Maybe there really is a God.
I grew up in a musical family. Which is a major understatement. My family was a massive Christian Folk group. We toured the United States back and forth for decades. Our albums sold millions, but we never cracked the main stream Top 40. It didn’t bother most of us, we were just singing and playing.
I was born into the business. I was the last child of eight, every one of us in the band. The brothers had become a hit in the early eighties. My father was their first song writer, my mom the manager. By the time I was born the band had been touring for over a decade, making millions, spreading the Word.
When I was old enough to join the band at five, I had been training to sing and play anything with a string for as long as I could remember. I had watched my older siblings perform and couldn’t wait to be old enough to be allowed to be in the band.
I loved performing. Still do, which is why my details are going to be vague about where, when and whom. While on stage my life was pure heaven. I was adored, cherished and loved by everyone and I loved everyone right back. I was everyone’s little angel.
Offstage, I was lost in a maelstrom of personalities and political machinations.
Everyone, from my father and mother, to each of my siblings and all the crew who toured with us, each one of them needed something from me constantly. I was the youngest, popular, most pliable and the easiest to make into a product.
This isn’t going to be a Poor Little Rich Girl story, I am merely giving you a background for how I began acting out from the constant pressure and repression I endured. We were a celebrity family, when that still meant something, before Reality T.V.. We were Christian and made our entire fortune espousing the Word of The Gospel. Scandals had happened all around us, but never to us. My parents are True Believers, and refused to allow their children to be smeared by gossip and scandal.
They were strict. My father exerted extreme control over his flock. The older kids were paired up with younger kids, both encouraged to watch over each other physically and morally. We toured about 80% of the year, in four tour buses, and we were supervising each other constantly.
There was an abundance of love, but any misbehavior was dealt with publicly, in front of the whole family and crew, and it was severe. Most often the offender was told to stand in the middle of the circle, told to find bible passages that related to their particular offense and then to improvise a sermon condemning their own behavior. Poor sermons were utterly humiliating affairs for all concerned. An awful punishment, not worth risking.
There was never any violence or physical punishment. It was all emotional and generally public, a minimum of seven siblings and two parents present. One was never allowed privacy to deal with humiliation, shame or embarrassment.
Puberty was awful.
It probably sucked for all of my older siblings for many reasons, but here is why it was terrible for me. Everyone else around me had already done it. I was the youngest person in my world at all times, except on stage. It wasn’t until I was 17 that one of my oldest siblings had a child.
Somehow they all noticed the moment I developed any hint of breasts.
My brothers, although still in direct competition with me for stage time and adoration from the crowd and our parents, had always been kind to me and physically affectionate. When one of them noticed I had a slight swell of breast when I was twelve, suddenly all four brothers and my father ceased touching me. At all.
At times we would brush against each other in the bus, or moving around the world, but they always flinched away immediately. It was devastating. I felt like a monster, a pariah. I wept and yearned for touch.
My sisters and I cuddled more, and it helped, but I’d lost four friends, and a father in a very quick period, and I was bereft of masculine energy all at once. Because of my breasts. My three older sisters all compared their larger breasts to mine, telling me any number of stories about what it now meant that I had breasts. All in all it seemed that breasts were a burden I didn’t want.
I learned later that my father was the reason the boys had stopped touching me. He’s set a strict rule for when the children entered puberty. Sex was a taboo subject, other than to acknowledge it existed as a means to reproduce and carry the Lord’s work forward. No touching.
Needless to say sex became an obsession of mine.
It didn’t occur to me until I was twenty that I could potentially seek out sex on my own.
I’m guessing that sexual desire is formed in each of us differently, it sure looks like it to me, but mine was built around the forbidden aspect of it. The biblical aspect of sex, all the strange stories of incest and rape didn’t strike me as sexual then, though I read that it does for others.
Instead my sexuality was formed in the tiny glimpses of sexual dynamics in films and on T.V., in overheard conversations and whispered curse words. To my young, pubescent mind sex became a terrifying, random, violent activity. One that fascinated me. No-one ever said sex could be about pleasure, but intuitively I knew there was a release of some sort, an abandon in sex that I yearned for.
Finally, it dawned on me that I could seek out that freedom and finally release the tension that constantly surrounded me.
The first time I got away it only worked because I didn’t make a big deal of it. I walked up to one of our security guards as I stepped off the bus outside the hotel. I said, “I’m just going to go for a quick walk. I’ll let you know as soon as I get back.” I smiled and wandered off into the night for the first time in my life without anyone at my side.
The freedom was intoxicating. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t stop grinning.
Also, I was amazingly horny.
Let me try and help you understand. I could masturbate, carefully and quietly. On tour it could either be in my bunk on the bus at night, but the tension of having my sisters above and beside me on their own bunks really limited the frequency and intensity. Once in a while I might try in an hotel room bed with a sister in the next bed, likely waiting for me to go to sleep so she could masturbate too.
So it was bathrooms, and the bus bathroom was never to be used for number two while driving. One couldn’t masturbate unless it was a quick one.
That left public restrooms.
Unisex restrooms have a lot of awful, intriguing ideas written on them. My imagination was a fertile bed for all manner of dark, sordid ideas. Staring at filthy words, or pictographs carved into metal walls, I touched myself and carved grooves in my psyche.
On that first night out in the world, without chaperone for the first time, I looked at every person as a sexual object. Old, young, male, or female I wondered what sort of awful, sexual things they would do when alone.
When a middle aged man smiled and winked at me as we passed, I stopped in my tracks and watched him walk away unaware of my fascination.
That had been the first person who had ever flirted with me when I was free to do anything about it, no sibling or parent in sight. I felt weak in the knees. That simple male attention was a drop of benediction to a dying soul bereft of masculine affection.
Am I being overly dramatic?
Imagine yourself spending the vast majority of your puberty unable to flirt with the gender you are attracted to? At all. Not even from the stage because cameras want you to be the angelic, perfect, virgin even though you are an adult and a sexual being!
Too specific…? My bad.
Suffice it to say I was vibrating as I walked down the road. In my demure skirt, and button down sweater, I looked like a Sunday school teacher. The men smelled my naiveté because I was literally gawking at all of them.
Eventually one approached.
This guy was exactly the kind of creep who would pounce on a girl as out of her element as I obviously was. He was older than me, but I was as young a twenty year old as you could imagine. He was wiry, strong, and intense. I suppose he looked Italian, but I couldn’t say. His skin was not pale, but it wasn’t Mediterranean dark. Brown eyes, dark thick hair and a huge smile were what hypnotized me.
I watched his eyes roam over my body, and it felt as palpable as a touch, I had never been so overtly assessed as a sexual being before. I began to blush as his eyes darted back and forth from my body to my face rapidly. As he spoke at an intimate volume, invading my space, I trembled. Oddly, I worried if I was pretty enough.
I never grew tall, Five foot three, and I’m quite petite. I sometimes weigh as little as a hundred and five pounds when we are deep in the tour, like that night. I never grew more than an A cup breast, and my hips were narrow and sleight. I had a good butt, I thought. Full and firm, but I was self-conscious of my small breasts and fragile looking frame.
I don’t get a lot of sun, so I’m pale, but our stylists loved my hair golden-blonde, so they dyed it to look like I spent a lot of time in the sun. My complexion was good so I didn’t need much foundation, but we always did my eyes and cheeks simply. The fans wanted me to still be who I was when I was younger, and I was dressed and made-up in a style I’d worn years ago.
What I’m saying is I didn’t feel at all like a mature, sophisticated woman receiving the attentions of a grown man. I felt awkward and foolish. I could tell he was laughing at me, and I burned with shame. I wanted to be worldly and desirable, not a child anymore.
I wanted to live the stories I’d picked up of people being spontaneous, aggressive and dangerous.
Since he was very close to me, one arm pressed to the wall near me casually, his face was bent downward toward me. I could see him gazing at my small breasts, and it made me blush harder. Abruptly, without really thinking about it, I leaned in and quickly kissed his lips. Then I pulled back, ashamed of myself.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’
“I’m glad you did. That means I get to do it back.” And he leaned in slowly, and at first gently, then more and more firmly he pressed his mouth to mine. It was indescribably how powerfully the contact of his lips to mine affected me. Intense pleasure of a type I’d never tasted before came to life all through my body.
It wasn’t merely physical contact, it was a healing touch to a long festering wound. It was the first moment of sexual awaking with a partner. It was a confirmation of my desires. It fulfilled a need to be touched, lusted for, and paid attention to as a woman.
It was marvelous.
I had no idea who he was, where he was from, how old he was. Nothing. And that ignorance following a lifetime of being surrounded by the same intimate group almost exclusively, it was liberating. I wanted no information about him. I wanted him to be a proxy for all things male.
When he pulled back, his tongue darted out and licked my lips and I moaned audibly, it was unexpected and salacious. I grinned at him, shy and embarrassed by my obvious lust.
“Oh, you’re on drugs.”
I shook my head no, shocked.
“Yeah right. Okay, so it’s your turn.”
I didn’t quite know what to do, so I leaned in and kissed him again, happy to have the freedom to risk this behavior. I held my lips to his longer and more firmly, relaxing my mouth and letting my tongue touch his lips. He opened his mouth wider and his tongue began to slip around mine amazingly.
Leaning in, I pressed my hand to his chest and he leaned in grinding himself against me. I gasped as the intensity of my feelings overwhelmed me, and stepped back slightly. I was happy to keep going, but I needed a moment.
The man looked at my face; I felt like a harlot behaving like this and glanced away. He hooked my chin with his finger and tilted my face up to meet eyes with me. I could tell he liked me, the way he was smiling, and gazing so intensely. I loved being looked at like that.
“My turn.” He whispered and I smiled, eager to kiss again.
He leaned in and his open mouth devoured mine, his tongue exploring me. I allowed him to kiss me, frozen still as his hand pressed to me chest the way mine had his. Then infinitesimally his fingers began to dig into the flesh of my meager breast.
I gasped, inhaling his breath. It tasted of something smoky and sharp. Alcohol I suspected. Immersed in one of my favorite fantasies- that of being touched by any man who felt the desire- I was lost now to reality, I wondered if this was how it felt to be drunk.
I was silent, my habit after years of stifling any sounds of pleasure, but I swooned against him, submitting myself utterly to whatever he desired. His mouth continued to kiss me, my own mouth eager to learn what to do. With tentative attempts I learned what his mouth required of mine, while his hand grew bold and openly massaged my breast.
I ignored the fact that we were leaning against a building on a public street.
I was two blocks from my hotel, my entire family likely unaware that I was missing yet. Unbelievably I was allowing a man I had said hello to less than three minutes before grope my body on a seedy street while dozens of people walked past. Willing to let him do anything he desired I was just happy to finally taste the sweet bliss of mutual lust.
Sensing that, I suppose, he stopped and looked around at the passing people frowning at us.
“Come here.” He said his voice strained and tense sounding all of a sudden.
The man took my hand and I staggered along behind him as he dragged me deliriously into an alley. Almost running, he pulled me along and took me behind a dumpster full of trash. Then he whirled me around and pressed my back against the wall of the building.
Panting with desire, I was dizzy with passion. I wanted him to fuck me but I wasn’t clear how that was supposed to happen. Pressing himself against me he began to kiss me, but now it was quick pecks all over my face. He kissed my forehead, cheeks, lips, nose and jaw. I felt adored and my body trembled on the verge of something I’d never felt before.
He pulled my sweater open and kissed down my neck. I’d seen that happening movies so often it thrilled me to finally feel what a mouth licking and kissing my neck was actually like. I understood now the rapturous expression on the faces of the women in those shows. It was delicious. I loved the sensation of warm, wet mouth, then cooling spit as his mouth moved on.
Active hands pulled my sweater off and dropped it on the dirty ground, giving me a thrill of rebellion. My dress unzipped in the back and his fingers found and undid that zipper while his mouth found my unpierced earlobes and began to suck them, making me tremble with delight.
Distracted by that sensual feeling I hardly noticed what was happening as he pulled my dress off my shoulders and let it drop to the ground. With my dress pooled around my feet I was suddenly in my underwear in front of a stranger in an alley. It was fabulously sordid. My body tingled at being seen by him.
Those nimble fingers moved to my bra while his mouth found mine again and we feverishly kissed. I wanted to let him have anything he wanted as long as these feelings continued. It was amazing how far I was willing to go in order to feel the touch of a man.
Then my bra was undone and dropping from my arms. Next his mouth found my erect nipples and I shuddered and whimpered as pleasure keen and profound, enlivened my body. The feel of his mouth suckling and licking my hard buttons was sharp on the flesh of my breast, but I could also feel it echoing in my sex, the arches of my feet, my spine and exploding in my brain.
I couldn’t believe how all-encompassing the rapture of it felt. I’d never felt any kind of happiness doing… anything… that could compete with this utter bliss. As his mouth left one nipple, his hand would replace it and massage the small mound. The air was chilly where his mouth left my skin damp, and my nipples ached beautifully.
I opened my eyes and watched a couple walk by twenty feet from me. The risk of being caught naked was as salacious an idea as I had been able to comprehend growing up. I had eyes on me constantly but was never allowed to be seen nude. Now I was vulgarly exposed and it felt both thrilling and obscene.
It was the depravity of letting this stranger defile my virginal flesh that egged me on rather than shame me into stopping. Every voice in my head- and there were many- telling me not to do this only urged my lustful rebellion further, inflaming my passion.
When the man’s fingers delved between my thighs, shocking me, my labia thrummed with sensation. I opened my legs, defying every instinct I had to preserve that special holy of holies. I wanted my virginity gone. It was an unwanted symbol of my childhood that weighed on my mind constantly.
I knew that there were those that wanted me to be a saint and be a healer, but I wasn’t special. I wasn’t God’s chosen, I was just a woman who wanted to feel passion the same as anyone.
As this stranger groped my sex, I bit my lip against the tide of desire that threatened to spill out of me in songs of celebration. This was so much better than church. He pulled down my panties, my last bastion of modesty, and I lifted my legs free of them, glad to finally be utterly nude, baptized anew as a slut.
The man, my lover, grinned and said, “I haven’t seen pubic hair in a while. Cute.” And he buried his face in my blonde muff and I felt his tongue lick up along the groove of my sex, making my legs weak. I felt more vulnerable than when I went to the doctor, more violated than being groped in a crowd pushing against us at an airport or public event, and more lecherous than I thought possible.
As he lapped at my sex, the place I peed from, I shivered with delight and depravity. The more I thought about how filthy and immoral this was, the more my body shivered with bliss. I kept my eyes open and darting around. I was watching people pass the ends of the alley, and watching the top of his head and face as his mouth delighted me exquisitely.
This was having your pussy eaten. I could now tie the phrase to an action.
I really enjoyed having my pussy eaten!
Suddenly things got even more amazing when his slippery tongue found my clitoris. I had discovered that little marvel very early, but having someone else stimulating it was beyond anything I had ever dreamed of.
My hips jumped and I mewled my pleasure behind closed lips. His hands clamped down on my hips, holding me against the chill wall, and he focused his attention on my overwrought little nubbin. I lifted a hand and put a knuckle in my mouth to stop from laughing, or crying or something.
Yet I had this profound need to be witnessed. I couldn’t comprehend how one little body could contain so much rapture without sharing it with my fans.
I was born into a celebrity family, it does warp you.
Once I was more or less able to keep my hips from jumping as he suckled my button, his hands went back to groping my body. He kneaded my buttocks, lewdly prying them apart. Then one hand reached up for my breasts and pinched my nipples and fondled my small mounds.
Content to allow him to take his pleasure from me, I relished his attention and simply submitted to whatever whim moved him. Soon my sex was dripping wet and slippery. It felt delicious and perverted to see my juices glistening on his face.
Abruptly he stopped and stood in front of me, leaning over me. Bending down to my face, he kissed me, his mouth redolent with my smell. Mortified that he would expect me to taste my own juices from his mouth, I tasted vagina for the first time and found it had little flavor. Just a hint of metallic musk.
The sensation however was debauched and erotic. I thrilled to be forced to feel the slippery juice smear over my lips and chin. I was delighted to taste the difference on his tongue as it invaded my mouth. Helpless to resist, my lust too far gone, I endured it as his mouth did to mine, what it had just been doing to my vagina.
He took my hand and placed it on the bulge in his pants and I quivered to feel the firm tube of manhood there. I was utterly lost and I pulled back and looked up into his eyes, shy and insecure. I wanted to ask for help.
I had read so many weird things written in scrawls in bathroom stalls about sucking cock that it was a thorn in my mind. What was it really? How did one do it well, like so many men and woman named in so many stalls.
I was too far gone to stop, so I blurted it out.
“Can I suck your cock?”
I knew it was terrible, because of how angrily it was written, but I wanted to be bad. I wanted to be a slut, like those people whose names had been carved into a metal wall or door.
“Yes.” He grinned at me. “I’d like that very much.” He undid his pants and pulled out his penis. I dropped to my knees on my discarded dress, hypnotized by the huge tube of flesh suddenly revealed to my avid gaze.
I knelt there and stared at it. It was so alien. Nothing like that existed in my world. I’d never seen a photo of an erect penis, I wasn’t even sure what erect meant, until then. I’d glimpsed flaccid ones, my brothers’, the odd flasher in the crowd, men here and there at the beach or someplace, but this was my first erect one.
Unwilling to let me simply stare, the man took his member in hand and began to brush the tip over my lips. Suddenly I grew faint. I was beside myself with lust, and loved it as he stroked his cock over my face. The hot flesh was soft and smooth and felt wonderful caressing my skin.
The same way he had kissed my face, this stranger rubbed his erection all over my features making my face flush hotly as the shame and wantonness I felt suffused me. Unable to help myself I slipped my tongue out as his bulbous tip passed and I licked it.
He stopped and pressed his flesh to my mouth. Obligingly I parted my lips and he pressed his knob into my mouth. I began to lick and kiss his penis. It tasted like skin but intimate, warm and slightly spicy. I loved the heat, and the slippery feel of his skin as it grew wet with my spit.
I coated him with drool and moved my lips and tongue around, exploring him. Crevasses and ridges abounded and I had no end to places to explore and feel with my mouth. I closed my eyes and allowed him to move his cock in and out of my mouth while I lapped and caressed his flesh with my lips and tongue.
My hands found my sex and breasts and I began to masturbate and fondle myself as he used my mouth. I was overjoyed to be able to give him pleasure. Just knowing he liked using my mouth like this was delightful. I felt mature and worldly being such a slut in public.
None of my sisters would have the courage to do this. And not as many people would want them to. I was the pretty one. The good little girl. I was the angel.
Well the angel was now fallen. Fallen to her knees in a dirty alley. The man sped up his thrusts, gripping my head in both hands, his fingers tense and painful on my skull. I placed tentative hands on his belly, warding him off gently, not wanting to stop this encounter, but frightened by the intensity of his movements. I felt like I might choke on all the spit in my mouth, but he wouldn’t stop to let me swallow, so I had to open the seal of my lips and let my drool spill out of my mouth.
I felt the warm spill of my spittle spatter over my chin and chest, even the top of my thighs. I was drizzled in drool, and I was ashamed by my sordid condition. The disapproval my family would have had by my state goaded me to be filthier. I let my mouth open wider, allowing his cock deeper into my throat
The more shame I felt over my debauched situation, the more sexy I felt. I felt womanly and wet, my fingers dancing over my little button, making me twitch with approaching climax. The man’s movements grew feverish, and I loved being the source of his pleasure.
It was new, exciting and felt good, I didn’t care what happened next.
But it still shocked me.
I thought he was peeing in my mouth. I choked a bit as the thick warm fluid hit the back of my throat, but he held me still and emptied himself into my mouth. Forced to spit or choke I let the viscous sludge spill from my mouth. I burned with mortification thinking he was using my mouth as a toilet.
Degraded by his behavior I couldn’t comprehend why he had done this, but then I felt his body spasming, and heard his hisses of extremity. Suddenly I thought maybe he was dying. I was terrified of having a dead man’s penis in my mouth. I’d heard people lost control of their bowels when they die and I didn’t want to be pooped on.
Yet he still gripped me tight and moved back and forth arrhythmically. Weaker and weaker spurts of that goop filled my mouth as I tried not to swallow. Something strange was happening.
Then I realized he was having an orgasm. As soon as I figured that out, I understood that my mouth was filled with sperm. I stopped struggling and tried to taste the fluid. I had been dreaming about what sperm was like for years.
I held my breath as he continued pumping his hips periodically and dribbling the precious seed onto my eager tongue. My finger resumed rubbing my clit frantically, suddenly inspired to climax by his flavorful deposit in my mouth.
I shuddered and quaked as a climax teased along the edge of release, not quite arriving.
Then the man pulled his cock out and once more smeared his member all over my face, but this time it was smearing sperm and spit over my skin, soaking me. I exploded with climax at his demeaning treatment. After a lifetime of coddling and political affection, the purity of his lust for me, and his disregard for my feelings tangled together to lash me with passion.
I doubled over before him, one hand on the ground beside him, my other hand rubbing my clit helplessly as a climax robed me of dignity. I remained silent, but my body curled over itself and shuddered violently at his feet, abject before him.
I heard someone talking nearby, and heard the man swear and shuffle around, but I was too far gone in my orgasm to react.
“Thanks babe, that was amazing.” My first lover spoke to my hunched back, and he left me there, naked, on my knees in the throes of a delirium brought about by the intensity of my release. The degradation I felt over my situation wrapped around the utter rapture I felt at being so completely free. Contentment settled in as I savored the flavor of his sperm in my mouth.
I swirled his load around in my mouth delighting in the strange flavor as I returned from the total white hot pleasure I had just felt. Still trembling in aftershock, I swallowed his filthy sperm, delighted by the taste.
I had a secret and I loved it.
I dressed in a daze, not wanting to cover up, but no longer safe without a partner in crime. I tried to smooth my dress, my face damp with spit and sperm and flushed with passion. I tidied my hair as best I could and when I felt confident I looked presentable from the neck down, I walked on wobbly legs to the street.
No mob stood waiting. No police, no Jesus bent on retribution. No-one cared that I had just experienced the most fantastic event of my life. Searching, I found a window where I could see myself. I used my sleeve to carefully clean my face of smeared makeup and the leavings of a stranger.
I walked back toward my hotel and checked my watch. I had been gone for seventeen minutes.
In those seventeen minutes I had uncovered a level of lechery in myself I never thought possible, and that thrilled me to my very core.
When I returned to the hotel my family were checked in, but the crew were still being given room keys. I walked up, certain everyone would be able to tell I’d had a man’s penis rubbing all around my face moments before, but I was almost entirely ignored.
An assistant handed me a key told me my room number and turned to the next person, doing the same. I drifted away gathering in the elevator with others going to their rooms. They discussed the show, a T.V program and chatted as if I weren’t even there.
I wasn’t. I was still partially back in that alley, on my knees sucking a cock for the first time. I marveled that no-one else knew that I was a changed person. I’d had a stranger’s tongue licking my burning clit moments before. I still felt wet down there.
When I got to my room my sister was on the phone ordering room service. She nodded at me and went back to her order. Smiling to myself I went into the bathroom and stripped in front of the huge mirror. When I was naked I studied my body looking for signs of what had happened.
My breasts had small pink impressions on them from his fingers digging into my flesh. My nipples were hard and looked fuller than I was used to. My pubic hair was damp and somewhat matted. My face was flushed, and my make-up smeared, but only if I looked closely. Peering right up close I could see a sheen to my skin where his semen stained me.
I gazed at my face and my fingers lightly danced over my still humming clit. A stranger’s sperm soaked into my soft skin and it made me warm and lightheaded to think about.
I heard my sister shout hurry up, so I pulled myself from the mirror and jumped into the shower. My mind raced thinking about what I had done. I hardly slept that night, and when I did, I dreamed of that alley and many men coming down it and using me for their pleasure. It was intoxicating.
That encounter fueled my fantasies for weeks. I thought of those events, and touched myself whenever possible. My family didn’t notice. Soon I stopped wearing white stockings with every dress, my legs bare and no-one seems to care.
The stylists continued doing my make-up and hair the same way they had since I was a teen, but I knew I was now a woman. I noticed men more now, and saw them looking at me. Perhaps they always had, but now I knew what they were seeing.
My demeanor was still shy, innocent and demure, but I was waiting for my next opportunity to escape.
The only time we stayed in hotels was when we were in big cities playing more than one night. That took three weeks to happen again. I hardly remember the first night of the show, in my mind I was already walking off into the night, alone, looking for sex.
When we arrived at our hotel, I dawdled behind the group and when I was sure no one was paying attention I did the same thing I’d done last time, I told a security guard I was going for a quick walk and I left the protection of my family.
I was less stunned by my freedom this time, but it was still a giddy sensation not to have family surrounding me like a herd. I trotted quickly down the roads looking for adventure. On the second block I saw a lineup of people, all dressed like movie stars, standing outside a loud building. A nightclub.
Standing by myself I watched the tiny clumps of two, three, or four chatting as they waited to go in.
“I’m guessing you don’t have your I.D.?” a voice said from a few feet behind me.
Whirling to face the male voice, I saw a tall, handsome man, in his late twenties, or early thirties. Leaning against a car, he was watching me watch the nightclub. Wearing tight, dark jeans, a blue or purple dress shirt- it was hard to tell in that light- and a very hip looking leather jacket, he seemed to me like a rock star.
Oddly enough, I was probably closer to that than he was.
“Pardon?” I asked, realizing I was ogling him. I wanted to kiss him, and suck on whatever was making that bulge in his jeans.
“You were looking at the club with an expression I would call longing… but you aren’t going over. No I.D.?”
“Oh, I don’t want to go in there. I don’t drink.”
“What do you want?” He sounded innocent enough but his smile told me he was teasing.
“I-“ I couldn’t tell him I wanted him to fuck me in an alley. Could I? I blushed, feeling as if he could read me like a book.
“You are really pretty.” He said. People told me that constantly, but coming from him, in this settling, it felt more important. More true.
“Thank you.” I blushed furiously.
There was a silence between us, but our eyes met over and over while we scanned each other. He was looking at my body and I wanted him to see all of me. My hands fluttered nervously, brushing my dress down needlessly over my quavering tummy, or checking my hair to see if it was smooth. I was desperate for him to make the first move.
A group of people walked down the sidewalk toward me and I stepped back to let them pass. It moved me closer to the building I was in front of and I saw that there was an entrance underneath the stairs I was standing beside.
I looked down there and saw an area of shadow that looked like an interesting hiding place for some sordid behavior. The people passed and the man I’d been talking to was walking toward me. His long brown hair looked soft and I wanted to run my fingers through it as he licked my clit.
“What do you see down there?” he asked.
“A place to hide.” I murmured.
“Did you want to hide there alone?”
I shook my head, too nervous to speak.
“Do you want to go down and see if it’s safe?”
I nodded yes.
The man walked down the stairs into the shadows, watching me to see if I’d dare follow. I did, trembling, lightheaded and hyperaware of the world around me. I was in fight or flight mode, but there was a surprising third “F” option I’d never heard before. Fuck.
At the bottom of the stairs was a confined, shadowed space. There was the door into the building, and the stairs above us, a blank wall and the stairs we had come down. The man was standing in the small space, filling it as I stepped into the shadows with him.
“Is this what you were looking for?” he asked. I turned and looked back up the stairs and saw the sidewalk and cars, but not the street. People could see us if they looked for us, but otherwise it was a secret space.
I turned to face him, almost chest to chest and I nodded shyly. This was perfect.
I stepped forward to press against him, my small, petite frame touching as much of his big, muscular body as I could. I tilted my head back and hoped I looked seductive and womanly. It was enough that he leaned down and kissed me, so it worked on some level.
I was compliant and eager, allowing him to touch me how and where he wanted. He kissed me teasingly, not hard like the last man. His lips and tongue caressed my mouth, then my neck and earlobes. I was quivering helplessly, nervous and burning with lust.
It didn’t take long for him to begin groping my ass under my dress and I allowed my hands to stroke his chest, feeling his impressive pectorals. We fondled each other, discovering each other’s bodies for a few moments, all the while kissing and licking each other.
Feeling as if I were having an out of body experience, I watched him undress me, revealing my body as my dress fell away. I had not worn underwear today on purpose. I had shaved my pubic hair, not wanting to be laughed at again.
When my dress fell to the ground I was wearing only shoes and nothing else. I was a slut, ready to be used for his pleasure. My skin tingled in the cool night air, but flushed to be seen by a stranger in view of the street.
Once again I was astounded by how much delight I took in having my nudity on display. It was a pleasure like none I had ever known, and it was a seductive sensation that felt dangerously hedonistic. The look on his face was rewarding. It was a mix of delight, surprise and that same intense expression that the other man had, which I didn’t have a name for.
When his hands began to stroke my flesh, caressing my breasts and brushing my nipples, the heat on my chill skin felt soothing. I wanted his hands everywhere. Watching his own hands explore, he touched me all over.
Turning me this way and that, exposing different parts of me to the light, the stranger stroked, fondled, groped and delved into any and every part of my body he chose to. I did nothing to stop him, and everything I could to comply.
For long moments of total submission, I gloried under his touch. I moaned as he pinched my nipples, gasped as he stroked my slit, and sighed as he prodded into my dripping wet opening. The slide of his fingers in and out of my burning cleft had me panting.
Facing me away from him toward the street, he fucked my bald sex with two fingers, making me weak with need. His other hand manhandled my small breasts and I loved the tingle of pain as he pulled and pinched my nipples. I watched a few men stroll toward us taking loudly about a sports game they had watched.
My knees gave out as I began to climax. The idea of being observed by them as a man masturbated me in view of the street was too much to bear. My body seized completely as I was wracked by the most powerful orgasm of my life.
I was helpless to stop them from seeing me, the shadows my only cloak. My body was frozen, my clit exploding under his fingers, my fully exposed breasts being mauled as the man realized we could be seen.
“Is that who you were hiding from?” the man paralyzing me with pleasure whispered in my right ear. Unable to speak, my throat shut as I clamped down on a scream of total rapture, I endured the detonations of utter lechery exploding in my mind at this debauchery.
I continued cumming as the men walked past, unaware that if they had looked hard into the shadows they would have seen a naked young woman displayed wantonly before them in the throes of her climax. I wanted them to see me, but feared that they would.
As soon as they were out of sight my body jerked as the man’s fingers fell from my sex and I was released from my ravishment. I fell back against the man and he held me up, his wet hand pressed to my heaving belly.
Embarrassed by my state, I gasped for air and tried to control myself, but my body was vibrating with passion, eager for more pleasure. I struggled to gather my wits, as his hands both found my nipples and pulled, making me whimper with need. Each tingling stimulation urged me to seek more sensation. It was an endless feedback loop.
Then, at last, he stopped driving me insane with his touch on my flesh, and pushed me away from him. I turned to him, shy and hopeful. I wanted him to be inside me more than I could articulate, but that was also a terrifying desire.
I watched him undo his pants and pull out an erect penis. It was big and thick, and the knob on the end looked delicious and shiny in the dim light.
“Can I suck it?” I blurted out. It humiliated me to ask, but I was worried he might not let me before he wanted to put it inside me.
“Oh fuck yeah.” He said, enthusiastically.
Dropping to my knees on my dress I took it from his grip and kissed it shyly. It was hot and smooth, just like the other one. It was longer I thought, maybe as thick, but it was less gnarled and ridged. This penis was pinker and smoother in texture.
I began to put it in my mouth, loving the heat on my tongue. As I got him wet with my spit I let him move further back in my mouth until I was as full as possible, almost gagging on him. The taste was the same spicy, musky taste as the other man, with different undertones.
I moved my head around trying to reach every part of him with my lips and tongue. I wanted to feel all of him in every part of my mouth. Soon he took over control and began to move in and out of my mouth, his hands gently guiding my head where he wanted me.
The sensation of giving him control, allowing him to fuck my mouth was titillating. Swirling my tongue around any part of him I could reach I tried to maximize the amount of sensation I could give him. I began to play with my pussy, which was begging for attention.
Reminded of last time, I felt an orgasm tingling along my nerves. This was almost identical to the fantasy I’d been touching myself to for weeks. I had managed not only to recreate my last encounter, I was enjoying it more.
When I began to climax, I pulled my head back so I wouldn’t choke and the man’s wet hard-on slipped across my face. I shuddered lasciviously as the wet manhood touched my cheek. Thoughtlessly I reached up and took his soaking wet tool and began to caress my whole face with it, leaving my own drool staining my features.
Over and over I climaxed.
When I finished I once again began sucking the man’s cock, but now I was moving my mouth up and down over him, he simply stood still accepting it. I’d stopped cumming because my poor pussy was desperate to be filled. I wasn’t leaving without being fucked.
I scrambled to my back, half on and half off my skirt. My back was chilled by the cold cement below me, but my body was burning with need.
“Please.” Was all I could say, afraid he would reject me,or deny me. If I said more I would tell him everything, begging him to fuck me quickly, humiliating myself even more. I was spared that degradation, however. My lover pulled down his pants and positioned himself on his knees between my thin, wide spread thighs.
I had a moment of self-doubt, would he find me too thin? Did he dislike how soft I was, no real muscle to speak of, but not an ounce of fat? I was just little, hardly any breasts, now no hair down there. Was I womanly enough for him?
Then he aimed his cock at my tiny vagina and I quailed. It suddenly looked far too big to ever fit inside me. As his thighs parted my own slender limbs, I felt small beneath him. Then he began to stroke his knob along my sopping wet slit and my body juddered with an ache more keen than any desire I’d ever felt.
I lay back, open, willing and available. I instinctively relaxed as he began to press his erection against my tingling opening. The moment when he began to open my body with his I froze, completely still. I was losing my virginity and I wanted to witness all of it.
But it wasn’t a big deal. I felt him move inside me, and it felt delicious. He slipped right in and before I knew it I was full of him. His heat was deep inside me, and I felt a fullness unlike any meal. The sensation was lower and made me feel complete, utterly without discomfort.
He pulled back and his retreat was a new, sadder sensation. Then he plunged back in, going even deeper. I gasped at the powerful sensations. I felt him deeply inside me, but also I felt his pubic hair and pubic bone press against my vulva and clit. I was overwhelmed by sensations.
Then he began to move in and out of me,and the continuous motion was an even more satisfying sensation. Curling toward me, he kissed me, and I loved how many lurid details I could notice while still giving in to what was happening.
Submitting to him, I touched his body as it moved above me, in and out of me. I lifted my legs and moved around to find out how it felt to angle differently. I was panting with delight as I was fucked by this stranger under a stairwell. He gasped and moaned his pleasure and I was hypnotized by the sounds.
I heard voices passing on the street and I began to moan, hoping they would hear my wantonness.
“I am a slut being fucked on the ground by a stranger. Look at me!” I wanted to cry out. “I am not a good girl. I am not a virgin!” I yearned to shout.
Knowing they were there while I was engaging in such immoral behavior thrilled me. I began to laugh, and my lover smiled at my abandon. Reaching one hand down, he ran his thumb over my clit. My laughs turned to stifled cries as I began to climax from being fucked. I was a woman. I was free! What joy! It was incredible.
I came and came as the man’s thick cock rubbed up and down inside me, triggering delights my fingers could never hope to achieve. The terrific popping feeling as his knob moved over a special spot deep inside, under my clit was transcendent.
Yet all too soon I was torn from my delirium as he pulled out from my glowing pussy. I opened my eyes to see him stroking his cock over me. Suddenly I saw an eruption of white fluid spurt out of his tip and spray across my chest. Then another shot out and spatter my belly.
Undone by the sordid sight, I once more gave in to an orgasm. My body arched back, offering my white skin as a canvas for him to paint with his seed. I was wracked with a climax that robbed me of will. From my toes to my fingers I strained and stretched, lashed with total delight.
As more of his hot spunk drizzled down over me I felt more depraved than ever. Imagining my fans horror as I was soiled by this unknown man made me cum harder. In my mind I saw them watch my once virginal body despoiled and vulgarly writhing in lustful abandon. I clenched as I climaxed powerfully. The shame of my behavior was matched only by my desire to be seen being such a degenerate.
Then it was over.
The man finished his orgasm, squeezing the last few drops of his jism onto my bald pubis. I felt him finish and my own orgasm subsided and I heard him dress himself. By the time I was able to see straight once more, he was standing above me looking down.
“Holy shit. That was hot. But… I think I’d better go, y’know..?” he seemed vulnerable and scared all of a sudden, like I was a threat to him in some way. “Thanks. A lot.”
Then he stepped over me and jogged up the stairs and left.
I lay on the ground dappled in shimmering droplets of semen. I looked at it, memorizing the way my body looked decorated in glinting strands of pearlescent sperm, loving how sordid and beautiful I looked.
Then I used my fingers to smear the sticky fluid around, rubbing it into my skin. I lay naked like that for several moments as people passed, and the sounds of the nightclub passed over me. I was a ghost, the shell of a little girl, now a woman emerging from her chrysalis.
No one knew that lying in a heap on the ground was a well fucked woman, who had never known what sex could be like. One who was now discovering an addiction she would not soon be free of.
I was once again ignored as I slipped in to the hotel and received my key to the room. I hardly said hello to my sister and rushed into the bathroom. I didn’t shower right away, instead I gazed at myself in the mirror, once again trying to perceive any difference in myself.
I couldn’t see any change, but I felt it inside. I felt unmoored, floaty and adrift. Each of those sensations was blissful, considering the oppressive controlled environment I’d grown up in. No doubt some people would be terrified of that change, and it was scary. I was aware of how isolated I now was. I had too big a secret to feel part of the crowd, but I didn’t want to be part of a crowd any more.
The next few days were a foggy whirl of the Usual filtered through the lens of Self Discovery. I was playing the character of Myself, while inside I was stretching and reshaping my idea of who I was.
Rigid discipline, forged over years of being observed by family at all hours helped me maintain my normal routine, but even so my sisters and my mother all commented on how quiet I was being. All I wanted to talk about was sex. Behind my eyelids I replayed my two amazing encounters and walked around in a constant state of arousal. It was a pleasurable torment, but one that was fairly embarrassing.
Eventually my life returned to bland. The sparkly quality of having gotten away with something, and having felt suddenly, viscerally alive for a time faded and my mask became my real face once more. I was the little angel. Inside, though, I remembered that other girl. The slut. She lurked in my mind seeking the moment she could run free once more.
It was a long wait, but eventually her moment arrived.
Four months after I had lost my virginity I finally found an opportunity to sneak off once more. For all that time we had not been in hotels, or anyplace I could escape from to find men who wouldn’t care who I was. Men who wouldn’t have known me and who could expose me.
I had almost despaired of ever breaking free again, when suddenly it simply happened. I had given up watching road signs and listening in to conversations about destinations. We were simply driven here or there and told where we were during sound check.
So I hardly registered it when someone said the name of the big city we were in. But the Slut heard and began to rouse from her months long slumber. By the end of the show She was looking for an escape, but I had no idea if we would stay overnight here or move on.
I had no clues as our tour bus drove into the dark city streets after the concert. I measured time and grew more excited as we took longer and longer to drive free of the tall buildings and cruise out onto any highways, but rather stayed in the tall labyrinth.
Then we pulled in front of a rather nice lobby and my heart began to soar.
The mask of the Angel slipped into place over the hungry mien of the Slut. Faking fatigue and boredom I gathered my things and tidied the spot I’d been sitting in. Anything to fill time until my sisters had filed off the bus.
Stuffing my gathered belonging into my bunk, I walked off the bus and waved at a security team member, “See you in few.” I said from a couple feet away, making it intimate and not likely to be overheard by family, but not so quiet so as to appear like I was doing anything wrong.
And then I walked around a corner and disappeared into the night.
Except it was just a city street in a place I didn’t know with people walking all around. There were a lot of people. There must have been some kind of festival going on. I saw adults of all ages and music blared from bars and echoed down streets sounding like live bands performing outdoors.
I loved the energy, but the exposure was daunting. I couldn’t look for a partner or secluded spot for long. I had a very tight timeline, and it felt like I wouldn’t find my opportunity in such a maelstrom of people.
Then, through the crowd, I saw a garden space. It was hidden between some buildings, but I saw trees and shrubs peeping out. I gravitated that way, having no other options for seclusion. I had to investigate or lose my opportunity to have sex for what was likely to be months again.
My eyes scanned everywhere, over stimulated. I was so rarely in a crowd of people, and if I were the people immediately beside me were known to me. This press of bodies was almost frightening, but no-one was in any way concerned with me, so I forced my way through the anxiety and pressed past the people.
In moments I had squeezed through and landed in an alley between two old brick buildings. Just ahead of me I saw a large wrought-iron fence holding back lush gardens. A small lot wedged among some buildings was a sanctuary of nature.
Unfortunately the sanctuary was fenced and the gate locked. I turned from the refuge disappointed, and faced a tall silhouette. The bright lights of the street created a halo around a tall man standing about ten feet from me.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust enough to be able to see that he was a handsome black man, dressed in a blazer and slacks with a relaxed collar shirt beneath.
“Nice garden isn’t it?” He asked, his voice low and smooth. I found the sound very reassuring.
“It is. I was looking for a private place, away from the crowd.”
To illustrate my point a group of people walked past, loudly joking with each other. Forced to step aside or be bumped, I stepped closer to the gate to the garden, out of the way of a couple very engrossed with each other.
When they passed the big man was right next to me. He was very tall, over six feet, for sure, and he smelled wonderfully as he leaned close to me. Nervous, I tilted my face up to his as he moved close, eager to kiss him if he chose.
I had so little time, and so great a need to be fucked that I felt myself already growing aroused from his mere presence. So I was a bit confused when he reached past me and put a key into the gate lock. I stepped aside, embarrassed as I realized he had no idea of my needs.
“Go on in. I’m a tenant here. You can be here as long as I’m here.”
“Oh, then I suppose I’ll have to entice you to stay.” I only vaguely understood how provocative that statement was. It felt natural, but with my desperate need so present in my body I couldn’t be sure of anything about this encounter, it had been so short.
My mind was racing, the second hand ticking; I’d been gone maybe five minutes. I had so little time.
Stepping deeper into the garden I gave myself over to the risk, the sound of the festival loud and invasive, but it still felt very private here. The garden had been designed to give many people places to go and be alone in nature, right in the midst of the city.
“My favorite area is just this way.” The man said. The singer in me found his deep bass voice fascinating. It was so rare to hear a true bass. It made my stomach feel tight and fluttery.
Following his huge back, I trailed him along a little path between trees and shrubs. Garden boxes sat everywhere, not in rows, but placed along the edge of the path. There were vegetables, flowers, and herbs all along the way. The smells were wonderful.
After, perhaps ten feet the path opened onto a small grassy patch. The grass was in a big sandbox, except it was a grassbox build on the concrete of an old parking lot.
When he turned to see if I liked the spot his eyes widened as he took in my nudity.
Behind me my clothes lay scattered along the path we had just walked.
“I don’t have a lot of time.” I apologized.
His wide eyes never left me as I walked toward him. Scanning up and down my body, always coming back to my face trying to read my expression he gazed at me. Thrilled to be naked in the night, ecstatic to be seen naked, and titillated by the sounds of people passing behind the thin wall of trees and flowers, I approached him.
I let my nudity speak for me. Any words would fail. I had agonized over how to tell you, my reader, about why my situation demanded this level of debauchery from me, how could I condense it into a clever come-on for this stranger?
Instead, I stood right before him, naked, vulnerable and eager. Standing on my tip-toes, my hand on his chest, I still couldn’t reach his face to kiss him. It took his leaning down for our lips to meet in a sweet kiss.
Shy at first, his mouth was warm and soft. Then as his brain caught up with his body, he grew passionate and his hands started to explore my body.Panting as he began to stroke my skin I whispered into his ear as he bent to kiss my neck.
“I have very little time. Please, let me suck your cock.”
Not waiting for an answer, I slipped from his grasp by dropping to my knees on the soft, cool grass.
I stroked his cock trough his pants with one hand while I undid his zipper and belt with the other. The feeling of his cock hardening under my fingers was wonderful. I fumbled with his pants and he was fully hard by the time I had his cock exposed to my gaze.
This was the most beautiful penis I had seen yet. The knob was big and dark, almost as big as my fist. The shaft was long and thick, the thickest cock so far. Wrapping both hands around his shaft I lowered my mouth to his tip and was surprised to find I couldn’t fit his knob into my mouth without stretching my mouth wide open.
Working to get his bulbous tip past my teeth without scratching him, I lapped at his velvety skin with my tongue, grateful to have a cock to play with after so long. When I had his cock-head into my mouth I was pleased to move him back and forth over my tongue. Wrapping my lips around his shaft I slipped my mouth down along his length trying to touch as much of him with my mouth as I could.
Saliva gathered and I swirled my tongue all around him, soaking his skin in my drool. Helpless to stop myself, I began to masturbate while I sucked his big cock. His huge hands stroked my face and head as I filled my mouth with his amazing manhood.
The heat of his skin on my tongue was enticing. The weight of his shaft as it moved in and out of me was fascinating. Every ridge and bump under my tongue made my clit tingle more and more under my fingers.
Lewdly I whimpered my passion. I moved him from my mouth and began to slip my lips and tongue all over his length, smearing my slobber everywhere. The slip of his skin across mine was tantalizing. My face felt flushed with the pleasure of this sordid friction. My pussy was tingling and wet. I didn’t have time to indulge myself.
“Please, fuck me now.” I begged, his cock in my hand. Peering up past his member, I pleaded with my eyes, desperate to be fucked.
Running my tongue around his pulsating knob I jacked him off and implored him with my eyes.
Taking his cock from my grip, He stepped back, I felt an instant of doubt, but then he dropped his pants, took off his suit jacket. Then he lay down on the grass and held his huge erection up for me.
Scrambling over him I positioned my body above his, aiming my sopping opening over his waiting pole. I took hold of his manhood and squatted down to press him to my opening. The first kiss of heat as we touched sent an electric jolt along my nerves.
Trying to relax my quivering body, I lowered myself down, expecting him to slip inside deliciously. But it didn’t happen. I looked down to be sure I was aiming at the right spot. There was a fair amount of light coming from above, but none of it was falling directly onto us, so I wasn’t positive I was in the right spot.
I felt my lips spreading around him, the heat of his skin tantalizing my tender inner lips, but he wasn’t going in. I squirmed, wriggling my hips, and felt him press further in. I felt my inner ring of muscle stretch wider around him.
Then I understood. He was too big. It hadn’t ever occurred to me that this was a possibility. Lowering my weight I pressed down harder, impaling myself on his tip. I pushed down, stretching myself like I would a yoga pose, releasing and leaning into the stretch. I continued applying pressure until I stretched so wide it began to be uncomfortable.
“Wow.” I murmured.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered.
I looked at his face, remembering there was a human attached to this mammoth penis.
“Don’t be sorry. I’ve just not very- I’ve never had… um. Just gimme a second.”
Determined to stop embarrassing myself, I took a deep breath in with my nose, trying to relax all down my back and through my pelvis. I shifted my hips back and forth easing him deeper inside me. The sensation of his flesh touching my insides felt sweet, but it took effort to open myself to him.
I had to control my breath, all my muscles were straining as I accommodated so much manhood into my tiny body. Breathing like women in movies when they give birth, I worked him deeper inside me.
Using my legs to lift and lower me in stages, I soaked him in my juices and crammed more and more cock as deep inside as I could. Biting down the need to moan, I fucked him from above. He was lying still, staring at me from his back, his hands behind his head supporting its weight. The man simply allowed me to pleasure myself with his cock.
Humiliated to be so perverted, I drove myself toward climax riding his pole, driving myself down onto his huge cock, trying to fit more and more of him inside. I looked him in the eyes, ashamed of my wantonness, inflamed by my freedom.
Panting, and moaning to myself, I writhed atop his rod, my thighs burning, but impelled by my lust. Normally I would never be able to do squats over and over so low to the ground, but I felt strength I never usually had access to.
The slippery slide of his flesh inside mine was delicious. Even as my insides stretched with difficulty, my nerves were thrilled with this intimate contact. Reaching down I rubbed my clit as the tingle of orgasm teased in the distance.
Over and over I drove myself down on him, taking him in, stretching myself over him. I sat on him, grinding my hips around as I wedged him deep, whimpering as I tried to get him all inside. I was obsessed with having all of him inside me.
Calmly he watched me suffer. He’d seen it before, I could tell. There was also a hint of pity, as if he doubted I could do it, or that he thought I was insane. Either way, he was wrong.
Each time I lifted off of him my insides relaxed, emptied of his girth, but I dared not let his big knob fall from my grip. I wasn’t ready to force it back inside. Lifting up I could feel a resistance where his knob filled my opening, thicker than his shaft.
Instead I sat back down, filling myself. I had most of him inside me, but he bumped against my cervix. To take more in I felt like I had to grow a longer vagina and move some organs aside. Yet, as I sat down on him, I could feel my canal stretch longer, taking more of him in.
It hurt, but not in a sharp way, more a dull lengthening of tissue not accustomed to working so hard. The pain was entwined with the pleasure I was getting from being so full of him. The pleasure/pain, seemed appropriate for my wanton behavior.
Vigorously rubbing my clit, I gazed down at the man I was using. He watched my body move atop him, his hands stroking the tops of my thighs distractedly. Being watched increased my lust. My pleasure was usually so private, a witness the worst thing that could happen. But here and now a witness heightened the gratification.
I lowered my eyelids, hiding from him, allowing him the freedom to gaze, and allowing myself the freedom to give over to the pleasure. Warm tingles filled my sex, my fingers rubbing my tender button, my pussy crammed full of strange dick.
Gasping my need, groaning as rapture awoke in my body, I strained toward my release.
If my body were a song and the various parts of my body playing the music, my pussy was the loudest instrument in the orchestra. Crying out its impassioned notes, vibrating with urgency, my sex impelled the rest of my body to move faster, to put greater effort into achieving climax.
Putting both hands on my knees to help leverage myself up and down and on and off of this man’s mammoth cock, I drove myself toward orgasm mindlessly. I was reduced to base animal lust.
The only thing my brain was able to produce by way of thoughts were lashes of shame for the sordidness I was involved in, and the ecstasy those lacerations produced. The thought of my family discovering me like this, vulgarly rutting in the dirt with a stranger, stripped bare and displayed for any passer-by to see, it was humiliating to contemplate. Their disapproval was palpable.
Yet the breeze on my wet sex felt wonderful, the cool air on my bared flesh enticing. The fact that any passer-by could see my degradation filled me with decadent exaltation. I had grown up a performer, placed in the spotlight since my earliest years, why wouldn’t I crave an audience for this, the greatest pleasure I had ever known?
The burning ache in my pussy spread outward along my legs, up my spine and across my chest. I whimpered and shuddered as my muscles trembled with the oncoming release. Elusive, my orgasm tried to slip away and hide behind the guilt.
My lust fired back showing me an imaginary vision of myself doing this out on the street in front of the crowd I had just scrambled through. Grunting like an animal, I continued working my soaking wet slit up and down his rigid pole, my body trembling on the verge of explosion.
Then the man reached up, one hand began to rub my clit, while the other groped my small breasts. The extra stimulation, the active participation of my partner was all the stimulation I required. My orgasm detonated along my nerves, radiating outward from my clit and filling the world with pleasure.
I made sounds that seemed like weeping to my ears, but were simply the sounds that happened as my core convulsed and forced air out of my lungs. Squeezing and releasing, my body writhed in climax. My legs gave out and I sat down on his cock, driving it deeper than ever before.
This pressed his knob into my cervix, which both hurt and thrilled me. My climax intensified, turning from one into a series of detonations as he thrust up into me. Over and over my body pulsed as his fingers worked my clit and his cock moved in tiny thrusts. I sought escape from sensation and tried to rise up off of him.
My legs were too weak, and in a strange position, spread wide and open. I fell back down onto his cock and once more became wracked with euphoria. His hands lifted from my clit and ceased mauling my tender breasts. Instead he gripped my buttocks the stranger began to lift me on and off of his massive erection.
The entire time I had been indulging myself on his cock he had passively watched. Now as my body squirmed with overstimulation he took control and began to thrust himself into my quivering depths. Helpless in the throes of my ecstasy, I fell forward between my thighs; my knees uncomfortably wide open around my shoulders.
Flopped on his massive chest, I squealed as he held my ass and slammed himself deeply inside my erupting sex. Somehow my orgasm increased in scope, the lashes of sensation screaming up and down my nerves scoured my brain clean of rationality, morality, or identity.
It was disorienting how much of my consciousness appeared to be housed inside my sex at that moment. The need to be filled with his seed overwhelmed any concerns about getting back to my family in time, or of being caught out here in the garden fornicating. I just needed him to cum.
A dizzying sensation swirled in my brain, and I thought I was falling off the Earth for a moment before I realized he had flipped me over on my back without disengaging from my body. Before I had a chance to marvel at that, he resumed pounding himself into my scorching hot sex.
Something about this new angle, or the loss of control over how deep or fast I was filled changed the nature of my climaxes. Instead of rapid little explosions, suddenly I was having one long, vastly more intense climax.
My body seized up. I froze, unable to move, straining, clamping down as I lost power over my nervous system. Helpless, I felt a heat like no other scorch my clit with total delight. Then I felt a degrading loss of control as I squirted something all over his dick.
Vibrating with mortification at the loss of control, I peed myself as he drilled me wonderfully with his massive cock. Even as I soiled myself, (Or so I thought at the time) I relished the delight my body felt to have him moving in and out of my burning grip. Even that level of repugnant behavior didn’t seem to bother him; he continued his unrelenting assault on my tiny body.
Insatiably I quaked with endless orgasms, my body rigid and tormented with the extremity of my rapture. Over and over streams of demeaning fluid splurted from my body and I mewled my shame even as I delighted in my ravishment.
I felt fluid running down my buttocks, lewdly tickling my anus as it flowed out of me. Each plunge of this stranger’s erection into my sopping depths forced a squishy, sloppy sound from my body. It was so sordid that I whimpered in humiliation.
How could he carry on fucking me in such a soiled state? I looked down and watched him thrust into me, my chagrin finally ending my orgasmic feedback loop. I saw where our glistening bodies joined, my juices coating both of us in a sheen.
I also saw that his entire penis was nestling inside my body when he completed his plunge. I had taken him all. The satisfaction that gave me helped me forget that I had peed myself. I lay back, taking huge lungsful of air as my body attempted to recover from the power of those orgasms.
It wasn’t until a few years later that I understood the concept of a female ejaculate, but until I found that out, I had awful guilt over my habit of peeing myself at the very height of my orgasm.
Back then, after my first squirt, I lay on the ground panting, the most exquisite mix of ecstasy and degradation swirling around in my chest. After a few big breaths my thoughts once more resembling the brain I was used to. I had felt unhinged for a time there, but now I was myself again.
I looked into my lover’s eyes and smiled to see him watching me.
“Thank you.” I whispered without thinking about it.
His dark eyes grew intense and he held my gaze as he began to pummel me with his cock. Slamming into my depths, pounded down into me, forcing the air from my lungs and rousing my orgasm once more, he fucked me hard. With each thrust of his hips another climax approached closer.
I was tired, and I wasn’t sure I could withstand another orgasmic cycle like that last one, so instinct took over and I begged him “Don’t cum in me. Cum in my mouth.”
Still fucking me, he looked deeply in my eyes. “Say it again.” He grunted.
“Cum in my mouth. Please.”
I could see a strange look in the depths of his eyes. He was looking right at me, seeing me, but also he was lost inside his own world. It was disconcerting.
“Say it.” He ground out, his voice hoarse.
“Cum in my mouth. I want to taste you. I want to taste myself on you. Please. Give it to me. I want it.”
Then abruptly he pulled out, his huge knob making me gasp as it passed through my tight opening. Then I looked up and saw his flat stomach above me, his hand full of his huge boner, which was aimed right at my mouth.
I lifted my head and put that glistening rod in my mouth, swirling my tongue around, tasting my juices and feeling his heat. The man grabbed my head with one hand, his huge first gripping my hair, and he stroked himself quickly with the other, moving his knob in and out of my widely spread lips.
Panting, my lover fucked my face, his orgasm clearly close. It didn’t take long, a few moments of tasting the musky tang of my own pussy all over his prick, when in a spurt the taste was replaced with the flow of sperm jetting over my tongue.
Reaching down, I began to play with my throbbing clit as the man used my mouth, filling me with his seed as I swallowed his load. Greedily I slurped all he could offer. I loved the pungent flavor, so strong and strange. I gloried in the slippery slide of it over my tongue, and down my throat. The heat soothed me. The symbolism stirred me.
When he finished spilling his sperm into my face, he released me and moved away. I flopped back on the grass sticky and sweaty, my poor, stretched pussy aching, my tender clit abused by my still moving fingers.
I looked up to see him watching me lie on the ground fingering myself brazenly, swallowing his semen, and licking my lips looking for more. Panting from our exertions we looked at each other, bonded and yet strangers.
He broke the spell first, turning to retrieve his clothes.
Reluctantly I scrambled to my feet, dizzy and spent.
We dressed wordlessly, the sound of the festival still surrounding us, but seeming to be a million miles away.
When I finished dressing he was already done, simply watching me.
I looked back at him, and then looked away guiltily. I knew nothing about him, or his life. I just used him and tore him from whatever he’s been doing a little while ago. I was chagrined by my behavior, ashamed of my need, humiliated by my lust and mortified by my excess.
And I’d never felt more satisfied, and sated before. My legs wobbled as I walked back to the gate. That was an amazing fuck. I stepped out into the alley and turned to watch him locking the gate behind us.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you why, but that meant a lot to me. Really.”
Something in how I said that eased some tension in him and he managed a small smile.
“I’ll never forget it, that’s for sure.” He said.
Then I hurried away, skirting the crowd, and hurried to the hotel. Just before I went in I glanced at myself in the widow and saw how tussled my hair was. I smoothed it and adjusted my clothes until I felt presentable. I’d been gone too long.
Inside, our tour manager was sitting in the lobby doing something in her thick notebook. When she saw me approaching her she stopped. “Good, you’re back. Here is your key.”
Looking me in the eye for a moment, she scanned me from head to toe. I blushed, assuming she could tell exactly what had been going on. I was sure she could smell my sex, see his sperm on my lips, hear my heart pounding, but she simply handed me the key and went back to work.
I went to my room. Instead of rushing to the shower I sat on my bed and talked with my sister about the show. She hardly looked at me. My pussy was still leaking in my panties, I could feel the damp cloth sticking to my skin and my sister had no idea I had just been fucked.
I felt elated.
I could go on; there were many more clandestine encounters, but soon my brothers and sisters had children who replaced them, and eventually me, in the family business. I went solo and carved out a solid career as a singer. I always sought, and still seek, illicit sex whenever I can, but it has much less appeal now that I can find legitimate partners who love and care for me.
But every once in a while, when I’m out alone, I give in and seduce some poor unsuspecting man. I like to think I’m being their own little angel for a while.