Strangers in the Night

Strangers in the Night

Chapter 1

Ellen Crump awoke to the insistent thrusting of a huge cock in her pussy. It slid effortlessly through her sopping wet sheath, sending thrills through her body. Her mature hips pumped back, burying it deep. Her guttural grunts punctuated the slap of his balls on her ass.

The fitted tattle grey sheets on the lumpy bed were wet with sweat and other bodily fluids. The paisley bedspread, chosen to hide cum stains more than for ambiance, was pushed to the foot of the bed.

At 62, Grace had a few cocks in her life. This one ranked up there with the fattest and longest. She wondered whose cock it was.

"Oh, God, yes! Harder! Harder!" A lustful moan escaped her lips. It competed with the wet sloshing of her pussy.

"Move this big ass, you good pussy bitch!"

"Yes, I'm your bitch! But is that the best you can do? Harder! Make my pussy pop!"

A Black man's hand squeezed her breast, the fingers pulling at her nipple. She groaned, reacting to the pain/pleasure sensation.

Her large hips pumped piston-like driving the big dick deep in her hole. The cock felt good. It was hard and thick, filling her sheath completely. She hissed as the bulbous head slammed into her cervix. Her pussy was sore. Not enough to be uncomfortable. But enough to let her know this was not the first time tonight she fucked. Nor was this the first cock. She remembered another, not as long but thicker. There was a pronounced soreness in her ass also.

It didn't matter. All that matter was Ellen's animalistic compulsion to satisfy the incredible need in her hole. She needed to be fucked, not made love to. She and her anonymous partner were as animals in rut. The act was instinctual. No thought was required

She climbed from drugged oblivion to a confused semi-consciousness. She looked into the face of a young Black woman. Someone was lying behind the Black woman fucking her. A white hand squeezed her chocolate jugs. The woman blew Ellen a kiss.

Who was this woman? She wondered who was fucking her and where she was. Other than the strong odor of disinfectant, the pitch-black room offered no clue.

The hand on her breast pulled hard on her nipple. She groaned and covered the mocha hand with her own. Her pussy sloshed noisily. The cock pumped harder. She pumped back hard. The feeling was indescribable. Her nether regions tingled. A tingling she had not experienced in years. That feeling occurred several times tonight. She was cumming. He was cumming! Again!

"Oh, fuck!"

She jumped, reacting to a hard slap on her thigh.

"Move your ass! I'm going to wear this old pussy out!" The voice was muffled, slurred.

"OH, JESUS! OH, GOD!" The dingy room blurred. She came hard, her pussy clamping down on the fat cock while her body undulated to the waves of the orgasm washing over her body. The cock, that delicious cock, swelled. Her cunt stretched to accept it. It released a seemingly endless stream of cum into her hole.

"YES! Fill me up! Make my pussy overflow with your seed!"

"Fuck! I'm cumming!" The muffled bass voice groaned. His body pumped hard against her. Ellen thrust back, burying him deep as they came together, moaning, grunting and cursing.

The room swam around her. She closed her eyes and passed out.

Chapter 2

The urgent complaint of a full bladder pulled Ellen from a drunken sleep. For a moment, she lay there, trying to resist the call of nature. Surrendering to the inevitable, she opened her eyes

The room spun slowly. It seemed to flow and reform, like oil swirls on water. The random movement nauseated her. Ellen closed her eyes again.

The brief glimpse she got revealed one thing: Grey dawn was breaking, and this was not her bedroom. Where in the fuck am I? She opened her eyes again.

Ellen's pussy and ass had an unfamiliar ache. Her head throbbed dully. Her mouth was dry. Her lips were gummy. Her body felt clammy and uncomfortable.

The place was a shit hole! The ceiling and walls were water stained. Strips of wallpaper hung from the wall. Suspicious black areas suggested mold.

She heard laughing voices, a man's bass, and a woman's contralto. A car door slammed. Suddenly bright headlights lit the room.

Ellen was stunned to see she was in a dingy motel room. Across from the bed was a window with the drapes open. What the fuck!

A lightly muscled arm encircled her waist. A soft hand cupped her breast. Startled and more than a little scared, she froze.

Who the fuck is in bed with me?

It was not her husband, Claude. His arms were soft; his hands calloused from years of hard work. The rigid pole of a cock pressed between her ass cheeks. She had a dim memory of fucking...someone. It was not her husband. He was off with his buddies on a weekend fishing trip. Besides, he had not gotten this hard in years.

Despite her confusion about where she was and how she got there, her bladder would not be denied. Ellen sat up in bed and swung her legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. The stentorian snores of her erstwhile sex partner competed with the brass band playing a stanza from the Anvil Chorus in her head.

The dim light streaming through the open window revealed the naked body of a White man. He lay on his belly, his face turned away from her.

The pounding in her head grew worse. The percussion section of the band added to her excruciating headache. Nausea returned. She swayed, reached out, and caught the wall with one hand to prevent herself from falling.

Where the fuck did he come from? How the hell did I get here?

Ellen Crump was not a woman who picked up strange men. She was a wife, mother, and grandmother. She did not fuck around. Yet here she was. Stark naked in a cheap motel with a strange man. With her pussy and bowels full of cum!

Her last clear memory was sitting in a bar having a drink with her grandson Kyle. No...no that was not right. Ellen did have a drink with Kyle. Then some guy bought her another.

How did I get there?

Vignettes, like stills from a movie, flashed in her mind. She tried to sort out the confusing images. However, her bladder demanded attention.

She brought one hand to her head. The other she extended in front of her and stumbled toward the open door of the bathroom. Inside the restroom, she fumbled for the light switch, found it and flipped it on.

The bright yellow light of the incandescent bulb assaulted her eyes, increasing her discomfort. Squinting, she scanned the bathroom. Putrid water-stained wallpaper covered the walls. The toilet was filthy with a cracked lid. A brown ring circled the inside of the toilet bowl. Next to it was face bowl with a crack that had been sloppily repaired with some kind of greyish material. A streak of rust extended down the sink from the dripping faucet. Off to one side was a grimy shower.

How the hell did I end up in this shithole?

Just before she closed the bathroom door, she looked at the naked figure in the bed. He was young. It was impossible to guess his age without seeing his face. However, his tight ass and lightly muscled body made him young.

Her dress was on the floor by the door. It lay crumpled in a pile next to a man's jeans and t-shirt. She didn't see her red bikini panties or bra. She did see some lacey black boy shorts. She stared at them dumbly.

Where the fuck did they come from?

A garish fuzzy image like an overexposed color photograph popped in her head. She was naked on her knees in front of the open motel door. She was sucking a cock. It was a nice size, filling her mouth comfortably. She recalled the sensation of the globular head pressing down her throat as she bobbed back and forth. One hand stroked the rigid rod while the other cupped and caressed balls the size of chicken eggs.

She was looking up, smiling at an indistinct face above her. His lips were moving. He was saying something. His voices seemed to be coming from a distance, but she could make out what he was saying.

"Suck my cock, bitch!" His voice sounded like an old 78 RPM vinyl record played at 45 RPM, very slow and hard to understand. His hands painfully gripped her head.

Her hands gripped his thighs as she pressed forward, forcing his cock down her throat. One of his hand was on her head. The other caressed her breast. His hips were thrusting. A moist heat wafted from between her legs.

His cock swelled. A stream of cum blasted Ellen's tonsils with the force of a firehose. She tried unsuccessfully to gulp down the torrent of jizz, but it was too much. She gagged, spewing a Niagara of saliva mixed with cum onto his crotch. It squirted out of the sides of her mouth and. When she pulled back, he sprayed her face and tits with cum, playing his dick over her face like a fireman putting out a fire.

She heard laughter. A naked Black man and a naked Black woman were next to her. The man was tall robust with a paunch. The woman was voluptuous with a large bubble butt and pendulous tits capped by blue-black raisin-like nipples.

The woman was sucking the man's enormous black dick. She pulled it from her mouth and offered it to Ellen. Her face dripping with cum, Ellen turned, kiss the Black woman on the lips and took the proffered cock. The corners of Ellen's mouth ached as it stretched to accommodate his shaft.

"She's good!" The Black man spoke to her anonymous lover standing next to him.

"I'll take care of your man while you take care of mine!" The Black woman crawled around her and took the semi-rigid White cock in her mouth. The women wrapped an arm around each other's waists as they sucked the cocks.

Ellen wrapped her tongue around the Black man's shaft as she made love to his cock. It was the biggest she ever had. The muskiness of his crotch invaded her nostrils, increasing her lust. His breathing grew harsh. His hips pumped spasmodically. His cock swelled.

"FUCK! You good sucking slut you!"

Ellen gagged as he came in her mouth. She made an attempt to swallow this load. It ran out of her mouth, down her chin and dribbled on her breasts.

"Share it with me, sweetie!" The slender Black woman kissed her, snowballing the cum from Ellen's mouth to her mouth. They embraced, plastering their breasts and crotches together. The cum moved back and forth from the one mouth to the other. Their tongues dueled inside of their mouths like a fencers' Épée.

The women sank to the floor, still kissing and caressing each other's bodies. It was the Black woman who broke their torrid embrace. She pushed Ellen to her back and kissed her way down her body.

Ellen clawed at her ass, pulling her around until her deep purple cunt lips with its pink pulsing slit were above her face. Ellen buried her face in its fragrant moistness.

"Oh, baby yes" The Black woman moaned lustfully as Ellen ate her.

The two men stood over them, laughing and stroking their semi-hard cocks.

Ellen was confused. Where did they come from? She had no other cock, but her husband's in years. She could not remember the last time she sucked him off. She didn't know any Black couples. And she definitely was not into women!

Ellen's face felt tight and slightly sticky. She brought one hand to her face. Her hand came away moist and sticky. She brought a finger to her nose and inhaled the unmistakable aroma of cum. Two men had come on her face! I didn't even wash it off. What the fuck!

Throwing caution to the wind, she squatted on the dubious toilet. The hiss of her urine stream sounded unusually loud. It splashed loudly into the toilet. She grimaced at the stinging sensation in her genitals. If there was any doubt left, the stinging confirmed she had been fucked long and hard.

She was perspiring profusely. The sweat streaming down her body caused a stinging in her nipples. She touched one with her finger. She grimaced and pulled it away. Someone had bitten them. SHIT!

Sweet Jesus fucking Christ! What have I gotten myself into?

Ellen pulled off a handful of the thin institutional toilet paper. She flinched as she patted her sore genitals. From the relative safety of the bathroom with the door closed, there was no lock, she tried to reconstruct her evening.

It started when she left bingo. She was on her way home from the senior center. Her Claude was off on one of his fishing trips with his buddies. She decided she did not want to go home to an empty house. Rather than take the right turn leading to the surface streets that would take her home, she turned left, entering the expressway going downtown. It was a fateful impulse. One that would forever change her life.

At Sunday dinner, her grandson Kyle mentioned a downtown club he frequented. His mother chastised him. She warned him to be careful, that the downtown area of their small city had an unsavory reputation.

He poo-pooed her concerns. Like most 22-year-old college students, he was supremely confident in his ability to take care of himself.

Impulsively, Helen decided to go to the club. She needed a break. Life with her husband was stale. He treated her like she was part of the furniture. They barely spoke to each other anymore. When she tried to carry on a decent conversation, his responses were one-word grunts.

At 62, after 45 years of marriage and one remarkable son, the passion was gone. It was not unexpected. She and her girlfriends often discussed their home life during bingo. The consensus was that their marriages had reached the stage where their partners were more intimate friends then sex partners.

Adam, her son, was sympathetic to her situation. He suggested she get out more, enjoy herself. He even suggested they work out together. She demurred. At 44 with a beautiful wife and, like her, one son, he had a right to his own life.

I decided to go have a drink, she thought. Yes! That's what I did. I went to the club Kyle talked about. I met my grandson Kyle. No! No, I didn't meet him. He was already there.

Her head spun, and her stomach turned. She balanced herself against the doorjamb. She gulped and repeatedly swallowed, fighting the urge to vomit.

I need to get out of here before this bozo wakes up.

Another vignette flashed in her mind. She was dancing. The music was loud, and the lights pulsed hypnotically. The dance floor was crowded. She was buzzing from... How many drinks did I have before I started to dance? Some guy was behind her grinding his cock into her ass and cupping her tits. She recalled being aroused, excited by the attention.

His name was...? She struggled but could not recall it. She recalled sitting at a bar afterward. His hand stroked her thigh. He leaned forward as though to be heard over the music. His hand slipped under her dress. He cupped her pussy.

Ellen giggled. She grabbed his wrist. She tried to pull his hand from under her skirt.

Someone yelled at him. They ordered him to stop. Kyle! Yes, Kyle was there! Kyle made him stop. The guy stood. He and Kyle argued. But that guy was Black. It could not be him. The guy in the bed was White.

Okay! I had a foursome with some anonymous bozo and his Black friends in this decrepit motel. My pussy is sore enough that I know I really got pounded. And that uncomfortable feeling in my anus says that one or both of them didn't stop with my pussy. Think girl! Who is he and how did you end up here?

Chapter 3

Appletini. Yes, it was the drink Kyle recommended. She had several. It was more than Ellen was accustomed to drinking. But damn it, she wanted to have some fun! She recalled flirting with the young men hovering around her. She enjoyed the attention. They bought her and Kyle drinks.

After a few drinks, the lights seemed brighter. The colors were more brilliant. They flowed and swirled like waves on water.

The sounds were more intense. Ellen's body pulsed in tune with the deep bass beat of the music. It was an incredibly surreal scene with deep sensuous undertones.

Someone grabbed her, pulled her to her feet. He said something, a big smile on his face. He smelled of alcohol and sweat borne pheromones.

She could not hear him over the noise of the crowd and the driving beat of the music. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. Ellen felt his manhood pressed deliciously against her crotch. Her pussy reacted, tingling with anticipation.

He was a tall, muscular White guy. They dirty danced, their crotches grinding against each other. She felt a coolness on her behind. She realized her partner had pulled her dress up around her hips. His hands cupped her ass. It didn't matter. It felt good to feel young again.

People crowded around them. They laughed and applauded. Some of the guys touched her behind when her dance partner spun her around. She loved the attention.

What the fuck? That's not me! A couple of drinks shouldn't turn me into an exhibitionist! I don't let strange men touch me inappropriately.

Kyle's face appeared in front of her. Like her, he sweated profusely. He shouted something, something about a drug in the drinks. Irritated, she pushed him away.

She was having fun. Ellen felt a moistness in her panties she had not felt in years. Her nipples were so hard they ached. Lust burned between her thighs.

The guy she was dancing wrapped his arms around her chest, cupping her large breasts with one hand. The other cupped her pussy. Ellen's pussy flowed with her lust. She ground her cunt against his hand. His finger felt delicious as it slipped past her panty leg and into her pussy.

Sweet loving Jesus! I let some guy finger fuck me on the dance floor!

Then Kyle was there again. Ellen was irritated. She was having fun. There was a scuffle.

The scene blurred. Ellen wasn't on the dance floor anymore. It was dark. The air was muggy. Sweat streamed off her. Her sleeveless light summer dress clung uncomfortably to her body.

She was outside, walking next to someone. No! She was stumbling, unable to stand on her own. Someone was helping her to walk! Her arm was draped around a man's neck. His hand cupped her ass. They were stumbling and staggering through an alley.

Ellen fell. She dropped to her knees. Her companion tried to help her up. He fell to the ground, landing on his knees behind her. His rigid cock pressed against her bare ass. His hips rotated as he ground his tool against her pussy.

"You gonna fuck me here, Big Boy?"

His reply was muddled. His cock pressing against her pussy was the answer.

The concrete of the alley was wet. Ellen felt a slight arthritic pain in her knees. Ellen could not stop giggling. Everything amused her, even the guy trying to fuck her doggie style. The idea of him fucking her in an alley seemed to be the most amusing thing ever.

The head of the stranger's cock slip between her pussy lips. He thrust hard into her. She pushed back, driving him deep in her cunt. It felt good, damn good!

Laughing, she scooted forward on her knees. The cock dropped out of her pussy. Ellen laughed as she struggled to her feet. She wagged a teasing finger in the stranger's sweating contorted face.

"Naughty, naughty!" She giggled stumbling backward.

What the fuck? I was going to let some stranger fuck me in an alley! Where were my panties? Why the fuck am I giggling like an idiot?

Ellen fell against the dumpster. The coolness of the metal felt good on her back. She lay against it, gulping mouthfuls of air, trying to clear her head. The stench of rotting garbage assaulted her nostrils.

Somehow, someone was between her legs. He gripped her ass tightly. His tongue was in her pussy. It felt incredible. Ellen spread her legs to give him better access. She ground her pussy into his face. She was dimly aware of people walking by staring and laughing.

Her hands were entwined in someone's greasy, sweaty hair. He smelled of perspiration and stale alcohol. He was eating her pussy! Ellen thrust her hips forward and pressed his face into her pussy. She groaned, pushing against his tongue in her hole. She heard laughter, bodies swirled past them.