Screwdriver

Before she could begin to recover her breath, he turned her around, pulled her to the floor (strong arms!), spread her wide and compliant and ready, knelt between her legs. The hard curved cock glowed in the moonlight, more than life itself she wanted that thing inside her body, to fill the ache, massage her womb, pump her full, give her insides something to really GRIP, and she reached for him to be his guide, to prove her acquiescence. But NO, he paused, her hands on his long arched flesh-tube, reached over her to his bag, held up a foil package for her to see. The requisite, advertised, aids-era condom. Nice, considerate, careful of him. She'd forgotten entirely, like a teenager new to this game. She shouldn't need a man's help with birth control any more. But it wasn't the sixties, either... today one could eventually die, literally, from pleasure, couldn't one? His thumb on her clit held the intensity of the moment... she rocked her pelvis delicately against it, rhythmically, as they looked at the packet together, at one another.

In a tiny voice, her first utterance other than moans and groans, she whispered "Any reason to....? " N=6 words now. He smiled, silently shook his head "No", handed the packet to her. Her choice again. She held it for a moment, then grinned broadly, tossed it aside, and said in a fierce hiss, "Then let's FUCK!" Three more words to add to their total. N=10. Good words, though!

The suddenness and completeness of their joining took her breath away. Deep inside her, she imagined their two miniature mouths coming together, cock-eye against womb-mouth, an interior French-kiss. He stroked her. She stroked him right back. A symphony developed. If he was an artist now, she was paint and canvas. This, she felt, might become the Mount Rushmore of fucks. She could feel the walls of her pussy flowing like hot molasses around the head of his cock, the rim of his helmet working wonders inside, against her most sensitive inner spot, that spot with the impossible-to-scratch itch, right there behind her pubic bone, he had found it easily, it had been the purview only of her fingers until this very instant, her private secret, and she was pleasantly shocked that he could get it, that he knew it was there, she'd never dreamt a cock could hit that itch at all, ever.... yet he did it so effortlessly.

She bit her lips to keep from howling with pleasure as he squatted there, pulled her legs together before him, pulled her butt in tightly between his warm, muscular thighs. Not until he stripped off her shoes and socks did she realize, with a shock, that they were still on. She giggled over the cheap-porn imagery, then went back to trying to breathe while he pumped her non-stop.

Then, good GOD!!! Her whole body tightened as he licked hard up the instep of her foot, squeezed her feet together, then sucked both big toes into his mouth as he stroked her cunt. Her feet were phenomenally ticklish but this was sensation SO far beyond tickle as to be unrecognizable. He kept his cock in gear, succulently in and out, kiss-kiss-kiss, her juices made even HIS crotch slippery-wet, she had NEVER been so wet, he was an artist indeed, rubbing his slippery smooth-shaven pube over her clit at the end of every stroke.

WHAMMO! She exploded into back-wrenching spasms, wanting him to come inside her, to match her, she whispered "Now, please!" from behind white hot tight-closed eyes, but he placed gentle fingers on her eyelids and opened them - she couldn't possibly keep her eyes open and let him look into her soul, that was too private, they weren't ready for that yet, but she did anyhow, and climaxed yet again, she'd never managed to keep her eyes open through a climax before, NEVER, but this time it was effortless, natural, necessary, exquisite, they were locked together, he was she was they were together a universal fucking machine.

This was new territory for her.... climaxes very much plural, how many, how long, utterly unknowable. But what a glorious experiment, here in the dark with what amounted to, really, a total stranger. Why was she doing this? She didn't really understand her presence here, with this gentlemanly satyr. What was it about him that made it both possible and incredibly right? A little corner of her mind realized something, at least.... she might not understand how she got here in the first place, but the most wonderful thing within the moment was how it was all oriented to HER! She, and her pleasure, seemed to be MG's whole reason for being there.... surely, of course, he would get his own direct pleasure eventually, but how deeply he seemed to be dedicated to HER! Most men would have had her on her knees by now, sucking. Not that that was a BAD idea, she'd always liked scratching that very different itch on the roof of her mouth with a hard cock, but for now she was mightily distracted in the best possible way.

Later for that, she told herself -- seriously busy just now.

He didn't come, but let her pulsations settle down, smiled at her, extracted "their" cock from "their" pussy to leave a disconcerting, aching vacuum. He picked her up, sat her comfortably on the engine box, knelt before her again between her wide-apart knees, suckled (finally!) on her painfully erect nipples, spent even more time on the undersides of her breasts where unsuspected nerves applauded. Then he shivered her with long luxurious licks through the sweat of her virgin armpits. As goosebumps marched riotously over her she wondered how many of these "virginities" she had left, things she didn't even imagine after all these years of fucking? He just kept finding them!

With his mouth nursing on her armpit, she froze momentarily as his hand went down beside them and out of sight, made a metallic clank and rattle. The tool box! The petit fear washed through her again, but memories of tonight so far quieted the fear in an instant. Still, that momentary clutching of her belly came almost as another climax. It returned with a vengeance when his hand reappeared... a long silver-metallic glitter. In half a heart-beat she recognized it... a big screwdriver. A good candidate weapon! What was happening?

He held it up before her like a host at communion: it gleamed. Genuinely large, a two-handed handle, big as an erect cock, with long, deep traction grooves in the plastic, a round knob on the end, altogether very phallic indeed. They stared at one another across it. Adrenaline atop the sex, more gasoline on hot coals? She'd never felt more vulnerable. Then he extended it to her, handle first, placed the handle in both her hands, softly guided the foot-long blade glistening, thick as her index finger, down between her legs, spread wide her dripping nether lips with his fingers. She felt rather than heard the silent squishing as the stickiness parted to expose her naked clit, then the incredible shock of cold, hard steel as he laid the shaft in the pink groove between clit and pussylip.

She shivered violently, aroused beyond anything she'd ever known as he moved her hands for her, up and down, slowly, set a pace for her, watched her as the sensations took her again.

Then, just as she was beginning to really lose herself in the feelings and to enjoy putting on a show, masturbating for this stranger in his private space, unexpectedly he was covering her clit with that sweet, hot mouth, and their combined six lips plus his live, moving tongue coalescing into a flesh-tunnel through which she cycled the steel, rubbing against her oh-so-willing captive clit. She could feel details in the sensations, details the likes of which she had never dreamt, every taste bud on MG's tongue was there, every tooling mark on the shaft, every residual hair on her pussy, all magnified hugely.

Faster, faster, harder, she sped up, and he simply kept pace with her, always agonizingly, wonderfully, perfectly just a half-step behind her. Her dance, her lead.

She reached some new state, a transcendental plateau, and held there, floating. Maybe this was the tantric hour-long climactic state of eastern eroticism? Kama-Sutra in a van? Her hands stopped, as did time, she was supported weightless on the tip of that vibrating tongue, the core and sole occupant of her universe.

Entranced, overloaded, she felt him take the driver from her hands, saw him reverse it, slip it down between her legs. Felt her pussy spreading wide at its touch, knew it was the handle entering her, sucked at it with her Kegele muscles until it slid deep, felt her lips close and purse around the shaft itself, round the cool steel. The handle was bigger than her dildo, filling her totally. Then stars exploded, she had no idea what was happening, her hands felt for his, down there around his chin, what was he doing to her anyway? Her fingertips explained, he was twirling the tool slowly inside her, a sex lollipop, the starbursts were the corrugations on the handle bump-bump-bumping on her special spot.

How long had it been, anyway, since she took a breath? Had she been screaming, perhaps, letting the world know of her ecstasy? Were the cops mobilizing, maybe the National Guard too, somewhere out there, gathering troops to come rescue her? Was she still climaxing nonstop, or had the whole universe simply collapsed into her belly, with all its novae and dark matter and little green men? Little green men, HAH! She had her own Mister Green, much better!

She watched themselves as if from the ceiling, utterly separated from the action for a moment. He lifted his mouth, the world went cold and void, put her hands on the shaft, spun it for her, gave it into her control. She liked that. Then he lifted her again, turned her round, facing the windshield. Her hands left the shaft for an instant, her pussy kept control of its precious inner burden, then she was plastered down, spread-eagled across the engine compartment, her chest flat on the warm lid, legs wide apart and wrapped around the smooth, curved arc of the compartment, it couldn't have been better designed for this. A fitting modern altar, herself as the spread-eagled sacrifice on a perfect modern altar, MG as the high priest of fuck, Aztec modern, Inca reincarnate. Her hands spun the handle against her spot, tugged it in and out, flooding every nerve.

Behind her knelt her own acolyte-priest-worshipper: he spread her buttocks wide and drove his tongue deep inside her bottom where no tongue save his own had ever been, ever harder, raising more thundering herds of goosebumps. His hand went down to his bag again, came up, she couldn't see well over her shoulder, just a tube of something familiar looking. Then through her haze there came the shock of an overly slippery coolness on her anus. She froze for a moment, realizing his goal.

Every thought she'd ever had about cocks and butts ran simultaneously through her mind, a confused babble, almost like the sound of panic growing in a crowd. The aggregate was complex, hard to understand. "Every woman tries it! It hurts! Many women love it for the sensations! It's gloriously pleasurable! Every man wants it! The anus and rectum, my dear, simply were NOT designed for that use! Baloney, bigger things have come out than are going in! Bacteria! At the very least, use a condom! The ultimate Catholic contraceptive, love! Enemas first, or else! It's immoral, illegal, and therefore probably fattening!"

Her history flashed. Fingers, yes, a few times, her dildo once or twice during experimental solo performances, but actually DOING that? Buttfucking? HER!? A tongue, equally yes (well, at least, tonight!). Three men had suggested it, she'd been curious but scared, they were all far too eager, too uncaring of her and her fears, so she'd shied away and bought them off easily with her own favorite sex candy, the all-persuasive, all-purpose, all-saving blowjob. No. Never.

But MG seemed to understand. Slowly, delicately, patiently, a fingertip investigated, tested, felt her beginning to relax, entered. After all, his big thumb had already been in there.... but that had been just a part of generalized play, hadn't it, not a definitive prelude. Very different things, those two! This finger, though, it seemed to have a talent for finding the right nerves, the right combinations of pressures and angles. Wild! She resumed slowly twirling the handle. Out, in, out, the finger went deeper with each slow thrust. Nice. More than just nice. This sex business needs more adjectives, she thought. Wonder if Margaret Meade, in Samoa, ever thought to catalog their sex-descriptors? She was certain he could feel the handle through her thin membranes, the thought made her smile, she increased the twirling, the belly fire expanded.

Then his finger was gone.

Oh GOD! Showtime! He was moving behind her. The fear-twinge reappeared, the unknown. This MUST resemble standing in the airplane door, waiting for that first parachute-jump. But not quite: parachutes and their use could actually kill, couldn't they? He sensed her distress, moved gently from behind her to her flank, she could feel his hot, hard cock pressing against the side of her hip now. His hands stroked lovingly down her backbone from skull to the top of her buttcleft, counting the vertebrae, silky smooth, over her buttocks, dipping into her pussy alongside the steel, his mouth came down nibbling across the nape of her neck and he breathed very quietly into her ear "One...."

She felt his fingertip slip back inside her ass, studied it, tried to separate real sensations from expectations and fears, decided it was, at the moment, much more gynecological than erotic. Then suddenly the fingertip began to wiggle and dance within her, no cock, no dildo, no speculum could ever do THAT, it was like a living alien invader in her bowels, and then the white light hit her as the fingertip tip went around the handle (how did he do that?) and somehow found her spot, massaged it expertly. She growled, felt her hips lift by themselves and thrust back against the penetration.

"Two...." he said, and she felt a stretching, wonderful tautness atop relaxation, then more fullness, heat, and two fingers together slid all the way up her ass until she felt his big knuckles tucked into the crack, trapped between her buttocks. The light grew, changed colors, as he massaged both her spot and cervix together. Her legs were shaking now as he fingered her insides, sucked her tongue into his mouth, released it, then whispered, questioning, asking, "Three....?"

Almost involuntarily she shook her head, reached down behind her with both hands, felt his embedded fingers, whispered hoarsely at him "NO! Your cock. NOW!" The moment of white-hot desire might not last, she had to seize it. She knew precisely what she wanted, shifted her hands to pull her cheeks wide, quivered violently as he repositioned himself behind her, slowly removed his fingers. Her insides clung snugly to the retreating invaders.

Cock-head pressure on her anus, delicate, strong, hot, no urgency and no forcing at all, intriguing, almost a caress. She was so open and vulnerable, that word seemed to keep coming up, she was surely crazy nutso crazy oh god yes please, but no, thank you, wait, wait, wait! Maybe she could suggest, as before, a blowjob as delay or exchange?

His hands reached for hers, brought them up to his cock poised there against her, calm, hot, just pressing lovingly, insistent yes but without urgency, it could be violation or seduction, she could tell from the way he'd treated her that it would be seduction, that he would never violate her, how did she know that anyway? Waver, waver, then his hands wrapped hers around that strutting device, how exactly the hell could he have so much control? His control almost, but not quite, annoyed her, she should be able to make him lose it, shouldn't she? But if she did, what result? Scary! She preferred to think, as much as it was possible to think right now, that he really cared for her, that certainly he understood! Once again, she had the key, could do the choosing: he was a delight, presenting her with opportunity but not demand. Choice and control were perfect fear-allayers.

She sighed deeply, he seemed -as usual- to understand, pressed against her more firmly, as if asking permission. She pulled him towards her, raised her hips to receive, sighed again. She remembered a first time for her pussy, so long ago, so similar in its mingle of fear and need and anticipation. Never thought she'd experience that again, did she?

Her body was in charge now, and it wanted this. So, she realized, did her mind. Together they pressed, and gently, exquisitely slowly, she felt herself opening, wider and wider, felt her fears evaporate into the sensations as the cock-rim slid through her muscular ring, as the shaft began its slow filling of her ass, moving gently and steadily, ever deeper. She marveled at the fullness, the heat, the instant, profound sense of completeness and joining. Both her openings now full, doubly penetrated - who would ever believe it? Who would she, could she ever tell!? Why would she ever think of telling, anyway? Fun to shock some of her staid friends, perhaps?

He just kept on going IN! She couldn't understand the depth, loved it, but marveled: he was so much farther inside her than anyone had ever been when they slid into her pussy! How could that be? On and on and on he went, until he seemed to hit the back of her throat, impaling her deliciously, beginning a long, slow stroking that massaged every nerve ending she owned. She could NOT be this full! How? She twirled the screwdriver: surely the corrugations must be causing him the same lightning they were to her. He quivered inside her, belly against her buttocks, YES, it was working!

But what was there that was so much more intense here than just having him in her cunt? He stroked her long, slow, infinitely patient and knowing, she opened, blossoming, to this new fucking. Then, suddenly, she understood. He really WAS that much deeper! Her cunt, her pussy, it was a sack, it had an interior end, you could only get so far in, a man in there was never really inside her body, not actually, just engulfed by an extremely deep dimple. But this cock in her ass, it was genuinely and truly INSIDE her, for the very first time ever, deep in that new place, an open-ended penetration, so thorough, so different, an ultimate in acceptance and exposure. And in granting him admission she both surrendered and simultaneously took control. Amazing!

Now MG had her full and final acquiescence, slipped his hand up over her shoulder and started the van's engine. The perfect whole-body vibrator! The deep, steady rhythm rolled through her soul as his cock and hands massaged her inside and out, as her own fingers twirled. She felt the growing tension in him, oh yes indeedy-do he was about to lose control after all, maybe she could time things exactly right, behind her he was thrusting faster and much more powerfully now, driving into her, she could feel his legs and belly quivering as he strained, she was taking everything he could give her and loving it, absolutely mind-boggling the strength of their fucking.

The whole van was shaking. A rising note kept on rising, impossibly high and thin, strained taut, his balls were slap-slap-slapping against her fingers where they wrapped around the steel shaft, then MG's hands were under her, gripping her tits, no subtlety here, she was spasming and groaning, he sensed her arrival at the peak, drove hard into her, held far up inside, clutching with all his might, gooshing the air from her lungs, biting her sharply on the nape, catlike, growling aloud his climax.

She felt the heavy throbbing of his cock spewing spurt after lovely spurt of semen deep in her bowels. Her imagination, surely, but she thought she could feel the impact of each jet inside her, feel the injected heat. She willed her bottom to suck hard at this intruder turned partner, then harder yet, to heighten his pleasure to match hers.