Butt Lovely Pt. 02 - Stormy starts.

But the devilish Mr Stimpson. One look from those fiery eyes of his and... Even now as I squeeze my breast and feel the scrumptious heat run from my nipple to my navel, I am picturing his eyes on mine. He's done nothing but fan my fires all day. It took every ounce of propriety I possessed not to drag him into my room and ravish him this evening. Every. Damn. Ounce.

A flash of lightning, closer now, illuminates me. My face astounds me, reflected in the wet windowpane. The fire in my belly is painted all over my face and I'm almost ashamed of myself. But not ashamed enough to stop my right hand rubbing slowly down my tummy to the elastic of my sleep shorts.

The following clap of thunder startles me, so focused am I on my the laval heat between my thighs. Fingers slip quickly past the elastic and smear the wet on my thighs deliciously. The storm rages loud enough that no-one hears my ragged breath or tiny moans of self-pleasure.

Dark leaves slap arrhythmically, driven by the wind against windows somewhere on the veranda and my fingers tease through my unkempt thatch of (God you better tidy that up before you let him near you Julia.) pubic hair and tease my swollen lips apart. A bliss builds in my toes and legs and I coax it higher. Some nervous tension that I know will tighten like a spring as I gently slide through the mess of me.

More lightning strikes. This time I can smell it on the air. The flash was blindingly close and I fancy it hit a tree on the small acreage. With the violent crack that follows I plunge two fingers home and fancy the storm is part of me. Perhaps my lover, building my passion with its own. My thumb butterflies on my bean and I feel the first tremors in my belly and knees.

I'm maddeningly close. Another flash of lightning arcs across the sky and the wind yowls ever louder. My thing... I need... I shouldn't... So grotty... But leaning my head against the glass, my other hand leaves the window and does my thing.

I discovered this thing when I was first learning to pleasure myself. Before anyone labelled actions dirty or wrong and sometimes now, I unequivocally require this dark act. This secret pleasure that my hand now seeks autonomously.

While my right-hand squeezes, pulsing pleasure on my bean and vadge, my left dips into the flooded mess of me and smears my juice much further back. I feel my fingers touch my little ring and press and circle and the knot that is my bliss builds like the storm; howling in my belly for release.

A crack of lightning startles that teasing finger inside me and I push and twist it against the naughty hole, slowly relaxing the tight muscles there until a second finger joins it to penetrate this nasty part of me.

"Ee-yew, Julia... I will not. That's wholly nasty." I can hear Carrie's judgement that day I found courage to share my secret. And maybe it is but I need it. I need the naughty thing for the big ones. Like this one that I know his eyes have built all day for me. I wonder how he'd judge this wrongness.

Slippery as an eel now, I wiggle my knuckles over each other crammed as they are in my clenching bottom and feel myself start to tip. Another flash of lightning shows me the concentration on my face as I work my bean and my bottom together to what is amounting to a new height of pleasure.

Imagining his hands on my body, caressing my breasts and roaming lower to cover my hands. Imagining them covering my hands with their strength on roughness, urging me on and breathing his wild breath on my neck as he stands hard behind me. Imagining his cock; that hot rod of flesh I felt when kissing.

My eyes are closed tightly against the dark night but still I see the brightness through my eyelids as lightning chases across the sky and in that moment, I imagine David inside me and tip gloriously into splendour. I'm sure I vocalise some primal thing and hope it lost in the noise of the storm. My insides, front and back, grip at my fingers and I hunch in time with the contractions.

Pressing my forehead hard against the glass to hold me up while I ride out this tsunami of release, I open my eyes to take in the glory of the storm that crashes about with me and die in horror.

A sobbed cry leaves my lips and tears stream down my face in shame as I see him. He's leaning against the wall near his open door. His eyes find mine and he simply says, "Shh..." Then he's walking slowly toward me. His face is darkened by the night, but I see the storm in his eyes.

"I'm so... Oh God... So sorry you..." It's hard to blubber while blarting in shame and still feeling little remnants of my bliss shame me further. I can't bear to turn to him. My grotty shameful hands fly from my pants to hide my face and then I feel him.

The warm hands I was imagining earlier pull me to him. "Shh... Never apologise to me for your passion, Julia. Shh." One of his hands seeks to pull mine from my face but I still can't face this lovely man who holds me warmly through my humiliation. Slowly his hand insists I leave the window and he pulls me to his chest and wipes at my tears.

"You are, without a single doubt, the most erotic vision I've ever witnessed. Shh, beautiful Jules." He breaths quietly into my hair and I feel those lips kiss my head softly. Oh god I can smell myself so strongly. My hands reek of what I've done and he must smell it too. Mortified, I try to hide in his embrace. The irony of seeking refuge in the very thing I am abashed of mocks me further.

Gradually my sobbed breathing settles and I relax into his enfolding forgiveness. A titter escapes me. The silliness of this whole moment contrasts so violently with the pleasure moments earlier. And therein I am aware of my lingering inflammation. The smell of him, his minty breath and warm man aroma fill my consciousness.

His body against my back is hot and his breathing hints at his own arousal. An arousal that is made obvious by a hard, hot pressure on my back. He hasn't run. He held me. He didn't judge. He called me erotic. Eventually, my hands leave my face and fold over his forearms where they cuddle around my waist. Perhaps I can even forgive myself for masturbating like a naughty teen on the veranda where anyone could see.

The light kisses he still delivers to my forehead and head, urge me to turn to find his eyes over my shoulder and I knew. He swallowed hard and his lips found mine just long enough to rekindle my early blaze. My neck hurt so I turned away, but I knew. I knew what was going to happen and I put my right hand on his right hand and urged it lower to my shorts.

His left hand found its own way up under my nightshirt and again I braced my hands against the window. Perhaps the storm was passing now but I heard and saw nothing but his reflection in the glass and his low groaned, "My god you're beautiful, woman," as his hand slipped inside my shorts and his fingers brushed through that unruly mess of curly hairs.

Hot lingering kisses on my neck reminded me a wolf toying with its prey. His hot breath on my ear and the gentle embrocation of my flooded vadge had me teetering quickly on another bliss. He didn't mush my breasts as some do. Rather his rough hand worshiped them in gentle caress and tiny tugging at my nipples.

My heart felt ready to launch right out of my chest and I surrendered. I leaned back hard against him and gave my body over. A gentle thunder rumbled outside and I locked my eyes on his in the window.

"Take me, Davy. Please." Not waiting for his answer, I pulled my shorts away and felt them pool at my feet. Fumbling now behind me I found the rod of him. My god. It felt so hard and thick and hot and I could feel his own heartbeat in its throbbing shaft. I was mocking myself with my need for him; grinding back to feel it on my bottom and feeling only my hand that refused to relinquish its prize.

Releasing my breast drew a small sigh of loss from my lips but quickly turned them to a naughty grin as I felt his hand fumbling between us. Finally. Finally, I held him by his root. The first hot cock I'd held in more than three years throbbed in my hand as I held and stroked it. His groan was menacing and low and no threat. It was pure promise.

His hand drew away leaving cold air on my sodden crotch where it had been expertly preparing me. I felt him smear my own juice along himself and then he took my wrists and pinned them to the window. Arching my back like a needy slut, I sought his hardness with my bottom and then suddenly it was pressing bluntly against my wet slit.

I'm sure I cried out in pleasure as he thrust gently, coating himself in my need before penetrating me. A moments panic taunted me.

"Gently, Davy. It's been..." And words were lost to me as I felt him slide into my body. I was stretched beyond stinging to a pressured pain. "Wait... Wait..." I gasped and my hand moved down to feel him in me. My god, there was more. I wet my lips where they clung to his hard shaft and rocked gently as my body relaxed to accept him.

I should have known. I should have expected him to be as gentle as he was. But I didn't and part of me didn't want it. Part of me wanted to be roughly taken and thoroughly owned. That need drove me rocking deeper onto him until I was finally impaled as deeply as I could ever remember. And yet still he waited patiently for my innards to stop grasping at him.

I heard myself moaning and worried that we would draw Aunty M, or heaven forbid, Dud's out to the veranda. Shame at rutting like dogs in public should have gripped me but instead all I felt was the power of the storm that had been brewing all day between us. Then as distant thunder grumbled outside our own storm broke.

When he slowly withdrew, I came a little. Small shocks of pleasure that had me clapping at the knob of him as it remained poised just inside me. His first thrust was testing and torturously slow. Oh god, it had been so long since I'd been filled by a man. Carrie and I had toys but this... This feeling of something living, pulsing and sliding ridges through you in a hot wave...

"Harder, lovely Davy. Go on now." I urged him with what voice I could muster and to emphasise my need I pushed back hard on him to meet his thrust. The earlier pain was just a stretching fullness now as he slid in and out over and over.

"Oh shit. A condom, Jules. We should-"

"No." The thought of losing this perfect fullness horrified me, "No. Just... Oh."

I was so near another bliss. One that threatened to eclipse my earlier effort. It was right there at the end of every thrust, yet just out of reach and I remembered my earlier promise this day.

"Elizabeth Julia Ann Bernice Gilbert, you will not apologise for any aspect of who you are. You are wonderful and complete just as you stand here."

Can I do this thing? My thing. And I know I will. This man will know all of me. And I will not allow myself to feel shame. My hand is already reaching behind me, between us. I can feel his tummy slapping my fingers as I slide a finger down to where he saws in and out and I scoop enough moisture to, "Oh my god." I croak as my finger slips inside my bottom.

It's a little unbalanced bent over as I am, braced with one hand on the window and the other fingering my bottom while he rogers me splendidly. I'm almost grateful when I feel his rough thumb press next to my finger. Oh god, will he? Please let him.

Pulling my finger out I feel the ridges of his knuckle slip through my naughty ring and then I'm stretched both by his lovely cock and his rough, thick thumb. The feeling of fullness combined with the feeling of acceptance for this naughty thing, tip me headlong into an orgasm that surpasses anything I've felt in such a long time.

He stills himself inside me and holds me up with an arm around my waist as my body violently wrings pleasure from me.

"God Jules, beautiful love." He says and I can feel my bottom and my vadge applauding on his finger and his cock. Just as I think I'm starting to finish cumming, I feel his thumb withdrawn and I feel my bottom hole trying to close. It's all so heavenly grotty.

I feel his fingers gathering moisture around where we join and then gasp as two fingers spear into my arse. They wriggle against each other and stretch me terribly. I'm tipped instantly into another small bliss.

"Oh God, Davy. I... thankyou. I need it. I'm sorry. It's so grotty but-"

"Shh Jules. Never apologise for-"

"My passion. Oh God..." He's pulling out of me. No. I want... And then I'm empty. I can feel my vadge gaping and the loss is profoundly sad.

But then a new and much wilder thing occurs to me. I can feel the head of him pressing bluntly between my vadge and my bottom. Will he? Is he going to- And suddenly his fingers are gone from me and the head of him is stretching my bottom tightly.

"Oh Davy." I growl. "So rude. So lovely rude." And greedily, I'm already rocking on him. Relaxing and pressing him further in. The stinging stretch as his shaft flares brings tears to my eyes but I love this naughty bottom thing. I ache deeply as I finally seat myself against him with his lovely cock crammed into my dirty hole.

My mouth hangs open in wonder at the many sensations flooding my body, but my favourite is his gentle hands rubbing my shoulders and arms. I can see his eyes every now and then with the distant lightning flashes and in one of those moments I catch the same wonder in his. When I've finally stretched enough to move, I slip him nearly out and drive him steadily back in.

Oh dear. All those tiny ridges that felt wonderful in my vadge now tickle and tease at the tight ring of muscle that holds him captive. This is so much better than fingers back there. I'm so full, I just wish I had... Oh god. That. I need that.

His hand ran down my arm and cupped around in front of me to draw lazy wet circles in my sodden flaps. Now and then he slips fingers into me and draws around my bean but I'm distracted from it by his gentle thrusting in my bottom. I don't think I'd actually stopped cumming properly when he entered me and every tiny motion tips me back into tiny blisses that follow one another.

But now as he thrusts into my bottom, I feel something else building. The little blisses seem to gather deeper in my gut where he stretches me impossibly and as he builds pace something larger looms.

God, I've never felt this taken. First his masterful fucking then now this rapacious buggery. He's not at all gentle now. Banging into me hard and deep, his balls are slapping at my vadge where his hand busies itself with my bean. God help me I want to scream my pleasure.

"So close Jules." He grunts. "Gonna..."

I urge him faster. Slapping back against him. Meeting his thrusts with my own. My threatened bliss is boiling like a kettle about to whistle and then he bucks and I feel his cock swell against my bottom hole and I believe I feel him splash hotly inside me. Again, he bucks and his lovely cock pumps me with his spurt.

With his third bucking spurt, my eyes close hard and I start shaking all over. My knees give out and he holds me to him. His cock still spurting deep inside me and my orgasm rips through my body harder than I've ever felt before.

Over and over I shake and the pleasure wrings through my body. I'm aware of his hand over my mouth but the scream is far away like from someone else. My legs shake like rag doll limbs with each squeezing cramp in my bottom and womb and if he was not holding me, I'd be twitching on the floor.

We stagger backwards away from the window. Him deep inside me still and me shaking and wondering if I'll ever stop orgasming. He directs us to a chair and I cum again as we thump down heavily into it.

"God Jules. That was... I never."

I agree wholeheartedly but cannot speak. The lovely man puts his arms warmly around my middle and holds me through this recovering moment. His cock softens inside me but my bottom holds it gripped like a prize.

"Shh..." He says warmly near my ear. "Shh... Are you alright?"

"Emotional, Davy. I'm good. Just hold me a little while."

He does. We're still sitting there much later when I become uncomfortable and realise I need the loo.

"So, that happened. Let's not be awkward now, Davy. I need the loo and a shower. You do too. Before I go, I want one of those kisses. We can talk in the morning."

It's a much gentler kiss this time. Passionate still but tender and intimate. I made the loo. I didn't make the shower. I fell asleep while sitting on the bed thinking about him and smiling like a loon. Grotty girl indeed.