Anonymous - Raped on the Railway

The two splendid bodies seemed melted into one, so closely were they united. Then a long shivering spasm passed through them, and Brandon rolled off breathless and exhausted, his neck bleeding from a bite which Maud's sharp little teeth had inflicted in the supreme moment.

After resting for a minute or two, he got out of bed and washed himself, and then picking up the candle which had been left burning, he came to the bed and gazed down at Maud. She had not moved since he got off her, and was lying, with her eyes closed in a half swoon of ecstatic pleasure. The two pillows which she had thoughtfully placed to raise her buttocks, gave a graceful curve to her lithe while body. Her arms were thrown above her head, and her thighs were still wide apart. The light of the candle fell on the golden hair under her armpits, on the red nipples, which surmounted her two big, soft breasts, and on the forest which covered her well-developed mount of Venus, beneath which could be seen the half open pink “big lips” of her vulva, still moist with the love stream which Brandon had shot into her.

“If I could only paint her like that, what a splendid picture it would be!” he said to himself. He put his head between her thighs, and gently kissed the place which had given him so much pleasure. She opened her eyes and smiled at him sweetly.

“What! not satisfied yet, you bad boy?” she said. “And kissing my poor little quim in that hypocritical manner after knocking her about and then flooding her. But she is a good fighter, and you will find her ready to meet your champion as often as he can get ready for the battle.”

She got off the bed and limped to the wash-stand, “You have stretched me so much with that big machine of yours that you have made me quite lame,” she said.

“Yes, I was afraid it would hurt you!” said Brandon, “I have never poked you like that since we were married.

“Well, that wasn't my fault,” she replied laughingly. “It was always there ready for you. But you are like all the men. They think that if they give their wives dresses and jewellery that is all we want, and if once a week they give us a hurried grind we ought to be satisfied, and if a man does know how to poke a woman properly-which very few do — he reserves all his talents for his mistress, because he thinks she knows how to do it better.”

“To be sure,” she added, “many wives are also to blame. All they think of is their husband's dinner, whereas if they thought less of his belly and more of what was below it, there would be more happy couples.”

There is no need to describe in detail the rest of this eventful night, suffice it to say that, thanks to the flagellation, and a little skilful aid from Maud's hand and tongue, Brandon was enabled to get off a couple more turns before he fell asleep by his wife's side.

Even this did not complete his performance, for when he woke in the morning his tool was stiff, as is usually the case with a man in good health. Maud was lying on her back fast asleep, and quite naked, and looked so lovely and tempting in the morning light that he would have been unworthy of the name of man if he had not taken advantage of the chance.

He gently pulled apart her big, firm, well-rounded thighs, and then kneeling between them, opened the soft pink lips of her rosy love-cleft with his fingers and inserted the head of his huge tool. Maud was probably awake all the time, but she took care not to open her eyes till he had quietly pushed more than half the big red column into the soft, warm, wet receptacle. Then she pretended to wake with a start. “What, again!” she cried with well feigned surprise. “Well, it's lucky I am a good strong girl, and can take a good deal of grinding, for I do not think there are many women who could stand five assaults in one night from such a huge machine as you have. But if you will take it out, Bob, I will show you a new way which I think will please you, and which not many women, even professionals, can do.”

“You won't trick me if I take it out?” said her husband.

“Of course not, you silly boy! I like it just as much as you do, or perhaps more, but you are very heavy, and your long stroke drive all the breath out of me.

“All right, little woman, I don't want to hurt you, so what do you want me to do?”

“Why, get off- that's it-and now lie flat on your back in the middle of the bed.”

Brandon did as he was told, and lay down as directed, his grand tool-superbly stiff from being interrupted when it was half way to its goal, lying straight against his belly.

Maud's eyes glistened with pleasure as she looked at it. “You are a beauty, my dear,” she said, as she caressed it with her hand, and bent down her pretty face and gave it a little kiss on its big, red, proudly swelling head. “It seems quite a pity to spoil you and make you all limp, but I don't think you much mind that.”

“You'll take all the stiffness out of it quicker than you intended, Maud, if you keep on handling it. Make haste and slip it in, darling, or I shall think you are afraid of it.”

“I'll soon show you whether I am afraid of it, sir,” replied Maud, and she threw one leg over his body and knelt on the bed with one leg each side of him. Then, putting her left hand round behind her thigh, she caught hold of his tool and pulled it up straight. Next, with her right hand she held apart the lips of her sweet rosy cleft, and gently lowered her body till the big head of the great column had disappeared.

“Now remember, Bob,” she said with mock gravity, and holding up her finger, “you are not to move. I daresay you will want to shove it in further, but you must conquer the inclination or you will spoil the game.”

“All right,” he replied. “I will do whatever you want — if I can.” Maud continued to lower her body until about two thirds of his prickle had entered her.

“That will do,” she cried. “If your old pet were not so long I could let it all in, but now it is just right. Do you feel anything darling?”

“Yes,” he replied, “I can feel something tickling the tip of my tool most deliciously.”

“That is my clitty playing round it. Now do you feel anything?”

“Yes; my old man is being squeezed and pressed and sucked as though it were in your mouth. What have you got inside there, Maud?”

A lady who had travelled in Turkey told me that some of the Turks have in their harems women who are called nutcrackers, who can make a man spend by working the muscles of their vulva. She taught me how to do it and I used to practise — only with a candle, of course — but I wasn't sure I could do it, but I never told you anything about it because — I was — afraid — you wouldn't — respect me.

“Respect you, darling!” he replied. “When I think that I have been night after night lying close to the cleverest little coynte in all England and never found out its beauties, I could kick myself. This is heavenly.”

He closed his eyes and seemed lost in ecstasy, whilst Maud knelt astride him apparently motionless, though all the muscles of her vulva were at work squeezing, gripping, sucking, and exciting the pleasant intruder who had ventured into that nest of delight. “Maud! I'm co — co — coming,” he murmured at last.

She, her eyes gleaming with lust, opened her legs, and gave a downward thrust which made all the rest of the great column disappear into her widely gaping, insatiable coynte, and throwing her body upon his, lay motionless with her warm mouth to his, her very being melted in the warm flood of love which was being spurted into her womb.

They lay thus for some minutes, and then his now limp tool slipped out of her cleft, and Maud, with a merry laugh, got off him, though he tried to retain her.

“No, no,” she said, “that is quite enough for the present. I shall have you knocking yourself up, and unable to do anything for a month, and now you have begun so well I hope you will continue.”