A free sexy story by newcomer Sophia Beauchene. Sometimes the morning after can be even better. . .
Helen opened her eyes. It was daylight at last–a faint grey outline of things, a pale white glow at the edges of the curtain. She tried to move, but it was no good; she was trapped firmly between the wall and the man in her bed, an amorphous lump of duvet with a lingering scent of Right Guard and patchouli. His name is Tim, she reminded herself–rides a motorbike, Welsh accent.
Her room was a mess. Clothes were strewn over the floor, half-empty coffee cups lined the windowsill. She shimmied up the bed a bit, reached over Tim’s head, and tried to pull the curtain closed.
“What day is it?” Tim moaned, still half asleep.
She studied his face. Long black lashes, a few freckles, slight scar on the top lip. Not her first choice for the night, but won by a nose, or rather a silver hoop earring and a mischievous grin. Beg-bitch glint in his eye as he stared at her over his Guinness. Him and his mate, Stuart, telling her about their bikes, their journey from Cardiff–just passing through.
Helen tugged again at the curtain, but it wasn’t budging an inch. She propped herself up on one arm and leaned over Tim, her breasts brushing against his cheeks. Then she shifted down a bit and traced the outline of his lip with her nipples, first with one then the other. Her breasts felt deliciously heavy, ripe, and ready to be picked. She moved her breasts up and down, enjoying the sensation of stubble against the soft, swollen flesh of her nipples. He didn’t respond at first, his breathing remained slow and even. Then a faint smile spread across his lips and he turned his head slightly, licked the tip of each rosy bud.
“Mmm,” she murmured. Good choice, not bad at all. Could have chosen the blonde or the guy behind the bar? Could have chosen Nick? No, not Nick, he’s too sure of himself, a fellow hunter, in for the thrill–knowing looks across a crowded room, muscles and after-shave. Which one of us is going to move first? Well, it’s not going to be me. Tim instead then, white T-shirt, piece of leather tied round his wrist, good strong forearms.
Tim worked slowly–lazy, tantalizing touches with the very tip of his tongue. Helen arched her back and pressed her breasts hard against his mouth. He opened his eyes. Shook his head free.
“You’ve got to wait,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from the night’s drinking. He ran a hand down her spine, over the smooth skin of her backside, the softest hint of a touch between the cheeks of her arse. She opened her legs further, inviting him to delve deeper, discover the moistness of her pussy. But he wouldn’t give her that pleasure.
“Not yet,” he smiled and, keeping his caresses maddeningly light, he ran a finger over the sensitive skin of her anus. Once, twice, three times. Helen began to move with the gentle strokes, her nipples burning against the delicious warmth of his tongue. She shifted an inch further up the bed and his fingers slipped between the lips of her cunt.
“Naughty girl,” he whispered. “You’re all wet.” He closed his mouth around her left nipple and she felt the touch of his teeth. She tried to pull away but he held her, the bite getting harder the more she wriggled. She relaxed and he suckled her breast, slipped a finger deep inside her.
“You like it,” he said and she moved her hips, felt the palm of his hand against her arse. His teeth again, on the right nipple this time and his fingers kneading her, opening up her juicy cunt.
Yes I like it. She opened her mouth, licked her lips, “Mmm . . .”
“Go on,” he urged her. “Tell me.” He bit her nipple, playfully this time. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” He reached behind her with his other hand and spread the cheeks of her arse. She felt the cool air against her skin, his fingers gliding between her cunt and her anus, her pussy juice oiling them sufficiently for him to gently ease a finger into her tight hole.
She was thinking what she always thought about when she was having sex. Always the same sort of scenario even if the characters changed a bit now and then. Sometimes she bothered with faces, sometimes she didn’t. It could be anywhere, sometimes happening in a kind of vacant space, just her being touched, her body being explored; fingers delving into her secret places, hands holding her still, voices egging each other on.
Tim pushed his finger deep inside her. “You like it in there, don’t you?” he asked and she nodded. With his other hand he worked at her cunt, first one finger, then two. Her breasts were out of his reach now. She was straddling his chest, the palms of her hands pressed against the wall. He slid a third finger into her eager pussy and moved them in and out with a slow twisting motion.
“Fuck me,” she begged.
“Mmm?” he asked, pretending he hadn’t heard.
“Fuck me,” she said again, more urgent this time.
“Not yet,” he answered. “Naughty girls have to wait, don’t they?” She ground down against his hand and he held still, withdrew.
“No,” she breathed.
He looked up at her. “Don’t they?” he repeated and she closed her eyes, nodded mute acceptance. She could feel the cold air against her open cunt, the muscles of her vagina contracting, urging him back in, his fingers, his cock, anything.
“Yes,” she murmured. The warmth of his strong hands returned to her, two fingers this time pressing into her anus.
“What are you thinking?” he asked again.
This time she spoke, softly at first, her voice barely a whisper. “They’re touching me,” she said. “I’m lying on the bed. I can’t get up, and they’re touching me.”
“Go on,” he urged her.
“Three of them,” Helen struggled with the words, her voice growing louder as Tim lightly stroked her clit with his thumb. “Two of them holding me down, licking my breasts. The other one is fingering my pussy. I’m wearing a G-string and she’s pulling it up between my lips, rubbing my clit. She’s telling the other girls to look, telling them I have a pretty cunt. She’s . . .”
“Good,” Tim whispered. She felt his hands leave her for a second, lift first one knee then the other, the touch of his skin on her thigh as the duvet was pulled away.
“Tell me,” he murmured. “Tell me what does she do?” His fingers in her arse again, the other hand on her hip pushing her toward his waiting cock.
Helen steadied herself and reached down between her legs. She took hold of his cock and moved her hand up and down the length of it. It was a magnificent cock. She remembered from last night her first sight of it, her pleasure at finding him so well equipped. She reached up and slid a finger into her pussy, smoothed the wetness within over her clit and gently massaged it, slow circular movements, barely touching, her fingers gliding over her clit like the kiss of silk.
“She’s sitting on my face,” Helen told him. “The other two are holding my legs open. They’re playing with my pussy, sticking their fingers in. I can’t get away.”
“Ah, you poor thing,” Tim whispered, “You want to get away, don’t you? They’re holding you down, they’re stronger than you?”
“They’re touching you here,” Tim put just the head of his cock inside her. She groaned. “One of them has something she wants to put in there. The others are licking it, making it ready. They say they’re going to open you up.” He eased his cock in slowly and Helen felt her cervix contract. The burning sensation at the entrance heightened and she wriggled on the bed, trying to make him go deeper.
“Fuck me,” she moaned, and briefly he did as she asked, the gorgeous warmth of him fully inside her. He withdrew, though not entirely, then pushed again, even deeper this time. She gasped. In her mind’s eye, the girl with the dildo was laughing, enjoying the power she had. The others were holding her open, their fingers slipping in and out of her burning hole.
“Do you know what I’m going to do now?” Tim’s voice seemed to come from a distance. Helen rubbed furiously at her clit. She wasn’t far from coming now. She could already feel the tension heralding imminent orgasm. She didn’t answer but cried out when he removed his cock.
“No, please,” she begged him. At the base of her spine and in every muscle a tingling had begun and she needed him to finish, needed him back inside her. She felt the head of his cock, warm and wet against her anus.
“I’m going to go in here,” he whispered and she felt her tight hole forced open by his generous shaft, her orgasm happening in a rush of pain.
When her orgasm had subsided, he pulled his cock out. She expected him to keep going, but he crashed onto the bed and lay looking up at her smiling.
“Okay now?” he asked.
She buried her face in the pillow. “Mmm,” she answered dreamily. “Okay now.” She put her hand down to feel his cock. It was still hard.
He took her hand away, brought it up to his mouth, and kissed it. “Saving it for later,” he said and smiled. “You’re going to have to wait.”