You Know That Nightmare?

"Nice bikini wax," I giggled. "What, do you do pornos in your spare time?" This would be interesting; I'd never seen such a bare dick. I wondered idly what it would be like to suck it without worrying about flossing afterward, but I could see he was way too far along for fellatio. He wanted pussy, and he'd get it.

"Chicks dig it," he shrugged, and then he was sauntering over, his meat wagging from side to side, to collapse with a sigh onto the other end of the couch. He glanced curiously at Mr Nubitsky, but other than that he didn't seem to care. "Climb on, sexy."

"You say the sweetest things..." I was already in action, gathering myself to mount him. I was wetter than I'd been in days; my vagina had been intrigued enough by Jason's short invasion to begin to get excited, but she had since then been cockblocked, chased, unhygienically urinated, ogled by a fat pervert, attacked by a young stud's mouth, ogled by that same fat pervert, thrown down to be fucked, and commanded to mount a long dick. So she was dripping, eager, ready to attack, and Matt was about to be the lucky beneficiary.

So, yeah, no more foreplay. I swung my leg over, landed pretty much right on target, and sank down onto his pole to the root, all in about three seconds. He poked long and firm into me, but I didn't let him get used to just hanging out in there. This was the kind of thing I'd done quite a bit over the past six months or so, and I knew what to do: thrust my ass out to put friction on the top of my slit, ride that cock back up, let the vein at the top of the shaft rub along my clit, rinse, and repeat.

I was on my way to more than one orgasm, that was already certain. My record was four, with Chip the first time I'd fucked him; those four were the main reason I was still dating him. I wondered, in the spiky red fog of my sex-addled brain, whether Matt would give me five, and whether karma would demand I dump Chip if that happened.

Well, it'd be fun finding out.

He was perfectly willing to play along, too. He wasn't content just to sit there with his hands on my butt, watching me bounce. He figured out my rhythm in the first three strokes, met me as I came down, and all at once we were fucking at an insane and unsustainable rate, our thighs crashing into each other, his muscles bulging everywhere. Much to my own surprise, and very much out of character, I began crying out every time I landed, my squeals porn-star cheesy and probably quite a bit louder than was smart.

I came the first time before I'd even had a chance to break a sweat, trembling and gulping for air with my pussy exploding, even as I kept right on churning over Matt's legs. I felt like I'd felt sophomore year, during my abortive few months on the track team: my coach had had to explain that passing a competitor didn't mean you could slow down; you had to just keep on going, aiming for the next competitor.

Which was the same attitude I brought to orgasms: have one, keep grinding, and on to the next one. My legs didn't get tired until my second one, me breathing hard in Matt's face while his washboard abs flexed, driving his cock harder and harder into my hole. Sweat was flying everywhere by that time, my whole body tingling, hearing nothing at all but the sound of my own lungs and the sickly squelch where our bodies met.

He lifted me off him in a muscular surge, moving me hard to the side; I ended up sprawled back on the couch, gulping air, but determined to scramble into a sexually useful position. He was popping off the couch with his dick purple and dripping and iron-stiff, and I wasn't sure whether he'd prefer me bent over or face to face, so I went to my default position and braced my arms over the back of the couch with my young butt high.

Matt did not complain.

He was back in me at once, his strong fingers grappling my hips while his thick legs drove him deep. I gasped, then rallied, fucking back; this was excellent cardio, at least, and I could already tell I was about to cum again. Ah, but so was he; I reached a clawlike arm back between my legs to grope at his wildly swinging balls, just wanting to feel them jiggle, and he was grunting hard above me. Distantly, I was aware that he was smacking my ass like I was a Singapore hooker, but I no longer cared whether that would bother Chip later.

"I'm going to cum, bitch," he spat, sounding angry. "I'm going to shoot it straight in you."

"Go ahead," I whined faintly, still grunting with his rhythm, and he sped up to an insane velocity as he entered the home stretch, both of us exhausted and drying out and wanting to get there, and then all of a sudden the pink glow was back, my ears buzzed once more, he gripped hard at my swinging breasts, and we both collapsed onto the moldy couch as he emptied himself, driving hard so that he could unload deep, deep inside my willing pussy.

Oh, motherfucker! My whole body was singing as Matt moved easily against my reddened ass, his dick now sliding smoothly in my semen-lubed hole, and then he had one of his big paws rubbing gently at my side, from my boob all the way down to my knee, and I just closed my eyes and grinned and forgot about my many, many problems for a few minutes.

* * *

Mr Nubitsky was nowhere to be seen, leaving nothing but some footprints in the dust and a long, lumpy white line of semen on the floor. Matt, scratching at the matted gluey mess I'd left around his crotch, was fumbling his way back into his coverall, still red and sweaty, not bothering with his underwear. I watched from the couch, still naked, glowing with pleasure. I stretched, feline. "So now what?"

He glanced over at me without emotion. "Now?" He shrugged as he packed up his cock. "Now you come over to my apartment, and I fuck you until you can't walk."

"Okay." I yawned. "You going to smuggle me out in a rolled-up carpet or something?"

He shook his head. "I've got a plan. Just wait here." He glanced over his shoulder. "Frank won't bother you. He knows you're mine now." I preened; it was nice to be wanted. "I'll tell Bourne the truth. Someone came to me and told me her friend got the shits on the back stairs. She took her clothes off while racing to the bathroom. I cleaned up the shit and found a sock." He held it up. "This sock. Then the friend, who wants to stay anonymous, asked if I could go see if her clothes got picked up. Because she won't leave her friend, you see. The one with the diarrhea."

"Quick thinking." I sounded sleepy. I'd need my energy for this stud. "Sounds like a good friend." My phone remained AWOL; Jason wouldn't mess with it, I knew, but I was vaguely annoyed I wouldn't be able to call and cancel with Chip tonight. Oh well. He'd figure it out.

"Whatever." He zipped up. "I'll be right back. Bourne won't give a fuck."

I closed my eyes. I love a happy ending.

All except that little Catholic muppet Angela Rye. She could go fuck herself. I wasn't done with her yet.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed this weird little adventure with poor, oversexed Heidi. Again, please read all the Nude Day entries and vote for your favorites!