Vile Bodies

No, not mine, and not necessarily yours. After three months without physical contact I have lost interest in other bodies. I used to love the feel of another’s skin, the stubble of a man brushing against my cheek as I kissed him, the smell of arousal, even the aroma of sweat as I made love on a muggy evening, the taste of a bell end glistening with pre-come as I took it into my mouth, the musk of a cunt, juicy with arousal, the joy of burying my face in lush pubic hair as I go down on her, the feel of her tongue against my finger as she licks her juice.

All these things I have enjoyed, and my body in turn has given pleasure to my lovers. And yet it all seems so long ago, no more real than  the smut I read, the stories I write. The stories. I have moved my sex life into my head, I write and write and write, not always for publication, but always to get off, to experience the orgasms that come from the mind, to make sense of all those bodies and the things I did with them, before everything is lost.

I am used to this now. The urge to write is irresistible, I fear the bodies, imperfect as mine is imperfect, sweaty as mine is sweaty, sagging as mine sags, that will come between me and my imagination. I think them vile, I push them away. But I cannot do this for ever.  My lover today sent me a picture of his cock, as yet untasted by me. But taste it I will, for I must. It took me decades to love my body, nearly as long to love the bodies of others. The language of these bodies is another language, once foreign, still not entirely familiar. I cannot afford to forget it.

Foxy Foxy

There are nights at The Fox when there are not enough loos. Like the Fridays when there is a crowd in for karaoke and I seem to drink lager without restraint, knowing I have Saturday to sleep it off. But there are simply not enough loos. I decided against joining the queue in the ladies, hung about impatiently by the single cubicle in the gender neutral loo and…well I didn’t want to but needs must.

I stood at the urinal, hitched up my skirt, slid my panties to the side and took my cock in my hand. I looked around, wondering if anyone was watching, not that this should really have been a problem. I finished, shook the drops of the end of my member, and was about to tuck it away, out of sight, when I felt a hand grip my right shoulder firmly. I spun round, my cock still hanging out of my panties.

“Hello” she said and smiled a smile that I thought wasn’t without a hint of malice. She was just a little bit smaller than me notwithstanding that I was still standing on the step of the urinal. She was, I guessed, in her early twenties,  had short blonde hair, wore jeans and a white t shirt.

“Hello” I replied gormlessly, suddenly acutely aware that my cock was dangling in front of me and my skirt was still hitched up.

“I’m Roo” she said, “and I want to make out with you.”

“With me?” I looked down at my cock which was by now quite hard and rising to the horizontal.

“Yes you. “

She stepped forward and began to knead my breasts.  She whispered in my ear

“Is it OK if I call you a shemale I mean I know it’s not quite the… but it makes me horny, the whole idea. That’s why I want to make out with you. What’s your name?”

“Celine” I lied.  I was sure she didn’t believe me, but she said nothing.

At that moment the cubicle door finally opened, a couple hurried past, avoiding eye contact and Roo steered make into it. She locked the door and squeezed past me to the toilet. She closed the lid and sat down.

I took a step towards her. I was still rock hard and my bellend was glistening with precome.

I took my cock in my hand and asked,

“Do you want to blow me? I would enjoy that.”

“Not really darling, I’m a lesbian, remember? No, you’re going to pleasure me.”

She pulled her jeans down, moved her knickers to the side.

“Get on your knees and move in real close.”

Her lady garden was completely shaven except for 2 thin strips down each side of the labia.  I kissed it, I smelt it and, even before she told me what to do, I began to lick, moving upwards until I reach her clit, felt it stiff and engorged, and I licked and flicked my tongue at it, like a snake sniffing the air for her prey. I put a finger inside her, felt the wetness, the warmth, the dilation that was just inviting me to put more fingers in, then the hand which I clenched into a fist.

Excited by the wet, the smell that overwhelmed my senses, I worked my tongue harder and harder until I felt her stiffen, arch her back and come with a scream that she quickly stifled with her left hand.

“Shit” she said , and started to giggle. “we’ll have somebody in here!”

I sat back on my legs, panting. I was happy that I had made Roo come quickly but what about me?

“What about me?” I asked, more in hope than expectation.

“Now you are going to masturbate for me Celine. Stand against the wall so that I can get a good view.”

This bit was easy. I had been on the edge for so long that I craved the release. I tried to slow down, holding my orgasm back until Roo was ready to come with me. She sat astride the toilet bowl, a finger up her vagina, her thumb deftly working her clit. I watched intently, silently repeating words of adoration, thanks too to whichever deity of debauchery had sent her my way.

“Come if you want” she said. “I’m just about there.”

We came together, Roo with a load sigh, me with a groan of overdue relief. She pulled a clean pair of panties from her pocket and held it so that my come would go glug glugging over it.

“My mother keeps banging on about me doing it with a man. She probably thinks it’s a cure. So I am going to show her this as proof that I have, and tell her it was rubbish……with a man that is. With a lovely shemale it was amazing. Thank you.”

She kissed me gently on the lips and pulled up her jeans as I rearranged my skirt. She unlocked the door and pushed me out of the cubicle.

“Come on Celine, let’s go and join the karaoke. I know what I want to sing.”

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“I Want Your Sex.”

We both laughed.

A story for Masturbation Monday

Masturbation Monday

 

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Imagined Desires

Most weekdays I get up at five thirty. I start the day with a cup of tea, a cigarette, and watch German breakfast television as I take my medication, eat breakfast and do my make-up. But every other week I get up half an hour earlier, a sacrifice I make because I have a crush on a presenter who is only on every other week and who normally only presents the first hour of the breakfast programme. Attraction is irrational and I still struggle to explain what I see in her, but a crush this definitely is.

I don’t spend the half hour fantasising, but rather watching and adoring. This is a lovely feeling and one I haven’t known since I fell in love with a school teacher over forty years ago. I look forward to this half hour in the stillness of the early morning. On the days I oversleep and miss her I can be in a foul mood all day. When I have worshipped I leave the house in the winter darkness with a spring in my step. The tiredness I suffer later on in the day is very much a price worth paying. Sometimes I take out my notebook on the train and write her a short love letter, one of the “letters I’ve written never meaning to send.”  And I live in hope that she will one day follow me on Twitter.

So I, as a fifty five year old woman, find myself in love with an unattainable woman young enough to be my daughter. I will never meet her in real life, my love and devotion will never be returned. I know this and don’t care. I am sharing with you a part of my inner life, something that makes me happy.

This is something too that gives me emotional release and which helps in my depression and anxiety. Even though I don’t actively fantasise about her, and have never masturbated to her, she fuels my erotic imagination. A few days ago, it was a Saturday, my body clock woke me up at five. I rolled over in the darkness and searched for the alarm clock. Two more hours in bed I thought before I need to get up to go running. I dozed off into the light sleep where dreams unfold.

She came to me, stood before me. No words were said. I knelt before her, kissed her boots, gently and with devotion. I reached up, unbuttoned her jeans, pulled them down a little. I moved her panties to the side, gazed in awe at her magnificent cunt. I moved forward, wetted my tongue, then buried my face in the coarse, luxuriant hair and began to worship……

I woke up wet and with a deep feeling of contentment. I grabbed the notebook I keep on the bedside table and began to write. Some of my dream might end up in a story. Some of it will be transferred to real life. Then my lovers will feel for themselves the beauty of the crush, the magic that can be wrought by unrequited love.

Bake Day 2

He took me by surprise. I had just lifted the fruit cake out of the oven and was about to ladle the sponge cake batter into the second tin I had prepared when he came into the kitchen, stood behind me and held my wrist, not roughly but firmly enough to stop me working.

“Sinful Sunday tomorrow” he said. “I’m going to take a pic of you as my cake lady. But before I do…”

He reached under my skirt and pulled down my panties.

After a quick application of margarine from the tub his finger began exploring my cunt.

“Not now” I said half resisting “I am trying to bake.”

“You have baked. How many cakes do we need?”

“Charity bake day at work on Monday” I replied, the upward inflection in my voice betraying my uncertainty of my own arguments as two fingers propped deeply. I was wet.

“The second cake won’t need baking. I have always liked uncooked batter. Did you lick the spoon as a child?”

I gasped as he probed deeper and began to stimulate my clit with his other hand.

“Stop it, I’m trying to work, I’m trying to…”

He worked my clit harder and began to nibble my earlobes.

“Stop it…seriously I need to

He pushed his finger deeper into my wet cunt.

“Actually just fuck me.

I leant forward so that my hair dangled in the wet batter and he lifted up my skirt and I felt him go in. Our kitchen quickies are always hard and rough which is just  how I like them and he was soon finished finishing with a hard thrust that nearly pushed my face into a kitchen cabinet. I came with a moan and he stepped back spent and panting, fumbling to move his foreskin back into place. I stood up and felt his come seeping out of me and running down my leg.

“Get on the table”

I took my clothes off and lay on the table. He spooned the rich batter over me, massaging the mixture deliciously around my crotch, then kneading my breasts  with sticky cakey hands before standing back admire his handiwork. He washed his hands in the sink then took his phone and took a picture of me, lying there in batter, desperate for more of him.

He showed me the picture he had uploaded onto our blog, with the Sinful Sunday logo beneath it, inviting us to click and see the other sexy pics our fellow bloggers had posted..

Then he stripped, and came down on me licking the batter if my tits, off my stomach before burying his face in my crotch, working me with his greedy tongue. He moved his mouth towards mine and we kissed, the sloppy batter passing between us. .

Then he fucked me again until we were both a mass of batter and sweat and come and pussy juice.

I had a feeling we were going to enjoy showering together. And then I thought how thoughtful it had been of me to bake two cakes.

“I bet the fruit cake will be cold by now won’t it?” he said. “I’ll put the kettle on. I’m dying for a cuppa.”

Breaking the Mould

It was good to see you again, even a furtive glance across the aisle of the supermarket. I would have come and said hello but you were with your wife. Little does she know how much she has to thank me for. You smiled and I am sure I saw your trousers bulge, and saw you turn away to rub your groin. I imagined that gorgeous cock, imagined the foreskin drawing back, imagined the pre-come staining your boxers. Admit it, you still lust after me. I shop at the same supermarket at the same time every Saturday. Next time you see me come over, I’ll slip a card with my number into your pocket. I’ll leave my hand in, feel your cock again. You won’t refuse me will you? I want to be fucked by you again.

Well I know you think we tricked you but that was never the idea. I had worked my first day the previous Thursday and nobody had picked me when we came into the lounge to smile sweetly and introduce ourselves. A whole day of sitting around and making no money. A day wasted. So we talked about how to get me work. It was Natalie the other Thursday girl who suggested we get plaster casts made of our vaginas. That wasn’t entirely fun I can tell you but we thought it would be a novel idea. Instead of us coming out one by one to introduce ourselves we would put the plaster cunts on a table for the clients to choose. You chose me because I was the biggest. You greedy boy! You have a massive cock and when it’s big and throbbing and the foreskin is pulled back to make it look like a mighty oak, well no girl could say no. You needed a deep cunt to get it all in. And mine is deep and soft and welcoming. It had just been a little underused lately. I had heard all about you from the other girls and I felt my heart leap with, yes, joy, when you chose Cunt Number Four. I was going to get the best fucking ever and, better still, I was going to get paid for it.

I remember vividly the shock on your face when you saw me for the first time. I had on a lycra mini a tight pink top that showed off my magnificent tits in the best possible light and, my patent leather boots were to die for. I am a beautiful woman, men lust after me, I know, one client told me about how he printed off my photographs from the parlour website and wanked over them until they are covered in come which he then rubbed all over his body before kissing the pictures. That’s how it is was once I had become known. I wasn’t then. You didn’t know my little secret when you chose my cunt; that I am in a wheelchair.

As I wheeled myself out into reception you knew but it was too late for you to change your mind – that was the deal.

‘Hi I’m Delilah’ I said and you bent down to give me a peck on the cheek, your eyes drinking in my tits as you did so.

‘We’re in the downstairs room. It was built for disabled clients but it’s mostly my haunt.’

‘But I’ve never………you know………I’m not sure………..’

I smiled. You probably didn’t see. I know how good I can be with the right man. I knew that you too would end up wanking over me, moving your hand surreptitiously to your groin whenever you saw a pretty girl in a wheelchair.

‘Not sure of what?’ I asked, ‘of how to fuck a cripple? Now seems like a good time to learn don’t you think?’

I rolled down to the room and you followed me. You looked at me suspiciously and said

‘Can I fuck you just like I do the other girls?’

‘Of course you can honey, in fact I want you to, I’ve heard about your cock, a thing of beauty, a thing of wonder. I want you to thrust it deep into my pussy. In fact I want to start with a bit of oral without, and you can have that for no extra charge. I want so much to suck that cock. You won’t regret choosing me. I’m good, very good. ‘

You took your clothes off and approached the chair. You were tentative, unsure how to handle a disabled girl. I used my arms to slide forward on the chair and you climbed on, resting a knee either side of my thighs, wedged in tight, and not for the first time. Your cock was already starting to harden as I gently pulled you towards me and I took it into my mouth. You responded,  moving forward until I had all of you inside me. I began by whipping the tip with my tongue then sucking on it before with swift movements of my head working my way backwards and forwards along the shaft. You began to purr and moan. I whipped again with my tongue and felt your cock swell and harden further. I sucked again and you came, and the warm creamy fluid filled my mouth. I swallowed some and said

‘Kiss me big boy.’

Do you remember how you bent down and our mouths came together and our tongues intertwined as I let your delicious juices flow from my mouth into yours. As you pulled away you swallowed and I smiled as I watched the last few drops dribble down your chin.

‘I’m good aren’t I?’ I said and you said nothing but kissed me again running your fingers through my hair, fingers sticky with your come, and I said

‘Naughty boy you’re making me smell of sex.’

You said simply.

‘I want to fuck you.’

I saw the desire on your face, saw the cock hard and proud.

I took out a condom and asked

‘Chair or bed?’

This was where I could see that you were a first timer with a girl like me. I slid forward a little further in the chair, lifted the skirt and showed you my shaven cunt. Suddenly you knelt before me and began to worship my pussy with your tongue. I reached down to part the labia with my fingers and you worked your tongue inside before moving up to lick my clit. Your eyes were closed, you were in a world of your own. What were you imagining? That I was whole? That you could fuck me into a real woman again? I couldn’t tell you that I was unfucked since the accident and that I worked for sex, to be able to feel I was a proper woman again.  I had waited many months for this moment and was determined to enjoy it.

I felt nothing but became excited at my cunt receiving such devoted worship. I saw your cock, hard and swollen, ready for action.

‘It’s nice on the chair.’ I said, ‘something a little different.’

‘Take off my boots.’ I felt a note of command in my voice. I detected the urge to submit in your quick gesture of obedience, saw your cock get harder still.

You did too and as you admired the gleaming patent leather, the towering heels you began to dribble.

‘You have to be patient. I don’t get naturally wet. We need to lubricate you. Put the condom on and pass me the bottle.’

As I massaged the lube onto the condom you stiffened again and began to moan. You were gagging for it. I slid forward a little more before releasing the back rest. I was now as helpless as in a dentist’s hair, my cunt completely open to your probing. You slipped in easily and I was soon enjoying the jolting. That’s the best bit when you have no feeling below the waist, the jolting, the warm breath, yours was sweet and the look of desire on your face. You pumped your way in and out, in and out and I breathed you in, enjoyed the jolts, and prayed that the brake on the chair was secure.

Then you began to talk,

‘A cripple and a whore, a cripple and a whore. And so beautiful,’

Soon you had ejaculated into the condom and pulled away, panting.

‘I want you on the bed now’ you said.

‘Then you’ll have to help me.’

You picked me up, so big and strong, yet so gentle and laid me on the bed. You pulled down my lycra skirt, as I wriggled out of the top and I lay naked and helpless before you.

You stood over me.

‘Broken and beautiful’ you said.

You had prepared the bed with a heap of pillows under the small of my back. You parted my legs and I suddenly felt vulnerable. You knelt up over me and I watched your prick grow one more big and hard. It began to swell, and the angry red tip surged through the parting foreskin. You began to dribble and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had seen since becoming paraplegic. You slipped a condom on and said

‘Most men don’t like doing it with a rubber but I do. I love the feel of the rubber against my skin..’

I didn’t say anything about how vulnerable I felt, my useless legs forced apart, my cunt open to your probing. But I knew one thing as I watched you come down on me, as you drove your huge cock into me, with just a touch of lubricant, I knew that I was desirable, I knew that I was all woman, as if I could ever have doubted and when you began to thrust and move in and out with quick fierce rhythm I felt nothing but the jolting, the fierce jolting and I was sixteen again, losing my virginity on the back seat of a Ford Cortina. I grabbed your hair and pulled your head down roughly, you winced with pain as your face came close to mine as I felt your breath and you felt mine.

‘Kiss me’ I commanded and you did, our mouths locked and our tongues entwined and all the time you thrust in and out in and out.

‘I’m so fucking hard’ you said ‘I could keep this up forever.’

Then it was over. You withdrew holding the condom in place as you did so and removed it, shrivelled and full of come, placing it in a tissue which you placed on the bedside table. Then you lay down next to me panting heavily.

‘I want you to wank all over me’ I said.

You were soon back on your knees astride me working your cock, moving your left hand up and down the shaft then kneading the end like dough with your fingers. You had come twice already and it was clearly going to take time. Then it happened as you leaned back straining and your hand worked faster and faster until suddenly you pulled the foreskin back and your hot creamy fluid squirted out onto my breasts. It was a lovely feeling and the sight of a man wanking over a woman still turns me on. On my first day in the brothel I had watched through a peephole as the other girls went about their business and learned. I saw men wank over girls. That was all some of them wanted and I remember the look of wicked delight on Natalie’s face as come rained down on her. I wanted that to be done to me and it was beautiful when you did. Then you came down on me again and licked and kissed my breasts. I felt the nipples harden, this I could feel and you took the nipples in your mouth and pulled and sucked and I thought

‘Who is the client, who is servicing who?’ and I was wondering what we would do next when the receptionist knocked on the door. I looked at my watch and saw that your time was up.

When you had gone and I counted out the money you had left I felt a real woman I felt a proper whore. I was a cripple, I was a prostitute and I was proud of it.

And that was it. You never saw me as a client again but together we had achieved a first, my first paid sex my first sex as a cripple and your first time with a girl with a broken body.

I heard you starting coming regularly on my days off, but never on my days on. I don’t know why, I had hoped you might become a regular. But I heard you had developed a thing for disabled girls and soon enough you married one. But if you knew how to fuck a girl in a wheel chair and make her feel special, that was down to me. I made you the man you are. You made me a woman again. For that I’ll always be grateful.

I continued working at the parlour for another year. I was soon in demand. I found out how many men fantasise about disabled women. I had a whole load of wheelchair pics done. When clients told me how they sat in front of their computers wanking over me I was sure that I was becoming wet. The doctor told me it could never happen. But it does, I feel a prick going in now. Doctors haven’t healed me. Sex has. Sex will make me whole. And you started my healing.

I saw you again the other day, wheeling your wife through the shopping centre. You looked so happy together. I really wanted to come over and talk but knew it wasn’t right even though I no longer sell sex for a living. It’s surely better that she never finds out about us.

I keep the cast of my cunt on the mantelpiece. I look at it often and think what a wonderful thing it is to be a woman, how beautiful it was to be a disabled whore, I think of all the men whose cocks have been in me, hundreds of them, and I know my cunt is beautiful. I think too of  how, together, we broke the mould.

Swedish Nights

I knew I was in trouble as soon as she went down. I was going for the ball, I was sure I would get to it but at the last second Sara Martinsson turned with lithe grace, accelerated away and my outstretched foot caught her trailing leg. She went down and rolled over a couple of times, clutching her shin, just to make sure. The referee ran over waving the red card like a coast guard warning a passing ship to steer clear of the rocks.

No-one even looked at me as I passed our bench and made the lonely walk of shame to the dressing room. This was meant to be a highlight of my career, a Women’s Champions’ League Semi –Final First Leg away in Sweden, me marking Sara Martinsson the world’s best midfielder. She had been too good for me, fair enough, but she didn’t have to go down like that. I slammed the dressing room door behind me took off a boot and threw it against the wall. I sat down, pulled my shirt over my face and wept.

‘Fuck’ I shouted hoping I was loud enough to be heard outside. But that was a vain hope. Even a crowd of three thousand was making plenty of noise. Their team was 2-0 up, we were a player short and Sara Martinsson was pulling the strings in midfield. There must be more goals to come. There were still forty minutes to play.

My sobbing and self pity were interrupted by a knock on the door. I pulled the shirt back down over my midriff as it opened and Sara Martinsson stood before me,

‘They took me off, precautionary thing, I picked up a knock’ she said simply. ‘I’m sorry you got sent off I really am.’

I was about to day something when she said

‘Come to our dressing room. We can shower together There’s plenty of time ill the games’ over.’

She shut the door and walked off down the corridor. I sat nonplussed for a minute then thought sod it. I took off my other boot and padded down the corridor to the home dressing room in my socks.

I walked on and saw Sara. She had undressed already and lay on a bench, knees bent, legs slightly apart, pleasuring herself.

‘Have you been with a girl before?’ she asked.

I said nothing.

‘It doesn’t matter. Anyway take your kit off. We can’t have fun in our football gear can we?’

As I undressed she went to turn the showers on and adjust the temperature. I approached nervously. .

‘I haven’t got my stuff with me.’

‘You can use mine’ she said taking my hand and leading me gently into the shower. She came up behind me, pressed herself against me and began to nuzzle my hair.

She squeezed out some shower gel and started to rub it into my back in slow careful movements, starting from my neck and moving down my back to my buttocks which she caressed before rubbing gel into them. She knelt down and moved her fingers around my anus before moving between my legs to soap my cunt. As her fingers worked their way up to my clit I felt her tongue against my anus, licking round the edge,.

‘I like your arse. I like it a lot. Second leg next week. I’ll come prepared. I’ve got some fantastic toys. ’ She laughed and began to finger my clit. Hot water was streaming down from the shower heads and in the steam I could see nothing. That heightened the excitement as she began to play me like a fiddle. I had never been touched by a woman before. She massaged my clit with delicacy and expertise then stood up and came round in front of me. She took some more gel onto her hands and began to soap my tits. She washed off the foam and began to suck on the nipples, talking them between her lips which she pursed to squeeze them before turning her head to twist them. I let out a cry and she laughed. She gave them a playful bite and knelt before me to carry on applying the gel.  Soon I felt her tongue against my clit which hardened as she quickened the licks, stiffening her tongue to make a delightful abrasiveness.

We finished showering and Sara pulled a big fluffy towel binding us tightly together. We kissed. The smell of sweat, turf, and linament had quite gone. I abandoned myself to her as she gripped the back of my head and pushed her tongue deep inside my mouth.

‘One more thing’ said Sara. ‘Kneel,’

She slackened the towel and I dropped to my knees. I pressed my face to her shaven cunt, felt the roughness of the stubble against my cheek. Just above the stubble I saw a small tattoo of the Swedish flag. I kissed it lingeringly feeing a frisson of disloyalty. Then I moved down pushing out my tongue in search of her clit. I probed and licked and she placed a finger on the spot where her clit sat beneath its hood.

‘Lick me just there.’ said Sara.

I worked away pleasuring her trying to make my tongue stiff as she had done when licking me, worshipping her most precious part, her lovely Scandinavian clit. I licked in slow form strokes and she gasped, grabbed a hanger to support herself as the pleasure coursed through her. She cried out in Swedish. I didn’t understand but didn’t care.  It surely meant my tongue was doing its work.

She turned round and I started sniffing her anus. It smelt sweet and fresh, like a meadow of flowers. I flicked my tongue out and began to explore the opening. I worked round the edge, licking the opening with slow leisurely strokes. I loved her arse, loved the buttocks I began to kiss, loved the dragon tattoo on the small of her back. God, this woman had spent fifty minutes humiliating me on a football field and now, it was almost as if the match no longer mattered. I had completely forgotten the match, had not noticed the time.

‘Shit!’ I said.

‘We’ve still got ten minutes. I think we’ve scored again. But we’ve got time for a finger fucking.’

I lay on the treatment table legs apart. She climbed on top of me and after rubbing my clit pushed a finger into my soaking wet cunt.

‘You’re wet, your cunts is open like a big cave. I knew you were a slut as soon as I saw you. You’re not much good at football are you, but sex well…..I’ll bring my toys next week and make it up to you for not being in the Final.’

She laughed and stuck in a second longer, then a third.

‘I want four, give me four’ I gasped ‘and fuck me hard.’

She was soon moving in and out. Her hands were soft and delicate for a footballer her fingers long. She moved in and out rubbing the skin over the pubic bone as she did so, arousing me even more, making me wetter and wetter.

‘I’m all yours, all yours’ I moaned.

‘You can come to our hotel next week. Some of the other girls would like to give you a real fucking. You can be the whole team’s pet slut.’

She moved her fingers in and out again, more and more vigorously

‘Make me you slut, make me your slut’ I cried, ‘Fuck me fuck me fuck me’

I massaged my clit as she reached a crescendo and came with a loud cry. I had soaked the treatment table.

Sara took a cloth to clean up. As she wiped the table I dropped to my knees and kissed her feet, the golden feet that could caress a football like no other woman’s, the feet on which she moved with balletic grace around the pitch, the feet that had humiliated me, the feet I adored, the feet I loved. I kissed her frantically, desperately, clung to her ankles as she tried to move away.

‘Make me your slut’ I said, quietly this time. ‘Please.’

Then we heard a cheer and voices coming from the tunnel and the click clack of studs. It was time for me to be gone.

I walked back to our dressing room in a daze. I had Sara’s shirt and pressed it to my face breathing in deeply the smell of her, the smell I wanted to remember for ever. The door opened and my team mates came in.

‘Five fucking nil’ said one looking at me as if I was to blame. ‘Were you going to ask or don’t you care? I was so looking forward to going to Paris for the Final. Fuck! Fuck!’

She took a water bottle and hurled it against the wall. As it bounced off the floor she cried out in another howl of anguish.

‘Fuck!!!’

‘They took Sara Martinson off’ said somebody else. ‘They reckon she might be a doubt for the second leg.’

I froze. If she was injured she wouldn’t travel. I gripped the shirt tighter.

‘I know. She popped in to say sorry.’

‘And give you her shirt as well. You can wash it and frame it and it will make a nice souvenir of the day you lost us the Champions’ League.’

I ignored the barbed comment.

‘Wash it?’ I said. ‘I’ll never do that.’

A Taste of Honey

I still don’t quite know how it happened. I was the member of my local church who taught new members about God, the Bible and things like that. I wore my hair straight, my blouses had long sleeves and my skirts went below the knee. I was demure and modest. One day I was teaching Matthew, a pleasant young man of my own age when he asked,

‘Tell me about Heaven’

‘Well’, I answered, ‘it’s like a land flowing with milk and honey.’

‘What does it look like?’

Without thinking I stood up, pulled down my skirt and knickers and walked over to him.

‘This is Heaven. This is my cunt, the most beautiful thing in God’s creation. It is the reason I thank Him every day that I am a woman. Look at it, touch it, place your finger here, this is my clit. Learn to touch this the right way and you have the key to my Heaven.’

He touched my clit gingerly as if handling a live grenade. Then I said

‘Taste and see that my cunt is good. ‘

I took his head very gently and pulled it towards my crotch. He sniffed me, surely felt my arousal as he buried his face in my thick pubic hair.

‘Milk and honey. I’ll just go to the kitchen.’

I came back with a container of yoghurt and a pot of honey and took a handful of yoghurt and pushed it into my vagina, enjoying the cool softness. I smeared honey on my pubic hair.

‘Lick it off’ I said gently and his tongue darted out, licking the sweet honey first before he pushed his face deeper in and I felt his tongue darting around the cool sour opening of my cunt.

‘Taste the yoghurt then taste me, that other taste is the most delightful of all. It means I am ready for sex. It means you turn me on.’

He pulled away and I looked at him. His face was covered in yoghurt and honey. He looked very happy. Funny too. I smiled, took the yoghurt pot and polished his now hard erect penis. I applied a dab of honey, took his wonderful cock, into my mouth and worked my way backwards and forwards along the shaft picking up speed……

It tasted of milk and of honey, of milk and honey, milk and honey, milk, honey, milk, honey, milk, honey……I felt his body stiffen, saw him shut his eyes as he pumped big glugs of come into my mouth. He cried out with pleasure.

I dragged him down onto his knees, pulled him towards me and pushed my tongue deep into his mouth, letting the come, the yoghurt and the honey flow into him, a creamy mass of delight.

‘See how lovely you taste?’

‘So that’s Heaven?’ asked Matthew.

‘Not quite’ I said pulling up my skirt. ‘I’m saving that for next week’

Daniel My Sister

LGBT

The story below is included as part of an LGBT blog hop organised by Scorching Book Reviews. Hope you enjoy it as well as the other posts. Click here to find them. There’s a prize draw as well – just click the link at the bottom of the page.

I have been dabbling in erotica for a while but only succeeded in getting something published last year, a story in the Xcite Books gay anthology Boys in Bed. I would describe myself as a bi-curious heterosexual  but write about all kinds of sex. In fact a significant proportion of the stories I am working on involve either lesbian or D/S relationships. I just find the idea of women making love to women incredibly beautiful. And the thought of a woman submitting to another woman I find unbelievably erotic. This is why I write about sex, it is a way of exploring things I might never get to do myself, a way too of understanding myself and my sexuality. If anything I write helps even one reader to have a better understanding of his or hers then it’s been worthwhile. Even better if it makes you reach for your clit or your cock……:-)

DANIEL MY SISTER

Agata gasped as Daniel took off his shirt and she was that he had proper breasts, female breasts, just like hers but bound with tape and flattened. Then he slid off his trousers and boxers and she saw a cunt, just like hers only shaven and with a stud in the clit. She struggled to get out her words,

‘But you’re not a man!’

‘I’m all man’ said Daniel ‘and all woman too, at least for the time being. Forget about what you were told in Poland and forget about all the nonsense your priests drummed into you. If you want to be a whore you’ve got a lot to learn and I’m going to teach you. I’m going to fuck you as a man and then I’m going to have you as a girl.

Agata froze, then, remembering that she was being paid for this, she removed her panties and lay on the bed, thinking that she had got rather more than she had bargained for.

Agata had been in England just two months after leaving her village in Poland to come to England in search of work. She had moved in with her best friend Justyna and found a job packing airline meals, nothing exciting and the money was never enough. It was Justyna who had suggested they sell sex and so they placed an advertisement in the local newspaper

‘Gorgeous Polish girls your dream come true.’

They quickly had custom and the hostility of established girls in the area as they undercut the local rated, £50 for half an hour £80 for an hour although most punters wanted to be in  and out of the shabby flat quickly. Agata was a pretty girl, she had lovely breasts that just asked to be caressed and kissed and sucked and she, known as Jasmine, attracted most of the business.

And now, in her second week as a sex worker she was confronted with Dan. Dan was right, she was naive. In the village in Eastern Poland there were no gays, no cross dressers, no ambiguity and no-one enjoying sex, no-one who had thought about it the way Dan had. Her initial response was to feel repelled but now, she was fascinated. She remembered the priest at home warning her about the moral danger but now she didn’t care. There was a sexual world to explore and she wanted to explore it.

‘Half an hour that’s fifty pounds isn’t it?’ asked Dan.

Agata, thinking quickly said ‘more for special requests, it’s like doing it with a couple after all.’

‘Let’s say sixty then.’

Agata was feeling distinctly uneasy and conceded the point. He counted out the notes and handed them to her.

Dan lay on the bed beside her. He came over took her in his arms and began to rub his body against hers. If he looked and dressed as a man he had the smooth and lissom body of a woman and when he reached for her cunt with his fingers she resisted the temptation to shout out ‘No that’s not allowed.’ Because she wanted to know, she had to know what it was like to be touched by someone as intimate as she was herself with female genitalia. Dan placed his finger very gently on her clit and began to massage it with finesse and delicacy. Agata felt herself becoming hard and Dan began to rub more vigorously. As Agata grew wetter, Dan took the fingers of his left hand and pushed four of them into her rapidly dilating and, by now, very wet vagina. He began to move in and out, slowly at first then picking up speed, did it more and mote vigorously.

He took his finger off her clit and said,

‘Go on you do it yourself’ and Agata massaged her clit vigorously as Dan put a further finger inside and they both picked up the pace until he finished her off and she came with a scream.

‘See how nice it is?’

Dan smiled and kissed her gently on the top of the head.

‘And now I want you to fuck me but not with your fingers.’

He stood up and made his way across the room and took a dildo out of his bag.   Agata gasped.

‘Don’t worry’ said Dan, ‘This is my prick well one of several actually I keep in a draw. It won’t hurt believe me.’

He strapped it on, rolled a condom onto the end and applied a little lubricant. He dropped onto the mattress and began to finger Agata again. She found this very pleasant. No one had ever touched her like that before. It seemed instinctive on Dan’s part.

‘I fuck you as a man but I touch you as a woman.’

Dan continued to massage Agata’s clit with an expertise she was unused to and suddenly she felt her juices rising. Dan stuck a finger inside her, then another, then another,

‘Three fingers’ he said. ‘You’re soaking wet. And ripe for a good fucking.’

‘Bend over the chair.’

Agata did as she was told. She was a little disconcerted by this, it was different from anything she had experienced before. She sensed Dan coming up behind her, let out an involuntary gasp as the felt the cold dildo touch her. Dan felt for the pening and slid in.

‘I’m all in’ he announced. ‘Is it nice?’

‘Yes’ she said struggling for words.

Dan began to move in and out, slowly and deliberately at first then, gradually picking up the pace. Soon he was working away quickly and thighs were slapping against her bottom as he moved in. Agata shut her eyes. She thought of home, the time she lost her virginity, the ordeal in the confessional the following week. She thought about the men who came to her for a cheap fuck, a massage, covered oral that she was still learning to do, realising that she had never really experienced sex like this before. She used to joke about transsexuals but now she was giving herself to a beautiful man who was still a woman. Dan knew what he wanted, he was skilled and experienced, he was……..

He let the pace slacken.

‘Keep going’ she said and Dan grabbed her roughly and pushed in hard and deep. Soon he was thumping away harder than ever. Agata began to play with her clit.

‘Harder harder I want to come!’

He came in again two mote thumps and she came.

Dan withdrew. She turned round, looked at him, looked at the big strap-on, looked at the smile on his face.

‘I’ve never paid for it before’ he said. ‘I just had to try.’

He took a step towards her, pulled her head towards him to kiss her. She resisted.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t do kissing.’

‘You’ll kiss me though, feel me, feel my soft skin, I will kiss you like you’ve never been kissed before.’

He grabbed her head pulled her towards him. Agata closed her eyes and opened her mouth. His tongue slid into her mouth just as smoothly as the dildo had entered her cunt. She let herself go limp. He put a finger inside her, wet it with her juices, and put it in her mouth.

‘That’s the taste of you.’

There was a knock on the door. Justyna called

‘Time’s up.’

‘Still busy’ called Agata. She did not want this to end.

Dan pulled away, took off the strap-on and said to Agata

‘Kneel before me and lick my cunt. I want to feel your tongue on my clit.’

She knelt before him, felt the hard cold floor digging into her knees. She looked at Dan’s shaven pussy. She had never been this close to someone else’s cunt before. Dan held the labia apart with his fingers and she began to lick at the opening, felt the sour juices……..she was confused, giving cunnilingus to the man who had just given her the best fucking of her life.

She took hold of Dan’s buttocks, pulled him a little closer towards her and worked his cunt with her tongue, worked her way to his clit, worked it until she heard him come.

‘Thank you’ he said almost matter of factly.

He pulled his trousers back on, took a twenty pound note out of the pocket and handed it to Agata..

‘It’s not so much.’ she protested.

‘But I’ve gone over time and you have been so good.’ He smiled and put on his shirt and jacket. After he had put his shoes on he gave her a peck on the cheek and made for the door.

‘I’ll show you out,’ said Agata almost as an afterthought.

When she returned to the room thoughts were racing through her head. Nothing seemed real any more, she was almost floating in an alternative reality where nothing was quite what it seemed. Then she noticed that Dan had left his strap-on.

Justyna came in.

‘That was a long time nearly an hour I hope you took extra money from him.’

‘I did’ replied Agata ‘but I didn’t want to,’

She smiled.

‘I’ve learned so much. Let me tell you what I have learned.’

She walked across to Justyna and gently pulled down her skirt. Her friend was ready for work, had no underwear and she knelt before her and began to worship her friend’s cunt. She would be good at this she knew. She enjoyed the stubble rubbing against her face, she loved the smell, She could feel Justyna becoming aroused. She stood up, with Justyna’s juices on her tongue and slid it into her friend’s mouth.

‘I’ve learned that nothing is as beautiful as a woman’s body, that nothing is as lovely as a cunt.  I’ll sleep with men for money, but for me I have to sleep with girls.’

‘Lean over the chair and I’ll take you.’

Justyna made as if to protest.

‘He left this. I don’t think it was an accident. We have to try this.’

Agata had little idea of how to use the strap-on but she was determined to try. She put it on, walked up to Justyna, slapped her bottom before feeling for her rapidly dampening cunt.

‘I’ve never fucked a girl before.’

And they both laughed.

THE END

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