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This tale was inspired by a young tumblr girl who exchanged a letter or two with me a couple of years ago.
I asked her to tell me something she had never told anyone else, and she replied:
“Something I’ve never told anyone… hmmm, that’s tough as I will find somebody to tell even about my secret stuff… Let’s see… one night when I was out celebrating by bar hopping, there was a line for the bathroom because one was out of order, so guys and girls were having to make do with one toilet available… and I got sick of waiting. So I walked over to a spot in the bar where there were fewer people and where there were no lights directly overhead, and then simply stood against the wall and slowly let loose in a puddle on the floor, then I walked back to where my friends were and kept right on drinking.”
I replied that her “never told a soul” story was wonderfully intimate, and the next time I saw a wet cotton gusset, I would think of her. I had already established that she was five foot nothing, and the image of her peeing stayed in my mind – so a couple of weeks later I wrote the “O’Malley’s Bar” story for her.
I think she might have been trying to shock me, I don’t know. But writing that tale put the idea into my head, and it kept coming back, of a woman peeing, hot and full and copious, pissing on me.
And I found myself, over the next couple of months, browsing various porn sites for girls peeing. I found a wide variety of genres available, ranging from clothed girls crouching and puddling in the street, to naked girls spreading and spraying, crouching and spraying.
Girls in white tights wetting themselves. A particular sub-genre of girls, who for some reason I felt were Russian (I’m not sure why I thought that), pissing in the woods and in the snow. Natural girls, honest in their bodily functions, and an earthiness.
I also found myself, for a fortnight or so, indulging in a fascination for girls shitting. But that did not arouse, even if it did fascinate. I found the Russian girls also had that fetish sewn up – does a bear shit in the woods? Yes, and so does a Russian girl, apparently! Girls smearing scat did not do it for me, not one bit; but a solid healthy turd easing from a tight asshole, yes, that had a certain something.
I then remembered one of the most successful stroke stories I had ever found, published in an anthology of erotic tales maybe ten or fifteen years ago. I no longer have the collection (I wonder where it went?) and I cannot remember the author’s name. His timing was brilliant – it did not matter how many times I read that story, it would always bring me to the strongest come, always paced superbly for the last paragraphs. I must have read the story dozens of times, and if I stroked myself steadily and slowly, at just the right pace, there it would be, a pulsing ejaculation hitting my chest every time.
My re-tell of the story goes like this:
The subject of the tale is a woman in her forties, earthy and sexual, who lives on the edge of town in a small cottage, with an orchard surrounded by low walls. She lives alone, but has befriended one of the young jocks from the local school. He is wholesome and innocent, the cliched all American boy. Let’s call him Johnny.
Johnny has a bright-eyed cheer-leader girlfriend, blonde and beautiful, tanned in the summer sun. Let’s call her Debby. School has finished, and the pair are going into their last summer as teenagers, before they move on to their older age and loss of innocence. They gave each other the gift of their virginities just after their eighteenth birthdays, and they are still wide eyed with the wonder of it all.
The story starts with the teller (I shall call her Helen – for in this re-tell of her story I should refer to her by a name), Helen has just finished some hot work in her garden. She comes inside and takes a shower to wash away the mud and the sweat from her toil. She is described in loving detail – her breasts are full and her nipples thick, surrounded by big areola. Her legs are firm, a thick black bush between, a nicely rounded belly. Helen is lush and womanly, and her body is fit and strong, used to a good day’s work.
As she showers, of course she turns herself on with a soapy finger in her ass, several firm pushes into herself. The shower head pulses against her vage, and that is the term the writer uses repeatedly. He does not write “sex” or “cunt” – this earthy woman has a vage with thick lips and a proud rising clitoris, and thick black hair, curls tracing the tops of her thighs. She soaps herself and rubs long fingers along her lips.
But Helen makes herself wait. Still wet, she reaches for a box of her favourite toys and selects a long plastic prick, which she presses deep into herself. She straddles the edge of the bath and rocks her groin onto the edge of the tub, her vage filled with the big dildo. The author describes this over several paragraphs, and the writing is vivid and rich. He tells us how the prick feels deep inside her, and how she grips Göztepe Escort it, and the heavy heat of her groin tingles as her flesh touches the cold rim of the tub.
But Helen is not done with the dildo in her vagina, oh no; she has a tighter channel to fill as well, and we are treated to a lush description as she inserts a satisfyingly big butt plug into herself, her ass muscle clamping it tight in her dark, musky tunnel. Her aroma is rich and spicy (I can taste her tight asshole on my tongue). So there is Helen, both passages filled. Because she is an earth mother, with her wide hips and large, heavy breasts, she drapes herself with a kaftan, loose flowing. The coarse material rubs her hardened nipples, and her breasts sway under the cloth.
By this time, if I’m reading fully dressed, my cock is hard in my jeans and tight. If I am sitting up in bed with the book in my hand, my other hand is by now slowly caressing my erection. My cock bounces against my belly each time I turn a page, and then my hand cups my tightening balls and makes a slow, idle caress up the shaft. Like Helen, I am slow with myself and delaying my own arousal. She has much to do before she is done, this day; and I too am slow and patient. It is best that way, no need to hurry. Besides, Helen is still inside the house, and the warm dappled sunlight calls her out.
Helen takes her bag full of toys, and because her cunt (I am not bound by the original author’s word “vage”) – because her cunt and ass are filled with a plastic prick and a heavy butt-plug, every step she takes is a delicious pressure in the guts and centre of her, and she is almost giddy by the time she makes it to her orchard.
Helen has a special place in the centre of her orchard, where the grass is smooth and cut short like a carpet. Surrounding the grass patch is a circle of earth and mud, and she has a tap and a hose. Helen spreads a rug on the ground, and sits herself there, cross legged. Her toys are mobile within her passages, and as she is now sitting, the heft in her ass passage is full and solid, urging its presence up inside her tightest tunnel. Helen likes her fill, and luxuriates in the dappled sunlight, and the sun is warm on her face and a slight breeze cool on her arms. She is full of sensation.
After sitting some five minutes, rocking back and forth on the shaft in her ass, she takes up the hose and waters a moat around herself. When the earth is soft and wet, she opens her bag of toys and plants around herself a circle of upright dildos, carved wooden shafts, various plugs and insertion devices. Helen makes a small garden of fake phalluses, raised upright seeking the sun. She is an earth witch, seeking to make things grow, and she is the plug fuck queen, reigning within her kingdom (or her queendom). There are no fairies at the bottom of Helen’s garden, hers is a more primal place, and she grows things. She is very wet.
Her hands are covered in mud from her digging and planting, and so that she doesn’t get her kaftan dirty, she carefully undoes buttons and rolls the cloth down below her heavy breasts, so that her lap and legs are still covered with the circle of cloth, her stuffed ass and cunt her own secret places. Helen smears her wet mud covered fingers and her palms over her big breasts, and coats herself with a fine layer of mud, which soon dries.
Helen is truly an earth mother now, patterns of dried earth a lace of shapes and shadows around her torso and tits. As the mud dries, her slight movements cause cracks and ripples to appear over her flesh, and it is as if she too has grown from the earth.
Helen closes her eyes and enjoys pulling on her big nipples, and they peak up tight and firm. As she does so, there is a movement from within the trees, and a shadow is cast across her face. She opens her eyes, and there in front of her stand Johnny and Debby, the all-American teenage couple. They stand there holding hands, two pairs of eyes wide in astonishment, their feet making nervous little movements. Helen’s cunt pulses at the sight of them, at their freshness.
“Helen,” asks Johnny, “what are you doing here, why are you topless in the orchard?”
Oh the sweetness, thinks Helen, the goodness here in front of me.
“I am planting,” she says, “I am planting a circle around me. See.”
And Debby crouches beside her and realises for the first time what is in the mud around the older woman. The girl licks her lips, and flicks her long blonde hair away from her face, and tentatively reaches out to touch the biggest, most upright thing there, a carved dildo some twelve inches long, subtly curved. The girl touches the tip of her finger to the head of the wooden prick and it rocks in the mud as if alive. Debby laughs, a nervous giggle, and snatches her hand back.
Debby is sun kissed, her bare arms and colt like legs tanned and slender, the finest down of hair on her arms catching the sunlight and shimmering an aura around her. She wears a pair of denim shorts with ragged and torn cuffs, hugging the swell of İstanbul Escort her taut ass. Her midriff is bare skin, and her pert breasts are wrapped in a checked shirt which is tied in front with a knot, just above her navel. Her long blonde hair swings in a long pony tail. She even has a white ribbon tying the pony in place.
Helen can see the line of a white bra strap across the girl’s shoulder, and just knows that Debby wears the most divine pair of white cotton panties. Ah God, Helen’s sex is brimming now, and she clenches tight in her ass tunnel, to make that tight plug push up inside her, again. Her eyes open wide with the illicit pleasure of it, hidden from this perfect young pair.
“Do you know what else I am growing?”
Helen desperately wants to reveal her lush, ripe cunt to the pair, and her dark hole, but she also wants them to discover her earthiness and her stuffing for themselves. She will lead them on, but needs to see the looks on their young faces as she reveals what else she is doing in her orchard.
Johnny looks down at her, and Helen can see a bulge in his jeans as his young cock swells at the sight of her naked, mud covered breasts. Helen lifts her big breasts into the palms of her hands, and offers them up closer to the youth, and is rewarded by another shift in his tight crotch. Johnny has to shuffle his legs apart a little, to try to ease the pressure on his rising cock. He has never seen such a ripe, big pair of breasts in real life, even if he has seen unnaturally large tits on his computer.
Johnny glances across at his girl, and sees that Debby, too, is reacting to Helen’s offered up breasts. Debby crosses her legs, as if squeezing in a sensation at the base of her belly.
“Can we see what else you are growing?”
Johnny has guessed that the drape of cloth around Helen’s waist and spreading out in a circle round her might be hiding something. He cannot see the woman’s legs, but can see from the drape and fold of cloth in her lap that she is sitting cross legged. He realises that the centre of her, that he has never seen, will be open and wide and spread.
Johnny sees the dark hair in Helen’s armpits, and understands that there is a dark, thick mat of hair under that cloth. Johnny wants to see that dark mystery, but he has worked out that there is a guessing game to be played here.
He glances at the circle of mud-planted pricks around the woman, and makes a guess.
“You’ve got something up you,” his guess is inspired, but only half right. “You’ve got a long toy up your vagina.”
Debby blushes, but leans closer. She crouches again beside Helen. The girl has also worked out that Helen is aching to show them more, but she too has worked out that she and Johnny need to do some guess work here.
“Yes,” Debby says, “I think you’ve got a big prick in you.” She can’t bring herself to say any other word.
Ah bless, thinks Helen, they are so close to the truth. She cannot deny them, nor herself.
“Stand in front of me, so you can see properly.”
Helen commands now, for she must make herself fully naked before these two perfect beings.
And she takes the folds of kaftan cloth, and lifts it like a draping tent above her head. As she raises it higher the cloth pulls in along her legs, and she raises her arms and raises the cloth up. The folds lift like the curtains of a theatre, and as it rises her open, dildo filled cunt is revealed in its black haired glory, her legs spread wide. Helen tosses the kaftan onto the ground and leans back onto her elbows.
She thrusts her breasts up high, and arches her back so that her belly is long and tight, her usual folds of soft flesh pulled taut. Her thighs are long and wide in front of her, and between her legs there is a thick mat of black, tight curls across the centre of her, with a fine trace of darkness working part of the way up to her navel. Her sex lips are a rich, dark brown, thick in the hair.
“I was right,” Debby’s voice has a slight tremble to it, she has never imagined she would see such a sight.
Johnny is silent, but his stance is bent at the waist now, it is the only way he can ease the tightness on his erection. Helen glances at his groin, and up to his face.
“There is something else in me, but I am sitting, so you cannot see it.”
And she is rewarded by the slow glimmer of understanding on their faces, as first Johnny and then Debby work out what Helen is saying.
“Show us.” Johnny’s voice is thick with lust now, he wants to see everything.
“Show me first,” replies Helen.
Johnny stumbles onto the ground, he is so eager to free his fresh cock and to see what Helen has in her dark ass. He pulls off his sneakers, doesn’t care about the laces, and pulls his jeans down his legs, tugging down his jockey shorts in the same movement. As he gets to his feet he pulls his tee-shirt high over his head, and stands naked before Helen, his fresh young prick rigid against his belly, his little tits hard and tight. His fingers Anadolu Yakası Escort unconsciously brush across his chest, flicking his nipple. He has discovered that connection, for his cock bounces as his nerves connect.
Helen devours his youthful body with her eyes. Johnny is tall and slender, his skin also golden, the shape of his swimming-trunk tan lines a pale band across the base of his belly and the tops of his thighs, for he spends the afternoons and weekends at the swimming pool. His hair is long and blond and his chest hairless, for he is just a youth, not yet filled out as a man.
His cock is risen and high against his belly, a beautiful straight length, a pleasing thickness, the head of him reaching almost to his navel. Helen looks at his length and her eyes widen. She would take that firm cock into her mouth or into her ass in an instant, but knows that she must not do that.
For Johnny is Debby’s sweet boy this summer, and while Helen promises them an earthy sexy teaching, she will not have either of them, for they are each other’s. But Helen is not without some cunning of her own, and she knows there are many ways for her to take her pleasure. She sees that Debby is shy and nervous, and she must be gentle and persuasive with the girl.
“Debby, don’t be shy, come closer and caress my big tits. Feel the heavy weight of them in your hands, and look how my nipples pucker. I bet your breasts are lovely and delicate, and why don’t you show me your little nipples?”
Helen knows that the girl will want to compare the slight weight of her rising young breasts with the heavy big tits in front of her, and she also knows that Johnny will happily let his prick tighten and bounce at the very different sights in front of him. There is no concern that his fine young cock will wilt. Helen knows what grows in her garden.
Debby senses that the older woman is not a threat to her, and the girl knows that her young curves will be a wonderful contrast with the full lushness of this earth woman. The girl understands that this is not a competition but a teaching. Her brimming, bubbling sexuality will learn a thing or two from the older woman’s ripe, mature sex and licentious nature.
But Debby is still nervous like a fawn, and demurely she turns away from the other eyes as she undoes the knot at the front of her shirt, and then peels it back from her slender arms. Still facing the other way, she reaches behind her back and undoes the clip on her bra, and then places her hands to her breasts.
Helen holds her breath as the girl turns and faces her, her hands holding the white cups of the plain bra to her wonderful breasts, hiding her gentle mounds from the older woman’s eyes.
“Please, take away the bra, show me your lovely breasts.” Helen is nearly begging now, so eager is she to see the nubile curves of the lovely girl.
“Yes, come on Debs, let’s see your boobs.” Johnny is less subtle, but he will learn. Helen shoots a warning stare to him.
And Debby bravely does a little shimmy, and casts the bra from her breasts and oh goodness, see how those firm breasts sit high. She is that delicious age where her teenage years are nearly done, and she has the beginnings of a proud young woman to her, but she is still fresh. Her breasts sit as high on her chest as they ever will, her pert nipples pink and tight. Helen squeezes her own breasts in acknowledgement of the young girl’s ripeness. While Helen is the earth mother, young Debby is the princess yet to be crowned.
Debby stands beside Johnny, and glances down at his firm prick, a bright drop of pre-come glistening on the slit of his cock head, catching the light of the sun. Her nipples are thrusting pink and firm in front of her, and her belly moves quickly with her breathing. She is still nervous, but aroused. Her fingers slowly move to the button on her shorts, and she knows she has more cloth to slide down her long slender legs before she too is fully naked in Helen’s fertile garden.
Her fingers slide the short zipper down, and she curls her thumbs around the top of her shorts and rolls them down her legs. She keeps her legs straight and bends from her waist as she does so, and the movement tenses her taut little bum, and she is all lovely curves and slim limbs. Her shorts gone, she stands tall again and proud now, thrusts her delicious breasts out.
Helen has guessed correctly, for Debby wears a delightful pair of white cotton panties, a little row of pink hearts embroidered across the waist band. And look, there is a dark patch of moisture in a thin line down the front of the white cotton, from her moist little snatch. Debby is more confident now, and she does a slow strip to ease the small strip of cloth down her legs, and with a “ta da…” she spins the panties on her finger twice, before throwing them to the pile of clothes on the ground. She stands proud in front of Helen, her feet apart and the slit of her sex widening between her slim thighs.
Debby’s mound is curved, and her sex lips are fine and smooth, rising an inch up the front of her belly. As she is so golden skinned and fair, the whiteness of her bikini lines are a vivid costume on her bare skin, and her pubic triangle is small and blonde, a fine shape of light hair at the base of her belly, between her legs.
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