Heart's Hunter

His eyes told me that he was both honest and gratified by the sight of my gorgeous tits. Men have lusted after them since they first filled in and I knew how they had sway over the lusty thoughts of men. They had been groped a thousand times and looked at just as often if not more.

"I'm glad you enjoy them," I hoped to appease him finally.

"You look so sexy sitting here," he said honestly, "and your legs are very beautiful."

"May I cover up," I asked nervously.

Sitting half naked I worried that someone would see, or that another car would pull up. Yet my exhibitionist streak made it disturbingly exciting to sit half-naked too.

"No," he said flat. "Katherine, you are obviously enjoying me looking at you," he said unabashedly with a hint of his still boyish smile.

Taken aback by his boldness, I shot back: "Michael, you should not talk to me that way," I felt angered, "it is cold in here!"

"If you say so," he just grinned. "Unbutton your skirt," he said boyishly as if merely requesting it of me, a request that was somehow harmless and innocent.

"Please Michael," I begged; then he interrupted me:

"I want to see those legs and the tops of your stockings too, and those lacey panties of yours," he sounded more manly with desire just then.

Nervously I reached down to comply and gathered the hem of my long skirt, pulling it up off my calves to reach the bottom button. My fingertips were sweaty and I fumbled with the button but managed to unfasten it. Slowly I unbuttoned the next three.

Michael thought it was one of the most seductive things he had ever seen, the way she lifted her skirt and slowly, agonizingly slowly unbuttoned it, the way it fell open at her knees and then just a little higher until he could just see the embroidered bands of her stocking tops.

"Don't stop," he said coldly.

The next buttons opened my skirt to my thighs and then I knew the next one would reveal my thighs and panties to his view. Suddenly embarrassed and frightened by what might happen next I attempted to pull my skirt back together, but he spoke just as my hands moved it back over my legs:

"Leave your skirt open; I really like what I am seeing."

"Don't say things like that Michael," I begged.

"You are a very sexy woman, Katherine," he said sincerely, "and I cannot believe that I am fortunate enough to have such a sexy woman as a step-motherm."

"Open your legs," he said and I obeyed, easing my knees apart until my thighs no longer fully touched.

"Now open your skirt so I can see your panties," he ordered.

Obedient I pulled my skirt back open, unbuttoned the very last button, making sure that the lace tops of my stockings and my panties were visible once more.

"I want to put my hand up your skirt and feel your stockings," he said calmly.

"No," I said sternly, "this has simply gone too far."

"I just want to touch your stockings," he said firmly, "just one touch," he said more boy-like.

Although I knew it was foolish, I nodded submissively.

As he placed his hand on my knee, I felt another surge of heat and felt myself quiver, the wetness only grew more profound within me. I do not know why I did not push his hand away or say something, anything to stop him. After a moment, when he did not find any resistance from me, he slowly moved his hand up my leg until he reached the tops of my stockings.

"Do you want me to move my hand higher," he asked seductively.

"No," I said without any conviction in my voice.

His hand slid up my stocking and paused only a moment at my stocking top, and when he touched my bare inner thigh I was lost.

"I want to touch your wet panties?"

"How could I respond?" Meekly I muttered half anger and half embarrassed: "God, don't say such things."

"I know your pussy is wet," he said knowingly.

Of course he must have read all the stupid things I confessed about how wet I get. "Damn me," I cursed myself.

"Katherine," he said more directly, "do you want me to move my hand further up your thigh and touch your wet panties?"

Again I could not move of speak. I finally looked into his eyes and searched them for something, I am not certain what. My pussy was now molten hot and drooling inside, I knew a wet spot was now forming in the crotch of my panties and I could not bear his proving what a slut I truly can be.

"Answer me," his tone of voice caused me to shiver all over. He sounded suddenly so very confident, totally in control of himself and me. His hand on my bare thigh was now having a strong effect on my failing inhibitions. His eyes sparkled and shifted in color, going from a deep almost cold dark brown to a warm hazel with hints of green. Instinctively I let my legs spread further open.

"Yes," I mumbled quietly.

"Katherine, tell me what you want me to do to you."

His hand simply rested on my thigh, his fingers wrapped down to the seat, he was holding my thigh and my pussy was so very hot and wet now I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Please touch me," I whispered.

"Where do you want me to touch you?"

He asked gently yet unfalteringly.

"I knew what he wanted to hear." I gave in: "Please touch my panties, Michael," I said slowly and clear, "please touch my wet pussy," I said with a slip of my tongue.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his hand moved up my thigh until I felt the touch of it at my panties. His fingers gliding over my panties feeling the lacey pattern and the sheer veil that transmitted his touch to my pubic hairs below,. I wanted to giggle at the ticklish sensation of his first touch to my pussy. As his hand turned, I felt his fingers over my hairy mound at the top, the hairs pushing back against the sheer mesh panel. Now his palm pressed upon my mound and his fingers felt down my slit, the fabric pressing between my yielding lips, and his eyes sparkled excitedly as he found that I was truly soaking my panties.

"e must think I am a complete whore for being so wet now."

"Good girl," he said quietly.

He certainly felt how hot my pussy was and his fingers pressed into the damp crotch now burrowing into my lips under his touch. He gathered his fingers and my panties separated from my flesh, I knew what he wanted.

"Michael," I said pleadingly in a barely audible whisper, "please don't do that," I begged.

My mind screamed for me to snap my legs closed and push away his hands, to scream and yell at him to stop, but my body succumbed and I went limp under his touch.

"I want to feel your pussy," he whispered almost seductively.

My voice was gone and I said nothing.

Slowly I felt his fingers slide my panties from between my cleft and then reach inside them as they pulled tighter in my ass crack and they stretched over his hand. His fingers rubbed the full length of his new found slut's pussy lips, my lips, the hairy edges where I do not fully shave myself and I felt the arousing ticklish sensations. His fingers pressed into and between my moist lips and I felt him touch at my dripping wet hole. Silently I moaned and the moan lingered as his finger traced up my slit towards my apex.

I was his slut, even if he could not understand it, or recognize it, but I was his slut the moment he had me caught. "Please," I began to speak, meaning to beg him to stop, but just then he found my clit hood I just gasped.

He paused when he reached the very top and his finger rested on my most sensitive flesh.clit hood.

"Your clitoris," he said almost lovingly.

And I gave a faint moan to encourage him, and then he started a rhythmic circular motion on my clit as if he knew exactly how to tease a woman in lust.

Michael heard her moan and moved his fingers at the place he understood would give her the greatest pleasure. He felt her hips rise up and down to meet his finger's motion as he stimulated her clitoris. As he continued to rub her clitoris, he moved his free hand up to her right breast touching it.

I felt the soft squeeze of his hand on my whole tit. I needed that, my tits are sensitive and erogenous; the sensation of a man grabbing them sends my pussy more pleasure. His fingers pressed into my flesh and he lifted it a little.

He felt how supple her breast felt and when he lifted it in his hand he admired the weight. He squeezed and felt the complex inner structure and how it was both firm and soft, warm and cool, the sensation never ceased to amaze him.

Then I felt his fingers touching my nipples and then the pinch between his thumb and index finger. As he rolled the nipple between his finger and thumb he increased the pressure on my clit. "He must know how my nipples are sensitive and connected to my clit," I told myself.

"Pinch my nipple more and rub my clit hardermore," I moaned absentmindedly.

As he did so I was allowing my body to submit to my desire to orgasm, my climax was now shamefully within my grasp as the pleasure in me mounted steadily with every roll of my nipple and circle of his finger over my clit.

"Use your thumb to rub my clit," I panted, "and put your finger in my pussy, please," I moaned my encouragement.

He was able to slip his middle finger into her very warm and wet vulva, feeling the fleshy ring of muscle and then the firmer inner walls of her vagina. She felt tight yet open to him, her labia and vulva were absolutely drenched and he marveled at the feeling and beauty of it all.

I should have struggled to keep him from doing so, any sane or decent woman would have, but I could not actually make my pussy close with my legs spread open this way if I had wished to. As he began to insert his middle finger into my pussy, I felt how easily the wet open hole welcomed his violation and I moaned in relief. Eagerly my pussy seemed to grip his finger like a suckling mouth as he buried all the way to his knuckle.

"Pull it out and wet my clit," I panted, "then finger me again, please," I moaned seductively.

He pulled out his finger and rubbed my wetness over my sensitive inner lips, then put it back in again. I shuttered. Michael was able to slide his finger along my wet slit between my lips until he reached my most sensitive of spots. I gasped. Once more he pushed his finger down and into my pussy, he wetted his finger and then put it on my clit to wet it as I needed.

"Use your thumb on my clit," I panted, "circle it gently at first and pinch my nipples lovingly," I moaned.

"Yes, like that," I panted, "deeper, up front, yes," I moaned as he perfectly stimulated me.

He pushed his finger deeper inside me and curled it back so I felt its tip on my inner wall. The spot was perfect and my body trembled.

"Yes," I panted again, "right there," I said in a low seductive way, "that is my g-spot, press on it, rub it slowly but firmly," I whispered to him in a sultry moaning voice.

"Suck my nipple, suck my tits," I thought; then managed to beg: "Suck my nipples."

Michael leaned in and put his lips to the very tip of her hard nipple, he kissed it like that before pushing his lips over it. He pressed it to his top teeth and rolled it upon them with his tongue, letting it slip from his tongue and then closed down on her nipple with his mouth to suck her nipple into his lips.

"Lick the tip," I moaned again.

He licked it and then took my nipple between his teeth, and my pussy was desperately wanting to have my climax badly now.

He heard how her breathing got heavier, deeper and slower, but now he held her stiff nipple between his teeth and tongue. She moaned with pleasure at his every touch. He kept his finger at her sensitive place inside and his thumb rubbed over her clitoris. Again she moaned. He then rolled her nipple gently upon his top teeth and heard her moan once more.

"Suck my nipple harder," I moaned.

As he did I wanted more! He pushed his finger deep into my hole and then pulled upon me. I began to pump my pussy against his fingers as the first tendrils of an orgasm began to slip over my body.

"Please put another finger in my pussy," I begged and moaned greedily. He slipped a second finger into my pussy and I felt fuller, my opening stretched and I imagined my lover's long, thick cock inside of me.

"Fuck me with your fingers," I pleaded like a wild woman. "Bite my fucking nipple," I moaned crazily.
I squealed in pain, but that did not stop his mouth from sucking my tit and biting my aching nipple. My breathing became more rapid the harder he bit down on my nipple over and over and flicked his tongue at the very tip. Pressing my tit to his mouth, I begged for him to bite me as I clamored for my climax.
"Fuck my pussy harder," I pled.

As I felt him furiously fuck his fingers into my pussy, I felt my orgasm rising and I began to moan in earnest as the throes of my orgasm released. As his fingers plunged completely into and out of me, I was overcome by the strongest orgasm I had experienced yet!

Michael kept his fingers in her pussy and his thumb on her clitoris as he reached for his phone to take a picture. Her vagina was convulsing in rhythmic spasms on his fingers and he felt as if it would bite and swallow them if it had teeth like a true mouth. First she screeched in a high-pitched whelping before her sounds deepening into a moaning that was long, low and guttural as she finally quivered and went limp, her pussy still pulsing upon him.

Lost in her orgasm's blissful after-effects, she just laid back deeply in her seat, her legs almost obscenely open, her pussy wet and the hairs all matted, her nipples were red and swollen plump. As he admired the magnificence of her climax and the beauty of her body, he kissed the wet juices of her from his fingers and took a deep inhale through his nostrils.

Slowly I returned from my hazy, fog shrouded inner place. I shivered as I finally felt cold on my burning hot body. I was sweaty and wet, my skin sensitive and I felt the truth of my behavior like another vicious slap.

"What have I done," I muttered stupidly, "forgive me," I whispered almost inaudible.

"You are amazing," he said with a young man's awe.

"Please may I dress," I begged quietly, "I don't want anyone to see me like this."

"I want your panties," he said as an order.

"I know," I said resigned to that oddly masculine desire for a trophy, especially the panties of a new conquest, his request was nothing that offended me.

Willingly, my ass lifted and I felt him pull my panties free, then I sat and lifted my legs so he could pull them off. As he rolled them down my legs I stepped to free them past my pumps and he took them and held them, admiring me in one gaze and then glancing to my still warm and damp panties.

"You may dress yourself," he said kindly.

Once I found my bra and top on the floor and seat, I hurriedly put them on, buttoned my skirt quickly, and when I looked over to him, I saw him holding my panties while he looked at me.

"May I have those now," I asked weakly, hoping he might actually surrender them.

"No, Katherine," he sounded full of confidence once more; "these will be my reminder of today's pleasure from you."

My panties were draped in his fingers, the damp crotch resting in his open palm. I imagined him smelling them or touching them later. I wondered if he would masturbate to the memory of today or use my panties to recall what I had done in other lustful boyish ways. After a minute, he slipped them into his pocket.

"We can go home now," he said very satisfied.