The parish is before me, prepared for the sermon. They sit, awaiting the weekly lesson. Last night, I was inspired to write about lust. As I sat in bed, leafing through my notes from prior Sundays, I found my mind—wandering… wandering in a way that I can usually suppress. Last night, however, the most tempting of sins was heavy in my heart and other more worldly places. I have agreed to God’s will, which asks for demonstration of my faithfulness in the form of my celibacy, but I am still a man. I have urges, certainly, and while they can generally be pushed back—last night, they all came crowding in on me. I found myself thinking about a girl I’d gone to high school with, back before I’d made my vows and when I was allowed to touch, kiss, explore… She and I spent more than one night in the backseat of my car. She was Catholic (of course), so she insisted on remaining pure. Her definition of purity, however, was distinctly more flexible than most I’ve encountered since. Last night, I found myself thinking about how she would take my cock deep in her throat, how she would put it between her soft, round breasts and rub my shaft until I came. I found myself remembering the first time I convinced her to remove her underwear and touched her, discovered how wet she could be. I remembered her explaining that I could make her feel good, too, if I used my tongue on her as well, how she moved her hips under my mouth to teach me what to do—and how obvious it was when I had learned. For whatever reason, all of this was on my mind as I was supposed to be writing a sermon and instead, I found myself rubbing my cock, slowly at first, then intensely, reaching for the oil I keep in my nightstand for my dry skin. The oil sliding over my head, remembering the way it had felt when it was someone else doing the rubbing—I came fiercely, abruptly, groaning with the force of it. Then, once my breathing had slowed and I had cleaned myself off a bit, I remembered the sermon and knew that I had no real choice in selecting the topic. It had come to me, if you will.
Now, today, I remember that my parish is my flock, and I must guide them with a pure heart. As I begin, I look about the crowd. The Dudleys are here today, which means Tracy Dudley brought her brownies for the coffee after the service. I will allow myself one. I run every day and my body is still pretty close to what it was when I ran cross-country in high school. The pound of my feet hitting the ground, the rhythm of my breathing with my pace—it’s not lost on me that this exertion is one that resembles others, yet this is what I am still allowed. I discipline my body the same way I discipline my mind; of course, I am sinful enough to be vain: I know that my discipline of the body also means that my muscles are still tight, my shoulders broad, my stomach hard. Not that I have anyone to enjoy it, but every so often, if I’m being honest, I do stand in front of the mirror and wonder…
Now is hardly the time for that, however. I force myself back into the here and now, checking to see who is present and accounted for. The Stevens family sits in the fourth pew. They’ve brought all six children with them. Good God. Fruitful and multiply and all that, yes, but as the three-year old climbs over his father’s shoulders and almost drops to the floor skull first, I wish, for John Stevens’s sake, that the Vatican would reverse itself on birth control. I love all my parishioners, but I watch John struggle to control his mob and I’m almost glad I’m celibate.
The Houghs, David and Nancy, are in the second pew. They are the pillars of our community: she is the sweet and caring wife; he is the strong and supportive husband. He’s– an accountant? Lawyer? I can’t remember, despite knowing him for five years. She is always on her way to a meeting: PTA, community associations, and of course, our fundraising. They must have the most boring sex ever. Missionary, maybe twice a year? His birthday? Valentine’s? They are a happy couple, but I doubt she’s worn anything but big cotton underwear since college. Nevertheless, the thought of even that causes a fleeting stirring under my cassock that is anything but appropriate.
Then I notice the young woman with them. I’ve never seen her before, but based on the blonde hair and similar features, probably her sister. Something about her is dissimilar though; where Nancy is entirely vanilla, this is different: a spark, a smolder that hints at a little sex behind the sweetness. Nancy has mentioned her at coffee a few times, and in confession once. Yes, that’s right, she lost her temper one night when she and David came home early and found her sister entertaining her boyfriend.
I clear my throat and shift, suddenly uncomfortable, yet I can’t keep myself from continuing to watch her out of the corner of my eye, appraising her in a way that is entirely out of line. Her warm blonde hair is swept up in a way that invites unpinning—take out that clip, it says, and all that thick, satiny hair will come cascading down. Her dress is simple, cotton, a bit low-cut for church. I try not to stare at the cleavage on display, try not to think about the bra that I think I can see outlined underneath the thin fabric.
I smile at her, not sure why. I’m supposed to be starting my sermon, but I can’t take my eyes off her. She smiles back. My heart skips a beat — What would I do if she was flirting? I hear a cough from the front. I look down to the first pew. Mrs. Tennison is scowling at me. She looks pointedly at her watch, then raises her eyebrow at me. Mrs. Tennison is not one of my biggest fans; she really wanted an old-school priest brought in to take over, when Father Philip retired. Mrs. Tennison disapproves of my sermons (“Too many modern references!”) and of me in general (“Too young and too full of himself!”) Truth is, Mrs. Tennison hasn’t been happy with anything in the Church since Vatican II allowed the change to conducting services in English. She’s generally recognized as a huge pain in the ass. As I stand there, admiring Nancy Hough’s sister, I think, Mrs. Tennison could probably use a good fuck.
What? Where did that come from? I draw a deep breath, smile at the congregation, welcome them, begin my sermon. As I speak, though, my mind continues to drift elsewhere. I have my notes, thankfully, a roadmap to decency—however, my lascivious thoughts of the night before seem to have unleashed something in me; I discover that I am unable to focus for more than a line or two before this new (or old) lustful self redirects me.
Nora Stevens bends over to pick up the sippy cup dropped by one of her children. It’s suddenly clear to me just why John might put up with the insanity of a brood of six. I can see down the front of her super-conservative dress, admire her full breasts from here, the soft tops, the deep cleavage between them. I am wondering what her nipples look like when I remember where I am, what I am doing. I check quickly—no one seems to have noticed. Damn it, I tell myself, keep it together.
Not meaning to, I look toward the Houghs again. I can’t remember Nancy’s sister’s name, but that might be due to the amount of my brain that is concentrated on the image of her full, red lips. Her eyes are fixed on me as I speak; is my sermon so exhilarating as to keep her attention rapt? She smiles again, and I notice that she’s sitting uncomfortably straight in the pew. Her back is slightly arched, I think. She’s trying to get me to notice that low-cut dress, showing her cleavage to me, like an offering. I look away quickly.
I think of Mrs. Dudley’s brownies. They’ll still be warm at the coffee. Never been sure how she can keep those brownies warm all through the service, but, indeed they will be. The warm chocolate chips will tease my tongue before melting into a hot, moist bit of heaven that will slip down my throat. Good God, am I seriously getting turned on by brownies? I shake my head a little, trying to clear the crazy out. It doesn’t work, just draws my eyes back to Nancy’s sister. The tension between us is palpable. She can’t keep her eyes off me. I can’t help but imagine what those firm, beautiful tits look like bare. Then, just like that, I see her, fully naked in the pew. Her smile suggests that she knows I’m thinking these impure thoughts and likes it. She adjusts in her seat. Is she too hot? I’ll bet you are, I think.
I try to focus somewhere else and notice Jackie Truly is in the fifth pew. Jackie has been campaigning to sit on the church council. Attractive woman, in her fifties. Still very shapely figure and kind of a Joan Collins thing going on. What would she sit on in order to get my endorsement?
I notice Ron and Carmen Peretti; Ron can use this sermon on lust, he’s confessed to me far too often that he’s been at the strip club, watching the women slide up and down the pole, watching them touch themselves, sometimes even letting them touch him; I’m slightly ashamed to admit how often I revisit Ron’s confessions in my own mind. Now, I picture Nancy’s sister stalking toward me in stiletto heels, a thong, and a button-down shirt. Standing before me, she unpins her hair, shakes it out, starts undoing buttons…
I glance down at my notes, smile at my congregation, keep going.
I don’t know her name, but she needs this lesson on lust. She shifts in her seat, somehow awkward and uncomfortable as I speak of temptations of the flesh. Do you know something about that? Is that why you are here, have you begun to give in to your temptations and you want spiritual guidance?
I would love to guide you on the path of the righteous. Just come to the pulpit. I see her sauntering down the aisle, the curves of her sundress showing me her ripe body. She licks her full lip, lowers herself to my waistline; my cock is pressing against the inside of my pants, already bursting to be set free. Just like my high school girlfriend, she unzips my fly and my cock springs towards her lips.
She did lick her lips from her seat. I saw it, why did she lick her lips? Why? IS that a sign, does she want me as badly as I…
My mind slips back to the girls Ron watches at the club, how they work their poles, sliding up and down serving their roles as objects of lust. Simply watching their naked bodies writhe on the poles can’t be too sinful, can it? I think of her, working that pole, maybe dressed as a school girl? I picture myself, sitting before her, reverent, with a fistful of twenties. She’s going to show me all of herself, simply for my viewing pleasure. I watch her slowly unbutton her white blouse, unveiling her black lace bra; next comes the black thong she reveals as her tiny plaid skirt falls off her round, tight ass.
I’m so incredibly, uncontrollably hard. Temptation has led me beyond the point my physical body can resist. While my mouth continues to speak, to deliver earnest and meaningful messages of piety, fidelity, faith, my only thoughts can go to her. All I can think of is pushing that flimsy sundress up around her hips, bending her over the pew, releasing the beast in front of everyone; letting the horrified and aroused parish watch as I show them once and for all that I am a man beneath these robes, as these horrible black trousers that leave me sexless most of the time fall around my ankles. That façade is laid as bare as her ass and we are both exposed as I plow into her.
I can’t give in to temptation; I am above this, I am a man of God; I will not submit to the desires of the flesh. I can’t degrade this member of my flock either. She comes to me for spiritual guidance, and little does she know that my thoughts turn to lust. To sin. Her body is my greatest temptation, sent from Satan himself, to lure me off the path of the righteous. The sultry, road of temptation is a long, curving, seductive road to hell. The pleasures of the flesh are forbidden for me, and I cannot give in. I made that choice. I must adhere to it. Resisting temptation, being the example for my congregation is the mission of a priest. These were the vows I took. I am sweating a little. I wonder if anyone notices. The church is always far too air-conditioned for the cause to be environmental. Even on holidays, when the pews are always most filled, the air is always a cool 75 degrees. Even at Lent, when so many crowd in to confess their sins, to seek penance…
I wonder what she would confess? A drunken night at a frat party? Trading favors at work with her boss? Giving in to her boyfriend’s fantasy of a three-way with her roommate? I imagine the two of them waking up on a weekend morning. Nancy mentioned that her sister lives in Manhattan, a studio apartment—a shared bedroom. The roommate sleeps naked over her sheets, and Nancy’s sister wakes up to see her boyfriend looking at her, pressing his stiff cock against her ass. She tracks the serpent tattoo, winding its way from under the red hair that lies over her shoulder, down between her tanned breasts, over her smooth stomach. My girl touches herself, titillated by the sight. I slide into her as her roommate awakes, smiles slyly, stretches and approaches our bed. “Room for one more?” she asks. Her voice is smoky, seductive.
Her roommate, this harlot of temptation, would not be ashamed of her nudity. She’d stand there, letting us admire her body. My girl, however, would remember her church’s teachings, and look away from the apple that hangs before her eyes. She would follow the teachings that I gave her. Resisting the temptation. Unless I gave her permission. Unless I encouraged her to reach out and take the fruit.
The redhead leans in to kiss her; my girl hesitates, then pushes forward, taking her large, full breasts in her hands, introducing her pronounced nipples into her inexperienced mouth, quickly learning what is good and what is better as her roommate moans, puts her hand behind her head, slides her other hand around to start jerking me off…
I am suddenly aware that it is very quiet in the church. Dear God, did I actually stop talking in order to indulge this fantasy? Then I realize that heads are bowed. They are praying. They are diligently attempting to follow the advice I have given, every word of which I have, even now, ignored completely. Nancy is a pious, dedicated member of this congregation, and I have thanked her by casting her sister in my own mental porn movie! Resist the desire. Look to the rest of the congregation, the ones who inspire no impure thoughts.
I look around desperately. All I can see anywhere is sex.
Now it’s more than just Nancy’s sister, who sits there, not knowing the thoughts I possess (she couldn’t possibly— could she?), yet every bit the temptation. I can still feel her, my dream girl, her full lips pushing up and down my shaft, imagine the fantasy redhead’s bare pussy in front of me as she pumps my cock with her hand, as Nancy’s sister sucks and licks her tits.
I see Tracy Dudley shift in her seat; her husband puts his on her knee. Now I’m certain that under that light summer sundress lies a woman of outrageous sexual appetites. Her husband is too pleased, too satisfied. I wonder if they had sex this morning. I bet that he woke as men often do, aroused and ready to go. I bet she smiled as she felt him start to rub her clit, then told him to wait a moment. She got up and went to the kitchen for one of her brownies, brought it back to bed. She rubbed the warm chocolate over the head of his cock, then licked it clean.
Nancy’s sister as the stripper, removing her skirt, unveiling her ass…
Tori, my secretary, stripped naked, her clothes all over my office, her body laid out on my desk, spread open for me to take and use as I wish. I push all of my papers and books to the floor and shove myself into her, rubbing her clit with my fingers, getting her wet. I turn her around; if I’m going to sin… I slide my cock into her beckoning ass. She squeals, first with resistance and then with delight as I fuck her.
This is completely insane. I’ve turned my parish into my own personal Sodom… I must stop. I must–
Nancy’s sister releases the redhead’s breasts, so that she may her push her down in front of us both. She looks at me, then moves fiercely toward her roommate’s pussy, looking like a soft peach in front of us, splitting it open to taste. She hesitates a moment, then her mouth goes to work, completely dedicated to making her come. I slide my fingers along that tattoo, taking my place alongside my girl…
Help me, Father… my temptation is so great. My mind and body are full of lust and all I can imagine is…
That snake tattoo bouncing before me as I slide in and out of her tight hole, hearing the upward spiral of her moans and cries. Showing her that I control her pleasure. Setting her in her place for denying her lust, her appetites. Pulling out of her to take Nancy’s sister, master of her body. Take this, take my cock, feel me use you for pleasure and nothing more.
I see her looking at me. I cannot look away.
It is time for communion.
I didn’t let the tears fall until I was under my third shower of the day; the tears trickled down my cheeks, mixing with the droplets of water. There was no point in trying to stop the flow, I had tried before and just made it worse and worse until I broke down and cried till my body was shaking with a mixture of depression and relief.
This was pointless, I kept on telling myself to forget him, to leave it be and forget it, but the tears kept falling. After standing under the blazing hot water for a while longer I looked up at the clock and realised I only had 15 minutes to get sorted before my next class started. I pulled myself together as I had taught myself to do years before. I dried myself off vigorously before pulling on my shorts and walking slowly towards my class, I still had a few minutes before the class started but the room was already half full by the time I got that.
I have always been very good at fooling people into thinking I was OK except of course people who knew me very, very well, but I even fooled my mum once, only for a few days though. So once again I pulled the emotional mask down and walked into the class liked I owned the place,
“Afternoon everyone, hope your all ready to do some serious moves today!”
I threw everything into that class, I felt slightly sorry for some of the participants but I needed to get something, Joel I guess, out of my system. It didn’t work but by the end of the class I was wiped, and by god I was thankful it was the end of my day. I gathered up my things with the rest of the class and walked through reception,
“Off to meet lover boy huh?”
Michael’s mocking voice taunted me; I simply smiled and walked to my car. The rest of the evening was a blur, not drinking wine or bear is a bad thing, it may have been a whole lot better if I had been able to drink a nice bottle of red wine instead of a bottle of vodka. When I awoke in the morning my head felt like a led balloon, my brain just wouldn’t seem to work, I looked over at the clock with fuzzy eyes, was I imagining the 5.00am that the clock stated? I rolled out of bed and staggered half heartedley to the bathroom to relieve my aching bladder.
The days passed slowly but non the less they passed, I got up, I went to work, I pushed everything and everyone to do their utmost in all my classes and when each day was over I would go home and obliterate everything with alcohol. My friends called round a few times, but I must be getting better at this shit than I thought, non of them said or seemed to notice anything amiss. Which to be honest I was grateful for, I couldn’t be bothered to explain myself to them. Inevitably I would climb under the hot sting of water that pretended to be a shower, but only to find myself blind drunk with a raging boner, my mind instantly filled with images of Joel. His smell, his touch, his kiss, I ached for him and he lingered there in my mind and plagued my thoughts every single day. And then the day was here, that fateful Tuesday, a whole week had passed and I had no idea where or how it had done so. The temptation to call in sick was so overpowering but I dragged myself out of bed and into work.
“He called again, you really should answer his messages Ryan”
“Michael if I wanted you opinion I would ask for it”
I snapped as I walked away, the feeling of guilt came quick and fast. I really didn’t mean to snap like that, I had been so good at laughing it off, saying Joel was only calling to wind me up and that I had called him already just that morning blah blah. My first class passed without too many thoughts of Joel, my next class however would most likely be terrible, if he was there I didn’t know what I was going to do and if he wasn’t… well I didn’t know about that either. I decided to avoid the class until the very last minute, I grabbed a quick coffee from the so called ‘staff relaxation room’ and when the clock finally clicked onto 11.00 I made my way slowly to the dreaded room.
He wasn’t there, why would he be? Damn it why did I care so much? The class were all chattering and stretching, waiting for me to arrive,
“OK everyone, lets get started”
I had intended my voice to sound up beat and something close to happy, or at least cheerful what came out was something entirely different I sounded like I was dead, like there wasn’t anything to live for. I was horrified at myself, I looked away from the group and ignored any looks that may have come my way, I pushed strait on and got started with the class.
About 10 minutes into the class the door burst open and there stood Joel, tall strong and looking extremely pissed off. I gulped as I stood there frozen to the spot, when I found my voice it was gruff and heavy as I told him to come in and get warmed up before joining us.
“I don’t think so Ryan, I’m not here to participate in your class … I’m here to…”
“OK, OK then take a seat or go and get a coffee and let us finish up here”
God knows where my anger that was evident in my voice had arisen from but it was clear to not only Joel but also the rest of the group that I was not happy with this situation. To my horror Joel strode in walked right passed me and sat just to my right, and proceeded to watch me intently. I have no idea how I managed to continue with the class but I did, I escaped my thoughts by concentrating as much as possible on the class. I tried to prolong the class as much as possible; I even talked to Kate which I really didn’t want to do as I could see in her eyes that she knew something was really wrong.
Everyone had left, the room was empty and I could feel Joel’s eyes watching me but how could I face him? What was it he wanted me to say? Everything I couldn’t or wouldn’t say I’m sure. I moved around the room, collecting towels and water bottles, anything to keep me from having to confront Joel.
“Ryan… Are you going to ignore me for much longer?”
My shoulders sank, I guess I was hopping he would give up and go away, I stayed where I was, not wanting to turn towards him.
“What is it you want Joel?”
“I want you to look at me and tell me what happened last week”
Damn him how could he sit there and ask me the one thing I couldn’t tell him. I turned slowly towards him but I couldn’t just stand there and not look at him. I moved passed him into the little room next to the main class room where staff store there things and prepare etc.
“Nothing happened I just had class and…”
I trailed off, the lie was so blatant, even to me it sounded pathetic. I felt his presence just seconds before he embraced me from behind, pulling me into his body, moving his hands over my chest, making my breathing quicken instantly. My body nearly succumbing to his touch but I pull free of his touch, backing against the wall, watching his every move.
“So… if I was to touch you…”
He said calmly as he moved towards me and traced one finger over my nipple
“Would you tell me to stop?”
I hissed in a mixture of anger and lust.
“And if I touched you here…”
He cupped my cock through my jeans,
“Would you tell me you didn’t want me?”
“yesss” I persisted even though I knew he could feel my cock begin to harden at his touch
“So if I were to lift you shirt right here … And touch you like this… Right here Ryan…”
He lifted my shirt on the right hand side of my body and let his fingers move over my scar…
“Would you still tell me nothing was wrong?”
My body was begging me to let him continue but my mind was screaming no, I dragged air into my lungs and I pushed him away, brushing my shirt back into place and turning my back towards him.
“No I didn’t think so”
He said quietly as he came up behind me, pressing his cock into the crack of my ass before pulling me round to face him. Pushing his body against mine, making me feel how hard he was as he slowly started to move against me, his cock rubbing my rapidly stiffening cock through our clothing.
“Damn it don’t do this to me Joel”
Even as I said it his lips closed around mine, his hand slipping down and caressing my ass.
“God please… Joel don’t do this”
I moaned into his mouth as I started to respond to his kiss. I couldn’t stop myself wanting him; I couldn’t control the power he had over my body and mind.
I cried out, trying to push him away, I hated that I couldn’t control myself with him, I made myself look into his eyes, needing to be reassured that he was just messing around with me, that he didn’t want me, it would somehow have made it so much easier. I was floored, I looked into his eyes and was blown away by the mixture of anger, fear, lust and need I saw there, I gasped out and began to move away again.
“RYAN STOP IT! Let me hold you, let me touch you, let me show you how much I want you.”
As the last words left his lips I kissed him, damn him I couldn’t stop myself, its like I needed his touch to stay sane, he was like a drug, one touch, even one look and I was hooked. His hand sneaked under my shirt, evoking feeling inside me that I just cant describe, each place he touched me, my body trembled. And when his hands moved on to a different part of my body the skin he left behind was screaming for more. Some part of my mind noted that he avoided my scar, which I was thankful for.
I wanted him everywhere at all times, to start and never stop, god was I mad? How can a guy go from having casual meaningless sex, not caring whether I saw the guy again or not to having an addiction to this mans touch, his smell, his eyes, just him. I nearly let myself succumb to him; my mind and body were buzzing from his touch, his presence.
To be continued…
This story is dedicated to Will, because although he doesn’t know it he inspired me to write this story.
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Early afternoon rays reflect playfully off of the soft ocean waves. Temperature, at least 95 degrees. The air, humid and heavy with each breath. Sun scorches the coarse white sand, heat emanates onto every step. I walk slowly towards you, admiring the gorgeous view. Your body glistens and I can see tiny sweat drops forming across your brow. Your white shorts are sticking slightly to your damp body, emphasizing your tan, muscular legs and waistline. You watch my every move. I pretend not to notice. Hips swaying, legs tensing, breasts gently bouncing; my string bikini fails to hide much. As I approach, I tell you that I’ve missed you, and you assure me that you did as well.
A tight embrace ensues. The heat between us cannot be accounted for by the temperature alone. You wrap your arms around my thighs, lifting me high, well above your head. You spin with me, causing me to become even more lightheaded in the heat. As you lower me down gently, my sweaty body rubs all along your rock hard chest. My lips briefly meet yours. So soft, so smooth, so right. A fire is ignited.
We walk nonchalantly to my car in the adjacent lot, pretending to be long time friends. Who are we kidding? Anybody who even remotely glances in our direction can see that we are burning hot for each other. I unlock the car door. You command me to get in the back. I obey. The car is sweltering. A wave of heat encompasses me as I climb into the backseat. I start to shift over to let you sit, but you grab my legs and hold me there, climbing in on top of me. I lay back under your weight, spreading my legs to allow you to lie down in between them. Your hips center in between my thighs, you rock towards me, allowing me to fully feel your presence. You lips find mine. Kissing me hard, getting me hotter. I feel your hunger for me through your tongue, reaching deep, searching for more. I search back, trying to fulfill my needs. I gently suck on your lower lip, teasing you, letting you feel how much I want you. Sweat is pouring across our bodies, dripping wet, mixing together.
You hold yourself up with one hand, grabbing my breast with the other. Oh my God. I feel a surge of pleasure rock through my body. You massage it in a frenzy through the thin fabric of my string bikini, being rough with it, knowing just how I like it. You quickly push the material aside, exposing my hard nipple with is aching for your lips. You must have read my mind. You tongue finds its way within second, flicking it back and forth. “Oooh,” I moan in pleasure. Damn, it feels so fucking good.
I reach between us and grab your hard dick through your shorts, rubbing it teasingly between my fingers. The delicate fabric of your shorts allows me to fully wrap my hand around it, squeezing tight as I slowly rub up and down. You put your hand on my bikini bottoms, finding the outline of my clit immediately. You apply pressure, sending jolts of electricity through me. I arch my back, tilting my head back, taking in the amazing sensations. There are drops of sweat pouring down between my tits, down my solid abs. You lick it all the way up. Your tongue sends shivers through my body.
I dig my nails across your back, causing a startled moan to escape your lips. You rub me faster. I cannot take it for much longer, my body is on fire. I need to feel you inside of me. The desire overwhelms me. I look deep into your gorgeous baby blue eyes and tell you with mine that I want you. You slide your shorts down, exposing your large, hard cock to me. I lick my lips in anticipation.
I slide my body further underneath yours, giving myself full access to what I need. You grab around the base of your dick, and guide it to my eager lips. You rub it along the outline of my open mouth as I tease it with my tongue. Licking the tip, kissing around the circumference of the head, I build up your desire as you built up mine. I grasp the shaft with my hand, and take the head into my mouth, forming a tight seal around your throbbing member. I look up at you, giving you a full view of my mouth around your cock in line with my exposed soaking wet tits. I stare at you as I tilt my head back and take your full length into my extended throat. I reach up and cup your balls, pulling on them gently. Sweat from your body runs down my neck.
I suck hard, applying increasing contractions of pressure from the tip to the base. My eyes never leaving yours for a second. You give me a little taste of what’s in store, and I eagerly rub it all around with my tongue. You taste so good. I move my head up and down, letting your cock experience the sensations of hot air and then the still stronger heat of my mouth. I take you all the way in. Your throbbing cock hits the back of my throat causing me to moan, sending vibrations all the way up your shaft. I can feel your balls start to tighten, your hips move in perfect rhythm with my head as you fuck my mouth. “Ahhh, yeeessss,” you moan as you pull your cock out of my mouth, breaking the suction.
You grab my waist and pull me up, resting your dick against my inner thigh. You spread my legs wider, move my bikini bottoms over, and rub your hard cock up and down my dripping wet slit. Gently at first, driving me wild. Then rougher, hitting my clit on your way up and rubbing it on the way down. I am so hot for you. I need you so badly. I beg. “Please, I need to feel you inside of me.” You hold your dick right at the entrance, teasing me one last time before thrusting it all the way in. I scream with pain and pleasure. Soaking wet, but still as tight as the first time. You spread me open, almost tearing me apart with an animal desire that I’ve seen before in your eyes.
I am completely filled. You move your hips, thrusting in and out of me harder and faster. My body moves with yours, taking you in deeper and deeper with every movement. You reach down and start to rub your thumb against my clit. I spread my legs wider. Your fingers vibrate on my clit with such intensity that I cannot control myself any longer. My heart starts racing, my body tenses up, a chill runs across my hot, sweating skin. “Oooooh, fuuuckk” I cry as wave after wave of pleasure runs through my body. Sending rhythmic contractions through my tight cunt, pulling you in deeper and deeper. You don’t stop, you just fuck me harder.
I hold on tight as your hips smack hard against me, rubbing my back against the car seat. You grab my ass and pull me even deeper against you, spreading my legs to the max, allowing me to take all of you in. I scream your name. I can barely catch my breath. I beg for you to slow down, the pleasure is almost too much for me, but that only encourages you to fuck me harder and faster.
You grab my hand and place it in between us. “You do it then,” you order me as you guide my fingers to my swollen, throbbing clit. Sweating, heart racing, still riding out the climax, I can’t resist. I rub my clit between two fingers, teasing it, sending my body into a whole new level of pleasure. Fuck. You take advantage of my new distraction, riding me hard, fucking me like I was meant to be fucked.
You see by the expression on my face that I am close, you thrust into me faster than I thought was possible, shaking my body back and forth as your leverage yourself on my tits. The pleasure builds deep within you, you feel the tension rising, the warm tingling sensation radiating from your balls. “Oh fuck, I’m going to cum,” you scream. That puts me over the edge, a rush of ecstasy shakes me to the core. Bodies, hot and thrusting, explode together in indescribable pleasure. You cum hard, deep into the very bottom of my convulsing pussy.
We lay for a moment, regaining our composure. We kiss deeply then adjust what little clothing we’re still wearing. Stepping out of that inferno, the 95 degree air now feels freezing. “Got a sweater I could borrow?” I ask. You smile at me and walk away, paying no attention to the few people that stopped nearby to watch the incredible show.