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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