Blake Michaels - Ass Reaming

I could feel bells start to vibrate in my head.

I could hear them in my ears.

The sound waves they created numbed my nerves, chilled my blood.

The feeling crept slowly but relentlessly down my body, closer to my cunt with every passing instant.

I didn't want it to stop. I didn't want it to end.

I tried to fight it off. But it would not slow. It would not stop.

Lower and lower the warm numbness engulfed me. There was no more paramount point of attention to my body than my cunt.

It was tingling.

It was throbbing.

It was coming!

"I'm coming… I'm coming… I'm… I'm shooting… Aaaggghhh!"

I felt the food of life gushing out of me. I felt my head tighten, the invisible band around my forehead pulling tighter and tighter, cutting off any sense of reason. The birds all disappeared. Smells vanished.

I could only see the blinding sun glaring down on me through the trees.

I could feel my body coming apart. I could feel tension dripping from me, running from me. It left me limp and wilted.

My body went limp and my head continued to spin.

"Oh, baby," I heard, as though from a distance. "Oh baby! Shit! Oh shit, I can't hold it anymore! I don't want to come… I don't want to! But I can't help it. I have to… I have to… "

I flew into a sexual rage. My body began contorting wildly. My legs flew into the air and locked around him. My cunt sucked hungrily on his torrid tool.

My nails dug into his back. I bit his ear. I clung to him like a leech, draining not his blood, but his come.

Then there was a throb. Then another one.

"Oh, shit! Now, there it is… oh, shit! Take it, baby… take it. Take it all… "

His hips arched into me, stabbing me almost painfully, lodging himself deep in my canal.

And then I felt it.

Liquid fire! Draining into me! Running down my canal.

It was seeping out the limp lips of my womanhood.

It was burning… searing… scorching!

We lay there for a very long time after that. His cock did not soften. It remained hard.

We rolled off the seat onto the soft, cool grass, our bodies still locked together in their carnal embrace.

He kissed me and we made love again.

He continued to stroke his cock into me, gently, caressingly, lovingly.

"Oh, please," I begged, "fuck me again. Give it to me please. I can't stand it. I've got to have that cock. Oh, shit, my cunt's burning. I've got to be fucked. Jesus, fuck me. FUCK ME!"

"Oh. Jesus, baby, if only I could. You just don't know what you did to me. Christ, you just don't know."

"But I want it. Please, God, I need it. My cunt's on fire." I was almost crying. I was crying.

"Baby, try to understand! You're just too much for me, too much. Usually I can fuck a second time, but you're just too much fucking cunt. Do you understand?"

I was too consumed by the fires raging inside me to either hear or understand what he was saying to me.

"Oh, please," I begged. "Fuck it. Fuck me. Fuck my cunt."

"But I can't, god dammit. That cunt of yours is too much for one cock; too much for this cock."

And then he was free of me. His cock popped from my throbbing, itching hole, sounding like a cork from a bottle of wine.

Silently, we dressed and Jim drove me back home. All the way back to the city I was unable to sit still in the car. The burning itch inside my cunt increased and I found myself praying that Jim would fuck me again. And if he didn't, what would I do?

The juice was oozing out of me, soaking my already wet panties. The smell of cunt, my cunt, filled the car. For a minute, I was tempted to just pull my panties off and finger-fuck myself, but I decided to wait. There might still be a cock waiting for me. You never could tell.

By the time we got to my place, the temperature inside my cunt had died down slightly, but I was still starving for a nice, hard cock.

My phone was ringing as I was let into my apartment by the doorman.

"Hello?" I said into it.

"Hi," came the cheery voice from the other end. It was Bruce!

"Bruce! You have your nerve, you bastard!" I spat into the instrument. "What the hell do you want?"

"Well, baby," he said, -I knew he was smiling, "I just thought you might want your purse… "

"My purse! So that's how you got my number." I was so angry I was turning red.

"Well, do you want it or not?" he went on.

"Certainly I want it," I shouted at him. "I need it. How can I get it?"

"Just cool it, baby," he said. "I've got to come into the city this evening and I can drop it off to you. Okay?"

"Well… " My voice was a little more calm.

"Alright?" he cut in.

"Alright," I repeated. "When will you be here?"

"Shortly. I'm leaving now, but I have one stop to make. See you in about an hour."

"Well, okay," I said, my voice sounding forgiving. "But please don't be too late. I want to go out this evening and I need my keys."

"See you," he said, a lilt in his voice.

And the line went dead. That bastard! I thought. That no good bastard!

I flew to the house phone when it rang sixty minutes later.

"Yes?" I asked.

"There's a gentleman down here… a Mr. Bruce," the voice on the other end said.

"Mr. Bruce?" I asked, puzzled. "Oh, yes," I said, realizing what the doorman had said. "Send him up."

A few minutes later the doorbell rang. There, when I opened the door, stood Bruce. Fresh. Clean. Carefree.

"Well," he said, after I glared at him for a few minutes. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Yes. Do come in," I said coldly, almost professionally.

I stepped aside to let him enter, and as he did so, I was about to close the door when I felt a pres- sure on it. I looked around it and saw that there was a very young girl coming in. She was very attractive, but very young.

"Oh," Bruce said when he saw my surprise. "This is Lana."

"Hello," I said, cordially.

"Hi," she said, breezily.

She was short, a very attractive girl. Well developed. Very confident.

"What's to drink?" Bruce asked.

"A… " I said.

"We'll have scotch," he announced flatly. "What're you going to have?"

I was taken back by his boldness and found myself answering him before I could stop myself.

"I'll have scotch, also. It's in the bar over there. I'll get some cubes."

I quickly left the room and took the ice tray from the refrigerator.

I wondered why Bruce had brought Lana. I supposed it was to reduce the risk or chance of a scene.

As I returned to the living room, Bruce greeted me. "Ah, here we are… Ice."

He dropped the cubes into the three large, straight drinks he had poured and passed them around, giving me the first.

"Oh," he continued, "here it is."

He held my small purse out. "It's all here. Everything. I didn't even take anything for services rendered."

I shot a glance at him and glared. The daggers in my look were clearly, visible to Lana, I'm sure. But I said nothing.

I accepted the small container and tossed it into the desk, not even bothering to inventory it. There was nothing in it but some money, my keys and a couple pieces of identification.

"How'd you get back to town?" Bruce asked, suddenly interested.

"Oh," I said, trying to sound noncommittal. "I got a ride."

"Is that all?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I said, pretending ignorance.

"You know what I mean," he went on.

"No, I don't," I responded.

"Where's the bathroom?" Lana cut in.

I was glad for the interruption. I turned and led the way for her, pulling the door shut after her and returning to the living room.

As I walked past the couch, I heard the sharp whistle and felt the sharp double sting… the thongs!

I spun on him, my eyes ablaze.