For Mistress Picked up in London

"Did you think you'd be fucking yourself in a strange woman's apartment whom you've never met in a city you do not know."

"I'd hoped," I said, in a moan. I was breathing heavily now, needing air to feed the hunger in my loins. "I'd hoped for exactly this, being here in your apartment, my face soaked with Your juice."

"You wanted to be fucked," she whispered, lips wet, a bit of drool rolling over her lower lip. Raspberry nipples sticking straight out.

"I needed to be fucked," I told this Goddess, even while I licked my lips to recover a bit more of her flavor. "I craved it from the moment I laid eyes on You."

She chuckled. "Well, we can't have you speaking poorly of English hospitality. And I have just the thing." She removed a harness from her drawer, the likes of which I had never seen before. Truth is I'd never taken a strap on before, knowing only my fingers, my dildo and my ex-husband's cock. It had a wide leather base for her mound from which jutted a most impressive blue phallus. It was bigger than my ex, for sure. Bigger even than the veiny toy I'd bought as a college girl. But the leather plate and the big dildo isn't what made it different, it was the second shaft, the one that pointed backward, into her. It was the sight of it disappearing into her juicy cunt as she donned it, the little moan she gave as she was filled and moved, to tighten the straps.

I am naughty, and I like sucking cock when I'm with man. Why not her? Granted a dildo can't feel a thing, but that includes teeth and teeth grant a fine grip upon a thing. I crawled to her, mouth open and slipped my lips over it, the way I sucked all my men, only I didn't have to shield any tender flesh with my lips. So I gripped it, moving it, thinking that if I did that the other end might move within Her.

A low groan told me I was right. So I kept working, ten sliding my lips up and down her shaft like I would when I wanted to drink. I popped it from my lips, letting spittle trail in a long line down to the tip of her she-cock. "Does Miss enjoy how I suck her?"

"God, you're a total whore, aren't you?"

"Not, a total whore. I'm working for free!"

"Not true," she said in her oh so proper English accent. "You're charging me a spanking."

"And I expect a proper spanking!" A turned on the bed, putting my head to the pillows, my bottom facing her and high in the air offered.

"Bitch," she said, but I could hear the laugh. I turned to see her holding her hairbrush. A moment later I struck my cheeks.

Oh, it hurt, it hurt, far more than the time that motorcycle dyke had spanked me before feeding me her cunt. Oh it hurt, but it was better too, because Laura gave each strike time to bloom, time for the pain to blossom into heat that spread from my cheek out into my loins. Only when it had bloomed did she strike again. On the other cheek, the redness growing, the pain turning into heat. My ass bounced a bit back into her, but I mastered myself and lifted my bottom offering it to her, my cunt burning, certain she could see the shine of juice upon my pussy lips. And she struck again, hard, and I moaned but held steady, the pain deeper, but the burn too and I know the rose red color was rising in my cheeks.

The hairbrush landed in the corner, tossed casually aside as her soft fingers took my hips. She was gentle, and then forceful holding me tight her she-cock sought it's way into my cunt. Once she found my hole, there was no subtlety. She just jammed it right in and once again I screamed. But not in pain.

There is a thing about fucking, I doesn't hurt, but sometimes you scream. When it's really, really good you scream As she fucked me, I screamed. I screamed loud enough the windows rattled and a cat hissed in the night. She pressed thighs tight to mine, wrapped her fingers in my hair to yank my head back, so my back would arch sho she could drive deeper. Her hips driving into me, mine pushing back to the squish-squish of her she cock snaking out my cunt, the emptiness of the withdrawal and the delightful fullness of each deep thrust. Laura was not subtle. If I had come to be fucked, she was here to fuck. Her thrusts were deep and fast, she grunted with them, breasts bouncing as mine shock with each deep thrust.

And most of all it was the rhythm, hard and inevitable, the sweet pleasure the slickness of her she-cock and my pussy so hungry to grab it, to hold it yet loving the sweet friction as she rode me like her thing. I turned my head back to her, to see her grunting, sweat glistening between her breasts, lips wet and perfect. I saw her fucking me and was lost, my head spinning with feeling. In that moment I became Hers, enslaved to the pleasure, the rhythm of her she-cock, the sweet brutality in every thrust. I was an addict, consumed and burning.

And then I was lost, lost, screaming so load my cries reverberated off the windows. I heard pounding on the floor from angry neighbors, and I didn't give a fuck. All that mattered was how she was fucking me, and the white hot light of orgasm, flooding my groin with joy and making my cunt convulse around her she-cock. She screamed too, mouth open, moaning as she had upon my mouth cumming but not stopping, fucking me through our orgasm to drive us both into the next.

The world swirled around my pussy for the next few minutes, there was nothing but her the she-cock linking us, our cries rattling the windows, and the sound of neighbors pounding on the door. Who cared? There were no others, there was only Her and I, and the still shaking bed upon which she took me.