Native Love : Wank Wednesday

Time to get back to a bit of Wank Wednesday wantonness. Today's prompt is #grace. For more info on this near legendary writing challenge and to read the rest of the entries, check out the Word Ejaculation blog.

Native Love

It was a bright summer's day in the Cotswolds, the daisies in full bloom, when news reached Prudence Butterworth that her husband had been mauled to death by a leopard.

The year was 1910 and Prudence, who had just turned fifty a few weeks earlier, was not particularly surprised at the news. Reverend Bartholomew Butterworth had been the Presbyterian pastor of Puddleby-on-the-Donk when she married him. She had been a good respectable pastor's wife and had born him a son, Archibald. But when Archibald graduated from college and took passage to Australia, Bartholomew found himself suddenly fired by missionary zeal. No longer could he content himself with a life of jumble sales, tea parties and organ repair fund-raisers when he knew that the Dark Continent was just chock full of naked heathens living a shamefully carefree existence in complete ignorance of the peril hanging over their eternal souls. He kissed his devoted wife goodbye and, armed with a trunk full of Bibles and a copy of Teach Yourself Swahili he headed off for the Congo.

He had been gone for six years when the grizzly news of his demise reached Prudence. She hadn't really missed him all that much. He'd always been a bit of a wet blanket, but he was a good provider. Prudence was a dreamer. She had always longed for a man who would take her in his strong arms, ravish her soft wet mouth with rough kisses and give her a long hard poke in the whiskers. She knew she shouldn't really think about these things, but she couldn't help herself. She was far more hot-blooded than her husband who seemed to view sex as some kind of regrettable necessity much like blowing one's nose. She paid close attention to the men of the village. She daren't flirt with them. That would not be proper. But if she saw a finely chiselled muscular workman with his shirt open spilling water down over his chest as he drank from the water pump in the town square, she would discreetly run her eyes over him and store up the image to be enjoyed in the realm of fancy when she was curled up in her warm bed. One reason she didn't mind her husband's absence was that it gave her the freedom to do what she wanted in her bedroom. One day, while unpacking a box of books for the jumble sale, she had discovered a copy of a magazine called The Oyster. My did that open up her imagination to new possibilities! The magazine was full of stories of wicked men and women engaging in every kind of debauchery. Prudence read it over and over again, and then she would lie in her bed naked (something she could never do with Bartholomew beside her) and she would recast the orgies from the magazine with herself and the men of the village as she fondled her stiff nipples and frigged her wet pussy, sailing away on a sea of salaciously saucy sluttiness. That, she was afraid, was the only word for her - a slut. Well, maybe not the only word - trollope, whore and jezebel would do just as nicely. But this was only what she was in spirit, not in deed. There was no reasonable opportunity for a secret slut to live out her desires when she was trapped in the body of a pastor's wife.

The letter which informed Prudence of the death of her husband also asked what she wanted done with his body. To send it back to England would be expensive, and she knew that he would prefer to be buried in the wild land that he had come to love.

"If he can travel to Africa, I don't see why I shouldn't do the same," she said to herself. "It is only right that I be there to put his body to rest."

And so this was how, three months later, after a long sea voyage and a long and dangerous trek into the dark interior she found herself in the village of Utambi.

Her husband had done an amazing job of civilizing the natives. She had to give him that. They all spoke perfect English. The men were all dressed in neatly pressed black suits with white bowties, and the women wore brightly coloured dresses which hung down straight over their bodies and reached to their ankles. They didn't seem troubled by the demise of their benefactor, in fact they were all smiles. The men grinned broadly and their eyes had a naughty twinkle, and the women giggled shyly and reaching out to touch Prudence.

"We are most honoured to meet the good Reverend's charming wife," announced Chief Ngobla with a deep bow.

"I can understand now why my husband was so in love with Africa," she replied. "Such a charming congregation."

"May I dare to suggest," put in Ngobla, "that he might be alive today if his love had not extended to the wildlife."

"Poor Bartholomew," sighed Prudence. "It must have been dreadful. But tomorrow we will bury him and have a proper funeral."

"A funeral we shall have," agreed the chief, "but we cannot bury him."

"Why not?" she asked.

"A week after the leopard killed him," he explained, "the Goona tribe from the next valley stole him for their cooking pot."

"That's terrible!" cried Prudence. "You can't mean that there are still cannibals in this area?"

"It is most regrettable," he nodded. "We too ate the first three missionaries sent to our village."

"But you have learned to be good Christians now, haven't you?" she replied, a bit nervously.

"Oh, yes," he reassured her, with a big toothy grin, "we are good Christians now. We no longer eat missionaries. Only athiests. And we say grace first."

"Oh, my!" cried Prudence, not sure if he was joking or not. It was so hard to tell when he grinned all the time and the women kept giggling.

"Now that the Reverend has been taken from us, what can we do for spiritual guidance?" asked Ngobla.

"I'm sure the church will send you another missionary," she said.

"Yes," he replied sadly, his grin suddenly gone, "but there are missionaries and missionaries."

"You stay and be our missionary," said one of the women enthusiastically, grabbing her by the arm.

"Yes!" cried Ngobla. "We like you! It is decided!"

"But I can't be a missionary!" exclaimed Prudence. "I haven't had any training."

"We'll train you," explained Ngobla. "The Reverend trained us so well, we can train you and then you can train us back again."

"Well, I must admit the prospect is much more appealing than going back to boring old England," she admitted. "I'll stay until a proper missionary turns up anyway."

So Prudence was shown to the Reverend's old hut where she stowed away her luggage, and then they sat around and ate a delicious zebra hot pot cooked by Ndooboo, a short chubby man who was Ngobla's chef as well as the village witch doctor. (The Reverend had had a hard time persuading him to stop telling people with various ailments to sacrifice two chickens and see him in the morning.)

Prudence had never felt so welcome anywhere before. It was as if she had instantly been adopted into the tribe.

That night as she lay in her tent, thinking about how handsome Ngobla and the other men of the tribe were, and quietly fingering her wet pussy, she began to hear the sounds of passionate love-making in the other huts. The growl of marauding lions, the laughing bark of the hyena and the crash of rhinoceroses through the undergrowth - these background noises were now drowned out by groans and grunts and feminine squeals as the flimsy walls of the village huts trembled and shook.

Prudence didn't sleep well that first night. She came about twenty times pleasuring herself to imaginings of what was going on just feet away from her, but she didn't sleep well. She awoke with a plan.

"Ngobla," she said, when she emerged from her hut shortly after dawn, "I've been thinking. I think perhaps my husband made a mistake."

"I would say so," replied Ngobla. "Stepping on a leopard cub when its mother is sitting on a tree branch over your head would generally be classified as a mistake."

"No, I don't mean that," she insisted. "I mean when it comes to cultural sensitivity. I'm sure he meant well by dressing you all in these fancy clothes, but it isn't really appropriate for the climate, and it shows insensitivity to your culture, which, in its own way, is just as legitimate as English culture."

Ngobla's face lit up with his trademark grin.

"You would not be embarrassed if we went naked?" he asked.

Prudence blushed.

"Well, off course, I might feel a bit embarrassed, but it is the right thing to do, to let you be comfortable," she responded, though she couldn't keep a cheeky grin of her own from creeping across her face.

"I think you want to be a bit embarrassed," Ngobla replied. "The Reverend was very embarrassed when he arrived in the village. He was so embarrassed when he saw the ladies of the tribe that the front of his trousers became insubordinate."

"I wish I'd been here to see that," she replied. "Now get out of those ridiculous clothes, all of you!"

Ngobla tore off his coat and shirt and yanked down his trousers and undergarment. In less than a minute he was nude. And what a fine figure of a man he was, tall and muscular, his ebony skin shining in the sun.

"Wow! I can see why you're the chief of the tribe!" cried Prudence, as her eyes fell upon his massive cock which hung about a third of the way to his knees.

The women, who were all now naked as well, giggled.

"You like it?" asked Ngobla with a wink as he fondled his big soft penis. "You can touch it if you like."

Prudence blushed a deep red, but she reached out as if in a trance and began stroking Ngobla's cock, which slowly began to stiffen.

"We love it best of all!" shouted Mboobla, the prettiest of the women, and all the rest giggled. "We love his big thing and we all like him to put it inside of us."

"Your English is very good," said Prudence, her voice quivering with passion as she stroked her soft hand up and down Ngobla's now rigidly erect rod, "but my husband left some gaps in your education. There are other words you need to know. Say it along with me - 'We love Ngobla's huge cock and we love it when he fucks us with it!"

"We love Ngobla's huge cock and we love it when he fucks us with it!" they giggled.

"'We want him to fill our juicy wet cunts with jets of juicy jism!'" she added, her head spinning as Ngobla's proud prick throbbed in her fist.

"'We want him to fill our juicy wet cunts with jets of juicy jism!'" they agreed.

Ngoba suddenly pushed her down onto her hands and knees in the dust and pulled up the back of her dress.

"No! No!" she cried. "That's not the way to do it. Didn't my husband teach you anything?"

"I never did this with your husband," replied Ngobla.

"He didn't teach you about the missionary position?" she gasped.

"Missionaries have their own position?" he wanted to know.

"No, its for everybody," she tried to explain. "Look, I'll show you." She rolled onto her back, pulled up her dress and pulled down her wet panties. "Now you lie on top of me this way and we fuck."

"OOOOooooh," replied Ngobla with a wink, "kinky!"

And then he slid his huge black cock deep into her pale pink grey-haired pussy.

"That's right," sighed Prudence.

"Do all women make such faces when they are being fucked?" asked the chief as one of Prudence's eye-lids began to flutter and her mouth hung open in an idiotic expression. "It is most amusing. I like this missionary position better."

The women giggled as they watched. Some were playing with themselves, some were playing with someone else.

"I love your pale skin," said Ngobla, tearing off the rest of her clothes. She felt embarrassed to be revealed in this way, especially since she was older than the rest, her breasts soft and droopy and her belly less than firm, but it was an exciting embarrassment. After all her years of hiding her true nature, here she was completely naked being fucked senseless by a black man with a massive cock as a whole tribe of horny savages looked on aroused by the novelty of her pale flesh.

"Oh, God! You don't know how I've longed to be properly fucked!" she sighed, running her fingers over Ngobla's sweaty chest as his cock slid deeper into her very being than she ever thought possible.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" groaned the chief as he spurted over and over, before collapsing on top of the missionary's wife.

"Did he fill your cunt with jets of juicy jism?" cried one of the women.

"He did! He did!" grinned a satisfied Prudence.

Later as they were laying beside the river after a swim, Ngobla covered her body in tender kisses.

"Your flesh is tender and pale," he sighed adoringly. "It makes my mouth water."

"Now, now," replied Prudence anxiously, "we'll have none of that."

"All the men adore you," he replied. "They all want to fuck you very much."

"I assure you the feeling is mutual," she smiled.

"There is also much mutual feeling going on amongst the women," Ngobla laughed, pointing towards a lesbian orgy that was taking place further up the bank.

"You have some very horny women in this tribe," she replied. "I feel very much at home."

"Yes, they were very troublesome for your husband. He was always having to scare away the poachers," Ngobla explained.

"There are tribes which poach women?" she asked.

"No, the elephant poachers," he said.

"What do they have to do with the women?" she wanted to know.

"These poachers, they were always trying to egg the women on to buy their ivory dildoes," he explained.

"Ah," she replied, pulling him close for a long slow kiss.

"Can I eat your pussy?" he asked, looking down at the spot were droplets of water clung to the silver hairs which crowned her tender pink slit.

"Only if you say grace first," she smiled.

"For what you are about to receive may the Lord make you truly thankful," laughed Ngobla.

The End

Falling Into the Cougar Cage : Wank Wednesday

It's Wank Wednesday once again and the prompt word is #cliff. I've resisted the temptation to write a story about Cliff Richard. For more information about this writing challenge as well as links to the other stories, check out Ruby Kiddell's Erotic Notebook.

Falling Into the Cougar Cage

Barney was eighteen years old and he was very unlucky. Apart from having to share his name with a really annoying purple dinosaur, he was a virgin. This might not have been a problem if he wasn't horny. But he was horny all the time. He had only to see a girl's round ass encased in a tight pair of jeans or firm young breasts bouncing bra-less beneath a t-shirt and his cock became rock hard. This made him very self-conscious. But he kept looking. And he longed to see more than just clothed girls on the streets. Of course he looked at magazines full of naked women. He could jack off to them all day. But he longed to see naked girls in the flesh. That is why he came up with his grand plan.

He might have been timid when it came to women, but he was a bit of a daredevil in other ways. He loved to go rock-climbing and he loved to hang-glide. A few miles from where he lived there was a nude beach over which towered a massive limestone cliff. He decided to hang-glide off of the cliff and glide over the beach so that he could get a bird's eye view of all those naked girls.

From the top of the cliff all of those girls looked like little white or brown ants. In fact he couldn't tell which of the little figures were men and which were women. But he grabbed onto the big kite and walked to the end of the precipice. He took a deep breath, and then he hurled himself forward out into the sunny afternoon sky. While it was a very hot day, thus ensuring that the beach was packed, it was a little windier than usual. Barney had to use all of his strength to guide himself in the right direction. He glided out over the sea and then circled back so that he could fly over the beach at a lower altitude.

Once he was gliding above the beach itself he found that its occupants were a very mixed bunch. There were a lot of fat old men whose leathery brown bellies hid their genitals just as well as clothes would have. And their were old women whose withered breasts hung almost to their knees. But there were also plenty of girls around his own age, of varying degrees of attractiveness it was true, but when he saw the gorgeous ones, with their firm bouncing breasts, jiggling bottoms and their bald or hairy pussies shamelessly displayed, it was all worth it. The feel of his dick sliding across the soft cloth of his briefs inside his denim shorts as it swelled and stiffened was almost enough to make him cum in his pants. Some of the girls even looked up and waved, just inviting him to feast his eyes on their delicious nakedness. This had definitely been a good idea.

But when a girl with a particularly lovely bottom bent down to pick something up so that her bum was presented directly towards him with just a hint of furry pussy peaking out, he forgot that he needed to start pulling up if he were to avoid crashing into the beach. At the last moment he pulled up sharply, but a freak wind lifted him and propelled him far over the local neighbourhood. At some point he was going to have to land, but where? Now he was above a patchwork of backyards and their accompanying houses.

Vesper from Girls Out West

There was a very large swimming pool. Now was his chance. He let go of the handle of his glider and fell into the water. The glider was whipped up by the wind, turned over and then landed on the roof of the house.

"It looks like someone has dropped in for a visit?" said one of three attractive women in their forties who chose this moment to walk out of the house and into the backyard with long drinks in their hands. All three were wearing brightly-coloured bikinis which showed off their tanned bellies and generous boobs.

"I'm sorry," Barney spluttered as he dragged himself from the water. "I lost control."

"We all know what that's like," chuckled the woman, a redhead in a hot pink bikini.

"You really must get out of those wet clothes," suggested a blonde wearing tropical print bathers.

"I'm Rebecca," put in a brunette in black, holding out her hand. Barney looked bewildered. He didn't take her hand, and he didn't take off his wet clothes.

"Brandi is my name," announced the redhead, "and randy is my nature."

"This is my home," the blonde informed him, "and my name is Sue."

"You look ridiculous standing there all wet and bedraggled like a half-drowned kitten," declared Brandi. "You're among friends. Take off the shorts and t-shirt. You can leave on your underpants if you are feeling shy."

"Awww, does he have to?" asked Rebecca with a wink.

Reluctantly Barney pulled his t-shirt off of his well-formed six pack and unzipped and pulled off his shorts. He was very much aware of the fact that his wet black hipsters did nothing to hide the shape of his currently flaccid cock.

"I'll go get you a drink," said Sue. "And I won't even ask to see your I.D."

"Well, we can see everything else," smiled Brandi, looking very directly at the front of Barney's underpants.

Sue came back with a tall glass filled with an orange coloured drink. It had a lemon slice and a paper umbrella. Barney sipped it and realised that it was very strong.

While Barney was distracted by tasting his drink, Brandi came up behind him and yanked down his underpants. He went bright red and quickly covered his dick with his free hand.

"He's so shy," Brandi chuckled, while groping his bare ass.

"I'd almost think he was a virgin," Rebecca told her, "if I didn't know that they were an extinct species."

"I'm not a virgin," Barney replied. "I've banged lots of chicks."

"You like sex, do you?" asked Sue, sidling up beside him and stroking his face.

"I love it!" he declared proudly.

At this point the three women simultaneously reached behind them, unclipped their bikini tops and shrugged them off. Their big soft boobs hung low, the previously unexposed areas pale compared to the tan elsewhere. Then they hooked their fingers into their bikini bottoms and pulled them down their legs. Rebecca and Sue had their pussies shaved bare, while Brandi sported a well trimmed area of flaming pubes.

Sidney at  AllOver30.com

"If you love sex so much," purred Sue, "you'll be absolutely crazy about having a foursome with a trio of sex-crazed cougars."

"That's disgusting!" cried Barney. "You're old! You're even older than my mother."

"So you don't like older women, hey?" queried Sue, while gently nibbling on his earlobe and rubbing her bare pussy against his hip.

"No," Barney replied.

"You're dick's telling us otherwise," said Rebecca in a sing song voice as she pulled his hand away from his cock to reveal that it was now standing fully erect.

"Traitor!" cried Barney to his erection. He put down his drink and gave his cock a hard slap. "Ouch! Fuck!" he screamed, hopping up and down.

"I'm afraid we can't let you do that sort of thing to your cock," Sue informed him. She pulled his hands behind his back. Brandi brought over her bikini top and together they used it to tie Barney's hands together.

"We're members of the SPCP," she informed him. "The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Penises."

"Yes," added Rebecca, "you'd be surprised at the number of penis owners who mistreat what should be their best friend. They squeeze their penis into extra tight pants. And with so many guys, if we don't keep an eye on them, they start beating their meat."

"And it isn't just what they do to them," Brandi explained. "Oh, no, no, no... Deprivation is a big problem to. If we left you to your own devices you would deprive your cock of the joys we want to bestow upon it. That, my little virgin friend, would be cruelty."

"I told you, I'm not a virgin," Barney insisted.

"Cougar's know how to trust their instincts," Brandi told him. "If you weren't a virgin our mouths would not be watering as much as they are at the thought of sucking your cock."

"The first time you have your cock sucked, you want to have it done by an expert," Rebecca informed him. He looked over at her and found that she was sliding two of her fingers in and out of her cunt which was dripping its juices all down her legs.

"How do we decide who goes first?" asked Sue.

"It's your home," said Brandi, reasonably. "You go first, then Rebecca and then me."

"She wants to make sure she's the one who gets a mouthful of spunk," laughed Rebecca.

Sue crouched down between Barney's legs and sucked on his balls, then she licked up the underside of his shaft which was leaking pre-cum onto his belly from its head. She licked up some of the slippery liquid and then slipped her lips over the head of his cock and swallowed it down her throat. The other two were watching closely while squatting down on either side and enthusiastically fingering themselves.

The other two took turns in sucking his cock.

"Oh, God!" he exclaimed as he filled Brandi's warm wet mouth with jets of creamy jism. She pulled her mouth off of his softening cock and then opened it up wide so that he could see her tongue all covered in his love juices.

"If you promise not to run away or do violence to your penis, I'll untie you," Sue informed him.

"O.K.," Barney replied. "I really don't want to run away now. This feels wrong, but in a good way."

So Sue untied him and they sat around chatting and sipping their drinks. Each of the women had her legs spread and was playing with herself as they socialised. Occasionally one would have to pause in her conversation to let out a moan of orgasm.

"You really don't want to squeeze a large cock like yours into a young woman's very tight vagina," Rebecca lectured him. "What he wants is to be stroked by the tender caress of an older pussy which is juicier and less constricting."

And indeed, by the end of the afternoon he had not only fucked all of their wet and tender pussies, but also Brandi's tight butt-hole. (Which just goes to show that the ladies were somewhat hypocritical in their views on putting cocks in tight places.)

"Take this," Sue told him, after he had dressed and gathered up the remains of his hang glider. She handed him a little black book.

"What's this?" he wanted to know.

"It has our phone numbers and addresses and also those of all the other 108 members of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Penises," she explained. "If, at any time, you feel that you might be in danger of mistreating your penis, ring one of these numbers and help will shortly be at hand."

The End

The Prime Traveller's Life : Thelma

This was intended to be the first of a series. And maybe it still will be. Let me know what you think.

There’s something about the universe. It’s just so universal. If you think about it (and I don’t recommend that you do) the universe can’t help but be a strange place, because everything strange is in it. Most of the time it makes no sense, and when it does make sense that’s even stranger, because there’s no reason why it should. In all the chaotic fields of energy, why should there be something as regular and dependable as matter? And amidst all of the dead matter why should some of it be alive? Among all the things that are alive why should there be some who are able to look out into the universe and realise that it makes no sense?

Recently something new has started to happen which makes sense but doesn’t make sense. A genetic mutation has made it possible, or rather unavoidable, for some individuals to travel instantaneous from one spot to another in space. That bit makes no sense. But there seems to be a purpose behind the phenomenon. Where the travellers travel is not random. They travel along an axis of sexuality. Imagine one of those weird machines they used to have in the old Frankenstein movies. An arch of electricity jumps between two electrodes, one negative and the other positive. In this case the opposites are greed and need. The possessors of this mutant gene have a tremendous appetite for sexual self-gratification. And it is this which causes them to be transported into the vicinity of members of the opposite sex who are either lonely or horny or both. Now you may be asking, “Aren’t greed and need pretty similar?” But what makes them opposites is that the greedy individual has a surfeit of what he wants, even if he is never satisfied, while the needy individual is not satisfied because they have none of what they want. 

Scientists refer to this process as “prime travelling” as the individuals on each end of the process are at their sexual prime - the age of 18 for males and 30 to 50 for females. Anyway, don’t worry too much about the particulars. You’ll pick it up as we go along.

The hero of our story is a genetic mutant named Theo. At the tender age of 18, Theo is a porn addict. At school he was shy and nerdy and nothing much has changed in the year since he left. If you met him on the street you would take him for a model citizen. He’s always polite and well-mannered. He doesn’t swear. 

But there is another side to his personality that the world doesn’t see. As soon as he moved out of his parent’s home into his own apartment a demon was let loose. With his new-found privacy he was able to indulge his hunger for porn to the full. Every night when he got home from his job stacking the shelves at the local supermarket, he would heat up a microwave meal and eat it at his computer. He’d start the evening with some reading, before his eyes got too tired. His favourite site was sandie's sexy stories. If there was a new story by her he would immediately throw off all of his clothes and get a firm grip on his cock. He would wank from the early hours of the evening right through until about 1.00 A.M. He’d bring himself to the brink and then stop and when the impulse to cum had died down he would start to stroke again. 

He could go on like that for an hour or two. Then he would let go and feel the hot cum squirt out of his thobbing cock and splatter all over his chest and sometimes even his face. When he’d had enough of the stories he searched for his favourite kinds of pictures or watched some of his favourite videos. What he loved best were blow job pictures and videos. 

He was still a virgin. He hadn’t had any kind of sex with a girl. But what he dreamed of was shoving his cock in and out of a girl’s mouth. And he loved to see a guy cum all over a girl’s face. To him the site of a pretty girl’s face, particularly one with braces, absolutely drenched in jism was the most beautiful thing in the world. The women whose bags of groceries he carried so politely at the store would never have suspected what Theo was like in his dreams, laying back naked on his bed, his stiff cock standing like a flagpole, yelling to a bunch of naked cheerleaders, “Last slut to suck my cock is a rotten egg!”

The first time that Theo travelled, the opposite pole was Thelma. She was a barmaid at the Banshee and Barnacle, Belfast.

“Cunts the lot of them,” she grumbled to herself, as she mopped up the spilled beer after closing time. She thought she’d had enough of men. They were always leering at her boobs and grabbing for her arse. It’s not that she minded the sexual attention, but they just wanted something for themselves. After her husband left her she’d tried sleeping with the customers, but they were mostly pigs who’d hump away for about three minutes and then keep her awake with their snoring all night.

“Ah if only it could be like it was for me and Hamish back in the glen,” she sighed as she undressed in her bedroom. “Now there was a lad who knew how to use his cock...and his tongue.”

Jennifer Steyn as Molly Bloom

Working the bar required that she dress in a fairly old-fashioned manner, clothes which took some getting out of. She unlaced the front of her bodice and shrugged it off. And then she released her 42 inch breasts from her rather functional bra. She undid the waistband of her skirt letting her full belly resume its normal shape. And down came her panties over her rather large buttocks. You could say she was Rubenesque, but unlike Rubens’ models she showed little sign of cellulite. There was a rounded firm youthfulness to her naked body which made her seem less than her 40 years.

Thelma slept nude and, as she lay back under the warm covers she remembered how Hamish had loved to parade his stiff cock in front of her. As soon as they had heated up the living room he would always throw off all of his clothes and tease her by doing various boring chores unclad. She would tease him about being a nudist. But then it wouldn’t be long before his cock gradually stiffened until he was walking around tiding the room with a massive erection bouncing in front of him. 

“How did that happen?” she would laugh, slapping him on the arse. 

“I’ve been thinking of you,” he smiled sweetly. “I’ve been thinking about you naked. I’ve been thinking about how you are going to beg for mercy when I fuck you senseless.”

“If only...if only...” Thelma whimpered, fingering her sopping wet cunt.

It was at this point that Theo travelled into Thelma’s bed. As you can imagine, this came as a bit of a shock for both parties, but it is part of the nature of the travelling process that both parties accept it in much the same way that we accept the strange logic of a dream. In fact, in Theo’s case, he did believe at first that he was dreaming. He’d been whacking off for three hours straight over so many sexually-charged images that this just felt like some kind of strange wet dream.

When she realised that there was a male body in the bed next to her, Thelma reached out and felt around. First she felt Theo’s chest, and then his knee, and then her hand grasped his stiff cum-slippery cock.

“Hamish?” she asked.

“The name’s Theo,” our hero replied, throwing back the sheets so he could get a good look at Thelma’s naked body. “Now why don’t you suck my cock, bitch?”

“I don’t think so, boyo!” she shouted angrily, thinking of her lecherous customers. “That cock of yours is only good for one thing. Giving pleasure to my cunt!”

Scrawny Theo was no match for this dynamo of Irish womanhood. She stood up and pinned him to the bed with one foot. “Do you wanna cum, you piece of shit!” she spat.

“Yes,” Theo muttered, beginning to suspect that he’d wandered into someone else’s wet dream by mistake.

“O.K., then,” she said, her tone mellowing. “I don’t know how you turned up here, but now that you're here there is no reason why we can’t both have a good time. For the time being, why don’t you lay back there and relax while I do all the work.”

With that she squatted down over his stiff cock and, with a guiding hand, slid it into her sopping wet pussy. There was a squelch as she spread her thighs on either side of him and rode back and forth on this stiffness.

“Does that feel good?” She sighed.

“I’ve never fucked a woman before,” he admitted, with a dopey ecstatic grin.

“Well, you sure picked the right colleen to begin with, honey,” she grinned. “I’ll show you a thing or two.”

Red (from various sites)

“You’re even better than a cheerleader,” Theo told her as he watched her huge boobs swing back and forth. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“I think somebody came,” she laughed, rolling off of him so that his flaccid prick popped wetly out of her pussy. “But it wasn’t me.”

“Sorry,” said Theo.

“That’s O.K.,” she reassured him. “What if we make a deal. I’ll suck your cock for you, but first you have to give my pussy a thorough licking. Don’t worry, I’ll show you how.”

“I don’t know,” said Theo. “It’s full of my cum. That’s kind of gross.”

“Don’t be a wimp,” she chided him. “It won’t kill ya. And I’m gonna let you shoot loads of it into my mouth. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

She showed him where she liked to be licked and sucked. Swallowing some of his cum wasn’t a big deal. It just tasted salty. And he started to get a kick out the way he was making Thelma moan. It was a bit like playing a video game, hit the right spot and the buzzer went off. Eventually she clamped her thighs hard around his head and he felt warm liquid drench his mouth.

“Hey,” he spat. “You pissed on me.”

“That’s not piss,” she chuckled. “That’s just the stuff that means we’re in love. Now hands up, who wants their cock sucked?”

When she started sucking the dry cum and pussy juice off of his cock it was still flaccid from his first climax, but it didn’t take long to swell up in her mouth. She was an expert. She slurped up and down and ran the tip of her tongue around the rim of the helmet and over the sensitive eye. 

Her post-orgasmic feelings toward this young lad were protective, almost motherly, and she gently stroked his chest and brushed back the hair from his forehead as she sucked on his cock. Eventually he sighed and filled her willing mouth with his warm salty seed.

A few seconds later he disappeared. Thelma huddled up beneath her bedclothes feeling a warm glow that would help her to face the challenges ahead. And Theo ended up in his own bed wondering if such a weird experience would ever happen to him again.


The End

A Spacecraft Named Desire : Fuck Me Friday

For this week's Fuck Me Friday story we pick up from where we left off last Friday. If you haven't already you may want to read part one Lust in Space first. For an explanation of Fuck Me Friday and links to everyone's else's stories, check out Aisling Weaver's site.

A Spacecraft Named Desire

"It must get boring living here on Altair with only your mother for company," I said to Altairus as we trudged across the desert landscape towards their massive bio-dome.

"I have my menagerie for company," he pointed out.

"Menagerie?" I asked.

"You'll see," he told me.

Sure enough, when we entered the dome, we found that one side of it was taken up by a couple of dozen cages, each containing an earth animal. There was a tiger, a crocodile, an elephant, a kangaroo, a polar bear and various smaller animals.

"You brought all of these animals with you in a spaceship?" I queried.

"No," explained Morbia. "We have a matter transporter. I was able to transport these animals here from earth for Altairus' amusement. It also helps with the grocery shopping."

"What the fuck is that?" I asked, examining something truly disgusting in a massive aquarium.

"We call it a flark," explained Altairus. "It was a mistake. There was a fly in the matter transporter when we were transporting a tiger shark. It has all of the disadvantages of a shark combined with the disadvantages of a fly. It has to keep swimming constantly. It can't fly. And it has no teeth, so it has to puke stomach acid onto a fish before sucking it up that tube. It does have big eyes though."

"It sure does," I admitted, feeling uncomfortable as its multifaceted peepers stared at me through the glass.

"Don't you ever get lonely for female company?" asked Chief Engineer Jones, pulling down the zip on her skin-tight leather space suit to expose some creamy cleavage.

"When the time is right and I have chosen someone suitable, I will transport a bride for my son," Morbia explained. "In the meantime I am happy that he is living here with me, and not liable to fall into the hands of some slutty space jockey. No offence."

"She needs to lighten up," whispered Mavis, the ship's tea lady.

"Perhaps I could offer you a massage," I suggested. "It seems the least we can do to make up for the inconvenience we have forced upon you by crash landing here."

"Yes, I am a bit tight," admitted Morbia, flexing her back muscles.

I left the crew to flirt with Altairus and led Morbia into her bedroom.

"Who's a naughty girl, wearing no panties under her magisterial robes?" I teased, as I lifted said garment and gazed down upon Morbia's pale sagging buttocks.

"One likes to be comfortable," she replied. "Naughtiness has nothing to do with it."

I pulled off her single garment and gave her a conventional rub-down.

"Now don't you try anything," she warned. "I know all about you Pleasure Units." She was lying on her back.

"You mean you don't want me to do this?" I asked, making my fingers buzz and circling them gently around her stiff nipples.

"That... oooooh.... is..... ahhhhhh..... precisely..... mmmmm.... what I don't.... oh, Jesus.... want you to do...." she tried to say.

"Oh, O.K. I'll stop that then," I said, lifting my fingers from her breasts. "It's a good thing you warned me," I added, "because I was just about to do this." And I plunged a vibrating finger as far as it would go up her dripping wet pussy.

"How dare you violate me with that big fat fuckworthy finger cock of yours, you dirty filthy cunt wanker!" she cried, as she lubricated my joints with her pussy juice.

The next thing I knew she was pressing her lips against the hole in my metal head where my voice comes out. I've never had that reaction before.

"Do I turn you on, baby?" she purred.

"Actually, no," I pointed out. "As you know, Pleasure Units are not, themselves, capable of feeling pleasure."

"Yes, I know," she said sadly. "God, how I miss being with a man. The feel of skin on skin and the warm wetness of cum shooting into my cunt or my mouth."

"You really are a bit of a slut on the quiet, hey?" I nudged her shoulder.

"But my son must know nothing of this," she warned me. "I have gone out of my way to keep him innocent. Not every bride weds a man who will treat her with reverence and warm affection, and I wish this for the woman who marries Altairus."

"Discretion is my middle name," I lied. (I don't have a middle name, but if I did it would be Blabbermouth.)

"You know, I might be able to help you," she mused.

"In what way?" I asked.

"How would you like to experience pleasure?" she wanted to know.

"Is that possible?" I queried. "You're not suggesting you could install a nervous system?"

"No," she responded. "But I have invented something called the empathy circuit. It allows a robot to feel a human's feelings. Of course you can't feel anything in your body without a nervous system. But this circuit forms a wireless connection with the consciousness of anyone within a radius of six metres. You would feel their pleasure or pain or any other sensations, but you would feel them in their body. It would be as if their body was yours."

"Sounds awesome," I replied.

You know, sometimes, when your dreams come true they turn out to be nightmares.

She opened up my head and inserted the new circuit, and half an hour later I was find out what it felt like to be a sexually frustrated middle-aged woman wanking off in front of a robot. And, believe me, that was a big plus for her. She loved to be watched. Which was weird for me, because I was getting off on watching myself, kind of. The other weird part about it was feeling what it feels like to be a woman. I don't have a penis, but my programming was based on a male identity, so this was a particularly exotic experience for me.

The circuit did have a side effect though. As well as feeling the physical sensations of the other individual, it allowed me to see what was going on inside their head. In Morbia's head I found envy of the youth of the crew members, fear that they would lead her son astray, and an impatience that they be gone. But this was mixed with a sense of regret that the departure of the ship would also mean my departure and a return to no-frills masturbation for her.

Her fears about the crew and her son were well-founded. When we joined them in the dining room for the evening meal, we found that they had all unzipped their space-suits all the way down to their navels.

"He really is innocent," Captain Ripley whispered to me. "We've been flirting with him shamelessly and all he does is blush and stutter."

I hadn't told the Captain about the empathy circuit. In her mind I could see her laying back naked in bed with her legs spread. Altairus was there, naked and with a rock-hard cock. And she was saying, "You don't have to be shy, my dear. Come and kiss the Captain's cunt."

A moment later Altairus leaned in on my other side and said, "Does she really want me to kiss her cunt?"

Something weird was happening. How come Altairus also knew what the Captain was thinking?

"It's a pity you can't stay on our planet for longer," Altairus said to the crew. In his mind I saw all of the crew members naked, crawling around on all-fours in cages eating out of dog bowls, just like the animals in his menagerie.

Gradually, I could see it in the eyes of the crew as this vision appeared also in their minds. They knew where it was coming from. And they weren't happy about it. That is with the one exception of Paula Pasolini, the Navigation Officer, who was really into that kind of kinky shit.

"You sexist pig!" yelled the Captain.

"Yeah!" yelled most of the rest of the crew.

Paula just giggled and felt her pussy go wet.

I opened up my head and pulled out the empathy circuit.

"Now! Now!" I called out. "Morbia gave me a circuit which allows me to experience what is going on in people's heads. But it seems that it also telecasts that information to all and sundry. Not a good idea, as we can see. So I'll use the circuit only in private in future."

"It doesn't change the fact that he's a sexist pig," pointed out the Captain.

"Let she among you who was not raping the guy in her mind cast the first stone," I declared.

And so disaster was averted. Well, on that front anyway. Unfortunately Morbia's belief in her son's state of innocence was shattered for good. She sank into a deep depression as she devoted herself to repairing the damage to our ship.

Altairus approached me in private on our penultimate day on the planet.

"Is there any chance you could sneak me aboard the ship before take-off?" he asked. "I got enough of a glimpse of what those women wanted to do with me to realise how much fun it would be to join the crew."

"What they wanted to do to you before or after they got a glimpse of your idea of a petting zoo?" I queried.

"Either," he smiled. "A little discipline might be good for me."

"It might at that," I agreed. "O.K. I'll help you out."

I told Morbia what we were planning. She deserved a chance to say goodbye to her son, and, I realised, this could be a good thing for her.

"This will make things easier for you," I pointed out. "You'll know that Altairus is happy, but you won't have him around to cramp your style."

"But I'll be alone," she pointed out.

"You don't have to be," I told her. "You have the matter transporter. Instead of transporting a bride up her for Altairus, you can advertise on earth for young guys who want to share a luxurious planetary accommodation with a sexually voracious cougar."

"I'll call it The Planet Where Nothing is Forbidden!" she cried.

"That's the idea," I encouraged her.

I helped Altairus to hide in the storage room just before take off.

"Well," sighed the Captain, "here's to a long boring uneventful journey to the Horseshoe Nebula."

I headed back to keep an eye on the door to the storage room. It wouldn't do for Altairus to be discovered until we were far enough out that a return to Altair was out of the question.

I was feeling bored so I opened my head and re-installed the empathy circuit. Altairus was the only individual within six metres. It seemed safe.

Wow! I thought. So that's what it feels like to have a penis. And that's what if feels like to have a really stiff penis and a mind full of fuck fantasies. And that's what it feels like to stroke that penis and feel it throb with pleasure.

And then a new sensation appeared. So that's what it feels like to be the Captain of the spaceship, zipped into her tight leather space suit, feeling it stretched tight across her breasts. And that's what it feels like when her pussy becomes mysteriously wet and her clit stands out stiff and is rubbed by the crotch of her tight leather suit.

And that is what it is like when she thinks, "So that's what it is like to have a penis and to feel it go stiff and to stroke it while it throbs with pleasure. What the fuck!"

The next thing I knew crew members were running out into the corridor saying how horny they were and rubbing the crotches of their space suits. And I knew what was going on in every head, as did they.

"He's on board and he's wanking our cock!" they cried in unison. "Let's bare his/our vaginas so he can fuck them."

It must have been the ship's circuitry acting as a conduit for the empathy circuit in my head. It had turned the whole of the crew into a single erotic entity, every body able to experience the pleasure of all the other's simultaneously.

Altairus burst out of his hiding place as the women stripped out of their uniforms. The Captain was the first to suck his cock. Some of the others kissed and licked his nipples and his face, while fingering each others pussies. Paula got down on all fours and began yapping and humping people's legs.

Before the day was out Altairus' cock had plundered every crew member's cunt and mouth and one or two assholes as well. The women had all become inveterate pussy lickers. And a good deal of masturbation had also gone on. It kind of didn't matter how the pleasure was being delivered, to whom or by whom, because they all experienced it all courtesy of my empathy circuit.

I would have removed the circuit again, in the interests of shipboard efficiency, but the crew ganged up on me and welded my head permanently closed.

It's alright for them. It's a non-stop nude orgy day in and day out. But who do you think has to do all the work? I swear, one of those days I'm going to plug myself back into the ship's wiring and fuck them all if we run out of power.

The End