Kinky Callie: Five Hardcore Explicit Erotica Stories (3 page)

He was an arrogant prick, she knew that. At least she knew that was her first impression of him as he drank his Guinness and looked at her like she was some kind of amusing anomaly in his world, a lower class kind of person in his high class world. Of course, in his world high class was intellectual and low class was rich bourgeois girls like herself who had plenty of mind but no social conscious. She’d learned she’d judged him a bit too harshly, and in fairness she did have a bit of a brash personality. Still, she hadn’t even intended to invite him up. In fact, it was an offhand comment about her building that made her insist he see it, almost a challenge to him to take a look, a dare to keep looking down on her once he’d seen it.

Just a drink later, and they were in the midst of a quickie, and then a blowjob. And now, she was bent over the furniture like some kind of a complete whore while a man she didn’t know positioned himself to start another round in what was shaping up to be a marathon session of sex. It was foreign and surreal. Jamie couldn’t say exactly the last time she’d slept with a man, but she knew it would be measured in months, and a lot of them. She hadn’t intended to sleep with Brandon, but the moment had been perfect, and once they’d kissed there was no stopping them. It had been sexy and sweet and hard and fast and wonderful, and she could still taste him, could almost feel his cock in her mouth.
Jesus, Jamie, you really are becoming a total slut!

She decided she could live with the label. Ultimately, she’d been without for a very, very long time, and as far as she was concerned, she deserved the sex. She deserved the orgasms. She deserved this stranger, this man she’d known for only hours but had still seen and felt climax.
Fuck, he came in my mouth!
She’d read somewhere about clubs, entire establishments set up just to have casual sex with strangers. She certainly didn’t consider herself the type of a woman to do such a thing, but no amount of self-examination was going to change the fact that her body was bent over and her ass was up in the air and on display for the man behind her.

She felt a bit of empowerment, even bent over. She knew her ass was one of her best assets. Sometimes it could look a bit large, but in this position, she knew it was a delicious apple and Brandon would love nothing more than to take a bite. She smiled at the feel of his hands on her, thrilled at the absolutely dirty and delicious sluttiness of the whole situation, and thought oddly of peaches though she was from Arkansas and not Georgia. She turned back and smiled her crooked half smile at the man she’d known for hours and not days and asked, “Are you planning to get to it, or are you just enjoying the view.”

He looked bashful for a moment, as if the forwardness of the comment surprised him, but he recovered enough to say, “It’s a lovely view, and I’m quite happy to enjoy it a bit longer, thanks.” She smiled and turned her head back around, focusing on a cabinet directly in front of her filled with Russian Nesting Dolls. She smiled as she considered that someone crafted those dolls and expected them to be admired for their artistic merit, and yet she looked at them with her ass up, her body bent over, and with a desperate longing for Brandon to just get on with it. God! She was bent over for him! Why the hell was he hesitating?

Oh God! I’m fucking bent over like a cheap whore!
A wave of embarrassment starting in the pit of her stomach washed up and over her body and heated her face where a wave of shame crashed over it and fill her with sudden anxiety. She wasn’t the type of woman to pick up a man on the street and take him up. She didn’t give strangers from bars the chance to fuck her. What the hell was she doing. It was fine. It was understandable. She’d been lonely, had neglected her physical needs for some time, so it was perfectly understandable, but it was time to end it, to go back to being a responsible academic, a leading expert in her field. She took a deep breath, counted to three silently, and turned her head to speak.

“Fuck! Oh lord, fuck me! Jesus!” She giggled at the way she’d instantly lost all shame when Brandon suddenly filled her. Evidently, he’d enjoyed the sight of her ass long enough.
Ten more seconds, bub, and you would have been ass out of luck.
His thrusts were hard, fast; but there was deliberateness to them, and she imagined that had something to do with the course of the evening so far. The desperation, the urgency, and the need for release was already accomplished. This was all about extending the enjoyment, not accomplishing a goal.
Slut! Slut, slut, slut!
The word ran through her head, but it didn’t bring the shame or the embarrassment but instead more of the wonderful whorish and dirty feelings—the excitement without the humiliation.

The feel of him inside of her was amazing, and she felt his thrusts, really felt them. He wasn’t just slamming into her with abandon but was deliberately pushing and pulling, and she could feel his length as he moved, felt it with clarity she hadn’t expected. With the urgency and the speed of their first hours together fading, the intensity seemed to increase exponentially. His cock pushed into her as though it were nine feet long, an extended length of sensation that seemed to last forever with every stroke. She gulped and felt her nipples brushing against the arm of the chair, felt electric sensations with it. He wasn’t gentle. He was just moving slowly and deliberately. In fact, his hands held onto her hips firmly and if she weren’t distracted by the feel of him inside of her, the sound of his entry, and the way her entire body seemed to light up with heat as he moved; she might have felt a bit of discomfort at the strength of his grip.

It was strange actually. He went about the fucking of her as though he were handling a policy analysis, a methodic and exploratory unveiling of every detail, and as she moaned and felt her breath coming short, she found herself desperate for more speed, for harder thrusts. It was maddening. The sensations were so powerful and yet they left her so wanting. His movement inside of her was so measured, so deliberate. God! He tried to push back against him, but he held her hips firmly and completely controlled the movements. It was wonderful and terrible and incredible and rotten all at once. She felt teased, that was it. She felt like Brandon was engaging in a long and torturous bout of foreplay, bringing her right to the edge but keeping her there, building anticipation so strongly that all of her body cried out for it, begged for the next step.

“Come on! Come on, Baby! Fuck me now! Fuck me hard! Come on, Baby.” Brandon chuckled, and she felt a hot well of anger bubble up. Damn him! He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he loved the way it tormented her.

“Sorry, Love,” his voice was still amused, “You told me to come do whatever I wanted to you. I’m doing it.”

She made a noise that was something between a moan and a pitiful cry. It was torture. Already, she felt like just a bit of force, the tiniest increase in strength with the penetration would drive her over the edge, and she could tell the orgasm would be astounding, perhaps the biggest she’d ever had. “Please! Please Brandon…” She fell silent and bit her lip. She’d never begged before. She never begged for
anything, and certainly hadn’t ever begged a man for something sexual. It was such a terribly shameful and slutty thing to do, but she breathed out the words. “Please fuck me hard, Baby. I want you to use me. I want you to wreck me. Please, Honey. Please. I need it. Please.”

She wondered if the slang was the same, if
wreck me
meant what it meant back in the states. It worked, though. She felt him slamming into her harder, heard the wet sounds of the thrusts. She felt her orgasm beginning to bloom and she opened her mouth to cry out when she suddenly became empty. She whimpered and turned to look at him. He still held her hips tightly, but his cock was out of her, and she desperately wanted it back inside. “Oh, God, Brandon! Please!”

“Did you mean it?” He had a curious look on his face, a strange combination of his usual knowing (almost tolerant) look, the mild arrogance she admitted to herself was yes sexy as hell as she stared back over her ass to see him.

“Yes! Please! I need it!”

“Not that, Jamie.” His hands moved a bit lower and he squeezed her ass. The touch was electric. God! She was so damned close, and if he’d just move, just push into her one more time, maybe two, she knew the climax would take her. “I mean, you told me if you were bent over the chair I could do anything I wanted to do, and you’d have nobody to blame but yourself.”

She turned her head around and nodded her head vigorously. “Yes, goddamit! Just fuck me! Jesus! Please!”

She felt him moving forward and positioned herself to give him better access. “Alright,” he said, “alright.” His fingers tightened on her ass, and she moaned in anticipation. He moved one of his hands up and to the small of her back, exerting pressure and moving up until he’d pushed her shoulders down against the chair. She imagined she looked like a world class whore, but with her pussy even more exposed, she was desperate.

“God damn it! Fuck me, now! Fuck m—”

The word caught in her throat as all breath left her, and then it transformed as a strange, whistling, breathy moan. She was full again. She was full, but Brandon hadn’t pushed into her pussy but instead had barreled right through the tiny opening of her virgin ass. She’d gone from desperately wanting him to inside of her to absolute shock as his head plowed through and she felt her resistant little ring of muscle stretching painfully to accommodate his girth. As she’d felt every bit of him with his slow and deliberate strokes, she felt every bit of his entry. It
was impossible, and she felt full—more than full, stuffed completely and unnaturally. She tried to form the words to tell him to stop, but no words, no coherent words would come.

He kept pushing until finally she felt his balls swing forward and gently tap her pussy as her ass closed around the base of his shaft. “There you go,” he said. “How’s that for wrecking you?” She wanted to cry out, to tell him to take that thing out of her, to tell him it hurt and even if it didn’t hurt, she didn’t like how full it made her feel. She still couldn’t form the words, could barely breathe. Brandon brought his hand down in a hard, stinging, slap on her ass and said, “I guess you have nobody to blame but yourself”

The pain from the slap echoed through her body and heightened the pain of her struggling ass, and she squeezed her eyes shut but then opened them wide. As soon as the shock of pain finished its first agonizing circuit of her ass and thighs, it echoed back again, but this time it transformed into incomprehensible and overwhelming pleasure as her orgasm exploded over her in a blinding and impossible attack of sensation that hit harder than the shock of his first thrust into her ass. She tried to moan, but she couldn’t even breathe as Brandon began rocking his hips back and forth, pushing into her ass.

There was still pain, but it was so minimal compared to the pleasure. She felt her body clenching up and releasing. She felt wetness over her thighs as she leaked out, moving from a tiny stream to a torrent as Brandon became aggressive, slamming into her. She heard a tearing sound and realized she’d gripped the arm of the chair so tightly that she’d pulled a bit of the fabric apart at the seams. Above all, she realized she was helpless, completely helpless as her body filled all of her senses with the strange admixture of pain and pleasure that somehow seemed impossible to experience together but welcome, the way a very spicy meal might cause discomfort but somehow heightens the dining experience. When she could manage any noise, she made a long wheezing moan and said, “Fuck…fuck…fuck…”

She wasn’t really trying to express anything, but Brandon took it as a command and began slamming into her harder and harder. His cock moved furiously now, and she realized how desperately she wished something was in her pussy, something she could clamp onto as she felt herself spasming. The emptiness was torturous, but it also heightened the feelings in much the same way that his teasing had driven her crazy earlier. As for her ass—strangely, she found herself pushing back against his thrusts. Sure, it hurt a bit, but each tiny jolt of pain send a dramatic bolt of pleasure through her. She moaned, and the sound of his body slapping against her soaked thighs echoed through the room.

The pleasure was excruciating, overwhelming, and shattering. After a few attempts to push back against him harder, a few tries to slam backwards as hard as he slammed forward, she gave up and just collapsed under his thrusts. It positioned her so each movement of Brandon’s drove her clit against the arm of the chair and made the sensations even more perfectly unbearable. She felt herself losing all sight of anything, losing comprehension and thought and simply melting into unending sensation. And then Brandon was on her, his body over her back as he thrust once, twice, and then a third time. She felt him grow impossibly big inside of her and then felt him exploding inside of her. She shuddered as he gave a hard thrust and then another until he collapsed completely, his cock fully in her ass. She felt his weight above her, felt his cock still twitching, felt his body trembling a bit, and all of it felt good, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered.

He stayed in position for a while, and he lay content and full beneath him, but finally he lifted himself off and out of her. She remained bent over for a moment but finally lifted herself to her feet. The rush of blood to her head was too much, and she immediately sat on the chair, breathing heavily. She saw Brandon standing, chest heaving as he stared at her. “Brandon,” she said.