The First Timers Club Pt. 10

"Fuck my ass!" I scream. "Fuck it! Get your big cock deep inside there and fuck the shit out of me!"

You can feel your orgasm coming. So hard and so fast, it makes your eyes water. It's going to be the biggest load of cum you've ever had. Your big balls ache because you need to cum so bad.

"Cum in my ass!" I scream, and you do. You fill me up with so much cum it flows out of my ass, past your cock, dripping over my slutty pussy and down my thick, chubby thighs.

Then you pull out and turn me around and I suck your big fat cock straight out of my ass, licking and drinking your cum along with my dirty ass juices. I want every drop of cum you have left. Everything you have to give, I want it all. You even scoop the cum dripping from my ass and feed it to me and I fucking love it because I'm your fat little anal butt slut cum whore and you could do anything to me and I'd beg you for more.

Then maybe you spit in my face or piss in my mouth and make me drink it or something, I don't know. Ooh! Maybe you piss in my ass? What do you think about that? I'm still working on it.

Whew! I had three orgasms writing that, lol! My tight little pussy is so god damned fucking wet right now. Dripping. I have my feet up on the desk and the chair is soaked with my pussy juices. Can you imagine that? Can you picture me with my legs spread, my wet pussy dripping, fucking myself to orgasm after orgasm while milk leaks from my big tits? I hope you can. I hope you dream about that tonight.

Alright, I have to go to bed now. Emma will be up in a couple hours to nurse and I have to get some sleep. My huge fucking tits are so full of milk right now they hurt. I really wish you were here to suck on my nipples and help me! Oh god, I would love to nurse you while I jacked you off. Or I could be on top of you and you could fuck my ass while you sucked my nipples. Fuck! One more orgasm, then bed.

Here's all my contact info:

Brittney Hughes

cell: 578-737-1904 (Private. Andy never sees this)

email: bigbuttgingerslut@spectralitenetworks.com (I set up this email just for you. Totally private.)

mail: 13949 St. Rt. 97 box 4232, Mercury, AZ, 85670 (my private post office box)

social: @brittneyannehughes

Call or write me anytime. I don't care when. If you call at 3am, I'll pick up. And if you ever want to get together, I'd love that. I would die just to see you.

I love you. I love you. A million times I love you. Kisses, hugs, and wet sloppy blowjobs!

- Brittney

PS: I've never forgotten what you said to me the day we first had sex. You told me that if I wanted something from you that I needed to beg you for it and you'd do it. You said you would fuck me any way I wanted. You told me to give myself to you and be your little slut. Do you remember that?

The biggest regret in my life is letting you go. I should have told you how I felt and what I wanted. I should have grabbed you and taken you. You told us that we only regret the things we didn't do, and you'll never know just how right you were.

So, this is me telling you that now. Snap your fingers and I'm yours. If you ever want to know what it's like to buttfuck a 6 foot tall, 285 pound big titty MILF with a huge ass, I'm open and ready for you.

[Ash and Court: If you guys read this part, please never, ever mention it to me or anyone else. If you've ever loved me, then you'll never bring it up. These are my personal thoughts and feelings and fantasies. I love you guys.]

---

My cock stood upright in my lap and drooled precum by the time I finished reading Brittney's fiery message. Her pussy and asshole had certainly spoken directly to my cock. I tried to picture her in my mind's eye as she'd described, but my mental image could only conjure her eighteen year old self. When I'd calmed myself and filled my mug with coffee, I carefully reread her message, skimming past the sexual fantasy to focus on the details of her life.

During our night together in the loft, after her sensual massage and the incredible sex that had followed, she'd confessed her worry that I'd ruined her for other men. At the time, it had seemed a joke, but I wondered now if she'd been trying to tell me something and I'd simply missed it. She hadn't been able to move on from me after all this time, and the thought of that saddened me.

I imagined her cooped up in a tiny bungalow on some dirt patch in the middle of the desert, left alone with her thoughts and regrets for most of the day. Trapped with a baby to care for and a partner who couldn't or wouldn't fulfil her enormous sexual appetites.

Brittney had always been such a paradox. Outwardly, she'd appeared imposing, even intimidating, yet inside she'd been so emotionally vulnerable. Fragile, even. Moreso than the other three girls. I'd tried so hard to remain emotionally detached from her. To prevent her teenaged infatuation from metastasizing into a full blown romantic obsession. But it seemed those efforts had been in vain, and I couldn't help but feel guilty for it.

In time, she would leave Andy in search of someone else. I felt certain of that. I could only pray that she did it sooner rather than later. Brittney had so much love to give, but she needed the right kind of partner. Someone simultaneously gentle and ferocious. A man who would plow her asshole, then cuddle with her afterwards to caress and kiss her face.

Thankfully, the next message helped to dispel some of the melancholy that Brittney's email had evoked.

---

courtney.eml FILE BEGINS

Hey, dude! Holy shit, I can't believe Ash finally managed to track you down. Or, at least, she hopes she has. You've been harder to find than motherfucking D.B. Cooper up Jimmy Hoffa's ass. She's been looking for you for years. Don't ask me why.

I wasn't sure if I'd write to you. I'm still pretty fucking pissed about the shit you pulled with us. Especially the whole Ashley/Erin drama. I felt used by you for a long time, and that sucks. Brit's a fucking slut for you, though. Like big time. I had to stop talking to her because she wouldn't ever shut up about you. Ash is just Ash. She'd forgive Hitler.

I don't know. A little about me, I guess? Not married at the moment. Divorced, though. Fuck that loser. No kids, thank god. I think you had the right idea about that. My tits are still perfect, and I don't want any little booger-eater fucking them up. I still have acne, so I guess all that cum you shot on my face didn't work after all. Who would have thought?

Um, what else? I'm in a relationship. With a guy, if you were wondering. Turns out, I really, really like getting fucked by a cock. Who knew? I'd totally do a chick, though, but it's not really my thing. I haven't fucked a chick in years. I got a shit ton of tattoos. They're fucking rad. Got my tongue pierced. Nipples. Belly button. Clit. That one fucking hurt.

Work? Eh, fuck work. I do shit, I get paid. That's all that fucking matters.

Oh, I remember one thing I wanted to tell you about. You know the cops were looking for you for a while? Yeah. That little finger-breaking spree you went on made the local paper. I think Ash has the article somewhere. Man, you must really have a fucking hate boner for bullies or something, because that was psychotic. Everyone thought we hired a fucking hit man. The cops talked to all of us about it, but don't worry. No one snitched on you. Colt Bryer's dad even tried to fucking sue me. Said I sent you after his son. Like WTF? The guy called me a name. So what?

So, I guess you must have tricked us again, didn't you? Switched the envelopes when we weren't looking. Yeah, that sounds like something you'd do. There was also a rumor going around that a bunch of girls in our class got buttfucked by some hot older guy. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that was you too.

Quick question. Did you break your own finger too? I'm sure you came across my note with your name on it in there. Fuck, I can't believe you did that to me. To this day, I won't eat anything that's cherry flavored.

I don't know, man. Life is life. Don't really talk to the other girls much. One by one, we started losing touch. First you, then Kiki, then Brit and Ash. I got other friends now. I go out. I party. I fuck. It's great.

I'll admit, I do think about you from time to time. Not often, but every once in a while. Sometimes it's a good memory. You did eat my pussy really well, I'll give you that. But sometimes it's a memory that pisses me off. You told us once that we should weigh the good and the bad in our relationships. I think you just managed to squeak by on the good side. But only just barely.

It's probably a good thing you left when you did, because when I think about it, I wonder if our lives were better off with you in it than not. Like, did you really teach us anything we wouldn't have figured out on our own eventually? Probably not. And that fucked up code of ethics of yours? Yeah, that seemed pretty convenient for you.

Eh, fuck it. Whatever. You got to fuck the shit out of four teenagers and we got some pretty damned good dick in return. So I guess that's a fair trade. I can't complain too much. When the sex was good, it was really fucking good.

Do you have, like, a lot of white hair on your balls now? Can I officially call you Greybush? Nah, I'm just fucking with you, dude. For real, though, I hope your life turned out okay and you found the happiness you were searching for. I don't know if you deserve that kind of happiness, but I wouldn't resent it if you found it.

Word of advice. If you find a woman who can stand being around you for longer than a month, hold onto her and never let her go because she's one in a million.

That's all. Peace out, dude.

---

My smile grew into a grin as I read through Courtney's message. She'd always been fiercely independent. Always honest and direct. And she'd been a leader for those girls during their most vulnerable years. She and I had constantly butted heads, it seemed, and she'd been quick to attack whenever she thought I'd done something wrong. She'd acted as my conscience and my bellwether, and she'd kept me honest to the best of her abilities.

I suspected that she'd felt her status as the person they all looked up to had been threatened by my introduction into their circle, and I could fully appreciate that. I certainly agreed with her that it had been the right time to depart from them when I did.

Rereading her penultimate paragraph, I felt gratitude for the validation of her advice, because that's exactly what I'd done. I'd found the love of my life four and a half years ago, and she snored softly in our cabin, six feet away.

After leaving Florida, I'd crossed the Gulf of Mexico and transited the Panama Canal. Then I'd made a quick stopover in the Galapagos before I turned north, hugging the western North American coastline.

I'd found her on social media, and we spoke often on the phone. I told her I had a boat and promised to meet her anywhere in the world with it. She told me to meet her at a certain bar near Glacier Bay at a certain date and time.

Imagine her surprise when she saw me walk through the door.

She worked for the National Park Service, doing land management and maintaining trails. I told her I planned to sail the world. She asked if she could come. I told her I didn't wear clothes on the boat. She took hers off before we'd even climbed aboard.

We crossed the Pacific together, passing through the chain of Polynesian islands to winter in New Zealand, then hugged the Southeast Asian coast and crossed the doldrums of the vast Indian Ocean. The east coast of Africa had concerned us, but it needn't have. Every encounter proved wonderful. Around the Cape of Good Hope, we travelled to the Azores, then crossed the Atlantic to the Caribbean, before passing back through the Panama Canal.

That journey had taken three years, and now we were a third of the way into circumnavigation number two.

Everyone in the cruising community knew us. We were the nudists. The naturalists. We hardly ever shaved. Everyone got used to seeing us that way, and it soon became a novelty. At times, we ran afoul of prudish indecency laws, and paid several fines. We even spent a few nights in jail, but we didn't care. We continued to live our fullest lives in the manner we deemed fit, the rest of the world be damned.

Her sexual appetites matched my own, and we fucked constantly. Several times a day and often for hours at a time. Above deck or below, it didn't matter. In fact, our favorite spot to fuck was the trampoline at the front of the catamaran. On day one, we agreed that mutual free use would be the preferred approach to accommodate our frequent sexual urges, and we'd operated that way ever since. No matter what, no matter where, no matter the time of day or night, either of us could fondle and fuck the other.

If she stood in the galley preparing food, I could come up behind her and start fucking her tight little pussy or eat her ass.

I often did.

If I had my arms up, reefing the mainsail ahead of a storm, she could kneel in front of me to suck my cock.

She often did.

At the beginning, we arranged meetups for orgies with other cruisers, some whom we knew well, others whom we'd just met. Our boat became a destination for a particular kind of traveler. Everyone knew our cabins were open for sex and many partook of our hospitality. We even enjoyed the occasional partner swap here and again.

We'd sought after those trysts quite often, early in our relationship, but now they were fewer and further between. We satisfied and fulfilled each other and had grown to prefer our privacy, and rarely felt the urge to add that particular spice anymore. Though we still did, from time to time.

She had tamed the animal inside me. She hadn't caged him, merely calmed him. Soothed him. I didn't feel the urge to savage her all the time, though sometimes I did when she begged for it. There was nothing she wouldn't try. She was a fearless lover and understood everything that made me the man I am.

She was perfect.

I opened the PDF file next, curious what it could be.

---

Is_this_you.pdf

Broken Finger Attacker Claims Fifth Victim

By Paul Hernandez

Hilton Herald Gazette

Police have expanded their search for the man wanted in connection to a string of unprovoked assaults that have taken place in recent days across the greater Fairview area. Dubbed the Broken Finger Attacker by social media, since all known victims have suffered a broken finger in their attacks, the alleged suspect has now claimed a fifth victim in what police describe as a bizarre revenge plot perpetrated by a lone individual.

The suspect is described as a white Caucasian male, approximately 35 to 50 years of age, five foot six inches to six feet in height, with dark brown or black hair. Eyewitnesses have also described the suspect as being "strikingly handsome." The suspect was last seen driving a gray, late model Range Rover SUV with no license plates. Investigators are currently looking into a possible motive for the attacks, as well as anything linking the victims, but no additional information has been released to the public. Hilton Police and the Fairview County Sheriff's Department urge anyone with information to please reach out to their non-emergency hotlines. No reward is being offered.

---

Fuck those bastards. I only regretted I hadn't gotten to all of them. The heat became too hot to bear. But I'd scratched that itch and delivered a tiny measure of justice to a few of those fuckers who'd tormented and terrorized four, sweet, innocent girls. I'd also stuck my cock in quite a few tight little high school girls' asses along the way too.

The final attachment was an image, and when it finished loading, a loud sob escaped my lips.

The four girls, arms over shoulders in Ashley's bedroom.

friends 4 ever!

I'd lost my phone overboard years ago, and I'd grieved the loss of the photo, certain I'd never see it again. But in time, even that memory had faded. I reached out to touch the screen and traced my fingertips over them. To see them again, so young and fresh faced, I couldn't hold back the tears, and I lowered my head to cry into my arms.

When the emotional moment passed, I right clicked the image to make it my desktop background. Then I copy-pasted Brittney's contact information and saved it to the laptop. The rest of Ashley's emails I binned in the trash. She'd had been right. I wouldn't reply.

I didn't think it mattered, though. I knew a thing or two about cookies and tokens and tracking pixels, and I imagined that Ashley got a very good fix on my IP address and geolocation the moment I opened her attachments. Her monitoring software would have alerted her that someone had downloaded and viewed her files, and the only person who could possibly have done that was me.

And if one day I felt compelled to contact her, how many twenty-eight year old Ashley Marie Mitchell Ryersons who work in cybersecurity could there possibly be?

As for Brittney? I wasn't sure yet. Perhaps one day we'd invite her and Emma to live aboard with us and I'd get to find out what it's like to buttfuck a six foot tall, two hundred eighty-five pound, big titty MILF with a huge ass.

The wind-driven rain pelted the port side of the boat, announcing the arrival of the squall. There wouldn't be much to do today but stay inside and fuck. I closed the laptop and crawled back into bed with the love of my life.

When my cool skin touched her warm back, she snuggled tighter against me to share her body heat. I rubbed my hand over her leg, unshaved for months, then slid between her knees to coax her thighs apart. My hand went to her hairy little pussy and I marveled at her wetness, even in sleep. I sought with my fingertips her tiny, sensitive clit to stimulate her arousal and gently awaken her.

She turned her head and moaned and I kissed her and caressed her tiny breast. She reached back to take my big cock into her petite hand and guided me to her pussy. When she'd aligned the head of my cock against her tiny vaginal well, I slid inside of her and she let out a long, contented sigh. I whispered I love you to her, again and again, as we moved together as one to quell the knots in our diaphragms.

"Fuck me, daddy...," she cried softly.

And I did, and I would, to the end of our days, and I would never regret the many wonderful things we did together, only those few we never did.