A Fishing Trip, But I'm The Bait Ch. 03

His hands encircled my little waist and began to pull my yawning hips onto his rigid cock. With one long, overwhelming thrust his weapon buried itself into my flesh until I thought I could take no more. I cried out in triumph and pain. I had Paul inside me: his huge, tumescent, veiny cock that tasted of salt and man. In a flash of comprehension I understood who I was and felt more whole than I had ever done. He began to withdraw from me and I felt each ripple of hard flesh as it dragged through my gripping muscles.

I looked at his face. His eyes were half closed as though he were drugged as he returned to me, his hard thick member forcing a second thrust into me until I felt his balls on my skin. Now I was his. I could die now and be forever his but his thrusting member kept me alive. The individual strokes began to blur into a rhythm: I had lost count and our bodies shook together at his pace.

I looked at this big man as he pushed into me with a need I could fulfil and I felt such tenderness for him. His prick slid and slid along my walls and I reached out to clasp my fingers around his powerful neck, drawing him ever closer. Our lips met but our kisses were brief as our bodies moved back and forth against each other.

As I relaxed into our tempo I began to feel more in control of my thoughts and was amused that Paul was still wearing his lumberjack shirt. I let my outstretched hands fall from his neck and let them rest on his collar and began to unbutton his shirt to reveal the mat of dark hair on his chest. Suddenly his hands had slipped out from my waist and he grabbed my wrists with a grip of iron so tight that I cried out.

"Stop that!" he growled and clamped both wrists in one hand.

"Ow - you're hurting me!" I whined, but his huge cock continued to pound into me.

"Be quiet!" he shouted but his prick was gone and he had spun me over, with my face pressed into the dusty cushion.

His maw of a hand pinned me down at my waist as his other guided the head of his wet cock over my entrance and with a single powerful stroke he buried it in me to the hilt. I felt a new pain from my cruelly treated pussy and a deep ache that grew inside, so that I sobbed out loud. My cries were lost in the dusty, dirty cloth as Paul dug into me with renewed pace. My thighs were pressed together and he crouched over me, his balls slapping on my bottom. His one hand pinched hard at my waist whilst the other pressed the back of my neck into the seat. I was frightened by his animal force and by his stabbing meat that dug ever deeper into me. I wanted it to be over and felt that my whole body had become a receptacle for his lust. I gave myself to him but he wanted more.

I could feel his member swelling inside and its rhythm change. His tool pulled out of me and I was spun round again. Gasping for breath after the confines of the seat, Paul was kneeling up in front of me, his angry cock gripped in his fist.

"Swallow!" he ordered through gritted teeth and pulled my opening mouth onto his cock, just as it exploded on my tongue. Great spurts of thick come filled my throat and I struggled to swallow. He kept coming and I was unable to cope and began to choke until he released his grip to let the last streaks splash randomly on my face as I coughed.

Neither of us could speak as Paul was heaving for breath and I was still recovering from a near-drowning in spunk. Paul was sitting heavily across my thighs and his softening cock was leaving a wet trail on my skin. I was rubbing my bruised wrists when Paul finally spoke.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you, sweetie," he said, brushing his hand through my hair and lifting my chin to face him. "Are you OK?"

"You frightened me, Paul. Why did you do that? Did I do something wrong 'cos you seemed so angry?" I was upset that the joy of losing my virginity had been spoiled by his reaction and was confused.

"Oh, it's nothing - just stupid. It was wrong of me and I'm sorry," he replied looking at my mouth and avoiding my eyes. He gently rose from the seat and stooped to retrieve his clothes, whilst I rested back on the seat brooding.

"it was..." I paused to recollect the moment. "It was when I tried to take that stupid shirt off you. What was wrong with that?.... Paul....Paul, what was wrong with that?"

"If I remember correctly," he finally replied with a laugh. "You had eight inches of cock inside you so, I'm not sure you're account is exactly accurate!"

We smiled.

"Eight was it?" I teased him." I only counted six."

"Well there you go - blurred vision. You got everything a man can give: what more do you want?"

"I want to make love to you naked in a bed, that's what I want!" As I rose from the seat to reach Paul before he completely dressed, my skirt fell to the floor.

"And a new skirt now, too. You've bust this one, ya big stud!"

I was standing naked from the waist down, all legs and blond hair. I guessed this might have an effect on him.

"God, you're gorgeous," he said. He pulled me into his embrace, cupping my bottom in his big hands as I let my head rest on his chest. He planted a kiss on my head so that I looked up at him and I closed my eyes as he bent to kiss me. Our tongues entwined but, as I slipped my fingers into his shirt, he broke away abruptly.

"Please don't, Jane," he spoke with resigned annoyance.

"No - I think maybe you're ticklish Paul," I giggled mischievously and I began to pluck at a button. He put a hand firmly over mine, but I was too quick for him and I darted my hand to the next button, still laughing at the game.

"I said 'No' for chrissakes!" he shouted and cuffed me hard across the head. I recoiled with tears, more of shock than pain.

"What the hell was that for?"

Paul took a step to me that made me cower away from him. He threw his hands up in defeat.

"I'm sorry," he chanted.

"Well fuck you!" I was back on the sofa and pulling my scattered clothes to my chest.

Paul stood uncertain what to do. He half turned to speak, but walked to the door where he paused again.

"I love you, Jane. Do you know that? I love you," he said. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor but I heard his boots crunch on the gravel as he turned to go.

"Fuck you!" I shouted after him but my voice was already breaking and I began to cry with big heaving sobs into my curled up knees.

"Fuck him," I sobbed to myself. I was angry with Paul, angry with myself but more than anything, miserable that such a special occasion had ended so horribly. "What do I do now?"