A wild exhibitionist turns to pornographic cam shows to make money.
“I pushed her ankles up to my shoulders; I looked into her eyes and then the camera: raw, passionate grunts as I fucked her. And I was fucking her; this was no gentle, romantic sex or a little game any more, but I was thrusting deep into her cunt, screwing the slut for every ounce of pleasure I could squeeze from her.”
The narrator plays three games, and attends a birthday party.
“I wanted to take him at that moment; pushing him up against the 1970’s textured wallpaper and sink my lips over his circumsized head. To bring the smooth, hairless shaft into my mouth and inhale the delicious scent of masculinity through my nostrils as his young cock bobbed against the back of my throat.”
Our narrator comes to terms with his bisexuality
“…I warned him, grunting that I was about to come, and he sucked powerfully on the tip of my prick as my loins pulsed and my cock squirted my cum into his mouth. He coughed as I withdrew, leaning against the wall. He wasn’t so innocent now, cum leaking from his lips…”
A stripper gets a bigger reaction than she expected to her performance.
“…I got the feeling there was something wrong at that point, the stunned silence from everyone was unnerving but Lorna just continued; she fell into her performance, sliding her stocking-clad legs up the inner thigh of the birthday boy, staring at her wide-eyed. His hands trembled excitedly…”
A lady doesn’t always play tennis on the tennis courts.
“…I groaned as her fingers swirled over my cock, pulling it gently as her thumb rubbed my purple tip. She applied calm strokes as she smiled into my expression, my frenzied lust stroked by her firm fingers on my cock…”
Chapter eight of my bisexual-male football player series.
“…I was nearer the end of the queue. His bottom was bloodied and beaten by the time I reached him. The air had been think with yells and cries, squeals and screams. Profanity filled my eardrums as player after player savaged the losing team, smashing their rumps with ever increasing harder implements…”
I may have been her first kiss at twelve, but the young naturist had had many lovers since that moment on the school trip to the butterfly sanctuary: her kaleidoscopic hair was a magnet to the winged creatures then, our tentative kisses broken by the fluttering of wings on her hair.
I stepped back and watched the cum dripping from her cunt; she looked disgustingly sexy. “Go home.” She glared for a moment at me. “And I hope you have learned your lesson!”
But most of all, I see. See the trembling orgasm, the long breaths and the clenched fist. See the relief on your face as you redouble your efforts on your friend, forcing me to watch her explode into a million pieces of sheer orgasmic delight.
The crowd wanted action, and behind us the losing players entered the field of play. Many were shirtless, accepting the cool breeze of a late September afternoon. Their goalkeeper was naked, his large cock swinging as he walked towards the mats. I think he wanted to show off his masculinity, to try and salvage some pride from his well endowed prick.
It was a meat market. There was no consideration as to whom they were going to select, just a bawdy scream of cries from the crowd of horny men. All they wanted was holes; that’s all we were to them, a couple of orifices to bring them guilty pleasure. To boost their ego and to feel the consequences of their victory.
But the words disappeared as I saw her. The naked brunette, leaning against the cabin door, pouting provocatively as two naked men entered the plane. “This is Annette.”
Her tongue swept over my cock as she sucked, drawing her mouth down my erection as her hands toyed gently with my balls; a gentle finger here, and small squeeze there had me teetering on the edge of my climax. I watched; staring intensely as her slick movements sent shivers through my cock.
They wanted me to fill her cunt with my seed, to stamp my victory on the opposing team, and to have her forever remember the day her boys lost to their greatest rivals. They wanted to see her struggle with the humiliation, yet love the feelings in her cunt as my cock had her mind drunk with lust.
Her firm grip on the base of my back as she arranged herself into position, rubbing the hair that lined my masculine bum. I know she glanced at my testicles hanging underneath or traced the line of my body from my taut calves to the arch of my back. She does these things, because I do those things. The admiration of the sub is part of the game.
I knew what would happen; we both did. Encouraging sadists was a dangerous game and one squeal was all it took. Suddenly there was an unspoken competition between them: who could make her squeak the loudest. Every spank got firmer, louder, more painful. I would see her fighting back the tears, and screwing up her face as trainee dominant after trainee dominant sized up her gorgeous arse with battering hits.
Or so I thought, my impossible dream was vividly real as my exposed rear waited for her. I was ready, desperately wanting the show to begin, yet filled with trepidation. My heart pounded on the soft bench as I frantically replayed the songs in my mind. I’d seen the videos: Melanie was intense, as the poor abused men desperately pleaded with the sadist on the vocals. It was sheer depravity.
It was her weekly gift, and that evening was particularly intense: no quick rub around her clit, but over an hour of delicious solo love making, coaxing repeated climaxes from her deliciously lithe body: the gentle curves, the succulent breasts that I would do anything to feast on, and long, toned legs. Today, they were encased with the mesh of fishnets. I wanted her.
But what were we doing? She was gently rubbing her fingers across my trousers and no-one had said a word. No-one had objected or noticed. I closed my eyes and savoured her exquisite touch, pressing harder and firmer on my cock, as she rubbed it through my cotton garments.
I wore a thong, a tight black thong, as I ran around the pitch. I tried not to feel self-conscious, but had hundreds of people watching as my cock bobbed obscenely in the minimalist underwear. Our right winger wore a white tutu and pink boots, while our goalkeeper was wearing something see-through.
She cackled. “Your little princess has found an advert for a 25-man gangbang. They need a woman and the fee will make this month’s payment. She’ll be naked, wet, wearing heels. Just like this.
I wanted more as she groped; Anne was relaxed as her friend softly fumbled with my engorging cock; barely audible groans came from my left as I closed my eyes, savouring every movement of her supple fingers on me.
Sometimes, they keep their hands and wanton desires to themselves; I don’t like those gigs so much. Normally they can’t. Maybe the bride wants one last fling, the maid of honour sees something she can’t get from her respectable husband or a wild guest just wants a wilder time. By the time my thong gets tossed into the raunchy mob, the inhibitions are long gone.
I could see in her eyes she wanted me to: she needed the affection and attention, the hot pleasure dripping from her cunt as I would coax a climax from her expectant opening. I pressed her shoulder over the small table and her hands instinctively gripped the top of the furniture. She was gaspingly desperate and guided my cock into her slick hole.
Chapter one – Chapter two – Chapter three – Chapter four – Chapter five – Chapter six – Chapter seven – Chapter eight – Chapter nine – Chapter ten This is the final chapter, for now. I may return to these characters in the future but these story is now closed! 😉 I spoke at …
She might not have been the youngest, or the prettiest, but she was the most beautiful. She held herself with a confident poise: composed and assured as her eyes scanned the delegates and deposed the fleeing speaker from his podium.
Chapter one – Chapter two – Chapter three To say the trust between Maisie and I had taken a battering after her shenanigans with her dominatrix friend would be an understatement. I loathed the deception but she reminded me that I had clearly gained some satisfaction from the experience and reasoned that she had found …
This is just a quick story I knocked up in my lunchbreak; sorry for any grammatical errors! It is NO masterpiece but I wanted to write it! The Police officer was insistent. “Sorry Miss. Step out of the car, and make yourself decent!” The middle-aged woman was shameless, cum dripped onto her thighs and car …
This story popped into my head so a few days later I quickly knocked it up in my lunch break. It’s really no masterpiece, but hopefully should bring a smile to the face! It’s tough in a recession; all the jobs at the top of the food chain get squeezed so the most skilful of …
Growing Pains: New Secrets IX Zoe finds out Simon’s secret at the Christmas Party and blames Andy for being a bad influence, while Sarah discovers the male strippers. Andy touches Zoe inappropriately in the cinema, experiments with “dry orgasms” and then with Sarah teases her brother. Christmas celebrations are interrupted when Simon and Rhea row, …