Heather Brown - Wife turned on

The sailor laughed when he saw me stop in my tracks, as though he knew the reason for it. An eerie feeling came over me that I was no longer in control of either the situation or myself.

"How much do you want for a blow-job?"

Realizing he thought I was hanging out in the alley because he thought I was a whore, I was speechless.

"I'll give you ten bucks if you cop my joint," he said breezily. "Five more if you swallow my cum."

I started to back away. But when I did, I heard my cunt squish and I stopped. It was so loud the sailor couldn't help but hear it too.

"If your pussy's wet, I'll fuck you too," he grinned. "The way your box sounds maybe you ought to pay me."

Then, as I stood transfixed, he began rapidly undoing the buttons on the fly of his uniform. All of a sudden I found myself gazing at a big, stiff prick, already drooling with a glob of cum.

Closing the space between us, he shoved the head of his cock into my stomach like a knife. Then, without warning, he delivered a karate-chop to the back of my neck. I fell to my knees like I'd been shot.

"Suck, baby, suck!" His boyishness turned to growling meanness. "I'm not used to being teased by whores."

When he raised my hand again, I feared my neck might be broken if I didn't cooperate. There seemed no choice but to do as he said. Obediently I closed my lips over his hard prick.

"Okay, bitch, that's better," he rasped. "Now take me all the way down to my nuts. Deep throat me or I'll leave you lying here like the rest of the trash in this alley."

Fearing for my life, I began to fuck him with my mouth the way I had originally learned from the rapist. A stranger to cock-sucking until a few months ago, now I was able to take one all the way down my throat.

I tried to hate what I was doing, but factors beyond my control were conspiring against me.

Having involuntarily become horny before the sailor ever stepped into the alley, I was unable to restrain my runaway senses from responding with twitching excitement to over ten inches of male meat. A prisoner of my female reflexes, I couldn't help but suck his big cock in earnest.

By the time my lips were nibbling against his balls, the pussy juice was streaming down my thighs. My cunt was so wet it was as though my panties weren't even there. Glancing downward, I saw that the ground was getting damp from the constant dripping between my legs.

Because the sailor was young, perhaps not even out of his teens, he was as randy as a stallion. He was ready to come only seconds after his prick was hilted in my mouth.

Slamming his pelvis into my face, he shot his wad without further delay. The steaming ball of his molten cum hit my stomach like a meteor.

He was by far the youngest man I'd ever blown, and the taste of his jizz showed it. Much sweeter, thicker and voluminous than either the rapist's or Dr. Higgins', it broiled in the pit of my belly with the raw energy of youth.

When he pulled out, his cock was as hard as ever. I'd read about the capacity of young men to tirelessly perform, and now I was obviously going to get a first-hand demonstration.

"Are you ready to fuck me, baby?" he leered, proudly stroking his stiff, dripping tool.

At this point I felt utterly defeated. Totally intimidated by his sexual vigor; I nodded my head.

"Then get on your hands and knees," he directed. "I want to fuck you like you're a bitch in heat. The way the animals do it on the farm back home."

When I hesitated, he pushed me down. Groveling on the filthy ground, I avoided his kicks only by raising myself to all fours and distracting him by pointing my ass in his face.

"That's better," he said, leaning over to lift up my dress. "Now spread your legs so I can get to your pussy."

I could feel my twat burning like a huge sore as I parted my thighs. His fingers slipped under the crotch of my ruined panties and tore them away like tissue paper.

"Will you look at that!" he enthused. "That's gotta be the hairiest, wettest pussy I've ever seen. No wonder you became a whore, with a snatch like that."

Then he stopped talking and started fucking. His cock's aim was true and swift and soon the throbbing head seemed to be reaming out my womb.

While he screwed me from the rear, he clawed his hands under my torso and ripped my blouse and bra away. Seizing my drooping tits, he squeezed them like he was milking a cow back on that farm he'd mentioned. I was certain they'd be black and blue tomorrow.

His prick was sticking me so deeply that it seemed to engage a whole network of nerves devoted entirely to fucking. Just as my reflexes made my knee jerk when it was hit, I now began to automatically wiggle my ass. An orgasm was starting to uncontrollably build at the crux of my being.

"Boy, you really wanted it, didn't you?" he panted, as he pounded away. "I've never been with a whore who needed to fuck so bad."

There was no way I could deny the truth of what he said. I began to accept the fact that my subconscious must have lured me into the alley, knowing that eventually some man would assume my body was for hire.

Even the part about me being a prostitute seemed pointless for me to defend myself against. After all, wasn't I acting just like one?

"Fuck me, fuck me," I gasped. "Fuck me harder… harder. Make me earn my money."

There was no doubt that he intended to. His cock was screwing me to the hilt, his balls churning hotly against my clit because of the upside-down position of my body. My pussy was being stimulated to the maximum, both inside and out.

Still, I was greedy for more. In having sex with this anonymous sailor, I felt I was proving something to all the people who had used me and then rejected me lately.

The rapist, those two cops, my husband, Dr. Higgins – they'd all taken advantage of me. Then they'd abandoned me once I was no longer of any use to them.

Even Ann in her own way had been an offender. In the final analysis, she had put her own needs before mine and left me.

But in the alley with this teenage sailor I felt like I was in charge. I had something he wanted and he had to pay for it. The money he was going to give me for fucking said to me that my cunt could still be under my control if I just set my mind to it.

Of course, when he had no more cum to shoot, the sailor would leave, too. However, that would be because I was through with him, not vice-versa. He'd leave the alley with a drained set of balls – and I'd leave tingling with the afterglow of orgasm, and several dollars richer.

Therefore, in light of my mental state, it was no wonder that I kept urging him on to screw me harder and harder, deeper and deeper. His hard, straight cock in my cunt seemed to prove to me that I was capable of being a hot-blooded woman, if I put my mind to it, rather than a doormat.

Responding to my greedy lust, I urged him to remove one of his hands from my tits and take care of my ass. "Finger my butt," I urged. "Stick as many of them as you can inside and ream me out."

It was easy for him to do because in my kneeling position my anus was gaping. Not only that, it was wet inside, its walls oozing like those of my pussy. The way I felt, if I had a hole, it had to be penetrated by something, or I'd walk away from the encounter feeling cheated.

Fortunately, the sailor's fingers were long and slim, and their owner was eager to handle some juicy ass. He got three digits in with such ease on the first try that it seemed only natural for me to encourage him to insert the last two.

"Your whole hand," I groaned. "Fuck my asshole with your whole hand."

After he did as I asked without too much trouble, I still wasn't satisfied. Even though I'd never even fantasized about such a practice, it now seemed perfectly natural for me to beg him to fist-fuck me. I wanted those tough, young knuckles all the way up in my shit-gurgling bowels.