The Christmas Exhibition (8 page)

             
My licence to lash out seemed revoked. “You saw what?”

             
“Sean's dad came out the front door a split-second later. Sean turned suddenly away from me. But then I could
really
see it through his fly. It was hard and pushing against the material.” Jill tucked a blonde strand of her hair behind her ear. “His cock was thick, Matt. I have no idea what length he was, or what the shape was really like... But I now know he has a thick cock.” She shifted her legs together. “Oh God, I wanted to reach out and touch his dick. I wanted to stroke it. Fuck, I felt like a slut. A wanton little slut. I'd danced with those other guys. I'd made him jealous. I'd made him angry. I'd actually driven him to make the closest thing he could to a move on me, and it was me who was stood beside him with my legs parted, my thighs soaking and my eyes stuck to the barest of glimpses of his cock through his fly. I just wanted a feel, Matt.” Jill unlocked the fingers of her left hand and slowly glided her hand down her body. “Just a few seconds. I wanted to slip my fingers inside and touch him. My thoughts were running wild. I thought of the smell of his fingers...” Her back arched. “His piss...” Her hips raised her ass. “And...” Her hand slipped under her groin. “God, Matt, I wanted it... I wanted every sordid part that fucker entails...” She was suddenly masturbating again before me.

             
The roles reversed.

             
The welts on her backside healing.

             
The pleasure in her eyes returning.

             
My erection withering.

             
I dropped the leather belt on the floor.

             
“Oh yes,” she moaned. “His dad told him to hurry up. He gave me a look as well. Sean was shy... He couldn't look at me... Fuck, I couldn't look away from his thick, fucking cock. The light was just hitting it at the right angle.” Jill's hips ground her cunt into her fingers. “Oh God, Matt, watch me, please. Watch me fuck myself as I tell you about earlier.”

             
I fell back on the sofa.

             
“Throw me that Santa hat. I wanna wear it. Like I did earlier, when that fucker tried to kiss me.”

             
I tossed the hat to Jill's side. My fingers wrapped around my penis.

             
Jill fondled the Santa hat, struggling to place it onto her head. “The way his father looked at me... It was
so
hard to read. I know he's always thought me
so
polite and different to the other girls. He's always had a smile for me. And I for him. He must've always thought I was so innocent.” The slapping, juicy sounds of her fingers entering the depths of her hole rang out loudly. “He just didn't know what to make of me and Sean... Sean gave him a look. A fuck off look. His dad walked away towards his car. Sean half-turned to me. Fuck, my pussy was on fire. Flaming and craving this ignorant, fucking prick I can't stand. Oh, Matt, I'm sorry, I couldn't take my eyes off his fucking cock. His thick, fucking cock.”

             
I started to jack myself, unable to fathom my sudden fascination with her potential, and somewhat cherished, philandering.

             
“I just wanted to reach inside and give him a wank.”

             
My cock stiffened in my palm.

             
“He asked me if I needed a lift.” Jill's naked body was writhing on the coffee table. “He couldn't look at me, and I couldn't look away.” Her lust flummoxing. “I said no.” Her craving disturbing. “He asked me if I was sure.” Her luscious, unbelievable body beautiful and disgraceful in the full flow of her solo session. “Did I want to go clubbing?” She seized a breast in her free hand. “I said no.” She pinched a nipple. “He looked gutted.” She smiled, sheepishly yet shamelessly. “The poor fucker.” Her lips curled into a conniving grin. “I didn't want to go anywhere with him.”

             
“Slut,” I whispered, unheard under her moans and motioning.

             
“He said about us going out to a club another night and the word
maybe
slipped out of my mouth.”

             
I watched, wanking miserably. Playing with my pole in a paradox. Masturbating. Hungrily. Happily. Inexplicably.

             
“I just wanted to make him cum in his trousers and then smell his filthy, fucking cum and piss on my fingers.” The familiar fires which dictated the beginnings of Jill's orgasm seized and tensed her torso. “Fuck, Matt, grab me.”

             
“What?”

             
“Grab me! Pull me off this table. I need to sit on you. I need to sit on your fucking cock!”

8

My moment of hesitation passed.

             
I seized my beautiful, wanton girlfriend from her place on the coffee table, yanked her head back by her blonde hair and ignored her screams, dragging her elbows and knees scraping against the wood until she careered onto the floor.

             
“Oh shit!” she cried. “Treat me rough, baby! Yes! I deserve it!” The pom-pon of her Santa hat fell in front of her face.

             
I sat back on the sofa, rejoicing in the rambunctious merry-go-round from subordinate to dominant to sub and back again. “Come here,” I commanded, and grabbed Jill's hips, mauling the red marks on her flesh.

             
Jill's legs splayed to either side of mine. Her beautiful, pulsating pussy was inches above my erect cock. She stared longingly into my eyes. “I need this.”

             
I grinned, placing one hand on my member and the other around her waist. “You're going to get fucked hard, little girl.” I positioned my cock at the entrance to her cunt, glided against her soaking lips and pushed hard and deep inside her.

             
Jill slapped my chest. “What the fuck are you doing, you fucking idiot?” she demanded.

             
I was speechless.

             
“How dare you!”

             
I bucked my hips angrily up against her, grinding my cock to the base inside her pussy.

             
“Fuck!” she screamed. “You fucker!”

             
I seized her chin and forced her to look down at me. The pom-pon swung out of her vision.

             
“You fucker, Matt, what are you doing to me?” She was shrieking, arching her back and shoving her cunt aggressively onto me. She slapped my chest suddenly again, stinging and reddening a palm print.

             
“What?” I was clenching my teeth.

             
Jill threw her hands around my neck, slid forward and swallowed my tongue in her mouth, pushing her breasts against my chest and the velvet insides of her vagina up and down on my cock. “You...” She was insatiable, biting and licking my tongue. “... Know how I feel...” She sucked swiftly on my lips. “... About letting you...” She pulled my head back and devoured my neck. “Fuck me without a condom!”

             
I clasped her breasts in my hands, massaged each areola simultaneously and pinched her nipples gently, fearful of a rebuke for my more aggressive nature. “Yet your cunt would've loved that bastard Sean fucking you without a condom.”

             
My words met with the desired effect, as Jill's body careened suddenly backwards, rocked by convulsions. “Oh God!” she cried, shutting her eyes.

             
I suckled on her tits, ramming my cock up inside her.

             
“You fucker! Fucking me without a condom. No! No! No!” Yes! Yes! Yes! Her demeanour cried. “Dirty fucker!”

             
I wondered where her mind was. On Sean? On his fingers? His lips? Or the gap in his fly?

             
“Give me it, baby.” Jill's fingernails scraped my neck to my shoulders. “Give me your inexperienced cock. Show me what I've shown you.”

             
I held her hips down on my thighs, and fucked forcefully and speedily up into her. “Slut!”

             
The Santa hat fell from Jill's head to the floor. “Shit, Matt.”

             
“What are you thinking?”

             
Her body stretched. Her pert breasts pointed outwards and upwards.

             
“Answer me, slut!”

             
Her throat gargled. “Sean,” she managed hoarsely. Her pussy lips swallowed my cock to the base. Her clitoris hit my groin. Her juices exploded suddenly, and saturated my pubic hair in a mix of our moistures.

             
I stood, lifting Jill with me.

             
Her torso was a turbulence of orgasmic destruction. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

             
I placed her on the coffee table, paused to position my pupils on hers, then fucked violently into her.

             
“Oh my God!” she screamed, as my balls slapped against her thighs and the wood of the table. Sounds of sweat and love juice grinding together coursed the room. Jill was powerless to proceed in any direction but the one dictated by her climax. Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Jesus, Matt, give me it harder! Give me it! Treat me like a slut!”

             
“You are a slut!” I bellowed, and shoved her back on the table.

             
Her head smacked off the wood. “Fuck!” Her alcoholically and erotically deluded mind never registered the pain.

             
I humped into her, almost using her body as nothing more than a hole to grind my cock in and out of for relief. My kisses and caresses never came. My words of comfort and complement never arrived. I was fucking my girlfriend as a bull fucks a cow. A stallion fucks a horse. A stud fucks his bitch.

             
Jill's quickly cooling juices swirled around my cock, dripped onto and drenched the table. Her body stuttered below me. Her eyes stared up into mine. Her fingers, at one second fighting the table for a grip she never found, stilled.

             
I fucked without recourse into her.

             
Her clitoris glistened, and her cunt ejaculated another sudden round of warm, wet fluid onto my abdomen. “Fuck!” she cried, her arms, torso and legs shaking and motioning independently of her thoughts once more.

             
Her pussy squelched under my reckoning. My undeterred ravishing. My proclamation and my reprisal.

             
“Oh God, Matt, I'm cumming again!” Jill looked to the ceiling, abandoning all hope she had for control of her body.

             
“Yes you are, my slut,” I said, and rammed my cock deeper inside her pussy until she screamed and pushed pathetically at my chest for freedom.

             
“Ugh fuck,” she groaned, her eyes widening and her fingers rummaging her blonde hair for refuge.

             
I pulled out of Jill, releasing her gaping hole, and watched as her lips pulsed, as if in need of further consumption. “Turn around,” I said.

             
Jill's legs were shaking as she attempted to obey. Her arms weak and compromised by her lessening orgasm. She rolled onto her side, sliding on her abundant juices on the surface of the table.

             
I smacked my palm against her ass. “Come on, slut. Present yourself for your fucking. I want you on all fours.”

             
Jill pushed herself up on the heel of one hand. She collapsed on the elbow of the other.

             
I whipped my erection against her beautiful backside. “You really do have the most fantastic arse in the world, Jill.”

             
She was panting, fighting for breath as well as balance.

             
I sickened of the sight of my slut struggling, seized her by her hips and hauled her backwards across the wooden table towards me.

             
“Fuck!” she cried, as her pussy was impaled suddenly on my erection.

             
I pulled her blonde hair to one side of her head, allowing it to cascade over her shoulders and back, fucked into her soft, soaking pussy from behind and playfully smacked my palm across her ass.

             
She was bent impossibly over before me. “Oh my God!” she cried at the top of her voice, sure to disturb the neighbours. “That's it. Give it to me!”

             
I hammered at her hole.

             
Jill was delirious, fighting her doggy-style balance onto one arm and throwing her free hand over her shoulder to my mouth. “Suck my fingers, baby, suck them!”