tagNonConsent/ReluctanceNever Talk To Strangers

Never Talk To Strangers


I wasn't sure if it'd be Loving Wives or Non- Con ... Non-Con kinda gives things away, but such is life at Lit. I hope you enjoy my effort. There may be fuck-ups.

THE HEAVILY LADEN TROLLEY gave me my chance; and I took the opportunity presented to me. Not that she knew I'd been tracking her along the supermarket aisles; I'd taken care to be the grey man, just another suit shopping for his dinner before heading home at the end of a work day. Besides, why should she suspect she was being followed?

Watching her browse for the groceries had been a surprising pleasure, not least because of the suit and heels she wore, the everyday office attire of a million secretaries and, as she browsed, I couldn't help but fantasise about ripping the buttons off that cerise shirt, which she wore a good size too small; and about rucking the tight skirt, only just bordering on decency, up around her hips; she selected mundane breakfast cereals, two-litre bottles of coke, biscuits and bread, the weekly shop, while I imagined her shoes, heels pointing skywards and dancing like a scarecrow in a hurricane as I fucked her in some dark car-park somewhere.

When she turned to look at me after I offered to help with the trolley her expression twisted with apprehension. It was a good instinct she had; I could see the polite refusal forming on her lips, society's conditioning, trust nobody, especially strange men, even in broad daylight, but, ignoring the initial blurt of protest, I took control of the cart. "It's no trouble at all," I said, talking right over her refusal of help. "Just lead me to your car and I'll be off."

Her heels clicked on the tarmac while she struggled to keep pace with me in that skirt. It's a sound I love, heels click-clacking like that. Puts me in mind of jaded whores in Amsterdam; jaded whores in Thailand; jaded whores in ... Well, I love that sound; it's an association thing, a Pavlovian response. With my cock stiff in my trousers I helped her unload all of her shit into the boot of the Toyota. It was a struggle to hold myself in check. The urge to take her by brute force was almost overwhelming but, from somewhere, I summoned the sense to wish her a good evening and walked away.

That night, after winding myself up with some particularly nasty porn, I let my imagination run free. By the time I finished with the mature blonde in her business suit she was a bedraggled, well-used cum-sponge.

I saw her again the following Thursday, at the same supermarket, loading another week's worth of family crap into the trolley. She wore a variation on the same outfit. Different coloured blouse, same size. In my head I saw the garment gaping, her tits spilling out over the cups of her bra, her face warped in that pained twist of desire and lust as she urged me to spear her gaping cunt ...

This time, in the car park, she smiled at me. "You again," she said. "Anyone would think you were stalking me."

Many a true word spoken in jest, not that she knew it – Oh the irony; I'd weep if I wasn't laughing so fucking hard.

"Well," I said, flirting with the irresistible risk of making her suss, "I did hope I'd see you here again sometime." I played the shy card and even managed a blush. "I just didn't think it'd be so soon." Pausing, I took a long look right into her grey eyes. There was a flicker in there; perhaps from fear, I wasn't sure. Again I had to fight down my urges. Those painted lips around my cock as I thrust into her mouth and heard her gag ... Forcing my mind back on immediate concerns, this early contact was the slipperiest stage, I decided to press the issue while there was still the element of confusion for her. If there was a point at which she could save herself this was it. It was a gamble to escalate things so soon but I couldn't wait. The plan had come to me over the course of the week. It all counted on the next minute or so. Around us there were people going about their everyday business. Cars drove into the vast lot, cars drove out. The petrol station attached did brisk trade. Mothers with fractious brats pushed their own trolleys laden with monosodium glutamate to their own vehicles ... And I asked Jennifer if she'd like to go for a quick coffee.

The world shrunk for me. The busyness that surrounded us faded to a background hum as I willed her to accept. Inside the bubble, under our dome of solitude, separated from the world at large, I watched Jennifer's face.

Surprise, doubt, an initial compulsion to refuse ...

"Just a coffee," I coaxed. "Back inside to Costa. A fast latte ...?" I smiled, hoping the sharp suit and guileless façade would convince her.

They did.

A week later and we met in Costa again. Two days after that it was a pub. I knew all about her. She told me about her job, her husband, her kids, everything that a lover needed to know before embarking on an excursion across such dangerous waters -- Dangerous for her anyway. I didn't give a shit about any of what she revealed; her childhood in privileged Godalming; her university days; her marriage to a moderately successful bloke who owned a printing business ... I didn't give a toss, all I could think about, as I listened to this banal drivel, was how she'd squeal when I stuck it into her. I wanted her to choke on my cock; I wanted her to kneel and pull her buttocks apart and beg me not to hurt her too much as I ripped into her sphincter ... I had some bad stuff planned for Jennifer. And it was all her fault for provoking me with those tapping heels, short skirts and tight blouses.

"Another gin?" I asked as we sat in the beer garden of a pub close to the supermarket. I knew I had about ten minutes before she'd have to head off back to domestic bliss.

Her face creased. I knew she wanted to stay; I was gratified that she wanted to stay here, in the pub, with me. "I ..." she began, and then smiled warily. "Go on then ..." she finished, relenting when she saw my crushed face.

"Jen ...?" I began with faux hesitation. She looked at me, her eyes pale behind her spectacles, she usually wore contacts but they irritated her eyes sometimes, hence the specs. I thought the eye-wear added an extra degree of sluttishness to her already tarty ensemble. Jennifer's face covered in spunk, her glasses smeared with my gunk, was an image that I savoured. It was on the list. "I was wondering," I bumbled along. "If ..."

My mobile rang. Cursing inwardly I picked it up and checked the flashing display. It was him. Answering the phone with an apologetic look at Jennifer I informed the caller that there had been developments, but that I was 'in the middle of something' right then and would give him as much information as I could, when I could.

"You were saying?" Jennifer asked.

She leaned in closer to me. I could smell her scent. The lust flared, deep and hot in my guts as my balls tightened and my cock stiffened. I couldn't resist looking down into the cleft of her décolletage as the two top buttons gaped and a third strained bravely against the pressure of her tits. "It's inappropriate," I croaked, the catch in my voice entirely involuntary. For once I wasn't acting.

Ice tinkled in Jennifer's glass as she swirled the contents. She smirked and lifted her eyes to meet mine. Blood roared in my ears, which was surprising since I imagined the entire volume of my body's blood supply was currently pulsing in my erection. "I thought it might be," she chuckled. "I'd guessed you were rather ... Keen on me."

Even though my mouth felt wadded with cotton wool in place of my tongue, I had enough noggin to carry on the game. "No, I'd better not say," I managed to mumble.

Five minutes later in the Merc and I had Jennifer's knickers down. She sprawled across the acres of back seat, her head wedged against the backrest and door panel, while I pushed two fingers into her.

"I've never," she gasped. "This is the first time. Nineteen years and ..." She groaned as I curled my fingers inside the sluice of her opening.

At this point in the seduction of Jennifer I somehow managed to repress all the atavistic urges and conducted my business with clinical efficiency. Her first affair? A pity it had to be me, but ... Shit happens. Using the perfect level of filthy talk I fingered Jennifer's opening, curling my digits inside her, probing for that tell-tale rough patch of flesh that would make her squirm. When I found the ridge under the tips of my forefinger I gave an analytical tickle. Jennifer's gasp and convulsive twitch told me I'd found the spot.

After that, it was easy.

Despite the public setting Jennifer writhed against the leather seat. Her buttocks, once the skirt was bunched around her hips and her underwear a forgotten scrap on the Merc's carpeted floor, squeaked against the cushion as she fought against my insistent fingers. Jennifer stared at me, her eyes filled with that look of hatred that lust can bring to an aroused woman's face. Tiny mewls of pleasure slipped from her mouth mixed with her mantra of: "Oh dear God ... That's so good ...Just there ... Yes ... There ..."

With the nasty talk pouring from me in a foul torrent I finger-fucked the bitch hard and fast. Her tits, spilling over the bra like I'd imagined, heaved as she breathed. Jennifer's usually neat, straight bob stuck up in hedgehog spikes of disarray as she jerked her head from side to side, all the while repeating the chant to finger her 'just there'.

I watched objectively as, holding Jennifer's labia splayed with the fingers of one hand, I elicited a squelching dribble of ooze from her opening with the fingers of the other. Rubbing the ball of my thumb around her stiff pink clitoris gained me even higher reward as the woman squirmed and writhed. The ooze increased to a dribble until, with a great groan and an audible squirt, Jennifer climaxed loudly against my hand. The juice spurted out of her and spattered against my palm and wrist as I kept up the pressure inside her.

That's going to stain, I thought to myself; not really giving a shit since the car was rented under a false name, using a hooky credit card.

Pulling my goo-coated fingers from Jennifer's body I first sniffed at them before, with a slow, lascivious wink at the panting, slit-eyed woman, I slid sliding one finger into the moue of my lips. After sucking at my finger Colonel Sanders' style, I offered her the other one to taste. Jennifer licked the smears of her juice from my extended digit, and I looked at the woman inelegantly spread across the seats, her pubic bush – that's getting a trim, I thought to myself – matted and messy with the gloop she'd pissed over the upholstery.

Inside my jacket pocket my phone rang again. While Jennifer fought to regain some composure I struggled to find the insistent instrument. I pressed the answer button and snarled that I was busy and would call him back tomorrow. Then, switching the fucking thing off, I turned my attention to Jennifer. "Can you get away for a few days?" I asked.


"Because I want to go away with you, just for a couple of days, both of us alone ... So we can ..."

"Do more of this?"

I eyed Jennifer's nipples, thick nubs like nine millimetre bullets. "Yes," I grunted. "And I'd prefer to fuck you, if that's what you want, for the first time, in a bed, not a fucking car park." I reached out and took a nipple between my fingertips. "I want to suck your tits and have you sit on my cock without fear of anyone discovering us," I lied and swapped one elongated teat for its twin.

She got away from her husband with a simple lie. Not that I needed any detail as we drove west, out of Cambridgeshire towards the Peak District. When we arrived in Cromford it was early evening. Curbing our desires, and mine were white hot and flaring, we took a walk along the road, past Arkwright's Mill, to Matlock Bath. We paused periodically to kiss and touch each other in intimate places. At first Jennifer had been reticent about being so public in our display, but as her motor revved she became more daring. Her nipples were visible despite the bra she wore under the light, sleeveless top. As we kissed, tongues rolling and swirling, I'd squeeze those big jugs and grind my erection against her body as we dry humped in a convenient bus shelter. My cock leaked its ooze as I struggled against the carnal urge to fuck the horny slut right there in full view of the weekend tourists.

We tempered down the ardour, restricting ourselves to light kisses and long, smouldering looks of desire. I had plans for Jennifer, and had four days in which to fulfil them, I could spare a little time for romance.

When we got back to the rented cottage she jumped me. "I've been thinking about what you did in the car," she babbled, tearing at my shirt with eager fingers.

"What?" I asked. "When I fingered you and you pissed cum all over the leather in my Mercedes?"

"Yes," she hissed. "And I loved it. It was so dirty; it's been on my mind for days. I could never have lied to my husband before I met you. I've never felt so ... so ... I don't know. The best word I can think of is 'complete'. Nobody has ever made me come like that. It was so intense. I thought you were going to turn me inside out."

I recalled the bruised look of Jennifer's sex as I'd fingered her to such an apocalyptic orgasm. Her cunt had gaped and clenched, convulsing in a yawning, purple maw like a ravenous mouth desperate for meat. She was right, I had nearly turned her inside out, and I wanted her to feel that desperation again. In fact, her eagerness for fulfilment was crucial to the fate I had planned for her up in the brooding ruins of Riber.

"I'm going to do it to you again," I promised, breathless after another prolonged bout of kissing. "Get me a beer from the fridge, then I'll suck your cunt ..." Jennifer gasped at the obscenity. "Then I'll suck your cunt and we can fuck." I called out to her as she moved to the kitchen to fulfil my order. "I'll fuck you once I've fingered you until you piss."

Jennifer popped the top off the bottle. She handed the beer to me with an expression that was all sparkly-eyed and horny. I swigged and grinned at her. "Take that top off," I commanded, suddenly serious.

She offered me her tits when the tank top she'd been wearing fell to the floor and she'd unclasped her bra. As I sucked at her nipples Jennifer moaned soft endearments into my hair. I unbuckled her belt and, after unbuttoning and unzipping them, pulled her jeans over her hips.

Jennifer's body, pleasingly matronly with her big round tits and wide hips, lay sprawled on the sofa. I forced her legs wide and, after commenting her now shaven mound, nuzzled at her sex. I pushed my tongue into the slippery crevice of her cunt before I dipped lower while, holding her cheeks apart, tongued her sphincter. As I licked and slobbered at her anus I first mauled blindly at her breasts before beginning the finger action she craved.

"That's so filthy!" she screeched excitedly at the insistent squirm of my tongue in that dark crevice. "My arse! ... Oh you filthy bastard."

Jennifer didn't realise that there was very little I wouldn't do when the fever of lust was upon me. I knew I'd have to take her along the road step by step, cranking the dial a bit further round each time until she would do anything I wanted her to. I popped a little blue pill with a swig of beer when Jennifer left me alone for a minute as she peed.

She gave a shriek of indignation when I pushed open the toilet door to watch. "No," she insisted, "get out ..." But her resistance crumbled when I unzipped my jeans and hauled my semi-rigid cock into view.

"Suck me," I ordered and advanced. Even as her piss tinkled into the bowl Jennifer acquiesced and, with a heavy-lidded look of desire, opened her mouth to take me.

I went in gentle at first, allowing her to control the pace. Then when she had me stiff as iron I began to ease more of the length into her mouth. She eventually got the message after I placed my hand at the back of her head and gave her enough to make her gag. I relented after the first couple of attempts, releasing her to a gasping, teary-eyed coughing fit. The eyeliner she wore dripped down her cheeks in a parody of Alice Cooper's best stage make-up, while her pink lipstick was a smeared clown's mask.

"I ... I can't," Jennifer gasped.

"Kiss me," I hissed, yanking a handful of her hair and twisting her face to mine. I heard her deep-throated murmurs of arousal at the treatment, probably because, as we kissed, I was stuffing two, then three fingers into her piss-soaked opening. Crouching as I continued the stiff-fingered good news, I used my free hand to push Jennifer's blonde head back towards my erection. She was game, I'll give her that, for she took hold of my shaft and took a goodly portion of my meat into her mouth.

This time, while my fingers squelched and probed her vagina, I fucked into her face relentlessly. Ignoring the gagging, and with Jennifer's palms pushing at my thighs in a vain attempt to dislodge the blockage in her throat, I stuffed my not inconsiderable girth down her gullet.

Sensing she'd had enough, I pulled out of her face and wanked hard at my cock. While Jennifer struggled to recover – coughing and gagging, with long ropes of drool hanging from her mouth and sliding onto her tits – I took a grip of her hair again and aimed the jap's eye at her face.

The spurts took her by surprise. She yelped and flinched as the heavy rain squirted against her cheeks and forehead. I'd been holding back for days in anticipation of this first ejaculation, and it seemed like the torrent would never end as the hot stuff jetted from me and decorated Jennifer's face with squirt after squirt of gooey semen.

After that heavy outpouring, I hauled Jennifer to her feet and dragged her limp, unresisting form around to the wash basin. I didn't want her to wash, just the opposite in fact, I wanted her to stay in that filthy state while I fucked her proper; what I wanted was for her to see what a slut she looked.

"You look beautiful," I whispered into Jennifer's ear as she stared, still coughing and breathless. I gave her a chance to recover before I licked a snail trail of spunk from her cheek and, gently this time, turned her face towards mine. We kissed and I pushed my tongue into her mouth.

She reacted better than I could have hoped for; sucking at my tongue before breaking away from the kiss and, eyes wide and glittering, scooped a finger along her breast and sucked at the goo that she'd picked up. "Ow," she said as she felt the back of her head gingerly. "You nearly pulled my head off."

"Did you like it though?" I asked, with my face a false mask of concern. "I didn't go too far did I? It's just that ... well ... I go a little crazy ... especially with a gorgeous woman like you. I hope I didn't hurt you."

"It was a bit of a shock," Jennifer admitted, rubbing her head and examining her wrecked face in the mirror. "But when you came—"

"Put the shoes on," I ordered, cutting off her inane babble. "Don't!" I added sharply as her hand went towards the small towel hanging in its ring next to the basin. "I want you to stay like that. It turns me on to see you all messed up. After seeing you in your work clothes, all prim and proper ... It's the contrast between the consummate professional lady and the absolute slut. Now, put the fucking heels on and walk around for me," I added with a growl.

Jennifer complied. She strutted around the living room of the cottage posing periodically. When she walked off the carpeted floor and into the kitchen the sound of those heels sent me over the edge. Without a word I followed her. I swigged at the beer I'd been holding and then put it down on the work top. After pushing my jeans down over my thighs, erection still at full bore from the blue pill, I lifted Jennifer onto the laminated counter and stood between her thighs. "I said in the Merc that I wanted our first fuck to be in a bed ... The kitchen counter will have to do."

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