Heather Brown: Juicy piece

Even worse, I often gave in to the temptations of the flesh. Despite all my vows of decency, I found myself throbbing between my legs, the mound of my cunt uncontrollably pulsing with desire, becoming sopping wet with sticky fluid from the slightest stimulus. The sight of a slight bulge in an actor's pants in a television program would instantaneously make my pussy abruptly drench my panties with cunt juice, so that I had no choice but to peel them off. Then I would run to the mirror where I could sit in a chair and spread my legs while I watched myself plunge my trembling fingers into the slit of my foaming pussy and violently finger-fuck myself.

In order to satisfy the uncontrollable desires of my cunt, I had secretly collected a shoebox full of sexual paraphernalia, with which I periodically satisfied my screamingly sopping cunt. They were disgusting items that vibrated and plunged inside my pussy, things I had sent away for from ads in Shark's magazines.

As I sat in my chair reading the paper, my mind abruptly turned to the contents of that box when I came to the movie page and felt my cunt instantly start to throb and foam from an advertisement showing Burt Reynolds in a pair of tight pants.

I put down the paper to escape the appetite that had suddenly consumed me and started the sticky juicing in my cunt. But my mind was unable to shake itself free of the image of my nine-inch-long prick-shaped vibrator buzzing its way between the parted lips of my pussy, pushing inside my spasming, sopping fuck-hole and filling me to the brim with tingling ecstasy. I couldn't help myself from loving the way the vibrator shook my pussy into a frenzy, turning loose my cunt juice so that by the time I was finished fucking myself, my cunt was a swamp of musky, sticky fluid over which I had no control as I came and came again.

But not tonight, I told myself, I wouldn't give in to my carnal desires again tonight. I had a weekend to get myself together before I went back to face Shark again. Perhaps if I resisted the temptation calling to me from my pulsing cunt, then I would have the backbone to face Shark on Monday and tell him what I really thought.

I yearned to be free of the trap in which I found myself, the compressing walls of my steaming, convulsing cunt seeming to press against my whole body, their stickiness adhering like tape to my arms and legs and holding me prisoner as I fought to get free. But finally, through extraordinary effort, I forced myself from my chair and struggled towards the door. When I tried to open it, it seemed as though it were made of lead, fighting my efforts to escape as it drew strength from my obstinately throbbing cunt, resisting my efforts to be rid of the temptation that made me the slave of the frothing gash between my legs.

As I struggled with the door, I closed my eyes and imagined myself without a cunt, with just a smooth slope of pink flesh between my thighs… no hair, no pulsing folds of puffy red flesh framing an oozing gash, no blood-engorged clit springing erectly like a miniature spike, begging to be stimulated to orgasm. My pussy answered my attempts to mentally destroy it by unleashing a new outpouring of syrup secretion.

But this time I was determined not to become the slave of my own cunt. Gathering myself together, I forced the door open and fled into the hall. I made it all the way into the street before I became fully aware again of the gushing, hairy wound that was my cunt and the sopping condition of another ruined pair of panties.

Once I was halfway down the block, I realized that I had made a mistake by coming outside. I had left my apartment hoping to escape the lure of the shoebox and the dildo and vibrator it contained, but in the process had wound up exposing myself to the stimulus of every man who walked down the street past me. If I could not resist the impersonal picture of a man in a newspaper, or a flickering image of a TV screen, I was helpless in the face of the real thing on the street. It seemed like a conspiracy had been hatched to tempt me to the fullest and prove that Shark was right, that sex was all that mattered, as man after man passed me, each of them seeming to wear tighter pants than the previous one, their bulging pricks leaping out at me from under their clothing.

By the time I had walked two blocks, I couldn't take a step without the squishing from my cream-engorged pussy echoing through the still night air. I was sure that every man who passed me on the sidewalk heard the squeeze-box of my pussy and knew that I was blazing with desire, hopelessly horny. The cunt-cream had long since saturated the flimsy crotch of my panties and was now dribbling down my legs, coating my trembling thighs with hot, sticky juice.

This man… that man… then another one who passed by me: I imagined all of them without clothes, naked on top of me, their long, thick pricks zeroing in on the hairy, slitted gash between my open legs, zooming towards my wide-spread cunt and penetrating it, splitting it in two like a knife hacking through a piece of ripe fruit with their thrusting cock-heads and thick, pulsating shafts. I could hardly move, imagining there was a stiff cock already inside my cunt, stretching my hole with its throbbing girth as it fucked me while I walked.

Immobilized by my involuntary fantasies, I ducked into an alley and threw myself against a grimy wall, the musky smell of my own sex wafting up to my flaring nostrils from my steaming cunt. The alley was as filthy as the inside of a garbage pail, but to me it seemed as erotic a setting as a plush bedroom with satin sheets on a canopied bed and a mirror on the ceiling. In my incredibly horny condition it seemed the perfect atmosphere for being fucked and sucked… but then in my hopelessly turned-on state so would the deck of an aircraft carrier or the floor of the stock exchange.

My sexual frustration had finally caught up with me as I yearned desperately for anyone to appear and fuck me with anything, just so long as I could release the terrible pressure building like a volcano in my frantically bubbling cunt.

Realizing I would have to take matters into my own hands, I moved stealthily to the place where the alley entered onto the street and pantingly waited for someone to come along. The first person who happened along was a teenager, walking innocently down the street. Even from a distance and in the dark I could pick out his head of red hair. But what made my mouth water was the tight-fitting blue jeans he was wearing and the unmistakable bulge that sloped out from their skin-tight crotch. I knew that there was no power in the universe that could prevent me from getting him off the sidewalk into the hidden alley so I could see what was underneath those jeans. I could almost taste the sweet meat of his prick in my mouth as I licked my lips in anticipation and moved closer to the sidewalk.

When he was close enough so the sound of his sneakers shuffling along the concrete echoed in my ears, I stepped out of the alleyway where I would be clearly visible to him when he passed by but concealed from anybody else on the street. As I heard him approaching, I removed my blouse and tossed it behind me, my tits heaving with throbbing expectation, swelling with such pulsating anticipation that the spongy white flesh spilled over the top of my bra, my nipples gouging like spikes against the soft cotton fabric.

Realizing that he was within mere feel of seeing me for the first time, I quickly reached around and unhooked my bra and pulled it off, leaving me naked from the waist up. My firm, round tits tumbled into the guy's view as he walked unsuspectingly in front of me while they were still bobbing. I heard the guy gasp as I cupped my throbbing tits with my hands and offered them to him, my nipples straining erectly in his direction as though they were magnetically attracted to him.