Possibilities

She bid me bear down on her bottom with little consideration for gentleness. Not once, but a litany of calls urging me on.

I smacked away.

"That's for being a bad girl. You definitely need a good spanking you little trollop."

"Yes, yes, yes. I am your trollop. Give me a good spanking." I spanked. Her voice quivered. Her bared bottom quaked.

Ringing slaps. A sting in each measure meted out. I hit, Holly asked for harder hits. Jerking outward, lifting, a higher span, Holly balanced precariously on the toes of the stilettos. Legs straining, stretching, riveting my attention, compelled my fingers caress her flesh and dash in and out of her in a corkscrewing twist.

In concert with the spanking, cock in hand, stroking it. How could I not. A tableau fraught with such sexuality had me facing the real possibility of ejaculating out of hand. On thighs, buttocks or other terrain not squirted most beneficially, at least to me, through her seam.

Some fancy footwork averted this untoward event.

Not ready to lead with my cock, push it in, I primed her with two fingers. Knuckles kneeled inside too.

Basic finger fucking readying her; wetness lacquered her thighs. My hand firmly embraced my cock; stroked, keeping it ready to close inside her, serve my needs, and nurture hers too.

"Damn, you are one randy wench; ready to get me in you?"

"Yes, fuck yes. I am ready." Not a kid's voice anymore.

Holly, sodden cleft twisted round my fingers, squeezed and squeezed harder. What control she had. What presence she committed in any venture.

"Not fingers, give me what's between your legs."

"Soon baby, soon. Honey, you are what my mother warned me about." This time actually said.

"Much as I love your fingers, I crave your cock more. I want it in me."

I loved such changeovers. Abruptly, with no warning, submission giving way to dominance, passivity beat senseless by aggression.

Forever and a day, I had been reluctantly and miserably sexually abstemious. Noah Campion meets Holly Lynn Ventura. The drought was over. I was soaking in the sudden outburst.

Fingers came out, cock came in.

I said "Yes, that is what I am talking about." Had I passed into her poop chute? No, I was in the right place. Its tightness always surprised me.

I was a stallion and Holly held me in her corral.

I bucked against Holly, Holly backed up.

The table groused, creaked in its timber as we stressed it with our bodies.

I leaned in, wood good and deep.

"Fuck me like a whore. Do it baby, do it. It feels so good you being in me." Words trailed off, she muttered something undecipherable as I prodded into her with all my summoned punch.

We kept doing it and kept doing it.

Slap, tickle; slamming, slowing, slamming, slowing. I fucked her with little gentleness. She fucked me in kind.

Rocking in, rocking out and holding on, Holly, glancing back over her shoulder, holding onto two woods: mine and the table's.

"Tell me another interesting tidbit, something you read. I love that."

"Now!"

Someone said genius is holding two contradictory ideas simultaneously. Holly getting fucked, thinking of trivia at the same time made her a genius in my book. Maybe I wasn't kicking the right spot if she had the wherewithal to think of such things.

I gave it not much thought. Purchased in Holly, my mind was focused on her wet treasure-trove not dry trivia. Shaking off my incredulity, I managed to think of something, something of merit, get her mind back to what we were doing.

"Here's something. The tongue of a giraffe is half a meter in length, long enough to clean its own ears."

"I might have to find a tall ladder or climb a tree, see if one of those fellows can clean something other than its ears."

We laughed. I bored in, shot deep. She squealed. Its sound signaled my success in striking her sweet spot.

The table shaking, we in the always popular doggy fucking profile, I pounded away. Holding on, my lubed shaft sped forth. Her pinching down had me under the most delightful duress. My vehicle, feeling like a long bus, thrummed with sensation seldom experienced by yours truly.

I came to this woman's bed benumbed by isolation, sexual inactivity, manly fears of dysfunction and a manful will to obliterate such fears. Restored to my youthful glory, I basked in the good feelings Holly set lose in me on a nearly non-stop basis.

"Fuck that cunt. Keep going. Don't stop."

Another third party was at play. Her ass shoved aside for now.

I had no intention of stopping. Banging away, I was already considering seconds. I'd fuck her missionary style. Grab her stupendous breasts, strop her nipples with my tongue and manhandle those huge puppies around my cock.

Jerk a shoe off one foot, play the heel across her clit, rub it gently, enthusiastically, get her off. That's what I'd do.

News flash! Stop the presses!

Holly was fast and loose. Only she and her creator, a truly great Joe if there ever was one, knew how many had her as I now had her. A goodly number, yet her sopping wet cavity retained a delightfully virginal reticence chomping down on me. In the slop we made, not the least bit loose or limber the oft found lugubrious upshot of frequent use.

Packed inside her, my cock pulsated stem to stern. In our give and take, hitting home runs I hope, my charmer on its collision course with the moist center of her sex strutted as it did years ago in Ben Flaver's ripe bodied mother.

Had her hair flowed long and loose, I'd be yanking it. Had I been Speedy Gonzalez, Flash of the comic books, I'd move back and forth between Holly's mouth and cunt, throw in her ass for good measure. Swift movements made in an eye blink. To Holly's senses two or a trio doing her at once.

Holly's irrepressible sexuality no doubt expressed itself in quantity no less than in quality.

Shouldered as I was inside Holly, insanely busy, this notion of doubling fascinated me. Not fantasy doubling by lonesome me but in friendly companionship with another male. Or another duo: a sybaritic female, all her female intuition, gentle caresses and soft texture at play while I did my rougher business.

"Holly has anyone or any twos or threes fucked you on this table?

Silence, a long period of it, literature's pregnant pause, and then a resounding "yes."

Not a yes for one man fucking her one time on this one table but a yes followed by the dispatch of more titillating information. Not only had she previously fornicated on this table, two men had simultaneously fucked her while a third man waiting his turn, stroked his cock and shot sperm across her butt cheeks. As it took place, two gorgeous, naked women leaned against the breakfast bar, drank merlot and watched.

"Even with cock in two of my holes, as busy as I was, out of the corner of one eye, I could see Heather playing her snatch and I could see the sperm dripping from Jill's. What a turn on."

Answering so well in the affirmative had the salubrious effect of driving my dick deep, deep, deep. Pondering her answer pounded blood into my member. The idea of such sizzling, quantitative sex taking place here on and about this dining room table had me dangerously close to sending a jet of hot jism into Holly any second.

"I take it you are not shocked or put off by the idea of another man or men fucking me on this table. I have fucked lots of fellows here and there. Lots of interesting places."

"Not a bit lover, not one little bit."

In such a fashion, the door to Holly's past opened. I rushed in before it shut.

"You'll have to tell me sometime of threesomes in the bedroom."

"Sure, but not right now."

My cock was barely making headway. Slowing justly excited, within one or two frictional moves of stating my excitement. My voyeur self front and center, titillated off the chart by Holly's bold talk. Maybe this vixen did gang bangs, pulled trains.

In less than 24 hours Holly had totally corrupted me. Sex mano a mano already losing its sparkle. Threesomes and foursomes and beyond sums, the nicest form of arithmetic computing in my brain made feverish by lust.

"Honey, if you want a threesome, I shouldn't have any trouble finding an interesting party. I'm sure Heather and Jill would love to play too. Later though. Now all I want is you, your cock fucking me."

Mr. Wicked meets Miss Wicked.