Nicola and I lay on the leather settee, spent and messy. The assembly had taken their fill of us and were themselves in a similar plane of post coital bliss.
I wondered what the time was. Looking around, I saw a wall clock; it read 9.23. We had left Wilminmoor around five and a half hours ago, and had been stripped, debased, and screwed for most of that time.
I looked down at myself, dried cum all over my torso. Putting a hand down between my legs, I felt my pussy, it was very wet and very slippery, and quite tender as my fingers slid between my labia; my hole felt as if it were still filled with stiff cock.
I looked to Nicky. She returned my gaze and smiled weakly.
“Oh, Andrea,” she whispered. ”We got a real seeing-to, didn’t we?”
I put my arm around her, and we kissed. I tasted cum on her lips.
“I see our young ladies from Wilminmoor are conscious,” a voice declared.
It was Mr Greeves.
“It’s too late to return them to whence they came,” he continued. “Anyway, they are in no fit state to be presented to Ms. I think they should spend the night here,” he said, looking at us. “Does anyone have any objection to me taking Andrea?”
There was no protest, so he moved to the settee and deftly lifted me into his arms. I put my right arm around his neck as he carried me to the door. I was naked, apart from one sock, the other having been pulled off in the melee.
“Leave your clothes, we can collect them in the morning,” he whispered to me. “Or the day after,” he added.
We turned left at the door, down the corridor leading away from the direction we had come from, reaching a staircase which we ascended. I heard movement behind us and looked back to see Nicky in Mr Spencely’s arms, following us.
At the top of the stairs, we turned left, Mr Spencely turned right, and he and his naked, precious bundle disappeared in the gloom of the low-wattage lighting. I heard a door open, then close.
We now stopped outside a door.
“Will you turn the handle, please, Andrea? I have my hands full.”
I did as requested, and the door swung open to reveal a dark room.
“Switch on the light, the switch is to the left.”
I did so, the light showed a sparsely furnished room, dominated by a large metal-framed bed, a small desk, an easy chair, a hi-fi, several bookcases and a lot of vinyl records.
“Home, sweet home,” declared my courier.
He lowered me so I could stand.
“I think we should get cleaned up,” he continued. “The bathroom is through that door,” he motioned to a portal on the right. “The shower is large enough for sharing.”
I pulled my remaining sock off and headed to the bathroom door. Sir, who had donned a pair of trousers to escort me to his bedroom, removed them and followed me into the en-suite.
I was met with an exceptionally plush bathroom. The shower was huge, certainly space for two. Mr Greeves reached in and turned on the tap, a spurt, and then a stream of water, heating quickly.
“In you pop, Andrea,” he ordered, smacking me on the bottom. I obeyed.
The hot water stung my skin as I stood under the deluge. Sir joined me and stood behind. He reached around me to take a large cake of Lifebuoy soap. Still behind me, he proceeded to soap me all over my back, sliding the soap down to my bottom, then up to my hairline at the back of my neck. Moving his hands around me, to my front, and soaping my breasts, tummy and then my Venus mound, sliding the soap between my legs. I felt the hard, slippery cake as he rubbed it along my labia, moving it backwards and forwards, pressing upwards until it parted those lips and met my tight entrance. He firmly held it to my sex, twisting it while pressing tighter. I lifted myself against the pressure to stand on tiptoes.
“We need to clean you thoroughly, Andrea,” he informed me. “Inside and out,” he continued, moving the soap around my clitoris. “You are immensely messy, and I want to share my bed with a clean, good girl.”
He continued to soap me, paying particular attention between my legs.
“I think we need to ensure a squeaky-clean Andrea, don’t you?” He announced.
It scared me, the soap was large with hard edges, and soap did not mix with vaginas; if he had the intention of putting it in me, it would be painful.
“Sir, please,” I implored. “It’s too big, it won’t fit inside me,” I cried, becoming a little hysterical.
“Nonsense, girl,” he replied. “But I‘ve no intention of harming you, my sweet thing.
“I have a better way to clean your little spunk hole.” He continued.
He took the Lifebuoy from my pussy and replaced it in the soap dish.
“Do a handstand for me, Andrea,” he commanded. “I’ll catch your legs.”
I am not the most athletic girl, but being slight, I am fairly supple, so, still facing away from him, I managed to bend to touch my toes and tried to spring into the position requested. On my third attempt, he grabbed my ankles, and I was lifted into a handstand.
The water rained onto my upturned body. The shower was powerful, it stung the soles of my feet with the pressure, and as Mr Greeves held my legs apart, I felt it hitting my sex, running down my body and making me gasp as I pulled my head back to try to keep the deluge from running into my nose.
“What a pretty sight you make, Miss Martin!” Sir exclaimed. “Your delightful pussy, such pretty lips, folded so neatly, and so soft; but oh-so messy!” He chastised. “Let’s give it a good wash, to make you all nice, clean, and fresh again.”
With that, he let go of my right ankle, and I felt his hand on my sex, rubbing, and then spreading my labia to reveal my entrance to the hot water raining down upon us.
He gently inserted three fingers, one after the other, and opened me. I felt the hot water flow into my opening, filling that part of me that was held open by his fingers and gushing back to overflow.
It flowed down my body, and I could taste the water, mixed with the diluted semen, as it ran into my mouth. He moved his fingers around inside me, exploring me, and although the water drowned out most of his words, he spoke an occasional encouragement to me, how I was being a good girl, I was pleasing him, that he knew I really wanted to be good, and I was sorry for being so messy.
After a short time, Sir decided I was sufficiently clean and removed his fingers.
My arms were getting tired from holding my weight, and I asked that I was let down.
Sir was holding only my left ankle, and my right leg swung about as I struggled to keep in a perpendicular position.
“But you look so exceptionally pretty, Andrea,” he replied. “The lips of your purse, parted by the water, your garden of delight, open to my gaze.
“I can’t let you down just yet,” he continued. “But I can spin you around, so you can see the effect you are having.”
With that, he took both my ankles and spun me around to face him. I looked up to see the base of his erect phallus, testicles hanging down, water flowing and running off them, onto my face.
“See, Andrea,” he began. “See how hard I am for you.”
He bent over me, and slipping his hands to my hips, he deftly positioned my legs behind himself, and lifted me from the shower tray, sliding me up his body, his erection and balls rubbing along my torso from tummy, to titties, to neck, to mouth. I licked the shaft as he raised me, to rest with my knees bent over his shoulders, my lips now at his large arrowhead.
“Guide it, Andrea,” he commanded. “Into your mouth.”
I took hold of his tool, and he lowered me gently until his head was in my mouth.
He lowered me some more. and he went further into my mouth until my gripping fist prevented any more penetration.
He slid his hands down from my hips to my shoulders. Now he could hold me firmly while I pleasured him orally.
I held him firmly with one hand whilst my other hand pressed on the top of his hip, to steady myself.
I am not good with sucking cock, I gag easily, so try to take a firm hold on the shaft to prevent too great an invasion. I adore a creamy mouthful of cum, and in the throes of orgasm, can take all kinds of punishment, but have to be in the zone to cope with it.
Mr Greeves was very kind to me and allowed me to take what I could, lifting me, and easing me down onto him with care, cajoling and encouraging me.
“Good girl, Andrea,” he spoke tenderly. “We are going to have such a good time together,” he continued, emitting a low groan as I touched a particularly sensitive area with my tongue.
This short spell of fellatio ended, chiefly due to Sir becoming tired of holding me, light as I was, and I imagine his view of my sex from above, my cunnie lips soaked and parted, my pink pussy hole, inviting, made him want to screw me the way nature intended.
Lifting me up and off his weapon, he dropped me gently to the floor of the shower, and I righted myself as demurely as I could.
Without a word, we exited the shower, he handed me a towel, and we dried ourselves, then, taking my hand, he led me to the bed. We stood beside it, and he kissed me with such passion, my head tilted up to his. Clasped close, his erection pressed hard against me, the bulb wet with pre-cum an unyielding staff between us, at the level of my sternum.
I slid a hand between us and closed my fingers around his thick girth. They did not meet; he was immensely hard.
“Oh, Sir, you’re so big!” I whispered between kisses.
“All for you, my sweet Andrea,” he countered. “I want you on top, show me what you can do, I’m sure you know a few tricks,” he continued, releasing our embrace and getting onto the bed.
He lay back, his erection twitching.
I climbed onto the bed to join him.
Kneeling beside him. I began to stroke his chest, bending to kiss, then moving down, licking along the short distance to his arousal, taking him in hand and licking the bulb, wet with his desire, taking it into my mouth, a difficult task as he was so engorged.
He traced a hand around my left thigh, then between my legs, to find my sex, delving fingers between my receptive labia and then into me in such a natural and easy fashion it was like he had been doing this to me for years, not hours.
His thumb pressed to my other puckered hole. I squirmed against the multiple invasions.
I looked up from my labour and asked, “Shall I mount you, Mr Greeves, Sir?”
“Yes, Andrea,” he replied. “Mount me, I want to see what you have learned.”
I straddled him, he took his hands from my cunnie and held my hips to steady me as I raised myself. Taking him in hand, I guided him to my entrance. He watched me as I looked down to see what I was doing. Opening myself with my other hand, I bent forward a little to position him for a straighter entry, then gently I sat down upon his bulb, screwing my hips a little as it parted my sex lips, the pressure of stretching as it sank inside me.
The delicious invasion.
I groaned as I felt each inch pressing inexorably into me, gravity doing its work as I sank gratefully onto his length.
“Oh, Sir,” I began. I grunted, feeling him filling my space. “You’re so big inside me, filling… filling me up!” I continued, licking my lips as I concentrated on taking him inside as fully as I could.
My legs wide apart, his hands on my hips, tightly, but gently, holding me.
“Good girl, Andrea,” he coaxed, as I settled on him as far as I could. “Lean back, I want to see our union,” he continued.
I did as he asked.
He gazed at his shaft where it met my pussy, my labia encompassing it, knowing how much of himself was inside me.
“How deep am I, Miss Martin?” he asked.
I pointed between my titties, “feels like up here, Sir,” I groaned.
“Oh, Andrea! You tease!” he said, a laugh in his voice. “I think it’s more here,” he continued, pressing one hand to my tummy, just below my belly button. “Safe, deep, inside you,” he breathed.
Moving his hand, he proceeded to work his thumb down to my clitoris and began to rub me.
“There, Andrea,” he whispered. ”Oh, such a hard button.”
He pressed tightly between the folds of my labia, my clit pressed hard to my pubic bone, making me gasp, his thumb slipping around the pleasure centre as my wetness increased, the noise of our union now audible, lubricating juice emanating from my cunnie, around his girth, and making the area slick.
“Mmm,” I hissed, as his touch raised both my temperature and my arousal, perspiration beading on my forehead as I concentrated on riding him.
Using my practiced method, my inner muscles worked up and down his enfolded erection. “Safe and deep, safe and deep,” I uttered under my breath, as our bodies worked together.
“That’s so good, Andrea,” he coaxed. “Oh my,” he added. “You do know some tricks!”
His words cut short as I hit a particularly sweet spot.
Feeling him growing ever harder inside, I leaned forward, and he pulled me to him, kissing me passionately, crushing me to him, his hands finding my hips, he pulled me down, to impale me fully on his tool.
I kissed and sucked his nipples alternately as he kissed my head, his left hand now ruffling my hair as he pressed his right on the sharp top edge of my hip, holding me firmly on him. Then, taking control, he rolled us both over, so I was underneath him.
His weight pressing me into the mattress, I pulled my legs up and managed to get my heels to meet just at the base of his spine. I put my arms around him, but he took my wrists and held them on either side, above my head. Now fully available to his will, I experienced the total force of his weapon thrusting into me. The bed squeaked and rocked, hitting the wall behind as I was enveloped by him, laying fully on top of me, fucking me hard, and deeply, hitting my cervix with each invading push and a loud squelch as he did so, only to withdraw, that delicious feeling of my walls contracting and meeting, I adore that, to know he is to again invade, to plant his seed inside me.
His next spirited push brought me off, and I squirmed in the throes of orgasm, crying out, muffled by his body, my cervix dipping rapidly to hit his thick arrowhead.
My motions and writhing brought him to climax too, and he ejaculated a stream inside me. I felt the wetness fill me, forced out of my limited space, a wave of cum all around my underparts, running down between the cheeks of my bottom. He continued to pump and thrust into me, groaning.
“Ah, you little bitch,” he uttered. “You glorious little bitch.”
“Call me your little slut, please, Sir,” I entreated. I had grown to love the word; it described me perfectly.
“Oh, my little slut!” he breathed.” My beautiful, beautiful little slut,“ he continued. “My Andrea, I’m going to keep you forever.”
His words heightened my orgasm. Beautiful little slut, I ran the phrase over in my head as I came in steaming waves on his gorgeous, stiff cock.
We lay entwined for an age, his erection twitching and jerking inside me. The heat and weight of his body, his scent, the hot scent of sex.
My head lay to one side, his chest pressing on my left ear and his chin resting on the crown.
Eventually, he rolled us both over, so I was again on top, legs straddling him, lying my head on his chest.
“When I first felt you up, finding your naked bottom under your skirt was so arousing,” he began, stroking my hair with his right hand, the left on my bottom, gently kneading it. “The way you shook your pretty head to answer my questions, the feel of your soft flesh, the way you moved to encourage me, as I moved my hand between your legs,” he went on. “You lifted and positioned yourself to allow me more access to your body; so knowing, so sexy,” he continued.
He squeezed my bottom as he spoke; I could feel the stirring of his softening weapon as he thought about it.
“I love the feel, Sir,” I breathed. “Of being desired, wanted.
“Am I a bad girl, though? To be so easy, to like it so much?” I questioned.
“A few days ago, after the party, I thought to myself, I must be a nympho.
“Am I a nympho, Sir?” I sat up, his semi-hard, now growing erection still inside me.
He held my hips and looked into my eyes.
“I certainly hope so, Andrea,” he said. “Now lean back, let me see our union again.
I leaned back, his now stiffening tool pressing against my tummy from the inside.
“Ah, yes, a wonderful sight,” he began. “Your perfectly smooth peach, split by my manhood,” he continued, stroking my lower tummy and Venus mound with his fingers whilst flipping my slippery clit with his thumb.
“You can feel me hardening, inside?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied.
“Ride me again, Andrea Martin,” he commanded.
I did so. Our bodies squelching and slurping as they moved together. His cum lubricated our fucking to a massive degree. I had to ensure he was deep inside, or he would have been forced out of me by the pressure of my bearing down.
A repeat performance of our last screw, using my Pompoir skill. This time much slower, our earlier exertion having calmed my lover’s animal lust for me, I took my time, allowing him to savour my body, inside and out.
His thumb rubbing my clit, soaked with cum and my pussy juice. Moving his hand from my there to my left tit, rubbing it and making it wet and glistening with the effluent of our union.
Moving back down between my legs to replenish the fluid, he then placed his thumb to my lips. I sucked, tasting our combined flavour. I felt his enjoyment at the sight of the action.
He repeated it several times as I gently rode him.
I copied his action, dipping fingers between us, and sucking them.
“Kiss me, Miss Martin,” he demanded.
I leaned forward to obey.
He fell out of me.
“Oh, Andrea!” he admonished. “Clumsy girl.”
“I’m Sorry, Sir,” I apologised. “It’s so wet, and I’m so slippery….”
“No excuses, girl,” he chastised. “I see I’m going to have to take control.”
With that, he grabbed me and pulled me onto the bed beside him.
“Up, and kneel on all fours, at the end of the bed,” he commanded.
I did as I was told.
Collecting the pillows, he set about placing them under me.
“Lower yourself,” he ordered.
I did so, my tummy resting on the tower of pillows, resting on my elbows, my forehead resting on the mattress, and my hips pointing up at an angle.
Sir dismounted the bed and took his place behind me.
“You are a very naughty girl, Andrea!” He proceeded to administer a sharp smack to my upturned right bottom cheek; the sting of pain made me wince.
“Ow! Please, Sir!” I began to plead.
“No, Andrea,” he chastised. “You must be punished for your lack of attention.” He smacked me again, harder.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I choked back tears. “It wasn’t intentional, it was so slippery, I couldn’t control…”
My words were truncated by another smack.
“Agh!” I cried out.
His hand remained on my rump for a few seconds, moving down and to the left, to slide between my trembling legs.
My bottom felt hot with pain.
His hand was now tracing the crease between my sodden labia, worming between the lips, pressing into my entrance.
“I don’t want to punish you, Andrea,” he spoke, more gently as he fingered me. ”But, you have been inattentive; you must learn to make your lovers’ pleasure paramount, as you did in the staffroom.”
I didn’t recall having any control over what happened in the staffroom.
His fingers continued to explore my tunnel, deeper now. I squirmed my hips, the sting of pain diminishing, although the heat in the flesh still loomed large, to be overtaken by the pleasure of his finger-fucking me, now plunging fingers in, then withdrawing, speeding up, the sound of my soaked pussy, squelching and slurping with his action.
“Oh, Sir,” I groaned, moaning with pleasure, squirming and writhing against his invasion.
He withdrew his hand, and, moving close to me, I felt the tip of his weapon as he guided it between my sex lips. Against my entrance, the wide arrowhead pushing against, parting my slit, and then entering me. My labia folded over him to meet the hard shaft, enveloping him as he pressed into me, the feeling of the hot tool, opening my tight channel, my walls being stretched apart by the rock-hard invader.
“Ugh, Sir, ugh,” I managed to utter as he pushed fully into me.
“Good girl, Andrea,” he breathed. “Good girl,” he coaxed, taking my hips in his hands, to pull me against him. His breathing becoming harder, he stood still and pulled me onto himself, then pushed me forward, to slide his piston along my tunnel. I rocked on the pillows.
My knees were right on the edge of the mattress meant my position was precarious. Not wanting to be spanked again, I grabbed the backs of my legs, just above my knees, and pulled myself into a ball with the pillows crushed under me.
He controlled the situation expertly, my hips firmly held, rocking me against his penetration, the upward pressure of his dagger raking my tunnel wall, sometimes as he withdrew a shade too far, his cock becoming stuck against my vestibule, to spring back into position, and slip into me with speed, forcing a gasp from me.
As our fuck continued, my teetering on the unstable pillows eventually resulted in me being pushed off them completely, scattering them to left and right.
“Damnit,” Mr Greeves exclaimed. He kept a firm hold of my hips, taking my weight, and pulling me fully onto him to keep our union intact.
I scrabbled to maintain my position, letting go of the backs of my legs, I eventually managed to get my legs splayed wide apart to keep me in a position with my cunnie at an adequate height to sir’s pelvis.
I looked back at him.
“Sorry, Sir, I lost the pillows,” I groaned.
“It’s all right, Andrea,” he hissed. “You have reacted well and quickly. I’m still inside you, and I am going to fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you now, my sweet, sweet girl.”
With that, he redoubled his screwing of me, ramming into me, our bodies bashing together with a slap.
I managed to lift myself with my arms to a more horizontal plane, spread-eagled and impaled.
Sir, pumping into me, grunting and gasping with the effort, close to climax.
“Oh, Andrea,” he managed to gasp. “I’m cumming into you, right…now!”
He gushed and collapsed on top of me. His weight and the force of being violently thrown flat onto the mattress, my legs wide apart, with Sir between them, brought me off, and I creamed, sobbing into the pillow I had collapsed onto with the release, my cunnie sucking the stiff tool inside me as my cervix dipped with each orgasm.
“Oh, my little slut,” he groaned.
