Walter Forrest - Maisie_s anal desire

One thing was certain. Jon's enthusiasm and unsuspected prowess with Maisie's brand of sex opened up new vistas for her. She never would have thought of having anything to do with a kid that young, but he had really come through. She idly wondered how many other kids of his age or maybe a little older she had passed by when it just might have been very rewarding. Oh well, boys that young were too dangerous to fool with unless there was some relative like Kitty to be a go-between. She wouldn't go around, looking for any that young. But neither would she soon forget the pleasure she'd gotten from Jon's long-lasting little penis.

On her way home that morning, Maisie drove past the docks. It wasn't just to see the ships. She'd had occasion to notice the men loading and unloading them many times before. It was them she watched as she drove through the area. Most of them were hard-muscled, tough-looking men, she thought as she watched them at work. Men who seemed to her they just might be able and willing to do things to a girl that other men would be queasy about – like driving a penis up the bottom of her rear end.

For the rest of the week she worked hard at her job and stayed home at night. She could have had plenty of dates but she was getting to the point where she'd rather not bother if there wasn't a good chance to get the kind of loving she craved. One night she got the old feeling again and this time it was so strong she wasn't going to deny it. She plopped into bed, pulled her secret porno magazine from its drawer, and masturbated herself to two stormy climaxes before she went to sleep. As usual, she looked longingly at the picture of the man with the giant organ while she did it, and busied her fingers more inside her rear channel than she did inside her front one. The next night she wouldn't settle for her own touch there. It had to be someone else.

She got dressed and headed for the docks. She drove along the waterfront 'til she came to the Anchor Inn, then parked beside a spur of the railroad tracks and walked toward the place. As she crossed the railroad on foot she had a peculiar feeling she was in a very familiar atmosphere even though she'd never before been there. She smiled to herself. It figured, she thought. There was no denying the fact that this was a very rough section of the city. A downright seedy section, in fact. And wasn't she, to tell the truth about the matter, a girl from "the wrong side of the tracks"? It had been all her mother could do, as she and her older sisters were growing up, to clothe their backs. They had been poor and she had been looked down upon by girls at her high school who were rich and wore the frills. The "nice girls". Ha! They had wanted to do the things with boys she did, they just didn't have the guts. She knew most girls would be afraid to go alone to a sleazy waterfront dive like the Anchor Inn… but she felt right at home there. And before the night was over she expected to feel plenty more.

She sat by herself at a table and ordered a beer. She wasn't alone for five minutes.

A deep voice behind her said, "Beer'll make you fat, sugar, didn't you know that?"

She looked up and saw a muscular man about thirty-five in a tight-fitting black T-shirt. A black cap was cocked over one eye and he had a two-day growth of beard.

"See anything fat about me?" she retorted, without batting an eye or lowering her glass from her hand.

He slouched into a chair at the table without asking and took a long look at her as he drained the last few drops from the bottle of beer he was drinking, before he spoke.

"None except in the right places," he said, staring directly at her breasts.

Maisie knew he could see plenty of skin there. The blouse she wore left plenty of cleavage visible.

He asked her if she wasn't kind of young to be in a bar. She knew he was fishing to make sure she was over eighteen so he wouldn't be liable for a statutory charge if he got into her pants.

"I'm old enough," she replied, in a calm, confident voice.

"Old enough to drink your beer from a bottle then, aren't you?" he said, holding up his hand to order two more from the bar. She just smiled at him from under her dark lashes. When the beer arrived at the table he shook his head angrily at the waitress and said, "No, damn it. In a sack. We're leaving this damn place."

Minutes later she had let him steer her but the door and down a dark alley. He slipped his arm around her rib cage and pulled her close as they passed the last street light. His fingers boldly went straight to the side of her swelling breast and when he gripped it through her blouse she didn't resist. He guided her into the doorway of a warehouse and set her down roughly against some feed sacks. He made a big show of opening the beer bottles with his teeth, then pushed one toward her with gusto. She took it and drank it in gulps like he did, letting the overflow run down her arm. He reached to wipe it off with his sleeve, then ran his hand on up her arm to the soft bare skin of her throat. He pulled her against him with his other arm and she felt him reach into her blouse and push his fingers aggressively into the tight cleavage of her fully-packed breast. He was obviously not going to concern himself with any preliminaries.

He put his whiskery face on hers and kissed her hard. His tongue stabbed between her lips and she offered hers to the man in spite of herself.

She wanted some loving, sure, but she was beginning to think the burly man would be too much for her. What if he insisted on taking the regular way? What would she do if he demanded entry to the front of her lush loins?

She broke away from his mouth and said, "Okay, lover, so I came with you – slow down, huh? I don't even know your name."

"Name's Joe, now take your fuckin' dress off," he replied impatiently to the surprised girl.

She swallowed hard. He was definitely going to be too much for her, she thought, panic filling her heart. When she didn't make a move to do what he'd told her, he tossed his beer bottle over the pile of feed sacks and grabbed the hem of her skirt himself. He jerked it up above her thighs in one motion and uncovered her down to her underwear. The thin blue panties she wore were entirely visible, and his eyes riveted onto her crotch like a magnet. She felt fear, yet the man's firmness also sent a spark of desire through her. She wanted him but was afraid she couldn't handle him. She had to do something fast.

"Okay then, sweetheart, have it your way," he was saying, "leave the God damned thing on then. I don't have to have you all the way naked to fuck you. I'll have plenty of room to get my prick in you with your dress up to your…"

She interrupted him. "Listen, Joe, don't be mad," she lied, "but… but I've got the monthlies. I go for you plenty, but you wouldn't want to…"

"You on the rag?" he shot back at her. His eyes were blazing. "No shit? You on the fuckin' rag!"

She nodded her head furiously and convinced him she was telling the truth. She hoped he'd be the kind of man who would be put off by her condition and not want to touch her where she bled. He was.

"S'okay, sweetheart," he slurred, his beer breath in her nostrils, "we'll just have to do it different then. I got to get my nuts off with you, though, you ain't getting away from here without giving some kind of lovin' to me!"

She pounced on his suggestion. "Joe," she cried, gripping his arm tightly in her fingers, "you can do it to me here. I'll let you do that to me."

She jerked down her panties and flopped onto her stomach, presenting the bare cheeks of her smooth, creamy bottom to the surprised man. She pointed to the separation between the twin globes and spread her legs wide.

"Naw, none of that brown-hole stuff for me," he said. "I ain't no ass fucker."

But as he spoke he began lowering his pants. She brightened, thinking he was changing his mind. She squirmed her pelvis on the floor of the warehouse and her eyes got a glassy look in them at the thought of having him give her what she wanted. He saw the change come over her face and grinned like a fox.