my back and stuffed a pillow under my back. I
raised my legs in the air and gathered them in an arm. My cunt and
bottom-hole were presented to him. “No - like this -” I said ” - I want to
see.”

He knelt in front of me, and presented his purple-headed tool against my tiny
button-hole. He squeezed hand cream on it. “Stop me if I hurt you, ” he
said, looking at me. I stared up at him, a magnificent sight, with that thick
pole about to bugger me. “Put it in me!” I groaned. Heat and itchy burning
in my bottom was driving me wild. He pushed the blunt weapon at my anus, it
felt good, huge, about to enter, but it wouldn’t go in. He reached down and
wiped the thick head up and down, up and down in my wet cunt - oh, so nice,
but I needed it - I needed - in my little hole, tickling there - Angela
had…

He slipped his dick down between my cunt lips until he was at my anus again,
and pressed once more. I concentrated on what Angela has done last night, in
my mind, and wiggled my bottom slightly as he pushed, and
it began to enter. He eased it slowly in, until an inch or so was inside. I
was stretched; it hurt a little. He paused. I used my muscles down there to
squeeze his hard thing. “I want all your cock in me,” I said. Our eyes
locked. I rested my upright legs against his shoulders and gripped his arms
with my hands. I stared into his eyes. “Bugger me, John, all of your cock,
oh you, big, big…” As I gazed up at him, clutching his arms, he pressed
forward slowly but surely, until half his cock disappeared within my bottom.
I moaned out, impaled. One of my hands left his arm and fingered my cunt
urgently - I was coming, coming on his stiff fuck. “Fuck me!” I husked. The
walls of my rectum must have been giving his cock a powerful massage - I could
feel his shifting length in me, taking me. He drew it back, pressed it
forward, further this time, I felt. Again and again he drew it out and
pressed it in. A pulsing pleasure started in my rectum in time with his
thrusts. It grew - grew - I gripped his arm, it must have hurt him. Its fire
suddenly spread over my whole bottom and tummy - I came like never before, his
cock in my bottom thrusting. My jerkings and inner spasms were too much for
him, his stroke grew slower and stiffer, through my pleasure I saw his face
wild, sweat on his brow, as he thrust his cock in all the way. He was
muttering, but I heard him, woozy though I was with pleasure, “Take that cock
- cock up your ass, boy, ass suck my cock” His cock slammed in, his thighs
hard against mine, soft; this his last, a pause with a hoarse sniffle and I
could feel it pulse powerfully as he spurted, and the hot, wet slap of his
come coating my insides. His tense body crouched panting over me as he came,
his body covering me. His hands reached to my shoulders and his weight
pressed down on me, holding me trapped to him, an insolence of power to keep
me for his come, to make me, but I wanted to. As I looked up at his body, my
fingers worked at my clitoris and pressed painfully at my nipples, tweaking
them hard until they slipped out from thumb and forefinger on the slippery
hand-cream - I took more pleasure from him.

Finally I was finished; the pleasure drained, his softening tool was
uncomfortable in my stretched anal canal. I eased forward, away from him, and
felt it slip back, and finally flop out with a warm wet drip of his come on my
thigh. His big hands reached around and cupped my breasts. His juice leaked
slowly from my still-stretched bottom, wetting my back. I felt detached,
completed, pleased but silent. I had not forgotten the unguessed-at
perversity of what he had said.

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