Bionic Stud: When Lance Met Sandra

There was no break in the noise. If one girl went quiet, the other immediately filled the silence with her own screams of passion. However, they soon began to cry out in unison. Lance was pushing both of them over the brink at the same time. The racket seemed to go on forever. His lovers enjoyed one orgasm after another with barely any pauses in between.

Sandra did not delude herself about the selfish nature of Lance's conquest. The meathead probably considered his threesome to be a more impressive accomplishment than splitting the atom. Nonetheless, she could not deny his... artistry. To pleasure two women at the same time like that required more than a big dick. Lance must have been some kind of magician.

Sandra dipped her finger beneath the waistband of her panties. It felt like a waterfall down under. The peeping fox had followed the action so closely that she hadn't gauged her own arousal. Sandra wouldn't lie to herself. She had never been so turned on before.

Lance had desensitized Sandra to online porn. Like many teens, she relied on smutty websites for autoerotic inspiration but the videos began to appear staged and phony. The actresses seemed bored and none of the guys measured up to her crush. The foxy voyeur spent long nights on her laptop, surfing the web in search of a distraction. But when she closed her eyes and stroked her clit, her thoughts always returned to him.

It had been lust at first sight. Sandra remembered the moment she saw him. The straight-A vixen had just returned to school after her suspension. Classes had ended for the day and she had left her AP Calculus textbook in the library. Sandra rounded the corner of the upstairs hallway and stopped dead in her tracks. She recognized the blonde. Sandra thought her name was Carrie. They once sat next to each other in detention.

The stranger looked as tall as a basketball player but built like a brick shithouse. The guy had long, long hair like the front man of a heavy metal band. All of a sudden, he shoved Carrie against the row of lockers that lined the hallway. He pinned her wrists over her head, closed in for a kiss, and ground his crotch against her hips. At first, Sandra thought she had witnessed a sexual assault. His movements seemed aggressive, even violent. Then she heard Carrie's moan of delight. "C'mon," she whispered into his ear. "We can't do this here."

The stranger finally backed off. She only saw the bulge in his jeans for a moment. It looked like one of those rolls of salami at a delicatessen. Sandra hid in a doorway and watched them leave arm in arm. His hand slid down Carrie's back and squeezed her ass affectionately as the couple went home to fuck. That had been a month ago. She began to stake him out a few days later.

Sandra had spied on Lance's hookups to record the sounds and images in her mind. The jezebel recalled the details later when she played with herself in the back of the van. But tonight, the vixen couldn't wait. The lusty spy shoved her hand down the front of her jeans and rubbed her clit, keeping her ear pressed to the window.

Lance delivered a stellar performance in bed. While all the participants obviously contributed to the bacchanal, he seemed to guide the proceeding. The ladykiller gently whispered instructions, coaxed and seduced, maneuvered his lovers around the bed. Magazines and blogs always warned of how awkward group sex could become but Lance made it seem effortless and fun.

And his body just wouldn't quit. Lance's legendary stamina had become common knowledge at Peoria Tech. While most guys clocked out after ten minutes, a date with him meant an hour of foreplay followed by multiple hours of intercourse. No woman could outlast him. The virile playboy proved uniquely qualified for threesomes, cranking out one orgasm after another from the roomies with his virtuoso tongue and stallion-sized cock. The raw-throated blare of shrieks and moans just seemed to go on and on and on...

Sandra would have given anything to be in that room with them, to be fucked to oblivion by Lance. She wanted nothing more than to break through that window, climb on to the crowded mattress, spread her legs, and let that male sex god stud with her.

"Fuck," gasped Sandra. Her exclamation rang out louder than she expected. The noise behind the window quickly died down. Panic seized her.

"Look!" Kate cried out. "What was that?"

Mandy and Lance glanced over at the window. Nothing.

"I swear I saw someone out there!"

"Let me take a look, babe," Lance reassured her. He swiftly got dressed, opened the window, and climbed onto the fire escape. The dorm room was on the fifth floor but only a fool would underestimate Sandra. He careened down the iron stairs two steps at a clip. The white van was parked in the alley.

Lance no sooner hit the ground than the vehicle pulled away with screeching tires. He chased after it like a champion running back. Sandra saw him in the rear view mirror. She stepped on the gas. He shrunk into the distance.

Sandra took a deep breath as she drove off the Bradley University campus. Her heart pounded in her chest like a half-ton jackhammer. She held the steering wheel in a death grip keeping a constant lookout for cops. No lights. No sirens. She had gotten away with it.

A chill ran up her leg, not as much from fear as forbidden excitement. Her van swerved into a vacant lot. She killed the engine and climbed into the back. Sandra pulled out her smartphone. She opened the recording app. The audio file ran 17 minutes. She hit play.

For the first few seconds, the speaker just buzzed with audio hiss and traffic noise. "Get on top of your girlfriend," ordered a male voice. She could hear Lance quite clearly, much better than outside the window. Sex noise ensued. "Oh, my God!" cried the first girl two minutes into the recording. "I'm coming already." After a very noisy climax, the second girl began to moan. "You dig that, babe?" he growled. "You like double doggy?"

Sandra followed their snippets of speech obsessively, clinging to any piece of information that enhanced the fevered images in her head. What did "double doggy" even mean? Sandra needed a moment to figure that crude turn of phrase. "Doggy style" meant the guy positioned himself behind the girl while she bent over. Maybe Lance had lined up both girls on all fours side-by-side on the bed and alternated partners. Sandra had seen that in porn videos before.

But, wait... He first said, "Get on top of your girlfriend." Then, it hit her. Lance had stacked the women on top of one another. Sandra finger-fucked herself as she imagined the lurid tableau, one girl crouching over the other, both asses wiggling in the air, offering twice more pussy than any man deserved. To Sandra, the position seemed slightly degrading. Maybe that's why it turned her on so much.

What kind of a guy demanded "double doggy"? The vulgar phrase didn't even belong to the vocabulary of most people outside of the porn industry. And it slipped off Lance's tongue so casually and confidently. Clearly, he inhabited a rarefied demimonde in which women catered to his most outrageous desires. It did not offend her so much as astound her. Was he really that good in bed that a girl would offer herself to him that way?

"YES!" cried out Sandra. The orgasm slammed through her body like a thunderclap. She squirted all over the bed like a broken water main. The outpouring startled her. It must have been building up for hours. And the lightning strike climax only signaled the start of a very wet and electrifying love storm.

Sandra retrieved her trusty Lex Steele dildo from underneath the passenger seat of the van. She plunged it inside her steaming quinny and imagined the night he finally would take her. She wanted a man. A real one. Sure, she had slept with a few little boys in the past. But Lance would claim her true virginity.

With other guys, they always wanted sex more than she did. Sandra played the role of the gatekeeper. She laid out her boundaries very clearly and always remained in control. Only a handful of seniors ever made the cut. She didn't mind their attentions but men left her wanting. Not one of them ever brought Sandra to orgasm. After a date, she usually hooked up with a girl. They were closeted at school but not too hard to find online.

Female encounters could be fun and trippy. They both had they same body parts and knew how to pleasure each other. The scene was more relaxed. Foreplay lasted longer. The playdates felt more caring and gentle. Sure, a woman left Sandra "satisfied." But she wanted a lover that left her breathless.

With both men and women, Sandra always had the power. The slim-and-stacked temptress knew her body to be an object of desire. However, Lance neutralized that advantage. He aroused a raw animalistic sexual craving that she could not shake out of her head. Sandra was not comfortable with this feeling in the slightest. It had made her do crazy things for the past month.

Sandra might have succumbed to him had not it not been for the fear of losing control. By spreading her legs, the only path forward would be complete submission. She would have to surrender her body and soul to the impulsive will of a consummate ladykiller. The thought both frightened and excited her. Once Lance fed the hunger that wracked her loins all her life, lust would bind her to him forever.

Sandra pounded herself with the dildo. The images that raced through her mind were precise and explicit. She thought about his ten-and-a-half-inch cock, imagined how he would fill her aching void with his incredible mass and volume. The organ would bottom out and then stretch her even further, wrenching one shattering climax after another out of her writhing body.

Hours went by. The audio recording looped for the twentieth time as the jezebel lay exhausted and panting on the mattress. Sandra had reached a point where she simply could not go on. After inciting a record number of orgasms in a single session, her pussy had grown raw and tender to the touch. Yet she wanted more.

Sandra always had been a bit of a nympho. She possessed a very high sex drive that needed a lot of attention. But Lance had sent her into an absolute delirium of lust. She went to bed with a tingling in her pussy and woke up with her panties drenched. The insatiable knockout pushed her body to multiple climaxes every night, each of them stronger than anything she experienced before surveilling Lance's exploits.

As she fell asleep, Sandra continued to think about him. Was he still banging those chicks in the dorm? Perhaps, she could go back and stake him out. She wouldn't sneak up the fire escape this time but longed just to be near him... Jesus Christ. Was she out of her mind?

__

"Fuck me! Fuck me! FUCK ME! YES! YESSS! HARDER! Cram it in my twat, you big-dicked stud! MORE! MORE! HARDER! HARDER! FUUUUUCK MEEEE!!!!"

The clock read 4am and Lance was still going strong. He pounded Mandy from behind while she sixty-nined with her roommate. Kate stroked his shaft and balls with her tongue as he thrust in and out of the wet pussy a few inches above her face. The arrangement had required a bit of juggling and balance to align so many body parts together but it had been worth the effort. Besides getting a voyeuristic kick out of their lesbian lickfest, the absurdly hot position enabled Lance to enjoy vaginal and oral stimulation at the same time.

As they continued to make love, Kate's focus shifted to Mandy's throbbing clit. Lance felt her pussy begin to clench his organ in a vibrating squeeze. She moaned loudly. He knew what that meant. Here came orgasm #17...

Tonight had offered another glorious experience to notch in his long, winding belt of conquests. But no matter how long he fucked these chicks, Lance remained unsatisfied. The superstud had torn through almost an entire box of Magnum XL condoms but each climax felt a bit weaker than the last. What was up with that?

"I'M COMING!" cried out Mandy.

Lance might have felt empty inside but the girl beneath him sure didn't. With his big dick filling her up, the virtuoso did not have to try that hard to pleasure a size queen like Mandy. Lance closed his eyes and imagined another girl in her place, a dark, voluptuous goddess, tall and long-legged. He imagined wrapping his hands around her trim waist as her firm, massive jugs heaved with each thrust.

Truth be told, tonight had not been the first time he fantasized about Sandra. His mind had been going on autopilot a lot lately. The only reason she didn't drive him completely crazy was the eavesdropping. She liked to watch. And he liked to be watched.

Over the past few months, Lance had begun to discover his exhibitionist desires. It began when he started participating in bodybuilding competitions. He loved to flaunt his overamped physique on a stage. Even more, the spandex thong revealed his limp but huge anaconda in explicit detail. No one could mention the obscene bulge but the stares from the audience spoke a thousand words. The alpha stud was the envy of every male and the fantasy of every female in that room.

Someone spying upon his lovemaking took that thrill to the next level. The cocksman loved to show off his prowess. He wanted Sandra to know how much pleasure she could experience with him. The exhibitionistic playboy wished his voyeur hadn't been scared off. Sex just wasn't as fun without his secret admirer lurking behind the window.

___

The midday sun streamed through the windshield of the van. At first, Sandra wondered how she ended up sleeping in the storage space. Her parents annoyed the fuck out of her but she did have her own bedroom. Then memories of last night flooded her mind in a wave of different emotions.

Just a few hours ago, Sandra stalked the object of her sexual obsessions. He led her up a fire escape to the fifth floor of a college dormitory where his voyeur listened to an incredibly hot marathon fuck session with her crush and two eager and willing female partners. She had spent over an hour listening to the lusty trio behind a window and then recorded audio of their exploits while finger-banging her pussy.

Sandra felt a bit disturbed by how much the whole experience aroused her, how many times she came while listening to the recording. She had stumbled into a dark, unexplored realm of her sexual psyche and its discovery proved unnerving.

Sandra searched for her T-shirt and jeans on the bed and got dressed. She caught a glance of her disheveled condition in the rearview mirror. The sight made her want to cry. She looked pathetic. It was Lance's fault. He betrayed her. No, they weren't dating, let alone exclusive, yet the two of them grew close over the past month. Then again, maybe her angst was not born of a broken heart so much as sexual frustration. Though Sandra had played hard-to-get a bit more forcefully than most girls, she had been aching for Lance to fuck her.

Not getting the guy made her angry. On the other hand, if she simply gave herself up to Lance, the player could move on to the next girl with no more effort than a swipe of a finger on Tinder. Sandra would have given away her only bargaining chip and gotten nothing in return. That thought made her even angrier.

Then again, why did she care so much about this jerk in the first place? In a few months, she would be on her way to Stanford or somewhere else a million miles away from this Podunk. Perhaps, sex would get him out of her system once and for all. That's all it was. Right?

A metallic knock sounded on the back door to the van.

"Yo, peeping beauty!" yelled a voice.

It was HIM. Sandra felt strangely calm. She slid on her mirrored sunglasses and unlatched the door. Lance leaned against his motorcycle. He wore jeans and a black tank top. It felt warm outside for a November afternoon.

"Sorry for not calling," he told her. "You never gave me your phone number."

"What do you want?" she asked deadpan.

Lance just grinned. He knew exactly what he wanted.

Sandra couldn't restrain a smile either. She had this dude just where she wanted him.

"That's what I thought," Sandra noted coolly and strutted right up to him. Without hesitation, she grabbed his crotch. Her grip wasn't painful but he sensed her strength.

"This is going to be on my terms," she told him. "From now on, I own this thing."

"Think you can handle it?" he challenged.

Sandra didn't answer. The vixen let go and motioned for him to follow her. She opened the back doors to the van. Lance climbed in. Sandra followed and shut the door behind her.

To be continued...