Everybody's Angel

Humiliated to be so perverted, I drove myself toward climax riding his pole, driving myself down onto his huge cock, trying to fit more and more of him inside. I looked him in the eyes, ashamed of my wantonness, enflamed by my freedom.

Panting, and moaning to myself, I writhed atop his rod, my thighs burning, but impelled by my lust. Normally I would never be able to do squats over and over so low to the ground, but I felt strength I never usually had access to.

The slippery slide of his flesh inside mine was delicious. Even as my insides stretched with difficulty, my nerves were thrilled with this intimate contact. Reaching down I rubbed my clit as the tingle of orgasm teased in the distance.

Over and over I drove myself down on him, taking him in, stretching myself over him. I sat on him, grinding my hips around as I wedged him deep, whimpering as I tried to get him all inside. I was obsessed with having all of him inside me.

Calmly he watched me suffer. He'd seen it before, I could tell. There was also a hint of pity, as if he doubted I could do it, or that he thought I was insane. Either way, he was wrong.

Each time I lifted off of him my insides relaxed, emptied of his girth, but I dared not let his big knob fall from my grip. I wasn't ready to force it back inside. Lifting up I could feel a resistance where his knob filled my opening, thicker than his shaft.

Instead I sat back down, filling myself. I had most of him inside me, but he bumped against my cervix. To take more in I felt like I had to grow a longer vagina and move some organs aside. Yet, as I sat down on him, I could feel my canal stretch longer, taking more of him in.

It hurt, but not in a sharp way, more a dull lengthening of tissue not accustomed to working so hard. The pain was entwined with the pleasure I was getting from being so full of him. The pleasure/pain, seemed appropriate for my wanton behavior.

Vigorously rubbing my clit, I gazed down at the man I was using. He watched my body move atop him, his hands stroking the tops of my thighs distractedly. Being watched increased my lust. My pleasure was usually so private, a witness the worst thing that could happen. But here and now a witness heightened the gratification.

I lowered my eyelids, hiding from him, allowing him the freedom to gaze, and allowing myself the freedom to give over to the pleasure. Warm tingles filled my sex, my fingers rubbing my tender button, my pussy crammed full of strange dick.

Gasping my need, groaning as rapture awoke in my body, I strained toward my release.

If my body were a song and the various parts of my body playing the music, my pussy was the loudest instrument in the orchestra. Crying out its impassioned notes, vibrating with urgency, my sex impelled the rest of my body to move faster, to put greater effort into achieving climax.

Putting both hands on my knees to help leverage myself up and down and on and off of this man's mammoth cock, I drove myself toward orgasm mindlessly. I was reduced to base animal lust.

The only thing my brain was able to produce by way of thoughts were lashes of shame for the sordidness I was involved in, and the ecstasy those lacerations produced. The thought of my family discovering me like this, vulgarly rutting in the dirt with a stranger, stripped bare and displayed for any passer-by to see, it was humiliating to contemplate. Their disapproval was palpable.

Yet the breeze on my wet sex felt wonderful, the cool air on my bared flesh enticing. The fact that any passer-by could see my degradation filled me with decadent exaltation. I had grown up a performer, placed in the spotlight since my earliest years, why wouldn't I crave an audience for this, the greatest pleasure I had ever known?

The burning ache in my pussy spread outward along my legs, up my spine and across my chest. I whimpered and shuddered as my muscles trembled with the oncoming release. Elusive, my orgasm tried to slip away and hide behind the guilt.

My lust fired back showing me an imaginary vision of myself doing this out on the street in front of the crowd I had just scrambled through. Grunting like an animal, I continued working my soaking wet slit up and down his rigid pole, my body trembling on the verge of explosion.

Then the man reached up, one hand began to rub my clit, while the other groped my small breasts. The extra stimulation, the active participation of my partner was all the stimulation I required. My orgasm detonated along my nerves, radiating outward from my clit and filling the world with pleasure.

I made sounds that seemed like weeping to my ears, but were simply the sounds that happened as my core convulsed and forced air out of my lungs. Squeezing and releasing, my body writhed in climax. My legs gave out and I sat down on his cock, driving it deeper than ever before.

This pressed his knob into my cervix, which both hurt and thrilled me. My climax intensified, turning from one into a series of detonations as he thrust up into me. Over and over my body pulsed as his fingers worked my clit and his cock moved in tiny thrusts. I sought escape from sensation and tried to rise up off of him.

My legs were too weak, and in a strange position, spread wide and open. I fell back down onto his cock and once more became wracked with euphoria. His hands lifted from my clit and ceased mauling my tender breasts. Instead he gripped my buttocks the stranger began to lift me on and off of his massive erection.

The entire time I had been indulging myself on his cock he had passively watched. Now as my body squirmed with overstimulation he took control and began to thrust himself into my quivering depths. Helpless in the throes of my ecstasy, I fell forward between my thighs; my knees uncomfortably wide open around my shoulders.

Flopped on his massive chest, I squealed as he held my ass and slammed himself deeply inside my erupting sex. Somehow my orgasm increased in scope, the lashes of sensation screaming up and down my nerves scoured my brain clean of rationality, morality, or identity.

It was disorienting how much of my consciousness appeared to be housed inside my sex at that moment. The need to be filled with his seed overwhelmed any concerns about getting back to my family in time, or of being caught out here in the garden fornicating. I just needed him to cum.

A dizzying sensation swirled in my brain, and I thought I was falling off the Earth for a moment before I realized he had flipped me over on my back without disengaging from my body. Before I had a chance to marvel at that, he resumed pounding himself into my scorching hot sex.

Something about this new angle, or the loss of control over how deep or fast I was filled changed the nature of my climaxes. Instead of rapid little explosions, suddenly I was having one long, vastly more intense climax.

My body seized up. I froze, unable to move, straining, clamping down as I lost power over my nervous system. Helpless, I felt a heat like no other scorch my clit with total delight. Then I felt a degrading loss of control as I squirted something all over his dick.

Vibrating with mortification at the loss of control, I peed myself as he drilled me wonderfully with his massive cock. Even as I soiled myself, (Or so I thought at the time) I relished the delight my body felt to have him moving in and out of my burning grip. Even that level of repugnant behavior didn't seem to bother him; he continued his unrelenting assault on my tiny body.

Insatiably I quaked with endless orgasms, my body rigid and tormented with the extremity of my rapture. Over and over streams of demeaning fluid splurted from my body and I mewled my shame even as I delighted in my ravishment.

I felt fluid running down my buttocks, lewdly tickling my anus as it flowed out of me. Each plunge of this stranger's erection into my sopping depths forced a squishy, sloppy sound from my body. It was so sordid that I whimpered in humiliation.

How could he carry on fucking me in such a soiled state? I looked down and watched him thrust into me, my chagrin finally ending my orgasmic feedback loop. I saw where our glistening bodies joined, my juices coating both of us in a sheen.

I also saw that his entire penis was nestling inside my body when he completed his plunge. I had taken him all. The satisfaction that gave me helped me forget that I had peed myself. I lay back, taking huge lungsful of air as my body attempted to recover from the power of those orgasms.

It wasn't until a few years later that I understood the concept of a female ejaculate, but until I found that out, I had awful guilt over my habit of peeing myself at the very height of my orgasm.

Back then, after my first squirt, I lay on the ground panting, the most exquisite mix of ecstasy and degradation swirling around in my chest. After a few big breaths my thoughts once more resembling the brain I was used to. I had felt unhinged for a time there, but now I was myself again.

I looked into my lover's eyes and smiled to see him watching me.

"Thank you." I whispered without thinking about it.

His dark eyes grew intense and he held my gaze as he began to pummel me with his cock. Slamming into my depths, pounded down into me, forcing the air from my lungs and rousing my orgasm once more, he fucked me hard. With each thrust of his hips another climax approached closer.

I was tired, and I wasn't sure I could withstand another orgasmic cycle like that last one, so instinct took over and I begged him "Don't cum in me. Cum in my mouth."

Still fucking me, he looked deeply in my eyes. "Say it again." He grunted.

"Cum in my mouth. Please."

I could see a strange look in the depths of his eyes. He was looking right at me, seeing me, but also he was lost inside his own world. It was disconcerting.

"Say it." He ground out, his voice hoarse.

"Cum in my mouth. I want to taste you. I want to taste myself on you. Please. Give it to me. I want it."

Then abruptly he pulled out, his huge knob making me gasp as it passed through my tight opening. Then I looked up and saw his flat stomach above me, his hand full of his huge boner, which was aimed right at my mouth.

I lifted my head and put that glistening rod in my mouth, swirling my tongue around, tasting my juices and feeling his heat. The man grabbed my head with one hand, his huge first gripping my hair, and he stroked himself quickly with the other, moving his knob in and out of my widely spread lips.

Panting, my lover fucked my face, his orgasm clearly close. It didn't take long, a few moments of tasting the musky tang of my own pussy all over his prick, when in a spurt the taste was replaced with the flow of sperm jetting over my tongue.

Reaching down, I began to play with my throbbing clit as the man used my mouth, filling me with his seed as I swallowed his load. Greedily I slurped all he could offer. I loved the pungent flavor, so strong and strange. I gloried in the slippery slide of it over my tongue, and down my throat. The heat soothed me. The symbolism stirred me.

When he finished spilling his sperm into my face, he released me and moved away. I flopped back on the grass sticky and sweaty, my poor, stretched pussy aching, my tender clit abused by my still moving fingers.

I looked up to see him watching me lie on the ground fingering myself brazenly, swallowing his semen, and licking my lips looking for more. Panting from our exertions we looked at each other, bonded and yet strangers.

He broke the spell first, turning to retrieve his clothes.

Reluctantly I scrambled to my feet, dizzy and spent.

We dressed wordlessly, the sound of the festival still surrounding us, but seeming to be a million miles away.

When I finished dressing he was already done, simply watching me.

I looked back at him, and then looked away guiltily. I knew nothing about him, or his life. I just used him and tore him from whatever he's been doing a little while ago. I was chagrined by my behavior, ashamed of my need, humiliated by my lust and mortified by my excess.

And I'd never felt more satisfied, and sated before. My legs wobbled as I walked back to the gate. That was an amazing fuck. I stepped out into the alley and turned to watch him locking the gate behind us.

"Thank you. I can't tell you why, but that meant a lot to me. Really."

Something in how I said that eased some tension in him and he managed a small smile.

"I'll never forget it, that's for sure." He said.

Then I hurried away, skirting the crowd, and hurried to the hotel. Just before I went in I glanced at myself in the widow and saw how tussled my hair was. I smoothed it and adjusted my clothes until I felt presentable. I'd been gone too long.

Inside, our tour manager was sitting in the lobby doing something in her thick notebook. When she saw me approaching her she stopped. "Good, you're back. Here is your key."

Looking me in the eye for a moment, she scanned me from head to toe. I blushed, assuming she could tell exactly what had been going on. I was sure she could smell my sex, see his sperm on my lips, hear my heart pounding, but she simply handed me the key and went back to work.

I went to my room. Instead of rushing to the shower I sat on my bed and talked with my sister about the show. She hardly looked at me. My pussy was still leaking in my panties, I could feel the damp cloth sticking to my skin and my sister had no idea I had just been fucked.

I felt elated.

I could go on; there were many more clandestine encounters, but soon my brothers and sisters had children who replaced them, and eventually me, in the family business. I went solo and carved out a solid career as a singer. I always sought, and still seek, illicit sex whenever I can, but it has much less appeal now that I can find legitimate partners who love and care for me.

But every once in a while, when I'm out alone, I give in and seduce some poor unsuspecting man. I like to think I'm being their own little angel for a while.