Ned Samuels: Hand maid

"Let me fuck you this final time, right now," he pleaded.

"Yes, I guess you've behaved fairly well, as a matter of fact, my friend, you've done okay the entire week end, from taking me to that place to the jaunt in the country, from bedroom stunts, to doing it in showers, wet or dry, nude or wearing some scant garb. You're one stud."

He was turned on by her compliments (his masculine ego thus fed) and he pulled the sheer top down so he could see much of her cleavage – actually he'd pulled it to just above the nipples, which was perfectly clear, since he could see the nipples under the cloth in any event.

"One last time! Fuck me one last time!"

The entire scene was so vivid in her mind, and her cunt was so hot, that it was beginning to be difficult for our Veronica to distinguish fantasy from reality, until it seemed strange to her that the man she was balling was simultaneously on his way over to pick her up. She glanced at the clock, and, observing it was fifteen minutes until two, knew that she had to work fast. Hell, she wasn't even dressed, but nothing would stop her, pull her away from this great, last fantasy, masturbatory fuck.

No, she imagined telling him, I won't give you up. I won't let you dissipate in my mind until I get one more juicy orgasm, until you take me all the way one more time.

"But there isn't time," he pleaded.

"We'll risk it. We'll make time."

"You live dangerously."

"It's the only way to live."

"Okay bitch, here goes. But I have a real temper and when I show up at two, I don't want to find any competition, even if it is from my imaginary self."

He jumped on her and fucked, pushed and ground until she almost cried out in pain.

He pushed against her tits.

He ground into her.

He rammed his pecker almost as far in as it would go.

It was a fucking good time, but the clock pushed forward and for that matter, her dildo was beginning to show the wear. It was sputtering a bit, and it looked a bit frazzled around the edges and almost cracked toward the tip.

"Come on," she said, "don't fail me now whatever you do. This counts, really counts. I want it this one last time."

Harder she pushed it inside of her, even abandoning her fantasy in order to give exclusive attention to coming, to making herself go to the big "O". Like some kind of addict, she felt if she could just have this one last fuck, this one last orgasm, she could meet John and take him on his own fucking terms. She wanted this one to remember, just this one alone, all by herself: solo. "Uh," she moaned out, then glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost two. She only had a few minutes left, just a few minutes to make herself go over the top. She felt her tits, violently rubbing them together and apart, exciting herself to a higher plain. But her mind might have been confused; never had it been so stimulated, so intensely and quickly after a past orgasm, and for that matter, had delivered so many climaxes in such short notice. But that was okay. This was a first, all round, and she felt cheated if her body would give up on her now that she was on the home stretch. Her nipples were erect as could be, a good sign, just sticking out in front of her, perching upward as if looking for a man, some big stud to give her hot action.

"Ooh," she groaned and saw that it was one minute to two. She could make it; she could go over the top in a minute, in one fantastic sixty seconds. Harder she pushed on her stick, her electric cock. The week end was ending just as it began, just her and the electric cock, no John, no Buck, no Maggie Lu and Bernice, just solo all the way, nothing to excite but pure sensation, the individually unique qualities of hard plastic vaguely shaped to resemble a real live pecker.

"Come on, come on," she pleaded. "Do it to me, go all the way you plastic cock." Harder and faster she pushed like a she-demon, like an addict who has to have a fix, incessantly pushing and grinding, perchering her back up and shaking her big tits wildly. She was all woman, all animal, a tigress, a bucking woman stud who was not going to stop until something broke, her cunt or her dildo, one or the other.

"Aggh, agggh," she pushed out of her throat. She looked at the clock, with the second hand racing against her own passion, twenty… Fifteen… ten seconds away from the zero hour.

Then with nine… Eight… Seven… to go, she came, in one sudden rush of blood enveloping her pussy and brain at the same time, a fucking fantastic release to the rescue.

"Aggghhh! Agghh!" she yelled out – exclaiming in pure delight over the unique and torrid experiencing, then falling back helplessly and entirely spent, as the second hand continued its odyssey, three… two… one BINGO.

It had been the fastest, yet one of the most unique orgasms of her entire life – a life not without experience.

There was only one thing left to do. She languidly walked over and put on her robe, then made her way to the front door. She opened it just as John was about to ring the bell – he always was punctual.

"Hey," he said sprightly, "you'll never guess what I have planned, and you really should get dressed right away. We're going upstate, because I've rented a whole bunch of gear and we have Monday off, and best of all, I've got the two best guides in the area, a young boy and girl, about twenty I think, and very enthusiastic about their job!"