Thursday, September 10, 2009

Sleazy like Sunday Morning: #3 in my Paperback sleaze project.

A grimy old warehouse wasn't the ideal spot for him to go down on her, but who was she to argue? She'd been dying for a slow hand all afternoon and today he'd have her sitting on an old bar stool with her head tilted back. As her eyes opened and closed they captured tiny pictures of the ceiling and the light fixtures above them. The slight flashes seemed like a dim, slow flashing strobe. He started with a playful touch to her inner thigh and not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she spread her legs slightly as to not impede his advances. He stopped and reached for a nearby milk crate to sit upon. Then... positioning himself before her, he traced at the backs of her knees with his fingers all the while relishing the fact that his tongue would dampen these same spots later.

She was beautiful. And cool.

Her eyes were the smoky, 3 am bar you just have to go into. Every time he looked in her direction, it was as if he was drinking away her very being. That's how badly he desired to consume her.

As he softly bit the inside of her thigh, his heart began to pump. He was excited beyond return trip by this point and his cock was bursting against the denim cage wrapped around it like a wild gorilla. Lately his attention was focused on the taste of her vagina and tonight he'd do good by himself to take a chomp. Lord knows, she wanted it in the worst way. Her body, a rag doll, for his contemptuous throws, was tossed into that special place where no fire could be extinguished. He felt it was best to let it burn.

He studied her ripe, virgin flesh. She was the furthest thing from virginal, but the skin that draped her bones looked as if it was placed there by a rogue gang of angels. He thought she was sexy and that was enough to get his motor buzzing. Her pussy, the buried treasure. As he dug forth, his hands became warm. He wanted to taste her and "take in" her long, hard day. She deserved to be thrashed. He knew that her cunt was a wet mess and decided to go for broke. As he thrust his face into her... his tongue, like a lightning bolt, shook the fabric of her very being.

Her slender fingers took hold of his hair and she held firmly as she stiffened her arms to keep him at a fixed position. She gave him little room to pull away. As he performed the joyous task of pleasuring her, she fantasized about getting caught by a nightwatchman or a janitor. This thought only increased the sensation. His tongue, ever the relaxed olympian, provided such sweet torture that he knew his mouth would soon be flooded by the bold splashes of her girl flavored filling. He anxiously awaited to be washed away by her nectar.

It was as if she had somehow gotten her wish... there was a bang off in the distance. It signaled that they were not alone. At first they both tensed up as if they were going to bolt off, but within seconds it was plain to see that they had both reached the same conclusion and would be driven more by their passion than their fears. He stood up before her and grabbed her by her small, soft hand. With a gentle tug she followed curiously through the darkened corridor. He led her into what she gathered was a storage closet and shut the door behind him. It was dark in there and she could barely make out his face. All that she could see was his silhouette moving toward her.

Grabbing her waist he pulled her body into his and kissed her. His tongue collided against hers and writhed around, exploring the caverns of her warm, pretty mouth. Her hands groped his body, giving his rear a tight, knowing squeeze. He wrapped his hands around her hair and with a commanding tug he pulled it until her head was as far back as it could go. Her neck was stretched to its limit. So far back that he could clearly see the veins beginning to bulge forth. He wasn't hurting her and they both knew it. He chomped into her soft flesh and she couldn't tell what she enjoyed more... his burning saliva ravaging her neck and shoulder or his free hand massaging and canvassing her cunt and thighs.

The banging became louder, they didn't care a bit. Only now the banging was accompanied by a whistle. She knew the tune, but at that very moment she was far too distracted to remember its title. As they continued to share themselves, the whistling became louder and louder, which could only mean that the possibility of being discovered was becoming a reachable reality. She couldn't stop now. The thrill of it all was far too intoxicating to turn back.

With a ferocious whisper she commanded him to fuck her. More than happy to oblige her, he dropped his trousers and kicked them away. If she was going to get arrested for trespassing she felt it was better to have something to remember it by besides the inconvenience to having to talk with the police. She wrapped her hand around his throbbing vein and led him inside of her. As its swollen tip passed through the entrance of her vagina, she felt its head pop against the tightened fold before it kicked in the door and left no survivors.

He rammed her with precision and used his hand against her mouth to stifle the moans that were begging to escape like prisoners from a Middle Eastern jailhouse. He personally did not want to be discovered. His preference was to be in and be out without being detected at all. He got off on the fact that he had been so many places where he did not belong and was able to be the one to watch the watchmen do their insignificant, half-hearted rounds. There had been times where not even trained dogs knew he was witness to their sniffing and tracking. He was good at becoming invisible.
To him it was something of an art.

Luckily, the art of pleasing a woman was atop the same mantle for him. He thrust himself into her and she could feel his scrotum slapping against her sopping cunt. Balancing herself against what she figured was a shelf of some sort, she used both of her hands to spread her pussy lips open. As a bonus this increased his sensation ten fold because besides her warm, wet cunt... he now had to contend with the narrow entrance between her index fingers. He could feel his shaft sliding through them and then into her. The newness of this caused him to slow his pace temporarily while he regained the strength to deny his cum from bursting out and filling her up.

Too late. She knew this maneuver would be too much for his tool to bear. She squealed breathlessly as she sank her fingernails into the soft flesh of his ass. His load was great. She could feel it instantly pouring out of her slit and pooling around it. His body, still undertaking the throes of their wonton lust, shuddered and tensed as the deafening roar of that whistler's unknown tune became ever closer.

Quickly they dressed and took position behind an old desk. They could now hear the sound of footsteps clacking against the cold, gray linoleum in the hall. Both of them, exhaling rapid, hot breaths, held hands and listened to the door knob begin to rattle."This is it" they thought and there beneath the desk they kissed again. All of a sudden the knob stopped making noise and the footsteps seemed to about face and become softer until they trailed off completely. This turn of events left the young lovers in the same place that they had begun... she needed more and he would be there to consume her again.

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