Dirty Sex: Goodbye to Good Girl
Fresh innuendos were arranged on the bed – a puff of panties, see through the bra-colored flesh, and a lace French silk camisole. How long had she not been dressed so sensually? Claire Blaylock stood naked after showering in front of the full mirror of her room and examined her body with new eyes. She didn’t know or care, that he was fast approaching the time to pick up his youngest daughter from basketball practice, or that the chicken breasts planned for dinner were thawed in the freezer. She was in no hurry. A wave of physical pleasure and contentment (Was that the word of euphoria?) swept over her.
The cause was Charlie McCann.
Charlie McCann, who had knocked on his door to repair his water heater, had then proposed it in the most brutal and unimaginative way possible. Charlie McCann, with smiling face, arrogant air, dirty speech; Charlie McCann, who had caught Claire in a moment of barriers down, when she needed a man, and had not hoped much; Charlie McCann, who had awakened the wild child from the days of sleepy college since his marriage to Charles. Charlie McCann, who turned out to be the most beautiful and exciting lover she has ever known.
Never, ever, had Claire known anyone like him. My god! did she think; if ever there was sensual and sexual perfection, she achieved it with Charlie. More to the point, now that she had known Charlie McCann, dear Charlie, she wanted it again – often. Fortunately, he felt the same way about her.
It was a misunderstanding that first time,” Charlie said. He had mistaken her for one of her neighbors, a legend among her fellow plumbing company specialists – which neighbor she had never discovered – a lady who loved dirty sex. Charlie had gallantly called afterwards to apologize, but he found to his surprise that Claire wanted more, and soon, and immediately returned to his arrogant self.
Caressing her body in the mirror, she mentally revitalized the last two hours.
They had driven, in Charlie’s old Blue Chevy pickup, from their second clandestine encounter in an anonymous Starbucks at Myric Motel, a small decrepit roadhouse on Highway 72 on the eastern edge of Huntsville. There was no check-in, and the manager showed them to an opening room directly on the parking lot. Charlie passed him an envelope and after leaving the key, and with a quick “good afternoon”, the manager left.
The room was so-so; old-fashioned, spartan, and with cigarette burns on furniture, but clean. There was a double bed. Next to the bed, on a table, there was an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels, mixtures and ice.
They had a drink, and chatted, then another, and during the glow of the second drink, he began to kiss her. It was not long after that she realized the softness of her hands, that he passed through her hair much to begin with, in a way that she could feel throughout her body; then the hands began to explore slowly, oh, so slowly… and that’s when Claire started to realize that it could be something special.
As he undressed her, showing a finesse that he lacked the first time, Charlie whispered, “Don’t hurry us, Mrs. Blaylock, neither.”
But soon after, when they were in bed and wonderfully warm, as he promised in the car they would be, she had wanted to hurry, and exclaimed, “Yes, yes!… Please! I can’t wait!
But he insisted, “Yes, you can, dirty girl. You have to. And she obeyed him, being quite, delightfully in his control, while he led her, by hand like a child, near the edge, and then back a rhythm or two while they waited with a feeling as floating in the air; then almost once more, and back, and the same thing over and over again, the happiness of all this almost unbearable; and finally, when none of them could wait any longer, Charlie’s thrusts increased in intensity until he was pistoning in it with wild abandonment. Claire cried in sudden pleasure as her orgasm crashed around her, a hymn from heaven and a thousand gentle symphonies; and if she had been able to choose a moment of death, because nothing afterwards could ever be equal at that time, she would have chosen then.
Charlie was there with her. “I come, Mrs. Blaylock!” “I’m going to fill you up. I’m going to get into your cunt, you dirty girl!
I said, “No!” Claire gasped, and fought against him, stopping him halfway through. “You mustn’t! I can’t get pregnant! I can’t! She was not on birth control, which was how she had gotten into the difficult situation 16 years ago that ended with marriage to Charles.
His days at Georgia Tech had been savage and reckless, a reaction, perhaps, to his strict Catholic upbringing. She had lost her virginity the first week of her first year to Mark, an elder of the swim team, and soon after added Knox, a fellow fellow architecture classmate, to her inner circle. Being pursued by two gorgeous men at the same time was an intoxicating experience for a girl who was not popular in high school, and she took full advantage, screwing each boy at least twice a week. Both relationships were a whirlwind of sex at difficult times and in chancy places. She had even fucked Knox in her lower bunk while her noisy roommate entertained her boyfriend upstairs, and later they had all froze in the shower together.
But partying and sex were not compatible with good grades and Claire struggled in mathematics. Meeting Charles was an sent God. He was a senior engineer who volunteered to teach him private lessons on the complexities of Calculus. During their sessions together, she discovered that Charles had never been to a date, had never kissed a girl, and was in danger of leaving the university still a virgin. The naughty thrill of being her first led her to seduce him.
Six weeks later she was a troubled girl and at the age of twenty, her dreams of becoming a design architect of beautiful buildings and welcoming spaces was put on hold. With three paternity candidates, she chose the partner most likely to be a good supplier. His wedding day came soon enough that she was hardly showing, and though Charles noticed that his son bore a strange resemblance to Knox, he never spoke of it
The marriage to Charles had been a slow suffocation of sixteen years. Predictable routine and ritual were what Charles appreciated, and the risk had to be avoided at all costs. He was methodical, organized and ambitious. He considered it a husband’s duty to pay attention to his wife in bed, but sex on a calendar, always following a tried and tested formula, had led him to scream. She wanted spontaneity, adventure, excitement of anticipation.
48 hours ago, she decided something had to change. Forty-eight hours ago, she had decided that, whatever the personal cost, or the pain it would cause her family, or Charles’s ambitions, she simply could no longer remain in her present situation. 48 hours ago, she was seriously considering divorce. 48 hours ago, Charlie knocked on his door, and suddenly, unexpectedly, there was a third alternative.
“I’m going to come into you one way or another, you dirty girl,” Charlie squeaked in his ear, his swollen cock throbbing deep inside. If you don’t want my juice in your cunt, then that leaves two other places to choose. I always wanted to push my cum into a girl’s mouth while she sucked me dry.
Just once, Claire had tasted the sperm and found it pungent, salty and disgusting. It would be a total debasement to allow him to ejaculate in his mouth. She couldn’t do it! His hands were flying to cover his lips.
Charlie has gone down. “Then you made your choice, Mrs. Blaylock.” He kissed her ear, as he said, “I don’t want any of us to ever forget this afternoon.”
Her hands found her breasts, and her fingers cuddled her nipples to small hard knots again, and they meagerd with desire with every pinch. Claire’s clitré began to pulsate and she began to make small thrusts of her hips with the excitement that was building again in anticipation of what was to come.
Charlie pushed his knees apart until it was set aside in front of him. He smiled and licked his lips like his swollen, red lips parted and the glittering interior of his most secret place was revealed. His clit/canvas was so congested that he glanced over the folds of her. Claire gasped when he exhaled a warm breath on her.
And then his warm breath was replaced by a warm and moist tongue. He swirled it in small circles on one side of her and on the other, never quite soaking inside, but strong enough that the pressure of each whirlwind makes its way up to his clitiffe.
Claire moans and land her against her mouth. She wanted to feel her soft, moist lips encircling her clititme. She wanted him to suck it in her mouth while he flashed it with the tip of her tongue. She wanted to feel the moisture of another orgasm soaking her mouth and chin. And then she wanted to feel her throbbing erection buried deep in her bottom.
Claire had only tried anal sex once before, with Mark, but the heartbreaking pain was so great that she had pushed him away before he even pushed the head off his penis. Yet, in her deepest and most secret fantasies, she sometimes imagined what it would be like. The depravity and the lifve of the act drew him like a moth to a flame. He was sick, perverse, degenerate. Everything about this dark opening was disgusting. And it is perhaps the forbidden nature of the act that led her to want to experience it.
Claire begged with her eyes for him to bring her in. He looked straight into the mouth of her vagina to lap her abundantly flowing juice, then slipped his tongue until flashing again to his clitoris. She squirmed as she climbed the edge of another orgasm. His legs tingled and trembled as Charlie took his loved one, then backed away. He was treading her, and frustration was driving her crazy! Each little movement of her sharp tongue sent a happy jolt of ecstasy through every cell of her body, filling her to overflow.
Charlie replaces her mouth with one of her fingers, sliding her slowly inside Claire while her tight. He curled his finger upwards and found his G-spot, followed quickly by a second finger. Claire spread her legs wider and wider, stuck between wanting it to last forever and the need to unleash the pleasure that Charlie had in her.
Then, as Charlie once again pulled her clitoris inside her mouth and sucked on her, she lost control as wave after wave of pure happiness pulsed up her legs and through her body. She deliberately pushed her against her mouth with each suck on her clitoris. The sweet music of his orgasm filled the motel room.
When it was over, Charlie raised his head, lips and chin, wet with his juice, and said, “And now it’s time. Are you ready, Mrs. Blaylock? Tell me you’re ready for my hard dick to be buried in your asshole. Tell me!
Claire was still descending from her orgasm, but managed to crunch the vile words he had taught her, “Fuck me, Charlie, fuck me in my ass.”
Charlie’s erection suddenly jerked off and quickly grew. He put his hands on either side of her on the bed as she crept onhers on her back and slipped her swollen clamp along the moisture of her furrow, sliding through her folds until the soft underside of her penis rubbed against her engorged clitaction.
“Please, Charlie. Don’t be a good one. Please, damn it. I want to feel you in the depths of my darkest place. So I want you to come into me, fill me with your hot.
“Then let the final begin, you dirty girl. Once you’ve had anal, you’ll have crossed that line once and for all. You’ll never be able to think of yourself as a good girl again. Anal sex is not for good girls. Good girls don’t play with their butts or beg men to put them out there.
And then he was at the gate, sliding the tip of his well-lubricated acorn inside his tight sphincter. Claire gasped at the sudden strong pain as her opening extended to accommodate the rubbery and bulbous head. He held his cock there for a while, until it relaxed his anus allowing him to slowly push further inside. Thumb by excruciating inch, he pushed his manhood through the tight opening, stopping as Claire unwittingly tightened his muscles around him, then relaxed.
The sharp pain she had endured at the first thrust was already a discolored memory, and nothing, absolutely nothing in this world, felt as good as the feeling of her slowly slipping into it.
“Are you all right?” Charlie asked. He seemed to be standing in check, as if it had taken all his will to do so.
Claire arched and stretched under him. His movements sent him deeper, making him gasp with pleasure. “I’ve never been so beautiful,” she purred. She felt alive, animated. The stifling stresses of the past sixteen years fell as the head of Charlie’s cock jumped through the final barrier and suddenly plunged into his rectum.
“Oh, my God!” he cried. Claire whistled. I said, “Yes!”
Charlie pushed hard and his cock regularly filled his passage until his balls slapped him against his buttocks. He held it there and crushed it hard to make sure it was all the way inside before it withdrew. He pushed deep a second time, a third, and then he hit a rhythm. His thumb again found Claire’s clitoris and circled it as he pushed into his bottom with his thick, hard cock. Claire rolled her nipples between her thumb and forefinger and felt herself climbing the mountain again, but this time someone was going to reach the top with her.
She felt both empowered and vulnerable. She had never felt closer to a partner, as if sucking it into her, engulfing him. The feelings were not only strangely pleasant, but incredibly intense, as if it were going into sensory overload. Every move, every stroke of his clitaction felt ten times stronger. She could feel every inch of her slipping in and out. The movement stimulated her bowels and suddenly she was afraid that she might lose control and have an accident, but as Charlies pushed deeper and harder as the feeling was replaced by a delightful glow and fullness Satisfactory.
Charlie was in heaven. He had found a place at the bottom of Claire’s intestine that tightened his head like a vice of velvet with each thrust. He felt so good that he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for long. Already, he could feel the sperm boiling from her, gathering at the base of his tree, building pressure… Building…
“I come, Mrs. Blaylock!” He cried aloud at the intensity of his ejaculations, long bursts of that pulsated deep into Claire’s bottom. And as she felt the hot juice squirt into her, her own orgasm was triggered and together they rolled the waves of pleasure until, exhausted, they collapsed into each other’s arms and slowly slowly returned to reality.
Charlie seemed very happy with himself as he drove her into town to get his car. “We were great, Mrs. Blaylock. My God, we were great.
Claire smiled. They Had Been great together. And she appreciated Charlie’s total absence from humbug – there was no question of leaving their spouses, getting divorced and remarrying. Their relationship was purely sexual. And if they were careful, they could enjoy each other’s company for a long time to come.
Charles was certain that it was his wife in the battered blue pick-up truck who whistled across the intersection just after his nose as he waited at the red light. He briefly wondered why Claire was driving with the stranger, but quickly rejected him from his mind. He had more concerns at the time, and no doubt he would hear about them at the dinner table that evening.
Dirty Sex: Goodbye to Good Girl