Monday, August 20, 2018

Wet - Part 6 and Part 7

This is a multi-part story and needs to be read in order. Please check out Part 1 and 2, along with Parts 3,4, and 5 before you read this section! 

Part Six

"Please tell me that you're calling to let me know you're done," Julie said as I pulled out of the truck stop. It had been a vigorous half hour that had resulted in not one, but three orgasms. One for me and two for Jason, the trucker I'd repeatedly blown. He hadn't lasted thirty minutes the first time; instead holding off for an impressive five. He'd apologized profusely, and then been surprised when I pushed him back down and told him we'd try again. His second orgasm came twenty-three minutes later and I felt right proud of myself for getting him hard for round two. He'd been a little flabbergasted and when I'd thanked him and kissed him goodbye, he'd asked for my number and promised to call anytime he was passing through town.

Of course, after I'd climbed down from his rig, Crystal Dildo in hand, my blouse and skirt once more covering my prurient bits, I knew I'd have to pay the piper. I climbed into my jeep, headed out, and dialed Julie.

"Well, not quite," I admitted. "But I'm making progress."

Julie snorted. "Progress. Which dildo are you on?"

I thought through the list. "I'm on my Husky. And I can do it right now," I amended.

"Yeah? Where are you?"

"Heading north on Pederson Road," I told her, glancing around. Suburbia’s crawl hadn’t quite made it out this far and the land north and west of Katy was still mostly farm and ranch land. "I figured I'd find a quiet backroad someplace, stand in front of the Jeep and strip naked." It came out in a sort of snarky tone.

There was a shocked silence. "You're in Katy?" Julie asked in disbelief.

I bit my lip. "Well, sort of. A little west of it. I just sort of migrated out this way."

"Hold on," she told me. I waited as I heard her muffled voice talking to someone. Probably Mike. He normally worked the morning shift on Saturdays, so it wasn't that surprising that he'd be off by now.  

"Okay. So when you get to the Screw, call me. Mike wants to see it in action."

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously?"

Julie laughed. "Yeah. When I told him about it he got all excited. You know how he is about hardware."

"It's a dildo," I said sourly.

"Whatever," Julie said dismissively. "Oh. Wait. Why DID you call me?"

I gulped. "Well, I sort of had an accident..."

"Oh my God! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Julie demanded.

My eyebrow went up. "What? No! Not that kind of accident!" I protested. "I had an orgasm."

Julie went silent.

"Um... Julie?"

Another quarter mile went by. "Mistress?"

"Another orgasm," she said, clearly in disbelief. "How the fuck do you have an orgasm when you are only supposed to put the dildo in once?"

"Erm... let someone else put it in for you?" I guessed. “And they don’t listen to the ‘just fuck me once please’ part?”

She sighed heavily. "Breanne, that sort of defeats the point, doesn't it?"

I shrugged. "Possibly,” I admitted. “But I can tell you that when my trucker put in the crystal dildo, it hurt. Not a whole lot, but sort of like getting kicked in the crotch."

She considered that. "Well, I suppose that's okay. My kick? Or Mike's?"

I frowned. "Mike's. He doesn't kick me as hard as you do. And besides, you haven't done it in a long time."

This time I could sense her shrug. "Neither of us are into that sort of thing. You want your pussy kicked, go see Mistress Lucille."

I grimaced. "I'll pass. Thank you."

"Okay, so as I said, do the next few dildos, but when you get to the big screw, Mike wants to watch. It might be around supper time by then. We'll take you out to eat."

I blanched at the thought. Let’s parade the barely dressed nympho humiliation pain slut through a busy, sit-down restaurant on a Saturday evening. "Uh... okay."  

"Were you kidding about stripping in front of the jeep?"

"Yes." Duh.

"Well, I think that would actually serve as an acceptable punishment for cumming," she told me. "Find a good place, get in front of your jeep, take off the peasant blouse and the skirt, then do the Husky dildo."

My lips pressed tightly together. "You want me to risk full nudity, on a back road?"

"Yep!" She said brightly. "Have fun, princess!" Then she hung up.

I tossed the phone down on the seat next to me and drove in silence. Between my legs I felt an ache. It wasn't need, or want, but something resulting from the repeated fucking I'd gotten all day. I might be a nympho humiliation pain slut, and naturally wet, but that didn't necessarily translate into "being able to accept a series of unnaturally hard, thick, and long dildos in single thrusts to the cunt." Sex is a process and sometimes "brace yourself, Bridget" is insufficient foreplay. In fact, most of the time it isn’t. Which is the whole purpose of Rule #1. If I’m stuffed with something constantly arousing me, agitating me, and keeping me wet, then getting thrown down, emptied, and having something long, hard, and thick shoved into you is fine.

Of course, the whole purpose of this assignment, this experiment, was determine if I really was the slut I claimed to be. Was I really, truly ready to be on the receiving end of a sudden, forceful, broad sexual experience? Could I just spread my legs, regardless of the time and urgency, and take it? That was the point, wasn't it? To make sure I could? And so far I'd been pretty successful. Granted, none of the dildos were beyond the scope of normality. Something that large was admittedly out of the norm, but it wasn't like I never encountered them. But we were about to venture out of the bell curve, at least in cock length. Next up was a nine inch version.

Was I truly ready? Without any real preparation?

I took a few turns and found myself practically lost. I knew if I headed south, I'd eventually find my way back to civilization, but out here, the only thing that would see me would be a few cows. When I stopped seeing cars, I pulled down a gravel drive, crossed a cattle guard, and stopped the jeep. For a second, I hesitated. This wasn't technically a road. And worse, it was probably private property, which meant that I wasn't in public. But I decided I could live with that and if Julie or Kari wanted to punish me at a later date for it, what could they really do to me that I wouldn't like in the end? I stopped the jeep, grabbed my Husky dildo, and climbed out.

My Husky dildo has been with me for years. Nine inches long, with firm rubber, cast in the shape of a man's penis, the Husky for me was the first real looking synthetic cock I ever had. Most of the time, I wore it with a pair of panties, under a skirt, because it wouldn't stay in by itself, sliding from my wet slit with a thump if I didn't keep a hand on it. One of my favorite games had been laundry day. Fridays. I'd put it in, sitting at my desk, writing or getting online and playing sex games, only to hear the alarm on the washer, indicating a need for me to go downstairs, past my father sitting in the living room, and move wet stuff to the dryer. I'd stand and the Husky would slide partially out, making walking a challenge until I made it back to my bower, only to sit fast and hard, impaling myself once again. Up and down...

I was constantly wet back then. Hmmm... not much has changed, has it?

At the front of the jeep I set the Husky dildo on the hood, the small suction cup on the base keeping it disturbingly upright. Then I peeled off the peasant blouse, baring my breasts to the bright, south Texas sun. The scents and sounds of my childhood came back to me and I did the skirt next, dropping it down around my ankles and stepping out of it, folding it neatly and setting it next to the shirt. I revelled in my nakedness. I grabbed the dildo, and then, suddenly feeling daring, I walked, still unclothed, back up the dirt drive, all the way to the paved road. Almost an eighth of a mile. If someone had come around there would be nothing I could do. There was nowhere to hide. I moved to the side of the gate, sort of behind the scrub brush and listened. Nothing but cicadas. Then I squared my shoulders, stuck out my breasts, and marched outward, crossing the last fifteen feet until I stood at the side of the road. There were no cars in either direction, so I walked out onto the baked asphalt. I spread my legs, faced south, brought the Husky dildo up between my legs, and without hesitation, drove it up between my legs.

Like the other times, there was sufficient lubrication that the larger dildo went in. But it wasn't easy. It was too tight, and a little dry as my insides snagged on the rubber. I winced and kept pushing through, all the way until the full, insertable length was in my pussy, the tightness yielding to the pain and pleasure of it. I stood there, a hand between my legs, counting to thirty as I remained in plain view. Then, when I hit the mark, I pulled the dildo out, stuck it in my mouth, and sucked it clean.

Still standing on the road. I took my time. I licked the dildo. I sucked. I waved it around. I let the damn thing dry. All while suffering the urge to stick it right back in my pussy and do it all again.

I was actually disappointed when I started trudging back to the jeep. No cars to zip past my rapidly fleeing body, no one to stare at the naked, redheaded girl running away, her ass jiggling, big rubber cock in her hand. I trudged back to my jeep. At the car, I moved to the front, planning on getting dressed, but... Ah... the hell with it. I grabbed my peasant blouse and the skirt, opened the door and climbed in nude, tossing the dildo into the bag. Kari wants me naked while driving? Fine. Whatever.

I did a three point turn and headed back to the road and almost wrecked as I tried to pull out onto the asphalt. A pickup truck roared past, horn blaring, and I think both of us yelled a few choice swear words. I sort of doubt the other driver saw me though. My pussy, wet now that I'd jammed something into it, clenched and I turned south, heading back toward Katy. With thirty more minutes to kill, I turned the AC to high and drove.

Then my tummy rumbled.

It was almost four in the afternoon and my early lunch had been more like ten-thirty, then eleven. I needed a snack. I'm a girl who doesn't handle hunger very well, so when I realized I needed food, I immediately thought of one of my favorite restaurants. I turned the front of my jeep in that direction and pressed down on the accelerator. Except, I realized belatedly, that walking in buck naked wasn't going to work. After I pulled into the parking lot, I squirmed around in my seat, shoving my feet into the skirt and drawing it back up over my ass. Then I pulled the peasant blouse down over my head, making sure that the valance like material covered up both of my tits and the gold hardware dangling from the tips. I grabbed the bag of dildos, but really only to use as a purse, since my phone and wallet were inside. Then I climbed out of my jeep, crossed the hot concrete, and went to assuage my gullet, if not my libido.

The place was practically empty, which was exactly what I wanted. Granted, the poor seventeen-year-old kid at the counter practically fainted as I came up, his eyes glued to my barely concealed breasts, but he managed to collect himself sufficiently to take my order. I paid for my drink and food and while waiting, checked out the dining area. Empty. Not a single customer. Perfect. I took my cup and served myself, then picked up my food, giving the teenager a winsome smile. Crimeny, he was staring so hard!

I picked a spot, in a booth, where I could keep an eye on the door. Then I tucked in. Yum. Horseradish and roast beef... I love it. Of course, it would cost me an hour at the gym, but I could live with it. Besides, my breakfast had been healthy. Why not splurge a little? So as I ate, I considered my situation.

The Husky dildo hadn't exactly gone in as easily as I would have liked and I had to figure out why. Part of arousal is having the right mentality, and trying to jam nine inches of dry rubber into a rather tight space requires that arousal. The only thing I could articulate to explain my difficulties was that thirty minutes, the heat of the day, the trudge out to the roadway - all of it constituted against my natural arousal. Sure, I was still a bit wet, but not enough to handle a full nine inches of synthetic cock.

So what did that say about me? And what about the next dildo? Would I have problems with it too?

The "next dildo" in my bag of tricks was an oversized Sha Gua stick. Made of polished quartz, they normally come in a small size, about five inches long and are meant for acupressure massage. I'd been given one a year or so before by Georgia, one of the other submissives in the Society of the Golden Rose, as a Christmas present. She’s Asian - Thai I think, and is a yoga instructor. She’s into all that stuff. Feng Shui, aromatherapy, and even acupuncture. I stay away from that. I’m not good with needles.

As far as the oversized Sha Gua stick though, I had no idea where she got it, but it weighed a good four pounds and spanned ten inches from tip to base. I'd enjoyed it the few times I'd used it, but I have to be honest, I'd either already been insanely aroused, dripping and moaning, ready to get fucked by just about anything, or had applied sufficient lubrication to the stone dildo for it to slide in relatively easily.

Not this time.

No, this time I'd be static, unaroused for thirty minutes, only to take a dry, polished piece of rock, and attempt to jam it up between my legs. I frowned, worried at how it would feel, whether it would go in. And then, underneath all that, what did it say about me? My boast at always being wet? Was Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule Number One important, not just for the psychological value of tormenting non-stop, but actually to keep me wet and ready for cock at the drop of a hat?

As I put my sandwich down to take a sip of my soda, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. The young man from the counter had entered the dining area, wiping down already clean tables. He was moving in a manner that made it clear he was trying to keep an eye on me. Okay. Sure. I could understand that. Half naked, redhead slut, sitting at the table. He was probably trying to get in a position where he could get a glimpse up my skirt. Or maybe even my top. Either was doable. I checked my phone. So close. My thirty minutes were just about over and I could...

Oh. Wait a moment. It IS a mental game.

I reached over to my bag and rummaged through it, finding the sha gua stick with ease. It was the only ten inch long, stone shaft in the sack. I pulled it out and set it on the table next to my food. It clicked loudly on the veneered surface and I deliberately positioned my drink and sandwich remains to either side, to keep it from rolling. Of course this new addition attracted the attention of the poor guy cleaning the dining area. And as he looked over at me, I gave him what he really wanted in the first place.

I spread my legs.

I didn't do it obnoxiously. I made it look natural. Relaxed. Sort of accidental. His eyes widened slightly, but I could tell he still hadn't gotten a good look. Nope. At best he might have suspected, with good cause, that I was pantyless, but there were too many shadows. My knees were still too close together. And as he maneuvered for a better look, I pretended to look at my phone, rotated my hips, and spread my legs wider. I heard him gasp and I felt a rush as his eyes seemed to caress my pussy. I felt a shudder go through me, and then came the expected reaction. Whatever moisture level I'd had before exposing myself doubled. I felt the gush of sweet wetness. That made it perfect for what I was about to do next. I put a hand on the sha gua stick, dragged it down off the table, and spread my legs just a bit wider.

My audience froze, totally disbelieving that he was about to witness what he thought he was about to witness. I brought the quartz dildo down between my legs, rubbed the tip through my petals, and when I was at the right angle, I pushed. Hot and slippery, my pussy handled the intrusion with aplomb, parting and accepting the full length with ease. I quivered, gasping softly as I took all ten inches, until the base was nothing but a pink colored round circle, held in with my finger tips. My hips struggled as my pussy quivered around the hard, rock phallus and I counted methodically. The guy washing the table stared, mouth half open, a growing bulge there at the front of his trousers. I made it to thirty, and despite the urge to fuck myself, or ask the kid watching to do me, I let my pussy squeeze tight and push the crystal dildo out into my waiting hand.

Quickly, I drew it out, closed my legs, and brought it to my lips, sucking and licking it as fast as I could. It disappeared into my bag a moment later and as the show ended, the poor kid watching shook himself, as if trying to collect his thoughts. The look of utter amazement on his face made it clear that I had just left him with a memory that he would recount for the rest of his life, probably in single gender company and locker rooms, but fine by me. I took another swig of my soda and collected my trash.

He puttered around, obviously trying to get another glimpse and I couldn't just let him off like that. So after I stood up, smoothing down my skirt, I walked past him, holding my tray, my bag over one shoulder, and my cup in the other hand. I gave him a wink, and with deliberate movement, managed to sweep my arm up along my front. The peasant blouse gave way as I knew it would and my left breast emerged from under my wrist, the pink tip bursting into view, the gold piercing glittering.

"Holy shit!" He spluttered. But then my arm came down, and with it, the blouse. I dumped the remnants of my meal in the trash and spun, heading toward the door. No one had seen me but the kid and he stood there, flabbergasted, pleased, and heady.

Me? Well, I wasn't hungry anymore. At least not for food. For cock? That was another matter.

Part Seven

I still had one more dildo to do before I met with Julie and Mike, so I spent the next thirty minutes touring some of the subdivisions south of town. Invariably, I found myself back on the property that my dad, and grandfather, had owned for close to seventy years. At least until they sold it at a profit to a real estate developer. Everything had changed. The fields that I'd ridden through, plowed, and harvested were gone. No more soybeans or corn. No cotton. We'd sold the cows before the end, but I never did catch that goddamned emu and I wondered if it was still out there, running around in suburban backyards. The house where both my daughter and I had grown up was gone, bulldozed and destroyed. Now there were just houses. Lots and lots of houses.

Nice houses though. Very, very nice houses. I couldn't afford one, at least not yet. These all cost a couple hundred grand, or more, and besides, with just me and my daughter, it wasn't like we required much space. Sure, maybe at some point it would make sense to buy a condo like Kari, but not now. Besides, what would happen to me when my daughter moved out? Eventually she would go to college, make a place for herself in the world. Would I be living alone at that point? Why buy a house? I could think of at least twenty people who would willingly take me in. Provided they had room, rope, and a wooden horse to make me ride occasionally. Especially if I could bring some money to the table to keep myself fed and clothed.

Scratch that. Most of the people who would be willing to take me in would want me UNclothed. Permanently. And probably bound open and sexually tormented constantly too.

It's nice to be wanted.

At the back of the housing development on my former property, there were still a few homes being built and due to both the weekend and the lateness of the day, one skeletal structure stood by its lonesome, empty and waiting. There was no door, not even any walls, and I parked my jeep far enough away that no one would get immediately suspicious. I grabbed my bag, climbed out of my jeep, and headed up the road, picking my way through heavy, dirt ruts where the driveway would eventually go, just to get up to the open garage.

The heat was oppressive, but I didn't mind it. I'd worked out in this heat for years. Besides, the roof was complete. Mostly. Okay. It didn't have shingles, but that wasn't a big issue for me. It kept the sun off me. So I started exploring, wandering my way through the four bedroom home, guessing at how it would look eventually. I ended up at the back of the house, to where I suspected the master bedroom would be located. It was huge, almost as big as my entire apartment. My active and fertile imagination pictured the bed, a king almost assuredly, where all sorts of fun could happen.

My phone chirped and I knew it was time. I set my bag down and looked around. No one was there. This was perfect. But I knew I needed something else. So instead of just lifting my skirt, I stripped naked.

There is an energy involved to being nude. It might be tough to understand unless you've done it, but I can assure you that it is there. Try it sometime. You don't even have to be out in public. Just taking off your clothes in a place that might be considered inappropriate will work. Some field. Your garage. Anywhere but your bedroom and bathroom. You can feel it. There is a sense of tension, of energy. It coalesces around you. I wanted that. I felt my skin tingle and when I pulled out the tenth dildo of the day, my twelve-inch Core Driller, I hoped that it would be enough.

My Core Driller dildo looks alot like a rocket ship. Paint it white and slap a NASA sticker on it and you'd have no problem selling it in a toy store. Formed of black rubber, it was, for many years, the largest and most impressive of the dildos that I own. To this day, it is the largest that I can have inside me comfortably, especially when clothed. Packed to the brim, held in with tight shorts or bluejeans, it fills me completely, leaving me in a state of constant want as my body strains to move it, in or out. It's three inches thick too, at least in circumference, and my pussy wraps around it tightly. The sides are slick and when wet, the entire thing moves easily. Still, you don't just thrust it in. It's massive. It's over a foot long. And like a rocket ship, it has stages. Three of them in fact. You slide it in carefully, easily, working it deeper and deeper until there's no more left visible. It won't stay in either, not without help. You need to hold it with a hand or make sure you pull your bottoms up fast.

It's one of my favorites.

The sha gua stick and Husky dildo were tests. They were signals. Now, with the largest, but still reasonable phallus I owned, it was time to put my doubts to rest. I was alone, naked, ready to take it, but I wasn't feeling even half as wet as I did when I flashed that poor kid at the restaurant. I spread my skirt out on the floor, right next to a stud, and sat down. I spread my legs wide, the dirty concrete before me, and I brought the Core Driller up. I positioned it perfectly, the tapered point aimed at my pussy, engines primed, ready for liftoff. I couldn't help it. In a soft voice I counted down, to myself.

"10, 9, 8, 7..."

I felt inadequate to the requirements. Would it hurt going in? Something this big, pushed up inside me without lubrication? I'd already bruised myself twice, struggling to get smaller and narrower toys up into my body. Each had been a narrow victory, but was this just too much for me? Was my natural state insufficient? Would this mean that NHPS Rule #1 was actually a necessity?

"6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1."  Liftoff.

I pulled the toy toward me and the tip struck the open gash between my legs. My aim was off by a little, but I adjusted trajectory almost immediately and the first three inches slid in with absolutely no discomfort. I continued to pull, thrusting the entire first stage of the rocket dildo into my well, moving with appreciable speed. But as my pussy spread to accept the increasing circumference of the second stage I felt the drag of resistance. The dildo slowed, my body resisting the pillar of rubber, the force of my hand. Still, I didn't let up, even as my sex fluttered around the intruding phallus. Then came the largest, thickest portion. I felt the friction, the pull, and the dildo stopped. Or more accurately, my hand did, as a sharp, shooting pain came up from between my legs. Ouch!

Well. Fuck.

I hesitated, trying to decide what to do at this point. Should I press on, working the Core Driller in, wiggling it back and forth? I knew I was already ripening, my body responding to the penetration, my nudity, and the risk of being discovered. In seconds I'd be able to take the whole thing, fast and hard. I was already clenching my pussy around it, wanting more. I could feel the urge to draw it back out, only to try another full thrust, suspecting this time, it would slide in easily. Or should I draw it out, accepting defeat and making Julie aware that I'd failed? What would serve her purpose better? Me wet and ready? Or dry, aching, and wanton?

I drew the Core Driller out with a frustrated moan and sat there, back against a two by four, legs spread obscenely wide, a dildo in my hand. What the fuck had just happened? Had I really failed? Was I really not wet enough to take my Core Driller?

Part of me rationalized it. Okay. Sure. But I took the others, didn't I? Four inches all the way up to ten? So what if I couldn't take the last two inches? How many cocks would I encounter that measured up to that anyway? And even then, I was wet already. If I had pumped it, things would have been a soupy morass in seconds. In fact, they already were. If I were to shove it in now, it would go in fully. And oh my God, could I have cum. Oh yes. Right there, all over that brand new, concrete foundation.

I stuck the dildo in my mouth, but I could only get three or four inches in. I sucked it, but there just wasn't that much. I could get a sense of my flavor,  but the usual mess? Not a chance. I pulled it out, feeling just a bit dejected. I looked down. My pussy was leaking and had left a pretty impressive wet spot on my skirt.

Great. Just great. Too little too late.

With the dildo in one hand, I stood up, then grabbed my skirt. I got dressed again, then threaded my way through the skeletal structure, stepping out through the front door and making my way to the road. It was easy enough I suppose. I tossed my bag back into the jeep and climbed in. How the hell was I going to explain this to Julie? Or Kari for that matter? I wasn't even sure I knew what it meant.

But I knew where I needed to go.

Fifteen minutes later I pulled up in front of a 1970's bungalow. It was a two bedroom home, single story, sitting pretty close to the road. Parked in front stood a massive Toyota Tundra pickup truck, while next to it was a red Fiat. The former belonged to Mike the Hardware Guy, while the latter, to my mistress - Julie. Over the last year and a half their relationship had changed from a healthy respect for the other's sexual torment of me, to an admiration for each other, to fondness, to actual love. I thought it was ideal, since I loved them both and the idea of them completing each other, of being happy, was warming. Even better, when I was with them I hardly felt like a third wheel. On the contrary, I was a focal point for their matching interests. Both of them wanted to sexually torture me and fuck me hard. Repeatedly.

Of course, this was creating some problems for Julie. While the bylaws of the Society of the Golden Rose does not expressly forbid hetreosexual relationships, it is frowned upon. Having me as a submissive, not to mention being bi, made things easier for the lesbian mistresses in the society to accept. But the real issue is that Julie was clearly submissive to Mike. At home she went nude at his request. She had started following Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule #1. At least some of the time. When out in public on Mike’s arm she wore outfits more suited for a sex kitten than a powerful, confidant mistress who wore stilettos and carried a whip. And that was why she was having difficulties. I wondered how much longer she’d be involved with the Society.

I parked my jeep on the side of the road and got my stuff. Then I headed up to the door. I stood there for only a moment before the door opened and Julie, totally in the buff, her thin, bony, naked body sporting a cute ankle chain and a pair of tweezer clamps on her nipples, stood there with a grin. She looked delicious, her dark chocolate colored hair framing her adorable face. I wanted to grab her and lick her everywhere.

Or one particular spot in particular. Her pussy was pink. Delicately pink and I suspected she had spent a good portion of the day on her back, legs spread open, pleasing Mike.

"Come in, princess," she said with a smirk. "And take off your clothes. I want to say hello."

I stepped into the foyer and she shut the door behind me. I kicked off my flipflops to start off with, but then let my thumbs push my skirt to the floor. Julie stared hungrily at me as my loins were bared, and then I gave into her desires, lifting the peasant blouse up and off my body. I tossed it aside negligently. No more words were needed, at least not yet. I lifted my arms and laced my fingers behind my neck, knowing what was coming and frankly, wanting it. I felt like I needed punishment for my failure to take the full length of the Core Driller dildo.

"Hello, princess," she said softly, raising her hand.

Julie slapped me, her fingers swing fast and hard, aimed not at my face, but at my bosom. The resulting impact rocked me to the side and she modified her swing to catch my other side, spanking my breasts with sharp, short swings. I gasped, eyes widening as she switched from one tit to the other, slapping and swatting, leaving me breathless as the stinging sensation overwhelmed me. For over a minute she abused my top half, leaving my skin flushed a delicate pink, my nipples hard and standing up, my chest heaving as the stinging heat seemed to radiate outward from my breasts. Then, when she thought I was properly greeted, she brought her face down on my chest, her mouth opening to suck hard on my nipple. Her arms came around me, holding me tight, fingers kneading my buttocks. I shuddered against her, eyes closed now, trembling with desire as she took me. I wanted her to use me. I wanted her tongue against my clit. Hell, I wanted MY tongue on HER clit!

She came up for air and our eyes met. She smiled warmly, but the corners of her mouth quickly turned to mischievous delight. "So," she said, taking my hand and pulling me into the living room. "How goes the assignment?" She pulled me over to the sofa and sat me down, spreading my legs as she knelt between my knees. I let her manuever me as she examined my slit, just visually, until she actually reached out and placed the tip of her finger on my clitoris.

I took a deep breath. "I fucked up."

Julie looked up from my gash and smiled. "Fucked up. As in fucked up the assignment?" I grimaced and shook my head.

"No. As in I failed the assignment," I said softly. I felt as if I should cry or something. Julie looked at me curiously.

"How do you fail an assignment where you jam a dildo up into your twat twelve times?" She asked. Her finger left my clit and she put both her hands on my knees.

I took another deep breath. "Well, I haven’t done all twelve. There are technically two more,” I said sourly. “But the truth is - I wasn't wet enough. I did okay for most of them, right up to the Core Driller. But then when I tried to put that one in, I wasn't wet enough. I could only get two-thirds of it in. Then it hurt and I had to pull it out." I looked at her, expecting to see disappointment, or more likely satisfaction, in her eyes. “I mean, sure, I I was soaked a minute later, but not instantly.” It came out as a sort of confession. I felt like maybe I’d failed to live up to some sort of standard. But instead, I saw a softening around her stark edges. Her smile became warm, almost apologetic and she rose up, moving her hand from my knee to my breast, then to my cheek.

"Princess," she said softly, then shook her head. "Breanne. It means you're human."

I blinked. Julie laughed kindly and brought her hands back down to my legs, pushing them even wider apart. She looked at my slit. "You're the one who seems to think you're some sort of fucking machine. The rest of us know you're a living, breathing person and that you have limits. Important ones. Regardless of what you think. The fact that you couldn't take twelve inches of rubber without being aroused, without any foreplay, just proves the fact that you're normal. You have unreasonable expectations of yourself." And then, just to emphasize her point, she bent down, her tongue extended. She lapped at my clit with tiny licks, sending an avalanche of sensation up through my body. I stiffened, eyes widening as my toes curled and a flurry of excitement rushed through me. Oh my God.

Her hands began rubbing my inner thighs, going from my labia to the backs of my knees, then up again. I quivered in delight and my pussy gushed with wetness. In seconds. She continued to lick and suck on me, but she didn't penetrate my gash, only teasing me. For almost five minutes she did this and when I whined with need, making it clear I needed her, she stood up, surprising me.

"Stay there," she said firmly.

I stayed there, legs spread wide, my pussy dripping on Mike the Hardware Guy's couch. She padded away, down the hall. I  heard a knock and voices. When she came back, Mike was with her.

Mike was a large man, especially across the shoulders. He could have stood to lose a few pounds, but the girth around his middle didn't look much like fat, especially since he was so broad. He was tall and Julie only came up to his chin. The strange thing was seeing them standing together. Imagining him on top of my mistress, conjured images of beer cans getting crushed by cars. She peeled off from him as he came into the living room, dipping into the foyer long enough to grab my bag. She caught up to Mike as he approached me, his eyes fucking me just as surely as Julie's tongue had. You could see a hunger in his eyes and for a moment, I wondered if he would just take me, thrusting his already swelling cock into my depths. Instead, he held out his hand.

"Is she ready?" He asked, but not of me. Julie nodded eagerly.

"Absolutely," she replied, reaching into my bag. Mike nodded as she pulled out the eleventh dildo, a massive, black rubber monstrosity that I could only call "the screw." It was shaped like that as well, a tapered wood screw, an entire inch longer in length than the Core Driller dildo, capped with a massive black top sporting a Phillips Head inset that no screwdriver on the planet could hope to fill. Mike gripped it in his rough paw and smiled. He came closer and then knelt down in front of me. Sudden hope flashed through my heart. I was going to take this dildo, and maybe, just maybe, I was going to get fucked with it too. Hard. I tilted my hips and licked my lips, wanting Mike to know that I was ready. I was beyond ready. Julie moved around behind the couch and put her hands on my breasts, kneading and caressing the tips. Her fingers flicked and danced, sending shivers up through my body as Mike aimed the point at my sopping wet well. He pressed it, gently at first, but then with more force, and it entered me, pushing apart my folds, spreading me open. The first thread penetrated me. Then as the shaft widened, Mike got to the crest. I groaned, hips pumping, and he began twisting the dildo as he pushed it deeper into me. Pure pleasure shot through my body, up from my cunt, out to my fingers, then back to the points of each breast. Julie teased me just as much as Mike and together they drove me even closer to the edge of orgasm. Mike pushed until the entire length of the screw was buried in my slit. And then, instead of unscrewing it, he pulled it almost completely out of me.

I groaned as my eyes practically rolled back up into my head. I can't even begin to tell you how amazing that felt. I quivered in delight. And it got better. He pushed it back in again, only having to twist it a half-turn this time. My pussy, so dry for the Core Driller, was soaking wet, so accepting and needy that the next time Mike pulled and pushed, there was no twist, just the exciting sensation of the ridged phallus going through my lower half. He held the drive in his meaty palm, thrusting and jacking the full length into me until I slid my ass forward, giving him an even greater penetration depth. I took the screw up until it struck my cervix and the day's frustrations flew out of me as they took me.

"Oh my God! I'm going to cum!" I said, my fingers clutching at the sofa cushions, my nipples caught between thumb and forefinger of Julie's hands. Mike picked up the pace and the combination launched me violently into orgasm, my entire body seeming to catch on fire, explode, and hurtle out into the abyss. I shuddered and pitched. Mike seemed to understand what I was feeling and both slowed and lightened his thrusts. I quivered as Julie let go of my breasts and instead rubbed my arms and shoulders. I felt an urge to close my legs, but as usual, I suppressed that instinct, keeping myself open for of the people I loved most.

Mike let go of the Screw, leaving it deeply embedded in my cunt, as he stood back up. I half expected him to strip off his jeans, whip out his cock, and replace the Screw with the real thing. But he didn't. Instead he smiled at Julie, nodded, and walked off toward the kitchen. Julie came around, catching my knee just as I started to close up.

"Don't," she ordered softly. "Stay open."

I let out a ragged breath, but I kept my legs open. She put a hand on the dildo, holding it in place. The pressure was good, and my pussy kept squeezing the dildo. Mike reappeared, holding a thick, rough, skein of rope. He looked down at me as he loosened it.

"I'm going to tie the Screw into you. And then we're going to go get some dinner. And yes, you'll be sitting on it."

I gulped, but nodded. Yes. Whatever. I'll do it.

He smiled down at me, reaching for the head of the screw. The dildo. Whatever.

"You know why? Don't you?"

I shook my head as the Screw moved inside of me.

"Because nympho humiliation pain sluts are required to have cock inside them at all times, or failing that, an appropriate sex toy that will keep the wet and ready at all times."

I laughed. I smiled. Of course.

Rule #1.

To be continued...

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Sunday, August 19, 2018

Wet - Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5

Part Three

"Hey," I said into the phone.

Mistress and friend, Julie Uterro was the kind of girl who could slap your breasts back and forth one minute, and then gleefully hold a vibrator to your clit until you couldn't stand it. She was also a master of sarcasm.

"You can't possibly be finished," she declared skeptically. “You had a dozen dildos to fuck. Even doing one every thirty minutes wouldn't bring you through more than..." I could hear her pause to do the math. Or maybe look at a clock. "Just a little over half."

I sighed. This wasn’t going to go the way I’d hoped. "Well... I'm calling because..."

"Holy shit!" She interrupted, not even giving me a chance to explain. "How the fuck do you cum when all you're doing is sticking a rubber cock up your cunt just once every thirty minutes? Jesus Christ, Breanne. You can't be THAT much of a fucking slut, can you?"

I bristled at that. "No! But yes. Sort of. I mean, it was an accident. On purpose." I knew I wasn't making any sense. "There was a guy," I finally managed to say.

Julie snorted in exasperation. "There's always a guy with you," she declared. "Or a girl. Or a fire hydrant. Or a cactus.” She sighed in frustration. “So let me guess. You were in the middle of shoving a dildo up your slit, he caught you, and you decided that instead of getting a show, he should become an active participant."

I frowned. That was EXACTLY what had happened. But come on, the way she made it sound implied that I'd had a choice. "Things just sort of flowed naturally," I said defensively.

She sighed. "So what are you calling me for?"

"Well," I said, kicking at some grass. "I needed to know that I didn't screw up the assignment."

Julie considered it for a moment. "No. If anything, you reduced the pressure you're feeling. Hell, this will just make it harder on you for the next dildo. And they're going to get bigger. Which one are you on?"

"I just did the six inch. I'm going somewhere to do the seven inch," I told her.

Julie let out a little grunt. "Okay. How long has it been since you had cock in you?"

I blinked. "Orally or vaginally?"

She snorted. "Really?"

I winced. "Okay, there's only a few minutes of difference," I admitted. I checked my little watch. "An hour and twenty minutes."

"What?" exclaimed Julie. "Why so long? You're only supposed to go thirty minutes between thrusts!"

I shrugged. "He wanted to take me to lunch."

"After having you as an appetizer?" Julie sneered.

I bowed up. "Blake was wonderful. And a gentleman," I assured her. I didn't go on to say that we'd arranged a dinner date for Sunday evening. Why bother her with inconsequentials?

Julie sighed. "Fine. Whatever. No you didn't screw up."

I hesitated. "So...uh... the orgasm? Authorized?" I couldn't believe I was asking this. But still, I didn't want to get blindsided.

Julie scoffed. "Fuck no. Orgasms are by permission only, and you didn't have any for this assignment. So yes, you're going to get punished."

I bit my lip, cursing my stupidity.

"Where are you?" She suddenly demanded.

"Uh..." I glanced around. "Westheimer," I told her. "Business Park outside the loop."

"Fine, you can do your next dildo at the mall."

I blinked. "What? No!" I protested. I wanted to scrupulously avoid the mall. I wasn't dressed for it. The mall would be packed. Hell, just finding a place to do it would be tough! "Julie! Please! Not the mall!"

I could hear the firmness in her voice. "Well, you've got a choice. You can do the next one at the mall, or when you're done jamming the seven inch dildo up your cunt, you can shove it up your ass next."

My mouth went dry. "What?" It came out as a whisper.

"Yeah. That actually works even better," she said darkly. "That's a REAL test of your wetness."

The thought of what she was proposing made my pussy tighten. Push the dildo in, hold it there for thirty seconds, no pumping or wiggling or anything, then draw it out and hope that there was sufficient fluids on it to make going in my ass easy? Was she NUTS?

"On second thought," I squeaked. "I'd like to do the mall."

"Oh I KNOW you'd like to do the mall," she said, implying a second meaning. "Every single person there. But you only have to do a dildo."

I knew when to shut up. "Yes Mistress."

"Thank me princess," she said sweetly.

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Now go. And no more orgasms or I really will require you to jam your next dildo up your ass."

She hung up on me before I could say anything else.

Frustrated and yet somewhat relieved, I put my phone back in the bag with my sex toys. The day had warmed up and I headed for my jeep. I felt that I'd exhausted the opportunity of the office park, and worse, I was way behind. Even if I was good about the thirty minute break between dildos, I'd still be all afternoon doing it. Granted, Blake and I had enjoyed more of a brunch than a lunch, but still - it was just a little after eleven. It would take ten more minutes or so just to get to the mall. I hoped in my jeep, again happy to avoid the masturbatory driving requirements, and headed toward the Galleria.

The Galleria Mall in Houston is massive, and to the uninitiated, can seem rather oddly constructed. First of all, you can't just "walk" the mall. That's because there is an anchor store right in the middle. That separates the common areas. The first time I came with my parents, we went into the smaller section, walked around in disappointment, then left, thinking the Galleria wasn't much of a place at all. It took a trip with Kari for me to see the full potential.

I parked in one of the parking garages. At eleven, the mall had only been open for an hour, so the garage wasn't full. In fact, only the first few floors had cars parked in them. I spun around up to the last full floor, and found mostly empty spaces. So I pulled in, and realized that I had an opportunity.

Master Brandon had made it clear that I wasn't allowed to conduct any of his "experiments" into vaginal moisture inside my jeep. Or any other car for that matter. These weren't "public spaces" as far as he was concerned. And yet, OUTSIDE the jeep was fine. And here I was, in a spot where there were no people, a public place, with a distinct risk of being caught, and I'd be able to hear approaching cars easily.

And it was, technically, at the mall. I know it's not what Julie intended, but she should have been more specific. Like "Bre, shove your seven inch dildo up your cunt in the food court."

I have been known to be sneaky. From time to time.

I got out of the jeep and hopped up on the hood. It was warm on my bum, but the engine hadn't been running long and so it wasn't terribly uncomfortable. I lifted my leg up, my skirt slipping up my thigh, then falling back to expose the pink slit I'd already stuffed thrice that morning - twice with dildos and once with the real thing. I looked. I didn't see any wetness. I didn't really feel wet. And the pressure I'd felt, the need and desire I'd had coursing through me in the little copse was sated, satisfied by the thorough pounding Blake had given me. I pulled the seven inch cock from my bag and held it up. There was nothing special about it. Rubber, flesh toned like the others, and coming with suction cup and a half set of balls, it looked just like my Husky Dildo, a nine inch model that was sitting in the bag, waiting its turn. I brought the seven inch long shaft down to my slit, positioned the tip between my pouting folds and wondered.

Was this going to hurt?

Time was precious, so I pushed hard.

There was something brutal about it, something forced, as if my body weren't properly prepared for the in-depth penetration of a seven inch long phallus. Sure, I lubricated fairly quickly after the initial impalement. Within seconds actually. And had Julie's punishment of removing the dildo and pushing it up my ass been inflicted upon me, I actually think I could have handled it at that particular moment. Still, a discomforting ache permeated up from my groin, as if I'd just been punched there. My pussy tightened up, half in protest, half in exclamatory exuberance. It was like I couldn't tell if it hurt, or if I liked it. Hell, knowing me, probably both. I groaned, rocking on the hood of my jeep, holding the base of the dildo so it wouldn't slip, wanting to thrust the dildo in and out, to pump and bring myself to orgasm. But Julie's warning held sway. There was no way I was going to risk having to put a dildo up my ass. After the thirty count, I glanced around, and still finding myself alone, I pulled the seven inch long dildo free of my gooey cunt and licked it clean. Then I got back in my Jeep, and left the mall behind.


Thirty minutes later found me wandering aimlessly near Hwy 6 as my subconscious had me heading back toward Katy. Back when I lived out in the hinterlands, many of my early assignments had taken place in this area. That disastrous but interesting bike ride with the dildo on the seat, with Mike the Hardware Guy making it clear that he wanted to do more than dom me, and actually start dating, had been here. The Ice House, where I'd been gang banged so many times that the staff knew my name and could identify me on sight, was down the road. The bookstore, where I'd flashed and hunted for fresh cock to suck and fuck, was here as well. And there was West Oak Mall. It had been my preference for years, just due to the fact that it wasn’t as busy as Memorial, or Katy Mills, or the Galleria. So many memories...

I pulled into the mall parking lot to consider my options. And maybe, just maybe, I felt a little guilty about stiffing Julie on her required punishment. After all, she’d eventually find out I’d just sat on the hood of my jeep in the parking garage, instead of walking the mall like she’d told me too.

Part of me wanted to park the jeep and venture out into the Parker Reservoir. I'd hiked into it once several years before, gotten tied up naked to a tree, whipped, fucked, and suffered about a zillion mosquito bites. But summer time? No way. I'd have little red welts all over the undersides of my breasts, and in worse places. Besides, it was 95 degrees out, and it was humid. I was done with outside adventures. That left few options. The mall in front of me was on the fading side of things and I was surprised that it was still open. Just one real anchor remained and I decided to make use of it. I swung around to the far side and parked. Even on a Saturday, nearing lunch time, there was plenty of parking.

I entered the department store and quickly moved into the clothing racks. One of the problems of navigating your way around a place when dressed like a tramp is that it tends to attract attention. I've literally had people following me before, all looking for an opportunity to get a better glimpse. So I sidestepped that by making myself harder to see in the first place. Besides, what I was looking for was a semi-private little niche to handle the next object. Nothing does that better than racks and racks of clothes.

I knew that the fitting rooms were unavailable for the same reason my jeep was off-limits. They were private, or at least semi-private. I needed a spot where I could judiciously expose myself, without being seen, take an 8-inch-long dildo out of my bag, and push it up into myself at a high rate of speed, all without being discovered. And fortunately, such a spot wasn't hard to find.

I tucked myself into a section sporting what I considered some pretty ugly blouses, and between two racks, out of sight of both salesclerk and security camera, pulled the 8 inch dildo out of my bag. It looked very similar to the last few, except this one was made of a clear gel, making it look like crystal, rather than the leftovers of a botched castration. I resisted the urge to lick it like a popsicle, at least until AFTER it had been in me, and instead brought it down between my legs. I lifted the front of my skirt, and after a quick glance around, jerked my hand and smashed it up into my cunt.


I groaned. Loudly. Too loudly actually. The sensation of the gel like rubber going into me was not unpleasant, but not comfortable either, and for the first time that day I started to wonder whether I could be sufficiently wet to really take these larger dildos. This was just the fourth one of the day, and I had eight more to go. Was I really needing Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule #1 to keep me "wet and ready?"  I closed my eyes as a deep seated ache rolled through my nethers and I slowly counted to thirty. I was getting close to pulling it out when one of the department store clerks, a matronly lady, came bursting through the racks, curious about the noise.

I closed my legs with a snap, locking the thick dildo in. 30, 29, 28, 27, 26...

She eyed me with a judging expression, no doubt disturbed by my attire. "Can I help you?"

I squirmed, hoping that my peasant blouse was in place. I smoothed my skirt, my thighs holding the 8 inch dildo in. 25...24...23...22...

"No," I squeaked. "I'm just looking," I said, using the standard line.

She frowned, no doubt smelling a rat. I shifted my hip and realized something horrible. I was wet. Getting caught, being stuffed. Oh my. Oh my God. I was wet. My pussy was gushing around the dildo and I wanted, needed to masturbate.

"Well, I would suggest a new shirt. That one is totally inappropriate for a woman of your age. And you need to wear a bra too. Your breasts are practically hanging out of that one. I admit, you've got good bosoms, but it's impractical."

I blinked. She was being forthright and... honest. And the tone of her voice wasn't so much disapproving, but motherly.

"Uh. Yes," I replied. 21...20...19...18... How to admit that I totally agreed with her? "Unfortunately I'm sort of stuck with this for the time being," I explained.

"Are you sure?" She asked curiously. "Because this one over here would really suit you. Especially with that amazing hair." She pointed to a shirt that was a bit to far away for me to see. But I didn't dare move. My thighs were pressed tightly together.

"Yes," I agreed. "I do like that one. Maybe... maybe I'll try it on." 17... 16... 15... 14...

She lifted it off the rack, then spun and looked at another shirt as I tried not to panic. I could feel the fluids dripping. My pussy was quivering, shaking as if I had a vibrator in me. Each little squeeze was pushing on the dildo. I needed to reach down between my legs and push it back up, back in. Or take it out. Oh my God. 13...12...11...10...9...

"How about this one? Do you like blues or do you just want to do greens and whites?" She asked me. "We have to stay away from red and pinks or they'll clash." She picked up another shirt as I stared in hopeless panic. 8...7...6...5...

She turned and looked back at me. But it was too late. The eight inch long dildo slipped from between my legs and thudded both heavily, and wetly, on the carpet. The second it fell I moved, scooping it up quickly and tucking it back behind my ass, eyes wide, mouth open.  

She looked at me, face carefully neutral. "It's one of those online dares isn't?" She said with a frown. "I figured, what with you dressed like a tramp. You young things have no respect for yourself, doing those sex dares and challenge things." She waved her hand in the air. "Fine. Whatever. Just don't do anything to get yourself into trouble. And if I catch you stealing..." she left the threat dangling. My eyes widened and I shook my head. She sighed and moved off, leaving me alone with my dildo.



Part Four

And then my phone rang. Of course. I glanced at it, a wet, eight inch dildo in one hand, and groaned internally. Sex dares aside, this couldn't be good. I hit the "answer" button and lifted the cellphone up to my ear.

"Hello, Julie," I said dispiritedly. Getting caught and humiliated like that had been a blow. My cheeks were still burning. I tucked the dildo back in the bag and tried to hurry away from the section I'd been standing in. The salesclerk would no doubt be keeping an eye on me. I wrapped an arm across my bosom, still conscientious of the peasant blouse's lack of coverage, and chose a random direction. Anywhere was better than here.

"How's it going princess?" Julie asked me. "What dildo are you on?"

I blinked as I threaded my way past a rack of women's pants that were three sizes too big for me. "Uh... I just fucked the 8 incher," I said quietly, glancing around. No one was looking at me, or hanging around.

"Oh. Just now?" She asked me. I nodded, then rolled my eyes. Right. Phone.

"Yes Mistress."

Julie hummed thoughtfully. "Cool. So that means the metal dildo next. Right?"

I sighed. "Yes. The metal one is next."

"Did you leave it in the car?" She asked eagerly.

That made me frown. "Julie. It's ninety-five degrees outside. If I'd left it in the car, it would be scorching hot."

"I know!" She replied brightly. "Wouldn't that be neat?"

I rolled my eyes. "No. I don't want my pussy burned."

She laughed. "So where are you?"

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to tell her. "I'm in a department store."

"You're still at the mall?" She exclaimed happily. "Oh my! I didn't think you had it in you!"

I bit my lip. She thought I was at the Galleria. Not this dead end, barely trafficked spot off of Highway 6. But hey, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Right?

"So, I've got an idea," she said quickly. "Since you don't want to do heat, and you've got thirty minutes to kill anyway..."

I listened in growing horror as she outlined her new plan. I swallowed. I froze. I stumbled. Julie invoked NHPS Rule #2, which stated that I was to comply with any order given that didn't conflict with my limits. When she hung up, I stared at the phone, my stomach quivering with nervousness. I felt almost sick.

I looked up. Perhaps it was destiny, or happenstance, or maybe God was in total agreement with Julie about how Breanne, nympho humiliation pain slut, should be sexually tortured, because I realized I was standing, not near the entrance I'd parked at, but the open portal to the mall commons. People were walking around out there. I'd be seen. I'd be stared at. And I needed to kill thirty minutes.

But first, I needed a drink. I took a deep breath, tried to look relaxed and natural, and strode out into the light.

Redhead girls attract attention. It's just a fact. The color is rather bright, especially when it is artificial, like mine. My hair color isn't candy apple red, and I've let it darken slightly over the years, so that it isn't quite so bright. But "fire engine" comes to mind and regardless, it draws attention. My face isn't technically pretty. Too round and my nose is too big, but I come across as ridiculously cute. But what really makes a woman attractive is her demeanor. I've seen women cursed with bad looks, put on something slinky, and ACT sexy, only to get plenty of attention. I on the other hand, didn't try to act sexy. Instead I opted for my usual "mousey" demeanor. I was a cute girl who was obviously uncomfortable with her attire, and was paying the price.

I headed for the food court. Despite the fact that the mall was on the down side for shopping locations, there were still plenty of people strolling about. There was a movie theater on premises, and plenty of "entertainment" style venues, which is what some malls turn to when their anchors go bye bye. This provided sufficient number of eyes staring at me to give me the willies and whenever it became too much, I turned and darted into a nearby store, to hide behind a rack of clothes and see if I was being followed or not. Of course, no one came after me and I'd emerge like a turtle from its shell, to make my way closer to my destination. Finally I arrived at the food court. There weren't many selections, but I went to the restaurant with the emptiest counter and ordered a Diet Coke.

Sigh... Pepsi products. Okay. Whatever. One, large, Diet Pepsi.

The clerk was a girl and she gave my outfit a pretty intense stare and I couldn't help myself from pressing an arm to my chest again. My cheeks must have been red too, because I felt the heat on them. She passed over my cup, plastic lid in place, and I took it hurriedly, just wanting to get away. I grabbed a straw, mostly for aesthetic purposes, and because I didn't want to look odd. Then I turned tail and headed straight for the nearest clothing store. I didn't even look at the item I pulled off the rack. I got to the fitting room, nodded at a nearby clerk who gave me another long look, and went into the small, closet-sized nook. I sat down on the bench and heaved a sigh of relief.

You have to understand, the tension and stress of walking around the mall wearing the peasant blouse and short skirt, with no panties or bra, was insane. Everyone was staring. Hungrily. Angrily. Disgustedly. Wantonly. You worried constantly about the shirt flipping up, or the skirt. You could feel the air on your pussy, or on your nipples and everything was about exposure. So getting a moment of private time was precious. Pure bliss. I took a sip of Diet Pepsi, grimaced at the taste, and then popped the plastic top off. Inside there was ice. Lots of it. It's a trick these fast food places use. More ice means less soda. So you'll buy a bigger cup, or come back and spend the 25 cents for a refill. I reached into my bag and drew out the metal dildo, and following Julie's orders, pushed it tip first into the icy cola.

I checked my watch. Eighteen more minutes before I was permitted to fuck myself with the metal dildo. I put the plastic lid back on and stood up. The shirt I'd pulled from the rack was bright yellow and hideous. But if I'd been allowed, I'd have bought it and put it on, just to keep from having to go back out into the mall wearing the peasant blouse. Still, Julie would have killed me. I picked up my cup as I stood. It was much heavier now the steel dildo was inside. I emerged, handed back the blouse and made my way from the store.

Now I just had to walk the mall, killing time. In general, Julie didn't like it when I went into the stores. It limited visibility, giving me options to conceal myself. But since she hadn't forbidden it this trip, I did just that, trying to tell myself I was shopping. Then, I realized that I was being stupid. I needed to find a public, but semi-private spot, for what was going to be one of the most intense, terrible, dildo insertions I'd experienced yet. And the longer the metal dildo was sitting in a tub of ice (and soda), the colder it would get.

So I emerged from the clothing store I was hiding... *ahem* shopping in, and went "shopping" for a good location to fuck myself.

I knew from experience that I would need longer than a minute of privacy. Even wet with cola, the chilly nature of the metal dildo would make my pussy tighten up. That would increase the difficulty of getting it in completely. And at eight inches, the same length as the last dildo, I'd spend some significant time mashing it up into my sex. I would also be making some noise, since spending twenty minutes in an ice bath would make the metal dildo ridiculously cold.

But this was also my old haunting grounds. I'd walked this mall before too, and I knew one access corridor, meant for deliveries, that would suit my purposes. The only problem was that it was all the way on the other side of the mall. So I took a deep breath, my bare breasts rising under the thin, cotton material of the peasant blouse, and I took off, working my way through staring eyes and widening grins as I made my way to my chosen "destination."

I got there early.

The last thing I wanted to do was hang around a delivery hall, so I stopped again in another store, pretending to browse. It relieved some of the pressure I was feeling and while I hid behind another clothing rack, I wondered just how "wet" I still was. Stress, at least the kind I was under, wasn't always compatible with "sexual arousal," though admittedly these "walks of shame" did turn me on. I needed to be wet. I wanted to be wet. As wet as possible preferably. That way when I pushed the cold, metal dildo into me, it would be a fast process.

I mindlessly took a sip of metal infused Pepsi. Evidently, soaking a dildo in it did not improve the taste. I glanced down at my watch. It was time. I took a deep breath, emerged from my hiding spot, and hurried across the mall commons, pushing open the delivery door and disappearing into a cream colored corridor, away from the people. I walked down the hallway, doors on either side, at least until I came to a ninety degree corner. Then the doors were only on one side, each marked with a store name and number. The hallway was empty and I stopped there, just after the turn.

My logic was simple. If a delivery driver opened the door at the far end of the corridor, I'd have a chance to dart back around the corner in order to get myself presentable. And vice versa. If anyone came down the corridor from the common mall areas, I'd be concealed from view with enough warning to get myself semi-presentable. Thus - public space, private area. The best of both worlds. I set down my bag, popped the lid off my plastic cup, and drew a well marinated, cold to the touch dildo, from the icy depths.

Oh fuck it was cold! I set my cup down and wrapped my hands around the dildo. Honestly? I thought it was too cold and I tried to warm it up a bit. But then it was too cold for my hands and I ended up using my skirt to hold the thing for a moment while I tried to heat it up. This of course exposed my pussy and I bit my lip, looking down. I didn't see any moisture. And I was trembling. My hands were literally shaking. From trepidation at what I was about to do to myself? Or from cold? Suddenly I just wanted to get it over with. I felt my pussy tighten and I breathed into one cupped hand. I took hold of the dildo, bare flesh against metal, right at the base. Then I spread my legs, going up on tiptoe, the arches of each foot up and exposed, my flipflops flat on the floor. I brought the tip up, scared of how it would feel, hesitated until my fingers felt like they were freezing, and then with my left hand, opened my labia to expose the pink, moist depths. I pressed the dildo upward and the first searing burn of cold hit me like a freight train. I gasped, gritting my teeth, closing my eyes as I pushed. My pussy tightened like a clamp, resisting the surge of frozen metal, the dripping cola, and a hard pain shot through my loins as my hand fought with my pussy. I forced it in deeper, impaling myself and moving the pain upward, deeper into my body. The dildo, smooth and bumped, seemed to pummel the sides of my sex and each inch was not just a battle, but a war. I folded, hunched over, bitter winter hurting me.

I wasn't even sure how deep the damn thing was. I started counting. My thighs came together, locked in place and I began shaking. This time I knew it was from the cold. My pussy was numb, but I could feel pressure and ice, the temperature seeping into everything between my hips. I pushed again with my fingers, shocked to find the dildo going in another inch, maybe even two, and this time, easier. I pressed hard, groaning, whimpering, almost wailing as the full eight inches became embedded in my quivering, freezing sex. The numbers in my head were hard to form and my legs shook from the strain. I reached up with my left hand and found my left breast. Bent over, the peasant blouse no longer covered my bosom, both tits hanging free like ripe fruit. I twisted the piercing a bit, fresh sensation shooting down to my pussy. My hips jerked involuntarily, a thrust, a pump, and then I couldn't stand the cold any longer. I was somewhere in the mid-twenties and I pulled the dildo out of my pussy with a sharp cry. My knees buckled and I sank down, the metal dildo still burning my fingers, cold and dripping in my hand. I didn't want to lick it. I didn't know what to do with it, so I dumped it back into the open cup of diet soda. Then I sank to the floor, kneeling, my hands between my thighs, shivering from the cold.

It took me almost five minutes to recover, and not a single person bothered me in that corridor. No one came in. No one passed me and I just shivered, huddling against the wall as my body recovered from both the intrusion of the soda lubed phallus and the cold. I didn't feel arousal now. The icy intruder hadn't been that kind of sex act. Instead it had been torture. Punishment perhaps. I'd fucked ice before, but that had been nothing compared to this. Maybe the other variables took precedence. I don't know. But I hadn't liked it at all.

Eventually I climbed to my feet. I smoothed down my skirt, then peasant blouse. I picked up my bag and my cup and headed down the corridor, not back into the mall, but heading toward the outside. I didn't care that it was hot out there in the sunlight. I wanted heat. I still felt cold. I wanted to bathe in warmth. Besides, having to walk around the entire outside of the mall was preferable to having to walk through it, eyes tearing at my clothes. I pushed open the door and stepped into the South Texas summer sun and closed my eyes in bliss.

Oh God, yes.

I made my way out to the sidewalk and began walking, my flipflops protecting my feet from the hot concrete. A minute in and I felt normal. Two minutes later I felt warm. By the time I reached the department store I'd gone into in the first place, I was hot. I angled out, heading toward my jeep, and without thinking about it, I brought the cup up to my face, my mouth opening as I sucked on the straw. A strange flavor hit my lips.

Well what do you know. Pussy juice makes Diet Pepsi taste better.

Part Five

I escaped the mall with no further trouble. With twenty minutes to kill before the next dildo, I speculated about where I should go, considering that the next "dildo" on my list of twelve was almost as much of a challenge as the metal one. My pussy was slowly recovering, at least from the stress and tension applied to it, but I have to admit that I worried about being wet. Sure, I might have gotten there with the metal dildo, but I didn't feel the "need" at that particular moment. Would thirty minutes be enough for me to recover from the cold and feel the normal moisture I was accustomed too?

Of course, the ante was still going up. The metal dildo had been eight inches long. The next one was nine. But honestly? That wasn't what concerned me. The length wouldn't matter a whit. No, what would matter was the fact that this dildo had an attached companion.

Normally, "attached companion" is how I would refer to real cock. For example, Blake's penis had an "attached companion."  But this was just humor. The attached companion I was referring to in this particular case, was a six inch long, narrow, but still substantial, secondary dildo, attached to the first by the base, which was designed to fit in both a woman's holes at the same time. My double dildo. Julie had casually tossed it in as a lark, knowing that I didn't care for having things up my ass. The problem was that I still had to do it. Now, anal sex isn't as easy as vaginal. Your butt doesn't "lube" (thank God.) And if it did, you would need to see a doctor because that just isn't right. Julie had tossed a small bottle of grapeseed oil into the bag, just enough for a single coating on the anal plug. So all I needed to do was find a semi-private public space, bare everything below the waist, prep the anal dildo, and then jam two long, rubber cocks up both my holes at the same time.

Yay. Can you tell I was enthusiastic? Maybe another round with the metal dildo was an alternative option? Not likely.

I took Westhemier Parkway, watching with sadness as the farm land I was used to seeing passed by me, now filled with suburbia. How could this many people live here? I shook my head. Eventually I even turned onto the old farm to market road my parent's ranch had been on. I passed the corner of our property, where one day I'd straddled the angled edge of one of our fence rails, letting the wood bite into the soft folds of my pussy, cumming and rocking in ecstasy. And there... that's where our old drive used to be. It was just fence now. Brick and fancy wood. Kari once made love to me there, bent over the hood of her car, my breasts pressed to the hot metal as she jammed a vibrator into my dripping slit. And along the road? That's where I'd ridden my mare, a quarter horse named Star, who I'd loved with all my heart, stuffed with vibroballs, sitting in the saddle buck naked, clover clamps hanging from my breasts as I raced a car barrelling down the road. My home? Where I'd grown up? If it was still there I couldn't see it. Rows of cookie cutter suburban mansions, brick and stone and postage stamp yards blocked the way.

And here... I pulled the jeep over. Here was where I first took off my clothes, stripping naked out of blue jeans and tee shirt, in order to comply with Mistress Ellen's demands that I wear something slutty and appropriate to my nature. The road had barely been traveled then, a simple farm to market line that hadn't even gotten a coating of asphalt until I was eight. Back then I could have gone two or three hours between pickups or trailers hurtling down the road. Now? There was a steady line of sedans and those weird half SUV things. Most of them white. The vehicle of suburbia. There was no way I could do the same thing today. I'd have been seen. Reported. Arrested. No, I wasn't going to be able to stand at the front of my jeep, strip naked, and then impale both holes with a double dildo. Not a chance in hell.

So I pulled back onto the road and drove on. I headed north, seeing Katy Mills, but eschewing another mall in favor of memories. I drove into old Katy proper, up Pin Oak and Avenue D. I pulled my jeep into a small parking lot that I hadn't been to in years. Getting out, the heat of summer hit me again and I embraced it. Ahead, just through the trees, was a small wooden bridge that spanned a dry wash. The city had added a playground, meant for toddlers, but it was empty, no well-meaning parent wanting to subject their little ones to the oppressive summer heat. Across the field, a few sparse trees did little to block the view of more houses, small, individualized structures that had aged well, even if they were tiny by today’s standards. I crossed the bridge and then went pass the playground, back southward, walking along the paved path. It was a circle, and empty, even on a Saturday. It just wasn't that kind of park, and it was hot and the bayou ran nearby. Up head was the gazebo. I'd both suffered and been pleasured in that gazebo. I'd been fucked and tormented there. I'd met one of my first male doms there, an older man, in his mid-fifties, named John, out walking his dog. I approached the old wooden structure. It was in need of paint, and some of the boards were warped. But the railing and benches were still there, still solid. As the cicadas hummed and the scents of summer filled my nose, I sat down, the wooden slats rough on my bare bottom. I got out the double dildo and quickly oiled the anal plug.

It only took me a second to look around. All was quiet. I was alone. No dogs. No people. Just me and my memories. I rose to my feet, set one knee up on the bench, flipped the back of my skirt up, and began working the double dildo into my body.

It wasn't as easy as all the others, even the metal one. Taking things up your ass is not something you just do. You have to mentally prepare for it. Sure, I could have handled just the front dildo easy as pie. Thinking of all the times I'd been at this park, clamps hanging off my nipples, giving blowjobs, spreading my legs for John as he took me on this very bench, did exactly what I was hoping for. I was wet, ready, and even willing, and my pussy was grasping at the thing in seconds. But working the slick length of the rear phallus into my back end took pressure and mental focus. The wind seemed to pick up, my hair blowing past my face. My peasant blouse followed suit, exposing my luscious breasts, the pierced tips gold and wanting. I worked the anal shaft in slowly, revelling in the sweet bliss of it. And then, as soon as I got two inches of both dildos into their respective and appropriate holes, I quickly turned around and sat down. Fast and hard.

Both pain and pleasure filled my lower half. My body initially objected to the rapid expansion caused by the implantation of thick rubber through my insides. Still, I was designed specifically for that purpose; the act of getting fucked. I was meant for it. Whether by inanimate object or a man, or a woman with a strap on for that matter, my holes were meant to be filled. I gasped, aching and wanting, filled to the brim with nine inches in one hole, and six in the other. I rocked my hips as I counted to thirty, fucking myself with small movements, my pussy gushing wet, grasping and squeezing the contents of my loins.

For a long moment I just sat there, stuffed to the brim and remembering. My pussy clenched and tightened, as did my ass, I resisted the urge to get up and kneel again, a hand between my legs, drawing both dildos out enough so that I could push them back in. I wanted to get fucked now. I knew it. I needed it. I wasn't close to cumming, that's for sure, but my body's natural desire seemed to swell. Fluids seeped from around the rubber cock in my pussy and I drew it out of me, ignoring the back half that had been in my ass as I licked and sucked the first shaft clean. Then I wrapped it in a bit of paper towel I'd brought with me and stuck it back into the bag. I smoothed down the peasant blouse, and the skirt, standing there in the middle of the gazebo. I shook my head. Fucked here again, and no satisfaction other than that of my readers, and Master Brandon. I wanted to strip naked and beg someone to use me. To let me satisfy them and through them, myself. I needed to be tied to the rafters of the gazebo, arms above my head, my legs pulled and bound open, a whip taken to my skin, my nipples twisted and hurt, my bottom filled, my clit pinched and fried and spanked, my breasts caned, and my pussy... oh yes... beat my pussy and fill me to the brink. Use me. Please...

I sighed, shouldered my bag, and headed back to the jeep. I got almost all the way there, but then looked for the bridge that would take me over the bayou. Maybe John still lived in his old house? But the bridge was gone, probably destroyed during the flooding of Hurricane Harvey. Not to be defeated, I did go back to my jeep and drive around to the other side of the park. I pulled up in front of the small home, not recognizing the car out front. I went up and knocked, nervous and uncomfortable, wanting him to be there, and scared what would happen if he was. Would he want me? Would he let me suck on him? Would he fuck me hard?

A Hispanic woman, almost my age, opened the door, two small children at her knees. "Si?" she asked me curiously. I already knew the answer.

"Los siento," I said, backing away. "Estaba buscando a alquien," I stammered in my broken Spanish. The woman looked at me, her eyes distant, judging my attire, my barely concealed breasts, the pisspoor excuse for a skirt. I turned and hurried back to my jeep and by the time I got there, the front door had closed. I got back into my car and started the engine. Times really had changed. So much for memory lane.

I drove north to where the landscape matched what I had grown up with, rolling farm land filled with soybeans and cotton. Horses dotted the landscape and I even drove past the ranch where my own horse, Star, had been housed before I finally had to sell her. I looked in vain. Maybe she was still around? But no. No sign of my chocolate filly and the silly little white blotch, shapped like a star on her forehead. As the minutes ticked by, I turned back around and headed back toward town. I pulled up into the parking lot where a small hardware store used to sit. It had closed down, the manager and assistant manager leaving to go work at one of the big box places. It had been here, in this parking lot, where Mike the Hardware Guy had intercepted me after masturbating in his store. It had been an assignment. One of many. I remembered all the times I'd dropped by, flashing a smile at the knowing grin of the cashier, only to make my way to the back of the place, to get bent over or across the small wooden desk that had occupied Mike's work space. I'd been screwed every which way on that desk. Screwed and spanked and clamped and whipped. My pussy had been sapped on that desk as Mike had held my legs open. And I’d cum. Hard.

I left it behind. I headed back toward the mall.

There is only one mall in Katy, and while it too had changed over the years, the basic nature of it resisted the rapid growth of the surrounding city. Katy had gone from a rustic, farming town to kitschy. But I pulled up in front of the massive sporting goods store and stared at the entrance. I'd been banned from the place years before, though not legally, and besides - those things were only good for a year. I hadn't been inside in ages though, and I was hardly dressed for it now. Unlike the retail establishment on Highway 6, this mall was packed, no place for a girl for which the slightest breath of wind would completely expose her. Besides, I wasn't twenty five anymore either. But it had been here that I'd seduced a number of employees into letting me use them to satisfy assignment requirements. I'd met Julie here. She had been the manager of a two-bit junk jewelry store. My God... how many times had I gone in, only to go the back room, raise my top, lace my fingers behind my head, and grimace at Julie's standard hello - a brisk breast slapping? And then there was David. Empty spaces christened with my pussy juice as I bounced from one embarrassing moment to another. Flashings and fuckings and blowjobs...

The memories flooded through me and I stared up at the imposing edifice. So many sexual escapades! This had been my stomping ground, or fucking ground, depending on your perspective. Was I really going to walk away, just because I was worried that my shirt might flip up? Or that someone might see up my skirt? Or that I was no longer nineteen years old with the body to match? I bit my lip and glanced down into the bag. The next dildo wasn't rubber. Like the metal dildo, this one was made of something different: acrylic. Hard, smooth bulbs to provide texture to the full 9 inch length and the end was capped with a cute, pink colored heart. It was actually one of my favorites. There are times when you want to get fucked in a more solid manner, when you're so insanely aroused that you just need to be spread open and have something hard jammed into you. The crystal stick was perfect for that kind of thing.

And I was wet. I could tell. The drive around Katy had done it and I knew that all I needed was a semblance of privacy in order to get the nine inch plastic shaft up my twat. Honestly, I was looking forward to it. A good, hard fuck was exactly what I needed.

But where? I was hot and bothered, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend another fifteen minutes out in the heat. That meant indoors. The mall? I rolled my eyes. That was the LAST thing I wanted. Still, maybe I didn't need to endure the stares and looks. Maybe I could find a private little spot inside the sports equipment store? After all, I'd done it a bunch of times before. I bit my lip, considering it. Then the little devil in my ear whispered the words.

"You know you want it. You know you crave it. You may not like them looking at you like that, but it makes you so, so wet..."

I turned off the engine. What can I say? I'm weak and listen to my baser desires.

I hurried toward the store entrance and marched in looking confidant. I still had my arm pressed to my breasts, which mitigated the possibility of flashing my breasts, but other than that I did nothing to hide my appearance. One of the young men working spotted me, his eyes widening, and the only reason he didn't start drooling is because it would have looked bad. I gave him a smile, the kind I reserved for men who took notice of me, making it clear that under the right circumstances I'd be happy to straddle them and ride them to the moon. I moved into the store and disappeared in the racks.

The place was busy, which wasn't good for me and for the next several minutes I wandered around, trying to avoid groups of people. There were far too many kids and after awhile, I came to the realization that there was literally no where to do my task. The best I'd have been able to come up with was the dressing room, which was hardly "public." So with a little grunt of disappointment I considered my options. If Julie had been there, she'd have urged me into the mall. Maybe one of the other big anchors would have some semi-private spots to crystal stick myself. But me being the big chicken that I am, I turned tail and left the way I came, walking out to my jeep and managing to knock a full fifteen minutes off my enforced "break"  between dildos.

Frustrated, I started the engine and turned toward the highway. There was one more place I wanted to see and I felt drawn to it. I should have thought of it first, even before trying the mall. I put my foot down on the accelerator and headed even further west, driving outside the bounds of Katy, exiting on Pederson, to find a spot at the truck stop.

For years the truck stop outside the boundary of my hometown had served as an easy place to find errant cock to suck, fuck, and generally use for my own entertainment. I pulled in on the left side of the lot and watched as the occasional big rig pulled in. One thing I liked was that there were a few trucks backed into some spaces, their rear ends pointed at the empty fields. I knew the drivers would be either inside the truck stop, or in their rigs, catching a few winks. From experience, I was well aware that many drivers preferred to drive at night and sleep during the day.

Regardless, I felt that this was the opportunity I was looking for. I grabbed the Crystal Stick out of the bag and got out of the jeep. My flipflops smacked on the black top and I hurried along, fully cognizant that girls who dressed like me in places like this were frequently considered "on the market". No need to complicate matters, right? I ducked between the first two trailers and moved down until I was shielded from view; a short glimpse of the freeway in front of me and the grassy field behind. I even managed to be in the truck's shadow.

I spread my legs, facing one of the massive wheels and I lifted my skirt. I could feel a bit of moisture between my petals, even without touching myself and I closed my eyes, desperate to feel the tapered end of the crystal stick go in. Honestly? I wanted it to hurt a little bit. I needed that. My left hand came down, my arm holding the hem of my skirt high and I spread my petals, opening myself up just as I had done with the metal dildo. I lowered the crystal stick, grazing my clit in the process and I felt a thrill tingle up through me. God I needed this...

"Excuse me, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Came a rough voice.

I jumped, literally, the skirt coming down, the crystal stick dildo going behind my back as I whirled to face the man standing near the cab, arms crossed. He had a suspicious and slightly angry look on his face, but this seemed to fade a little as he took in my appearance. The look faded from worry that I was messing with his rig, to wondering if I was about to offer him a quickie for a few bucks.

I raised my hand. "I swear to God I wasn't touching your truck!" I insisted, first and foremost. Years of being a south Texas farm girl made me know enough to state that upfront. "I was just looking for a little bit of privacy." The second I said that though, I knew it was stupid. Privacy? Between two semi-truck trailers? What the hell was I thinking?

The skepticism on his face got worse and I sighed and started walking toward him. I brought the crystal stick out from behind my hand. Would he recognize it for what it was? I licked my lips.

"Sir, I'll be honest with you. I'm doing a sex dare. I would be ever so gracious if you would help me," I said simply and neatly, holding up the dildo. "If you would be willing to jam this into my pussy, with one thrust, I will happily spend the next thirty minutes sucking your cock dry." It came out very serious and calm and I was actually a little surprised at my daring.

He blinked. "Are you serious?"

I nodded, then blurted out, "and not for money. I'm not a whore."

He considered it for all of five seconds. Then he laughed, his mouth curling up into a smile. It changed his whole personality and suddenly I felt an attraction to him. I couldn't help grinning too. He held out his hand. "Give it here, girlie."

I held out the crystal stick and let him take it. Then, before he could suggest elsewhere, like the privacy of his cab, I swept both arms upward. One caught the thin, cotton material of my peasant blouse, lifting and exposing both pierced breasts. The other snagged the hem of my skirt, even as I spread my legs wide. The trucker's eyes widened, confronted with something a little more tangible than just words.

I felt wet. Oh so wet. "One thrust," I repeated. "Hard and fast. I like it when it hurts a little."

He got close and one hand came up, grabbing my breast, kneading it and squeezing. "Pinch the tip," I gasped. He did, twisting it hard. I groaned, whimpering. "Now. Please?"

The smooth, rounded end of the crystal stick came up between my legs and he only rubbed it once through my petals. It seemed to move easily enough and I tilted my pelvis to give him a better angle. Our eyes met, my chest heaving as he leaned in. His face had two days growth of beard and he was at least twenty years older than me. I felt him bring the hard phallus up, touching my sex, and then he pushed it in, hard and fast, just as I had begged.

Hard plastic speared me, thrusting its way into my loins, spreading my inner muscles, the flesh, everything as he impaled me. It was a forceful movement, lifting me up so that only my toes stayed in touch with the ground, and I was pushed back against the trailer itself, my weight resting on his hand, clutching the crystal heart that topped the dildo. Inside me, my fluids swirled and gushed, the pain of getting penetrated so forcefully merging with the arousal. My mouth opened and a low, guttural moan came out and I'm sure he saw the hurt in my eyes. I knew I was going to be bruised, but I didn't care. He held me in place, and then, before I could say anything, he drew the crystal stick out six inches, sending a riot of sensation back up my body, and then promptly fucked me again.

Oh my God.

Obviously, insertion number two went much easier, thanks to the fact that my pussy was now gushing with lubrication. My mind went curiously blank, unable to stop him or say anything as my pussy fluttered and gripped and shuddered. The trucker grinned as my pussy juice seemed to coat his hand and he did it again, drawing out and pushing in, fucking me hard against the side of his rig. I blubbered something inaudible, but he understood it, or at least he understood my body language. He jacked the crystal stick in and out of me, jabbing my pussy with the acrylic rod until I threw my head back, my knuckles jammed between my teeth, muffling my cries of pleasure. I grabbed him as I came, holding my naked tits against his rough shirt, humping his hand as he made me cum. All in just a few minutes of sexual insanity. I collapsed against him, chest heaving as he slowly drew the dildo out of my pussy. I let go of him and leaned back, not bothering to cover my tits, though the skirt did fall back down over my bruised loins.

"Wow," I said, still clearly in a daze.

He grinned. "You owe me, girlie."

I giggled. "Do I ever," I agreed happily, not even considering the shit storm another orgasm, especially done like this, was going to cause. I blinked, my mind clearing a bit, the euphoria of orgasm fading slightly. I reached forward, cupping the bulge in his pants. "I am going to DEVOUR your cock," I said wickedly. "Take me somewhere," I encouraged him. He backed up, reached up to the door, and opened it.

"Ladies first," he said with a grin.

"You just want to look up my skirt," I accused playfully. Then I smiled. "You go right ahead."

I started to turn but he took my arm. "What do I do with this?" He asked me, holding out the dildo. I took it from him, and then in a bold, daring gesture, I stuck it in my mouth and sucked it clean, right there in front of him. I licked it. I swirled my tongue around it. And when all my girl goo was gone, I tucked it into the elastic band holding my peasant blouse together. It nestled between my breasts.

"Holy shit," the trucker mused, somewhat shocked.

"I want to suck your cock now," I insisted, turned and started climbing. I felt his hand on my ass and I stopped halfway. His fingers moved lower and I looked down. "Can you give me a little push?" I begged in a naughty voice. He chuckled and pushed, but I shook my head. "No, not there, a little lower." He moved his hand and this time I felt his fingers at my bottom. "A little lower please?" Now his fingers were touching my petals. "There," I said happily. "Push there." He shook his head with amusement, but he pushed, three of his fingers dipping into my soaked slit. I started climbing slowly, letting him follow me up. I climbed into the rig, moved to the back, and got down on my knees.

"Now, sir, I have to pay you back," I said. He locked the doors and unbuckled his pants. "Yes you do, sweetie. Yes you do." He sat down on the bunk and I leaned forward. His shaft was already hard and I brought my face down on him, opening my mouth, taking him in. My tongue swirled around him and he groaned, a look of rapture on his face. Between licks, I came up. "Think you can last thirty minutes?"

He actually looked concerned. "I don't know," he admitted. His shaft pulsed in my hands and I gave him a seductive, dangerous, hungry look.

"Let's find out."

Too be continued...

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