An Innocent Obsession

Chapter One-3

He slaps my ass, going back and forth from one cheek to the other while my hair swings in the same erratic rhythm. Having made the nether hole slick, it’s no longer Tony’s tongue breaching the clenched barrier, but fingers, two, then three long digits poking as far as they will go into my darkness, until that darkness opens wide, and the muscles release, and he’s ready to make me wider still.

I cringe. Every time a c**k hits my ass, I shudder, nakedly revealing how much I long for the raunchy f**k. Sometimes when I’m taken in my ass, I think I see stars within my eyes—or colors you can’t find on earth; and I’m being transported to another world. Perhaps I’m another being altogether, someone unlike myself. Or maybe, I’m just me, all me, all hundred and thirty pounds of five-foot two flesh, packed in gloriously smooth skin, having arrived on this planet as a ribald joke from another century—or at least another decade—where making love like this was nothing but fun and never political. I don’t want to think about how I got here, or why.

As Tony’s c**k crashes the party through my back channel, I’m screaming. I don’t care who’s listening at Rico’s door, or who’s walking in to see a slut like me screwed two ways, black dress bunched around my waist, one man in my cunt, the other reaming my ass.

While Tony doesn’t hurt me, his significant girth stretches me wide. I can’t imagine being more wild, or crying louder, or any more demanded of me. All this c**k makes me think they’re sword fighting, stabbing and poking my interiors at all angles. I’m hanging on as though my life were on the line. So much for concentration or being sane. I can do nothing but float with these capricious rhythms and hold on.

Minutes pass. Tony’s more demanding, doing a serious probing of my anal regions. I almost think his d**k expands the more it surges in my belly. When he cums, I’m cumming too, bearing down so hard that Rico begins to cry in deep, wistful, guttural groans.

“Oh, yes, yes, yesssss………” is about all I can say, though this hissing expletive is hardly enough considering all I feel.

Rent apart, I wonder if I’ve been split in half. And when the two pricks dwindle down as spent c***s do, they withdraw, leaving me filled with cream, but feeling empty.

Tony’s d**k hangs loose, though it’s still half-erect as if I could put my lips to it and have it alive again. Since Rico’s is entirely spent, I focus on Tony, on the dark hair that covers the tan, and the way his c**k now arches slightly before the head points toward the ground. While still straddling Rico’s hips, I bring that lovely p***s to my lips and taste my residue, finding that taste pleasant—certainly not cinnamon. To my delight, however, there’s definitely the fragrance of roses on his c**k—perhaps just nestled in his pubic hair—a little bit of me to leave with him until he washes it away.

“I hope you’ll bring cigars to me again,” Tony says as he searches for his clothes. “You brighten the office.”

“I do?”

He nods. Sincere appreciation in his eyes, and another look of adoration.

Who am I kidding? He adores every woman he meets. I’m not sure men this physically perfect are really meant to be serious with women—rather, they’re little packages of pleasure to dream about, and, if you’re lucky, f**k once; and if you’re really lucky, f**k twice. I can’t imagine more than that. I had my dreamboat in my ass, which was perfectly all right with me.

I don’t stay long. Feeling as though a mallet and a scouring wind have hallowed me out, there’s nothing to say, no way to yet to inspect my feelings. I’ll limp home, take a taxi I think. Put my bike in Rico’s back room, and get it some time tomorrow—but only after I’ve laid around a while wishing this would happen again.