Pussy Hound

Lost in thought, Kate realized that the car was slowing down and pulling over on a gravel embankment on a poorly lit side street not far from her house. The lovely teenager looked at the father seated next to her, who was struggling to speak.

"Look, Kate," he began haltingly. "This is incredibly embarrassing for both of us." He fumbled for words, intending to do the right thing and put them at some kind of ease. Kate looked at him hopefully, wanting him to succeed, but her thoughts were too obvious for him to miss. They both looked at each other for an uncomfortably long interval, until he broke the silence: "God, you are so beyond gorgeous ..."

They grabbed for each other and wrestled awkwardly in the confined space of the front seat. Their tongues lapped hungrily, and she whimpered with excitement. She reached for his crotch, and pressed the length of him, bringing him out of his seat and on top of her torso. She clutched at him wildly, before reaching inside his belt and pulling the strap from the buckle ineptly. He heaved himself to his knees on her seat and shimmied out of his trousers, his chest bent lower over her incandescent blond hair.

Kate needed no encouragement. She slipped his boxers down and exposed his erect member, before descending on him with her open mouth. He gasped as she took all of him in, before retreating to lick the full length, squeezing his shaft roughly as he struggled to maintain his balance with one hand on her shoulders and one on the door. He grabbed at her blouse and untucked it from her jeans, and she obliged him by freeing her already developed breasts from their confinements. He held them with tenderness and awe, and she return to pistoning his penis in her mouth.

Her nipples had stiffened against his intruding thumbs, and she needed more. She pushed him away and scrambled into the back seat. He had to climb out the front door and into the back to join her, by which time she had kicked off her shoes, unfastened her pants and exposed herself from the waist down. She managed to escape from her blouse, and they dove back in to find each completely naked, an astonishing physical revelation to them both.

The father was licking and groping her tits, and she accepted his attention with the same fierceness with which he gave it. She blindly grabbed at his ass, which was firm and surprisingly smooth. As she reached around to find his sack, her hand grazed his ass crack, and as if she had some kind of key, he arched his bottom and spread his cheeks for her. Kate was unsure about what to do, until she felt his stiff fingers entering her wet pussy, and she accepted his unspoken but unmistakable invitation to penetrate his asshole with her finger. This was entirely new territory for them both, but he did not resist as she bravely probed his inside, causing him to increase the violation between her legs in equal measure.

They were now engaged in some kind of contest, in which each tried to escalate the onslaught on the other and thereby cause their own pleasure to be made all the more unbearable. Kate was gasping shamelessly, having surrendered herself completely to whatever he wanted to do, knowing that her finger in his ass gave her control to force him to do whatever she wanted, whatever she needed. She ground her finger beyond the furthest point it could go, eliciting an exhaled "oh" from him that he could not contain.

The sensations in her cunt were becoming unbearable and she needed to release them or she felt she would explode. She fucked his hand by thrusting her pelvis and grinding her clit into his pubic bone. It was not enough; she needed much more.

Kate grabbed his cock and lifted one leg up over the front seat. Mr. Banks understood her intentions immediately. He backed up to give himself room and she directed his pole into her, encountering resistance at once. Her opening was too narrow to accept him, but they could not contain themselves. She pushed her abdomen forward and stretched herself as wide open as she could manage, at the same time driving him forward with her ass-embedded finger.

He complied and made progress with no small difficulty before encountering the wall of her virginity. The pain of opening her tight canal was now compounded with the pain of resistance. Kate bit her lip and they persevered in a loud combined effort. He thrust and grunted, while she winced and encouraged him to continue. She felt herself being ripped apart and cried out, but he was too committed to relent. It was clear to her that there was no alternative but to give way, and she fought to accept his invasion. She knew there had to be blood with anything that hurt so goddamned much. She felt so much bittersweet relief as he completed penetrating a place even her own fingers had not touched.

After a moment's pause in which she was able to collect herself, she prepared herself to accept his renewed attack. The pain had subsided, replaced with an increasing pleasure that she knew would make everything worthwhile. Her groin felt so full, so wonderfully fucking full, as he drove her into the cushioned seats, and she allowed herself to accept and receive.

"Fuck! Oh, oh, God, oh, God, fuck."

Her filthy words encouraged him, and her tight vagina held him in its grip. She was completely soaked in her own wetness, and he began to slide back and forth inside to the full length of her pussy and the even greater - astonishingly greater - length of his magnificently full-grown erection.

She threw her head back as the first crashing orgasm overtook her. Kate voiced high-pitched squeals right into his ear, making him thrust faster and deeper, impossibly deeper. She could not stop, nor she could continue. Her noise-making became continuous and thinner, finding the top of her vocal range, pleading with itself to reach where it could not go. His back was slick with sweat, and she tore at his ass cheeks with her fingernails, verging on a complete loss of control. Bank pushed himself up with his hands against the seat bottom to gain more leverage, and grunted with exertion to achieve ecstasy that would fall just short of murder.

To Kate, it felt like the sweetest murder there could be, a complete annihilation of her separate self, a willingness to tolerate eagerly whatever he could do to her, however fiercely and senselessly and unendingly he could fuck her. She had lost all pretense of control, her finger hanging limp in his rectum, his ass cheeks all hard muscle now, driving like a piston that would not relent. She came and came and came and came; her fluid covered the seat, but she had an endless supply, if only he would keep fucking her.

The increasing noise coming from her lover let her know he could not keep it up much longer. She could tell he had lost track of her entirely, as his consciousness zeroed in on his bursting testicles. As she awaited the inevitable climax, her own rippling spasms became intolerable, too sweet to endure, too convulsive, too everything at once.

Kate could sense from some distant, interior place that Banks was surrendering to his own orgasm, his plentiful liquid adding to the infinity of her own. He seemed to come forever, as he rammed her repeatedly with punishing force. God bless him, she thought.

They collapsed in a heap, covered in slop and smell and warmth, their skin aglow and their gasping shared. He moved first, and she helped lift him off her, accepting a last deep kiss to tell each other that what they did was okay, that they weren't ashamed, that such exquisite pleasure had no regrets.

Kate staggered into her parents' dark house and fell into bed, where she allowed herself to wallow in the aftershocks in her pussy. "What a fucking great feeling," she thought to herself. "I'm going to do that as often as I possibly can."

Chapter 3

The membership of the Wine Club was assembled in the grand suburban splendor of the household of James and Beth Ryan. As the last couple who had anything remotely resembling a happy - or even civil - marriage, Beth had managed to assemble a home that would have done Architectural Digest proud. The daughter of accomplished and educated parents, Beth had discerning taste baked into her DNA, and her thirteen year marriage to a successful investment banker had provided the funds, the time and the designers to make a model home. When the Club had a meeting the members considered important, it was understood by one and all that Beth would host.

Beneath the surface appearance of domestic tranquility in the Ryan household, emotional turmoil troubled Beth during most of her waking hours. It was not the chafing of a long marriage that bothered her, for she loved her husband dearly and he was devoted to Beth, albeit in a settled kind of way. But Beth had the mind of a fourteen-year old girl in thrall to her hormones, and she was hopelessly preoccupied with obsessive thoughts of dirty, filthy, shameless sex.

The simple fact was that she had had far less bedroom experience than her friends, and her generally normal desires had flowered into full obsession. Her fantasies were intrusive and distracting, and a constant source of nervous stimulation. She had cheated on her husband just once, but only because the opportunity never presented itself. Beth had no particular physical gifts, but she was skilled at the cosmetic arts, and her wardrobe was stylish, tasteful and original. The overall effect was of a cultured, mannered woman who made the very best of the little that she had to work with, which, she fervently hoped, should be enough for most men looking for extracurricular fun.

The one time, which seemed like a thousand years ago now, happened, of all clichés, on a rare business trip with her boss from a prior publishing job, back when she was a very junior editorial assistant reporting to a sweet but not-so-handsome and somewhat less-junior editorial ladder-climber. He was a frequent business traveler, and they had taken advantage of his membership in one of those elite clubs to take refuge one February night snowed in at O'Hare.

The overcrowding and cancellations had become sufficiently overwhelming that the club had declared an open bar, which brightened the mood of the stranded population considerably. Beth and her boss were on their third vodka martinis, and they were starting to look more and more attractive to each other.

Beth's boss had few features of face that would be considered desirable by most women. He was a large, gentle man who was entirely unschooled in even the most basic techniques of flirtation. To be fair, he'd been shy his whole life, and it was to his credit that he had managed to overcome his social disability to achieve some measure of success in the business world. He was about as comfortable with Beth as he was with anyone, which is to say he wasn't very comfortable with her at all, but the drinks put him in a frame of mind where he was a little more able to throttle back his self-consciousness to a more functional level.

Beth, on the other hand, was well along to unreserved inebriation, and she was smiling drunkenly and talking louder than usual with garishly overdrawn expressions and sweeping hand gestures. The boss was perfectly happy to have her dominate the conversation, and he found himself enjoying the view of his elegantly-dressed traveling companion and drinking buddy. Beth had moved into close physical proximity, and she frequently squeezed his large bicep or slapped his knee to punctuate her animated storytelling.

"I mean, this fucking guy wants me to tell him on the phone, right then and there, why we were rejecting his manuscript!" Beth never swore in public, let alone in business settings, but she was enjoying the freedom to do so now. Her boss did not express disapproval. "He would not let go! I couldn't get him off the fucking phone! So I told him: 'Well, first of all, you can't write worth a damn.' I can't believe I said that! And, of course, he didn't like that one bit. 'What do you mean I can't write! Everyone in my writing class loves my stuff!' "Can you believe that? Where did they get this guy?"

Beth paused to finish her drink, and her boss flashed two fingers to the bartender for another round. Beth performed a short pantomime to show how drunk she was, but she didn't refuse the drink. Her boss made a token effort to contribute something to the conversation, knowing that only minimal effort was required. "What was the book about?"

Beth practically ejected herself from her chair in a vain attempt to portray the enormity of her reaction. "Ohmigod! It was so lame! It was an incredibly long manuscript about some horrible couple who had all the money in the world and traveled all over creation to find a cure for some incredibly rare disease the wife had. He had stuck in all these pointless trips to exotic locales where they stayed in five-star hotels and drank hundred-dollar bottles of wine while they pestered the locals about where they could find some witch doctor or other they'd heard about on the last continent they visited." She was enjoying herself immensely, now, slurring her words and losing her equilibrium on the bar stool.

"And the sex scenes were unbelievably cheesy!" Beth delighted herself with the discovery of the conversational possibilities of this new-found topic. She put her hand on her boss's shoulder and leaned in to try unsuccessfully to talk discretely in his ear, without modulating her volume at all. "The husband and wife cheated on each other every chance they got. And there were so many sexual clichés! All the women had enormous boobs and all the guys had huge cocks, and they fucked for hours on end having multiple orgasms and making all sorts of noises. They talked dirty when they screwed, and said clever things like, 'don't stop!' and 'oh, your cock is so big!' It was hilarious, but he thought it was enormously erotic."

Her companion smiled weakly and said nothing, clearly embarrassed by the frank talk, however trite it was. Beth was far too drunk to notice his discomfort, but she was working herself into some real enthusiasm.

"So I told him, 'Look, what you've written isn't sexy. Believe me, I have a very active fantasy life, and I know what's sexy. You do a terrible job of describing what it feels like to touch someone else's private parts.' That's what I called them, 'private parts!'" she confided to her boss. "Can you believe that? Anyway, I told him you've got to create a very vivid picture of what it's like to screw somebody, or give oral sex. Your reader needs to feel that cock in her mouth, to know what it feels like to work a big, stiff dick and slobber it with your tongue. Or what it feels like ramming a woman's pussy. Women don't always make noise whenever they fuck, you know? At least I don't, that's for sure."

Beth was talking out loud to herself now, her fourth glass empty, its contents swimming around in her head and traveling down her torso to her extremities. She enjoyed the relief of her unaccustomed frankness, and decided that the world needed a lot more honest talk about sexual desires, starting right now.

"You know, Tom, I think people are too repressed about sex. I really do. Why shouldn't mature adults like us be able to say what we really think about stuff without getting all embarrassed. Hell, we all have healthy fantasies about people we work with, right? I sure do. God, I'd fuck you in a heartbeat. In a fucking heartbeat."

Beth hadn't the least awareness that she had said anything remotely inappropriate. Her companion drained his glass and decided he didn't either. Beth's previously unappreciated loveliness had become increasingly evident to him, and the idea of fucking her hard seemed entirely sensible. Beth regarded him with half-closed eyes, and managed to form the intelligent thought that sex was available. She asked Tom if he could help her find the ladies' room. As they took each other's arms and stumbled down the hall, they shared a single thought.

Beth pulled her boss into the oversized bathroom and looked for the handicapped stall. Happily, there were two, and one was apparently occupied with another couple who'd had the same idea sooner. Their neighbors were having a raucous time of it, and their high-pitched yelps made clear that the participants were both women. Beth pulled Tom into the stall, stuffed her tongue wantonly into his mouth, and grabbed his stiffening package. Tom reciprocated desperately with his mouth, and clumsily extracted Beth from her jacket and grabbed at her tits. Beth undid her buttons as quickly as she could manage and unsnapped her bra, leaving both in a heap on the floor, something her normal fastidiousness would never allow.

Tom sucked her nipples hungrily while Beth held his head for dear life. Her eyes were tightly shut as her lover pushed his hard-on into her crotch, demanding entry. Beth was ready, and removed his pants while he forced up her skirt and groped at her panties. She climbed aboard, encircled his neck with her arms, and lowered herself onto him with one foot balancing on the toilet for support. The penetration was instantaneous and complete, shocking them both, and producing guttural sounds for the satisfaction of their neighbors, who were still going at it with considerable energy.

There was no other word besides fucking to describe what they were doing. Their exertions were too strenuous to allow anything other than pumping each other for all they were worth, though her nipples were as stiff as quarters and begging to be sucked. But the needs of her pussy were so much greater, and she needed to take his prick as much as he needed her to ride him violently.

From time to time, they heard doors open and close, but paid them no mind, and they could have noticed their neighbors standing on the toilet and peering over the partition at them, but they were far too far gone. As his orgasm built and the intensity of the friction increased, they vocalized their uncontainable pleasure without forming comprehensible words. The evident intensity of their lovemaking drove their unseen lesbian companions back to work, and the room took on the pervasive aroma of sweat and vaginal fluid.

Tom's orgasm produced a wave of convulsion that required a good deal of noise to release. Beth welcomed his ejaculation and added her own sounds of release, while she pressed her high-heels against the wall to absorb his final spasms. There was cum everywhere it seemed, but the warm mess only reinforced the overwhelming sensations that governed them. They listened to the facial fucking taking place in the adjacent stall, sober but inebriated in a new and more satisfying way. After recomposing themselves, they cleaned up as best they could and stumbled back to the bar, trying to avoid eye contact with the bar tender, who wasn't born yesterday.

Other than that, Beth had never cheated on James. Which is definitely not to say that she didn't want to in the worst possible way. Her favorite - in fact her only - pick-up line was, "Would you like to get some coffee?" which she hoped sounded like, "Would you like to fuck me?" She couldn't understand why it had never had the intended effect.

h

Kate, Faith and Sheryl had each filled Beth in on their recent conversations on the subject of male attentiveness - or lack thereof - during sexual intercourse. The conversations were animated and lengthy, and the four friends understood that this meeting was not to be missed. Stacey had been away for the weekend with a new man in her life, and although the sex was "good" by most standards (not to mention plentiful, the pair having spent almost the entire weekend in the sack, the tub and on the thickly-carpeted floor), it merely corroborated the thesis that, once the penis finds its way into the vagina, men became utterly self-absorbed. In short, all five ladies were ready to blow, and several glasses of wine into the discussion did not serve to lessen their ardor.