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2003-11-05
Standing up from the chair, I walked around the floor a couple of time, stretching my legs. I contemplated going straight to bed, but it was a little early for that yet, and I was still a little hyped from working. I needed to at least give my mind time to calm down, or I’d just be tossing and turning anyway. Feeling I had to pee, I went into the rather luxurious bathroom. I hiked up my skirt and pulled down my panties and pantyhose, then sat down and relieved myself. When I was done, I moved to the bidet next to the WC. Squatting down, I turned the knob, and a gentle jet of comfortably warm water came up from below and splashed against my pussy. I took a deep breath, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders and back as I sat there and spoiled myself a little. I really, really need to get one of these at home, I thought for probably the hundredth time. After a minute or so, I leaned a little forward, the water now hitting just behind and under my clit. I shuddered with pleasure, and reached down between my legs, running my fingers through my pubic hair and down to my clit. It was throbbing gently, pleased with the attention, and for a moment I contemplated giving myself an orgasm right here. It had been quite a while since I last had one on my own, and even longer since I had someone to help me, and for a moment I indulged, letting my fingers slide further back between my labia, one finger dipping inside my tunnel. It felt really good, and I could feel my nipples hardening inside my bra. I rubbed my free hand over my stomach, letting it wander up under my blouse towards my breasts. My right hand were playing with my clit again, rubbing it carefully between thumb and forefinger.
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I could feel it swell between my wet fingers. With a supreme effort of will, I took my hand away from my pussy. If I came now, my body would become drowsy, but my mind would still be all fired up. I needed a distraction before going to bed, preferably one that would take me out of the hotel room. I suddenly felt a little claustrophobic. A drink in the hotel bar would be nice, I thought, and turned off the water in the bidet, more than a little reluctantly. I’ll give myself a nice orgasm before going to sleep, I promised myself, and immediately felt little perkier. As I rose from the bidet, my feet weren’t entirely steady under me, and I staggered a little just as I pulled up my pantyhose. There was a tearing sound, and when I looked down, there was a nice big hole in my pantyhose, just below the hem over my right hip. A said a few choice words, most of which might have shocked my colleagues in the halls of academe. This was the only pair of pantyhose I’d brought. All my clean outfits included skirts; my only pair of pants I’d worn on the plane, and as such, they were in need of washing and ironing. Still muttering curses under my breath, I pulled up my suitcase and opened it on the bed. Fortunately I’d brought some stockings, so tomorrow wasn’t a complete loss. Unfortunately, they weren’t stay-ups, which meant I had to wear a garter belt.
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I had one in my suitcase, in spite of the fact that I don’t like them much. My mother always drilled into my head when I was a child that a woman should be prepared for all eventualities when she’s travelling; one of the few useful things that twittering, silly woman ever taught me. I held up the garter belt and eyed it with a certain distaste, but unless I wanted to go pantyhose-shopping in a strange city at eight o’clock in the evening, I just had to suck it up. I stripped off my skirt and sweater. The latter would have to go, I realised; the bar of the Marriott was not a place for casual sweaters. Instead I pulled a silk blouse out of my suitcase, the wine-red colour going good with the black skirt. I changed out of my panties as well, putting on some red satin ones that matched the rest of my outfit, including the black garter belt. If you’re colour-coordinating, you might as well do it properly. A lacy red bra completed the look. Wearing only my underwear, I went into the bathroom to freshen up a little. Standing in front of the mirror, I touched up my makeup, just a little lipstick and some mascara. Standing with my face close to the mirror, I could see the faint crow’s feet in the corners of my eyes, and the subtle lines at the corners of my mouth, that told me (as if I didn’t know) that I wasn’t a girl anymore. Still, the result was quite attractive, if not spectacularly so; large grey eyes, a thin (some have said aristocratic) nose, and a mouth that I personally have always thought is a little too wide. I picked up my hairbrush and ran it through my hair a couple of times. I keep it relatively short, hanging straight down to my jaw, where the ends curl slightly inward, framing my face.
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It was still its natural blonde colour; no sign of grey in there yet. Having finished fixing myself up, I turned to the full-size mirror on the bathroom door. I gave myself a critical once-over: good legs, although it takes more of an effort to keep them like that these days; relatively flat belly, with only a hint of a soft paunch; generous breasts that sag only a little when not in a bra, and firm arms with no flab. My behind had been getting just a little round lately, but so far it only accentuated my feminine curves. With the inspection out of the way, I went back to the bedroom to get dressed. First I pulled on the garter belt. Sitting on the bed, I rolled on the silk stockings, one by one, and clipped on the suspenders. The garter belt still annoyed me a little, not because it was uncomfortable, but for what it represented. Ah well, needs must. That done, I put on my blouse, enjoying the silk against my skin. I pulled on the knee-length black skirt with the split down the side, taking care to smooth out any winkles. Finally I step into a pair of high-heeled shoes. Not very comfortable, but the Marriott is, after all, the Marriott. I took a last look at myself in the mirror before going out the door, and nodded to my reflection. You still have it, girl.
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Then I stepped out and locked the door behind me, slipping my key into the tiny purse where I keep my wallet and some other necessities. I took the elevator down to the lobby, then turned left and headed for the bar. As I entered, I looked around for any other convention attendees, but couldn’t see anyone I knew. I walked over to the bar, and the bartender moved smoothly down to my end and nodded politely. “What will it be, Ms. Campbell?” he asked. I was impressed that he knew my name; I’d only stayed here a couple of times before, and I was never one to spend much time in the bar. “A Margarita, please,” I said. Indulging. He nodded again, reaching under the counter for the ingredients. With quick, economical gestures he mixed me a Margarita, complete with salt along the rim of the glass. No juggling with bottles here, thank goodness. I took my drink and headed over to a booth along the wall. Sitting in my booth, I slowly sipped the drink, just watching the other guests and relaxing. The Margarita was gone sooner than I’d intended, and I turned to the bartender to catch his eye.
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I found that he was already watching me, an eyebrow raised in discrete inquiry, and I nodded and tilted the empty glass towards him. He immediately set to mixing me a new one, and brought it over with a smile, taking the empty glass with him as he went. I made a mental note to give him a nice tip; he was making me feel quite at home here. I took my time with the second Margarita, considering idly whether I should go for a third. I was supposed to give my lecture at 9. 15 the next morning, and I had no intention of stepping up to the lectern with a hangover. However, 9. 15 was a long time away, and a third Margarita was looking better with every sip I had of the second one. Just as I’d finished the second drink, the bartender materialised next to me, another one in his hand. He put it on a napkin in front of me, and nodded towards the end of the bar counter. “Courtesy of the gentleman over there, Ms. Campbell,” he said. I looked where he indicated. A man in a suit raised his drink to me and nodded. As the bartender returned to his position behind the bar, the man rose and walked towards me.
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Oh shit, here comes God’s gift to womankind, I thought sarcastically. Truth to be told, though, the man didn’t look bad at all. He was a little taller than me, looking slender and well-built and wearing a nice suit. His dark hair was cut short; a haircut that I’d bet had set him back a few quid. There were touches of grey in it at the temples, and with the lines in his face I made him for his mid- to late forties, which gave him some 8-18 years on me. He moved easily, which told me he was both in reasonably good shape and sober. “Do you mind?” he asked politely in a cultured voice, nodding at the seat opposite me. I shrugged, not feeling like encouraging him but too well-mannered to tell him to bugger off. Apparently he took my shrug as acquiescence, for he sat down across from me. “Edward,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand. I took it. It was warm and dry, his handshake firm without squeezing. “Claudia,” I said. “So, what brings you here?” he inquired. His voice was polite and pleasant.
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He kept his eyes on mine, not looking down at where my breasts were swelling under my blouse. I found myself liking him a little better for it. “I’m here for the convention,” I said. “And you?” I didn’t really want to encourage him to keep talking to me, but it slipped out more from old habit than anything else. “Just passing through,” he said, sipping his drink. “I’m catching the noon flight to New York tomorrow. ” I just nodded, not bothering with keeping up the conversation. He seemed quite unperturbed, though. “So, do you have any plans for tonight?” he asked with a lopsided smile. “No, none,” I said in my frostiest voice, intent on shooting down this branch of the conversation before it got any further. “Excellent,” he said. “How about coming up to my room?” I stared at him, momentarily too stunned to come up with a retort. I’d expected him to come on to me, but I’d thought he’d be a little more circumspect about it. This was a rather more direct approach. He must have interpreted my silence as something else, which became obvious judging from his next question.
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“So, how much?” he asked. “How much for what?” I asked. I don’t think my annoyance or my confusion showed in my face, or he’d more likely have left quietly. “Ah, of course,” he said as if my question made perfect sense. “Let me see, how much for a blowjob?” Now that one really threw me. God, he thinks I’m a prostitute, I finally realised. Suddenly it all made sense, the quick come-on, the whole direction of our brief conversation. He must have thought that I’m working the bar because of the convention. The man, Edward, was still looking quizzically at me. I tensed my arm to slap him hard across the face, but reigned in my anger. I didn’t want to make a scene. “Two hundred pounds,” I replied in a voice as condescending as I could make it. The going rate for sexual favours was quite probably the subject in the world I knew least about, but that sounded sufficiently steep that it ought to scare him off without any further delay. He pursed his lips, but didn’t even hesitate. “All right,” he said.
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“That’s fair enough. ” For the third time in thirty seconds I was reeling inside from shock. How the hell do I get out of this one? I thought numbly. The notion of explaining to him that I’d been leading him along didn’t appeal in the slightest; it made me out to be either a cowardly whore or a stupid tease. I felt like such an idiot. Suddenly I became aware of a twinge in my pussy, which hadn’t quite settled down after the brief attention I’d given it earlier. And equally suddenly, a third option opened up before me. I could simply go with him to his room and suck his cock. The notion was one that would have both infuriated and disgusted me only moments earlier, but now it was strangely appealing. My pussy twitched again, and I pressed my thighs together out of reflex, something that sent a jot of pleasure up into my belly. I realised I was getting badly turned on by the idea of sucking this stranger’s cock for money. In a flash I could just picture myself on my knees in front of him, in a hotel room much like my own, he with his pants around his ankles and his cock standing out, hard and veined, as I took it in my mouth. Once again I tensed my hand, this time to throw the remainder of my Margarita in his face. “Where’s your room?” I heard myself say instead. “Room 806,” he said.
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“I’ll meet you by the elevators. ” He got up, gave me a polite half-bow, and left the bar. I sat there for I don’t know how long. It felt like hours, but it was probably more like seconds.
Not for the life of me could I believe what I’d said. The thoughts that kept flashing through my head were filthy, degrading and completely inappropriate for a woman like me. And that’s why they turn you on so much, a naughty little voice inside me whispered. Between the throbbing of my pussy and the buzz from three Margaritas, I wasn’t feeling my usual self. Somewhat unsteadily I got to my feet, barely remembering to drop a 18-pound note on the table. I walked out of the bar, glad that no one spoke to me, because it felt like I was in a weird dream. When I entered the lobby, I saw Edward immediately, standing over by the elevators, flipping through some newspapers on a table. He had his back to me; I could walk right up the stairs on my left without him noticing. With him leaving for New York the next day, I could be sure never to see him again. Instead my legs brought me in a straight line towards him, my hips even swaying a little as I crossed the lobby. The rational part of my mind was screaming at me to get away from there, but I felt more like a passenger in my own body.
Did he slip something in my drink? I wondered, but dismissed the idea instantly. There are lots of different drugs with lots of different effects, but none that gives one powers of mind control. I had no one to blame but myself. As I came up to him, Edward turned and smiled. I pushed the button for the elevator, and we waited side by side without speaking a word to each other, like two perfect strangers. Which we were. I was somewhat worried about how the ride up would be. Would I loose my nerve? Would we ride eight floors in awkward silence? As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. In the elevator Edward hit the button for the eighth floor. I just stood there, staring straight ahead, trying to look unconcerned, but my heart was racing and my mouth was dry. Suddenly I felt him right behind me. His arm snaked around my waist, his palm on my stomach, and then he brushed my hair aside and touched his lips to the side of my neck. Without thought I tilted my head to the side, exposing my throat, and he kissed my neck insistently. His hands went up to cup my breasts, squeezing them through my blouse and bra. My nipples immediately stiffened; it had been so long since I last felt someone else’s hands on my body like this.
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I leaned back against him, feeling his body against mine, and I became aware of something hard against the small of my back. He was obviously sporting quite an erection, and the knowledge that I would soon put it in my mouth set my pussy on fire. The elevator ride came to an end much too soon for my taste. He hurriedly straightened his tie and jacket, while I tugged on my blouse. Fortunately there was no one outside, and we quickly made our way to Edward’s hotel room. I had to keep a firm grip on myself and walk calmly and nonchalantly, suitable for a high-prized prostitute. If Edward had known that I was going along with this for my own pleasure’s sake, I would have died from embarrassment. Standing outside the door to his room, Edward got out his key and unlocked it. I noticed that his hands were quite steady, and resented him a little for that; why couldn’t he be as turned on and shaken up by this as I was? Then it occurred to me that considering the ease and familiarity he’d approached me with, this was probably far from the first time he’d picked up a prostitute at a hotel. To him, I was just a whore in a long line of whores. Normally that idea should have had me in a towering rage if nothing else had, but now it was all I could do not to put my hand under my skirt and finger myself right there in the corridor. The door opened and we stepped inside. The click as it closed behind us was, to my ears, the boom of the gates of hell slamming shut behind me. I felt damned, and loved it. Edward tossed his key onto the small table, then turned to me.
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I was having problems keeping my hands still, but I managed what I felt was a sufficiently cool and professional look. Edward smiled and reached inside his suit jacket and took out his wallet. From it he extracted two wads of notes, four (I assumed) 20-pound notes with a fifth folded around them. Edward, it appeared, had come prepared. He held out the notes to me, and I took them and slipped them into my small purse. How I managed to keep my hand from shaking violently as I accepted the money, I don’t know; I felt like I was falling completely apart inside. Edward opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again with a snap as I stepped close to him and dropped to my knees. The kneeling part was facilitated by the fact that my legs were beginning to buckle underneath me. I could not remember ever having been so excited. “Stand still,” I said as he fidgeted, and reached for his fly. In no time at all I had it down and was groping around inside his pants for his cock. I couldn’t even be bothered to pull down his pants. It took some fumbling, but soon I had his cock out of his fly. I took a moment to study it; I was no virgin, but the number of cocks I’d seen up close in the light of day (so to speak) was rather limited. It fitted nicely in my hand, neither too big nor too small, and it was warm and hard.
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I pulled back the foreskin, checking carefully that he was clean, which he fortunately was. Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth and took him inside. I had never had a cock in my mouth before, as I’d always found the notion repulsive. What I experienced while kneeling in front of a stranger was anything but. The bulging head of his cock slipped inside my mouth. It felt firm and smooth, yet yielding, almost spongy. I sucked experimentally on it, gingerly touching the tip of my tongue to it. I felt something warm and wet on the tip, and realised Edward was leaking pre-come into my mouth. It was vaguely salty and tangy; not tasty, but not disgusting either. After having teased the head of his cock for a while, I took some more of his shaft in my mouth. It felt different than the head, the skin very soft and smooth, and then the veined and knobbly shaft underneath the thin skin. I took him deep into my mouth, relishing the feeling of his rampant cock sliding between my lips and over my tongue. When he was as deep in my mouth as I was prepared to let him, I pulled my head back, trying to squint discretely down along my nose to see what it looked like when his cock emerged from my mouth. I nearly went cross-eyed with the effort before I noticed that the bathroom door, which had a mirror on the inside just like in my room, was standing open, giving me a nice profile view of the scene if I glanced to my right. I shifted around carefully so that I could get a better look, and what I saw nearly made me lose it right there.
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In the full-size mirror I could see myself on my knees, my skirt riding up to expose a good amount of stocking-clad thigh. My breasts were pressing against the silk blouse in a provocative manner, but the most exciting thing was the sight of my own face, framed by soft blonde hair, and with a man’s cock planted deep in my mouth. I kept staring at the mirror as I experimentally moved my head back and forth on his erection, seeing it slide in and out, wet with my saliva. I looked up at Edward standing over me, and saw his face, lips parted and eyes half closed as he looked with obvious fascination on his cock sliding between my lips. I thought of the 200 pounds in my purse, and that did it for me. I plunged one hand under my skirt and between my legs, and felt the soaked satin of my panties against my fingers. I kept sucking Edward’s cock as I pulled the crotch of my panties aside and touched the dripping wet folds of my pussy. I plunged one finger inside me, then another as well. I had a cock in my mouth while finger-fucking myself, and I felt like the world’s greatest slut. It felt great. Edward was fumbling with his belt as I worked on him with my mouth, and soon he dropped his pants and shorts. Since I was down there already, I used my free hand to get them off him. I ran my hand up and down his legs, feeling the muscles underneath his skin. My first impression had been right; he looked to be in great shape for a man his age. I grabbed his buttock and pulled him closer, gorging myself on his cock while digging my nails into his arsecheek.
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He was groaning now, and breathing hard. I figured he didn’t have much left before coming. “Jesus, Claudia, I’m coming,” he breathed. I pulled my hand out from between my legs and brought it up to his shaft. I was looking up at him as I did so, and I could see his eyes bulge as he saw my wet fingers wrapped around his cock. He groaned out loud, and his cock swelled in my hand and mouth. While I was very aroused, I wasn’t quite ready to have a man come in my mouth on my first blowjob. I popped him out of my mouth just in time for the first blast of come to hit me across the lips and cheek. I kept a firm grip on his cock, pumping it with my hand as the second and third shot splashed across my cheek and forehead, respectively. There was a weaker fourth shot which hit my nose, and an even weaker fifth one that hit my other cheek. I could feel some of his sperm dribbling past my lips and into my mouth, but I didn’t care. My face was splattered with warm, sticky come, and I turned to my right to see myself in the mirror. The woman in the mirror was wearing my clothes and my face, but there all resemblance ended. There was semen all over her face, some of it dripping from her chin and down onto her silk blouse, some of it even in her hair. Her lips were parted, wet with grey-white come, and her eyes were glazed with lust.
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I lifted one hand and ran my fingertips down my cheek, feeling the slick sperm. I sat back on my haunches and looked up at Edward. “Do you have a handkerchief?” I asked in a voice that didn’t sound like my own. On sudden impulse I put my come-covered fingers in my mouth and nearly came as I tasted his sperm. This was by far the sluttiest thing I’d ever done. “Yes, of course,” he said in a voice like a punch-drunk boxer. His eyes were bulging as he looked down on me. He pulled a neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me. I used to wipe my face clean of his come, looking up at him the whole time. Then I used it to wipe his cock dry. To my surprise I felt it twitch under my fingers as I did, and I became even more acutely aware of my throbbing, wet pussy. Getting cautiously to my feet, I folded up the wet handkerchief and stuck it back in his pocket. He just stared at me in amazement, and I felt like giggling. Now he was the one who was off balance. I put my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him, pushing with my hips.
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His hands went to my waist, and I smiled sweetly at him. “Would you say you’ve gotten your money’s worth?” I asked. He just looked at me for a couple of long seconds. “How much to fuck you?” he said hoarsely. Right then I would have let him take me for free, but I realised I’d come to enjoy my little game way too much. “Another hundred,” I said. I had no idea if I was pricing myself out of the market, but going by the look in his eyes he’d have sold his soul to afford me. I knew exactly how he felt. Without a word he pulled out his wallet and extracted another wad of twenties. I took it and made a small production out of picking up my purse, opening it and slipping the money inside. Then I turned to him and smiled politely, even though I was shaking inside. “Do you want me on the bed?” I asked, playing the role of the professional. “Hell, yes,” he said. He wrenched off his jacket, then began tugging hard on his tie. I affected calm, beginning to unbutton my blouse.
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My fingers touched a wet stain, and I wondered to myself if it was difficult to get semen stains off silk. That was one domestic problem I’d never encountered before. By the time I’d taken off my blouse he was naked. I looked at his body as I unzipped and pulled down my skirt. He had hints of a paunch and love handles around his waist, but he had good muscle tone as well. His cock, now semi-hard, was five, maybe six inches when erect, which suited me just fine; right then I would have settled happily for his little finger, I was so hot. He smiled as he saw my garter belt, and I realised that I he hadn’t believed me a hooker before, he certainly did now; they’re probably the only women for whom garter belts are stock in trade. At this point it proved an obstacle, though: as long as it was on, I wouldn’t be able to pull my panties off. Leaving that problem for later, I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. Freed from its restraining influence, my breasts spilled out. They’re fairly large and heavy, and have begun to sag a little over the years. Edward didn’t seem to mind in the least. He stepped over to me, naked now, and took them in his hands. His hands felt hot against my flesh, and I couldn’t help but moan as he weighed and kneaded my tits. The nipples were hard, and he bent down and took one in his mouth.
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I put my hands around the back of his head and pressed his face against my breasts, and he sucked even harder in response. After a while Edward let go of my tits long enough to push me back against the bed. I got on it, scooting in towards the middle, then lay down on my back with my legs spread. His eyes went straight to my panty-covered pussy and the wet stain I knew was in the crotch of my panties. He got on the bed with me, kneeling between my legs, his prick standing to rigid attention once again. I reached down to unhook the suspenders that held my stockings, but Edward stopped me. “Leave them on,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t you want me to take off my panties?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. The obvious arousal in my voice sort of spoiled the effort, though. “Never mind the panties,” he said. He took hold of the wet satin and pulled the gusset aside, twisting it around once to make it stay out of the way. Then he lay down on top of me, supporting himself on one arm while guiding his cock towards my now-exposed pussy. I was so ready for him I was about burst. When his cock entered me, it was pure heaven. It pushed smoothly into my tight pussy, and I wrapped my legs around his thighs, pulling him close.
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He rested most of his weight on his knees and elbows as he began thrusting vigorously into me. There was nothing soft or tender about it; we were fucking like animals.
The squelching sounds as his cock pumped in and out of my saturated cunt turned me on even more, and I clung to him, wrapping myself around him like a four-limbed snake. I was screwing a complete stranger in his hotel room, for money, and it was the best sex I’d ever had. I loved every part of it. His weight on top of me, holding me down; the warmth of his skin against the insides of my thighs; the way each powerful thrust pressed my bum down into the mattress. Every time he withdrew for a new thrust, I followed his movement, clinging to him with my legs and arms, trying to prolong the time he spent inside me. There was a need in me I’d never experienced before, a need that needed fulfilling as powerfully as a junkie needs their fix. I pressed my lips against his shoulder, his neck, his cheek and finally his lips, pushing my tongue into his mouth and accepting his own into mine. There was a void between my thighs that only he could fill. Every time he pulled himself out, it was agony; every time he buried himself deep inside me was bliss. “Oh God, fuck me,” I moaned into his ear. “Fuck me hard. Fuck my pussy. I need it so bad.
” I’d never talked dirty during sex before in my life, but now it seemed appropriate. “Can you feel how wet I am?” I gasped. “How tight? Does it feel good to have your cock inside me?” “Fuck yes,” he groaned. “Damn, you’re so good. I bet you really like your work, don’t you?” “I love it,” I panted. “I love being a whore. I’m such a slut, letting you fuck me for money. ” My own words were egging me on, driving me closer to orgasm. I needed it so bad. Suddenly Edward stopped hammering his cock into me, and for a moment I felt a terrible disappointment that he’d come already. But that, fortunately, was not the case. “Turn over,” he instructed me. “I want to fuck you from behind. ” “Please, not yet,” I begged, pushing my hip against him, trying to suck his cock back inside my pussy by force of will alone. “I’m so close, I need it so much.
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Please, just a little more. ” That probably didn’t sound like anything a real prostitute would say, but right then I couldn’t have cared less. I was so very close it was almost painful. Edward looked a little surprised, but he took it like a man. With a grunt he slammed his cock back inside my sopping wet cunt and resumed fucking me at an even more frenzied pace. I clung to him, moaning and trashing on the bed. It didn’t take long before I came. The climax built inside me, and it felt as though time stretched out like a rubber band, my goal always just out of reach no matter how close I got. But then it all burst inside me, and the most amazing orgasm ripped through me. I lifted Edward straight up from the bed as I arched my back, every muscle and tendon in my body taut as a bowstring. Then I collapsed back down, his weight on top of me pressing me down. I moaned through gritted teeth as jolt after jolt of orgasmic pleasure shot from my pussy and radiated all through my body, my legs twitching as I writhed on the bedspread. When my vision cleared, I looked up at Edward’s face, hovering above me with an awed expression. “Wow, you weren’t joking, were you?” he asked. “Fuck, that was so good,” I panted.
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I scraped my nails down his chest. “You’re amazing. ” He smiled down at me, pleased by the compliment but not letting it go to his head. He sat up on his knees, his hard, wet cock sticking up from his lap; he obviously wasn’t done yet. “Go on, turn around,” he said. I sat up as well, preparing to turn over. Then, on a sudden impulse, I bent down and took his cock in my mouth. “Fuck,” I heard him gasp above me as I sucked on his cock, feeling my own slick juices coating his shaft, tasting myself from his pole. The taste of my own pussy juice, fresh from his cock, sent a tingle through my pussy. Powerful as my orgasm had been, it hadn’t left me satisfied, only dulled the sharp edge of my hunger temporarily. With a wet ‘plop’ I slipped his cock out of my mouth and sat up, giving him a naughty grin. Then I turned around on my hands and knees, my arse thrust out towards him. I felt cool air on my wet pussy, and licked my lips invitingly as I looked at him over my shoulder. My heavy breasts were hanging down below me, swaying from side to side. I felt so utterly exposed, with both my pussy and arsehole gaping towards him; it was a fantastic feeling, so cheap and slutty and available all at once.
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The thought ‘bitch in heat’ crossed my mind, and I found it so incredibly fitting. Edward didn’t waste any time. He got into position, kneeling behind me, and guided his cock back into the cunt it had so recently abandoned. My pussy welcomed him back inside, the walls contracting around his shaft. This position allowed for stimulation of entirely different parts inside me, and I relished the variation. I wiggled my arse, feeling his cock press against the walls of my pussy. I leaned forward, sliding myself off his cock, then pushed my arse back, impaling myself on his shaft. I felt Edward’s hands grab hold of my hips. He slapped my arse lightly a couple of times, and I yelped in surprise. Then he began fucking me from behind with deep, powerful strokes. Being fucked doggy style was great. Christ, even the name is degrading, I thought with a shiver of delight. Edward controlled the tempo with his hands on my hips, driving deep inside me. I could imagine feeling every vein in his shaft as it slid between my slick pussy lips. With every stroke, my swollen clit was rubbed back and forth between my labia, and that oh-so-welcome warmth began spreading through my pussy again.
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Shifting his grip, Edward reached under my arms and took hold of my pendulous tits that were swinging back and forth as he fucked me. He squeezed the big globes in his hands, and I moaned and arched my back. “Squeeze my tits,” I hissed passionately. “Pinch my nipples. ” I slammed my arse back against him, the loud slaps of his hips against my buttocks filling the room. “Do you like my tits, Edward? Do they feel good in your hands?” “I love you tits,” Edward panted behind me. I could hear the strain in his voice now. “You have fucking great tits. They’re so big and heavy. ” No further back that two hours ago I would have slapped a man’s face for telling me I had ‘fucking great tits’. Now the words sent a thrill down my spine. He was looming over me, kneeling behind me with his cock in my pussy, leaning over my back to grasp my breasts. He was in a position of dominance, and it turned me on even more to know that he had total control of my body this way. I wiggled my arse from side to side as he fucked me, and was rewarded with a throaty groan. With one hand I reached underneath myself, and my fingers found my clit and began flicking across it.
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I wanted to come one more time before he spent himself inside me. Edward’s breathing was becoming quite laboured, and when I looked at him over my shoulder, I saw the sweat streaming down his face and chest. “Are you going to come for me soon, Edward?” I teased him. “Are you going to pump my pussy full of your hot sperm?” He groaned; I could see how my words were pushing him closer to the edge. I felt so deliciously naughty. His chest heaving, Edward stopped with his cock buried all the way inside me. I grinned at him and wiggled my hips some more. “Come on, Edward,” I said in a husky voice. “Fill me up. You know you want to. ” Edward was looking at me. His eyes were glazed. “How much for your arse?” he said. His voice was so hoarse with lust it sounded more like an animal growl. “How much do you want to let me fuck your arse?” I felt my eyes go wide, and I licked my lips as my mind raced.
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I’d never had anything up my bum before, not even a finger. I didn’t have to think about it for long, though. “Another hundred,” I said, and this time I had trouble recognising my own voice as well. “Another hundred pounds, and you can fuck my arse. ” Edward pulled his cock out of my slick tunnel with a wet, slurping sound. He grabbed two pillows from the head of the bed and put them under my hips. I lay down on my belly, the pillows elevating my arse like an offering to some ancient virility god. I was looking over my shoulder the whole time, fascinated with the preparation. I saw his cock glisten with my juices, and hoped it would be sufficient lubrication. I needn’t have worried. Edward pulled my buttocks apart with his strong hands and bowed down. I gave a start as the tip of his tongue probed my puckered anus. He licked and teased, and I frantically bean rubbing my clit again as he lubricated my virgin arsehole with spit. Having someone lick my arse made me feel so incredibly slutty. When he was satisfied I was ready for him, Edward straightened up and positioned his cock just outside my anus.
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I could feel my sphincter twitch with part dread and part anticipation. He rubbed the tight hole with the pad of his thumb, easing the first joint of his finger inside and wiggling it around. Then he pulled it out, touched the head of his cock against my tight hole, and pushed. A stab of pain shot from my arse as my tight sphincter was forcibly distended for the first time. I bit down on the bedspread, trying to muffle my moans. Whether he took it for pain or kinky arousal, Edward seemed encouraged by my display, and slowly but evenly slid his hard pole into my arsehole. His face looked absolutely wild as he pushed his cock inside me, and I knew he couldn’t possibly last long in that tight tunnel. I frigged my clit with renewed ferocity, feeling the orgasm build slowly inside me. In spite of the copious lubrication, my arse stung as Edward fucked me none too gently, but the trade-off was well worth it. I would never have imagined that having my arse stuffed full of cock could have felt so good, so arousing. The walls of my pussy were contracting rhythmically around a cock that was no longer there, and I wished I could have had something inside that hole as well. My clitoris was a hard, slick pebble under my fingers, and I felt those familiar contractions of my diaphragm that signalled an impending orgasm. Edward beat me to it. With a hoarse groan he drove himself all the way into my arse and unloaded what felt like a pint of sperm inside me. The knowledge that my virgin arsehole was being pumped full of a man’s come was all it took for me; a hard squeeze on my clit, and I came hard, spasming and jerking on the bed.
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Edward collapsed on top of me, his cock still buried in my arse. I clenched and relaxed my buttocks, and he groaned in surrender. After a few moments he rolled off me, and his half-limp cock slipped out of my arse and left a wet trail across one buttock. I raised myself up on one elbow and looked down at Edward’s cock. It was slick with saliva and pussy juice, with a grey-while smear on the head that I realised was some of his sperm. There were flecks of brown matter along the shaft. I felt a thrill of arousal, and knew that this very image would forever remain burned into my mind. There was absolutely no doubt that from now on, whenever I played with myself, this very image would be what flashed across my mind at the moment of climax. We both lay there regaining out breaths for a couple of minutes. Then Edward sat up. “I guess I should pay you,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. I just smiled at him. He got up and walked over to where he’d left his wallet, picking it up and fishing out yet another wad of twenties. Damn, but he came prepared, I thought to myself. I got off the bed and walked over and took the offered money, slipping it into my purse with the rest.
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“So, do you feel you’ve had your money’s worth?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Worth every penny,” he assured me. “Christ, I haven’t been fucked like that since I was twenty. ” “Glad you enjoyed it,” I smiled. I straightened the crotch of my satin panties, then picked up my bra. Edward sat on the bed and watched in silence as I go dressed. I took a moment to fluff my hair, looking in the mirror and making sure there weren’t any splatters of his come left on my face. “Is there any chance of us getting together again?” Edward asked from the bed. I hesitated a moment. Did I want to see him again? “Maybe,” I hedged. “Do you stay here often?” “Six or eight times a year,” he replied. “It varies. Do you have a number where you can be reached?” Making a snap decision, I wrote my cell phone number on a piece of hotel stationary and gave it to him. “You can call this number a couple of days in advance,” I instructed. “I’m not making any promises, though.
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” “That’s fair enough,” he replied. Then he smiled. “I’ll be in touch. ” As I left his room and walked back to the elevator, my mind was just beginning to reel with the enormity of what I’d done. If this comes out, I’m ruined, I thought. When I got back to my own room, I’d expected to be tossing and turning for a long time before falling asleep, but to my surprise I blacked out as soon as my head touched the pillow. I just barely remembered setting the alarm clock. # # #The next morning I got up and went down to breakfast. I looked carefully around, but couldn’t see Edward anywhere. He was either sleeping in or he’d left early. Back in my room, I printed out my lecture and put the papers in my folder. Then I got properly dressed. I wore the garter belt under my skirt; I had decided I’d worn my last pair of pantyhose. In the hotel auditorium, where the lectures would be held during the convention, I sat at the back of the stage with the other special guests and speakers while the organiser held the welcoming speech. I didn’t listen very carefully; those speeches all sounded alike, and besides, my mind was on other things.
I didn’t sit up and pay attention until I heard my name mentioned as he introduced me. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, it is my great pleasure to introduce the first speaker of this convention,” the compère said into the microphone. I adjusted my papers and pushed my glasses higher up on my nose. “Please welcome professor of Women’s Studies at Cambridge University and one of the leading radical feminists of the decade: Professor Claudia Campbell. ” I rose from my chair to enthusiastic applause and walked up to the lectern. Ignoring my stinging arse, I looked down on my papers and began to speak. The End. .
