3 comments/ 9438 views/ 1 favorites Literally By: Tucker_Blue If this is well received, I will be happy to provide the next segment in their adventures. Constructive critique is appreciated as this is a new genre for me to write about. ~o~ She steps into her makeshift office. It wasn't much but in this little alcove of the multiverse, it was hers. The life support systems thrums and beeps in a comforting song as she walks to the corner to her make-do kitchen. She starts the heat pad and sets a kettle of water on it. She promises herself just fifteen minutes of not thinking about how to cast a silver lining on the pall that hung over her crew. Just her, the tea and her favorite cup, all that was left from a life long since left behind. Just for a moment she wants to pretend she is not here in this alcove of the multiverse, but back on the Prime Roku. Her hands hover over the kettle as steam gently trails out. Her sigh is lost in the swoosh of the door opening behind her. Looking over her shoulder as she reaches for a mug, she sees the large shape stalk into her room. Her second. All the tea in the Triton hydroponics system would not calm him. She feels the ire radiating from him like the heat of a thruster, and it was all aimed at her. She straightens her back and squares her shoulders, readying herself for the earful she was bound to get. She tells him she doesn't have time for him to be a pain in her ass. She makes a point to ignore him and his angry air. Only the creak of his leathers gives her a warning before she is spun roughly around, instinct has her pulling her mug into the spin aiming it for his jaw. A smooth motion has his hand interceding and swatting the mug from her grasp. When she brings her other hand in to play angling a curled hand strike toward the side of his neck he is quick to take both her wrists and hold them as he leans into her. She sneers at him and tugs her hands in toward her body then reverses the movement, shoving him away and stepping aside away from the reach of his long arms. Her eyes sweep the area until she finds her mug, she is determined to have her damn cup of tea. Spying it by her desk she gives a soft sniff she, straightens her tight tunic before leaning down to pick it up. Just as her fingertips graze the smooth porcelain handle, she feels herself go weightless and flying. Given that he is an entire foot taller than she, it was an exercise in futility when she began to kick backwards in the the general direction of what she hoped was his knees. Then she crashes down onto her desk. Inane thoughts rushed through her mind, berating herself for not cleaning off the desk just for such an unthinkable situation. Then her mind realizes that her breath had been shoved out her body. Something was uncomfortably making an impression in her lower ribcage. She gave a ghost of a hope that it was not the shock gun with the short circuit she had been meaning to tinker with. One large hand holds her down as he tells her if she enjoys being run roughshod over, he was going to enjoy doing it. They were partners after all, to benefit together from all endeavors. She barely registered what he was saying, more concerned with being zapped into oblivion by the shock gun. Her struggles ceased when the sound of a snap and the unmistakable sound of metal caressing leather. A thin pressure rested against the inside of her thigh, her mind races to think of what he had just been saying as she feels it slide upwards, the metal's coolness seeping through her leggings. Her body stills, knowing that he has exceptional control over his weapons that he keeps at ready condition. She wills her breath to slow, as she is nearly certain the knife is his beloved 21st century brushed titanium boning knife. His gruff voice keeps her attention as he airs his thoughts on the current climate with the crew. She tries to wheeze out an agreement, a promise, anything to get him to let her up. She is stunned into silence when she feels the kiss of the metal against her skin. Without a sound he had fileted open the material that kept her warm against the bases low temperatures. She mentally follows the cold threat as it moves along the curve of her butt before slipping between the fabric and her skin. A light tug, the material falls away and the cool air rushes against her, causing her to shiver. All the while his voice is low and hypnotic, she wants to scream at him but she has seen the damage the boning knife could do with just a flick of his grip. His heavy voice turns into a growl that reminds of her of a hungry beast. With no preemptive warning, she felt a thick object push into her, for a moment all thought of moving are frozen as she no longer feels the knife against her skin. He wouldn't dare! The object curled inside and was pulled back, only to be pushed back in. Her mind restarts and she realizes it must be his finger ravaging the long unbreached channel. She finds her voice and begins upbraid him as she gripped the opposite edge of the desk in an attempt to pull away from him. But it didn't take even a sliver of his strength to hold her in place with one hand. The offending thick digit continues its onslaught of her, moving with her struggles. Giving up on getting away, she changes tactics, grabbing anything within reach to toss behind her in the hope if she didn't hit him maybe she could distract him. She is shocked into immobility when he finally removes his finger and a resounding clap is heard, followed by a burning on her left buttock. He tells her to be still or he would hurt her. She was concerned about what more he could do to hurt her. Her answer came as she heard the innocent sound of the zip of his fly. No, really, he couldn't dare to do that to her. She became revitalized, and once more attempted to get a way, clawing at the nearly, now, clean desk, leveraging herself to escape forward. She feels the weight of his hand leave her back, then it was slipping into the tangled mess of curls, nearly grasping her by her scalp. He pulls her head back at an angle she is certain is not healthy. She tries to yell out, command him to release her, it comes out as a strangled moan. She feels a great warmth pushing past the cleft between her legs, using her hair as a leverage, pulling her against him as he shoved inward. The pain set in, as her body still had not properly prepared itself for this violation. Her body protests loudly at the intrusion, even as it stretches to accommodate him. If a body could truly be ripped in half by this, she would be in two just momentarily. Her small sex was not used this mistreatment. She can't stop the cry that escapes her throat as he reaches deep into her. He grinds against her, bruising the puffy nether lips as well as the pounding against her interior. He releases her hair, moving his hands to clench onto her hips. Her dignity in tatters she decides the lesson is over and bucks her hips against him, thinking to knock him off balance and escape. He holds tighter and rides the rhythm of her frenetic attempt to liberate her body. He gives her enough latitude to pull away, he looks down and watches the swollen inches glide out of her tunnel until just the head is snug inside. He yanks her back against him, feeling the head ramming into unyielding flesh inside. The tight friction from the dryness, her body being stubborn and not easing his entry, it burns pleasantly. But he can tell it isn't so for her, not yet. Again he loosens his hold on her, and she tries to haul herself free. He half closes his eyes, reveling in feeling her velveteen flesh pull away. He had been waiting for this for some time, he is unable to decide if this is better than what he had been imagining. This time when he rips her back into her, he feels the sleekness of her walls slip along his length. He smiles, her body is accepting him, now if only she would. She hears a sound suspiciously like someone spitting. Then a cool wetness lands in the valley between her plump cheeks. She snarls, and moves to pull a leg forward and under her, not realizing that she was exposing herself more to him, her body blooming before him. Her leg shoots back to kick at him, her aim is off, and she falls forward, her head banging against the desk. She rolls her head, trying to shake the haze from her mind. A swirling against the tight aperture registers into her dazed mind, before she can try to at least swing her hips, a sharp pain blooms as he plunges his thumb into her. He grips her cheeks open, pumping into both of her entries. He thinks to ask her if she has had her nanites updated. It takes a moment for her to realize what he's asking. She whispers no, it was her fertile time too. He tells her his plan B will work just fine then. Her confusion turns to relief when he relieves her bum of his thumb. He slowly pulls his cock out, but halfway out he whispers how heavenly it feels and slips back in, glides out, slams back in. Gods, he breathes, as he struggles with himself to stop. Suddenly a void is created as he yanks himself out forcefully. His big hands push her legs almost against her rear , locking his thumbs around her ankles, he grabs her waist, and as if she weighed no more than an arena ball, he flips her over. She re-experiences the weightless sensation, just before the wind is knocked out of her as she slams back down on the desk. For a brief moment, she thinks she should have grabbed the shock gun that now was flush against her spine. She shakes her head and blinks a few times before focusing on the face that she has always counted on to keep her steady when she wanted nothing more than to fall apart. He holds her gaze, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he steps back between her legs, using his hips to push them aside. One hand he rests high on her chest, just above the forming bruise. The tips of his long fingers brushing her neck. The other hand went between her thighs, just grazing over her swollen lips. He pulls his hand up, his fingers showing the slickness from her body, tinged with red. He drops both hands to her ankles and yanks them up, pushing her knees against her chest as he forces his way back into her. His eyes never leaving hers as he watches the rapid change crossing across her elfin face. Her mind can not translate the emotion resting on his face. Calm, intent dark eyes bore into her light ones as he burrows into her tight trough. The pressure of her knees restricts her breathing, which sets her body a-tingle. She swears she can feel the ridges of his cock as it ploughs into her. She whimpers as finally the pain dances with pleasure. His look becomes more intense now that her song has changed. Her legs part giving an angled view of her breasts as the shift with each bump of his body. He reaches one hand toward them, grabbing a nipple and pinching. Her sharp intake of breath brings a tingle sensation to his spine. He does it again, twisting it and watching it darken as blood rushes to it and it hardens. He tells her to tend to her breasts. She brings her hands up to cup them, the nearly fluidic flesh jiggles as she caresses them. Teasing her nipples, she looks at him. He wonders for a moment what it would look like if he emptied himself all over those beautiful globes. He almost loses control imagining her cleaning herself up, his scent covering her. Lost in thought, he's slamming into her, hitting her button by accident, which causes her to tighten and almost fall over the edge herself. Before they could fully appreciate the sensations, he pulls himself away, breaking the gaze for just a moment to see the entire length drenched in her aroma and sheen. He pulls her legs up, one ankle to each shoulder, legs wider apart giving him complete unfettered direct line into her body, her brows furrow in confusion as their gazes lock again. Giving nothing away, he propels forward, her voice climbs as he begins the determined journey into her other opening. Her eyes widen, and he smirks as he thrusts in, the tightness making it difficult. But her wetness has slid down, giving him ease to get the tip in. She fights to keep him from going any further. She slides her ankles up and crosses them behind his neck, locking her knees she clamps her shins against his neck. The movement pulls him down, but doesn't keep him from continuing into her forbidden passage. He reaches down and wraps his hand around her small neck. Both begin breathing raggedly, their faces pinking, as he rocks against her, earning each inch forward. He can see the agony on her face as her body is forced to accept the thick rod he is cramming into her. He can feel her insides undulating against him, trying to remove the offense. The tightness squeezes him, and it takes his concentration to hold off, determined to fill her completely. The ripping of the delicate flesh, makes her want to sob, but she won't, not in front of him, she would gulp down the tears with the last vestiges of her dignity. Finally, his body is flush against hers. He was nearly faint from the pressure of her legs against his neck, pinching just enough to slow the flow of oxygen. It heightens the entire experience. He almost loses it then, watching her eyes blink lazily, yet her face gently screwed up against the pain. Her own cheeks flushed. He pulls away again, he watches entranced as her body relinquishes its hold on him, stretching again to let the ridge of the head come out, then he pushes again, his eyes go back to her face, his vision burring. All the way in he grits his teeth and tries to shake her legs from his neck, but her leg control is amazing and neither leg comes loose. He pulls halfway out and bulldozes back deep into her. Her half closed eyes widen again, and he hears her ragged breath cry out. He repeats it, half way out, feeling the stretching flesh gliding along the texture of his cock. Quickly, he delves back in. Yanks out, plunges in. Each time she cries. Slides away, and grinds in. Her cry turns to a whimper. Rolls his hips away, pulling out, then pushes against her, and this time the whimper is a moan. Then he smells the spicy scent of her arousal. As if the scent gives him permission, he drills himself into her, listening to the staccato of their skins slapping together, her moans almost melodic as her eyes keep rolling back every time he delves into her. Each time he pulls away, her legs give opposing pressure, dragging him back into her. Her body moves lithe like a belly dancer. If possible, his cock swells even more, and begins the twitch that means his end is near. Her eyes pop open at the change of sensation, her mouth makes a soft O as her body begins to shiver. Breathless she cries out as he empties himself, filling her. Each twitch of his cock is answered with a shiver from her inside. They milk each other, until her legs finally drop down and his hand slides from her neck. He pulls away one last time, with reluctance. Her warmth was addictive, her pleasured sounds echo in his ears. He looks down to watch himself again, unsure if this would ever happen again he wanted to remember everything. He feels a twinge at the blood that streaked against the dark flesh of his cock, he realizes it is a pleased twinge, a memory passes through his mind, and reflexively he growls with possessiveness. Once he is fully removed from her body, he uses the ragged bits of her panties to clean himself before closing up his pants. He leans over her and taps her face, none to gently. Her eyes slide open and he reminds her there is another meeting in ten, she might want to tidy up. He walks to the door, and pauses. Now you know what a real pain in the ass is. Literally Ensnared "Can I ask you something?" I raised my eyes from the New York Times spread out on the library table in front of me. My eyes stopped briefly, but not briefly enough, while I looked down the dress of the woman leaning over the table. "Good morning, Rhonda," I said as my eyes reluctantly left the tantalizing glimpse of whiteness of her breasts beneath her dress. "Sure, go ahead. Ask away." She smiled mischievously. "You may have just answered it, but... Does the name 'Sherry Wilson' mean anything to you?" My face felt as if it were on fire. Sherry Wilson had been a character in one of my Literotica stories. "Sherry Wilson, age 46; librarian at the Kellogg County Library." I had modeled the 'Sherry Wilson' character after Rhonda. In the story, my character had extremely heated sexual relations with her. She must have seen my outward reaction. Before I could answer, she continued. "And you would be 'Lee', right?" The look of confidence on Rhonda’s face told me there was no point in denying what she had already deduced. "I hope you're not too offended," I asked rather meekly. My composure quickly returned when it occurred to me that for her to know about my fictional lust for her character and to suspect my real lust for her, Rhonda must have read the entire novella. Perhaps some of my other stories as well. She started to answer, but I cut her off. "And how did you come to read my story, anyway?" I asked playfully and a bit more confidently now. It occurred to me to ask if she had cum after she read the story, but I resisted offering the obtuse play on words. She was unflustered and surprisingly honest. "I enjoy reading and writing erotic literature. It is very 'stimulating'.” She verbally punctuated ‘stimulating.’ “And I especially liked your stories.” So, she had read my other stories! “A girl friend of mine had read ‘Irreconcilable Differences’ and told me she thought Sherry sounded a lot like me. I couldn’t wait to read it. So while I was a little surprised, I wasn't offended when I realized that I had become a character in one of your stories. And it became a personal challenge to try and identify the author." She glanced around the library to make sure no one else was in hearing distance. "In fact, our fictional sexual experience together was very, very satisfying to me as I read the story. I suspect your attraction to my character explains why you spend a great deal of time here in the library on days when I'm working." She stopped talking, but in only a few seconds, our eyes exchanged messages far more precise and powerful than words could express. "Does your husband share your interests in erotic literature?" I asked. "Probably no more than your wife shares yours," she responded insightfully. "So...?" I queried. "So, I think we should discuss our shared interests somewhere else at some mutually convenient time," she whispered. “Where would you suggest?” I asked. “Well, my friend who put me onto your stories has a house out in the country. She’s gone for a week, and she asked me to watch the house and tend her pool. Why don’t we meet there? I’m not working tomorrow. How about 2 p.m.?” I nodded in agreement. My mouth was too dry to talk. She unnecessarily but intentionally bent lower over the table, revealing even more of her unencumbered white breasts beneath her ultraplain dress and sweater. I glimpsed just the tops of her enticing aureoles...and something else that made me instantly hard. She knew what I saw and the effects that brief glimpse had on me. “Here are the directions,” she said. “Once you get there, just come around to the back.” She shrugged slightly, exposing even more of her breasts to me, and then she stood up and walked off. The following day, promptly at 2 o’clock, I drove my car several miles out along what looked like a barely used rural gravel road to an isolated house on a hillside. I saw Rhonda’s Subaru in front. I pulled alongside, got out, and walked through the gate in the high wooden fence. Once inside, I saw that the back yard had a large and inviting swimming pool, made more inviting by Rhonda perched seductively on the pool’s edge and wearing nothing but her glasses. I just stood and stared at her. “You know, your stories reveal a lot about you,” she said. “Well, they’re just fantasy fiction,” I said, evidently unconvincingly. “I don’t think so,” she teased. “I think they’re a revealing glimpse at your sexual interests. At least, I certainly hope they are.” I found myself getting excited at where she might be taking the conversation, so I played along. “And what, Ms. Freud, did my stories tell you about me?” “You’re a sexual adventurer. You are stimulated by the risk of being caught in adultery. And, you’re a bit of an exhibitionist. You get turned on at the thought of you and your partner being seen having sex in public. Again, the risk of being recognized while you’re having sex really stokes your fire. You are unconcerned about your woman’s age as long as she is legal and enjoys sex. You definitely don’t mind watching two women have sex with each other, and you don’t mind masturbating while you watch them and they watch you. You seem to prefer aggressive women who occasionally like their sex a little rough, and you like women who are vocal while you’re having sex. And finally, you prefer natural women to ones who are shaven. If I’m correct, then in every way, you are the antithesis of my husband. And I also suspect that your sex with your wife, when you have it, is pretty vanilla. Am I right?” She stopped talking and looked at me. I nodded appreciatively at her accurate assessment. “Assuming you’re correct, just what about your sexual side do you think would excite me?” I asked. “Well, why don’t you take off your clothes. That’ll tell me if I excite you or not,” she said boldly. I decided to play along with her and began to slowly remove my clothes. With each article of clothing removed, her interest clearly grew. Finally, I stood before her naked, my penis fully erect and engorged and standing out aggressively from the hair around my pubes. She appraised the black hair on my chest, arms, and legs, and licked her lips slightly. “Mmmmm. Yeah, you’re excited. That I’m here even though I’m married ought to tell you something. Frankly, my husband would rather fuck his 20-year-old secretary with her big tits and shaved pussy … and he is...frequently. Just like in your story. I may be over 40, but my need for good, hard sex hasn’t diminished. And I do mean hard. My girl friend who owns this house and I have enjoyed each other’s company, but since we live in a small community, I’m very careful with her and even more careful with men. I don’t have big breasts, but they are very sensitive. With the proper encouragement, I can bring myself to orgasm by just playing with my nipples. I’m hoping you’ll give them the attention they crave, and soon. You’re probably a little disappointed that I do shave my calves, but that’s just because my boss at work is old-fashioned. As you can see, everything else is very, very natural. When my pussy’s wet, like you’re making it now, my clit becomes rather large and sensitive and, I hope, inviting for what I’m assuming is a very talented tongue. My husband never developed a taste for it. And finally...” Her voice trailed off. She emerged from the water, removed her gold wire frame glasses, and set them on the poolside table next to me. The glasses had no more than touched the table before she was upon me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist so that I was bearing her full weight. I was driven backward by the suddenness of her leap and the force of her lithe body against mine, but I quickly regained my footing. Her eyes burned with the fire of adulterous lust and the need for an appreciative man to satisfy her. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her to help support her weight. The strength of her legs wrapped tightly around my waist and hips took my breath away. No more had I caught my first breath than she pressed her lips against mine, piercing my lips with her insistent tongue, fueling my arousal with her own oral hunger. As our suspended embrace moved us around the poolside, our kisses became more shameless, wetter, and deeper, and were accompanied by our increasingly audible signs of arousal, expressions of desire. She took my tongue into her mouth and sucked it as if it were a cock. I did the same with her’s, perhaps thinking of her description of her clit. Again the pressure of her well-conditioned thighs around my waist began to take my breath away. Her hairy inner thighs seized my sides. To break her viselike grip, I pushed her back against the fence so hard it shook the throw ring loose. It bounced off the concrete poolside. “Oh fuck, yeah, baby!” she screamed appreciatively when her legs released and had her standing upright against the fence. “That’s what I need! Give it to me hard!” I glanced around quickly. “Don’t worry, darling,” she breathed, “There’s no one within miles. No one will hear or see us. We can do and say whatever we want. And I do want!” I pushed my body against hers and held her tightly against the wall. Her breathing was hard, halting briefly as my now full erection sandwiched against her belly and felt the abrasion of the dark hair between her navel and her mons. I began to move my body up and down against hers as we resumed our kisses. My penis rode up and down over her mons and on her pubic hair as she humped her hips in response to it. I could feel her wet heat matching my own, and the brushing of her lush hair against my cock was excruciatingly arousing. I moaned in delight. Her eyes gleamed with sexual hunger at my outcries. I moved my lips to the side of her neck, kissing, nipping, then outright biting. “Ooohhhhhhh ... aaaahhhhhh ... uuuummmmmmmmmm,” she growled again through clenched teeth and again when my tongue and teeth simultaneously interspersed their sensual messages with our pelvic stimulations. The scent of heated sex began to replace the chlorine smell of the pool. I felt the warmth of her naked back beneath my fingers, and I began to run my fingertips over all her exposed skin. She grew more excited, her rubbing against me more frantic and demanding. We continued kissing as our bodies sought and reveled in the sexual frictions that were driving us wild. Our mouths wandered with abandon, our lips and bites tugged and pulled. Each contact evoked vocalized responses that only added to our pleasure. But it was when my lips found Rhonda’s rubbery-hard and erect nipples that she cried out the loudest. And again she instinctively seized my waist with her legs, crushing my torso. My arms locked under her buttocks and held her mons against my abdomen, allowing my mouth to alternate its arousal of each of her nipples. My tongue darted around her aureoles, and I sensed a hint of hair surrounding them. A quick glance confirmed what I had glimpsed in the library while looking down her dress: the presence of just enough dark hairs near her aureoles to captivate me. Her arms clasped around my neck, and she thrust her mons against the hair on my chest. I felt the heat and wetness of her pussy in her attempt to rub her clit against my chest. With each jolt of sexual electricity she received, she screamed wantonly. She thrust her breast against my face when my tongue and my teeth satisfied her long-suppressed cravings. I again found my strength fading from having carried her full weight, but I was sustained by the sexual strength she imparted to me. While continuing to arouse her, I looked for a place we could recline. She sensed my need through her own arousal and croaked, “Inside!” Still carrying her, my mouth still attacking her sensual sensitivities, I carried her through the open door into the kitchen of the small house, then through the kitchen and tiny living room into a sparsely furnished bedroom. All the while, her legs and arms clasped me in lustful embrace. Her breathing and mine were hard now, hers from the arousal of my bites and licks to her breasts and from the friction of her pussy and clit against my torso; mine from my own desires as well as from the energy needed to carry her weight. We had no more than entered the bedroom than she released her legs’ grip on me and supported her own weight again. Almost instinctively I began to lick alongside her breasts. She raised her left arm, exposing the wet, dark hair of her underarm. My tongue found its way quickly to its tart saltiness, and I began to lick, up and down, tongue alternating between flicks and lashes at the hair and the sensitive skin beneath and alongside it. Her cries confirmed her pleasure and a long-hidden desire. She straddled my hairy thigh and began to ride it up and down, shamelessly rubbing her wet, warm mons over it. I clasped her pit hair between my lips and began to pull, inflicting the pain of arousal on this sensitive area. “Oh, God, baby! Yes, yes, yes...More...more...don’t stop!” she cried again and again as the effects of her own shameless masturbation against my leg was matched by the effects of my mouth and tongue on her underarms and breasts. Her breathing was intense, and redness flashed across the whiteness of her chest and breasts. Her nipples, now darkish pink and fully erect, glistened with my saliva as elongated aroused pearls. The rubbing of her pussy against the coarse hair on my leg became even more agitated. Her eyes clenched shut and she threw her head back. When my teeth gripped her nipple and pulled on it, her pussy lips seems to suck my leg in, and she exploded. “Huuunnnnnngggghhhhhhh!” she screamed loudly once, then again and again with each surge of orgasm. Her body shook violently as if driven by an earthquake. I felt her liquid running down my upper leg as her body convulsed against mine. Finally her orgasm subsided and she collapsed against me, still standing, arms wrapped around my neck but the strength gone from her legs. “Just imagine what it will be like when I suck your clit and then fuck you hard, you horny slut!” I growled into her ear, my own needs now demanding attention. “Oh, yeah,” she moaned, “I need your long, fat cock pumping me hard. It’s been so long since a real man fucked me hard.” “I’m gonna do more than just fuck your pussy,” I whispered coarsely into her ear. With that, I lifted her still-recovering body and deposited it on the bed. Her pussy glistened with her own cum and with perspiration. She lay sprawled on the bed, legs splayed apart, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. I stood back away from her, drinking in the hirsute beauty before me. Though her calves had been shaven, some stubble began to appear, and above her knees her leg hair was enticingly black. It thickened naturally nearer her pubes, and there was a definite trail of black silk leading to her navel. Her outer pussy lips were red and swollen from their abrasion against my chest and leg. She focused on my own erection and slowly, seductively ran her hands down her body to her pubes. She began to urge her clit to emerge even further from under its protective hood. While continuing to stimulate her enlarging pearl with the fingers of one hand, she returned the other to her breast and began to tug and pull on one nipple with her thumb and forefinger. She rolled her head to one side and began to lick one of her own hairy pits. And then her eyes looked hungrily into mine: An unspoken command to masturbate with her. I began exaggerated strokes of my own erection as the sensual sights, sounds, and scents of this remarkably sexual woman began to overcome me. She sensed my arousal and was eager that both of us would be satisfied. “Yeah, baby. Stroke it. Make that cock long and thick and hard before you put it in me. Make it hot so it burns my pussy!” Her own words, low and rough, stimulated her to lick and pull on herself even more. “Hunnnnnhhh,” she groaned as she forced herself to slow her own self-pleasuring motions. I moved closer to her, still stroking myself slowly, so she could clearly see the red hardness of my manhood. She licked her lips in anticipation. In slow motion, I reached down and took her ankles in my hands, lifted them, and placed one on each of my shoulders as I knelt on the bed between her legs. I began to lick her shaven calves, feeling the stubble of only a few days’ growth abrade my tongue. I kissed and licked behind her knees, and she reflexively tightened her legs against my head. Rhonda’s face was a visage of both supreme confidence and sublime sexual pleasure. It tightened into a mask of arousal as my lips and tongue worked their way up the insides of her thighs. Her upper leg hair grew thicker and more lush the higher I went. I began to inhale the scent of her womanly desire, and my lust became nearly uncontrollable. Now sexually unrestrained, I buried my face in the wet blackness of her hairy pussy, heaven on earth. My tongue seemed to move in all directions at once. Around, in, out, up, down, over and over again, for several minutes. Rhonda’s cries and movements became equally unrestrained. Knowing we would be neither seen nor heard, she allowed herself to explode in sexual motions and sounds. Her legs alternately locked around my head, confining me in her hairy prison, then straightened as erotic electricity stiffened her muscles. She thrust her hips without restraint against my face. Her moans, her cries, her urgings for me to eat her, fuck her, make her cum, resounded unceasingly throughout the remote farmhouse. My own sounds spurred her on. As my tongue and mouth pummeled and sucked her pussy, my eyes saw her pulling on her distended nipples, rolling them between her thumbs and forefingers. Her head strained to one side, her long tongue lashing against her armpits. She had become a tigress uncaged, her body freely and eagerly responding to my sexual probings. But her most explosive burst of wanton energy came when my lips and tongue began to suck and lick around her remarkably long clit and my index and middle fingers slid into her slippery wet pussy. “Oh! Fuck! Oh! Fuck! Oh! Fuck!” she cried out over and over again as her body heaved in its spasms. Each thrust of her hips, remarkably high and strong, pushed my face further and further into her black forest. The feel of her womanly growth and fullness against my face and her delicious love juices were driving me insane. I sensed her upper body moving to a sitting position while my head was still held captive between her muscular thighs. Though sitting, she continued to drive her mons against my face, her head rocking back and forth and from side to side. Her cries continued. My own body was crying out for the release that only she could give, the release that she offered so freely and without restriction. I raised my head from between her outstretched legs and stared once again into her lust-crazed eyes. Her arms reached quickly and grabbed around my neck, pulling my lips to hers. She ground her taut, erect nipples against my chest, becoming aroused by their contact with the black coarse hair on my chest. She reveled in the taste of her own juices from my lips. We continued for several minutes in this position while our passions grew. Sensing that our orgasms were inescapably building, she placed her hands on my shoulders, raked her fingernails down to my chest, then pushed me roughly away. In an instant she brought one leg over my head in a quick motion so that she was now on all fours in front of me. Then, as I arose to my knees intending to take her from behind, she screamed, “Fuck me from behind, lover. I wanna feel that hard cock driving into my pussy while you pull my tits” Literally Ensnared I placed the tip of my cock just at the entrance to her thick pussy lips. I savored the beckoning wetness and heat as her pussy juice mixed with the moisture droplet that had formed on my cock tip. “Fuck me hard, damn you!” she screamed impatiently at my momentary teasing. I plunged my long rod into the sublime prison of her hairy wet pussy. She tightened her muscles around my cock, massaging and stroking it passionately. I reached down and cupped one of her breasts. My fingers quickly found her taut nipple and began to first flick, then rub it hard. The stimulation caused her to push her ass harder against me, forcing my dark red penis deeper. “Yeah, baby!” she screamed again and again. “Fuck me good, lover!” she cried out. The wet black hair of her pussy and the rippling vaginal muscles felt like a thousand fingers and tongues, each touching a sexual nerve in my cock. Never had I felt such exquisite torture and arousal in my manhood as it remained captivated by Rhonda’s long-denied demands. It was as if her sex chamber had hands of its own. And as much as her stimulation was driving me closer to orgasm, so was it bringing her closer and closer. With one hand still stimulating her nipple, my other hand moved down her back to her ass while my thrusts still worked my erection in and out of her pussy. I moved my hand over her asshole. I traced patterns around her asshole and then down to her wet pussy until I found her swollen lips. Her fluids lubricated my finger, and I returned it to her ass. Then I pushed one finger inside her, first slowly, then faster and deeper in response to her cries urging me on. Her moans, her cries, and the indescribable clasp of her pussy around my thrusting cock brought my own body to the precipice of climax now. My muscles tightened as I tried to hold back my inevitable flood of hot cum. In that moment, I pushed my finger, wet with her juices, slowly into her asshole. “I’m cumming!” she screamed. “Cum with me, lover. Fuck me hard and cum with me!” she commanded. Her words and the even more urgent and explosive motion of her body burying my thrusting cock in her pussy and my finger into her ass sent me into heaven. I felt the searing release of my orgasm mix with the wet strength of hers. Her head thrashed from side to side, and her sphincter muscles gripped my finger as if it were my cock in her pussy. Our bodies vibrated, throbbed, in climactic unison as our orgasms flooded. My cum flowed out of her pussy and down her legs. We continued to thrash and scream in the twilight zone of sexual bliss, each seeking to draw the last ounce of orgasmic energy from the other. Finally, spent, we collapsed into each other’s arms. Her breasts, still swollen and tender, pressed against mine and rubbing still against my sweat-drenched chest hair. Her pussy, its fluids having flowed freely, rubbed against my cock. Our breaths, now synchronized, came more evenly as we closed our eyes and relived the feeling of my cock imprisoned by her hairy sexually demanding pussy. When our voices returned, she spoke. “Next time, lover, we have to do this somewhere a little more public.” Her eyes gleamed in anticipation, and I could only dream of the surprises she might have in store for me.